Red Magic

Ten

Maligor sat alone in his vast library, staring out the window at the tops of the city’s buildings silhouetted in the early morning sky and at a cloud formation that reminded him of a dragon he had slain in his younger days, a hundred and fifty years ago or so. The cloud wavered like a moving creature, then slowly floated out of his view. The Red Wizard wondered what the landscape and the clouds would look like from his gold mines.

Undoubtedly better.

The Red Wizard felt that his life would be better there, also. He would have more power, more wealth, more of everything that every Red Wizard in Thay wanted. And he would have it all to himself.

“Soon,” he said to the air. “But first, to my health.” Maligor eyed a thin crystal vial he had been holding in his right hand, inspecting it in much the same way a jeweler would examine a fine brooch. He ran his stiff, wrinkled thumb up and down the side of the vial, feeling the cool smoothness and dwelling on the power within it. The liquid inside was a pale, pearly green that moved sluggishly as he tilted the vial back and forth, evidence of its thick viscosity. He pondered the contents for a time, long enough for another cloud to move across his window and reduce the light spilling into the room.

The Red Wizard had mixed the concoction late last night, feeling especially tired, morose, and old. He had waited until this morning to drink it, however, not wanting to fritter away any regained youth in sleep.

Maligor detested age. He considered it his only weakness and the one thing that could possibly stand in his way of eventually becoming ruler of all of Thay. So he fought it the only way he knew how—with his elixirs, powders, and arcane scrolls that hinted his soul was no longer his own. But Maligor never feared the repercussions of his magic or the well-being of his immortal spirit. He fully intended to live forever, and let the dark forces that hungered for him be damned.

To a renewed decade, he thought as he uncorked the vial, threw his head back, and downed the contents in a single, long draft. The mixture slowly oozed down his throat, burning as it went, bringing tears to the wizard’s eyes.

For a moment, Maligor stood motionless. Then he jerked to his feet like a marionette being pulled by a vicious puppeteer, and the vial dropped from his hand, shattering into fine fragments on the marble floor. Gasping in pain, he doubled over, trying to clutch at his stomach through the thick red robes. His insides seethed and churned, seeming as if they were trying to fight their way out. He crumpled to his knees and clawed furiously at the marble, struggling to keep quiet so the guards outside wouldn’t run in to defend him from an unseen menace and ruin his experience. He imagined piles of gold, trying to focus on something pleasant to lessen the pain. Still the pain in his gut persisted, but through it all, Maligor smiled, satisfied that the elixir was working properly.

For several minutes, he rode out the agony, then gathered himself up from the floor and wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his robe.

Breathing deeply and inhaling more air into his lungs than he had been able to for the past several years, he collected his thoughts, then anxiously and purposefully strode from the room. The guards at the library door fell in behind him in military precision. Maligor didn’t speak to them or to the other guards and servants moving about the hallways who stopped and stared hard at him, some with open mouths. He dismissed them with an indignant scowl and moved hurriedly to his bedchambers, leaving his escort outside and rushing to a long mirror on his closet door.

The imported beveled glass proved to Maligor that the pain was worth it. The wrinkles around his eyes were few and shallow; his skin felt softer, tighter, and the ache of age in his fingers and hands was lessened considerably. He flexed his fingers again and again and grinned sheepishly. Then he dwelled on his hair and beard and the face of a man in his early forties.

The same potion that rejuvenated his body, causing him to shed decades, also caused his hair to grow. It was long now, hanging several inches below his shoulders, and as black as a cave. It ringed his head, leaving him a small bald spot on top where the symbol of Myrkul stood out. In places, the black hair was streaked with a few strands of gray. He felt it with both hands, running his fingers through it. It felt silky, and he shook his head to watch it whip about his face, then fall in wild disarray around his neck and shoulders. Finally his right hand moved to his beard. It was full, coarse, and not as dark as the hair on his head, peppered with iron gray and white. It hung nearly to his waist and felt odd and heavy, making the skin on his chin and around his mouth itch terribly.

The Red Wizard marveled at his appearance; never before had drinking one of his life-extending potions restored this many years. Maligor mused that perhaps his body was becoming used to the potions, and in accepting them, the mixtures were having better effects. Conversely, he considered with a scowl, it could mean that the next potion would present an even more drastic change on his body. He didn’t like unpredictable magic, but he certainly liked this.

