by Mark Anthony
Dashing from the tower, Mika ran recklessly through the keep, calling out for Wort and Caidin. As she did, servants and petty nobles alike gaped at her and leapt out of her path. She looked more like some specter risen from the grave than a living woman. Dark smudges stained her deathly pale face, and the shreds of her silken gown, stained with earth and blood, clung damply to her body. In minutes rumors spread through the keep. A White Lady haunted the corridors, folk whispered, crying out for Baron Caidin. All knew that when such an apparition named a person, the person was doomed to die before the following dawn. Soon Mika found herself moving down empty corridors, through empty chambers, and up empty stairways. The folk cowered in their chambers, fearing the White Lady.
Mika made her way to the Grand Hall, the armory, and Caidin's private chambers. There was no sign of Caidin or Wort in any of these places. Deciding to try the dungeons, she turned down a new passageway. Rounding a corner, she saw thick smoke sluggishly oozing out of an open doorway. She slowed, wondering if were safe to pass by.
Mika was nearly upon it before she saw the thing. It ' was a charred husk lying on the floor, half out of the doorway, half in. Only after a long moment did she realized what the shape was: a human body, blackened beyond recognition. Clamping a hand to her mouth to keep from gagging, she started to back away.
"Wait…"
The croaking voice was so faint she almost didn't hear it. Then it came again.
"Wait… Mika."
It was the burnt body. Somehow it was still alive. Mika shook her head in wordless horror. She commanded her legs to run, but they remained, as if rooted to the floor. The dark form stirred, reached out a withered hand toward her. Impossibly, it opened its eyes. They glistened feverishly in the wasteland of the face, like two green-gold gems. Mika knew those eyes.
"Lady Jadis," she choked, clutching the wall to keep from reeling. "But how… how can…?" She could not bring herself to say the sickening words. How can you possibly be alive?
Jadis answered the unspoken question in a parched whisper. "There is… death in Azalin› touch. But there is also life… undying." Horribly, she smiled, her singed lips crumbling to reveal teeth like small white pearls. "You seek… your lover, Doctor?"
Numbly, as if against her will, Mika found herself kneeling, bending closer to hear the Kargat's words. The rank odor of burnt flesh filled her lungs.
"Shall we… make another… bargain? I will tell you… where to find… Caidin. Then you… must do what I… ask of you."
Mika could only nod.
"Look for the baron… in the tower he built. It is… with the tower that he… will assail Azalin." Fpr a brief, agonizing time, Mika listened raptly as the burnt woman spoke, explaining in halting phrases Caidin's plan for using the tower on the moor to defeat Azalin. At last Jadis finished. She coughed weakly. Dark smoke issued from her ruined lips.
Mika started to stand. "I must go to the tower."
"Wait," Jadis hissed like a dying fire. "First you must… fulfill… our bargain."
"Yes, of course." Silently, with both pity and revulsion, she wondered what she could possibly do. "Shall I… shall I see to your wounds?"
Broken laughter shook the black husk on the floor. "No, you cannot… heal me, Doctor." The dry voice throbbed with sorrow. "My beauty has been… consumed. You cannot… give it back to me. No one… can."
"Then what do you want me to do?" Mika finally managed to whisper.
A burned hand reached out, its fingerbones like the talons of some dark bird.
"You know… Doctor. There is but… one thing."
At last Mika nodded. A sound of satisfaction escaped the withered form as it sank slowly back to the floor. Mika looked around until she saw what she needed. A pair of decorative sabers hung on the corridor's wall. She reached out and gripped one of the weapons. The hilt felt cool and smooth in her hand. She returned to the Kargat, steeling her will. Holding the saber tightly in both hands, she raised it above the burned woman.
Slowly, almost serenely, as though covered by dark cinders, the green-gold eyes closed.
"Forgive me," Mika whispered. The saber glinted sharply as it descended.
Alone, Baron Caidin of Martok stood in the highest chamber of his newly completed tower of war. His zombie slaves had performed their labor well. Everything about the dark spire spoke of strength and violence. Vaulted buttresses braced thick walls that would be able to withstand any attack. Slit-shaped windows would render the fiercest storm of arrows ineffectual. Not a single scrap of wood had been used in the construction, and thus not even a blazing inferno would be proof against it.
