The room smelled foul and acidic, burning the Red Wizard’s eyes and making it uncomfortable for him to breathe. If the chamber weren’t so deep below the ground, the odor would soon alert Asp and the tower’s other occupants that something grotesque was living here. He gagged from the stench of the darkenbeasts and continued to survey his grand army.
It had taken the Red Wizard months to accumulate this force, working through the night turning bats, lizards, snakes, rats, and other animals into the evil darkenbeasts. The intense magic had exhausted him, leaving him feeling his advanced years. But the incantations had kept his mind sharp for his plans for power. Many of his gnolls had gone hungry so the wizard could use their livestock and transform the docile beasts into his loathsome creatures. He wanted at least a few hundred more beasts before he would be satisfied with the force. That wouldn’t be difficult, as he had slaves purchasing reptiles and other small creatures from the open-air market in Amruthar. Bought in small quantities, the tiny creatures would not evoke suspicion, but would still add needed numbers to his growing army.
Maligor did not concern himself about feeding the creatures; they were products of sorcery and could go without sustenance for weeks. They received enough nourishment from the bodies of ill-behaved slaves, unfortunate soldiers, and animals that had failed to make the transition to darkenbeasts successfully. He knew he would have to use his darkenbeasts carefully, since without the darkness, they would perish. But there were enough caves, abandoned buildings, and underground complexes in Thay to enable him to move his forces under the cover of darkness when the time came.
The Red Wizard reached out with his mind, contacting the large darkenbeast on the altar. It took him a moment to adjust to the creature’s weak brain, but soon he was able to see through its eyes and perceive with its senses. He could feel the oppressiveness of the room, could feel the breath of the creatures who stared balefully up at the altar at the large creature who rested there. And he could feel the strength that coursed through the powerful creature’s limbs. The scent of the chamber was overpowering and caused his mind to reel. Still he maintained contact through the beast and directed it to fly above the others, circling the oval room.
Maligor experienced the sense of soaring, flexing wings that were his, and yet were not. He cried with the beast’s voice, a loud shriek that quieted the other creatures. Flying faster and higher, Maligor manipulated the beast to glide just below the ceiling, upsetting the perches of the darkenbeasts hanging there and causing them to join the larger creature in flight. Faster and faster Maligor felt himself go, and he felt himself desiring the open sky, where his flight would have no limit. A flurry of leather wings appeared before him as more darkenbeasts rose from the walls of the chamber, threatening to snuff out the torches with the breeze created by their wings.
Controlling the largest of the beasts, Maligor caused the others to move out of his way, in much the same manner that he ordered his guards and slaves. He continued to shriek at them, demanding a response.
The darkenbeasts’ mournful cries rose to an obscene cacophony in an evil chorus. He savored the terrible noise. The offensive smell no longer bothered him, for he was a part of it. He had become one with the beast. He flexed the darkenbeast’s talons as he would his own fingers and turned its head as he would his own. He continued to circle until nearly all the chamber’s inhabitants had joined his exuberant flight.
Then his mind reached out once more, touching the nearest darkenbeasts, then those farther away. Within moments, he controlled a dozen, then two, three dozen, and more. The nature of his sorcery enabled him to link telepathically to one, several, or all of his dark creatures, directing their actions and receiving uncompromising cooperation.
Maligor felt himself flying in many different directions at once. At first the sensation was glorious, but then it became disconcerting. He concentrated harder and drew the darkenbeasts’ thoughts together, making them fly according to his will. The scene in the room altered. What a moment before had been chaos now was orchestrated movement. A ring of black circled the room, with the darkenbeasts flying in graceful patterns, performing a lurid ballet. Their cries rose as one, hideous and deafening, threatening to rise above the layers of stone and earth and warn those in the tower above of their presence.
Maligor, realizing the potential for problems, urged his force to land, then began to release their simple minds. Immediately the stench of the place overpowered him again and he retched, nearly doubling over. Gasping, he focused his attention on the large darkenbeast that had returned to the altar.
Soon, he telepathically communicated to the creature. We will fly again soon.
The Red Wizard staggered from the chamber and began the long ascent to his tower.
Four
In the clearing, Galvin waited for dawn to break and watched Wynter help Brenna pack her tent. The druid was disturbed at overhearing the sorceress’s revelation that someone had been magically watching them—“scrying on them,” she had called it. A Red Wizard possibly, Galvin thought. No… if someone had been spying on them, it was definitely a Red Wizard.
No matter, the druid decided. The mission would continue even if someone in Thay was aware of them.
A soft breeze blew across Galvin’s face, refreshing him and causing him to get a good whiff of himself. Caked blood and sweat made him stink worse than a dirty, wet wolf. He was certain his companions would make a worse analogy, and he resolved to take care of his odoriferous condition—and get breakfast—while they finished packing. The sky was still dark and devoid of clouds, but it was tinged with gray and deep blue, indicating the sun would be up in less than an hour. He scanned the horizon for several minutes, fearing another transformed beast might be nearby, but he saw nothing.
He was certain a Red Wizard was behind the obscene creature that had attacked them; Galvin wanted to believe that. If the creature was sent in retaliation for his killing the gnoll spy, he speculated, why weren’t more of the beasts dispatched? Perhaps whoever or whatever had sent the beast had only meant it to be a warning. If that was the case, it was a warning the druid didn’t intend to heed.
His fever was gone, and his shoulder felt considerably better, although it was still stiff. It would serve as a physical reminder, at least for a few more days, of his folly with the gnoll. He listened to a bullfrog croaking in the distance. It was searching for a mate; the druid could tell by its prolonged, deep, throaty song. Closer, he heard the buzzing of insects. There were plenty of them in this area, particularly mosquitoes, because of the recent rain and the nearness of the marsh. Fortunately, Galvin mused, insects never bothered him.
“Gnats!” the centaur reached back and swatted his rump with his hand. “You always find the nicest places to camp, Galvin. Plenty of water. Shade in abundance. And more insects than blades of grass.”
The druid ignored his friend’s complaints and rubbed his hand over his chin, feeling the scratchy stubble growing there. He grabbed his dirty canvas satchel and started to jog toward the trees and the welcome gurgling of a nearby creek, but he slowed almost immediately when a knifing pain cut through his shoulder and into his chest. I’m not entirely well yet, he decided.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the centaur watching him closely and looking concerned. Galvin forced a smile and turned and headed into the trees.
By the time Galvin returned with an armload of fruit, the sun was beginning to edge above the horizon. Brenna was reclining on her rolled-up tent. Two satchels sat just beyond her. She wisely had packed lightly, the druid surmised, unlike other city people he knew. She wore her hair twisted in tight braids about her head. That, too, was practical, since they would be traveling among trees and bushes that would hopelessly tangle it. But her garb was far from functional. Today she wore a long blue gown of heavy cotton that was full along the bottom and edged with lace; its only saving grace was the tight sleeves. Galvin resigned himself to the thought that apparently all wizards dressed in billowy, expensive drapery. Maybe they felt that made them appear more important than people who dressed practically. Still, she looked pretty in it, he thought.