Legacy of Blood d-1

by Richard A. Knaak

  He jumped up as the witch approached, for one clad in heavy armor his agility and speed surprising her. Galeona could see him peering back, trying to make her out in the darkness and so far failing. No, not an unpleasant face at all, the guileful sorceress thought. Better than she had recalled from their encounter on the ship. If hewould just prove himself to be reasonable, to listen to her, then they would have no troubles with one another and she would not have to so soon begin the search for his eventual replacement.

  "Who is it?" Norrec called. "Who are you?"

  She dismounted a short distance from him. "Only a fellow wanderer… no one who means you harm." Now Galeona simply used the crystal to illuminate the area, let him see the good fortune that had just stepped into his miserable little life. "Someone looking for some warmth…"

  The witch manipulated the gleaming stone, letting its light cross both her face and torso. She saw his interest immediately. So much the better. He looked to be one readily led around by the nose in return for a few readily given pleasures. The perfect dupe.

  His expression suddenly changed and not for the better. "I know you, don't I?" He approached, towering over her. "I need to see your face again."

  "Of course." Galeona held the crystal nearer to her features.

  "Not enough light," Norrec muttered. "I need more."

  He held up his left hand-and in the palm of the gauntlet there suddenly formed a tiny fireball that outshone the crystal a hundredfold.

  Galeona could not stifle a gasp. She had expected an uninitiated fool, a fighter with no grasp of sorcery. Instead, he had summoned flame without so much as an effort, something still beyond many well-schooled apprentices.

  "That's better… I do know you… your face, anyway! On the Hawksfire!" He nodded in immense satisfaction. "I dreamed of you there!"

  Recovering, Galeona quickly replied, "And I dreamed of you, too, that time! Dreamed of a warrior, a champion, who could protect me from the evils pursuing me."

  As she hoped, her words and tone had an immediate effect on the man. His look of distrust did not completely fade, but now she saw also sympathy-and pride that she looked at him as her savior. The witch pressed nearer to Norrec, staring adoringly into his eyes with her own, halflidded ones. She surely had him enticed by this point.

  "You're in danger?" A protective look crossed his face. He peered beyond Galeona, as if already expecting to see the villains who chased after her.

  "They don't know I escaped them just yet. I… I dreamed of you again last night, knew that you had to be near, waiting for me." Putting a hand on his breastplate, Galeona leaned forward, but inches between her full lips and his own.

  He did not rise to the tempting bait, instead considering some other matter. "You're a sorceress," Norrec finally responded. "What's your name?"

  "Galeona… and I know from my dreams that my knight is called Norrec."

  "Yes…" The fighter smiled at the title she had given him. "Are you a powerful sorceress?"

  The witch let her hand trace the seams on the armor. "I have some talent in that… and other fields as well."

  "I could use a sorceress," he muttered almost to himself. "I wanted one to help me deal with this armor… but that's not so important any more. I've had time to think, time to put matters in their proper order. There's things I need to do before I go on any further."

  Galeona only half-paid attention, already planning ahead. Norrec definitely did not sound as simple a man as the enchantress had first imagined, but he had at least taken her story to heart and accepted her as a companion, if nothing else. As she learned more about him, Galeona would strengthen that tie. He had already revealed some weakness to her charms; the rest of what she desired the witch would gain soon enough.

  Of course, if she could help Norrec with whatever concerned him, show her puppet of what valuable assistance she could be, that would shorten her own task. While Galeona did not understand his statement concerning the armor itself, these other matters he had mentioned- whatever they might be-she could surely aid him in accomplishing.

  "Of course, I'll help you in any way I can, my knight! I ask only in return that you protect me from those who would do me harm." She turned her gaze briefly to the desert. "They're powerful and have dark arts at their command."

  Galeona had wanted to test his reserve, to see the extent he felt sure of the power he apparently wielded. Yet, even to her surprise, Norrec shrugged, then almost casually answered, "Warriors, magic, demons… I've no fear of any of them. Those under my protection will come to no harm."

