The Jewel of Turmish c-3

by Mel Odom

  "Follow me," Borran Kiosk entreated.

  The undead lurched after the mohrg, stepping toward the deepening sunset.

  "Brother Tohl!"

  Tohl knew the words came from some other place than the dream. For a brief moment he considered following the words out of the horror that surrounded him.

  Wait, a soft voice bade.

  Mistress? Tohl stood his ground. During all his years he had prayed to Eldath and felt certain that the Quiet One had worked in his life in small ways, but he'd never before heard her voice. Even so, the old priest was certain he heard it now.

  Patience. Something can be learned here.

  Tohl's heart beat faster and threatened to rouse him from the dream. He had a vague sensation of being shaken, of someone's hand on his shoulder. He ignored the intrusions and stayed within the dream.

  Marshalling his courage, girded by the certainty that he was doing Eldath's work, he crept around the fringes of the battlefield. He stayed within the trees outside the clearing that Borran Kiosk and his undead army followed. Branches whipped at Tohl's face and tore at his skin

  Despite the fact that he knew he was in a dream, he didn't doubt that Borran Kiosk had the power to hurt him. A stray thought that perhaps he wouldn't wake from the dream if the mohrg discovered him chilled his spine.

  Courage, the quiet, calm voice said.

  I've never been long on courage, Lady, Tohl admitted.

  I will be with you, Tohl Farmarck, as I have stood with others against Borran Kiosk in the past.

  Before he could stop himself, Tohl remembered all the priests, warriors, and helpless victims who had died warring against Borran Kiosk. He felt guilty, then he wondered how much of his thoughts Eldath was aware of. He continued up the steep rise, drawing within sight of Borran Kiosk again.

  The mohrg topped the crest and started down the other side.

  Scrambling, panting for breath and trying to ignore the burning in his lungs, Tohl forced himself to the top of the crest. He peered down as the mohrg continued down the other side.

  The brush and trees grew denser at the bottom of the crest. During the decline, the dozen or more sluggish streams of water that drained the mountains farther south and east became white-water rapids no more than two or three feet across. Once they reached the flatlands below, the streams blended to become a small creek that snaked through the swamplands below.

  We are near Morningstar Hollows, Tohl realized.

  Yes, the quiet, still voice whispered in his head.

  But everything is different.

  The Morningstar Hollows that Tohl remembered was marshland, filled with knobby-kneed roots anchoring huge river pine, oak, elm, walnut, and pecan trees.

  This is the way it was, the quiet voice said, before the Alaoreum River roared free of its banks the first time, consuming Borran Kiosk and his army. Pay attention, Brother Tohl. There is something to be learned here, and the tapestry of magic that has rent the night there and to which you are linked has opened this window of opportunity.

  Yes, Lady.

  Excitement thrilled through Tohl, but dread kept pace with it. Borran Kiosk had always been recognized as Malar's tool. The Stalker possessed particular hatred for Eldath's followers as well as the druids who followed the ways of Silvanus.

  Borran Kiosk walked into the marshlands.

  Heart beating at the back of his throat, Tohl followed. His courage came from his belief in Eldath and the powers of the Quiet One, for he had little confidence in his own abilities. He could think of no reason why he had been singled out for this experience, but he couldn't forego it.

  Only moments later, Borran Kiosk stopped. The undead army gathered around him.

  For the first time Tohl realized that the battle had been devastating for Borran Kiosk's minions as well. Several of them were missing limbs. At least two dozen zombies trailed the pack by dragging themselves through the muck with their arms, their lower bodies or legs missing.

  Borran Kiosk spoke in an arcane tongue Tohl couldn't understand.

  Listen, the quiet voice urged.

  I can't understand, Lady.

  The harsh words and rolling consonants gave Tohl a headache that he knew owed part to the magic the mohrg commanded.

  Listen, the quiet voice insisted.

  An abrupt change occurred inside Tohl's head. He felt a sickening lurch, then Borran Kiosk's horrid voice came as if from a long distance away.

  "— now find ourselves hunted by every city or nation along the Vilhon Reach," the mohrg told the undead grouped around him.

  Tohl knew that the words he heard didn't come from the undead creature's mouth, not with the thick, obscene tongue writhing in there.

