Chapter sixThe corpses of the nine Thaumaturges of Sodan sat up and leered upon Tralgan Vorner.
One hand gripping the carved edge of the altar, Vorner swung about, this way and that, bent over. His head jutted as he twisted and turned looking for a way out. There was no way out. He knew that. He knew it with the same deadly assurance he knew he was condemned to the lowest pits of an unimaginable hell.
A nauseous waft of disgusting decay flowed over him. These dead things stank! His feet appeared rooted into the marble floor. He could not stir from this spot, the focus of the eyeless gaze of the undead.
He tried to swallow and failed. A miasmic mist fell over his distended eyes. The kaotim, the undead, remained perfectly still. The only sound in the chamber came from Tralgan’s hoarse, un
