Legacy of Blood

Twenty

Kara stepped over the winding dune-and into yet another nightmare.

In the distance, black armored warriors battered at Lut Gholein's gates, shouting with a murderous glee almost inhuman. The defenders above continuously fired down at them, but curiously their many arrows had no visible effect whatsoever as far as she could see, almost as if the invaders had somehow made themselves invulnerable to mortal weapons. Judging by what else she could see, the necromancer felt fairly certain that the straining gates would soon crash inward, gaining this savage force entrance.

However, the terrible struggle there paled in her mind in comparison to the duel taking place not far from her right. She had found Norrec again, yet with him she had also found not only the demon, but a furious figure clad in armor akin to the men attacking Lut Gholein-akin, that is, save for his crimson helmet.

The necromancer immediately recognized Bartuc's helm. Now matters made more sense. The armor of the warlord sought to reunite, but it had two hosts with which to contend and only one who could end up with the prize. Unfortunately for Norrec, he stood to lose everything no matter what the outcome of the combat. Slay his foe and he became the armor's puppet; fail in the struggle and he died at the feet of the new Warlord of Blood.

Kara eyed the trio for several moments, trying to consider what best to do. Unable to come up with a satisfying answer, she turned back to her decaying companions. "They're locked together and the demon's only a few yards behind him! What do you—"

She talked to the air. Both Tryst and Fauztin had completely vanished, the sand revealing no trace of their path. It was as if they had simply flown into the air and vanished.

Regrettably, that left the necromancer's decision completely up to her and time looked to be rapidly running out. Norrec had brought the battle to a more even level again, but as Kara watched, the hellish mantis began to move toward the combatants. Kara could think of only one reason why he would do so at such a juncture.

Knowing that she had no other option remaining, the dark mage leapt forward, racing for the back of the imposing demon. If she could get near enough, she had a chance.

The mantis raised one wicked limb high, awaiting the ideal moment to strike…

Kara realized that she would not make it-unless, of course, she took a desperate gamble. In her hand the necromancer already held her ceremonial dagger, which Sadun Tryst had suggested she might need. Until now, though, her fear of possibly losing it again had kept Kara from considering such an act. The weapon was a part of her calling, a part of her very being.

And the only way she could possibly save Norrec.

Without hesitation, she took aim at the foul creature-

Now! Xazax thought. Now!

But just as the mantis chose to attack, fire burst within him, coursing through his entire body with astonishing swiftness. The monstrous insect stumbled, nearly falling on top of the two fighting figures. Xazax swiveled hishead so as to see the cause of his agony and found in his back a gleaming dagger made of something other than metal. He recognized quickly the intricate runes in the protruding handle and knew then why such a minuscule weapon could cause him so much pain.

A necromancer's ceremonial dagger… but the only such being Xazax had come across he had quickly murdered, so surely it could not be-

But there she came, hurtling toward him despite the fact that she should have been dead. The mantis knew where he had struck her, knew that no human could have rightly survived the blow, not even those who dealt in life and death such as she.

"You cannot be!" he demanded of her, a sense of dread building quickly within. For all their chaotic origins, demons had a very set sense of how things worked. Humans were fragile; rip, stab, cut, or tear them apart in certain ways and they would die. Once dead, they stayed so unless summoned back in the form of some ghoulish servant. This female defied the rules… "Dead you were and dead you should stay!"

"The balance dictates the terms of life and death, demon, hardly you." She made her right hand into a fist and pointed at him.

An incredible weakness spread through the demon. Xazax teetered, then caught himself. The necromancer's spell should not have affected him so thoroughly, but with her dagger in him, he became far more susceptible to anything she cast.

That situation could not be allowed to continue long.

Summoning what reserves he had, the mantis used his upper appendages to stir up the sand, then send it flying into the face of the enchantress. As she fought to regain her sight, Xazax's middle limbs bent back in a most impossible manner and sought out the treacherous dagger.

It burned, burned terribly, but he forced himself to seize the hilt and try to pull it free. The demon roared as he tugged at the enchanted blade, so great did the pain grow.

