Elminster in hell - Ed Greenwood [24]
The archdevil rummaged again, clawing aside memory' after memory. He shouldered impatiently through the dark, vaulted caverns of Elminster's memories.
An elf queen stands atop a cliff. The tatters of her sword-hewn, blood-drenched gown flap in the evening breeze. As she looks grimly out over a land the sun sets on, her arms cling to the broad, armored shoulders of a grim dwarf. He clutches her and weeps into her stomach. His bloody axe dangles by its war strap from one hairy, weary arm…
Gahh! You've centuries of such dross! What care I for mortals now dust and realms long fallen?
A shining-eyed young sorceress delights in her first great casting. Her face glows as brightly as any lamp. She sweeps the brown-withered, skeletal body of her lich master into an enthusiastic embrace, showering his crumbling lips with kisses…
Always an eye for beauty, eh? Now to me, weakness is beautiful-a chink to he thrust through, a good grip on a we to be used. Yesss…
Grim-faced warriors lean on their axes and broadswords. Flat menace fills their eyes as they watch wizards walk past, Elminster among them. One bladesman stirs too much. A cowled figure whirls to fling up an open hand. A green, glowing sigil bursts into being right in front of the snarling warrior, freezing him in midswing. The mages walk away, and the warriors glower silently…
Here Nergal wandered, and there, rummaging through dusty darkness where small things scuttled and large things slept. The devil growled as he came on. El's lurking awareness stole away before him, ducking here and crouching there in mind shadows, memories like cloaking webs in his wake.
Answer me, human! Do you think you can hide in your own mind?
A world away, fangs bit and claws pounced, raking and clutching. El screamed, or tried to, sagging back as red pain flared in the dark vaults.
Nergal made a sound of irritated impatience, and lines of blue fire raced here and there through the darkness. There were singing sounds and echoes of what might have been snarls or shrieks. The claws and jaws were gone again.
Dimly, El felt himself collapsing onto sharp, uncaring stones.
Answer me, elminster! Heed my call, damn you!
Damned am I, indeed. Cringing here with my memories flowing away from me like water, slipping between my fingers to be gone, gone forever…
Indeed. Weep and wail, wizard! Weep and wail.
[sudden vicelike mental probes, closing like claws]
But first, show me Mystra sharing these memories with you. How came they into your mind? How? Let me see! show me Now!
Dark eyes swim in dreams. Visions flood in, jolting a drowsing Old Mage awake. He sits bolt upright in wonder in his bedchamber, his eyes leaking blue-white fire. The flames reflect in the eyes of the one beside him-smiling Storm in early days, and later the fiery Witch-Queen of Aglarond. Her hair stirs around her slender shoulders like silver blades hungry for a foe, since…
Yes, yes. Women you've had and to spare! let me in, wizard!
Not watching your face after she mind-touches you! Show mb.'
[blinding, blue-white fire]
Aarggh! You dare?
[mind lash red pain black agony dripping purple ruin]
Stop your screaming! Think you're the only self-important mortal i've mind-readed?
[reluctant healing]
There. Stop your gaaies, or taste worse.
No game. Ye wanted to see Mystra's mind-touch, and that's what I showed ye. The fire undying.
She comes only in dreams, and you see the memories she umts only when she's gone? Bah! Deceive me not! She must impart directly or leave you uncontrolled.
Aye, so she does, most of the time. When we speak directly, I gain images of the moment, not memories worth sharing.
Nothing more? Ever?
[glimpse]
Aha!
[confused images, swift racing]
hah! what was that?
[dwindling down, devil-ridden, to one brightness… of Mystra, long, long ago, in the land of Elminster's youth-]
Eyes that swam with stars