Bareris and his comrades had observed two withered, yellow-eyed dread warriors standing guard in front of the tent, and now the sentries pushed through the flap of cloth covering the doorway. He'd hoped the magical silence would keep them from discerning that their master needed them, but perhaps they were responding to a psychic summons.
Though Bareris hadn't taken his eyes off his foes to glance around and check, he assumed Aoth, Mirror, and Chathi were likewise inside the tent by now, and he'd depend on them to deal with the dread warriors. He had to stay focused on Urhur, because the Red Wizard merely needed to scurry into the open air, dart beyond the confines of the zone of silence, and scream for help to ruin his plan.
He tried to lame Urhur with a slash to the leg. The necromancer flung himself backward into the taut canvas wall of the tent, rebounded, and landed on the ground behind the cot. Fearful that Urhur would squirm out under the bottom of the cloth barrier, Bareris dropped his dagger, grabbed the camp bed, and jerked it out of his way.
Meanwhile, Urhur gripped one of the bones strung around his neck, and a seething dimness shrouded his form. Still aiming for the leg, Bareris thrust. Urhur tried to snatch his limb out of the way, but the blade grazed him even so.
Malignancy burned up the sword and into Bareris's hand, chilling and stinging him like the blast from the wand. Urhur scrambled up and reached for him. A tattoo on the back of the necromancer's hand gleamed, releasing its power, whereupon his nails grew long and jagged as the claws of a ghoul.
By the time Bareris recovered from the shock of the hurt he'd just sustained, Urhur had already lunged near enough to rend and grab, too close for the sword to be of use. Bareris dropped the weapon and caught the mage by the wrists.
They wrestled, shoving and staggering back and forth, and as they did so, the bard caught glimpses of the rest of the fight. Aoth swung his falchion, its heavy blade shining blue with enchantment, and buried it in a dread warrior's chest. The creature stumbled, and Mirror, somewhat more visible now, his shadow weapon currently shaped like Aoth's, struck it as well. Meanwhile, Chathi brandished a hand wreathed in fire, and the other undead guard collapsed before her, breaking and crumbling in the process.
Bareris thought he should be faring as well or better than his comrades. He was stronger than Urhur and a superior brawler, but he didn't dare risk even a single scratch from the wizard's nails for fear it would incapacitate him, and every time he landed a head butt or stamp to the toes, his adversary's protective aura caused the impact to pain him as well.
Urhur abruptly opened his mouth wide, revealing that his teeth, too, had grown long and pointed. He yanked Bareris close and bit at his neck. Caught by surprise, the bard just barely managed to jerk his upper body backward in time. Drops of saliva spattered him as the crooked fangs gnashed shut.
Then, however, Urhur lurched forward, and his legs buckled beneath him. Employing the pommel of his falchion as a bludgeon, Aoth clubbed the necromancer's head a second time. Urhur slumped entirely limp. Sore and weak from the punishment he'd endured, Bareris tore away the necklace of bones, depriving the Red Wizard of his defensive aura, then threw him to the ground.
Aoth's falchion glowed brighter as he released the counter-spell he'd stored in the steel. Bareris abruptly heard the rasp of his own labored breathing as the spell of silence dissolved. Meanwhile, Urhur's claws and fangs melted away.
"Are you all right?" Aoth whispered.
"When this is over," Bareris replied, "I'll want the aid of a healer, but I can manage for now."
Chathi moved to the door of the tent, shifted the flap, and peeked out. "I don't think anyone's noticed anything amiss."
"Good," said Aoth. "Can you restore Urhur to his senses?"
"Most likely." She rooted in her belt pouch, produced a pewter vial, uncorked it, and held it under the Red Wizard's nose.
Urhur's eyes fluttered open, then he flailed, but to little effect. Bareris, Aoth, and Chathi were crouching all around him to hold him down and menace him with their daggers.
"Calm down," said Aoth. "You probably realize I don't like you, but my friends and I won't kill you if you answer our questions."
"You're insane," Urhur said. "You'll all die for this outrage."
Aoth smiled. "Yes, if it doesn't work out, which means we have nothing to lose. If I were you, I'd think about the implications of that."
Perhaps seeking to calm himself, Urhur took a deep breath. "Very well, I'll answer your questions. In all likelihood, I would have done so in any case. I have no secrets."
"If so," said Aoth, "you must be the only Red Wizard who can make that claim, but before we proceed, I want you to think about something. I just cast a counterspell. Bareris and Chathi are each going to do the same. I hope that if anyone has laid a magical binding on you, it will turn out that one of us has succeeded in breaking your fetters, and you can give us what we require without suffering for it."
"I have no idea what you're babbling about."
"I admit," Aoth continued, "if you do tell the truth, you'll be running a risk. We'll have no way of knowing in advance whether we've actually freed you, but I guarantee that if your responses fail to satisfy us, we'll kill you. Bareris, Chathi, do what you need to do."
Bareris sang his charm, and the priestess chanted her invocation to the Firelord.
"Now," said Aoth to the prisoner, "tell us who created the undead horde."
Urhur's eyes shifted left, then right, as if he was looking for succor. "How should I know? All anyone knows is that they came down out of the mountains."
"You're lying," said Aoth.
He clamped a hand over the necromancer's mouth, and Bareris and Chathi exerted their strength to hold him motionless. Mirror glided forward, bent down, and slid his shadowy fingertips into Urhur's torso.
It wasn't the sort of violation that broke the skin, shed blood, or made any sort of visible wound, but Urhur bucked and thrashed in agony. His body grew thinner, and new lines incised themselves on his face.
"Enough," Bareris said, and Mirror pulled his hand away.
"I'll wager," said Aoth to Urhur, "that you've unleashed ghosts and such on a good many victims in your time, but I wonder if you'd ever felt a phantom's touch yourself. It looked painful, and you look older. I wouldn't be surprised if Mirror has leeched years from your natural span. Now shall we have him tickle your guts again, or will you cooperate?"
"I don't deserve this," Urhur whimpered. "Szass Tam didn't give me a choice. When I tried to keep you from discovering too much or warning Tharchion Focar and the other captains, I didn't even understand what I was doing. I mean, not entirely. My memory's funny. It's like I'm split in two."
"Just tell us," said Aoth. "Where did the marauders come from?"
"Why do I have to say? It's plain you already know."
"We need to hear," the war mage said.
"All right, curse you. My peers made them."
"And helped them to their victories?"
"Yes!"
"What are your orders now that you and the other Red Wizards in this army are supposed to fight the nighthaunt and its primary host yourselves?"
"I-" Urhur's eyes rolled up in his head.
His back arched and his limbs jerked as the dying orc's had done. He jerked in a final great spasm that broke Chathi's grip on his arm then lay motionless with bloody foam oozing from the corner of his mouth.
The fire priestess placed her hand in front of Urhur's contorted features, feeling for his breath. After a moment, she said, "He's dead."
"Damn it," said Aoth. "I'd hoped we'd forestalled that. Obviously, we only delayed it. Still, he admitted some things. Enough, I hope, to spare us a meeting with the headsman." He looked back at the slit in the rear of the tent.