“Another lifetime,” he said to himself, insufferably pleased, running his hand over his bald spot, tracing the outline of the white skull there and posing before the glass. Basking in his own company, the wizard stared at his image for nearly half an hour.

Changing into a new scarlet robe, he waltzed to his wine cabinet, his gait lively. He selected a bottle, the label of which was yellowed with age and unreadable, snatched two glasses, and padded to his couch. Maligor considered wine the only thing that improved with age.

“Asp!” he shouted to the guards beyond his chamber. “Bring Asp here at once!” He wanted to share the excitement of his new form with her.

Maligor had finished his fourth glass of wine by the time the spirit naga arrived. She slithered into the room and moved in front of him, coiling her snake half into a tight spiral and resting backward on it, not visibly reacting to his new appearance. She was not her usual prim self this morning. Her hair was disheveled and her face and arms were smudged with dirt. She had the faint odor of sweat about her, which Maligor considered at once repulsive and alluring.

“You’re drinking rather early,” she stated, dispensing with the formalities he demanded and snapping him out of his good mood. The naga was furious he had risked his life by drinking the longevity potion; she wanted him alive until he gained enough power so she would have a sizable share of wealth and influence for herself. If he died before their plans were realized, she would have to leave Thay. None of the other Red Wizards would stand for the presence of a power-hungry spirit naga who served a wizard that had schemed against them.

Asp let her anger surface. “So you’re younger,” she hissed. “And you’re celebrating by drowning yourself in wine.”

“Beautiful Asp, won’t you join me in a drink?” The wizard’s manner was drunkenly gracious as he extended a half-filled glass of dark red liquid.

“No,” she spat.

Maligor raised a shaggy eyebrow, never before had the naga refused him.

Asp rose on her snake’s lower body to tower above the Red Wizard. “Those elixirs could kill you,” she fumed, “yet you risk it to regain your youth.”

“Enough!” Maligor snarled. His pleasant disposition had turned increasingly sour. “I won’t tolerate your insolence. Watch yourself, my pretty Asp. I could kill you with a word and replace you before your body grew cold!”

Maligor’s anger had sobered him. He slammed down the empty glass, breaking it. Reaching forward, he grabbed the naga’s shoulders, digging his nails deep into her tender skin with a new strength that made her wince.

“You will treat me with respect,” he ordered, his face inches from hers. “You will obey me. You will lick the soles of my slippers if I desire. And you will never talk to me in such a manner ever again.”

The naga trembled but sat pale and silent until he released her. She rubbed her shoulders where the white marks from his nails stood out. She fumed with contempt and hatred, but she held her thin tongue, believing the wizard really would kill her if she angered him further.

“I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I’m tired, and I’ve been drilling the gnolls steadily for the past three days. The task has made me thoughtless and foolish.”

“Eloquent to the last, Asp,” Maligor said, stepping away from her and to his mirror, where he could look at himself again. He fancied that he looked more handsome with hair.

The Red Wizard caught the naga’s image in the reflection of the mirror and stood there, enjoying watching her squirm. He imagined that soon other wizards would find themselves in her position, under his thumb and bowing to his mandates.

After a while, Asp broke the uneasy silence.

“Why did you summon me, Lord Maligor?” She remained face forward, not looking at him, and continued her courteous but strained dialogue. “I thought you wanted me to stay with the gnolls.”

Maligor paused before answering, giving her more time to feel uncomfortable. Finally he took his eyes away from his younger form. He pivoted to face her, twirling his left index finger in his beard. He still needed her—for a few more months, anyway.

“And you shall return to them,” he said, the edge gone from his voice and his expression almost emotionless. “It is time to bring them all together and begin our reign of terror.”

He padded back toward the couch, eased himself onto the soft leather, and met her uncertain gaze. “We will bring them here—all of them. As they camp outside my tower, you can instruct them a final time. Then you will lead them to glory.”

Asp blanched but somehow found the courage to softly rebuke him. “My lord, if we bring them here, it will unnerve the wizards in Amruthar and draw the attention of Szass Tam.”

