Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [127]
"Excuse me," said a calm new voice from very close by, and Zalarth felt his elbow struck sharply. His aim was driven wide; the wand's power smote a stone wall harmlessly.
"Met are we, mage of the Zhentarim," another voice said formally, "and the pleasure, I assure you, is all ours." "Aye. Farewell, tyrant mage," the first voice said, and Zalarth Bloodbrow scarce had time to look from one grimly smiling speaker to another before two long swords passed each other in his chest, sliding in with silken ease and leaving a sudden rising burning in their wake, a burning worse than anything he'd ever felt.
Zalarth felt himself falling, falling with mouth open but no breath left to speak, hands open but with nothing to grab. He stared hard into the rising white mists that had not been there an instant ago, and sank forever into the nothingness beyond them.
"Best chop off that finger, there. There's no telling what Zhent rings will do, and I'd hate to have to kill this one four or five times," Belkram said briskly. Itharr nodded, looking all around.
"Where's Elminster gotten t-ah, there!" He pointed. Belkram looked up to the balcony where the Old Mage was unconcernedly puffing on his pipe. Elminster waved to them lazily.
The two Harpers shouted in horror. Behind Elminster, a bone-white face had appeared, a gleam in its dark eye sockets and a widening grin stretching its ghastly jaw. Long, skeletal arms reached for the Old Mage, and there was nothing-utterly nothing-that Itharr or Belkram, or Sharantyr coming unsteadily to her feet beside them, could do.
Sharantyr threw back her head in despair, and screamed. "Mystra, aid us all!"
25
Until Magic Do Us Part
"And so it ends," Manshoon said in disgust, turning away from the glowing scrying bowl. "As always… mages of the Brotherhood cut down by sword-swinging louts because they're too foolish, or arrogant, or set on their course with no wits to spare for looking around them. This bodes ill for us all. Time and time again we suffer these embarrassments. If the Brotherhood does not triumph in such little things, we will surely fail and be swept away and forgotten."
Silent faces looked back at him, Anaithe's among them. Fear was written plainly on all-in dark eyes, sweat upon temples, and lips that trembled in their hard set. The Lord Most High looked around at them all in long, sour silence. In sudden rage he turned, robes swirling, to snatch down a staff from where it floated in the air above.
"This is too important to ignore," he snapped. "Elminster's carrying greater power in him now than I've ever felt in any being. Left alone, he is a great danger to us, and if we can seize what he holds, none will be able to stand against us. Guard this place well in my absence, Belaghar, or you will pay the price."
"But, my lord," the wizard called Belaghar protested, waving a hand toward the bowl. "Is this wise? The Brotherhood needs your leadership now more than… ever… and, if… you… sh…" His words slowed and finally died to silence under the cold weight of Manshoon's venomous gaze.
"Think you I am a fool?" the lord of the Brotherhood asked coldly. "Do I seem likely to be thrown down by any of those"-he stretched a long finger toward the glowing waters of the bowl-"as two minor magelings were? If it so seems to you, then it is you, Belaghar, who are the fool."
He strode to a certain archway in the shadowed gloom, then slowed, turned, and added with dark humor, "Gain wisdom, Brother, while I am gone, if you would hold your place among us."
He looked around slowly at the other mages in the room and added softly, "All of you know, I think, what sort of torment will befall you if any treachery or misjudgments occur in my absence. It would be prudent to see that no such unfortunate supervenities greet me upon my return." He stared at them for two long, silent breaths and added, almost in a whisper, "And I shall return."
The lord of the Brotherhood made a certain sign in the air before him, and a beholder that had hung invisible over