The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [71]
"Tell them," Borran Kiosk said, "that I am coming for them. Do you understand?" The woman nodded.
"Tell them that I will not rest this time until all of Alaghфn is within my power." Releasing the woman, Borran Kiosk took a step away and said, "Now go."
Fear held the woman in place, and she only trembled.
Borran Kiosk grabbed the woman by the arm and yanked her to her feet. He shoved her toward the door near the dead sailors.
She stumbled and almost fell, but she kept her balance and ran toward the door. Her hands wrapped around the back of her head, as if afraid he would strike her with his tongue. She disappeared through the door and her footsteps rang on the stairs.
"Help!" she screamed. "Someone help me! He's killed everyone!"
Satisfaction filled Borran Kiosk as he surveyed the burning and bloodied ruin of the tavern. Even before he'd been reborn as a mohrg he'd burned with hatred. As a living man he'd stalked and killed dozens of men, women, and children of all races. He'd been careful, but in the end the city watch had gotten him. After he'd been humiliated in court, then executed in public and buried, he'd risen, undead and vengeful. Whatever had compelled him to kill while he'd still been human had only grown in power since his rebirth.
Going to each of those he had slain, Borran Kiosk put his hands upon them and spoke the words that would bind them to him should they rise again-and they would rise, he knew, as long as the townsfolk didn't destroy the bodies.
He gazed at the corpses, wondering if enough people would believe the woman he'd spared to make the families of the dead let the bodies be destroyed. He thought perhaps they might, but it didn't matter. If these and the dead priests weren't to be the first of his new army, then there would be others.
He crossed to the smashed window and looked down. Rain swirled in, riding the harsh storm winds and drenching him anew. He braced himself on the broken sill, gazing down at the body of the elf clad in black.
"A monster!" the woman screamed out in the street.
A man had seized her, thinking maybe that she was too drunk to know what she was doing.
" 'Ere now," the man said, folding the woman into his large arms and keeping her from striking him. "An' tell ol' Kafeer some'at's the matter."
"Borran Kiosk," the woman yelled. "He's back. He told me to tell everyone."
She turned and pointed back up at the tavern.
Knowing he was backlit by the flames claiming the tavern, Borran Kiosk raised his hand and revealed his skeletal arm beneath the stolen priest's robes. Lightning flared, and his arm burned brilliant white from the reflected glare.
A group of soldiers dressed in the colors of Alaghфn's city watch rounded the corner. A commander astride a war-horse led them, matching his mount's speed to the men slogging through the water-covered street.
"Where away?" the commander demanded. He carried his sword naked in his fist, the polished steel catching flickers from the lightning and the colored lanterns of the businesses still open at the late hour.
"There!" the woman screamed again, pointing at the tavern window where Borran Kiosk stood.
Heeling his restless mount, the iron-shod hooves ringing against the cobblestones, the commander glanced up at the tavern. He pointed with his sword and shouted, "Get that man down from there!"
The guardsmen hastened to do as the commander ordered, falling into a two-by-two column.
Borran Kiosk's tongue writhed in hungry glee as he watched the warriors start across the street.
"Are you that confident, Borran Kiosk?"
Wheeling, the mohrg turned to face the speaker. His tongue flexed before him, ready to spring and pierce.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Framed by the doorway leading to the stairs, glistening from the rain that clung to his skin in the firelight, a small woman watched Borran Kiosk. Her simple brown breeches and green shirt showed no