The Jewel of Turmish

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Brother Tohl held fast to the side of the small wagon he and Effrim had liberated from the meager resources the Temple of the Trembling Flower had at their disposal. The wagon, though serviceable, had seen better days. The rudimentary spring struts had long since given out, making for a rough ride through the pitted back roads Tohl directed the younger priest to follow. A lantern mounted at the side of the wagon swayed as the ironbound wheels crashed over the rain-filled potholes, and still more rain came down in solid sheets.

Over the sound of the rain and the cart Effrim said, "Maybe it would be better if we alerted the city guard."

"No," Brother Tohl responded, already drenched even though he wore his best traveling leathers.

"We are only six priests," Effrim said.

"I pray to Eldath that we are enough," Tohl said through chattering teeth.

The horses' iron-shod hooves struck fire from the ill-fitted paving stones. Rarely more than a few people were out on the streets so late at night, and the storm had driven most of them indoors. Only a few sailors just now come up from the docks braved the fierce rain. None of them gave more than a moment's notice to the racing wagon.

In the back of the wagon, the other priests prayed in low voices that scarcely rose above the clattering horses' hooves. All of them were old, in their last years of service to Eldath. Sadly, Tohl knew the Quiet One's influence had ebbed. Few on dry land were drawn to Eldath, though worship of the goddess flourished among the sea elves and others deep within the Sea of Fallen Stars. After the dream, though, and the revelations it had brought, Tohl knew Eldath had not abandoned them. He blinked water from his eyes and squinted through the rain.

"There," he said, spotting the entrance to the graveyard where Borran Kiosk had been entombed all those years ago.

He pulled his traveling leathers tighter around him as he saw the gloom and bleakness that clung to the place.

Effrim pulled on the reins, guiding the horses toward the path overgrown with weeds and brush. The horses stumbled at the graveyard's entrance. Effrim laid the lash across their backs and talked to them. Showing flat-eared reluctance and snorting in fury, the horses paused a moment more at the entrance then raced forward again as if dashing into a clearing.

The wagon jumped and bucked as it careened across the broken ground. Many of the graves had sunken over the long years, creating coffin-sized pits that held water inches deep. Effrim was hard pressed to keep the horses under control.

Lightning stabbed down from the sky and touched a grave ornament ahead of them. The iron rod shaped like a budding flower encircled by a sunburst symbolized Chauntea, the Great Mother. The lightning shone white-hot for a moment then faded away, leaving the superheated metal glowing cherry red and smoking in the rain.

"That was close," Effrim said.

The glowing metal dimmed a little as they passed. Effrim brought the wagon to a halt in front of the tomb. The horses stamped and surged against the traces.

Tohl hoped it was the cold and rain that made the horses restless, but as he gazed up at the tomb, he knew it was likely something else that scared them. Steeling himself the old priest stepped over the wagon's side and dropped to the muddy ground.

"Brother Tohl," Brother Micahan whispered as he joined Tohl. "There is the possibility that if Borran Kiosk did rise from his coffin, he might already be gone."

Tohl studied Micahan's cowled visage. Micahan was old and thin from lean years and hard work. His hands had started shaking these past few years and grew worse with each passing season.

"If Borran Kiosk is gone," Micahan continued as rainwater dripped from his hooked nose, "what will we do then?"

"We will try to follow his trail, Brother Micahan, to the best of our abilities." Tohl replied, whispering as well, not wanting his voice to carry too far into the tomb. It was a childish fear, he knew, but it was also one he couldn't escape.

Micahan nodded and whispered, "As Eldath wills in her wise generosity."

"Praise be those days that I can continue to give to those less fortunate," Tohl quoted.

He turned from the elder priest and hefted the mace he'd brought from the temple. It had been years since he'd taken up a weapon. The weapon felt clumsy and crude in his hands.

Effrim handled his own warhammer with certain skill. He practiced most mornings, but even he, the youngest and most physically able among them, didn't display too much confidence in his combat skills.

All of them gathered around Tohl as another lightning streak seemed to set the sky on fire. As the white brilliance flickered above them, Tohl studied the men gathered before him. They had believed in him enough to rise from their beds, endure the cold, whipping rains, and lay their lives on the line to fight a monster.

Tohl had never experienced anything like that moment with them, and he was disappointed when words failed him. With all the blessings and prayers and counseling he'd done over the years, something should have come to him.

"Eldath willing," he said finally.

"Eldath willing," the priests whispered around him.

Holding his mace in one hand, Tohl lifted the lantern from the wagon and turned toward the tomb. The others followed, none of them speaking.

At the top of the stairs, about to enter the building, Tohl turned when he heard the wagon surge into motion behind him. He watched in disbelief as the horses tore through the graveyard back in the direction they'd come. Before they'd covered half the distance, one of the horses stepped in a deep hole and went down. Tohl heard the snap of breaking bone even over the distant echo of thunder. The falling horse took down the other animal as well, causing the wagon to slam into both of them and overturn. When the wagon settled against the ground, neither of the horses moved.

