"Red Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rabe Jean)

Nine

Asp clung to the shadows outside Maligor's tower. The nearby gnoll guards paid her little attention, knowing it was healthier not to question the spirit naga about her business.

She rested back on her snake's lower body, leaning her shoulders against the cool, smooth stone wall and twitching the end of her tail through the dewy grass. In her pale, slender hands, she cradled a large weasel. Asp ran her fingers through its silky fur and hissed softly to the creature. The weasel seemed to enjoy the attention and lay still for the naga's caresses.

"Maligor will be proud of me," she hissed in a barely audible tone. "I've watched him closely. I, too, can create darkenbeasts."

The naga slithered farther along the wall, away from the guards and toward the rear of the tower. Setting the weasel down amid a thick clump of grass, she scratched its neck and lay on her belly to watch it sniff a patch of clover. Then, reaching in her pouch for the powders she had "borrowed" from Maligor, the snake-woman sprinkled them on the weasel's back and began mumbling the words she had heard Maligor recite.

She kept her voice soft, not wanting to draw the attention of the guards or any slaves who might be milling about. The weasel's nose began to quiver, finally sensing danger. The moment it started to bolt, Asp's tail shot through the grass like a striking cobra and fastened itself about the animal's back legs to hold it in place.

The frightened weasel tried to squirm free, but the naga persisted with the spell. By the time Asp had finished with the words, the creature had begun the horrid metamorphosis.

The weasel shed its hair as its skin bubbled and oozed. Asp quickly drew her tail away and slithered back a few feet. The thing cried out, almost like a human infant, as its bones stretched, making loud popping and cracking sounds. Talons formed at the ends of its front feet, yet its back feet remained those of a weasel. Then its jaw elongated; rows of long, jagged teeth filled its misshapen mouth. The thing continued to grow until it was as big as a bull and appeared a cross between a weasel and a lizard.

The naga gasped and covered her mouth in surprise. Even though she had used the same words, the spell wasn't working as it had when Maligor cast it. This darkenbeast was too big and was retaining many of its weasel features-its hind legs, ears, stubby tail, and round, frightened eyes. Its skin was covered with festering boils, as if the thing were diseased. For a moment, the naga considered calling for the Red Wizard, hoping he could correct her miscast magic. Then she realized he would be angry because she had cast a spell he had not yet taught her.

Nervously she eyed the creature as it continued its transformation. Webbed wings covered with short gray hair grew from its sides. The darkenbeast, whimpering loudly in pain from its transfigurement, turned its hideous head toward Asp, its crimson eyes glowing with hatred. The thing hopped toward her, flapping its deformed wings and nearly succeeding in rising from the ground. The naga gathered herself to her full height and prepared to defend herself with magic.

But the darkenbeast stopped inches from her. Its stench was overpowering and kept her from concentrating to cast any enchantments. The naga held her breath and looked into the monster's face. Suddenly she realized that the thing was waiting.

"Attack the peasants," she hissed, mentally picturing the camp outside Amruthar's northern gate.

The darkenbeast turned and lumbered away, then awkwardly took off into the night sky toward the city's northern edge. The creature was hardly graceful, as Maligor's creation had been. Instead, it was clumsy and unbalanced, and the naga hoped someone would kill it quickly so it wouldn't return to her and cause problems.

She slithered into the tower, casting a last glance at the diminishing form of her misbegotten darkenbeast.

In the tent town, Wynter listened to the dwarven slaves talk among themselves. Their deep voices sounded pleasant enough, and he wished he knew what they were saying. They had been hungry, devouring an entire sack of fruit that Wynter had purchased for them. Brenna had tried speaking to them in several languages, hoping the dwarves would understand something. She told Wynter she wasn't sure if the slaves spoke only Dwarvish or if they were playing ignorant.

"It doesn't matter," Wynter said. "They'll be free soon… as soon as it seems safe to let them go. I just wish I could tell them that."

Brenna smiled and decided the least she could do was help clean up the dwarves. She uncorked her waterskin and padded toward them. Suddenly she heard a commotion coming from the direction of the gate. Turning, she saw the guards on the gate lining up across the barbicon, drawing their longbows.

Screams from the merchants nearby filled the air, and in the gathering darkness, the enchantress saw a grotesque flying creature diving toward the center of the tent town.

"Galvin!" she shouted as Wynter galloped past her toward the attacking beast. The centaur had his staff held out before him like a lance, and merchants jumped out of his way as he charged through.

The druid sprang to his feet in time to see a dozen guards on the barbicon loose arrows at the winged creature. The beast screamed terribly and plummeted into the mass of tent town residents. Galvin and Brenna rushed toward where they had seen the thing fall, elbowing their way through the growing crowd.

