"That's a she," the old pit fiend said suddenly, catching a glimpse of hands raised to weave a spell.
Geryon nodded. "Your eyes were ever keen, Grimvold," he said approvingly. "Goddess or mortal?"
The scarred old pit fiend frowned. "Mortal, I think. She stays low, where the divine tend to tower high and look down."
The Wild Beast nodded again.
"Strange," another of the pit fiends watching from the height said suddenly."Earlier she struck to slay-bolts that transfixed individual loyals, of her choosing. Now she tries to hold Qarlegon's flight at bay. Why?"
There were puzzled nods and frowns.
Someone asked,"Could she be opening a gate?"
"That's why we're here," Geryon told them calmly."If I give the order, we're all to call in all we can, and whelm a host, to seize and destroy any such portal."
"No!"Grimvold snarled suddenly. He wove a spell right at the Overduke's elbow.
Several pit fiends shrank away, expecting Geryon to lash out with deadly force to punish this impertinence. The Wild Beast did nothing.
The scarred old fiend shouted, his farspeaking spell making his voice oddly echoing and distant, "Qarlegon! Move your loyals! Move toward the gorge-now! Move or die!"
"What by all the fires of Nessus-?" one pit fiend cried angrily. "Who do you think you are, Old Scarred-Horns?"
"Why?" another asked simply, as the pit fiends below looked up in bewilderment. Qarlegon rose over them, peering quizzically.
"Look you all" Grimvold said grimly, jerking a talon at the horizon. "That."
They scarce had time to look before it whirled out of the sky at them-or rather, at the devils massed on the hillside.
It was huge, tumbling up from far across Avernus. Large and dark, the fist of stone had been a crag or mountaintop torn from its roots.The gigantic boulder turned slightly as it rushed at the hillside.
"Fires above," one of the pit fiends gasped in awe. "It's going to-"
"That was the magic we felt earlier," Geryon said quietly. He put one huge, hairy hand on Grimvold's shoulder. "You warned them "he added with a sigh.
The crash of the great stone shook Avernus so badly that they were all flung off their feet.The roaring boom was deaf-eningly loud.The crag struck, bounced, struck again, ground along for a moment, rolled, and started to break up.Three of its shards struck the pinnacles crowning the hillside, then toppled onto whatever was left of Qarlegon's force.
"Well," a particularly stupid cornugon said from somewhere near the height, "at least it struck down the intruder, too! Nothing could have s-"
He was one of the ones crushed to nothingness, a moment later, when blue fire brought a castle-sized fragment of the great stone out of empty air to crash down on the height, smearing most of Geryon's force to smoking ichor in an instant.
The Overduke and Grimvold exchanged glances, but neither moved from where they stood. "She's gone," the old pit fiend said grimly. "That was a last thrust."
Geryon nodded, folding his massive arms across his chest. "Gone to seek Nergal and his captive human, or I miss my guess."
Grimvold sighed. "Do we whelm an army?"
The Wild Beast smiled coldly. "No. Let Nergal, rightful Prince of Hell that he is, do a little mustering and com-manding.Avernus welcomes all."
The scarred pit fiend smiled slowly at the old saying. The two old devils stood together on the hilltop as a breeze whipped around them, bringing the scent of death. Both breathed deeply, remembering good old days of blood and battle and torment.
***
The Simbul stood alone atop a dark needle of rock somewhere in Avernus. Her long silver hair lashed the blood-red air as she caught her breath. She was still weak from boosting a mountaintop across half a Hell to crush her foes, a bare breath or three after whisking poor howling-insane Halaster back toToril. Still, even slaughtering a thousand devils instead of a paltry hundred meant nothing, if she missed the one called Nergal. Even now her magics were drifting out to sniff the tortured gorges and ridges of Avernus for any trace of-there!
She unleashed the bolt without a moment's hesitation, sending blue fire streaking across Avernus. Hello, devil. Welcome to a life truly in Hell, brought to you by the queen of Aglarond, dainty human hide and all...
***
Blue fire crashed and roared. Nergal tumbled through the air, his body aflame. Aarrgh! Pain! he roared, with both mind and voice. He worked frantic magic even before he smashed to ground.
Snatching magics. He and Elminster were abruptly elsewhere. Somewhere dark and private and dripping, a cavern that had none of the tumult of Avernan hillsides.
[claws grimly clinging]
Wizard, show me more vivid memories, omitting nothing. Whatever was trying to slay us, it can't reach here.
Oh?Ye'd bet on that?
I would and have, human. With both of our lves, of course.
[equal parts respect and reproach, images silently proffered]
Elminster looked up from pages that glowed with. glyphs of deep blue and gleaming copper hue. Though his expression was mild, the glint in his eye matched the metal of the symbols. "The hour is late... the lamps burn low. Thy ever-borrowed wit grows harsh on these old ears. Unburden thyself without delay."
Torm nodded, smiled sweetly, and swung himself up to perch atop a precarious pile of parchments. Dust rose about him in a shadowy cloak. He matched Elminster's long-suffering look with one of his own, set his chin in his hand, and echoed the Old Mage's own tones. "I've a few words to impart, old friend; let us discourse together awhile."
I'm supposed to be impressed and learn my lesson? That I am acting the part you play in this remembrance, and you now mock me as this Torm did you? Well, your ploy has worked, little man: i am impressed.
You may have little liking, i fear, for the result.
I caught sight or a few memories, some while back, that told me your mystra set you the task of training the seven sisters. I'm going to watch that teaching-or what you still. Recall of it-and see how they, through you, learned their powers.
[bright images flying]
No. No, don't show me. This time i'll dig and find what i find-not what you want to show me.
If the journey pains you, remember whom you have to thank for its necessity, overclever little strutting thing.
Not a wise idea, devil, but I suppose ye'll have to learn that the hard way....
I thank you for your kind concern, mind-slave. Make sure to grovel as we go!
[mind bolt, wince and stagger, tentacles drumming impatiently as their owner strides on, and in, and down...]
I have so little left. I can't think...no, can't remember. Much of anything. I am empty, almost empty, all poured out into this devil. I am... almost nothing. Down to the last, now, all my spell lore gone to him while I noticed nothing, all the years of faces and names-even the shames I hide from myself, most days. Down to the last things, long buried and forgotten. My last little secrets. Gods, so many wearying years, and I'm stiU not ready to let it all go and drift away into the darkness...
El, ye always were a selfish bastard.
Mystra, forsake me not. Preserve me. Please.
[images flaring up]
Elminster's mouth was suddenly very dry. "Gods, but she's beautiful," he said involuntarily.
His scrying-stone showed him a tall, slender lady in black leather and purple silk striding along the path. Her glossy cascade of midnight-black hair gleamed in the sun. Her skin was white and smooth, her face... words failed him. Hope stirred in him, just a little, and he let it dance near his heart. He had. been so lonely for so long.