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

Fourteen

The dense fog lay across the land like a heavy gray blanket, its wispy tendrils wrapping themselves tightly around the dead trees, concealing them. Galvin picked his way through the cloaked terrain, one hand extended in front of him. The fog was so thick he could barely see six inches in front of his face. His other hand was firmly wrapped around Brenna's wrist.

Slowly he inched forward with one foot, discovering a fallen limb and gingerly stepping over it. He knew he couldn't afford stepping on a branch that would crack and give them away.

The druid was uncertain how long they had been moving away from Maligor's tower, but he knew they hadn't covered enough ground to satisfy him. He tried to increase the pace.

His hand met a branch, spooking a horned owl that had been perching on it. The bird hooted loudly as it flew high into the fog, and Galvin's heart raced.

Behind him, quite nearby, he heard the rustle of bushes and the snap of twigs. It was the sound of their pursuers. The druid considered standing still like a statue and pulling Brenna close to him; those following might pass by harmlessly in the fog. But then he heard their voices. Panicking, he ran, pulling Brenna along behind him.

"Death we will bring you," hissed a hollow voice. "We will tear the muscles from your bones and wash our bodies in your blood. You will taste sweet death."

Faster and faster Galvin and Brenna ran, scraping their skin against the coarse bark of fog-concealed trees, nearly stumbling over unseen rocks and fallen branches. The air felt chill, signaling the nearness of the advancing wraiths, but still the druid and enchantress ran on.

"Hurry, Brenna," Galvin whispered. "We've got to make it. We're almost to the escarpment."

The fog seemed thinner here as their feet continued to pound over the Thayvian soil. The druid could begin to make out the shapes of trees and bushes and a horse and rider-no, it was Wynter-ahead. He pulled Brenna toward the centaur.

"Galvin!" Wynter shouted at the sight of his friend. "I've been looking for you. I've been wanting to tear out your weak, mortal heart."

The druid halted, open-mouthed, in front of his Harper ally. From a distance, the fog had masked the centaur's undead state. Wynter's angular face was now skeletal and covered with bits of rotting flesh. Ribs protruded from his equine rear portion, and he reeked of the grave.

Galvin screamed, then immediately awoke to find himself curled about Brenna in a soft bed in Maligor's tower. The enchantress slept soundly, oblivious to the druid's nightmare.

The druid withdrew his arm from about Brenna's waist and rubbed his eyes. He guessed he must have slept eight or more hours, and he was surprised one of the slaves hadn't awakened him earlier. Reluctantly he left the soft bed, gently moving away from Brenna. He wanted to let her sleep a little while longer.

The slaves-and most of the furnishings-were gone. Galvin surmised that the slaves had looted Maligor's tower and fled while he slumbered. He pulled his chain armor from under the bed, dressed, and strapped on his sword. Then, carrying his boots in the crook of his right arm, he shoved Szass Tam's black tabard back under the bed with his bare feet.

Galvin strode to the far side of the room, where he had spied a basin full of water. The bowl was porcelain, and the slaves likely would have taken it, he thought, had it not been so large. The druid bent forward and splashed water on his face and arms, then padded out into the hallway and put on his boots.

Galvin knew he needed to get to the Amruthar market quickly, to purchase the horses for himself and Brenna. Running down the circular stairs, he found Wynter at the bottom.

"I was just coming in to wake you," the centaur said, grinning broadly. "I'm glad I didn't have to. I didn't want to climb all those stairs."

The druid scrutinized his friend. "How are you feeling?"

Wynter frowned. "I feel terrible. I'm in Thay." The centaur paused and reached up to scratch the spot on his head where the plant had attacked him. "But at least I'm remembering things. We came to this country on purpose."

The druid exhaled slowly, relieved that his friend seemed to be returning to normal. "I'm in a hurry, Wyn. I've got to get some horses and some food. We've got to get going. We can talk later."

"I've already bought horses," the centaur replied smugly. "I went to the market an hour ago." The centaur pointed at the large double doors. "They're outside. And you'd better get out there, too, so the undead don't eat this pair as they did the others. Oh," he said, nodding toward the concealed door that lead to the bowels of Maligor's tower, "I let the skeletons and zombies out. They're waiting outside. The wraiths might still be down there, though."

"They'll find a way to join us after it's dark." Galvin turned and sprinted up the stairs to get Brenna.

