05 - Warrior Priest by Darius Hinks - (ebook by Undead) Page A

his limbs refused to obey and
he groaned in fear. “Your face…” he murmured, as the walls closed in around him.
    “What is it?” asked Erasmus, leaning forward, so that the remaining flesh
peeled back from his head and revealed the glistening skull beneath. “You should
rest,” he said, splashing thick blood all over the bed, but Surman’s eyes were
already closing as sleep washed over him.
     
    Anna had sprouted great, black, oily wings and as she stepped towards Surman
she croaked in a harsh, inhuman voice. She drew a knife from beneath her
feathers and brandished it playfully at him. Catching the candlelight on the
edge of its curved, serrated blade.
    Surman was sprawled on a mortuary slab and all his strength had gone from
him. As the witch approached he was powerless to move and he felt impotent fury
rising from deep within him. “You’ll die, Anna,” he said, glaring into her
black, lidless eyes. “Your wound is full of the spores of corruption.”
    The witch spread her wings and laughed, before flying up onto the slab and
crouching low over him, so that her mouth was almost touching his. She twisted
her screeching voice into words he could understand. “What are you talking about
Otto?” she said, holding the knife up to his face. “How could you ever find me
without your eyes?”
    “I have eyes!” cried Surman, straining to twist his head out of her reach.
    “You did have,” replied the witch, smiling as she brought the knife down
towards him.
    Surman cried out in fear and clamped his eyes shut. “I’ll still find you,
witch!” he cried.
    Anna’s only reply was harsh, bird-like squawks of laughter.
    The expected pain never arrived and after a few moments Surman opened his
eyes to find he was back in the priest’s cell. It was still morning, but the sky
outside was clear and bright, and he guessed this was not the same day. He
reached up to feel his eyes, and sighed with relief.
    A loud cawing filled the room and Surman screamed with terror.
    He looked around and saw a large raven, sat on an old chest at the foot of
the bed, eyeing him warily.
    Erasmus burst into the room with a bloody, curved knife in his hand and a
look of dismay on his face. “What’s happened?” he cried, placing the knife on
the chair and clutching Surman’s hand. “Are you alright?”
    “There’s a bird in here!” exclaimed Surman, crawling fearfully beneath the
sheets. “She tried to steal my eyes.”
    The priest laughed gently and patted Surman’s arm. “That’s just Udo. She
won’t hurt you.” He held out his arm, and the bird flew across the room and
perched on its master. “Come on, old girl. You’re scaring our guest.” With
another smile at Surman, he left the room, taking his bird with him.
    Surman shivered. His body was covered with cold sweat. “He’s poisoned me,” he
muttered to himself, pulling the sheets up to his chin, and looking warily
around the room. “Another witch. Just like Anna Fleck.” He heard a distant door
slam and the sound of voices talking somewhere on the floor below. “They’re all
trying to kill me,” he moaned. “In league with the witch.” He noticed Erasmus’
knife on the chair and smiled. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed. His
limbs trembled with the effort, but he wasn’t sure how long he had and his fear
gave him strength. With one hand on the cold stone floor, he reached out to the
chair. “Got it,” he gasped, clutching the knife in his hand. With a grunt, he
pushed himself back onto the bed and hid the blade beneath the blankets. With a
smile of relief, he lowered his head onto the pillow, and quickly slipped back
into his strange dreams.
    “Otto,” said Erasmus, gently shaking him awake. “I have news.”
    Surman lurched into a sitting position and groaned, looking around at the
room in confusion. “What’s that?” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
    Erasmus laughed at his sudden movements. “You seem