Red Magic (34 page)

The druid watched as his one-time brothers took to flight in the chamber to join hundreds of other creatures just like them. The things skimmed below the ceiling, clung to the walls, and voiced their hideous screams.

Galvin felt himself being lifted again, beginning the long ascent to the laboratory.

Trembling, the druid severed his mental link with the hedgehog to see Brenna staring at him. Clutching the animal to his chest, he whirled from the table and started toward the door.

“Come on!” the druid urged. “I’ve got a few things to do before we start after Maligor. And we’ve left Wynter alone far too long.”

“Do you know where Maligor’s going?” Brenna asked, hurrying to catch up with him and stepping over the pile of ashes beyond the doorway, the remnants of the Red Wizard’s apprentice.

“Not yet. But I know what he’s up to.” The druid took the steps two at a time and quickly found himself back with the slaves he had left in the apprentices’ chambers.

Rushing inside, Galvin found the slaves going through the apprentices’ belongings, taking objects that might be valuable. He disregarded their looting and strode to the nearest man.

“Take care of these animals. Get them food, water,” Galvin ordered. “Keep them under close watch for a while. They’re not healthy enough to be turned loose.” Gently he handed the mole and hedgehog to the man. Brenna gave the hare to the slave girl from Aglarond.

“Somehow we have to get below the tower,” Galvin said. “Maligor’s got creatures there like the one that attacked us at our camp.”

“What are you talking about?” Brenna was perplexed and a little worried about the druid’s agitated state.

“I don’t have time to explain now. We’ve got to hurry.”

“But we’ve been all over the ground floor,” she sputtered. “There was nothing below that tower.”

“He’s got some kind of a secret door,” Galvin said quickly. Then he pounded down the stairs, pulling Brenna along with him, until he stopped on the third floor. He released her hand and strode to the chamber where they had left the pleasure slaves. The chest was still secure against the doors, but Wynter was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn!” he exclaimed. “I should never have asked him to stay here. He’s like a child.” The druid pushed the chest aside and threw open the doors. The scantily clad pleasure slaves stared at him nervously.

“Get out of here!” Galvin shouted. “Maligor won’t be back. Run! Get as far away from this evil place as you can. You’re free.” He spun back toward the hall, not waiting to watch their response. He charged off to find the centaur.

“Why are you so certain the Red Wizard won’t be back?” Brenna asked as she hurried to keep up with him.

“Because I’m going to find him, Brenna, and when I do, I’m going to kill him.”

They ran down one corridor after another, throwing open doors to rooms and calling for Wynter.

The color drained from Galvin’s face as he searched, fearing for the safety of his confused friend. Galvin cursed himself for not keeping Wynter with him, but the druid had feared the centaur would slow them down. His equine legs weren’t meant for the spiral staircases.

With Brenna close behind him, the druid bolted into the kitchen to find Wynter staring at his reflection in the glass of the china cabinet. The centaur slowly turned, a puzzled expression etched on his tanned face.

“We’re in Thay, aren’t we?” Wynter stated simply. “I remember now.” He scratched at a circular scab on his temple. “I remember that I used to live in Thay, but I can’t remember why I’m here now.”

Brenna rushed to him and threw her arms about his waist. “We’ll help you remember, Wynter,” she said quickly.

“My head hurts, Brenna,” the centaur said, scratching at the scab again.

“Come on, both of you,” Galvin coaxed. The druid was relieved to find his friend, and he was encouraged that the centaur seemed to have recovered at least a little. But the druid was in a hurry to get below the castle. He was too close to discovering Maligor’s secret to slow down now.

In the hallway beyond the kitchen, Galvin began to pull tapestries and paintings from the wall, searching for some sign of a door that would lead to the chamber he had seen while he was linked to the hedgehog.

“He’s probably using magic to hide the door you’re looking for, altering its appearance to blend in with the walls. There are certain spells designed to mask such things.” Brenna’s voice was tinged with concern. “We don’t have much more time, Galvin. We’ve been here several hours already. The undead outside …”

“Are no doubt getting anxious—at least the ones that can think. I know, we’ve got to hurry and find some answers or they’ll turn on us or force us to march after the gnolls right away. I’m not even sure we should be going after the gnoll army—not if we want to catch Maligor.” He stroked his chin, then began to examine the walls carefully. “I think I know how to get us underground, although not without a lot of effort. I should have done this to begin with.”

