Amanita

Diablo II	Notation	Basic	Class	Skill	Item	Ally	Quest	Area	Monster	Tale

Mizor	I	II	III	IV	V	Xanthippe	I	II	III	IV	V	Thaddeus	I	II	III	IV	V	Tearlach	I	II	III	IV	V	Varnae	I	II	III	IV	V	Amanita	I	II	III	IV	V	Bodiccea	I	II	III	IV	V

The Assassin is, in my opinion, the most challenging character in Diablo II. Barbarians and Druids (shapechangers, at least) are extraordinarily straightforward; I'd recommend them to anyone just starting the game for their simplicity and brute power. Sorceresses, I find, live and die by their skill placement and are usually better off specializing in only a few options. Paladins and Amazons have a variety of utility skills which are of use in limited situations, and reward the experienced player who knows when to change tactics, but I can usually muddle through with a less-than-optimal strategy. None require as much attention as the Assassin. The martial arts system is complex and time-consuming, requiring her to hit more than once to unleash the most powerful effects. Spending so much time in the thick of combat with a character as frail as Assassins tend to be makes me nervous, and pulling off the maneuvers correctly demands close timing and lots of concentration. Trap Assassins are simpler, and work at range, which may be why I don't enjoy them as much as martial artists -- the sense of risk isn't nearly as strong.

There are, naturally, some things about the class I dislike. The martial arts system is a bit cumbersome, and mastering the timing needed to get the number of charge-ups I want is tricky. I've pretty much given up on getting only two charge-ups, especially with Burst of Speed at a high level; the character hits too quickly for me to control her that well. Traps are a nice idea, though I do not think she should be able to put a trap anywhere she can see. It would be much more logical if her traps were items she could either throw or set up next to her, like real mechanical devices. The blade skills are awful, which is a pity, as many real world assassins did their work with thrown blades before guns were invented. And then there's her outfit: a singlet cut very low in front and very high on the sides (so much so that her belt rests partially on bare skin) with elbow-length gloves, thigh-high boots, shoulder pads, and knee pads(?). According to the expansion manual, Assassins are members of the secret order of Viz-Jaq'taar; in the real world at least, secret societies stay secret by having their members look like ordinary people. No real ninja ever wore a "ninja" outfit; they wore the same clothes as everyone else. I refuse to believe that a typical woman in the Diablo II universe goes around dressed like that.

Now, what shall I do with my Assassin? My goal with this tour is to play all seven characters in ways I never have before. I've used various martial arts, and feel confident of my mastery of the tree, so I shall ignore it and use something else. I've used all the traps, so nothing from there. That leaves Shadow Disciplines. My favorites of these are Burst of Speed and Shadow Master, or Warrior if I'm using traps. Eliminate them, and... hmm, not much left. For "auras", the tree offers Fade and Venom. I rarely have difficulty getting enough resistances, so Venom it shall be. On the other side of the tree are the "mentalist" skills, which I haven't done much with: Psychic Hammer (useful but weak), Cloak of Shadows (Blinding monsters: good. Blinding player: bad!), and Mind Blast.

A potentially interesting build comes to mind. While playing my Necromancer, I'd noted that poison would be most useful with ranged attacks. Poison takes time to work, and ranged attacks make time a luxury you can better afford. The Venom skill adds a lot more damage than Poison Dagger, and can be used with any weapon, including a ranged weapon. In all this tour, I've yet to make a character with a strong ranged attack, and should do at least one. Another tactic I haven't used much is subversion: sowing chaos and disruption by confusing or converting the enemy. Mind Blast has a chance to convert, making me friends, or at least keeping the monsters busy while they die from poison. This could work.

Now, what weapon shall I use? Bows? Thrown weapons? I've got some nice crossbows on the mules, including a Heavy Crossbow with six sockets that could be fitted out with perfect emeralds. Crossbows are very slow for the Assassin, but with poison and Mind Blast, she may not need to shoot fast. Come to think of it, I wonder why the Assassin, someone used to complicated mechanical devices, is so slow with the crossbow, while the Druid is relatively fast? I would have thought Nature Boy would be more practiced with normal bows. Ah... no point second guessing Blizzard about this. Many things in the Diablo II universe make no sense, but if I asked they might offer some bizarre, convoluted explanation for them that would just make my head hurt. They might even have a pseudo-rational explanation for the female characters' outfits, though we all know the real reasons for those.