  "Perhaps," Borran Kiosk went on, "our efforts to secure these lands for ourselves and for Malar will fail."

  There was no response from the crowd.

  They were mindless, the quiet voice whispered into Tohl's mind.

  Tohl took the goddess's word for it, for he had never seen an undead for himself.

  Borran Kiosk, the quiet voice said, was-and remains-jealous of all those who live. That hatred drives him to destroy life.

  Remains?

  Patience, Brother Tohl, all will be made clear to you, then you must take action.

  Of course, Lady.

  Tohl pushed aside his curiosity as much as he was able and concentrated on the scene before him.

  "The thrice-cursed Emerald Enclave is choosing to involve themselves in my affairs," Borran Kiosk declared, "but I am prepared for them."

  He reached into the tattered cloak he wore and drew out a small leather bag. Improbable though it was, the mohrg opened the bag and shoved his whole arm inside. There was a momentary pause, then Borran Kiosk pulled his arm back out. His hand gripped a small, shiny, red jewel that glowed even in the dim light provided under the leafy canopies.

  "I have found a means to defeat the druids," said Borran Kiosk, "as well as to bring the whole of the Vilhon Reach to its knees."

  His hands worked with surprising speed, dismantling the jewel into several pieces.

  I don't know what that is, the quiet voice replied to Tohl's unspoken question, but I can feel even from here, through you and across the years separating this place, that whatever Borran Kiosk has contains great power.

  Trembling in ill-contained fear, Tohl felt trapped as he gazed at the mohrg. Even with his limited ability to sense the magical nature of the world through his ties to his chosen goddess, he could feel something… wrong… about Borran Kiosk's prize.

  "I cannot yet bring forth the powers held in these devices, but the time will come. Malar has given me his blessings, and I know I will be made triumphant."

  Borran Kiosk took a step forward, sinking knee-deep in the muck and the mire of the marshlands. The pieces of the jewel glittered in his hands in the dank shadows.

  "I have carried this for years, assembling it over that time. Now, with the Emerald Enclave abandoning their neutral position regarding the fate of the civilizations of the Vilhon Reach, I am in danger. So I call upon you, my lieutenants, to carry what I no longer dare to possess."

  Five shambling mockeries of human beings stepped forward from the undead army around the mohrg. Four of them were men, one was a young woman with long, dark hair. She could not have been dead for long because she was intact and unblemished. The four men had been dead much longer and showed the worse for wear.

  "The druids pride themselves on their knowledge of the cycle of life," Borran Kiosk said. "They untangle the webs of life and seek to address a balance that only they can see." The mohrg approached the first of the men. "But Malar has given me the seeds to disrupt the work of the druids. I can tear apart the fabric of their existence, and I will, as soon as the power I need grows larger."

  "Malar has been kind to you," the woman said in a clear voice that carried across the watery land.

  "Malar has been kind to us all," Borran Kiosk agreed, "but he is a most demanding god. We w
ill succeed in this endeavor on his behalf or he will see to our eternal destruction."

  "What would Malar have us do?" another zombie lieutenant asked.

  "Guard that which I am about to give you," Borran Kiosk said. "Guard it until my return. I have one final battle which needs to be fought."

  "We will go with you," the zombie woman said.

  "No." Borran Kiosk shook his head. "We can't afford to lose that which I am about to give you. You must stay here."

  "Then give us what you will, Borran Kiosk."

  Borran Kiosk turned to the zombie that had spoken. "Prepare yourself."

  The zombie stood before the mohrg with its arms loose.

  Without hesitation, Borran Kiosk held one of the jewel pieces in his fist. He mouthed words that couldn't be translated by whatever spell Tohl was under. A lavender glow surrounded Borran Kiosk's hand. When the brightness leveled off, the mohrg rammed his fist into the zombie's chest.

  Tohl quavered and grew sick at the sucking, oozing sound Borran Kiosk's fist made inside the zombie. He controlled his stomach with effort.

  A moment more and Borran Kiosk withdrew his hand. The jewel piece glinted within the obscene recesses of the zombie's chest.

  "What I have given," Borran Kiosk said, "you will defend."

  The zombie bowed its head. "What you have given, I will defend."

