Legacy of Blood

Eighteen

Norrec could not move, could not even breathe. It felt as if a giant hand had taken hold of him and sought to crush his entire body to a tiny pulp. In some ways he welcomed it, for with his death would at least end his guilt. No one else would die because he had sought to rob a tomb and instead unearthed a nightmare.

Then, just as he prepared himself to die, a tremendous force threw him upward. Norrec flew hard, almost as if he had been fired off by a catapult. So, instead of a crushing death, he would eventually fall to his doom. Unlike the short drop aboard the Hawksfire, Norrec felt certain that this time he would not survive.

But something-no, someone — caught him by one arm, slowing his flight. Norrec tried to see who it might be, but turning his head toward his would-be rescuer brought about an overwhelming sensation of vertigo. He lost all sense of direction, no longer even able to tell up from down.

Without warning, Norrec struck the ground, the sand doing very little to prevent the jolt from knocking him nearly senseless.

For some time, the battered veteran lay there, cursing the fact that he seemed to end up in such a position more often than necessary. His body ached to his bones and his vision revealed nothing to him but blurs. Yet, despite all that, he at least felt less pain. Whatever spell Galeona had cast before her death had at some pointceased and with it had also gone the crushing suffocation.

He heard thunder and knew from the general grayness his unfocused eyes could make out that he had returned to the storm-swept desert near Lut Gholein. Norrec also sensed that he had not come here alone, that even now, someone stood over him.

"Can you stand?" a familiar female voice asked gently.

He almost told her that he had no desire to, but instead forced himself as best he could to a sitting position. Doing so made his head spin, but at least Norrec felt some pride at accomplishing the simple task by himself.

His vision finally cleared enough for him to see who had spoken. It proved to be the dark-haired woman he had not only seen just before the walls had closed in, but also now recalled as one of the faces on the statues he had passed during his second sojourn into the dream version of Horazon's tomb.

Horazon. Thinking of Bartuc's brother made him recall who he had seen standing near the pale woman. Horazon-still alive after centuries.

She mistook his momentary shaking as a part of a possible injury. "Be careful. You have been through much. We do not know how it may have affected you."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Kara Nightshadow," she replied, kneeling so as to get a better look at his face. One slim hand gently touched his cheek. "Does that hurt you?"

In truth, her hand felt good, but he knew better than to tell her so. "No. Are you a healer?"

"Not exactly. I am a follower of Rathma."

"A necromancer?" Surprisingly, the admission did not shock him as much as it once might have. Everything around Norrec of late had concerned death-or worse. A necromancer certainly fit well into the pattern, although he had to admit he had never seen an attractive onebefore. The few others of her faith that he had come across had been dour figures little different from the dead with whom they communed.

He realized that although she had told him her name he had not introduced himself. "My name's Norrec—"

"Yes. Norrec Vizharan. I know."

"How?" He recalled that she had used his name earlier, yet the two had never actually met as far as he knew. Certainly he would have remembered.

"I have been hunting for you ever since you left Bartuc's tomb with the armor."

"You? But why?"

She leaned back, apparently satisfied that he had not suffered much from their ouster from Horazon's bizarre domain. "Along with the Vizjerei, my people took the responsibility for hiding the warlord's ensorcelled remains. We could not destroy either the body or the armor at that time, but we could keep them from those who might find a use-either corrupted mages or deadly demons."

Norrec remembered the monstrous creature in the sea. "Why demons?"

"Bartuc started out as a pawn of theirs, but even you must know that by the time of his death, even the lords of Hell looked in awe at his power. Although only a portion of his total might, what remains in the armor itself would be enough to entirely upset the delicate balance of life and death in the world… and even, perhaps, beyond."

After all that he had seen, he had little trouble believing her. Norrec struggled to his feet, Kara assisting him. He looked down at her, thinking back to what had just happened. "You saved me."

She looked away, almost seeming embarrassed. "I had some part in it."

"I would've died otherwise, right?"

"Very likely."

"Then you saved me-but why did you do it? Why not simply let me die? If I had, the armor would've been left with no host. It would've been powerless!"

