Gritting his teeth, the Bozak muttered, "Never mind, Drek. There's no one. There's no one for you to fight."

His companion blinked, then once more gave Brudas the three-legged chicken stare. The Bozak did not care. All that concerned him were the spectres and their unG.o.dly hunger. No longer did Brudas dream of carving out his own realm somewhere, some day. Now all he wanted was to be left alone by the legion of undead.

Drek sheathed his weapon. "Sssir, if I may. You've been working hard, sssir. Maybe you should get a little more ressst. Yesss, maybe a little ressst would do you sssome -"

"Do not treat me like a hatchling!" Brudas pulled his arm away from Drek's reaching hand. "All I need -He hesitated, eyeing the monstrous faces all around. He was awash in a sea of dead. "All I want," Brudas muttered, "is to be left alone."

The ghosts paid his plea no mind, but Drek, who did not realize to whom his superior actually spoke, took the words as a command. With just a slight hint of annoyance in his sharp salute, he responded, "Yesss, sssir! a.s.ss you wish!"

The taller draconian almost called him back, but to do so would have further shamed him in the Baaz's eyes. Besides, of what use was Drek to his troubles? Drek neither heard nor saw the phantom horde and simply thought his commander had gone mad.

No! Brudas would not be so readily defeated. He had survived the loss of the G.o.ds, the coming of the overlords, and years under the tasking of his mistress. He would not let a bunch of moaning ghosts bring him to madness and ruin!

With the ghosts stalking his every footstep, Brudas forced himself back to his tent. He would be rid of these d.a.m.nable spirits somehow! He must think like an Aurak! Think like the highest of all draconians! That was the way to solve it!

Yet as the day progressed, no clue dawned on him. He sat at his desk, surrounded hy the death-faces, trying his best to think and be inspired and always getting distracted by the burgeoning numbers, the constant, whispering demands of the ghosts.

"Give me the magic!"

"I need it!"

"I must have it!"

And on and on and on . . .

The trio of Baaz returned to camp without Brudas even noticing. Only when Drek came up to report did the Bozak realize that the entire day had faded into darkness.

The lowly Baaz walked ignorantly through the army of ghosts, unaware of the horrors eyeing him. He saluted Brudas as always.

Brudas forced his eyes up. "Yes, Drek? What is it?"

"Giving my report, sssir."

Not really caring, the weary Bozak waved for his subordinate to continue. At least Drek's deep, sibilant voice would drown out a bit of the constant pleading and wailing.

Drek, however, did not immediately begin. Instead, he first eyed Brudas with something approaching concern. "Ma.s.sster Bruda.s.ss, you don't look well. Per-hapsss you should lie down."

Lie down? How could he lie down? If he slept, the ghosts wormed their way into his dreams, urging him to cast spells from which they could purloin the magic! Brudas had not forgotten the previous night, how he had woken to feel the power seeping from his twitching fingers. Lie down? Didn't the fool Baaz know anything?

"Just give your d.a.m.ned report!"

Cringing, Drek did so. Brudas paid him little attention, however, using the droning of the Baaz as an opportunity to focus his thoughts on his predicament. He could not sleep; he could not cast magic. The ghosts remained with him at every moment and their numbers seemed to be growing. What could he do?

". . . and that'sss all, sssir."

Defeated for the moment, Brudas waved a taloned hand in Drek's direction, dismissing him. However, as the Baaz turned to go, something Drek had said finally registered with the desperate Bozak.

"What's that you said about a magic staff?"

With another sheepish expression, Drek replied, "We found what ssseemed a wizard'sss staff, Ma.s.sster Bruda.s.ss, but I tripped and fell on it. Broke it. I'm sssorry, sssir!"

Under normal circ.u.mstances, Brudas would have punished the careless Baaz for such heinous stupidity, but a thought was stirring within his head, a possible salvation from the ghouls.

"The bracelet! Find me the bracelet!"

"Sssir?" Drek glanced at Brudas's tent. "Isssn't it inssside there?"

"No, you imbecile! It's out there!" He pointed, not bothering to explain how the artifact had come to end up out in the swamp, and Drek had the good sense not to ask further questions. Instead, the Baaz called to his two comrades and, under Brudas's manic guidance, they searched for the bracelet.

Drek finally found it, half-sunken in the mud. Had the Bozak tossed it just a little farther, it would have ended up in the depths of the swamp, no doubt forever lost. Relic in one hand, Drek trotted back to Brudas, who seized the bracelet immediately and, without another word, turned away from the three Baaz.

As he headed back into his tent, Brudas inspected the bracelet. The relic remained intact, even down to the loose stone. It was the black stones that interested him now, for Brudas realized he had not seen the first ghost until he touched one of them. For some reason, the spell surrounding the stones must enable the bracelet's wearer to see the dead.

"You did this to me," Brudas muttered at the black gems. "Let us see what happens if I remove you entirely, eh?"

