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masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_sporking2. Previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Elminster in Myth Drannor! Last time, Elminster was followed by someone, fought some hobgoblins, rescued a dying elf, and got charged with delivering a magical artifact to Cormanthor – which happened to overload his brain with all the stored information and memories it held, because why not? Fun times! Today, we actually reach Cormanthor, as plot threads get tied up and new ones begin. Joining us once again will be Calassara and Mira!
Chapter Three: Fell Magic and a Fair City
Calassara: Hmmm; Greenwood seems to be taking a foray into alliteration with this title, at least for the first word of each phrase. Also, every title so far has taken the form of “X and Y” – I wonder if there’s significance to that, or if it’s just a coincidence? Our opening quote isn’t from the gossip rag this time but is from The High History of the Faerunian Archmages Most Mighty, which is another source we’ve seen before. Greenwood isn’t casting a very wide net for sources so far in this book, is he? It is rare for any man to make many foes, and strive against them, only to find a victory so clear and mighty that he vanquishes them forever, and is shut of them cleanly, at a single stroke. Indeed, one may say that such clarity of resolution is found only in the tales of minstrels. In the endlessly unfolding tapestry that is real life in Faerûn, the gods plague folk with far more loose ends—and all too many of these prove as deadly as the decisive battles that preceded them. Hmmm – can’t say I disagree, exactly, but assuming this quote is actually relevant to the content of the chapter (and you never can quite tell…) I’m not sure I trust Greenwood to handle the matter properly. But, let’s begin, shall we? We open the chapter proper with Elminster still lost in the kiira’s memories, reliving an ancient battle where an elven warrior faces a rival atop a mountain – did they climb all the way up there just for a duel? They must be exhausted. As the vision fades Elminster moaned. He was so tired of this. Each dark or furious or merry scene gave way to the next, exhausting him with the ongoing tide of emotions. His mind felt like it was afire. How by all the gods’ mercy did the heir of House Alastrarra stay sane? Or did the heir of House Alastrarra stay sane? Well, presumably the heir of House Alastrarra knows what they’re getting into before receiving the kiira and gets at least some training in handling it… I still have to wonder why Iymbryl thought dumping it all directly into your mind was a good idea, rather than just letting you carry it? Or maybe I’m expecting too much logic from a dying man.
Suddenly Elminster hears a voice, for a moment El thought it was another of the innumerable, softly speaking, caressing elven maidens the visions had brought to him. *rolling her eyes* Why am I not surprised at what sort of memories Elminster has apparently fixated on? The voice calls him back to the present, and gradually he realizes it’s the voice of the kiira itself (which… perhaps should have made itself known sooner, no? Perhaps all of this could have been avoided?). Oh, and The young mage-prince almost laughed; the seductive whisper reminded him of a certain fat lady night-escort in Hastarl, whose voice was the only thing alluring she had left. She’d sounded like that, whispering huskily out of darkened doorways. *Flatly* Greenwood is such a class act, isn’t he? Elminster calls out to Mystra, but, getting no answer, turns back to the kiira, which is now showing him magics that can be used to alter his body, including demonstrations of its various wielders doing exactly that. Some merely changed their faces and heights to elude foes; others assumed different genders to lure or eavesdrop; one or two took beast-shape to escape rivals who had blades ready to slay elven heirs with, but no interest in hacking at timid hares or curious cats. And of course “to lure or to eavesdrop” is the only reason anyone, in all the history of this stone and its bearers, might want to change their gender. Certainly not for themselves! Who would ever think of such a thing? Not Ed Greenwood, apparently. Elminster is left wondering why the kiira is showing him all of this, and then Iymbryl’s face appears before him. The vision changed again, showing him a rather familiar lanky, raven-haired youth with a hawk-sharp nose and blue eyes, naked above a bathing pool—a body that flowed and sank into the similarly nude body of an elf, all slender hairless sleekness. By its face, Iymbryl. Right; the gem wanted him to change. Ah, Greenwood, I will freely admit I am in no position to judge anyone else’s fantasies, and I’m fully aware that we elves tend to be rather less hirsute than you humans, but still… was there a reason you felt the need to make sure we know that Iymbryl apparently had no body hair?
MG: Honestly, it just reminds me of Eldest and the weird bit where Paolini feels the need to make sure we know that Oromis, Eragon’s new elf mentor, has no pubic hair. For that matter, I’ve sometimes wondered if Paolini ever read Greenwood – he’s the right age to have gotten into the Realms during the nineties novel boom, if nothing else.
Mira: *wrapping her scarf and coat very tightly around herself* I don’t know who that is, and I don’t think I want to, and I just know I would be absolutely mortified if someone tried to describe me in that sort of detail, so… let’s just move on, all right? So, Elminster begins the spell, first calling up Iymbryl’s memories of himself from the gem and letting them flow into his mind. Next he looked down at his hands—the rather battered hands of a man who’d lived and fought hard, recently—and willed them to become the long, slim, blue-white, smooth hands that had crawled so laboriously up his arms to touch his cheek, not long ago. And the hands dwindled, twisted, and … became slim, and delicate, and blue-white in hue. He wiggled them experimentally, and they tingled. El drew in a deep, shuddering breath, called Iymbryl’s face firmly to mind, and willed his body to change. A slow, creeping feeling rose in him, in his back and up his spine. He shivered involuntarily, and grunted in disgust. The visions fell away and he was blinking around at the unchanging, patient trunks of shadowtops that had stood here for centuries. He looked down. His clothes were hanging from him; he was smaller and slimmer, his smooth skin now blue-white. He was a moon elf. He was Iymbryl Alastrarra. And so, that is that. I suppose that makes him… Elfminster, now? *she shrugs*
MG: Since Iymbryl is now explicitly noted to be a moon elf, I’d like to take a moment to talk about what that means. Basically, the moon elves and sun elves, the two most powerful of the various elven peoples of the Realms, arrived on Toril millennia ago as refugees from Faerie (the wood elves, sea elves, Avariel – winged elves – and dark elves – ancestors of the drow – were already there). The sun or gold elves (who sometimes call themselves “high elves,” though that’s a loaded term) were descended from the aristocracy of old Faerie and tend to consider themselves the “true” elven people, and have a reputation for being arrogant, traditionalist and xenophobic, even by elf standards. Moon elves (sometimes called silver elves – “grey elves” is a considered a vile slur, and if you call a moon elf that to their face you probably will get punched) are generally considered to be (relatively) more open minded, cosmopolitan, and adaptable, and the sun elves tend to look down on them as being, essentially, an inferior knock-off of themselves. Eventually, the royal family of Evermeet (and by extension, all elves) would be chosen from among the moon elves, outraging the more reactionary elements among the sun elves and turning many of them even more extreme than they already were. This racial conflict and its implications are a really big deal in Elaine Cunningham’s books (again, Cunningham is generally considered the best writer of elves in the usual Realms novelist stable), especially the Songs and Swords series and the Evermeet novel, where it drives much of the plot for both of them. Weirdly, despite Elminster in Myth Drannor being a book that deals heavily with elf politics and elves being racist and xenophobic, it hardly ever comes up here, which seems like a pretty significant oversight, but it’s important enough to the backstory that it still felt worth mentioning. And yes, moon elves in general are often described as being super pale, with blue undertones to their skin (sometimes they even have blue hair, though black or silver are more common colors).
