"Norrec Vizharan!"
No… a different voice, young but commanding. He managed to turn his head some, although the action caused more torture within. In the distance, a vaguely familiar woman pale of skin but black of hair futilely reached out to him from what appeared to be a crystalline doorway at the top of yet another flight of stairs. Behind her stood another figure, this one male and with long, wild hair and a beard, both as white as snow. He looked suspicious, curious, and frightened all at the same time. He also looked even more familiar than the woman.
To Norrec he could be only one person.
"Horazon?" the soldier blurted.
One of the gloved hands immediately came up, the gauntlet ablaze with magical fury. Bartuc's armor had reacted to the name-and not with pleasure. Norrec could feel the formation of a spell, one that would make Galeona's death seem a peaceful end.
But as if reacting in turn to the armor, an awful moaning arose, as if the very building itself took offense to what it saw. Horazon and the woman suddenly disappeared as the stairway shifted a different direction and new walls formed. Norrec discovered himself suddenlystanding in a high-columned hall that looked as if a grand ball had just ended. Yet, even that changed quickly.
No matter what the room, no matter where the woman and Horazon had gone, the armor did not care. Another spell erupted from the fighter's mouth and a ball of molten earth flew from his hand, exploding seconds later against the nearest wall.
The moaning became a roar.
The entire sanctuary shook. A tremendous force buffeted Norrec from every side. Worse, he realized that not only did the air close in on him-but so did the walls and the ceiling. Even the floor rose.
Norrec raised his arms, now evidently his own again, in a last futile effort to staff off the onrushing walls.
The meal had been a sumptuous one, better by far than any Kara could have imagined, including those which Captain Jeronnan had served her. If not for the fact that she was the prisoner of an insane mage, she might have enjoyed it even more.
During the meal, the necromancer had tried on more than one occasion to pluck some bit of reason from the white-haired sorcerer, but from Horazon she had only received babbled words and inconsistent information. At one point he had spoken of having discovered by accident the Arcane Sanctuary-the name by which legend called Horazon's tomb-then he had told Kara that he had built it all by himself through masterful sorcery. Another time, Horazon had told his prisoner that he had come to Aranoch to study the massive convergence of spiritual ley-lines centered in and around the city's present location. Even she had heard that mages could tap the mystical energies of this region far better than in any other spot in all the world. However, afterward he had spoken, with great trepidation, of fleeing to this side of the seas in fear that his brother's dark legacy still followed him.
Gradually Kara came to feel as if she spoke to two distinct men, one who truly was Horazon and another who simply thought he was. She could only think that the terrible trials through which Bartuc's brother had suffered, especially the horrific war against his own sibling, had combined with his centuries-long seclusion to tear apart his already-fragile mind. The necromancer grew somewhat sympathetic to his plight, but never did she forget that not only did this mad sorcerer still keep her in his underground labyrinth against her will, but also that, in times past, his magic had, on occasion, been as black as Bartuc's had ever been.
One other thing Kara had noted that unnerved her as much as her host's sanity. The Arcane Sanctuary itself acted as if more than simply an extension of Horazon's tremendous power. Many times, she could have sworn that it, too, had a mind, a personality, even. Sometimes she would note the room around her shift subtly, the walls moving and the general design transforming even when the wizard paid it no mind. Kara had even noticed that the table and the food changed. More to the point, when the necromancer had tried to push Horazon on the matter of Bartuc, a peculiar darkness had slowly begun to pervade her surroundings-almost as if the edifice itself wished an end to the troubling topic.
When they had finished, Horazon had immediately bid her to rise. Here in his sanctum, he had not babbled too much about ‘the evil, but still the watery-eyed figure acted with caution in all things.
"We must be careful," Horazon had muttered, standing. "At all times we must be careful… come… there is much to do…"
Her thoughts more on escape than his constant warnings, Kara had also risen-only to see a sight so startling that it had made her knock her chair over.
