All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [4]
"A wild magic area?" she whispered.
"I fear so," Elminster replied grimly, "but the gate is gone forever, and a score or so more Malaugrym with it."
Sylune shuddered and drifted up out of his hands. Except for the few stones where the Old Mage was sitting-well west of where he had been-the ruined manor was now a crater of mud and gravel.
She swirled back to face him. "How long has it been since we came back from the Castle of Shadows?"
"Nigh on a month," Elminster said quietly.
Sylune" nodded grimly. "I thought so. Has Shadow-dale fallen?"
Elminster gave her a twisted grin. "Not yet." He got up and trudged west, into the trees. "Come to the meadow."
Sylune drifted along beside him, suddenly reluctant to be alone. The old wizard had taken only a few paces before they emerged into a field of trodden grass where Belkram, Itharr, and Sharantyr sat, looking up with welcoming smiles.
"Thankee, and all that," Itharr said, his broad shoulders shifting as he smiled.
"All part of my orders," Sylune told him briskly, giving Elminster a meaningful look, "as enunciated by the tyrant mage here."
"Ah, yes," Belkram said. "I believe I know just how you feel."
"Yes," Sharantyr agreed crisply. "I think it's about time, Old Mage, that you told us what befell Faerun while we were all caught in this magic."
"You might have revived us sooner," Itharr added darkly.
Elminster looked at the burly ranger. "It took me days to repair and rebuild thy bodies, all three of ye. I had to use necromantic spells I haven't looked at in ages… and I do mean ages." He lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps I didn't get thy head screwed on quite right."
"I-" Itharr began, but Belkram interrupted him.
"If that's so, sir-why do I feel weary, and in pain?"
"Aye!" Itharr agreed.
"The only way I could save ye at all," Elminster muttered, "was to restore ye to exactly as ye were before the trap took us. As it was, I nearly lost ye more than once-ye in particular, Belkram, five times! The gods know I've grown used to never receiving the slightest thanks when I help folk, but betimes I think certain beneficiaries of my arts close enough to me-and perceptive enough, to-ah, ne'er mind…" He glared at the handsome Harper.
Belkram returned his look of anger.
"All right," Sharantyr said, looking from one to the other. "Enough. Tell us about the Realms, El."
Elminster's face grew calm as he nodded and said briskly, "Zhentilar armies march on Shadowdale from all sides-and the avatar of the god Bane rides with them, leading the main body himself."
"Faerun's flying dung," Sylune said crisply. The unaccustomed oath drew startled gazes her way. "Even if the dale can withstand such an assault," she said bitterly, "it'll be torn into smoking ruins in the doing." She turned to look south. "And after all these years, I'll see it destroyed after all."
"Be not so quick to surrender our home to the Black Gauntlet," Elminster said firmly. "/ shall be there, fighting to the last… and I've sent Zhentilar troops running bootless away from Shadowdale more times than I care to recall."
"If three swords can make a difference in this, sir," Belkram said heavily, "things must be bad. Tell us in truth what's befallen thus far… where are the Zhents now?"
Elminster nodded. "Four armies are on the march," he said, all trace of testiness gone. "The one coming down through Voonlar is the largest, though my friend Perendra took care of a goodly number of the fools by calling up a lightning storm. Fancy marching through a downpour in full armor; some of these warriors must have cold iron between their ears, not just over them! Meanwhile, I dealt with a few thousand more."
"Oh? How do you 'deal with' a few thousand Zhent troops?" Belkram asked, shifting into a more comfortable slouch in the grass. The more he dealt with arch-mages, the more it was becoming obvious that their shared concept of 'haste' allowed time for thorough discussions of everything.
"Carefully, lad," Elminster told him predictably. "Carefully."
The two Harpers