Darkwell - Douglas Niles [150]
* * * * *
Grunnarch twisted and squirmed in the grasp of the dead, unable to break free. The zombies carried him through a throng of their own, but they did not kill him. Then the Red King learned why.
The animated corpses dumped him on the ground before a human, a living man in this sea of dead or reptilian enemies. The man was fat and ugly, his visage dominated by a cruel sneer that marked his bloated features.
Grunnarch struggled to rise, but the press of carrion behind him held him down.
"You are the king of the North," the man remarked calmly, as the zombies held back the raging king. Grunnarch spat toward him, but the spittle fell short.
"Spirited to the end, I see. I like that. My followers have brought you before me so that I may observe your death at close hand. Now I see that you shall make that a most pleasant experience."
Suddenly the fat man grasped his chest, a grimace of deep pain crossing his face. He moaned and staggered. At the same time, Grunnarch felt the grip of the zombies on his arms and legs weaken. With a surge of effort, the Red King broke free.
He did not notice the dead of the sea falling in legions all around him as the power of their god evaporated from the priestesses of the sahuagin.
He did see, however, the fear growing in the face of the man before him as Grunnarch closed his powerful hands about the cleric's neck. The Red King relished the growing awareness of impending death and the expression of despair in the man's eyes.
Something else glared hatefully from those eyes as well, though Grunnarch did not understand it. As Hobarth died, the cleric's last bitter thoughts were of his god. The cleric perished amid a horrible sense of betrayal, for here, in the hour of their ultimate victory, his god had forsaken him.
All across the field, the undead fell like twigs in the wind. The ogre corpses of the Scarlet Guard, the dead sailors of the sea, all were returned at last to the death that had been so cruelly interrupted. Without the power of Bhaal to animate them, the army disintegrated to so much carrion.
Now the Ffolk and the warriors of the North pressed forward, driving the sahuagin before them. The fish-men reeled in confusion, many of them turning on their priestesses in rage. The battle had been all but won with the legions of the dead beside them. Now it was sahuagin against human, and the numbers of the humans were as great as their own.
As one great, seething mass, the sahuagin turned toward the sea. They would fight no more for Bhaal.
* * * * *
Robyn lifted her hand from Pawldo's head as the halfling's eyes blinked open.
"What – what happened? Where did they go?" Pawldo looked around, half afraid that the battle still raged. Finally he sat up, confused but relieved. Tristan, Colleen, and Tavish stayed with the halfling as Robyn hurried over to Brigit's still form on the shore of the pond.
The well was no longer dark, though neither could it be called a Moon well. It lay placid now, simply a pond awaiting the cool ice of winter.
Robyn performed the same healing magic upon Brigit, and slowly the sister's eyes flickered open. She sensed, even before she sat up, that the vale around them was peaceful once again.
From the woods, Maura emerged, her eyes downcast. Colleen went to her companion and embraced her. The sister knight's shame at her flight was plainly visible, but no one censured her for it. They had all felt the same mind-numbing terror as Bhaal burst forth from the well. Yak and Yazilliclick soon followed the warrior into the clearing.
Tristan stepped to Robyn's side as she looked across the pond. "Your spells… how did you get them back?" he asked.
"These are new spells." Robyn looked wistful for a moment, then turned to the king with a soft smile. "I know I shall never have the old ones back, for the goddess is indeed dead. The Moonshaes are a mundane land now, like any other place in the Realms.
"But there are still