"If he's so powerful," Galvin pressed, "why doesn't he deal with Maligor himself, and why hasn't he taken over this whole stinking country? If he's so powerful, he doesn't need us."

Wynter paused a moment, as if trying to get the wording right. "Because he can keep his hands clean by using puppets like us to do his work."

Brenna had ridden up near the Harpers and had been listening intently. "Maybe he's just waiting a few centuries until the time is right to strike," she offered.

The three became silent and continued to move across the Thayvian countryside toward Amruthar. They paused for an hour at the edge of a small citrus orchard after they had marched half the day. Galvin wanted to rest the horses. The undead needed no rest, food, or water, but the Harpers and Brenna needed all of those. They cooled themselves in the shade of the citrus trees and talked little during their rest, watching the undead, who stood unmoving like statues, waiting for the order to continue on.

Perhaps Szass Tam's symbol of a skeletal hand crushing a living one bears truth, Galvin thought as he used his black tabard to wipe the sweat from his face. Maybe the tireless undead would someday rule Faerun. An army of soldiers who had no human needs and could move as silently as a snake could easily defeat living soldiers.

The druid reached up to pluck a piece of fruit. The ripe fruit was sweet, and the juice ran down his chin when he bit into it. Gazing over their army, he compared it to the number of undead he had seen around and inside Szass Tam's fortress. He assumed that if the Red Wizard Maligor was making a bid for something, he would have to throw all of his army at it, and it was evident Szass Tam was providing the heroes with only a fraction of his forces to deal with the threat from Maligor. Galvin considered discussing the situation with the centaur, then saw him eyeing the undead.

"We should reach Amruthar near midnight. We might as well take the undead against the gnolls right away," the centaur observed. "I want to get this over with as soon as possible. I want…" Wynter stopped and stared into the orchard. His nose twitched. "I'll be right back."

The centaur trotted off and disappeared behind a row of large citrus trees. Galvin shrugged and turned to Brenna; she was grimacing at a nearby hill giant. The decomposing creature appeared to leer at her. However, the druid realized, the creature's expression was caused by its missing upper lip. Galvin sat down beside her.

"We'll make it through this," he said reassuringly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Before she could reply, a scream sliced through the air.

"Wynter!" Galvin shouted, jumping up and racing into the orchard where he had last seen the centaur. Brenna was on his heels, waving her arm frantically behind her, trying to keep the skeletons from following.

As Galvin cut through the trees, he saw Wynter standing motionless beneath a large citrus tree. Wrapped around the centaur's legs and the base of the tree was a thick length of light green vine. Dark green buds and ivylike leaves covered much of the plant, and bright yellow flowers splashed with purple dotted the vines. The heavy scent of musk filled the air.

The druid drew his blade and dashed forward, slashing at the nearest vine. The weapon sunk halfway into the pulpy tendril, releasing a dark red sap, and he tugged to pull the blade loose. Before he could remove it, however, Brenna pushed him and fell to the ground on top of him. Over their heads, the druid saw one of the yellow flowers spray a purple mist of pollen at the spot where he had been standing. The fragrance was overpowering, an inviting musk that seemed to encourage him to come closer to the blooms.

The sorceress rolled off Galvin and tugged on his arm, breaking the enchantment. "Move away, Galvin!" she cried. She pulled again, and the druid crawled away from the plant, backing up so he could keep his eyes on the blossoms.

Wynter had remained still, a silly smile spread across his face and his eyes half-closed. Galvin and Brenna noticed that the vines had released the centaur's legs and had inched forward, away from the trunk of the tree, pointing all its blossoms toward the druid and the sorceress.

"What is that thing?" Brenna gasped, rising to her feet. The druid stood beside her, scanning the grove for more of the plants.

"I-I don't know," he answered. "I've never seen anything like it before." The druid kept his eyes on the blossoms. "Wynter! Wynter, come here."

"He's not moving. It's like he's in a daze," Brenna said nervously. "Galvin, look! There's a skeleton near the tree."

The druid took a step closer and peered over the thickest vine. He saw a human jawbone and a broken rib cage. "We've got to get Wynter out of there!" Galvin closed his eyes and spread his arms out to the sides, palms toward the plant. He began humming softly, then he swayed gently back and forth. After several moments, he opened his eyes and stretched his right hand out toward the plant while continuing to sway. A tendril slowly snaked toward him.

Brenna cringed and considered pulling him back. Then she noticed the vine begin to sway back and forth in time to the druid's movement. She edged forward and motioned to Wynter, hoping fervently he would move while the druid had the plant distracted.

"Arrh!" Galvin bellowed, dropping to his knees and throwing his hands to his temples. He would have fallen forward to the ground, but the enchantress grabbed him about the waist and hauled him backward, out of the way of another blast of pollen. Brenna dragged him several feet back, until she was certain the plant couldn't reach them.

The druid gasped, shook his head back and forth as if to clear it, then looked up at her. "It… it was human." Galvin was almost breathless. "I spoke with it. I told it to release Wynter."

"And…?" Brenna coaxed, glancing back toward the still entranced centaur. The vines were slowly winding themselves around his legs; one was wrapping itself about Wynter's waist, edging its way under his armor.

"The plant was a yellow musk zombie, like some of those creatures we have with us," Galvin went on. "Somehow when the zombie died, it turned into this. Brenna, we've got to get Wynter out before the plant turns him into a zombie!"

"I'll get help," Brenna called as she rushed down an aisle between the citrus trees.

Weaponless, the druid advanced once more on the plant, this time intent on wrestling with it. A large vine slithered forward, and he pounced on it like a cat. Thrusting his booted heel against the vine, he pulled, breaking off a piece of the thing, only to find his chest coated with the reddish sap that spurted from the severed vine.

He glanced up just in time to see another vine-this one covered with the yellow flowers-arc toward him. The druid rolled to the side, avoiding multiple blasts of the pollen, and neared the vine where his sword was lodged. With one strong pull, his blade came free, and he leaped backward just in time to avoid a whiplike tentacle.

The air in the grove smelled strongly of musk, sweet and heavy. Galvin was finding it hard to concentrate and the blossoms were increasingly inviting. In a daze, he stepped forward.

When Brenna returned with a dozen skeletons in tow, she saw Galvin standing motionless a few feet from the trunk of the plant, one of the tendrils inching up his leg. Another vine was creeping up the centaur's chest, over his armor. Still another had wrapped itself around Wynter's head and was poking a tendril into the centaur's helmet, where the visor stood open.

"Kill it!" the enchantress ordered, pointing at the plant. The skeletons plodded forward, unmindful of the pollen bursts that quickly spurted out toward them.

The bony fingers of the undead skeletons tore into the vines, tugging at the pulpy tissue and pulling the tendrils free from the centaur and the druid. Brenna watched as the plant fought the skeletons, extricating its own roots and using them as whips against the undead creatures.