The Bozak drew a dagger and pried at the loosest of the pair. To his surprise, it took him far more effort than he expected to break the stone free. It seemed almost as if the stone did not want to be cut from its mounting, but at last it popped out, falling to the ground at the draconian's feet.

Glancing around, Brudas thought that the ghosts already looked less distinct. Better yet, their voices had faded to whispers. Eagerly, he went to work on the second stone.

Freeing this one proved more troublesome, but Brudas put such manic effort into it that eventually the second gem flew high into the air, landing some distance from the first. As the final stone dropped, the ghosts vanished.

Brudas listened closely, but the only sounds he heard now were those of the swamp creatures and the wind.

He slumped for a moment, exhausted. "Free . . ."

Then, pulling himself together, the Bozak tossed the bracelet on the table, roaring, "Drek! Get in here!"

A moment later, the rather disgruntled Baaz entered. Drek immediately saluted, but otherwise said nothing. Brudas realized that he had summoned the fool from his evening meal, but there were more important matters than filling a Baaz's cavernous stomach.

The tall, slim draconian pointed at the stones. "Take those and throw them into the swamp as far as you can, Drek! And be certain to follow through with my command, because if I find you've disobeyed and kept them for yourself, you know what I'll do to you."

Shuddering, the Baaz scooped up the gems and rushed from the tent. As a safety precaution, Brudas stepped out of the entrance to watch. Drek stood at the edge of the water, his feet half-sunken into the soft mud. With a throw that put Brudas's own to shame, the Baaz hurled both tiny stones far into the swamp.

The Bozak exhaled in relief. He had escaped the ghosts. An Aurak could not have been more clever, Brudas thought with some pride.

A sudden exhaustion overtook Brudas and he recalled that he had not rested much the prior night. Now, with no more dead, hungry eyes or mournful, demanding voices to haunt him, the draconian could at last get some peaceful slumber.

"Drek!"

The Baaz, only steps away from his supper, turned back to his superior. "Yesss, Ma.s.sster Bruda.s.ss?"

"I'm going to sleep. See to it that I'm not disturbed by anything, understood?"

"Yesss, sssir."

Brudas reentered the tent. How appealing his cot looked! How wonderful the thought of deep, undisturbed sleep sounded!

He dozed off almost the very moment he settled into the cot.

At first, the draconian slept well and deeply, but then something disturbed his rest. Nothing he could at first identify, but it was a gnawing, creeping feeling. Brudas tossed about, clawing his way closer and closer to consciousness, until- With a scream, he tumbled from the cot. A shiver came over the Bozak as he glanced down at his hands, which still twitched.

"No-o-o," he whispered, reptilian eyes glancing about. "No!"

With much trepidation, he concentrated on a simple spell of levitation. For his target, he chose the bracelet, which still lay atop the table. Brudas had cast this spell a thousand times. Casting it successfully should have been child's play.

Yet, when the draconian tried to complete his spell, nothing happened.

He had been a fool! By damaging the bracelet, he had destroyed its ability to show him the dead, yet that did not mean that they had left. They still surrounded him . . . and likely in greater numbers than before. He imagined hundreds, perhaps even thousands at this point, numbers that chilled even the hardened Bozak to the core.

Thousands of ghosts swarming about him, hungering for his magic, silently urging him to activate it for them. . . .

The tent rippled in the night wind, causing Brudas to start. From somewhere far off, or maybe right next to him whispering in his ears, came a moaning sound. Even though he could not see them, the draconian knew that the pleading, demanding dead encircled him . . . and that they waited for their opportunity.

"I've got nothing for you!" he snapped at the wind. "Nothing for you at all!" The anxious Bozak whirled about. "Find yourself another mage from which to leech! I'll not ca.s.sst any more ssspells! You'll sssuck no more magic through me!"

But the wind seemed to mock him. The ever-growing legion of wraiths swirled invisibly around him, silently watching him.

All around him. Unseen, but everywhere.

Brudas hissed. He imagined the clawing hands, the hollow eyes. The Bozak began pawing at his elegant robe, the one he wore in order to better emulate the Auraks. He tried to peel away the grasping fingers. Sharp talons ripped fabric, and yet still Brudas felt the ghostly presence. He looked around, saw the bracelet. Grasping it, Brudas rubbed his hand across the skull design, trying to find some way to unlock the power.

Nothing. Brudas's gaze fixed on the two empty s.p.a.ces where the stones had been mounted. Had he, by ripping them free, ruined any hope of using the artifact?

"Fool! I've been a fool!" Brudas swung the bracelet about in wild anger and frustration. His hand smashed against the oil lamp, sending it flying against the tent wall. The oil and fire spread across the fabric, quickly turning into an inferno. Brudas backed away, only to discover that the hem and sleeve of his robe were afire.

He turned, trying to douse the spreading flames. In desperation, the draconian began to cast a spell, one that should have been able to quell any ordinary fire. However, as the last words left his mouth, Brudas again experienced the unsettling sensation of feeling the magic drained away from his very lips.

