Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [20]
Suddenly, close by to the north, there came into being a glowing radiance in the trees. One moment it was not there, and the next it was. Magic.
Wordlessly they struggled up and pulled on their boots. Sharantyr drew her sword but held her cloak up in front of it to ward off any flashing reflections. Elminster stepped to one side and melted into the dark shadow of what was left of a wall.
The glowing had begun as pale amber in hue. It brightened now and swirled, at times more ruddy, at times almost green. Perhaps forty paces away, across rising ground, the glow hung in a little clearing amid the trees, forming an upright oval in the air.
A mage-gate, without doubt. A moment later, a hard-eyed, wary man in the black armor of Zhentil Keep stepped out of the gate, a loaded crossbow ready in his hands. Behind him, a black-bladed saber appeared in the light, followed by the one who held it: another Zhentilar soldier.
The two warriors stepped forward, twisting to look all around, weapons held ready. A moment later, another man emerged from the flickering oval. This one wore robes of rich purple, a cruel expression, and a short, pointed black beard. He carried a wand in one hand and was followed by a third armored soldier.
The mage and his bodyguard stepped forward together. In the center of a protective ring of bodies, the bearded mage held the wand loosely in his hands. It shifted almost lazily back and forth, then seemed to quiver in his hands and point directly at where Sharantyr stood, unmoving, cloaked in darkness. A moment later the wand turned a bit to indicate where Elminster hid.
The mage hissed something, and the guards closed ranks in front of him, weapons coming up, facing the ruined farmhouse. There was a half-seen gesture from behind them, and suddenly the night was lit as bright as day, and Elminster and Sharantyr were staring right into the eyes of the four men.
The looks directed back at them were not pleasant. In the sudden silence they all heard one of the guards ask, "Lord?"
The man in purple replied clearly, "Kill them, of course."
4
Doom Strolls In
There was an instant of tense silence as everyone drew breath together. Then battle began, a race toward death that rent the night with the clangor of drawn arms and the roaring of unleashed magic.
The bearded mage obviously thought he faced only two travelers who'd been unfortunate enough to choose a sleeping place where they could not help but witness the gate, and must therefore be eliminated. He was not expecting another wizard and did not care to expend any more magic than he'd used this night already.
So he did nothing but watch as two of the black-armored guards lumbered forward warily, the one with the crossbow a little in the lead, and the other, blade out, keeping watchfully to one side. They came for Sharantyr first, no doubt judging her older companion to be in hiding out of weakness or fear.
Drawn steel they knew the strength of, and they were two against one and larger. Besides, this woman seemed atremble with fear and barely knew how to hold her blade, much less use it. She bit her lip as they advanced, and took a slow, unwilling step back.
The guard with the crossbow grinned and stepped to one side, Elminster's side, to a spot where he could fell either one of them. His companion came on toward Sharantyr to greet her with his drawn sword and a cold grin. She was pretty. Perhaps she need not die quickly.
He caught his friend's eye and jerked his head toward the old man, indicating that a quarrel would make short work of him now, leaving just the wench. The old man shuffled sideways a little, looking helpless.
The guard with the crossbow nodded and raised his weapon to take aim. It was then he saw that the old man was smiling.
The sleeve fell away from Elminster's hand, and lightning cut the world in two.
In the flash and sharp crack of the striking