Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [73]
Elminster winced as blood fountained. When the grisly, blood-drenched thing came hurtling at him, he used his shield like the warriors' object it was named for, deflecting the bony missile past him and off the peak, into empty air.
The last prince of Athalantar looked at the headless floating body one last time, shook his head sadly, and said the words that would take him back to the room at the heart of the haunted castle, and the Srinshee. He hoped she hadn't wakened and found him gone; he'd no desire to upset her unnecessarily.
The hawk-nosed young man took a step toward the nearest cliff, and vanished into thin air. The buzzards waiting in a tree nearby decided it was safe to dine now, and flapped clumsily aloft. Their long, slow glides would have to be aimed just right; it wasn't every day that the food was floating in midair.
* * * * *
"Gal," Athtar said patiently, as they struggled up the second sheer rockface in a row, "I know you're upset about your cache – gods above, half the forest knows it! – but we'll come back for them, really we will, and it isn't serving any useful purpose to – "
Something fast and round and the color of wet blood fell out of the sky and swept Athtar's face away.
The body in black leather, limbs wriggling and twitching, fell past Galan. The thing that had killed Athtar bounced off his chest on the way, rolling to a stop in a tangle of roots beside Galan's face.
He found himself staring into the sockets of an elf skull drowned in fresh blood – for the brief instant before he lost his hold on the crumbling ledge and found himself falling down, down into the darkness that had claimed Athtar.
Elminster took one step into the dark chamber, and saw that something was very wrong. The Srinshee was gone, and a young, naked elven girl was on her knees before a sprawled, ashen skeleton, sobbing uncontrollably. Had his friend caught fire?
The young girl looked up, face streaming, and sobbed, "Oh, Elminster!" As she reached for him, El rushed into her arms, embracing her. Gods look down – this was the Srinshee!
"Lady Oluevaera," he asked gently, as he stroked her hair and shoulders, cradling her to his breast, "what befell here?"
She shook her head, and managed to choke out the word, "Later."
El rocked her, murmuring wordless soothings, for some time before her weeping subsided, and she said, "Elminster? Forgive me, but I am exhausted, and in grave danger of failing Cormanthor for the first time in my life."
"Is there anything I can do?"
Oluevaera lifted her youthful face to meet his gaze. She still had those wise, sad old eyes, El noticed. "Yes," she whispered. "Go into danger once more. I cannot ask this; the peril is too great."
"Tell me," Elminster murmured. "I'm beginning to think hurling myself into danger is what Mystra sent me here to do."
The Srinshee tried to smile. Her lips trembled for a moment, and then she said, "You may well be right. I've seen Mystra, while you were gone." She raised a hand to forestall his questions, and said, "So you must stay alive to hear about it later. I've just power enough left to cast a body switch spell."
El's eyes narrowed. "To send me to where someone else stands, and him or her here."
The Srinshee nodded. "The Coronal attends a revel this night, and there is bound to be someone angry enough to try to slay him."
"Cast the spell," El told her firmly. "I'm down a few spells, but I'm ready."
"Will you?" she asked, and shook her head, impatiently brushing away fresh tears. "Oh, El… such honor…"
She sprang from his lap and ran quickly across the chamber. For the first time Elminster noticed that it was strewn with what looked to be wizards' scepters of power, and even a staff. The Srinshee bent and plucked one up.
"Take this with you," she said. "It has some little power left. One thing it can do is duplicate any spell you see cast by someone else while you are holding it. Handle it, and into your mind it'll whisper