So my Assassin shall be a ranged attacker, using crossbows. Her main skills will be Venom and Mind Blast, with the goal of converting enemies and killing from a long distance. I'll be putting points into Claw Mastery as a prerequisite anyway, so I'll make her back-up weapons a pair of claws in case things get rough. She'll use no summons; minions will be mixed up fresh for each battle. Also, no mercenary. One thing that bothered me with Varnae is that my merc killed monsters before his poison had a chance to do its thing, and I don't want that to happen again. Besides, the "lone hired gun" is a staple of fiction; anyone who walks that lonely road should do so without help. Moving fast and hitting hard before you know she's there, then melting back into the shadows... that sounds like what an Assassin should be. In keeping with the build, I'll give her a short bow for starting equipment. Her name is Amanita, after a variety of poisonous mushroom noble Romans used to bump each other off.

Act 1

Chapter 1

When I laid eyes on the palisade, I knew it would be trouble. But trouble was what I was looking for. I was out on assignment, looking for nobody knew what. All we knew was that a lot of crazy Vizjerei had come wandering out of this part of the world the last few months. A sorcerer having a sudden fit of madness and destroying a house isn't strange; the location was the strange part. There was nothing out here but farming villages and old monasteries, nothing sorcerers would go crazy over. Nothing out here a sorcerer could want, unless he was looking for cheap land with a view of the neighbor's cow. But our higher-ups don't like not knowing, especially with sorcerers. They can be real bastards when they want to, throwing sparks and dazzle with one hand so you don't see them pull a demon out of their hat with the other. Something around here caught their collective eye. A lot of them came looking for it, and it did a number on them.

A lot of us junior members were sent out to look for the whatever-it-is; field training, they called it, seasoning. I figure I'm spicy enough, but what the hell. It beats meditating. Going along the mountains was easiest, and as likely as any other way, which is how I found the palisade. A few dozen people were inside, but they didn't look like they were sorcerers: their thoughts were confused and sad, some angry, most more than a little scared, but no one was thinking of magic. I probably had no business in there, so I went inside.

There were a lot of women in there. That ruled out their being sorcerers. Sure, there's supposed to be some order of female mages hiding in the eastern jungles somewhere, but no one's ever seen them. Would killing one of them be harder, I wonder? I probably couldn't count on the outfit to distract them. These women were all armed, mostly with bows. A female archers unit? There were a couple of men, older and a lot more prosperous-looking. One, you could tell, was dripping with money -- sure, he wore brown pants and a plain tunic, but you don't buy a ring like the one he had on his left ring finger second-hand. His hair was a plain brown, cut in a standard style. A not-too-long beard gave him a very paternal look; his was a face you could trust. Obviously the man to talk to.

"Greetings, stranger!" he started off, with a smile I could have poured on pancakes. "With all the troubles, I'm not surprised to see one of your kind here."

My first instinct was to lock down: had my thoughts leaked? A man couldn't possibly have the training to read my mind... he looked surprised, and stepped back. "Oh, I'm sorry! I hope I haven't offended you. I saw that you're armed, and you must know how to defend yourself to cross this country alone. I merely assumed you were a roving mercenary! We've had a few come by, you know."

Damn, I thought, relaxing. He relaxed as I did. This guy didn't need any training or study or meditation to tell what I was thinking. He looked for flickers in my eyes, or changes in the pace of my breathing. And he was good at it. My guess was that he was either a gambler or a merchant, neither of which had any use for a company of archers. "Guess you caught me," I smiled my dumbest friendly smile. "Yeah, I hire out as an archer. It's just something I do, I'm not really proud of it. My name's Amy."

He shook my hand, and smiled, nice and polite. He knew I was lying, but calling me on it wouldn't be friendly, and he would always be friendly. Had to be a merchant. "I am Warriv, leader of this caravan. You'll be in rare company here. The world doesn't see many women archers, outside of these Rogues."

The Rogues! The Rogue Sisters of the Sightless Eye, famous for their archery and a male-free lifestyle. I don't know where my brain is some days. "Oh, um, yeah, I was coming here to visit them. These are the Rogues?"

He didn't hide his surprise at my ignorance; his eyebrows slowly crept up his face, almost hiding in his hair out of sheer embarrassment. "How many cohorts of female archers have you met? Ah, you're confused because you expected to find them still in their monastery."