He would rend her into bloody gobbets for this abominable act. He would pinion her, then peel away every layer of skin, every bit of muscle-all while her heart still beat.

But just as the monstrous insect felt the blade begin to loosen, the necromancer uttered her final spell.

And before Xazax's eyes materialized a luminescent being so glorious his very presence burned the eyes of the demonic mantis. He looked manlike, but with all imperfections washed away. His hair flowed golden and the beauty of his countenance affected even the demon. However, even overwhelmed by the robed figure's presence, Xazax did not fail to notice the majestic, gleaming sword that the vision wielded with expert grace…

"Angel!!"

Xazax knew that what he saw had to be an hallucination. Necromancers had reputations for being able to cast such terrifying illusions directly into the minds of their enemies-and yet even that knowledge could not keep the primal fear from drowning the demon's senses. In the end, Xazax only knew that one of Heaven's imperious warriors now came for him.

With an inhuman cry, the cowardly mantis turned from Kara and fled. As he did, the dagger slipped from his wound, causing the escaping demon to leave a steady stream of thick, black ichor trailing behind him in the sand.

Kara Nightshadow watched as her adversary disappeared into the wastes of Aranoch. She would have preferred a more final conclusion to her encounter with the mantis, but in her present state of exhaustion, that conclusion could have just as well gone against her. The spellwould keep him from any foul play for some time, at least long enough, so Kara hoped, to deal with the unholy threat of the armor.

She picked up her dagger and turned to where Norrec and his own foe still battled. The necromancer frowned. If the helmed stranger won, her course would be quick and clear. The dagger would see to a swift end to the second coming of the Warlord of Blood.

And if Norrec won?

Kara had no choice there, even. Without a host, the armor could cause no more harm. Whoever won between them-she would have to make certain that the victor did not live long enough to draw another breath.

Neither Norrec nor his adversary noticed the battle taking place beside them, so desperate had their own struggle become. The gauntleted hands of the two flared again and again as dark sorceries burst into life and immediately died. Although Malevolyn did not wear the armored suit of Bartuc, the helm alone gave him strength and power matching that now wielded by a willing Norrec. Because of that, the fight continued to be a stalemate, although both men knew that eventually the end would come for one.

"I am destined to take his place!" snarled Augustus Malevolyn. "I am more than just his blood! I am his kindred spirit, his will reborn! I am Bartuc come back to the mortal plane to reclaim his rightful place!"

"You're no more his successor than I am," returned Norrec, not at all aware that his own expression matched that of the arrogant commander. "His blood is mine as well! The armor chose me! Maybe you should think about that!"

"I will not be denied!" The general slipped one boot under the soldier's leg, forcing Norrec off balance.

They tumbled to the ground, Malevolyn on top. Thesand softened some of the blow when Norrec's head hit, but still the veteran fighter lay momentarily dazed. Taking advantage of the situation, General Malevolyn forced his hand toward his rival's visage.

"I will remove your face, your entire head," he hissed at Norrec. "Let us see then who the armor thinks more worthy…"

The general's red and black gauntlet blazed with wild magic, Malevolyn's fingers only an inch or two from making good his dire promise. One hand pinned by his foe's own and the other trapped between their armored bodies, Norrec had little hope of preventing the sadistic general from accomplishing what he desired…

At that moment, though, Norrec sensed movement behind him, as if a third person had joined the fray. Malevolyn looked up at the newcomer-and the triumphant sneer on his countenance switched to an expression of utter bafflement.

"You—" he managed to blurt.

Something within Norrec urged him to take advantage. He slipped the one hand free from the general's, then immediately struck Malevolyn hard in the chin. A brief burst of raw magical energy accompanied Norrec's strike, sending the helmed figure flying back as if pulled by a string attached to his head. Malevolyn dropped to the sand some distance away with a harsh thud, the general too stunned at first to rise.

Focused only on victory now, the veteran fighter rose and charged toward his fallen foe. In his growing certainty that he had been meant all along to triumph, Norrec nearly threw himself on top of the general-an action which would have cost him his life.

