"We go…" Tryst added. "You come… or not… your choice, necromancer."
What else could Kara do? Even without Horazon, she had to go after Norrec. The demon must have taken him to the one besieging Lut Gholein, but for what reason? Did they hope to destroy what remained of the veteran fighter's own mind, enabling the ghostly memories of the Warlord of Blood to completely take over? A terrifying thought for all people everywhere, not simply poor Norrec. Many scholars had assumed, quite rightly, that, had he defeated his brother, Bartuc would have wreaked his evil upon the rest of the world until it had all fallen under his heel. Now, it seemed, like Kara, he had a second chance to succeed.
As a follower of Rathma, she could not permit that- even if it meant having to kill the armor's host. The thought left her cold, but if the balance after all required Norrec to be slain, then so be it. Even her own life did not matter if only it meant that she put an end to the danger.
"I will come with you," the necromancer finally replied.
Fauztin nodded, then pointed in the direction of Lut Gholein.
"Time is… wasting… he says."
The revenants flanked Kara as the trio set off, a fact which did not escape her. The wind had already wiped clean much of Norrec's trail, but Tryst and the Vizjerei had no apparent trouble following. The bond to what had murdered them enabled the pair to follow anywhere, any place.
"What about the demon?" Kara asked. He had designson the armor, too, and would certainly fight anyone who sought to take it away from him.
Tryst pointed at her dagger, which now hung from the dark mage's belt. "That… is our best bet."
"How?"
"Just use it… and pray." He looked as if he intended to say more, but Fauztin gave him a glance that silenced the smaller of the ghouls immediately.
What secret did they still hold from her? Had she underestimated them? Did they still plan to use her as a puppet? Now was certainly not the time to hold back anything that might mean the difference between victory and death.
"What do you—"
"We'll deal… with the armor…" Sadun commented, cutting her off, "and Norrec."
His tone indicated that there would be no further conversation on this or any other subject. Kara considered trying anyway, but decided not to aggravate relations with the duo. The revenants acted in no manner she could readily predict, going against everything she had been taught about their kind. Half the time, they acted as if they still had hearts that pumped, blood that flowed. The rest of the time, they moved on with the silent determination for which such undead had been fabled. Truly, a unique situation… but then, everything about this matter had been unique.
Deadly, too.
She pictured Norrec in her mind, wondering what he must be going through at the moment. The image of the demon overshadowed the fighter, causing the necromancer to bite her lip in concern. There also appeared in her mind the shadow of a third figure, the one who now led the assault on the coastal kingdom. What part did he play? What did he gain in all this? He could not simply desire to have Norrec become a second Bartuc-thatwould be the same as signing his own death warrant. Bartuc had never either willingly served nor allied himself with any other mortal.
She would have the chance to discover the answers to her many questions soon enough. As to whether she would live long enough to appreciate those answers- Kara had severe doubts.
Nineteen
More than an hour had past and sti ll Lut Gholein had not given up the armor. General Malevolyn barely contained his righteous anger, wondering if they had already found it and thought that somehow they could use its magic against him. If so, they would be sorely mistaken. The armor would never work for their cause and, if tampered with, would likely strike out at those investigating it. No, Bartuc's legacy belonged to him and him alone.
In keeping with his threat, his demon horde continued to assault the walls. The grounds near Lut Gholein had been littered with the mangled remains of not only those who had earlier failed to reach the gates, but also several who had fallen from above. The demon archers had proven in many ways superior shots to even the men whose bodies they now inhabited. In addition, the six catapults that he had brought along now wreaked more havoc in the city itself. Protected by demonic sorceries, the siege machines, in turn, suffered no damage from Lut Gholein's return fire.
He watched as those at the nearest catapult prepared yet another fiery gift for the inhabitants. General Malevolyn had saved the weapons for just this, showing his adversaries that he would permit them no respite. Either they gave him what he desired or even their high walls would not save them-not that he would let such limited barriers save them in the end, anyway.