Several minutes later, the entourage, with Galvin, Wynter, and Brenna at its lead, was gathered outside Maligor's tower. The horses Wynter purchased were a pair of sorrel mares, healthy, but not of the quality that Szass Tam had provided. The enchantress chose the smaller of the two horses and mounted while Galvin kept an eye on the guards who remained in force along the walls of Amruthar. The druid estimated he saw two hundred perched on the western wall alone, and all seemed armed with longbows.

The druid leapt into the saddle and urged his mount forward. The clinking of bones behind him signaled that the undead were following. He cast a last glance at the city, then faced north toward the verdant Thayvian landscape and the distant hills where the mines were nestled.

When they had put a few miles between themselves and Amruthar, Galvin pulled out the crude map of the mines they had found in Maligor's tower and rested it against his horse's neck. Studying it, he guessed it would take at least three days for the slow-moving undead to reach the mines. Replacing the map, he wondered what Maligor would do in those three days.

The army wound its way along the dirt roads that cut through the citrus groves. North of Amruthar, the groves were vast, well established, and had many crews of slaves. As the undead marched by, guards and slaves hid behind the largest trees and watched nervously.

The sun had begun to set as Galvin, Wynter, and Brenna passed a row of tall birches, which marked the end of one grove and the beginning of another. The precise rows of citrus trees, all carefully pruned, had begun to look monotonous.

When the sun edged below the distant tree line, the shadows and wraiths joined the assembly, the latter beginning their incessant, haunting banter. As the miles went by, Galvin studied Brenna. The enchantress had pulled about her a woolen cloak that Wynter had purchased in the market. The druid was uncertain what to do about her. If they lived through whatever awaited them and were able to leave Thay, she would likely return to Aglarond. He knew he would miss her, but he realized she wouldn't want to stay in the wilderness with him and Wynter. He also knew he could never stay in a city. Although he had proved to himself he could function within their confining walls, he had no desire to live in one. Her nearness was making all of it considerably more difficult to figure out.

"I'm going to scout ahead for a while," he told her. "It looks like there are a few lights up there."

"No, human," a wraith protested, floating to Galvin's side. "You will stay with us. The master wishes it."

"I'll be back soon," the druid said firmly.

"If you leave, we will go with you. Death will travel at your side."

"Only if 'death' can keep up," the druid said, scowling. He glanced at the distant lights on the horizon. The druid knew it would take the undead quite a while to reach them. Dropping the big mare's reins, he handed Brenna his close helm and pulled off his chain shirt. Laying it across the front of his saddle, he held his arms out to his sides and closed his eyes.

"Human! What are you doing?" the wraith demanded.

Galvin ignored the undead creature and willed himself to transform. Feathers quickly sprouted on his chest and spread like fire to cover his body. His mare became skittish as wings formed underneath the druid's arms, but Galvin, still retaining his human visage, made neighing and whinnying sounds until the horse answered and calmed down. Then the druid's body shriveled, his legs becoming muscular hawk legs, and his feet yellow claws with curved talons. His head shortened, and his nose grew into a curved beak. The green-eyed hawk cried and leapt from the mare's back, flying toward the lights.

The druid relished the sensation of flight, the wind ruffling the feathers about his face and the cool air flowing beneath his wings. His hawk form was sleek and made for speed, and the miles sped away beneath his wings. In this form, the druid knew he could have reached the mines in a day, but he also knew that going there alone might not accomplish anything. Nor would he find any comfort in leaving Wynter and Brenna behind with the undead.

The lights grew larger as he neared them. Ahead was a hamlet, a collection of wood and stone buildings, likely the homes of some of the citrus workers or nearby farmhands. Lanterns were set on tables in kitchens or hanging from front porches. Swooping low, the hawk skimmed through the town and saw a few families gathered inside the buildings. The hamlet's residents were apparently oblivious to the presence of Szass Tam's undead army. No one seemed armed or nervous.

The hawk made another pass through the area, then soared back to rejoin the undead. Hovering above the saddle of the big mare, Galvin transformed once again. His claws lengthened, the yellowed skin turning to boots that fit neatly into the stirrups, the feathers melting away to reveal skin and his chain shirt. The horse began to bolt, but the hawk-man's wings receded, and human hands shot forward to grasp the reins and calm the skittish beast.

"There's a small hamlet ahead," Galvin said as he put on his chain shirt. He turned to Brenna and extended his hand for his close helm. The enchantress ignored his gesture and leaned over to place the helmet on his head herself. "Everything appears normal."

