Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [86]
Radiance danced around Manshoon briefly and then disappeared. Had the spell failed? Storm bent anxiously to snatch up her sword, all her exultation gone.
The Zhentarim's hands faltered and fell, and he seemed to stagger for a moment. "What-what have you done?" he roared.
Elminster grinned. "Charge at him, Storm." Storm launched into a run.
The Old Mage smiled at Manshoon and waved a hand. His pipe obediently rose from the ground where it had been quietly smoking by itself, and drifted toward his tips.
"I held down thy defenses, idiot," Elminster told him calmly, "while Storm wiped out half thy spells, or so. Oh, by the way: I'm still doing so. If ye try to use a spell against her, ye'll end up feeble-witted. and we'll just leave ye here." He smiled. "I know ye won't be able to resist trying some magic now."
The Old Mage puffed on his pipe and added, "Ah, yes; Storm may want to cut off thy hands, too, to keep ye from casting too many spells if ye ever recover."
The Zhentarim looked open-mouthed at Storm. A blank expression washed over his face.
Storm knew from the horror that replaced this look that Manshoon had tried to use a spell to whisk himself away from the battle-and had discovered it was gone.
The High Lord of Zhentil Keep grabbed at a rod at his belt, saw how close Storm was, and tried to turn and run at the same time. Storm's blade caught him under one armpit and spun him around.
"Defend yourself, wizard!" Storm spat at him. Manshoon stared at her for a moment, then snatched something from his belt, leapt back, and hurled it at her. Storm's blade struck it aside. The bard saw the Zhen-tarim's dagger flash with a dull green light as it spun away.
"Poisoned?" she said contemptuously. "You snake!" Her long sword slashed out.
Manshoon shrieked as some of his fingers went flying. Elminster called, "'Ware, Storm-his contingencies are likely to harm ye and save him!"
Storm ruined Manshoon's other hand with a quick chop.
"Kill him from a distance, eh?" she replied, stepping away. Manshoon fumbled a wand out of his beltbut Storm cut it out of his bloody hand, and her backhand slash laid open Manshoon's face. Her eyes were hot, and with terrible speed that bright blade was reaching for him again. The High Lord of Zhentil Keep staggered back, coughed wetly, and, snarling, aimed another wand at her. An instant later, he was gone-leaving behind a burst of black, evil-looking flames that reached hungrily from the wand for Storm.
She fled, dived past the fire, rolled, and fetched up at Elminster's feet, panting.
"Easy now," Elminster said, Ye hurt him badly enough that ye triggered one of his contingency spells; it whisked him away. I've raised a spell-shield around us. Whatever else he planned, we're safe here, for now."
Storm looked up at him, shaking silver hair out of her face. "You seem to take this very calmly."
Elminster watched the beholder burn. As the oily smoke drifted away from them over the hills, he said softly, "It never lasts, ye see… I've had to kill him-oh, is it twenty-and-one, by now? Aye-that many times."
"Why didn't you slay him again this time?"
Elminster shook his tread. "He's prepared for that – half a day after he dies, his next clone's skulking about somewhere in the Dales, and death's hardly a setback at all. This way, I pulled him across Faerun, away from Shandril and the spellfire he's no hungry for, hurt him, and broke his power for a time… a good afternoon's work, I'd say. Besides, a certain lady has a prior claim on Manshoon's lifeand I'd hate to deprive her of a chance to do some real good with her spellfire."
For the first time in years, Manshoon knew fear. Maimed, wincing at the burning pain from his hands, he whirled through mists and shadows for a moment, and then the world rocked and changed again. He found himself back on the clifftop where Elminster had first spelltrapped him.
Manshoon staggered and