striding catlike over the rocks, joined Florin. Jhessail moved behind the rocks in line with the entrance. Rathan moved to shield Lanseril, saying gently, 'Wake now.'
The druid's eyes flickered. Shandril heard him whisper, 'Weapons out?' as Torm took her by the hand and led her and Narm to the left. The druid became a blur, and the balhiir moved toward the vanishing form. A small gray bird appeared where the druid had been.
Torm took the couple to a pile of hand-sized stones. 'A thrown stone can spoil spells and aimed arrows better than the strongest art.' The thief of Deepingdale noticed that the balhiir had drifted above Jhessail in an incriminating, winking cloud.
'Not too quick with those stones now,' Torm whispered. 'If they don't see us at first, we'll let them come ahead until there are some to slay in the midst of our ring. Strike when they first notice us, not before.'
Beyond the entrance, a bobbing sphere of radiance could be seen floating in the air, moving nearer as it danced and played about like a curious firefly. The balhiir gathered itself like a snake, then plunged forward along the roof of the cavern in silent haste, toward the light.
The light shone on the dark-robed shoulder of a man wearing some sort of large hat. He seemed to be alone as he clambered over the rocks of the entrance. He was white-bearded, and bore a long, knobbly staff of wood a head taller than himself. Then the balhiir reached the glowing globe that hung at his shoulder. The globe's radiance flared into the twinkling cloud, and then died.
'Put away that overlong fang, Florin, and light me a torch,' said a somehow familiar voice, disgustedly. 'Ye have a balhiir indeed. Young Torm managed to keep to the truth for once.'
'Elminster!' the ranger said in calm, pleased greeting.
'I know, I know… ye're all delighted to see me, or will be if ye ever manage to make a light to see anything by.'
Light flared up as the ranger relit his torch. Elminster stood in the flickering light looking at Shandril and Narm. 'A fine dance ye've led me on, ye two… Gorstag was in tears when I left him, girl; nearly frantic, he was. Ye might have told him a bit more about where ye were going. Young folk have no consideration, these days.'
Then he winked, and Shandril felt suddenly very happy. She cast the stone in her hand so that it crashed at the old mage's feet.
'Well met, indeed,' Elminster said dryly, 'O releaser of balhiirs. We may as well get to know each other before the dying starts.'
7
Tell ye of the balhiir? Ah, a curious creature, indeed. I hear it was first-the short version, ye say? Very well; ye are paying. The short version is thus: a curious creature, indeed. Thank ye, goodsir; fair day to ye.
'I expected to see the cultists here long ago,' Torm said, slipping lightly up onto a high, flat rock. 'Or at least to see something of the dracolich. Why so long?'
'Fear of us,' Rathan said with a grin. Florin remained alert by the entrance, obviously expecting an attack.
'I'm so scared I can scarce stand still,' Shandril said, 'and you talk calmly of strategies and jests! How do you do it?'
'We always talk before a fight, lady,' Rathan answered. 'One is excited and among friends and may not live to see the next dawn.' The fat cleric shrugged. 'Besides… how better to spend the waiting? Much of what a bard calls 'dashing adventure,' at least for us, is a little fast and hard running and fighting and lots and lots of waiting. We would grow bored wasting all that time in silence.'
'Hmphh!' said Elminster. 'All this jaw-wagging's the mark of minds too feeble to ruminate in solitude.' Torm chuckled. Jhessail rose from the rocks, the sparkling and glowing balhiir moving above her. She went to Shandril, and took her hand.
'Elminster,' the magic-user said, turning from Shandril to the ancient wizard, 'there will doubtless be time for chatter later. After the battle, most likely. Tell us now of the balhiir. That thing floating in the air above us has not approached you since destroying your globe, so I know you bear no magic item. It will rob you of your spells, as it has done me, if we do not deal with it. What say you?'
'Yes, yes,' Elminster said severely. 'I am not so addled that I forgot the lass or'-he indicated the shifting mist above the two women with the head of his staff-'that.' He took off his battered hat and hung it upon the staff now cradled in the angle of one arm. He then leaned back against a massive boulder and cleared his throat noisily.
'The balhiir,' the old sage began in measured tones, 'is a most curious creature. Rare in the Realms and unknown in many of the pi-'
'Elminster!' Jhessail protested. 'The short version. Please.'
The sage regarded her in stony silence for two long breaths. 'Good lady! This is the short version. It would do ye good to cultivate patience… a habit I have found useful these last five hundred winters or so.' Pointedly he turned his head away to speak solely to Shandril.
'Listen most carefully, Shandril Shessair.' The young would-be thief tensed at the old mage's serious tone. 'In this place, we lack all means for banishing or destroying this balhiir, save one, and ye alone can master it. 'Tis a dangerous affair for all of us, but for ye most of all. However, there is no other answer. Are ye willing to attempt it?'
Shandril looked around at the adventurers who had become her friends. Then she gazed up at the strange, magic-eating, glowing wisp above her. Letting out her breath in a long, shuddering sigh, she said, 'Yes. Tell me.'
She met the old sage's eyes squarely, holding them with her own. Gently she disengaged herself from Narm's encircling arm and stepped forward.
The old mage bowed to her solemnly. This drew surprised looks from the knights who watched. He then asked, 'Narm, ye retain a cantrip, don't ye?' His twinkling blue eyes, grave and gentle, never left Shandril's.
'Yes,' the apprentice magic-user replied.
'Then cast it while touching thy lady,' he said, 'and we shall stand clear. This will draw the balhiir to ye both. Shandril, thrust both hands into the midst of the glow. Try not to breathe in any of it, and keep thy face-eyes, in particular-away from it. When Shandril touches the balhiir, Narm, ye must flee from her at once, as fast as ye can. All here, stand clear of Shandril from then on. Her touch will probably be fatal.'
The great sage went forward to clasp the determined but trembling Shandril by the arms. The balhiir coiled above them both.
'Child,' Elminster said then, voice gentle, 'thy task is the hard one. The balhiir's touch will tingle and seem to burn. If ye would live, ye must keep thy hands spread within it and not withdraw. You will find you can take the pain-a cat of mine once did. Use the force of your own will to draw the fire into thee, and it will flow down your arms and enter your body. Succeed and ye will hold the balhiir's energy.
'Ye must then slay its will or perish in flames. Ye will know when ye have destroyed it. Master it as quickly as ye can, for the fire within thee will burn more the longer ye hold it. Ye can let it out from thy mouth, thy fingers, even thy eyes. However, beware of aiming the blasts carelessly. Ye could easily slay us all.' Shandril nodded, dark eyes meeting his.
'Ye must go out through the entrance, if the dracolich or the cultists have not attacked us by then. Seek them out and blast them until ye have none of the balhiir's energy left. Let go of it all, or it may slay ye.' Their eyes
