Red Magic h-3

by Jean Rabe

  At the same time, Brenna and Asp were about to be pushed over the edge of the plateau by the rocks and fallen skeletons. The naga wrapped her tail about a stone outcropping as the rocks pelted her. The dying naga reached toward Brenna, who had begun to slide slowly down the mountain, attempting to claw the enchantress's face.

  Brenna rolled to the side to avoid the naga's grasp. Her action only sped her descent down the slope, and she gritted her teeth in pain as her ribs bore the brunt of the ride. She heard the naga scream, then, glancing quickly upward, she saw a sizable rock crash into the naga's side, knocking her loose from the outcropping and sending her careening down the mountain slope.

  Brenna closed her eyes, ignored the pain, and concentrated on casting a spell. The enchantress's words were nearly lost in the slide as rocks of all sizes pounded over the side of the plateau toward her. Then she felt herself being lifted gently; in moments, she was floating above the rocks and tumbling zombies and skeletons, whose bony bodies were being split apart by the slide.

  Gasping for breath, the enchantress levitated toward the plateau, praying to find Galvin and Wynter alive.

  The hawk flew toward the mine shaft, willing his human form to return when he was safely within the mouth of the cave. The hawk's wings melted away and grew, becoming arms, and his claws lengthened into legs. Struggling to stay on his feet as the mountain continued to tremble, Galvin reached his hand out to touch a stone face.

  "Stop!" Galvin shouted, hoping to be heard above the pounding rocks. "You'll kill everyone!"

  "Tres-pass-ers die," the rock rumbled.

  "We're not trespassers!" the druid retorted, gasping for air as a shower of dirt fell from above the mine opening into his face.

  "Tres-pass-ers die," the rock repeated, reaching a rocky arm out from its body and grabbing the druid about the waist. The rock lifted Galvin off the ground, and its great stone eyes bore into his.

  The druid stared back, calling on his own magic, trying to speak to the rock as he had to the wall in Maligor's tower. "Stop this!" he croaked, straining to clear his lungs.

  The rock pulled him closer, until Galvin's face was only inches from its right eye. It studied the druid for several long moments, then closed its stony eyelids and the rumbling ceased.

  "We're not trespassers," Galvin repeated, extricating himself from the rock's grasp. "We're Harpers, and we're here to help." Taking a step backward from the living boulder, the druid looked frantically about the plateau, searching for some sign of Brenna. His heart hammered in his chest, fearing she had been killed.

  "Wynter!" Galvin cried. "Where's Brenna?"

  "I saw her go over the side," the centaur said. "I couldn't reach her."

  The druid bolted from the living rock, coming to a stop when he reached the edge of the plateau and saw the enchantress float into view. "Brenna!" he called, embracing her when she glided to the ground in front of him. He held her for only a moment, then tugged her toward the mine opening.

  The living boulders were watching them.

  "What are you?" Wynter gasped as he faced the boulders. The pounding rocks had injured his human chest and horse underbelly, and it hurt him to breathe and talk. He gently prodded his horse side, checking for broken ribs.

  "Galeb duhr," one said slowly. Then he went on to explain in his deep voice that he was one of a race of rock creatures whose lifespans dwarfed those of Faerun's humans and demihumans.

  "Guard-i-ans," the other stated. "We watch the mine."

  "We're not after the mine," Wynter offered, gesturing at the mountain and the land below. "In fact, we're here to protect it."

  The galeb duhr on the north side of the mine entrance wrinkled its craggy nose and stared past the Harpers and Brenna toward the remaining undead who were clawing their way onto the edge of the plateau. Only a handful of skeletons had survived the pummeling, and the zombies' numbers were halved. The wraiths and shadows seemed unaffected.

  "The dead men will help the mine, too?" the rock's booming voice was tinged with sarcasm.

  "Yes," Brenna said, explaining their ordeal with Szass Tam and their promise to stop Maligor and his forces, who threatened the mine.

  "But we can't help unless you help us. We need some information," she continued.

  The rocks stared at her quizzically.

  "Has a Red Wizard been here recently?" she asked, brushing the dirt from her clothes.

