Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [109]
"I found one, tried it out, cost us a horror. One of them got stunned by his own blast, I think-I heard the explosions, came looking, found him, and was just bending closer when another one burst out of hiding and ran me over from behind. By the time I had my wits again, the stunned one was gone too."
"Eightsentinels? Gods forfend."
Pheldemar nodded grimly. "Possibly just a foray to damage as many sentinels as possible, but if they'd been carrying sacks of these bomb-things and I hadn't come to see, they might have blasted their way right to Lord Vangerdahast's front door."
Rauthur nodded. "Certainly seems a determined attempt to reach the sanctum. The Highknights must be told."
"Aye. Shall I-?"
"If you would, yes-and have Thaerma take a look at you before you seek rest, just in case they did you some harm you haven't noticed yet. Those bruises look nasty."
"Thaerma? Go back to the Court?"
"Oh, yes, I think so," Rauthur replied, in tones that made it clear he was issuing an order. "Tamadanther took over your duty-guard as usual?"
"Aye," Pheldemar growled, departing with a none-too-pleased look on his face.
"Come, come!" Huldyl said jokingly. "In a short time the gentle hands of Thaerma will be…"
"We go way back, lad, she'n'me. 'Tis not the joy for me you imagine it to be." Pheldemar turned the corner and was gone.
Huldyl shrugged, half-smiled, and turned back to his game of plundercastle. The cards that showed the attacking Witch-Lord wyvern-riders had struck him with damnable luck, and most of his turret-warriors were dead already. Gloomily he moved one of the survivors along the ring of turrets.
I'm just choosing which one he'll die in.
He stared at the board with more foreboding than he'd felt since just before the last battle with the Devil Dragon.
Very much like the choice I've just made for myself.
Which is when he heard the running footsteps. Someone frantic, coming fast and crashing into things along the way in his haste.
"Huldyl? Huldyl?"
Darthym was one of the few half-elf War Wizards, and he prided himself on being pleasant, soft-spoken, unassuming, and a mage of no gossip and few idle words. Now, however, he was wild-eyed and panting.
"Huldyl, Jandur and Throckyl are dead! Dead, blasted down with spells!"
Rauthur erupted from his seat, spilling pieces and cards in all directions. This must be Starangh's work-but he had to make his reaction look right, and he'd been losing the damned game anyway. "What?" he roared, trying to match Darthym's fire-eyed look.
"I-in the armory! Blown apart! Throckyl's head is just sitting there, all by itself, looking out the door at me! I-"
"Thankyou, Darthym. No sign of who did it, I suppose? Look you: Go and wake Sarmeir and tell him in my name that he's to stand duty-guard with you here. Tell him all you want about what you found, but direct the sanctum defenses if any of the outside guards report troubles to you. You're in charge. I must report this to Laspeera without delay!"
"Y-yes,Rauthur!" The half-elf leaped away down the passage, glad of something to do and direct orders letting him do it. Huldyl shook his head and smiled grimly. Ah, such troubled times…
He ran a hand through his thinning hair, wiped his sweating brows with a knuckle, stood still, and cleared his mind.
It was still in place, as strong as ever. The mindcloak spell Sta-rangh had given him was whispering ever so faintly at the back of his mind, a ready wall to block all probing magics.
Even those of a suspicious second-in-command of all the War Wizards of Cormyr.He was ready to go and make his report.
Seventeen
MINDPLUNGE
The most punishing spell I can think of is one that hurls you into your enemy's mind, and he into yours. Minds rubbing raw on each other-now there's true agony.
Skandanther of Saerloon Spells Are The Wings That Carry Me High
Year of the Lion
Narnra looked up at the magnificent ceiling of the Dragonwing Chamber. Huge sinuous scaled bodies, swirling and rolling over, frozen forever on the verge of bursting forth in full and terrible