Red Magic

Three

Maligor reclined on a crimson-dyed leather divan in the center of his immense bath chamber, his head resting on a green silk pillow recently imported from Shou Lung. Although he was thin and stood only about five and a half feet tall, he looked large on the couch; he chose his furniture to make himself appear imposing. A half-dozen of his favorite pleasure slaves attended him. Two, who had been born on Maligor’s slave plantation and were hardly more than children, massaged his feet, applying expensive, musky oils. The scent was sweet and heavy and permeated the air. Another pair, blond twin sisters kidnapped by pirates from their sea captain father in Orlumbor, worked diligently to manicure and polish his hard yellow nails. The fifth, the eldest of the human slave women, a buxom twenty-year-old from Ravens Bluff, sat on a stack of pillows near his right shoulder. Slowly rubbing a damp cloth across his forehead with one hand, she used the other to gently run a sharp blade over his temples and across the top of his head, shaving the fine stubble growing there. She took extreme care not to cut him; her predecessor had died horribly in the laboratory several days ago for just such an offense.

The women wore sheer, colorful fabrics that left nothing to Maligor’s imagination. He dressed all of his female slaves thus to prevent them from hiding weapons that could be turned against him. The women’s hair extended to the middle of their backs, while the children’s hung about their shoulders. It was an indication they had been slaves for many years. However, the sixth slave, an elven woman in a short, rose-hued gauze tunic, had silvery-white hair that reached barely below the lobes of her pointed ears. Maligor had owned this prize only a few months. She sat apart from the group near a black iron cage filled with finches. Strumming an ebonwood lyre, she sang a mournful old elvish tune that Maligor could not understand. The Red Wizard usually enjoyed her music. Tonight, however, he found the tune annoying. It prevented him from concentrating.

The wizard owned more than eight hundred slaves, a considerable stable. Most were male laborers who worked at various tasks around his properties. Several dozen were warriors and sailors who had been captured in nearby countries. Fewer still were slave women who attended to his needs. He continually added to his stable, as the Red Wizard needed a steady supply of slaves to replace those who died of overwork, old age, or, more likely, because of his malicious magical experiments.

There were few Red Wizards who owned more slaves than Maligor. Slaves made up about two-thirds of the country’s population and were considered one of Thay’s major imports. Maligor prided himself on having some of the most exquisite slaves.

This evening, however, his pleasure slaves were doing little to please him. The Red Wizard’s mind was elsewhere, concentrating on another woman—the one he had seen before his darkenbeast died. Maligor still puzzled over her. He had sent the darkenbeast after an errant gnoll guard, yet through his telepathic link with the darkenbeast, he had picked up no trace of the gnoll—only the red-tressed beauty.

The woman was confounding. If she was in Thay, she might be a slave because of her long hair. But she was not one of Maligor’s. Perhaps she was the slave of another Red Wizard, the same one who had solicited the services of the missing gnoll. Perhaps she herself was a Red Wizard—but if she was, why had the darkenbeast attacked her? And what had happened to the gnoll?

Maligor pursed his lips, causing the slave shaving him to tremble. Continuing to puzzle over the matter will do little good, he thought. The gnoll, wherever he is, knows nothing of my real plans. But the woman… who is she? Where is she?

“Finished, my lord,” the buxom slave announced timidly, interrupting his thoughts. Looking frightened yet expectant, she wiped the damp cloth across the top of his head with a shaky hand and replaced the shaving blade in its case.

Maligor eyed her sternly and ran his hand over his head to inspect her handiwork. He watched her bottom lip quiver and her face grow pale in fear that her performance was less than satisfactory. For a moment, he was tempted to find fault with her, then decided to be uncommonly kind.

“It is barely adequate, but it will do for tonight. Tomorrow make sure you do better.”

Visibly relieved, she rose and joined the elven woman. The other slaves continued their tasks. Maligor stared past them to the blackness beyond the room’s small windows. It was late, and from his position all he could see was a small section of sky and a few tiny stars, the bottom claw of the Malar constellation. He pulled his thoughts away from the dead darkenbeast, pondering instead what was transpiring under the stars in Amruthar at this moment. At least he would know about that within a few hours, as he had informers stationed in several taverns and on select street corners to pick up gossip. Maligor enjoyed the ability to keep track of most of the city’s seedy activities without leaving the safety of his fortified tower.

