"Spell duels are nasty business. Even less than you want to be
within range of one, you do not want to participate in one yourself. One
commonly held belief about mage duels is that if you are close enough to
see it, you are close enough to be killed by it, and that's true in more
ways than people consider. They speak entirely from the standpoint of the
spells themselves being hurled about. A poorly aimed fireball, a
carelessly tossed lightning bolt, these are the things that worry the
common man during a clash of magi. But we of the order ourselves know
different."
"Most magic-users wouldn't be in a spell duel in the first place unless they knew what they were doing. A poorly trained mage isn't usually a target, and most of them know better than to attack one superior to their skill in the first place. So for the most part, those careless fireballs and other miscellaneous magical effects are not a problem. However a greater danger exists to those who use magic themselves."
"Magic in the realms is a weave of energies that surrounds everyone and everything. Many are more sensitive to the weave then others, women, for example, have a greater connection to the weave then do men, and elves are, for all intents and purposes, part of the weave, dealing with it in ways us humans can only begin to understand."
"The thing about spell duels is the great amounts of energy released. Both participants are using every magical tool at their disposal in an attempt to achieve victory over their foe. The effect of that is that it sends ripples all throughout the weave, in much the way that a pebble affects a still pond. When arch-mages duel, the effect is that of a boulder dropped from a great height, not only does the pond ripple, but also water is displaced, and thrown from one place to another. The effect of all this is that almost any magic-user can tell when a spell duel is happening, and if the fighters are powerful enough, and the mage is close enough, the unsuspecting observer can suffer many ill effects, and so usually, for their safety and the safety of the weave, someone who becomes aware of a spell battle must find it, and attempt to put a stop to it. This is a most sacred duty."
-Excerpt from "Of Magi and Magic"
Elminster of Shadowdale
The Year of the Flaming Fist
"Drat it, how do you do it master?"
I chuckled as I moved my piece, capturing King Azoun, and putting and end to yet another game of Crusade with my erstwhile young apprentice. Crusade was a variation on the Calishite game that would be known in our language as chess. It was based on the war between the forces of King Azoun IV of Cormyr and the Tugian Hordes. It was also a game at which I was considered a master, and one that I had now successfully beaten my apprentice at forty games in a row.
"Strategy, my student, strategy. Something that every aspiring wizard must needs master before venturing out into the world. Knowledge like this is invaluable during war time, adventuring crises, spell duels." I meant to go on, but my apprentice interrupted me.
"You've been in a spell duel master?" I could see the awe in his eyes. I had never talked about spell duels in my lessons with the boy, so all he had to go on was the stories that every boy knew, stories about hurling mountains of flame about, controlling the forces of the world, manipulating time, and all of that rot. I decided to set him straight.
"Yes I have, and it's hardly as spectacular as you think. In actuality, most spell duels involve two men standing and hurling one spell at a time, until one happens to outthink another fast enough to make a telling strike, or the other runs out of spells. Usually, another mage arrives to put a stop to it before it comes to that, but, well, accidents do happen. Just think about the Anauroch Desert, used to be a forest you know." From the shocked look on his face, I thought that maybe I shouldn't have added that last part. Just as I was about to launch into an enlightening lecture on the ethics of spell battles, I had a…feeling. Something was wrong with the weave. I turned to my student and saw his brow creased in confusion. He felt it to, I could tell. Which meant that something particularly nasty was afoot. It could only be a duel.
In a trice I had my staff in hand, and was heading for the door, turning only to order my apprentice to remain here on penalty of unnamed nastiness. As I left I expended some spell energy to seal the door shut, just to be sure.
Spell duels are not that uncommon, although they hardly happen every day. I've been in five myself, all started by others, and all broken up by a superior mage before things got too nasty. So needless to say, I was no stranger to them. I darted off into the woods, towards the instability, and soon I could see bright flashes as spells fired off into the night.
Creeping closer, I cloaked myself in a spellshield so as to remain unseen and take a gauge of whether or not I could even intervene without putting myself into danger.
The combatants were both men, both robed in red, although neither had the bald head and tattoos that would indicate I was facing one of the infamous Red Wizards of Thay, and both carried staves covered in runes. One man's was glowing slightly as they faced off. I took a quick stock of the protective spells they had up.
