Red Magic (36 page)

“There’s a small hamlet ahead,” Galvin said as he put on his chain shirt. He turned to Brenna and extended his hand for his close helm. The enchantress ignored his gesture and leaned over to place the helmet on his head herself. “Everything appears normal.”

“Are we going to stop there and rest?” Wynter asked, overhearing the druid.

“No. We’re going around it. No use upsetting the villagers. And no use alerting people who might be sympathetic to Maligor. It’s bad enough to be by guards when we pass the orchards.”

Galvin directed the undead in a broad arc around the settlement. It was nearly midnight by the time the army had circumvented the hamlet and was again on the road to the hills. For several more hours, the force continued to plod onward, the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves mingling with the tinkling of skeletal bones.

Shortly before dawn, the army reached the edge of a lime grove. The druid decided to camp here, since he, Wynter, Brenna, and the horses needed to rest. As the first rays of the sun peeked through the trees, the trio watched incredulously as the wraiths huddled near the ground, then appeared to seep into the very cracks in the earth. The druid wondered if the undead would stay there until dark or could travel underground.

Shortly before noon, the army started north again. The breeze had picked up and was coming from the direction of the far hills, carrying with it billowy clouds and the fragrant scent of lime blossoms. The druid sniffed the air.

“It’s going to rain today, maybe in a few hours—sooner if the wizards decide to tamper with the weather,” Galvin announced.

“What do you think we’ll find at the mines?” Brenna posed. “Maligor may have been there for a day already.”

“Maybe he’s dead,” Wynter speculated. “The mines are well guarded. The tharchion in charge is a man to be reckoned with.”

“Maligor’s alive,” Galvin said finally. “I think Szass Tam would know if his rival was dead.”

The centaur glanced back at the columns of zombies and skeletons. “In any event,” Wynter said, “we’ll know in another two or three days.”

The Harpers and Brenna passed most of the day in silence, tolerating the midafternoon downpour and staring at the lush countryside, where apple orchards and groves of citrus trees dominated. In the distance, to the east and west, and in between the rows of fruit-laden trees, they saw farmland.

By sunset, the orchards were behind them, and they found themselves on a prairie dotted with waist-high wild flowers. Far to the east, Galvin saw a complex of buildings, which had to be immense considering they could be seen from so far away. Wynter explained that it was a slave plantation and most of the buildings were barracks for the slaves.

The army marched until dusk, when the buildings were lost from sight. After resting for several hours, they resumed the trek shortly before midnight, and by morning they were in the foothills.

“We’ve been making good time. Do you think we’ll reach the mines by nightfall?” Brenna asked Galvin.

The druid was eager to find Maligor and finish Szass Tam’s task. He pulled out the crude map, then glanced at it and the hills.

“I doubt it,” Wynter interposed before Galvin could speak. The centaur had also been eyeing the hills. “We probably won’t even make it by tomorrow morning—and that’s provided the map is reliable. These hills, if I remember correctly, are riddled with caves. Finding the mine might not be easy. Then we have the undead to consider.”

The enchantress looked at Wynter quizzically.

The centaur laughed and waved his arm, indicating the skeletons and zombies. “As difficult a time as I have dealing with obstacles and hills, they’ll have a worse time. Their bony feet might have trouble finding purchase.”

Brenna scowled. “It shouldn’t be a problem in the low hills,” she decided, pointing at the foothills, “but when we get farther up, maybe we’ll have to leave some of them behind. Or maybe we can find a path with better footing. There’s got to be a path or road leading to the mine.”

Galvin was only vaguely paying attention to his friends’ conversation. He had been scrutinizing the ground around the foothills, looking for tracks, anything to indicate that others had been this way within the past few days. However, he found only signs of small animals. The druid dismounted and led his big mare toward a dead tree at the beginning of a rise. Wrapping the reins loosely about a branch, he neighed and whinnied at the animal, instructing it to stay in the area until he returned.

“Time’s wasting,” Galvin said, starting up the low rise and motioning for Wynter, Brenna, and the undead to follow him.

The sorceress left her horse near his and sprinted to catch up. Wynter ambled behind them.