Kara stared him in the eyes. "You did not choose to wear Bartuc's accursed armor, Norrec Vizharan. It chose you, although I do not know why. Whatever it has done, whatever foul deeds it has performed, I felt you innocent of them-and therefore deserving of a chance of life."

"But more might die because of that!" The bitterness must have shown in his expression, for the necromancer withdrew slightly. "My friends, the men at the inn, the Hawksfire 's crew, and just now that witch! How many more must perish-and most before my eyes?"

She put a hand on his own. Norrec feared for her, but the suit did nothing. Perhaps whatever fueled its evil task lay dormant for a time-or perhaps it simply awaited the best moment to strike. "There is a way to end this," Kara replied. "We must remove the armor."

Norrec burst out laughing. He laughed long and hard-and with no hope. "Woman, don't you think I've tried? Don't you think the first chance I had I pulled at both gloves, attempted to peel off every bit of plate? I couldn't even remove the damned boots. They're all sealed to my body, as if a very part of my flesh! The only way you'll be able to remove the suit is if you take my skin off with it!"

"I understand the trouble. I understand also that, under most circumstances, no spellcaster would have the power to undo what the armor has done—"

"Then what could you possibly hope to accomplish?" the frustrated soldier snapped. "You should've let me die just now! It would've been better for all!"

Despite his outburst, the raven-haired woman remained calm. She glanced around before answering, as if looking for someone or something. "He did not follow. I should have known."

"Who… Horazon?"

Kara nodded. "So you recognized him, too?"

Exhaling, Norrec explained, "My memories… my memories are confused. Some of them I know are mine, but others…" He hesitated, certain she would find him mad for what he believed. "… the others belonged to Bartuc, I think."

"Yes, very likely they did."

"That doesn't surprise you?"

"In legend, the warlord and his crimson suit seemed as one. Over time, he imbued it with one mighty enchantment after another, transforming it into more than simply pieces of metal. By the time of his death, it had been said that the armor acted as if a loyal dog, its own magic protecting and fighting for Bartuc as hard as he himself would. Small wonder that his life has been imprinted upon it… and that some of those vile memories have seeped into your own mind."

The weary veteran shuddered. "And the longer I wear it, the more I'll succumb. There's been times I actually thought I was Bartuc!"

"Which is why we must remove it." She frowned. "We must try to convince Horazon to do it. I feel he is the only one who has the capability."

Norrec did not exactly like that notion. The last time he and the bearded elder had seen one another, the armor had reacted instantly and with clear malice. "That may stir up the suit again. It may even be why it's being so quiet now." Something suddenly struck him. "It wants him. It wants Horazon. All this damn distance, all the things it's put me through-it's all been because it wants to slay Bartuc's brother!"

Her expression indicated that she had come to much the same conclusion. "Yes. Blood calls to blood, as they say, even if the blood between two is bad. Horazon helped slay his brother at the battle of Viz-jun and thearmor must have preserved that memory within it. Now, after all this time, it has risen and seeks to repay the deed-even though Horazon should have been dead centuries ago."

"But he isn't. Blood calls to blood, you said. It must've known he was still alive." Norrec shook his head. "Which doesn't explain why it waited so long. Gods! It's all insane!"

Kara took him by the arm. "Horazon must have the answer. Somehow we must find our way back to him. I feel that he is the only hope by which we can put an end to the warlord's curse."

"Put an end to it, someone says?" rasped a voice of no human origin. "No… no…This one desires otherwise, he does…"

Kara stared past Norrec, who immediately began to turn.

"Look—" was as far as the necromancer got.

What resembled a sharp, needlelike lance darted down toward him. It would have caught Norrec through the head, but at the last, Kara pushed him aside. Unfortunately for both of them, the wicked lance continued its downward thrust unabated-and buried itself in the woman's chest.

The lance quickly withdrew. Kara gasped, collapsing. Blood spilled over her blouse. Norrec froze momentarily, then, knowing he could do nothing for her if he, too, perished, the veteran fighter turned to confront their attacker.

