Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [67]
The spell was a powerful but simple one. The Srinshee murmured the words that released it without taking her eyes off the spell-battle, and felt herself sliding into Elminster's mind, as if slipping into warm, tingling waters that carried her swiftly along a dark, narrow tunnel, toward a distant light.
The light grew brighter and larger with terrifying speed, until it became a serenely beautiful face that the Srinshee knew, its long tresses stirring and writhing like restless snakes. A face whose eyes were stern as it loomed up like a vast, endless wall before her, a wall she was going to crash helplessly into…
"Oh, Lady Goddess, not again!" The Srinshee cried, an instant before she struck those gigantic, pursed lips. "Can't you see I'm trying to help-?"
When the whirling world came back again, Oluevaera was staring at a dark, cobwebbed ceiling inches overheard. She was sprawled on her back on a bed of raging black flames that tickled her bare skin-her bare skin? what had become of her gown?-as if it were a thousand moving feathers, but did not burn.
The flames seemed to be slowly sinking away from the ceiling; had she appeared through it? Wonderingly she ran her hands up and down her body. Her gown, with its amulets and spell-gems-yes, even those woven into her hair-were gone, but her body was smooth and full and young again!
Great Corellon, Labelas, and Hanali! What had befalle-but no. Great Mystra! The human goddess had wrought this!
She sat up abruptly, amid the descending flames. Why? In payment for aiding the young lad, or as an apology for shutting her out? Was it lasting? Or but a taunting taste of youth? She still had her spells, her memories, the-
"So, old whore, you've traded your loyalty to the realm for some spell of youth the human knows! I wondered why you aided him!"
The Srinshee turned her head to stare at the speaker, bringing her hands up to cover her breasts without thinking. She knew that cold voice, but how came it here?
"Cormanthor knows how to treat traitors!" he snarled, and a bolt of ravening lightning crackled across the room.
It sank into the black flames and was sucked in without a sound. The black flames hauled every last spark of the bolt from the hands of the astonished High Court Mage Ilimitar. He stared at the now-youthful sorceress.
She looked back at him with sad reproach in her eyes and spoke softly, using her old pet name for him. "So how is it, Limi, that you rise from being my pupil, and learning love for Cormanthor from my lips, to presuming to speak for all the realm as you try to slay me?"
"Seek not to twist my will with words, witch!" Ilimitar snapped, raising a scepter to menace her. The dark flames touched the stone floor of the chamber and faded, and the Srinshee stood facing him, spreading her hands to show that she was nude and unarmed.
He leveled the scepter without hesitation, saying coldly, "Pray to the gods for forgiveness, traitor!"
Emerald fire raced from it as that last hurtful word left his lips; the Srinshee turned to leap side, stumbled-it had been so long since she'd known a body that could obey swift movements-and then sprawled bruisingly on the stones as the scepter's death roared over her.
Her onetime pupil aimed the scepter lower, but the Srinshee had hissed the words she needed. Its fury splashed in futility along an unseen shield.
Her mantle was up now, and she doubted all the scepters he owned could bring it down. It would be spell to spell, unless she could dissuade him. The High Court Mage she'd trained. Earynspieir might attack her, yes, he'd never been her friend. But she'd not thought Ilimitar could be so quick to do this.
Oluevaera rose and faced the furious mage, standing no taller than his