by Jean Rabe
The vampire plied the druid for more information, under the direction of Szass Tam. "What did you hope to accomplish in Thay?"
"We wanted to pose as Thayvians so we could find out what the Red Wizard Maligor was up to. If he was planning to march against Aglarond, the country would have to prepare for war."
"Maligor!" Szass Tam screeched. "What made you think the Zulkir of Alteration was plotting war?"
The vampire who held control of Galvin had to repeat the question.
"I found a gnoll informer who worked for Maligor. He was willing to sell his loyalty to whoever had the most gold." The words poured like honey from the druid's mouth. "The gnoll told me that Maligor was planning to march against someone, perhaps another Red Wizard."
"Perhaps," Szass Tam echoed slowly. "I find it most unusual that the Harpers, the Aglarond Council, and I should all be interested in Maligor. Coincidences should not be taken lightly."
The vampire's face tilted to meet Szass Tam's eyes.
Brenna realized that, just as the vampire had charmed Galvin, the Zulkir of Necromancy held the same power over the vampire. It was a horrible chain of command, with Szass Tam at the top. The lich whispered to the vampire in tones so soft she couldn't make out what was being said. Turning to Galvin, she noted that a sheen of perspiration had broken out over his forehead.
"I'm sorry," the druid began, not looking in her eyes. "I had to tell him everything he wanted to know. I had to. I felt like a puppet."
"It's not your fault." She tried to console him, edging to his side again. "Their power is far greater than ours. It's just our dumb luck to have drawn the attention of Szass Tam." The sorceress draped her arms about Galvin's shoulders, then stiffened when she noticed the Red Wizard looking at her.
"How feminine and sickeningly touching," Szass Tam purred. "You'll have time enough to enjoy each others' company later, after you've finished working for me."
"Never!" Galvin roared, shrugging off Brenna's arms and rising to his feet. He kept his eyes focused on Szass Tam's, not wanting to fall victim again to the vampire's control. "I'm a Harper, zulkir. I've dedicated my life to fighting for good. I'm not going to help you. I'll die first!"
"And if you die, you'll help me anyway," the lich replied. The vampires backed away from the zulkir as he laughed, a rich deep, throaty chuckle that sent goose bumps racing up and down Galvin's and Brenna's spines. Szass Tam leveled his gaze on the pair and willed his fleshly illusion to melt, the pink skin flowing from him to reveal his gaunt, corpselike body. The lich's robes hung about him, and his arms and face appeared as bones covered by incredibly old, thin flesh. He threw back his skeletal head and laughed once more, then focused on the pair, the red pinpoints of his eyes staring out at them through deep sockets.
Brenna screamed again and again at Szass Tam's true visage. She threw her trembling hands over face, and her shoulders shuddered terribly. She shook her head back and forth, trying to deny the creature before her. She had heard that one of Thay's zulkir's was a lich, the most powerful form of undead to walk the realms. On trembling legs, she rose to stand behind Galvin, finding little comfort in the druid's closeness.
Szass Tam glared at her. "The dead are under my command, just as death is my domain. I'm beyond the living, Harpers, and I'm beyond your feeble protests. You will help me-living or dead. You will do exactly as I say.
"And if your performance is satisfactory," the lich continued, "I will let you go. My plans do not call for meddling in Harper affairs or evoking the wrath of Aglarond dignitaries and statesmen. I have no desire to involve myself in such trivial things right now. So if you perform well, we will both be satisfied. You will learn what Maligor is up to, and I will have ended his miserable little plot."
Galvin's resolve appeared firm. "What makes you think we'll help you willingly?" he protested, though deep down he knew that if the lich wanted their aid, the Harpers would be forced to comply. He was curious, however, to learn just how the lich would force them and if they truly would be freed afterward.
"Since you wish to continue this, very well," Szass Tam sighed, moving slowly in front of his desk. He leaned backward against it, placing his bony hands flat on the polished surface and resting his slight weight on them. The zulkir's red eyes vanished, leaving the sockets black like pits. He drew his thin lips tight and languidly rocked his head back and forth.