  "You've my gratitude," she whispered, leaning up and kissing him hard.

  He pulled her away, not out of any disgust, but because he seemed not to have any interest at the moment in what she had offered him. Instead, Norrec appeared once more lost in his other concerns.

  "I've thought about it," the fighter finally told the witch. "Thought about why I ended up here of all places. It has to be somewhere near. It tries to keep hidden and from me it can do it…" He looked down at her again, something in his eyes suddenly unnerving Galeona a little. "But you might be able to find it! You found me, after all! You can probably succeed where Drognan failed."

  "I'll do what I can," the dark-skinned enchantress returned, curious as to what so demanded the man's attention. Something of value to her, too, perhaps? "What are we looking for?"

  His expression indicated that he found it surprising that she did not already know. " Horazon's tomb, of course!" Something in his face changed as he spoke, something that made Galeona look at him again-and this time see a face that she did not entirely recognize. "My brother's tomb."

  Sixteen

  An entire world existed beneath Lut Gholein.

  No, corrected Kara, not a world, but something that seemed at least as large as, if not larger than, the regal kingdom far above her. The curious and unsettling figure she had identified as an impossibly old Horazon had led her down one confusing corridor to the next and to the next and so on until the necromancer had actually gotten dizzy trying to keep track of her path. She had climbed up and down stairs, walked through door after door, and passed room after room until at last Horazon had brought her to this single chamber, this well-lit and wellfurnished bedroom, and told her to sleep.

  Kara did not even remember lying down, but now she found herself atop the soft bed, staring up at the intricately-sewn canopy there. She had imagined her quarters aboard the King's Shield to be the finest she would ever use, but these set even those to shame. Curiously, the elegant furnishings, while clearly of another time, another place, looked as if they had been made only yesterday. The great wooden bed appeared perfectly polished, the sheets crisp and clean, and the marble floor beneath spotless. The same went for the nightstand next to the bed and the chair in the far corner. On the walls had been hung richly-woven tapestries of decidedly Vizjerei tastes, fantastic creatures and images of astonishing spellwork, all crafted by an expert artisan. If not for the fact that she was presently a prisoner in thelair of a possibly dangerous madman, the enchantress would have felt quite comfortable indeed.

  She dared not stay here. While legend had always spoken of Horazon as the brother considered the lesser of two evils, he nonetheless not only remained an ambitious Vizjerei who had once, too, commanded demons to serve him, but who also clearly had lost his sanity over the centuries. Kara wondered how he had even survived for so long. The only records of such extensive life-extending spells had always included the summoning of unearthly powers to help cast them. If Horazon had turned again to demons for his needs-despite his constant mutterings to the contrary-then that would not only explain his present condition but also gave Kara even more reason to find her way out before he returned.

  Still clothed, the anxious dark mage slipped out of the bed, heading immediately to the door. It did no good to try to see if Horazon had cast any spells upon it, for his entire sanctum emanated magic to such a staggering degree that she wondered why every spellcaster
for hundreds of miles around could not have sensed its presence. Then again, perhaps that same magic explained why they did not. If even a portion of that might had been directed toward hiding Horazon's domain, then the greatest mages in all the world could have stood at its very doorstep and still not noticed the wonder at their feet.

  Deciding to take the risk, the necromancer tugged at the handle, only to find the door unmoving. She tried again, with equally dismal results.

  It hardly surprised her that she had been locked in, but the truth nevertheless frustrated Kara immensely. The necromancer had been trapped time and time again since beginning this chase and now she wondered whether or not she would be able to escape this prison. Unwilling to give up, Kara touched the handle and muttered a spell of opening. It was a minor incantation, one that actually hadits roots in Vizjerei elemental sorcery, but the followers of Rathma had found it one of the few useful creations of the rival calling. That it almost certainly would fail did not escape her, but Kara could think of no other way out of the room that would not require a spell likely to bring the ceiling down on her as well.

