the five skeletons allowed him to peer through their eyes. All of the skeletons had taken up positions around the docks and were watching the battle, and all of them were filled with the lust to join in the massacre. Borran Kiosk denied them their urges just has he had forced them to remain in seclusion inside Alagh?n. Most of them had been there for days, hiding in abandoned buildings, tool sheds, and cellars awaiting his return. One of them was severely damaged, though, missing an arm and a foot. It had replaced the missing foot with a block of wood, and it stood perched on a rooftop, staring down at the warriors and druids retreating from the advancing lines of sea zombies. Somewhere in the dim recesses of emotion that its limited intellect clung to, the skeleton wanted vengeance for the injuries that had been dealt it. Clamping down on the skeleton's dark desires, bending it more thoroughly to his will, Borran Kiosk ordered it into motion again, heading it for the rendezvous point. The view through the skeleton's eyes shifted from the dockside battle to the jewel it clutched in its remaining hand. The crimson facets held a wet gleam. The skeleton's gaze swept on to the next rooftop. Even with one foot missing, it had enough power to jump between the buildings. The wooden block made landing difficult, but it was underway. Borran Kiosk opened his eyes and found Allis staring at him. Behind her, limned in the fire of the burning ships, the battle raged on as more of the zombies made their way to shore. He laughed at his own cleverness and knew the city's defenders had to have been shocked and dismayed to see still more troops coming up from the depths. Turning, the mohrg plunged deeper under the dark recesses of the piers. The makeshift torch in his hand lit the way, bringing the mouth of the sewer at the end of it into sharp relief. The sewer was almost ten feet wide, big enough to get small boats down into it in order to clean the drains. Crimson-eyed rats peered out at him from behind the rusting iron grate across the sewer's mouth. Green sewer water spewed into the harbor 'Here,' Borran Kiosk said, passing the torch back to Allis. She took it grudgingly. 'What are we doing here?' The timbers supporting the pier overhead creaked and groaned as if it might give way. Being underneath the structure obviously made her nervous. Borran Kiosk growled as he seized the sewer grate. The rats squealed and plunged back into the dark throat of the sewer. 'We are going to destroy the Emerald Enclave by taking away the one thing they live for: the wild lands of Turmish.' 'How?' Borran Kiosk grabbed the iron grate and yanked. The bolts set into the stone foundation defied him for the moment, but he heard the shrill of rusty metal turning loose. He bent to the task again. 'With Taraketh's Hive,' he answered. Allis shook her head, her many opal eyes glittering from the burning ships out in the harbor. 'I have read about the device,' she said. 'It was crafted by Taraketh Greenglimmer, an elf druid, who lived hundreds of years ago.' 'More than a thousand,' Borran Kiosk corrected. He yanked on the metal grate again, and this time it came free, giving them access to the sewer. He threw the grate into the water, then took the torch again from her hand. 'Taraketh Greenglimmer helped stock the insect population around the Sea of Fallen Stars,' he said. 'After the stars fell from the heavens and destroyed so much of the lands that had been here, and water filled in the depths left behind, nature was out of balance here. Taraketh corrected most of that imbalance and helped make these lands more hospitable to elves. Of course, the humans promptly moved in once the regions were arable and more comfortable.' 'But Taraketh's Hive only summons insects,' Allis protested, 'and only a few of them at a time.' Borran Kiosk stepped up into the sewer, noticing that his cloak dragged through the fouled water. He reached back and tore the cloak off. There was no longer any need for disguises. He plunged down the sewer, taking great strides that sent rats scattering in all directions. After a moment's hesitation, Allis followed. Before she took more than a handful of steps into the sewer, the section of the piers they'd been standing under collapsed with a thunderous crash of splintering wood. Borran Kiosk only glanced back for a moment to make sure they weren't pursued. He didn't hesitate in his forward momentum. His future and the destruction of every living thing on the Turmish coastline and perhaps the Vilhon Reach itself lay ahead of him. 'What can you do with insects?' Allis asked. 'You should be leading the army you brought back from the Whamite Isles. That's why Malar had the glove made.' Borran Kiosk wheeled around on her, giving vent to the anger that raged within him. His long, thick, purple tongue slid free of his jaws before he knew it. He almost sent it spiking into her face, stopping himself only at the last moment. 'I sought long and hard for my victory against the damned Emerald Enclave,' he growled. 'The cities along the Turmish coast were going to be mine. Mine! I had them all in the palm of my hand, but then the Emerald Enclave had to step in and ruin it.' Allis stepped back from him, drawing up to her full height. The mohrg continued, 'Now the Emerald Enclave will have to sit and watch as everything they have fought to build and preserve slowly dies and withers to ash. My vengeance will be complete, and it will be years in the making-not some invasion of Alagh?n that will bring about return attacks from the rest of Turmish. I learned that last time. You can't destroy living things. They have a tendency to unite, even when they are from disparate causes and normally hate each other. I taught them to hate me even more and to fear me. Give them something larger than themselves and they will rise to conquer it. Together.' Allis said nothing, and a moment passed before her footsteps started splashing in the muck after him. 'I would be a fool if I hadn't learned something during my incarceration,' Borran Kiosk said, reminding himself more than he was telling her. 'Once I have assembled Taraketh's Hive and used its powers, all of these lands are doomed. I can hide and wait, though it may take a hundred years. As long as they do not destroy me, I can live forever. And I will.' He thrust the torch ahead of him and continued on defiantly. 'By all that is dark and unholy, they will die and-I will live!'