I nodded, still dumb. Men talk a lot more if they think a girl is dumb. I doubt it fooled him for even a minute, but it's important to keep up appearances. "Yeah... I thought they were, I mean, further up in the mountains."

"Therein lies a sad tale," Warriv shook his head. I instantly felt his sadness and concern. He was good, too good, maybe. "I don't know all the details, but a great catastrophe has overtaken the Rogue sisterhood, and expelled them from their monastery. When I came with my caravan, I found them by this river, trying to set up camp. If you're at all interested in the Rogues, you should speak to their leader, Akara. She's the one over there."

I've done better; it would be hard to do worse. Warriv may not read minds, but I still felt like I'd told him everything he wanted to know without ever opening my mouth. A mage with that kind of talent could be dangerous. Most don't know how; they only read books, and never between the lines. You can tell them anything.

Before I found the leader Warriv wasn't, someone else stopped me. She was a redhead, with a rather narrow forehead and more height than is considered attractive. Her nose was small and sharp, her upper lip a shade too long and her mouth more than a shade too wide. Her armor fit the body she had well, and her knuckles were callused. "All right," she said, "who are you and what are you doing here? You can lie to Warriv, but you can't fool me."

Lady, if you think I fooled Warriv, you don't know him very well. "My name's Amy... well, Amanita, but that's kind of formal, isn't it?"

"We both know the Rogues are the only women's military order in the world," she went on, standing a little straighter so I had to look up to her. I obliged. "No man's army would hire a woman." She smirked, looking me up and down. "At least not as an archer."

"Yeah, I know!" I whined. "I can't get anybody to hire me. I can barely afford clothes! I need new arrows and all I got was 3 gold to hunt deer in this one town, and they even tried to get out of paying me that!"

The smirk didn't go away. She thought she knew something; I was tempted to look and see what, but that would spoil the surprise. "Can't afford clothes. Look, I can guess what your 'business' is. You'll find no customers here. All the men ran when the monastery was attacked. But know this: we Rogues are warriors. We are proud of who we are, and do not tolerate those who humiliate their own kind for the sake of a few coins."

She was over my height, maybe 20 pounds heavier. She had armor, and a sword. Anger and frustration were rippling off her mind like foam out of a boiling pot; she wouldn't need much excuse to use the sword. If anyone needed to be told where to go, it was her, but that might start something I wouldn't walk away from. "Can I talk to someone else?" I said. "I don't think we have anything to say to each other."

When she saw I wouldn't leave, Red let me talk to Akara, the Rogue priestess. Akara was an old woman who kept herself shrouded in a cloak, the hood over her face. While she didn't say anything, she was thinking the same thing Red was. There was more in her mind, but I didn't go looking. Don't look when you won't like what you're going to find.

"Warriv is correct, young girl: a great evil has overcome our monastery, and none of us know its cause. It all happened on one horrible night. Those of us who survived awoke to find ourselves being slaughtered -- by our own sisters."

"Sudden fits of madness?" I asked.

Her shriveled fingers fluttered out like dying butterflies to grip the edges of her cloak. "I fear something much more sinister. Their eyes were full of what I can only describe as evil. Other creatures had entered our monastery as well, fearsome beasts of hellish disposition and murderous intent. Most of our sisters were killed while still asleep, and I sometimes wonder if they were the lucky ones."

"No, they're not. The dead have no luck at all. Have you had any sorcerers come to your monastery recently?"

"Many have come and gone, as they always have. Our monastery is built across the only pass in this part of the mountains, and many travel this way to and from the east."

"Did any stay for any length of time?"

"None who seemed in any way unusual. The madness came without warning, and we saw nothing which aroused our suspicions."

"Then you should have been more suspicious. Merchant caravans go through your pass. Did any of them bring anything you kept in the monastery?"

"Many things, none of which were out of the ordinary." Tension edged the old woman's voice. "Young lady, every sleepless night I have meditated upon the events which led to our monastery's downfall. If a gap lay in our defenses, either physical or spiritual, I cannot see it any better now than I could before."

"That's why we need more evidence. Just before the --"

"Child, nothing happened which had not happened a thousand times before. We had many visitors, some new to us, others very familiar. If you wish to aid us, I am grateful, though I must have some assurance that I am not wasting what little time remains to me. You ask many questions, but would you be willing to risk your life on our behalf?"

"Yes," I said, happy that I didn't have to lie for once.

