XXXII
"Guess I should have seen that coming, anyway."
It was getting close to dawn as Snowhammer paced his small room at the Desert Rain, still guarding the Horadric Cube in case the demons of the desert tried once again to steal the artifact. He had been awake the entire night, almost praying for another attempt on the ancient item so that he could vent his frustrations, but the failed attack on Xaviar seemed to be the extent of the Horrors' ambition. Wyszemir had assured the barbarian that he would take over sentry duty as soon as the north man was tired, but for now Snowhammer had no interest in sleeping. He had suspected it for some time, but seeing Tara's blatant attempt at catching Xaviar's attention the previous night had simply been too painful to allow him any true rest. With a muttered curse the north man turned back to the cube sitting silently on his bed.
"It doesn't matter, anyway," Snowhammer told the artifact, trying to convince himself. "I hope they're happy together."
"You don't really mean that," came an unexpected reply. Snowhammer backed away from the cube for a step before he realized that the voice had come from behind him, at the window. Quickly the barbarian turned, grabbing his maul to meet the new threat. Sitting in the window, Ishmael grinned as he turned to the barbarian. "To think that a self righteous, uncompromising paladin should deserve one as fair as Tara."
"What are you doing here?" Snowhammer demanded, raising his maul in preparation to strike. Ishmael chuckled slightly as he drew his pipe from his robes. "Who are you?"
"Call me-"
"Ishmael," Snowhammer interrupted. "I know your name. That's not what I asked."
"I am your friend, Snowhammer," Ishmael replied, knocking his pipe out against the outside wall of the inn. "I hate to see you like this, torn apart by a girl's fickle whims. It's doubly sad to think that, once she has outgrown her childish desire for the knight in shining armor, that she will have already lost you to the northern steppes."
"She wants him, not me," Snowhammer said, trying to force a tone of finality to his statement. "That's all there is to it. No more games."
"Games," Ishmael repeated with a broad grin. "Don't you see? Games are what this is all about, Snowhammer! Do you think Xaviar truly wants her, for any reason other than to spite you? But I have a thought for you, a game you could play in return."
"I don't want to play any of your games," Snowhammer declared. Ishmael chuckled despite his attempts to contain his mirth.
"It is a simple game," the stranger said, repacking his pipe. "Why do you suppose Xaviar won her in the first place?"
"I don't know," Snowhammer said. Ishmael nodded sagely.
"Xaviar won her because he knew your game," the stranger explained. "He saw your desire for her when you first found her. Once he saw that, he played the part of the aloof yet caring paladin, undermining your true feelings for her from the day your party set out from your ruined caravan. She loved that from him, Snowhammer. He showed care only when he needed to, and she desired him because he seemed unreachable, unobtainable."
"That is his way," Snowhammer said. Ishmael laughed again, nearly losing his balance but catching himself before he could fall out of the window.
"That is his game!" the stranger countered merrily. Then he grew serious. "But I can undo his game, Snowhammer. I can make Tara see you as you see her. She would be yours, and it would not even cost you your so called friendship with the paladin."
"How?" Snowhammer asked warily. Ishmael smiled as he hopped out of the window and into the room. His pipe, and indeed his whole face, vanished for a moment behind a cloud of black fabric as his cloak whirled around him, but when he came back into view Ishmael had lit his pipe and taken a long puff of smoke. Snowhammer backed away and hefted his maul once more, vaguely remembering the bizarre affects of Ishmael's tobacco smoke. The stranger eyed him curiously, as if he was surprised at such a defensive move.
"When we last met, you had imbibed far too much ale," the stranger said. "That is why the tobacco stung you so badly. This is a potent mix from the deep desert. Would you care to share some?"
"No, thank you," Snowhammer replied. Ishmael shrugged, taking a long moment to savor the smoke. "How would you make her love me?" Snowhammer finally prompted, growing frustrated with the stranger.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, Tara," Ishmael said. "Let us say that the methods… do not concern you."
"And why would you do this for me?" Snowhammer asked. Ishmael smiled innocently.
"I ask a mere trifle," the stranger said, his gaze turning meaningfully to the Horadric Cube. "You see, I am a collector of antiquities. That cube would go nicely in my collection."
"We… need that," Snowhammer said. "Perhaps I can give it to you tomorrow, or when we're done with it."
"Ah, that is a problem," Ishmael said. "For I must leave before the sun crests the ocean. I am a busy man, Snowhammer, but if you could see fit to give me the cube now, I would gladly take time to… show Tara the error she is making."
"You… can't have it," Snowhammer said, fighting off the urge to give Ishmael the cube. Was it such a terrible price? Even if they could not recreate the staff, surely his maul could break through any wall in a desert tomb…
"You will lose her if you don't act now, Snowhammer," Ishmael said. Snowhammer knew he was right. Maybe, if he acted quickly, he could still regain Tara from the paladin. "You don't need the staff," Ishmael continued. "It is just a formality. You can break down any wall."
"Get away from me!" Snowhammer shouted suddenly, breaking the stranger's spell. The barbarian launched a vicious swing of his maul, but by the time it connected with Ishmael he had already vanished into a puff of pungent smoke.
It was no real surprise to Xaviar as he descended the stairs to the tavern room that he was the first person awake. The paladin had managed precious little sleep through the night, and had risen with the first gray lights of morning. Although he already wore his splint mail and carried his weapons and shield with him, the paladin moved silently into the tavern room, not wishing to upset the quiet of the early morning. Despite his care, Elzix appeared at the bar before Xaviar could even take a seat at one of the tables, smiling as he came out into the tavern room.
"It's an early morning for you, paladin," the former bandit said. "What can I get you?"
"Some of that coffee you serve," Xaviar replied quietly. "And some breakfast."
"Of course," Elzix said, nodding and disappearing into the kitchen. Xaviar watched the door for a moment, then looked back up to the second floor. None of his companions had come down yet, something the paladin was momentarily thankful for. It gave him a last few moments to think about the previous night's events.
