Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [138]
The elf did not lower his bow. "Who else would know of this place?" As he spoke, seven more elven archers stepped out of the trees all around the knoll. The points of their aimed arrows glowed a vivid blue-too much magic for even the strongest shield to withstand.
"I dwelt here a year and more," El replied, "learning magic."
The silvery eyes hardened. "Not so," came the swift reply. "Speak truth, man, if you would live!"
"Yet I dwelt here as I told ye, and what is more, six elves swore to aid me should I try to destroy the magelords."
The elf's eyes narrowed. "I swore such aid, but to a woman, not to a man."
"I am that woman," Elminster said firmly, and kept to his seat amid the merry laughter that followed.
Then he looked mildly around at their scoffing faces. "Ye use magic mightier than most mages but don't believe a wizard can take the shape of a man or a maid?"
The elf's eyes flickered. "Not can't-won't," came his reply. "Humans never do such things for more than a night's lark, or a desperate escape. 'Tis not in their natures to be so strong in themselves."
Elminster spread his empty hands slowly. "Tell Braer-Baerithryn-that I am stronger now than I was then… and the master of a few more spells."
The elf's eyes flickered again before he turned his head. "Go," he said to one of the other archers, "and bring Baerithryn to us. If this man is who he claims to be, Baerithryn will know it-and tell us all we need to know of him, too." The archer turned and slipped back into the mushroom-studded dimness under the trees.
El nodded and peered into the depths of the crystal-clear pool. For a moment, he thought he saw a pair of thoughtful eyes looking up at him… but no, there was nothing there. He sat calmly, ignoring the arrows trained tirelessly on him, until his spell-shield flickered again. He let it drop deliberately, and immediately felt a feather-light touch in his mind. Then the probing contact was gone, and Braer was striding out from under the trees, looking just as he'd done when El had last seen him.
"Time seems to have wrought some small changes in you, Elmara," he said dryly.
"Braer!" El sprang to his feet and rushed down the slope to embrace his old teacher, who kissed him as if he'd still been a maid and then slipped free of Elminster's arms and said, "Easy there, Prince! Elves are far more refined-and delicate-than men."
They laughed together, and the watching elves put away their shafts. Braer looked keenly into Elminster's eyes-and then nodded as if he'd seen something there. "You've come for our aid against the magelords. Sit and tell us your desires."
When they returned to the stone, El found himself surrounded by almost a score of silently watching elves. He looked around at them, found no answering smile to his own, and drew a deep breath. "Well," he began-but got no farther.
The elf who'd first challenged him held up a hand. "First, Prince, be aware that Braer and we who pledged to thee hold it our duty to do whatever you ask of us… but we are reluctant indeed to hazard others of the People. Outside the forest, elves are all too easily slain, and when we die, so do the last of our folk in this fair corner of Faerun. Men-even mages-spring up like so many weeds in spring. Elves are rarer flowers… and so the more precious. Do not expect a marching army, or a score of elven archmages flying at your shoulder."
Elminster nodded and looked at Baerithryn. "Braer, d'ye feel the same way?"
His old teacher inclined his head. "I would not like to lead a march on Hastarl under the open skies of day, with mounted hosts of armsmen and dragon-riding magelords waiting to harry us… that is not our way of war. What have you in mind?"
"That you shield folk-primarily myself and another mage, but also a few knights and street folk of Hastarl-from slaying spells cast by the magelords… and perhaps a few seeking and farspeaking magics, too. Shield us, and we'll fight."
"How powerful are you?" one of the archers asked. "There are a lot of magelords, and