had spoken the peculiar words. The Bozak shook off the whispering voice. Perhaps he had imagined it. Inspecting the bracelet, Brudas decided not to risk touching the loose stone again. Still, the mild jolt he had received had been enough to encourage him.
Brudas eyed the sunken chamber. The prospects of finding anything else in this danger-laden, unstable ruin were minimal at best. He had been fortunate to find even this one artifact. Still…
“Continue the search. Leave nothing untouched! I will return to my tent to study this item.” Ignoring the dismayed expressions of the others, the Bozak strode away, as best he could, climbing laboriously up to the surface and shaking mud off all the way back to his tent.
For the first time since coming to Krolus, Brudas had made a real find, one that might help him realize his dreams of success, of power.
Brudas had grown tired of serving Sable and receiving little in return. He had grown tired of his own failing magic, making him feel even more useless than a Baaz or a Kapak. Auraks had their fabled craftiness to serve them when magic failed, and the others were good for either battle or labor, but a Bozak without magic was worthless. He was not even of any use to himself.
However, with the forces Brudas sensed in this artifact, he might be able to depart the black dragon’s domain and make his way to better climes, to some place where he, not some overgrown, fat lizard, could rule. Then Brudas would be master, not servant…
Entering his tent, he stalked to the table and, with a contemptuous sweep of his arm, cleared it of the lesser relics. Hanging his oil lamp nearby, Brudas placed the bracelet on the table, then leaned toward it, reptilian orbs slitted. He cared not for what purpose its designer originally had created it. Sable would have found the artifact’s background of interest, but all Brudas cared about now was how he would be able to draw the magic and use it for his own spells.
A test. It required a simple test. The Bozak would cast the easiest of spells, utilizing only the least amount of energy.
With growing eagerness, Brudas clutched the sides of the bracelet, making certain to leave both index fingers atop the skull design. Feeling the nearness to strong magic sent a chill of excitement down his spine. He could barely contain himself as he began to recite the words of the spell. If all went as planned, the Bozak hoped to create a small sphere of light that would float just above the table. A simple spell. In the old days, even a novice wizard could have cast this with ease.
As he whispered, Brudas noticed a slight movement of the tent walls. The lamp dimmed a bit for no reason he could discern.
The final words slipped from his toothy maw.
And a pale, cadaverous hand suddenly slipped across his own, while a moaning, demanding voice like a winter wind cried out, “
Caught by surprise, Brudas stumbled backward, losing his grip on the relic. His gaze fell upon a ghostly form, an older, bearded man wearing tattered robes. The face had little flesh and the eyes were so hollow and hungry that for a moment Brudas, who had as a servant of the goddess Takhisis dealt before with the undead, could only stare back in astonishment.
In its skeletal hands the ghost held a glowing force, and, as both spectre and burden faded away, Brudas realized the ghoulish creature had just stolen the magic from his spell.
Hissing in both anger and consternation, Brudas rose to his feet and raced out of the tent. Outside he saw nothing but the swamp and the ruins. Both the ghost and glowing magic had vanished.
For a moment, he considered calling for the Baaz, but thought better of it. To ask them if they had heard or seen a ghost would only make him look ridiculous in their i|norant eyes.
However, one ghost would not stop him. The Bozak knew some dark spells, one that could repel the undead. Trudging back inside the tent, the draconian eyed the bracelet. Best to keep away from it for now. The creature clearly was attached to it, perhaps had even been its creator. Well, come the morrow, Brudas had an idea that would send the ghoul on its final journey.
As could be expected, the Baaz found nothing more worthwhile. Drek, while excavating, had almost been crushed by the weakening ceiling of the chamber. Brudas sent the miserable creatures to yet another site he believed worthwhile, then he began his research. That took not only the rest of what could laughingly be called the day, but also well into the night.
He had not touched the bracelet again, not wanting to accidentally summon the spirit. As Brudas lay down on his cot to sleep, he pondered his options. Should he capture the ghost, perhaps make the spirit tell him where other magical artifacts of significance might be found? A waste of power most likely. Better to be rid of the creature entirely.
Brudas drifted off to sleep, his thoughts still on spells. He dreamed of spellcastmg and saw himself upon a great mountain, using his magic to drive the overlords away and, in their place, he took over the rule of all Ansalon. The draconian took special pleasure in humbling his mistress, Sable. In his dreams, he forced the ebony leviathan to cower before him, her head buried so flat against the earth it made him laugh to see it. No more would the Bozak follow anyone else’s dictates. Even the Auraks would acknowledge his greatness.
In the dreams, hundreds of craven subjects crowded around him, begging his mercy, cheering his might Brudas granted them the wonder of witnessing his spellwork, casting wondrous display after wondrous display…
Then the draconian woke to find his fingers twitching. He felt magic briefly course through him… then out again.
He opened his eyes-
And let out a startled shout as more than a score of ghoulish, semi-transparent figures wafted close to him, surrounding him, their hollow eyes filled with an insatiable hunger.
“Get away from me!” Brudas cried, rolling off the bed. “Getaway!”
The ghosts did not touch him, but neither did they move away. Wherever the Bozak went, the spectres followed.
They talked, begged, pleaded, and demanded.
“Give it to me!”
“I must have it!”
“No! It’s mine!”
“Please! I
With a wordless cry, the draconian stumbled out of the tent. From the tent shared by the three Baaz, Drek emerged with a sleepy expression, sword in one hand.
“What isss it? Are we under attack, sssir?” v
Brudas seized him by the throat and spun the Baaz around so the fool faced his superior’s dwelling. “What do you think, you imbecile? Look at them and ask me that idiotic question again!”
Drek did look… and then gave Brudas a bewildered glance. “Who do you mean, Massster Brudasss? Where? I sssee no one!”
Turning, the taller draconian found that his underling had spoken the truth. There were no ghostly figures. They had vanished. The Bozak inhaled deeply, trying to regain his composure.
The other Baaz emerged from their tents, joining them. Gruun scanned the area nervously, while Molgar was so tired he seemed to be sleepwalking. They looked at their superior.
Suddenly feeling like a fool, Brudas grew irritated. Perhaps he had dreamed it all, although surely the first ghost had existed. But a host of them… his subconscious must have played tricks on him.
“Go back to your tent!” the Bozak snarled at the other draconians. “Now!”
Puzzled, the Baaz wandered off. Brudas heard them muttering under their breath, no doubt discussing their superior’s sanity.
The morning mist made it difficult to actually know exactly when dawn arrived, but Brudas found he could not stay in bed any longer. The draconian had not slept well, for each time his eyes closed he felt as if the shadows gathered around him again. That no spectres were there whenever he finally chose to open his eyes did not ease his troubled mind a bit.
