Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [95]
Caught in that spell-draining field, Elmara fell, arms waving. The watching men heard her sob in fear. The beholder swiftly rolled over again to bring its eyestalks to bear all at once on the sorceress, as it had done to the dragon. As the Blades on the balcony desperately hurled blades, shields, and even boots at it, they heard the cold, cruel thunder of its laughter.
Rays and beams flashed out again. Through that bright fury, the Blades saw Elmara raise one arm as if to lash the beholder with an invisible whip. The wand she held flared into sudden life.
The beholder shuddered under its attack and spun wildly about. The Blades ducked desperately as its rays sizzled across the balcony, but Elmara's barrier still held, and the rending magics rebounded back at the eye tyrant.
Tarthe and Asglyn stood shoulder to shoulder at what was left of the balcony rail, tense and helpless, all their weapons hurled and their foe beyond reach. Through narrowed eyes they saw Elmara draw a dagger from her belt and soar up at the beholder like a vengeful arrow. Eyestalks wriggled, and explosive light burst forth anew. The flying mage was thrown aside by the violent force, and the dagger in her fingers suddenly flared into flames.
She hurled it away, shaking her hand in pain, but in the same motion swept her hand into the front of her bodice. There was another dagger-no, the broken stub of an old sword-in Elmara's hand when she drew it forth. She tumbled in the air through a roiling area of intersecting rays and raced in toward the beholder.
Waiting spells burst into sudden life around the blade in her outstretched hand, coiling and flaring as Elmara struck home- and her tiny steel fang sank into a hard body-plate as if she were thrusting into so much hot stew.
The beholder shrieked like a terrified courtesan and hurled itself away from the sorceress. El was left tumbling alone in the air as the eye tyrant flew blindly into the nearest wall, snarling in pain.
Elmara snatched a wand from her belt and darted after it. Straight among the eyestalks she plunged to touch the thing's rolling body just above the hissing, snapping jaws. Then she kicked herself away and flew clear. Behind her, the beholder began to repeat its actions backward, rolling back to strike the wall again. Then it hurtled back to where Elmara had stabbed it.
It hung there a moment-and then rolled back at the wall again to crash and then roll away in an exact duplication of its previous movements. Fascinated, the watching Blades saw the monster's flight repeat, cycling through its squalling collision with the wall over and over again.
"How long will that go on?" Tarthe asked in wonder.
"The beholder is doomed to smash itself against the wall of the chamber over and over until its body falls apart," Asglyn said grimly. "That's not magic many wizards dare to use."
"I don't doubt it," Ithym put in from beside them. Then he gasped and pointed out into the center of the vast open chamber.
Elmara had retrieved her staff and flown into the heart of the last, smaller globe. One skeletal hand leapt at her eyes, but she smashed it aside. The second hand was already darting in at her from behind; they saw it dig bony digits into her neck as she whirled around, too late.
Elmara flung her staff away and spat the words of another spell, one hand flashing in intricate gestures. The skeletal hand was crawling its steady way around to her throat as she wove the spell-and the hand she'd hit away was flying at her face again, two smashed, bony fingers dangling uselessly.
Tarthe sighed in frustration. Elmara was struggling, a hand at her throat, jerking her head from side to side to keep the other bony claw from piercing her eyes. Her face darkened, but the Blades saw motes of light spring into being around her, growing brighter.
Then, without sound, both skeletal hands fell into dust, and the globe around them