  The undead creature pulled its broken chest back together, then it tore the ragged breeches it wore into strips and used them to bind its chest.

  In quick succession, Borran Kiosk implanted the jewel pieces into the other zombies, including the female one. All of them repeated the litany the mohrg spouted, and Brother Tohl knew it had to be part of a binding spell.

  Lady, I thought all of Borran Kiosk's minions weren't capable of thinking.

  As did I, the quiet voice agreed. It's apparent there were things about Borran Kiosk that we didn't know, but they are known now.

  If this has all happened before, why didn't you know about it then?

  Brother Tohl, there are mysteries even unto the gods.

  The declaration was unnerving, made more so because the quiet voice said it with such calm. All of his life, Tohl had believed in the virtuous strength of Eldath. To hear that the Quiet One didn't know everything was almost sacrilegious.

  Lady, what are we to do here?

  We will watch, Brother Tohl, and learn. Then I shall decide how we are to act.

  Tohl puzzled over the events unfolding before them.

  If these things happened hundreds of years ago, said the priest, as they must have, why do we have to know them?

  Malar is making a bid to gain more power in the Vilhon Reach. The events of the undersea war waged by the sahuagin and the being called the Taker has unbalanced many things within the Sea of Fallen Stars. Beliefs change as blame is sought.

  Tohl knew that was true. Eldath's following was gaining ground. Even a number of followers in the depths of the Sea of Fallen Stars had stood to recognize the Quiet One as their chosen goddess.

  In the marshlands, Borran Kiosk returned his attention to his first lieutenant. The mohrg said words that Tohl felt certain were never intended for human or living tongues. The wet muck at the zombie's feet yawned open, sucking down water, mud, and the undead creature. An instant later, the yawning chasm closed as if it had never existed.

  Continuing to chant, Borran Kiosk buried the remaining zombies. The earth sucked and shifted, and water gurgled.

  Are the jewel pieces still there, then? Tohl watched as Borran Kiosk chanted prayers and spread his hands out across the foaming water.

  I don't know, the quiet voice admitted.

  Later, Tohl pointed out, the Alaoreum River was caused to flood. The forces that were unleashed would have changed all of this land.

  I know. Still, there must be a reason Borran Kiosk has risen again.

  Fear shivered through Brother Tohl anew. Memory of the tombs of Eldath filled his mind.

  Borran Kiosk is buried away, said the priest. No one has been down to his tomb in hundreds of years.

  We locked him away, the quiet voice said. We never destroyed Borran Kiosk. For all that we tried, the Stalker prevented us.

  Because Borran Kiosk was Malar's own. Tohl watched the mohrg start to move his army on through the marshlands. Some say that Borran Kiosk was bent and twisted by the Stalker's own hand.

  Yes.

  How can Borran Kiosk be returned?

  Through Malar's design.

  When?

  Tonight, the quiet voice said. While you were sleeping.

  We have to do something.

  Be at peace, Brother Tohl. We are doing something. I followed my own designs to you, to the thing that binds you to Borran Kiosk.

  But there is nothing.

  You have made the tales of Borran Kiosk your life's work, Brother Tohl, the quiet voice said. I have made you a watchdog of sorts over the mohrg's uncertain captivity. Malar found a way to reach through the protection I wove through my priests. Borran Kiosk has been roused, and he is feeding on the life's blood of children even now.

  "No!" Tohl couldn't hold back the startled cry that burst through his lips. Sour bile burned in his throat.

  Borran Kiosk turned in the marshlands, looking back across the marshlands and up the hill that led to the lower regions of the area. The horrible face grimaced as if the ragged nose that clung to the mohrg's features could scent an unwelcome stench.

  "Human," he snarled. "Find him and kill him."

  Tohl hunkered in the brush. Desperation flooded the priest as he searched for a way out.

  It's all a dream, he told himself. Nothing but a dream. But he knew that wasn't true.

  It's time to wake, Brother Tohl, the quiet voice told him. Staying here is dangerous for you.

  The zombie army spread out then began making their relentless way toward the priest's hiding place. Brother Tohl held his position a moment, then had to flee as the first of the army pushed through the brush to get at him. He turned, slipping on the mud, then caught himself on his hands and shoved himself forward. Even after he broke cover, there was no clamor or cry that broke out behind him. The pursuit by the undead remained silent, and they made better time than he did over the broken terrain.

