Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [52]
Sharantyr rolled her eyes. "And having found your marker?" she asked the sky.
The Old Mage did not reply. He was leaning forward, staring at the stone. On the side closest to the High Dale, someone had written with the ashen end of a burned stick: "Death To The Tyranny Of All Mages." Elminster frowned at it for a long breath or two, then slowly grinned.
He turned. "Eh? Oh, aye. We sleep hereabouts, then turn back and enter the dale openly on the morrow. That's when our fun begins."
"You mean we attack these Zhents openly? But, your magic-"
Elminster spread open hands. "I have my baubles, and thee, to keep me safe."
Sharantyr sighed, then smiled and said formally, "We ride well together, Old Mage." Her eyes flashed.
Elminster bowed, gave her a sad, slow smile in return, and answered, "Ye're not the first lass that's said that to me, but I thank thee for saying it." And he leaned over and kissed her cheek tenderly.
Sharantyr looked at him, somewhat surprised. The Old Mage smiled back at her for a moment. Then he suddenly stiffened, turned white, and abruptly sat down on some ferns.
"Elminster!" She sprang forward and bent over him anxiously. "What befalls?"
The wizard shook his head and waved a hand at her before reaching up to unknot his beard. "Much power was suddenly drawn out of me. It was-upsetting."
He brightened, then frowned. "Perhaps Lady Mystra is with us again and had need of it. Or-perhaps another being has found a way to steal what I carry, and the Realms are doomed." He shrugged, and brushed aside a few branches to stretch out more comfortably.
"Ah, well," he said. "Stretch out here beside me, lass- Shar, sorry. No doubt we'll find out which has befallen tomorrow."
10
Wizards' Woe
The sun rose and awakened them. Sharantyr felt it warm her face. She came awake, alert in an instant. The ranger lay still, feeling the hard ground beneath her, the reassuring hardness of her sword hilt under her fingers, and a familiar warmth- and sound-beside her: the unconcernedly snoring form of Elminster of Shadowdale.
She smiled, shook her head, and eased away from him to stretch her stiff legs and aching back. The sounds promptly ceased, and a familiar, irascible voice said, "Ready to save the High Dale, then? I was wondering when you'd bother to stir your shanks."
Sharantyr paused. "You snore loudly when you're wondering about things," she told him, amused.
Elminster regarded her with dignity. "Simply giving the insides of my skull some fresh air," he replied. "As ye seem to do often, yawning the way ye do whenever we talk about anything."
Sharantyr waved a dismissive hand. "Simply straining not to miss a single inference or nuance of your fair speech," she told him serenely and walked away.
The lady ranger turned after a few steps. "I shall return in a breath or two," she announced. "While I'm gone, see what you can do about dawnfry. I'm starving, and my belly seems ever hungrier than that."
Elminster sighed. "I can certainly take thy mind off it, lass," he said gruffly, "and have thee running about in such a whirlwind of seeking spells and eager blades and shouting Black Helms that thy stomach'll soon have the heaves. But if it's real food ye want to feel sliding down thy gullet and warming thy insides, we'll have to buy that in the High Dale, as any wayfarers would. So the sooner we set off, the sooner we both eat."
"Fair fortune to that," Sharantyr agreed from behind a tree. "Can we leave off conquering the dale until after I eat?"
* * * * *
"Ready to save the dale, then?" Belkram asked cheerfully.
Itharr just looked at him. "Is there anything to eat?" A rolling growl from his stomach echoed the query.
"No," Belkram said just as cheerfully. "I saw a few berries yestereve, two ridges back, but there weren't more than a handful."
"Ummm." Itharr looked glum. "All this running about, hacking mages and Zhentilar strongnecks, seems a lot more enticing on a full stomach."
"One stride before the next," Belkram said reassuringly. "If we knock over enough mages, we're sure to find one with some