"Effrim," Tohl said.

At once, the younger man peeled away from the group and raced across the graveyard. Tohl watched Effrim check both animals then run back to the tomb steps.

"Dead," Effrim said when he returned. His breath was tight in his throat. "Both animals."

"It's an omen," Bowdiek whispered, then stopped himself.

"Or a sacrifice Malar himself arranged," Vhoror commented.

Tohl forced doubt from his mind and said, "It's nothing more than bad luck. Come on."

He stepped into the tomb and held the lantern high, leaning on the certainty that Eldath watched over him. The dream had tied him to Borran Kiosk and brought about personal attention from the Quiet One. He tried to keep that in mind.

The lantern light bathed the outer chambers, highlighting the disuse and neglect of the tomb. A slithering noise echoed through the darkness. The sound made Tohl's skin prickle.

"What was that?" Vhoror asked.

Tohl stopped when the sound reached his ears, and the others had stopped with him. Holding the lantern high, the mace gripped in his hand, Tohl examined the rooms that lay before them. Only the flickering shadows moved there, but he couldn't help thinking how evil often chose to cloak itself in the raiment of night.

"It's nothing," Tohl said a couple of breaths later, when the sound wasn't repeated.

He continued forward and discovered the broken door that led to the record keeper's room.

"Someone has been here," Effrim said.

Studying the rotted wood, Tohl said, "That could have been done days, even tendays ago."

Effrim squatted and touched a clump of matter on the floor. His finger came away stained. "Mud. It's fresh, and from the shape it looks like someone tracked it in from outside."

Despite his growing fear, Tohl stepped through the broken doorway, letting the lantern guide his way. He said a silent prayer to Eldath, asking the goddess to watch over him. The lantern light filled the small room.

No one was there.

Tohl gazed at the section of floor that hid the passageway to the secret tomb. A feeling of relief washed over him when he saw that the stone was still in place.

"The tomb hasn't been disturbed," Vhoror whispered. "We can go."

"No." Tohl's throat felt phlegmy and thick, making him force the word out.

"Brother Tohl." Vhoror spoke in that precise way of his that grated on the nerves. Over the years, he'd shown his skill in the way of an argument. "We have seen that the tomb has not been disturbed. Our work here is done."

"No," said Tohl, "we have seen that the entrance to the hidden tomb is closed, but we don't know that Borran Kiosk's tomb is likewise undisturbed."

As soon as Tohl spoke the mohrg's name, a cold, wet wind whipped through the front of the tomb and wound through the room until it reached the priests. Even protected as it was behind glass panes, the lantern flame danced in wild abandon, and the priests' shadows performed mad capers on the walls.

'We should leave this place," Micahan whispered, drawing in on himself.

"After," Tohl said, "I have talked with the Quiet One."

"You were dreaming," Vhoror accused.

Stifling the anger that rushed to mix with the fear that filled him, Tohl said, "If I dreamed I spoke with Eldath, then I also dreamed the mohrg has been released from his prison. You have nothing to fear from such a dream, Brother Vhoror."

Vhoror showed no shame at the rebuke. His eyes flickered with anger, and Tohl knew no matter how this night turned out that Vhoror would exact some price for the affront.

"As you wish, Brother Tohl," Vhoror said. "It appears you've gotten us all up from needed sleep and seen us soaked to the skin without need."

Tohl turned from the other priest and crossed the room to the section of false floor. He tapped the floor with his mace and it made hollow echoes on the other side. Nothing else sounded. Feeling a little better, he went to the record keeper's desk and shoved it to one side so that he could get at a hidden place in the wall. When he had the small compartment open, he hung the mace from a strap around his wrist and removed the two hooks from within.

Returning to the false floor, Tohl handed the lantern to Effrim, laid the mace beside the stone section, and slid the hooks into place. The floor section was heavier than he remembered, but he stayed at the task until the stone lifted from the opening.

The stench of death wafted from the secret tomb, made thicker by the storm's humid air. Thunder cracked outside and the noise drummed into the building, echoing once again below. The noise made the secret tomb sound cavernous.

"I smell blood," Vhoror said.

Tohl took the lantern from Effrim. Both of them trembled. Tohl guided the lantern toward the yawning opening and the complete blackness beyond.

"Did you not hear me?" Vhoror demanded. "I said I smell blood."

"Yes, brother," Tohl said, "the monster's tomb has ever been steeped in the stink of blood."

"It's fresh blood," Vhoror insisted.

Tohl thrust his arm into the hole and felt a wet coil of wind slither up his sleeve.