Maligor felt comfortable and secure here. His tower stretched sixty feet above the rich Thayvian soil. It boasted a crenellated top, where seasoned fighters were always stationed within easy reach of massive mounted crossbows and jugs of oil that could quickly be set aflame. The outer walls were made of solid granite, eighteen inches thick in most places. All the windows in his keep were of the same size—eight inches wide by two feet high. This small size made for better defense. Each was barred or covered with protective spells to keep unwanted things from entering or the wrong eyes from looking inside. To complete his defenses, the wizard had magical guards and wards scattered throughout his premises and skilled guards and loyal slaves on every level.

“My Lord Maligor,” a soft voice came from just beyond the chamber. “You summoned me?”

“Yes, Asp,” Maligor replied thickly as he continued to stare at the sky. “You’re late.”

“I was drilling the gnolls.”

Maligor sneered, hating to be kept waiting. “Enter. We have much to discuss.”

The bath chamber was lit by dozens of thick red candles on curved iron stands that were placed around the walls and near Maligor’s divan. They kept away the shadows, except those in the darkened doorway where Asp now stood. She poked her head out from the gray entrance, glancing around the room and at the nervous slaves. Sliding her shoulders and arms out of the shadows, she maneuvered herself entirely into the chamber, revealing her serpentine body.

One of the twins gasped. Throwing both hands over her mouth, she dropped the manicure tools, sending them clinking in several directions across the polished white marble floor. She scooted away from the divan, unmindful of Maligor’s burning gaze. The other slaves also appeared startled, but they were wiser. They remained rooted to their posts.

Perturbed, Maligor silently marked the twin for stringent punishment, then turned back to Asp.

His lieutenant noiselessly slithered toward the divan, the candlelight playing over her glittering crimson and charcoal scales and causing the scales to reflect eerily on the marble. From the waist down, Asp resembled a colorful sand boa with a ridge of armored, triangular-shaped scales down her back and a tail that tapered to a black point. From the waist up, she was a lovely young woman, more beautiful than even the slaves in the room. She was a spirit naga, a member of a race of unhuman women, and Maligor knew she could shape-change into any human or demi-human form. He wondered whether this was her true appearance or merely a magical fabrication. It really didn’t matter, he reasoned. He was dishonest enough with his own body, cloaking his years with his potion bottles.

Her true appearance did not matter; he found her easy on his old eyes. Still, his other senses found her unsettling. Like all spirit nagas, or “snake women of the underground” as many men preferred to call them, Asp smelled of rotting flesh. And that scent, coupled with the musky oil on his feet, made Maligor wince.

Her tail undulated back and forth over the smooth floor, then acted as a brace as Asp rose like a spitting cobra to address him. From the tip of her tail to the top of her head, Asp measured almost twenty feet long.

“My Lord Maligor, may I speak freely here?” She glowered at the slaves and hissed at the elf for emphasis. Abruptly the music stopped.

“A moment,” he answered, his eyes reluctantly leaving the human part of Asp’s form and turning to his slaves. He clapped his wrinkled hands once, and guards stationed beyond the entrance moved in to escort the slave women to their chamber. With a bony finger, he indicated the twin who had shown improper behavior, and a guard nodded and smiled knowingly as the slaves were ushered from the room.

Asp was pleased to see the women’s alarmed expressions and felt amused that one would be whipped—or worse—because of her. She enjoyed terrifying Maligor’s female slaves and often went out of her way to do so. The snake-woman claimed she did it to put them in their place, while adding to her own sense of superiority over humans.

Maligor chose to believe she was jealous.

For nearly three summers, the naga had been the Red Wizard’s companion, initially studying under him as an apprentice, then gaining a trusted position as leader of his guard force and chief instructor of his army. They shared an unusual relationship that couldn’t quite be considered affection. Maligor believed himself incapable of love.

Still, the Red Wizard enjoyed her company and respected her abilities and cunning, using her to his best advantage. In turn, the keenly intelligent Asp used Maligor to help her gain stature in Thay and more wealth than she could have stolen from the drow and other races who dwelt in the underground. In those three years, the Red Wizard hadn’t noticed the snake-woman age one bit. Not one wrinkle had formed on her delicate face; not one silver hair shone on her head. He knew a naga’s life spanned many human generations, and in that respect, he considered her a fitting confidante. Maligor intended to live a very long time.

