Unclean hl-1

by Richard Lee Byers

  "For purposes of argument," she said, "let's say you are telling the truth as best you understand it. Your story suggests we're facing a cartel of rogue necromancers, traitors to their order."

  "Maybe," said Milsantos, "and maybe not. I have informants in Eltabbar. I'm sure you do too, but have you heard from yours in the past couple days? Mine got a letter to me."

  "And they said something pertinent to our situation here on the eastern border of the realm?"

  "Perhaps. Two days ago, Szass Tam tried and failed to persuade the other zulkirs to proclaim him regent. In light of that, let's consider recent events."

  "To have any hope of winning the council to his way of thinking," said Aoth, "the lich had to seem a successful if not triumphant figure, so he manufactured a threat to the eastern tharchs then played a crucial role in combating it. That means it isn't 'rogue' mages standing against us. It's conceivable the entire order of Necromancy is involved, including the Red Wizards in our own army."

  "Impossible," Nymia said. "No one could keep such a huge conspiracy secret."

  "He could," Bareris said, "if he silenced his underlings with enchantment. I told you about the guard who died when I tried to question it."

  "That was an orc. No one would dare to lay such a binding on a Red Wizard."

  "A higher-ranking and more powerful Red Wizard would."

  "Curse it!" she exclaimed. "Even if all these crazy guesses are correct, don't you see, it's none of our business what games the zulkirs play with one another. All we need to know is that an undead host threatens Pyarados, and the council, Szass Tam included, wants us to destroy it."

  "What," said Milsantos, "if Szass Tam has stopped wanting it? He desired our victories to advance a particular strategy, which has now failed. In the aftermath, what remains? A siege in which his followers and creatures are fighting on both sides. Can we be absolutely certain he's still backing us?"

  "Why would he stop?" she demanded.

  "To create the impression that when Szass Tam is honored as is his due, things go well, but when the other zulkirs deny him, they go disastrously awry? Truly, Nymia, I can't guess, but I shrink from the thought of what will happen if the necromancers and zombies in our own ranks suddenly turn on us in the midst of battle. Better, I think, to try our luck without them."

  "So we send them away? Restrain them? Insult Szass Tam and the entire order of Necromancy?"

  The old warrior smiled a crooked smile. "When you put it like that, it's not an appealing prospect, is it? We'd certainly need to win and hope our success would motivate the other zulkirs to shield us from the lich's displeasure."

  "I don't know if we even have the authority to deal with Red Wizards in such a manner."

  "You're tharchions," said Aoth. "This is an army in the field. The Burning Braziers will support you. They hate the necromancers condescending to them. Take the authority."

  She considered it for several heartbeats then shook her head. "No. Not without proof, and I mean something I can see with my own eyes, not just a wanderer's tale, even should a cleric vouch for him."

  "Then I'll interrogate one of your Red Wizards," Bareris said. "He'll tell the truth or die in a fit like the orc. Either way, you can be certain."

  Nymia hesitated. "Neither Tharchion Daramos nor I could consent to such an outrage. You'd have to act alone, without our aid or intercession, and if you failed to extort the proof you promise, we'd order your execution. It would be the only way to make sure the stink of your treason didn't attach itself to us."

  Bareris shrugged as if the prospect of a slow death under torture was of no concern. "Fine."

  "Except," said Aoth, "that you won't have to do it alone. I'll help, and I know a fire priestess who will too." He grinned. "Now that I think of it, I can steer you to the perfect Red Wizard as well."

  Bareris crooned his charm of silence, each note softer than the one before. He centered the charm on the sword sheathed at this side. It seemed as good an anchor point as any.

  With the final note, the camp, quiet already here in the dregs of the night, fell absolutely silent. He, Aoth, Chathi, and Mirror, only perceptible as the vaguest hint of visual distortion, sneaked up to the rear of Urhur Hahpet's spacious, sigil-embroidered tent a few breaths later.

  Aoth gave Chathi an inquiring look. Even without benefit of words, his meaning was plain. He was asking if she was certain she wanted to risk this particular venture. She responded with an expression that expressed assurance, impatience, and affection all at once.

