Red Magic

Twelve

The sun was setting on Thay in front of the heroes and their undead charges. Wynter glanced over his shoulder so he could watch the skeletons and zombies.

"Why are they here?" the centaur asked Bre

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later," she sighed. "I only wish you could remember." Bre

This was wrong, she knew, Wynter's condition and this entire procession against the Red Wizard Maligor. Choosing the lesser of two evils was still an evil. And any evil in Thay was an abomination as far as the enchantress was concerned.

"They smell fu

"I know," she said softly, smiling at the simpleminded centaur. "Try not to think about it. Look at the sunset. Isn't it beautiful?" The orange rays spread out over the groves of trees to their right and left and the verdant plain before them. The breeze that blew over the grass teased their faces.

"Pretty," the centaur agreed. "Your name is Bre

The enchantress nodded sadly and tilted her head so she could see Galvin. The druid was several yards behind them and was apparently studying the centaur.

"Where are we going?" the centaur persisted.

"A city called Amruthar," Bre

"Tell me when we get there. I'm going to look at the dead men," Wynter decided, falling back to march between the first two rows of the undead. Balancing his enchanted bardiche under one arm, the centaur waved happily at Galvin.

Feeling morose about his witless friend, the druid didn't acknowledge the gesture. Galvin was angry at himself for not being with Wynter when the plant trapped him. Strangely, he was even angrier that the plant hadn't killed his friend. The druid knew that, in the wilderness, only the strong survived, and Wynter could no longer survive on his own. He hated seeing his friend this way-an adult with a child's mind.

The druid scowled, frustrated and disappointed that he should wish for his friend's demise. Civilized people wouldn't be so cruel, he decided. He rode up to Bre

Bre

The councilwoman looked over her shoulder at the hulking centaur. Her emotions had been turned inside out the past several days, and the things she considered important-laws, government, control-seemed insignificant. She had grown to care for the centaur and the druid more deeply than she cared to admit. The pair of Harpers, who embraced the wilderness and the loose structure of their organization, were opposites of almost everything and everyone she knew. She found herself thinking more about their welfare than that of Aglarond, and she wondered how she could have changed so much since she entered Thay.

The druid cocked his head, noting her troubled expression. "We can't quit," the druid stated, glancing back at the army and seeing Wynter playfully pass his bardiche to a large skeleton. Galvin grimaced. "If we quit, Szass Tam will kill us, and we can't help Wynter if we're dead."

"I just wish we had never come here. Wynter chose to leave Thay years ago. He never should have come back. We should have stayed out of this evil land, too."

The druid realized that the enchantress blamed herself for their dilemma. If the Aglarond council, of which she was a member, hadn't asked the Harpers to investigate activities in Thay, things would have turned out differently. But Galvin also recognized that sooner or later the Harpers would have poked their noses into the country anyway. The lich was right. The Harpers were meddlers.

"It's not your fault," Galvin said.

The enchantress didn't reply. She stared ahead into the sunset.

The druid picked up the pace, and Bre

The sun set as the army reached an area dotted with farms. The barns and houses looked like black splotches beneath the growing grayness of the sky. Here and there lights came on in buildings as lanterns were lit and families settled in for the evening.

The night heralded the arrival of more troops for Galvin's and Bre

These new undead first appeared as amorphous blobs, then as man-shaped clouds of darkness insubstantial enough that they could manipulate the shape of their arms, legs, and heads. Those closest to Bre

"What in the name of the gods are those things?" Galvin asked the councilwoman. He appeared to keep his eyes focused on hers, but he was actually peering nervously behind her at the undead. The druid was finding it increasingly difficult to see in the growing darkness.

Then he spied something ahead, a small row of flickering lights. They had to be torches along Amruthar's wall, so far away they looked like fireflies. He wished that Szass Tam had allowed them to bring lanterns so he could check on Wynter and the undead army behind him. He was uncomfortable not knowing his army's precise numbers and location.

"I only wish I knew what they were," Bre

Before she could say another word, one of the creatures laughed hollowly, startling the sorceress and the druid. None of the other undead in the patrol had seemed capable of speech other than an occasional moan, which Galvin at first thought might have been the wind.

"Death," said a shape that had assumed Bre

"Sweet death," another of the strange creatures echoed. Then another and another took up the phrase until the words blended together and sounded like a swarm of insects.

The sorceress wondered how the things could speak. The creatures had no mouths, nor indeed any other visible facial features. Gathering her courage, she turned and was startled to find herself mere inches from one of the creatures.

"How-" Her voice cracked and she shivered. "How do you talk?"

More haunting laughter followed, then a raspy voice filtered through the terrifying cacophony. "The death master makes it so. The death master makes the grave only the begi

"What are you?" Bre

"Wraiths," the word sounded like a rush of wind and came from the figure closest to Bre