Black Wizards

by Douglas Niles

  “Very well,” he said, smiling broadly through his red beard. “You will enjoy our protection for a time.” He looked at their weapons and apparently liked what be saw. “It may be that there is a place for you among our band of cutthroats.”

  His last remark worried Tristan more than anything else the bandit had said. The prince wondered if they would ever get the chance to leave.

  The wizard turned from the mirror and stalked angrily across the council chamber. His cool detachment had vanished the moment he had learned of the events in Llewellyn. The prince had escaped!

  Forcefully, Cyndre brought his emotions under control. The sorcerer knew that only through calm reflection could he hope to devise an effective plan for dealing with the young upstart. Not until the prince was out of the way would Cyndre have any opportunity to expand his own power Already, Callidyrr seemed too small—and Corwell was the logical next step in the wizard’s dream of conquest. For a second, he wondered if the prophecy of Bhaal, warning of the danger inherent in the Prince of Corwell, had meant more than he suspected Could it be that the prince was destined to defeat all of the council’s plans?

  Of course not! Cyndre knew that the young man had been very lucky several times, and that the assassin Razfallow had failed him for the last time. The half-orc was marked for death, though this task must take a lower priority than the slaying of the prince. There would be time enough to deal with the assassin.

  “Kryphon.” The wizard’s command was spoken softly, and its target was sleeping soundly in a distant part of the castle. Nevertheless, within seconds Kryphon had materialized beside his master. Kryphon’s black eyebrows were raised inquiringly, and his tight, narrow face betrayed a look of interest as he waited for his master to explain the summons. The thin black beard encircling his jaw twitched nervously, and he licked his thin, almost nonexistent, lips.

  “Kryphon, our friend Razfallow has failed us again. We shall have to take matters into our own hands.”

  “Yes, master,” the young mage said. He tried unsuccessfully, to conceal a thin smile of anticipation. Absently, he stroked one of the bright diamond brooches he was prone to wearing on his robe.

  “The prince escaped from the Scarlet Guard in Llewellyn, so you should start there. I shall continue to seek him in the mirror. When I find him, I will let you know where he is.”

  “I should like to take Doric with me. Her powers can be a great asset in a task like this,” Kryphon said.

  “Indeed,” agreed Cyndre, although he looked carefully at his subordinate. “I sense it is more than her fire-magic that you want. Very well, Doric shall accompany you.

  “But Kryphon,” Cyndre added. His voice was very quiet.

  “Master?” The wizard met Cyndre’s gaze evenly, but his heart chilled at the look in those pale blue eyes.

  “Take care that you do not fail me, as well.”

  he exhilaration of flight lasted all too briefly. Robyn quickly gained control of her avian body, soaring and gliding on currents of wind. She observed that while Genna climbed with little effort, she herself was forced to flap her wings steadily in order to gain altitude. Gradually, she saw how the Great Druid took advantage of every rising eddy of air, and she was able to copy the movements of her teacher. She delighted in the sensation of flight.

  But then she looked down.

  They had flown miles in the few moments since taking wing, or so it seemed to the young druid. And now they saw before them, trailing off into the hazy distance, a brown pathway of blight and decay. Dead trees stood barren, their leaves gone. The grass across a wide belt had withered to brown. Even the air grew heavy with the foul stink of rot.

  The route of the army was easy to see, for they had murdered the land as they moved. The swath crept northward, and Robyn could see that its path took it directly toward the Great Druid’s grove—and the Moonwell.

  Directly below them, hundreds of tiny figures crawled methodically forward. Even from this height, she could see the inhuman nature of the creatures. The skeletons gleamed a ghastly white against the withered ground. All the undead moved with a lurching, shambling gait that reminded her vividly of the zombie that had attacked her in the grove. The spirit of the forest itself seemed to cry out in agony as the undead advanced, stretching the boundaries of the wasteland, moving ever northward.