  The lovers' interplay gave Bareris a fresh pang of heartache. He turned away and peered about to make certain no one was looking in their direction. Nobody was, so he drew his dagger, cut a peephole in the tent, and looked inside.

  No lamps or candles burned within. Evidently even necromancers, who worked so much of their wizardry at night, had to sleep sometime. But Bareris had sharpened his sight with magic, and he could make out a figure wrapped in blankets lying on the cot.

  He gave his comrades a nod, then reinserted his dagger in the hole and pulled it downward, cutting a slit large enough for a man to squirm through, as he proceeded to do.

  With the tent now enveloped in silence, he had no need to tiptoe, so he simply strode toward the man in the camp bed. But before he could cross the intervening space, something small and gray leaped onto Urhur Hahpet's chest, then, eyes burning with greenish phosphorescence, immediately launched itself at Bareris's face.

  It was a zombie or mummified cat, evidently reanimated to watch over its master as he slept. Bareris swung his arm and batted it out of the air. It scrambled up and charged him.

  Though the shriveled, stinking thing wasn't large enough to seem all that dire a threat, Bareris suspected its darkened fangs and claws might well be poisonous, either innately or because Urhur painted them with venom. Accordingly, he felt he had to deal with the cat at once. He shifted the knife to his off hand, whipped out his sword, and drove the point into the undead animal's back, nailing it to the earth. It made a final frenzied scrabbling attempt to reach his foot then stopped moving. The sheen in its eyes faded.

  By then, though, Urhur had cast off his covers and was rearing up from the bed. The silence would keep him from reciting incantations, and since he didn't sleep in his clothes, he didn't have his spell foci ready to hand, but he was wearing a presumably enchanted necklace of small bones and grasping a crooked blackwood wand he'd apparently stashed beneath his blankets or pillow. He extended the arcane weapon in the intruders' direction.

  Bareris yanked his sword out of the feline carcass, sprang forward, and poised the weapon to strike at the wand. At the same instant, a gout of dark fire, or something like it, leaped from the end of the wand to chill him. Refusing to let the freezing anguish stop him, he delivered the beat, and the wand flew from Urhur's grasp.

  Bareris and his comrades had observed two withered, yellow-eyed dread warriors standing guard in front of the tent, and now the sentries pushed through the flap of cloth covering the doorway. He'd hoped the magical silence would keep them from discerning that their master needed them, but perhaps they were responding to a psychic summons.

  Though Bareris hadn't taken his eyes off his foes to glance around and check, he assumed Aoth, Mirror, and Chathi were likewise inside the tent by now, and he'd depend on them to deal with the dread warriors. He had to stay focused on Urhur, because the Red Wizard merely needed to scurry into the open air, dart beyond the confines of the zone of silence, and scream for help to ruin his plan.

  He tried to lame Urhur with a slash to the leg. The necromancer flung himself backward into the taut canvas wall of the tent, rebounded, and landed on the ground behind the cot. Fearful that Urhur would squirm out under the bottom of the cloth barrier, Bareris dropped his dagger, grabbed the camp bed, and jerked it out of his way.

  Meanwhile, Urhur gripped one of the bones strung around his neck, and a seething dimness shrouded his form. Still aiming for the leg, Bareris thrust. Urhur trie
d to snatch his limb out of the way, but the blade grazed him even so.

  Malignancy burned up the sword and into Bareris's hand, chilling and stinging him like the blast from the wand. Urhur scrambled up and reached for him. A tattoo on the back of the necromancer's hand gleamed, releasing its power, whereupon his nails grew long and jagged as the claws of a ghoul.

  By the time Bareris recovered from the shock of the hurt he'd just sustained, Urhur had already lunged near enough to rend and grab, too close for the sword to be of use. Bareris dropped the weapon and caught the mage by the wrists.

  They wrestled, shoving and staggering back and forth, and as they did so, the bard caught glimpses of the rest of the fight. Aoth swung his falchion, its heavy blade shining blue with enchantment, and buried it in a dread warrior's chest. The creature stumbled, and Mirror, somewhat more visible now, his shadow weapon currently shaped like Aoth's, struck it as well. Meanwhile, Chathi brandished a hand wreathed in fire, and the other undead guard collapsed before her, breaking and crumbling in the process.

