Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [86]
The storm shutters had been thrown wide on an arched window that commanded a view of the courtyard and the parapet walk most of the way around the inside of the castle. Leaning out of the window, resplendent in rich robes, a cruel-looking man wearing earrings and a triumphant sneer was fairly spitting his words down at the trapped men below.
"Thought yourselves victorious, did you? Country idiots! Longspear ruled only as far as we let him. Now that you've swept him away and most of his stupid sword-swingers with him, what have you accomplished?"
The man raised his hand. Elminster saw that he held a handful of winking, glowing glass spheres that spun lazily around each other, and his heart sank. Zhent blast-globes!
"All you've done, worms, is thrown away your lives- and those of your wives and daughters and mothers-by hewing down all among us who might have shown you any mercy. Now you face wizards of power, dullards, and you'll discover just how we deal with defiance!"
The globes swept up, pulsing with sudden fire as he drew back his hand to throw them. "Know, worms, that it is I, Haragh Mnistlyn, who destroys you!"
Elminster leaned close then and conversationally said,
"Boo."
The Zhentarim turned a startled face to the Old Mage, who smiled sweetly at him and bellowed, "Now, Shar!"
Elminster raised his wand with a confident smile and tensed to fling himself back around the curve of the wall.
The Zhent wizard didn't disappoint him. Snarling in surprised fury, he flung the blast-globes straight at Elminster.
If they struck anything, they would explode.
The Old Mage hurled himself back as energetically as he'd ever done anything in his long, long life.
There was a frozen moment when the only thing he heard was his own heartbeat booming between his ears like the muffled, deep call of a far-off marching drum. His shoulder struck stone with bruising force, and he skidded on. Lights winked and flashed past his nose.
It seemed his life might stretch a little longer, after all. A loud crash came from within the turret, accompanied by a startled curse, as the blazing globes spun past Elminster, whirled over the inner parapet wall with a bandwidth or so to spare, and plunged down into the forecourt. Safely around the curve of the turret wall, the Old Mage craned to watch the end of their flight and saw folk coming toward the gate from outside the castle.
Folk without armor. Folk of the dale-Women! He had no time even for a prayer to Mystra but brought up his wand and hissed desperately, "Alag!"
The wand gave forth-ah, praise be!-a glowing teardrop offeree, firing it out over empty air with a soft phut. It curved gracefully down and then seemed to leap through the air to meet the descending globes just before they could reach the open gate.
Elminster stared hard at the gate-had he been in time?-and barely heard the thin scream, abruptly cut off, from behind him. On its heels came the fury of the blast, smiting his ears like spell-thunder.
Below, a door had just opened in a tower wall. Armored Wolves were hurrying out into the forecourt, halberds and blades ready. Well, he couldn't stop the luck of Tempus falling on them.
The women had seen the Wolves and hesitated. Yes, that would save them! Elminster laughed aloud.
Gods, if he only had his magic, none of this would be necessary. But still, they'd done well this day. He turned.
"Shar?"
A grim, blood-streaked face looked out of the door at him. "I live. That's more than can be said for this spell-hurler. He was quick, I'll give him that."
The lady ranger came out into the light again. Her face was white, and she was shaking with rage.
"What, lass?" Elminster asked, reaching out to her. Sharantyr turned blazing eyes on him.
"Those snakes are laying wagers on who will kill the most with their magic," she said, seething. "He screamed just after that blast, and someone called up the