The low portion of the hills was much like a savanna, covered with grasses that stretched nearly three feet high. Trees were scattered over the hillsides, their trunks swollen with water and their leafy tops flat. Traveling was difficult because of the incline, and the heat was oppressive, causing Galvin and Wynter to shed their armor. They toted it behind them, bundled inside their cloaks. Bare-chested, they found the warmth easier to handle, especially when an occasional breeze whipped over the savannah, cooling them as it evaporated the sweat from their bodies.

Wynter explained as they traveled that the wizards had no need to make it rain near the mines, since the hills were devoid of crops. Still, the natural rains seemed enough to support the trees and grasses.

By nightfall, their course steepened even more, and Galvin located a wide, well-worn path with deep wagon ruts. Although the Harpers and Brenna were nearly exhausted because they had been pushing themselves so hard, they forced themselves to continue, climbing the steep slope, slowing only when Wynter had difficulty negotiating the sharper grades.

The vegetation had changed once again to resemble a montane forest, and the air was cooler at this elevation. The army pressed on until shortly before dawn, when the trees began to thin.

Brenna was pale from exertion, and even Wynter and Galvin were glad to stop and rest. The druid directed the undead to spread themselves out among the trees, hoping the cover would lessen their chances of being spotted by any patrols or by wizards magically scrying the area.

Lying down on the ground, under the shade of a thick-leafed tree he couldn’t identify, the druid again studied the map. “These marks in the tunnel indicate something—maybe traps, maybe veins of gold, maybe guards. There are two large Xs right outside the mine entrance. I wonder what they indicate.”

“Worrying about it won’t get you an answer,” Wynter said, stretching himself out on a large patch of soft grass and folding his hoofed legs beneath him. “Wake me in a few hours and I’ll stand watch.”

The enchantress settled herself next to the druid and eyed the map. Galvin rubbed her head. “You get some sleep, too.”

As the sun set, painting the mountain peaks vermilion, Galvin moved the undead forward once more. He noticed fewer and fewer animal tracks as they ascended. With the decline in vegetation, there was less food to support wildlife. Bamboo grew in small clumps to either side of the path; the druid suspected a band of bamboo grew at this altitude all the way around the mountain.

In another few hours the bamboo thinned, too, then disappeared, to be replaced by short, coarse grass. The druid noted the caves that dotted the mountainside, but he avoided them. No paths led to them, nor was the ground smooth enough around them to indicate the presence of miners who had tramped the earth flat. As the army continued its climb, the druid began quizzing the few birds he spotted, chirping to them in their own language and learning that a congregation of men could be found on the northern exposure of the mountain.

Within a few hours more, shortly before dawn, the druid found a wide, winding road capped by torches that led to a large black opening in the rocks. It was obviously the entrance to the Thayvian mines.

“Should I go ahead and see what’s going on?” the centaur suggested.

The druid shook his head. “They must know we’re coming. Their sentries have probably spotted us in the distance. The night hides our numbers, but it doesn’t hide the fact that there’s an army on the mountain.”

Galvin took several deep breaths and mentally ran through the possibilities. If Maligor had control of the mines, he would have been there for three or four days. The druid’s force would be fighting the wizard’s darkenbeasts and any other defenses he might have added. If Maligor’s forces were defeated, but the Red Wizard still lived, their task might take them elsewhere in the pursuit of him.

He glanced at Brenna. She appeared worried, her lips pursed in concern.

“Let’s see the mine up close,” the enchantress said, placing a hand around the pouch that held her spell components and returning Galvin’s stare evenly.

The macabre army wound its way up the mountain to the edge of a plateau ringed with torches. A quintet of miners, armed with picks, stood at the entrance to the shaft, a massive black maw between two large oval-shaped rocks. Galvin padded forward, and the eldest miner, a squat, middle-aged, hairless man with a barrel of a chest, stepped forward to meet him.

“Halt!” boomed the man, who sported a tattoo on his brow, barely visible in the torchlight. The tattoo was of a taloned hand, the symbol of Malar The Beastlord.

Galvin stopped and scrutinized the ground, looking for traces of blood and other signs of a struggle. He saw only footprints, likely belonging to the miners.