Galvin and Brenna saw their surroundings waver, then turn to mist, then change. They were on the edge of a city at dusk; the sorceress recognized it as her hometown.
Looking down the main street, they saw a legion of undead-skeletons and zombies, led by a pair of vampires-ripping people from their homes, tearing soldiers' limbs off, and tramping over the dead and dying. The spectacle worsened as they spotted Wynter, his flesh hanging from his ribs and arms, his eyes hollow sockets like Szass Tam's. The centaur was leading a pack of ghouls that were headed straight toward the government buildings. Like a ghastly play, the scene continued to unfold until it seemed no one remained alive in the city.
Then Szass Tam appeared on the capitol steps, waving his arms and commanding the dead Aglarond citizens to rise and join his forces. The lich waved his arms again, and the scene shifted once more.
Brenna and Galvin were back in the zulkir's room, and Wynter remained wounded nearby.
"That is one possible future," Szass Tam uttered, his voice lowering for impact. "Councilwoman, you will tell me that Aglarond's forces can stand up to mine. And for a time, perhaps they could. But if I move at night, I am much more powerful, for the night is frightening and hides much, and my army would be in its element. Your soldiers would stop some of my troops, but not before many in Aglarond died. And with each death, I would become even more powerful, for death is my domain. And in the end, I would win."
Brenna shuddered, wondering if the lich really was powerful enough to accomplish a raid on Aglarond. If he were so strong, she thought, why wasn't he trying to take the country now?
He caught her doubts and offered the pair another illusion.
The room dissipated around them, the walls becoming mist and parting to reveal an ancient graveyard overgrown with weeds and sprinkled with small, stark trees. Galvin and Brenna shivered in the shadow of a massive marker, so weathered the pair couldn't make out the inscription or date on it. The sun was setting, casting an orange haze over the desolate landscape and causing the shadows to lengthen from the gravestones that stretched off toward the horizon. The graves went to the edge of Galvin's vision, and he and Brenna began to stroll down a row of waist-high markers. Two stones came into focus. They bore the names of Galvin and Brenna.
The ground shifted before the two stones, and the dirt began to be pushed away from underneath. Thin hands, covered in places by white flesh, clawed upward and grasped for a solid hold against the ground. Then arms emerged, skeletal pale in the waning light. Finding purchase, one pair of arms straightened and pulled, and the decaying form of the druid tugged itself from the grave. A tattered green cloak hung loosely from its form, and a silver neck chain with a harp and moon clung to the flesh about its frail neck.
The corpse stooped awkwardly and extended its hands to a pair of arms still struggling in the ground. The dead druid extricated the body of Brenna Graycloak from its resting place.
Together the corpses stumbled deeper into the graveyard, where more zombies were emerging. Brenna and Galvin fell in line with the others and marched toward the horizon.
The room returned.
Szass Tam had moved away from his desk and now stood only a few feet from the druid and Brenna.
"What-what do you want us to do?" Galvin asked quietly.
"I want Maligor stopped," the lich replied simply. "The threat he poses to me is not from his gnoll army. If he is planning to march his gnolls against another Red Wizard, it will be a weak one. I know Maligor, and I know he won't go up against something that might offer too much resistance. If he wants to march his gnolls against Aglarond, he would n
ot be able to take much of the land. But I don't want him succeeding in any attempt. A victory for him diminishes me. Do you understand?"
Galvin nodded. "You understand that Brenna and I do not have the power to stop him. Despite the magic at our command, his magic is superior. And he has an army."
Brenna couldn't stay silent any longer. "Why don't you go after him yourself?" she said to the lich. "If you think you have the power to take Aglarond on your own, why don't you take him instead?"
The lich snarled at her. "Fool. I cannot yet afford to overtly take on another wizard. I prefer to exercise power from a distance."
"Galvin's right, though," she argued. "He and I can't take Maligor."
"Not alone," Szass Tam said. "But I will supply you with enough aid."