  Bareris thought he should be faring as well or better than his comrades. He was stronger than Urhur and a superior brawler, but he didn't dare risk even a single scratch from the wizard's nails for fear it would incapacitate him, and every time he landed a head butt or stamp to the toes, his adversary's protective aura caused the impact to pain him as well.

  Urhur abruptly opened his mouth wide, revealing that his teeth, too, had grown long and pointed. He yanked Bareris close and bit at his neck. Caught by surprise, the bard just barely managed to jerk his upper body backward in time. Drops of saliva spattered him as the crooked fangs gnashed shut.

  Then, however, Urhur lurched forward, and his legs buckled beneath him. Employing the pommel of his falchion as a bludgeon, Aoth clubbed the necromancer's head a second time. Urhur slumped entirely limp. Sore and weak from the punishment he'd endured, Bareris tore away the necklace of bones, depriving the Red Wizard of his defensive aura, then threw him to the ground.

  Aoth's falchion glowed brighter as he released the counter-spell he'd stored in the steel. Bareris abruptly heard the rasp of his own labored breathing as the spell of silence dissolved. Meanwhile, Urhur's claws and fangs melted away.

  "Are you all right?" Aoth whispered.

  "When this is over," Bareris replied, "I'll want the aid of a healer, but I can manage for now."

  Chathi moved to the door of the tent, shifted the flap, and peeked out. "I don't think anyone's noticed anything amiss."

  "Good," said Aoth. "Can you restore Urhur to his senses?"

  "Most likely." She rooted in her belt pouch, produced a pewter vial, uncorked it, and held it under the Red Wizard's nose.

  Urhur's eyes fluttered open, then he flailed, but to little effect. Bareris, Aoth, and Chathi were crouching all around him to hold him down and menace him with their daggers.

  "Calm down," said Aoth. "You probably realize I don't like you, but my friends and I won't kill you if you answer our questions."

  "You're insane," Urhur said. "You'll all die for this outrage."

  Aoth smiled. "Yes, if it doesn't work out, which means we have nothing to lose. If I were you, I'd think about the implications of that."

  Perhaps seeking to calm himself, Urhur took a deep breath. "Very well, I'll answer your questions. In all likelihood, I would have done so in any case. I have no secrets."

  "If so," said Aoth, "you must be the only Red Wizard who can make that claim, but before we proceed, I want you to think about something. I just cast a counterspell. Bareris and Chathi are each going to do the same. I hope that if anyone has laid a magical binding on you, it will turn out that one of us has succeeded in breaking your fetters, and you can give us what we require without suffering for it."

  "I have no idea what you're babbling about."

  "I admit," Aoth continued, "if you do tell the truth, you'll be running a risk. We'll have no way of knowing in advance whether we've actually freed you, but I guarantee that if your responses fail to satisfy us, we'll kill you. Bareris, Chathi, do what you need to do."

  Bareris sang his charm, and the priestess chanted her invocation to the Firelord.

  "Now," said Aoth to the prisoner, "tell us who created the undead horde."

  Urhur's eyes shifted left, then right, as if he was looking for succor. "How should I know? All anyone knows is that they came down out of the mountains."

  "You're lying," said Aoth.

  He clamped a hand over the necromancer's mouth, and Bareris and Chathi exerted their strength to hold him motionless. Mirror glided forward, bent down, and slid his shadowy fingertips into Urhur's torso.

  It wasn't the sort of violation that broke the skin, shed blood, or made any sort of visible wound, but Urhur bucked and thrashed in agony. His body grew thinner, and new lines incised themselves on his face.

  "Enough," Bareris said, and Mirror pulled his hand away.

  "I'll wager," said Aoth to Urhur, "that you've unleashed ghosts and such on a good many victims in your time, but I wonder if you'd ever felt a phantom's touch yourself. It looked painful, and you look older. I wouldn't be surprised if Mirror has leeched years from your natural span. Now shall we have him tickle your guts again, or will you cooperate?"

  "I don't deserve this," Urhur whimpered. "Szass Tam didn't give me a choice. When I tried to keep you from discovering too much or warning Tharchion Focar and the other captains, I didn't even understand what I was doing. I mean, not entirely. My memory's funny. It's like I'm split in two."

