Red Magic - Jean Rabe [109]
"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.
Resigned, the druid rose, turned his back on the tower, and strode toward his stallion. "Let's move," he told Brenna and hoisted himself into the saddle.
"Not just yet." Brenna stood unmoving, her hands planted on her hips, and stared long and hard at the head gnoll. "Let's see if we can find out why Maligor's going after another Red Wizard." She pointed at the tower. "Maybe we can learn something in there."
Galvin weighed Brenna's idea. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Any information was better than none. He leapt off the black stallion, grabbed the reins, and began to lead the animal toward the tower. Two gnolls moved to block the front door.
"Out of our way!" Galvin shouted, knowing the stupid creatures couldn't understand the words but hoping they would comprehend his intent.
Brenna was at his side in a few steps. Drawing a long knife, she anticipated trouble when the gnolls refused to part and the others began to move closer.
Galvin unsheathed his longsword and advanced. The gnolls paused, eyeing the glowing blade, then screamed as a black cloud descended upon them. The wraiths, appearing as a fog with ghostly arms and legs, laughed eerily and slashed at the gnolls' faces.
Deep, black gashes appeared, and blood flowed freely down the bodies of the terrified gnolls. The dog-men