In Malevolyn's hand materialized one of the black blades. Norrec barely had time to twist out of its deadly reach, dropping to the sand just beside the other fighter. General Malevolyn rolled away, ending up in a crouchedposition. He kept the sword between them, his mocking expression quite evident even within the bloodred helmet.

"I have you now!"

Leaping forward, he thrust.

The tip of the ebony blade sank deep… deep into the chest of General Augustus Malevolyn.

The sinister noble's resummoning of his enchanted sword had immediately reminded Norrec that he, too, could call his own weapon back into play. In his haste to at last be done with the mercenary, Malevolyn had evidently not considered that last part. As his sword came at Norrec, Norrec rolled forward, at the same time thinking his own demonic blade into existence.

Augustus Malevolyn's thrust had come within a hair of slicing the veteran's skull in half.

Norrec's had materialized already a third of the way through his adversary's torso.

Malevolyn gaped at his wound, the blade having skewered him so quickly that his body had not quite yet registered that death was upon it. The general dropped his own weapon, which instantly faded away.

In past battles, Norrec Vizharan had taken no pleasure in the deaths of his foes. He had been paid for a task and he had performed that task, but war had never been a pleasure for him. Now, however, he felt a chill run up and down his spine, a chill that stirred him, made him desire more of such bloodshed…

He stood up, and walked over to the gaping general, who only now slipped to his knees.

"You don't need this any more, cousin."

With great force, Norrec tore the crimson helmet from Augustus Malevolyn's head. Malevolyn screamed when he did, although not from any physical pain. Norrec understood what so troubled the man more than even the lethal thrust, understood because at that moment he would have felt the same if someone had tried to rip thearmor from his body. The power inherent in Bartuc's suit seduced both of them, but in Malevolyn's case, he had lost the duel and, therefore, lost all right to that power.

Laying the helmet to the side, Norrec took hold of the hilt of his sword. With easy effort, he pulled it free, then inspected the blade itself. No blood stained it. Truly a marvel. It had served him well here, served him as grandly as it had done at Viz-jun …

Agauntleted hand grabbed at him. General Malevolyn, a manic look on his face, tried desperately to grapple with Norrec.

Norrec shoved him back and grinned. "The war's over, general." He readied the sword. "Time to retire."

One easy sweep left General Augustus Malevolyn's head rolling in the sand. The headless torso joined it a moment later.

As he reached down to retrieve the fabled helmet, a feminine voice called out to the exhausted but also exhilarated veteran. "Norrec? Are you all right?"

He turned to face Kara, pleased in more than one manner by her unexpected resurrection. In the short time since they had met, she had proven her loyalty to him by sacrificing her lesser existence for his. Had she remained dead, Norrec would have honored her memory, but now that she had somehow cheated Xazax's murderous strike he instead considered her further uses. The necromancer had shown some skill and likely had more sense than the untrustworthy Galeona. Her not unpleasing face and form also made him consider her as possibly worthy of being his consort-and what sane woman would spurn the offer of becoming consort to the Warlord of Blood?

"I'm well, Kara Nightshadow… very well!" He opened his one hand and let the magical sword fall free. As the weapon vanished, Norrec took the helmet in both hands and raised it over his head. "In fact, I am far better than well!"

"Wait!" The raven-tressed woman rushed up to him, concern in her almond-shaped eyes. Pretty eyes, the new warlord decided, eyes reminiscent of another woman he had briefly known during his apprenticeship in Kehjistan. "The helmet…"

"Yes… it's mine at last… I'm now complete."

She pressed against him, placing one hand on the breastplate. Her eyes seemed to implore. "Is this truly what you want, Norrec? After all we spoke of earlier, do you now really desire to wear the helmet, to give yourself up to Bartuc's ghost?"

"Give myself up? Woman, do you know who I am? I'm his own blood! Blood calls to blood, remember? In a way, I already am Bartuc; I just didn't know it! Who better to carry on? Who better to bear the title, the legacy?"

