Elminster in Hell

Nergal’s lips were like ice-a searing cold that raged through Elminster's ruined mouth and nose. He tried to murmur, tried to pull away… but could do nothing until the archdevil released him with a gloating smile.

'Taste my mindworm, mage. A magic of my own invention, devised to take your memories, to learn how you call on and control Mystra's power and what you know of things and beings of power in Faerun that I can snatch and use myself. Of course, each memory I gain will be lost to wise old Elminster. In the end, there'll be naught left of you but a lurching, drooling half-wit, remembering only that you were once mighty… once, before you met Nergal.'

The archdevil roared with laughter, and darting tentacles touched Elminster here and there, sending smaller spells through him until the naked, exhausted man could stand once more. In a shuffling stagger that made him gasp in wordless pain, he struggled away. Tentacles whipped his still-raw flesh, goading him into movement.

Leaving a bloody trail, Elminster tried to hasten beyond the reach of those cruel tentacles.

Go, Nergal's mocking voice said, deep in his mind. The glories of avernus await. I shall ride with you. Seeing what would flee ok hide from me… And lying within you, as a surprise for those who'd do you i'll. So wander where you will, mighty wizard.

Elminster shuddered. Broken he might be no longer, but pain still racked him from a hundred lesser hurts. He was powerless to use his magic or contact Mystra or anyone else. Everything he did would be revealed to the devil riding his mind. He was doomed, just as soon as Nergal finished reaming his memory… and Toril would be doomed with him. He was tree to drag his husk of a body around Avernus, if that could be called freedom. He'd felt enough of Net-gal's questing thoughts already to tell himself the devil who'd violated him delighted in ruining minds.

So he stumbled away, uncaring, up a bare rock ridge. As he went, the ground trembled under him. A gout of flame spat up into the sky, sending an abishai squalling into frantically flapping flight.

Wincing at sharp stones underfoot, El reached the top of the ridge and looked out across a wasteland of rock. There, spinagons and abishai slunk and marled at each other. Beyond loomed a high cliff where devils gathered.

A patrol, throw youself down.

Elminster stood unmovmg, peering this way and that. Now was a good time to test Nergal’s control over him.

Without warning, his body surged sickeningfy, as if an eel or snake were moving inside him. He crashed down hard onto unyielding stone, bouncing once with the force of his fell.

Obey, great. Be aware of that there are more painful ways of taming you.

I’ll shuddered. In his fall, he'd driven his hand into a tangle of thorns. As he struggled to pluck them out, weeping at the pain, he wondered how anything survived in this bleak realm of rock. What did devils eat? Each other, perhaps, but how did they ever birth enough to feed these hosts of…

The whorlspells sustain vs.

The what?

You's little secrets. Wandering, cast by no one they have always been-little whirlpool of snatching magic that steal water, creatures, and things from other planes, spilling them down rifts in the rock. Food comes to us from the whorispells, and treasure.

Elminster sighed, shook his head, and tried to get to his feet. He made it as far as his hands and knees before he felt the crawling sensation again. He pitched forward onto his face, scrabbling at the rocks with bleeding fingers.

Stay down and go this way.

So much for wandering. El sighed-it came out as a hoarse gurgle-and started to crawl. A ball of fire roared across the sky, and the ground shook again.

He was standing on the wind-scoured battlements of a castle that no longer existed, watching something in the snow-covered garden below stir and suddenly rise, throwing off a thick cloak of ice, and reaching out a scaly claw-

Into a dark, dim hall where skeletons sat slumped in tall, arch-backed chairs, wan glows flickering about their bone fingers as the enchantments in the rings they wore finally died, letting loose spells that had been cast before Alaundo had been born…

The probing force in his mind faltered, and he was back in Avernus again. An angry mental roar echoed through him: By the searing fires? Your mind is … Utter chaos.

El found himself grinning fiercely, and tried to send a firm, clear thought back at the wandering sentience within him.

Of course, I am a wizard.

A wordless slap came back at him out of the darkness of his own mind. It sent Elminster tumbling in a wet flow of what might have been tears or blood. He found himself screaming, or trying to, and shaking a head he did not have-

Desperately, in the innermost cloak of comfort he'd fled into, he turned over a rock close to his heart and warmed his hand, just for a moment, on the silver fire lurking beneath.

Then, calm once more, he rose within the velvet darkness of his mind and went on, parting veils until he saw the blood-red sky of Avernus once more. Near the distant horizon streaked another ball of flame.

What did you-? The fire-you used Mystra's fire! Give it to me!

Crawling, Elminster kept silent, trying to get over the ridge before the awful compulsion to turn and look back at Nergal's glaring face overwhelmed him.

The outcast devil stood with arms folded and eyes like flames. His tentacles rose above him, trembling to strike. Yield to me, man! The voice roared in his mind. Show me how you call on the silver fire!

El crawled on, blind to Avernus once again as he struggled to think of all-cloaking darkness, of nights spent stumbling along dark forest trails, of moments lost wandering in wet, dripping tombs…

There was brightness behind him, and shrieking cacophony. Nergal was coming, clawing through El's memories, tearing aside one after another until he unearthed what he sought in the dark, labyrinthine caverns of a wizard cursed to forget all too little.

Banners aflame, in a battle under bright sunlight long ago …

Elminster snatching aside rocks, turning them over to reveal fire beneath-the fire of smoking dragon's blood, spilled moments before in a spell duel that-

No. Not that remembrance! The silver fire, you pullng worm!

Silver fire. Spilling through his fingers, amid tears, on another battlefield with a dying elf woman in his arms. Her head fallen back and her magnificent throat working, as silver fire spilled forth from her like glowing smoke, drifting down, running from her fingertips to blaze and gutter in the grass around them both…

Yes! More! Snow me silver fire in use!

Silver fire, raging, roaring up hungrily…

Yes! Snow me more! Show me!

Silver flames whirling past a hundred disbelieving faces, screaming skulls as eyes melted and sizzled away and flames consumed all… hands reaching vainly for aid amid the roaring fire… slender, long-nailed, graceful Fingers closing on nothing…

A slaying? Using mystra's fire? Snow me!

Though I hate to lose anything of my beloved, I can live without her remembrance of Orlugrym, aye….

Snow me, wizard! Show me!

Whirling, snarling helices of silver flame around a thousand turrets and tumbling dragons and one grim and regal female face…

[mental chaos clearing]

She passed in a swirl of skirts.

The Red Wizard smiled. Like an eager shadow, he stepped out from behind the pillar. The Simbul might be