And the end was very near. Lut Gholein, the generaldecided, had just run out of time. He would let the catapults fire their present volley, then give the command for his full forces to strike. The people within thought that their gates would hold against the invaders, but even now they underestimated the might of demons. It would be a simple matter to remove the one obstacle to the horde's entrance into the city… and from there would begin a day of death so bloody that Lut Gholein's fall would be spoken of in terrified whispered by all other men for years to come.
Once more, the crimson armor of the Warlord of Blood would cast the shadow of fear across the entire world.
Augustus Malevolyn suddenly stiffened as an unsettling sensation filled him. He quickly turned to look behind him, certain that he had to see who-or what- approached from the rear.
And over a dune came a familiar sight, Xazax moving along the sand. That the demon had dared come so near to Lut Gholein during the day puzzled the general-until he saw who walked beside the monstrous insect.
"The armor… " he whispered almost reverently.
Forgetting his demon soldiers, forgetting Lut Gholein, Malevolyn charged toward the oncoming pair. In all his life he had never experienced so glorious a moment. Bartuc's armor came toward him. His greatest desire had at last come to fruition!
Why the simpleton who had stolen it from the tomb still lived to wear it, only Xazax could say. It amazed Malevolyn that the mantis had let the man live this long. Perhaps Xazax simply had not wanted to bother with carrying the suit back himself and had forced the fool to bring it along. Well, for that deed, the least the general could do would be to grant the armor's present wearer a relatively quick and painless death.
"And what prize is this you bring, my friend?"
The mantis sounded quite pleased with himself. "Agift surely proving this one's intentions match those of the warlord. This one gives you one Norrec Vizharan- mercenary, tomb robber, and host for the glorious armor of Bartuc!"
"Mercenary and tomb robber…" General Malevolyn chuckled. "Perhaps I should hire you on for your expertise. Certainly I should congratulate you for bringing to me at last the final step in my ascension to glory!"
"You-want this suit?" The fool sounded incredulous, as if he, who had worn it so long, could not comprehend its majesty, appreciate its power…
"Of course! I want nothing more!" The general tapped his helmet. He saw that Norrec Vizharan instantly recognized the link between them. "I am General Augustus Malevolyn, late of Westmarch, a land, from your looks, I think you know. As you see, I wear the helm, lost when Bartuc's head and body were separated by the fools who by fluke managed to slay him. So fearful-and rightly so! — of his tremendous power, they placed body and head on opposite sides of the world, then secreted both in places from which they thought no one would be able to take them!"
"They were wrong…" muttered the mercenary.
"Of course! The spirit of the Warlord of Blood would not be denied! He called to his own, awaited those whose links to him would stir the powers to life, to new horizons!"
"What do you mean?"
Malevolyn sighed. He supposed he should have slain the fool out of hand, but the commander's mood had grown so light that he decided to at least explain what Norrec had obviously never understo
od. Reaching up, General Malevolyn gently removed the helmet. He felt at some slight loss as it left his head, but assured himself that soon it would be back in place again.
"I did not know its secret then, but I know now… forthe artifact itself revealed it to me. Even you, I daresay, do not know the full truth, friend Xazax."
The mantis performed a mock bow. "This one would be delighted to be enlightened, warlord…"
"And you shall!" He grinned at Norrec. "I would wager to say that many died in the tomb before you came along, eh?"
Vizharan's expression darkened. "Too many… some of them were friends."
"You'll be joining them soon, have no fear…" The ebony-clad officer let Norrec get a better view of the helmet. "I daresay it was the same with this. The same fate for every minor tomb robber until one-one with a very special, inherent trait that gave him just enough of an advantage." Malevolyn's hands suddenly began to shake slightly. Quickly but still with an air of casualness, he replaced the helm. An instant feeling of relief washed over him, although he made certain not to let either the man or the demon know. "Can you guess what you and he had in common?"
"A cursed life?"
"More a magnificent heritage. In both of you, the blood of greatness flowed, albeit in quite a watered state."