Mira: Well, that was… interesting. Also somewhat disturbing, from my perspective. I somehow doubt any of those people care much for half-elves *mg nods vigorously* As I thought. Next, Elminster looks through the kiira – which is being very cooperative now, could it have done that earlier? – if it contains a spell to teleport him directly to Cormanthor, which it doesn’t. Then, Elminster realizes he doesn’t have his pack any more – he apparently left it behind when he teleported, and the hobgoblins probably have it now. Well, that seems… unfortunate. But Elminster doesn’t seem to mind much and indeed just keeps walking. I hope he didn’t have any important supplies in there. He might be getting hungry later. I also hope for his sake his spellbooks weren’t in there… or he might have a problem the next time he needs to prepare spells and realizes he doesn’t have it. That would be awkward! Elminster thinks to himself that being in elf shape will probably get him into the city much more easily, and while I have to agree in general – you are pretending to be someone specific. What are you going to do if you meet someone who knew Iymbryl, and can tell you’re not him? That seems liable to get you killed as an imposter. Elminster sniffed the air; to an elven nose, the woods smelled … stronger; his nose took in, or noticed, many more scents. Hmm. Best to think on such things while moving. I’ll admit, I’ve not spent much time in the woods, but… I think that one’s senses suddenly becoming noticeably more keen would be an asset for a traveler in a familiar land, and perhaps something worth investigating further? As he walks, Elminster learns from the kiira that displaying it openly would be crass, and so he casts a spell to hide it, and now that he wore Iymbryl’s shape, the memories in the gem still awaited him, but no longer overwhelmed. Ah, speaking professional, you may wear Iymbryl’s shape, but you’re not him – your mind and soul are still those of Elminster the human, and those seem to be what the kiira bonds to. So… why is this happening? I’m genuinely very confused.
Calassara: And you’re not alone, so don’t worry about it! Elminster dives back into the kiira’s memories, pulling up some information on the layout of the city, and its ruler. He learns that Coronals are elected rather than born, that they’re considered the chief judge in all disputes, and the office comes with magical powers and political influence that covers the whole realm, not just the city. The current Coronal was one Eltargrim Irithyl—old and overly kindly, in Iymbryl’s view, though the Alastrarran heir knew that some of the older, prouder families held far poorer views of their ruler. Ah, and so that would be the Coronal we met in the prologue, then, assuming there’s not more than one of him (stranger things have happened…). Elminster also learns that much of the real power is held by the old noble families, particularly the Starym and Echorn, who consider themselves guardians of tradition and what a “true” elf is. I remember Ildilyntra Starym from the prologue, and I find myself poorly disposed towards these people already. Such attitudes never end well… Suddenly, Elminster breaks contact with the gem, and finds himself wondering if he’s really doing what Mystra wants him to. And, my, that did come out of nowhere, didn’t it? He calls out the goddess’s name and begs her to answer, and Into his mind he brought his most striking memory of Myrjala, laughing in aroused delight as they soared through the air together, and of the subtle changes in her eyes that betrayed her divinity as her passion rose … seizing on that image, he held it, breathed her name again, and bent his will to calling on her. Is… Elminster’s favorite memory of Myrjala the time they had public sex in midair? The use of the word “aroused” would seem to indicate it is, and while I would never judge anyone for their pleasures or who they love… there is a time and place.
Well, Elminster is suddenly shown a vision of Iymbryl’s brother, Ornthlas, and the two of them touching foreheads, and then the face had become that of the kindly old Coronal, and the viewpoint drew back from him to show Elminster himself, bowing. Somehow, El knew that he was invoking the Coronal’s protection against those of the People who were horrified to discover that a human had penetrated into the very heart of their city, wearing the shape of an elf they knew. An elf he might well have murd— *flatly* Yes, that is a problem in arriving in a city with a dead man’s face, bearing that man’s property – whoever could have foreseen that? And then, out of nowhere, Elminster finds himself facing something else that was sweeping around roots and gliding among the trees like a large and eager snake. Something that hissed bubblingly and tirelessly as it came, whispering what might have been words. Whispering … snatches of spell incantations? … the body of this strange beast or conjured apparition was sometimes translucent and always indistinct, unfocused. It veered toward him with a triumphant chuckle, raking the empty air with dozens of claws as it came. It was clearly seeking him. Hmmm, could that be what our mysterious pursuer conjured last time? Maybe you should have done something about that when you had the chance, Elminster! Elminster watches the thing slinking closer, wonders what it is, and then decides that Mystra will obviously take care of it, since it’s a magical creature, she’s the goddess of magic, and Elminster is her Chosen. *facepalm* Elminster… just how have you survived this long? And of course, while he’s standing there dawdling and not taking things seriously, the creature rakes him with its claws, and after it does, he suddenly can’t remember any of his prepared spells! On the one hand, that sounds horrifying, but on the other… you clearly brought this on yourself.
