Red Magic (32 page)

“Wonderful.” The druid slumped against the door.

Brenna smiled, and her eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “I think I can get in,” she said. “I told you a sorceress would come in handy. Now aren’t you glad you brought me along?” She gestured, and Galvin moved away from the door, watching intently as she cast a simple spell that ended in a thumping sound, like a small door knocker being rapped against wood.

“Success!” she said, beaming. The doors swung slowly inward, moving silently on ancient hinges. In front of them lay a hallway bathed in the light of dozens of thick candles. Suddenly guards, both humans and gnolls, began to pour from rooms off the hall and moved to attack. All were armored, and their plates of metal clanged noisily as they swarmed forward in a wave.

Galvin leapt in front of the sorceress and deftly parried the swing of one burly guard. The massive man wielded a claymoor, a great sword that took two hands to heft. When the guard lifted the sword above his head for another attack, the druid quickly thrust his own enchanted sword forward. The blade sliced through the man’s abdomen, sinking in up to the hilt.

Galvin brought his right leg up and lodged it against the dying man’s waist, then pushed, sliding the man off his sword and into the advancing second rank of guards, knocking several down. The druid pressed his attack, cleaving his blade into the neck of a fallen gnoll who was starting to rise.

Shards of electric blue shot past Galvin and imbedded themselves in the chest of another guard. Brenna shouted a half-dozen arcane syllables, and more of the magical shards flew from her fingertips and into the face of a gnoll.

“Surrender!” she heard Galvin call, but the guards ignored the command. Then the enchantress felt instantly cold as a wave of wraiths passed over her, casting a dark shadow in the entranceway.

The undead enveloped the guards farthest from Galvin and Brenna, their black bodies smothering their victims’ screams. Galvin futilely ordered the wraiths to retreat as he battled a pair of gnolls. Four more swings, and the druid had killed the dog-men.

Brenna and Galvin were the only living people in the hallway. The druid stared at his bloody longsword for several moments, then glanced at the polished marble floor, now coated with blood and entrails. Farther down the hallway, where the wraiths had attacked, the dead bodies appeared twisted, their skin dried, almost mummified. The shadowy wraiths hovered over the husks.

“Leave us!” the druid ordered, glaring at the wraiths that had positioned themselves along the walls equidistant from the candles, where the light was the softest. The torches showed the wraiths to be vaguely human shapes, filled with shifting patterns of gray, black, and brown.

“No!” they hissed as one.

“Outside!” Galvin continued his commanding tone.

“When will you leave the castle?” one posed as the cloud of wraiths floated over the heads of Brenna and Galvin and out the door.

“After we have the information we need,” the druid replied. “It could take a few hours.”

A throaty laughed drifted through the tower’s entranceway. “If you do not return, humans, we will come get you.”

Galvin turned to Brenna, relieved that the wraiths were gone, if only for a short while. She offered a weak smile, and he drew her into his arms. The action pleasantly startled the sorceress, and she ignored the uncomfortable links of his shirt that rubbed against her. She laid her head against his chest. The metal felt cool on her cheek.

Galvin kissed the top of her bald head. “We’ll get out of this somehow, Brenna.”

“What makes you so sure?” she asked, raising her head to meet his gaze.

“We have to,” he stated. He bent to kiss her lips but stopped when he heard the clip-clop of hooves over the marble.

“I guess this isn’t the right time or place,” Brenna sighed, turning to look at Wynter.

The centaur stood amid the dead bodies, tears streaming down his angular face. “I want to go home, Galvin,” he sobbed. “But I don’t know where home is.”

“We’ll take you home soon,” Galvin said softly, releasing Brenna and beckoning to Wynter. The centaur carefully picked his way around the bodies.

“Let’s see what we can find—a diary or a map, anything to indicate where the gnolls are going and who they’re attacking,” the druid said, his voice businesslike. “If we’re lucky, maybe we can find a servant willing to talk. There has to be someone alive here.”

For the next hour, Brenna and Galvin moved from one room to the next searching the first three floors of the wizard’s tower, coaxing the centaur up each flight of stairs. Galvin didn’t want to leave Wynter close to the undead.

