Джейн Рэйб - Red Magic

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 not 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.