The man on the left was shielded thrice over, looked like a globe of invulnerability, a stoneskin spell, and one I was not familiar with. The other was incased in a prismatic sphere. That didn't bode well for my efforts. I had myself barely mastered the knowledge required to cast such an advanced spell, although, given the time, I could certainly dismantle it.
As I remembered from my own apprenticeship, and the reading I had done, as well as practical memories from the few spell battles I had been forced to intervene in before, the trick was to try and make both mages think you were more powerful than they. The usual tactic was to try and fire off a spell that would either drop both mages defensive protections, or stop them completely. I hadn't the means to stop them both so quickly, and dismantling a prismatic sphere was a long process, requiring several spells to be cast in succession. I didn't have time. But it was my duty as a custodian of the weave to intervene. I marshaled my energies and prepared to enter the fray when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I tried to spin around and confront this new foe, but I found myself unable to move. I was being magically held. And it was by someone MUCH more powerful than I. A voice spoke very gruffly in my ear.
"And just what did you think you were going to do to that sphere? Blow it down? You haven't got the time to take it layer by layer, and you don't look like you've got the skill to set up a hanging spell to do it all at once.
As much as I hated to admit it, this stranger was right, although how he knew anything at all about me was still a mystery, let alone how he had such a precise barometer of my abilities. Discovering that I still retained the powers of speech, even if my mobility was removed, I replied.
"Well then sir, now that we've determined that I'm unable to do anything, mayhaps you'll let me do nothing under my own control?"
The man chuckled, and without warning I had regained control of my motor functions. I whirled around to face the man, and my stomach leapt into my throat and I was seized by equal parts fear, awe, and respect.
"Lord Elminster! How…how are you…why are you here?" Apparently he's used to that reaction, because he just waggled his bushy eyebrows at me and winked. Then he turned his gaze to the dueling magi, and I couldn't help but follow his look to the battling men. After a moment Elminster began to speak to me.
"The one on the left is Ilzimmer Mathran, he's a Zhentish Wizard fourth or so down the line from Manshoon himself."
I shuddered in spite of myself at the mention of the Zhentarim, and again, much more so, as he mentioned Manshoon. Zhents were always bad news, they are a group that operated using any means to control trade throughout the region. Their hold, Zhentil Keep, was home to the worst kind of scum the Dalelands had to offer, which was why Elminster, who lived in Shadowdale, made such an effort to thwart them. Manshoon was the leader of their secular forces, and controlled the Keep's mages with an iron fist. I was going to ask him why a Zhent would be so far out of the Dales, but he continued his lecture without pausing for breath.
"The other one is Mzentul Coy, he's a mercenary working for Hlaavin's Red Plumes. Freelance, but he knows his spells,. As I'm sure you noticed from the orb he has up." I nodded as he said this, and counted my luck that he had arrived before I tried in interrupt. Both of those men could single-handedly put me down, and the thought of taking them both at once made my skin crawl. But I was in the presence of the great Elminster and so I was quite unafraid.
"What are you going to do Elminster?" I asked slowly, taking care to keep my voice down, "On whose side would you intervene?" He guffawed loudly, and my eyes shot to the two mages who were a scant thirty feet away, fearful that they might hear, but he ignored that possibility and spoke in what I gathered was his lecturing tone.
"Do? Why my lad, I've been after these two for years. If they want to take each other out, it's alright by me, less trouble my way." His voice sobered, "Sorry lad, I let my anger get the better of me there, both of those men are responsible for more deaths than I care to consider, but you're right, they need to be stopped." His tone became more cheerful, "so let's bag us some nasties!"
Elminster stood up, and strode straight into the middle of the roiling magical energies being thrown from man to man, and held out his hand like a town guard directing wagon traffic, and called out "stop!" The energy being flung ceased suddenly, and by the looks of shock on the face of both Mzentul and Ilzimmer, it had nothing to do with them. Elminster pulled out a pipe, and puffed slowly on it. He took it out of his mouth and dropped his hand to his side. Unexplainably, his pipe remained in the air where he had left it; seemingly it had decided to tell gravity to go mind its own business for a while. Mzentul began to pale slightly at this overt display of power, but Ilzimmer's face twisted into a sneer, and he spoke.
