Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [120]
"Spellgard they call it now. Long ago, when it belonged to a friend of mine, it had another name."
"What happened?" Sharantyr asked, but Elminster towed her forward with surprising strength, and the words that began above the cesspool of the High Castle ended in a cold, shadowed hall lit by glowing mosses.
Dark archways gaped in the walls around them, and more moss hung from stone balconies above. The floor was an uneven tumble of disturbed marble, its smooth paving broken upward as if a giant had punched it repeatedly from beneath.
Cold breezes blew around their ankles, coming from somewhere unseen, and there was no sign of life. Dust hung thick in the air, and there were no furnishings to be seen except stone seats carved into the walls in little curl-ornamented niches.
Elminster was nodding in recognition. "Spellgard?" Sharantyr asked, to hear more about it rather than to confirm where they were.
"Aye," Elminster said, striding forward. "As to what happened, well… it's a very long story and happened a long, long time ago. Let's just say that the realm of Netheril fell, and the friend I spoke of-the sorceress Saharel-lived on here. But mages had very few ways of stretching their years, then." He fell silent, looking around at the moss and the tumbled stone.
"Except being chosen by Mystra," Sharantyr said softly beside him.
Elminster nodded slowly. "Save for the grace of Mystra," he echoed. He stood looking at nothing for a long, sad moment, then lifted his head and said almost defiantly, "Best we look about. Ye never know… some Zhent wizard might find the gate behind us."
Sharantyr's sword slid out as she spun around to see only dust and empty air. "Not yet," she said, turning back. "Lead, El. You know this place."
Elminster strode toward an archway. "Saharelgard it was called, when I knew it. I've been here once since, but I was too busy running then to look around."
"Too busy running?"
"Running from, and fighting, a family of mages who'd learned how to turn themselves into dragons."
"Oh."
Elminster waited, and her expected question came:
"What happened?"
"I'm with ye today, eh, lass? What else would ye know?"
* * * * *
In a room that was deep and dark and spherical, a figure stirred on a round bed. Dark robes rustled, tatters falling away into dust, as the thing on the bed sat up and leaned forward as if sniffing the air.
It had been awakened by an intrusion, the sudden presence of more magic than it had ever felt in one being before. Awesome magic. What befell in the Realms above now? The figure rose in a sudden, smooth movement and spread its hands.
A door that had been closed and sealed for centuries suddenly ceased to be, exploding into dust. The figure strode forward in uncanny silence.
22
Magemoot at Spellgard
One instant saw a high-ceilinged hall empty of all but glowing moss and tumbled stone. In the next breath, a young man in robes stood in its midst, crouching as if facing a foe-but his hand held a wand, not a sword. He darted hurriedly four steps to one side and looked all around. No sign of anyone. Where was he?
Silence hung heavy in Spellgard. Avaerl of Sembresh peered around in the weird, dim light of the glowing mosses and muttered a quick spell.
Abruptly he disappeared. Invisibility cloaked him as he stepped carefully to another spot and murmured his next spell.
Unseen, he rose slowly and silently to the uppermost balcony, glancing into archways and along passages as he passed them. In some, cold radiances pulsed and flickered, but Avaerl had seen the mushrooms called glow-caps before and knew them for what they were.
He'd learned of Elminster's woman companion from his informant in the High Castle, but of those two or the route they had taken, he saw no sign. Avaerl breathed out a soundless sigh, then shrugged and set foot on the stones of the highest balcony. Let the hunt begin.
* * * * *
"Itharr," said a voice from the darkness at the foot of the bed, "I hate to do this, really I do, but we've got a problem."
"The Zhentarim have sent an