Red Magic (39 page)

“We’ll follow this passage,” he said in a hushed tone. “Maybe it will lead back to the main shaft and we can come at the darkenbeasts from behind.”

“And if it doesn’t?” The centaur seemed skeptical.

“Then we’ll try another tunnel.” The druid felt his way along the crosscut, then spied the light of a torch ahead. “We don’t have much chance back there,” he said, pointing toward the sounds of battle. “The undead are better able to deal with those creatures, anyway. We need to find Maligor.”

Ahead, the torch illuminated barrels and buckets lined against the shaft wall, filled with ore. Several picks lay on top of the largest barrel. Wynter examined them and selected the sharpest pick. The centaur, who could not move quickly in the confined tunnel, feared the darkenbeasts would find them, and he didn’t want to fight them barehanded again.

The druid discovered another opening just beyond the mined ore and started down it. This tunnel was better lit, and from the discarded picks and buckets along the wall, Galvin could tell it was in the process of being mined. Ahead, he heard the tramping of feet, and he rushed forward, leaving Brenna and Wynter to lag behind.

The tunnel opened into a small chamber. A dozen longhaired miners were loading ore into a stack of crates. They stopped and gaped at Galvin as he hurried inside the chamber. The miners’ clothes were worn and soiled, and their skin was pale from working underground.

“We won’t hurt you,” the druid stated calmly, putting his arms to his sides, away from his weapon. Galvin assumed they were slaves.

“Are there any other miners near?” The druid feared another confrontation.

One of the slaves nodded, then stared beyond Galvin at Brenna and Wynter, who were just emerging into the chamber. “The miners are all over,” he said flatly.

“And what about the creatures? The darkenbeasts?” the druid asked, lowering his hands and realizing the miners didn’t fear him. “Are those winged creatures all around here, too?”

The slave miner nodded yes.

“How about Maligor? Is the Red Wizard Maligor here?” Brenna questioned.

“Maligor controls the mines now,” came the slave’s emotionless reply. The gaunt man explained how Maligor and his minions descended on the mine, slaughtering the guards and taking over the complex. “He controls the creatures, the things you call darkenbeasts.”

“Does he control you?” she posed.

“We serve Maligor.”

The enchantress turned to Galvin. “They’re charmed, I think. Just like I charmed the guard in the orchard.”

The druid scowled and began to pace nervously. “Has Maligor been here long?”

The slave scratched his head. “A few days,” he said after a pause. “Two, three days. Maybe four, but not more than that.”

“Where is he?” Galvin demanded, his voice rising.

The slaves backed against the wall.

“Where?” he persisted.

“We—we shouldn’t tell you,” one answered. “The master would be angry.”

“I’m angry. And I’m here,” the druid snapped. “Where’s the Red Wizard?”

“Deep in the mines,” came a slave’s monotone reply.

The druid scrutinized the miners. The slaves appeared tired, and they were thin from lack of food. He realized telling them to leave the mines would be pointless. Maligor’s servants wouldn’t leave, unless, perhaps, Maligor was dead, the druid thought.

The slaves continued to stare at the Harpers and Brenna, then after several minutes, they resumed loading ore into the barrels.

“Damn!” the centaur cursed. “They’re not like real people. They’ve no free will. We’ve got to get them out of here, Galvin.”

The druid looked up into his friend’s pained face. “After we deal with Maligor,” he said simply, then turned to a slave. “We need to find our way back to the main shaft. Tell us how.”

The slave gestured back the way they had come.

“Not that way. Is there another tunnel that links up?”

The slaves looked at each other and shrugged. “Hundreds of tunnels,” one croaked. “The widest ones lead to chambers below. Others lead to the main shaft.”

Galvin whirled and trotted back down the tunnel. Brenna stayed even with him, but the centaur was having an increasingly difficult time maneuvering in the sloping shafts. The next two crosscuts led to dead ends and more slave miners, who also seemed to lack any will of their own. But the third tunnel twisted down into the depths of the mountain and angled back toward the main shaft. The tunnel ceiling was lower here, forcing the centaur to stoop.

Ahead and off to the right, they heard a series of clinking and thudding sounds, mixed with the cries of the darkenbeasts. The druid began to run through the shaft, intent on discovering the nature of the confrontation ahead.