"The tower is invincible," Caidin said softly. He held up the darkly mottled Soulstone. "And this is the key to all its power."
Before him stood a low altar hewn of a single block of basalt. Weird symbols and arcane runes traced its surface, just as the darkling had described. In the center of the altar was a small depression, exactly the size of the stone. All he had to do was place the stone within the hollow. Then nothing would be able to stop him. The throne of Darkon would be his.
Once again, Caidin marveled at the ancient magic of the Soulstone. He had enjoyed using the stone to drain the life-forces of the victims of his false inquisition. The stone had transformed the hapless peasants into zombie slaves-but wondrous as that was, he had only begun to scratch the surface of the stone's potential. Now, trapped within the dark stone were hundreds of combined life-forces. With the proper ritual, those forces could be transferred to any inanimate object, granting it the ability to move and obey orders. That was the true greatness of the Soulstone.
"I wonder what the look will be on Azalin's face," Caidin mused with a self-satisfied smirk, "when he sees my living tower of war walk across the plains and stride right up to the walls of Avernus."
No army Azalin could raise would be able to block his way. The tower would crush them all beneath its ponderous weight. And that was only the beginning. Once he reached King Azalin's fortress, he would transfer the life-force from the tower to the stones of Avernus. The very walls of the castle would obey his commands. He could order the animate stones to attack Azalin's servants and imprison the king. Then all he had to do was pluck the crown from Azalin's head.
"I will turn Azalin's own fortress against him! His strongest defense will become his greatest weakness. And I will become king!"
Carefully, Caidin tucked the stone back into the pocket of his midnight-blue coat. He had a few extraneous affairs to tidy up before he set the wheels of his victory in motion. No doubt Jadis was even now desperately waiting for his return, so that she could tell him where he would find the courier, and therefore save her life-at least what was left of it.
Then there was Wort. Caidin's eyes rested upon the gleaming curve of the bell that hung above his head. The Bell of Doom. With its dark magic, he would be unbeatable. His tower was no longer simply a tower of war. It truly was a Tower of Doom.
Now, to test the bell and see for himself how its formidable curse worked. The rope dangled near the circular hole in the stone floor through which the bell had been raised. Caidin drew out the handkerchief he had taken from Wort and tied it to the rope. That way the three spirits would be certain not to mistake the token he offered them.
"Poor, Wort. I almost pity you. From the day we were born, I have always taken everything from you that I wanted-your noble blood, your humanity, your precious bell, and now… finally, your life." Reaching out strong hands, Caidin gripped the rope. "But if it is to be me or you in this game, Wort, then by all means-let it be you." Murder glinted in his' emerald eyes. "Farewell, my brother!"
Suddenly the world seemed to spin around Caidin. It took his brain a moment to realize what was happening, and by then it was already too late. Struck by an unseen force, he found himself hurled backward, the rope slipping through his groping fingers. Pain exploded in his body as he struck the tower's stone wall. Dizzily, he blinked through the haze of pain to see a twisted face fl
oating before him and grinning hideously.
"Come now, my brother," a voice spat. "Did you really think that the threads that bind us could be cut so easily?"
Only a single word escaped Caidin's lips, but in that word there resided a veritable ocean of disgust, hatred, and terror.
"Wort…"
Mika clutched the ghostly gray stallion's mane with freezing fingers as the beast thundered across the rolling heath. Skeletal trees and crumbling stone waljs flashed past, but she only vaguely noticed these, as if they were part of some other person's murky dream. She rode directly into the wind, her pale hair streaming wildly behind her. In the distance, the dark tower drew her inexorably onward.
After leaving the charred husk that had once been the Lady Jadis-and that finally now lay lifeless, thanks to the sharp saber-Mika had made her way to the stable. There the stableboy had fled in fear at the sight of her.
"The White Lady!" he cried. "The White Lady has come for me!"
