The Temptation of Elminster - Ed Greenwood [129]
"Iyrindyl?"
"Down. Forever. Half a tree fell on him."
Elryn drew in a deep breath and let it out in a ragged sigh, very conscious of the unseen eyes of Darklady Avroana upon him. "Right…consider that fiasco our first battle-practice. There'll be no more charging into any fray. From now on, we creep through these woods like shadows. When we find the ruin, we wait for the Weave to feed us once more, then…and only then, even if it takes all night…we advance. Out in these woods, only the Chosen really matters to us, and I'm not going to be caught off-guard again."
Blue-white fire burst forth from the book. The skeleton almost dropped the book in surprise, its bony fingertips clawing at its covers, as the flames that burned nothing washed over its bones, racing from the book to… her.
Sharindala shuddered as blue-white fire ran up and down her limbs, leaving something in its wake. She stared down at her glowing bones in wonder, then back at the book, feeling something rising in her throat.
"That's a good plan," Ilbryn agreed sarcastically, as tie let his clairaudience collapse, said farewell to the idiot wizards and their chatter, and cast the guidance spell that would take him to these ruins they'd been heading for. He bid it seek out man-touched stone, in any mass larger than four men…which should eliminate tombstones and the like…and in this general direction…
Almost immediately he felt the pull of the magic, Ilbryn followed it obediently, striding off through the woods along an invisible but unwavering line. Ah, but magic could be useful at times.
It had been cold and dark in Scorchstone Hall for many years. Too cold for the living.
A skeleton threw back the shutters of one window to let the sun in and went back to a table where a spellbook lay. Sitting down carefully in the stoutest chair left in the Hall, the skeleton took up the tome, clutched it to its ribcage with both bony arms enfolded around it, and called on the power of the spell it had cast earlier. The power that let it speak.
It said only two words, firmly enough that they echoed back from the dark corners of the room. "Mystra, please."
Baerdagh stiffened at the sudden sound that came through the trees, and almost dropped his walking stick. He turned, to be absolutely sure that the faint weeping was coming from Scorchstone.
It was. In the very heart of that ruined mansion, a woman was sobbing…crying as if she'd never find breath to speak again. In dark, haunted Scorchstone, where the skeletal sorceress walked.
Baerdagh broke into a frantic shuffle, heading for the Maid…where strong drink, and plenty of it, would be waiting.
"Along here, it should be," Beldrune said, as they came around the bend and almost rode down an old man with a walking stick, who looked to have just taken up trotting, and was wheezing loudly to let the world know. "There! Up ahead, on the left…the Fair Maid of Ripplestones. We can get a good meal there, and decent beds a few doors on, and ask in both places about where Elminster's been hereabouts. I know he likes to look at old mages' towers."
"And their tombs, too," Tabarast put in. "It's been some years since I stopped here, but old Raider, if he's still alive, used to roast a mean buck."
The down-at-heels Harper with the pale brown hair and eyes, riding between them, nodded pleasantly. "Sounds good," was all he said, as they slowed their horses at the ramshackle porch and rang the gong that would bring the stable boys.
An old man sitting on a bench deep in one corner of the porch looked at them sharply…especially at Tabarast…as they strode inside. After a moment, he got up and drifted into the Maid on their heels.
It seemed Caladaster was hungry enough for a second earlyevenfeast this day. By the time Baerdagh came puffing up to the front door of the Maid, Caladaster was sitting with the three horsemen who'd almost ridden him down as if they'd known each other for years.
"Aye, I know this Elminster, right enough," Caladaster was saying, "though a few days back I'd have