  Robyn watched hundreds of remarkably humanlike figures plod purposefully northward. Her keen eyes saw several huge forms among them, and she bristled at the sight of the firbolg bodies. The army entered a grove of quaking aspens, their white trunks and silvery leaves glistening brightly in the sunlight. Horrified, she saw the leaves turn brown and fall like a blizzard of dead snow. The white bark turned brown and curled away from the trees; the grove seemed to sigh sadly as it died.

  Thick fumes rose into the air, threatening to gag Robyn. The stink of the bodies, the stink of death that arose from the land itself, made the air both heavy and poisonous. She swirled through the foul stuff, seeking a breath of freshness, but there was none to be had. As the army moved on, it left the grove barren and defiled.

  Robyn saw Genna tuck her wings and plummet toward the earth. In another moment she did the same, falling with dizzying rapidity. She spread her wings desperately as the ground rushed toward her, surprising herself by gliding quickly forward. She had to circle to land beside the Great Druid, a half mile from the army of the undead and directly in its path.

  The rocky knoll Genna had chosen came up fast, and Robyn twisted desperately to avoid a thrusting boulder that threatened to end her flight abruptly. The air slipped from beneath her wings and she crashed heavily to the ground, feeling a sharp pain in her left wing.

  Slowing her breathing, she willed her body to become her own again. She was certain that her arm was broken. But as she stretched and grew, the pain in her limb vanished and she felt a smooth transition back to her human form. She once again held her staff in her hand and slowly climbed to her feet. Genna, too, had changed to human form and now stood looking to the south.

  Robyn saw that the Great Druid had selected a rounded, rocky hilltop, almost barren of trees. The undead would be slowed by the rugged ground, and the spells of the druids would be unlikely to do serious harm to the forest here.

  “Remember,” said Genna. “Do not use your staff unless it becomes absolutely essential. Its powers are best held for our final defense. Our goal tonight is to delay and harass.”

  “And when we have delayed them?”

  “Then we escape. You are to change upon my signal. When you have done so, I will follow. We must then return to the grove with all possible haste!”

  Genna turned to the south, and Robyn followed her teacher’s gaze. Gradually, through the widely spaced trunks of the oaks that spread away from the base of the hill, they began to see the vanguard of the horrible force. A few zombies, shuffling mindlessly forward, appeared among the trees.

  “Why?” Robyn whispered. “Why are they doing this?”

  For once, her teacher had no answer.

  Robyn’s horror gradually turned to anger. She wanted to destroy the unnatural creatures, wiping them from the face of Gwynneth. She clenched her staff and gritted her teeth as they drew closer.

  “Protect yourself, dear,” said Genna quietly. The great druid cast a simple spell upon herself, and Robyn did the same. The minor spell, called barkskin, toughened their natural skin without changing its appearance or flexibility. They hoped it would be unnecessary, for they did not intend to get close enough to the enemy for the claws of the zombies to strike them, but it seemed a wise precaution.

  “Here,” added the teacher, handing acorns to Robyn. “I have enchanted these—you have but to throw them.”

  The acorns felt warm in Robyn’s hand, and the knowledge that she held a potent weapon steadied her nerves.

  The monsters had now reached the base of the hill and started to creep among the boulders, shuffling up the slope. Genna stared at them, and for a moment Robyn saw
vehemence flashing in the Great Druid’s eyes. The woman blinked slowly, and her face became a mask of concentration.

  Several dozen zombies now moved up the hill, clumsily tripping and climbing to their feet. The creatures’ smell preceded them, and Genna reached into a pocket to draw forth some crushed herbs. She rubbed some of the fragrant mixture upon her nose and upper lip and handed the rest to Robyn. The young druid did the same and realized that the odor became unnoticeable.

  She was shocked at the visible difference between these zombies—dead for a year—and the sight of Acorn’s undead body. She had thought nothing could be more horrible than the man’s broken neck and limply hanging head. But now she saw the gruesome colors—black, gray, even green—on the flesh of the attackers. Occasional patches of bone showed through gaps in rotten flesh—a forehead here, or jawbone there. Most were missing their eyes and ears, and many had lost limbs to the battle that had killed them, if not the decay that had followed their deaths.