Mika did not know what this meant, nor did she care. She had grabbed the reins of the first saddled horse she came upon. Climbing into the high saddle, she had kicked the courser's flanks until it leapt into a gallop. Horse and rider had careened wildly down the road from the keep and out onto the open moor. Living for so many years in the city, Mika had little experience at the art of riding. At any moment the horse could stumble on the uneven turf, throwing her to the hard ground, injuring her, even snapping her neck. Still she prodded the horse, urging it to go faster yet.
As the land flew by, Mika reached up with one hand to grip the golden locket dangling about her throat. "Let it be that I come in time, my loves," she whispered. "Let it be that I can atone for the wicked deeds I have set in motion."
Though it was midday, the sky overhead was dark and heavy as iron, weighing oppressively on the barren countryside. Livid green lightning flickered behind the menacing clouds. It was as if the land itself were somehow aware of the terrible events that were unfolding upon it. Perhaps in a sense it was. What other explanation could there be for the evil that plagued Nartok but that it rose like some noxious vapor from the very soil itself to infect all those who were forced to dwell in its fumes.
The three Vistani women had spoken of an ancient battle between Light and Dark. Mika did not believe their words any longer. She could believe nothing except that Dark had always reigned supreme in this land, and that it always would.
"When this is over, I will leave this place, my loves." Tears streamed coldly down her cheeks, tracing pale tracks through the dirt and grime. "I will leave this cursed fiefdom far behind. Perhaps I will even return to our little flat in the city, to our river, and our white, white gulls."
Finally the dark walls of the tower rose up before her. The stallion skidded to a halt. She unclenched her stiff fingers from the creature's mane and half climbed, half threw herself to the wet ground. Numbly, she looped the stallion's reins about an iron ring set into the wall of the tower. Turning, she stumbled to a shadowed archway. Mika paused only for the space of a heartbeat, then plunged inside.
Wort pressed Caidin viciously against the stone wall, his gnarled fingers clamped tightly around the baron's neck. Caidin gripped Wort's wrists, attempting to force the hunchback away. Powered as they were by the strength of rage, Wort's hands closed about the baron's throat. Caidin's handsome visage began to darken. His lips turned blue. Elation flooded Wort's misshapen chest. How glorious, to finally be robbing his brother of something instead of the other way around.
"You see, Caidin," Wort jeered between clenched teeth. "In the end your pretty face comes to nothing. The worms will devour comely flesh as readily as ugly. Just so long as it is dead!"
Hoarse laughter escaped Caidin's lips. "You will not kill me, Wort."
"You think not?" Wort squeezed harder. Caidin's hands were growing tired. They could not hold Wort back much longer.
"No, you will not," Caidin gasped. His green eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, yet a mocking smile twisted his lips. "What are you without me, Wort? I…" He struggled desperately for breath. "I define you. I am day to your night..You cannot exist if I am gone. Without me, you are nothing!"
Caidin's words plunged an icy spike into Wort's chest. For a fleeting moment he wondered if this could possibly be true. For so long he had dwelt in awe of his brother, and then in jealousy, and then at last in loathing. Every day of his life, his feelings for Caidin had shaped him, molded him into what he was. What indeed would happen to him when Caidin was dead? Would he simply vanish, like a shadow on the wall when the candle that cast it was extinguished?
A dark seed of doubt crept into Wort's heart, and his hands relaxed ever so slightly. It was just the opening Caidin needed. The baron brought his knee up forcefully. Crying out in pain, Wort stumbled backward. Caidin did not wait to strike again. This time the baron's black boot caught Wort square on the chin. Wort spun around, a crimson arc of blood gushing from his mouth to splatter against the wall. Caidin advanced, digging his elbow into Wort's hunched shoulder. Wort cried out once more. Again and again, Caidin struck the hump on Wort's back, sending waves of paralyzing pain through him. At last Wort sank to his knees.
Caidin grinned in satisfaction. "Yes, you are nothing without me, Brother. But I–I am everything without you." Swiftly he strode past Wort, reaching toward the rope that hung down from the bell.