"Ah, Elminster of Shadowdale, I was wondering when you and I would get a chance to match magic. My master Manshoon will be more than impressed when I bring him your head on a platter. You have failed to destroy him, and, while he has not succeeded in ridding the world of your presence, doing so will by my greatest pleasure"
Elminster leaned towards me and whispered, in a voice pitched for Mzentul and myself to hear, but not Ilzimmer, "I wonder how tough he'd be if I told him that I've killed Manshoon about thirty times already. Damned clones, just when you think you've got them all." He winked and turned back to the men. Ilzimmer was looking even angrier than before, and Mzentul, despite his fear was trying hard to silence the chuckles Elminster's comments had engendered. Then, El turned completely serious and stern, a state which, now years later, I know he affected only for the effect it causes. He took a step towards Ilzimmer, speaking quietly as he went.
"Mzentul, stay out of this and your life may not become forfeit before this night is through. But you Ilzimmer, destroying you and spreading the ashes over a thousand leagues shall be a great thing indeed. You wanted to fail at the task that your master has failed at again and again, then so be it." His face split into a grin, "I'll even give you first strike."
Ilzimmer grinned, and began to move his fingers and speak in a tongue that even I, a learned scholar did not understand, and suddenly the air was alive with blinking radiances, all of which darted straight towards Elminster. He sighed lustily and turned his mocking gaze towards Ilzimmer, who watched in shocked amazement as the energies struck the Old Mage and vanished into nothingness.
"Oh gods, are they STILL teaching that spell to you Zhents? It stopped affecting me years before your Manshoon was even born. It seems it's my turn now."
Ilzimmer was looking substantially less secure, and he moved to cast stronger protections upon himself. El wagged a finger in front of him.
"Ah ah ah, haven't you learned to respect your elders and let them have their turn? The things they let you magelings get away with. In my day we took turns like good children." And then, without a word, without any gesture other than a roguish wink, Elminster's spell fired. Or at least, I thought it fired, because there was no visible effect from Elminster's part. Whether by his doing or not, the effect of the incantation was quite clear, as all of Ilzimmer' protective spells flickered weakly and then faded out of existence. Ilzimmer snarled and began to weave another spell, one most likely designed to eradicate Elminster from the face of the realms. He finished with a triumphant growl, and a blade appeared, hovering in the air before him. A blade made of pure blackness. I recognized it, and my heart fell. Evard's Black Blade of Disaster it was called, and there was no known defense against it. It dove towards El, who calmly watched it come, and drove itself into his chest.
Elminster staggered, and blood gushed from the wound. Although I loathe admitting it, only my stark terror kept me from crying out and rushing to his aid as he dropped to one knee. Hauling himself back to his feet, he looked up at Ilzimmer, whose face was twisted in paroxysms of glee, no doubt thinking of the rewards that were soon to be his. Elmisnter began to stagger towards him, slow step by agonized shuffle, and Ilzimmer pulled his staff back as if to strike him, when he suddenly darted forward and took Ilzimmer by the shoulder. He gasped again and dropped onto his knees. Ilzimmer crowed in delight.
"Now, foolish Elminster, you shall see what comes of crossing Ilzimmer the Mighty, the greatest mage in the realms." He then proceeded to hammer the Old Sage with every spell in his arsenal, causing him to let loose a scream of such pain that I have never heard its like before. Magic Missiles, bolts of Lightning, Acid Arrows, Cones of Cold, even a few spells I had never seen before, all buried themselves into Elminster, who lay shuddering in pain on the ground. After several minutes, the spells ceased, and I could tear my eyes away from the grisly torture being executed before my eyes, and I saw that Mzentul had apparently taken the time to teleport far away from this confrontation, which I suppose was for the best, since we now had a mage completely under the control of bloodlust standing scant feet away.
"Now, defeated Elminster, old Fool, have you any last words to say before you go meet your Lady Mystra?" For emphasis, Ilzimmer launched a cruel kick to the ribs of Elminster, flipping him onto his back.
Slowly, agonizingly, El pulled himself to his feet to stand, bloody and bruised before Ilzimmer. The words that uttered from his throat were barely audible from my distance, "You should have known better."
"I should have known better?" I started with alarm, for Ilzimmer's voice was taking on the tinge of the insane. "Known better? You, my pathetic excuse for a wizard, should have known better. Known better than to trifle with the magical might of the Zhentarim. For now you lay defeated, victim of my magical strength."
Instantly, his look of utter superiority had vanished, replaced by a look of sudden, all encompassing surprise, shock and stark fear. My eyes darted back to Elminster, who was suddenly standing completely unharmed right in front of Ilzimmer. This time his voice rang out clearly, without a hint of pain.