She glided to his side, wrapped her tail around the base of a stack of pastel satin pillows next to the divan, and eased herself onto them. She rarely used furniture, finding most of it awkward for her body, a human folly. But if she remained upright, she would tower above Maligor, something she knew the wizard would not tolerate.

“My army … ?” Maligor began.

“Their training is progressing satisfactorily,” she replied. “I drill the gnolls to the point of exhaustion.”

“Good,” he said simply, peering into her lidless eyes. “My beautiful general has a fist of iron.”

“My lord?”

Maligor reached up and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

She smiled coyly, then her face took on an intense expression. “My lord, I’m curious about the gnoll guard—the missing one you sent the darkenbeast after.”

The Red Wizard sighed and dropped his hand from her face. “Your concern is the army, Asp. That’s what I called you here for. I want a detailed report.”

“But my lord …” the naga began.

“The matter of the errant gnoll has been taken care of,” Maligor lied. “Now to other things. We have much work to do, my lovely.”

The wizard propped himself up on an elbow and gazed harshly at Asp while she detailed the army’s numbers, capabilities, and state of readiness. In the candlelight, the naga’s eyes appeared nearly luminescent. With those eyes, she could charm lesser men and often did, forcing them to do her bidding. That ability helped her to deal with Maligor’s soldiers.

“Then the army is ready,” the Red Wizard concluded. “It is time to take action, Asp. I have been content for too many years with my holdings and position as Zulkir of Alteration. None of the wizards in my school have the power to challenge me. But the other Red Wizards, the other zulkirs …” He paused, thinking primarily of Szass Tam, his arch rival. “It is time to show them I am an unstoppable force. It is time I became the most powerful Red Wizard in Thay.”

Asp extended a smooth, slender hand and gently laid it on Maligor’s shoulder. Her thin lips smiled and her eyes sparkled.

“It is your rightful place, my lord, to reign supreme among the Red Wizards. With my help, you will become all-powerful. None will be able to challenge you.” She brought her face so close to his that he could smell the fragrance she had dabbed on to mask her own odor. The fragrance reminded him of lilies.

“You have a plan?” she posed.

“Yes,” he replied simply. Maligor stretched his limbs on the divan, then pushed himself off it. The marble floor felt uncomfortably cool to his oiled, bare feet. Raising the hem of his red robes, he stepped into his red satin slippers and glanced over his shoulder at Asp.

Her eyes were wide in anticipation of learning his new scheme, but Maligor did not delude himself. He knew the snake-woman would support him only because she stood to gain something as well.

Striding across the room, past a large, gray marble tub set into the floor, Maligor reached a waist-high walnut cabinet filled with bottles of rare wines and liqueurs. He stooped and paused, intently studying the labels through the beveled glass, then opened the cabinet and grasped what he considered an unusual delight. The bottle was round like a melon at the bottom, but its neck was thin and twisted in a spiral. Although decades old, the bottle was spotless; the glass was thick, tinted blue, and filled with the Moonshaes’ finest peach liqueur. Reaching farther into the cabinet, he retrieved two pear-shaped, clear crystal goblets. Slaves usually handled menial tasks such as this, but the wizard didn’t want other ears present just now. Returning to the divan, he sat and passed the bottle to Asp. He held a goblet in each hand, waiting. The naga’s eyes narrowed, and a corner of her lips turned slightly downward. Maligor knew she preferred thick noxious mixtures that would make most men wretch. But to please him, she would drink the liqueur.

She thrust the painted nail of her left index finger into the cork, twisted once, and popped it open, discarding the remains on the floor for the slaves to clean up. The spirit naga poured one glass nearly full of the sweet-smelling, amber-colored liquid, but the second she filled only halfway. Asp knew the ritual. She took the glass with the lesser amount and raised it to her lips. Taking a full swallow, she nodded to Maligor and licked the sweet-tasting liqueur off her bottom lip with her thin tongue. Maligor, ever fearful of poisons or other contaminants, never drank first.

“For many long months, we’ve been adding to our army of gnolls and men—and taking other measures to boost the guard force.” Maligor stated the obvious to Asp, who knew the strength of his forces better than the Red Wizard did. “We will march our army southeast of Eltabar where a certain young Red Wizard is just starting to rise in power. His manor is almost directly east of Amruthar.”

“But that’s days from here!” the spirit naga interjected, nearly spilling her drink. “Won’t he and the other wizards become suspicious? An army of gnolls can hardly be ignored.”

