The Jewel of Turmish (34 page)

“It would have been better,” Allis said, “if you had not let them see you coming.”

“Sneaking back to Alaghôn like some thief in the night is not how I wanted to return in my moment of glory and triumph,” Borran Kiosk said, gazing at the sight of the frightened people taking a stance against him to save their city. He drank in their intoxicating fear. “All those years ago, they thought they had beaten me. They needed to know before I got back that they had failed.”

The bells continued to ring, and the cacophony of harsh noise drew Borran Kiosk’s ire. Using the powers granted to him by the Glove of Malar, as he’d come to think of the device, he reached into the minds of some of the men aboard Mistress Talia.

Two dozen corpses leaped from the ship’s side and hit the dark water. They disappeared without a trace, swimming deep.

The warning towers stood in the harbor, as they had when Borran Kiosk preyed on Alaghôn in his human life. Crafted of mortised stone, the three towers stood as narrow pinnacles with lookouts for the harbor patrol and the watch stationed atop them.

With the military district so close by onshore, there was seldom any trouble in the harbor. Commerce was the primary interest in Alaghôn, and nothing was allowed to interfere with that.

Allis stood at Borran Kiosk’s side. Her features altered as she shifted into the half-humanIhalf-spider shape. She wasn’t like the rest of the dark troops the mohrg had gathered—she still feared death.

Borran Kiosk enjoyed that savory tidbit from her, and it only whetted his appetite for what awaited him on shore and deeper into Alaghôn.

One of the warning tower bells started ringing in a haphazard manner, no longer bonging sonorously.

Turning his attention to the suddenly silent tower, Borran Kiosk spied the drowned ones that had seized the two men manning the tower. The men screamed in terror, but it didn’t last long.

The sea zombies easily overpowered both men. One of the drowned ones swung a man by his heels and smashed his head against the stone structure. Blood, the color of black bile, ran down the masonry. The drowned one tossed the dead man into the harbor. The two drowned ones, at Borran Kiosk’s silent command, cut the rope securing the bell and shoved it off into the water as well.

In short order, the other bells dropped into the harbor too, preceded by the men who stood guard there.

It was a waste, Borran Kiosk reflected as he watched first one dead man then the other plunge below the surface of the dark water, but then, once he’d destroyed all of Alaghôn he would be able to raise up the newly-fallen dead and build an even larger army to take over all of Turmish.

Allis flinched as archers along the docks set fire to arrows and drew them back. When the archers unleashed their shafts, they leaped into the air like a hundred miniature comets. Some of the fire arrows went out before they reached the ships. Others missed the two vessels completely and extinguished in the harbor, but a number of the fiery projectiles found new homes in the sails, decks, and bodies of the undead.

Savage hunger filled the mohrg as he reached into the mind of the undead sailor manning the wheel. He made certain the man was staying on course. All the sails were up, and the storm winds blew them toward the harbor at top speed.

His long, purple tongue whipped the air before him, watching as the army standing along Alaghôn’s docks

waited to die. “These fools only see two ships filled with undead bearing down on them,” Borran Kiosk said. “Wait until they know the truth.”

He plucked a flaming arrow from between his bare ribs and tossed it into the harbor.

‘Hold the line, boys! Hold the line and drive those undead vermin back into the sea so the fish can choke on them!” a grizzled veteran of the Alaghôn Watch spat as he marched along the docks behind a contingent of his men only a short distance in front of Haarn.

Haarn stood ready in the line of warriors that faced Alaghôn’s harbor. He couldn’t believe all the sailors and warriors had gathered there on the spindly wooden docks. It was no place to fight even if they did have arrows. Haarn wanted the solid footing of the ground beneath him and room to move as he needed to instead of being packed in like one lemming among many.

Ettrian stood with the Elder Circle farther back from the line of piers. They conferred with watch commanders and other officials of the city. Haarn wasn’t surprised to note that Shinthala Deepcrest, Ashenford Torinbow, and an elf woman he had to suppose.was Lady Shadow-moon Crystalembers—the third member of the Elder Circle—all seemed to know the people of Alaghôn. He was surprised to see that his father was on quite comfortable terms with some people of Alaghôn as well.

