Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [53]
"Put away that overlong fang, Florin, and light me a torch," said a somehow familiar voice, disgustedly.
"Ye have a balhiir indeed. Young Torm managed to keep to the truth for once."
"Elminster!" the ranger said in calm, pleased greeting.
"I know, I know… ye're all delighted to see me, or will be if ye ever manage to make a light to see anything by."
Light flared up as the ranger relit his torch.
Elminster stood in the flickering light looking at Shandril and Narm. "A fine dance ye've led me on, ye two… Gorstag was in tears when I left him, girl; nearly frantic, he was. Ye might have told him a bit more about where ye were going. Young folk have no consideration, these days."
Then he winked, and Shandril felt suddenly very happy. She cast the stone in her hand so that it crashed at the old mage's feet.
"Wall met, indeed," Elminster said dryly, "O releaser of balhiirs. We may as well get to know each other before the dying starts."
7: To Face the Balhiir
Tell ye of the balhiir? Ah, a curious creature, indeed.
I hear it was first-the short version, ye say? Very well; ye are paying. The short version is thus: a curious creature, indeed. Thank ye, good sir; fair day to ye.
The sage Rasthiavar of Iraiebor
A Wayfarer's Belt-Book of Advice
Year of Many Mists
"I expected to see the cultists here long ago," Torm said, slipping lightly up onto a high, flat rock. "Or at least to see something of the dracolich. Why so long?"
"Fear of us," Rathan said with a grin. Florin remained alert by the entrance, obviously expecting an attack.
"I'm so scared I can scarce stand still," Shandril said,
"and you talk calmly of strategies and jests! How do you do it?"
"We always talk before a fight, lady," Rathan answered. "One is excited and among friends and may not live to see the next dawn." The fat cleric shrugged. "Besides… how better to spend the waiting? Much of what a bard calls 'dashing adventure,' at least for us, is a little fast and hard running and fighting and lots and lots of waiting. We would grow bored wasting all that time in silence."
"Hmphh!" said Elminster. "All this jaw-wagging's the mark of minds too feeble to ruminate in solitude." Torm chuckled. Jhessail rose from the rocks, the sparkling and glowing balhiir moving above her. She went to Shandril, and took her hand.
"Elminster" the magic-user said, turning from Shandril to the ancient wizard, "there will doubtless be time for chatter later. After the battle, most likely.
Tell us now of the balhiir. That thing floating in the air above us has not approached you since destroying your globe, so I know you bear no magic item. It will rob you of your spells, as it has done me, if we do not deal with it. What say you?"
"Yes, yes," Elminster said severely. "I am not so addled that I forgot-the lass or"-he indicated the shifting mist above the two women with the head of his staff-"that." He took off his battered hat and hung it upon the staff now cradled in the angle of one arm. He then leaned back against a massI’ve boulder and cleared his throat noisily.
"The balhiir" the old sage began in measured tones,
"is a most curious creature. Rare in the Realms and unknown in many of the pi-"
"Elminster!" Jhessail protested. "The short version.
Please."
The sage regarded her in stony silence for two long breaths. "Good lady! This is the short version. It would do ye good to cultivate patience… a habit I have found useful these last live hundred winters or so." Pointedly he turned his head away to speak solely to Shandril.
"Listen most carefully, Shandril Shessair." The young would-be thief tensed at the old mage's serious tone. "In this place, we lack all means for banishing or destroying this balhiir, save one, and ye alone can master it. ‘Tis a dangerous affair for all of us, but for ye most of all. However, there is no other answer. Are ye willing to attempt it?"
Shandril looked around at the adventurers who had become her friends. Then she gazed up at the strange, magic-eating, glowing wisp above her. Letting