The Temptation of Elminster - Ed Greenwood [138]
The smoking stump of what must have been an old and large duskwood gave mute testimony to the effectiveness of something one of the younger Dreadspells had awakened. Elryn stared at it with dark anger rising in him, but before he could say anything, Femter was thrusting a ring at him excitedly.
"Dark Brother, look! This ring…against the best seeking Brother Daluth can cast…completely cloaks the dweomers of all magic in contact with its wearer! One could go into the presence of a king armed for a beholder war and strike with impunity."
"Such bold stratagems are usually more effective in ballads than in real life," Elryn replied severely, "to say nothing of prudence." He looked for Daluth and found him carefully taking forth one circlet after another from his scrip.
"Ah," the leader of the Dreadspells announced in satisfaction, "a wiser way to spend time. Let us all heal ourselves, then devote a short time to examining wands and staves before resuming our journey to the ruins."
Several more trees suffered in the moments that followed. The healing items all proved to be of more effectiveness than a single use. Two of the staves proved to have no more battle- worthy spells than the ability to spit forth the streaking bolts men called "magic missiles," but the others could unleash beams of ravening fire and explosive bursts of magic… and two of those seemed able to drain touched magic items and even the spells of their wielders upon command, to power their most destructive attacks.
"What shining luck!" Vaelam laughed, blasting a helpless shadowtop sapling to ashes.
"Luck? Holy Shar led us to this spot, Dark Brother," Elryn said severely, playing to the priestesses watching from afar. "Shar guides us always… you will do well never to forget that."
"Of course," Vaelam said hastily, then laughed heartily as the staff in his hands snarled again…and another tree vanished in roiling flames that fell away into streamers of smoke diving down to the leaf mold all around.
"Vaelam of Shar," Elryn said sharply, "stop that wasteful destruction at once. I'd rather not have this forest aflame around us or every druid and mage within a hundred miles appearing around us to give battle. Have you forgotten Iyrindyl's fate already?"
Vaelam grimaced, but he couldn't seem to stop fondling and hefting the staff, like a warrior who's just been handed a superb blade.
"My apologies, Dark Brother," he said, chastened, "I-I got caught up in its power." He licked his lips, firmly grounded the staff, and asked, as if seeking approval, "Do you know how tempting it is just to blast down everything that irritates or stands against you?"
"Yes, Vaelam, as a matter of fact, I do," Elryn replied, and wiggled the wand in his hand…the wand pointed at Vaelam's face…ever so slightly to draw the younger man's eyes. As Vaelam saw, and paled, the senior Dreadspell continued grimly, "It's just one of many such temptations."
Erlyn smiled tightly and thrust the wand back into his belt. "Aye," he added slowly, setting out at a steady pace in the direction of the ruins. "One of many."
He gestured curtly for the Dreadspells to follow. Reluctantly, they did so. Vaelam stopped to cast a longing look back at the stone slab, and the woods beyond it…and found himself looking right into the coldly smiling eyes and leveled staff of Daluth, who was watchfully bringing up the rear.
Vaelam managed a halfhearted smile, but Daluth's eyes grew no warmer. The youngest surviving Dread-spell swallowed, turned, and trudged off toward doom.
"Now, this curling of the leaf, on the other hand, tells you that this is a si…"
Starsunder paused in mid-word