Maligor chuckled. “You do well in training the soldiers, sweet Asp. However, you lack my knowledge of military strategy.”

The spirit naga hissed at the insult, but Maligor continued.

“We will first gather the army here, then march it south. This will cause all manner of speculation, as there are several likely targets south of Amruthar. Some may even think I want land directly to the south of this city to increase my local holdings. Others may think I’m after Amruthar itself.” He smiled at his plan.

“While the suppositions are bandied about, the force will head east under the cover of darkness, then north to our target. If any Red Wizards in the south decide to meet my army, they will meet nothing, and the young Red Wizard southeast of Eltabar will be undone.”

Asp thought a moment. The plan was too simple for her devious mind.

“But what if wizards join forces to attack the gnolls? They certainly have the power,” she speculated. Asp prided herself on knowing the military strengths of most of the ranking Red Wizards in Thay and was certain that if three or more wizards joined forces, the gnolls and men wouldn’t last long.

“You know that won’t happen,” Maligor countered. “Red Wizards are a suspicious lot and rarely act in concert. We forever scheme against each other. It seems to be in our makeup, dearest Asp, a prerequisite to becoming a zulkir or to achieving any significant power. No, I think the wizards to the south will worry over my army—some are probably worrying now. Doubtless one or two have been watching you through crystal balls while you drill the gnolls.”

He took a large mouthful of the peach liqueur and tilted his head back to let it run slowly down his throat. Making a mental note to acquire several more cases of the vintage, he took another drink. Then he stood and glanced down at Asp through the glass. Tilting the crystal goblet between his palms and watching the liquid run around the sides gave her complexion an exotic look.

Asp drained the rest of her liqueur in one gulp, grimacing at its sweet taste and hoping Maligor would not think to pour her another. “The young wizard southeast of Eltabar—who is he? How good are his defenses?”

Maligor raised an eyebrow and lied once more. “His name is for another day—tomorrow perhaps, after I have cast a spell to prevent him from hearing his name uttered. As for his defenses, he is young. He has yet to establish an army of any consequence.”

Asp smiled openly. “Then we are doing him a favor, my lord. If we do not attack him, another wizard will. Better for him to be defeated by you, who will be the most powerful Red Wizard in Thay.”

Maligor enjoyed Asp’s flattery, even though he knew it wasn’t sincere. He wondered if she realized when he was not being honest with her. He reached out and stroked her smooth, soft cheek, then finished his drink.

“The success of this campaign is in your hands, my lovely,” Maligor uttered in barely more than a whisper, staring unblinkingly into her eyes. “The army will move under your direction. Are the soldiers prepared for such a grand plan?”

Asp rose from the pillow, careful to rest lower so she was no taller than Maligor.

“They are ready, my lord.” She twitched her tail back and forth like a contented cat, pleased that she was being given responsibility for the march. “Your men nearby number three hundred; your gnolls number four times that. They are anxious to cleave the skulls of your enemies.”

Maligor began to pace, rubbing his chin with his right hand to appear pensive and concerned. He assumed his act was convincing. “Are they in the best shape possible, able to handle a march of several days followed by a brief siege? The wizard, though young, will have magic at his disposal, and possibly a few apprentices. With a handful of spells, they could cut an army by a fifth or more.”

Asp took affront at his doubts. “My lord! Your soldiers know fighting styles from faraway lands, and I’ve given them a cunning and ruthlessness that will push them to success. If a fifth fall to spells and arrows, the remainder will sweep over the young wizard instantly. We will crush him, and I will bring you his head.”

Asp’s eyes had lost their sparkle, replaced by a dark gleam that showed a mixture of excitement and anger. Maligor knew from her expression that she supported his plan and would work to implement it without too many questions.

The spirit naga was so caught up in the prospect of taking another wizard’s land, likely assuring herself a share in the wealth, that she failed to notice Maligor’s amused glance.

“Your force is divided now,” she said, continuing her report. “Some are camped near your slave plantation twenty miles north of here; more are stationed slightly north of that in the woods. A third are to the south, drilling, and the remainder are in barracks near this tower. They must be brought together.”

