Elminster in Hell

'I'm in no particular hurry to die anywhere, thank you,' the warrior replied sourly'! just wanted to remind you that this is the lair of Halaster the Mad, and things are seldom what they seem. I mean, if yon lady's been chained for long, how is it that something else hasn't come along already' to devour her?'

The wizard, breathing heavily, pushed through the bead curtain in the archway. He entered a room where a chained woman was spread-eagled over a pedestal. Her large eyes were terrified, pleading over the tight leather gag that covered the lower half of her face.

'My guest only wants her brain,' the wizard snapped. 'You may have the rest of her when I'm done.'

Baergrim came to a halt well back of the pedestal where the woman's torso rested, and exchanged warning looks with the other two Blades: a small darker-, skinned warrior named Eltragar and a slim woman in worn and patched leathers. Mheriyam was a nervous thief. She had daggers in either hand, and her face was.' white with fear.

Together, the three Blades watched the wizard approach the pedestal. It was surrounded by a glowing circle of green dust on the floor. Runes of a similar hue had been ', painted on the woman's arms.

The wizard gave the ring a quick, sneering glance and j strode right across it. As he leaned over the woman with a I tight smile growing on his face, she jerked her head from j side to side, sudden and frantic flailing making her chains j rattle. Yet, arching and twisting, she could not escape the tentacles now reaching out-

'Mhulker!' Baergrim snapped suddenly. 'Mhulker, get back! That gag's covering her mouth and her nose! She can't be breathing-so she can't be human!”

There was a sudden confusion of writhing tentacle jouncing chains and roiling lights around the pedestal-and then a brief roar of flame.

When its flash died and the Blades could see again, they found themselves blinking in horror at something lurching; toward them. Mheriyam screamed.

Mhulker's legs and pelvis were staggering back from the pedestal with nothing left above them but a little cloud of drifting ash.

Three blades came up in unison, but no one made a i move toward the pedestal. As Mhulker's remains stumbled j and sagged to the floor, the cloud of winking lights and rushing smoke above the pedestal coalesced suddenly into-a man.

A bald, elderly man with long white hair and wrinkled brown robes stood beyond the pedestal. His fierce eyes softened not a whit as he folded his arms across his chest and gave them an eager, welcoming smile.

'Halaster!' Mheriyam howled in terror, whirling around and breaking into a frantic run Halaster Blackcloak!'

Baergrim and Eltragar did not need to hear her warning; they were already running hard, bouncing bruisingly off stone walls as they gasped and stumbled. Cold, cruel laughter pursued them a long way down the passages they fled through.

When the echoes of frantic boots had faded, the mad wizard shaped one of his arms once more into slender femininity and with a glance spun a chain out of nothing to link it with the wall once more. Someone else was coming, and the old ruses were the good ones.

In a few moments, the woman lay spread-eagled in her chains on the pedestal once more, eyes pleading above the gag that once more covered both mouth and nose. One had to give the alert ones some small chance at survival, after all___

The chained woman turned her head and stared in swift fury at the figure who came through the beaded curtain next. It wore his own true likeness, a bald, elderly man with long white hair, fierce eyes, and wrinkled brown robes-and it leaned against the archway, folded arms across its chest and smiled at him. 'Halaster Blackcloak, I presume?'

Halaster did not bother to drop his womanly disguise as he snapped, 'Aye, so who are you?'

The spell that cracked out of him stripped away the intruder's disguise and sent him flying helplessly across the room. A fat and unlovely man struck the far wall with a groan and slid slowly down it, face tight with pain.

Halaster rolled off the pedestal, becoming himself as he strode forward to deal death. No, best learn how and why this fool had taken his semblance first. And then- ah, yes, and then…

Blue bolts of lightning were already whirling and spitting around one of his hands as he came to a halt above the wincing and struggling man. That face…

'Mirt? Mirt of Waterdeep? What by all of Mystra's whims are you doing here?' Halaster held the lightning where the old merchant could see it and said softly, 'I asked you a question. Answer swiftly or die-I shan't stand here waiting for you to ready an attack.'

The Old Wolf spat blood and said. “Found y-you. Knew I would.' Then his eyes became two blue-white flames, and he began to rise from the floor, floating upward even as he-no, she, for shapely limbs and hips were beginning to spin into being out of what had seemed his own tattered brown robes- glided forward.

Halaster raised his hand full of lightning and snarled, 'Who-or what- are you?'

'Call me Mystra,' his visitor said gently. The rolling echo of that voice shook Halaster to the depths of his soul.

He found himself on his knees, trembling, tears threatening….

The hand that touched his was firm, solid, and smooth. It sent a wash of power through him that drove back the dark curtains in his mind for a time and left him blinking in grateful awe.

'Don't thank me,' the goddess of all magic said to the mad wizard. 'We need to talk.'

'Because?'

'I have need of a task swiftly done,' Mystra said. 'A hard task, and one suited for a madman.'

Halaster's lips lifted in what was almost a smile, and he asked, 'If I live, will you give me sanity?'

'If I can.'

'Will you give me magic enough to have a chance of succeeding?'

Mystra nodded.' I will. Thrice as much power as you've ever tasted or wielded before, and more.'

'That's what made me mad. I think,' he whispered. “I’ll do it.'

It was Mystra's turn to not quite smile. 'Would you like to know what the task is, first?'

Halaster shrugged. 'No, but tell me.'

“I need a wizard brought back from the Nine Hells. As alive and as intact as you can make him. He's a living man and an intruder there, not a denizen.'

“I’ll do it. Who is he?'

A face and a name and a more secret name whirled into Halaster's mind, and he staggered and caught at his head. “Elminster,' he said in surprise. 'Lady, is he not one of your own?'

Mystra nodded. 'He is-as you shall be.'

“L-lady, I have been touched by Shar,' Halaster dared to whisper.

Mystra tossed her head impatiently. Small winking stars scattered from her long, flowing tresses to stream about the chamber. 'I know. Touch me'

Halaster Blackcloak swallowed. He rose and extended one hand timidly toward her. The power that jolted through him made him shriek and go blind. It seemed to him, just for a moment, that his body struck a wall with bone-shattering force…. By then, all was blue-white fire, roaring on and on, and Halaster was laughing in exultation at the power racing through him. He rode it far and away, across planes and great voids and past shadowed, reaching things… or perhaps it rode him.

***

Well, now, what's this? Many folk, some sour of feast, spells going off… Yes.

Though the hour bells had rung but nine, the revel was in full swing. Laughter, snatches of off-key singing, and! fond shouts of friendship echoed off the high ceiling in! an unending din. The minstrels had long since given up trying to be heard and joined the crowds around the drink trays. The ring of empty goblets rolling around tiled floors was the loudest music now.