Greenwood, Ed - Forgotten Realms - Elminster 3 by Greenwood Ed

Author:Greenwood, Ed [Greenwood, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-05-30T15:31:35+00:00

The aisle that ran down the center of the temple was lined with braziers. As Dasumia strode between each pair of them, they burst spontaneously into flame. Delver and Ingrath were obviously having second thoughts about their royal night of passion, El could dearly hear them gulping as they slowed and had to be dragged along by Dasumia.

There were pews on either side of the aisle, some of them occupied by slumped skeletons in robes, others by mummified or still-rotting corpses. El ducked into an empty row, crouching low to the floor, he knew what must be corning.

"No!" Ingrath cried suddenly, twisting free of the queen's grasp and whirling around to flee. He moaned despairingly, an instant before Delver tore free of the chain of coins, began his own sprint...and screamed.

The two helmed horrors had been floating right behind them, gauntleted hands out and ready to close on their throats. Those steely fingers beckoned to them now, as the empty helms leaned horribly closer.

Moaning in despair, the two guardsmen turned back to face the queen. Dasumia was lying on the altar, propped up on one elbow and wearing rather less than she'd entered the temple with. Laughingly she beckoned them.

Reluctantly, the two warriors stumbled forward.

Ten: To Taste Dark Fire

The best thing an archmage can do with his spells? Use them to destroy another archmage, of course...and himself in the doing. We'll plant something useful in the ashes.

Radishes, perhaps.

Albryngundar of the Singing Sword

from Thoughts On A Better Faerun

published circa The Year of the Lion

Unseen drums boomed and rolled, beginning an inexorable, unhurried beat that shook the temple. El watched narrowly as a large hand of Bane...a trifle taller than a man and seemingly carved of some black stone...rose into view behind the altar block. A halo of wispy red flames rose and fell around its fingers, and by their flickering light, as Dasumia leaped lightly back down from the altar, Elminster saw two long, metal-barbed black whips lying crossed upon the altar where she'd been lying.

The drumbeats quickened very slightly. Seeking a better view, El drew up the hood of his robes to hide his face in its cowl and slowly rose into a seated position on his pew, becoming just another slumped form among the many corpses. His decaying neighbors were no doubt onetime victims of rituals here.

Delver and Ingrath...and one Elminster, too, for that matter... might well soon join them, if the Court Mage of Galadorna didn't act with precise timing and do just the right things in the moments just ahead.

The two warriors stood facing Dasumia, and they were trembling with fear. She took their hands and spoke to them. The words were lost to El in the sound of the drums, but she was obviously reassuring them. From time to time she embraced or kissed them, ignoring...as they could not...the hulking helmed horrors floating just behind their shoulders.

The queen turned, took up the whips, and handed one to each man. Leaning back against the altar, she snapped a command to them and held up her hands toward the dark, unseen ceiling in a gesture of summoning.

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