For a third time, the room dissolved, and Galvin and Brenna found themselves on a wide plain. There were orchards in the distance, and to their far right stood the walls of Amruthar. All around them were undead beings-skeletons, zombies, and other creatures that could walk about in the light of day but should have remained buried. There were also a few dozen living men, trained fighters, from the look of their muscles. The men wore nondescript armor and carried featureless shields. The undead were wrapped in cloaks and robes to help hide their true nature.
Szass Tam stood in front of Brenna and Galvin, once again wearing his fleshly visage.
"You will lead my army of undead," he commanded, "and no one will know from whence they come. Oh, the wizards who care will be able to guess who is behind this force, but the great masses of people will not know."
Galvin swallowed hard and surveyed the illusionary force. He imagined the real one would look little different.
"You will lead this force to Maligor's tower. It stands outside Amruthar, so you will not have to contend with the city's guards. You will only have to deal with the gnolls assembled there. The fight could be difficult, but if you wish to live, you will win it."
"I want Wynter at my side," Galvin demanded, daring to interrupt the lich's instructions. "The centaur is my friend and a good fighter."
"I watched him," Szass Tam countered. "He fights only when pressed."
"I'll fight better with him nearby," Galvin said honestly.
"Very well," the Zulkir of Necromancy relented as the room re-formed for the last time. "I will grant you this one concession, since I have no major use for a zombie centaur."
Szass Tam padded toward Wynter, who was breathing more shallowly than before. The centaur's skin appeared ashen, but it glowed suddenly as the lich extended his hands over him. Szass Tam knelt and touched his palm to Wynter's human chest.
Galvin was amazed that a man who was so tied to death should have the ability to renew life. The gashes healed before the druid's eyes, the centaur's breathing became even and deep, and the color returned to his skin. The blood Wynter had lost was magically restored somehow, and he was renewed with vigor.
"Galvin!" Wynter gasped, untangling himself from the litter and rising and backing away from Szass Tam. "The Zulkir of Necromancy! We are his?"
"Only for a time," the druid answered his friend. "We've an errand to perform for him."
Wynter looked puzzled, since he was not privy to anything that had passed before, but Galvin kept him silent with a narrow glance.
"Now, my Harpers," Szass Tam said, motioning for a pair of jujus to open the double doors. "Follow your escorts to your chambers. You look tired. You should sleep. It wouldn't do for you to go up against Maligor when you're not feeling your best."
Galvin followed the jujus from the room, the vampires falling in line behind Brenna and Wynter. The double doors closed behind them, and Szass Tam's laughter echoed through the thick wood. The sound trailed the heroes down the hall and into their dark chambers.
Ten
Maligor sat alone in his vast library, staring out the window at the tops of the city's buildings silhouetted in the early morning sky and at a cloud formation that reminded him of a dragon he had slain in his younger days, a hundred and fifty years ago or so. The cloud wavered like a moving creature, then slowly floated out of his view. The Red Wizard wondered what the landscape and the clouds would look like from his gold mines.
Undoubtedly better.
The Red Wizard felt that his life would be better there, also. He would have more power, more wealth, more of everything that every Red Wizard in Thay wanted. And he would have it all to himself.
"Soon," he said to the air. "But first, to my health." Maligor eyed a thin crystal vial he had been holding in his right hand, inspecting it in much the same way a jeweler would examine a fine brooch. He ran his stiff, wrinkled thumb up and down the side of the vial, feeling the cool smoothness and dwelling on the power within it. The liquid inside was a pale, pearly green that moved sluggishly as he tilted the vial back and forth, evidence of its thick viscosity. He pondered the contents for a time, long enough for another cloud to move across his window and reduce the light spilling into the room.
The Red Wizard had mixed the concoction late last night, feeling especially tired, morose, and old. He had waited until this morning to drink it, however, not wanting to fritter away any regained youth in sleep.
Maligor detested age. He considered it his only weakness and the one thing that could possibly stand in his way of eventually becoming ruler of all of Thay. So he fought it the only way he knew how-with his elixirs, powders, and arcane scrolls that hinted his soul was no longer his own. But Maligor never feared the repercussions of his magic or the well-being of his immortal spirit. He fully intended to live forever, and let the dark forces that hungered for him be damned.