"There is a place of great evil near here, where our enemy is massing for an attack on this very camp. Out on the moor, the dead walk, and formerly harmless animals viciously attack any and all they see. In a cave there, you will find our enemies gathering. If you can find this cave and slay all who fill it, I will feel you can be trusted with more information."

"You have more information?"

"I may." A smile put in a reluctant appearance on her prune-like mouth. "But if I do, it is buried amongst the thousand insignificant facts of daily life. Opposing the hellish forces who have taken our monastery will demand skill and courage. If you show me you have these qualities, I will be more willing to sit for your interrogation. For now, I am afraid your manner and appearance do not inspire confidence. Now run along. I shall speak with you again when I am more able to take you seriously."

Chapter 2

Killing a crowd of demons might be hard. They're not like mages, though that might work out in my favor. From what I've heard, they're not as smart, and don't keep as many tricks up their sleeves. But there'll be more than one of them. Sorcerers tend to be loners, so Viz-Jaaq'tar train to take down single targets. For groups, I might get away with just spreading out the hurt: keep my distance, don't let them see me, pick 'em off one by one and hope they don't try anything clever. Sounded like a good plan. But don't they all?

It was raining when I stepped into the moor... up past my ankle. Pulling my foot out made a noise like a 60-year-old streetwalker who'd forgotten to put in her teeth. So much for "move silently as shadows on the grass." I listened, but no sound came through the patter of rain. All I could see was trampled heather and stumps of the trees that gave their lives for the rickety walls behind me. There weren't even any animals to take notice of me. Perfect. I'd seen animals on my way here: ugly, twisted ones that weren't as scared of me as they should have been.

Stepping from one knot of grass to another kept me out of the mud; an old hat I found under a rock kept the rain off. I actually felt pretty good about myself before something stabbed me in the back. I whirled around -- nobody there. Another hit, in the leg. I looked down. A giant rat with spikes on its back was gnashing its teeth and flicking quills at me. It stopped after I stepped on its head. Scanning the ground, I saw a few more. Each took several arrows to kill, more than an animal the size of a rabbit should. The quills hurt a lot to pull out, too. Must be barbed; at least they weren't poisoned.

The moor was also haunted by the dead. Waterlogged corpses are great zombie material, and whoever was making them was working overtime. It didn't seem right to have walking dead just shambling around in daylight -- they needed a silvery moon shining off brackish water, with wolf howls in the background. There probably weren't any wolves left around here, and if there were, they were 8 feet long with spines and steel teeth. Another thing: almost all the zombies were women, wearing what was left of Rogue leather armor. Most were very fresh, dead for a few weeks at most.

When I had a chance, I looked over every zombie. Some had a little money, so whatever killed them wasn't interested in loot. Some still had useable armor. Mostly, I was looking for what originally killed them. Quieting them down for examination took so many arrows they wound up looking like birds, but the cause of death was usually obvious. Most were killed by blows to the torso: axe wounds in their backs or punctures by sword or spear. The angle of attack usually went upwards, and injuries to the head and shoulders were uncommon. Many were burned, but not badly enough to kill them. Very little molestation, before or after death. They died like soldiers, it looked like, and from ordinary weapons. Nice to know I wouldn't be fighting anything too exotic.

I would need a stronger weapon, though -- my bow is for killing rabbits, and any rabbit still around out here could probably take it away from me and eat it. Lucky for me this happened to the Rogues, every kind of bow I might want will be easy to find. Turns out their smith escaped with them, a girl named Charsi. Don't laugh, she's bigger than most men I've seen, including a few smiths. Every word out of her mouth bubbled over with enthusiasm, and I could tell right away that thinking didn't bother her too often. Also, she liked to talk. I like talking to people who like to talk.

"Oh, it was horrible," she was saying, "there was fire everywhere and all this screaming, I thought for sure I was going to die. I'm not a warrior -- I wish I was, but I'm no good with a bow -- so I grabbed some things and ran when Kashya told me we had to abandon the monastery. I hope you understand she's taking it really hard, so she's --"

"Don't you worry, I understand," I said, knowing she'd believe me. "Sometimes, when a war leader is defeated, she takes it out on her troops. It's no big deal."

Charsi blinked, "Oh, you knew she's the war leader?"

I've got to watch myself. "Yeah, one of the other girls told me. And she looks like a war leader, you know?"

