Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [49]
He gripped the holy symbol hanging from a chain about his neck. "Begone, spirit of evil!" he cried out
The ghost giggled.
Kern frowned in puzzlement. Somehow that was not the reaction he had expected. Then the ghost-shadow stepped lithely out of the ossuary and into a soft beam of moonlight. Kern groaned in dismay.
"Listle!"
The elf was still giggling. " 'Begone, spirit of evil!' "she mimicked in a deep voice. "Oh, that was just great, Kern. I'm sure a real ghost would have just broken down and run at that!" She collapsed in a fit of hilarity onto the stone coffin. Her laughter seemed out of place in the somber cemetery.
"Quiet!" Kern hissed, gazing around, eyes wide. He didn't suppose there was anyone-anything-for the elf's laughter to disturb, but why take chances?
In deference to his tone of voice-or perhaps because she herself noticed the peculiar way the air in this place seemed to strangle her mirth-Listle abruptly fell silent.
"What are you doing here?" Kern whispered harshly.
Listle glanced nervously at the crumbling tombstones. All the humor seemed to have drained out of her. "What do you think, you oaf? I wanted to find out what you were up to."
Kern mumbled a curse under his breath. He knew he might as well tell her. Sending her back to the tower would never do at this point. "I've come to spend the night in vigil at the shrine of the paladin, Miltiades. He was one of the bravest paladins who ever served Tyr, both in life a thousand years ago, and when he was raised from the tomb by Tyr to help save Phlan from the Red Wizard, just before I was born. Praying at the tomb of a great hero is something paladins do to gain guidance and strength before they set off on a quest. I really wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Oh? Why not?"
Kern growled. "Just keep out of my way, all right?"
"That could be difficult, what with your big feet," Listle whispered.
Kern ignored her, stepping through the archway leading into the crypt of Miltiades, Listle on his heels. Though the monument in memory of the esteemed paladin had been erected a scant twenty-two years ago, it seemed to have already fallen under the blight that afflicted the rest of Phlan. Dark moss covered the granite walls, and damp, musty-smelling water pooled on the floor. A stone sarcophagus dominated one end of the crypt. On its lid was carved a likeness of Tyr's scales of justice.
"Do me a favor, Kern," Listle whispered, crossing her arms to protect against a shiver. "If I die, don't bury me in this creepy graveyard. You can just cover my body with a pile of leaves in the forest instead. That would do just nicely."
"That's fine talk," Kern grumbled. "Can't you simply be quiet for a change?"
"Don't be silly," Listle said indignantly.
Kern found a dry patch of stone before the sarcophagus and knelt down on the ground, while Listle stayed close to the crypt's entrance. He gripped his holy symbol and bowed his head, trying to clear his mind before beginning his prayers.
"Er, Kern…" Listle interrupted.
Kern muttered another oath as the elf's voice broke his concentration. "Now what?" he asked in annoyance, standing and turning to face the elf, hands on hips.
"Sorry to bother you." Her silvery eyes were wide. "I just thought you might like to know that there are shadows moving out there. Lots of shadows. And they're coming this way."
Something in the elf's voice told Kern that this was not another one of her pranks. He gazed out the crypt's entrance. At first he could see nothing. Then the moon passed from behind a cloud, and he took in a sharp breath.
A dozen smoky shapes flitted among the rotting tombstones, creeping toward the paladin's shrine. A dozen burning pairs of eyes stared hungrily. Kern's heart lurched in his chest.
"Wraiths…" he breathed.
"What can we do?" Listle asked tremulously.
"Get ready to fight. And at all cost, don't let them lay a hand on you. One touch is all it