"Bartuc's shade himself?" she countered. "There will not be any more Norrec Vizharan, not in mind and soul… and if the armor has its way, I daresay that even in form you will begin to resemble your predecessor. It will be Bartuc who wears the suit. Bartuc who reclaims his role. Bartuc who slaughters more innocents, just as he-not you-slaughtered your friends …"

Friends… The horrific images of the mangled, bloodsoaked bodies of Sadun Tryst and Fauztin blossomed once more in Norrec's beleaguered mind. They had been brutally murdered and he had suffered terrible guilt for those murders for each waking moment since then. He recalled quite succinctly how the armor had slain each- and now Kara spoke of other deaths to come.

He lowered the helmet slightly, battling with himself. "No, I can't let that happen… I can't…"

His arms suddenly rose again, holding the helmet just above his head.

"No!" Norrec roared, his denial aimed now at the enchanted suit. "She's right, damn you! I won't be a part of your bloody campaign—"

But what foolishness… a voice so much like his own whispered in his mind. The power is yours… you can do with it what you wish… a world of order, where no kingdom wars, where no one is poor… that is the true legacy… that is all Bartuc sought…

It sounded so very good. Simply place the helmet on his head and Norrec would be able to change the world to what it should be. The demons would even serve him in this monumental task, their wills subservient to the power of the warlord. He would create a perfect realm, one that even Heaven would envy.

And all he had to do was put on the helmet, accept his destiny…

He suddenly felt Kara shift-

One hand slipped from the helmet, seizing the necromancer's own in an iron grip that made Kara gasp. From her own hand slipped a gleaming blade of what looked like bone or ivory.

She had been about to use it on him.

"Stupid female… " Norrec snapped, not noticing that his voice did not entirely sound as it should. He shoved her to the sand. "Stay put! I'll deal with you in a moment!"

Despite his warning, the dark mage tried to rise, but arms of sand arose from each side, pinning her to the ground. More sand flowed over her mouth, preventing her from casting any verbal spells.

Eyes bright in anticipation, Norrec took hold of the helmet again-and placed it on his head.

A world such as he had never known now lay open to him. He saw the might he wielded, the legions he could command. The destiny thwarted by his fellow Vizjerei could once more be attained.

The Warlord of Blood lived again.

But a warlord needed soldiers. Leaving Kara to struggle, Norrec climbed to the top of the dune and stared at Lut Gholein. With avid interest he watched the demonicwarriors tear at the walls and gates. The city could not be more than a few moments from bloody destruction. He would let his horde have their fun, let them race through Lut Gholein slaying every man, woman, and child-then reveal to them his return to the mortal plane.

He imagined the blood flowing everywhere, the blood of all those who feared and hated him. The blood of those who would perish at his command-

The dune exploded around him, a pair of dark forms leaping up out of the sand. Two strong sets of hands seized his arms, twisting him back.

"Hello… old friend…" a horrifyingly familiar voice whispered on one side of him. "It's been… a lifetime… since we last… saw you…"

The hold the armor had over Norrec shattered for the moment as recognition mixed with sudden terror. " SSadun?"

He turned in the direction of the voice-and stared close into the peeling, decaying visage of his dead companion.

"You haven't… forgotten us… how nice…" The ghoulish figure smiled, revealing the blackened gums and yellowed teeth.

Unable to flee, Norrec turned his head the other way- only to find Fauztin there. The murdered Vizjerei's collar had slipped, showing the tattered, crusted gap in his throat.

"No… no… no…"

They pulled him back down the dune, back toward where Kara still fought to free herself.

"We tried to… see you on… the ship… Norrec," Tryst went on. "But you certainly… didn't seem… so willing to see… us…"

Their eyes never blinked and the stench of death became apparent the longer they held him so near. Their very presence overwhelmed Norrec so much that eventhe armor could not demand control. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Sadun-Fauztin-I'm so sorry!"

"He's sorry… Fauztin," commented the wiry undead. "Did you know… that?"

Norrec glanced at the gaunt Vizjerei, who nodded solemnly.

"We accept… your apology… but… I'm afraid… we've no choice… with what we… now do… my friend…"

With remarkable speed and strength, Sadun Tryst tore the helmet from Norrec's head.

