Джейн Рэйб - Red Magic

“Where is Maligor’s army?” the druid demanded.

The gnolls glowered at him, but they remained silent.

“Maybe they can’t understand you,” Brenna interrupted. “Not all gnolls can speak human languages.”

The druid growled and remembered that the gnoll spy he met in Aglarond had had difficulty with human words.

Brenna touched his shoulder softly. “If you want to talk to them, I can cast a spell. They’ll be able to understand you, and you them.”

“Fine,” Galvin said. “Do it quickly. I don’t know how long I can keep the undead away.”

Brenna hurried back to her horse and tugged a small velvet sack loose from the saddlebags. She untied the drawstring and returned to the druid.

“Luckily Szass Tam left me all my spell components. This will only take a moment,” she said, reaching inside the sack with three slender fingers and pulling out several grains of coarse powder. “But do you think we should take the time to bother with this? Don’t you think Maligor will retaliate?”

“He’s not here,” the druid stated matter-of-factly. “If he was, his whole army of gnolls would be here, too. These dog-soldiers aren’t the main force. I want to find out where Maligor is and where the rest of the gnolls went. Can you make it so those damned wraiths can’t hear this?”

“Not exactly. The wraiths seem to understand you, and the spell won’t prevent that. However, unless they’re well versed in gnoll speech, they won’t be able to understand that part of the conversation.”

Galvin seemed reassured, so the sorceress swiftly weaved her fingers about in the air as if she was knitting something. After several minutes, she nodded to Galvin to let him know he could begin.

“Where are your gnoll brothers?” he asked again. This time he could tell by the gnolls’ eyes that they understood him. “Where is the main army?”

“There is no army,” a muscular guard answered, looking sullen despite its quavering voice. It was evident that this gnoll was in charge and had no intention of giving up information easily. “There only us. We guard the Red Wizard Maligor’s tower.”

“You are not guards. You are fools.” Galvin spat for emphasis, remembering the gestures of the gnoll he had interrogated before. “You will die at the claws of the dead men behind me. Perhaps I’ll let you live if you tell me what I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you nothing, human,” the gnoll returned, making a gesture Galvin couldn’t comprehend. He assumed it was something offensive.

The druid gazed over his shoulder at the mass of undead and raised his arm. He intended it as only a threat. And it worked.

Instantly three of the gnoll guards hurried forward from where they had been cowering beneath the tower’s walls and extended their hands.

“Wait!” one cried. He ignored the threatening scowl from his commander. “They left at sunset. All of them. They’re marching east, I think. Against a young Red Wizard. We wanted to go, too, but Maligor said someone must guard the tower.”

“You’ll die, scum!” the head gnoll yelled at the traitor. The druid sprang forward and cuffed the muscular gnoll, then leveled his sword at its chest.

“Let your man speak,” the druid snarled, then nodded at the other guard. “Go on. Why are they marching after a wizard? How far away is it? Is Maligor with them?”

“Hurry, Galvin,” Brenna whispered. “The spell won’t last much longer.”

“Talk to me!” he shouted at the gnoll, then jabbed the sword point at its chest for emphasis, drawing a small trickle of blood.

“I don’t know the Red Wizard’s name,” the traitor snapped. “It won’t matter, because he will die. Nothing can stand up to our gnoll army. I only know the place is three or four days’ march from here, maybe more, depending on how fast the army travels. It must be important land.”

“What’s so important about it?” Galvin pressed.

“Maligor wants it. That makes it important.”

The druid scowled. “Is Maligor with the army?”

The gnoll looked at him stupidly, the spell exhausted.

“Damn!” the druid shouted. “Can you cast it again?”

Brenna shook her head and frowned. “Sorry. What do we do now? Do we go inside? Maligor’s pretty powerful. If he’s waiting for us in there, it could be tough.” She eyed the tower. “Do you think Szass Tam knew there wouldn’t be an army here?”

“No,” Galvin answered, sheathing his sword. “The army was here very recently. Look at the ground. You can tell by the tracks, the depressions in the earth, and the smell. The gnoll was telling the truth. There was an army here until just a few hours ago. That could also be why there are so many guards on the walls of the city—as a precaution against Maligor’s army.” Galvin glared at the undead behind him; the tinkle of bones indicated they were advancing again.

“I said stay back!” The druid was tired of trying to control the creatures. He turned to face Brenna, and his expression softened. “I think we should wait for Szass Tam to contact us. Our instructions were to deal with Maligor and his forces. Well, Maligor’s forces aren’t here anymore.”

“Then, lowly human, you will deal with his forces elsewhere,” the voice of a wraith interrupted. A shadow of blackness hovered above the druid and sorceress, having moved up silently, keeping its distance until now so the cold wouldn’t give it away. “Szass Tam talked to us, too. The death master wants Maligor stopped, and the master shall not be denied. You will lead us to Maligor’s army, humans.”

“Unlike you, we have to sleep sometime,” Galvin said.

“Sleep later, human,” another wraith called softly. “If Maligor is not stopped, you will not need to worry about sleep.”

Galvin sighed and cocked his head forward, rolling his helmet off. He ran his right hand over his head.

“I don’t want to die,” Wynter said softly.

“Don’t worry,” the druid replied. Galvin knew he could stay awake for another day if he had to, but he wanted an excuse to abandon the wraiths, even if only temporarily.

“Well, I guess we don’t have much choice, Brenna. The army that takes its orders from us is demanding action. There were so many gnolls here, it’ll be easy to track them.”

“Point us in the right direction,” Brenna chirped, trying hard to sound cheerful. “We’ll catch up to the gnolls, finish them off, then get out of this country and see about getting Wynter back to normal.”

Galvin knelt to examine the tracks more closely in the dim light from the torches along the city walls and the scant light spilling from the tower’s windows. He ran his fingertips along a particularly deep imprint of a boot, then glanced at the guards along the city wall. From their numbers, he guessed that many of them must have shifted position from the north and south walls to crowd the west wall nearest Maligor’s tower.

Maybe someone should tell them the undead aren’t going to attack the city, he thought. It would be nice if at least someone could get some rest.

He rose, brushed the dirt off his knees, and smiled at Brenna. “We’ll eventually catch up with the gnolls because they’re traveling with full arms and packs. Besides, they’ll have to stop to sleep.” He glanced down at the outline of a few of the footprints.

“When we do catch up with them, we’re in for a fight.” He knelt and drew Brenna down beside him. Taking her hand, he guided her fingers inside one of the footprints. “Feel how deep this track is? Feel here, the ridges in the track, and here and here. Feel the rounded heel and toe. This track was made by a plate boot. That means the gnolls are heavily armed and armored.”

Galvin considered approaching an Amruthar guard to get an estimate of the number of gnolls. However, he worried that he would be peppered with arrows as soon as he neared the wall. The information would do him little good anyway, he realized in the end. It really didn’t matter how many gnolls were involved. Galvin, Brenna, and the undead were supposed to defeat Maligor’s forces whatever the odds.