Maligor touched Asp again, this time stroking her chin and gently wiping away a smudge of dirt. “Let them think what they will. Their fear makes us stronger, and no one in Amruthar would dare go on the offensive against my army. They’ll simply wait. And watch. And worry.”

Asp rose with Maligor. In an uncharacteristic gesture, he escorted her to the door.

“I have your loyalty in this?” he posed, hoping she would agree; he couldn’t afford to eliminate her yet.

“You have my loyalty, my being, and my love,” she replied huskily, once again guardedly comfortable in his presence.

The Red Wizard kissed her deeply, as if to cement her fidelity, then shooed her from the room.

Once again alone, Maligor returned to his mirror. What to do with his appearance, he thought. Red Wizards in Thay had no hair. Those outside of Thay, such as ambassadors and spies, wore hair to conform with the styles of whatever society they were in at the moment. He should shave it, he knew, to fit in. He should summon a slave and have her deal with it. Or, he thought, he could let it be. For a time, at least.

Maligor stared at the tresses that now set him apart from his peers. He would leave them alone, he decided. Shaving one’s head wasn’t a required act, just fashionable, and he believed he looked better this way—and more sinister.

He chose to look in on Asp, to make sure the spirit naga was carrying out his orders. He didn’t doubt that she would gather the gnolls; he just wanted to make sure she attended to it right away.

The Red Wizard retrieved a large crystal ball from a shelf in his closet. It felt heavy in his hands, although Maligor was pleased to note that it didn’t take any effort to carry it. The crystal was smooth, flawless, and only a few weeks old. He had acquired it from a merchant who dealt in the arcane.

Maligor had used the crystal only a few times and had been pleased with its effectiveness. He realized nearly all of the Red Wizards possessed such devices, and some—like himself—had several. However, Maligor used only his newest acquisitions, those he determined were enchanted within the past year. Even though magic kept its potency, he preferred using things with little age to them.

He sat on the couch, holding the crystal in his lap and staring into its center. Concentrating, he caused a soft yellow glow to flow from his eyes, down his arm, and into his hand. The light pulsated and glowed, then arced to the crystal. When the glow faded, he saw Asp; she had used her innate enchantments to shift form and give herself legs. Fully clothed, she rode a heavy black war-horse away from the tower heading north.

Maligor wondered if other wizards were watching her as well.

He hoped so.

For the next several hours, he watched as the naga reached one unit of gnolls and ordered them to march to Maligor’s tower. The Red Wizard checked with his guards to make certain the naga had sent word to the other gnoll units to gather in Amruthar.

It was late in the evening by the time the first group of gnolls reached Maligor’s tower. The three hundred soldiers camped on the sculpted lawn and jeered at the growing number of guards along the walls of the city.

Wearing a chain mail vest that glinted in the torchlight, Asp moved among the gnolls, demanding their attention and best behavior. The naga, who had resumed her natural form, was forced to kill two of them to set an example before the assemblage came to order.

“Listen to me,” she hissed. “Tomorrow you will be joined by more of your brothers, and the day after that still more. You will dress in armor, and you will fight for Maligor.”

Asp continued to parade herself in front of the gnolls, some of which still seemed preoccupied by the guards on the walls. The chain mail fit her tightly, showing off every human curve and looking like a metallic extension of the scales on her snake body. She enjoyed the rough feeling of it over her skin.

“When we are all together, when we are one army, we will march to victory!” she exclaimed. “We will suck the marrow from our enemy’s bones!”

A cheer went up from the gathered gnolls, and Asp did nothing to quiet them; she was pleased she had captured their spirit and devotion. She also enjoyed the show of power and hoped the watching Amruthar guards saw her as a threat.

The second group arrived at Maligor’s tower late the next afternoon. They were fatigued from the forced march from the woods, but their mood soared when they saw the other gnolls and the city guards on Amruthar’s walls.

Asp let her troops revel throughout the evening, feeding them dozens of roast pigs that slaves had purchased that day in the open-air market. The gnolls sang deep into the night, their canine voices sounding more like the howling of sad dogs than music. She joined in the merriment, wanting to keep her distance from Maligor for a while.

Here Asp was in charge, looked up to and respected. Although she was still the Red Wizard’s puppet, the strings were looser here, and she could bask in her superiority.