"Oh, yeah!" she nodded. "Kashya is really impressive, just amazing. Only Blood Raven was better. She..." Charsi's smile faded, and her voice trailed off. This was a subject she'd remembered not to talk about. I was impressed.

"Blood Raven is kind of a strange name," I said innocently.

"Yeah, she was from some other country far away," Charsi said, suddenly finding the dirt by my boots intensely fascinating. Doubt filled her mind like mist -- she wasn't trying to hide the truth, she didn't know what was going on. All she knew is that she'd heard the name in connection with something bad. She kept talking as I closed my mind's eye. "I think Gheed has traveled in her country. He's been everywhere."

"Who's Gheed?"

"He's behind you, by his wagon. Gheed is wonderful, he knows all kinds of funny stories and has seen so many amazing things. I wish I could see half of what he's seen."

Glancing over my shoulder, I found two eyes the color of fresh excrement riveted to my ass. The rest of him looked no better: expensive clothes and a fur-lined cape wrapped around an ale barrel, topped by a face that looked like a bucket of mud. There are people in this world you don't have to know to hate. Just looking across camp at him, I wanted to kick his teeth in. Violence wasn't a good idea, especially around Kashya, so I'd have to settle for a pair of pants. Finding some wouldn't be easy around the Rogues.

Charsi was still innocently rambling on about how funny and clever he was. I felt sick. I could open her eyes for her, but the thought made me feel worse. I asked for a crossbow instead, and after a few practice shots, bought it. Knowing I was packing a little power made me feel a lot better.

The crossbow worked out just fine. Cranking it up was a little slower, but watching one of the bolts punch right through a quill rat was worth the extra time. Zombies only took three or four shots to put down, if you aimed for the joints. Hits to the head or internals don't mean much with zombies. To get some practice, I explored the moor. There were a few chests and trunks lying around, probably luggage lost during the escape. Most of the stuff was useless, except for the finder's fees. All that changed when I found a sorcerer's staff in an empty house. My money worries were over. Mages enchant their personal toys so much, any stick of theirs will be worth a fortune. Akara was pleasantly surprised to see it, so she must not miss its former owner. The first thing I brought was a couple of tomes for scrolls -- that surprised her too. She was sure I'd leave once I had money.

The sun was setting when I was satisfied that the moor was empty. Moving slow and quiet, drawing no attention to myself, was all it took. Kashya wouldn't be impressed, but I didn't expect her to be -- even I know zombies aren't hard to kill. All that was left was the cave. It was small, just an opening in the side of a hillock, but it was the only one in the area. Judging from the tracks outside, a lot of creatures were in that cave. Some had human feet, which dragged as they walked. Others had small feet, with four clawed toes splaying out in front and to the sides. And then there was a single humanlike print so big both my feet fit inside it lengthwise. Good thing I brought a bigger bow.

The cave was dark, with only a few torches struggling in the stale air deeper inside. Perfect. Carefully, I moved in, eyes on the torches far ahead. A zombie or two was wandering in and out of the light, barely moving. Perfect targets. I braced against a wall to shoot... and the wall was hairy. With a snort, it turned around, and I looked up into two tiny eyes in a head that could barely be distinguished from the massive shoulders hulking on either side. Crap. Off I went, with the thing right behind me, howling enough to wake up everything in the cave before I finally managed to kill it. Crap, crap, crap. So much for stealth. The zombies were coming, and a few midget-like creatures with torches.

The zombies were easy kills, like usual. The midgets were short little devil guys, with horns, barbed tails, and attitude. I didn't like their attitude, and let them know it. After reviewing my forceful arguments, they bowed to reason and changed their ways, becoming much easier to get along with. I did have a problem with their leaders, though -- slightly bigger midgets who undid all my subtle persuasions by raising the little bastards from the dead. The obvious solution was to address the leader in person, the same way you'd deal with a Necromancer with a lot of raised skeletons. Getting through to him took persistence, so much so that I had to change arguments and employ a pair of katar, but once the leader saw the light of reason, the rest changed their minds and became much more accommodating.

Clearing the rest of the cave went the same way. I'd rather they never knew I was there, but a strong attack isn't a bad option. After a few Bigfoots almost got close enough to hit me, I bought myself a pot helm. It's ugly, but the most important part I have is my brain. As for my other parts... the Rogues still aren't stocking pants, so I meet Charsi on the other side of her little smithing table. The leader of the cave forces, around whom all the others gathered, was a zombie, which told me a lot about how well they were organized. Super-zombie wasn't any harder to kill, he just took longer. Mentally alerting each of his friends in turn, I'd lure them away and put them down, until he was alone. He never noticed. Even when he did see me, a few psychic blows made him reel so much he immediately forgot.

