Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [122]
Moonlight touched the trees of Cormanthor, and in the remote distance, somewhere off to the north, a wolf howled.
There was an answering bark from the trees very nearby, but the naked, shivering elf who was crawling aimlessly down a tangled slope did not seem to hear it. She slipped partway down, and plunged most of the rest of the way on her face. Her hair was a muddy mass, and her limbs glistened darkly in a dozen places in the pale blue light, where they were wet with blood.
The wolf padded out onto the mossy rocks at the top of the slope and stood looking down, eyes agleam. Such easy prey. He trotted down the incline by the easiest way, not bothering to hurry; the panting, mumbling woman at the bottom wasn't going anywhere.
As he loped nearer she even rolled over to present her breast and throat to his jaws, and lay back bathed in moonlight, gasping out something wordless. The wolf paused, momentarily suspicious of such fearlessness, and then gathered himself to spring. There'd be plenty of time to sniff around warily for others of her kind after her throat was torn out.
A forest spider who'd been creeping cautiously along above the sobbing elf for some time drew back at the sight of the wolf. Perhaps it could gain two blood-meals this night, rather than just one.
The wolf sprang.
Symrustar Auglamyr never saw the single blue-white star that blazed into being above her parted lips. Nor did she hear the startled, chopped-off yelp as it emptied into the jaws of the wolf, nor the silent disintegration that followed.
A few hairs from the wolfs tail were all that was left of it; they drifted down to settle across her thighs as something unseen said, "Poor proud one. By magic bent. Let you be by magic restored."
A circle of stars spun up from the ground then to flash around Symrustar in a blue-white ring. The spider recoiled from their light and waited. Light meant fire, and sure, sizzling death.
When the whirling ring had faded and only the moonlight remained, the spider moved down the tree again, creeping swiftly now, in little runs and jumps and dodges. Its hunger was exceeded only by its rage when it reached the flattened leaves where the elf-she had rolled, and found her gone. Gone without a trace, and the wolf too. The bewildered spider searched the area for some time and then wandered off into the woods by moonlight, sighing as loudly and gustily as any lost elf-or human.
Humans, now; humans were fat, and full of blood and juices. Long-dimmed memories stirred in the spider, and it climbed a tree in eager haste. Humans dwelt in that direction, a long way off, and-
The head of the giant snake shot forward, its jaws snapped once, and the spider was gone. It never even had time to worry about choosing the wrong tree.
Seventeen
Apprenticed Again
For some years Elminster served the elf known only as The Masked as apprentice. Despite the cruel nature of the high sorcerer, and the spell chains that bound the human in servitude, a respect grew between master and man. It was respect that ignored the differences between them, and the betrayal and battle that both knew lay ahead.
Antarn the Sage
from The High History of Faerunian Archmages Mighty
published circa The Year of the Staff
There came a spring day twenty years after the first greening season Elminster had known in service to The Masked, when a golden, shining symbol surfaced in the Athalantan's mind, a symbol he'd almost forgotten. It troubled him; as it revolved slowly inside his head, other long-buried memories stirred. Mystra, he heard his own voice calling, and a gaze fell upon him- her gaze. He could not see her, but he could feel the awesome weight of her regard: deep and warm and terrible, more mighty than the most furious glare of the Master, and more loving than… than…
Nacacia.
He looked down at Nacacia from where he hung in the great glowing spell web they'd spent all morning Grafting together, and their