Red Magic (31 page)

“That’s enough!” he shouted, whirling to stand inches from a wraith. The patch of blackness wavered before his eyes, then formed legs and arms and took the shape of the druid. A chill filled the air, emanating outward from the undead creature’s body. Then eyes appeared, yellow-white pinpoints of light that looked like stars against the darkness of the wraith’s form. The wraith floated upward, hovering about two feet above the ground and forcing Galvin to look up to speak to it.

“I need some answers!” the druid yelled. “And if you frighten the gnolls or kill them, we won’t be able to learn anything. That’s not going to make Szass Tam happy.”

“We are to wrest life,” the floating wraith sighed. “We are to wrest life from Maligor’s forces. We will tug the breath away from their withering lungs.”

“Look around!” Galvin bellowed. “Maligor’s forces aren’t here. These are only a few gnolls he left behind to guard the castle. We need to find out where the rest of them went. And these gnolls can tell us.”

The wraith floated back to the ground and pulled its black arms back inside its body. “The master of death can learn all their feeble brains contain,” it uttered hollowly. “The master of death speaks to the dead. Let us devour their organs. Then the master will devour their minds. Then we’ll learn.”

“That’s not the way I want it,” the druid returned evenly. “You’re under my command for the moment. The master ordered you to obey me. What would Szass Tam do if you didn’t follow his orders? Now get back up to the road. Take the skeletons and zombies with you—all of them. Do it now!” Then he glanced over his shoulder at Brenna. “Please get Wynter. I want him safe here with us.”

Amid grotesque snickers, the wraith called for its brothers and slowly heeded the druid’s directions.

Satisfied, Galvin pivoted sharply to see the gnolls cowering. They continued to act nervous even when the undead had retreated back to the road. The druid noticed that the air around him was growing warmer in the absence of the wraiths. He stood still, staring at the gnolls, until Brenna and Wynter joined him.

“Where is Maligor’s army?” the druid demanded.

The gnolls glowered at him, but they remained silent.

“Maybe they can’t understand you,” Brenna interrupted. “Not all gnolls can speak human languages.”

The druid growled and remembered that the gnoll spy he met in Aglarond had had difficulty with human words.

Brenna touched his shoulder softly. “If you want to talk to them, I can cast a spell. They’ll be able to understand you, and you them.”

“Fine,” Galvin said. “Do it quickly. I don’t know how long I can keep the undead away.”

Brenna hurried back to her horse and tugged a small velvet sack loose from the saddlebags. She untied the drawstring and returned to the druid.

“Luckily Szass Tam left me all my spell components. This will only take a moment,” she said, reaching inside the sack with three slender fingers and pulling out several grains of coarse powder. “But do you think we should take the time to bother with this? Don’t you think Maligor will retaliate?”

“He’s not here,” the druid stated matter-of-factly. “If he was, his whole army of gnolls would be here, too. These dog-soldiers aren’t the main force. I want to find out where Maligor is and where the rest of the gnolls went. Can you make it so those damned wraiths can’t hear this?”

“Not exactly. The wraiths seem to understand you, and the spell won’t prevent that. However, unless they’re well versed in gnoll speech, they won’t be able to understand that part of the conversation.”

Galvin seemed reassured, so the sorceress swiftly weaved her fingers about in the air as if she was knitting something. After several minutes, she nodded to Galvin to let him know he could begin.

“Where are your gnoll brothers?” he asked again. This time he could tell by the gnolls’ eyes that they understood him. “Where is the main army?”

“There is no army,” a muscular guard answered, looking sullen despite its quavering voice. It was evident that this gnoll was in charge and had no intention of giving up information easily. “There only us. We guard the Red Wizard Maligor’s tower.”

“You are not guards. You are fools.” Galvin spat for emphasis, remembering the gestures of the gnoll he had interrogated before. “You will die at the claws of the dead men behind me. Perhaps I’ll let you live if you tell me what I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you nothing, human,” the gnoll returned, making a gesture Galvin couldn’t comprehend. He assumed it was something offensive.

The druid gazed over his shoulder at the mass of undead and raised his arm. He intended it as only a threat. And it worked.

Instantly three of the gnoll guards hurried forward from where they had been cowering beneath the tower’s walls and extended their hands.

