The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [50]
"Yes?" Tohl responded.
"You talked of zombies, of Borran Kiosk."
Brother Tohl thought of the graveyard at Alaghфn's heart. He gazed up at the younger priest, recognizing him in the weak candlelight the other must have carried into the room.
"Yes," said Tohl. "Yes, I did, Effrim."
The candlelight glinted against Effrim's golden locks. The younger priest's pale blue and dark green robe hung over his tall, lanky frame.
"You can release me now, Effrim," Tohl said.
A dank cold clung to the bedchamber, and in some ways it smelled of the marshlands where Borran Kiosk had been.
"Of course, Brother Tohl."
Effrim stepped back. He pressed his hands against each other, twining the fingers together in a nervous habit that was familiar to Tohl.
"Send someone to wake Father Albern," Tohl said as he sat up.
"Father Albern isn't here."
Tohl started to object in irritation. Father Albern was seldom anywhere else but the temple.
"Remember?" Effrim asked. "Father Albern left a tenday ago to attend a meeting in Myth Nantar."
Tohl remembered. "How many priests are here at the temple?" he asked.
"Counting you and myself, five."
Eldath, it is too few, Tohl told himself.
He hesitated for a moment, thinking maybe the goddess would answer him or offer some direction, but she was gone, as distant from him now as the marshlands in
Morningstar Hollows.
"Brother Tohl?" Effrim gazed at him, waiting.
What would Eldath have me do? Tohl thought.
He chose to believe the goddess was working even now on the problem of Borran Kiosk's rising. Still, he couldn't sit idle.
"Gather the other priests, Effrim."
The younger priest hesitated. "They will wonder why."
"Tell them we are going to investigate the possibility that Borran Kiosk has broken free of his grave." Tohl didn't blame the younger man for gazing at him in slack-jawed surprise. To many of the younger priests, the mohrg was just one of the stories they'd grown up with. "Effrim?"
The younger priest blinked.
"Get moving," Brother Tohl said, stripping off his own bedclothes and reaching into the small trunk at the foot of his bed for fresh robes. "If Borran Kiosk is free, we may already be too late."
CHAPTER TEN
arn threw himself around as he felt the wolfs jaws tighten on his ankle. Stonefur sought to sever the druid's hamstring, leaving him crippled. Haarn's effort to escape helped the wolfs fangs cut deep furrows around his ankle, but it also kept Stonefur from gaining a decent grip. Haarn reversed his hold on the fighting club, holding it instead by its thicker end. He rammed the club's narrow end down, managing to aim it between Stonefur's jaws.
The club's wooden haft clacked against the wolfs teeth. Haarn shoved the club forward, jamming it into Stonefur's jaws, widening the distance between them.
Stonefur howled in pain and frustration, still struggling to maintain a grip on the druid.
Ignoring the pain in his ankle, Haarn took a fresh hold on the knife in his other hand. He gazed at the wolfs exposed throat, knowing bis opponent wouldn't have time to move before he was able to slide the blade into his neck. Still, even knowing the wolf would kill him in a moment if the chance presented itself, Haarn hesitated. A druid was trained to kill out of mercy, whether to ease an animal's suffering or to control overpopulation, and sometimes to eat, though feeding oneself at the unnecessary expense of an animal was frowned upon.
Haarn's own father had killed for food several times that he could remember. Since going out on his own, from under his father's wing and tutelage, Haarn had seldom killed any animal, even those bearing dreadful and grievous wounds. Many druids would have killed an afflicted animal outright, but Haarn had worked to save them. Over the years, he'd challenged and killed more poachers than animals. "Haarn, strike!"
Galvanized by Druz Talimsir's command, still reticent, Haarn struck with the knife.
An instant before the blade slid home, the wolf shied backward. The knife missed Stonefur's throat by less than the thickness of a finger.