Red Magic (3 page)

“Harper?” the gnoll growled.

“I am a Harper,” the man replied. “The one you seek.”

“Harper alone?” the gnoll spat. “Harper have gold? Harper important? Harper have friends near?” He waved his spear for emphasis.

“I’m alone, as agreed. I’m called Galvin. You don’t need to know anything else about me.”

Galvin pulled the collar of his tunic down to let Mudwort see the silver neck chain from which dangled a miniature crescent moon affixed to a silver harp. The charm flashed in the moonlight and made the gnoll wonder how much it was worth.

“Harper symbol,” Mudwort verified.

Galvin covered the neck chain and tossed the gnoll a black velvet bag. Mudwort’s thick, hairy fingers grabbed for it but missed, and it dropped to the ground with a soft thud. Mudwort fell to examine the contents like a wolf devouring a fresh kill. Running his fingers over each gold coin he pulled from the bag, he attempted to count it. The gnoll enjoyed spying; he collected regular pay from Maligor and from other Red Wizards who paid for information about his master. This was the first time he had spied for someone other than a wizard—and had gone beyond Thay’s boundaries to do so.

Giving up on getting an exact tally of the coins, the gnoll scooped the gold back into the bag and cradled it in his hand, trying to weigh it to gauge its value. After a moment, Mudwort rose, brusquely wiped a long strand of saliva away from his jaws, and growled at the Harper.

“Not enough. My talk costs more, Galvin!”

“That’s just to get your tongue moving,” the Harper answered. “There’ll be more if your ‘talk’ is useful.” The gold belonged to the Aglarond council, which had asked Galvin to contact the spy. There were rumors of Thayvian forces growing, and the council wondered if Aglarond, Thay’s neighbor to the west, could be a target. The council members needed to know if they should prepare for war.

The Harper disliked wars. No matter who won, they caused a senseless loss of life. And the land, which would be soaked with blood by the end of the battle, was usually the greatest casualty.

The gnoll interrupted the Harper’s thoughts. “Mudwort knows valuable things. Mudwort knows that Red Wizard Maligor wants land. Maligor is greedy and thinks he needs more land than other wizards have.”

The gnoll pawed at a small cloud of gnats forming around his face. He glowered at Galvin and plopped down on a log, easing the burden from his callused feet. Balancing the spear across his lap for security, he pushed Galvin’s money pouch into the dirty canvas sack that hung from his side.

“More gold now,” Mudwort demanded.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” the Harper said evenly, planting himself in front of the gnoll and fixing his eyes on Mudwort’s. “Who is Maligor?”

“A Red Wizard. I told you.”

“Beyond that,” the Harper persisted.

“Important,” Mudwort spat. “Powerful. Maligor rich, too.”

The druid sighed, quickly growing frustrated. “What does he look like?”

“Like other wizards. Maligor bald. Maligor old, wrinkled. Maligor wear red.”

“Where is Maligor?” The druid moved closer.

“In Thay.”

“I know that,” Galvin spat. “Where in Thay?”

“In Am-roo-thar,” Mudwort replied. “Am-roo-thar is a city in Thay.”

Galvin began pacing in front of Mudwort, angry that the answers had to be pulled from the gnoll’s feeble brain.

“What land does Maligor want?”

The gnoll pawed again at the growing cloud of gnats attracted by his saliva. “Don’t know. Didn’t ask.”

“How is he going to get the land?”

Mudwort brightened and thumped his breast with his left fist. His smile revealed a row of yellowed, pointed teeth. “Gnolls get it for him,” he answered proudly. “Maligor has many, many gnolls. Gnolls fierce warriors.”

The gnoll eyed the Harper, trying to gauge the wealth the human carried while waiting for the next question. But the Harper remained quiet, rubbing his hairless chin in thought. The silence bothered the gnoll.

“Done now?” Mudwort’s impatience surfaced. “Mudwort get more gold and Mudwort leave.” The gnoll was worried; he had been away from Maligor’s keep for several days and didn’t want the wizard to discover him missing.

“No, you’re not done.” Galvin had a considerable amount of patience, but Mudwort was wearing it thin. Something was indeed up in Thay, at least with a particular wizard, the Harper decided. Perhaps the Aglarond council had reason to worry. He hoped there was enough gold in his belt pouch to satisfy the gnoll spy. Drawing out a large handful of coins, the Harper held them just beyond Mudwort’s reach.

“Why does Maligor want more land?” The Harper’s voice was even and commanding.

