Haarn's knife sliced through the wolf bitch's flanks, but he took care to cut through only the outer layer of hide and muscle. Cutting deeper would have released poisons from her body and killed what he strove to save. 'What are you doing?' Druz asked. 'I can save the wolf cubs.' Haarn placed his knife back in its boot sheath. 'You killed the mother, but you didn't kill her cubs.' Haarn probed at the wound and prayed to Silvanus to guide his efforts. He hoped he had the knowledge to stave off death for Stonefur's line. 'She would have killed you,' Druz said. Unwilling to argue, Haarn concentrated on the bloody task at hand. He slipped his fingers into the wolf bitch's body and felt for the cubs. He let his fingers rest for just an instant against the straining womb and he could feel the squirming bodies inside. He hoped they were strong enough. Broadfoot padded closer, his shadow covering a pool of water. He stood on his hind legs, tall against the night, and watched the wolves that remained of Stonefur's pack. Anxious and distrustful, the wolves shifted in the protection of the tree line. Lightning shivered through the sky again, and for a moment Haarn saw the silver rain flash against the dark tan of his hands streaked with bright crimson blood. He took a small blade he had sewn into his clothes. It was little more than a knuckle joint long, and he hoped it was up to the task. Shoving his hand back inside the wolf corpse, Haarn traced the womb with his little finger while holding onto the little blade with his thumb and forefinger. He pressed against the tiny body with his little finger, moving it out of harm's way as best he could. With deft precision, Haarn slit the womb. Hot liquid spilled out over his hand, mixing with the blood already there. A moment later it gushed from the wolf bitch's body. Druz sucked her breath in and took an involuntary step back. The slit he'd made in the womb remained too tight to allow him to withdraw one of the cubs. Knowing time was running out, that the pups were already suffocating, he pushed his other hand into the wolf bitch's corpse and tore the womb. One of the small, furry bodies slid out into Haarn's waiting hands. He felt it squirm in his grasp, strong and limp as it flexed. Breath tight in his throat, pain pounding his temples, he pulled the pup from its dead mother. He hunkered over to shield the infant from the rain and the bitter cold. 'Get my clothing,' he told Druz. 'I've got to keep them dry.' The warrior hesitated for a moment, as though she was going to argue, then she rose and got her own pack. 'I've got some blankets in here,' she said, taking one of them out. Haarn used the tiny knife he held to slit the umbilical cord, then nicked the placenta. He tore the hole in the placenta larger and removed the pup. 'Here,' he said, and Druz took the pup without complaint and wrapped it in the blanket. Haarn threw the placenta toward the other wolves. The membrane plopped on the ground only a few feet in front of them. One of the females dashed from the shadows, plucked the placenta from the mud with her sharp teeth, and returned to the pack. 'What was that?' Druz asked. 'Birth sac,' Haarn said. 'The females will eat it, as the birth mother usually does.' He removed another pup and began tearing the next placenta open. 'How are you going to feed the pups?' Druz asked. Pain hit him again so hard he thought he was going to black out. He fought his way back to consciousness, then reached for the next pup. 'The pack always cares for the young,' Haarn said as he handed over another pup and reached in for the next. 'When one of the females starts carrying a litter, all of the bitches in the pack start producing milk. The pups nurse from all of them, just as all the males share in taking care of the young.' Druz leaned in closer to Haarn, shielding the pup from the storm winds, then adding it to those already in her blanket. Haarn kept working despite the exhaustion that ate at him. There were five cubs in all. All of them were healthy except for the last one. Somehow its umbilical cord had gotten wrapped around its neck and almost strangled it. As he held the young wolf pup, Haarn knew he was going to lose it if he didn't do something. Summoning his remaining energy, he prayed to Silvanus. The words of the prayer filled him, dulling the pain for a moment. He looked into the newborn wolf's face, memorizing the blunted length of the pup's muzzle. 'What's wrong?' Druz asked. 'It's dying,' Haarn said, never losing the thread of the spell. A golden glow filled Haarn's cupped hands as he shielded the pup. The glow reflected against his chest, showing the blood that streaked his body. His bare skin was pebbled in goosebumps from the cold and aches dawned deep within his bones as the spell took the last of his strength. The golden glow from the druid's hands seeped into the small, still form he protected. Just before the glow died away, the wolf pup stirred. A moment later, as the cold ate into Haarn with redoubled fury, the pup opened its mouth and whined with hunger. Haarn turned to Druz, feeling the sickness seething in his own head, and offered her the wolf pup. Showing care and concern, Druz plucked the pup from Haarn's hands. Without another word, knowing he couldn't have moved even if he'd tried, the druid pitched over. He had a brief impression of cold mud over his face and body then felt nothing at all.