He rounded a sharp corner and gasped as he spotted a wispy cloud bearing down on him. The cloud hovered, its tendrils becoming arms and legs, and a mass of white forming a fleshy face with a wild tangle of black hair. Maligor willed himself to solidify into his human form as the druid stood, unmoving. The wizard’s red robes looked like dying embers in the light of a distant torch.

The Red Wizard’s dark eyes held the druid, and with a gesture, Maligor drew the air away from Galvin’s face, leaving the druid breathless.

“You’ll die, meddlesome Harper!” Maligor spat, weaving his hand in the air, then pointing his fingers at the druid’s chest. Red shards of energy shot from the wizard’s hand and sunk themselves in Galvin’s abdomen.

The druid doubled over in shock, just as Brenna reached his side. She stood transfixed, staring at the symbol of Myrkul on the wizard’s forehead and realizing it was Maligor they faced. As the wizard glanced past the druid, straight at her, she quickly composed herself and began a spell.

“You!” Maligor roared, remembering the face of the woman in the clearing, the woman who had killed his darkenbeast many days ago with a bolt of lightning. Furious, the Red Wizard directed his next spell at Brenna, hurtling her small frame backward against the tunnel wall with an unseen force that left her crumpled like a rag doll.

Galvin struggled to his feet and drew his sword, slashing at the wizard just as Wynter came upon the scene. But the wizard was too fast. With a quick gesture, his fleshly form became intangible, ghostlike, and the blade passed harmlessly through him. Maligor lolled his head back and laughed, a deep, throaty laugh that sent chills racing down the druid’s spine.

The centaur charged forward, cleaving his pick through the wizard’s intangible chest.

“Harper fools!” Maligor bellowed, becoming solid again and casting a magic daggerlike shard into the druid’s chest. “I’ll not waste my time on you! The mine and my creatures will kill you!”

Galvin fell to his knees and watched with disbelief as the Red Wizard gestured grandly with his hands, transformed again into a wispy white cloud, and floated down the corridor.

The druid forced himself to his feet and started after the wispy trail, but the centaur’s hand held his shoulder. “Don’t go after him, Galvin. That’s what he wants. He’ll lead you to the darkenbeasts—or worse.”

Brenna steadied herself against the wall and felt the back of her head; she was bleeding from being slammed against the rock. The enchantress was dizzy, but she fought the sensation and made her way toward Galvin.

“We have to stay together,” she stated flatly. “Otherwise he can pick us off one by one.”

The druid nodded his agreement, then glared down the corridor. Dimly, the clang of metal and the cries of the darkenbeasts could still be heard. Galvin strode purposefully toward the sounds of battle.

As the distance melted away beneath their footsteps, the sounds of fighting lessened, then ceased altogether, plunging the mine into an eerie quiet. Unnerved, the trio plodded forward for an interminable time until the shaft opened into an immense, well-lit chamber. The shaft continued beyond the natural room, but the passage was of no concern to the Harpers. Hugging the shaft of the tunnel, they stared at the floor of the chamber.

The broken bodies of skeletons and zombies lay strewn about. Their slayers—a mass of darkenbeasts—floated like a thick, black cloud above the hellish battlefield.

Judging from the numbers on the cavern floor, the druid assumed Szass Tam’s army had been eliminated at the claws of Maligor’s creatures, and the darkenbeasts were stationed here to prevent Brenna, Wynter, and him from going farther. He was certain other darkenbeasts were searching the tunnels for them.

Galvin clenched his fists, and for the first time in many long years—since he was a child of seven watching his parents hang—he truly feared death. Alone, Wynter, Brenna, and he couldn’t take on Maligor and his darkenbeasts. Nor could they run; Szass Tam would find them.

The druid feared he would die deep in the bowels of the gold mines. If only he could save Wynter and Brenna, he thought, if somehow he could buy time for them to leave…

Beyond the sea of darkenbeasts, which stretched from one end of the chamber to the other, the walls glistened. Thick streaks of gold flashed in the pale light of crystals whose blue gleam illuminated the room.

Brenna cringed behind the druid, horrified by the gruesome scene. Galvin turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“You and Wynter need to get out of the mines. I’m going to find Maligor and end this,” the druid stated softly.

“No!” Brenna gasped. Quickly Galvin moved a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“I can get past the darkenbeasts. You and Wynter can’t. If you stay here, sooner or later the darkenbeasts will see you. You have to find a way out.”

“We won’t leave you,” she said in hushed tones.