"No, Ilzimmer the fool, you should have known better. Known better than to start a duel so close to my home, known better than to attempt to match wits with me, known better than to even think that you could do what your master had failed to do. Manshoon is so far past your pathetic little magics, that I actually look forward to his attempts to defeat me, just for the challenge." He winked at Ilzimmer, then again towards my hiding spot.
"I also should have known better than to let your mother give birth to such a petulant little brat, but then, she was certainly worth my time, if you know what I mean." From the sudden look of rage covering Ilzimmer's face, I could only assume that he did. However I decided then and there that if I should make it out alive, I would never bring up the subject. But before Ilzimmer could lash out again, Elminster spoke, still using his conversational tone.
"You also should have known better than to not see a Spell Store when you saw it. You also should have known that when someone takes that much magic and manages to stay standing that you've been had. You like your spells of pain do you, well here, have them back, have them all!" With that last pronouncement, magical energy poured from Elminster as every spell that had been inflicted on Elminster shot out at once, slamming Ilzimmer in the chest. He flew through the air, spinning like a dervish as the magical energies consumed his body, leaving behind only the smell of brimstone to show that the man had existed at all. Elminster turned to me and waggled his eyebrows.
"Did that stop the duel fast enough for you?"
Despite the seriousness of what had just transpired, I found myself laughing heartily beside the greatest mage in the realms, who joined right along with me. After a moment, the laughter trailed off, and I remembered that I had left my apprentice likely in some distress. Turning towards the Old Sage, I bowed deeply.
"It has been an honour to meet you Sir, but I must return to my tower, I left my apprentice quite suddenly, and I am sure he is wondering where I am." El chuckled.
"My dear Devonin, he is much closer than you would think." For a moment, my young apprentice stood before me, and then it was Elminster once more. "I have been watching you, and I must say I am quite impressed with your skill, patience and technique. Although your Crusade skills are atrocious, even Vangy could beat you with little trouble, but then, when I bring you around, you'll meet them soon enough, Vangy and the good Curate Winefiddle."
At my dumbfounded look, Elminster grinned and flashed me a lewd gesture, "good gods man, smile, you've just been promoted. You're a Cormyrean War Wizard now."
Slowly, cautiously, as though I expected Elminster to sprout a tail and wings and become a dragon, I smiled. Seems like was going to get even more interesting now.
He stoodh
"Most magic-users wouldn't be in a spell duel in the first place unless they knew what they were doing. A poorly trained mage isn't usually a target, and most of them know better than to attack one superior to their skill in the first place. So for the most part, those careless fireballs and other miscellaneous magical effects are not a problem. However a greater danger exists to those who use magic themselves."
"Magic in the realms is a weave of energies that surrounds everyone and everything. Many are more sensitive to the weave then others, women, for example, have a greater connection to the weave then do men, and elves are, for all intents and purposes, part of the weave, dealing with it in ways us humans can only begin to understand."
"The thing about spell duels is the great amounts of energy released. Both participants are using every magical tool at their disposal in an attempt to achieve victory over their foe. The effect of that is that it sends ripples all throughout the weave, in much the way that a pebble affects a still pond. When arch-mages duel, the effect is that of a boulder dropped from a great height, not only does the pond ripple, but also water is displaced, and thrown from one place to another. The effect of all this is that almost any magic-user can tell when a spell duel is happening, and if the fighters are powerful enough, and the mage is close enough, the unsuspecting observer can suffer many ill effects, and so usually, for their safety and the safety of the weave, someone who becomes aware of a spell battle must find it, and attempt to put a stop to it. This is a most sacred duty."
-Excerpt from "Of Magi and Magic"
Elminster of Shadowdale
The Year of the Flaming Fist
"Drat it, how do you do it master?"
I chuckled as I moved my piece, capturing King Azoun, and putting and end to yet another game of Crusade with my erstwhile young apprentice. Crusade was a variation on the Calishite game that would be known in our language as chess. It was based on the war between the forces of King Azoun IV of Cormyr and the Tugian Hordes. It was also a game at which I was considered a master, and one that I had now successfully beaten my apprentice at forty games in a row.
"Strategy, my student, strategy. Something that every aspiring wizard must needs master before venturing out into the world. Knowledge like this is invaluable during war time, adventuring crises, spell duels." I meant to go on, but my apprentice interrupted me.