It felt as if the revenant had ripped the veteran's skull off as well, so great did the pain of separation feel. Now Norrec truly understood how Malevolyn had felt. He cried out, pulling at his captors with a fury even they grew hard-pressed to combat.

"Hold… him! Hold—"

Both gauntlets flared a furious crimson. Even caught up in the intense agony coursing through him, Norrec noted the gloves and feared… feared for his friends who had already died once because of his inability to do anything to stop the armor's damnable actions. That their troubled spirits had followed him, he understood completely. Such an injustice demanded retribution. Unfortunately, the armor had no intention of granting them that opportunity.

The area around Norrec exploded, sending the two undead hurtling away and ripping through the dune from which they had just descended. He stared in horror at the two bodies, fearing that once more they had perished.

"No! Not again! I won't let you do it again!" The veteran fighter seized one hand in the other and although both struggled, this time his determination proved too great even for Bartuc's legacy. Norrec tugged, using his own suffering to augment his strength…

The right gauntlet came free.

Without hesitation he threw it as far away as he could. Immediately the suit tried to turn that way, seek after its lost member, but Norrec would no longer be denied. He forced the armor a different direction, that of Lut Gholein, now visible through the collapsing gap in the dune.

How long he controlled the power and not the other way around, the soldier could not say. Norrec only knew that he had to try to make as much right as possible. So long as his outrage, his guilt, fueled his actions, he had the advantage-and Lut Gholein had little enough time.

He raised the free hand toward the distant city. The demons had at last torn their way past one of the gates. Norrec could hesitate no longer.

The words he spoke had never been taught to him. They had been Bartuc's words, Bartuc's magic. But Bartuc's memories-his ancestor's memories-had become just as much Norrec's by this point. He knew what they could do, knew what they had to do, and so he willingly spoke them even though that part of him still in thrall to the armor struggled to prevent it from happening.

Had he been witness to the wicked spellwork performed by Malevolyn and Xazax in the general's tent, Norrec might have noted that what he said almost sounded like Malevolyn's incantation, but chanted in reverse. As it was, he simply knew that if he did nothing, an entire city would become awash in the blood of its people.

And at the end of that incantation, the descendent of the Warlord of Blood shouted out two last words. "Mortias Diablum! Mortias Diablum!"

Within the gates of Lut Gholein, the defenders stood and fought, knowing already that they battled men without souls, men who were not men but something far more monstrous. Yet, the sultan's warriors braced themselves for death even as the citizens prepared to weather the dangerous storm waters and try to escape.

The captains of the ships had little hope, though, already one of their vessels swamped and another shattered against the side of the docks. The waves roared inland, making it dangerous even to stand near the water. Three men had already been washed off as they had tried to prepare the vessels for refugees.

But as all hope faded, a sight both unsettling and miraculous happened. Just within the city walls, the fiery-eyed soldiers in black stopped, turned their heads back in clear dismay-and then let loose with a chorus of unearthly, savage howls.

Then, from out of the backs of each erupted hideous, spectral forms with grotesque, inhuman faces and limbs twisted and clawed. Those who witnessed the event would later say they saw both rage and despair on those demonic faces just before the specters, screaming piteously, were cast out into Aranoch in a thousand different directions.

For a moment, the army of darkness stood at attention, weapons ready, suddenly empty eyes staring straight. Then, as if all within them had been drained away along with the phantoms, each of the monstrous soldiers began to collapse in on himself. One by one, then row by row, the invaders dropped-bones, faded flesh, and fragments of plate spilling into piles that left more than one of Lut Gholein's defenders unable to hold onto the contents of their own stomachs.

One of the commanders, the very one whom General Augustus Malevolyn had ordered to find Norrec Vizharan, became the first to mouth what everyone else thought. Stepping toward the nearest of the grisly sets of remains, the officer gingerly prodded it.

"They're dead…" he finally muttered, unable to believe he and the rest of his people would live after all. "They're dead… but how?"

"Norrec."

He turned to find Kara free, the gleaming ivory dagger ready in her hand. From his left and right came the two revenants, the determination of the dead forever tattooed on their expressions.

"Kara." He glanced at his former comrades. "Fauztin. Sadun."