Mira: Yes, I have to say… if you’re expecting divine intervention to take care of all your problems… you probably shouldn’t? Just because the gods like you, it doesn’t mean they’ll always be there to save you… Elminster turns to run, amazed by how fast Iymbryl’s body is, and tries to cast a dispel, the most powerful magic he has left, over his shoulder. The creature is barely bothered by it and keeps coming, and so Elminster tries to flee by climbing up a tree. Which his new body is also better for, apparently. What luck! Of course, it would be better luck if he wasn’t also still being chased by a monster… when the creature tries to follow him up, he casts a small jet of flame at it, which is one of the last spells he has and isn’t even a combat spell, more for starting fires and such. Not only does it not work, but it leaves the creature looking even more energized. That does seem to be a problem – have you considered trying to just hit it on the head? Normally I wouldn’t recommend physical violence, but magic clearly isn’t working, and sometimes you have to use what you have… The creature keeps clawing at him, then finally climbs up the tree after him. Elminster decides to jump, and just as the creature reaches him he casts a light spell to distract it – and this time he can tell the magic really is making it stronger. It fed on spells! This thing must be a magekiller, something he’d heard of long ago, in his days with the Brave Blades adventuring band. Magekillers were creations of magic, wrought by rare, suppressed spells. Their purpose was to slay wizards who only knew one way to do battle—hurl spells at things. Ah, yes – something Elminster’s heard of before, that’s never been foreshadowed before his pursuer summons it! That clears everything up!
Elminster now realizes that none of his magic will be effective, so he draws a knife instead and stabs the creature through the eye. The knife ends up tearing through the whole creature before falling out the other end – the magekiller isn’t visibly wounded but does look smaller. And so, Elmisnter jumps, and falls through the branches. An instant later, the Chosen of Mystra hit the ground hard on his behind, rolled over into an unintentional backflip, and found his feet with an involuntary groan. His rear was going to be sore for days. He looks up to see the magekiller following him down, and considers using his very last spell, which will teleport him back to where he left the scepter. But that will put him well out of his way, so he decides not to risk it and grabs his dagger where it fell. While trying to work out a plan, he nearly stumbles over a cliff, and then looks back to find the magekiller in hot pursuit. The creature charges at him, and Elminster ducks and goes over the edge, desperately trying to find something to grab ahold of as he does. He manages to grab a root, but the magekiller goes over as well, and it can’t get a hold of anything to break its fall. it. Claws squealed briefly on rock, trailing sparks, and then the jutting rock pulled free of its ancient berth and fell, its unwilling passenger flailing the air beneath it. Together boulder and spectral beast crashed into the rocks below. They did not bounce or roll; only the dust they hurled up did that. El watched, eyes narrowed. When the dust settles, the magekiller is at the bottom of the gorge, pinned, and Elminster realizes that whatever it is, it’s solid enough to be hurt. He manages to find his way down, realizing at the bottom that he’s back in his own form and wonders if he’s lost the kiira. At last, he assures himself it’s still there and then slowly approaches the pinned magekiller. Drawing a dagger, he starts stabbing the creature repeatedly, until at last the frantic whispering beneath him grew slowly fainter and fainter, until at last it stopped, and the boulder settled against the rocks beneath with a clacking sound. And so, that’s it for the magekiller, I suppose. I’m… not entirely sure if you were actually alive, but you did come closer to killing Elminster than I think any antagonist has so far, and so for that, valiant beast, I shall salute you.
Calassara: Well, fresh from his victory, Elminster looks up only to spot a robed man he’s never seen before staring down at him. The stranger grins nastily and casts a meteor swarm spell, but Elminster just waves and triggers his own last spell, teleporting away. *she sighs* But of course he did. And so now we’re in the strange wizard’s head, as he curses at losing Elminster and thinks it will probably take him days of study and casting divination spells to find him again. You’d think the gods themselves watched over him, the way luck seemed to cloak him like a mage-mantle. He’d avoided that slaying spell at the inn … old Surgath Ilder had hardly been a fitting alternative. Then he’d somehow trapped the magekiller—and that spell had taken days to find components for. So, he killed Surgath… because he thought he was Elminster? Or out of frustration at not being able to kill Elminster? I’m not sure I understand… He curses some more and doesn’t notice pale shapes rising behind him from some stone cairns his spells disturbed. They drift over to the stone where the magekiller was and lift it into the air, revealing the twitching remains of the magekiller still beneath it. The wizard notices this, and wonders if Elminster is still nearby and if he’s doing it somehow, or if the magekiller might be still alive. He prepares to cast another spell – and then notices more of the spectral images arising and realizes that they’re elven wraiths. And some of them are dragging what’s left of the magekiller over to him! It was at that moment that Heldebran, last surviving apprentice to the magelords of Athalantar, felt the first touch of fear. So, that’s our mysterious pursuer’s identity. Not much of a surprise, I must say. Though, I am rather impressed that this apprentice has arguably come closer to defeating Elminster than any antagonist we’ve had so far. Where was he during the battle for Hastarl? That said… friend, you should have run the moment the ghosts showed up. This is not going to end well for you.
One of the wraiths asks Heldebran’s name; he tells them to stay back and casts a spell, only for it to disintegrate harmlessly. “These humans always make such a noise and show of things. A simple word and a look would have been enough. They always exult so, in the unleashings of their power—like children.” Now, now. There’s no need to be rude. I’m rather fond of humans. They have a certain charm that so many of my own people lack. Another wraith says that humans are children, and Heldebran yells at them to stay back. They tell him that he has disturbed them with his spells, and now he must pay the price. He starts blasting them with more lightning, to no avail, as the wraiths also say that he created something that feeds on magic and sent it into their territory, as they haul the magekiller over to him. What’s left of the magekiller starts scrabbling frantically as the elves say that Heldebran’s punishment will fit his crime, and they toss the creature at him. Then the seeking claws reached him, and dragged him down. And that, I suppose, is it for Heldebran. Of course, a somewhat competent antagonist cannot possibly be allowed to stay around – he might make Elminster look bad and we can’t possibly have that. One of the wraiths asks another who he was, and the reply is “One who might have become a magelord of Athalantar, had their rule not been broken. His name was Heldebran. He knew nothing of interest.” The wraiths then discuss the other intruder, who they believe to be one of their people – one of them says that for hunting an elf, Heldebran should be brought back to life so they can kill him again, but the others reprimand him for bloodthirstiness. At least someone cares about that… however, they then worry that the presence of humans corrupts them, and that they may be becoming too much like humans themselves. Another of the wraiths suggests they kill all humans who come their way, just to be sure, and that the one Heldebran was pursuing may have looked like an elf, but was really a human, or something that seemed like a human. “And that is the true danger of such beasts, to themselves,” Elaethan said softly. “Many of them seem human, but never manage to become so.” And on that… inexplicable but strangely racist note, the scene ends.