Yet, what greeted his horrified eyes proved to be no warrior, but rather a thing born of nightmares. It most resembled a towering insect, but one clearly spawned in more hellish climes. Pulsating veins crosscrossed its grotesque form. What he had taken for a lance had actually been one of the creature's own appendages, a lengthy, sicklelike arm ending in a deadly point. Beneath the sickles, savage skeletal hands with claws opened and closed. Somehow, the massive horror managed to support itself on two lengthy hind limbs bent back in the manner of the mantis it so resembled.

"This one came in search of a treacherous, wandering witch, but such a prize will serve better! Long has this one hunted for you, for the power you wield…"

Even dazed, Norrec knew that the demon-for what other creature could this be-meant the armor, not the man.

"You killed her!" he managed to reply.

Blood dripping from one sickle, the mantis dipped his head. "One less mortal makes no difference. Where is the witch? Where is Galeona?"

He knew her? Norrec did not find that at all surprising. Even half under the spell of the armor, he had known that much of her story had been lies. "Dead. The armor killed her."

An intake of breath indicated to him that the demon found this startling. "She is dead? Of course! This one sensed something amiss-but did not suspect that!"

He began to emit a peculiar, rattling noise which the soldier at first thought anger. Only after a time, however, did it become clear that the monstrous insect laughed.

"The bond is severed, yet still this one roams the mortal plane! The tie is broken, but the blood spell preserves! This one could have slain her all along! What a fool Xazax has been!"

Norrec took the demon's enjoyment as a chance to look at Kara. Her entire chest had turned crimson and from where he stood he could not tell if she even breathed. It pained him to have her, the one who had tried to save him, die before his very eyes without being able to do anything about it.

Spurred on by anger, Norrec took a step toward the mantis-or at least tried to do so. Unfortunately, his legs, his entire body, refused to obey him.

"Damn you!" he roared at the suit. "Not now!"

Xazax ceased laughing. The deep, yellow orbs fixed onthe helpless human. "Fool! Think you to command the greatness of Bartuc? This one thought to peel the armor off your cold corpse, but now Xazax sees this would have proven a terrible blunder! You are needed-at least for the time being!"

The mantis raised one spearlike tip toward the breastplate. Immediately, Norrec's left hand reached out, but not in defense. Instead, to his horror, it touched the demon's own appendage as if in acknowledgment.

"You would be whole, would you not?" Xazax asked of the suit. "You would desire the return of the helm separated from you so long ago? This one can take you to it… if you like."

In response, one booted foot stepped forward. Even Norrec knew what the lone movement meant.

"Then go we shall… but it must be done quickly." The mantis turned and started off.

Norrec had no choice but to follow, the armor soon marching alongside the demon. Behind the desperate soldier, Kara bled away the last drops of her life, but he could do no more for her than he could for himself. In some ways, Norrec envied the pale woman. The necromancer's suffering had already all but ended; his would only get worse. His last hope had been crushed.

"Heaven help me…" he whispered.

The mantis apparently had sharp hearing, for he immediately fell upon the hopeless words. "Heaven? No angel will there be to help you, fool of a human! Too afraid, they are! Too cowardly! We walk the world in numbers, the demon master awakes, and the human stronghold of Lut Gholein prepares to suffer a horrific end! Heaven? You would do better to pray to Hell!"

And as they continued on toward their destination, Norrec could not help but think that on this the demon might just speak the truth.

Kara felt her life ebbing away, but she could do nothing about it. The demonic creature she had seen had moved with inhuman swiftness. Perhaps she had saved Norrec, but even that the necromancer doubted.

She drifted along, each drop of blood leaving her body bringing her close to taking her next step in the overall scheme of the balance. Yet despite her deep beliefs, Kara wanted nothing more at the moment than to return to the mortal plane. She had left too much undone, had left Norrec in a position that he could not possibly survive without her aid. Worse, demons walked her world, further evidence that every follower of Rathma was badly needed. She had to return.

But such choices were generally not given to the dying.

"What should we do?" a voice in the distance asked, a voice that Kara felt she knew.