The trio searched through empty slave quarters, where crude furnishings dominated the rooms. The bunk beds were stacked four high and indicated the wizard kept nearly two hundred slaves in his tower. A barracks for the gnolls, furnished only marginally better, was filled with withered corpses, victims of the wraiths.

Galvin carefully inspected each body, looking for written orders or some other indication of Maligor’s plans. All he was able to find were a few handfuls of silver and gold coins, the guards’ meager pay. He scattered the coins over the bodies and continued on.

The kitchen offered some hint there might be living occupants still about. Embers glowed in the hearth, and dirty plates were stacked near a tub of water that contained traces of soapsuds. Brenna noted that the pantry was well stocked. Shelves of dried fruits, vegetables, and grains covered one entire wall. Recently skinned and gutted chickens hung from metal hooks.

They searched through storage rooms filled with discarded furniture, and they rummaged through richly appointed sitting rooms. During their foraging, Galvin lit candles, torches, and lanterns, hoping the light would keep the wraiths from coming near them.

Eventually the trio came to a series of connected sleeping rooms where scantily-clad pleasure slaves cowered behind the curtains. Their bodies were pale from lack of exposure to the sun, and their long hair hung loose about their shoulders. They trembled, and Brenna stepped closer, motioning for Galvin and Wynter to stay back.

“Don’t be afraid. We won’t hurt you,” she said softly. She noticed that one of the slaves was an elf, and behind her cowered a human girl of about nine or ten. “We’ll help you.”

“But you’re Thayvians,” the elf said.

“No. No, we’re not. I’m from Aglarond.”

“Aglarond?” the girl behind the elf spoke up. “I used to live there.”

After several minutes, it was obvious that Brenna was accepted by the slaves. Although they still regarded Galvin and Wynter with suspicion, they answered the druid’s questions about Maligor. The slaves proved to have little useful information, other than providing a detailed description of the Red Wizard—that of an elderly, stooped bald man who wore the symbol of Myrkul on his head. The druid guessed Maligor was careful not to talk about anything significant in front of them. Galvin wondered out loud how he might go about freeing the slaves.

Surprisingly, Brenna discouraged him.

“If we don’t defeat Maligor and he comes back here to find his slaves missing, he could well go looking for them—and punish them or kill them. But if we defeat him, he won’t be coming back to the tower, and they’ll be free anyway.”

“Good point,” Galvin replied. “But I think we should lock them in their chambers. If they’re loyal to Maligor, I don’t want any of them sneaking up behind us while we’re searching this place. Bring the girl along as a guide.” Galvin glanced at Wynter, standing in the doorway. “We’ll need you to guard them, Wynter. Yell out if anything tries to get into this room. Okay?”

The centaur smiled, pleased to be given the task. “Okay, Galvin.”

Brenna led the girl into the hallway, questioning her about her parents. The girl explained that her parents were farmers. She and a number of other children from farm families had been abducted and taken over the escarpment by their captors.

Galvin fumbled with the locks of the room for a few moments. Finally he moved a heavy wooden cabinet against the door to make certain the slaves couldn’t escape. He reminded the centaur to watch them carefully.

“We’ll open it again when we’re ready to leave the castle,” he said to Brenna, noticing the worried look on her face. Then the druid turned to the young slave. “Don’t worry. We won’t let them starve in there. We don’t want to hurt anyone. Now, are there others in the tower? More slaves? Guards?”

The girl shrugged and quickly explained that the tower had bustled with activity early in the day. She had heard their movements from the slave chamber. But since then, the corridors had remained quiet until Galvin, Brenna, and their undead army arrived.

“Can you lead us to Maligor’s private rooms … the places where he might keep papers or other important things?”

The girl trembled and stared wide-eyed at him, thinking of the things rumored to transpire in some of her master’s chambers. Galvin had to promise that she would be safe before she agreed to guide them up a circular marble staircase.

On the fourth floor, about halfway up the tower, Galvin stopped and pushed the girl behind him. Squatting on the landing was a misshapen blob of warty flesh about twice the size of the druid’s stallion. The creature had a caldron-shaped stomach, with webbed, taloned toes barely showing beneath it. Its head seemed to sit directly on its stomach, hiding any neck there may have been. Saucer-shaped, round eyes that appeared to have no pupils stared out from each side of its head over a thin mouth that stretched from one side of its face to the other. The creature had no ears, or rather none that could be discerned on its smooth, green-and-brown-mottled skin.

