"Death we will bring you," hissed a hollow voice. "We will tear the muscles from your bones and wash our bodies in your blood. You will taste sweet death."

Faster and faster Galvin and Brenna ran, scraping their skin against the coarse bark of fog-concealed trees, nearly stumbling over unseen rocks and fallen branches. The air felt chill, signaling the nearness of the advancing wraiths, but still the druid and enchantress ran on.

"Hurry, Brenna," Galvin whispered. "We've got to make it. We're almost to the escarpment."

The fog seemed thinner here as their feet continued to pound over the Thayvian soil. The druid could begin to make out the shapes of trees and bushes and a horse and rider-no, it was Wynter-ahead. He pulled Brenna toward the centaur.

"Galvin!" Wynter shouted at the sight of his friend. "I've been looking for you. I've been wanting to tear out your weak, mortal heart."

The druid halted, open-mouthed, in front of his Harper ally. From a distance, the fog had masked the centaur's undead state. Wynter's angular face was now skeletal and covered with bits of rotting flesh. Ribs protruded from his equine rear portion, and he reeked of the grave.

Galvin screamed, then immediately awoke to find himself curled about Brenna in a soft bed in Maligor's tower. The enchantress slept soundly, oblivious to the druid's nightmare.

The druid withdrew his arm from about Brenna's waist and rubbed his eyes. He guessed he must have slept eight or more hours, and he was surprised one of the slaves hadn't awakened him earlier. Reluctantly he left the soft bed, gently moving away from Brenna. He wanted to let her sleep a little while longer.

The slaves-and most of the furnishings-were gone. Galvin surmised that the slaves had looted Maligor's tower and fled while he slumbered. He pulled his chain armor from under the bed, dressed, and strapped on his sword. Then, carrying his boots in the crook of his right arm, he shoved Szass Tam's black tabard back under the bed with his bare feet.

Galvin strode to the far side of the room, where he had spied a basin full of water. The bowl was porcelain, and the slaves likely would have taken it, he thought, had it not been so large. The druid bent forward and splashed water on his face and arms, then padded out into the hallway and put on his boots.

Galvin knew he needed to get to the Amruthar market quickly, to purchase the horses for himself and Brenna. Running down the circular stairs, he found Wynter at the bottom.

"I was just coming in to wake you," the centaur said, grinning broadly. "I'm glad I didn't have to. I didn't want to climb all those stairs."

The druid scrutinized his friend. "How are you feeling?"

Wynter frowned. "I feel terrible. I'm in Thay." The centaur paused and reached up to scratch the spot on his head where the plant had attacked him. "But at least I'm remembering things. We came to this country on purpose."

The druid exhaled slowly, relieved that his friend seemed to be returning to normal. "I'm in a hurry, Wyn. I've got to get some horses and some food. We've got to get going. We can talk later."

"I've already bought horses," the centaur replied smugly. "I went to the market an hour ago." The centaur pointed at the large double doors. "They're outside. And you'd better get out there, too, so the undead don't eat this pair as they did the others. Oh," he said, nodding toward the concealed door that lead to the bowels of Maligor's tower, "I let the skeletons and zombies out. They're waiting outside. The wraiths might still be down there, though."

"They'll find a way to join us after it's dark." Galvin turned and sprinted up the stairs to get Brenna.

Several minutes later, the entourage, with Galvin, Wynter, and Brenna at its lead, was gathered outside Maligor's tower. The horses Wynter purchased were a pair of sorrel mares, healthy, but not of the quality that Szass Tam had provided. The enchantress chose the smaller of the two horses and mounted while Galvin kept an eye on the guards who remained in force along the walls of Amruthar. The druid estimated he saw two hundred perched on the western wall alone, and all seemed armed with longbows.

The druid leapt into the saddle and urged his mount forward. The clinking of bones behind him signaled that the undead were following. He cast a last glance at the city, then faced north toward the verdant Thayvian landscape and the distant hills where the mines were nestled.

When they had put a few miles between themselves and Amruthar, Galvin pulled out the crude map of the mines they had found in Maligor's tower and rested it against his horse's neck. Studying it, he guessed it would take at least three days for the slow-moving undead to reach the mines. Replacing the map, he wondered what Maligor would do in those three days.

The army wound its way along the dirt roads that cut through the citrus groves. North of Amruthar, the groves were vast, well established, and had many crews of slaves. As the undead marched by, guards and slaves hid behind the largest trees and watched nervously.

The sun had begun to set as Galvin, Wynter, and Brenna passed a row of tall birches, which marked the end of one grove and the beginning of another. The precise rows of citrus trees, all carefully pruned, had begun to look monotonous.

When the sun edged below the distant tree line, the shadows and wraiths joined the assembly, the latter beginning their incessant, haunting banter. As the miles went by, Galvin studied Brenna. The enchantress had pulled about her a woolen cloak that Wynter had purchased in the market. The druid was uncertain what to do about her. If they lived through whatever awaited them and were able to leave Thay, she would likely return to Aglarond. He knew he would miss her, but he realized she wouldn't want to stay in the wilderness with him and Wynter. He also knew he could never stay in a city. Although he had proved to himself he could function within their confining walls, he had no desire to live in one. Her nearness was making all of it considerably more difficult to figure out.

"I'm going to scout ahead for a while," he told her. "It looks like there are a few lights up there."

"No, human," a wraith protested, floating to Galvin's side. "You will stay with us. The master wishes it."

"I'll be back soon," the druid said firmly.

"If you leave, we will go with you. Death will travel at your side."

"Only if 'death' can keep up," the druid said, scowling. He glanced at the distant lights on the horizon. The druid knew it would take the undead quite a while to reach them. Dropping the big mare's reins, he handed Brenna his close helm and pulled off his chain shirt. Laying it across the front of his saddle, he held his arms out to his sides and closed his eyes.

"Human! What are you doing?" the wraith demanded.

Galvin ignored the undead creature and willed himself to transform. Feathers quickly sprouted on his chest and spread like fire to cover his body. His mare became skittish as wings formed underneath the druid's arms, but Galvin, still retaining his human visage, made neighing and whinnying sounds until the horse answered and calmed down. Then the druid's body shriveled, his legs becoming muscular hawk legs, and his feet yellow claws with curved talons. His head shortened, and his nose grew into a curved beak. The green-eyed hawk cried and leapt from the mare's back, flying toward the lights.

The druid relished the sensation of flight, the wind ruffling the feathers about his face and the cool air flowing beneath his wings. His hawk form was sleek and made for speed, and the miles sped away beneath his wings. In this form, the druid knew he could have reached the mines in a day, but he also knew that going there alone might not accomplish anything. Nor would he find any comfort in leaving Wynter and Brenna behind with the undead.