The druid dropped to his knees before the smooth stone wall. Spreading his fingers wide along the base of the stone, he placed his forehead against the wall, almost as if he were pushing against it. Then he began to hum a low, simple tune Brenna had never heard. As a child, the sorceress had been told stories that powerful druids were able to talk to the very earth, get stones to speak, dirt to sing, and the ground to reveal its secrets. She hadn’t dreamed that Galvin possessed such abilities.

The young councilwoman always assumed that the arcane energies of magic were the most powerful forces in the realm. Yet without any of that, using merely simple gesture and tune, the druid was performing a type of magic she thought was only legend.

Suddenly the stone began to hum back, a low, deep, vibrating sound.

She watched Galvin tremble and begin to perspire, as if the effort of talking to the stone was taking everything out of him. The druid continued the process for nearly half an hour, then collapsed, gasping, against the wall. Much to her amazement, Brenna noticed that the wall was also sweating. Brenna rushed to him and used her robe to dab his face.

“Galvin, are you all right? Please tell me you’re all right. Did you actually speak to the wall? Did you?”

“I’ll… be okay,” he said weakly. “It’s magic I don’t call upon often because it takes so much out of me—and out of the rock. Stone always seems to think it has all the time in the world to say what it has to say.” He steadied himself against the wall with both hands, drawing in as much air as his lungs could hold.

“We’re going to have to convince the undead to wait awhile longer. I’m not going to be able to go anywhere for several hours now. You’d better let the wraiths inside the tower and I’ll tell them.”

“What did you find out?” Brenna’s curiosity couldn’t be contained.

“Let the wraiths in first. I only want to go through this once.”

Brenna shivered. The last thing she wanted was to deal with the undead again, but she accepted the fact that Galvin was right—the dead would have to be told what was going on, or they weren’t likely to continue to cooperate.

Within moments, the dark shapes were swirling about the druid, begging him to extinguish some of the candles so they could move about more comfortably.

“Weak you are,” the closest one whispered to the druid in haunting tones. The wraith tried to hover where the light was softest. “Perhaps you will be with us soon, wrapped in the sweet embrace of death.”

“Noooo,” another groaned, its raspy voice unnerving Wynter and Brenna. Galvin was too exhausted to be bothered by its unnatural speech. “The human cannot yet kiss the rich, dark earth of the grave, the welcoming taste of unlife. Szass Tam, the death master, thinks we need a living man to lead us.” The wraith floated to the floor, bringing its amorphous black face mere inches from the druid’s chin. “We can suck the last breath from your weak, mortal lungs later, bestowing upon you a precious demise. You can live forever in death. But you must be well now.”

“I’m not dying. I’m just tired.” Galvin grimaced. “Remember when you were alive? You used to get tired, too. Or is that too far beyond your memories?”

The wraiths ignored Galvin’s jibe and continued to pester him.

“We must go,” the wraiths began to chant, repeating the phrase until their voices sounded like a swarm of insects.

The one nearest Galvin rose several feet into the air. “The sun will rise soon, and then we must flee to the embrace of darkness. We must pursue the gnolls—now.”

“We wouldn’t get far before the sun rises,” Galvin said evenly. “Listen to me. I’ve found out something, something most perplexing. I’m not certain that Maligor is with the gnoll army. I think he is with another army, one with numbers and power to truly concern Szass Tam.

“This is an army of malevolent, flying beasts, all under Maligor’s control. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of the things. Maligor calls them darkenbeasts. This army flew out of the tower shortly after the gnolls left, when this place was surrounded by a thick, quick-settling fog.” The druid paused to take a deep breath. “It’s doubtful anyone in Amruthar saw the army of darkenbeasts. The gnolls could be just a ruse, a trick.”

Outwardly, the wraiths appeared no different, though their hollow voices carried a hint of surprise. “All those gnolls—a mere distraction?”

