Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [32]
"No, I don't like helms," Elminster said sourly. "And wearing pots over my head pleases my fashion sense even less."
That was too much for Sharantyr and Itharr. Their full-throated laughter as they rolled apart brought them the Old Mage's undivided attention. "And just what, pray to all the gods, do ye both find so amusing?"
"The sight of a… potty old mage," Itharr choked out, through fresh howls of mirth.
Elminster's mouth crooked. "The lot of ye have been on the road for far too long. The gods have been touching wits around here."
"Is that a bad thing?" Belkram asked. "New plans and items must come from somewhere."
"Aye, and most of 'em could go back there with much profit," Elminster grunted. "Back to the bottoms of the tankards that spawned 'em."
"Do you really believe that, Sy-Old Mage?" Sharantyr asked, her laughter subsiding.
Elminster gave her a warning look for the slip and said, "Nay, lass. But all of ye-the Realms entire, it seems-expect me to play the role of a gruff old wizard who yearns for shining younger times. It's a cloak that suits me, I'll admit. Wearing it oft gets me my own way in things, y'see."
"Don't you get tired of always playing the pettish, sour old wit?" Itharr asked, serious in his turn.
"To look behind such masks," Belkram said quietly, "is-too often-to destroy the wearer."
" 'Destroy,' now that's a nice word!" a new voice rang out from above.
Four heads jerked up. A glowing figure was standing on air above the stone needle of one of the ruined towers, hands raised and moving. It was a man none of them had seen before… and a second man stood in emptiness beside him. As they watched, a third and fourth appeared, without herald's trumpet or flashing disturbance-just the starry sky one moment and a man standing in it the next.
Elminster's lips were moving. As the first bright and deadly bolt of magic flashed down into the ruins, it was met by a crawling net of light that rent it, sending angry lightnings sizzling and smoking in all directions… except down onto the scrambling companions below.
"Find cover!" the Old Mage roared, and took out his pipe. An instant later, the pipe flashed and he vanished.
The four lightning bolts that sought his life arrived too late, slashing through the darkening spell net in a shower of sparks to meet in a crash that sent riven stones spinning in all directions and toppled a section of wall. The structure leaned southward with slow grace, then fell apart in the air, spilling loose blocks of stone over a wide area of brambles and saplings.
Sharantyr ducked behind what was left of the tower, a frantic glance telling her there were now nine or more glowing mages aloft. A moment later she saw a purple oval of moaning light diving down into the ruin. As she watched, fumbling for the magic ring on its chain under her gorget, the spell-thing swooped through a gap in the walls and came around the corner, seeking her.
Shar cursed and sprinted back around the tower, catching one hand on the stones of the wall to wheel tightly and run close along the inside of the standing stonework. Then she put her head down and ran faster than she'd ever run before.
As the purple radiance howled after her, pulsing and gaining swiftly, the lady ranger caught at another stony edge and flung herself sideways through what had once been a window. Shar landed rolling as another lightning bolt crashed down nearby, its flash showing her Itharr's burly form in similar frantic flight. She sprang up to dodge behind a pile of rubble.
The radiance, whatever it was, tried to dart through the window, but didn't fit. The blast that followed took down most of that wall, showering the top of her rubble pile with stony fragments. Clutching her healing ring, Shar ran for the dark trees nearby as mocking laughter rang out overhead.
Balls of fire tore down into the forest to her right. Trees crashed to the ground, ablaze from top to bottom, and she heard a roar of pain. Belkram! She veered toward the blaze as fresh fire blossomed in the