The druid soon found himself at the forefront of the assembled merchants, and like the other onlookers, he stared slack-jawed at the creature. Four arrows were lodged deeply in the grotesque beast's underside. Obviously dying, it flapped its monstrous wings weakly, raising a small cloud of dust.

A child screamed as the creature's skin began to bubble and pop, boiling away like water. The wings quivered and beat faster as they shriveled and were drawn into the rapidly diminishing form of the beast. The crowd backed up, yet none turned away, engrossed with the vile tableau.

Finally the creature's leathery skin began to recede, revealing the silky, blood-soaked fur of a large weasel. The animal lifted its head, a stream of blood trickling out of its mouth, then it twitched once more and died. The crowd lingered, each lost in his own thoughts, wondering precisely what it was he had seen. At last the guards from the barbicon made their way into the tent town to disperse the throng.

One guard stooped over, picked up the body of the weasel, and turned to carry it inside the city. The guards ignored the shouted questions from the crowd. Disgruntled that they would get no information from the guards, the crowd began to break up and return to their tents.

Galvin found Wynter and Brenna near the gate. "I-I saw it, Galvin," the sorceress said evenly. "Before it hit the ground, I saw it. It was like the thing that attacked us in Aglarond. Do you think someone knows we're here?" Brenna glanced about nervously.

"I don't think so," Galvin whispered, noting that a few of the merchants who had returned to their camps next to the gate were staring at the trio. The druid strolled toward their own makeshift camp. Brenna and Wynter followed. "I think it would have gone straight after us if it was meant for us."

"That makes sense," Wynter agreed. "We were on the edge of the tent town and would have made easy targets."

"I hope you're right," Brenna said. She shivered, more from fear than the cool night air, and continued to glance behind her occasionally toward the gate.

The druid paused to wrap his cloak around her shoulders. As he did, he noticed that the tent town had resumed its former appearance, just as if nothing had happened. He shrugged and continued striding toward their camp. Galvin wondered if attacks such as this were commonplace here. It could explain the merchants' nonchalant bearing in the aftermath of the attack.

"The dwarves!" Wynter shouted suddenly, trotting to the edge of the tent town. "They're gone!"

The former slaves had left their ropes behind and left the Harpers' possessions untouched. The druid knelt on the ground beside a footprint left by one of the dwarves, then glanced to the north.

"They went toward those trees," the druid observed.

"Thay's not a safe place to be at night," Wynter said nervously.

"Nothing's safe for those dwarves," Galvin concluded. "We were going to free them anyway." The druid rose and brushed the dirt off his knees. Before he had taken a handful of steps toward his belongings, a cry pierced the night air.

"Jujus!" a woman screamed. "Juju zombies! Szass Tam's undead will kill us all!"

Once again the tent town leapt to life as the cry of "stiff-walkers" passed like a crashing wave from the outer rim of tents to the city gates. The Harpers determined from the people's cries that Szass Tam was behind the attack and that the "stiff-walkers," or undead, were the shadowy creatures they could make out shuffling toward the tent town.

The people on the outer edge of the tent town, including Brenna, Wynter, and Galvin, were the first to react. The night-cloaked figures had already come upon some of the campers there, silently lifting their blankets and awkwardly prodding through their tents and lean-tos. It was obvious the undead were looking for something-or someone.

The merchants grabbed their torches and lanterns, hoping the light would keep the undead creatures at bay. The women gathered their children and ran toward the gates. As the campers pushed closer to Amruthar's walls, the ragged-clothed corpses shambled through the canvas and discarded belongings, the stench of their decaying bodies wafting across the tent town. There were ten of the things that had long ago been living creatures. They had hollow eye sockets and skeletal frames, and despite their degree of decomposition, they still had vaguely human shapes. The undead regrouped at the edge of the tent town, then, as one, they glanced up with their empty sockets straight toward Brenna and the Harpers.

The trio hadn't moved far in this time, waiting to see what the zombies would do. After several long moments, the undead began to advance, with their broken, yellowed teeth bared and claws outstretched.

Brenna screamed in terror. "They're here for us!"

"Get your back to mine and Wynter's," Galvin commanded. "We'll stand our ground till the peddlers are safe inside the gate." Galvin motioned for Wynter to form a small ring. In the back of his mind, he wished they had decided to stay inside Amruthar's walls.

The druid was genuinely frightened that the sorceress might have hit the mark-the zombies did seem to be after them. Glancing around, he saw no fatalities among the peddlers, just toppled tents and disturbed bedrolls, so the undead weren't mindlessly killing everything that lay in their path. If they truly were after the three heroes, they would continue on like thoughtless automatons until they had captured their victims or until their intended victims had dispatched them. The zombies had the advantage, Galvin knew, even though there were only ten of them. Undead beings didn't tire, and they never had to sleep.

