The Magehound

The saltpowder crystals pelted the drowned creatures. Fetid steam rose from the bloated forms as the minerals seared through cheesy flesh and warred with the trapped gases beneath.

"Down!" commanded Andris. He dropped flat and threw his arms over his head.

The explosion shook the ground and sent unspeakable goo splattering over the warriors. The log shuddered and shifted, creaking as it threatened to fall into the water. Andris rose and began shouting and gesturing to the men who lay flat on the log. They struggled to their feet and hurried across.

Suddenly two enormous, skeletal forepaws slammed down on the log bridge. The massive knuckles flexed and water surged as an enormous skull broke free. Nimble as a gigantic squirrel, the undead monstrosity clambered onto the bridge.

Never had Andris seen such a creature, alive or dead. A pair of long pointed horns thrust forward out of its ridged skull, and a beaklike maw was filled with teeth that resembled those of a titanic vampire. Incisors the length and sheen of daggers flashed as the creature darted at the last man on the bridge.

The man turned, alerted by his comrades' screams, just as the massive jaws clamped down on him. As horrid as it was to see a comrade disappear into a monster's maw, it was more terrible still to see the rent pieces fall through the skeleton form to stain the log bridge and the water below.

Horror gripped the men, lending frantic speed as they ripped through the foliage and up the hill. In perhaps an hour, they stood panting at the crumbling, vine-colored gates of the city itself.

Andris stared in awe at the remains of what had once been a wondrous town, with buildings even more fanciful than those of Halruaa's cities. Remnants of leaping towers rose into the trees, some of them almost entirely obscured by vines. None of them had been constructed with stone, indeed, they had been grown, not built. Piles of multicolored crystal lay in heaps, looking like the mounds of a dragon's hoard. A small waterfall spilled over one such ruin, and the passage of water coaxed high, ghostly notes from some of the crystal shards.

To his astonishment, Andris recognized the ruined structures as elven. The history books claimed that the town was a rough outpost inhabited by rogues and bandits. He had never heard of early civilizations of elves in this part of Halruaa.

The city was eerily silent as they worked their way through the ruined streets. The only sound was the thud of their machetes as they cut through the foliage clogging the area.

Quon Lee worked his way over to Andris's side. "There should be undead here," he said softly. "Why haven't they attacked?"

"There will be undead," Andris murmured. "I don't know why they're waiting. Perhaps they're standing guard over something that seemed important in life."

"So if we leave now without despoiling this unknown treasure, they will let us withdraw in peace?"

Andris shot an ironic smile in the scout's direction. "What do you think?"

Quon Lee merely shrugged and lifted his machete again.

Suddenly they were clear and standing in an enormous courtyard. The buildings here were nearly intact, and the fountain on the huge pool in the center still bubbled. Andris noted that the scent of the swamp was heavy in the water.

He took a vial of powder and a torch from his bag, first lighting the torch and then using his teeth to pull out the vial's cork. The other fighters followed his lead.

"What now?" whispered Iago.

"We wait," Andris replied simply.

They didn't have long to wait. A sudden clatter of bone and the reek of rotting meat a

There was no time to ponder this question. The men tossed their open vials into the pool, followed by the torches. And then they turned and ran for the exit.

They dived back into the thick foliage, rolling as far away as they could and clamping their hands to their ears.

A tremendous roar rolled through the vine-clogged streets like the scream of a dragon taking flight A second blast followed, a cloud of terrible heat and choking black smoke.

After a few minutes, they ventured back into the courtyard. A few charred bones still twitched, but most of the undead had been utterly destroyed by the blast. Wisps of foul steam and black smoke rose from the pool. The crystal buildings still stood, but several of the doors had been blasted inward by the force of the explosion.

Andris caught sight of a faint, greenish glow through one of those doors. He cautiously eased through the opening and found himself in a ruined temple. On the altar was a small globe, perhaps half the size of a man's head, faintly pulsating with light and power. Andris could feel the pull of it, a powerful yearning that felt more like sadness than hunger.

"What the Nine bloody Hells is that thing?" demanded Wolther, raking his straw-colored hair away from his face as he stared at the glowing sphere.

"I don't know for certain," Andris replied hesitantly, "but I think this could be what empowers the undead. Notice how they gather here. This globe is hungry for magic, and the undead creatures gathered around it like bees feeding nectar to a queen."

He carefully lifted the crystal and slipped it into his pack.

The northerner's sky-colored eyes narrowed. "So you're taking that with us? It'll draw every undead thing within calling range!"

"The return trip will not lack excitement," Andris said dryly. "But it is the only way to complete our task. The Kilmaruu will never be utterly free of undead-what swamp in any land can make that boast? — but those creatures that remain need not forage for magic."

The big northerner folded his arms. "Seems to me you're moving a problem, not solving one."

"Surely Halruaa has one wizard who can negate or contain this force," Andris retorted. "We are here to remove the thing that causes the undead to feed upon magic. Only by doing so can we eliminate the danger to outlying farms and the nearby waters. Only then will you be free to return to your homeland," he added for good measure.

Wolther shrugged. "Best be going, then."

Andris noted that none of the men suggested staying to explore and pillage the elven city. All of them were far too eager to leave Kilmaruu behind.

Very late that night, the weary survivors staggered into the compound where they had trained. Kiva and her wemic captain awaited them. The magehound took Andris's report with great satisfaction, and her amber eyes lit with sudden ardent flame when he handed her the green sphere.

A suspicion stirred in Andris's mind. Somehow he doubted that the magehound's stated mission-destroying the threat offered by the undead-was her true goal.

Kiva dismissed the other men to rest, but she took Andris to her private chambers and plied him with wine and questions. Every detail of the battle fascinated her. She presented other possible situations, similar to that which they had faced, and asked how he would address them.

Andris did not mind, despite his exhaustion. Not since his days at the Jordain College and his long discussions and arguments with Matteo had he encountered anyone who shared his passion for tactics and strategy.

But doubt, once planted, grows quickly and dies hard. He studied the softly glowing globe, which Kiva kept with her, cradling in her lap like a beloved cat.

"You seem to take scant interest in this victory. What is your true purpose? What comes next?"