  "No," came the deep reply in unison.

  She inhaled sharply and pursed her lips. "Have you seen any strange creatures? Horrid, batlike things?"

  The rock on the north side of the mine opening nodded, and the ground shook again. "Saw bat crea-tures. Hundreds, may-be more. Dark, like a cloud. Flew in-side. Cannot re-mem-ber why we did not stop them."

  Brenna positioned herself in front of the living boulder, directly between its eyes. "Maligor could have ensorceled you. Maybe that's why you don't remember. Something's wrong here, that's certain. The tharchion I fought wasn't human."

  "Doubt-ful some-thing is wrong," the other galeb duhr answered. "We no-ticed noth-ing odd in the mines."

  "We've got to go inside and find out for sure," Galvin tried. "Please trust us."

  "Trust un-dead?"

  "We'll control them," Galvin continued, staring past the living boulders and into the mine.

  "If you lie," the other galeb duhr interjected, "we will know. We could bring mountain down on top of you, then hollow it out again as if nothing happened."

  "You can trust us," Galvin emphasized again.

  "We trust you. But only because you know language of the earth," the boulder answered.

  Relieved that he seemed to have the approval of the rock creatures, Galvin started into the mine. Wynter and Brenna followed him cautiously. The enchantress cast a last glance at the plateau; the zombies and skeletons that had survived the rockslide were shuffling toward the shaft.

  Fifteen

  Szass Tam nudged Maligor's mind. The lich had been unable to find his rival Red Wizard, and the legion of undead headed by his Harper pawns had uncovered nothing substantial, nothing other than hints of Maligor's whereabouts.

  Annoyed and intensely curious, the lich concentrated, probing outward with his thoughts. Szass Tam had spent the past several hours linked to his favorite crystal ball, uncharacteristically tired of waiting for word of Maligor. The ball had yielded nothing, so he had focused his efforts at communication only.

  Finally the lich met with success.

  "What do you want, Szass Tam?" Maligor's thoughts haughtily projected. "I am very busy today."

  The lich strained to get inside Maligor's mind, but the wards were too strong. "You are not with your gnolls," Szass Tam began. "You are not in Amruthar."

  "So you seek to know where I am?" Maligor said, feigning mild surprise. "Beyond your grasp, lich."

  Angered, Szass Tam furrowed his brow and funneled his energies on Maligor, attempting to look through the rival wizard's eyes into his mind. But the lich saw only blackness, and he heard only Maligor's hollow, echoing laughter.

  "I will live up to my part of our arrangement," Maligor said with a chuckle. "You will get half the lands my gnolls take. But you will not be included in future endeavors if you press me."

  The lich ran his bony hand over the smooth surface of the crystal ball, the hot pinpoints of light staring out of his sockets reflected on the crystal's surface.

  "You will not best me, Maligor," Szass Tam said simply.

  "And you will not interfere with my dealings," Maligor replied. "However, you may watch my gnolls if you desire. And we can speak again when I return to Amruthar in a few days."

  "As we agreed," the lich added, "I will not lift a hand to stop you-or your gnolls." But, he thought to himself, my Harper puppets are a different matter, and they will be your undoing.

  The lich closed the link and settled back into the large chair in his study.

  "Who was that snake-woman?" Brenna whispered as she and Galvin trod into th
e black maw of the mine. Although she could see the faint flicker of torches ahead, the darkness in the tunnel seemed to swallow them, and she had difficulty seeing. She grasped the druid's arm. "She wasn't human."

  "A creation of a Red Wizard, maybe. Perhaps some poor animal Maligor corrupted." Galvin kept his voice low, not wanting to alert others in the mine to their presence. However, he realized such caution was probably useless. He heard the steady clip-clop of Wynter's hooves behind him, and the clinking of the undeads' bones echoed through the shaft. The druid scowled as he thought of the skeletons and zombies; the army had been halved by the rockslide, and he wondered if the remaining force was strong enough to take whatever lay ahead.

  "I just hope she-or it-is dead," Brenna added, still feeling sore from her ordeal with the naga. "I saw her go down the mountainside. I just hope there's no more of them in here."

