"Flee, Storm!" Elminster snapped. "Icannot protect thee in what will follow!"
His hands were moving in another spell.
Storm shook her head, but stepped back out of the way.Shimmering light burst from the Old Mage's fingers, lancing out to encircleand destroy each reaching tendril in crackling fury. Yet the lich merelyshrugged, and its bony fingertips wove another silent spell. The book in theopen closet glowed again.
Storm saw a sheen of sweat on Elminster's forehead ashis hand darted to his robes and drew forth some small talisman. Then thetalisman was gone, vanished right from the Old Mage's hand. As if in reply, ared-glowing band of energy shot out from the lich's shoulders as it steppedover a toppled chair into Elminster's study. The ghostly magical arm reachedmenacingly forward.
A shield of shimmering, silver-blue force hung in theair in front of the Old Mage, guarding him. The red arm swung easily, almostlazily around it, reaching for-not Elminster, but the closet behind him.
The lich was reaching for the book! Storm's swordflashed out and she slashed at its pages. There was a sudden hissing shriek ofhorror from the portal, and the red glow rose around her.
The lich's spell-arm clawed at her, trying to hold herback. Leather was torn away, and Storm felt sudden, searing pain across herbreast. Thin, dark ribbons of her own blood curled past her eyes, borne uponthe energy of the lich's sorcerous arm as it enveloped her.
The Bard of Shadowdale set her teeth and struck backhanded withher magical blade, trying to free herself from the crimson band of force. Therewas a sudden flash and a roar. Sparks snapped and flew. The riven shards of herblade glinted brightly before Storm's eyes as she was flung back into a stackof dusty tomes. Blood ran into her eyes, and her breast felt like it was onfire.
Dimly Storm heard Elminster groan. Blinking furiouslyto clear her sight, she struggled to her feet. The Old Mage was crumpled to thefloor, a thin beam of light from one out-flung hand reaching toward her. Behindhim, the lich stood triumphant, outlined in a flaming crimson aura. Hands onhips, it laughed hollowly.
The light of Elminster's spell touched Storm, and shefelt warm, fresh strength flowing into her. Her fingertips tingled, and theblood was suddenly gone from her eyes and brow.
The lich gestured sharply, and the red cloud around itbecame a forest of tendrils, overwhelming the darkening spell-shield over the OldMage. As Storm watched, the shield crumbled and was gone-and the crimson forceswirled around Elminster. He gestured weakly, then fell onto his face and laystill.
The blue-white energy of the Old Mage's last enchantmentwas drawn up into the red cloud. The mystic aura blazed brighter as the lichstepped over the Old Mage's body and strode toward the bard. Raerlin wasdraining Elminster's magic to power his own dark spells!
Another crimson arm lashed out from that cloud,smashing the bard aside with casual, brutal force. Storm was flung into anotherpile of books. She saw the red arm reaching in a leisurely manner for the tomeinside the hidden room.
Storm got up from the tumbled heap of books as quicklyas she could, panting, the smell of her own singed hair strong in her nostrils.Blood still trickled down her chest, and she still held a blackened, twistedsword hilt in her hand. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she flung the ruinedblade at the lich and dived for the tome for which the creature had risked somuch. Redness swirled around her, but the book was clenched tightly in herfingers.
Raerlin's voice rose into a hollow, fearful shriek asStorm clutched the book to her bloody chest.
"Myrkul take you, wench!" the lich cried."You'll ruin it!"
And at last Storm was sure of her course.
She tore at the pages with trembling fingers andthrust the crumpled scraps into the flames of Elminster's magical brazier. Thefire flared, and the bard held the parchment in the rising flames, heedless ofthe searing pain in her hand.
Raerlin's magic struck. Red claws tugged and tore ather. Storm snarled and fought to hold her position, one arm crooked around thebrazier. Flames licked greedily at the crumpled pages she held.
Storm felt hair being hauled out of her scalp, yankingher head back. Tears blinded her, and something-her own hair! — tightened aroundher throat, driven by the lich's magic. The Bard of Shadowdale set her teeth tohold back a scream as she hauled the book up, wrestling against the lich's darksorcery with all the strength in her arms. And she thrust the tome into thebrazier.
There was a hungry roar, and Storm was hurled away.She had a confused glimpse of flying bones and the brass brazier tumbling endover end, away from a rolling, motionless ball of bright flame. Then shecrashed again into Elminster's chair with bruising force. Hair blinded her fora moment. Impatiently Storm raked it aside and stared at the ball of fire.
It hung a few feet above the floor of the study,roiling and crackling. At its heart, the blackening, still-glowing book waswreathed in many-colored flames. As she watched, the tome crumbled to ashes andwas gone. Off to Storm's left, there was a hissing sound.
She turned in time to see the lich's skull crumble topieces. The red glow of Raerlin's magic flickered and faded away to nothing. Ina moment, the lich was only so much eddying dust.
In the sudden silence, Storm closed weary eyes, wonderingwhen her burned hands would stop trembling.
From somewhere to her right came a loud cough. The bard blinkedher eyes open and tried to rise. Elminster was shaking his head as he gotslowly up off the floor, patting at smoldering patches on his robes.
"I must not forget, lass," Elminster saidwith dignity, "to thank ye properly, at some future time, for once againsaving my life."
Storm sputtered in sudden mirth, despite her pain. Amoment later, they were laughing in each other's arms, eyes shining. As theyshook together in a tight embrace, a door opened, spilling kitchen sounds intothe devastated study.
The sudden clatter of crockery was followed by Lhaeo'scheerful voice saying, "Tea's ready! You were making quite a racketin-" He sobered suddenly and blinked at the two singed and wounded friends."Wh-what happened?"
Elminster pushed Storm away and waved his hands withincredible agility for one so old. An instant later, Storm found herself on herchair again, wearing a splendid gown. The raw pain in her chest and hands wasgone. Across a round table set for tea, Elminster sat facing her, clad insplendid silken robes embroidered with dragons. He was smiling gently, his litpipe ready in his hand.
"Nothing," the Old Mage said airily,"more than a visit between old friends."
As the tea tray descended, Elminster winked at thebard. Storm shook her head, smiling helplessly.
DARKSWORD
Troy Denning
20 Flamerule, the Year of the Moat (1269 DR)
Lost on the Road Across the Bottomless Bogs
Out of the fog ahead came mist-muffled voices, many ofthem and not far off, mothers singing, children crying, fathers shouting …oxen bellowing, hoarse and weary. Melegaunt Tanthul continued walking asbefore-which was to say very carefully-along the road of split logs, whichbobbed on the spongy peat with every step he took. Visibility was twenty pacesat best, the road a brownish ribbon zigzagging off into a cloud of pearlywhite. Not for the first time, he wished he had taken the other fork at thebase of Deadman Pass. Surely he was still in Vaasa, but whether he wastraveling toward the treasure he sought or away from it was anyone's guess.