“Not sure,” Mudwort retorted, staring at the mound of coins. “Maybe wizard needs more land for the gnolls. Many, many gnolls work for wizard. Barracks crowded.” The gnoll spoke slowly, pausing between his words, trying to decide what to do about the Harper. “Maybe Maligor wants this land,” he added, “This good land. Mudwort could like staying here.

“Maybe wizard Maligor need different land, tired of old land. Maybe he just wants to make Thay bigger.” Mudwort growled for emphasis and swallowed a gob of spittle that had been trying to escape his mouth. “Give Mudwort more gold. Mudwort talk enough.”

Frowning, Galvin brought his face mere inches from the gnoll’s, ignoring its rancid breath. The Harper believed he was close to gaining some vital information.

“You want more gold?” the Harper began. “Then tell me where in Amruthar I can find Maligor.”

The gnoll snorted. The information he had been passing on to the Harper was common knowledge in Amruthar. Still, it was another matter to reveal the Red Wizard’s present location to an outsider. Perhaps it was a test, Mudwort considered. Maybe the Harper was Maligor’s puppet, and the Red Wizard was testing the gnoll’s loyalty.

“Mudwort done,” the gnoll announced, deciding it was past time to return to the safety of his brother gnolls’ company. “Mudwort leaving. Mudwort been gone too long anyway.” He clumsily rose from the log, using the spear for support. Glancing toward the pond, he spotted his shield lying at its edge and started for it.

“No!” Galvin bellowed, his patience unraveled. “We are not done. You have a lot more information floating around inside your flea-sized brain.” The Harper’s arm shot out to grab the gnoll by the shoulder. His intention was to spin Mudwort around, but the gnoll was too massive, and too late the Harper realized his abrupt action might be read as an attack.

The gnoll furiously whirled, his left claw striking out at Galvin’s stomach, ripping the olive-green tunic and knocking the human down. Mudwort quickly pressed his attack, making a short thrust at Galvin’s chest with the spear.

Cursing himself for being careless with the slow-witted, evil creature, the Harper rolled to the side, attempting to avoid the weapon, but the shaft sank deep into his left shoulder, pinning him to the damp ground. Blood spurted from the wound and onto the grass, making the gnoll’s eyes widen in morbid anticipation. Mudwort forced his advantage, threatening with his sharp claws.

Galvin cast his right arm across his chest and tried to pull the spear free, but the weapon held him painfully fast. He kicked at the gnoll to slow the creature’s deadly advance, buying the Harper a few precious seconds.

In that time, Galvin’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and his smooth, exposed skin began to sprout thick, black fur. The hair quickly raced across his prone body to obscure his clothes, while at the same time, the Harper’s form expanded, becoming wider, more muscular. The tanned skin on Galvin’s face also covered itself with fur, and his mouth pushed upward into a muzzle more massive than the gnoll’s and filled with larger, sharper, considerably whiter teeth.

The Harper’s transformation continued, his hands becoming wide, thick paws and his fingers long claws made for rending. Galvin’s chest swelled as his ribs expanded outward, and his lungs voiced a deep, angry growl that reverberated throughout the clearing.

Mudwort stood transfixed as a silvery white patch of hair in the shape of a crescent moon appeared on the cave bear’s throat.

“Red Wizard tricks!” the gnoll screamed as he backed away, uncertain of what to do. “Leave Mudwort be!”

Galvin’s new form was stronger, although blinded by pain. This time when his right paw moved to bat at the spear, the wood splintered easily, freeing him. Blood still poured from the wound, matting the black fur and making it glisten, but the bear disregarded the injury and the part of the spear that still remained in its shoulder. It focused on the gnoll, the source of its pain, and lumbered forward.

Mudwort screamed again and ran blindly from the clearing. The gnoll’s legs pounded over the earth frantically as he brushed past branches and leaped over rocks and logs in his terror-filled flight.

The cave bear pursued, effortlessly catching up to its quarry, which stank strongly of fear. Rising on its great hind legs, the bear towered above the fleeing gnoll. Slashing with its claws, it raked Mudwort’s back, cutting through the leather armor and drawing blood. The gnoll shrieked in surprise and agony and swiveled to face his attacker, futilely throwing his shaggy arms across his face to fend off another blow. The bear struck again, this time shredding the front of the gnoll’s uniform.