"At the very least," Vhoror continued, "that scent will draw other undead to this crypt. Those foul things that cling to the remnants of the Whamite Isles at times get caught in currents and are washed up here. If they scent this, they will come."

Tohl scanned the spiral staircase that led to the rooms below. Nothing moved on it.

"We're priests, Brother Vhoror," said Tohl. "If the undead come, Eldath, in her infinite wisdom, has seen fit to give us the power to turn such creatures. Perhaps we will save others who would fall prey to their untender mercies."

"You're being foolish."

"I'm following my belief," Tohl responded.

He gathered himself then stepped down into the opening. Keeping the lantern high, he followed the spiral staircase down. Effrim followed him next, and the other priests trailed after with obvious reluctance. Vhoror brought up the rear.

The spiral staircase shifted with a sudden groan and a shriek that felt like fingernails along Tohl's spine. He stopped and wondered if the staircase was going to collapse.

"Here," Effrim said, pointing at a section of the wall.

Tohl redirected the lantern. The beam shone on one of the support posts that had been driven into the wall. Light glanced off bright metal. The staircase had slid sideways enough to clear the bolt and reveal that it was no longer attached.

Effrim touched the bolt sticking out from the wall. He drew his finger back with a jerk, then turned it over to examine it. A thick drop of blood oozed from his fingertip. He put it in his mouth and sucked at it.

The response was a normal one, Tohl knew, but standing there in Borran Kiosk's tomb and prison, knowing what Borran Kiosk was and what he had done, the innocent gesture seemed obscene.

"It's sheared," Effrim said. "Something snapped it off, and recently, or it would not be so shiny."

The words hung heavily on all of them.

"Perhaps," Micahan said, "with all the rains tonight there was a shifting in the earth. The rainy season makes coffins sink into the ground."

"It's been hundreds of years," Vhoror protested.

"It may have been as much as a tenday ago," Micahan said. His face looked hollow and pasty as it was lifted from the recesses of his cowl by the lantern light. "Metal takes time to rust, just as Eldath in her mercies takes time to convert." He nodded at Tohl. "If we're to do this, Brother, we'd be better served by getting it done. Morning will come all too early."

"Of course," Tohl said and took up the march down the staircase again. It quivered and quaked the whole way.

Once at the bottom of the staircase, Tohl kept the lead and guided them through the twisting passageways.

When they reached the final room, lantern light reflected from the pools of water that remained of the ice coffin. The light also reflected from the dead eyes of the boys who sat arranged against the far wall. At least, the light reflected from the eyes of those who still had them.

Astonished fear froze Tohl in the entrance to the room. Borran Kiosk was nowhere in sight.

"Eldath's mercy be upon them," Micahan said. He glanced up at Tohl. "We can't leave those children here. You know what will happen to them if we leave them."

Tohl nodded without speaking or returning the older priest's gaze.

"They will rise," Micahan said. "They will rise in a day or two."

Tohl gazed at the horror before him. He remembered the stories of Borran Kiosk's undead army and how the mohrg had raised it.

"We can't let that happen to these children," he said.

"They're thieves," Vhoror complained. "They came here and broke open this tomb. I say they got what they deserve."

Tohl whirled on the man, his fear and anger getting the best of him. "Still your tongue, Vhoror. The mohrg has been released. Whatever these boys were before this night, they are victims now, and they will be cared for as best as Eldath has taught us to do. In my presence and in theirs, you will speak with respect."

"Of course," the old priest said.

"We've got to get the other priests," Tohl said, gathering his splintered thoughts, gazing with helpless horror at the dead children. "We must lay these…" Words failed him."… to rest. We must find-" He found he didn't want to say the mohrg's name. "We must find the creature that escaped from here."

He gave the children a final look, said a quick prayer, and led the way back to the spiral staircase.

They made their way up, and Tohl shuddered every time the metal construction hammered against the stone wall. The sound echoed throughout the tomb. Tohl clambered through the opening. His exertions and fear wore on him, leaving his breath ragged and harsh.

He offered his hand to Micahan. The old priest struggled with the ascent. His hand felt cold and clawlike in Tohl's grip.

Bowdiek came through next, followed by the other priests until all six of them stood in the room.

Turning, Tohl shone the lantern light on the wall with the door. The light fell over a pile of at least a dozen skulls that had been left in a haphazard stack in the doorway.

"Those weren't there before," Effrim said.

Tohl gazed at the skulls, unable to speak, swallowed by a sense of impending dread.

"You fools!" Vhoror exploded. "It was Borran Kiosk! He's not gone; he's still here!"

Something plopped into a thin pool of water in front of Tohl. The light made the dark liquid stand out against the water. Another drop joined the first, and they looked like squids spreading out their tentacles.

"The ceiling," Effrim whispered. "Eldath have mercy on us. It's coming from the ceiling."

In slow motion, feeling the fear hammering away inside him, Tohl angled the lantern up.