The Temptation of Elminster - Ed Greenwood [63]
The expected flames flared up, and the agonized scream with it. But the Guardian of the Tower was unprepared for what followed.
Instead of collapsing into sighing oblivion, the blazing, exploding mist drew together suddenly, rising with terrifying speed into the shape of a human head and shoulders…a head that was only eyes and long hair, trailing down onto a bust.
Mardasper took a pace back, who was this ghost-woman?
Fingers that were more smoke than flesh moved in intricate gestures, trailing the flames of the guardian's spell, and Mardasper frantically tried to think what spell he should use…this ghost that should not be able to withstand his shatterstar was casting magic!
An instant later, the ghostly outline of the sorceress grew a jaw and began to laugh…a high, shrill mirth that was almost lost in the sharp hiss of acid raining down on the guardian… and the shrieking death that followed.
Mardasper's melting, smoking bones tumbled to the floor amid a torrent of acid that made the floor erupt in smoke.
Over it all rose a cold, mirthless, triumphant laugh. Some might have judged that wild laughter to be almost a scream, but it had been a long time since the whirlwind had laughed aloud. It was a little out of practice.
Seven: Deadly Spells Forbear Thee
Evil is no extravagance to those who serve themselves first.
Thaelrythyn of Thay
from The Red Book of a Thayvian Mage
published circa The Year of the Saddle
It was a cool day in late spring…the third greening of Toril to come and go since two mages had met in the Riven Stone…and the sky was ablaze in red, pink, and gold as the sun, in a leisurely manner, prepared to set. A tower rose like an indigo needle against that sky of flame, and out of the west something small and dark came flying to bank in a wide loop around that tower.
Heads looked up at it: a flying carpet, with two humans seated upon it, their figures dark against the fiery sky wherever the rays of the setting sun hadn't turned them the hue of beaten copper.
"Beautiful, is it not?" Dasumia purred, turning from surveying the tower. A green glint that El had long ago learned presaged danger was dancing in her eyes. She slid forward onto her elbows, cradling her chin in her hands, and regarded the tower with an almost satisfied air.
"Lady, it is," Elminster said carefully.
A teasing eye rolled up to stare into his own orbs. Ye gods, trouble indeed, Mystra defend.
His Lady Master pointed at the tower and said, "A wizard named Holivanter dwells there. A merry fellow, he taught the beasts he summoned to build it all sorts of comical songs and chants. He keeps talking frogs, and even gave a few of them wings with which to fly."
The carpet banked smoothly around the tower on its second orbit of the spire. The tower rose like a fairytale needle from neat, green walled gardens. Ruby-hued lamps glimmered in several of its windows, but it seemed otherwise tranquil, almost deserted.
"The house of Holivanter… pretty, isn't it?"
"Indeed, Lady," El agreed and meant it.
"Slay him," Dasumia snapped.
El blinked at her. She nodded, and pointed down at the slim tower with an imperious hand.
El frowned. "Lady, I…"
Little flames seemed to flicker in Dasumia's eyes as she locked her gaze with his. One elegant eyebrow lifted.
"A friend of yours?"
"I know him not," El replied truthfully. There was no way he could send a warning, or a defense, or healing, the man was doomed. Why betray himself in futility?
Dasumia shrugged, drew forth a dark, smooth rod from a sheath on her hip, and extended it with languid grace. Something caused the air to curdle in a line, racing down, down…
… And the upper half of Holivanter's tower burst apart with a roar, spraying the sky with wreckage. Smaller purple, amber, and blue-green blasts followed as various scorched magics within the tower exploded in their turns. El stared at the conflagration as its echoes rolled back from nearby hills, and debris