This explanation only made Norrec frown. "He and I- were related?"
"Yes, although in his case that bloodline had become even more diluted. It gave him the right to take the helmet, but he proved too weak to be of use and so it let him be slain. With his death, it grew dormant again, waiting for one more worthy…" The general proudly indicated himself. "And it finally found me, as you see."
"You share the same blood, too?"
"Very good. Yes, I do. Far less tainted than that which flowed through that fool and, I have no doubt, far less tainted than you. Yes, Norrec Vizharan, you might saythat you and I and he who discovered the head and helm are all cousins — several times removed, of course."
"But who—" the soldier's eyes widened, truth at last dawning. "That's not possible!"
Xazax said nothing, but clearly he still did not understand. Demons did not always comprehend human mating and the result of it. True, some of their kind knew the process and, indeed, bred rapidly at times through its use, but they bred as animals, without any concern for bloodlines.
"Oh, yes, cousin." Malevolyn smiled broadly. "we are all the progeny of the grand and noble Bartuc himself!"
The mantis clacked his mandibles together, rightly impressed. He looked even more pleased with himself, likely because he had chosen rightly in joining forces with Augustus Malevolyn.
As for Norrec, he took no evident pleasure in the revelation, like so many lesser mortals not at all understanding what Bartuc had nearly accomplished. How many men had earned the respect and fear of not only their fellows, but Heaven and Hell, too? It disappointed the general slightly, for, as he had said, the two were indeed cousins of a sort. Of course, since Norrec only had a few moments left to his life, the disappointment was not all that great. A fool removed was still a fool removed, always a plus in the world.
"Blood calls to blood…" Norrec muttered, staring down at the sand. "Blood to blood, she said…"
"Indeed! And that was why with you, the armor could act as it could not for so many centuries. Great power lay dormant within it, but power without life. In you flowed the life that had given that sorcery a spark. It was as if two halves, separated for so long, came together to create the whole!"
"Bartuc's blood…"
Augustus Malevolyn pursed his lips. "Yes, we'vegone over that… you mentioned ‘she'? My Galeona, perhaps?"
"A necromancer, warlord," Xazax interjected. "Quite dead now." He lifted one sickle limb up, indicating the cause. "But as for the witch-she is also no more."
"A pity, but I suppose it had to be, anyway." Something occurred to the slim commander. "Excuse me a moment, will you?"
He turned back to where his hellish warriors harassed Lut Gholein, picturing the demon who wore the face of Zako.
In the distance, the ghoulish minion suddenly turned from his task at the lead catapult and rushed toward Malevolyn. The moment he reached the general, the demon went down on one knee. "Yes, warlord—" Asharp intake of breath escaped the false Zako as he suddenly noticed Norrec and the armor. "Your-your command?"
"The city has no more value. It is yours to play with."
A savage, toothy grin spread an impossible distance across the dead man's features. "You're very gracious, warlord…"
General Malevolyn nodded, then waved him off. "Go! Let no life be spared. Lut Gholein will serve as notice of what hope any other kingdom, any other power, has against me."
The thing with Zako's face rushed off, fairly bouncing up and down with glee as he hurried to tell the others. The horde would ravage the city, leave nothing standing. In many ways, it would assuage the warlord for what had happened at Vin-Jun.
Vin-Jun. Malevolyn's chest swelled with anticipation. Now that he had the armor, even Kehjistan, legendary home of the Vizjerei, would fall to him.
His hand traced the fox and swords crest on his own breastplate. Long ago, after he had slain his birth father and burned down the house that had never acknowledged him, Augustus Malevolyn had decided to bear the symbol of that house on his armor in order to remind himself that what he wanted he would always be able to take. Now, though, the time had come to set aside that symbol for a better one. The bloodred suit of Bartuc.
He turned back to Xazax and the mercenary. "Well, shall we begin?"
Xazax prodded Norrec forward. The man stumbled, then dared to glare at the demon. Malevolyn's opinion of his distant cousin rose a notch. At least the buffoon had some nerve.