It had never occurred to Xaviar before the failed attempt to steal the Horadric Cube that Tara viewed him as anything more than a competent commander or a friend. Indeed, for over two years Xaviar had not even considered the thought that Tara, or any other woman for that matter, could develop feelings for him. Ever since he had left the northlands on his return to Kurast, Xaviar had forced himself to think tactically and objectively, growing lean on feelings of his own as he fought his way through demons of almost every description. Constant delays on the road to Kurast frustrated him to no end, diverting his attention from the people around him to focus on overcoming each of the myriad obstacles in his path.
Tara's appearance the previous night, however, forced Xaviar to look at her in a different light. The sorceress was young, likely a decade younger than the crusader, but her innocence and her youthful energy were a joy to be around. With time to consider the matter, Xaviar had to admit that the girl was extremely attractive, and her sparkling blue eyes were a trait that the paladin suddenly found himself admiring. Indeed, if Xaviar had allowed himself time to consider it in the desert, he may have found himself feeling much the way Snowhammer did about the girl. And, of course, Snowhammer's obvious feelings for the girl made his situation even more tenuous. He had no desire to hurt the north man, but the paladin had the feeling that he would if he even considered a relationship with Tara.
Elzix cleared his throat suddenly. Xaviar looked up with a start, surprised that the innkeeper had gotten to his table without the paladin even noticing him, but Xaviar forced himself to relax as Elzix placed a cup of coffee and a plate of warm bread on the table.
"I hope I didn't disturb you," the one time bandit said with a smile. "Compliments of the house, paladin."
"Thank you," Xaviar said. Elzix nodded and started back to the bar, but paused and looked to the steps. Tara hesitated for a moment on the last stair to the tavern room, her eyes on Xaviar.
"Good morning, young mistress," Elzix said cheerily. "Can I get you something for breakfast as well?"
"I… um, I'm not really hungry, right now," Tara answered. Elzix nodded once more and started back into the kitchen. Tara delayed for another second before smoothing out her simple gray dress and cautiously approaching Xaviar's table. "Good morning," she said quietly. She glanced at the paladin's armor and weapons for a moment. "Um, could… could I sit?"
"Of course," Xaviar said, standing and pulling out the seat next to him for her. Tara slid into the chair quickly, and Xaviar returned to his seat. For a long moment the two sat in an awkward silence, Tara's eyes darting all around them as she tried to gather her wits.
"Xaviar, I… I don't know what got into me last night," the sorceress finally began, finally turning to the paladin. "I… um, what I mean, is…" Tara faltered, looking down at the table. "I shouldn't have done that." She laughed nervously. "I even ruined Stasya's dress on her."
"I'm certain Stasya won't mind," Xaviar said. He paused momentarily before continuing. "It fit you quite well."
Tara's eyes shot back up to the paladin.
"You mean it?" she asked quietly. Xaviar nodded. "I… I just wish it was blue," the sorceress said, sounding both hesitant and hopeful. "I… I've been told I look better in blue. Maybe I could find one here, and… once this is over, um, we could celebrate?"
Xaviar shook his head as his gaze lowered to the table.
"Tara, even after we have found Tal Rasha's Tomb and stopped the Dark Wanderer, it is not over for me," the paladin explained. "I still must return to Kurast, where the Lord of Hatred threatens to overwhelm the land with the jungle and hordes of demons. I have lost so much time already that I cannot delay even a day after our quest here is finished."
"I'll come with you," Tara offered without any hesitation. Xaviar shook his head.
"I can't ask that of you," the paladin said, his eyes dropping once more. "You have suffered too much already at the hands of the Three. I don't want to see you hurt again."
"It would hurt me if you left me behind," Tara said, moving closer to the crusader. "I don't want to be without you. I don't think I really realized it until last night, but… I love you, Xaviar."
Xaviar considered her statement for a long moment, staring down at the table while Tara seemed to edge slightly closer. Finally, the paladin looked back to her, for a moment nearly losing himself in her deep blue eyes.
"I…" Xaviar faltered, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her and allow the rest of the world to fall away, at least for the moment, but his duty to Kurast, to all of Sanctuary, forced him to stay his hand. "Tara, I want nothing more than to be able to return your affections," the paladin said. "But I cannot rest yet. At least not until our work here is done."
"I… understand," Tara said, almost whispering. Her voice cracked slightly as she continued. "Perhaps… perhaps after we have found Tal Rasha's Tomb…"
"Perhaps," Xaviar agreed quietly, forcing out a weak smile. "In another time, another place…"
"I know," Tara said, blinking back tears. She stood slowly, pausing for a moment, then kissed Xaviar. Finally she pulled away, trailing one delicate hand along his cheek. "I have to go to Drognan," she explained. "I… hope to see you soon."
Tara turned and hurried out of the tavern. Xaviar watched the door for a long moment, then turned to the untouched food before him. Finally the paladin stood, no longer hungry, and started back up to the second floor to retrieve the Horadric Cube and the pieces of the Horadric Staff.
He just caught sight of Xaviar leaving Snowhammer's room as he shut his own door behind him, but speaking with the paladin was hardly something he wished to attempt before breakfast.
Wyszemir clasped his hands behind his back and started down to the tavern room of the Desert Rain slowly, willing to give Xaviar enough time to clear the inn before he showed himself on the first floor. Although the events of the previous night had certainly added a new twist to the relationships that had finally strengthened over the last several days, Wyszemir was willing to try a cup of Elzix' coffee before investigating just how much had changed with Tara's little display. If nothing else, the fact that Xaviar had left Snowhammer's room with the Horadric Cube and without any injuries told the necromancer that the two were still on speaking terms.
Wyszemir reached the tavern room without seeing any of his other companions, easily sliding into the chair that Xaviar must have abandoned, considering the half drunk cup of coffee and the untouched bread sitting on the table. Elzix himself appeared at the bar almost immediately, smiling as he returned to the table.
"Good morning, sir," the innkeeper said, taking Xaviar's cup away. "Can I get you something?"
"Some coffee," the necromancer replied. "I suppose this bread will make a good beginning to my morning."
"Yes," Elzix agreed. "I guess the paladin wasn't hungry?"