From the table itself had emerged a hand completelyformed of the wood. The hand had seized her empty plate and had dragged it down into the table. At the same time, other hands had materialized, each seizing an object and dragging it, too, into the table. Still stunned, Kara had stepped back, only then discovering that the reason she had not heard her chair strike the floor had been because two more appendages formed from the marble at her feet had caught the piece of furniture before it could hit.
"Come!" Horazon had called, his expression now somewhat peevish. He seemed not at all disturbed by the unsettling appendages. "No time to waste, no time to waste!"
While the dining hall had worked to clear itself, he had led her up a flight of stairs, then through a polished, oak door. Behind the door lay another stairway, this one going back down. Despite having wanted to question the trustfulness of their path, the young dark mage had quietly followed even when that set of steps had ended at yet another doorway which seemed to lead back to the vast hall again. Only when Horazon had opened the door and instead of the great hall she had been confronted with a wizard's laboratory had Kara finally blurted out something.
"This is impossible! This room shouldn't be here!"
He had looked at her as if she had been the mad one. "Of course, it should be! I was looking for it, after all! What a silly thing to say! If you look for a room, it should be where you want it, you know!"
"But…" Kara had ceased her protest, unable to argue with the facts before her very eyes. Here should have stood the grand room in which she and Horazon had eaten, but instead this imposing if disorderly chamber had greeted her. Thinking back to the impossible journeys she had already made in the sanctuary, the darkhaired spellcaster had finally come to the conclusion thatthe ancient mage's home could not possibly completely exist on the mortal plane. Even though no architect could have ever solved the physical problems she had encountered, it had been said of the most powerful Vizjerei that some had learned to actually manipulate the very fabric of reality itself, to create for their use what some called "pocket universes" where the laws of nature were what their masters decided it should be.
Could that have been what Horazon had accomplished with the Arcane Sanctuary? Kara could find no other explanation for everything she had experienced. If so, he had created a marvel such as not ever seen before in all the world!
Despite his ragged robe and otherwise unkempt appearance, in this chamber Horazon had taken on a more formidable look. When he had stepped to the center of the room, raising his arms and beckoning to the ceiling, Kara had expected fire and lightning to play from his fingers. She had expected winds to rise from nowhere and perhaps even the Vizjerei's body to glow bright.
Instead, he had simply turned back to her and said, "I brought you here… but I don't know why."
After taking a moment to register this odd statement, the necromancer had replied, "Is it because of the armor? Your-brother's-armor?"
He had stared up at the ceiling again. "Is it?"
The ceiling, of course, had not answered.
"Horazon… you must remember what they did with your brother's body, your people and mine."
Again, the ceiling. "What was done with it? Ah, yes, no wonder I don't remember."
Feeling as if she might as well have been talking to the ceiling herself, Kara had pressed, "Listen to me, Horazon! Someone managed to steal his enchanted armor from the tomb. I've followed them all the way here! H
e may even be in Lut Gholein at this moment! We need to find him, totake the armor back! There's no telling what evil still lurks within it!"
"Evil?" His eyes had taken on a wide, animalistic look. "Evil? Here?"
Kara had bitten back a curse. She had stirred him up again.
"So much evil about! I must be careful!" Acondemning finger had pointed at her. "You must go!"
"Horazon, I—"
It had been at that moment that something had happened, something that passed between the wizard and his lair. Seconds later, she had felt the entire sanctum shiver, a shiver more that of a living thing, not simply a structure caught in some shockwave.
"No, no, no! I must hide! I must hide!" Horazon had looked completely panic stricken. He might have even fled from the chamber, but the room again transformed. The sorcerer's tables of equipment and chemicals receded from the two and from the floor a gigantic, crystalline sphere arose to eye level, a huge hand formed from the stone below keeping it there.
In the center of the sphere, a vision had coalesced, a vision of a man whom Kara Nightshadow had never truly seen but had still been able to identify immediately-thanks to the crimson armor he wore.
