The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [91]
The heavy blade cleaved into the thing's arm, and Haarn felt it shiver all through his dangling body. A fine mist of yellow sap sprayed out, soaking into the druid's clothing.
Before Haarn could strike again, the shambler whipped him around and slammed him into the ground like a wildcat shaking a rat. For an instant, the druid was submerged in one of the deep pools. He clawed at the mud with his free hand, slapping cold handfuls over his legs, hoping the lubrication would break the shambler's grip.
Effortlessly, the shambler pulled him into the air again. Roaring blood filled Haarn's head, and he stared down at the large rocks that studded the marshlands. If he landed on one of those, his head would split open or his shoulder would be crushed.
The shambler shivered again, and Haarn dared hope that the rampage of the carrion beetles had had more of an effect than he had at first supposed. Instead, the druid noticed that he could see through the shambler. The hole was almost large enough for a full-grown man to crawl through. None of the carrion beetles remained alive.
There was no hope, but Haarn steeled himself to grip the scimitar again with both hands. He could not die, not without fighting.
Frightened birds cried out from the treetops, creating a mad cacophony of screeches and whistles, then a voice Haarn knew-and sometimes feared-rang out from somewhere below.
Clad in fine robes that bore a hood to hide his features, which were further masked by an illusion spell to help him pass as human, Borran Kiosk strode the dockyards of Alaghфn with impunity. No one recognized him, but all assumed he was a rich merchant or perhaps even a lord come down out of Alaghфn or elsewhere in Turmish.
The mohrg gazed out from under his cowl and smelled the blood of the living around him. He could almost taste their flesh. His thick purple tongue moved restlessly. One quick flick was all it would take, then the captains, crew, cargo handlers, and merchants would know he was among them. They would all run, fearing for their lives. The image was delicious.
"No," Allis whispered.
Borran Kiosk growled. They walked, arms touching, down the dockyards alongside a merchanter frigate called Mistress Talia that flew the colors of Sespech.
"If you reveal yourself here," the werespider said, "you will only get us both killed."
"Perhaps not," Borran Kiosk challenged.
"You will earn Malar's wrath. Better to earn his appreciation."
The threat grew thin on Borran Kiosk. He gazed along the docks. Even in late afternoon, Alaghфn labored to shift cargo and carry on trade. The harbor was filled with ships of all sizes, flying flags from lands all around the Sea of Fallen Stars.
The ships lining the docks were unloaded first. Other ships at anchor in the harbor waited to be unloaded, but some of the smaller vessels-cogs and caravels that serviced coastal waters-off-loaded onto small boats that brought the cargo ashore. Boom arms brought cargo off in huge nets, and the sounds of boatswains' yells and curses to direct the teams pierced the conversations going on around them. Turmishan merchants, their heads covered in turbans and their beards cut square, dickered with ships' captains on the docks or led them to the dockyard taverns and inns where they could ply them with wine, women, and song. Fishermen still hawked their wares from carts, though not many were buying. The clatter of humanity, who were always moving and always noisy, rolled around Borran Kiosk.
It was almost too much to bear.
"Take it up!" a man yelled from Mistress Talia's upper deck. "She's all together now, she is!"
A boom arm near Borran Kiosk shifted as sweaty, grunting men bore down on it. The freighter bobbed in the harbor as the load came off her deck. Water shifted and slapped against the freighter's barnacle-encrusted hull.
"She's clear!" the man above called out.
A young bard sat