The Temptation of Elminster - Ed Greenwood [124]
"Mystra and Azuth," the priest beside him whispered. The guards turned to look at Kadeln…and gasped in amazement. The missing pike had just appeared in the priest's shuddering hands. He stared at them, eyes full of wonder, and moaned, "Mystra and Azuth, they were. Standing right there, with the symbols they've granted us to know them by glowing above their heads…right there?
He tried to point out into the litter of bodies, but decided to faint instead. He did it very well, eyes rolling up and body folding down. One of the guards caught him out of force of habit, and the other snatched hold of the pike.
If gods were going to come calling, he didn't want to be standing there unarmed.
"Mystra is dead!" the Darklady declared exultantly. "Her priests find their spells to be but flickering things, and mages study and find no power behind their words. Magic is now ours alone to command…ours to control!"
The purple flames that raged in the brazier before her cast strange lights on her face as she raised eyes that were very large and dark to gaze at them all. Around the flames sat her eager audience: the six priests of the Dark Lady who'd agreed to work as wizards, harnessing for their spells the power of what had already become known in the temple as the Secret in the Sphere. With them she could make the House of Holy Night the mightiest temple of Shar in all Faerun…and the faith of the Nightbringer the most powerful in all Toril. It might not even take long.
"Most loyal Dreadspells," the high priestess told them, "you have a great opportunity to win the favor of Shar, and power for yourselves. Go forth into Faerun and seek out the most capable mages and the largest holds of magic. Slay at will, and seize all you can. Bring back tomes, rare things, and anything that bears the tiniest glow of magic. You must slay any of those servants of Mystra called the Chosen if you meet with them. We here shall work most diligently with our spells to try to find them for you."
"Your Darkness?" one of the wizards asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Dread Brother Elryn?" Darklady Avroana's voice was silken, a clear warning to all that anyone who dared to interrupt her had better have a very good reason for doing so…or she'd soon give them one.
"My work involves farscrying our agents in Westgate," Elryn said quickly, "and rumor now abroad in that city speaks of many recent sightings of a Chosen in the vicinity of Starmantle… something about going into a 'Dead Place'…"
“I, too, have heard such tidings," the Darklady agreed eagerly. "My thanks for giving us a location, Elryn. All of you shall go there immediately…and there begin your holy task. Thrust your hands into the flames…oh, and most loyal Dreadspells, bear in mind that we can see and hear you always."
Six faces paled…and six hands were reluctantly extended into the flames. Darklady Avroana laughed delightedly at their fear and let them burn for a few moments ere she said the words that teleported them all elsewhere.
It was very peaceful in the woods around the shrine…and, since the killings had begun and fear had driven folks away, very quiet.
Most days Uldus Blackram was alone on his knees before the stone block, halfheartedly lashing himself a few times…gently, so as not to make much noise…and whispering prayers to the Nightsinger.
The shrine had been founded so nicely, consecrated with blood and a wild ritual that still made Uldus blush to remember it. Now there were no black-robed ladies to dance and whirl barefoot around the horned block and no one to lead him in the half-remembered prayers… so he did a lot of just thanking Shar for keeping him alive on his stealthy visits to the woods. He hoped she'd forgive him for not coming at night anymore.
"May your darkness keep me safe from the Slayer," Uldus breathed, his lips almost touching the dark stone. "May you guide me to power and exultation over mine enemies, and make of me a strong sword to cut where