"He is under some amount of stress," Wyszemir answered with an amused smile. Elzix chuckled slightly at the remark as he started back to the bar. Wyszemir turned back to the bread, picking up a piece and taking a tiny bite as he heard movement on the steps. The necromancer did not even bother to turn to the heavy footfalls, merely smiling as Snowhammer sank into the chair opposite him. "Good morning, north man," the death mage said lightly. "Care for some bread? It is quite good, I assure you."
"No, thank you," Snowhammer said sullenly, his eyes on the table in front of him.
"Suit yourself," Wyszemir said, taking another bite of his bread. Snowhammer sat in silence until Elzix returned with Wysemir's coffee, placing the cup in front of the necromancer and turning to the north man.
"Nothing for me," Snowhammer stated before the innkeeper could even ask. Elzix nodded and disappeared into the back of the bar, leaving the two men alone. Snowhammer looked at the death mage for a moment, then turned to the door. "Xaviar left already?"
"He did," Wyszemir answered. "I suppose he wanted his staff ready as soon as Drognan uncovered Tal Rasha's Tomb."
"It'll be good to get this over with," Snowhammer decided, his eyes dropping to the table again. Wyszemir took a sip of his piping hot coffee as he regarded the north man.
"I would have taken the Cube last night, and let you get some sleep," the death mage finally said, setting his cup down gently on the table. Snowhammer shrugged without looking to his companion.
"I wasn't tired," the barbarian replied. Wyszemir chuckled faintly at the statement.
"Yes, the… events of the previous night were very stimulating," Wyszemir said, grinning slightly. Snowhammer cast an angry glare at the necromancer. "I myself was rather surprised by all the happenings."
"Shut up," Snowhammer grumbled. Wyszemir chuckled again.
"She is not the only one in the world," the death mage pointed out in a faintly amused tone. Snowhammer scowled at the remark. "Perhaps there is a dusky hued maiden waiting in this very city to take the place of that insecure, uncertain girl you have been so infatuated with."
"How about you not try to cheer me," Snowhammer growled, glaring across the table. Wyszemir smirked at the north man.
"As you wish," the necromancer said. "Be that as it may, however, will you continue with us to the tomb? Or has your motivation… gone elsewhere?"
"I said I would help destroy Diablo," Snowhammer said. "To turn back on that now would bring dishonor to my clan."
Wyszemir nodded at the statement.
"Then put her and her flighty desires behind you," the necromancer stated, growing serious. "There will be hard battles ahead. Your mind must be on the present, for I will not die because you are too busy trying to impress her."
"You have nothing to worry about," Snowhammer stated coldly. Without another word the barbarian stood and stalked out of the tavern. Wyszemir watched the doorway for a long moment before taking another sip of his coffee.
"I have nothing to worry about," the death mage said quietly. "I wonder if Xaviar could say the same thing."
"Excellent! You have the Horadric Cube!"
"Yes," Xaviar said, holding the etched golden box out for Deckard Cain. The old sage took the cube, turning it over in his hands as he examined the artifact. "I hope you know how to use it. We don't even know how to open it."
"Fortunately, your ally Stasya stumbled upon the very scrolls that contained the Cube's lore," Deckard Cain said, turning a smile to the paladin. "The Light has certainly touched you and your allies, Xaviar. But we must hurry, for Diablo is also searching for his brother's tomb. Have you brought the Staff of Kings and the Viper Amulet?"
"I have," Xaviar replied, taking the items from his pack. Deckard Cain took the short, gnarled Staff of Kings first, setting the cube on the sandy cobbles of the market and holding the staff directly above it. With a faint effort the old sage simply pushed the staff directly into the cube. As Xaviar watched in surprise, the old sage took the Viper Amulet next, holding its snakelike pendant just above the cube before plunging his hand into the etched gold. As Cain removed his hand from the cube, Xaviar turned to him. "Is that all?" the paladin asked.
"I believe it will take a moment to reform," Deckard Cain answered. The old sage knelt next to the box, feeling along its sides for a moment, before closing his eyes and concentrating on something. "Yes, I believe it should be reformed now," Cain decided, standing up and gesturing to Xaviar. Hesitantly, the paladin dropped to one knee and put his gauntleted hand over the top of the cube. With an encouraging nod from the old sage, Xaviar closed his eyes and reached directly through the golden top of the cube, meeting almost no resistance as his fingers searched through a far larger space than the box seemed capable of holding. Finally, with his arm inside the small box past his elbow, the crusader found a smooth shaft, and carefully pulled the staff out of the cube.
The Horadric Staff looked nothing like its components as Xaviar withdrew the item. Where the Staff of Kings had been gnarled and barely longer than three feet, the Horadric Staff was at least twice as long, its entire shaft a single, smooth length of ebony wood. The snakelike Viper Amulet had also transformed into a medallion of white gold, set in its center with a small, flawless diamond. As Xaviar examined the newly recreated artifact in wonder, Cain smiled faintly.
"It has been some time since a Horadric Staff has seen the light of day," the old sage said. "Now we must find Tal Rasha's Tomb."
"I'll see Drognan immediately," Xaviar said, regaining his composure. The paladin turned to start into the city to find Drognan's shop, but was stopped immediately as Tara practically ran into him.
"Xaviar!" she exclaimed, skidding to a halt. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she wrapped the paladin in a tight embrace. "I think we found it!"
"Found it?" Xaviar repeated as he separated from the sorceress. "You found Tal Rasha's Tomb?"
"I think so!" Tara replied, taking Xaviar's hand and practically dragging him away from the market. "Come on, the others are already on their way to Drognan's!"
Still holding onto the Horadric Staff, Xaviar let Tara lead him through the city streets, finding himself in front of the old wizard's shop in surprisingly little time. Tara pushed through the door eagerly, pulling Xaviar along behind her in her haste. Xaviar's eyes took a moment to adjust to the relative gloom of the interior, but even as his sight recovered Tara let go of his hand and took an unconscious step away from him. The others had arrived at the shop beforehand; Wyszemir looked up from a shelf that contained a handful of wands, while Stasya hopped down from the counter where she was sitting. Snowhammer, on the far side of the small shop, simply looked away from the pair as they entered. Xaviar took a half step away from the young sorceress, hoping not to make the situation any worse.