But the words spat bitterly from Norrec's mouth did not at all please the new warlord. "I can't give it to you."
"What do you mean by that?"
"It won't come off. I've tried again and again and it won't come off, not even the boots! I've no control over the armor whatsoever! I thought I did, but it was all a trick! What I do, where I go-the armor always decides!"
His tragic situation amused General Malevolyn. "Sounds almost like a comic opera! Is there any truth to this, Xazax?"
"This one would have to say the fool speaks the truth, warlord. He could not even move to save the necromancer…"
"How fascinating. Still, a problem not at all difficult to solve." He raised a hand toward Norrec. "Not with the power now at my command."
The spell summoned from memories other than his own should have enabled Malevolyn to desiccate the soldier within the very armor, leaving but a dried husk easily removed. Bartuc had used the spell and used it well during his reign and never once had it failed him.
But now it did. Norrec Vizharan stood wide-eyed but untouched. He looked as if he had truly expected to die, which made the failure of so strong a spell all the more puzzling.
Xazax it was who suggested the reason. "Your spell encompasses the entire body, warlord. Perhaps the suit reacts instantly as if attacked itself."
"A good point. Then we shall just have to do something a little more personal." He stretched out his hand- and the demon blade appeared in it. "Beheading him should sever the armor's link. It needs a live host, not a corpse."
As he approached, the general noted the mercenary struggling within the suit, trying desperately to make it move. Malevolyn took the lack of reaction by Bartuc's armor as a sign that he had chosen the right method this time. One swift slash would do it. In some ways, Vizharan should have considered himself honored. Had not the first great warlord perished much the same way? Perhaps Malevolyn would keep the man's head for a trophy, a reminder of this wondrous day.
"I shall remember you always, Norrec, my cousin. Remember you for all you have given me."
General Augustus Malevolyn readied the ebony sword, taking expert aim at his target's throat. Yes… one swift slash. Much more elegant than simply hacking away until the head fell off.
Smiling, he performed the killing stroke-
— only to have his blade resound off an identical one now held in Norrec's left hand.
"What in the name of Hell?"
The mercenary looked as startled as him. Behind Norrec Vizharan, the monstrous demon clacked and chittered in open consternation.
Norrec-or rather the armor — shifted into a combat stance, the other black blade ready for any attack by the general.
A peculiar expression spread across the soldier's countenance, an expression both bewildered and bemused. After a moment's hesitation, he even dared speak toMalevolyn. "I guess it might not think you're the right choice for it, general. I guess we'll be forced to fight over it. I'm sorry, believe me, I am."
Malevolyn fought back his growing rage. He could ill afford to lose his temper now. In a calm tone, he returned, "Then fight we shall, Vizharan-and when I claim the armor, the victory will be that much the sweeter for this battle!"
He swung at Norrec.
Xazax feared that he had made a terrible error. Now before him stood two mortals clad in pieces of Bartuc's armor, two mortals who both seemed capable of wielding to some extent the warlord's ancient sorcery. Yet, the mantis had thrown in his lot with Malevolyn, who had, until now, seemed the destined successor. The suit of armor, however, clearly saw matters differently, choosing to defend its quite unwilling host.
The demon had worked hard to convince his infernal lord, Belial, to sacrifice so many hellish minions to this effort. Belial had only agreed because he, too, had thought that a new Bartuc could give him the edge he needed not only against his rival, but the possible return of any of the three Prime Evils. If Xazax had assumed wrongly, if Norrec Vizharan somehow managed to win, it would look as if Belial's lieutenant had completely mismanaged the entire affair. Belial did not suffer incompetence in his servants.
Now, watching the two prepare for the struggle, he also felt certain that the suit had played him in particular for a fool. It had come with him as if docile, as if it only wished to reunite itself with the helmet, then join the demon's cause. However, now the mantis believed that it sought the helmet only-and after that intended to turn upon him.
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