Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [28]
Several such patrols banked close to the lone walking elf, staring closely at him, and El got a good look at their ready javelins and small hand-crossbows. Unsure of what to do, he gave them silent, respectful nods without slowing his travel. All of them nodded back and soared away.
Ahead now, in these trees, there were open clearings cloaked in moss and ferns. Rising silently up from concealment among them, was the first foot patrol he'd seen. Their armor was magnificent, and every one of them held a ready longbow as he stepped toward them, not changing his pace. What else could he do?
One, who was taller than the rest, let go of his bow as El approached. It stayed where he'd released it, floating in the air. The elf stepped forward to meet Elminster, hand lifting in a 'stop' gesture.
Elminster stopped and blinked at him. Best to seem weary and dazed, lest his ignorance put his tongue wrong.
"For some days you've been walking this way," the elven patrol leader said, his voice gentle and melodious, "and yet you give no call of passage to patrols… as you have offered none to us. Who are you, and why do you journey?"
"I…" Elminster faltered, swaying slightly. "I am Iymbryl Alastrarra, heir of my House. I must return to the city. While on patrol, we were beset by ruukha, and I alone survived-but my spells attracted a human wizard. He set a magekiller on me, and I am… not well. I seek my kin, and healing."
"A human mage?" the elven officer snapped. "Where did you meet with such vermin?"
Elminster waved his arm, gesturing back to the northwest. "Many days back, where the land rises and falls much. I… I have walked too long to recall clearly."
The elves exchanged glances. "And what if something came upon Iymbryl Alastrarra as he walked, and devoured him, and took his shape?" one of them asked softly. "We've met with such shapeshifters before. They come to prowl in our midst, and feed."
Elminster stared at him with eyes that he hoped looked dull and tired, and raised his hand very slowly to his forehead. "Could one who was not of the People wear this?" he asked, letting weary exasperation sharpen his voice, as the lore-gem faded into view on his brow.
A murmur passed around the patrol, and the elves stepped back without a word from their leader, making way for him to pass. El gave them a weary nod and stumbled forward, trying to look exhausted.
He did not see the patrol leader, behind him, look hard at one of the elven warriors and nod deliberately. The warrior nodded back, knelt in the ferns, touched his hand to the breast of his armor-and faded away.
Now that he was among elves who were afoot, unhurt, and not rushing about in battle, El thought with a shiver, he'd best see how they moved. Did he stand out as an impostor? Or do all who walk upright stagger alike, when weary?
Adding a stumble or two, lest the patrol be watching him, El went on through the trees; huge forest giants soared to the sky, their canopy a hundred feet above him, or more. The ground was rising, and there was an open, sunlit area beyond.
Perhaps here he could…
And then he stopped, dumbfounded, and stared. The sun was bright on the fair towers of Cormanthor before him. Their slender spires rose wherever no gigantic tree stood-and there were many such-and stretched away farther than he could see, in a splendor of leaping bridges, hanging gardens, and elves on flying steeds. The blue glows of mighty magic shone everywhere, even in the brightness of full day, and gentle music wafted to him.
El let out a deep sigh of admiration as the