Brenna dug about in her satchel for her spell components while she desperately called for the retreating merchants to band together to fight the creatures. She knew that the sheer number of Thayvian peddlers could overwhelm the undead attackers, and she was unnerved that Galvin seemed to want the campers to run. Her pleas for their help brought a scowl from Galvin and fell on deaf ears. Already screams of terror were filling the night sky as the merchants continued to flee, blotting out all other sounds. The enchantress wondered if Amruthar's guards would open the gates and let the tent people inside or leave them to be slaughtered.

Galvin's eyes flashed in the starlight, and he began to transform, not caring if anyone saw him. He needed a body that would catch the zombies off guard, yet could fight viciously. He fell to all fours as thick, coarse orange and black hair sprouted from his face and hands and spread like melting butter to obscure his clothing. Sharp white teeth emerged from his swelling feline snout, and long white whiskers pushed outward through the fur around his nose. His ears stretched until they became pointed. At the same time, the druid's body grew, its torso elongating, its frame becoming heavier and more powerful, its legs more muscular. His hands and feet became wider, grew thick pads, and sprouted razor-edged claws where human nails had been. From his rump, an orange tail striped with black sprang forth and grew until it was nearly four feet long.

The tiger twitched its tail back and forth as it bared its fangs and growled deeply at the approaching zombies. The great cat, its saucerlike, emerald green eyes sparkling in the moonlight, leapt forward, displaying a patch of white fur on its chest in the shape of a crescent moon. The tiger's claws raked the abdomen of the nearest zombie and knocked it to the ground.

Wynter brought his staff down hard on the shoulder of another. The centaur saw more shapes moving in from the darkness, a second wave of undead.

"Run, Brenna!" the centaur barked, striking his staff solidly against the head of a gray-skinned shambler that had once been a hobgoblin. With a sickening thump, it struck the zombie's face, caving it in, but still the thing continued to advance.

At the same time, the tiger tore through a pair of zombies in front of him. Rearing up on his hind legs, he slashed the face of one zombie and sunk his teeth into the chest of another. The two zombies fell to the ground, and the tiger continued the assault, ripping chunks of dead flesh from them until they ceased to move. The attack left a terrible, fetid taste in the druid's mouth, but he persisted, trying to slay as many of the undead creatures as possible. Still, he knew physical efforts would not be enough. He glanced around quickly, then looked up at the sky.

There were now about four dozen of the creatures. Wynter had already dispatched several, ramming his staff through their grotesque bodies and pounding other shamblers into the ground with his hooves.

Brenna had ignored Wynter's order to flee. She was holding her own, keeping the monstrous cadavers at bay with shardlike magical missiles that repeatedly sprang from her fingers. She reveled in her small victories, but she knew that she and the Harpers were tiring, while for each juju that fell, there were several more to take its place.

Galvin growled fiercely as his mind touched a thick rain cloud overhead. He was calling on his most powerful nature magic, a spell he had used only a few other times in his life because he didn't like to interfere with nature. Gently he coaxed the cloud, mentally tugging at it, all the while keeping two jujus away from his companions with his tiger body. Then he felt the energy and force inside the cloud. The electricity pulsated and sparked, and he begged it to plummet earthward.

The lightning bolt streaked from the cloud, forking again and again, skewering more than two dozen of the foul creatures and burning them to blackened husks. The sky thundered, then fell silent again, and a soft rain began to fall.

For a moment, Galvin believed the thunder was continuing, and he wondered if his efforts had started a storm. But then he realized that the noise was the shouts and cheers of the onlooking crowd. The merchants had sensed that the trio had magic on their side and were overcoming the tremendous odds against them. Many peddlers stopped in midflight and turned to watch. A few yelled for the guards to open the gates, but most continued to shout their praises and applaud the heroes, ecstatic that someone was standing up to a Red Wizard. Then a number of them grabbed swords and dashed to join the fray.

Wynter felt a rush of excitement, as he realized the Thayvians were going to stand up to the undead and risk the wrath of a Red Wizard. In his heart, he believed there must still be some hope for the country. The evil couldn't overcome everyone's spirit. He stared at the undead. The zombies had paused, confused.

These were unlike any zombies the centaur had seen in his younger days in Thay, and they bore no resemblance to the ghouls they had battled yesterday. These juju zombies had never been human. They were the remains of orcs, goblins, gnolls, and perhaps worse, magically animated after their deaths. Each was repulsively distinct, and each had a thick, leathery hide, rotting clothes, and a stench that made Wynter's eyes water. They were far more terrifying than animated human corpses. Some were only recently dead, their bodies largely intact. Others had apparently moldered in their graves for some time. One had no chin, while another was missing an ear. Yet another had only one arm.

