Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [145]
Those pain-ridden eyes flickered. "Love? Lust? I know not, man. I cannot tarry to think on it… life slips away…"
"One life," Elminster told her urgently, as he realized Mystra's plan at last. "But not all that is Symrustar."
He pulled open the bloodsoaked ruin of her bodice, and upon the ravaged flesh beneath traced the first golden symbol Mystra had put in his mind; the one that would shine there forever.
Her breath caught, and she sat up, eyes shining. "I- I see at last. Oh, human, I have wronged you from the start. I have-"
She wasted no more time on words, as blue-white fire stole out of her skin to claim her, but turned into his embrace to kiss him tenderly.
Her lips were still on his as she faded away. A few motes of blue-white light swirled where she'd been, and then flickered and were gone.
El looked up, and saw four of the weavers, their limbs still ablaze with white fire and linked to the web above, standing above him, looking down with love and concern.
He looked up and told the Srinshee, Lady Steel, the Herald Alais, and the Coronal, "Mystra has claimed her. She will serve the Lady of Mysteries now."
Something crawled up his arm, then, and he snatched at it and held it up, bewildered. A scrap of something dusty, bloodstained, and moving-the mask that Llombaerth Starym had worn for so long. It tingled in his grasp, warm and somehow welcoming.
As he stared at it, there was a sudden flare of rain-bow-hued light from overhead, and all the gathered elves gasped in awe. The Mythal was born!
Elminster felt a stirring in his throat, and rose with all the others, to join in what he could already hear echoing through the streets. All over Cormanthor, every elf and half-elf and human was breaking into song. The same swelling, involuntary song of the Mythal's birth-high, radiant, beautiful, and unearthly. And as the singers turned to embrace each other in wonder, every face was wet with tears.
* * * * *
"Yes," Lord Mornmist whispered, his eyes on something far away. The servants looked from his vacant face to that of their lady. Tears ran in floods down her face, dripping from her chin, as she bent over her lord.
"Why?" she whimpered frantically. "Why do the mages not come?"
The servants shot anxious looks at each other, not daring to answer. Then Nelaeryn Mornmist rose up out of their gentle hands as if torn aloft by some invisible hand. Ithrythra screamed, but her shrieks turned to sobs of joy an instant later, as her lord opened his eyes and cried out, "Yes! At last! The glory is come to Cormanthor!"
His voice rang like a trumpet as he hung in the air above them, and blue flames spurted from his eyes. He looked down.
"Oh, Ithrythra," he called, "come and share this with me. All of you, come!" He held out his hand, and there were gasps as the Mornmist servants below felt themselves lifted with infinite gentleness, and awesome power, up into the air to join the man whose laughter rang out, then, like triumphal horns.
* * * * *
Nlaea moved in the gardener's arms, and made a small, satisfied sound. He looked down, slipped on the path, and almost dropped her.
"Careful!" the Lady Alaglossa Tornglara snapped at his elbow, her strong arms steadying both him and his burden.
Nlaea moved again, stretching almost luxuriously, and her weight was suddenly gone. The gardener stumbled, overbalanced by its sudden disappearance, and slid into a galamathra bush.
"Nlaea?" Alaglossa cried in terror. "Nlaea!" Her maid turned in the air and smiled down at her. "Be at peace, Lady," she said softly, and blue flames seemed to blaze in her eyes as she spoke. "Cormanthor is crowned at last."
And as her maid hovered over her, the Lady Alaglossa went to her knees on the path and started to pray through happy floods of tears.
* * * * *
Galan Goadulphyn looked around in disbelief. On all sides, elven bodies were floating up into the air, and there was much laughter, and weeping-happy weeping. Here and there shouts of exultation rose. Had all Cormanthor gone mad at once?
He hastened toward a richly appointed house whose