  The procession wound its way into the mountain, navigating the twisting main shaft. Wynter had difficulty moving through the tunnel. The top of his head brushed against the ceiling in places, and the rocky floor felt uncomfortable beneath his hooves. His human chest and his equine body ached from being pelted by the rocks in the slide, but he plodded forward, focusing on Galvin several feet ahead.

  The shaft was nearly twenty feet wide, allowing the undead to spread out behind the centaur. Torches spaced at irregular intervals provided only scant light and made the complex seem like a mass of shifting gray shadows.

  The druid, however, was becoming accustomed to the meager light, and he concentrated on his surroundings. From somewhere ahead, he heard the sounds of metal striking against rock-miners with picks, perhaps. Because the noise echoed through the shaft, it was impossible for Galvin to guess how far away the miners might be.

  Wynter glanced about nervously, wondering why they hadn't met with any resistance since entering the mines. "There should be guards in this shaft," he whispered. "This is too easy, Galvin."

  "Perhaps," the druid replied. He slowed and studied the tunnel. Galvin guessed they were about two hundred yards into the mountain. The shaft ahead straightened out and was angling downward. The tunnel was supported by massive oak beams, some reinforced where the wood had splintered. The druid eyed the construction, noting that the mine was of considerable age and this main shaft had been mined out decades ago. After traveling another hundred yards over rock worn smooth by human traffic, he raised his hand signaling the undead to stop. He wanted to listen to the sounds of the miners ahead and try to determine if anything else was in the tunnel. The druid was certain that Wynter was right-the mine had more defenses than what they had encountered on the plateau.

  Scanning ahead, he spotted unnatural, thumb-sized crystals embedded in the shaft's walls at roughly waist height. They started at about the point the torches stopped. Farther down the shaft, the torches started again. Perhaps its some sort of magic, he thought, staring at the closest crystal. He started to stoop beneath the crystal when Brenna's arm shot out, grabbing him.

  "It's a ward of some kind," she said.

  "So we go under it. The miners go through here somehow."

  "No," she stated simply. "Passing beyond a ward, a magical guard, triggers it. If you speak the right words, the ward lets you by."

  "And if you don't have the right words?"

  Brenna frowned. "The ward could kill you."

  Galvin studied her features amid the shadows. "Is there any way we can learn the words?"

  "Of course not," the enchantress replied, pursing her lips. "At least, not in the time we have. But…" She stared at the crystals for several long moments, then reached toward the druid and pulled his longsword from its sheath.

  "What is it?" the druid started. But a motion from Brenna kept him quiet.

  She extended the tip of the sword toward the crystal, then past the crystal. Nothing happened. Handing the sword back to the druid, she stretched out her hand. As it neared the ward the crystal began to glow and she heard a soft hum. Snatching her hand back, she turned to Galvin and smiled.

  "It senses heat. I can get around this, but it will be uncomfortable."

  The druid nodded and gestured with his hand, waiting to see what Brenna would do. The enchantress began mumbling something, the words coming so quickly the druid couldn't make them out. As her voice rose, the air grew chill. And when she extended her hands, pointing away from her and down the shaft, frost leapt from her fingertips and headed down the tunnel with a whoosh, coating the walls, floor, and ceiling.

  "Let's hurry," she urged, sliding forward toward the torches beyond the crystals.

  Shivering, the druid quickly followed, but Wynter had a difficult time navigating the ice-coated floor. By the time the centaur managed to make it to the end of the frost, it had started to melt.

  "The undead!" Brenna cried. "The crystals will-"

  Galvin interrupted, gently grasping her shoulders. "The undead don't give off heat, Brenna. The dead are cold."

  She slumped her shoulders, feeling foolish yet relieved, and continued at Galvin's side down the shaft. They trodded downward for a hundred yards. As the torches became farther and farther apart, the shadows grew thicker, and the druid grabbed a torch from the wall so they could see better.

  Ahead were a series of crosscuts, tunnels that had been dug off the main shaft. Some of those tunnels, or adits as the druid had heard miners call them, led to ventilation holes; Galvin felt a slight breeze coming from them. The moisture became more noticeable the deeper the army marched, and the clinking bones of the skeletons echoed hauntingly off the walls.