Not waiting for the zombies to decide on a course of action, Galvin charged the closest ones, raking them with outstretched claws and biting at their legs. Sensing the surge of emotion from the crowd, he cast his large head over a tawny, black-striped shoulder to see Brenna calling the merchants forward. His tail switched in anticipation of the battle being over soon.

A small wave of merchants reached the jujus, which had begun to shamble forward again. The peddlers beat upon them with swords, clubs, shovels, and pans. For a moment, the zombies looked perplexed and began to back away, clawing at the air in front of them to keep back their attackers. The peddlers who had stayed behind by the gates cheered loudly.

Galvin turned for an instant toward Amruthar to see the city's wall crowded with guards and onlookers. Wondering if the city would open its gates to him as a hero, he returned to the grisly task of slaying the remaining undead. Then his optimism quickly vanished.

The druid's vision was superior even to his usual keen sight in this animal form and allowed him to see beyond the jujus to the next wave of zombies. And to a pair of men. Although Galvin couldn't see them clearly, there was something about them, some palpable evil perhaps, a quality he could not identify. But it was something that made him shiver.

The two who stood at the rear of the zombie reinforcements were pasty-faced and gaunt, draped in black-as-night cloaks that hung nearly to the grass. Unlike most free people in this country, these two had hair. One's blond tresses fell nearly to his shoulders, yet neither of them had the bearing or appearance of a slave. They stood like statues. Galvin couldn't tell if they breathed, and he wondered if they were Red Wizards wearing something other than their traditional garb.

With a simple gesture, one of the mysterious men directed the jujus to lumber toward the city.

Galvin sprang forward, pushing over the largest of the oncoming jujus. His massive paws planted firmly on the zombie's chest, he ripped out its throat with his sharp teeth. As he finished slaying the thing, he felt something brush up against him. It was cold, but his keen feline eyes saw nothing. He ignored it and proceeded to attack another target.

The merchants continued to cheer as Brenna and Wynter fought their own undead opponents. They realized they were finally winning the struggle, and they pushed the undead farther away from the city-until the centaur felt the cold touch of something he could not see.

Wynter cringed at the rake of cold, black hands. His legs buckled as he felt his strength drain away, and he watched helplessly as deep gashes appeared on his equine body. The centaur's human torso swiveled back and forth as he cast about, looking for the source of his pain, but all he saw was blackness. Shadowy hands clawed him repeatedly, while zombies moved in to bludgeon him. The centaur fell to the ground under the weight of a swarm of undead.

Galvin whirled and raced to his friend's side, only to find himself stopped inches from the fallen Wynter by a cold, black force. The druid charged against it, finding something solid yet unseeable in the darkness. He batted out with a paw, then gored the air futilely until his back legs crumpled from the force of an invisible aggressor. It was as if the very night was fighting him.

Galvin jerked his head back and forth, catching glimpses of fleeing and falling merchants and Wynter being pummeled by the zombies and something he could not see. The centaur's side heaved, and his legs kicked out spasmodically.

Then, out of the corner of Galvin's eye, he saw the two white-faced men moving closer and recognized them for what they really were-vampires. One had Brenna cradled in his arms; the druid couldn't tell if she was alive. The other stared at Galvin in his tiger form, his red eyes knifing through the darkness and mesmerizing him.

The druid flinched. In all his travels, he had never met one of the lords of darkness, but he had heard enough about vampires to know that the power they commanded was unearthly. Eyes that he would never forget dug into his brain, commanding him to stop fighting, to surrender. Galvin felt helpless, powerless, and was compelled to follow the vampire's mental instructions. The eyes became his world and moved closer, commanding him again. And the druid responded, shedding his tiger skin and transforming back to his human shape. He became oblivious to his surroundings, to Wynter's condition, to the mass of peddlers streaming toward Amruthar's gate. He knew only the eyes.

Then he felt himself being lifted by tangible, man-shaped shadows, the same shadows that had brought about the Harpers' defeat, and passed to the blond-haired vampire. The lord of darkness casually tossed the druid over a bony shoulder. The vampire's body, even through the heavy black cloak, felt as cold as ice. The druid prayed to the forest gods that the thing would kill him now rather than drink his blood. Galvin could think of no worse fate than to become an undead creature living on the blood of others and serving in some Red Wizard's hellish troops.

Galvin succumbed to a forced and unnatural sleep. Behind him, under the explicit orders of the vampires, the shadows and jujus constructed a litter to drag Wynter. The city gates opened, letting the peddlers and their families inside, then closed tight. The guards knew better than to confront the forces of a Red Wizard. They stayed at their posts, and from the barbicon, they watched as the litter was completed and the undead moved off into the night.

The master of the undead wanted all three heroes, and the zombies and shadows knew that to disappoint Szass Tam meant unending torment or worse.

