Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [115]
Mystra, let this elf be a long time recovering, El said in fervent prayer. But it seemed Mystra was contrary-minded, or at least hard of hearing, this day: Haemir was already staggering about, feeling for his surroundings with an outstretched hand, holding his head, and cursing weakly. El was sorely tempted to gather himself and plunge through the elven mage again right now, but he needed to know what sort of damage his passing through an elf would do. And hadn't this smug Waelvor mage said something about the Starym showing up? It might be best not to be all that clearly visible whenever a group of cruel elven sorcerers arrived, looking for trouble.
Haemir Waelvor was shaking his head gingerly as if to clear it now, and his curses were gathering force.
He seemed on the verge of recovery, while a certain ghostly Elminster certainly still hurt, acutely and all over.
Mystra curse him. He was going to drain these two lady sorceresses to husks while the last prince of Atha-lantar hovered over him on watch, powerless to stop him!
Of course, Elminster reflected wryly, an instant later, things could get worse-much worse. Right now, for instance.
One after the other, the outer wards were failing, sundering themselves in silent explosions of sparks at a certain point and fading away outwards from there. The center of this disruption was something that looked like a tall black flame, one that promptly split as it glided through the last ward, and died away to reveal three tall, fine-boned elven males in robes whose sashes of flame-hued silk were adorned with twin falling dragons. The Starym had come.
"Hail, Lord Waelvor," one said in tones of velvet softness, as the three figures strode forward together, treading air with a languid air of cold superiority. "What distress finds you here, in the empty night? Did yon ladies seek to defend themselves?"
"A watchghost," Haemir hissed, his eyes glittering with mingled pain and anger. "It awaited, and struck me. I fought it off, but the pain lingers. And how does this fair night find you, my lords?"
"Bored," one of them said bluntly. "Still, perhaps the old fool can provide us with some sport ere we send him to dust. Let us see."
He strode forward, and the other two Starym drew apart to flank him and follow, moving their fingers in the intricate passes and gestures of mighty battle spells. They strode right past the Waelvor wizard and the crumpled bodies of the two fallen sorceresses. El hovered near Haemir, fearing he might take out his rage on the ladies, and watched the Starym strike.
From the cupped palms of one wizard white fire burst forth, rushing upwards in a sinuous column like an eel seeking the stars, only to burst apart into three long, serpentine necks that grew huge, dragonlike maws at their ends. Those heads shook themselves restlessly, and then bent and bit at the old stone tower, Where their teeth touched, stone silently vanished, melting away into nothingness and laying bare the chambers within.
From the fingertips of the second wizard red lancei of racing fire then erupted, leaping into the revealw chambers of Mythanthar's tower to smite certain things of magic. Some of those things exploded into bright showers of sparks, or blasts that rocked Starfall Turret and hurled slivers of its stones far away into the gathering darkness, to crash through trees to unseen distant landings. Others burst into rushing red flames, swirling into fiery pinwheels that hung here and there in the tower, pinned in place by the Starym wizard's magic.
From the hands of the third mage a green cloud billowed, grew teeth and many clawed limbs with frightening speed, and flew forth into the tower, hunting Mythanthar.
A breath or two after its dive into Starfall Turret, something flared a vivid purple deep inside those shattered stones, and a bright bolt of that radiance snarled out, spitting aside the dismembered claws of the green monster as it came. Haemir Waelvor watched them spin down to crash