Red Magic - Jean Rabe [39]
The speech was crude, but the trio knew the meaning. The patrol had spotted Galvin's scimitar. All eyes had been on Brenna before, which is likely why they had gotten this far.
"Run!" Galvin ordered, but Wynter and Brenna were already in full stride.
The sorceress was lagging behind, however. The day's journey and the climb up the cliff had already taxed her to her limits. Wynter doubled back to get her.
"Help her up on my back!" Wynter yelled to Galvin.
"No time," Galvin replied, positioning himself between the centaur, Brenna, and the oncoming ores. "They're on us." The druid drew his scimitar and squinted his eyes, reaching out with his mind to the citrus trees.
The screaming orcs, led by their angry leader, closed fast, and the druid could smell the dried sweat on their grotesque bodies. Their lips curled back in a hyenalike snarl as they chanted for the trespassers' blood.
Galvin continued to concentrate on the trees, and in response, the branches snaked forward like striking snakes to entangle the orcs. The limbs whipped around the orcs' flailing arms and legs, holding them fast and hoisting them several feet above the ground.
The lead sentry struggled and barked a few orders in the orcish tongue, but his charges were slow to respond, looking astonished at the branches that were like ropes about their limbs.
Brenna took advantage of the situation to begin a spell. Her singsong chant was uneven because she was out of breath. Still she persevered, padding through the grass toward the entangled guards as she continued to murmur the arcane words. When she stood in front of the sentry, she finished the incantation. His struggles stopped, and he stared at her with wide, attentive eyes.
"I've bewitched him," she announced over her shoulder to the Harpers. "He'll be mine for several days, but now that I have him, I'm not so sure what to do with him."
"He can be our guide," Wynter answered. "Can you make him lead us?"
"Sure," Brenna said. "I could even make him cook for us and polish your hooves if you want. What about the orcs?"
"The entanglement won't last much longer," Galvin said, a touch of concern in his voice. The orcs had begun to strain against the branches. "Do you have something else-some spell to keep them quiet about all of this?"
The enchantress smiled broadly, pleased to have Galvin ask her for help. She searched through a small pouch at her side, gathering more spell components.
"I can try to make them forget about us, but I'm not sure it will work. They seem rather dense. But I'll do what I can." She breathed deeply and began another enchantment. Between phrases, she thought she heard the druid say, "Thanks."
When she finished, she returned to the Harpers and her charmed friend. "We'd better get out of here," she suggested, "just in case it didn't work."
Wynter fell in behind Galvin, Brenna, and their newfound guide. The centaur's legs felt weak; he suspected it was nerves. He continued to remind himself how much he hated this country as they proceeded to move deeper into Thay.
Five
Two levels above his sorcerous army, Maligor paced in front of a cell door. The Red Wizard was tired, having just completed a series of spells that added a hundred more darkenbeasts to his forces. His exhaustion left him with little stomach for this place. The corridor stank of urine and sweat. The eight cells in this area were rarely cleaned, and they were almost always occupied. The wizard was constantly displeased with enough slaves, soldiers, and townspeople to keep them full. The horrible conditions kept the prisoners dispirited and easy to handle, and diseases usually kept the place from becoming too overcrowded.
Sometimes Maligor elected not to feed the occupants for a week or longer, leaving the corpses of those who starved to rot in the cells with the survivors. And when