Mira: I think such spirits may have become twisted during their long vigil, and it may be best to just leave them be. We find ourselves with Elminster as he appears back at the tree where he left the scepter and uses the kiira to check on the state of his protections. To avoid any further pursuit, he decides to take a different route, and makes his way through the forest. He’s apparently back to wearing Iymbryl’s appearance, as he worries what might happen if he runs into any enemies of his, though he looks through the kiira and kind find evidence of Iymbryl having anyone who especially hated him. Oh, and Elminster did lose his spellbook with his saddlebags, so he'll have to rely on the spells stored in the kiira for a while. For shame! One of the first things my teachers made sure I knew was to never, ever lose my spellbook! But Elminster keeps walking, not sure how long it will take him to get to Cormanthor; he wonders if the kiira is dangerous to use for too long (it was dangerous to activate, apparently, but you seem to have gotten over that quite remarkably!) and prays to Mystra… and the goddess answers. Of course. The unexpected voice in his mind sent him to his knees in thankful awe, but the goddess spoke only eight words more: The gem is safe. Get on with it. Well, as divine revelations go, that’s… blunt. And Mystra doesn’t even follow up with an “I love you” – maybe she’s getting as fed up with Elminster’s incompetence these last few chapters as we are? But Elminster does so, and the scene ends. We cut to Elminster several days later, as he’s passing through a grove of giant glowing mushrooms, but thinks he’s finally getting close to the city, as he’s spotted some warding spells and elven knights in the sky. Splendid they were, in fluted armor that gleamed purple, blue, and emerald as they swooped past in the saddles of flying unicorns whose hides were blue, and who had no wings nor reins to guide them. The knights have observed him and swooped over him, but haven’t done anything to harm and impede him; finally, he reaches a clearing and finds some guards waiting for him.
Their leader steps up, motions for Elminster to stop, then demands he identify himself. Elminster introduces himself as Iymbryl, says that his patrol was wiped out by hobgoblins and that he fought a magekiller shortly afterwards, and he’s not feeling quite himself and is returning home for healing. The leader, hearing of a human mage who summoned the magekiller, demands to know where “Iymbryl” met such vermin – really now! – and Elminster admits he’s not sure. The elves exchanged glances. “And what if something came upon Iymbryl Alastrarra as he walked, and devoured him, and took his shape?” one of them asked softly. “We’ve met with such shapeshifters before. They come to prowl in our midst, and feed.” I think Elminster met one last book, as well, though he didn’t actually eat anyone… not on-page, at least… Elminster then shows them the kiira and asks if any non-elf could wear one (clearly they can, considering present company…) and the guards are convinced. They not respectfully and let Elminster pass. He watches them move as he goes by, trying to imitate their body language, until at last he emerges from the forest, and… The sun was bright on the fair towers of Cormanthor before him. Their slender spires rose wherever no gigantic tree stood—and there were many such—and stretched away farther than he could see, in a splendor of leaping bridges, hanging gardens, and elves on flying steeds. The blue glows of mighty magic shone everywhere, even in the brightness of full day, and gentle music wafted to him. Elminster stares in awe at the sight, then realizes he’ll have to be on guard every moment he’s in the city – and decides that’s nothing new for him, as the chapter ends.
MG: And so, with the journey to Cormanthor over, the next stage of the story can now begin! On the one hand, the fight with the magekiller this chapter proved to be some of Greenwood’s better action writing, as well as being that rare thing, an enemy that proved to be a genuine threat to Elminster! And Heldebran was only an apprentice magelord to boot, despite having been the one who summoned it – though in hindsight, that somehow makes the full magelords look even worse, since almost none of them proved anywhere near as capable. On the other hand, Heldebran was in turn disposed of in a very random fashion by an out-of-nowhere deus ex machina and will never be relevant again. Indeed, I don’t believe we’ll never even see the ghosts who killed him again, either! And it makes the opening epigraph ironic indeed in hindsight, considering that with Heldebran gone, that’s the very last we’ll ever be hearing from any of the magelords – that plotline is now completely over and done with! So much for there always being loose ends, huh? On a related note, after the initial deluge of information, the kiira is now being completely cooperative and Elminster’s having no trouble using it. Guess it just had to get it out of its system. But we are, at last, now at Cormanthor, so we’ve got that going for us. Next time, Elminster impersonating Iymbryl goes from potentially unwise to more than a little skeevy, as he meets the guy’s family, and gets up to some mischief. We’ll see you then!
I’ve also recently resumed my reread and commentary on the (in)famous epic Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic Embers which can be found here if you’re interested!
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Elminster in Myth Drannor! Last time, Elminster was followed by someone, fought some hobgoblins, rescued a dying elf, and got charged with delivering a magical artifact to Cormanthor – which happened to overload his brain with all the stored information and memories it held, because why not? Fun times! Today, we actually reach Cormanthor, as plot threads get tied up and new ones begin. Joining us once again will be Calassara and Mira!
Chapter Three: Fell Magic and a Fair City
Calassara: Hmmm; Greenwood seems to be taking a foray into alliteration with this title, at least for the first word of each phrase. Also, every title so far has taken the form of “X and Y” – I wonder if there’s significance to that, or if it’s just a coincidence? Our opening quote isn’t from the gossip rag this time but is from The High History of the Faerunian Archmages Most Mighty, which is another source we’ve seen before. Greenwood isn’t casting a very wide net for sources so far in this book, is he? It is rare for any man to make many foes, and strive against them, only to find a victory so clear and mighty that he vanquishes them forever, and is shut of them cleanly, at a single stroke. Indeed, one may say that such clarity of resolution is found only in the tales of minstrels. In the endlessly unfolding tapestry that is real life in Faerûn, the gods plague folk with far more loose ends—and all too many of these prove as deadly as the decisive battles that preceded them. Hmmm – can’t say I disagree, exactly, but assuming this quote is actually relevant to the content of the chapter (and you never can quite tell…) I’m not sure I trust Greenwood to handle the matter properly. But, let’s begin, shall we? We open the chapter proper with Elminster still lost in the kiira’s memories, reliving an ancient battle where an elven warrior faces a rival atop a mountain – did they climb all the way up there just for a duel? They must be exhausted. As the vision fades Elminster moaned. He was so tired of this. Each dark or furious or merry scene gave way to the next, exhausting him with the ongoing tide of emotions. His mind felt like it was afire. How by all the gods’ mercy did the heir of House Alastrarra stay sane? Or did the heir of House Alastrarra stay sane? Well, presumably the heir of House Alastrarra knows what they’re getting into before receiving the kiira and gets at least some training in handling it… I still have to wonder why Iymbryl thought dumping it all directly into your mind was a good idea, rather than just letting you carry it? Or maybe I’m expecting too much logic from a dying man.
