Obsidian Ridge - Jess Lebow [15]
The woman pulled back the sleeves of her robe then opened the pouch. Turning it over, she sprinkled the contents on the dead man's chest. A hundred tiny diamonds scattered across his pale skin.
Tossing the leather pouch aside, the woman spread the twinkling stones on Jallal's ice-cold flesh. Closing her eyes, she began a prayer to the goddess Waukeen.
"Take this wealth, goddess of trade, protector of bounty. And return to us the life that was taken from this good merchant."
Not one for long prayers, the woman bowed her head. "In coin we trust."
Her hands flaring with golden light, magic seeped from her fingertips, first surrounding the tiny diamonds then spreading over the dead man. The warm glow enveloped the entire stone slab, throbbing once, twice, then coalescing into something more solid.
A short burst of light consumed the tiny diamonds, replacing them with large golden coins covering Jallal's body.
Each had on its surface the profile of a beautiful woman, her face angular, uplifted, and strong. Her hair flowed around her, wisps of energy, power, and wealth. And on her brow rested a simple tiara of gold and precious stones.
Then Jallal's body began to transform. The limbs, already strong in life, grew thicker and more powerful, the feet turning to hooves. The fingers, thin and smooth, became rough and covered with hair. The face, round and flat, protruded ever so slightly, the cheekbones spreading, the mouth expanding with sharpened teeth, and the beard disappearing, leaving only the smooth skin beneath. And on the forehead, two tiny horns jutted forward-the mark of a minor demon.
Jallal Tasca coughed, sending a pile of coins jingling off the stone slab and onto the floor. Taking in another breath, the revived man coughed a second time, struggling with lungs that had not been used for nearly a tenday.
"Take your time," said the old wrinkled man, still not looking up from his scroll. "You've been away from this plane awhile."
Opening his eyes, Jallal sat up, sending the remaining coins tumbling to the floor. He poked at his new, stronger body, testing his skin and bones for solidity. His fingers traveled up his neck until they found the place where the four blades had punched through. There were no holes there now, only thick, purplish scar tissue piled up in smooth lumps.
His fingers continued on to his face, probing its new shape and the sharpened teeth. Finally, Jallal felt the horns, and he pulled his hands away, recoiling in fear.
"What have you done to me?" His voice was rough and scratchy.
"I have brought you back from the dead," the woman said, not at all pleased with the man's tone. "And given you a gift."
Jallal looked at his hair-covered hands. "I'm-" He cleared his throat. "I'm… I'm in your debt," he said, resignation in his voice.
The woman nodded. "Yes. Yes you are."
Still perplexed by his new form, Jallal continued to examine himself. "What is this… this… gift you have bestowed upon me?"
"You have consumed the flesh of a ghour," explained the old man, "a demon who was in the service of an abyssal lord."
"I see," replied Jallal.
"The effects are different for everyone," continued the old man. "You seem to have received a physical manifestation."
Jallal spun himself so his legs dangled off the side of the slab. Then he rubbed his temples.
"I-" He shook his head. "I don't remember much. The storehouse. The Claw coming out of nowhere…"
"That's very common," said the old man, finally rolling up his scroll and crossing over to the slab. "Your memory will slowly return, now that you draw breath again."
As if on cue, Jallal seemed struck by a sudden thought. He grabbed the woman by the arm. "My brother! Where is Pello?"
The woman pulled her robe from his