"Thank you for waiting," Drognan said, appearing almost on cue from a door behind the counter. "Ah, and Tara has found Xaviar, as well. Very good."
"You know where Tal Rasha's Tomb is?" Xaviar asked, turning immediately to the wizard.
"As you know, I've been researching the old records, with Tara's assistance, to find the answer to that question," Drognan explained. "Though I haven't found the tomb itself, I may have a good lead for you. Several of my records were destroyed in the assassin's attack, but thanks to Stasya and Tara, I and my tomes were saved from total destruction."
Xaviar, Snowhammer, and Wyszemir all glanced to Stasya.
"A good lead?" the assassin repeated, shifting uncomfortably under the others' gaze. Tara's fading scars and Stasya's sudden change now made much more sense to the paladin. "That's the best you can do?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Drognan answered. "The great Vizjerai summoner, Horazon, built his Arcane Sanctuary somewhere around here. He was a powerful spellcaster, and kept demons as slaves within the sanctuary. He kept a close eye on events, too, such as the imprisonment of Baal in Tal Rasha's Tomb. If you could find Horazon's sanctuary, I am sure that it would hold some sort clue as to the Tomb's location. But be wary, for while Horazon is long gone, three is no telling what may still inhabit his ancient retreat."
"That's great," Snowhammer said. "We have a clue to find a clue."
"It's more than we had before," Xaviar said, trying to hide his own frustration at the news. Another day, another battle, while the Dark Wanderer increased his lead and Kurast fell more and more to Mephisto. "Do you know exactly where the Arcane Sanctuary is?"
"When I spoke with Lord Jerhyn about this matter, he asked that I send you to him at his palace as soon as I could," Drognan said in reply. "I have a feeling he knows of a secret entrance or the like. I suggest you go now, for every moment we delay brings the Dark Wanderer closer to his goal."
"Then we have no time to lose," Xaviar decided. He looked to the others. "Unless anyone needs to get anything, we'll head to the palace immediately."
XXXIII
The noonday sun glittered off of the towering minarets of Lord Jerhyn's palace, but the elegant spires and the beautifully carved stone pillars that flanked the wide, arched gate were of little concern to Wyszemir as he and his companions reached the front gates of the citadel. The necromancer's gaze instead focused on the men of Lut Gholein's true watch. Greiz' mercenaries wore a motley collection of armor and clothing, their only constants being the red sash and turban that denoted them as members of the mercenary unit. These men wore impeccably polished, shining chain mail and carried heavy spears or scimitars, their armor and pointed helms wrapped in royal blue turbans and sashes. Their weapons were as well kept as their spotless armor, their blades sharp and glittering in the desert sun. But despite their well maintained equipment, Wyszemir could see exhaustion in their eyes and on their haggard features. The six men guarding the palace gate looked as though they had been through many days and nights of trying battles, but there should have been little to fight off rather than boredom, or perhaps an overeager harem girl. As the death mage slowed to ponder this oddity, Xaviar strode up the wide steps of the palace. Immediately two guards blocked his path, crossing their spears in front of him.
"You may not pass," the older of the two guards said, a grim set to his dark, bearded face.
"We are here to see Lord Jerhyn, who sent for us from the sage Drognan," the crusader stated. "I am Xaviar, Paladin of Zakarum."
"I thank you for coming so quickly," another man said, appearing at the palace gate. Dressed in flowing, pure white robes and a royal blue vest trimmed in gold, Wyszemir could only assume that this newcomer was Lord Jerhyn himself. The ruler of Lut Gholein was certainly younger than the necromancer had expected; Jerhyn could barely be into his third decade, wit sharp brown eyes and jet colored hair that was largely covered by the gold and white turban he wore. "I am Jerhyn, Lord of Lut Gholein," the newcomer said. "I thank you for coming so quickly."
"Drognan said you wished to speak to us on a matter of importance," Xaviar said. Jerhyn nodded.
"Indeed," the noble affirmed. "Please, follow me."
Jerhyn turned and started back into the palace. Xaviar cast a glance over his shoulder, but then began after the lord. Wyszemir allowed the others ahead of him, and as the necromancer passed the two guards that had stopped Xaviar, he slowed and smiled to the man that had spoken.
"Stay out of trouble," the sentry advised.
"Ah, if only it were so easy," Wyszemir mused, a smirk on his face. The guard scowled at him, but said nothing more as the necromancer passed him and followed his companions inside the bright corridor. Sun shone in from windows high on the walls, while the sandstone walls of the palace were decorated with simple, yet elegant tapestries of blue and gold.
"When the troubles began here, I allowed the terrified Harem Guilds to join me in the safety of the palace," Jerhyn said as Wyszemir caught up to the group. In front of the noble, a winding stairwell led down into the lower levels of the palace, watched over by another pair of guards. Little could be seen past the first few steps, as the light itself seemed to be absorbed by the darkness. "All was fine, until one night, screams echoed up the stairwells from the harems. My guards arrived to find the poor girls being slaughtered by a merciless band of hell spawned demons. Although they have fought bravely, my guardsmen have been unable to push the demons back into the mysterious rift in the lowest levels of the palace cellar."
"This rift," Wyszemir said thoughtfully, "where does it lead to?"
"We don't know," Jerhyn replied. "Ever since that night, my guards have been fighting a losing battle against the demons. Ultimately, I was forced to hire Greiz and his mercenaries to help protect the city, while my men try to stem the tide of demons from below. But Drognan believes that the Arcane Sanctuary lies buried beneath the palace, since Lut Gholein occupies the site of an ancient Vizjerai fortress. I do not know if the rift is indeed the entrance to that place, or if you can even reach it, but my palace is open to you."
"Of course," Stasya muttered. "Where else would the entrance to the Arcane Sanctuary be?"
"Drognan seems confident enough," Xaviar pointed out.
