Willeth sobbed and more blood rushed from his mouth before he continued. "I'm not… going to be able to tell them now, I know I'm dying. Could you… tell them, friend?"
"Of course," Maligor lied. "Friends always help each other. But I have one other thing to ask you, my very best friend." He motioned for the gnolls to unchain Willeth and ease him to the floor. Maligor reached into a deep pocket of his robe and drew out a rolled-up piece of beige parchment and a hunk of charcoal.
"Please, friend, draw a map of your mine. Only you could draw such a thing. Don't forget to include that new cave. And please hurry."
Willeth fell to the task. The Red Wizard moved the lantern closer to provide better light. The map was crude, as the tharchion's hand shook terribly, and the parchment became spotted with blood. It took Willeth several minutes to complete the rough drawing. Then, before Maligor could take it away from him, Willeth added X's to indicate traps and magical defenses.
"You've done very well, my friend," Maligor said in soothing tones that relaxed Willeth. "This is a fine map. It will help me to find my way about in your wonderful mines."
Willeth coughed, and Maligor noted a flowering splotch of blood on the tharchion's chest. The man looked up at the wizard with a pained expression on his face.
"The pain… Help me… please."
"Of course, friend," Maligor said. He reached down and grabbed the map and the lantern, then stepped to the doorway. He turned to address the two gnolls.
"Are you hungry? Eat him."
Moments later, Maligor paced in the hallway, waiting for his gnolls to finish. The Red Wizard was satisfied. If other zulkirs tried to contact Willeth while he was supposedly in Tantras or became suspicious of the Willeth Lionson who would address the council in two weeks, nothing would be learned. It was possible to contact the dead or locate bodies through special enchantments. Szass Tam knew such spells and likely would try to employ them if the new Willeth Lionson did not meet with his acceptance and the lich guessed the true Willeth was dead.
But it will soon be impossible for those necromantic enchantments to yield any valuable information, Maligor mused. The Red Wizard knew the necessary spells required a body-or at least a significant portion of one-and he had no intention of leaving behind enough remains to fuel such spells.
The council will have no choice but to accept the new Willeth, Maligor concluded. And the new Willeth will be cloaked with enough protective spells to pass any cursory inspections.
The crude stomping of the gnolls leaving the cell disturbed Maligor's musings. The sated guards grinned at him.
The Red Wizard ordered the gnolls to gather Willeth's bones, clothes, and boots into a canvas sack. These were seasoned guards and knew enough to comply with Maligor's orders with alacrity. But they were not without curiosity.
"Gnoll troops," one of them began, addressing the Red Wizard but showing enough respect not to meet Maligor's gaze. "Gnoll troops practice but not fight? Not fight for mines?"
Maligor's eyes narrowed. He had erred in keeping two of his best guards in this cell. Slaves were easy to replace, and he had plenty of gnolls, but gnolls weren't easy to educate for special tasks such as guard work. Now he would have to order at least two more trained; these two had just become expendable.
"Gnolls not good enough?" the curious guard pressed, shaking the bag containing Willeth's remains. "Gnolls good warriors. Gnolls could fight for mines. Gnolls brave fighters."
"Of course they are," Maligor said unctiously, "and you are the bravest among them. That is why I selected you as my personal tower guards."
"Then why do gnolls train?" The gnoll was too inquisitive and obviously wouldn't stop the questions until Maligor supplied some answers. This gnoll had been with the wizard several years and did not fear retribution for a few simple and direct questions.
"The gnoll forces will fight," Maligor replied. "I just haven't decided what. You see, the other Red Wizards will be watching the gnoll army. And they'll keep their eyes on the gnolls wherever they march. That army is very important, and may well have to fight armies the other wizards send against it. But while that army is marching, another army, a very different army, will go to the mines. The Red Wizards won't be expecting that and probably won't notice. They must not notice. So you see, my dear friends, my very best friends, the gnoll army is very important indeed."
The two gnolls looked up at Maligor, their eyes filled with a pink haze, identical to the haze around the wizard's hands.
"Friend Maligor," the curious gnoll stated. "Friend Maligor knows gnolls important."
"Slaves tonight?" the other gnoll asked. "We get girl slaves tonight? We helped friend Maligor with the mining man."
"Of course," the Red Wizard lied, his voice soothing and melodic. "You will have your pick of the female slaves, my dear friends. But first wouldn't you like to see my other army? You will be the only friends I have ever taken there."
"Yes," they barked, nearly in unison. Their yellow-tinged teeth showed as they grinned widely.
"Friend Maligor show us now?" one begged. "I want to see now."
"Then I mustn't keep my cherished friends waiting," the wizard stated, placing one hand on the inquisitive gnoll's shoulder. "Come with me. But leave your weapons and the sack of bones here. We mustn't scare the army."
The gnolls dropped their staves, daggers, and other items to the floor, then carefully set down the sack containing what was left of Willeth Lionson. They followed Maligor down the corridor, fighting for the position closest to their friend.
Maligor spoke to the gnolls along the way, continually reminding them of their good friendship and all the wonderful times they would share. The gnolls bantered back as they proceeded through the dark corridors, and down the stairs to the lowest level of Maligor's complex, where he kept the growing force of darkenbeasts.
"My friends should walk in the chamber so they can see the army up close," the Red Wizard encouraged. "Only my best friends get to pet the darkenbeasts."
The two guards moved forward excitedly, like small boys in a room full of toys. While they marveled at the disgusting, rancid-smelling creatures, Maligor reached out with his mind, contacting the darkenbeasts and dropping his mental control of the gnolls.
Kill them! his mind cried. And in an instant, the chamber was filled with the flurry of shadowy, webbed wings. Unlike the tharchion, Willeth, the gnolls did not have time to scream.
The charmed orchard guard led Brenna, Wynter, and Galvin deeper into the citrus grove.
"Do you know where we are?" Brenna asked the centaur.
Wynter didn't reply. His attention was fixed on something moving in a nearby tree.
Brenna followed his gaze, squinting through the darkness. Then she recoiled when a pair of yellow-orange eyes peered back. The sorceress clung to Wynter's side and noticed that Galvin was watching the creature, too.
"What is it?" she whispered.
The charmed guide overheard her and strode obligingly toward the tree. "I think it's an imp," he offered, moving close enough to touch the branch the thing sat on. "See the wings?" The man waved his arm, tracing the outline of a wing, then turned to grin at Brenna. "It ain't gonna hurt you. If it was gonna attack, it would have snuck up behind you. You wouldn't have seen it just sitting here."