Asp looked as if she would continue her explanations, but Maligor interrupted, not wanting to waste time listening to military strategies about which he had no concern. “Dearest Asp,” he said softly, “I have every confidence in you. Your approach has merit, and I trust your instincts. You are the warrior, not I. Tomorrow, make sure you visit each unit of men and gnolls. One of my flying carpets will be placed at your disposal. The army must be at its peak.”

“Of course,” she said, her tail still twitching. “And after we defeat the young wizard?”

“We divide the spoils.”

“And then?”

Maligor winked at her and poured himself another glass of liqueur. “We won’t stop there, of course. Growth is good for the soul and necessary for surviving in Thay.”

He strode to the divan and eased himself back on the supple leather cushions, balancing his glass on his chest. “I need to relax,” he said, yawning for effect. “Attend to your forces, and we will talk more tomorrow night.”

She bent to kiss his forehead, carefully placed her glass on the floor near the stack of pillows, and slithered from the room.

When Maligor heard the door close behind her, he laughed, a soft maniacal chortle that made the guards stationed at the entrance shiver.

Beautiful fool, he thought as he sipped the liqueur. Fortunate for me that she is so blind. My true plans lie elsewhere, Asp, and are grander then you could ever imagine. My true plans would make even you pale.

Maligor’s scheme included the naga and dictated she have a significant role, but it would not be a role she would fashion for herself. She would not direct an army, or even a single gnoll, he mused. I will pull her strings, and she will help me achieve wealth beyond her own imagining and power to put me beyond the other wizards’ grasps. He finished the liqueur and let the glass fall to the floor, shattering.

Although the drink was having some effect on him, Maligor was actually becoming drunk on dreams of power. The Red Wizard’s plans had taken him far in his life, through the ranks of the School of Alteration and eventually to its head as zulkir, where he had a hand in Thayvian politics and therefore a say in the very direction of the evil country. His forces were many and challenged that of the lich Szass Tam, whose legions of undead were legend. But he was certain his ambition surpassed the lich’s.

Maligor could accomplish his goals without the aid of the snake-woman, he knew, but her presence would make certain things easier. His mind once again focused on the red-haired sorceress encountered by his darkenbeast.

Maligor stood, avoiding the slivers of glass, and steadied himself. He padded toward a sunken marble tub filled to the brim with water now grown tepid. Crouching unsteadily at its edge, the Red Wizard reached into a pocket of his robe and groped with his bony fingers. Rewarded, he withdrew a small clump of dried flower petals. Crushing them between his fingers, he dropped them into the water and concentrated, trying to remember every detail of the woman’s face, every curl that cascaded over her forehead.

Ripples formed on the surface of the water, pushing the flower petals toward the edges of the tub. Then the water calmed, and in the center of the water’s surface, the woman’s visage appeared. Maligor strained his senses to hear her.

“Wynter,” Brenna intoned in a musical voice that nearly mesmerized the listening Maligor. “It’s nearly dawn. Shouldn’t we be leaving now?”

“We’ll eat first, then start toward Thay,” replied a deep voice. The Red Wizard could not identify the speaker. “Don’t worry. We’ll be inside that evil country soon enough.”

Thay. Maligor’s mind raced. Then the woman really could be a Red Wizard, an ambassador, perhaps, stationed in a neighboring land. Red Wizards were known to let their hair grow long when they mingled with others outside of Thay. It helped them fit in with many cultures and disguised their true heritage.

“I could use something to eat, too,” the woman replied.

Maligor watched her slender hand rub her stomach through the cloth of an expensive dress. The woman’s hand was bedecked with rings, marking her as a person of some wealth. The Red Wizard strained to see past her to get a hint of her surroundings, but the grayness of the day kept him from seeing very far. All Maligor could make out were the legs of a massive black war-horse behind her and tall grass everywhere. At least he knew the woman was outdoors, sitting on the ground probably, and not likely within the confines of a city. But he couldn’t determine any real hint of her location.

“I’ll help you pack up the tent,” the deep voice continued.

“Thanks, Wynter,” she replied in her melodic voice. Then her lips pursed and her delicate brows furrowed. The sorceress scratched at the back of her neck and then glanced about.

High in his tower, Maligor wondered what had caught the woman’s attention. In another moment, he knew. The woman’s eyes snapped open and she stared straight ahead. The Red Wizard saw her face plainly in the surface of the water. Her lips flew apart in a warning.

“Wynter, we’re being watched! Someone’s scrying on us!”

“Scrying?” the deep voice queried, obviously unaware of what the sorceress was talking about.