“Wait!” one cried. He ignored the threatening scowl from his commander. “They left at sunset. All of them. They’re marching east, I think. Against a young Red Wizard. We wanted to go, too, but Maligor said someone must guard the tower.”

“You’ll die, scum!” the head gnoll yelled at the traitor. The druid sprang forward and cuffed the muscular gnoll, then leveled his sword at its chest.

“Let your man speak,” the druid snarled, then nodded at the other guard. “Go on. Why are they marching after a wizard? How far away is it? Is Maligor with them?”

“Hurry, Galvin,” Brenna whispered. “The spell won’t last much longer.”

“Talk to me!” he shouted at the gnoll, then jabbed the sword point at its chest for emphasis, drawing a small trickle of blood.

“I don’t know the Red Wizard’s name,” the traitor snapped. “It won’t matter, because he will die. Nothing can stand up to our gnoll army. I only know the place is three or four days’ march from here, maybe more, depending on how fast the army travels. It must be important land.”

“What’s so important about it?” Galvin pressed.

“Maligor wants it. That makes it important.”

The druid scowled. “Is Maligor with the army?”

The gnoll looked at him stupidly, the spell exhausted.

“Damn!” the druid shouted. “Can you cast it again?”

Brenna shook her head and frowned. “Sorry. What do we do now? Do we go inside? Maligor’s pretty powerful. If he’s waiting for us in there, it could be tough.” She eyed the tower. “Do you think Szass Tam knew there wouldn’t be an army here?”

“No,” Galvin answered, sheathing his sword. “The army was here very recently. Look at the ground. You can tell by the tracks, the depressions in the earth, and the smell. The gnoll was telling the truth. There was an army here until just a few hours ago. That could also be why there are so many guards on the walls of the city—as a precaution against Maligor’s army.” Galvin glared at the undead behind him; the tinkle of bones indicated they were advancing again.

“I said stay back!” The druid was tired of trying to control the creatures. He turned to face Brenna, and his expression softened. “I think we should wait for Szass Tam to contact us. Our instructions were to deal with Maligor and his forces. Well, Maligor’s forces aren’t here anymore.”

“Then, lowly human, you will deal with his forces elsewhere,” the voice of a wraith interrupted. A shadow of blackness hovered above the druid and sorceress, having moved up silently, keeping its distance until now so the cold wouldn’t give it away. “Szass Tam talked to us, too. The death master wants Maligor stopped, and the master shall not be denied. You will lead us to Maligor’s army, humans.”

“Unlike you, we have to sleep sometime,” Galvin said.

“Sleep later, human,” another wraith called softly. “If Maligor is not stopped, you will not need to worry about sleep.”

Galvin sighed and cocked his head forward, rolling his helmet off. He ran his right hand over his head.

“I don’t want to die,” Wynter said softly.

“Don’t worry,” the druid replied. Galvin knew he could stay awake for another day if he had to, but he wanted an excuse to abandon the wraiths, even if only temporarily.

“Well, I guess we don’t have much choice, Brenna. The army that takes its orders from us is demanding action. There were so many gnolls here, it’ll be easy to track them.”

“Point us in the right direction,” Brenna chirped, trying hard to sound cheerful. “We’ll catch up to the gnolls, finish them off, then get out of this country and see about getting Wynter back to normal.”

Galvin knelt to examine the tracks more closely in the dim light from the torches along the city walls and the scant light spilling from the tower’s windows. He ran his fingertips along a particularly deep imprint of a boot, then glanced at the guards along the city wall. From their numbers, he guessed that many of them must have shifted position from the north and south walls to crowd the west wall nearest Maligor’s tower.

Maybe someone should tell them the undead aren’t going to attack the city, he thought. It would be nice if at least someone could get some rest.

He rose, brushed the dirt off his knees, and smiled at Brenna. “We’ll eventually catch up with the gnolls because they’re traveling with full arms and packs. Besides, they’ll have to stop to sleep.” He glanced down at the outline of a few of the footprints.

“When we do catch up with them, we’re in for a fight.” He knelt and drew Brenna down beside him. Taking her hand, he guided her fingers inside one of the footprints. “Feel how deep this track is? Feel here, the ridges in the track, and here and here. Feel the rounded heel and toe. This track was made by a plate boot. That means the gnolls are heavily armed and armored.”