"The ancient Vizjerai did enslave many demons," Wyszemir observed. "Perhaps Horazon's prisoners have finally been able to find a way out of their prison."
"We have no other leads," Snowhammer said. "What else do we have to lose?"
"Besides our lives? Nothing at all," Stasya answered sarcastically. Snowhammer shot a cold glare at the assassin, but seemed reluctant to directly challenge her in light of Tara's newfound bond with Stasya.
"We won't know if it's the right place until we find it," Xaviar said, drawing his scepter. "And we're running out of time, if we want to find the Dark Wanderer and stop him."
"The first level of the harem is typically unoccupied," Jerhyn said. "My guards have been able to hold the demons at the stairwells, for the time being. Beyond that, I cannot tell you what to expect."
"We've faced enough unknown horrors in the desert," Snowhammer said, shouldering his maul. "We'll find our way through."
"Take care," Jerhyn said. Xaviar gave the lord a reassuring smile, then carefully made his way into the darkness.
"How I let myself get talked into things like this."
"You can go back, if you like," Snowhammer said, turning back to Stasya. The assassin was barely visible in the gloom of the palace harem; no light penetrated the darkness, and what few torches remained had nearly burned down to the sconces that held them. Stasya, for her part, shot the north man a notably false smile.
"It looks like Jerhyn was right," Xaviar said, making his way through the dim harem. The ornate blue and whiter marble floor was obscured by a number of large, lavish pillows and wide beds covered in silken sheets, marred only occasionally by a trace of blood. Tara remained close to Xaviar as the paladin made his way slowly through the opulent rooms, while Wyszemir seemed almost disinterested with the situation. "Let's find our way down into the cellar, and see if we can locate the rift."
"Would that we arrived before the demons did," Wyszemir said lightly, idling examining a pillow on the ground before him. "If only we had not tarried so long in the desert."
"Are you sure you'd know what to do in a place like this?" Stasya inquired as she passed the necromancer. Wyszemir smiled faintly.
"I think I could have puzzled it out," he said. Stasya rolled her eyes. Snowhammer ignored the pair as he moved into a side chamber, and found himself looking at a large staircase that led even further beneath the palace.
"I found the stairs," the north man called out. Xaviar and Tara joined him a moment later, followed quickly by Wyszemir and Stasya. "Looks like there's no light down there at all."
"Here," Stasya said, handing her glowing jewel over to Snowhammer. "I may as well lead, since the rest of you would just stumble into a trap."
"All right," Xaviar said. "Just be careful."
Stasya allowed herself a derisive smile at Xaviar's concern, then carefully began down the stairs. Snowhammer hefted his maul and followed after a short moment, keeping the assassin's jewel in his free hand as he descended into the second level of the harem.
In the light of the jewel, the barbarian could easily see the slaughter that had taken place. Directly in front of the steps, a palace guard had been impaled on his own spear and propped up as an apparent warning to the soldiers above not to enter the cellar. Bloodstains covered the marble floors, while what furniture remained had been soaked in blood or torn to shreds. Slowly Snowhammer moved forward, trying to locate Stasya in the darkness as the others descended.
"By the Light," Tara whispered, staying close to Xaviar's side.
"Quite a mess they made," Wyszemir noted, unfazed by the carnage around him.
"Let's keep moving," Xaviar said, starting past the impaled guard. Stasya seemed to simply appear from the darkness in front of him.
"Skeletons ahead and to our left," the assassin reported. "Their bones are so dark that they blend into the shadows."
"Horrors," Wyszemir concluded. "More of your friends from the Desert Rain, Xaviar."
"Can we get past them?" Xaviar asked, trying to see into the darkness.
"Possibly, if we go to the right," Stasya answered, pointing to the dim outline of a door only a few yards away.
Three arrows suddenly slammed into the assassin, spinning her around and knocking her to the ground.
"Cover!" Xaviar ordered, raising his crown shield as more arrows shot out of the darkness. The paladin dropped low as he moved in front of Stasya, catching one of the shafts in his arm but managing to deflect most of the barrage. Tara threw off a quick volley of ice blasts, but suddenly a wall of bone appeared between the small group and their unseen attackers.
"Stasya, are you all right?" Xaviar asked, glancing over his shoulder. From the other side of the wall, a mighty bellow echoed through the harem, followed quickly by the sound of bones breaking under tremendous impacts. Stasya lifted herself to her knees weakly, trying to gauge her injuries. Two arrows had simply skimmed her, but the third had found an opening in her armor and embedded itself in her side.
"I'll live," the assassin said quietly.
"We should make haste," Wyszemir said, glancing back to his allies. "The wall will not hold for much longer."
"Then let's move," Xaviar directed, helping Stasya to her feet. "Snowhammer, take the lead. And be careful, we don't know how many more of those archers are down here."
"You got it," Snowhammer said, relieved to finally be back in combat. Finally, he would be able to vent his frustrations, to channel his anger into something useful…
Two skeletons, their hands wreathed in frost and ice, greeted him as Snowhammer barreled through the door Stasya had indicated. The Horrors raised their hands to cast, but Snowhammer bellowed out a war cry as he surged forward, shattering the first mage's rib cage with a powerful swipe of his maul. Bone chilling cold washed across the north man's scale mail as he whirled his maul on the second skeleton, smashing its shoulders and skull to powder before its remains even hit the floor.
A half dozen arrows thudded into the walls and bounced off of Snowhammer's armor. The barbarian could see a dozen skeletal archers or more ahead of him, drawing their bows to loose another volley. The north man raced forward for all he was worth, trying to reach the Horror archers before they could fire again, but even as he neared them he could tell he would never be in time.
A sudden flurry of bone spears exploded past him, slamming through two skeletons at a time in places. The shattered remains of the Horrors seemed to reanimate as quickly as they fell, rising again as skeletal mages that turned on their brethren. As the two skeleton forces battled each other, Snowhammer turned back to see Wyszemir stroll into the room casually, his yew wand even tucked into his sash.
"I thought you might appreciate the aid," the necromancer said with a faint smirk. "Big hammers seem to offer little protection from arrows and the like."
"I would have managed, but thanks for the help," Snowhammer said.
