Despite the number of merchants, peasants, and guards, Amruthar was quiet. Only the occasional bark of a sergeant’s orders cut the air.
Galvin and Brenna directed the army to march parallel to the city’s wall in full view of the guards, as Szass Tam had directed. It was a show of force designed to keep the city’s guards from interfering. The guards stood motionless as the dead soldiers passed by slowly, the clinking of skeletal bones against skeletal horses echoing hollowly off the wall.
Just outside the city stood Maligor’s tower. Its top half was visible over the northwest barbicon of the wall. Galvin motioned the army quickly forward and urged his own horse into a gallop, knowing the tower’s occupants must have been able to see them coming for miles and would be ready. He worried that they might be riding into a trap. Brenna urged her mare ahead, following on the heels of Galvin’s mount and spraying dirt at the hurrying wraiths. The enchantress was trying to ride with minimal use of her hands, in order to keep them free to cast a spell if necessary.
The druid drew his longsword, which emanated a soft blue glow, revealing its magical nature, and he cried like a hawk as he charged across the main road that led to the western gate of Amruthar. The undead moved as quickly as they were able to behind him, but only the shadows and wraiths could keep pace. Brenna called for the skeletons to ready their weapons.
The tower stood back from the road. Only a few lights burned in the windows, and no more than a dozen gnolls stood at attention on the lawn. Behind him, Galvin heard the scornful laughter of the wraiths.
“Sweet death. We will give the gnolls sweet death!” one wraith cried. “We will open their throats and let the dog-men’s blood pour over us. We will turn them to dust.” The thunderous laughter of the undead rippled like a wave, unnerving the guards standing on Amruthar’s western wall and frightening the gnolls, who were trying hard to stand their ground.
“Such a big army,” mocked a wraith.
Galvin pulled back hard on the reins of the big black stallion in an effort to stop its charge. Dirt sprayed up all around him as the animal complied. Brenna tried to stop her horse as well, but she shot past the druid, finally halting only a few yards from the closest gnoll. It glared at her, waved its barbed spear, and shouted something in a language she couldn’t understand.
The druid dismounted and rushed to Brenna’s side, brandishing his longsword in front of him. The gnoll backed away reluctantly, baring its yellowed teeth like a cornered mongrel dog, and looked for support from its peers. Help wasn’t forthcoming. At sight of the undead army, they, too, were slowly backing toward the tower. Galvin could smell the stench of the gnolls’ fear, and he sensed their uncertainty. Gnolls were stupid creatures, but they possessed enough sense to know they couldn’t stand up to hundreds of undead.
“Where are all of your brothers?” Galvin shouted to the gnolls, hoping one could understand him. There was no answer as the gnolls continued to back toward the tower. The druid couldn’t tell if they comprehended his words, but he knew they understood the threat of Szass Tam’s army. Galvin heard his soldiers move forward, their bones tinkling.
“That’s enough!” he shouted, whirling to stand inches from a wraith. The patch of blackness wavered before his eyes, then formed legs and arms and took the shape of the druid. A chill filled the air, emanating outward from the undead creature’s body. Then eyes appeared, yellow-white pinpoints of light that looked like stars against the darkness of the wraith’s form. The wraith floated upward, hovering about two feet above the ground and forcing Galvin to look up to speak to it.
“I need some answers!” the druid yelled. “And if you frighten the gnolls or kill them, we won’t be able to learn anything. That’s not going to make Szass Tam happy.”
“We are to wrest life,” the floating wraith sighed. “We are to wrest life from Maligor’s forces. We will tug the breath away from their withering lungs.”
“Look around!” Galvin bellowed. “Maligor’s forces aren’t here. These are only a few gnolls he left behind to guard the castle. We need to find out where the rest of them went. And these gnolls can tell us.”
The wraith floated back to the ground and pulled its black arms back inside its body. “The master of death can learn all their feeble brains contain,” it uttered hollowly. “The master of death speaks to the dead. Let us devour their organs. Then the master will devour their minds. Then we’ll learn.”
“That’s not the way I want it,” the druid returned evenly. “You’re under my command for the moment. The master ordered you to obey me. What would Szass Tam do if you didn’t follow his orders? Now get back up to the road. Take the skeletons and zombies with you—all of them. Do it now!” Then he glanced over his shoulder at Brenna. “Please get Wynter. I want him safe here with us.”
Amid grotesque snickers, the wraith called for its brothers and slowly heeded the druid’s directions.
Satisfied, Galvin pivoted sharply to see the gnolls cowering. They continued to act nervous even when the undead had retreated back to the road. The druid noticed that the air around him was growing warmer in the absence of the wraiths. He stood still, staring at the gnolls, until Brenna and Wynter joined him.
“Where is Maligor’s army?” the druid demanded.
The gnolls glowered at him, but they remained silent.
“Maybe they can’t understand you,” Brenna interrupted. “Not all gnolls can speak human languages.”
The druid growled and remembered that the gnoll spy he met in Aglarond had had difficulty with human words.
Brenna touched his shoulder softly. “If you want to talk to them, I can cast a spell. They’ll be able to understand you, and you them.”
“Fine,” Galvin said. “Do it quickly. I don’t know how long I can keep the undead away.”
Brenna hurried back to her horse and tugged a small velvet sack loose from the saddlebags. She untied the drawstring and returned to the druid.
“Luckily Szass Tam left me all my spell components. This will only take a moment,” she said, reaching inside the sack with three slender fingers and pulling out several grains of coarse powder. “But do you think we should take the time to bother with this? Don’t you think Maligor will retaliate?”
“He’s not here,” the druid stated matter-of-factly. “If he was, his whole army of gnolls would be here, too. These dog-soldiers aren’t the main force. I want to find out where Maligor is and where the rest of the gnolls went. Can you make it so those damned wraiths can’t hear this?”
“Not exactly. The wraiths seem to understand you, and the spell won’t prevent that. However, unless they’re well versed in gnoll speech, they won’t be able to understand that part of the conversation.”
Galvin seemed reassured, so the sorceress swiftly weaved her fingers about in the air as if she was knitting something. After several minutes, she nodded to Galvin to let him know he could begin.
“Where are your gnoll brothers?” he asked again. This time he could tell by the gnolls’ eyes that they understood him. “Where is the main army?”
“There is no army,” a muscular guard answered, looking sullen despite its quavering voice. It was evident that this gnoll was in charge and had no intention of giving up information easily. “There only us. We guard the Red Wizard Maligor’s tower.”
“You are not guards. You are fools.” Galvin spat for emphasis, remembering the gestures of the gnoll he had interrogated before. “You will die at the claws of the dead men behind me. Perhaps I’ll let you live if you tell me what I want to know.”
“I’ll tell you nothing, human,” the gnoll returned, making a gesture Galvin couldn’t comprehend. He assumed it was something offensive.