Джейн Рэйб - Red Magic

The door glowed a soft blue and the air began to turn intensely hot about her, blistering her lips.

“Stay back!” she yelled. “Step only on the green and black ties. The others are enchanted.”

About to step on a gray tile, Galvin whirled.

“Brenna, get to the stairwell! We’ll let our wizard friend open the door. If he likes magic so much, we’ll let him find out what happens.”

“No, please!” the man gasped as Galvin began to push him forward. “If I touch the door, I’ll burn to a crisp.”

“Then tell us what’s behind the door. Maybe I’ll change my mind,” Galvin growled.

“I—I don’t know,” the wizard answered, “but I’m telling you the truth. No one but Maligor and maybe Asp, has been in there.”

“Asp? Who is Asp?” Galvin persisted.

“The wizard’s woman,” the apprentice replied, realizing that Maligor would kill him for revealing such information. He paled. Thinking his only chance for survival lay in killing the Harper, he reached into the folds of his robe and produced a curved-edged dagger. The apprentice Red Wizard thrust it at the druid, but Galvin dodged to the side, pushed the apprentice toward the door, and quickly retreated to the landing.

There was a blinding flash of white light, and the stench of charred flesh filled the air. When the smoke cleared, Brenna and Galvin saw nothing but a pile of ashes in front of the door.

Brenna pushed past the druid and stepped from green tile to black tile until she reached the door. Extending her palm and running it over the surface of the inlaid symbols, she satisfied herself that the magic was gone—at least for a while.

Cautiously Brenna opened the door. It was dark inside, but enough light filtered in from the landing to reveal part of the contents.

Galvin moved up behind her and peered inside.

“Gods, no!” he cried.

A heavy scent of death emanated from the tower room as the druid opened the door. The smell was almost overpowering, and although the shadows were too thick to make out all of the room’s features, the druid knew there were bodies inside.

Galvin clenched and relaxed his fists, drew in a deep breath, then strode into the heart of the room, despite Brenna’s protests that there may be more magical guards and wards about. He halted in front of a large, low table covered with cages—the obvious source of the odor—and lit the lantern that hung above it.

At first glance, Galvin thought each cage contained a balled-up pelt of some kind. Then, as the lantern glowed brighter, he noticed tiny, fixed black eyes, and curled paws. The ribs of most animals showed through their fur, indicating they had likely died from starvation.

Galvin’s hands worked furiously with the latch on the largest cage, tearing the mechanism off when it wouldn’t open fast enough. Inside were rabbits, several of them coated with dried blood. Because they had huddled together and looked like one mass of fur, it was difficult to tell how many there were. Their stiffened paws stuck outward from the pile at odd angles. The druid gently ran his hands over the soft fur, feeling the protruding ribs underneath, imagining how horribly they must have died. Quickly he searched through the cage, trying to find anything alive. His efforts yielded only one survivor.

He pulled a small, frightened brown hare from the middle of the dead mass and cradled it in his arms like a mother would a baby, then passed it gently to Brenna. The hare put up no resistance, seeming to lack the energy even to move.

With fevered urgency, Galvin wrenched the remaining cages open, prodding through the dead animals, searching to find any that gave off body heat. The lizards and snakes had been dead a long time. The birds were almost skeletal. In a small cage, where the wire mesh was bent from the occupants’ futile attempts to escape, three gray rats huddled. They appeared healthy, and the druid determined they must have survived by eating the dead caged with them. Galvin released the rats, and they scurried away to find a home elsewhere in the tower.

Only one other cage evidenced life, a mole and a hedgehog that quivered beneath a pile of their dead brothers. Galvin removed them from the cage and cradled both in the crook of his left arm.

“The monster!” Galvin vented, staring into the cages. “These animals were pawns for Maligor’s experiments. Up till now, I considered going after Maligor for Szass Tam as the lesser of two evils. But one less monster in Faerûn—no matter how he’s eliminated—is a goal worth accomplishing. I want Maligor to rot forever in the Nine Hells! He deserves nothing better.”

Brenna fought to keep from retching at the grisly tableau. She wanted to run, but she didn’t want to abandon Galvin.

“There’s no water or food in here.” The druid was talking to himself now, or maybe to the animals. “Nothing but vials of magic and poison to turn you into monsters. What makes someone think he has the right to defile nature? Why would a man play god with defenseless animals?”

Brenna glanced at Galvin, and saw tears spilling from his eyes. Here was a man who could fight his way into Thay, confront gnolls, battle the undead, and live through a meeting with Szass Tam, yet he was crushed by the sad fate of the helpless animals.

“I love you,” she said simply, knowing the words were out of place but wanting to say them anyway.

Galvin ignored her and continued to look over the table. “How can any man live with himself and do this?” The druid soothed the animals, rubbing them. “How?”

“Remember, Maligor is the Zulkir of Alteration,” Brenna said softly, turning her attention to the hare she held. “Maligor apparently specializes in transmuting one living thing into another. I’ve studied a little alteration magic myself, but nothing like this.”

Brenna continued her explanation, but Galvin appeared not to hear her. He was making odd chittering and clicking sounds that were being answered by the hedgehog.

The enchantress began to pace about the room, stroking the hare and absorbing the rest of her surroundings. Occasionally she glanced back at the druid to note he was still continuing his conversation with the hedgehog. The floor was coated with dust except for a path between the door and the table. Spiderwebs were as thick as cloth in the corners. She wondered why Maligor had this simple laboratory so far from the rest of his rooms and why he guarded it with magic strong enough to turn a man to ashes. Perhaps his own malign reasoning wanted this particular torture chamber kept separate, secret, his own private sickness, she decided.

She continued to stroke the hare while she turned her attention to a rack of vials. As she bent to take a closer look, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Galvin wince as if in pain.

Galvin’s mind had merged with the malnourished hedgehog’s. For an instant, the druid saw through its tiny eyes, saw Brenna pacing about the room. Then Galvin was again assailed by the smell of the room, for the hedgehog’s senses were far more acute than his own; the pungent smell made the druid wince.

The druid concentrated through the hedgehog, going past the animal’s current surroundings to a time, a few days ago, when more of the animals had been alive—to a time when the Red Wizard was puttering about the table, pouring liquids and powders into a small ceramic bowl. Galvin stared at the wizard through the hedgehog’s eyes. He had expected to see an elderly man, but this man was clearly middle-aged. A wild tangle of black hair hung about his shoulders, and his penetrating black eyes held the touch of madness. On the top of his head, just above his brow, was the tattoo of a grinning white skull on a midnight field. Merged with the hedgehog’s senses, the druid trembled in fear.