  "Just tell us," said Aoth. "Where did the marauders come from?"

  "Why do I have to say? It's plain you already know."

  "We need to hear," the war mage said.

  "All right, curse you. My peers made them."

  "And helped them to their victories?"

  "Yes!"

  "What are your orders now that you and the other Red Wizards in this army are supposed to fight the nighthaunt and its primary host yourselves?"

  "I-" Urhur's eyes rolled up in his head.

  His back arched and his limbs jerked as the dying orc's had done. He jerked in a final great spasm that broke Chathi's grip on his arm then lay motionless with bloody foam oozing from the corner of his mouth.

  The fire priestess placed her hand in front of Urhur's contorted features, feeling for his breath. After a moment, she said, "He's dead."

  "Damn it," said Aoth. "I'd hoped we'd forestalled that. Obviously, we only delayed it. Still, he admitted some things. Enough, I hope, to spare us a meeting with the headsman." He looked back at the slit in the rear of the tent.

  Clad in long, plain, hooded cloaks like many a common legionnaire, two figures pushed through the opening then threw back their cowls to reveal themselves as Nymia and Milsantos. The tharchions had trailed Bareris and his comrades up to the tent, then skulked outside to listen to the interrogation.

  "You've done well," Milsantos said.

  "They've made a filthy mess," Nymia growled. "They attacked and killed a Red Wizard, and we still don't know that the necromancers mean to betray us."

  "If they don't," Bareris asked, "then why couldn't Urhur say so? Why was that the question that finally triggered the seizure?"

  "I don't know," the female commander answered. "I don't pretend to comprehend all the ins and outs of wizardry, but if Szass Tam only changed his plans after the other zulkirs rebuffed him, how could he already have sent new orders to minions hundreds of miles away from Eltabbar?"

  "The same way," said Milsantos, "my informants passed a message to me: magic."

  "I suppose," Nymia said. "Still-"

  "Still," Milsantos said, "you don't like it that we have, in effect, colluded in the murder of a Red Wizard, and you shrink from the thought of making a whole troupe of them our prisoners. So do I. I didn't come to be an old man, let alone retain my office for lo these many decades, by indulging in such practices. But we now have genuine reason to suspect the necromancers of treachery, and I won't send
legionnaires into battle with such folk positioned to strike at their backs. They deserve better, and so do we. Remember, if we lose, the enemy is apt to kill us, too, and if they don't, the zulkirs might."

  "Yet if we anger Szass Tam and the order of Necromancy…" Nymia threw up her hands. "Yes, all right, we'll do it your way, assuming we even have followers stupid enough to lay hands on Red Wizards."

  Chathi smiled. "The Braziers will help you, Tharchion."

  "And I," said Aoth, "know griffon riders who'll do the same."

  Malark jumped, caught the top of the high wrought-iron fence with its row of sharp points, and swung himself over without cutting himself or even snagging his clothing. He then dropped to the grass on the other side, his knees flexing to absorb the jolt.

  As one of Dmitra Flass's lieutenants, he actually had no need to enter in such a fashion. He could have presented himself at the gate and waited for the watchman to appear and admit him or procured his own key, but why bother? For a man trained as a Monk of the Long Death, hopping the fence was easy as climbing a flight of stairs.

  Alert and silent by habit, not because he expected trouble, he strolled onward through Eltabbar's largest cemetery. The meadows with their stone and wooden markers were peaceful after dark.

  He often came here where no one could find and interrupt him to mull over one problem or another.

  But tonight he found the place less soothing than formerly. The air was pleasant, neither too hot nor too cool, and perfumed with the scent of flowers. A night bird sang, and the stars shone, but the sight of so many open graves, yawning like raw wounds in the earth, offended him. Death was supposed to be an ending, but for the poor wretches interred here, it had only been a brief respite. They'd toil and struggle on through the mortal world as zombie soldiers.

  Yet much as Malark deplored Thay's practice of employing such warriors, he could do nothing about it. So he scowled and resolved to put the matter out of his mind and focus instead on the puzzle he needed to unravel.