"Are we going to stop there and rest?" Wynter asked, overhearing the druid.

"No. We're going around it. No use upsetting the villagers. And no use alerting people who might be sympathetic to Maligor. It's bad enough to be by guards when we pass the orchards."

Galvin directed the undead in a broad arc around the settlement. It was nearly midnight by the time the army had circumvented the hamlet and was again on the road to the hills. For several more hours, the force continued to plod onward, the clip-clopping of the horses' hooves mingling with the tinkling of skeletal bones.

Shortly before dawn, the army reached the edge of a lime grove. The druid decided to camp here, since he, Wynter, Brenna, and the horses needed to rest. As the first rays of the sun peeked through the trees, the trio watched incredulously as the wraiths huddled near the ground, then appeared to seep into the very cracks in the earth. The druid wondered if the undead would stay there until dark or could travel underground.

Shortly before noon, the army started north again. The breeze had picked up and was coming from the direction of the far hills, carrying with it billowy clouds and the fragrant scent of lime blossoms. The druid sniffed the air.

"It's going to rain today, maybe in a few hours-sooner if the wizards decide to tamper with the weather," Galvin announced.

"What do you think we'll find at the mines?" Brenna posed. "Maligor may have been there for a day already."

"Maybe he's dead," Wynter speculated. "The mines are well guarded. The tharchion in charge is a man to be reckoned with."

"Maligor's alive," Galvin said finally. "I think Szass Tam would know if his rival was dead."

The centaur glanced back at the columns of zombies and skeletons. "In any event," Wynter said, "we'll know in another two or three days."

The Harpers and Brenna passed most of the day in silence, tolerating the midafternoon downpour and staring at the lush countryside, where apple orchards and groves of citrus trees dominated. In the distance, to the east and west, and in between the rows of fruit-laden trees, they saw farmland.

By sunset, the orchards were behind them, and they found themselves on a prairie dotted with waist-high wild flowers. Far to the east, Galvin saw a complex of buildings, which had to be immense considering they could be seen from so far away. Wynter explained that it was a slave plantation and most of the buildings were barracks for the slaves.

The army marched until dusk, when the buildings were lost from sight. After resting for several hours, they resumed the trek shortly before midnight, and by morning they were in the foothills.

"We've been making good time. Do you think we'll reach the mines by nightfall?" Brenna asked Galvin.

The druid was eager to find Maligor and finish Szass Tam's task. He pulled out the crude map, then glanced at it and the hills.

"I doubt it," Wynter interposed before Galvin could speak. The centaur had also been eyeing the hills. "We probably won't even make it by tomorrow morning-and that's provided the map is reliable. These hills, if I remember correctly, are riddled with caves. Finding the mine might not be easy. Then we have the undead to consider."

The enchantress looked at Wynter quizzically.

The centaur laughed and waved his arm, indicating the skeletons and zombies. "As difficult a time as I have dealing with obstacles and hills, they'll have a worse time. Their bony feet might have trouble finding purchase."

Brenna scowled. "It shouldn't be a problem in the low hills," she decided, pointing at the foothills, "but when we get farther up, maybe we'll have to leave some of them behind. Or maybe we can find a path with better footing. There's got to be a path or road leading to the mine."

Galvin was only vaguely paying attention to his friends' conversation. He had been scrutinizing the ground around the foothills, looking for tracks, anything to indicate that others had been this way within the past few days. However, he found only signs of small animals. The druid dismounted and led his big mare toward a dead tree at the beginning of a rise. Wrapping the reins loosely about a branch, he neighed and whinnied at the animal, instructing it to stay in the area until he returned.

"Time's wasting," Galvin said, starting up the low rise and motioning for Wynter, Brenna, and the undead to follow him.

The sorceress left her horse near his and sprinted to catch up. Wynter ambled behind them.

The low portion of the hills was much like a savanna, covered with grasses that stretched nearly three feet high. Trees were scattered over the hillsides, their trunks swollen with water and their leafy tops flat. Traveling was difficult because of the incline, and the heat was oppressive, causing Galvin and Wynter to shed their armor. They toted it behind them, bundled inside their cloaks. Bare-chested, they found the warmth easier to handle, especially when an occasional breeze whipped over the savannah, cooling them as it evaporated the sweat from their bodies.

Wynter explained as they traveled that the wizards had no need to make it rain near the mines, since the hills were devoid of crops. Still, the natural rains seemed enough to support the trees and grasses.

