Elminster in hell - Ed Greenwood [71]
The ring of novice wizards wavered.
Laeral turned her head and said crisply, "Do as the Lord Elminster directs, please. Now."
The Old Mage did not wait for pleasantries or to watch the apprentices hasten out. Brief magefire flashed. The room was suddenly much emptier than before, leaving only Mhaere and Tamsil staring at their father, who stood alone by the lamp.
Mhaere frowned a little at her husband. "You… didn't go," she said, a question in her voice.
Diirnan strode over and put an arm around her and Tamsil. "You left your crossbow behind," he replied softly. "What might have befallen if the slayer had come here, after we'd all gone?"
With his free hand, he drew his sword. It gleamed in the lamplight. "Whatever else befalls in this world, I'll not lose you, if I can prevent it."
Bah! Weepy sentiment everywhere! This human's wits are addled-addled! What sort of fool lives his live wrapped in love of others?
The human sort of fool, Nergal. It's what we are, just as ye are the creature of Hell ye are.
Grrrr! Fall silent, captive ward!
They were suddenly elsewhere-a dark and cold elsewhere, with dust rising around them and the smell of stone strong in their nostrils. Underground.
Piergeiron slapped his armor, startling his daughter rigid, and willed it to come alight. It awakened in a pale blue glow.
By its radiance and Laeral's glowfire they could see they were standing in a high-ceilinged hall that looked empty but for the drifting dust. Many dark archways marked led to passages that ran off into gloom.
The radiance coming from Laeral's hands flared to almost blinding brightness. The Lady Mage of Waterdeep reached up to touch Piergeiron's head.
He gasped, shuddered, and stumbled away from her.
Laeral reeled and sank down to her knees. Aleena bent to catch hold of her, but Asper was swifter.
"Lady?" she asked quietly.
"I'll be fine," Laeral said calmly. "Piergeiron needs to be hale and whole right now, and I've made him so. I'll just be a little weak for awhile."
"Aleena," Asper said, "stay with her. Guard her-and if anyone wearing a mask comes anywhere near, scream your head off."
Piergeiron's daughter looked at Mirt, Elminster, and her father, collected their nods of assent, and knelt down by Laeral with an audible sigh of relief.
Mirt slapped Piergeiron's chest gently. He rumbled, "You know where we are, don't you?"
Piergeiron was staring at a coat of arms carved over a nearby archway, "I think so," he replied quietly, "and I tegin to suspect why."
He drew breath to say more-but Storm's long, raw scream came echoing down to them from somewhere far beyond the arch.
Asper, as always, moved first, racing like a dark wind through the archway. Piergeiron soon caught her up, his consecrated blade glimmering as he willed it to shine. Elminster sprinted along close at hand, leaving behind the puffing and astonished Mirt.
Along a passage they ran, then through two chambers of cobwebs and dust, and a third where a lone, scuttling spider fled their furious approach. In the fourth, light shone amid vaulted pillars, casting forth the shadows of two dark, struggling figures in leather. One was masked. His sword, glistening with blood, stood out of Storm's back. Impaled, she was struggling forward in agony, trying to reach him.
The masked man saw the new arrivals and raised his other hand. The many-hued flames of a ready spell were racing around it.
"Sssambranath," he said clearly and carefully, the first word of an incantation that would define what part of the chamber erupted in a racing storm of lightning bolts. "Naerth-"
His incantation broke off as Storm spat blood into his face, making him choke. The hilt of his blade was almost against her breast, now, and she clawed weakly at his masked face. He shook his head violently, ducking away from her as much as he could without letting go of his sword-but his spell was ruined.
No such misfortune befell Elminster. Swinging around a pillar to a panting stop, the Old Mage caught