The Temptation of Elminster - Ed Greenwood [78]
The mantle of the Court Mage of Galadorna, let fall by Nadrathen scant moments ago, was rising from the floor again, to hang upright as though a rather tall man was wearing it.
As the wondering court watched, a body faded into view within the mantle…a hawk-nosed, raven-haired human wearing nondescript robes and a faint smile. "Nadrathen?" he asked. "Called the Rebel Chosen?"
"King Nadrathen of Galadorna, as it happens," came the cool reply. "And who might you be? The shade of a court mage past?"
"I am called Elminster…and by the Hand of Azuth and the Mercy of Mystra, I challenge thee to spell duel, here and now, in a circle of my rais…"
"Oh, by all the fallen gods," Nadrathen sighed, and black flames suddenly exploded out of his hands with a roar, racing in a thick cylinder, like a battering ram, at the newcomer.
"Die, and trouble my coronation no more," the new king of Galadorna told the sudden inferno of black flames that erupted where his spell had struck. All over the chamber murmuring armsmen were crouching low behind pillars and railings or slipping out doorways, and away.
Black flames howled up to the ceiling…and were gone, snarling up to some lofty otherwhere. The man in the mantle of court mage stood unchanged, save that one eyebrow was now raised in derision. "Ye have some aversion to rules of combat or defensive circles? Or were ye in some haste to remodel this part of thy castle?"
Nadrathen cursed…and stone blocks were suddenly raining down all around them, plunging down from empty air to shake the chamber with their thunderous landings. Stone shards sprayed in all directions as the floor shattered, more armsmen fled, shouting in fear.
No stones struck either Nadrathen or Elminster, it was the turn of the Rebel Chosen to lift his brows in surprise.
"You come well shielded," he granted grudgingly. 'Ulmimber…or whatever your name is…do you know what I am?"
"An archmage of accomplished might," Elminster said softly, "named by Holy Mystra herself as one of her Chosen…and now turned to evil."
"I did not turn to evil, fool wizard. I am what I have always been, Mystra has known me for what I am from the first." The king of Galadorna regarded his challenger bleakly, and added, "You know what the outcome of our duel must be?"
El swallowed, started to nod, and then suddenly grinned. "Ye're going to talk me to death?"
Nadrathen snarled, "Enough! You had your chance, idiot, and now…"
The air above them was suddenly darker and full of a host of ghostly, faceless floating figures, cowled and robed, trailing away to nothingness as they swooped, thrusting cold and spectral blades at the hawk-nosed mage.
As those blades transfixed Elminster, they slid in without gore or resistance… and became dwindling smoke and sparks, taking their wielders with them.
Nadrathen gaped in astonishment. His words, when he could find them, came in a gasp. "You must be a Ch…"
Behind the self-styled king of Galadorna, unseen by either dueling mage, a long-fingered female hand had slid into view, protruding from the still-solid, upright back of the riven Unicorn Throne with blue motes of risen magic dancing around it. Those long, flexing fingers now leveled a deliberate finger at the back of the unwitting Rebel Chosen.
Nadrathen's eyes widened, bulging for one incredulous moment before all his glistening bones burst together out the front of his body. Behind them as they bounced, a bloody, shapeless mass of flesh slumped to the floor, spattering El's boots and the throne with gore.
El sprang back, gagging, but the bones and the horrible puddle that had been Nadrathen were already afire, blazing from within. Blue-white, wasted magic swirled above flames of bright silver as men cried out in disgust and fear all over the chamber. El watched a thread of silver rise straight up from those flames to pierce the ceiling and burn onward.
He never saw the sunlight stab down into the throne