In that terrible moment, dark, maddening thoughts flew into his mind. Had the ghosts planned this, too? Had they led him into this desperate situation so he would be forced to try magic-which they would then swoop upon, unseen vultures hungry for even the tiniest morsel of his power?

"No!" the Bozak shouted at the air, heedless of the fire consuming his garments. "I know what you intend! I'll not be your puppet! I'll be free of you somehow-free of all of you!"

The flames now covered his robe and burned his scaly hide. Brudas tried rolling on the ground, then, in desperation, he dashed out of the burning tent, startling Drek and the others, who had come to stop the fire.

Brudas ran past them toward the swamp. In his agonized mind, he saw only the water, and as the three Baaz watched, their superior ran headlong into the swamp, ignorant of its many perils. Brudas waded farther and farther out into the muck.

With each step he made less progress, sinking deeper. Still he pushed on. His shoulders and arms were ablaze. He took a breath and plunged underwater to kill the fire.

As his head went under, the Bozak caught sight of something in the mud-two tiny objects gleaming. Two tiny black stones.

Struggling to hold his breath, Brudas reached for the precious stones, but they were too far away. He managed another step and, his lungs straining, tried once more to grab them.

Brudas's hand plunged into the mud and seized the stones. A slight shock ran through him and suddenly, all around the Bozak, floated the legions of dead.

Terrified, Brudas opened his mouth to shout, forgetting for the moment that he, unlike the hungering spectres, needed air to breathe.

Drek, leaning over as far as he could, ceased calling his superior's name and watched with horror as the last bubbles rose to the surface . . . and the angry swamp finally calmed again.

The silence shattered as an explosion, the final mark of death for all Bozaks, sent a shower of water high into the air. Drek stepped back just enough to avoid being drenched, then eyed the swamp, still confused by what had happened.

Molgar and Gruun reluctantly joined Drek and the three Baaz stared for a time, almost as if they still expected their superior to rise out of the water and castigate them for standing around doing nothing. At last, Gruun broke the silence, turning to Drek.

"What do we do now?"

Drek shrugged. He had lived his life obeying orders, not giving them, but the other Baaz seemed even more uncertain about what to do. At last, he gave them the only answer that made any sense at all under the circ.u.mstances.

"We pack up and go back to our missstressss."

"So this is all?" the black leviathan rumbled dangerously. "This is the result of your grand expedition?"

Drek could not help but shiver before Sable. The great creature towered over the tiny draconian, her form so ma.s.sive she had to bend over and contort herself to fit into this cavern, one of her many sanctums scattered around her domain.

"Yesss, missstressss! It isss all!"

Spread before the overlord were the handful of items that the three Baaz had been able to salvage from Brudas's destroyed tent. Not much to show for their work, and Drek knew it. Yet, as a lowly servant of the great dragon, he had no recourse but to bring it all to her, no matter her certain disappointment and anger.

The ebony leviathan's head swung back and forth as she surveyed their meagre findings. Drek already knew that she would find them of little interest. Brudas had mentioned time and time again how pathetic these magical relics were.

"It is fortunate for your superior," Sable announced, her malevolent gaze fixing on the Baaz again, "that he chose to die in Krolus. He wasted my time and hopes on this mission, it seems. I should have sent an Aurak to lead the expedition just as I had originally planned." Her eyes narrowed. "And as for you-"

Drek blinked, suddenly realizing that he had forgotten one item. Fool! He had wanted so much to protect it that he had forgotten to remove it from his pouch and add it the pile. "There isss one more, missstressss! One more!"

She pulled her head back, waiting.

The draconian plucked the object from the pouch, then set it down before her. Drek backed up as Sable's head dived down to scrutinize the relic.

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! I can sense the magic within! Strong magic! This has to be the work of the dark mage the scrolls spoke of." She reached down and delicately took the bracelet in her tremendous talons. "This has been damaged, though."

Under her baleful gaze, the draconian stammered, "It wa.s.ss Bruda.s.ss, missstressss! Bruda.s.ss in his madnessss! I am only a lowly Baaz and understand nothing of magic!"

"But you understand wealth and treasure, do you not?" Sable said. "Even you wouldn't be so foolish as to steal a couple of paltry gems and risk my wrath. . . would you?"

An intense blast of dragonfear overwhelmed Drek. He fell to his knees. "No, missstressss! No!"

She seemed satisfied, both with his reply and the relic. "So perhaps the mission was not a total failure." Sable held up the bracelet, admiring it. "I shall make use of this, yes! The damage means little overall. All I need is the raw magic within!"

The gargantuan dragon turned away, eyes fixed upon her prize. Even though only a lowly Baaz, Drek knew well enough to rise to his feet and hurry from her sight.

Drek did not look back as he rushed from the cavern and, even if he had, all he would have seen was the dragon studying the artifact. He would not have seen the trailing legions of ghosts who followed him, the legions that Sable herself could not see without the black gems. There were hundreds, perhaps even thousands of them, already floating around the black leviathan, eagerly awaiting her spells.

Ghosts with hungry, hungry eyes.