  The handle turned.

  Startled by her unlikely success, the necromancer nearly flung open the door. Instead, taking a deep breath, Kara cautiously opened it a crack, then surveyed the outer hallway. Seeing no sign of danger, the dark mage quietly stepped out. She peered both directions, trying to recall by which she had earlier come. After a brief mental debate, Kara turned to the right and ran.

  The corridor ended at a stairway that led up, a hopeful sign. Kara pushed herself up the steps, certain that if she kept going the direction she did, the desperate spellcaster would eventually find her way out.

  The stairway stopped two flights later, opening up into a much wider corridor. Making certain that Horazon did not seem about, the necromancer crept down the larger hall. Although the room in which she had slept had been well-decorated, the halls themselves seemed positively austere, with only the occasional door breaking the monotony. The one consistently odd element of her surroundings proved to be the yellow light, whose source never proved evident. It came from everywhere at the same time. There were no torches nor anywhere even to put them.

  As she hurried along, Kara occasionally felt tempted to try one of the doors, but knew that it behooved her more to find the way out as soon as she could. Any lingering might give Horazon time to discover that she had gone missing. While the necromancer dearly wanted to know more about the mad mage and his sanctum, she desired to do so on her own terms, not his.

  Just ahead, the corridor took a hard right turn. Kara stepped up her pace, hoping that the change in direction meant that she had found a passage to the outside. The frustrated enchantress cut around the corner as quickly as she could, praying that somewhere at the end would be another stairway or, better yet, the true exit.

  Instead, she found herself facing a blank wall.

  The hallway simply ended just a few yards after it had begun. Putting both hands to it, the necromancer checked the wall for illusions, magic, even a false front. Unfortunately, for all practical purposes, the barrier before her seemed as solid as it looked even though she could find no good reason at all for its existence.

  Stepping back, Kara studied the only other direction. To return to the stairway made no sense, but that left to her only the doors. Surely they did not represent a path out of Horazon's domain.

  She went to the first, cautiously opening it. With her luck as it had been so far, Kara feared that her choice would turn out to be the ancient Vizjerei's very own chambers.

  Behind the door stood a long, curving passage.

  "Is that the trick, then?" she whispered to herself. Did the true way out depend on opening the doors and not following the regular corridors? Trust her demented host to design his underground lair in such an improbable manner!

  Eagerly Kara Nightshadow hurried down the hidden corridor, not even bothering to shut the door behind her. Somewhere at the end, she would find escape. Somewhere she would find the way back to the old building or some other secret entrance into Lut Gholein.

  Instead, the necromancer found yet another door.

  She had no choice but to open it. There had been no other passage, no other entrance. However, at least this time Kara opened the door with some hope of success.She had journeyed for some distance. Horazon's mazelike sanctum had to come to an end here and now.

  Another hallway greeted her.

  That it resembled the wide one Kara had long left behind did not bother her. Of course, the design would be similar. After all, the same man had created it all.

  Then she saw the open door just a short distance to her left.

  With great trepidation, the weary necromancer walked over to it. She peeked inside, hoping her guess to be wrong.

  The same curved corridor Kara had just traversed greeted the weary woman.

  "Trag'Oul, guide me out of the madness!" What point had there been to a corridor that returned to the same hall? Kara blinked as another realization hit her. This door and the one she had returned by had been located on opposite sides of the hall. How could she possibly have looped around like that? The corridor would have had to cut through the hallway, a complete impossibility!

  Without hesitation Kara headed for the lone door left to her. If it did not lead somewhere other than this hallway, then Horazon's bizarre realm had finally defeated her.

  To the necromancer's relief, though, the doorway opened into a vast chamber in which two sets of wide, bannistered staircases flanked a pair of high bronze doors decorated with intricate dragon motifs. A well-preserved marble floor covered the entire expanse of the room and more tapestries covered the stone walls.