“You have to.” The druid glanced up at the centaur. “Wynter, get out of Thay. Take Brenna with you. Let the Harpers know what happened.”

The centaur nodded reluctantly.

The druid moved a few steps forward, clinging to the shadows of the tunnel for a moment more, not wanting to be discovered by Maligor’s creatures in the cavern beyond. Galvin closed his eyes and focused his mind on the mass of darkenbeasts.

The druid fell to all fours, his head twitching and his hands and feet quivering.

The enchantress glanced at Galvin, then at Wynter, uncertain of what to do. The centaur held her arm to keep her back, and in an instant, she saw Galvin’s face contort.

The bones in Galvin’s face cracked and popped as they pushed outward into a funnel-shaped beak filled with sharp, jagged teeth. His eyes shrunk into his sockets and became red pinpoints beneath a bony brow.

The druid groaned again; this transformation was particularly painful and unnatural. His sides heaved as thin membranes found their way through the chain shirt on each side of his chest and attached themselves to arms that were becoming covered with a yellowish-brown hide. Galvin’s legs shriveled and jerked while his body took on a vaguely reptilian appearance and his clothes and skin vanished beneath the leathery exterior. A barbed tail sprouted from his rump and quivered. His batlike wings flapped against the shaft floor, and the darkenbeast-druid lifted its head on a thin, bony neck bearing a white crescent moon. The wings flapped again, and the creature propelled itself out of the tunnel and into the chamber beyond.

The stench of the cloud of darkenbeasts assailed the druid as he glided over the bodies of skeletons and zombies and joined with the malign creatures hovering overhead. The darkenbeasts were so numerous that the druid couldn’t count them. Hundreds of animals perverted by the Red Wizard, he thought. Galvin fought back a wave of nausea and kept his mind occupied by thinking of Brenna and Wynter.

Several minutes passed … then a half-hour. The druid hoped Wynter was leading the sorceress out of the mine. An hour drifted by, the druid estimated. Then finally part of the cloud separated, and a few dozen of the beasts peeled off and headed down a tunnel. Galvin followed them.

Through a darkened maze of twisting tunnels, the darkenbeasts and the druid flew. In places, they virtually hovered as they navigated sharp turns. The tunnels angled sharply downward, and at one point, it appeared the tunnel ahead had collapsed. The darkenbeasts veered off into a natural chamber to the north, from which the sounds of picks hitting rocks drifted. The druid hovered behind his sorcerous brethren to scrutinize the battered support beams. It appeared they had been hacked through with some kind of weapon. Perhaps that part of the mine was no longer valuable, the druid surmised.

Flying into the natural chamber to catch up with the darkenbeasts, the druid’s beak flew open in surprise. The walls of this cavern looked as if they had been painted with gold. The veins were so thick and so close together that little of the rock showed between them. A crew of slave miners was hard at work mining the area.

Beating his wings faster, Galvin caught up with the grotesque flock. The darkenbeasts wound through a series of small chambers, all circled by thick veins of ore. The last chamber they entered was huge—larger even than the one in which the skeletons and zombies had died. Magical orbs of light spaced about the room caused the thick veins to shine and made them look like gold ribbons circling and dancing about the cavern.

All the men working here had long, tangled hair, pale white skin, and bony frames, evidence they had been slaving here for years. They struck at the veins with their picks almost in unison, as if their movements were orchestrated. All but one man, that is. At the far edge of the cavern, standing on a rise of rocks several feet above the chamber floor, was a red-robed man with a mass of black hair and a well-nourished frame. A white skull on a black field gleamed in the magical light. Maligor.

The druid’s heart raced.

Galvin hid amidst the group of darkenbeasts, which had begun to circle the chamber. Concentrating, he focused on a knob of rock against the wall behind the Red Wizard. It quivered as the druid mentally shaped it, willing it to come forward. For an instant, the rock trembled, then it shot forward like a fist, striking Maligor solidly in the back.

The Red Wizard fell face forward from his stone pedestal to the floor of the cavern below. The slaves dropped their picks and looked blankly about the chamber. With Maligor unconscious, or perhaps dead, the wizard’s control on the slaves was over. Still flying with the darkenbeasts, Galvin watched as the slave miners glanced at the chamber walls, then at Maligor, who appeared to be still breathing. A handful of the slaves grabbed their picks, and for a moment, the druid thought they would begin working on the mines again. But instead the men began to advance toward Maligor, the picks raised above their heads.