The oval yellow beam of Tohl's lantern raked the tomb's ceiling then froze on the bizarre figure of Borran Kiosk clinging to the uneven stones there. The claws of his fingers and toes wedged into the space between the stones. A horrific grin split the mohrg's cadaverous face. Blood covered Borran Kiosk's body and spattered his cloak. 'Welcome,' the mohrg whispered in his thin, cold voice. 'Welcome, and prepare to die.' Effrim lunged forward with his warhammer, singing the praises of Eldath in his strong, clear voice. Borran Kiosk scuttled away and the warhammer missed by inches. The long, grotesque purple tongue uncoiled from his obscene mouth and lanced at the young priest. Tohl watched in numb horror as the tongue smashed through Effrim's forehead and out the back of his skull. Chunks of white bone and bloody matter flew over Micahan, who stood as if dazed. Then the old priest slumped to the floor, his eyes locked wide and staring at nothing. Effrim's corpse dropped only a moment later. With a jerk of his head, Borran Kiosk tore his tongue free of Effrim's body. Blood smeared his face and ran down his chin as the tongue recoiled. He smiled again, cocking his head. 'The Vilhon Reach will die, dragged to its doom by those who have died already.' Praying, Tohl raised Eldath's symbol before him. The disk showed the graven image of a stream. He invoked his spell, one of the earliest he'd been taught to use against the undead. He felt the energy leave his body and saw Borran Kiosk wince. 'Foolish priest,' the monster crowed in triumph, 'you cannot turn me with your piety and your faith. I am death incarnate, made whole by Malar's strong hand. I will slake my thirst with your blood.' Vhoror slammed into Tohl, causing him to stumble and struggle to stay on his feet. Borran Kiosk's tongue missed its mark, slapping against the wall behind Tohl and shattering through stone. 'Move, you damned fool!' Vhoror roared. He continued shoving against Tohl, striving to reach the doorway. Knocked forward by Vhoror's greater girth, Tohl staggered through the skulls, sending them flying in all directions. Tohl caught himself, his mind flying through the spells available to him. 'Move! Move!' Vhoror shouted, continuing to push him. Tohl turned to the other priest, wanting to tell him that they'd stay alive if only they kept their heads. Before Tohl could speak, Vhoror's head broke and came apart in crimson ruin, his features leaking down from his shattered skull. Borran Kiosk's tongue emerged from the priest's head like a caterpillar seeking escape from a too-tight cocoon. A last, surprised gasp puffed from Vhoror's lips as life left him. As quickly as it had thrust through the priest's head, the tongue withdrew, leaving a gaping hole in its place. Tohl's stomach lurched as he realized how much of Vhoror's blood was on him, and how it felt blazing hot against the chill of the wind and rain. Tohl stood his ground and prayed as he'd been taught, holding fast to his faith. He dropped his mace to the stone floor, knowing it would do him little good against the mohrg. Raising the symbol of his goddess before him, he sat the lantern at his feet, and gestured with his free hand. For a moment, Tohl thought the spell had failed, then the buzzing and chirping of insects filled his ears. Borran Kiosk dropped from the ceiling, intent on the two priests remaining in the room, but the mohrg's baleful glare took in Tohl as well, letting him know he hadn't been forgotten. The monstrous tongue cleaved Daraghin's chest, tearing like a blade through cloth. Thousands of flying insects filled the tomb. They flew toward Borran Kiosk and clustered upon him. To Tohl, it was like watching moss grow on a rock, only measured in the space of heartbeats. In less time than it took to draw a panicked breath, the insects covered Borran Kiosk like a layer of wriggling skin. Other insects formed a cloud around him, but even more continued to pile onto his body. Borran Kiosk screamed, but the sound wasn't filled with pain as Tohl had hoped. Rage fueled the inarticulate roars. Still, the mohrg seemed trapped as the clusters of insects filled the room. An arm thrust through the flying cloud, and it took Tohl a moment to realize that it was human. 'Brother Tohl!' Bowdiek called. 'Eldath's mercy, help me!' Seizing the lantern again, Tohl ran forward and yanked the other priest from the embrace of the flying insects. Tohl felt something crunch beneath his feet. When he looked down, he saw that the stone floor was covered with beetles and other crawling insects. Bowdiek coughed and wheezed, and Tohl guessed that the man had swallowed some of the insects. Glow-bugs, locusts, and flying beetles littered his hair and body, but when Bowdiek was out of the room where Borran Kiosk was, they left him and streaked for the mohrg. 'Come on,' Tohl said. 'The spell won't last for long.' He tugged Bowdiek's arm and got them both moving toward the next door. Bowdiek slammed against the wall near the doorway. Thinking for a moment that the priest had misjudged his step, Tohl turned to Bowdiek and grabbed his shoulder, prepared to pull him onto the correct path. Bowdiek's face pressed against the tomb wall, blanched white in pain and fright. His mouth worked but no words came out, then a gout of blood covered his lower