Haarn glanced at Druz, who stood beside him. The warriors—men and women, humans and elves, with a few dwarves thrown in—all yelled threats at the approaching ships. It was a primitive defense,

Haarn knew, one that was ingrained into every species: act louder and bigger than the opposition, hoping to scare them away.

But how did they hope to scare dead men?

“This is wrong,” Haarn said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

Druz looked at him from beneath the armored helm she’d been given. Tf it’s the crowd you don’t like___”

Haarn shook his head. The crowd made him claustrophobic, but that wasn’t the problem.

They’re forgetting that they’re not fighting flesh and blood men,” Haarn said, glancing around.

The warriors had gathered with the druids, all of them figuring that a show of combined force would bring a swift end to Borran Kiosk.

“Itll work,” Druz said.

Haarn knew she was wrong. He looked over the heads of the warriors in front of him. The two small ships that had been hidden away at the sides of the inner harbor broke cover and raced to overtake the bigger ships. Only a handful of men crewed each of the small ships.

The Elder Circle had conspired with members of the Assembly of Stars based in Alaghôn to put the plan into operation. Shinthala Deepcrest had scried a glimpse of Borran Kiosk at the Whamite Isles. They knew from her sighting that the mohrg had recruited troops from the sea zombies dwelling in the waters surrounding the island ruins, but it was only two shiploads. The general consensus was that they were hardly a threat, even though the zombies were difficult to kill.

A familiar scent stirred the air.

Haarn identified it almost immediately as the scent of the skeleton that had almost killed him. They’d never found its trail again, but it would be no surprise that the creature had made its way to Alaghôn to be with its master.

A rousing cheer went up through the crowd as the two small ships closed quickly on Borran Kiosk’s pirated vessels.

Putting his doubts aside for a moment, still curious about the scent of the skeleton, Haarn urged Broadfoot forward, breaking the line of warriors ahead of him so he had a better view.

Only a few feet away from the zombie-filled ships, the crew of the two smaller craft set fire to the oil-soaked pay-loads of tinder and pitch that they carried. Flames raged from prow to stern on the two smaller craft, sweeping as high as the masts, catching the oil-drenched sails afire as well.

As heavily laden as the two zombie ships were, they couldn’t have taken evasive action even if skilled human crews had been aboard. The two ships careened forward, driven by the wind and tide. The crews of the fireships abandoned their vessels just before impact, diving into the water.

Smaller and lighter than the stolen frigates, the fireships struck and broke apart, smashing against the hulls of the bigger ships. The flames spread across the water, floating on the surface, and clung to the bigger ships.

Another rousing cheer went up from the warriors gathered along the dockyards.

“Haarn.”

Turning, Haarn found his father standing behind him. “When this happens,” Ettrian said, his face grim, “stay close to me.”

“Borran Kiosk isn’t going to stop,” Haarn said, looking around at the cheering crowd.

“All he wants to do is find the five skeletons that carry the jewels,” Ettrian said, “and he’s going to kill as many of these people as he can to do it.”

“We need to warn them!” Haarn shouted over the bedlam.

“There’s no way,” Ettrian said. “Not over this.”

A thousand questions flooded Haarn’s mind, but there was no time to ask any of them. He scented the air again, realizing that he had the skeleton’s direction now, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the carnage about to be unleashed on Alaghôn’s dockyards.

Borran Kiosk stood prominently on the flying deck of his commandeered ship. A woman stood at his side, but she was no normal woman.

All at once, the realization that Borran Kiosk hadn’t ordered the burning sails lowered or the anchor dropped spread through the crowd of warriors. A mass exodus of the front line began, but they had to try to fight their way through the people in back who hadn’t yet seen that the mohrg had no intention of turning back.

Haarn was caught in the crowd, pushed and shoved as were Druz and Ettrian, moving but going nowhere.

“Grab onto Broadfoot!” Ettrian shouted over the yells and screams of the scrambling warriors.

Haarn knotted his fists in the bear’s pelt, pulling himself close. They clung to the bear while the rest of the warriors abandoned their posts and moved around them like a raging ocean.