The city guards remained on Amruthar’s wall. Maligor observed them from the window of his study and pondered what defensive actions the wizards and tharchions in the city might be taking. He had been watching less powerful wizards on and off through his crystal ball and knew they were nervous. Some had been casting protective spells throughout their homes and along the city walls to strengthen them. A few had left the city for places elsewhere in Thay, such as Eltabar—a place no Red Wizard was powerful enough to attack. Fewer still did nothing out of the ordinary, simply going about their evil business. Maligor considered these wiser; he knew that they realized he would not attack the city.

The Red Wizard also scried on the young illusionist, the one he had told Szass Tam he would send his gnolls against. That wizard had no hint that he was in danger as Maligor worked against him to cover his real goal of the Thayvian gold mines. He would fall easily during Maligor’s ruse.

When the remaining third of Maligor’s army reached the tower the next day, the city streets of Amruthar nearest Maligor’s property were deserted. Maligor looked at the vacant open-air market, where stray dogs sniffed at the empty food stalls. An occasional guard or peasant could be seen standing against a building. Using his crystal ball, he looked farther into the city; there were few people about. However, on the far eastern edge of the city, life went on as usual. He thought about sending a dozen or so gnolls to the other side of Amruthar to see if he could frighten the residents there as well.

Maligor took his own precautions, warning his tower guards to stay especially alert and increasing the magical defenses within and on the exterior of the tower. He was too far along in his plans to risk getting careless.

The Red Wizard wanted to make sure he was protected against the unlikely possibility that a rival wizard decided to launch an attack against him in the hope of forestalling whatever action the Zulkir of Alteration planned.

He refused to meet with Asp on this day, instructing his servants and guards to inform the naga that he was too busy with his research to be interrupted. This irritated the naga, but she continued to follow his orders, drilling the assembled throng of gnolls and keeping a careful eye on Amruthar.

Some of the gnolls dared to ask her if the city was the target or if a wealthy baron’s land just outside the city walls was their goal. The gnolls hoped the latter possibility was correct; most were tired of marching and didn’t want to go much farther before they attacked something.

“No,” she told them simply. “Striking near Amruthar, despite your numbers and fierceness, is foolish. Too many people command too much magic here. Our target is elsewhere.”

The gnolls weren’t satisfied with her answer, but they were too afraid of the naga to push her on the matter, just as she was too frightened to push Maligor. The naga wanted to move the troops now, before the city did something and before the gnolls became restless and difficult to manage.

Still Maligor would not grant her an audience. Asp’s only contact with the tower came from guards who, toward evening, carted out large wooden boxes filled with the finest weapons the gnolls had ever seen. Asp bullied one of the guards into revealing where the weapons came from. The supplier proved to be a merchant’s caravan headed toward Mulhorand.

There were far from enough weapons for all of the gnolls; only about a third of them would be able to discard their nicked blades and spears for shiny new ones. Asp and her sergeants selected the best warriors and presented them with the new weapons.

Those she intended to put up front were equipped with runkas, thick staffs with long central blades and two smaller ones at their base. The largest of the gnolls she also provided with renntartsches, large wood and leather shields that were reinforced with iron and attached to the breastplate of their armor. They made the unit look especially formidable and freed up both of the gnolls’ hands for battle.

The best fighters were presented with glaives, halberds, long swords, and estocs, swords with stiff blades. A hundred suits of new armor also were distributed—coats of plate, hornskull helmets, kettle hats, chain vests, lamellar armor, and hardened leather breastplates that were slit at the sides to accommodate the gnolls’ large bodies.

Asp was pleased, certain the arms would give her force the advantage against their foe. She let the gnolls work with the new weapons to grow accustomed to the improved armor, explaining to the remainder of the gnolls that they must be content with their leather, scale, and padded armor until after the battle. With the spoils of victory, more armor would be purchased, she promised.

Near midnight, Maligor agreed to see her. Slithering into his lantern-lit study, Asp started to complain about not knowing in advance about the new weapons, then held back her remarks, remembering his anger at her only two days ago.

The Red Wizard appeared rested and at ease, yet his mood suggested he was eager to put their scheme into motion. Asp was eager, too, but the strenuous activities of the past few days were taking their toll. She looked haggard, her complexion showing a hint of ruddiness. Her scant hair was unkempt and oily, and she smelled worse than usual. Maligor noted that she was too tired and preoccupied to use her magic to put up even an illusion of beauty.

