Unholy by Richard Lee Byers

Thay, they call them necromentals. And the red thing was a blood amniote. It will drain your blood fastet than a vampire, if it catches you.”
    Aoth snorted. “I see that even with Xingax slain and Szass Tam busy with greater matters, the necromancers are still making new toys.”
    “I’m afraid so,” Mirror said. At the moment, he looked like a warped, dingy reflection of Khouryn. Aoth could tell it irritated the dwarf, though he was hiding his displeasure as best he could.
    “Do you know how many there are?” asked Aoth.
    Gaedynn shook his head. “I was a little too busy to make an accurate count.”
    “I thought you were supposed to be a scout,” Jhesrhi said in one of her rare attempts at humor. She lacked the knack for it, and as usual, nobody laughed.
    “I wonder,” said Aoth, “if these creatures simply escaped from their keepers and wandered into the swamp. The Thay I remember was already infested with such horrors, and since then, the necromancers have had a century of peace and supremacy to perform any crazy experiment that came to mind.” He scowled. “But no. In all honesty, 1 doubt this is pure bad luck. Somehow, Szass Tam knows we’re coming and has sent some of his servants to slow our progress.”
    “I can see them doing a good job of it,” Khouryn said. He slapped his neck and squashed the insect that had landed there, just above his hauberk. The blow smacked flesh and made the links of mail clink. “They can dog us while hiding in water or mud. Pop out, kill a man or two, and disappear again.”
    “Do we have to keep going in this direction?” Jhesrhi asked.
    “Yes,” Bareris said. “The rebels who smuggle arms into Thay taught me that, unpleasant as it seems, this is one of the few ‘good’ paths across the marshes. We’d have to backtrack a long way to pick up another.”
    He didn’t have to explain any further. They all knew that even under the best of circumstances, it would be an onerous chore getting an army on the march to suddenly reverse direction. Here in the bogs, with the thick vegetation inhibiting communication and the soldiers all but walking single file along the narrow trails, it would be a nightmare.
    “The delay,” said Aoth, “might actually give Szass Tam time to place forces all along the edge of the swamp to catch us coming out. And who knows, if we did shift to a different route, we might find these necromentals and whatnot guarding it as well.”
    Gaedynn scratched at the bump of an old insect bite on his cheek. His nail tore the scab, and a drop of blood oozed out. “So you’re saying, we fight.”
    “Yes,” Aoth replied.
    Khouryn frowned. “The men will have a difficult time of it on this ground.”
    “Or contending with elementals,” said Aoth, “if they don’t command any form of magic, or at the very least, carry enchanted weapons. In addition to which, it’s not certain Szass Tarn’s creatures would show themselves to an entire company obviously formed up for battle. So I propose that we—those of us in this circle and a few others—go forward, let the brutes accost us, and kill them ourselves.”
    Gaedynn grinned. “Sounds like a nice, suicidal way to spend an afternoon.”
    Jhesrhi Coldcreek lifted her staff high, murmured, and magic sent a colorless shimmer through the air. Then she cocked her head and squinted at the rust-colored poplars, mud, and channel of water before her. Bareris inferred that she’d cast a charm to sharpen her sight.
    “See anything?” he asked.
    “No.” Judging from her clipped, cold response, she didn’t much like it that, as the company proceeded forward, each member repeatedly swinging right or left to avoid water, mossy tree trunks, thick tangles of brush, and the more obvious patches of soft, treacherous ground, the two of them had ended up in proximity to one another.
    “Neither do I,” Bareris said. “Perhaps Aoth or one of the Burning Braziers can do better.” The former could see all sorts