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I collapsed into another animated corpse, and retched as
I felt my hand sink into the rotted satchel of its belly. The
zombies were all around me, reaching with horrible hands.
With a cry of horror, I broke free, lunging in the only
direction that would take me away from the ghastly figures
- back toward the pit and the Altar of Erasmoth.
"Come to us now, Historian!" cried the priest, ceasing
his chant. Kassandry licked her gleaming lips. She held the
two daggers high, crossing the blades over her head.
The ranks of the undead pressed forward, and in the
surging light of the fires I could see scores of them. They
emerged from the shadows around the periphery of the great
cavern, shambling slowly out of the darkness to gather in an
attentive circle around their master and mistress.
The close-packed ranks of the zombies pressed in on
me, forcing me onto the top step leading into the circular
altar pit, toward the doom that awaited me below. In
desperation, I looked for some avenue of escape through the
steadily closing circle. There were none!
"Make haste, Historian!" The priest's tone contained an
element of irritation.
I could delay no longer. The zombies had driven me to
the bottom step of the circle, and thence into the pit itself.
Kassandry's gaze locked on to mine. It was the
priestess, in the end, who compelled me to step slowly
across the floor of the circle, until I stood before her.
Behind her was the black pit, which exuded that terrible
odor
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