Red Magic

"Provided you knew where the city was."

"I know where it is."

"And you think that would be a good idea?" Galvin posed. "A great accomplishment, flying off on your own. More like a great liability."

"Don't talk to me about liabilities. At least I know how to talk to people. I know how to be civil. But you-" she sputtered, waking Elwin and drawing his attention. "You've got less ma

"I'm honest with people. And at least I don't shout at them," Galvin returned evenly, wishing he had never offered her the root.

"No, you don't have to shout," she taunted. "You can insult them just fine without even raising your voice. Ever try to be nice to someone?"

"I was trying to be nice to you." Galvin grimaced.

She propped herself into a sitting position and picked up the root. "Oh, go talk to a bullfrog or something," she groused.

"Hey, pipe down, willya?" Elwin broke in. "I had a long shift before the trip here, and I'm trying to sleep. I can't guide you anywhere tomorrow if you keep me up all night." The man dropped his head back into the grass. "Sheesh! Do they always fight like that?"

"No," the centaur replied, watching Galvin and Bre

"If that's getting along, I wish they'd get along somewhere else," Elwin grumbled.

"Elwin, you've got me curious," the centaur said softly. "Your name means 'friend to the elves' doesn't it? There aren't many elves in Thay, so that must mean you're not a native Thayvian."

"You're pretty smart, centaur," Elwin mumbled, sitting up and brushing the grass and dirt from his side. He yawned, displaying his broken teeth. "I'm originally from the Sword Coast… worked on a pirate ship. A few years ago, our ship started hauling slaves to Thay. I got to like this place, so I stayed." He winked at Wynter. "The orchard patrol pays well, and I do a little slaving on the side-children."

Wynter was losing his patience with the evil man. "Elwin," he said evenly, "does your slaving operation ever take you into Amruthar?"

"It takes me a lot of places," Elwin answered, sounding businesslike. "Amruthar's only one of 'em. Largest city around here. Two or three times a week, slaves are shipped in and put up for sale. They're cheaper than cattle."

"Amruthar," Wynter pressed angrily, not wanting to hear another word about Elwin's slave practices. "What is the city like now? Are the streets patrolled? Can slaves on missions for their masters walk freely? Who rules the city?"

Elwin sighed. "I've never been hassled much in the city. If you haven't done anything to offend a wizard or tharchion, you should be all right."

"Are there many centaurs?"

"Like you? Not many are as big as you," Elwin said, "but there are plenty of your type walking around."

The man sickened Wynter. The centaur believed every being had a right to choose his or her own course in life. Elwin had chosen his course long ago, but the slaves he and others in Thay dealt in could not choose. And Elwin seemed to think of them as nothing but a commodity.

"We're looking for a Red Wizard who's supposed to be in Amruthar," Wynter continued.

"A Red Wizard? There's plenty of 'em in Amruthar. Plenty all over Thay, for that matter," Elwin said with a snicker.

"His name's Maligor," Galvin interjected. "The gnoll said the Red Wizard Maligor was staying in Amruthar."

There was silence in the clearing. The charmed man nervously rubbed his scarred chin and looked at each of his companions.

"You're in over your heads," Elwin said. "Maligor's a zulkir. I ain't taking you to no zulkir. But I'll take you to the outskirts of Amruthar."

Wynter's right front hoof pawed at the ground. "Go to sleep, Elwin," the centaur stated.

In a few moments, the man was snoring again. Exhaustion also overcame Bre

Galvin and Wynter talked quietly for a while, discussing the best route to the city. They were hopeful they could move into Amruthar, get the information the Aglarond council and the Harper organization wanted, and then move out within a day or two.

In a short time, the Harpers decided it was time for them to rest, too. They discussed who should take first watch; neither Harper felt comfortable about leaving the small group unprotected. In the end, Galvin decided he would stay awake. But as the centaur chose a spot to sleep, his keen nostrils picked up a disturbing, almost imperceptible smell, reminiscent of something from his childhood. The breeze was carrying the scent of rotting flesh into the clearing. Finally, with a jolt, he recognized the smell.

"Galvin! Undead!" Wynter called, alerting the druid and waking Bre

The druid's eyes peered into the darkness, searching. He smelled them first, then saw their decaying bodies coming ever nearer. At first glance, the figures appeared human, and in life they might have been. But now their flesh was gray and decomposing, and it clung to their bones like tattered sails on a mast. Their hair appeared wirey, tangled, and bug-ridden, and their deep-socketed eyes, seemingly devoid of intelligence, bore straight ahead into the clearing. They were moving in through the trees, slowly making their way past the tangled branches.

"They've surrounded us!" the druid called. He cursed himself for not hearing their approach. How could he have been so careless? The undead were halfway through the brambles and would be on the group in moments. In the darkness, Galvin couldn't be certain how many there were, but he guessed there were at least a dozen. Grimly he drew his scimitar.

Out of the corner of his eye, Galvin saw the centaur move toward the shambling corpses on the other side of the clearing, his staff thrust out in front of him as if to keep them at bay. Bre

"Elwin, wake up!" the sorceress ordered as she continued searching through her bag. Her hands shook terribly. Bre

The creatures stumbled through the trees and bushes, the pale, rotting flesh on their bones catching and clinging to the branches. The stench from the walking cadavers was overpowering and made the Harpers and Bre

Most of the corpses' hands were intact; their fingers were bony and ended in long, filthy nails that curved in toward their palms like claws. Their eyes glowed a hellish, dull yellow-orange.

The first undead broke into the clearing and lunged at Wynter, its long arms flailing to scratch the centaur's body. Its mouth opened and a thin, snakelike tongue darted out and uncoiled in the air. The centaur cringed. Ghouls! he thought, staring at the tongue used for sucking marrow out of bones. To be killed by a ghoul meant to become one of their kind-provided the ghoul pack wasn't hungry and didn't eat you first.

Wynter shouted out to his companions what they were facing and thrust forward with his staff to keep the loathsome creature from touching him. The long, carved staff lodged itself in the caved-in chest of the corpse, making a sickening crunching sound as it splintered brittle ribs. Already dead, the ghoul wasn't to be stopped this easily. With both hands, it grasped the wood and began to pull itself up the staff, hand over hand, unmindful of the wood that pierced through its body and emerged out its back.

In response, Wynter heaved with his great strength, lifting the staff and the ghoul along with it. He swung the staff to the right, slamming the suspended ghoul into another of its foul companions just emerging from the trees. Their bodies collided with a horrifying thud that left both creatures lying stu