Suddenly Elminster hears a voice, for a moment El thought it was another of the innumerable, softly speaking, caressing elven maidens the visions had brought to him. *rolling her eyes* Why am I not surprised at what sort of memories Elminster has apparently fixated on? The voice calls him back to the present, and gradually he realizes it’s the voice of the kiira itself (which… perhaps should have made itself known sooner, no? Perhaps all of this could have been avoided?). Oh, and The young mage-prince almost laughed; the seductive whisper reminded him of a certain fat lady night-escort in Hastarl, whose voice was the only thing alluring she had left. She’d sounded like that, whispering huskily out of darkened doorways. *Flatly* Greenwood is such a class act, isn’t he? Elminster calls out to Mystra, but, getting no answer, turns back to the kiira, which is now showing him magics that can be used to alter his body, including demonstrations of its various wielders doing exactly that. Some merely changed their faces and heights to elude foes; others assumed different genders to lure or eavesdrop; one or two took beast-shape to escape rivals who had blades ready to slay elven heirs with, but no interest in hacking at timid hares or curious cats. And of course “to lure or to eavesdrop” is the only reason anyone, in all the history of this stone and its bearers, might want to change their gender. Certainly not for themselves! Who would ever think of such a thing? Not Ed Greenwood, apparently. Elminster is left wondering why the kiira is showing him all of this, and then Iymbryl’s face appears before him. The vision changed again, showing him a rather familiar lanky, raven-haired youth with a hawk-sharp nose and blue eyes, naked above a bathing pool—a body that flowed and sank into the similarly nude body of an elf, all slender hairless sleekness. By its face, Iymbryl. Right; the gem wanted him to change. Ah, Greenwood, I will freely admit I am in no position to judge anyone else’s fantasies, and I’m fully aware that we elves tend to be rather less hirsute than you humans, but still… was there a reason you felt the need to make sure we know that Iymbryl apparently had no body hair?
MG: Honestly, it just reminds me of Eldest and the weird bit where Paolini feels the need to make sure we know that Oromis, Eragon’s new elf mentor, has no pubic hair. For that matter, I’ve sometimes wondered if Paolini ever read Greenwood – he’s the right age to have gotten into the Realms during the nineties novel boom, if nothing else.
Mira: *wrapping her scarf and coat very tightly around herself* I don’t know who that is, and I don’t think I want to, and I just know I would be absolutely mortified if someone tried to describe me in that sort of detail, so… let’s just move on, all right? So, Elminster begins the spell, first calling up Iymbryl’s memories of himself from the gem and letting them flow into his mind. Next he looked down at his hands—the rather battered hands of a man who’d lived and fought hard, recently—and willed them to become the long, slim, blue-white, smooth hands that had crawled so laboriously up his arms to touch his cheek, not long ago. And the hands dwindled, twisted, and … became slim, and delicate, and blue-white in hue. He wiggled them experimentally, and they tingled. El drew in a deep, shuddering breath, called Iymbryl’s face firmly to mind, and willed his body to change. A slow, creeping feeling rose in him, in his back and up his spine. He shivered involuntarily, and grunted in disgust. The visions fell away and he was blinking around at the unchanging, patient trunks of shadowtops that had stood here for centuries. He looked down. His clothes were hanging from him; he was smaller and slimmer, his smooth skin now blue-white. He was a moon elf. He was Iymbryl Alastrarra. And so, that is that. I suppose that makes him… Elfminster, now? *she shrugs*
MG: Since Iymbryl is now explicitly noted to be a moon elf, I’d like to take a moment to talk about what that means. Basically, the moon elves and sun elves, the two most powerful of the various elven peoples of the Realms, arrived on Toril millennia ago as refugees from Faerie (the wood elves, sea elves, Avariel – winged elves – and dark elves – ancestors of the drow – were already there). The sun or gold elves (who sometimes call themselves “high elves,” though that’s a loaded term) were descended from the aristocracy of old Faerie and tend to consider themselves the “true” elven people, and have a reputation for being arrogant, traditionalist and xenophobic, even by elf standards. Moon elves (sometimes called silver elves – “grey elves” is a considered a vile slur, and if you call a moon elf that to their face you probably will get punched) are generally considered to be (relatively) more open minded, cosmopolitan, and adaptable, and the sun elves tend to look down on them as being, essentially, an inferior knock-off of themselves. Eventually, the royal family of Evermeet (and by extension, all elves) would be chosen from among the moon elves, outraging the more reactionary elements among the sun elves and turning many of them even more extreme than they already were. This racial conflict and its implications are a really big deal in Elaine Cunningham’s books (again, Cunningham is generally considered the best writer of elves in the usual Realms novelist stable), especially the Songs and Swords series and the Evermeet novel, where it drives much of the plot for both of them. Weirdly, despite Elminster in Myth Drannor being a book that deals heavily with elf politics and elves being racist and xenophobic, it hardly ever comes up here, which seems like a pretty significant oversight, but it’s important enough to the backstory that it still felt worth mentioning. And yes, moon elves in general are often described as being super pale, with blue undertones to their skin (sometimes they even have blue hair, though black or silver are more common colors).