Broadfoot growled and swiped at people who came too close to him. His claws never broke skin, but Haarn knew there would be more than a few people with bruises in the morning—if they survived Borran Kiosk’s attack.

Haarn watched anxiously as the zombie ships bore down on the dockyards. Nearly all of Alaghôn’s piers stood on pilings buried deep in the harbor mud, but none of them were strong enough to withstand the tonnage of ships hurtling at them.

The flaming sails of Borran Kiosk’s craft highlighted the zombies standing on the deck. None of them moved, even up to the point of impact.

The two ships struck the docks, reducing the piers to splinters, ripping through the pilings and shoving docks that weren’t torn to pieces at once back into the shoreside warehouses. The groaning, shearing, crumbling carnage filled the harbor with deafening noise. Other ships lying at anchor against the docks caught fire as well when flaming debris from the two zombie ships flew onto their decks and into their rigging. In the space of a drawn breath, a dozen ships had caught fire and a conflagration began that looked as though it might well burn the harbor down.

Haarn fought to maintain his position at Broadfoot’s side. The stained glass windows of the tall buildings overlooking the harbor caught the red and orange glow of the burning ships.

Borran Kiosk’s ships came apart. Zombies tumbled and were thrown onto the ground when the vessels rammed into the land behind the piers and finally stopped. Not much was left of either of them.

The shipwrecks put Haarn in the mind of anthills the way the zombies boiled from their holds. Borran Kiosk must have stacked them on top of each other like sacks of grain in a merchant’s wagon.

The zombies stumbled from the wrecks and from the sea, coming into the shore like a tidal wave of dead flesh. Warriors stood their ground where they could.

The battle, thought a certain victory by the living army of warriors and druids only moments before, swiftly became a bloodbath. Haarn watched in helpless frustration as the front line of Alaghôn’s defenders went down under the hands and fangs of Borran Kiosk’s undead forces.

“Where is Borran Kiosk?” Ettrian demanded, yelling to be heard above the sounds of the one-sided battle.

“I don’t know!” Haarn shouted back. “I lost sight of him when the ships struck the docks.”

He urged Broadfoot up and forward. The bear was more than equal to the task, shoving aside the warriors who didn’t move readily enough for him.

When news of Borran Kiosk’s impending return had spread throughout Alaghôn, most of the populace had been of a mind to pack up and leave. Some of them had, but there were a number of others who rallied to the cause. The volunteer army had swiftly grown beyond the ability of the Assembly of Stars to control. When the flaming ships hit the docks, that volunteer army was the first, and least orderly, to beat a hasty retreat.

“A line is forming in front!” Ettrian cried over the roaring chaos.

“I see them!” Haarn shouted back.

His senses whirled, confused by the press of people around him, by the alien landscape of the city, and by sight of the zombies crawling out of the harbor and starting toward the city.

A ragged line of warriors made up of members of the Alaghôn city watch and the Emerald Enclave formed at the retreating backs of the last of the volunteers to escape the approaching zombies.

Haarn’s heart swelled with pride as he watched the druids attack their undead foes. In the face of overwhelming odds, the druids stood their ground.

Broadfoot burst through the final ranks of the retreating would-be city champions and rose to his hind legs. Towering over the zombies, the bear laid waste to them. Massive blows from his front paws scattered the zombies in broken heaps of bone and torn flesh.

Haarn clutched his scimitar tightly and cut at a zombie to his left. The heavy blade connected and the zombie’s head leaped from its shoulders.

Broadfoot roared again, dropping to all fours for an instant to regain his balance, then he surged up once more like a flesh and blood mountain and knocked a dozen zombies backward into each other. The first few were only bags of bones that were never going to be able to move again.

Magic shimmered through the air.

Great tentacles formed from thin air, and multi-colored rays touched zombies and reduced them to dust. Haarn grabbed the hand of another zombie as he drew the scimitar back, unable to get it into play quickly. Yanking on the zombie’s hand, he pulled the foul thing off-balance then chopped the scimitar across its back, ripping through dead flesh and biting through its spine.

Black seawater boiled from the zombie’s guts as its stomach opened and small crabs scuttled out.