As if in a dream, Galvin saw himself moving across the countryside, through a meadow enveloped by soothing, cool darkness and devoid of natural creatures. Then he moved through a small wooded area where the trees had been long dead and their branches twisted into grotesque positions. He imagined the limbs were outstretched arms trying to grab him and pull him inside their hollow trunks. But he was safe, too far away for them to reach him, yet not far enough away from whatever was making him shiver. Just past the trees lay a defiled and overgrown graveyard. Half the graves had been opened and their tombstones knocked to the ground. He assumed the occupants were serving a Red Wizard and that the remainder of the graveyard's occupants would eventually do the same.

He continued his hours-long journey, only now realizing in his dream state that his legs were not transporting him. He felt as if he were floating. It was an uncomfortable sensation, and he struggled to wake up. Then he thought of Brenna and was saddened she wasn't in his dream; he couldn't see her, and that made him feel alone.

Eventually the druid realized the dream was real; he was watching a twisted Thayvian countryside from the shoulder of his captor. The ground was barren here, and he was being carried toward an imposing stone structure, a small castle surrounded by a low stone wall on top of which were positioned, at even intervals, barbed iron spears pointing slightly outward. The macabre fence looked like long black talons against the sky's grayness. Galvin knew the journey had been a long one. It would be dawn soon.

The druid was carried through an opening in the wall. To his right and left stood tall men in tattered cloaks, their faces hidden by cavernous hoods. There were more men behind him-skeletons, he knew, because their bony hands clasped spears and swords and the bones of their ribs showed through their worn garments-but he paid little attention to them. He was thinking about the building in front of him and of Brenna Graycloak.

Then the nightmare began. The second vampire came into the druid's view; the lord of darkness held Brenna in his pale white arms. Galvin feared she was dead, that Wynter was dead. Then he prayed they were alive so they wouldn't become zombies in an undead Thayvian army.

Galvin struggled, then felt himself falling, experiencing a sharp jolt of pain as his shoulder, then the rest of his body, met the cold stone floor of a room. Gradually he opened his eyes to see Wynter barely breathing only a few feet from him; the centaur's body was riddled with clawlike gashes, and he lay on a crude, blood-soaked litter. Brenna was lying on a couch, her face bruised and her eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell regularly, giving the druid some relief.

The room was furnished simply but elegantly with carved, polished furniture; rich tapestries; and heavy black velvet curtains that covered the windows and kept the druid from knowing the time of day. The floor was smooth and immaculate. It gleamed in the light of thick candles held high by sconces. Galvin wondered how the centaur had been brought into the room, then answered the question himself when he saw the large, ornate double doors.

The two vampires glided past the druid. They seemed eerily graceful and elegant, their expensive cloaks swirling behind them. In back of them shuffled a handful of juju zombies, their tattered clothes dragging across the floor and their stench filling the air. With considerable effort, Galvin leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbows. He wanted to see where the undead were going.

His spirit was crushed when he saw them assembled before a red-robed figure.

"Harpers," Szass Tam intoned almost emotionlessly as he moved from in front of the vampires directly into Galvin's line of sight. The lich was in his fleshly form, giving no hint to the druid that he was himself an undead. He was adorned in a scarlet satin robe embroidered with red-gold threads that shimmered in the light of the myriad candles placed about the room. The sleeves were voluminous, and as the zulkir moved, the folds looked like flames licking up his arms. Szass Tam slipped toward the couch and placed a cold hand on Brenna's forehead; she moved in fitful slumber, and he smiled evilly.

Galvin pulled himself to his knees.

"What do the Harpers want in Thay?" the lich asked Galvin silkily, all the while keeping his eyes on the enchantress.

"She's not a Harper!" Galvin shouted, his voice waking Brenna and causing the lich to raise one eyebrow. "Who are you? What do you want with us?"

"I am Szass Tam," he said softly as he rubbed his hand across the top of Brenna's bald head, tracing with his index finger the designs painted there. "I am the Zulkir of Necromancy, the most powerful Red Wizard in Thay… and your master."

It all came crashing down on Galvin then, and it made sickening sense. While undoubtedly other Red Wizards in Thay had undead at their command, only the Zulkir of Necromancy controlled a large force of unliving, and it was likely that only he could command vampires.

"You killed nearly every ghoul in one of my patrols the other night. That brought you to my attention and piqued my curiosity. One of them who managed to get away spotted your silver charm. Undead dislike silver, so he remembered it."

Brenna recoiled from the zulkir's touch and pushed herself into a sitting position, then shrank back from the wizard. She still felt weak from the attack by the shadows, and the room was spinning. She felt even more faint when she saw the unmoving form of Wynter.

The lich smiled at her, then moved to the center of the room and regarded the trio.