"It's him! Norrec Vizharan! He has the armor!"
"Bartuc!" her mad companion had snapped. "No! Bartuc's come for me!"
She had seized him by the arm, daring death in the hopes of finally bringing a conclusion to this dangerous quest. "Horazon! Where is he? Is that part of the sanctuary, too?"
In the sphere, Norrec Vizharan and a dark-skinned woman had rushed through a web-enshrouded corridor filled with ancient statues carved in the fashion of the Vizjerei. Norrec had carried a monstrous black sword andhad looked ready to use it. Kara had wondered then if Sadun Tryst had spoken too well of his former friend. Here had looked a man who had seemed very capable of the outrageous murders.
Regardless of the answer to that, Kara had known she could not come this close and fail. "Answer me! Is that part of the sanctuary? It must be!"
"Yes, it is! Now leave me be!" He had torn free from her, headed to the door-only to be stopped there by hands sprouting from the floor and walls, hands that had kept him from abandoning the necromancer.
"What-?" She had been able to say no more, startled by what seemed the vehemence in the hands' actions. Horazon's very stronghold had seemed in rebellion, forcing him to return to Kara.
"Let me go, let me go!" the mad sorcerer had cried out to the ceiling. "It's the evil! I mustn't let it get me!" As the raven-tressed woman had watched, a sullen expression had finally crossed Horazon's wrinkled face. "All right… all right…"
And so he had returned to the sphere, pointed at the image. By this time, Norrec had confronted one of the statues, shouted something in anger that the crystal did not relay, then raised the black blade as if prepared to strike.
At the same time, Horazon cried, "Greikos Dominius est Buar! Greiko Dominius Mortu!"
Chaos had erupted in the scene with walls, floors, and stairs shifting, materializing, or disappearing. In the midst of the madness, the two figures had struggled to survive. However, Norrec Vizharan had been unable to save himself, falling near an edge and then being unable to rise because of the constant motion all around him. The woman-a witch, in Kara's mind-had completely abandoned the helpless fighter, choosing instead to head toward what seemed a fairly stable set of stairs.
"Greiko Dominius Mortu!" her companion snapped.
Something in his tone had made Kara look at Horazon and in his eyes she had read nothing but death for the pair. So, this had been how it would end. Not by the hands of the revenants nor through her own sorcery, but by the fatal spells of Bartuc's own crazed brother. For the witch she had felt nothing, but because of Tryst's tales of the veteran fighter, a spark of sadness had still touched her. Perhaps there had been a good man there once.
But not at that moment. The scene had revealed Norrec determined to slay his wayward partner. He had pointed one gauntleted hand at her, shouted something-
Only then had Kara noticed the look of horror and regret on his face. No satisfaction, no dark intent, only fear for what he would do to the fleeing woman.
But that had made no sense, unless…
"What did he say, Horazon? Do you know what he said? I need to know!"
From the crystalline sphere had suddenly burst a man's fearful voice. "Damn it! I won't!" Then, " No! Run! Hurry! Get out of here!"
Not the bitter shouts of a vengeful murderer and yet the image had still shown him ready to strike down his fleeing companion. However, his expression had continued to belie that notion. Norrec Vizharan had actually appeared as if he battled for control of himself or-or-
Of course! "Horazon! You must stop this! You must help them!"
"Help them? No, no! Destroy them and I destroy the evil at last! Yes, at last!"
Kara had glanced at the sphere again-just in time to witness not only the witch's awful demise, but the woman's own last attack on the fighter. Norrec's cries had filled Horazon's chamber, the sphere apparently still fulfilling the necromancer's previous request.
"Listen to me! The evil is in the armor, not the man! Don't you see? His death would be a travesty, a tipping of the balance!" Frustrated at Horazon's unyielding expression, she had glared up at the ceiling. The wizard seemed to consult some power up there, some power that did not merely exist in his mind. To it she had cried, "Bartuc was the monster, not the one clad in his armor and only Bartuc would take a life so!" Once more gazing at the mad mage, she concluded, "Or is Horazon just like his brother?"