By nightfall, their course steepened even more, and Galvin located a wide, well-worn path with deep wagon ruts. Although the Harpers and Brenna were nearly exhausted because they had been pushing themselves so hard, they forced themselves to continue, climbing the steep slope, slowing only when Wynter had difficulty negotiating the sharper grades.

The vegetation had changed once again to resemble a montane forest, and the air was cooler at this elevation. The army pressed on until shortly before dawn, when the trees began to thin.

Brenna was pale from exertion, and even Wynter and Galvin were glad to stop and rest. The druid directed the undead to spread themselves out among the trees, hoping the cover would lessen their chances of being spotted by any patrols or by wizards magically scrying the area.

Lying down on the ground, under the shade of a thick-leafed tree he couldn't identify, the druid again studied the map. "These marks in the tunnel indicate something-maybe traps, maybe veins of gold, maybe guards. There are two large Xs right outside the mine entrance. I wonder what they indicate."

"Worrying about it won't get you an answer," Wynter said, stretching himself out on a large patch of soft grass and folding his hoofed legs beneath him. "Wake me in a few hours and I'll stand watch."

The enchantress settled herself next to the druid and eyed the map. Galvin rubbed her head. "You get some sleep, too."

As the sun set, painting the mountain peaks vermilion, Galvin moved the undead forward once more. He noticed fewer and fewer animal tracks as they ascended. With the decline in vegetation, there was less food to support wildlife. Bamboo grew in small clumps to either side of the path; the druid suspected a band of bamboo grew at this altitude all the way around the mountain.

In another few hours the bamboo thinned, too, then disappeared, to be replaced by short, coarse grass. The druid noted the caves that dotted the mountainside, but he avoided them. No paths led to them, nor was the ground smooth enough around them to indicate the presence of miners who had tramped the earth flat. As the army continued its climb, the druid began quizzing the few birds he spotted, chirping to them in their own language and learning that a congregation of men could be found on the northern exposure of the mountain.

Within a few hours more, shortly before dawn, the druid found a wide, winding road capped by torches that led to a large black opening in the rocks. It was obviously the entrance to the Thayvian mines.

"Should I go ahead and see what's going on?" the centaur suggested.

The druid shook his head. "They must know we're coming. Their sentries have probably spotted us in the distance. The night hides our numbers, but it doesn't hide the fact that there's an army on the mountain."

Galvin took several deep breaths and mentally ran through the possibilities. If Maligor had control of the mines, he would have been there for three or four days. The druid's force would be fighting the wizard's darkenbeasts and any other defenses he might have added. If Maligor's forces were defeated, but the Red Wizard still lived, their task might take them elsewhere in the pursuit of him.

He glanced at Brenna. She appeared worried, her lips pursed in concern.

"Let's see the mine up close," the enchantress said, placing a hand around the pouch that held her spell components and returning Galvin's stare evenly.

The macabre army wound its way up the mountain to the edge of a plateau ringed with torches. A quintet of miners, armed with picks, stood at the entrance to the shaft, a massive black maw between two large oval-shaped rocks. Galvin padded forward, and the eldest miner, a squat, middle-aged, hairless man with a barrel of a chest, stepped forward to meet him.

"Halt!" boomed the man, who sported a tattoo on his brow, barely visible in the torchlight. The tattoo was of a taloned hand, the symbol of Malar The Beastlord.

Galvin stopped and scrutinized the ground, looking for traces of blood and other signs of a struggle. He saw only footprints, likely belonging to the miners.

"I'm the tharchion here, and you are trespassing," the man stated, showing no fear at the throng of skeletons behind the druid. "Turn your creatures around. We have no place for dead men at the mines."

"We're looking for the one who controls the mines," Galvin returned.

"I control the mines," the man replied. "Who is your master? Which Red Wizard do you serve?"

Wynter moved between Galvin and the human. "Tharchion," he said, "our force is not here to attack the mines. Szass Tam, who directs the undead behind us, is fully aware that the mines belong to all the Red Wizards."

"Then leave!" the tharchion sputtered. "My men must get back to work. Leave now, or I warn you, I will summon my guards to fight your corpses! I'll call the magic of the mines down on you! You'll all perish!"

Wynter was persistent. "We want some information, that's all."

"Be quick about it, then," snapped the tharchion.

"Just answer a few questions and we'll leave. We came here to learn about Zulkir Maligor."