When she saw Haarn get hit by the zombie facing him then stumble back with blood gushing from his shoulder, Druz stepped in, praying to Tymora that she would be in time. She slid her shield under the zombie's blow. The creature's fist would probably have cracked Haarn's skull, but the shield protected him. The shock dislocated Druz's elbow. Biting back a yelp of pain, she stepped in again, still managing to hold the zombie's hand back. She shoved a hip into Haarn, knocking him out of the way. Reversing her sword, grabbing it so that it jutted down from the heel of her hand instead of up, she swept the blade across the front of the zombie. The practiced cuts sliced open the dead thing's unprotected stomach and spilled its guts in twisting coils to the pier. She pushed the shield up, crying out from the pain of the dislocated elbow, and brought the sword across the zombie's throat. The thing's head flopped backward, blinding it to anything in front of it. Druz raised a leg and kicked the zombie backward. Her opponent took three stumbling steps and fell, sprawling over two dead men in Alagh?n watch uniforms. Even as the zombie fell, three more lurched in to take its place. Druz's spirits fell. She hadn't hoped to hold the dockyards after the arrival of the zombie reinforcements. Her experience as a mercenary had made that plain, but she had hoped to live. Gritting her teeth, lifting her shield with her injured arm as best as she was able, she reversed her sword. 'All right then, you dried-up, diseased bastards,' she growled, 'come on and taste good Cormyrean steel. My father made this blade, and he made it to last.' Before the zombies could reach her, Broadfoot rushed in. The bear bled from a dozen wounds but was not slowed in the slightest. He snapped and swiped the zombies, breaking them into pieces, then growled in triumph, drawing cheers from the men struggling on either side of him. 'Come on,' Haarn said. She turned and found the druid behind her. Blood covered his face, and more ran down his arm, which dangled at his side and looked barely strong enough to hold his sword. 'Come on,' the druid said again. 'Fall back to the second position with the others.' Druz followed him. She stumbled wearily up the incline leading down to the docks, following Haarn as they leaned on each other. At least they were still faster than the zombies, but that blessing would be short-lived if the way her legs felt was any indication. The zombies never fatigued, and they never got weak from blood loss or hunger. She glanced around at the warriors and druids retreating from the harbor. All of them wore horror-filled faces and bore wounds. The knowledge that the dead would rise up again at Borran Kiosk's hand chilled her to the bone. She gazed at Haarn, watching the scratches heal on his face under the layer of blood. His wounded shoulder knitted itself, rebinding muscle and tissue until only pink skin remained. Haarn shook his head and spoke in a voice that sounded stronger than the hoarse one he'd addressed her with earlier. 'It's not my doing.' He looked around at the crowd of warriors and druids running with them. 'It's a druid. A mass healing.' The warriors and druids retreated into the alleys fronting Dockside, the street that ran roughly parallel to the harbor. The zombies came after them, and when they did, crews posted on the rooftops on either side of the alleys poured oil over them. 'Fire!' a watch officer yelled. Flaming arrows sped from archers' bows and lit the oil. The twisting flames sucked at what flesh the zombies had left to them, drawing the cartilage tight as the moisture burned from their bodies. Still, more zombies came on. There was no doubt that the second line of defense wouldn't hold either. 'Over there!' Haarn shouted, pushing Druz to the left as they cleared the alley. Druz stared through the running figures and spotted Ettrian. The elf was retreating with a group of other men, helping load wounded onto wagons that had been commandeered to evacuate warriors too wounded to fend for themselves. The wagons were nearly full and still they kept piling wounded on while the horses stamped nervously. 'Father!' Haarn yelled, urging Druz to greater speed. Ettrian looked up at his son. The elf was covered in
