Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [36]
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The pipe winked more slowly this time. Sylune wondered if it would work once more if need be. Well, she'd best make sure she didn't need it.
The Malaugrym were learning. Instead of hurling more than enough magic at their foe and having it all go to waste when the pipe teleported Old Elminster away, they'd split up-a few blade barriers had taught them the wisdom of that-and were sniping at him from here and there around the ruins now, hoping to force him to transport himself away from one attack and right into another.
It had almost worked twice now. Sylune took quick stock of the spells left in the various devices that festooned the body she'd taken to calling "Old Elminster"- not a hard task, as so little was left-and decided to use invisibility.
She ducked through an arch, making sure one of the shapeshifters saw her, became invisible-the nice thing about these rings was their speed and silence-and darted right back through the archway again. She saw the shapeshifter confidently weaving a spell that would hurl a swarm of fireballs through the archway, to burst on the other side of the wall, and grinned. Two other Malaugrym were creeping through the ruins and should arrive at the other side of the wall at just about the right time.
Now to find Shar's blade. Belkram had laid it in her hand; he'd need her healing ring, too.
It might have to serve both Belkram and Itharr, if she could get this body where it had to go in time. Sylune was sprinting across the clearing, slipping on the dew driven out of everything around by all the fire spells, when a beam of flame swept across her path, too close to miss.
Someone could see Old Elminster. That was it, then, she thought, as the body plunged into roaring flames with hands clasped over its eyes to try to keep some sight. Old Elminster staggered and almost went down; Sylune kept the shuddering limbs going, trailing smoke, toward the trees.
Doom would be on them all soon now. She heard fresh laughter and the delighted exclamations of newcomers overhead but did not bother to look up. Of course the more craven Malaugrym would wait until the kill was certain and then come to watch.
The body's eyes were still swimming with tears. She could not see whatever it was that burst nearby on her left, flinging Old Elminster to the right like a rag doll. The body struck something-flesh-and she realized that it must be Itharr and the shapeshifter, still straining together. She snatched at the belt the body wore, found the burning-hot dagger as the burnt leather crumbled away and fell into ashes, and slashed at the ropy flesh she could not see, again and again, cutting at one spot, trying to make it release its hold on the trapped Harper.
Then the ground came up and struck the body's forehead. Bouncing helplessly on the turf, Sylune saw a fading flash and knew that a ruthless Malaugrym mage had decided his kinsman was expendable, and struck them all with a corrosive bolt. Would this body's limbs hold together? At least she felt no pain and could drive the body to do things when injured that no living man could have managed-but was getting up and reaching that sword and ring one of them?
7
Mushrooms and Revelations
Daggerdale, Kythorn 16
"This is the great Elminster?" The Shadowmasters were laughing openly now, and quite a group was gathering in the air above the last tower. Forty or more looked down into the smoldering clearing where the blackened shell of Irythkeep more or less still stood, and watched the spindly ashen figure that had once sported robes and a beard stumbling toward the trees. Far too many of the blood of Malaug lay sprawled and lifeless or barely alive about the clearing, but no matter. The Great Foe was going to die!
And when the gods tired of playing in Faerun, there'd be no one left to stand against the might of the Malaugrym… and at last Toril would be theirs.