"A powerful sort of magic discovered by Karsus-and nothing 1 want you playing with until you bring that shadow under control." Melegaunt fixed Galaeron with a disapproving eye. "It's appallingly dangerous, a force-made-tangible that Netherese archwizards once used to heighten their other magic."
"Once used?" asked Malik. "Then you do not have any of this 'heavy magic'?"
Melegaunt glowered at the little man. "No. It vanished with the Netherese." He turned back to Jhingleshod. "But it was Karsus's heavy magic that turned Wulgreth into a lich, not your attack."
"Netheril fell a thousand years before 1 lived," said Jhingleshod. "And Wulgreth was much alive when 1 served him. One does not turn from a lich into a man and back to a lich again."
"There is no record of such a thing in the Tomb Guard chronicles," said Galaeron. Recalling Malik's cryptic comment about what Melegaunt had told Jhingleshod before crossing the bridge, he studied the wizard with narrowed eyes. "The Tomb Guard would have a record." Melegaunt's eyes grew stormy "You accuse me of lying?" "I ask for an explanation." "You-or your shadow?" Melegaunt countered.
"I have my shadow in hand," said Galaeron. "It has not troubled me since the sunken bridge."
"Why should it?" Melegaunt turned back to Jhingleshod. "1 am not mistaken about my dates. Wulgreth never forgave Karsus for the accident, and there are records of him plaguing Netherese enclaves for decades afterward. It's the reason Wulgreth haunts the Dire Wood at all."
"Wulgreth haunts this wood because I killed him here," Jhingleshod insisted. "The Dire Wood did not exist before that."
"But Karse did," countered Melegaunt "The city was founded over sixteen centuries ago, a little after Karsus brought Netheril down. A refugee group was drawn to his corpse by dream visions and began to worship his dead body-and that really angered Wulgreth. He destroyed the entire city and moved into the ruins so it would never be rebuilt."
Jhingleshod fixed his dead eyes on the sorcerer. "I know nothing about heavy magic and worshiping dead bodies. I killed Wulgreth, and he became a lich."
"If I may, the answer is plain enough," said Malik. "In a thousand years, there were certainly many wizards named Wulgreth. Does it seem so unlikely that two ended up here?"
Melegaunt raised his brow, then nodded thoughtfully, but Jhingleshod did not seem to hear the suggestion. In fact, Galaeron realized, though Jhingleshod's gaze was fixed on the same point as Melegaunt's-Malik's face-the knight's eyes were focused on the ground behind the little man, and the slight tilt of his helmet suggested he might be wondering what the wizard was looking at. "I think we can trust Jhingleshod's account of events." Galaeron chose his words carefully. "But we'd better be off before Takari and Vala get too far ahead of us."
Jhingleshod's dead gaze shifted to Galaeron. "Then you give your word?"
Galaeron nodded. "I will destroy Wulgreth, if we can find him." "He will find you," said Jhingleshod.
The ghoulish knight walked across Aris's sculpture, leaving the river stained with rusty footprints, into the trees. The forest here was dark, tangled, and dead-much the same as the bog, save that it stood on dry ground and did not drain their strength. The group soon caught up to Takari and Vala, and Jhingleshod took the lead, clinking and squeaking his way deeper into the tangled wood.
Huge webs of yellow-green filaments began to appear in the branches. Galaeron kept watch for ball-shaped silhouettes and sticklike legs. Instead of spiders, he started to see slender leaves and moldy pods clinging to the tendrils. As they climbed away from the river, the vines grew longer and the vegetation thicker, until it became difficult to see more than a few paces. It was impossible to walk without brushing against the vines, and soon after their hands and faces erupted into white boils. Aris used his prayer magic to powder a stone and create an ointment that reduced the sores to an itchy rash, though Malik refused the salve out of fear of offending his god. To the amazement of all, he continued at as strong a pace as anyone, even when the blisters began weeping and he had to cut his eyelids to keep them from swelling shut.
The vines began to grow in broken squares and straight meshwork, taking the shape of the ruins beneath. Jhingleshod walked more quietly and carefully now, prompting Galaeron to send Takari ahead to scout and take a position beside Vala. Malik and Melegaunt remained in the center, with Aris in the rear. As they advanced deeper into the city, the patterns grew more regular and even, arranging themselves into crooked streets and sunlit meadows that had once been plazas.
Vala kept her hand on her sword, her eyes following Takari's stealthy figure with remarkable ease for a human. After a time, she said to Galaeron, "You shouldn't have said that to Takari. She's only trying to protect you-and me." "That's not what it sounded like to me."
"Maybe not," said Vala. "But then, you didn't hear what she told Jhingleshod about why she wanted to cross the bridge."
"Whatever she said, it is not her place to protect me from our relationship." Galaeron glanced over at Vala. "Not that there is a relationship."
"No?" Vala glanced at him sidelong, her mouth cocked in a crooked smile. "Then why should you care what she says about it?"
"I prefer to make those choices myself," said Galaeron. "As I'm sure you do."
"We have a saying in Vaasa," she said. "In love and death, only the gods choose." "It sounds a handy excuse," said Galaeron.
Vala gave him a roguish smile. "One that makes life interesting." She watched Takari poking her sword into a tangled mass of vine, then asked Galaeron, "When you told Jhingleshod you were seeking pardon for your mistake, was that the truth?"
"More than I knew," Galaeron said. "It had to be, or I doubt Jhingleshod would have let me pass."
"I thought so." Vala remained quiet for a moment, then said, "I had to think carefully, but Takari didn't hesitate." "I take it the answer concerned me?"
Vala nodded. 'Takari said she had to cross because you're her spirit-deep mate… and you refused to see it"
"She…" Galaeron closed his eyes. "She knows I don't return her affections."
"Because of your father's pain," Vala said carefully "Or so she says." "That's part of it," said Galaeron. "Moon and Wood elves live different lives. When they join, sooner or later there will always be sadness."
"Of course." Vala sounded almost irritated with him. "Sooner or later, every joy comes to an end-but that is a poor reason to turn your back on the gifts the gods do send your way."
"I'm just being prudent," said Galaeron. "I'm not turning my back on any gift from the gods."
"Oh, I think you are." Vala's voice turned teasing. "And you will be sorry. There is no fury worse than Sune's when she has been rejected!"
"Fortunately, I am an elf," laughed Galaeron. "I doubt our Hanali Celanil is so vengeful as your Sune,"
"Maybe, but Takari isn't the only woman I've been talking about, you know."
An owl hoot rang out ahead, bringing their conversation to an abrupt end. Galaeron drew his sword and saw a vine web fluttering as Takari vanished into the trees. Jhingleshod was continuing up the street, paying no heed to whatever had alarmed Takari. Galaeron suspected their guide of betraying them-until a half-rotten corpse dashed out of a side lane and hurled itself headlong into the iron knight's flank.
Jhingleshod rocked up as though he might fall, then brought his axe down and split the ghoul through the side. He turned to Galaeron and pointed down the lane.
"Beware those dead, elf." There was a hint of mockery in the knight's bleak voice. "They have a hatred of the living."