When I went to see Akara, I never got a word out of my mouth. She greeted me right away with, "Well done, my child. You have cleansed that den of evil, and earned my trust. I hope you will forgive us for anything we said or implied."

"Thank you, Akara," I said, wondering how she could know already. She wasn't reading my thoughts. Did she have someone follow me in that cave? Could one of these Rogues outdo a Viz-Jaq'taar in stealth? All right, so I'm not exactly stellar in that department... "You had no reason to trust me."

"Perhaps not, but that is not why I was so brusque. Much of my faith in humanity was lost when our monastery fell, but I feel finding someone to trust has helped restore it. You could easily have fled this cursed place with your new wealth, but did not. I now feel I can share with you my thoughts and suspicions."

I nodded, mind still whirling. "Whatever you're willing to share, Lady Akara."

"Thank you, Amy, if I may call you that. My belief is that our sisters have been possessed by demons, brought back to this place by one of our order, Blood Raven. Perhaps you have heard the name?"

There wasn't a trace of irony in her voice. However she got her information, she didn't know everything. "I think so..."

"Blood Raven was our greatest archer, famous for her skill. When evil struck the town of Tristram, she led many of our sisters there to combat it."

I nodded. "I'd heard of Tristram. Farming town by the Hool river, yes?"

"Yes. Until a short while ago, that is all anyone knew or cared of it. Now it is clear that a dark secret lay hidden there. When I heard of demons roaming the land near Tristram, I sent Blood Raven to save the town and enhance our order's reputation."

"You didn't send Kashya?"

"No," the old woman's voice dropped. "I thought Blood Raven the superior choice."

Ouch. I'll bet Kashya didn't take that well. "Go on."

"Blood Raven returned with but a fraction of her cohort. They told tales of a town nearly destroyed, with an unspeakable evil festering beneath the surface. This nameless evil had led to the downfall of kings and valiant knights alike. The town's cathedral was overrun by demons, and their bishop had vanished down below the catacombs."

"This town had its own bishop? I thought it was a little place."

"The archbishop of Khanduras, no less. I do not know why he chose Tristram as his seat. The important matter is that after their return, Blood Raven and the others behaved oddly, and were stricken with nightmares. The Eye of the Goddess saw nothing more in them than memories of the many horrors they encountered while attempting to cleanse Tristram, so I assumed that all they required was time to heal their troubled minds. It appears that I was very, very wrong. Blood Raven's cohort, and all those who worked closely with them, are the ones who rose against us that terrible night."

"With madness in their eyes."

"As you have said. Now our sisters roam the land killing and destroying all they once built and cherished, side by side with hellish creatures. According to our scouts, our once-proud monastery is defiled in the worst way, full of demons and corruption. And Blood Raven has been seen again."

"Where? Doing what?" I asked.

The old woman continued, ignoring me. "Her form had been altered severely, so that she seems more beast than human."

"I understand that. Where was she, and what was she doing?"

"I am sorry. This weighs heavily on me. Perhaps Kashya can best explain; she has seen with her own eyes the horror that Blood Raven has become."

Chapter 3

Kashya was standing by the bonfire, tense and angry. Like normal, in other words. Believe it or not, I was looking forward to this. Akara came pretty close to apologizing, but I wanted to hear those three little words "I am sorry" out of Kashya's mouth even more. It would be funny if they made her choke. Didn't happen, though. She took one look at me, and thought clear as day: *Oh, look. Oiled black leather. Figures.* Yeah, I blackened the leather. Black is harder to see and goes with everything I own. And I oiled it. That's what you do in wet weather. There's just no pleasing some people.

"Hi there," I said sweetly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Depends on what it is," she grumbled.

"No, whether or not you answer depends on what it is," I corrected her. She bristled, but I ignored it: "Lady Akara has confided in me. She thinks someone named Blood Raven was involved with the fall of your monastery."

She snorted. "Old news. She was at the center of it." Sadness flashed across her face. She tried to hide it by looking down into the fire, giving me an unprecedented view of the top of her head. "I have no idea why."

