The Temptation of Elminster: The Elminster Series
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How do you tempt an archmage who has everything?
From a dark and dusty tomb, Elminster emerges, seeking the guidance of Mystra, and finds only silence. He is drawn into the clutches of the mysterious and sinister Lady of Shadows. The path he takes will lead to a Realms-shaking confrontation where Elminster has to make the most important choice of his long life.
Whatever he decides, the Realms will be forever changed . . .
and silky. A long, tense creeping advance to a ruin where powerful foes were almost certainly waiting for them had not improved his temper—especially after one of his boots had found its first muddy, water-filled old burrow hole. That had occurred three paces before his other boot found the second. He’d lost count, since then, of how many creeper thorns had torn at him and raked across his hands and face … and all of it, of course, watched sneeringly from afar by the cruel upperpriestesses of the
imparts vitality, or places the vital, flowing power of Art in items, to recharge them. All of these should work.” Elminster frowned in thought. “And we must bide here a month, to see the rune that holds that spell?” Saeraede spread her hands. “You freed me and woke the first rune. I am yet able to awaken a rune, now—and I owe you my very life. Would you like to see the rune I spoke of, which holds the spell that will let me live to unlock the others for you?” “I would,” El said eagerly,
jovially, her eyes two spark-adorned flints. “And of her will: that you cease wandering Faerûn at your pleasure and return to the place from whence you so lately fled. Immense power lies there—and Shar means for us to have it. I know you’d not want to fail Most Holy Shar … or disappoint Darklady Avroana. So turn about and return thence, to serve Shar as capably as I know you can. I shall accompany you, to impart the Darklady’s unfolding will as you return to the mission you were sent here for.
the hawk-nosed man took Immeira gently by her upper arms and said urgently, “I am indeed alone—wherefore I need thy help, lass. Not to fight Foxlings with tree limbs … or even daggers, but to tell me: do the folk of the Starn wish to be rid of the Iron Fox?” “Yes,” Immeira said, a little bewildered by how fast Faerûn had been turned upside down in front of her eyes. “By the gods, yes.” “And how many blades answer the Fox’s call? Both ready-armed, like these, and others who may hurl spells or be
Myth Drannor when elven magic flowed like water, was respected enough to be accepted into a noble elf family there, advise their ruler, the Coronal—and even survive the darkness of its destruction at the hands of a shrieking army of foul fiends! Hard to believe? Ask the folk of Galadorna about Elminster’s survival in the face of the fell magic of an archpriestess of Bane, while defying her in her very temple! This was before Galadorna’s fall, when he was the court mage of that realm.” “Aye, all