  The druid noticed that the sounds of mining had stopped. Whatever or whoever was ahead had likely been alerted to their presence, probably hearing the centaur's hooves and the skeletons' bony feet. Galvin continued to inspect the mine as they moved along. The pressure of the mountain was strong, he noted. The support beams were closer together here, and some were bowed from the weight of the rock above. The mine was massive, the druid was certain, probably winding throughout the mountain like tunnels in an anthill.

  He wondered if he should investigate the crosscuts, but he heard no sounds there, either. And he knew better than to speak with the stone here; it was so old and probably had so many stories to tell that he'd be totally exhausted after listening. Along the way, he spotted deposits of sand within layers of rock, a sign that precious metals were present.

  Although the druid knew little about mining, he knew the earth, and his eyes told him where veins of gold had been stripped, the layers of stone robbed of their wealth. He was uncertain where all the rock and dirt that had been mined was taken. There was little evidence of discarded gravel and silt outside the shaft's main mouth. Perhaps they had a way to dissolve it magically, he thought.

  "Galvin," Brenna whispered. "Listen."

  The druid cursed himself for becoming so lost in his thoughts that he had dropped his guard.

  He heard a whisper, or something that sounded like one. It was a soft noise, a shushing sound that slowly increased in volume.

  Bats? he thought. The noise could be the flutter of wings, but the way sound was distorted in the shaft, it was difficult to be certain. If it was bats, there must be many of them, and something had disturbed them to get them aloft.

  Concerned, he urged the army forward, scanning the walls to make sure no more crystals were present and indicating Brenna should do the same. Then he reached out with his mind, trying to contact the bats deeper in the shaft. Brenna cursed softly and tried to keep pace, at the same time watching the tunnel's walls for more of the dangerous crystals.

  The centaur also struggled to stay ahead of the undead. As he picked up the pace, his head bumped against a support beam.

  The shaft continued to descend as Galvin trotted faster. The torches were spaced even farther apart now, leaving most of the tunnel blanketed in darkness except for the small area around the torch Galvin held. Then, somewhere below in the blackness, the druid's mind reached out to another consciousness. But it
was not a bat's, as he had anticipated. This mind felt twisted, alien, corrupt. But the creature thought in human terms, and as Galvin became more intimate with it, the mind took on a human quality, a human intelligence. The druid tried to close the link, but the other intelligence held on to his mind.

  Death to you, Harper, the consciousness spoke inside the druid's head. Galvin grabbed at his temples, dropping the torch. Concentrating, he tried to force the presence out. Still the intelligence persisted, pulling from the druid's thoughts his name, his history, and the reason for his intrusion into the mine.

  Death to you who would spoil my finely wrought plans. Galvin buckled over in agony as the mind bored into his, seeking information about his forces, his strengths, why he had come here, what magic he possessed.

  Szass Tam! the intelligence screamed, and the druid cupped his hands over his ears in a futile gesture to shut out the sound. The words were coming from inside his head. You are Szass Tam's servant!

  Galvin fought to keep the details from the intelligence, but the druid's mind wasn't strong enough. It seemed as if all of Galvin's being was flowing from him, his experiences, knowledge, emotions-all were being assimilated by the probing mind. Then he felt the mind-no, minds-coming closer. And he heard the flutter of wings even more clearly.

  Deep in the bowels of the mine, Maligor screamed. How had Szass Tam found out about the mine? How had the lich managed to bring an accursed Harper under his control?

  Maligor's mind whirled. He wouldn't be able to covertly control the mines now; the lich would see to that. Nor could he confront the lich, as Szass Tam avoided direct involvement.

  "I will not be undone by a dead man!" Maligor bellowed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the deep chamber. "If I cannot have the mines, no one will!" The Red Wizard's staccato voice repeated a simple enchantment, and before the words could echo back from the chamber's shadow-cloaked walls, the wizard was gone. His form, replaced by a small cloud of white, swirling vapors, floated up a narrow shaft.