Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [130]
The old man promptly surprised the Purple Dragon again-by dropping into a crouch and whirling to face his attacker. The blade passed harmlessly over one robed shoulder. The old man turned, taking hold of the warrior's swordarm by wrist and elbow, and flung him at the rockpile with a sudden shout of his own: "Start digging, you motherless dog!"
"There's the one who caused it!" a War Wizard howled, aiming his wand. Elminster flung himself aside without bothering to turn and see who his accuser was, and the wand-blast seared stones and sent the staggering Purple Dragon into a shouting scramble for cover.
Elminster rolled behind a heap of tumbled rubble and snarled out a spell that lofted most of the stones around him-plus the lone and by now thoroughly astonished Purple Dragon-down the street in a bone-shattering hail that left the advancing Cor-myreans strewn on their backs, cursing and groaning.
Ignoring them, the Old Mage scrambled to his feet and peered at the front edge of the rockpile, now much reduced by the scouring of his spell. There! A bloody, leather-clad arm protruded from under two large, wedged rocks. Elminster dug his hands in under one of them, heaved with all his might-and succeeded only in making it wobble a few inches to one side.
Gasping in defeat, he grimly cast another spell, this time plucking stones straight up so as to not to allow the slightest possibility of harming Narnra further.
She lay sprawled and senseless beneath a thick coating of dust, one leg obviously broken, one arm a flopping and many-times-shattered thing, and…
He winced, dragged that broken body as gently as he could out from under the stones hanging menacingly aloft, and called up Mystra's silver fire.
Wielding it slowly and gently was always hard, healing doubly so, and he persisted only long enough to discover that she was still alive and not faltering. To do this properly, he'd have to devote all of his concentration to the task, leaving himself defenseless and pressed against his daughter-not a wise thing when more angry defenders of Cormyr could arrive at any moment.
So instead, he shifted his outward appearance to exactly match Narnra's-farewell, bearded old lawbreaking wizard-and got down beside her to let out the silver fire slowly and carefully.
When a company of Purple Dragons arrived in a thundering of boots, it was the work of but a moment to let the hanging stones fall with a crash among them, while he lay still alongside the obviously injured Narnra.
Knitting and mending, drawing back blood here and teasing aside shattered ends of bone there… Slowly he worked his way through her broken body until he was satisfied she'd live. He could do the rest better at his tower, where he could nurse and coddle properly instead of fighting off War Wizards every few breaths.
Someone who was whooping for breath and whose footfalls crashed down in hasty weariness burst onto the scene. Elminster turned his head and saw Glarasteer Rhauligan lurching toward him over the rubble -strewn street in as much haste as possible.
With a sigh, the mage got to his feet, picked up Narnra-ignoring Rhauligan's sudden shout-and whisked himself and his daughter away to Shadowdale.
Rhauligan staggered to a halt, staring in dumbfounded rage at the spot where two Narnra Shalaces had just vanished, right under his nose.
"Bloody brazen hinges!" he gasped wearily, staring around in wild frustration. "Blistering bloody… brazen… hinges!"
Florin Falconhand was whistling softly as he traversed the well-worn flagstones that led to Elminster's tower. In his dripping left hand he held no less than nine large greenfins, fresh from the river. The Old Mage had a weakness for pan-fried greenfin.
It was time and past time for one of the Knights to invite Elminster to dine, and-
The ranger came to a sudden