Etruscans by Morgan Llywelyn

elaborate.
    â€œI sent Otherworld minions in pursuit,” said the carven image, “but the siu escaped them in the Earthworld. During the chase they did succeed in injuring his bodily form however. To restore his strength he intended to tear out and eat the living heart of a human virgin. He was disturbed by the approach of another human before he had done more than open her flesh. He abandoned her and fled, but even now his child quickens within her body.”

    A crescent of darkness edged the milky pool as the moon made its way through the sky, altering the angle of the shaft of light. The obsidian image, which had never risen above waist height, began to slip back into the water. Her dark form glimmered dimly through the translucent liquid.
    The words were coming quicker as the level of the water began to rise. “I charge you to seek out this siu in the Earthworld. Take him captive to hold for my punishment. Locate his spawn first—you will find the impregnated woman among the Rasne—then use the child as a lure to trap the father. He dare not allow it to live and thrive. Once you have the demon, destroy his child and summon me to complete his punishment. Go now … and fail at your peril!” she added harshly.
    â€œWe will not fail, O Great Pythia,” one of the six whispered.
    White water closed over a blind black head. The ripples died away, leaving the surface of the pool as smooth as polished glass.
    The shaft of moonlight narrowed, disappeared.
    Six hooded figures left the chamber without a backward glance, moving through pitch-black corridors without the benefit of torches. Their kind had no need of light.

EIGHT
    L owering its head, the boar charged.
    Repana crouched reflexively as she struggled to recall anything useful her husband might have said about the habits of wild boar. Had he once remarked that a wild boar usually veered to the left, hooking upward with its tusks to disembowel its victim? Frantically she ransacked her memory for an echo of his words, some guidance from the Netherworld where he surely watched and waited.
    She would have one chance. She must turn her body sideways to make the smallest possible target and in the same move step to the right, plunging the dagger she carried into the base of the boar’s skull as it charged past.
    If she failed …
    The boar thundered across the glade; she could feel the ground shake beneath its hooves. But its behavior was most unnatural. The animal’s one-eyed stare was
fixed and blind, no foam flecked its lips, no breath hissed from its nostrils. When it was five paces from her, she could smell the unmistakable odor of putrefaction. The boar was dead and rotting … yet still moving.
    â€œMay the Ais protect us!” Repana gasped. The dagger shifted in sweat-slick hands. “Ancestors guide us …”
    There was a blur of movement from her left.
    Pepan’s bronze-headed hunting spear buried itself to the haft in the beasts heavily muscled shoulder.
    The boar should have squealed and turned toward its attacker or dropped to the ground and rolled to dislodge the weapon. It did neither. Instead it kept advancing with terrible intent, head lowered, dead eyes fixed on Vesi.
    The Lord of the Rasne hurled himself forward, recklessly throwing his body onto the boar’s back, using his weight in a desperate attempt to force it to the ground. He meant to dig his heels into the earth and try to get enough leverage to snap the animal’s neck.
    The boar jolted to a halt so abruptly that Pepan was thrown off in an unintentional somersault. Scrambling to his feet, he reached for his dagger, only to realize belatedly that he had given it to Repana the previous day. It was in her hand now. He could not reach it before the boar got him.
    His hunting spear was lying in the long grass a little to one side. Closer than Repana and his knife … but still too far.
    The boar shuddered and lifted its head, flinging