"Norrec," continued the necromancer. "Please listen to me."

"No!" The mercenary instantly regretted his harsh tone. She only sought to do what even he knew had to be done. "No… listen to me instead. I–I've got some control over the armor now, but I can feel that already slipping away. I guess I'm just too exhausted to fight it much longer…"

"How could you even manage to fight it at all?"

"He is… Bartuc's progeny… after all," remarked Sadun. "Something that the… armor needed… in order to… fulfill its destiny… but that it… did not… understand worked… both ways. What other… answer?"

She lowered her gaze. Norrec could read the pain in them. Although a necromancer, the pale woman felt no pleasure or satisfaction in slaying one who had not chosen to cause such evil. Yet so long as he lived, all humanity lay threatened.

"You'd better do it quick. One swift thrust straight through the throat. It's the only way!"

"Norrec—"»

Hurry — before my mind changes!" He did not simply refer to any sudden reluctance on his part, and they all knew it. The risk remained that at any second the armormight transform him again into the ideal host for its insidious desires.

"Norrec—"

"Do it!"

"This is not… how it was… supposed to be…" rasped Tryst in open bitterness. "Fauztin! He swore… to us…"

The Vizjerei, of course, said nothing, instead moving toward Norrec. With great reluctance, Sadun slowly followed suit. Norrec swallowed, hoping the madness would end soon.

The hand still gloved suddenly rose.

Fauztin seized it in his own.

"Best do… as he says… necromancer…" a sullen Tryst murmured. "Looks like… we don't have… long…"

Kara came toward him, clearly steeling herself for what she had to do. "I'm sorry, Norrec. This is not how I would wish it, not as it should be…"

"Nor is it how it will be," a peculiar, almost hollow voice answered.

Horazon stood a short distance behind the necromancer, but Horazon with something different about him. The glimpse Norrec had earlier had of the ancient mage had made him think of Horazon as a cowardly looking hermit most likely bereft of most of his wits. However, this figure, while still clad in rags and with hair like uncut weeds, had a presence that made all else around him seem insignificant. Norrec had a suspicion now what had made Malevolyn look up at that most vital moment in the battle, for surely the ancient mage's appearance would have shocked the half-possessed general as well…

A massive, unexpected surge of bitterness and hatred welled up within the fighter, all aimed at his foul brother-

No! Horazon was not his brother! Once again the armor sought to reestablish its control, rekindle the insidious spirit of Bartuc. Norrec managed to fight the emotions down, but he knew that next time the suit would likely prevail.

The robed figure moved purposefully toward him and as he did, Norrec noticed a curious shimmer around him. The captive warrior squinted, trying to make out what caused it.

Horazon's entire body had been encased in a thin layer of glittering, almost transparent sand grains.

"Blood calls to blood," the Vizjerei murmured. His eyes stared brightly, never blinking. Even the two undead holding onto Norrec seemed taken aback by his presence. "And blood will end this travesty now."

Norrec could feel the will of the suit battering at his mind, struggling physically with his body. Only the combined efforts of he and his comrades kept it from succeeding for the moment.

"Horazon?" Kara whispered. The white-haired sorcerer glanced her way-and the woman stepped back. "No-you are him, but you also are not."

He gave her-gave all of them-a condescending smile. "This living shell is another's, a too-curious sorcerer who long ago found the Arcane Sanctuary by accident, but in the process lost his senses forever. I have watched over him ever since, feeling some responsibility…" Foregoing any further explanation as to what in the underground sanctum might have destroyed a mind so, the glittering figure glanced at his borrowed hands. "So fragile is flesh. More stable and lasting are earth and stone…"

"You!" Kara gaped, her eyes nearly as wide open as her mouth. "I know you at last! He talked to you, seemed to even obey you-the great Horazon seemed so willing to obey you-which made no sense until now! You are the presence I felt-the presence of the very sanctuary itself!" He nodded, his own eyes never blinking once. "Yes… over time it just seemed the natural path, the natural way of things…"

Still battling the insidious incursions of Bartuc's enchanted armor, it took Norrec a moment longer to understand-and when he did the answer so astounded him that he nearly dropped his defenses.

