"T-t-traveler?" called Bodvar, soundingweaker and colder than before. "H-have you left us?"
"Stay quiet, Vaasan, or there will be no reasonfor me to stay," Melegaunt shouted back. "I am working as fast as Ican."
Judging by the restless voices that followed, the clanof the Moor Eagle took little comfort from his assurance. Melegaunt urged themagain to be patient. While he waited for his first spell to do its work, heprepared himself for battle, girding himself with magic armor and shields ofspell-turning, readying power word attacks and casting enchantments that wouldallow him to walk on mud or swim through it with equal ease. By the time hefinished, his spell had thinned the fog enough that he could see a long line ofmired Vaasan men and overloaded wagons curving away toward the jagged gray wallof a distant mountain range. The end of the column was perhaps two hundredpaces distant, and fifty paces beyond that, he could see the brownish ribbon oflogs where the road resumed again.
Instead of looking impressed or grateful, Bodvar andhis equally bearded warriors were all searching the blue sky with expressionsof alarmed expectation. Those with free sword arms were holding their weaponsready, while on the wagons, women and old men were stringing longbows andraising spears. Melegaunt glanced around the heavens and found nothing exceptsnow clouds-then heard two loud slurping sounds as another pair of warriorswere drawn down into the muck.
He stepped to the end of the log road and held his armout. Finding that there was enough light to cast a shadow, he swung his armaround until the dark line pointed at Bodvar. Though a good twenty pacesremained between them, the fog was so thin that Melegaunt could see that withsapphire-blue eyes and hair as red as bloodstone, Bodvar was both handsome andfair-haired by Vaasan standards.
"You caused this clearing, Traveler?" Bodvarasked.
Melegaunt nodded, then lied, "I like to see whatI'm fighting." Actually, he was more comfortable fighting in darkness thanlight, but if he could keep the Vaasans from pondering the nature of hispowers, there was a good chance they would be unfamiliar enough with outsider spells to thinkhe was using normal magic. "The battle goes faster."
"Indeed," Bodvar answered. "Let us hopenot too fast. There is a reason the Mountainshadow Bog is crossed only in thickfog."
Melegaunt frowned and asked, "That wouldbe?"
"On its way."
Bodvar raised his hand-the one that was not trapped inthe bog-and pointed west. The nearby peaks had grown distinct enough that theyresembled a line of snowcapped fangs, and curving down from their summits, Melegauntsaw several lines of pale specks.
"Griffons?" he asked. "Orwyverns?"
"You will wish."
"Well, as long as they're not dragons,"Melegaunt said. "Anything else, I can handle."
"You have a high opinion of yourself,Traveler."
"As shall you," Melegaunt replied.
With that, he spoke a few words of magic, and theshadow he had lain across the bog expanded to the width of a comfortablewalking trail. Melegaunt stepped off the logs and, continuing to hold his armout, followed the shadow forward. To prevent the path from vanishing as hemoved forward, he had to utter a spell of permanency-and that was when thesodden peat let out an explosive glub beside him.
Melegaunt turned to see a pair webbed hands clutchingthe edge of his shadow-walk, between them a slimy reptilian head shooting up toattack. The face itself was rather broad and froglike, save that its dead blackeyes were fixed on Melegaunt's leg and its lips were drawn back to reveal amouthful of needle-sharp fangs. He lowered a hand and spoke a magic power word,unleashing a cold black bolt that drilled a fist-sized hole through the thing'shead. The hands opened, and its lifeless body slipped back into the sodden peat.
"What magic is that?" Bodvar gasped,watching from a few steps ahead.
"Southern magic," Melegaunt lied. He stoppedat the Vaasan's side and stooped down, offering his hand. "You wouldn'tknow it."
Bodvar was not quick to reach for the shadow wizard'sswarthy arm.
"Who would?" he demanded. "We are notso backward here in Vaasa as you may think. We know about the dark magic ofThay."
Melegaunt had to laugh. "You have no idea."
He uttered a quick spell, and tentacles of darknessshot from his fingertips to entwine the Vaasan's wrist.
"Now come out of there," said Melegaunt."You made a bargain."
Melegaunt stood and drew the tentacles back into hisfingers, pulling Bodvar's arm along. A muffled pop sounded fromsomewhere below the peat, and the Vaasan screamed. Though Melegaunt was fairlycertain he had just separated the chieftain's shoulder, he continued topull-pulled harder, in fact. As loud as Bodvar had screamed, the bog peoplewould be after him like a school of snagglesnouts after a waterstrider.
The Vaasan did not budge, and though Melegaunt had thestrength to pull the arm off, that would not free Bodvar of the sodden peat'scold clutch. He stopped pulling. Bodvar continued to groan-though less loudlythan he had screamed before-and a long ridge of upwelling peat began to snakeits way toward the chieftain.
Melegaunt pointed a finger at the head of the ridgeand uttered a magic syllable. A ray of black shadow shot down through the peat.The creature was too deep to see whether the attack hit home, but the ridgestopped advancing in Bodvar's direction.
"Be quiet," Melegaunt urged. "See ifyou can slip free of your boots and trousers."
Bodvar stopped groaning long enough to cast a sidelongglance at Melegaunt. "My trousers? My dragon-scale trousers?"
"You must break the suction," Melegauntexplained. "It is your trousers or your life."
Bodvar sighed, but struggled to move his free handunder the peat.
"Can you reach them?" Melegaunt asked.
"No, I can't-" Bodvar's eyes suddenly wentwide, then he began to yell, "Pull! Pull!"
Melegaunt felt the Vaasan being dragged downward andbegan to haul in the opposite direction. Bodvar howled in pain and rage, hisbody squirming and thrashing as he struggled to free himself. There was amuffled crunch that sounded something like a breaking bone, then Bodvar finallycame free, rising out of the bog with no boots or pants, but a dagger in handand his sword belt looped over his elbow.
Melegaunt glimpsed a slimy figure slipping down thehole with the Vaasan's trousers trailing from one corner of its smiling mouth,then the bog closed in and concealed it from view. Melegaunt cast a shadow boltafter it, but it was impossible to say whether the spell hit its target orvanished into the bottomless depths without striking anything.
"Hell-cursed mudbreather!" Bodvar swore."Look what it did to my sword!"
Melegaunt lowered the Vaasan to the shadow-walk, thenlooked over to find the man naked from the waist down and one arm sagging askewfrom the shoulder socket, holding the flopping scabbard of a badly shatteredsword in his good hand.
"How am I to fight with this?"
"Fight? In your condition?"
Melegaunt glanced toward the mountains and saw thatthe distant specks had become V-shaped lines, all angling toward the bog wherethe largest part of the Moor Eagle clan was still trapped. He opened his cloakand pulled his own sword, a slender blade of what looked like black glass, fromits scabbard.
"Use this," Melegaunt said, "but with alight hand. It will cut much better than that iron bar you're accustomedto."
Bodvar barely glanced at the weapon.
"I'll use my dagger," said the Vaasan."That thing'll break the first time-"
"Not likely."
Melegaunt brought his sword down across Bodvar'sdagger and sliced through the blade as though it was made of soft wood insteadof cold-forged iron, then he flicked the stump out of the grasp of theastonished Vaasan and replaced it with the hilt of his own weapon.
"Be careful not to take off your foot."