“I’ll explain later,” she said, her melodic voice becoming harsh and commanding.

Maligor watched as her intense eyes squeezed shut and she threw her hands over her ears. The Red Wizard heard her mumble something—magical words, he knew, but he was unfamiliar with them. An instant later, the water in the tub began to bubble, wiping out the image of the unnamed sorceress. Maligor bent closer to the surface of the water but saw nothing except the bottom of the tub and the crushed petals swirling about.

“Damn!” he swore, rising shakily to his feet. Maligor paced about the tub, still intent on the woman. “I must find her,” he whispered. “I must know what she’s up to.”

“What is scrying?” Wynter persisted. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a form of magic,” Brenna replied. Gazing up at the centaur’s angular face, she frowned. “It’s a way to watch people through crystal balls and other devices.”

Wynter still looked puzzled.

“You can’t see who’s watching you, but sometimes you can tell you’re being watched.” Brenna scratched at the back of her neck. “But only sometimes. More often than not, you’d never have a clue that someone was spying on you.”

“How did you know just now?” the centaur asked uncertainly.

Brenna could tell he only half believed her. “Goose-bumps,” she answered simply. “I felt an odd sensation, and I had the definite feeling someone was watching us.”

“And now?”

“The presence is gone,” Brenna stated.

“Good,” Wynter said, feeling more relaxed.

“Only good to a point,” the sorceress countered. “Whoever or whatever was watching us probably knows we’re going to Thay.”

The centaur scowled and trotted toward Galvin.

The Red Wizard continued his circuit of the tub, convinced now that the woman was a power to be reckoned with. Maligor was furious; he had little time to devote to the mysterious enchantress. He had his own goals—and his own personal army—to contend with.

Maligor knew he couldn’t attempt to scry on her again, at least not for a while. He’d have to wait several hours until he regained enough magical energies. Needing to take his mind off the red-haired woman, he decided to check on his forces—forces that only he knew about.

Even Asp remained oblivious to Maligor’s secret army. Although the spirit naga was the only being in whom he placed any semblance of trust, he nevertheless limited her knowledge. He would tell her of this other army only when the timing was right.

It is time to check on my soldiers, he reflected, pleased with himself about what awaited in the basement. He sauntered from the chamber as erect as his aged back and the liqueur allowed and motioned the guards not to follow.

“Instruct the slaves to put out the candles and clean the room,” he ordered as he passed. “I am finished here for the evening.” The guards moved immediately to comply.

Satisfied with their promptness, the Red Wizard descended the spiral staircase that led to the bowels of his tower. Passing guards on every level, he nodded to them and noted that all of them seemed alert tonight. Maligor’s security was stronger in the evening than in the daytime; he knew many wizards preferred to act at night. Tonight Maligor had placed several special guards and had cast powerful wards to keep even the most powerful of sorcerers from scrying into his domain. He planned to add to his army this evening and wanted no one else, not even Asp, to watch. He would have to keep her very busy with the gnoll troops for the next several days or she was bound to become curious about his work.

As Maligor proceeded past the ground level, the stairway widened. He had had it constructed this way to better accommodate the large creatures he often kept below. He passed through several doorways that appeared, when closed, to be sections of the wall, but which pivoted or slid back to open. Only skilled thieves or special spells could reveal the stonework as doors.

It took the old wizard several minutes to reach the deepest underground level. It was quite damp here, and slime and mosses coated the walls. The guards at this level had never been human. They were vague, misshapen forms that, except for the rise and fall of their massive chests, stood unmoving against the foundation. He passed them all, taking note to construct a few more such guardians tomorrow as an added precaution.

Eventually he reached a large chamber where the stonework along the walls appeared older than the rest of the tower. The oval chamber, lit only by a dozen guttering, tallow-soaked torches, was more than two hundred and fifty feet long and nearly half that in width. At first the room appeared empty, wrapped in shadows that writhed and breathed in the meager torchlight. Then, as Maligor’s eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he made out the shapes he was searching for. Darkenbeasts. Nearly a thousand of them.

The creatures huddled on the filth-encrusted floor, clung to the walls, and hung from the high ceiling rafters like bats. Some hovered in the air, waiting for others to move so they could gain a choice place to rest. An unusually large darkenbeast, much bigger than a man, claimed a crumbling altar in the center of the room. Whatever dark purposes the altar had served centuries ago, Maligor was unconcerned about them now. He was certain his own foul plans dwarfed those of the chamber’s earlier owner, and his plans didn’t call for altars or ritualistic sacrifices. They relied on the wizard’s own magical abilities and wits.