Mudwort’s cries were cut off in a gurgling spasm as a third swipe bludgeoned him to the ground. Blood oozed from the gnoll’s gaping mouth. The bear nudged the dying body, sniffed it, then padded to the pond’s edge and sat back on its haunches to lick its left shoulder. Gradually the bear’s fur vanished, and Galvin, bathed in sweat and covered with both the gnoll’s blood and his own, became human again.

The Harper heard the gnoll gasp, and he rushed to the creature’s side, unmindful of his own pain.

“Harper wizard,” the gnoll whispered as his eyes locked onto Galvin’s. Mudwort shuddered once, then died.

“I’m no wizard. I’m a druid. And I’m very sorry.” Galvin stared at the dead gnoll for several long minutes. The creature’s death could have been avoided, the Harper knew.

He was disgusted with himself for losing control when he transformed into the cave bear. Although his druidic skills allowed him to take the shape of various creatures while retaining his human intelligence, the pain in his shoulder had made it too difficult for him to concentrate. Galvin’s animal instincts had taken over. The druid gritted his teeth and pushed the broken spear shaft through his shoulder, forcing himself not to scream. Then he ripped the hem of his cloak to make a bandage for his shoulder. The wound demanded more attention, but he wanted to put some distance between himself and this area before he stopped to tend to it.

The Harper worked hurriedly to bury Mudwort’s body, spear, and shield. He didn’t want to take any chances that the gnoll might be found and suspicions aroused. Galvin knew it was essential that the Red Wizards remain oblivious to a Harper presence so close to Thay.

Finished with the grim task, Galvin turned west and sprinted from the clearing; he had someone else to meet before the night ended and before the pain in his shoulder overtook him. His hair streamed behind him as he passed through the brambles and vines. The Harper threw his head back to let the breeze wash over his face and cool him. Overhead, the sky was filled with a multitude of stars and one winged creature that looked gray in the light of the moon.

The darkenbeast flew over the escarpment, and like a knife, it cut through the sky and sped over the trees that dotted the land beyond Thay. Its keen, unnatural eyes pierced the darkness, spying sources of heat, small animals that skittered about the ground—and something more.

The darkenbeast located Mudwort moments after the cave bear had delivered its final blow. The arcane creature circled, watching the bear transform into a human who proceeded to bury the darkenbeast’s target. When the human ran from the pond’s edge, the darkenbeast paused, worrying. It feared retribution for returning to Maligor without having killed the gnoll.

It must bring the Red Wizard something, the darkenbeast decided.

The beast circled the clearing again and formulated a plan; perhaps if it killed the human and brought that body to the Red Wizard, it would be rewarded rather than punished. The darkenbeast set off after its new quarry, straining its small eyes to find evidence of the human’s passage through the brush.

Two

Galvin drove himself onward, trotting at an uneven pace for nearly an hour before the pain in his shoulder overwhelmed him, forcing him to pause beneath an ancient cedar. The druid intended to rest for only a few moments to inspect his bandage, but when he leaned back against the massive trunk, his knees buckled and he awkwardly slid down, snagging his cloak and catching his hair on the coarse bark before landing hard on his rump. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to blot out the ache and straighten himself up; he was successful only on the latter account, managing to brace himself against the damp, moss-covered ground with his right hand. He felt his left shoulder and upper arm growing numb from the loss of blood.

Galvin reached for the makeshift bandage. It was too dark to see clearly, but the druid could tell the cloth was warm and wet, blood-soaked and useless. He gritted his teeth and gently tugged it loose, working to replace it by tearing off another strip from his now-ruined cloak. Propping his head against the trunk, Galvin listened to the night sounds as he tied the new dressing tight and gathered his strength. He sniffed the air, straining to catch the scent of water but finding no trace. He was thirsty and wanted to clean his wound, but he knew he couldn’t afford to spend time searching for water. Already he was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open and concentrate. If he fell asleep now, he would not wake up in this world.

Pain wasn’t a new experience for the Harper. Galvin had been injured several times along the path to becoming a druid, particularly when he had tried to familiarize himself with the woods and their denizens. More than one wolf had misinterpreted the immature druid’s attempts at making friends, leaving Galvin with numerous scars and bruises. Eventually, however, Galvin had learned the language and mannerisms of most of the forest creatures and had been accepted by them. By studying druidic arts for nearly two decades, he had learned how to assume the animals’ forms. Galvin now believed himself to be about thirty summers old, though he hadn’t bothered to keep count. The animals never did, and the druid usually considered himself more animal than human. With few exceptions, he preferred the company of animals to that of people.