Elminster in Hell

devil. Welcome to a life truly in Hell, brought to you by the queen of Aglarond, dainty human hide and all…

***

Blue fire crashed and roared. Nergal tumbled through the air, his body aflame. Aarrgh! Pain! he roared, with both mind and voice. He worked frantic magic even before he smashed to ground.

Snatching magics. He and Elminster were abruptly elsewhere. Somewhere dark and private and dripping, a cavern that had none of the tumult of Avernan hillsides.

[claws grimly clinging]

Wizard, show me more vivid memories, omitting nothing. Whatever was trying to slay us, it can't reach here.

Oh?Ye'd bet on that?

I would and have, human. With both of our lves, of course.

[equal parts respect and reproach, images silently proffered]

Elminster looked up from pages that glowed with. glyphs of deep blue and gleaming copper hue. Though his expression was mild, the glint in his eye matched the metal of the symbols. 'The hour is late… the lamps burn low. Thy ever-borrowed wit grows harsh on these old ears. Unburden thyself without delay.'

Torm nodded, smiled sweetly, and swung himself up to perch atop a precarious pile of parchments. Dust rose about him in a shadowy cloak. He matched Elminster's long-suffering look with one of his own, set his chin in his hand, and echoed the Old Mage's own tones. 'I've a few words to impart, old friend; let us discourse together awhile.'

I'm supposed to be impressed and learn my lesson? That I am acting the part you play in this remembrance, and you now mock me as this Torm did you? Well, your ploy has worked, little man: i am impressed.

You may have little liking, i fear, for the result.

I caught sight or a few memories, some while back, that told me your mystra set you the task of training the seven sisters. I'm going to watch that teaching-or what you still. Recall of it-and see how they, through you, learned their powers.

[bright images flying]

No. No, don't show me. This time i'll dig and find what i find-not what you want to show me.

If the journey pains you, remember whom you have to thank for its necessity, overclever little strutting thing.

Not a wise idea, devil, but I suppose ye'll have to learn that the hard way….

I thank you for your kind concern, mind-slave. Make sure to grovel as we go!

[mind bolt, wince and stagger, tentacles drumming impatiently as their owner strides on, and in, and down…]

I have so little left. I can't think…no, can't remember. Much of anything. I am empty, almost empty, all poured out into this devil. I am… almost nothing. Down to the last, now, all my spell lore gone to him while I noticed nothing, all the years of faces and names-even the shames I hide from myself, most days. Down to the last things, long buried and forgotten. My last little secrets. Gods, so many wearying years, and I'm stiU not ready to let it all go and drift away into the darkness…

El, ye always were a selfish bastard.

Mystra, forsake me not. Preserve me. Please.

[images flaring up]

Elminster's mouth was suddenly very dry. 'Gods, but she's beautiful,' he said involuntarily.

His scrying-stone showed him a tall, slender lady in black leather and purple silk striding along the path. Her glossy cascade of midnight-black hair gleamed in the sun. Her skin was white and smooth, her face… words failed him. Hope stirred in him, just a little, and he let it dance near his heart. He had. been so lonely for so long.

His blood boiled. Love her, of course, but don't lose yourself in her. This one will betray you.

The Srinshee spoke to him seldom these days, and there was so much he wanted to say, to talk over, but-

Elminster's hands tightened on his staff. 'She will?' he muttered. 'Then why not-?'

No. No, El. You must give her the chance. Mystra lays it upon you, and I think it best. Love her, teach her, but don't lose your heart to her. Make her admire you, and it may give you some guidance over her when she casts you aside to make her own way in the world.

'But how do ye know this?' Elminster burst out. He brought his fist down hard on the edge of the polished table. The horned skull on it clattered and the floating shards that had once been a crown jangled eerily.

Later, El. Your lady has arrived.

'I-by the Nine Hells Nergal Desires-'

Hah! You did read those books of yours, didn't you?

'— blast and damn all swift-striding would-be apprentices! I-'

The raven-haired woman calmly pushed open the door before he could wipe her image from the floating crystal sphere. She gave it a sidelong glance and a little smile as she strode up to him. Crossing her arms across a magnificent bosom, she stared into his eyes with a look of dark promise. 'I understand you're looking for an apprentice.' Her voice was a musical purr.

Elminster stroked his beard and tried to look puzzled. 'Oh? And how did such a wild understanding come to thee?''..;

'Mystra told me,' the beauty said simply. 'Out of the ^: altar I knelt at, last night.'

Elminster allowed himself a slow smile. 'Well then, of course, I must be. I was thinking more of a small, gruff, very male dwarf this time, instead of — ' He sighed. '- another young and beautiful human female, but… I suppose… what's thy name, lass?'

'Symgharyl Maruel.' She hesitated a moment, coloring; a little, and then threw back her head and announcedj proudly, 'At mage fairs I call myself the Shadowsil. I saw your crown of fireballs at the last one, Lord Elminster; very impressive.'

' 'Lord Elminster? I hope not. 'Old Mage' sits better onl the tongue, or 'El' or even, 'Ho, Longbeard!' So, Lansharra, I how would ye like me to address thee-if, say, we were to dwell together, as master and apprentice, for some ten or twelve summers at least?'

All the color drained out of her face. She swallowed, clucked her head, and asked very carefully, 'How is it that you know my true, secret name?'

Elminster gave her a smile that held only kindness, shrugged, and spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. 'Mystra speaks to me, too.'

Do you never stop? Women, women, women-if you hadn't been one for a bit, i'd think you were utterly addled over them.

I'm not seeing magic, wizard! You're not deluding yourself into thinking my patience is growing, are you?

On Toril, Mystra is magic.

Yes, ye-meaning? Oh. Oho. Show me, wizard!

Of course.