The room smelled foul and acidic, burning the Red Wizard’s eyes and making it uncomfortable for him to breathe. If the chamber weren’t so deep below the ground, the odor would soon alert Asp and the tower’s other occupants that something grotesque was living here. He gagged from the stench of the darkenbeasts and continued to survey his grand army.

It had taken the Red Wizard months to accumulate this force, working through the night turning bats, lizards, snakes, rats, and other animals into the evil darkenbeasts. The intense magic had exhausted him, leaving him feeling his advanced years. But the incantations had kept his mind sharp for his plans for power. Many of his gnolls had gone hungry so the wizard could use their livestock and transform the docile beasts into his loathsome creatures. He wanted at least a few hundred more beasts before he would be satisfied with the force. That wouldn’t be difficult, as he had slaves purchasing reptiles and other small creatures from the open-air market in Amruthar. Bought in small quantities, the tiny creatures would not evoke suspicion, but would still add needed numbers to his growing army.

Maligor did not concern himself about feeding the creatures; they were products of sorcery and could go without sustenance for weeks. They received enough nourishment from the bodies of ill-behaved slaves, unfortunate soldiers, and animals that had failed to make the transition to darkenbeasts successfully. He knew he would have to use his darkenbeasts carefully, since without the darkness, they would perish. But there were enough caves, abandoned buildings, and underground complexes in Thay to enable him to move his forces under the cover of darkness when the time came.

The Red Wizard reached out with his mind, contacting the large darkenbeast on the altar. It took him a moment to adjust to the creature’s weak brain, but soon he was able to see through its eyes and perceive with its senses. He could feel the oppressiveness of the room, could feel the breath of the creatures who stared balefully up at the altar at the large creature who rested there. And he could feel the strength that coursed through the powerful creature’s limbs. The scent of the chamber was overpowering and caused his mind to reel. Still he maintained contact through the beast and directed it to fly above the others, circling the oval room.

Maligor experienced the sense of soaring, flexing wings that were his, and yet were not. He cried with the beast’s voice, a loud shriek that quieted the other creatures. Flying faster and higher, Maligor manipulated the beast to glide just below the ceiling, upsetting the perches of the darkenbeasts hanging there and causing them to join the larger creature in flight. Faster and faster Maligor felt himself go, and he felt himself desiring the open sky, where his flight would have no limit. A flurry of leather wings appeared before him as more darkenbeasts rose from the walls of the chamber, threatening to snuff out the torches with the breeze created by their wings.

Controlling the largest of the beasts, Maligor caused the others to move out of his way, in much the same manner that he ordered his guards and slaves. He continued to shriek at them, demanding a response.

The darkenbeasts’ mournful cries rose to an obscene cacophony in an evil chorus. He savored the terrible noise. The offensive smell no longer bothered him, for he was a part of it. He had become one with the beast. He flexed the darkenbeast’s talons as he would his own fingers and turned its head as he would his own. He continued to circle until nearly all the chamber’s inhabitants had joined his exuberant flight.

Then his mind reached out once more, touching the nearest darkenbeasts, then those farther away. Within moments, he controlled a dozen, then two, three dozen, and more. The nature of his sorcery enabled him to link telepathically to one, several, or all of his dark creatures, directing their actions and receiving uncompromising cooperation.

Maligor felt himself flying in many different directions at once. At first the sensation was glorious, but then it became disconcerting. He concentrated harder and drew the darkenbeasts’ thoughts together, making them fly according to his will. The scene in the room altered. What a moment before had been chaos now was orchestrated movement. A ring of black circled the room, with the darkenbeasts flying in graceful patterns, performing a lurid ballet. Their cries rose as one, hideous and deafening, threatening to rise above the layers of stone and earth and warn those in the tower above of their presence.

Maligor, realizing the potential for problems, urged his force to land, then began to release their simple minds. Immediately the stench of the place overpowered him again and he retched, nearly doubling over. Gasping, he focused his attention on the large darkenbeast that had returned to the altar.

Soon, he telepathically communicated to the creature. We will fly again soon.

The Red Wizard staggered from the chamber and began the long ascent to his tower.