Fear made Wort forget his pain. "No!" he bellowed, lunging forward. Caidin fell, his fingers brushing the rope. Caidin grunted in pain as he struck the ground. Wort fell on top of him. Grappling each other, the two brothers rolled along the edge of the hole in the center of the chamber's floor. Propelled by Caidin's fleeting touch, the bell rope swung lazily back and forth over the pit.
"Do you delude yourself into thinking that if you kill me you will become baron?" Caidin grunted as his arms strained to pry Wort off of him.
"I don't know, Brother," Wort hissed. "Why don't I find out?" He shoved a hand against Caidin's face, pushing him backward over the edge of the precipice.
"I already know what the folk of Nartok will do. They will kill you like the monster you are!" Caidin rolled over, carrying Wort with him, reversing their positions. Now it was he who gritted his teeth, attempting to push Wort over the edge.
"If I am a monster, it is because others have made me so," Wort shouted. "But you, Caidin-you are a monster by your own choosing!" — The two men froze. Caidin's harsh laughter echoed coldly off the stone walls. Gazing flatly at his brother, he spoke in a voice that oozed calm, terrible, undeniable logic. "Do you honestly think that makes any difference whatsoever?"
In that fractured moment, Wort knew Caidin was right. As different as the two brothers appeared, in the end they were the same. A fiend was a fiend. What did it matter how each had become such? All that mattered was what each was. Wort and Caidin.stared at each other for a moment, caught in their violent embrace. Like a pendulum, the bell rope swung slowly across the pit toward the two brothers.
Caidin bared his teeth in a cruel grin. He reached toward the rope. In panic, Wort kicked his feet upward, propelling the baron over him, into the dark hole. Caidin screamed as he dropped-but he did not release his hold of Wort. Wort scrabbled fiercely at the stone, but his fingers found no purchase. He felt himself jerked over the edge by his brother's weight. One of his flailing legs struck the bell rope. The cord wrapped itself around his ankle. The two brothers plummeted down into shadow.
With a snap, the rope tightened around Wort's ankle. Above, a thunderous tone rang out. The Bell of Doom. For a moment, Wort and Caidin dangled precariously in midair, but their weight was too much. The rope broke. They screamed as they plunged into darkness. Then their screams were cut short.
It took Wort several moments to realize that he was alive. Pain pulsated through his entire body. He blinked, finding that he could see. Faint gray light filtered through a narrow opening. He realized that he did not lie on hard stone, but on something warmer, softer. He heard a feeble groan beneat
h him. It was Caidin.
Agonizingly, Wort dragged himself to his feet. Caidin lay facedown. The baron groaned once more, but he did not move. Wort craned his neck. He could see now why he and Caidin were still alive. The opening through which they had fallen was no more than twenty feet above. They had not fallen all the way to the bottom of the spire, but had instead struck an intermediate landing.
Suddenly Wort heard a faint cry-high, clear, and filled with horror. The sound came through the open mouth of a spiral staircase. Wort's dizzy mind cleared. He recognized the voice.
"Mika," he choked.
She must have come to the tower! Yet the Bell of Doom had tolled as he and Caidin had fallen, and It was Mika's handkerchief that had been tied to the rope. That meant The cry came again.
"Mika!" Wort shouted it this time. Leaving the motionless form of Caidin behind, he dashed down the stairway. In moments he burst through an arched portal onto the ground floor of the tower.
"Wort!" Mika called out desperately. "Help me!"
Clad in a tattered gown, terror written across her moon-pale face, Mika backed away from the three smoky apparitions that drifted toward her.
"Get away from her!" Wort thundered, stumbling forward to place himself between the three dark spirits and Mika.
Eerie laughter floated from the dark cowls that concealed the faces of the apparitions. "You cannot keep us from what is ours, bellringer."
As though Wort were immaterial, the spirits of the bell passed through him. He gasped as the ethereal substance passed through his flesh, turning his heart to ice. Frozen, he could only watch as the apparitions closed in on the doctor.
Twenty
With a grunt, Caidin pulled himself to his knees. Deep in his chest, he could feel the broken ends of several ribs grating sickeningly against each other with each ragged breath he took. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he staggered to his feet. Wort was gone. The wretched hunchback had fled like the coward he was.
