Elminster in hell - Ed Greenwood [147]
Needles of force that were curling around her like gigantic pincers slowed to a stop. Her challenger's voice came back to her: "Where, then?"
"Crommor's Fang," she spat. "Know it?"
"See ye there, murderess," came the level reply-an instant before bolts of force raced down to strike her mantle. The Simbul's world became a deafening inferno of numbing, dancing white fire.
A few familiar words snatched her out of raging doom and hurled her across half the Sea of Fallen Stars to the Fang. She was wont to hurl her wildest magics on it, or lie alone on its rocky height to look up at the stars. This time the Simbul was not kissed by the cool breezes of sunset, but rather muffled, warmed, and slowed in the heart of a bright, shimmering dome of magic.
Mystra, but this man was fast! A dueling ward of old Myth Drannor! She'd seen only one other, and that-
The ground beneath her grew stabbing spears of stone. They thrust up in energetic, many-pointed fury. The Simbul snarled an incantation that would turn them back on their source. One of two of the dissolving razors laid open her legs. She fell hard on unforgiving stone amid ribbons of her own blood.
The stones rocked under her with the fury of a distant explosion. Her challenger had no greater like for his spears than she did. The Simbul smiled grimly and used her trickling blood in a spell that snatched her across the Fang to where another human was bleeding. As the world whirled, she thumbed a locket at her belt and broke a tiny crystal therein.
Magic thrummed like a releasing bow. It rushed out around her, spinning a cage. Nose to nose in its crackling heart-a place where no spells could kindle-the Sirnbul and her challenger stared at each other. Her magic had happened to capture one of the few trees on the Fang, and its thorny branches groaned as Hie cage tightened around them. The air would be full of hard-driven splinters in a moment-
A scepter became a knife in her hand and thrust up at his ribs. It bit home. Her hawk-nosed, bearded foe kicked her hard in the crotch, hurling her upward. The knife trailed his blood through the air. Her hand struck a tree branch with numbing force and the knife tumbled away.
The man palmed it out of the air like a juggler. She bounced on the ground, losing her breath in a helpless groan. He pounced, crashing down atop her.
They rolled together. Her tightening magic sang around them. The Simbul saw the knife sweep back for the slash that would lay open her throat.
Desperately she flung up her hand to guard herself. Bright steel burst through it, the wet point jutting out of the back of her hand.
Mystra, such pain!
Sobbing uncontrollably, the Simbul thrashed on the ground, seeking to hurl her foe off and away, so she could snatch the fang of her torment out, and-
The weight atop her was suddenly gone. A searing chill flowed out of her, and the blade of her dagger melted away like smoke.
Elminster stared down at the silver fire cascading over the Simbul's fingers. Her wound closed, and she winced, shaking her hand as if she could wave away the pain.
"Ye-ye serve Mystra!" he gasped, at last.
She looked up at him from under tresses of suddenly silver hair that curled and writhed like snakes. "Of course," she replied calmly. "Doesn't everyone?"
Chapter Twenty-Three
FIRE IN HELL
Echoing darkness, the labyrinth empty…
I am afraid. I… cannot think. Where are my wits… where are my memories? Where am-I? There is nothing left. Nothing but fear. I am afraid. I am so alone. Dark, drifting… cold, all the brightness fled away. I am afraid.
Aha! Silver fire at last! But is this all? Has your goddess snatched away from you every… last… little secret I craved? I'll smash you into bone shards and powder! I'll make you scream for an