"Silver snow by the steaming lake," said Takari. "It can't be more than a couple of miles. Maybe a bath-" "No!"
Melegaunt and Jhingleshod spoke over each other, the wizard declaring they had important business at hand and Jhingleshod claiming that distances within the Dire Wood were deceiving. Takari pouted. "We've already wasted an hour." "An hour you do not have," said a wispy voice.
Galaeron and everyone else spun toward the sound and found themselves looking at a pale, quivering Malik. "On my life, I said nothing!"
Galaeron frowned-since the sunken bridge, it seemed people were always giving him reason to be suspicious-then he noticed a powerful-looking silhouette at Malik's feet. Galaeron gestured with his sword. "Malik, your shadow has returned." Malik looked down. "What a joy to have you back!"
"You must know I cannot say the same." As the shadow spoke, its antlers grew thinner, and the fuzzy hole in its chest began to close. "It is bad enough to follow a man about like a slave one's whole life, but when that man is the inept seraph of a-"
"Enough!" growled Melegaunt. "You have something to report, shadow?"
"I do." The antlers grew as thin as twigs, and the crimson eyes turned pale. "There was a fight in the swamp, but only one creature survived." "Which one?"
"A human." The shadow's voice was soft and wispy, almost inaudible. "With the pipe and…" "Elminster?"
The silhouette's eyes closed, then it melded into Malik's pear like figure and was just a shadow once more.
"We must go inside." Melegaunt started around the pyramid.
Jhingleshod clanged after him. "This Elminster is not my concern. You must destroy Wulgreth first."
"And we will." Galaeron scrambled after the pair. "But Melegaunt's right It's time to go inside."
Jhingleshod turned his lidless eyes on Galaeron. "You are not lying?" Though he asked it as a question, to Galaeron the words felt more like a command. "You will keep your word?"
"If this is Wulgreth's lair, well find him inside," said Galaeron. "If he's not there already, hell come when we enter."
Jhingleshod studied Galaeron with his vacant eyes for a moment, then followed Melegaunt and Vala into the crooked entrance corridor. Galaeron had Aris call upon his god to bless a full skin of water, then took Takari and Malik after the others. Too large to enter with them, the giant waited outside.
The darkness and close confines reminded Galaeron of the cairns in the Sharaedim, though the passageway smelled more like blood than dust, with just a hint of sulfur and steam. Within a few steps, the corridor opened into a vestibule lit by silver spell light. In the moment it took Galaeron's eyes to adjust to the harsh light, he heard Melegaunt saying, "Jhingleshod, here is your Wulgreth. Nothing but dust and bones."
Galaeron glimpsed the wizard's burly shape stooping to pick something up, then heard Takari hissing a spell and knew she had realized the same thing he had. "Don't touch-"
Takari's spell erupted in a terrible ringing, causing Melegaunt and Vala to cover their ears and spin toward the clamor. Galaeron pushed his way past the pair and found a cloud of dust whirling in the corner, a gray skull rising into the air atop it He motioned the others away, then breathed a silent sigh of relief when Takari canceled her spell.
"What spell was that?" he asked, keeping a wary eye on the dust pillar. "You nearly broke my eardrums."
"It was supposed to be a silence spell," Takari answered. "Something went wrong."
"Wild magic," explained Jhingleshod. "The Dire Wood is full of it, and the closer to the pyramid, the worse it grows."
"Then let me be the first to suggest we are in terrible trouble," said Malik. Hanging the skin of blessed water over his shoulder, he drew his curved dagger and waved it at the spinning dust, which was now taking a vaguely human shape. "I fear we have found Wulgreth."
"There is nothing to fear." Melegaunt took out a sliver of obsidian and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. "My spells are not affected by wild magic."
"No!" Galaeron and Takari yelled, then Galaeron added, "Whatever it does, do nothing in return." "Nothing?" Malik gasped.
"It's a demilich," Galaeron explained. "It will absorb your attacks and use the energy to return to this world."
"A demilich?" echoed Malik. "Then it will be easier to destroy?"
"Trickier," Takari said. "If we strike too early, we bring it back. If we strike too late…" "Yes?" Malik raised his brow. "If we strike too late?"
Galaeron answered, "The Tomb Guard has accounts of demiliches killing an entire company with a single screech."
"Accounts?" Malik said. "I thought you had fought many of these things!"
Galaeron and Takari exchanged looks, then he said, "There was one lich."
Malik's face was not the only one that went pale, and even Jhingleshod's lidless eyes seemed to bulge. The dust coalesced into a skeletal figure clothed in rotting silks.
"That is not Wulgreth," Jhingleshod said. "Wulgreth wore no such robes." Jhingleshod stepped toward Galaeron, but stopped when the demilich cut him off. The creature flailed at the knight's skeletal face, prompting him to step away and heft his axe. "Don't!" Galaeron yelled.
Jhingleshod checked his swing, and the demilich's claws burst into harmless clouds of dust as they struck. Fiery points of light began to burn in its empty eye sockets, then it held the stumps of its arms before its face, let out a powdery snort, and whirled on Galaeron. He lowered his sword, and the creature stepped to within a hand's breadth of him, a handful of brown-crusted gems glimmering dully in the place of several teeth. It smelled of musty dirt and stale air, and the hiss of alien winds whispered on its breath. Though Galaeron's whole body went cold and clammy, he forced himself to meet its burning gaze and show no fear.
The demilich raised an arm, where a dusty hand was forming anew, and pressed a fingertip to Galaeron's face. Though the claw did not cut, the otherworldly cold of its touch traced a line of numbness down his cheek. The elf willed himself to stand fast, and though he knew it would anger Melegaunt, readied the necessary spell. The thing opened its mouth and spewed a plume of dust into his face. Caught by surprise, he began to cough and choke, stumbling back as he tried to spit the powdery stuff from his mouth. "Poison!" Malik started for the exit.
Vala dropped an arm to block his way. "We may have need of that holy water you're carrying."
Galaeron snorted the dust from his nose, then felt his gorge rise as the reek of decay filled the room. A fringe of red, straw-coarse hair sprouted from the lich's head, then a mask of shriveled skin began to creep over its face. The open nasal cavities did nothing to improve the thing's appearance, but with a rounded forehead, overhanging brows, and hideously-skewed jaw, it would have been grotesque even with a nose.
A terrible aura of cold filled the room, and Galaeron knew the demilich's spirit had finally returned to its body He stepped forward and circled his palm before its face.
"Forget." He spoke in the ancient language of magic, calling upon Melegaunt's coldmagic to empower the spell. "Return to your rest."
The demilich lashed out, catching Galaeron by his chain mail and ripping a handful of magic-forged loops from over his breast. Vala leaped forward to attack, but the links were already falling through the creature's hand. Galaeron raised a hand to check her attack, then watched as the thing's body dissolved back into dust. When the skull sank to the floor, he motioned her forward. "Now, Vala-before the spirit flees. Cleave it in one blow."
Vala's sword descended in a black flash, splitting the skull lengthwise and dividing both sides again before they toppled to the floor. A crimson flamelight shot from the bones and streaked through Vala's body, then circled the room with a blood-curdling keen. Her jaw dropped and she looked as though she might collapse of shock, then a cold wind ripped through the room and the whirling flamelight faded from view. Galaeron glanced around the room. "Where's Malik?"