"He said that we should give it back when we felt we must. I feel we must."

"But without it—"

"We will still have time, Sadun."

"He may have said so, but I don't trust him!"

A brief, throaty chuckle. "Trust you to be the only one capable of not trusting one of his grand kind."

"Save the remarks… if it's got to be done, let's do it."

"As you say."

Kara suddenly felt a great weight upon her chest-a weight that felt so good that she eagerly welcomed it, took it into her very being. It had a tremendous familiarity to it that caused her to reminisce about little things, such as her mother feeding her fruit, a butterfly the color of rainbows landing on her knee while she studied in the forest, the smell of Captain Jeronnan's freshly cooked meals… even a brief glimpse of Norrec Vizharan's weathered but not unhandsome face.

The necromancer suddenly gasped as life enfolded her again.

She blinked, feeling the sand, the wind. Thunder rumbled and somewhere distant she heard what seemed the sounds of battle.

"It did… as he said… it would. I should've… used it… on myself."

Kara knew that voice now, although it had changed some from just a few seconds before. Now it sounded more as she would have expected it to sound-the rasping words of a dead man.

"I know… I know…" Sadun Tryst retorted to some silent response. "Only her…"

Opening her eyes, the enchantress stared up at the solemn forms of the grinning revenant and his Vizjerei companion. "What-how did you find me?"

"We never lost… you. We let you… go… and followed." His eyes narrowed. "But here in… Aranoch… we knew you… were around, but… could not see… you… until now."

They did not know exactly where she had gone when Horazon had led her down into his underground sanctum. The spell binding her to them had kept them in the general area, but both the sanctuary's location and its incredible magic had left the revenants baffled. She could have been directly underneath and neither would have noticed.

Her strength returning, the dark mage tried to push herself up a bit. Something slid from her chest. Kara instinctively caught it with one hand and marveled. Her dagger!

Tryst's smile had taken a decidedly bitter turn. "The bond is… broken. The life force… we took… is yours…" He looked frustrated. "We have… no more… hold… over you."

The necromancer looked down at her chest. Blood covered most of the blouse, but the horrible wound inflicted on her by the demon had sealed over, the only sign of itsearlier presence a circular mark, as if someone had tattooed Kara there.

"Looks… much healed."

She covered the area up again, glaring at the undead, despite the fact that he and Fauztin had just gifted her with a second chance at life. "How did you do that? I've never heard of such a feat!"

The wiry corpse shrugged, his head tipping to the other side. "He-my friend… said that the dagger… was a part… of you. When you were… bound to us… some part of you… came with. We returned it… to make you alive." He grimaced as best he could. "Nothing keeps… you tied to… us any more."

"Except one thing. Norrec." Kara forced herself up. Tryst stood back, but, to her astonishment, Fauztin lent a hand. She hesitated at first, but realized that the revenant only meant to help. "Thank you."

Fauztin blinked… then rewarded her with a brief, tight-lipped smile.

"You bring life… to the deadest of… the dead… now… we're even…" Sadun Tryst jested.

"What about Norrec?"

"We think… he nears… Lut Gholein."

Even though they had saved her, the necromancer could not let them slay their former friend. "Norrec is not responsible for your deaths. What happened to you he could not prevent."

The two stared back at her. At last, Fauztin blinked again and Tryst replied, "We know."

"But then why-?" Kara stopped. All along she had assumed that they hunted their murderer, who, naturally, could only be Norrec. Only now, looking at the duo, did she understand that her misconceptions had led her astray.

"You do not pursue Norrec in order to exact revenge on him-you pursue Bartuc's armor." Although they didnot answer her, she knew that she had not been wrong. "You could have told me!"

Tryst did not reply to that, either, instead abruptly announcing to Kara, "The city is under… siege."

Under siege? When had that happened? "By who?"

"One who… also seeks… to raise the dead… or at least… the bloody specter of… Bartuc."

