The Lost Library of Cormanthyr by Mel Odom Page A

carried in his head.
    The drow elf gestured with her free hand.
    Hastily, Golsway erected a shield in front of himself, expecting her attack to come directly at him. He felt the crackle of magic in the air and knew he faced someone of considerable talent and power.
    A flaming sphere a yard across formed on the stone floor in front of the female drow. Her thin lips pulled back in a smile as she directed the fiery ball’s progress. The sphere smashed into Golsway’s shield, wrapping spongily around it for a moment, then ricocheting off with amazing speed.
    Keraqt never had a prayer. The flaming sphere rolled over him and engulfed him. He screamed in agony, his voice ripping through what had been the quiet halls of Golsway’s home. The fat merchant struggled across the couch as the flames sizzled the meat from his bones. Every place his hands or face touched started new fires.
    Even hardened as he was by everything he’d seen in his adventures, Golsway could not stand to see a man die in such pain. He chanted quickly, sending energy to dispel the flaming sphere.
    The fiery ball cooled somewhat, turning blood red just as Keraqt’s struggles ceased. The merchant’s burned and blackened body spilled to the floor, knocking aside a low table containing memorabilia from a dig site in Shadowdale. Tiny ceramic statutes shattered against the flagstones.
    “Mercy,” the female drow said in her rusty voice, “is something shared only by the weak to end their miseries.” She renewed her attack, abandoning the flaming sphere as it collapsed in on itself. Her hands moved again.
    Golsway prepared spells of his own, choosing them in order. The female drow was a strong opponent, one he’d not want to do combat with at anything less than his best. His staff was in his study on the third floor. Had he been outside, he would not have been without it.
    Bilious yellow-green vapors formed in front of the drow and began filling the room. The gentle breeze blowing in from the broken balcony doors pushed the vapors toward Golsway.
    The old mage backed away, recognizing the cloudkill spell. One whiff of the toxic vapor and he would be dead or defenseless. The spell let him know the woman didn’t intend to let him live.
    Staying behind his shield, he summoned his magic, focused, said the words, and drew the tiny feathered fan from his sleeves.
    He waved the fan in the direction of the coiling vapors. Immediately, a huge updraft of wind surged from the floor to the ceiling high overhead. The vapor rushed up with it.
    The drow took a step back as her own spell threatened to backfire on her.
    While she was off-balance, Golsway reached into a hidden pocket for the vial containing a piece of squid tentacle. He dispelled the wind wall and smashed the vial against the floor, mouthing the words of the new spell. He felt the drain of energy from his body as the spell formed long black tentacles that writhed up from the floor.
    The spell for Evard’s Black Tentacles was a potent one against most foes. Golsway hated using it because getting rid of the tentacles was dangerous and time consuming, and there was no real control over them. They were just as dangerous to him as they were to the drow.
    She gave ground before the tentacles. Setting herself, she lashed out expertly with the morning star, slashing hunks of the blubbery black flesh from one of the ten-foot long tentacles. It coiled away from her.
    Golsway had to duck himself as he pulled a piece of gauze from his pocket and seized a fistful of smoke from Keraqt’s smoldering corpse. The sickly sweet smell of the dead man filled his nostrils as he said the words that activated the spell.
    Instantly, his corporeal body became insubstantial and the weight of his flesh dropped away. He activated the ring on his right hand and rose into the air, flying quickly. He didn’t try for the door. Even though the tentacles could no longer touch him, such a move would expose him longer than necessary to the