To a renewed decade, he thought as he uncorked the vial, threw his head back, and downed the contents in a single, long draft. The mixture slowly oozed down his throat, burning as it went, bringing tears to the wizard's eyes.
For a moment, Maligor stood motionless. Then he jerked to his feet like a marionette being pulled by a vicious puppeteer, and the vial dropped from his hand, shattering into fine fragments on the marble floor. Gasping in pain, he doubled over, trying to clutch at his stomach through the thick red robes. His insides seethed and churned, seeming as if they were trying to fight their way out. He crumpled to his knees and clawed furiously at the marble, struggling to keep quiet so the guards outside wouldn't run in to defend him from an unseen menace and ruin his experience. He imagined piles of gold, trying to focus on something pleasant to lessen the pain. Still the pain in his gut persisted, but through it all, Maligor smiled, satisfied that the elixir was working properly.
For several minutes, he rode out the agony, then gathered himself up from the floor and wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his robe.
Breathing deeply and inhaling more air into his lungs than he had been able to for the past several years, he collected his thoughts, then anxiously and purposefully strode from the room. The guards at the library door fell in behind him in military precision. Maligor didn't speak to them or to the other guards and servants moving about the hallways who stopped and stared hard at him, some with open mouths. He dismissed them with an indignant scowl and moved hurriedly to his bedchambers, leaving his escort outside and rushing to a long mirror on his closet door.
The imported beveled glass proved to Maligor that the pain was worth it. The wrinkles around his eyes were few and shallow; his skin felt softer, tighter, and the ache of age in his fingers and hands was lessened considerably. He flexed his fingers again and again and grinned sheepishly. Then he dwelled on his hair and beard and the face of a man in his early forties.
The same potion that rejuvenated his body, causing him to shed decades, also caused his hair to grow. It was long now, hanging several inches below his shoulders, and as black as a cave. It ringed his head, leaving him a small bald spot on top where the symbol of Myrkul stood out. In places, the black hair was streaked with a few strands of gray. He felt it with both hands, running his fingers through it. It felt silky, and he shook hi
s head to watch it whip about his face, then fall in wild disarray around his neck and shoulders. Finally his right hand moved to his beard. It was full, coarse, and not as dark as the hair on his head, peppered with iron gray and white. It hung nearly to his waist and felt odd and heavy, making the skin on his chin and around his mouth itch terribly.
The Red Wizard marveled at his appearance; never before had drinking one of his life-extending potions restored this many years. Maligor mused that perhaps his body was becoming used to the potions, and in accepting them, the mixtures were having better effects. Conversely, he considered with a scowl, it could mean that the next potion would present an even more drastic change on his body. He didn't like unpredictable magic, but he certainly liked this.
"Another lifetime," he said to himself, insufferably pleased, running his hand over his bald spot, tracing the outline of the white skull there and posing before the glass. Basking in his own company, the wizard stared at his image for nearly half an hour.
Changing into a new scarlet robe, he waltzed to his wine cabinet, his gait lively. He selected a bottle, the label of which was yellowed with age and unreadable, snatched two glasses, and padded to his couch. Maligor considered wine the only thing that improved with age.
"Asp!" he shouted to the guards beyond his chamber. "Bring Asp here at once!" He wanted to share the excitement of his new form with her.
Maligor had finished his fourth glass of wine by the time the spirit naga arrived. She slithered into the room and moved in front of him, coiling her snake half into a tight spiral and resting backward on it, not visibly reacting to his new appearance. She was not her usual prim self this morning. Her hair was disheveled and her face and arms were smudged with dirt. She had the faint odor of sweat about her, which Maligor considered at once repulsive and alluring.
"You're drinking rather early," she stated, dispensing with the formalities he demanded and snapping him out of his good mood. The naga was furious he had risked his life by drinking the longevity potion; she wanted him alive until he gained enough power so she would have a sizable share of wealth and influence for herself. If he died before their plans were realized, she would have to leave Thay. None of the other Red Wizards would stand for the presence of a power-hungry spirit naga who served a wizard that had schemed against them.