“A diversion,” Galvin agreed. He eased himself to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. He was still weak, and he hoped the wraiths would cooperate, because he didn’t have the strength to oppose them now. “Everyone is paying attention to Maligor’s gnolls—even the mighty Szass Tam. With everyone preoccupied, Maligor’s darkenbeasts are free to strike elsewhere.”

“What are his real plans?” the largest wraith howled, as he hovered just beyond the druid. “Where did Maligor go? Szass Tam must know. Tell us.”

“I don’t know any more. But we’re going to find out. I’m going to need your help, though, and at the same time, I’m going to help you. There are several levels below this tower. They should be a good place for you to stay when the daylight comes.”

The wraiths protested waiting any longer, but Brenna convinced them that Galvin wasn’t able to travel now. In the end, they followed the druid to a section of wall the stones had told the druid about. He pushed against it, and it slid wide, revealing a curving staircase that descended into darkness.

Galvin told the wraiths to seek out the bottommost levels, where the staircase seemed to disappear and an overpowering stench pervaded the air. The creatures could move quickly, could see without light, and didn’t seem likely to mind the rotting smell. They seemed to take a perverse glee in the task.

“The first underground level is ours,” Galvin told Brenna, steadying himself against the wall. “The stone spoke of great horrors there. Wynter, come with us.”

Brenna helped support the weakened druid as they made their way down the series of smooth stone steps. The centaur followed awkwardly. Wynter had difficulty negotiating the stairwell and had to bend his human torso forward to avoid scraping his head on the ceiling. He was comforted when Brenna and Galvin finally left the staircase and entered a wide, high corridor. Here the odor of death and decay wasn’t too overpowering. The trio discovered lanterns placed along the walls and lit them to reveal a series of barred cells. The iron bars were thickly encrusted with filth and rust, and the straw that poked between the bars was moldy and crawling with insects.

A ring of keys hung in the center of the corridor, obviously beyond the reach of the cells’ inhabitants, but within sight of most of them.

Brenna left Galvin’s side and rose to her tiptoes to pull the ring loose. She hurried to the closest cell, then fumbled with the keys until she found the correct one. Throwing the door open, she stepped inside and glanced about. Twisted, tortured bodies hung from manacles. The wounds in their flesh looked deep, but the pain wasn’t what had killed them. Their swollen, cracked lips and protruding ribs attested to the fact that they had starved to death. Brenna gasped and proceeded to investigate the cells.

Wynter tried to help her, but he found the cell doors were too small to accommodate his equine frame. Instead, he stood out in the hall and strained to listen.

“All the cells are like this,” Brenna announced when she was through, her disgust apparent in her voice. “All the occupants are dead. It’s as if Maligor forgot about them and simply let them starve.”

“Maybe,” Galvin said. The druid was leaning against the door to the farthest cell and peering inside. “Bring the keys over here Brenna.”

The enchantress hurried over and quickly unlatched the door. Galvin entered first, then turned and held out his hand to her. Taking it, Brenna climbed down the few steps to the cell floor. This cell was cleaner than the others, but splotches of dried blood covered most of the surface and partially obliterated a map that lay spread out on the floor.

Brenna bent to tug the parchment loose from the floor and study it. It was crude map, drawn with a shaky hand. The map depicted tunnels and traps and bore a few markings she couldn’t decipher. She showed it to the druid, then blanched as he leaned against the wall to brace himself.

“You’re weak. You need to rest,” she admonished.

The druid nodded, too exhausted to argue.

They carried their find upstairs, noticing that the candles they had lit had all burned out. The trio had been below ground more than an hour, and the first rays of the dawning sun were spilling in through the windows and reflecting off the marble floor.

Galvin padded through the main hallway until he reached the doors through which they had entered the tower. He still moved unsteadily in his weakened state, and he tottered when he threw open the doors. Wynter trotted after him, the clip-clop of the centaur’s hooves reverberating off the polished marble floor.

Brenna remained inside, studying the map and wondering what Galvin was doing. The clink of bones and swish of old, tattered cloth told her. He was ushering all of the undead inside to keep them from worrying Amruthar’s citizens and from wandering away. The sorceress went several feet up the staircase and sat down to avoid rubbing up against the ambling corpses that flooded the hallway. The druid directed the skeletons and zombies down to the chambers below and called out to the wraiths to take charge of the other undead.