"I'll ask her myself later. I've heard she's still around."

"She's in our graveyard." Waves of anger suddenly radiated from her. "She's violating holy ground and raising our own order's dead against us. The Sightless Eye has been our path for centuries. She's thrown all that away, and given herself to our greatest enemy!"

"Your greatest enemy?" I asked, nonchalantly as I could.

She glared at me. "No one has ever taken our monastery from us before. A lot of men have tried. We are warriors in a world that wants us to be cooks, or wives, or..." After a look that should have been sticking out between my shoulder blades, she said, "I don't know who Blood Raven's new master is, if that's what you're asking. But whoever it is likes humiliating women. Go look at her, and our other sisters. You'll see."

Maybe I shouldn't have, but I felt like pushing her buttons. "You're sure I'll share your opinion?"

"It's not an opinion. The graveyard is on the east side of the pass, past the church. Try not to let her kill you."

I smiled. "Gosh, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't. I don't want any more zombies around."

The moors were empty and silent. A lone Rogue stood guard by a fence. Beyond was no-woman's-land, if you believed Kashya. The first thing I found was a waypoint. Good. The old Horadrim made those things for quick travel, everywhere they went. Anyone could use one, unlike most sorcerer toys. Having one handy could save a lot of walking.

The ground got higher and rockier as I moved up the pass. There were more trees to hide behind, and less mud to get stuck in. If my luck was good, I'd never have to sneak through a swamp again. As I made my way through the thick grass, I found an enemy camp: hordes of demon midgets wandered around a small clearing. They milled around idly and chattered in their own language, obviously waiting with nothing to do. It could have been any military camp away from the action if there weren't so many human bones lying around. The skulls on poles were a definite giveaway. Since their leaders raise them from the dead...

My first shot missed. The boss demonling bent down to bite off a flower his followers had somehow missed, so the bolt sailed over his head and killed another one. They all stood there, blinking stupidly, long enough that I made my second shot perfect. Something else raised the leader, ruining one of my better kills. A bigger leader with green skin pointed me out from the far side of the camp, and the whole bunch took off after me.

It could have been bad if they weren't such chickens. Putting a bolt through one sent the rest squealing for their mommies, if demons even have mommies. But they always came back, snarling and shaking their little clubs and knives, even the last one, who should have known better. The leaders wouldn't leave camp. Maybe they were too smart to stray far from daddy, they didn't gang up on me when I jumped in to kill him by hand. Who knows? Maybe they didn't mind so much.

The camp was pretty sad. The only structure was the last corner of a stone building (the demons probably destroyed it themselves) with an untanned hide stretched over it, held with a few pegs. Some human things were ground into the mud: torn cloth, kitchen stuff, random coins, and an identification scroll. No clues about anything important.

While I was searching the camp, Rogues attacked me. Not like Kashya wanted to -- these were working with the enemy. I couldn't see why either. I'm not sure if you could call them "humiliated" so much... more like degraded. For one thing, they couldn't talk. They moved by half-crawling, hunched down near the ground like animals. When they came at me, they attacked with their teeth, which had gotten long and sharp -- one even had horns growing out of her head. The weirdest thing is that they were all wearing g-strings, and that's about all. Maybe I'm going out on a limb here, but I don't think panties that slip up your crack are standard issue among the Rogues. I don't have many body consciousness issues myself, but I had to admit, Kashya had a point. These women were not wearing butt floss because they thought they looked good in it, even the ones that did. Gheed would have liked looking at them, from a safe distance. I didn't have distance, so I had to kill them. As each died, an angry spirit like an animal with horns and huge teeth left her body.

There were a few more possessed Rogues, and some Bigfeet. A few times, I tried knocking whatever spirit was in the Rogues out, but it never worked. They'd wormed their way in too deep for a minor mentalist to pry 'em out. Mostly, the plains were full of whining midgets. It got to the point where I just got tired of looking at them, even to take aim. I haven't seen anything that needed to be put out of its misery that much since I was a kid and had to spend a week feeding our neighbor's spaniel. The dog was completely deaf, mostly blind, and had arthritis so bad he dragged both hind legs, but dear old Mrs. Fluffynutty couldn't bear to have the little bastard put down no matter how much he begged.

