Ed Greenwood - Forgotten Realms: Elminster Must Die: The Sage of Shadowdale  

ALSO BY ED GREENWOOD
The City of Splendors: A Waterdeep Novel
(with Elaine Cunningham)
The Best of the Realms, Book II
The Stories of Ed Greenwood
Edited by Susan J. Morris

Sage of Shadowdale
ELMINSTER MUST DIE

2010 Wizards of the Coast LLC

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Published by Wizards of the Coast LLC

F ORGOTTEN R EALMS , W IZARDS OF THE C OAST , and their respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries.

Cover art by Kekai Kotaki

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Greenwood, Ed.
Elminster must die : sage of Shadowdale / Ed Greenwood.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-7869-5765-1
1. Forgotten realms (Imaginary place)Fiction. 2. Elminster (Fictitious character)Fiction. 3. WizardsFiction. I. Title.
PR9199.3.G759E575 2010
813.54dc22
2010019482

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v3.1

pereunt et imputantur mors ianua vitae

For Brian Cortijo, because this should have been his. And for Brian Thomsen, because he should have lived to read it.

Contents

W elcome to Faern, a land of magic and intrigue, brutal violence and divine compassion, where gods have ascended and died, and mighty heroes have risen to fight terrifying monsters. Here, millennia of warfare and conquest have shaped dozens of unique cultures, raised and leveled shining kingdoms and tyrannical empires alike, and left long forgotten, horror-infested ruins in their wake. A LAND OF MAGIC
When the goddess of magic was murdered, a magical plague of blue firethe Spellplagueswept across the face of Faern, killing some, mutilating many, and imbuing a rare few with amazing supernatural abilities. The Spellplague forever changed the nature of magic itself, and seeded the land with hidden wonders and bloodcurdling monstrosities. A LAND OF DARKNESS
The threats Faern faces are legion. Armies of undead mass in Thay under the brilliant but mad lich king Szass Tam. Treacherous dark elves plot in the Underdark in the service of their cruel and fickle goddess, Lolth. The Abolethic Sovereignty, a terrifying hive of inhuman slave masters, floats above the Sea of Fallen Stars, spreading chaos and destruction. And the Empire of Netheril, armed with magic of unimaginable power, prowls Faern in flying fortresses, sowing discord to their own incalculable ends. A LAND OF HEROES
But Faern is not without hope. Heroes have emerged to fight the growing tide of darkness. Battle-scarred rangers bring their notched blades to bear against marauding hordes of orcs. Lowly street rats match wits with demons for the fate of cities. Inscrutable tiefling warlocks unite with fierce elf warriors to rain fire and steel upon monstrous enemies. And valiant servants of merciful gods forever struggle against the darkness.
A LAND OF UNTOLD ADVENTURE

P ROLOGUE

T he Year of the Ageless One had brought early and warm spring to Shadowdale, an endless parade of short but drenching rains with muggy days between. Travel through the Dales was a matter of much sweat, slipping in abundant mud, and a profusion of enthusiastically stinging insects.

Wherefore Gaerond of the Scars was fast running out of oaths, and much of him was numb from his own slappings. Nor were the rest of the grim, veteran adventurers in the Bloodshields Band any happier than he was. If the smooth-talking Sembian hadnt paid them so muchand promised so much more if they brought back even a scrap of successtheyd have taken other roads long since.

Everyone knew the wizard Elminster was long dead and gone, naught but a long-bearded name in legend. His tower in Shadowdale had been a snake-haunted, rubble-strewn pit for longer than anyone alive could remember.

They checked when at last they came to where it had once stood; aye, a pit still, all long grass overgrowing a scum-cloaked pond.

Yet Sembian gold was Sembian gold, and theyd been promised good handfuls of it, so they trudged on.

The Old Skull Inn was right where it was supposed to be, too, rising tall and proud beside the road. Newly expanded, twas said, two floors with porches; a soaring roof above, dark and splendid with new tiles; and from the wideswept eaves a row of large, ornate hanging metal lanterns hung on stout chains, waiting to be lit at dusk. Not all that far off.

Gaerond grunted his approval as the sharp reek of horngrass smoke greeted him. Any bed-haven that wanted to keep stingflies at bay was a place he wanted to sleep in.

He heard the faint thud of a gong from inside. Theyd been seen.

He spun around to catch Malkyms eye, then Flamdars, ere slapping his sword hilt. Then he tied his peace-strings through it, nodded when they started doing the same, and turned back to the inn again, keeping his hands empty and away from his sides. He could snatch and hurl two longsarks in half a breath if he had tobut if the rest of the Bloodshields behaved themselves aright, hopefully hed not have to. Which should mean a decent meal and bedsmayhap even a bath!that night.

The tallest, widest man hed ever seen met him at the door, smiling affably enough. Gaerond matched that smile, keeping his eyes on those of the innkeeper and pretending not to notice the two women at either end of a long serving counter who both had loaded hand crossbows lying ready on the well-worn wood in front of them.

Rooms and a meal, for six?

Wed like that and will pay ready coin. Gaerond tried to sound amiable, out of long habit; many folk never saw past the fearsome sword scars. If our work goes well, that is; weve a task that wont wait. Were the Bloodshields Band and come in peace. Chartered in Arabel, came afoot from Mistledaleand were seeking Elminster.

The hosts smile held but was somehow a trifle less welcoming than before. Six chartered adventurers, to seek a dead man? Or are you looking for treasure he might have left behind?