"Harper spies," Szass Tam said evenly. "I don't like the Harper organization and its politics. Harpers are nothing more than meddlers in other people's affairs.

"I remember many decades ago when I crossed paths with some meddling Harpers. I defeated them with ease and needed no potent sorcery to do it. Your organization is unruly and ineffectual, poking into everything and commanding nothing. Your membership is secret, so you have no single strong leader. You are fools."

The lich turned his back on the heroes and glided to his desk. Slowly he opened the lower right-hand drawer. It was filled with all manner of souvenirs-daggers, totems, odd bits of jewelry. He rummaged through it until he pulled out a tarnished chain made of heavy links. It bore a charm-a silver moon affixed to a harp. The lich had a half dozen similar chains and pins taken from spies his minions had killed over the past dozen decades. Those Harpers, whose charms the lich kept, were now part of his undead army.

The lich paused, remembering. It had been probably thirty or forty years since Szass Tam's forces had last discovered a Harper. He had given the organization little thought. Until now. Until these three had virtually dispatched one of his patrols.

Szass Tam dropped the heavy chain on the desktop and leveled his gaze at Galvin. Leaving the desk drawer open, he moved from behind it to face the druid. The Harper wisely remained quiet and didn't protest as the lich reached for the neck of Galvin's tunic and pulled it down until he saw the Harper charm. The cold fingers grabbed it and yanked, breaking the chain and pulling it away from Galvin.

The lich voiced a throaty laugh and held the chain before his eyes, letting it sway back and forth as he examined it. "Fine silver, probably mined by dwarves north of Tantras. I prefer gold, since it is worth more and is far more malleable. I hope this trinket doesn't mean much to you."

Szass Tam returned to the desk with the prize, rubbing his thumb in a circular motion over the silver moon charm, then depositing the charm and broken chain unceremoniously in the drawer.

"I'm collecting them," he announced. "Maybe I should start collecting Harpers instead."

Brenna slid from the couch and joined Galvin on the floor. "What are you going to do with us?" she asked weakly.

"Harpers," Szass Tam repeated, spitting out the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Harpers, I will keep you alive, but you will work for me. You will begin by telling me what you are doing in my country."

Galvin and Brenna remained silent. Neither had any intention of giving the zulkir any information or satisfaction. The pair looked defiant, and their obstinacy amused the lich.

Szass Tam motioned to one of the vampires, who stepped in front of Galvin. The lord of darkness turned his white face downward, catching the druid's gaze. His red eyes bore hypnotically into the druid's.

Galvin tried to fight the vampire's control but found he couldn't look away. The piercing red eyes were all the druid saw.

"Why are you here?" the lord of darkness whispered.

Galvin's mind screamed in rebellion, but his voice cooperated in fluent tones. "We entered Thay at the request of the Aglarond council," the druid began.

"No! Stop!" Brenna tried to interrupt him, shaking his shoulders in an endeavor to bring him to his senses. When that proved useless, she turned her attention to the vampire. "Release him! I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Silence!" the lich demanded, crossing the room and slapping Brenna hard enough to send her sliding several feet across the floor.

The vampire continued to probe Galvin's mind and force an explanation from him.

"The Aglarond council heard rumors that a Red Wizard was building a large army. The council feared the wizard planned to march against Aglarond. Wynter and I were the nearest Harpers, and we agreed to help."

"And the woman?" the vampire pressed. His voice was dry and hollow. "Who is she? Was she the one who called the lightning outside Amruthar's gates?"

The color drained from Brenna's face as Galvin continued to answer.

"She is an Aglarond council member, a young politician who decided to accompany Wynter and me. She commands magic, but it was I who called the lightning. I am a druid."

The vampire plied the druid for more information, under the direction of Szass Tam. "What did you hope to accomplish in Thay?"

"We wanted to pose as Thayvians so we could find out what the Red Wizard Maligor was up to. If he was planning to march against Aglarond, the country would have to prepare for war."

"Maligor!" Szass Tam screeched. "What made you think the Zulkir of Alteration was plotting war?"

The vampire who held control of Galvin had to repeat the question.

"I found a gnoll informer who worked for Maligor. He was willing to sell his loyalty to whoever had the most gold." The words poured like honey from the druid's mouth. "The gnoll told me that Maligor was planning to march against someone, perhaps another Red Wizard."

"Perhaps," Szass Tam echoed slowly. "I find it most unusual that the Harpers, the Aglarond Council, and I should all be interested in Maligor. Coincidences should not be taken lightly."

The vampire's face tilted to meet Szass Tam's eyes.

Brenna realized that, just as the vampire had charmed Galvin, the Zulkir of Necromancy held the same power over the vampire. It was a horrible chain of command, with Szass Tam at the top. The lich whispered to the vampire in tones so soft she couldn't make out what was being said. Turning to Galvin, she noted that a sheen of perspiration had broken out over his forehead.