"Of course," Wyszemir said, a not of sarcasm seeping into his words and the smirk on his face. Behind him, Tara helped Stasya through the doorway as the assassin recovered from the initial attack. They had barely cleared the door when Xaviar crashed into the frame, holding his shield defensively in front of him as a menacing snarl rumbled out of an unseen attacker.
"Keep moving!" Xaviar ordered, backing through the door as another pair of arrows ricocheted off his shield. A giant demon shoved its way through the door a moment later, raising its bronze studded club over its head and scraping the ceiling with its weapon.
"Didn't we leave these guys behind in the desert?" Snowhammer asked, recognizing the Blunderbore as it barged into the room. Wyszemir cast quickly, throwing off a curse on the demon even as Xaviar sidestepped its powerful swing and slammed his scepter down on its head.
"Let's not stick around and ask them how they got here," Stasya snapped, throwing one of her charged bolt traps through the door. The arcane device crackled to life immediately, illuminating in brief flashes the skeletal archers moving into positions around the door. Xaviar dropped back another step as more arrows began to shoot through the doorway.
"Follow me!" Snowhammer shouted, taking the lead once more. The north man charged through another doorway, finding himself in a large, open room littered with the remnants of harem girls and, more importantly, more of the Horror mages. Without hesitation Snowhammer threw himself forward, accepting the freezing blast he caught in his chest in order to crash his maul down into the skull of the nearest mage. The Horror's head exploded into tiny fragments, but the north man was already moving past, forcing himself to keep his momentum despite the horrible chill sapping his strength and slowing his movements.
Stasya was with him then, slamming rushing in behind a torrent of ice blasts and bone spears. Ebon bones froze under Tara's spells, then shattered as Stasya rammed her weapons through the frozen skeletons. Snowhammer slammed his maul down on the skull of one more Horror, then turned to Stasya as the assassin finished off her final attacker.
"Nice weapons," the barbarian said, noticing for the first time that the assassin had given up her kris for a pair of odd, daggerlike blades. One long, wide blade was covered in frost, while the other held a wicked serrated edge. Stasya glanced down at the blades for only a heartbeat.
"It was time to upgrade," she explained simply. Behind them, Xaviar and Wyszemir entered the room, followed by dozens of arrows that bounced off of the paladin's shield or skidded across the floor and walls.
"Keep moving!" Xaviar ordered without even looking over his shoulder. Two skeleton mages rose from the shattered bones of the Horrors, unleashing crackling sparks of electricity into the doorway and the archers beyond.
"This way!" Stasya said, rushing through another doorway on their left. Snowhammer followed the assassin as she surprised a pair of Blunderbores that had been closing in on them. The assassin ripped both her blades through one giant's midsection as Snowhammer slammed his maul down on the other, dropping both their enemies in an instant. As his opponent dropped to the ground, the north man could already see a large, winding staircase leading deeper into the palace cellar.
"Come on!" Snowhammer called out, leading the way. Another pair of Horrors tried to block his path, but the barbarian simply slammed through them with a pair of crushing strikes. Even as they dropped their shattered bones reformed, becoming skeletal mages under Wyszemir's command. "The stairs are here!"
"Then get down them!" Xaviar directed, crouched low behind his shield as a growing number of Horror archers advanced on the group. Wyszemir had already summoned two shield bearing skeletons of his own, but the death mage's undead guard was rapidly being demolished by the cadre of Horrors. Snowhammer followed the order with no delay, taking two or three steps at a time as he raced into the darkness of the lower level. Stasya stayed only a step behind him, her quiet footfalls lost in the barbarian's thundering strides. Behind the two of them, Tara backed quickly down the steps, throwing in an occasional ice blast as Xaviar held off the archers and Wyszemir's constructs tried to slow the Horrors' advance.
Another Blunderbore appeared at the bottom of the steps, growling as it raised its huge club to meet the barbarian. Snowhammer roared in fury and leapt down the last half dozen steps, his maul coming down in a crushing blow. The giant tried to move out of the way of its attacker, but Snowhammer still connected solidly, shattering the Blunderbore's shoulder and collarbone. Before it even fell to the ground Stasya was on it, ramming her frost covered katar through the collapsing demon's throat.
"Good finish," Snowhammer said, turning a faint smile to the assassin.
"You can thank me after it's over," Stasya said, gesturing with her serrated wrist blade. More than a dozen Blunderbores were already advancing on the pair, while ghostly Horrors crept through the shadows, the nimbuses of flame or ice around their hands the only clue to their presence. Stasya brushed a few strands of hair from her dark eyes as she surveyed her new opponents. "We have a lot of work ahead of us."
"We can't take much more of this."
"At least it seems we've bought ourselves a reprieve, for the moment," Xaviar gasped, turning back to Tara as he tried to regain his breath. Tara had nearly fallen to the floor in exhaustion, her magical reserves all but spent and her arms weak and shaking from fending off the blows of skeletons and Blunderbores alike with her staff. The others seemed to be in no better shape; sweat streamed down Snowhammer as the barbarian dropped to one knee and leaned his head on his maul, while Stasya had dropped back against the far wall nursing a score of minor slashes adn bruises. Even Wyszemir showed signs of fatigue, leaning heavily against the metal bars that cordoned off another section of the palace cellar while his disgusting, skinless blood golem stared blankly ahead with its vacant black eyes. At the very least, the level of the cellar that they had descended to seemed thankfully devoid of any demons.
"I've got nothing left," Stasya said, voicing her own concerns. "Not even enough pieces to put together one more charged bolt trap."
"Yeah, well, we already took out a lot of them," Snowhammer observed, raising the bloodied head of his maul to accentuate his point. "They can't have too many more Blunderbores or Horrors left."
"I don't know if I have anything left," Tara said, turning apologetically to Xaviar. "I don't know if I can muster another ice blast."
"Then you will need this more than I," Wyszemir said suddenly, walking back to the sorceress as he took his satchel from his shoulder. The death mage removed a vial of shimmering blue liquid. "Take it," Wyszemir stated, seeing her hesitation. Tara slowly reached for the vial, uncorking the potion of mana carefully.