  A number of bodies followed, but these had no flesh whatsoever; they were simply walking skeletons. From a distance Robyn thought the skeletons looked even more unnatural than the animated corpses.

  She realized that these humans had been dead for a long time, and suddenly she knew where they came from. She could see the long blond hair and coarse beards of Northmen, and thought she knew the stockier bodies of her own Ffolk. Memories of the Darkwalker War assailed her, especially the part she had played in the battle at Freeman’s Down. And from that field, she knew, came this army, tragic warriors doomed to fight yet another battle, this time on the side of the enemy.

  The monsters must have sensed the druids on the hilltop, for they quickened their pace, closing on the rounded summit instead of continuing their straight northward march. She wondered whether they had been commanded or if they simply sought, by instinct, to attack the humans that stood in their path. .

  Robyn wanted to shake Genna or scream at her, anything to force the Great Druid into action. But she dared not disturb her teacher’s concentration.

  The nearest zombie was no more than twenty feet away when Genna finally barked a single, sharp command. The ground itself seemed to shudder from the order, and Robyn saw huge boulders twist and roll from their places.

  Dozens, then hundreds, of the great rocks sprang with a life of their own from the dry earth, erupting with explosive power to bound and thump down the hill into the midst of the undead horde. She saw one rock, as big as a horse, smash a zombie to a pulp and then crash through a bunch of skeletons, crunching bones like dry sticks.

  The zombie nearest to them tried to dodge a boulder, but the creature was far too slow. The great rock smashed into its body, crushing both legs and half of its chest. Still, as the rock rolled on, the arms of the thing twitched and clutched toward the druids, dragging the crushed pulp of its body behind. The sight made Robyn gag.

  Every rock on that hilltop sprang free under the prodding of the Great Druid’s spell. The animated boulders leaped and rolled with a life of their own, even turning from their paths to strike down undead to the sides. The air was filled with rumbling and crashing sounds, made an the more eerie by the lack of sound from the attackers.

  But at last the spell had run its course. Many dozen of the zombies and skeletons lay crushed and scores more struggled to move, but they had been too badly damaged to do so.

  But hundreds more of them still emerged from the trees, picking their way through the rubble of rock and bodies at the base of the hill, and shambling relentlessly up the pitted slope. Robyn heard a scuffling sound to her left and almost screamed as she saw a zombie lurch through a hole where a rock had been. His rotted face showed patches of skull, and his eagerly clutching hands looked like animal claws.

  She lobbed one of the acorns Genna had given her. The missile struck the thing in the chest and immediately erupted into flames. The zombie paused, dumbly, as the fire devoured its chest. Its mouth dropped open, and in another moment it fell apart, collapsing into a heap of smoldering arms and legs.

  Another zombie lurched close, with a dozen skeletons some distance behind. Robyn threw another of the acorns. This one struck the ground at the creature’s feet, swiftly consuming it in flames. The body stumbled and flailed aimlessly, finally falling to the ground and stiffening into a grotesque charcoal sculpture.

  Robyn noticed that Genna was chanting another spell. The young druid suddenly covered her eyes as a wall of bright flames exploded from the ground before her. The earthpower of the goddess had answered her druid’s call, sending the blaze directly from the earth. Tongues of orange fire snaked upward twenty feet or more, forming a ring around the two druids. The approaching skeletons were caught in the eruption, and many burned to ashes.

  Strangely, Robyn could feel no heat from the flames, though they surrounded her and were only thirty feet away. But the fire was undeniably hot; the brush on the hillside sprang into flame, and still more skeletons were disintegrated as they stumbled mindlessly through.

  “Come,” chanted Genna.

  Robyn was surprised to see the Great Druid start resolutely from the hilltop, marching toward the heart of the undead army. She followed, clutching her staff to her breast, but lifting her head proudly as she joined her teacher. The flames moved with them.

