It was a long while later when Brammur got to his feet, slapped his dazed lord's arm, and asked matter-of-factly, "Use caution, did you say, m'lord?"
The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 16
"Soulcages," Bheloris said slowly. "I haven't seen one of those- "
"Since Albarat died," the rolling voice of Dhalgrave put in from above, startling them all. Shadows shuddered and curled away into the corners of the Great Hall as they all stared at the scrying portal.
"I dare not reopen the portal," the Shadowmaster High went on, his voice raising echoes. "The witch-queen has spun an antimagic spell that someone foolishly cast at her across it. To strike at her or open a gate now would be to unleash that damaging magic here." His voice gained strength, so his next words would carry down distant passages of the Castle of Shadows. "We have a new foe, blood of Malaug!"
"I told you 'twould be a disaster," one old Shadow-master said to another, who shook his head and replied, "And I believed you. I expected deaths, aye, but not this!"
"This is worse than Shimmerglade," still another muttered.
Neleyd leaned close to Bheloris. "Shimmerglade?"
"A place in northern Faerun-in Impiltur or Damara or somewhere around there-where six of our strongest elders trapped Elminster, and were all slain in spell-battle." He sighed. "Once again, it seems that a trap intended to be the death of the Foe became a trap for us. Mushrooms! No mouth or limbs to work magic, no way to fly… and death before anything can be done. Worse than that, she has some spell that overmatches our shapechanging, to trap us in a form of her choosing."
"Perhaps now some of these flamebrains'll think twice about sneering at human mages and strolling out to attack Elminster on any idle afternoon," said a tired voice from the back of the hall.
As his words ended, a green flame flickered in the shadows, pulsed once, and widened into a gate. Several Shadowmasters took a step toward it, prepared for the worst, but out of the pulsing portal stumbled a Malaugrym who trailed smoke, and several others panting on his heels. Another gate was opening now, and another. An alert elder banished the first one with a hissed spell that sent shadows swirling around it in a swift spiral. Disheveled survivors poured into the hall, stalking grimly past an elder who smirked as he drawled, "Hail, conquering heroes of Malaug!"
Gates glimmered out of existence here and there, and the cursing Malaugrym who had come through them sought the comforts of their own chambers. As they hurried past, Kostil stared at the scrying portal and shook his head. "What did I say?" he offered. "Always we ignore the strengths and trickery of the folk of Faerun."
"No more," Bheloris promised softly, staring into the distance. "No longer."
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."