"Maligor isn't here," the tharchion sputtered. The stout man reddened in anger, puffed out his considerable chest, and pointed down the mountain. "Leave while you can."

Galvin moved to Wynter's side. The enchantress stayed in the background, digging in her pouch for precious components. She began a simple spell, wanting to know if the tharchion was telling them the truth.

"Was he here?" Wynter continued.

"No!" the tharchion hissed.

The centaur eyed the tharchion, annoyed by his manners. "Maligor moved a large force north recently. Have you seen it? Have you heard rumors of it?"

"Maligor's force might not have been human," the druid added.

"I've seen nothing unusual," the tharchion replied, appearing more calm. "The slaves and guards would have reported anything out of the ordinary." The tharchion squinted his eyes, then they flew open, as if he had just thought of something.

"But I have heard rumors about trouble to the south. Something about an army of Maligor's gnolls. If your master, Szass Tam, is having difficulties with Maligor, you should investigate to the south. Now leave! Get those stinking undead out of here!"

"We're sorry to have inconvenienced you, tharchion. Our apologies." Wynter turned, being careful not to lose his footing, and headed down the mountain. The undead did not move until Galvin started after him.

Brenna grasped the druid's arm as he passed by. "He's lying," she whispered. "Trust me. He's lying about something-about Maligor's forces, about not seeing anything, perhaps. I think he knows a lot more than he's telling you."

"What are you saying?" the tharchion bellowed, striding toward the enchantress.

"I was telling my friend you should be concerned about Maligor," Brenna replied, meeting the squat man's gaze.

"The mines might be his target. He could be after them!"

"I told you to leave-you, your stinking undead, all of you. You're breaking Thayvian law by disrupting the operation of the mines. I could have you eviscerated-or worse!" the tharchion bellowed. "I know nothing of Maligor's plans, so crawl back to Szass Tam."

"Liar!" Brenna cried, watching for a reaction. "I bet you're in league with Maligor. I bet you know where he is."

"I'll see you dead!" the tharchion hissed. "The Council of Zulkirs will be told about this-in full." He waved one thick arm, and the quartet of miners rushed forward, raising their picks above their heads threateningly.

Brenna stepped behind Galvin, her fingers twirling. Feigning fear, she began to mumble softly so the tharchion couldn't tell she was casting a spell.

The tharchion's eyes narrowed to slits so thin they appeared to be closed. He moved until he could see the sorceress, then began to twitch his fingers and mouth his own arcane words.

Wynter had whirled around when he heard the confrontation and headed back to the plateau. The skeletons and zombies shuffled behind him, struggling to keep their balance on the steep incline.

"Kill them!" the tharchion screamed as he continued to manipulate his fingers. The quartet of miners moved forward, and Wynter reared back and charged the closest one. Galvin leapt at another one, willing his body to change as he dove at the tallest miner. The druid's body sprouted short yellow-orange fur that flowed like water over his arms, legs, and clothing. His chest thickened, his legs became feline and muscular, and his facial features melted away to reveal the snarling visage of a jaguar. The big cat extended its claws as it closed the distance to its quarry.

At the same time, the undead began to swarm forward on the plateau, their bony feet clicking over the rocks.

Brenna completed her spell, a force that dispelled magic and that would eliminate the sorcerous hold she believed Maligor held over the tharchion. The force, which only Brenna could see, shot from her fingers in ribbons, avoiding the skeletons and wrapping about her target.

But Brenna's magic enchantment wasn't what she had expected. As the spell took effect, the tharchion grew taller and more slender, his form continuing to change as the bands of magic writhed about him. The magic Brenna had dispersed was not Maligor's but Asp's own ability, which enabled the naga to look like the tharchion. The spirit naga's tail undulated as it grew to its full length, and her human torso sprouted from the stocky man's dissolving chest. Finally, fully formed, Asp threw back her head and cried, "You'll die!"

Asp's appearance startled Wynter, giving one of the miners an opening. Sinking his pick into the back of the centaur's leg, the miner continued his assault, trying to throw Wynter off balance. The centaur groaned and fought to keep his balance. Then he swung his fist into the miner's face. The man rolled down the side of the mountain and into the waiting arms of the juju zombies.

While Galvin in his jaguar form slashed at a miner, Brenna rushed the spirit naga, hurling herself on the creature and attempting to pin the snake-woman's arms. Too late, the enchantress realized her mistake, as the naga's tail whipped about her legs and restrained her. A dozen skeletons ringed the two women, thrusting forward with their bony arms in an attempt to grab the spirit naga.