"Thank you," the sorceress said, uncertain what to make of Wyszemir's generosity. Wyszemir smiled as Tara put the potion to her lips.
"Ah, but what if the taint in my blood reaches all the way down to the mana I carry with me?" the necromancer inquired, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned away from her. Tara stopped only a heartbeat before she drank any of the fluid, wary of the necromancer's motives.
"Wyszemir," Xaviar admonished. The necromancer chuckled as he turned back to the sorceress.
"Too serious, Tara," the necromancer chided. Tara still held the potion in front of her. "You and I both know that there is no taint in the energies of mana."
"You took me off guard, is all," Tara said, trying to hide her frustration with the necromancer. Wyszemir rarely treated her with any obvious kindness, but Tara, much to her displeasure, was forced to admit that the necromancer had been a great aid to Xaviar and even her. That was exactly what bothered the sorceress, and she suspected Xaviar felt much the same way.
"Are we ready to go, then?" Snowhammer asked as Tara placed the empty bottle on the ground.
"You're eager to get back into it," Stasya noted. "Don't you get tired?"
"The longer we sit here, the more time we give the demons to regroup," Snowhammer answered with a shrug. Ever since the attack on Xaviar the previous night, Tara had noticed a marked change in the barbarian; he spoke far less, and seemed only too happy to rush into battle without any regard for his, or anyone else's, safety. Snowhammer had been reckless since they had met, but now he seemed almost suicidal.
"We're low on healing potions," Xaviar observed. "So don't get too far ahead. Allow my prayers to heal you."
"Or don't get hit," Snowhammer countered shortly, standing and shouldering his maul. "We're wasting time here. I know Xaviar would agree with me on that count."
Tara glanced to Xaviar, but the paladin seemed to be studying Snowhammer, his face unreadable. Wyszemir, for his part, moved to the barbarian's side and whispered something into his ear. Snowhammer turned a furious glare on the necromancer, but then turned and started off into the darkness without another word.
"I suppose we should stay with him, before he gets himself killed," Stasya commented, standing and fading into the shadows as she followed the barbarian. Tara slowly got to her feet, looking back to Xaviar as the paladin stopped Wyszemir.
"What did you say to him?" Xaviar asked sternly. The death mage let out a derisive chuckle as he sent a meaningful glance in Tara's direction.
"I told him not to let his jealousy rule him," Wyszemir replied with a faint smirk. The necromancer casually strolled past the two, examining his yew wand idly as he disappeared into the darkness. Tara turned to Xaviar as the paladin slowly began to follow.
"What… did he mean by that?" the sorceress asked, although she had a sickening feeling that she already knew the answer. She could not help the way she felt about Xaviar, but she could only pray that Snowhammer could understand.
"He's just trying to stir up trouble," Xaviar replied, placing a comforting hand on Tara's shoulder. The sorceress forced out a smile, but she was certain that despite his confident sounding answer, the paladin was all too aware of the true meaning of Wyszemir's statement.
In the palace harem and the upper levels of the palace cellar, the demons had come at them relentlessly, appearing from every shadow and trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. Somehow, those waves of attackers were less unnerving than the emptiness of the lowest level of the citadel.
Xaviar eyed the darkness around him nervously, expecting an attack at any moment from the demons that had overtaken the lowest levels of Lut Gholein's palace. The eerie silence and disconcerting lack of enemies kept the entire band on edge; Tara stayed close to the paladin, gripping her staff tightly as her eyes darted across the dim chambers, while Wyszemir cautiously scanned each wall for signs of an enemy despite his apparent nonchalance. Stasya remain largely hidden in the shadows, her newly acquired katars in her hands as she moved from room to room. Only Snowhammer seemed oblivious to the tense silence, striding ahead carelessly through doorways and crossing the large chambers before the others could be certain that no hidden ambushes awaited them. Snowhammer's reckless pace and eagerness to renew the battle worried the paladin; the barbarians of the northern lands fought with a passion that often bordered on uncontrolled frenzy, but Snowhammer's simmering anger was over Tara's rejection, however polite she had tried to be. Nor could Xaviar deny his own part in the barbarian's frustration and anger, however reluctant he was to admit it to himself or anyone else. Tara too seemed to sense the north man's seething emotions, keeping her distance whenever she could. Xaviar could only pray that the small band would not be torn apart by this newest development, but the paladin's hopes were forced aside as Snowhammer came to a stop just inside the doorway ahead. Quickly Xaviar moved to the front of the group, coming to a halt just inside the room where Snowhammer waited.
The newest chamber was not overly large and completely devoid of any furniture, but in its center a shimmering portal of red light pulsed rhythmically, given shape by a light framework of silvery metal etched with arcane symbols. In front of the portal, however, a full dozen demons guarded the gate, spindly, four armed warriors carrying gleaming scimitars and swords.
"Invaders," Wyszemir said calmly. "You may notice their resemblance to the Marauders of the Lost City."
"The arms kind of gave it away," Stasya said quietly, her voice carrying an obviously sarcastic tone. As the two groups took each other's measure, one of the Invaders stepped forward, this one dressed in fine chain mail and wearing a spiked circlet.
"Xaviar of Kurast, Paladin of Zakarum," the demon said, almost reverently. The Invader bowed slightly as he spoke.
"You know of me?" Xaviar asked, surprised by the demon's formality.
"Tales of your band's exploits reach me even in this dark place," The Invader replied. "I am Fire Eye, Guardian of the Gate."
"The gate to the Arcane Sanctuary?" Xaviar concluded. Fire Eye nodded solemnly. "We must pass through this gate, then," the paladin stated. "Stand aside, and you and your companions shall be spared."
"Do not take this route," Fire Eye requested. "There is nothing but death beyond this gate for mortals the likes of you. Withdraw, or your fate shell be the same as others who have tried to pass this way."
"Let us through," Snowhammer growled. Another of the Invaders took a step forward, snarling through his daggerlike teeth, but Fire Eye stayed his subordinate with one hand.
