Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [31]
Flashes and high singing sounds were all around Elminster by then-but the looks on the faces of the Red Wizards told Narnra that they'd been expecting their spells to do much, much more than make a little light and noise.
"Who are you?" one of them gasped, at last, as his most powerful spell sighed into nothingness, leaving nothing but impotent lines of smoke curling up from his fingertips.
"Elminster of Shadowdale, at thy service-or rather, at the service of Thay, which land will be vastly improved by the extinction of all Red Wizards," the white-bearded wizard replied merrily. Little flames began to leap and wink between his raised, spread fingers. Between them, like a traveling jester, the Old Mage gave the quailing Thayans a wide, crooked smile.
"Hold!" one of them snapped desperately. "Harm us, and this woman dies!"
He made a beckoning motion with one hand, and the line of fire clinging to the back of it tightened. As its keening song rose into a shriek, Caladnei of Cormyr rose with it, clawing at her throat desperately, her body quivering like a plucked bowstring as the other two Red Wizards tightened their ends of the spell-bonds.
Faces pale, the Thayans glared at Elminster-who stepped swiftly in front of Narnra to shield her from them as her boots finally touched the floor.
The Silken Shadow shot a startled glance at the Old Mage's back as she crouched, ready to spring in any direction that might seem safest, and wondered if the best thing for all Toril for her to do-though it would mean her death-would be to spring at Elminster with her best dagger drawn, and open his throat wide. The Chosen of Mystra was muttering something under his breath: a word she could not catch, but the same one, over and over.
Breathing heavily, hand stealing toward the hilt of her dagger, Narnra crouched, not knowing what to do… or what doom would reach out next to snatch them all.
"We'll depart this place, now," another of the Red Wizards said harshly, "with the Mage Royal our captive. Good hunting to us. You, old man, will leave us be and make no move to twist or harm our spells as we go, or she will die."
Elminster nodded his head. "I understand and agree," he said heavily, bowing his head in surrender.
Two of the Red Wizards gave him sneers of triumph as the third began a translocation spell-and silver-blue fire erupted behind them, with force enough to make them all stagger.
"And I," a crisp new voice said coldly, "understand my role in this little drama well enough and agree to it." Whirling blades of shining silver burst from nothingness to bite deep into three maroon-robed backs-and three Red Wizards, transfixed in mid-turn, gasped as those conjured attacks sliced through their torsos like razors. "Slaying Red Wizards is, after all, my task and my pleasure."
Spell-bonds melted away from Caladnei of Cormyr, who fell to her hands and knees, coughing weakly. Men were sprinting toward the cellar from all directions, now, and spell-glows flared here and there as War Wizards of Cormyr teleported in to join them.
Their advance was checked by a sudden wall of silver flames. Its source smiled at them through a wild tangle of unruly silver hair, standing proudly barefoot in a torn and tattered black robe. Her feet did not-quite-touch the floor but trod on air just above it.
"Well met, all," she said serenely, her surging fires forcing folk of Cormyr to fall back. "I am the Simbul, sometimes called the Witch-Queen of Aglarond."
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, smiled, and said to Elminster, "Sorry, love.I came as swiftly as I could."
Five
DEFIANCE, AUTHORITY, AND
DIVINITY
You must not think that every third person you meet in tavern or market is a mighty personage, who talks with the gods nightly and overthrows empires by day. Faerun is in sad decline from the golden days of yore. The count is now down to every seventh person, or even more.
Thalamoasz Threir, Sage of Sembia
Signposts In The Gardens of Life
Year of the Prince
Snarling silver flames whirled severed