Meanwhile, the centaur pulled the pick from his right leg and swung it wildly at another miner, who stood rooted in fear at the sight of the approaching skeletons. Embedding the point of the pick solidly in the man's neck, the centaur followed through by rearing on his hind legs and pounding his front hooves against the man's chest. The miner went down in agony as a wave of skeletons stormed by him toward the remaining miner.

The miner ran, but in his panic, his feet tripped him up, and he was quickly lost from sight amid a sea of bones.

The great cat finished with its victim and tried to leap to Brenna's side. The enchantress was thrashing about on the plateau with the naga. The thick ring of skeletons and zombies that were forming about them kept Galvin from getting through. The druid growled, but still the undead did not open a path.

"Foolish creature," said a wraith that had floated over the edge of the plateau and was hovering above him. "We smell sweet, sweet death."

"Get back!" Wynter barked, brushing by the wraith and pushing several skeletons aside so he and Galvin could get closer to Brenna. The druid snarled for emphasis and darted between a pair of bony legs to get inside the circle.

Asp was attempting to strangle Brenna. At the same time, she flailed her tail back and forth like a whip to keep her enemies at bay. But Galvin was desperate, and he sprang forward, pouncing on the naga's tail and sinking his sharp cat's teeth into her scales. The naga screamed in pain and released her grip on Brenna's throat. The enchantress rolled free, leaving the naga open to attack from Galvin and the onrushing skeletons.

"I'll see you in hell!" the naga cried as the druid, in his great cat form, closed in. Then Asp screamed a single word, and the mountain rumbled in response.

The mine shaft yawned as a large boulder on each side of it trembled and seemed to pull away from the mountainside. The plateau shook, and the twin rocks vibrated and began to crack. The cracks spread quickly and uniformly as stony arms extended from the sides of the boulders and squat legs pushed outward from the bases of the great stones. The face of the boulders cracked still more, chips of rocks flying away from them, leaving behind the chiseled visages of two huge bald-headed men. The rocks' eyes stared at the undead.

"Trespassers!" the one on the south side of the shaft boomed as its lips cracked open. Its deep voice reverberated loudly over the plateau, bringing a shower of small pebbles down from the mountain that stretched above the mine.

"Tres-pass-ers die!" the other grumbled in rough, slow tones so thunderous the entire mountain seemed to shake. A stumpy rock arm gestured threateningly. The mountain groaned, and fist-size rocks began to roll toward the heroes and their undead charges.

The boulder gestured again, and more rocks shook loose, all rolling down the mountainside and bypassing the mouth of the mine, all under the direction of the rock creatures. The rocks cascading down now were larger, the size of full-grown melons. They picked up speed and crashed into a wave of skeletons, splintering their bones and bowling them over the side of the plateau.

Wynter summoned his strength and galloped at full speed toward the rockslide, angling his body toward the mine entrance, which the rocks somehow avoided. Stones pummeled his body, but he pressed forward, his hooves pounding over the plateau.

Meanwhile, the druid dodged the rockslide agilely, his cat reflexes signaling him when to leap out of the way, but when the slide increased in intensity, he leapt into the air and willed another transformation. The great cat seemed to fold in upon itself, its fur turning to feathers, its front legs to wings and its rear claws to talons. The hawk let out a cry and rose upward, above the mass of tumbling rocks.

At the same time, Brenna and Asp were about to be pushed over the edge of the plateau by the rocks and fallen skeletons. The naga wrapped her tail about a stone outcropping as the rocks pelted her. The dying naga reached toward Brenna, who had begun to slide slowly down the mountain, attempting to claw the enchantress's face.

Brenna rolled to the side to avoid the naga's grasp. Her action only sped her descent down the slope, and she gritted her teeth in pain as her ribs bore the brunt of the ride. She heard the naga scream, then, glancing quickly upward, she saw a sizable rock crash into the naga's side, knocking her loose from the outcropping and sending her careening down the mountain slope.

Brenna closed her eyes, ignored the pain, and concentrated on casting a spell. The enchantress's words were nearly lost in the slide as rocks of all sizes pounded over the side of the plateau toward her. Then she felt herself being lifted gently; in moments, she was floating above the rocks and tumbling zombies and skeletons, whose bony bodies were being split apart by the slide.