Where did all these madmen come from, Kara wondered-and that made her think of the ragged figure from whom she had most recently escaped. Turning around, she looked for some sign of the Arcane Sanctuary, but to no avail. The desert sands swirled in the wind, the dunes looking as if they had remained untouched for years. Yet, somewhere around here the earth had opened up and deposited her and Norrec on the ground.

Not caring what the revenants might make of her peculiar actions, Kara called out, "Horazon! Listen to me! You can help us-and we can help you! Help us save Norrec-and put an end to Bartuc's legacy!"

She waited, the wind whipping her hair and sand stinging her face. Kara waited for Horazon to materialize or at least send her some sign that he listened.

But nothing happened.

At last, Sadun Tryst broke the silence. "We can't… wait here any longer… while you call… more ghosts…"

"I'm not calling—" the necromancer stopped. Of what use trying to explain to the revenants that Horazon had survived the centuries and lived, albeit as a madman, under their very feet? For that matter, why had she even hoped that Bartuc's brother would join with them in this dire venture? He had already shown that, if it had been up to him alone, Norrec would have perished along with the armor. Some legends concerning Horazon had painted him as a hero in comparison to his brother, butthis same hero had also summoned demons, bending them to his will. Yes, his war against Bartuc had definitely been about self-preservation as much as anything else. There would be no aid from the ancient Vizjerei.

"We go…" Tryst added. "You come… or not… your choice, necromancer."

What else could Kara do? Even without Horazon, she had to go after Norrec. The demon must have taken him to the one besieging Lut Gholein, but for what reason? Did they hope to destroy what remained of the veteran fighter's own mind, enabling the ghostly memories of the Warlord of Blood to completely take over? A terrifying thought for all people everywhere, not simply poor Norrec. Many scholars had assumed, quite rightly, that, had he defeated his brother, Bartuc would have wreaked his evil upon the rest of the world until it had all fallen under his heel. Now, it seemed, like Kara, he had a second chance to succeed.

As a follower of Rathma, she could not permit that- even if it meant having to kill the armor's host. The thought left her cold, but if the balance after all required Norrec to be slain, then so be it. Even her own life did not matter if only it meant that she put an end to the danger.

"I will come with you," the necromancer finally replied.

Fauztin nodded, then pointed in the direction of Lut Gholein.

"Time is… wasting… he says."

The revenants flanked Kara as the trio set off, a fact which did not escape her. The wind had already wiped clean much of Norrec's trail, but Tryst and the Vizjerei had no apparent trouble following. The bond to what had murdered them enabled the pair to follow anywhere, any place.

"What about the demon?" Kara asked. He had designson the armor, too, and would certainly fight anyone who sought to take it away from him.

Tryst pointed at her dagger, which now hung from the dark mage's belt. "That… is our best bet."

"How?"

"Just use it… and pray." He looked as if he intended to say more, but Fauztin gave him a glance that silenced the smaller of the ghouls immediately.

What secret did they still hold from her? Had she underestimated them? Did they still plan to use her as a puppet? Now was certainly not the time to hold back anything that might mean the difference between victory and death.

"What do you—"

"We'll deal… with the armor…" Sadun commented, cutting her off, "and Norrec."

His tone indicated that there would be no further conversation on this or any other subject. Kara considered trying anyway, but decided not to aggravate relations with the duo. The revenants acted in no manner she could readily predict, going against everything she had been taught about their kind. Half the time, they acted as if they still had hearts that pumped, blood that flowed. The rest of the time, they moved on with the silent determination for which such undead had been fabled. Truly, a unique situation… but then, everything about this matter had been unique.

Deadly, too.

She pictured Norrec in her mind, wondering what he must be going through at the moment. The image of the demon overshadowed the fighter, causing the necromancer to bite her lip in concern. There also appeared in her mind the shadow of a third figure, the one who now led the assault on the coastal kingdom. What part did he play? What did he gain in all this? He could not simply desire to have Norrec become a second Bartuc-thatwould be the same as signing his own death warrant. Bartuc had never either willingly served nor allied himself with any other mortal.

She would have the chance to discover the answers to her many questions soon enough. As to whether she would live long enough to appreciate those answers- Kara had severe doubts.