"I'm sorry," the druid began, not looking in her eyes. "I had to tell him everything he wanted to know. I had to. I felt like a puppet."

"It's not your fault." She tried to console him, edging to his side again. "Their power is far greater than ours. It's just our dumb luck to have drawn the attention of Szass Tam." The sorceress draped her arms about Galvin's shoulders, then stiffened when she noticed the Red Wizard looking at her.

"How feminine and sickeningly touching," Szass Tam purred. "You'll have time enough to enjoy each others' company later, after you've finished working for me."

"Never!" Galvin roared, shrugging off Brenna's arms and rising to his feet. He kept his eyes focused on Szass Tam's, not wanting to fall victim again to the vampire's control. "I'm a Harper, zulkir. I've dedicated my life to fighting for good. I'm not going to help you. I'll die first!"

"And if you die, you'll help me anyway," the lich replied. The vampires backed away from the zulkir as he laughed, a rich deep, throaty chuckle that sent goose bumps racing up and down Galvin's and Brenna's spines. Szass Tam leveled his gaze on the pair and willed his fleshly illusion to melt, the pink skin flowing from him to reveal his gaunt, corpselike body. The lich's robes hung about him, and his arms and face appeared as bones covered by incredibly old, thin flesh. He threw back his skeletal head and laughed once more, then focused on the pair, the red pinpoints of his eyes staring out at them through deep sockets.

Brenna screamed again and again at Szass Tam's true visage. She threw her trembling hands over face, and her shoulders shuddered terribly. She shook her head back and forth, trying to deny the creature before her. She had heard that one of Thay's zulkir's was a lich, the most powerful form of undead to walk the realms. On trembling legs, she rose to stand behind Galvin, finding little comfort in the druid's closeness.

Szass Tam glared at her. "The dead are under my command, just as death is my domain. I'm beyond the living, Harpers, and I'm beyond your feeble protests. You will help me-living or dead. You will do exactly as I say.

"And if your performance is satisfactory," the lich continued, "I will let you go. My plans do not call for meddling in Harper affairs or evoking the wrath of Aglarond dignitaries and statesmen. I have no desire to involve myself in such trivial things right now. So if you perform well, we will both be satisfied. You will learn what Maligor is up to, and I will have ended his miserable little plot."

Galvin's resolve appeared firm. "What makes you think we'll help you willingly?" he protested, though deep down he knew that if the lich wanted their aid, the Harpers would be forced to comply. He was curious, however, to learn just how the lich would force them and if they truly would be freed afterward.

"Since you wish to continue this, very well," Szass Tam sighed, moving slowly in front of his desk. He leaned backward against it, placing his bony hands flat on the polished surface and resting his slight weight on them. The zulkir's red eyes vanished, leaving the sockets black like pits. He drew his thin lips tight and languidly rocked his head back and forth.

Galvin and Brenna saw their surroundings waver, then turn to mist, then change. They were on the edge of a city at dusk; the sorceress recognized it as her hometown.

Looking down the main street, they saw a legion of undead-skeletons and zombies, led by a pair of vampires-ripping people from their homes, tearing soldiers' limbs off, and tramping over the dead and dying. The spectacle worsened as they spotted Wynter, his flesh hanging from his ribs and arms, his eyes hollow sockets like Szass Tam's. The centaur was leading a pack of ghouls that were headed straight toward the government buildings. Like a ghastly play, the scene continued to unfold until it seemed no one remained alive in the city.

Then Szass Tam appeared on the capitol steps, waving his arms and commanding the dead Aglarond citizens to rise and join his forces. The lich waved his arms again, and the scene shifted once more.

Brenna and Galvin were back in the zulkir's room, and Wynter remained wounded nearby.

"That is one possible future," Szass Tam uttered, his voice lowering for impact. "Councilwoman, you will tell me that Aglarond's forces can stand up to mine. And for a time, perhaps they could. But if I move at night, I am much more powerful, for the night is frightening and hides much, and my army would be in its element. Your soldiers would stop some of my troops, but not before many in Aglarond died. And with each death, I would become even more powerful, for death is my domain. And in the end, I would win."

Brenna shuddered, wondering if the lich really was powerful enough to accomplish a raid on Aglarond. If he were so strong, she thought, why wasn't he trying to take the country now?

He caught her doubts and offered the pair another illusion.

The room dissipated around them, the walls becoming mist and parting to reveal an ancient graveyard overgrown with weeds and sprinkled with small, stark trees. Galvin and Brenna shivered in the shadow of a massive marker, so weathered the pair couldn't make out the inscription or date on it. The sun was setting, casting an orange haze over the desolate landscape and causing the shadows to lengthen from the gravestones that stretched off toward the horizon. The graves went to the edge of Galvin's vision, and he and Brenna began to stroll down a row of waist-high markers. Two stones came into focus. They bore the names of Galvin and Brenna.