  Let go of the dream, the quiet voice urged.

  I'm trying, Lady.

  Tohl clawed through brush and pushed himself up a number of times when he stumbled over the knobby tree knees that projected up from the water-soaked ground or the ones that lay covered by the dark water.

  You must. It is the only way you will live.

  Brother Tohl ran uphill, thinking that the high ground might offer him some kind of advantage. He avoided part of one of the streams that he thought looked deep, and stepped through another just to plunge into the water up to his waist. He kept falling, submerging for a moment and getting a mouthful of foul water before he pushed his head back up above the surface. He tried to step out of the water but discovered that a submerged tree or rock caught his foot. Help me, Eldath! I can't, the quiet voice replied. This place is beyond my reach, Brother Tohl. Time here is unfolded somehow, the past accessible through you. I can't extract you from the powers that have drawn you there. Please! Frantic, Tohl watched as the zombies came closer. They had trouble with the uphill grade and the mud, but they never stopped coming. The priest closed his eyes and tried to awaken. In the dim recesses of his mind, he heard the excited cries from someone in his sleeping chambers within Eldath's temple in Alagh?n. He focused on the cries, trying to draw himself back along the sound of the voice. Let go, the quiet voice said. I'm trying, Lady! I swear to you that I am trying! Brother Tohl's breath came in ragged gasps. Tears wet his cheeks. He was more afraid than he'd ever been in his life. He watched in frozen horror as the shambling zombies descended upon him, thick as a murder of crows. One of the zombies grabbed Brother Tohl's arm. The priest felt like a vise had gripped him. He screamed. "Brother Tohl, you must wake!" Tohl felt someon
e shaking him. His breath caught at the back of his throat. Unable to keep his eyes closed any longer, he opened them and stared into the eyes of the young priest shaking him awake. "Brother Tohl," the young priest said. He looked bleary and disconcerted. Tohl peered around his bedchamber, discovering he was back within Eldath's temple in Alagh?n. No zombies had followed him. "Brother Tohl," the young priest said. "Yes?" Tohl responded. "You talked of zombies, of Borran Kiosk." Brother Tohl thought of the graveyard at Alagh?n's heart. He gazed up at the younger priest, recognizing him in the weak candlelight the other must have carried into the room. "Yes," said Tohl. "Yes, I did, Effrim." The candlelight glinted against Effrim's golden locks. The younger priest's pale blue and dark green robe hung over his tall, lanky frame. "You can release me now, Effrim," Tohl said. A dank cold clung to the bedchamber, and in some ways it smelled of the marshlands where Borran Kiosk had been. "Of course, Brother Tohl." Effrim stepped back. He pressed his hands against each other, twining the fingers together in a nervous habit that was familiar to Tohl. "Send someone to wake Father Albern," Tohl said as he sat up. "Father Albern isn't here." Tohl started to object in irritation. Father Albern was seldom anywhere else but the temple. "Remember?" Effrim asked. "Father Albern left a tenday ago to attend a meeting in Myth Nantar." Tohl remembered. "How many priests are here at the temple?" he asked. "Counting you and myself, five." Eldath, it is too few, Tohl told himself. He hesitated for a moment, thinking maybe the goddess would answer him or offer some direction, but she was gone, as distant from him now as the marshlands in Morningstar Hollows. "Brother Tohl?" Effrim gazed at him, waiting. What would Eldath have me do? Tohl thought. He chose to believe the goddess was working even now on the problem of Borran Kiosk's rising. Still, he couldn't sit idle. "Gather the other priests, Effrim." The younger priest hesitated. "They will wonder why." "Tell them we are going to investigate the possibility that Borran Kiosk has broken free of his grave." Tohl didn't blame the younger man for gazing at him in slack-jawed surprise. To many of the younger priests, the mohrg was just one of the stories they'd grown up with. "Effrim?" The younger priest blinked. "Get moving," Brother Tohl said, stripping off his own bedclothes and reaching into the small trunk at the foot of his bed for fresh robes. "If Borran Kiosk is free, we may already be too late."