Red Magic - Jean Rabe [126]
The low portion of the hills was much like a savanna, covered with grasses that stretched nearly three feet high. Trees were scattered over the hillsides, their trunks swollen with water and their leafy tops flat. Traveling was difficult because of the incline, and the heat was oppressive, causing Galvin and Wynter to shed their armor. They toted it behind them, bundled inside their cloaks. Bare-chested, they found the warmth easier to handle, especially when an occasional breeze whipped over the savannah, cooling them as it evaporated the sweat from their bodies.
Wynter explained as they traveled that the wizards had no need to make it rain near the mines, since the hills were devoid of crops. Still, the natural rains seemed enough to support the trees and grasses.
By nightfall, their course steepened even more, and Galvin located a wide, well-worn path with deep wagon ruts. Although the Harpers and Brenna were nearly exhausted because they had been pushing themselves so hard, they forced themselves to continue, climbing the steep slope, slowing only when Wynter had difficulty negotiating the sharper grades.
The vegetation had changed once again to resemble a montane forest, and the air was cooler at this elevation. The army pressed on until shortly before dawn, when the trees began to thin.
Brenna was pale from exertion, and even Wynter and Galvin were glad to stop and rest. The druid directed the undead to spread themselves out among the trees, hoping the cover would lessen their chances of being spotted by any patrols or by wizards magically scrying the area.
Lying down on the ground, under the shade of a thick-leafed tree he couldn't identify, the druid again studied the map. "These marks in the tunnel indicate something-maybe traps, maybe veins of gold, maybe guards. There are two large Xs right outside the mine entrance. I wonder what they indicate."
"Worrying about it won't get you an answer," Wynter said, stretching himself out on a large patch of soft grass and folding his hoofed legs beneath him. "Wake me in a few hours and I'll stand watch."
The enchantress settled herself next to the druid and eyed the map. Galvin rubbed her head. "You get some sleep, too."
As the sun set, painting the mountain peaks vermilion, Galvin moved the undead forward once more. He noticed fewer and fewer animal tracks as they ascended. With the decline in vegetation, there was less food to support wildlife. Bamboo grew in small clumps to either side of the path; the druid suspected a band of bamboo grew at this altitude all the way around the mountain.
In another few hours the bamboo thinned, too, then disappeared, to be replaced by short, coarse grass. The druid noted the caves that dotted the mountainside, but he avoided them. No paths led to them, nor was the ground smooth enough around them to indicate the presence of miners who had tramped the earth flat. As the army continued its climb, the druid began quizzing the few birds he spotted, chirping to them in their own language and learning that a congregation of men could be found on the northern exposure of the mountain.
Within a few hours more, shortly before dawn, the druid found a wide, winding road capped by torches that led to a large black opening in the rocks. It was obviously the entrance to the Thayvian mines.
"Should I go ahead and see what's going on?" the centaur suggested.
The druid shook his head. "They must know we're coming. Their sentries have probably spotted us in the distance. The night hides our numbers, but it doesn't hide the fact that there's an army on the mountain."
Galvin took several deep breaths and mentally ran through the possibilities. If Maligor had control of the mines, he would have been there for three or four days. The druid's force would be fighting the wizard's darkenbeasts and any other defenses he might have added. If Maligor's forces were defeated, but the Red Wizard still lived, their task might take them elsewhere in the pursuit of him.
He glanced