Unholy

"After we destroy Szass Tam, you can ride them whenever you like."

"I think I'll visit the stables now." Bareris turned and headed back down the stairs.

Malark felt a hostile presence lurking on his right. Employing the mental skills he'd learned as a Monk of the Long Death, he ignored it and kept his awareness focused on the silent stretch of tu

The Watcher, as generations of Red Wizards and their servants had called his invisible and unwanted companion, haunted a section of the catacombs decorated with dingy paintings of scenes from which all the people and animals seemed to have vanished-throne rooms without monarches or courtiers, wedding feasts devoid of bride, groom, guests, and musicians, and forests uninhabited by birds or squirrels. The spirit never actually did anything to mortals who trespassed in its domain. Still, most people found the pressure of its hateful regard so nerve-wracking that they gave this part of the dungeons a wide berth.

To Malark, though, it was no great matter. He actually found himself more distracted by thoughts of his magical twin.

He'd sensed it when his counterpart had died, and he felt a wry sort of envy. He'd wooed death for centuries, to no avail. His twin had needed to exist for only a few days before the greatest of all powers had seen fit to extinguish him. And since the two Malarks had been exactly alike, it was difficult to perceive any sort of justice in the event.

But in light of the destiny he was pursuing, he didn't really mind-unless his double's demise indicated that the unique instrument Szass Tam had created was in jeopardy. At the moment, it must still exist, for Malark was sure he would have sensed its destruction, also. But was it safe? Despite the regent's tutelage, he wasn't a master diviner, and his magical inquiries on the subject yielded ambiguous results. And unfortunately, hiding here in the depths, he had no other way of obtaining information.

He took a breath, let it go, and sought to dismiss the problem from his mind just as he expelled air from his lungs. A warrior could fight only one fight at a time. He'd address other concerns after he won the current battle.

Thanks to his headband, he glimpsed motion at the very limit of his vision. The murky shapes passed quickly from left to right, proceeding north along a passage that intersected the one he was peering down.

Malark waited for another moment after they disappeared, then, making sure to move silently, jumped up and sprinted through the maze of tu

Malark came to a branching passage, halted, and listened. He heard nothing and wasn't surprised. The undead moved quietly too, especially when they were hunting.

If he'd needed to recite an incantation and time the final word with the stalkers' appearance in the gloom, that might have posed a problem, but he'd had the foresight to store the spell he required in a ring. When his pursuers, following the trail he'd laid for them, came into view, he extended his arm and breathed the trigger word. A spark erupted from the cabochon ruby set in the gold band and streaked at Szass Tam and his bodyguards.

When it reached the hunters, the spark flared and boomed into an explosion of yellow flame. Malark knew better than to suppose it would do much harm to Szass Tam. The lich was too powerful and too wrapped in protective enchantments. But with any luck, it would incinerate the vampires.

It certainly appeared to. It took Malark an instant to realize he'd glimpsed only two armored bodies breaking apart in the flash.

Which suggested he wasn't the only one capable of trickery. Szass Tam and two of the knights had stayed together in an effort to snare his attention while a third vampire prowled alone in the hope of creeping up on him.

Malark pivoted, and the creature was right behind him. The warrior was just completing the process of changing from wisps of mist to human form, but he already had his sword in his hand. He made a horizontal cut at Malark's torso.

Malark hopped back just far enough to evade the attack, then instantly lunged, cudgel shimmering with destructive power and poised to strike. The guard took a retreat and parried the blow.

As Malark would have expected of a warrior Szass Tam evidently trusted, the vampire was an expert combatant. Not so expert that Malark couldn't defeat him, but the problem was that he couldn't bide his time and wait for an opening. With luck, the fire magic had staggered the archmage, but he'd recover quickly and advance. And if Malark was still stuck here dueling the vampire when his liege lord arrived, Szass Tam would surely strike him down.

Malark murmured the opening words of an incantation and flicked the ebony wand through a star-shaped figure. Fangs bared, the vampire sprang in and made a head cut. The move was virtually a reflex for any seasoned warrior: If the wizard you're fighting starts reciting a spell, hit him before he can finish. Spoil the magic.

Malark shifted inside the arc of the cut, and the blade fell harmlessly behind him. Remembering that he mustn't shout-Szass Tam might well recognize his battle cry-he focused his strength, stiffened his fingers inside their clawed demon-hide glove, and drove them through the vampire's breastplate and ribs and into his chest. He gripped the creature's cold, motionless heart and ripped it out. The knight collapsed.

Malark dropped the heart, ran back the way he'd come, and held the hand with the ruby ring behind him. The gem dropped sparks as if they were caltrops, which then flowered into sheets of bright, crackling flame. The fires extended from wall to wall and might slow Szass Tam down a little. They might also keep him from getting a good look at his quarry and do so more reliably than any illusory disguise or charm of invisibility.

A wind howled down the passage, staggering Malark and blowing out his blazing barricades like candle flames. Recovering his balance, he dived into another branching passage a bare instant before a lightning bolt crackled down the one he'd just vacated.

When pla

But Malark actually did. Yesterday, he'd employed a tu

He whispered words of release and touched the tip of his wand to the invisible sigils inscribed across the seascape, avoiding the one that only existed to spray a thief with freezing cold. The signs glowed like red-hot iron for a moment, each in its turn, and then the hidden door clicked as the latch released.

Malark swung it wide open and left it that way after he passed through. On the other side was a spacious, high-ceilinged chamber crammed with some of Szass Tam's greatest treasures. An axe with a diamond blade, still lodged in the skull of the colossal dragon it had slain at the conclusion of its final battle. Gold and silver vials, each containing the sole surviving dose of some exotic potion. Tapestries in which the figures moved if one watched long enough, and spoke if one listened hard enough, doorways to small artificial worlds created by a long-extinct order of mystic weavers. A plentitude of sarcophagi, canopic jars, and grave goods looted from the tombs of the Mulhorandi lords who had once ruled Thay.