Джейн Рэйб - Red Magic

She had a harder time stomaching the charcoal-black robe he gave her. It was too large, falling in folds about her feet, and the shoulder seams extended several inches down her upper arms. The neckline, cuffs, and hem were trimmed with bits of bone. From the cut and the lingering scent of perfume in the fabric, she knew it was a woman’s robe, and she wondered what the previous owner had been like. She must have been six feet tall and twice Brenna’s girth. The enchantress got goosebumps thinking about the garment and considered shedding it and putting on something different. However, she suspected Szass Tam was watching them somehow, and for some reason, he seemed insistent the trio dress in a grim fashion and display his markings.

Her mount was slight but muscular, a young gray riding horse with a long, jet-black mane and an ebon saddle. She hoped she would be able to release it outside of Thay once they had fulfilled their agreement with the lich. She didn’t want something so spirited to be trapped inside this country.

Brenna thought a moment, watching Wynter lead the cortège. She doubted her horse really would have a chance at freedom, uncertain as she was whether Wynter, Galvin, or she would either. She was convinced that her fate would be grim—death at the hands of Maligor’s forces or eternal servitude to the lich. If they survived their encounter with Maligor, she didn’t believe Szass Tam would let them go. Success would make them too valuable as puppets and too knowledgable as free men.

Wynter and Galvin had remained silent since they left Szass Tam’s keep a half-hour ago. To keep her mind from dwelling on the glum possibilities, Brenna studied the terrain. Even by daylight, the land near Szass Tam’s keep looked dead. The ground was flat, the trees that dotted it were twisted and black. Only weeds grew, and they were the thorny kind.

As the miles floated by and they moved farther from the lich’s property, the land changed dramatically. Tall grasses grew on the plain, and there was an abundance of trees and bushes. In the distance to the west, north, and south, the enchantress saw precise rows of citrus trees, looking like dark green stripes on the land. She tried to imagine what this land would look like without the Red Wizards’ influence. It would probably be barren, she decided, like the ground near Szass Tam’s keep.

Brenna wondered what Galvin was thinking about—the lich, perhaps, or Maligor. The Harpers were likely to be taking this worse than she was, she thought, knowing that Wynter and Galvin claimed allegiance only to themselves and to the Harpers, and they were not bound by civil responsibilities beyond what they decided to accept—such as this mission into Thay. Their forced loyalty to Szass Tam, even though supposedly temporary, must be causing them great inner turmoil. Brenna had found herself in situations before in which she had to follow the majority dictates of the Aglarond council, even though she didn’t agree with them. Although those dictates were never evil, she tried to tell herself this current dilemma was similar to those experiences. She tried to believe that.

Brenna wished the Harpers hadn’t agreed to investigate the evil country and cursed herself for not staying back in Aglarond. But if she hadn’t kept herself entrenched in political events at home, she wouldn’t have cared what the Red Wizards were up to, and she’d never have known the two Harpers. She wished she had shown Galvin more understanding earlier. Melancholy reflections continued to flood her mind until she noticed Galvin was talking.

“At least you could talk about it.” The druid was speaking to Wynter.

“Talk about what?” Wynter’s voice was hard to catch, as he spoke straight ahead and was a half-dozen yards in front of Brenna. “Talk about this country? The lich? I remember my father fearing Szass Tam, yet all the while hoping the slave plantation would come under his influence. My father wanted to work for Szass Tam. The Red Wizard who controlled my father’s plantation wasn’t as powerful as the lich. I’m not sure any Red Wizard in Thay, or any wizard anywhere else in Faerûn, for that matter, is that powerful. And now here we are working for Szass Tam. I can imagine quite a few people in this gods-forsaken country actually envy us.”

“The lich isn’t all-powerful,” Galvin interjected. The druid rode up even with the centaur to make the conversation easier. “If he was, he would have taken over Thay years ago. Besides, he’s dead. I would think that limits him.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Galvin. Szass Tam is more powerful dead than he ever was alive. Humans—and centaurs—are mortal. And any mortal, unless he has enough magic behind him, isn’t a part of the world long enough to have any lasting power.” The centaur swiveled his human torso to face the druid. “Some of the Red Wizards are very old, my friend. Centuries old. Time has given them power, and Szass Tam has existed longer than any of them.”

“If he’s so powerful,” Galvin pressed, “why doesn’t he deal with Maligor himself, and why hasn’t he taken over this whole stinking country? If he’s so powerful, he doesn’t need us.”

Wynter paused a moment, as if trying to get the wording right. “Because he can keep his hands clean by using puppets like us to do his work.”

Brenna had ridden up near the Harpers and had been listening intently. “Maybe he’s just waiting a few centuries until the time is right to strike,” she offered.

The three became silent and continued to move across the Thayvian countryside toward Amruthar. They paused for an hour at the edge of a small citrus orchard after they had marched half the day. Galvin wanted to rest the horses. The undead needed no rest, food, or water, but the Harpers and Brenna needed all of those. They cooled themselves in the shade of the citrus trees and talked little during their rest, watching the undead, who stood unmoving like statues, waiting for the order to continue on.

Perhaps Szass Tam’s symbol of a skeletal hand crushing a living one bears truth, Galvin thought as he used his black tabard to wipe the sweat from his face. Maybe the tireless undead would someday rule Faerûn. An army of soldiers who had no human needs and could move as silently as a snake could easily defeat living soldiers.

The druid reached up to pluck a piece of fruit. The ripe fruit was sweet, and the juice ran down his chin when he bit into it. Gazing over their army, he compared it to the number of undead he had seen around and inside Szass Tam’s fortress. He assumed that if the Red Wizard Maligor was making a bid for something, he would have to throw all of his army at it, and it was evident Szass Tam was providing the heroes with only a fraction of his forces to deal with the threat from Maligor. Galvin considered discussing the situation with the centaur, then saw him eyeing the undead.

“We should reach Amruthar near midnight. We might as well take the undead against the gnolls right away,” the centaur observed. “I want to get this over with as soon as possible. I want…” Wynter stopped and stared into the orchard. His nose twitched. “I’ll be right back.”

The centaur trotted off and disappeared behind a row of large citrus trees. Galvin shrugged and turned to Brenna; she was grimacing at a nearby hill giant. The decomposing creature appeared to leer at her. However, the druid realized, the creature’s expression was caused by its missing upper lip. Galvin sat down beside her.

“We’ll make it through this,” he said reassuringly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Before she could reply, a scream sliced through the air.

“Wynter!” Galvin shouted, jumping up and racing into the orchard where he had last seen the centaur. Brenna was on his heels, waving her arm frantically behind her, trying to keep the skeletons from following.