The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [62]
"What's wrong?" Druz asked.
"It's dying," Haarn said, never losing the thread of the spell.
A golden glow filled Haarn's cupped hands as he shielded the pup. The glow reflected against his chest, showing the blood that streaked his body. His bare skin was pebbled in goosebumps from the cold and aches dawned deep within his bones as the spell took the last of his strength.
The golden glow from the druid's hands seeped into the small, still form he protected. Just before the glow died away, the wolf pup stirred. A moment later, as the cold ate into Haarn with redoubled fury, the pup opened its mouth and whined with hunger. Haarn turned to Druz, feeling the sickness seething in his own head, and offered her the wolf pup.
Showing care and concern, Druz plucked the pup from Haarn's hands.
Without another word, knowing he couldn't have moved even if he'd tried, the druid pitched over. He had a brief impression of cold mud over his face and body then felt nothing at all.
***
The oval yellow beam of Tohl's lantern raked the tomb's ceiling then froze on the bizarre figure of Borran Kiosk clinging to the uneven stones there. The claws of his fingers and toes wedged into the space between the stones. A horrific grin split the mohrg's cadaverous face. Blood covered Borran Kiosk's body and spattered his cloak.
"Welcome," the mohrg whispered in his thin, cold voice. "Welcome, and prepare to die."
Effrim lunged forward with his warhammer, singing the praises of Eldath in his strong, clear voice.
Borran Kiosk scuttled away and the warhammer missed by inches. The long, grotesque purple tongue uncoiled from his obscene mouth and lanced at the young priest.
Tohl watched in numb horror as the tongue smashed through Effrim's forehead and out the back of his skull. Chunks of white bone and bloody matter flew over Micahan, who stood as if dazed. Then the old priest slumped to the floor, his eyes locked wide and staring at nothing. Effrim's corpse dropped only a moment later.
With a jerk of his head, Borran Kiosk tore his tongue free of Effrim's body. Blood smeared his face and ran down his chin as the tongue recoiled. He smiled again, cocking his head.
"The Vilhon Reach will die, dragged to its doom by those who have died already."
Praying, Tohl raised Eldath's symbol before him. The disk showed the graven image of a stream. He invoked his spell, one of the earliest he'd been taught to use against the undead. He felt the energy leave his body and saw Borran Kiosk wince.
"Foolish priest," the monster crowed in triumph, "you cannot turn me with your piety and your faith. I am death incarnate, made whole by Malar's strong hand. I will slake my thirst with your blood."
Vhoror slammed into Tohl, causing him to stumble and struggle to stay on his feet. Borran Kiosk's tongue missed its mark, slapping against the wall behind Tohl and shattering through stone.
"Move, you damned fool!" Vhoror roared.
He continued shoving against Tohl, striving to reach the doorway.
Knocked forward by Vhoror's greater girth, Tohl staggered through the skulls, sending them flying in all directions. Tohl caught himself, his mind flying through the spells available to him.
"Move! Move!" Vhoror shouted, continuing to push him.
Tohl turned to the other priest, wanting to tell him that they'd stay alive if only they kept their heads. Before Tohl could speak, Vhoror's head broke and came apart in crimson ruin, his features leaking down from his shattered skull. Borran Kiosk's tongue emerged from the priest's head like a caterpillar seeking escape from a too-tight cocoon.
A last, surprised gasp puffed from Vhoror's lips as life left him. As quickly as it had thrust through the priest's head, the tongue withdrew, leaving a gaping hole in its place.
Tohl's stomach lurched as he realized how much of Vhoror's blood was on him, and how it felt blazing