The froglike monstrosity spied the druid, and it snaked out a long, forked tongue that stretched nearly to Galvin’s face.

“Look out, Galvin!” Brenna cried. The slave girl screamed in terror and backed halfway down the staircase behind the sorceress.

The druid vaulted forward and to his right. Drawing his longsword, he sliced at the tongue, cleaving it in two. Black ichor spilled out from the flailing appendage and hissed over the stones. Brenna and the slave girl backed farther down the stairs.

“It looks like acid,” Brenna called. “Shall I get the wraiths?”

“No,” he barked, taking aim at the froglike creature. “They’re worse than this thing.”

Again the creature attacked, this time stretching out its half-tongue, spattering the druid’s chain and tabard with the acidic slime.

Galvin heard the cloth sizzle and felt the heat against his chest. Using all his strength, he jabbed the sword at the frog’s leathery side, pushing it in up to the hilt. The creature responded with a pitiful cry that sounded like a baby and thrashed about, trying to dislodge the weapon. Dark, thick blood began to well from the wound. The frog’s bulk worked against it, however. The druid had managed to maneuver himself around to its side, where what remained of the creature’s tongue couldn’t reach him.

“Can I do anything?” he heard Brenna cry.

“No. Stay back!” he shouted, as he pulled the sword out and thrust it in again. “Protect the girl and save your magic! We may encounter worse creatures than this before we’re through!”

More of the black blood oozed out the frog’s side as Galvin leapt to the creature’s back, but his foot slipped in the acidic mixture and he went sprawling between the giant frog and the wall. Although apparently dying from its wounds, the creature struggled to the end, attempting to pin the druid between itself and the wall.

Galvin pushed with his feet and hands against the frog’s body, trying to regain his weapon. Finally he grasped its hilt with both hands, tugged it loose from the creature’s side, then struggled to his feet. The black blood had etched holes in his tabard and burned patches of skin on his hands and face, but it hadn’t burned all the way through the chain links of his shirt.

The frog moved slowly, attempting to turn itself around on the landing so it could face Galvin. It opened its maw and tried to snap at its attacker, but the druid was too quick for it. He jumped behind the creature and plunged his sword into the center of its back. The frog made a sickly gurgling noise, and the black substance poured from its mouth and began to flow down the stairs. Brenna and the slave girl pressed themselves up against the wall to avoid the trail of acidic slime. Finally the creature grew still.

On the landing, Galvin drew in several deep breaths, then motioned for Brenna and the girl to join him. As the sorceress reached for his hand, she stopped, staring wide-eyed at the creature. Its skin began to bubble like a pool of lava, and spurts of black blood shot out from its body. The frog’s skin gradually changed from green to brown to orange, then flaming red, as it melted from the thing’s bones and flowed down the stairway.

Galvin, Brenna, and the slave girl stared at the monstrous skeleton, which appeared as white as if it had been picked clean.

Galvin was angry. “Animals shouldn’t be turned into something vile and corrupt. I want the man who did this.”

“He’s not here, but I’m sure you already know that. We’ll just have to do.” The voice came from the darkness at the end of the hallway beyond the landing. Three men emerged from the shadows wearing the red robes of the wizards of Thay.

The man in the center was the tallest and had large hands and long, slender fingers. The nails glowed orange as he extended his hands out toward the druid.

Galvin went for his sword, but the wizard was faster. Beams of orange light shot from his fingers into Galvin’s breast, slamming him against the wall. He grabbed for his chest, trying to make the pain stop. His sword clanked against the marble floor.

The hands of the other two wizards began to glow as they stared at Galvin, but Brenna was quicker. The sorceress mumbled five arcane words, and instantly the hallway was filled with thick, black webs. They clung to the walls, the floor, and the men in the red robes.

Recovering from the orange bolts, Galvin gasped for air and peered into the webs, searching for the wizards.

“If they’re lucky they might be able to break free, but by then, we’ll be a long way from here,” Brenna said calmly.