Neleyd shivered at the elder's tone, but infinitely worse was the look in Yabrant's eyes as one of the last gates disgorged a weeping Huerbara, a silent Taernil, and Yabrant, who stopped by Bheloris and Kostil and said shortly, 'Eldargh didn't make it.'
Then he strode away into the shadows, leaving them with Huerbara's tears.
Daggerdale, Kythorn 16
The light in the sky above faded to a soft purple glow, and the Queen of Aglarond rode it down to step lightly onto the smoldering turf in the heart of Irythkeep. She wrapped arms around the blackened form of Elminster with an exultant laugh. 'Well met,' she said happily, bestowing an impulsive kiss on lips that were no longer fringed by hair.
My thanks, Sister. Sylune's mindtouch lasted for only a moment before the Simbul stepped back, surveyed the Old Mage critically, and frowned as she raised a hand and gestured deftly.
White hair appeared on the scorched wizard's chin and upper lip, and raced across the skin, growing with almost comical speed, until the Queen of Aglarond judged its length and appearance right. Then she did the same for the old wizard's head. 'There! Yourself again!' she said with a wink.
'The others need your spells rather more than I do,' Elminster said dryly, waving a hand around the clearing. 'And that Malaugrym'-he pointed-'may still live.'
The Simbul nodded, mirth suddenly gone, and hastened to where Itharr lay sprawled amid ichor and many ribbons of slashed flesh. Belkram lay not far from him. The queen went to her knees amid the blood first. As the glow of her synostodweomer flared around the motionless Harper, she turned her head to watch Sharantyr rise stiffly among the trees, and said in amusement, 'I notice you healed the pretty lady first.'
Elminster's head shook in denial. 'Nay. I never reached her. Her ring did the work.'
'No matter. This one will be fine. He has a handsome face, I'll grant.' She pinched Itharr's cheek, watched his eyes flutter open, and rose with a merry laugh to go to Belkram.
It took longer this time, and her laughter was gone when she came back to Elminster. 'Much in the way of repairs was needed yonder,' she said, 'but he'll live-this time. He's been raised many times, that one.' She tapped her lips thoughtfully. 'Perhaps he's lost all fear of death.'
'He's not the only one,' Sylune said dryly, through the Old Mage's lips. The Simbul turned to stare at her and then gave her a sudden smile. 'My apologies. I sometimes forget. You are very good at this, you know.'
Elminster gave her a sardonic little bow. She dimpled and replied with a certain unqueenly gesture, and the Old Mage waved his resignation from the lists and sat down on a stone.
'The Malaugrym now have a new Great Foe, I daresay,' he observed gruffly. 'Ye'd best watch thy backside.'
She smirked. 'As attentively as you do?'
Elminster rolled his eyes and sighed. Her merry laughter was drowned out by a sudden thunder of hooves. He had half-risen in alarm before four lathered and familiar horses came into view around a blackened wall.
'Your mounts. Some people are so careless with their horses,' the Simbul said with a flourish. El frowned at her.
'It's not as if we weren't rather busy…'
She waved his unspoken thanks away, looked around at the dazed lady Knight and the two Harpers coming slowly across the trampled turf toward the Old Mage, and said, 'That was fun. Yet the Realms around await me, and there's much to be done, what with avatars and lesser idiots running around stirring up trouble. I must go.' She turned eastward, took a step, and then turned back and pointed up at the fast-fading purple glow. 'You need not fear attack from above for a time. Magic's all too apt to go wild up there, now.'
Then she was gone, without sound or drifting spell-smoke to show she'd been there. Elminster stared absently at where she'd been for a moment, scratched one of his bony arms, and thought on what paltry magic he had left. The wisest thing to do would be to return to Shadowdale, to stock up, if that wouldn't be going into a worse trap than Irythkeep had turned out to be.
'What a battle,' Shar said in a voice that was not entirely steady.
Elminster gave her a wry smile. 'Ye missed the best part, lass,' he said gruffly. 'It was raining mushrooms.'
'Mushrooms?' The chorus was bewildered, as Belkram and Itharr joined them, still peering critically at their weapons and looking around in apparent disbelief.
'Malaugrym who'd unwillingly taken the shapes of mushrooms,' Elminster explained. 'They burst quite thoroughly when they land on a rock. Or a tree.'
Belkram frowned. 'Did we… die?'
'Nay, nearly, but the Queen of Aglarond thought ye had a pretty face… or no, 'twas him she considered handsome'-Itharr managed to raise an eyebrow and sketch a courtly bow at the same time-'and healed ye. Sorry to disappoint thy sense of glorious tragedy.'
'So what do we do now?' Sharantyr asked softly, looking around at the smoking ruins and at their still- restless horses. 'You can't have much magic left.'
'I was wondering if it would be best to return to the dale, or go looking for a Harper cache. There's one not too far from here.'
'What?' Belkram asked innocently. 'When we're having so much fun?'
His companions answered this observation with various rude sounds.
'We can't count on any more unexpected rescues, from the Simbul or anyone else,' Elminster warned. 'Certain Harpers have been told to watch out for us and aid us if need be, but most of 'em hereabouts are fast swords and little more.'
'We need a little more,' Sharantyr agreed softly, and shivered suddenly. 'I did not think any of us would live to see these stars again,' she added as they looked at her.
'You need not!' a voice spat, and from around the nearest tumbled wall came a woman in dark robes, running hard, her face contorted in hatred. A fey purple glow, tinged with black, blazed out of her furious eyes, and she held high a black dagger.
'For the glory of Bane-die, Cursed One!'
She flung the dagger as she came, and Shar couldn't draw her sword in time to strike it aside. It wobbled-a bad throw-but struck Elminster's cheek hilt first before spinning away into the night.
Behind another nearby wall, a tall black stone that stood by itself bent forward a little to peer at the fray with eyes that grew very bright. Then the stone hissed a soft word, and smiled a crooked smile.
As the dagger left it, Elminster's cheek fell slack, looking suddenly lifeless. The glow around the pipe in his breast pocket faded, and the three rangers in their burnt leathers, blades drawn to face the running woman, looked back in sudden alarm.
'A disjunction!' Belkram snarled, who had seen such things before.
'Gods spit on all!' Itharr added angrily, and strode forward to meet their attacker. Elminster backed away from them, looking horrified.
Behind the wall, the stone smiled wolfishly and grew an arm that gestured almost lazily behind him. 'Perast aum izeebuldree,' he said conversationally, and Brammur, Randal Morn, Thaern, and all the men with them froze together, blades raised, in poses of cautious stealth.
'Thank you,' the stone told them courteously as it melted into the shape of a man whose left arm ended in a sword blade instead of a hand. He peered at the motionless men for a moment to be sure he'd got them all, nodded in satisfaction, and dug his right hand into a pouch at his belt.
From the other side of the wall came the ring of steel and a scream of rage. 'Some sort of magic shields this place!' a man's voice shouted.
'Aye,' the man who had been a stone agreed pleasantly. 'So it does.' Bringing forth a handful of pebbles, he cast them in a wide fan onto the ground and muttered something else.
With terrifying speed, the stones began to grow. The dark forms rising from them had burly arms, tusked mouths, and were… hobgoblins!
'Come,' he said simply, and jogged around the corner of the wall. Howling, the hobgoblins poured after him,