Mira: Well, that was… interesting. Also somewhat disturbing, from my perspective. I somehow doubt any of those people care much for half-elves *mg nods vigorously* As I thought. Next, Elminster looks through the kiira – which is being very cooperative now, could it have done that earlier? – if it contains a spell to teleport him directly to Cormanthor, which it doesn’t. Then, Elminster realizes he doesn’t have his pack any more – he apparently left it behind when he teleported, and the hobgoblins probably have it now. Well, that seems… unfortunate. But Elminster doesn’t seem to mind much and indeed just keeps walking. I hope he didn’t have any important supplies in there. He might be getting hungry later. I also hope for his sake his spellbooks weren’t in there… or he might have a problem the next time he needs to prepare spells and realizes he doesn’t have it. That would be awkward! Elminster thinks to himself that being in elf shape will probably get him into the city much more easily, and while I have to agree in general – you are pretending to be someone specific. What are you going to do if you meet someone who knew Iymbryl, and can tell you’re not him? That seems liable to get you killed as an imposter. Elminster sniffed the air; to an elven nose, the woods smelled … stronger; his nose took in, or noticed, many more scents. Hmm. Best to think on such things while moving. I’ll admit, I’ve not spent much time in the woods, but… I think that one’s senses suddenly becoming noticeably more keen would be an asset for a traveler in a familiar land, and perhaps something worth investigating further? As he walks, Elminster learns from the kiira that displaying it openly would be crass, and so he casts a spell to hide it, and now that he wore Iymbryl’s shape, the memories in the gem still awaited him, but no longer overwhelmed. Ah, speaking professional, you may wear Iymbryl’s shape, but you’re not him – your mind and soul are still those of Elminster the human, and those seem to be what the kiira bonds to. So… why is this happening? I’m genuinely very confused.
Calassara: And you’re not alone, so don’t worry about it! Elminster dives back into the kiira’s memories, pulling up some information on the layout of the city, and its ruler. He learns that Coronals are elected rather than born, that they’re considered the chief judge in all disputes, and the office comes with magical powers and political influence that covers the whole realm, not just the city. The current Coronal was one Eltargrim Irithyl—old and overly kindly, in Iymbryl’s view, though the Alastrarran heir knew that some of the older, prouder families held far poorer views of their ruler. Ah, and so that would be the Coronal we met in the prologue, then, assuming there’s not more than one of him (stranger things have happened…). Elminster also learns that much of the real power is held by the old noble families, particularly the Starym and Echorn, who consider themselves guardians of tradition and what a “true” elf is. I remember Ildilyntra Starym from the prologue, and I find myself poorly disposed towards these people already. Such attitudes never end well… Suddenly, Elminster breaks contact with the gem, and finds himself wondering if he’s really doing what Mystra wants him to. And, my, that did come out of nowhere, didn’t it? He calls out the goddess’s name and begs her to answer, and Into his mind he brought his most striking memory of Myrjala, laughing in aroused delight as they soared through the air together, and of the subtle changes in her eyes that betrayed her divinity as her passion rose … seizing on that image, he held it, breathed her name again, and bent his will to calling on her. Is… Elminster’s favorite memory of Myrjala the time they had public sex in midair? The use of the word “aroused” would seem to indicate it is, and while I would never judge anyone for their pleasures or who they love… there is a time and place.
Well, Elminster is suddenly shown a vision of Iymbryl’s brother, Ornthlas, and the two of them touching foreheads, and then the face had become that of the kindly old Coronal, and the viewpoint drew back from him to show Elminster himself, bowing. Somehow, El knew that he was invoking the Coronal’s protection against those of the People who were horrified to discover that a human had penetrated into the very heart of their city, wearing the shape of an elf they knew. An elf he might well have murd— *flatly* Yes, that is a problem in arriving in a city with a dead man’s face, bearing that man’s property – whoever could have foreseen that? And then, out of nowhere, Elminster finds himself facing something else that was sweeping around roots and gliding among the trees like a large and eager snake. Something that hissed bubblingly and tirelessly as it came, whispering what might have been words. Whispering … snatches of spell incantations? … the body of this strange beast or conjured apparition was sometimes translucent and always indistinct, unfocused. It veered toward him with a triumphant chuckle, raking the empty air with dozens of claws as it came. It was clearly seeking him. Hmmm, could that be what our mysterious pursuer conjured last time? Maybe you should have done something about that when you had the chance, Elminster! Elminster watches the thing slinking closer, wonders what it is, and then decides that Mystra will obviously take care of it, since it’s a magical creature, she’s the goddess of magic, and Elminster is her Chosen. *facepalm* Elminster… just how have you survived this long? And of course, while he’s standing there dawdling and not taking things seriously, the creature rakes him with its claws, and after it does, he suddenly can’t remember any of his prepared spells! On the one hand, that sounds horrifying, but on the other… you clearly brought this on yourself.
Mira: Yes, I have to say… if you’re expecting divine intervention to take care of all your problems… you probably shouldn’t? Just because the gods like you, it doesn’t mean they’ll always be there to save you… Elminster turns to run, amazed by how fast Iymbryl’s body is, and tries to cast a dispel, the most powerful magic he has left, over his shoulder. The creature is barely bothered by it and keeps coming, and so Elminster tries to flee by climbing up a tree. Which his new body is also better for, apparently. What luck! Of course, it would be better luck if he wasn’t also still being chased by a monster… when the creature tries to follow him up, he casts a small jet of flame at it, which is one of the last spells he has and isn’t even a combat spell, more for starting fires and such. Not only does it not work, but it leaves the creature looking even more energized. That does seem to be a problem – have you considered trying to just hit it on the head? Normally I wouldn’t recommend physical violence, but magic clearly isn’t working, and sometimes you have to use what you have… The creature keeps clawing at him, then finally climbs up the tree after him. Elminster decides to jump, and just as the creature reaches him he casts a light spell to distract it – and this time he can tell the magic really is making it stronger. It fed on spells! This thing must be a magekiller, something he’d heard of long ago, in his days with the Brave Blades adventuring band. Magekillers were creations of magic, wrought by rare, suppressed spells. Their purpose was to slay wizards who only knew one way to do battle—hurl spells at things. Ah, yes – something Elminster’s heard of before, that’s never been foreshadowed before his pursuer summons it! That clears everything up!