“I’m the tharchion here, and you are trespassing,” the man stated, showing no fear at the throng of skeletons behind the druid. “Turn your creatures around. We have no place for dead men at the mines.”

“We’re looking for the one who controls the mines,” Galvin returned.

“I control the mines,” the man replied. “Who is your master? Which Red Wizard do you serve?”

Wynter moved between Galvin and the human. “Tharchion,” he said, “our force is not here to attack the mines. Szass Tam, who directs the undead behind us, is fully aware that the mines belong to all the Red Wizards.”

“Then leave!” the tharchion sputtered. “My men must get back to work. Leave now, or I warn you, I will summon my guards to fight your corpses! I’ll call the magic of the mines down on you! You’ll all perish!”

Wynter was persistent. “We want some information, that’s all.”

“Be quick about it, then,” snapped the tharchion.

“Just answer a few questions and we’ll leave. We came here to learn about Zulkir Maligor.”

“Maligor isn’t here,” the tharchion sputtered. The stout man reddened in anger, puffed out his considerable chest, and pointed down the mountain. “Leave while you can.”

Galvin moved to Wynter’s side. The enchantress stayed in the background, digging in her pouch for precious components. She began a simple spell, wanting to know if the tharchion was telling them the truth.

“Was he here?” Wynter continued.

“No!” the tharchion hissed.

The centaur eyed the tharchion, annoyed by his manners. “Maligor moved a large force north recently. Have you seen it? Have you heard rumors of it?”

“Maligor’s force might not have been human,” the druid added.

“I’ve seen nothing unusual,” the tharchion replied, appearing more calm. “The slaves and guards would have reported anything out of the ordinary.” The tharchion squinted his eyes, then they flew open, as if he had just thought of something.

“But I have heard rumors about trouble to the south. Something about an army of Maligor’s gnolls. If your master, Szass Tam, is having difficulties with Maligor, you should investigate to the south. Now leave! Get those stinking undead out of here!”

“We’re sorry to have inconvenienced you, tharchion. Our apologies.” Wynter turned, being careful not to lose his footing, and headed down the mountain. The undead did not move until Galvin started after him.

Brenna grasped the druid’s arm as he passed by. “He’s lying,” she whispered. “Trust me. He’s lying about something—about Maligor’s forces, about not seeing anything, perhaps. I think he knows a lot more than he’s telling you.”

“What are you saying?” the tharchion bellowed, striding toward the enchantress.

“I was telling my friend you should be concerned about Maligor,” Brenna replied, meeting the squat man’s gaze.

“The mines might be his target. He could be after them!”

“I told you to leave—you, your stinking undead, all of you. You’re breaking Thayvian law by disrupting the operation of the mines. I could have you eviscerated—or worse!” the tharchion bellowed. “I know nothing of Maligor’s plans, so crawl back to Szass Tam.”

“Liar!” Brenna cried, watching for a reaction. “I bet you’re in league with Maligor. I bet you know where he is.”

“I’ll see you dead!” the tharchion hissed. “The Council of Zulkirs will be told about this—in full.” He waved one thick arm, and the quartet of miners rushed forward, raising their picks above their heads threateningly.

Brenna stepped behind Galvin, her fingers twirling. Feigning fear, she began to mumble softly so the tharchion couldn’t tell she was casting a spell.

The tharchion’s eyes narrowed to slits so thin they appeared to be closed. He moved until he could see the sorceress, then began to twitch his fingers and mouth his own arcane words.

Wynter had whirled around when he heard the confrontation and headed back to the plateau. The skeletons and zombies shuffled behind him, struggling to keep their balance on the steep incline.

“Kill them!” the tharchion screamed as he continued to manipulate his fingers. The quartet of miners moved forward, and Wynter reared back and charged the closest one. Galvin leapt at another one, willing his body to change as he dove at the tallest miner. The druid’s body sprouted short yellow-orange fur that flowed like water over his arms, legs, and clothing. His chest thickened, his legs became feline and muscular, and his facial features melted away to reveal the snarling visage of a jaguar. The big cat extended its claws as it closed the distance to its quarry.

At the same time, the undead began to swarm forward on the plateau, their bony feet clicking over the rocks.