Horazon and the Arcane Sanctuary were one and the same.

"My own mind almost shattered by what I had been through, I came here to escape the memories, escape the horror, and so I built my sanctum and dwelled underneath the sand, away from the events of the world." A smile crossed the false Horazon's face, the sort of smile attempted by someone who had all but forgotten such minor mortal practices. "And as I kept remaking my domain over and over in my own image, it became more me than the faltering shell I wore-until at last, one day, I gave what remained within and took upon a new, stronger, and far more durable form… and so I have been ever since—"

Horazon might have gone on further, but at that moment, Norrec's world turned bloodred. He felt an allconsuming rage build. He would not be denied again! Horazon had escaped his wrath at Viz-jun, but even if he had to burn away the entire desert, the warlord would have his final vengeance!

Horazon's puppet looked his way again, holding out one hand as if asking something of the armored figure.

A gauntlet-the same one Norrec had earlier torn off and thrown away-materialized on the aged sorcerer's own hand.

"Blood calls to blood… and I am calling you, brother. Our war is over. Our time is over. We are over. Your power negates mine. Mine negates yours. Join me now where we both belong… far from the sight of men…"

The other gauntlet tore free from Norrec, flying over to the glittering figure's ungloved hand. Then, in rapid succession, each piece of armor from his legs, torso, and arms flew forth, the crimson suit quickly remaking itself bit by bit on the elder's body. Somewhere along the way, the torn, stained robe of the hermit vanished, replaced by other garments more suitable to the armor. Even the boots Bartuc had worn left Norrec to join the rest of the suit. The false Horazon raised his arms as his astonishing work went on, eyes never blinking, lips set grimly.

With each loss, Norrec's mind edged nearer to what it had more or less been like before the armor had claimed him. The memories and thoughts became wholly his own, not that of a murderous demon master. Yet, he could never be rid of the terrible days since the tomb, never be rid of the horrors and death of which he had played an unwilling but great part.

And when it was done, the white-haired figure stretched out a gauntleted hand again, summoning the helmet. Placing that in the crook of one arm, Horazon's puppet looked over Norrec and the others.

"It is time for the world to forget Bartuc and Horazon. You would do well to do the same, all of you."

"Wait!" Kara dared approach the enigmatic form. "One question. Please tell me-did you send this one," she indicated Horazon's host. "To find me in Lut Gholein?"

"Yes… I sensed something amiss and knew that a necromancer so near-a necromancer who should not be in the city above-had to be involved. I needed you closer so that I could discover why. As you slept, as you ate, I learned what I needed to know from you." He stepped back from her, from all of them. "Our conversation is at an end. I leave you on your own now. Remember this, though; the Arcane Sanctuary exists in many places, has many doorways-but I advise you now to never seek it again."

His darkening tone left them with no doubt as to what he meant by the last. Horazon had no desire to be a part of the living world again. Those who would disturb him would risk much.

He suddenly seemed to lose form and substance, bits of him crumbling away as if even flesh and metal had become grains of sand. With each second, the armored mage looked less like anything mortal and more a very part of the landscape.

"Norrec Vizharan," Horazon called in that odd, echoing voice. "It is time to create your own legacy…"

Clad in the same garments he had worn upon entering Bartuc's tomb-even his own boots having somehow been returned to him by the astounding sorcerer-Norrec pulled free from the revenants and started forward. "Wait! What do you mean by that?"

But Horazon's host, now a man completely of sand, only shook his head. Of all of him, only the eyes remained somewhat human. Even as Norrec neared, the figure shrank, his sandy form melting into the dunes around. By the time the veteran fighter reached the area it was already too late… only a small lump of loose grains remained to mark Horazon's past presence.

Seconds later, even that no longer existed.

"It's over," Kara quietly remarked.

"Yes… it is," agreed Sadun Tryst.

Something in his tone made Norrec now turn to the two ghouls. Both undead had a peculiar look in their eye, as if they waited for something else to happen.

The necromancer guessed first. "Your quest is over, is it not? Just as with Horazon, your time in this world is at an end."