  The ring of fire kept Genna at its center as the two druids moved carefully but steadily over the torn ground. Genna stumbled once, and the flames suddenly diminished, but Robyn caught her arm and steadied her. Once again the fire burned bright.

  In a few minutes, they reached the ring of boulders at the bottom of the hill. Already several undead had been unable to avoid the advancing inferno. Robyn helped Genna step among the rocks, and still the fire burned around them.

  Then, as they walked away from the rocks into the center of the army, the fire went out, snuffed as quickly as it had erupted. Genna gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth.

  “What is it?” asked Robyn, suddenly very frightened.

  “I don’t know! Something interrupted my—”

  The Great Druid’s eyes widened as she saw something, screened by the undead. Robyn looked and saw a large body among the zombies, moving toward them strangely. It did not have the same lurching gait as the others.…

  “We must flee!” hissed Genna. “Change, girl! Now!”

  Robyn gasped as she saw the figure more clearly. It was a man! A living man among this army of death!

  “Quickly!” urged Genna, stepping in front of Robyn, The young woman saw the man striding arrogantly toward them. He clutched some object before him with an unnatural intensity. It was a small thing, like a stone.

  The sight of the man sent waves of terror through Robyn, and she stood mutely, staring at his approach. Now she could see his face—he was grinning with demonic glee.

  She shook her head suddenly and remembered Genna’s command. Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to be calm. And she thought of the new body, the one she would change into. She felt herself fall forward, landing lightly on strong forepaws. A snarl—an instinctive mixture of fear and anger—curled her lip. The sleek body of the gray wolf felt fast and powerful.

  Genna looked back and saw that Robyn had changed. The great druid closed her eyes quickly in concentration, but then she staggered under the impact of a zombie attack. The creature slashed at her again, and she fell to the ground.

  Robyn was horrified to see the zombie lunging at Genna. Several others were moving in with stilted eagerness.

  The body of the gray wolf crouched, and a deep growl rumbled from its chest. The Great Druid kicked at the zombie but turned her head toward her student.

  “Flee, Robyn! While you still can!”

  But Robyn sprang instead, and the force of her leap knocked the zombie to its side. Burning with canine rage, Robyn felt no revulsion as her teeth sank into the creature’s arm. With a savage bite, she pulled the limb off and tossed it to the side.

  Other zombies closed in, but Robyn heard a growl b
ehind her, and she knew that Genna had changed. Whirling, Robyn raced to the side of another wolf, larger and more grizzled, but still very swift.

  Like two gray ghosts, they darted among the clumsy creatures until they had passed from the ranks of the army. But even as the enemy fell far behind, the two wolves kept racing to the north toward the grove.

  “Kralax withyss, torral.”

  Space shimmered suddenly under the combined influence of Kryphon’s and Cyndre’s spells. And then the younger man, with Doric, was instantly transported from the chamber in Caer Callidyrr to a place many miles to the south. Kryphon transported himself, but Cyndre’s spell had been necessary to move Doric, for she did not have the power of teleportation yet.

  The pair arrived in a small stable. Their appearance startled the assassin into wakefulness. Razfallow’s hand darted to his dagger, but Kryphon was ready.

  “Dothax, mylax heeroz,” he said softly, gesturing swiftly at the assassin. Razfallow relaxed and stood.

  “It is good to see you again, my friend,” he said.

  “And you,” Kryphon replied. He smiled thinly, not from any pleasure at the greeting, but from this evidence that his spell had worked.

  “Now, go back to sleep,” Kryphon ordered. I will tell you what I need later.”

  He turned to Doric, who stood silently at his side. The master was gone. Alexei had been dealt with. Finally, he had the woman all to himself. He reached out and threw back her hood, his thin smile growing into a crooked leer.

  Doric smiled back at him. Her black hair framed her thin face, and her green eyes glittered with excitement. She was nearly as tall as Kryphon, and very thin. Most men would have described her as gaunt, but the wizard thought that she was the most desirable thing in the world—at least, for the moment.

  “My pretty one, you shall serve me now—and only me. I will see that untold power is yours.”