Elminster in Hell

The human's eyebrows rose. 'Strange bedfellows, indeed,' he observed calmly. 'Thy falling into league together-that's a tale I'd like to hear.' He sat down on a piece of the tumbled stone beside him, propped his dusty boots on another stone, and got out his pipe. 'Well?'

The lich stared. 'Are you insane?'

The mage shook tobacco out of a little pouch and commenced to tamp it down into the bowl of his pipe with his thumb. 'Probably,' he replied cheerfully. Death advanced on him, spreading out with stealthy grace to outflank and surround him. 'Are ye surprised?'

The lich did not bother to reply but instead snapped hurriedly, 'Before Mysira and the Mages Arcane, I claim right of subsumption in this duel, that all my opponent's powers be granted to me-attack! '

Though the presence of allies and the failure to allow one party to claim before commencement were blatant breaches of the rules of Spelldown Hall, and though the creatures arrayed against him made death a swift certainty, the human puffed on his pipe and made no move.

As the first spell touched him-a bright bolt from the death tyrant-the hall was suddenly full of blue-white fire and a wordless singing that was both feminine and exultant. Drow limbs roared into flame and were gone. The gargoyle melted away into a brief whirling chaos of black flame and melting shards of sword. The gigantic snake burst like a boiled sausage and crumbled to dust. Silently, the beholder winked out.

As the last of its allies vanished, the disbelieving lich gasped, 'How-?'

'Mystra gives ye greetings,' the reclining human said pleasantly. He blew a smoke ring in the direction of his opponent before following it with the innocent question, 'Does this mean ye don't want to tell me the tale of this little alliance?'

The lich's scream of fury was as wordless as Mystra's swelling song. Black flames and red roared out of its bony hands and snarled across the hall at the man with the pipe.

Elminster watched the flames come. As they struck home, he jerked his body this way and that in spasms that made his pipe shoot up to the ceiling. Smoke curled from his lips as he announced calmly, 'Mystra niakes reply.'

He closed his mouth. When he reopened it all the blue-white fire in Faerun poured forth, sweeping away one end of Spelldown Hall, frantic lich and all, in a single roaring instant…

Blue-white and so bright…

Aargh! Rrraaaaaghh! Oughhh!

[writhing flailing red-eyed pain, shuddering horns and tentacles, rocking and keening in helpless slithering agony, dying slowly to gasps]

[cautious peering, stealing forward from shadows to look at the smoking ruin of too many memories, with the smarting sentience of an archdevil smoldering at their heart]

Ohhh. Urghh.[slow roll over, curling of stiffened talons, flexing of torn tentacles, unfolding in the sudden absence of pain]Sweet fires of Nessus!

Nergal?

If i thought you'd done that deliberately, wizard, i'd tear you limb from limb and savage your remains!

I but yielded what ye forcefully sought.

So you did. Though it showed me nothing useful such fury rarely comes forth when i open my mouth.

Oh, I might disagree with ye there….

Have your smile, little man. Torment will come to you again soon enough.

[rising from the ruin to stand and then stagger, tentacles questing forth, the light growing more as the search begins once more]

So that's what the fire or a goddess tastes like. Spare me no warnings in future, when i take hold of any similar surprises!

I know not, devil, what can surprise thee.

Really? Nether do I. [grim mental smile] Well, we'll just have to learn togeth-

Spinagons swooped and tumbled out of the blood-red sky. They fell upon a hulk and stabbed with forks and raked with feet. The thing reared up, scattering them with two thrusts of its tentacles, and bellowed, 'Who dares-?'

Shrieking, the devils flapped out of the hollow, fleeing in babbling panic.

Nergal glared after them, able to snatch only one of his attackers. Snaking tentacles slowly tore one limb after another from that hapless, shrieking spinagon. One end of a tentacle thrust into its mouth, breaking the jaw to keep from being bitten, and remaining.That muffled the shrieks. Nergal shook his head.

Whether agents sent by a rival or merely brainless hunters, these flapping annoyances were an overdue warning. Lost in the enjoyment of rummaging human memories, he'd been leaving himself vulnerable. Not all the denizens of Avernus were wise enough to avoid an arch-devil. Others might well decide to try their luck with a wounded, reeling Nergal-to say nothing of the naked, puny crawling thing that was Hminster. Alone amid smoke and scuttling things a few gorges off, he was well on the way to blundering into the arms of Tasnya, or Oomrith, or Skeldagon, or half a dozen others.

Caution was in order. Nergal moved across smoking fissures to a more defensible place. A pack of nupperibos had gathered there. Nergal gave them a many-fanged smile full of fell promise. The nupperibos fled from him in grunting haste. Nergal flung his awareness back to the dark caverns of Elminster's mind.

Back to the human's youth in Hastarl, and from there no doubt a long, tortuous chain of memories wherein the wizard knew ever more of Mystra's power, and magic mastered and then hidden. Magic that would soon belong to Nergal.

Diabolic laughter echoed in a cavern around the tentacled lord. The sound filled also the riven chambers behind the eyes of the Old Mage. Spines bristled, granted by Nergal to make Elminster a less obvious morsel.

Languid limbs stretched, cherry-red and glistening with the blood of the gutted, half-crushed lemures that filled the bowl-shaped bed.

'So,' purred their owner, as little flames licked from between her lips and rose from the tips of magnificent breasts, 'Nergal has a new toy-one alluring enough to distract him from his usual hunts and cruelties. Such a toy Tasnya must have.'

She rolled over on the lemuran corpses, arching away from the razor-maws of the land lampreys whose gnawing brought her such pain and pleasure. She-devils knelt eagerly at the foot of the bed. She fixed one with a look that had fire in it. Its human-seeming tongue licked both its lush lips and the dainty fangs behind them, in anticipation of a pleasurable mission.

Tasnya did not disappoint her slave, though her voice dripped with irony. 'Do you go forth, loyal Sressa,' she told the erinyes, 'and take an interest in Nergal's doings. Harm him if you can, and snatch away unharmed his human captive if possible, bringing it here to me. Tasnya has uses for mortal wizards-and blundering archdevils who come raging hence to recover them, too.'

Chapter Nine

WHO'S KILLING THE GREAT LORDS OF WATERDEEP?

Many-spined, tormented, crawling…

[images of a fat, wheezing man and a slender lass, hurrying through a city at night] you're taking me on thkouch au. of this!¹ there's best be some vivid and useful memories of magic by the end of fl, elmlnsteh, or i'll give you memories of agony that won't soon fade. and don't tell mb you've heard such threats before.

[silence] Well?