The reaction to her desperate declarations had startled even Kara. From every wall, from even the ceiling and the floor, mouths had formed in the stone. Only one word had issued from each, the same word over and over,
"No… no… no… "
The crystalline sphere had suddenly expanded and, even more startling, opened up. Within it had arisen a stairway, which Kara had imagined had to lead somehow-as impossible as it had seemed-directly to the struggling Norrec.
Horazon had refused to aid her, but the Arcane Sanctuary had not.
The necromancer had immediately rushed to the crystal, pausing only when she came to the first step. Despite having offered her this path, the enchanted sanctum had continued to assault Norrec, making rescue difficult. Momentarily uncertain, Kara had initially chosen to call to the fighter, to see if he could perhaps make it to her without her having to enter the chaos.
He had responded to the second call-by shouting Horazon's name. Confused, Kara had withdrawn the hand she had offered, a symbolic gesture intended to let him know she had meant only help. As she had done that, he, in turn, had reacted oddly, moving as if he intended not to come to the necromancer-but to slay her.
"The evil awakens…" a voice had muttered behind her.
Horazon. She had not realized that he had stepped into sight. Kara had assumed that the mad mage had stayed far from the danger. She had known then why Norrec- or rather the armor — had reacted so. The enchanted armor had yet sought to fulfill its creator's greatest desire, to slay the accursed brother.
But before it had been able to strike, the sanctuary had chosen once more to take command of the situation. Norrec and his surroundings had regressed, pulling farther and farther back, almost vanishing from sight. Kara had seen the walls there begin to converge, as if the astonishing edifice had sought to box its adversary in… and worse. It had occurred to her only at the last that, with the armor seeking Horazon's imminent destruction, the best choice for the Arcane Sanctuary had been to end this once and for all, even if it meant, after all, the death of an innocent. Better to destroy both the armor and Norrec Vizharan than give Bartuc's legacy another chance to succeed.
But such a death went against the balance that Kara Nightshadow had been trained to preserve. Now, with Norrec's doom looming, the necromancer leapt into the chaos within the crystalline sphere, hoping that Horazon's apparently sentient domain would do for her what it would no
t for the hapless fighter.
Hoping that it would not decide that Kara, too, was expendable.
Eighteen
Norrec could not move, could not even breathe. It felt as if a giant hand had taken hold of him and sought to crush his entire body to a tiny pulp. In some ways he welcomed it, for with his death would at least end his guilt. No one else would die because he had sought to rob a tomb and instead unearthed a nightmare.
Then, just as he prepared himself to die, a tremendous force threw him upward. Norrec flew hard, almost as if he had been fired off by a catapult. So, instead of a crushing death, he would eventually fall to his doom. Unlike the short drop aboard the Hawksfire, Norrec felt certain that this time he would not survive.
But something-no, someone — caught him by one arm, slowing his flight. Norrec tried to see who it might be, but turning his head toward his would-be rescuer brought about an overwhelming sensation of vertigo. He lost all sense of direction, no longer even able to tell up from down.
Without warning, Norrec struck the ground, the sand doing very little to prevent the jolt from knocking him nearly senseless.
For some time, the battered veteran lay there, cursing the fact that he seemed to end up in such a position more often than necessary. His body ached to his bones and his vision revealed nothing to him but blurs. Yet, despite all that, he at least felt less pain. Whatever spell Galeona had cast before her death had at some pointceased and with it had also gone the crushing suffocation.
He heard thunder and knew from the general grayness his unfocused eyes could make out that he had returned to the storm-swept desert near Lut Gholein. Norrec also sensed that he had not come here alone, that even now, someone stood over him.
"Can you stand?" a familiar female voice asked gently.
He almost told her that he had no desire to, but instead forced himself as best he could to a sitting position. Doing so made his head spin, but at least Norrec felt some pride at accomplishing the simple task by himself.
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