"You've been in a spell duel master?" I could see the awe in his eyes. I had never talked about spell duels in my lessons with the boy, so all he had to go on was the stories that every boy knew, stories about hurling mountains of flame about, controlling the forces of the world, manipulating time, and all of that rot. I decided to set him straight.
"Yes I have, and it's hardly as spectacular as you think. In actuality, most spell duels involve two men standing and hurling one spell at a time, until one happens to outthink another fast enough to make a telling strike, or the other runs out of spells. Usually, another mage arrives to put a stop to it before it comes to that, but, well, accidents do happen. Just think about the Anauroch Desert, used to be a forest you know." From the shocked look on his face, I thought that maybe I shouldn't have added that last part. Just as I was about to launch into an enlightening lecture on the ethics of spell battles, I had a…feeling. Something was wrong with the weave. I turned to my student and saw his brow creased in confusion. He felt it to, I could tell. Which meant that something particularly nasty was afoot. It could only be a duel.
In a trice I had my staff in hand, and was heading for the door, turning only to order my apprentice to remain here on penalty of unnamed nastiness. As I left I expended some spell energy to seal the door shut, just to be sure.
Spell duels are not that uncommon, although they hardly happen every day. I've been in five myself, all started by others, and all broken up by a superior mage before things got too nasty. So needless to say, I was no stranger to them. I darted off into the woods, towards the instability, and soon I could see bright flashes as spells fired off into the night.
Creeping closer, I cloaked myself in a spellshield so as to remain unseen and take a gauge of whether or not I could even intervene without putting myself into danger.
The combatants were both men, both robed in red, although neither had the bald head and tattoos that would indicate I was facing one of the infamous Red Wizards of Thay, and both carried staves covered in runes. One man's was glowing slightly as they faced off. I took a quick stock of the protective spells they had up.
The man on the left was shielded thrice over, looked like a globe of invulnerability, a stoneskin spell, and one I was not familiar with. The other was incased in a prismatic sphere. That didn't bode well for my efforts. I had myself barely mastered the knowledge required to cast such an advanced spell, although, given the time, I could certainly dismantle it.
As I remembered from my own apprenticeship, and the reading I had done, as well as practical memories from the few spell battles I had been forced to intervene in before, the trick was to try and make both mages think you were more powerful than they. The usual tactic was to try and fire off a spell that would either drop both mages defensive protections, or stop them completely. I hadn't the means to stop them both so quickly, and dismantling a prismatic sphere was a long process, requiring several spells to be cast in succession. I didn't have time. But it was my duty as a custodian of the weave to intervene. I marshaled my energies and prepared to enter the fray when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I tried to spin around and confront this new foe, but I found myself unable to move. I was being magically held. And it was by someone MUCH more powerful than I. A voice spoke very gruffly in my ear.
"And just what did you think you were going to do to that sphere? Blow it down? You haven't got the time to take it layer by layer, and you don't look like you've got the skill to set up a hanging spell to do it all at once.
As much as I hated to admit it, this stranger was right, although how he knew anything at all about me was still a mystery, let alone how he had such a precise barometer of my abilities. Discovering that I still retained the powers of speech, even if my mobility was removed, I replied.
"Well then sir, now that we've determined that I'm unable to do anything, mayhaps you'll let me do nothing under my own control?"
The man chuckled, and without warning I had regained control of my motor functions. I whirled around to face the man, and my stomach leapt into my throat and I was seized by equal parts fear, awe, and respect.
"Lord Elminster! How…how are you…why are you here?" Apparently he's used to that reaction, because he just waggled his bushy eyebrows at me and winked. Then he turned his gaze to the dueling magi, and I couldn't help but follow his look to the battling men. After a moment Elminster began to speak to me.
"The one on the left is Ilzimmer Mathran, he's a Zhentish Wizard fourth or so down the line from Manshoon himself."
I shuddered in spite of myself at the mention of the Zhentarim, and again, much more so, as he mentioned Manshoon. Zhents were always bad news, they are a group that operated using any means to control trade throughout the region. Their hold, Zhentil Keep, was home to the worst kind of scum the Dalelands had to offer, which was why Elminster, who lived in Shadowdale, made such an effort to thwart them. Manshoon was the leader of their secular forces, and controlled the Keep's mages with an iron fist. I was going to ask him why a Zhent would be so far out of the Dales, but he continued his lecture without pausing for breath.