Although disgusted, he said nothing to her. If he needed to gaze on loveliness, he would summon his pleasure slaves later.

“The gnolls are ready,” she said, drawing his attention. “But they grow impatient and fitful, and I am tired of watching Amruthar’s guards.”

Maligor forced himself to tolerate her appearance and embraced her, smoothing her short hair.

“At dawn, sweet Asp,” he whispered. “They will march at dawn. You must rest, however, or you will be in no condition to lead them. I want you at your peak. Tomorrow everything will be set into motion.”

He felt the naga relax, glad that the moment to fight had come. A pity, he thought, that she would not be leading the gnolls anywhere. She would not be involved in any battle, and that might crush her spirit. He had been lying to her to keep her loyalty; he intended to use her in the mines.

“I want to talk to your sergeants,” he continued. “I want to personally commend them for their diligence. Don’t you think that would be a good idea?”

She straightened, slowly pulling herself away from his embrace and trying to appear as the general she considered herself.

“That will mean a great deal to them, Maligor,” she said evenly.

“Good,” he replied. “Send them to me. Then get yourself to bed.”

Asp smiled and her eyes sparkled. She nodded and slithered from the room, returning to the tower many minutes later with eight armored gnolls. Maligor met them in the entry chamber, not wanting the gnolls’ mud-encrusted boots to track dirt into the tower. The naga retired to her own room, leaving Maligor to deliver his message.

However, when the Red Wizard was positive the naga was out of hearing distance, he delivered a quite different speech—one that did indeed inspire the gnolls, but one that left Asp out of the picture.

“You are the backbone of the army,” he began in a commanding tone, letting his eyes bore into theirs. “You do not need the naga to lead you. You are the leaders, the generals, and victory will be assured with the units under your guidance.”

The gnolls grinned, their canine teeth reflecting yellow in the chamber’s light.

“At dawn, you will lead the army south. I will tell you the target then. I do not fear that you will leak this information,” Maligor said, his words now soft like velvet, “but I know that other Red Wizards have the power to pull things from minds. We don’t want to give them an opportunity to learn our target.”

He noticed that the smallest of the gnolls was glancing at the staircase Asp had crawled up minutes ago, and he suspected this one was loyal to the naga.

“Don’t concern yourself with Asp,” Maligor said, guessing the gnoll’s thoughts. “I will inform her of the change of command in the army. I will deal with her wrath. Now go. We all need to rest before the morning.”

But the Red Wizard still had work to do. It was fortunate he was younger now; lack of sleep would have taken its toll on his older body. Thrusting his hands in his deep pockets, he strode down the tower’s main corridor and started the long descent to the darkenbeasts below. Along the way, he visualized how the creatures would fly from the bowels of his home, up the stairs, and through the corridors like a wave of death. It would be a splendid sight. Tomorrow.

Beneath his tower, the number of darkenbeasts had swelled. They were crowded into the large chamber; no space was vacant, and the Red Wizard had to concentrate to keep from retching from the smell. His mind snaked out, contacting the creatures, quieting and comforting his children and telling them that tomorrow they would have a new home with plenty of room and plenty of food for rending. Then he contacted one of the oldest darkenbeasts, one of his firstborn, whose mind was very familiar to him.

Maligor concentrated again and began a series of orders.

Fly north, my child, he began, picturing caves and abandoned buildings. Fly to the places you see in my mind. Others of your kind are waiting there.

The creature’s mind was linked firmly with his, and Maligor sensed the wanton joy it was feeling, the anticipation of flying.

When you are there, we will tell the other darkenbeasts about our plan, Maligor continued. We will tell them about tomorrow when all of us will fly to our new home. Now go.

The favored darkenbeast shrieked with delight and used Maligor’s mind to learn the way out of the tower. It flew up the stairs, through the long corridor, and hovered before the large doors. It shrieked again, and the frightened guards opened the doors.

Then it was out into the night air, flying low until it passed far from the city, then soaring to a higher elevation, relishing the feel of the wind rushing past its wings. Maligor felt the sensation, too; his mind soared as he climbed the stairs to his bedchamber.