Galvin considered approaching an Amruthar guard to get an estimate of the number of gnolls. However, he worried that he would be peppered with arrows as soon as he neared the wall. The information would do him little good anyway, he realized in the end. It really didn’t matter how many gnolls were involved. Galvin, Brenna, and the undead were supposed to defeat Maligor’s forces whatever the odds.

Resigned, the druid rose, turned his back on the tower, and strode toward his stallion. “Let’s move,” he told Brenna and hoisted himself into the saddle.

“Not just yet.” Brenna stood unmoving, her hands planted on her hips, and stared long and hard at the head gnoll. “Let’s see if we can find out why Maligor’s going after another Red Wizard.” She pointed at the tower. “Maybe we can learn something in there.”

Galvin weighed Brenna’s idea. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Any information was better than none. He leapt off the black stallion, grabbed the reins, and began to lead the animal toward the tower. Two gnolls moved to block the front door.

“Out of our way!” Galvin shouted, knowing the stupid creatures couldn’t understand the words but hoping they would comprehend his intent.

Brenna was at his side in a few steps. Drawing a long knife, she anticipated trouble when the gnolls refused to part and the others began to move closer.

Galvin unsheathed his longsword and advanced. The gnolls paused, eyeing the glowing blade, then screamed as a black cloud descended upon them. The wraiths, appearing as a fog with ghostly arms and legs, laughed eerily and slashed at the gnolls’ faces.

Deep, black gashes appeared, and blood flowed freely down the bodies of the terrified gnolls. The dog-men thrust at the blackness with their spears, but the crude weapons passed through the undead harmlessly.

“Stop!” Galvin demanded, running up toward the gnolls and disappearing in the cloud of undead.

Brenna screamed, fearing the druid was doomed. Tears welled in her eyes and her hands shook. Although she could hear Galvin’s commanding voice through the undead, she feared for his safety.

“Back away!” the druid yelled as he slashed upward with his enchanted blade, slicing a black limb from a hovering wraith. The undead being emitted a piercing shriek and fell backward behind its undead brethren.

“I said stop!” Galvin shouted once more. “Back off, or you’ll have to fight me, too!”

“We could steal your lowly life, human,” growled a wraith that moved to hover inches from Galvin’s face. Its hot white eyes bore into the druid. “We could bring you death with one touch.”

“Then try it!” Galvin shouted, thrusting upward and driving his blade between the wraith’s glowing eyes. The creature screamed and dissipated like thinning fog, but several others quickly moved to take its place, chilling the air about the druid. “Szass Tam gave me this sword. You know it can kill you.”

“Mortal fool!” another wraith howled, its haunting tone drifted toward Brenna and Wynter. “You could never kill all of us. We would suck the marrow from your brittle bones. Then you would be one of us.”

“Never!” The druid refused to cower before Szass Tam’s minions. He realized that backing down meant giving in to the undead, inviting them to overwhelm him, Brenna, and Wynter. “Now get back to the road, all of you. This is my fight.”

The wraiths laughed mockingly, their hollow voices reverberating off the tower wall, but they retreated nevertheless.

Brenna rushed to Galvin’s side, threw her arms around him in relief, then quickly composed herself and stood facing the gnolls.

Galvin pointed the tip of his longsword at the dog-men, then swept it to the side, pointing west, toward the escarpment. “Move!” he barked. “Move or I’ll kill you!”

The gnolls didn’t comprehend the words, but they understood the druid’s meaning. They fled the tower, running hard without glancing back.

The druid took a deep breath, sheathed his sword, and watched their retreating forms to make sure the wraiths didn’t give chase. Galvin hadn’t wanted to kill the gnolls, and he wanted to keep the undead from doing so even more. No being deserved to be turned into a wraith.

With half a dozen long steps, he reached the large tower doors and yanked on the handles. The iron-bound wood remained unyielding, even after he rammed his shoulder against it several times. Frustrated, Galvin shoved the enchanted blade between the two doors and pushed.

“That won’t work either,” Brenna observed, laying a soft hand on his mailed shoulder. “I’m pretty sure it’s magically held. If Maligor’s as powerful as we’re led to believe, he’d certainly have magic in the walls and doors to keep intruders out.”