"The other one is Mzentul Coy, he's a mercenary working for Hlaavin's Red Plumes. Freelance, but he knows his spells,. As I'm sure you noticed from the orb he has up." I nodded as he said this, and counted my luck that he had arrived before I tried in interrupt. Both of those men could single-handedly put me down, and the thought of taking them both at once made my skin crawl. But I was in the presence of the great Elminster and so I was quite unafraid.
"What are you going to do Elminster?" I asked slowly, taking care to keep my voice down, "On whose side would you intervene?" He guffawed loudly, and my eyes shot to the two mages who were a scant thirty feet away, fearful that they might hear, but he ignored that possibility and spoke in what I gathered was his lecturing tone.
"Do? Why my lad, I've been after these two for years. If they want to take each other out, it's alright by me, less trouble my way." His voice sobered, "Sorry lad, I let my anger get the better of me there, both of those men are responsible for more deaths than I care to consider, but you're right, they need to be stopped." His tone became more cheerful, "so let's bag us some nasties!"
Elminster stood up, and strode straight into the middle of the roiling magical energies being thrown from man to man, and held out his hand like a town guard directing wagon traffic, and called out "stop!" The energy being flung ceased suddenly, and by the looks of shock on the face of both Mzentul and Ilzimmer, it had nothing to do with them. Elminster pulled out a pipe, and puffed slowly on it. He took it out of his mouth and dropped his hand to his side. Unexplainably, his pipe remained in the air where he had left it; seemingly it had decided to tell gravity to go mind its own business for a while. Mzentul began to pale slightly at this overt display of power, but Ilzimmer's face twisted into a sneer, and he spoke.
"Ah, Elminster of Shadowdale, I was wondering when you and I would get a chance to match magic. My master Manshoon will be more than impressed when I bring him your head on a platter. You have failed to destroy him, and, while he has not succeeded in ridding the world of your presence, doing so will by my greatest pleasure"
Elminster leaned towards me and whispered, in a voice pitched for Mzentul and myself to hear, but not Ilzimmer, "I wonder how tough he'd be if I told him that I've killed Manshoon about thirty times already. Damned clones, just when you think you've got them all." He winked and turned back to the men. Ilzimmer was looking even angrier than before, and Mzentul, despite his fear was trying hard to silence the chuckles Elminster's comments had engendered. Then, El turned completely serious and stern, a state which, now years later, I know he affected only for the effect it causes. He took a step towards Ilzimmer, speaking quietly as he went.
"Mzentul, stay out of this and your life may not become forfeit before this night is through. But you Ilzimmer, destroying you and spreading the ashes over a thousand leagues shall be a great thing indeed. You wanted to fail at the task that your master has failed at again and again, then so be it." His face split into a grin, "I'll even give you first strike."
Ilzimmer grinned, and began to move his fingers and speak in a tongue that even I, a learned scholar did not understand, and suddenly the air was alive with blinking radiances, all of which darted straight towards Elminster. He sighed lustily and turned his mocking gaze towards Ilzimmer, who watched in shocked amazement as the energies struck the Old Mage and vanished into nothingness.
"Oh gods, are they STILL teaching that spell to you Zhents? It stopped affecting me years before your Manshoon was even born. It seems it's my turn now."
Ilzimmer was looking substantially less secure, and he moved to cast stronger protections upon himself. El wagged a finger in front of him.
"Ah ah ah, haven't you learned to respect your elders and let them have their turn? The things they let you magelings get away with. In my day we took turns like good children." And then, without a word, without any gesture other than a roguish wink, Elminster's spell fired. Or at least, I thought it fired, because there was no visible effect from Elminster's part. Whether by his doing or not, the effect of the incantation was quite clear, as all of Ilzimmer' protective spells flickered weakly and then faded out of existence. Ilzimmer snarled and began to weave another spell, one most likely designed to eradicate Elminster from the face of the realms. He finished with a triumphant growl, and a blade appeared, hovering in the air before him. A blade made of pure blackness. I recognized it, and my heart fell. Evard's Black Blade of Disaster it was called, and there was no known defense against it. It dove towards El, who calmly watched it come, and drove itself into his chest.