Elminster now realizes that none of his magic will be effective, so he draws a knife instead and stabs the creature through the eye. The knife ends up tearing through the whole creature before falling out the other end – the magekiller isn’t visibly wounded but does look smaller. And so, Elmisnter jumps, and falls through the branches. An instant later, the Chosen of Mystra hit the ground hard on his behind, rolled over into an unintentional backflip, and found his feet with an involuntary groan. His rear was going to be sore for days. He looks up to see the magekiller following him down, and considers using his very last spell, which will teleport him back to where he left the scepter. But that will put him well out of his way, so he decides not to risk it and grabs his dagger where it fell. While trying to work out a plan, he nearly stumbles over a cliff, and then looks back to find the magekiller in hot pursuit. The creature charges at him, and Elminster ducks and goes over the edge, desperately trying to find something to grab ahold of as he does. He manages to grab a root, but the magekiller goes over as well, and it can’t get a hold of anything to break its fall. it. Claws squealed briefly on rock, trailing sparks, and then the jutting rock pulled free of its ancient berth and fell, its unwilling passenger flailing the air beneath it. Together boulder and spectral beast crashed into the rocks below. They did not bounce or roll; only the dust they hurled up did that. El watched, eyes narrowed. When the dust settles, the magekiller is at the bottom of the gorge, pinned, and Elminster realizes that whatever it is, it’s solid enough to be hurt. He manages to find his way down, realizing at the bottom that he’s back in his own form and wonders if he’s lost the kiira. At last, he assures himself it’s still there and then slowly approaches the pinned magekiller. Drawing a dagger, he starts stabbing the creature repeatedly, until at last the frantic whispering beneath him grew slowly fainter and fainter, until at last it stopped, and the boulder settled against the rocks beneath with a clacking sound. And so, that’s it for the magekiller, I suppose. I’m… not entirely sure if you were actually alive, but you did come closer to killing Elminster than I think any antagonist has so far, and so for that, valiant beast, I shall salute you.
Calassara: Well, fresh from his victory, Elminster looks up only to spot a robed man he’s never seen before staring down at him. The stranger grins nastily and casts a meteor swarm spell, but Elminster just waves and triggers his own last spell, teleporting away. *she sighs* But of course he did. And so now we’re in the strange wizard’s head, as he curses at losing Elminster and thinks it will probably take him days of study and casting divination spells to find him again. You’d think the gods themselves watched over him, the way luck seemed to cloak him like a mage-mantle. He’d avoided that slaying spell at the inn … old Surgath Ilder had hardly been a fitting alternative. Then he’d somehow trapped the magekiller—and that spell had taken days to find components for. So, he killed Surgath… because he thought he was Elminster? Or out of frustration at not being able to kill Elminster? I’m not sure I understand… He curses some more and doesn’t notice pale shapes rising behind him from some stone cairns his spells disturbed. They drift over to the stone where the magekiller was and lift it into the air, revealing the twitching remains of the magekiller still beneath it. The wizard notices this, and wonders if Elminster is still nearby and if he’s doing it somehow, or if the magekiller might be still alive. He prepares to cast another spell – and then notices more of the spectral images arising and realizes that they’re elven wraiths. And some of them are dragging what’s left of the magekiller over to him! It was at that moment that Heldebran, last surviving apprentice to the magelords of Athalantar, felt the first touch of fear. So, that’s our mysterious pursuer’s identity. Not much of a surprise, I must say. Though, I am rather impressed that this apprentice has arguably come closer to defeating Elminster than any antagonist we’ve had so far. Where was he during the battle for Hastarl? That said… friend, you should have run the moment the ghosts showed up. This is not going to end well for you.
One of the wraiths asks Heldebran’s name; he tells them to stay back and casts a spell, only for it to disintegrate harmlessly. “These humans always make such a noise and show of things. A simple word and a look would have been enough. They always exult so, in the unleashings of their power—like children.” Now, now. There’s no need to be rude. I’m rather fond of humans. They have a certain charm that so many of my own people lack. Another wraith says that humans are children, and Heldebran yells at them to stay back. They tell him that he has disturbed them with his spells, and now he must pay the price. He starts blasting them with more lightning, to no avail, as the wraiths also say that he created something that feeds on magic and sent it into their territory, as they haul the magekiller over to him. What’s left of the magekiller starts scrabbling frantically as the elves say that Heldebran’s punishment will fit his crime, and they toss the creature at him. Then the seeking claws reached him, and dragged him down. And that, I suppose, is it for Heldebran. Of course, a somewhat competent antagonist cannot possibly be allowed to stay around – he might make Elminster look bad and we can’t possibly have that. One of the wraiths asks another who he was, and the reply is “One who might have become a magelord of Athalantar, had their rule not been broken. His name was Heldebran. He knew nothing of interest.” The wraiths then discuss the other intruder, who they believe to be one of their people – one of them says that for hunting an elf, Heldebran should be brought back to life so they can kill him again, but the others reprimand him for bloodthirstiness. At least someone cares about that… however, they then worry that the presence of humans corrupts them, and that they may be becoming too much like humans themselves. Another of the wraiths suggests they kill all humans who come their way, just to be sure, and that the one Heldebran was pursuing may have looked like an elf, but was really a human, or something that seemed like a human. “And that is the true danger of such beasts, to themselves,” Elaethan said softly. “Many of them seem human, but never manage to become so.” And on that… inexplicable but strangely racist note, the scene ends.
Mira: I think such spirits may have become twisted during their long vigil, and it may be best to just leave them be. We find ourselves with Elminster as he appears back at the tree where he left the scepter and uses the kiira to check on the state of his protections. To avoid any further pursuit, he decides to take a different route, and makes his way through the forest. He’s apparently back to wearing Iymbryl’s appearance, as he worries what might happen if he runs into any enemies of his, though he looks through the kiira and kind find evidence of Iymbryl having anyone who especially hated him. Oh, and Elminster did lose his spellbook with his saddlebags, so he'll have to rely on the spells stored in the kiira for a while. For shame! One of the first things my teachers made sure I knew was to never, ever lose my spellbook! But Elminster keeps walking, not sure how long it will take him to get to Cormanthor; he wonders if the kiira is dangerous to use for too long (it was dangerous to activate, apparently, but you seem to have gotten over that quite remarkably!) and prays to Mystra… and the goddess answers. Of course. The unexpected voice in his mind sent him to his knees in thankful awe, but the goddess spoke only eight words more: The gem is safe. Get on with it. Well, as divine revelations go, that’s… blunt. And Mystra doesn’t even follow up with an “I love you” – maybe she’s getting as fed up with Elminster’s incompetence these last few chapters as we are? But Elminster does so, and the scene ends. We cut to Elminster several days later, as he’s passing through a grove of giant glowing mushrooms, but thinks he’s finally getting close to the city, as he’s spotted some warding spells and elven knights in the sky. Splendid they were, in fluted armor that gleamed purple, blue, and emerald as they swooped past in the saddles of flying unicorns whose hides were blue, and who had no wings nor reins to guide them. The knights have observed him and swooped over him, but haven’t done anything to harm and impede him; finally, he reaches a clearing and finds some guards waiting for him.