Fauztin nodded. Sadun gave what seemed a sad grin-or perhaps his failing flesh and muscle simply made it seem so. "He came… when he felt… the armor stir… but too late… so he granted us… this chase…but with… the promise that… when it finished… so would we."

" He? " Norrec asked, joining Kara.

"But it was my spell and my dagger that brought you back!"

"His trickery… to throw you… off…" The smaller of the undead looked around. "Sanctimonious… bastard… can't even show up… now that it's… over…"

However, as he finished, a brilliant blue light suddenly shone down on the four, turning their small patch of desert as bright as, if not brighter than, a cloudless day at noontime.

Sadun Tryst would have spat in disgust, if such a simple feat had been within his ability any more. Instead, he shook his head-or rather, let it rock back and forth once-then added, "Should've known… better… damned strutting… angel!"

Angel? Norrec looked up in the direction of the light, but found no source for it, much less an angel. Still, what else could explain so much?

The ghoul glared at it. "At least… show yourself…" When nothing happened, he glanced at Norrec and added, "Typical. Just like… his kind… hiding in the… shadows… pretending they're… above it all… but putting their hands… in everything."

"I know this light," Kara muttered. "I caught a glimpse of it in the tomb. It's what drew me away from your bodies."

"He likes… his tricks… the archangel does." Tryst eyed Fauztin, who nodded again. To the two living members, the wiry revenant continued, "And for his… last one—"

"Damn you, Sadun, no!" Norrec scowled at the heavens, scowled at the unseen archangel. "It's not fair! They had no choice in the matter—"

"Please… it's… time… and we… want it so… Norrec…"

"You can't mean it!"

Sadun chuckled, a harsh sound. "I swear it… on my… life, friend…"

The blue light focused suddenly on the revenants, bathing them in such brilliance that Norrec had to shield his eyes. Fauztin and the smaller ghoul became harder and harder to see.

"Time to… buy that… farm… you always wanted… Norrec…"

The light flared then, becoming so intense that it momentarily blinded the veteran and his companion. Fortunately for both, the burst lasted only a few seconds, but even with that, by the time their eyes recovered, it was to find that not only had the heavenly illumination completely faded away-but with it had gone the two undead.

Norrec stared at the spot, at first unable to speak.

A hand touched his own. Kara Nightshadow gave him a look of sympathy. "They have moved on to the next step in the eternal journey, on to their next role in helping to maintain the balance of the world."

"Maybe…" Wherever they had gone, Norrec knew that he could be of no aid to them. The best he could do was keep their memories alive in him-and do something with his own life in honor of the friendship the three had built. He glanced up again, noticed for the first time that the ever-present storm clouds had finally quieted. In fact, they had already begun to dwindle to the point where patches of clear sky could be made out.

"What will you do now?" the necromancer asked him.

"I don't know." He glanced in the direction of Lut Gholein, the only sign of civilization for days. "Go there first, I suppose. See if they need any help cleaning up. After that… I just don't know. What about you?"

She, too, looked to the far-off city, giving him a chance to study her profile. "Lut Gholein makes sense also.Besides, I wish to discover whether Captain Jeronnan and the King's Shield are there. I owe him a debt. He treated me well, as if I were his own daughter-and he probably fears I drowned at sea."

Having no desire to part from her company just yet, Norrec responded, "I'll come with you, then, if you don't mind."

That brought an unexpected smile from Kara. Norrec liked it when the dark-haired woman smiled. "Not at all."

Recalling the ways of the many nobles he had served, Norrec offered her his arm, which, after a moment's hesitation, the necromancer took. Then, together, the weary pair made their way through what remained of the ruined dune and headed back toward civilization. Neither looked behind them to where the head and body of General Augustus Malevolyn already lay half-covered by the drifting sand, where Horazon and the armor had faded into the desert itself. The weary, battered soldier especially had no desire to be reminded of what had happened-and what could have happened if matters had taken a turn to the dark.

The legacy of Bartuc, the legacy of the Warlord of Blood, had been buried once again from the sight and knowledge of all… this time hopefully forever.