The ground shifted before the two stones, and the dirt began to be pushed away from underneath. Thin hands, covered in places by white flesh, clawed upward and grasped for a solid hold against the ground. Then arms emerged, skeletal pale in the waning light. Finding purchase, one pair of arms straightened and pulled, and the decaying form of the druid tugged itself from the grave. A tattered green cloak hung loosely from its form, and a silver neck chain with a harp and moon clung to the flesh about its frail neck.

The corpse stooped awkwardly and extended its hands to a pair of arms still struggling in the ground. The dead druid extricated the body of Brenna Graycloak from its resting place.

Together the corpses stumbled deeper into the graveyard, where more zombies were emerging. Brenna and Galvin fell in line with the others and marched toward the horizon.

The room returned.

Szass Tam had moved away from his desk and now stood only a few feet from the druid and Brenna.

"What-what do you want us to do?" Galvin asked quietly.

"I want Maligor stopped," the lich replied simply. "The threat he poses to me is not from his gnoll army. If he is planning to march his gnolls against another Red Wizard, it will be a weak one. I know Maligor, and I know he won't go up against something that might offer too much resistance. If he wants to march his gnolls against Aglarond, he would not be able to take much of the land. But I don't want him succeeding in any attempt. A victory for him diminishes me. Do you understand?"

Galvin nodded. "You understand that Brenna and I do not have the power to stop him. Despite the magic at our command, his magic is superior. And he has an army."

Brenna couldn't stay silent any longer. "Why don't you go after him yourself?" she said to the lich. "If you think you have the power to take Aglarond on your own, why don't you take him instead?"

The lich snarled at her. "Fool. I cannot yet afford to overtly take on another wizard. I prefer to exercise power from a distance."

"Galvin's right, though," she argued. "He and I can't take Maligor."

"Not alone," Szass Tam said. "But I will supply you with enough aid."

For a third time, the room dissolved, and Galvin and Brenna found themselves on a wide plain. There were orchards in the distance, and to their far right stood the walls of Amruthar. All around them were undead beings-skeletons, zombies, and other creatures that could walk about in the light of day but should have remained buried. There were also a few dozen living men, trained fighters, from the look of their muscles. The men wore nondescript armor and carried featureless shields. The undead were wrapped in cloaks and robes to help hide their true nature.

Szass Tam stood in front of Brenna and Galvin, once again wearing his fleshly visage.

"You will lead my army of undead," he commanded, "and no one will know from whence they come. Oh, the wizards who care will be able to guess who is behind this force, but the great masses of people will not know."

Galvin swallowed hard and surveyed the illusionary force. He imagined the real one would look little different.

"You will lead this force to Maligor's tower. It stands outside Amruthar, so you will not have to contend with the city's guards. You will only have to deal with the gnolls assembled there. The fight could be difficult, but if you wish to live, you will win it."

"I want Wynter at my side," Galvin demanded, daring to interrupt the lich's instructions. "The centaur is my friend and a good fighter."

"I watched him," Szass Tam countered. "He fights only when pressed."

"I'll fight better with him nearby," Galvin said honestly.

"Very well," the Zulkir of Necromancy relented as the room re-formed for the last time. "I will grant you this one concession, since I have no major use for a zombie centaur."

Szass Tam padded toward Wynter, who was breathing more shallowly than before. The centaur's skin appeared ashen, but it glowed suddenly as the lich extended his hands over him. Szass Tam knelt and touched his palm to Wynter's human chest.

Galvin was amazed that a man who was so tied to death should have the ability to renew life. The gashes healed before the druid's eyes, the centaur's breathing became even and deep, and the color returned to his skin. The blood Wynter had lost was magically restored somehow, and he was renewed with vigor.

"Galvin!" Wynter gasped, untangling himself from the litter and rising and backing away from Szass Tam. "The Zulkir of Necromancy! We are his?"

"Only for a time," the druid answered his friend. "We've an errand to perform for him."

Wynter looked puzzled, since he was not privy to anything that had passed before, but Galvin kept him silent with a narrow glance.

"Now, my Harpers," Szass Tam said, motioning for a pair of jujus to open the double doors. "Follow your escorts to your chambers. You look tired. You should sleep. It wouldn't do for you to go up against Maligor when you're not feeling your best."

Galvin followed the jujus from the room, the vampires falling in line behind Brenna and Wynter. The double doors closed behind them, and Szass Tam's laughter echoed through the thick wood. The sound trailed the heroes down the hall and into their dark chambers.