Their leader steps up, motions for Elminster to stop, then demands he identify himself. Elminster introduces himself as Iymbryl, says that his patrol was wiped out by hobgoblins and that he fought a magekiller shortly afterwards, and he’s not feeling quite himself and is returning home for healing. The leader, hearing of a human mage who summoned the magekiller, demands to know where “Iymbryl” met such vermin – really now! – and Elminster admits he’s not sure. The elves exchanged glances. “And what if something came upon Iymbryl Alastrarra as he walked, and devoured him, and took his shape?” one of them asked softly. “We’ve met with such shapeshifters before. They come to prowl in our midst, and feed.” I think Elminster met one last book, as well, though he didn’t actually eat anyone… not on-page, at least… Elminster then shows them the kiira and asks if any non-elf could wear one (clearly they can, considering present company…) and the guards are convinced. They not respectfully and let Elminster pass. He watches them move as he goes by, trying to imitate their body language, until at last he emerges from the forest, and… The sun was bright on the fair towers of Cormanthor before him. Their slender spires rose wherever no gigantic tree stood—and there were many such—and stretched away farther than he could see, in a splendor of leaping bridges, hanging gardens, and elves on flying steeds. The blue glows of mighty magic shone everywhere, even in the brightness of full day, and gentle music wafted to him. Elminster stares in awe at the sight, then realizes he’ll have to be on guard every moment he’s in the city – and decides that’s nothing new for him, as the chapter ends.
MG: And so, with the journey to Cormanthor over, the next stage of the story can now begin! On the one hand, the fight with the magekiller this chapter proved to be some of Greenwood’s better action writing, as well as being that rare thing, an enemy that proved to be a genuine threat to Elminster! And Heldebran was only an apprentice magelord to boot, despite having been the one who summoned it – though in hindsight, that somehow makes the full magelords look even worse, since almost none of them proved anywhere near as capable. On the other hand, Heldebran was in turn disposed of in a very random fashion by an out-of-nowhere deus ex machina and will never be relevant again. Indeed, I don’t believe we’ll never even see the ghosts who killed him again, either! And it makes the opening epigraph ironic indeed in hindsight, considering that with Heldebran gone, that’s the very last we’ll ever be hearing from any of the magelords – that plotline is now completely over and done with! So much for there always being loose ends, huh? On a related note, after the initial deluge of information, the kiira is now being completely cooperative and Elminster’s having no trouble using it. Guess it just had to get it out of its system. But we are, at last, now at Cormanthor, so we’ve got that going for us. Next time, Elminster impersonating Iymbryl goes from potentially unwise to more than a little skeevy, as he meets the guy’s family, and gets up to some mischief. We’ll see you then!
I’ve also recently resumed my reread and commentary on the (in)famous epic Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic Embers which can be found here if you’re interested!
Spitefic: The Gravity of the Situation is Too Dangerous Colony High!
Date: 2023-12-29 02:45 pm (UTC)Mira: I think such spirits may have become twisted during their long vigil, and it may be best to just leave them be.
Strangely it seems an eldritch other power has other ideas...
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As the elven wraiths discussed the possibility of an intruder into their land wearing the appearance of one of their own, the sounds of the forest quickly grew silent as the area turned a sinister purple hue. The wraiths, unfamiliar with such a phenomenon after all their years of existing, would have started sweating if they were still able to. "What's going on?" Elaethan asked, hoping someone, anyone with answers would be within earshot.
"O foolish children," spoke a voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once, both from within their minds and from an outside speaker, "whose disdain for humanity has led you to isolation... You have lost sight of how human you truly are."
"What nonsense are you talking about?!" one of the other wraiths asked, looking around for whoever was speaking.
"You have lost sight that you are the same as all those who you sought to keep out of your land," the voice said, "You are all lesser than a wild beast, who kills only to survive. You all kill over petulant reasons, wage wars, and for what? To prove yourselves better than your peers? To prove yourselves more deserving of basic rights?"
"Enough of this!" Elaethan shouted. "Show yourself!"
"If you insist," the voice said, a hint of dark humor in its tone.
Dark energy pooled on the ground before the wraiths, and out of it rose a sharp-dressed human man holding a walking stick in one hand. "This is your true form?" one of the wraiths asked, utterly unimpressed.
"One of them, depending on what you consider to be true forms in my case," the man said, in a voice much different from earlier. "By the way, your friend you saw out happened to leave you a couple of parting gifts."
The wraiths were confused. "What... friend?" Elaethan asked.
"I swear, so many of you people in this world have such awkward names, it puts Yog-Sothothery to shame," the man said. "I don't exactly recall his name, but I do remember that he was trying to kill a self-admitted human who was trying to get into Cormanthyr on his damned goddess's orders, that he was the sole survivor of some sort of organization, and that he was some sort of apprentice magelord."
"You speak of Heldebran," Elaethan said. "He was no friend of ours. He invaded our land and disturbed us with his spells, so we killed him to punish him."
The human man looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Literal-minded, aren't you? No wonder Heldebran's parting gifts consisted of nothing more than a Revenant Undead and a Wraithkilling Magekiller."
"Wh-wha...?" was all Elaethan could get out as he and the other wraiths saw Heldebran and the magekiller get back up and give them a nasty look.
"Would you rather go to STAFF ONLY?" the sharp-dressed man asked, making it clear that this "Staff Only" place was not all sunshine and daisies.
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The elven wraiths were not completely forgotten from history. Elaethan, in particular, is remembered as the one who started Cormanthyr's downfall.