The Hammer - Cor Series Book I

Chapter 33

"Don't let it bother you." The younger soldier reached over Corvan's shoulder and brushed Morgan's eyelids shut. "Sometimes that happens." Bending in close to Corvan's ear, his voice dropped to a whisper. "Get far away from this priest. Bad things are about to happen to all the priests. You will soon be free and won't have to be a slave to the green cloaks anymore."

The young man straightened, patted Corvan's shoulder, and spoke out loud. "Rest a moment while we get this thing opened." He stared hard at Jorad. "No doubt the priests are overworking their servants." Pushing past the priest he joined his partner in freeing the two rusty latches holding the lid of the crypt in place.

Jorad dropped his side of the litter and crouched next to Corvan. "Put your hood back on," he hissed.

"He's still alive," Corvan whispered urgently. "Morgan is still alive. His eyes opened!"

Jorad yanked Corvan's hood into place over his head and glared in at him. "Don't fall apart on me. That soldier is right. Sometimes the eyes pop open if you give the body a jolt."

Corvan shook his head. "Morgan was my guard at the Palace prison. He ate part of that pill the High Priest sent with Tyreth, but it didn't kill him. His eyes didn't just open, they focused on my face! He's not dead!" he whispered hoarsely.

Jorad moved over to Morgan, making a show of straightening the shroud and wrapping it more tightly around the man's neck. Corvan got to his feet and Morgan joined him, muttering under his breath. "You're right. He still has a bit of life in him. He was always the strong one. His father called him 'the burak boy'."

They were both startled by the squeal of seized metal as the thick lid of the crypt eased up and out of the way on its hinges. The older soldier peered inside. "What luck, it's an empty one. No wonder the clasps were so rusty." He turned to Jorad. "Let's get the body inside."

Jorad straightened Morgan's body on the litter, then the soldiers each grabbed a pole and together they lowered Morgan into the crypt. The people of the city must have expected the poor to die in groups, for there was ample room for two more bodies inside.

An eerie wail, like a rabbit in its death throes, floated over the cemetery walls from the broken side of the city.

The younger soldier looked anxiously in the direction of the noise then turned abruptly to Jorad. "You are the priest, so you can finish your ceremonies and seal the crypt. I want to be out of the broken city before its fully dark." He turned on his heel and walked briskly away.

The older man nodded, then followed the younger man.

Jorad bent down, scooping up pebbles and dirt. "Are they gone?" he whispered.

Corvan occupied himself adjusting one of the clasps. "Just another minute." The strangling sound came again, and the soldiers quickened their pace.

"What's that noise?" Corvan asked.

Jorad continued picking up pebbles. "That is the sound of the Broken. They are beginning to move about and hunt for food."

"They hunt people?" Corvan asked.

"It appears the soldiers believe they do," Jorad said derisively. "Are they gone?"

"Yes."

Jorad tossed the pebbles away, dusted off his hands, then dropped the lid of the crypt in a percussive cloud of dust. Placing both hands on the stone lid, he looked down at the stone slab. "Farewell, Morgan. This is not how it should have ended, but everyone must live, and die, by the choices they make." He lifted the first of the clasps and twisted down the large turnbuckle.