Gasping for breath, the enchantress levitated toward the plateau, praying to find Galvin and Wynter alive.

The hawk flew toward the mine shaft, willing his human form to return when he was safely within the mouth of the cave. The hawk's wings melted away and grew, becoming arms, and his claws lengthened into legs. Struggling to stay on his feet as the mountain continued to tremble, Galvin reached his hand out to touch a stone face.

"Stop!" Galvin shouted, hoping to be heard above the pounding rocks. "You'll kill everyone!"

"Tres-pass-ers die," the rock rumbled.

"We're not trespassers!" the druid retorted, gasping for air as a shower of dirt fell from above the mine opening into his face.

"Tres-pass-ers die," the rock repeated, reaching a rocky arm out from its body and grabbing the druid about the waist. The rock lifted Galvin off the ground, and its great stone eyes bore into his.

The druid stared back, calling on his own magic, trying to speak to the rock as he had to the wall in Maligor's tower. "Stop this!" he croaked, straining to clear his lungs.

The rock pulled him closer, until Galvin's face was only inches from its right eye. It studied the druid for several long moments, then closed its stony eyelids and the rumbling ceased.

"We're not trespassers," Galvin repeated, extricating himself from the rock's grasp. "We're Harpers, and we're here to help." Taking a step backward from the living boulder, the druid looked frantically about the plateau, searching for some sign of Brenna. His heart hammered in his chest, fearing she had been killed.

"Wynter!" Galvin cried. "Where's Brenna?"

"I saw her go over the side," the centaur said. "I couldn't reach her."

The druid bolted from the living rock, coming to a stop when he reached the edge of the plateau and saw the enchantress float into view. "Brenna!" he called, embracing her when she glided to the ground in front of him. He held her for only a moment, then tugged her toward the mine opening.

The living boulders were watching them.

"What are you?" Wynter gasped as he faced the boulders. The pounding rocks had injured his human chest and horse underbelly, and it hurt him to breathe and talk. He gently prodded his horse side, checking for broken ribs.

"Galeb duhr," one said slowly. Then he went on to explain in his deep voice that he was one of a race of rock creatures whose lifespans dwarfed those of Faerun's humans and demihumans.

"Guard-i-ans," the other stated. "We watch the mine."

"We're not after the mine," Wynter offered, gesturing at the mountain and the land below. "In fact, we're here to protect it."

The galeb duhr on the north side of the mine entrance wrinkled its craggy nose and stared past the Harpers and Brenna toward the remaining undead who were clawing their way onto the edge of the plateau. Only a handful of skeletons had survived the pummeling, and the zombies' numbers were halved. The wraiths and shadows seemed unaffected.

"The dead men will help the mine, too?" the rock's booming voice was tinged with sarcasm.

"Yes," Brenna said, explaining their ordeal with Szass Tam and their promise to stop Maligor and his forces, who threatened the mine.

"But we can't help unless you help us. We need some information," she continued.

The rocks stared at her quizzically.

"Has a Red Wizard been here recently?" she asked, brushing the dirt from her clothes.

"No," came the deep reply in unison.

She inhaled sharply and pursed her lips. "Have you seen any strange creatures? Horrid, batlike things?"

The rock on the north side of the mine opening nodded, and the ground shook again. "Saw bat crea-tures. Hundreds, may-be more. Dark, like a cloud. Flew in-side. Cannot re-mem-ber why we did not stop them."

Brenna positioned herself in front of the living boulder, directly between its eyes. "Maligor could have ensorceled you. Maybe that's why you don't remember. Something's wrong here, that's certain. The tharchion I fought wasn't human."

"Doubt-ful some-thing is wrong," the other galeb duhr answered. "We no-ticed noth-ing odd in the mines."

"We've got to go inside and find out for sure," Galvin tried. "Please trust us."

"Trust un-dead?"

"We'll control them," Galvin continued, staring past the living boulders and into the mine.

"If you lie," the other galeb duhr interjected, "we will know. We could bring mountain down on top of you, then hollow it out again as if nothing happened."

"You can trust us," Galvin emphasized again.

"We trust you. But only because you know language of the earth," the boulder answered.

Relieved that he seemed to have the approval of the rock creatures, Galvin started into the mine. Wynter and Brenna followed him cautiously. The enchantress cast a last glance at the plateau; the zombies and skeletons that had survived the rockslide were shuffling toward the shaft.