Elminster in Hell

[confused chaos of images dying away, mirror-shattered and going dim]

So this is the little secret you've been hiding from me! You've been talking to her all along, haven't you? Calling your friends to hell against me, some doubtless wokking sly schemes while the most rash and stupid tried to charged through all avernus to get to me! They're at work right now, aren't they? Human worm!

No, Lord Nergal! Hear me: I can no longer speak to the Srinshee!

[suspicious glare]

Look, here. Truth, see?

Oh. She died, eh?

I know not. We did speak, back and forth, when each of us very lonely, for years… centuries. Until the Godsfall, when Mystra thrust her power upon me. A lot of things were burnt out inside me, then… and this was one of them. Unless the Srinshee comes to me, and works some magic beyond my skills, I've no way of speaking to her again.

Almost i pity you, human. Almost.

[bewilderment, flare of anger… giving way to utter puzzlement]

Now, why did i say that? Why did i feel that?

[smiling silence]

No, elminster, i'm not becoming weak and sentimental. Kiss someone else. If mage-lore i'm after. Thoughts and memories i can use in hell, and you know it. Show me more!

Of course. That's just what I've been doing: showing ye magic, its uses and effects.

Bah! You split hairs even more finely than amnizu! Human, you disgust me!

Another achievement to be proud of. I'm collecting them.

What price your collection, smart-tongued mortal if you can remember nothing of such achievements-or anything at all? I'll have everything soon enough… Leaving mighty elminster to drool at nothing all the rest op his days.

Threats, [mental sigh] That reminds me of something…

[mental shimmering, memories flashing past to a certain moment, glow found and chosen]

'Halueve Starym,' the man in black snapped crisply, 'is this wise?'

The elf with three crackJing braziers floating in midair before him turned, eyes flashing with anger, and sneered, 'Ah! The human who doomed fair Cormanthor! Speak not to me of wisdom, Slayer of the Fair!'

'Well, then,' Elminster Aumar said mildly, striding forward, 'let me speak of folly-yours. Anyone is a fool who thinks to enspell devils to do his bidding… and truly be their master.'

Calling up the fires of hell, hmmm? It's been done before, you know.

Aye. And since.

On, wizard!

Halueve Starym's sneer broadened into a snarl. 'Speak not to me of folly, human!' he spat. 'Get you gone while you still have legs to carry you! I can send devils to your bed to peel the skin right off you, a limb at a time!' He acquired a soft, evil smile, and added tauntingly, 'And you have to sleep, you know… weak, puny, meddling human.' Although he'd not appeared to lift a finger in spell weaving, a line of leaping flames raced between the two wizards, circling Halueve Starym. 'Begone, Elminster. You are so weak in your Art that I can smash you at will- and if you annoy me further, I'll shatter you now. Go, while still I show mercy!'

Power roiled unbidden within Elminster, and silver sparks danced briefly before his eyes. He stiffened.

Flee not, El. He's released a ready magic that seeks to feed on you, eating flesh and blood and mind together. Simply stand and do nothing but defend yourself with your own spells… and the silver fire will be his undoing. 'Ware you the right-most brazier; it is a watching devil.

Auluua! Elminster's heart leaped. Are you still there?

Barely, [smile] Have this kiss, ere I fade….

Warmth surged through him, and a feeling as of sweet water and a gentle breeze, summer sunlight, and dresses of spell power…

The slaying spell that struck him jolted him out of pleasantness. It washed over his shielding magic, tearing it to shreds.

El gave the Starym mage a wintry smile. 'My, my, my,' he said mockingly. 'Fling flang floom, and I'm still here. I guess thy spells aren't quite as puissant as all that. Perhaps ye deceive Halueve Starym even more than ye do Elminster Aumar. Drained enough from me yet?'

The elf shrieked in fury and raised his hands like claws, hurling forth a spell whose use was foolish even when spell-armored for battle. The room cracked and rocked even before Elminster's blood was drawn.

Silver fire flared forth to bring real doom to Halueve Starym. Elminster made sure the first bolt he could shape destroyed the right-most brazier, and was rewarded, as the keep began to fall apart around him, with a long, harsh, and despairing cry…

Now this, little man, at least takes me to youk youth and brushes with magic … and I think I see, close to mystra. You're not afraid to slay devils, I see.

After my first few centuries, Lord Nergal, I used up most of my fear.These days, I have almost none of it left.

We'll see about that, human. Oh, yes, we'll certainly see about that.

Chapter Twenty-One

REVENGE EATEN HOT

It so happened that a band of adventurers entered the dark, echoing chamber deep in Undermountain before the madness passed. They took one good torchlit look at the man barking and whimpering alone in the middle of that vast, bare stone floor and fled, as swiftly and as silently as they knew how.

Halaster had called on all of Mystra's vested power to heal the great wound that should have slain him. That terrible, impaling bone spike had pierced and crushed all of his innards. Worse, Nergal had laced his spells with a curse. The lord of Undermountain lived, but had no magic to gainsay Nergal's cruelty. A day, perhaps, or more, had passed as he wallowed on the cold, dusty stone, helpless to stop the sickening rise and fall of the changes that passed over his body. Bat wings, scales, tails and talons sprouted and faded, receded and flowed, unchastened by the cries and curses of the writhing mage.

Spines and horns and breasts thrust forth, curled, and then cruised along his body like ripples across water. In the heart of the agonizing chaos Halaster vowed to return to the Nine Hells. He would visit torment on the devil Nergal even if he died in trying, Elminster or no Elminster.

At long last it ended. Halaster Blackcloak lay panting and drenched with sweat. He stared up into dusty dark-ness.The rags of his shredded robes clung to him.

'Revenge' he announced calmly, as he forced his last shudders into oblivion,'will now commence.'

He did not, however, move for a long time, even when the cold made him shiver. He lay still, remembering every last detail of Nergal's movements, words, and reactions, the archdevil's precise appearance… and what spells would make the best weapons against such a one.

Just as patiently, he recalled the drawbacks and precise effects of each suitable spell and his best tactics for using them in Avernus. At length, he smiled coldly and told the darkness, 'It seems Halaster Blackcloak would make a good devil himself.'