Elminster in hell - Ed Greenwood [89]
All this because of one old, weak, smart-tongued mortal wizard who was still successfully resisting all attempts to plunder his mind of anything useful. A wizard who even | now was wandering Avernus, blundering along into trouble.Trouble for Nergal, too.As long as Nergal was riding,| his mind, there was a link between them that even an amnizu could follow.
He'd best pounce on the worm and leash him in chains, and then take the shape of one of the pit fiends he'd slain I himself-Gorkor, or Jarleil, or Tharthammon. Yes. Tharthammon would do a slow, grim, close-mouthed giant among pit fiends. Few, even among the dukes, dared to question when he gave them dark looks.
So farewell tentacles, and fair greeting to great arching wings and a bulk as large as four Nergals. It was high time to call his wandering mind-slave back home.
Mind-twisted Faerunian bastard.
Ho, little worm! How are the fair sights of hell?
[guilty swirling of silver-silver fire? Had that been silver fire? But softly…]
Unprepossessing.
Ah, then you can see me again?
I'm not bleeding into my eyes just now.
[growl] You tread dangerously on my patience, wizard…
An erinyes swooped down and healed me-see the memory if ye believe me not. what?
[mental scrabbling, frantic haste, images flashing past in a roar, hard slow staring, then bitter cursing in the tongue of Hell]
Elminster, heed! Cease moving about. Find some cave or crevice to cower in, and stay there. I'm reclaiming you.
I'd hate to miss the pleasure of shared company.
Your tongue, mortal, will be the blade that stabs you yet. Just you hide in one place until i reach you. I'm less than pleased with your stalling. You know very well what i seek and persist in giving me memories of this wench and that-is lust all that consumes you?
No, but 'tis one of my favorites.
[growl] that clever tongue…
It occurs to me that i've been seeking your memories of wielding power in the wrong way. Humans seem so direct, but perhaps you wizards do more as we of hell do: meddle, acting at a distance through agents, unwitting and otherwise…
I've quite a collection of memories of my meddling in things-busy centuries worth, in fact.
[mumbled curse] I find myself unsurprised. Let us begin…
[mind lash, fiery eyes moving forcefully forward, cries ignored, images flashing past…]
***
Torchlight flickered off glistening mauve slime as a tentacled head turned. "Well, what have we here?"
"Mhulker," Baergrim snapped from behind him. "It's still you, isn't it? That-that thing isn't taking you over, is it?"
"My guest has… needs," the mage with the mind/layer's head replied in hurt tones. "Were you in a particular hurry to descend yon stairs and die deeper in Undermountain? Or is hereabouts exclusive enough for you?"
"I'm in no particular hurry to die anywhere, thank you," the warrior replied sourly"! just wanted to remind you that this is the lair of Halaster the Mad, and things are seldom what they seem. I mean, if yon lady's been chained for long, how is it that something else hasn't come along already' to devour her?"
The wizard, breathing heavily, pushed through the bead curtain in the archway. He entered a room where a chained woman was spread-eagled over a pedestal. Her large eyes were terrified, pleading over the tight leather gag that covered the lower half of her face.
"My guest only wants her brain," the wizard snapped. "You may have the rest of her when I'm done."
Baergrim came to a halt well back of the pedestal where the woman's torso rested, and exchanged warning looks with the other two Blades: a small darker-, skinned warrior named Eltragar and a slim woman in worn and patched leathers. Mheriyam was a nervous thief. She had daggers in either hand, and her face was.' white with fear.
Together, the three Blades watched the wizard approach the pedestal. It was surrounded by a glowing circle of green dust on the floor. Runes of a similar hue had been ', painted on the woman's arms.
The wizard gave the ring a quick, sneering glance and j strode right across it. As he leaned over