Elminster staggered, and blood gushed from the wound. Although I loathe admitting it, only my stark terror kept me from crying out and rushing to his aid as he dropped to one knee. Hauling himself back to his feet, he looked up at Ilzimmer, whose face was twisted in paroxysms of glee, no doubt thinking of the rewards that were soon to be his. Elmisnter began to stagger towards him, slow step by agonized shuffle, and Ilzimmer pulled his staff back as if to strike him, when he suddenly darted forward and took Ilzimmer by the shoulder. He gasped again and dropped onto his knees. Ilzimmer crowed in delight.
"Now, foolish Elminster, you shall see what comes of crossing Ilzimmer the Mighty, the greatest mage in the realms." He then proceeded to hammer the Old Sage with every spell in his arsenal, causing him to let loose a scream of such pain that I have never heard its like before. Magic Missiles, bolts of Lightning, Acid Arrows, Cones of Cold, even a few spells I had never seen before, all buried themselves into Elminster, who lay shuddering in pain on the ground. After several minutes, the spells ceased, and I could tear my eyes away from the grisly torture being executed before my eyes, and I saw that Mzentul had apparently taken the time to teleport far away from this confrontation, which I suppose was for the best, since we now had a mage completely under the control of bloodlust standing scant feet away.
"Now, defeated Elminster, old Fool, have you any last words to say before you go meet your Lady Mystra?" For emphasis, Ilzimmer launched a cruel kick to the ribs of Elminster, flipping him onto his back.
Slowly, agonizingly, El pulled himself to his feet to stand, bloody and bruised before Ilzimmer. The words that uttered from his throat were barely audible from my distance, "You should have known better."
"I should have known better?" I started with alarm, for Ilzimmer's voice was taking on the tinge of the insane. "Known better? You, my pathetic excuse for a wizard, should have known better. Known better than to trifle with the magical might of the Zhentarim. For now you lay defeated, victim of my magical strength."
Instantly, his look of utter superiority had vanished, replaced by a look of sudden, all encompassing surprise, shock and stark fear. My eyes darted back to Elminster, who was suddenly standing completely unharmed right in front of Ilzimmer. This time his voice rang out clearly, without a hint of pain.
"No, Ilzimmer the fool, you should have known better. Known better than to start a duel so close to my home, known better than to attempt to match wits with me, known better than to even think that you could do what your master had failed to do. Manshoon is so far past your pathetic little magics, that I actually look forward to his attempts to defeat me, just for the challenge." He winked at Ilzimmer, then again towards my hiding spot.
"I also should have known better than to let your mother give birth to such a petulant little brat, but then, she was certainly worth my time, if you know what I mean." From the sudden look of rage covering Ilzimmer's face, I could only assume that he did. However I decided then and there that if I should make it out alive, I would never bring up the subject. But before Ilzimmer could lash out again, Elminster spoke, still using his conversational tone.
"You also should have known better than to not see a Spell Store when you saw it. You also should have known that when someone takes that much magic and manages to stay standing that you've been had. You like your spells of pain do you, well here, have them back, have them all!" With that last pronouncement, magical energy poured from Elminster as every spell that had been inflicted on Elminster shot out at once, slamming Ilzimmer in the chest. He flew through the air, spinning like a dervish as the magical energies consumed his body, leaving behind only the smell of brimstone to show that the man had existed at all. Elminster turned to me and waggled his eyebrows.
"Did that stop the duel fast enough for you?"
Despite the seriousness of what had just transpired, I found myself laughing heartily beside the greatest mage in the realms, who joined right along with me. After a moment, the laughter trailed off, and I remembered that I had left my apprentice likely in some distress. Turning towards the Old Sage, I bowed deeply.
"It has been an honour to meet you Sir, but I must return to my tower, I left my apprentice quite suddenly, and I am sure he is wondering where I am." El chuckled.
"My dear Devonin, he is much closer than you would think." For a moment, my young apprentice stood before me, and then it was Elminster once more. "I have been watching you, and I must say I am quite impressed with your skill, patience and technique. Although your Crusade skills are atrocious, even Vangy could beat you with little trouble, but then, when I bring you around, you'll meet them soon enough, Vangy and the good Curate Winefiddle."
At my dumbfounded look, Elminster grinned and flashed me a lewd gesture, "good gods man, smile, you've just been promoted. You're a Cormyrean War Wizard now."
Slowly, cautiously, as though I expected Elminster to sprout a tail and wings and become a dragon, I smiled. Seems like was going to get even more interesting now.
He stoodh