  Kara stepped into the massive room, debating whether to choose the doors or one of the staircases. The doors looked most tantalizing, being directly across from her, but the stairs, too, enticed the necromancer, either one possibly leading to an exit above ground.

  A slight sound above her head made Kara look up- then gasp at what she saw.

  Far, far up, Horazon sat in a chair, the white-haired sorcerer mumbling to himself while he ate at a long dining table. The noise Kara had heard had been the madman laying his knife on what looked to be an elaborate gold plate filled with rich meat. Even though so far below, Kara could still smell its succulent flavor. As she watched, Horazon reached for a goblet of wine, the elderly Vizjerei taking a long sip without spilling so much as a drop. That feat especially amazed her, not because she had not thought the insane mage capable of simple table manners-but because he did so while he sat upside down on the ceiling.

  In fact, the entire tableau was upside down and yet nothing fell toward Kara. The chair, the table, the plates full of fresh food, even Horazon's lengthy beard-all defied basic nature. Gazing around the ceiling in astonishment, the dark mage even saw doors and other staircases that would have suited the mage well in his present position. If not for Horazon and his elaborate meal, it would have been as if she stared at a mirror image above her,

  Still drinking, Horazon cocked his head up-or rather down — and at last caught sight of the startled young woman.

  "Come! Come!" he called to her. "You're late! I don't like people late!"

  Fearful that he might use his considerable power to drag her up to the ceiling, perhaps forever eliminating her hopes for escape, Kara rushed across the great hall, heading to the bronze doors. They had to lead somewhere out of his reach! They had to!

  With one last look up at her captor, Kara flung open the nearest of the doors and darted through. If she could just keep ahead of him-

  "Aaah! Good! Good! Sit there! Sit there!"

  Horazon watched her from the other end of a long, eleganttable identical to the one at which she had just seen him sitting, only this time it stood not on the ceiling, but rather in the center of the room she had just now entered. The exact same meal, even down to the wine, lay spread before him. Beyond the mage, doorways and staircases just like the necr
omancer had seen atop the other chamber now served as backdrop to Horazon and his meal.

  Unable to prevent herself from doing so, Kara looked up at the ceiling.

  Staircases and doorways, all upside down, greeted her gaze.

  One of the latter, a bronze giant, stood open-as if someone had flung it aside in haste.

  "Rathma, protect me…" Kara murmured.

  "Sit, girl, sit!" commanded Horazon, totally oblivious to her dismay. "Time to eat! Time to eat!"

  And with nothing more she could do to save herself, the necromancer obeyed.

  A storm covered the desert, a vast ocean of black, churning clouds that spread all the way from the east to as far west as Augustus Malevolyn could see. Dawn had risen, but it might as well have been just after sunset, so dark had the day begun. Some might have taken such a threatening sky for a bad omen, but the general saw it instead as a sign that his time had come, that his day of destiny was at hand. Lut Gholein lay just ahead and in it he knew cringed the fool who wore the glorious armor- his glorious armor.

  Xazax had assured him of the last. Where else would the stranger have gone? The winds blew strong, ensuring that no ship would be heading out to sea this day. He had to still be in the city.

  The general studied Lut Gholein from atop a massive dune. Behind him and entirely invisible to the eyes of theenemy, Malevolyn's demonic host patiently awaited his word. Because of the particular spell utilized, the sinister creatures still wore the shells of his men, although eventually they would be able to discard those. They had needed them to make the passage from Hell to the mortal plane and would yet require them for some time to come. That need, though, did not bother Malevolyn. For the moment, it served better that the enemy thought this tiny army simply mortal. It would make the commanders in Lut Gholein overconfident, arrogant. They would commit themselves to tactics which would expend their might early for a quick victory-but in doing so they would merely be setting themselves up for a slaughter that Malevolyn already much savored.