"I beg of you, return to the surface," the demonic chieftain tried once more.
"We must go through the gate," Xaviar reiterated. Fire Eye nodded, closing his eyes for a moment in resignation
"Then you shall die!" the Invader chieftain suddenly bellowed, his eyes opening wide with murderous rage. Crimson flames raced along the blades of the demon's scimitars as he drew them and lunged forward, leading his minions in a furious charge.
Xaviar called upon his Defiance as the demons rushed him, but even the paladin was not prepared for Fire Eye's unnatural speed. The demon reached Xaviar even as he tried to bring his shield into line, slamming home with two scimitars while he batted away the crusader's scepter with his other blades. Sparks and tongues of fire bounced off of Xaviar's crown shield as he tried to block the demon's furious assault, pushing him back under the weight of Fire Eye's thunderous strikes. Clouds of embers whirled around the paladin as Xaviar dropped back on the defensive, nearly igniting his surcoat and scorching his skin wherever his armor did not protect him. Around him, Xaviar could see his companions faring no better; Wyszemir was holding, for the moment, within a tiny fortress of bone walls, but the demons around him were rapidly hacking through the walls or tearing his blood golem to pieces, while Stasya was quickly running out of room to dodge between the Invaders' blades. Snowhammer was slowly being driven back by his own opponents, the sweeping bashes of his maul knocking the demons back for only a heartbeat before they renewed their assaults. Tara was frantically casting ice blasts and frost novas around her as a trio of determined Invaders backed her into a corner, trying to find a way through her spells. Xaviar could only spare a momentary glance to the sorceress before Fire Eye was on him again, slamming away at the crusader's defenses with his fiery weapons. The paladin dropped low and surged forward, hurling Fire Eye back with his shield as he tried to buy himself even a second to take control of the battle.
"Snowhammer! Drop back to Tara!" Xaviar shouted, hoping that he would be heard over the din of battle. For a moment the barbarian simply cast a spiteful glance over his shoulder at the paladin, nearly leading him to believe that the north man would do nothing to aid the sorceress in her desperate fight, but suddenly Snowhammer turned and leapt into the air, nearly scraping his head on the ceiling as he brought his maul crashing around in a sideways blow that drove one Invader into the far wall. As he landed Snowhammer bellowed out a thunderous battle cry, loud enough to shake the walls of the chamber and make his nearest enemies hesitate long enough for Tara's ice blasts to cut through them once more.
Fire Eye was on him then, forcing the paladin to forget his allies as the demon hacked away at his defenses. If he only wielded two blades the Invader might have been tolerable, but Fire Eye's unholy speed and four blades made it nearly impossible to defend. Xaviar raised his shield to block two of the Invader's flaming scimitars even as he batted a third away with Order Bar, but he had no way to stop the demons' last scimitar. The paladin growled in pain and dropped back as Fire Eye drew a long, smoking wound along his hip, then another shallow gash just above his knee. Even as Xaviar dropped to one knee he continued to fight, breaking one of the demon's knees as he lashed out with his scepter. Fire Eye howled in pain but continued to attack, smashing away at the paladin's shield as he towered over the far smaller human.
Stasya hit the chieftain then, her twin blades ripping into the demon's exposed side. Embers danced along the assassin's katars as she struck again and again, forcing Fire Eye back as Stasya attacked with supernatural speed of her own. Xaviar stumbled back to his feet as Fire Eye knocked Stasya back, swinging a powerful sidearm blow into Fire Eye's side as Stasya rolled across the ground and leapt back to her feet. The Invader chieftain whirled back on Xaviar as Stasya rushed forward once more, ripping through the demon with her katars just as Xaviar pounded down with a powerful stroke of Vengeance. Arcs of lightning and a numbing wave of cold rolled out from the paladin's weapon as he struck, but the bone shattering strike was nearly lost as an explosion of flames rolled past the crusader as Stasya's devastating claw attack. Fire Eye howled in pain one last time before the demon's body exploded, hurling Stasya and Xaviar away from the Invader in a shower of unholy fire and gore.
"Xaviar!" the paladin heard Tara exclaim. Quickly he tried to regain his bearings, just in time to see a serrated scimitar sweeping down at his head. The crusader managed to find his shield and bring it in line just in time to knock the blade aside, but as his vision cleared completely Xaviar found an Invader leaning over him, bringing a second blade down on his unprotected throat.
Bursts of ghostly light ripped through the demon suddenly, throwing it back before it could finish its attack. A trio of Wyszemir's bone spears tore huge holes in the demon's body as it stumbled back, then fell to the ground. Slowly the paladin dragged himself to his feet, just as Snowhammer finished a last stubborn Invader with a devastating bash of his maul. On the other side of the chamber, Stasya pushed herself to her feet against the wall.
"Why do I always find the ones that explode?" the assassin grumbled.
"Is everyone all right?" Xaviar asked, scanning the blood spattered chamber for a moment.
"I think we all survived," Wyszemir replied simply as he tucked his wand back into his belt. The necromancer turned to the swirling portal in the center of the room. "Of more import, however, is this gate."
"Fire Eye said this was the portal to the Arcane Sanctuary," Snowhammer said, taking a step forward. Wyszemir put out a hand to stop him.
"And no demon has ever had cause to lie," the necromancer countered.
"We don't have any other choice," Xaviar said. "This is the only thing down here that even resembles a portal."
"We won't know where it goes until we go through it," Snowhammer said. The north man pushed past Wyszemir and stepped into the swirling light.
"Snowhammer?" Tara called out, moving up to the portal. The rest of the band waited for a moment, but the north man did not return or answer Tara's call. Finally, Xaviar shook his head.
"Wherever he is, we can't leave him there alone," the paladin stated.
"Ah yes, I was always interested in the plane of Hell where Fire Eye and his kin spawned," Wyszemir mused. Xaviar turned a sour expression on the death mage.
"Stay if you like," the crusader stated. "I'm going."
"Truly, your determination propels even heathens such as I to greater heights," Wyszemir said with a chuckle. Xaviar leveled one last scowl at the death mage before he followed Snowhammer through the gate.