A burning mess near one side of the pass must have been the church. There was a tall part that might have been a steeple, and one of the dead guys outside looked like a priest. He was a he, surprisingly enough. I borrowed his studded leather jerkin, and his pants. They were the only pants I'd seen in the whole damn pass, and I'm sure a priest wouldn't want me wandering around being humiliated all day.

There was a cave on the other side of the pass. I like dark places, and I could always use the practice sneaking around. If Blood Raven was raising the dead, the cave was where she was storing them. Everywhere there were zombies, some so old all the flesh was gone and they were nothing but bones. The toughest took enough bolts to hold up a pavilion. At the rear of the cave, a single group of possessed Rogues was hiding out. These dear ladies still had their thigh-high boots, and kept enough of their minds to use weapons -- not very well, but it's the thought that counts. One of the funniest things I found in the cave was an enchanted club someone had named "Corpse Splitter." It had heavy anti-undead magic in it, so the "corpse" part fit, but who would name a club "splitter"?

Charsi noticed my new outfit. "Oh. I think that vest used to be brother Mensel's."

"When I found him, he wasn't in pain any anymore," I said. "If it bothers you, I'll not wear it." Most people, when you offer to do something that spares their feelings, think they're at fault for being upset. Pretending to care lets you get away with a lot.

"No, no, that's all right," she said, still looking sad. "Almost everything we have belonged to someone who's dead now. Why'd you dye it black?"

Good girl. "It's the color of mourning and sadness. Burning churches, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, eyes wide. "I didn't know you were upset. It's really hard to tell what you're feeling. Before, I wondered if you cared about anything."

It shouldn't have, but that stung. Probably because I knew she meant it. This girl was as open as a window on a sunny spring day. Nobody in the Viz-Jaq'taar ever left themselves like that. "Uh, yeah. I was surprised to see he was a he. I thought this monastery was for women only."

"Oh, he wasn't in the monastery, he ran the visitor's church in the pass. Outsiders didn't come to services in the cathedral. They used to, but some of them got kind of upset about Lady Akara's sermons."

"Yeah, sermons can get to me, too. There are a lot of little shrines around there too."

"Yeah, they've been there since, like, forever. I think they're from some old religion."

"Ah." That's the problem with Charsi... she was more than willing to talk, but didn't have much important to say. "Say, where'd you get your pants?"

"I made 'em... I needed something to protect my legs from the sparks."

"Good idea. Well, thanks for everything."

Eventually, got back to the graveyard. Maybe I should have been faster, there were a lot more zombies waiting for me. They move pretty slow, so I had lots of time to look the place over. The graveyard fence was wrought iron, stylish but expensive. The gateposts were decorated with female nudes, an odd choice for a graveyard. Looks like the Sightless Eye has no objection to displays of the female form. Not too surprising: even Kashya shows enough thigh to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window. Still... it was different with the possessed Rogues. These stone maidens weren't degraded, and I could not tell you why they were not -- any more than I could tell you how a leer from one greasy lech got me to put on a pair of pants.

One thing the Viz-Jaq'taar taught me is: never to go in the front door. The graveyard fence had fallen in several places, so entry was easy. A weeping willow tree grew in the center of the yard, a very sentimental image spoiled by the fresh corpses hanging in its branches. The headstones were too small to hide behind, but it didn't matter anyway: the zombies saw me as soon as I poked my head up. As a flaming arrow arced over their heads, something that wasn't human anymore rasped, "Join my army of the dead!" I made sure I wouldn't be where that arrow landed, and at my leisure, scampered like hell around the tree for a clear shot.

Blood Raven was dead white and puffy, with dark rings around her eyes. At first I thought she looked bruised, until I saw the swollen flesh had bone under it, like her whole skeleton was changing shape. Her hair was all gone; she had two bony horns up there instead. Other parts of her looked as good as ever... maybe better. If someone was changing her body, he didn't like women at all, but had definite ideas about what he wanted a woman to be. One thing he wanted Blood Raven to be was fast. She dodged like a wasp away from my first shot, and my second, and third. I had more trouble avoiding her shots; the crowd of zombies staggering around the yard didn't help any either.

We traded a few dozen shots. She was a lot more generous than I was, and those damn burning arrows hurt. I got her once. She didn't stop to tell me if it hurt. The crossbow was getting me nowhere fast -- she was better than me. If I was going to win, I'd have to make the fight mine, doing something I was better at. That meant blades. I hid behind a crypt to change weapons, and Blood Raven was angry or bloodthirsty enough to come in after me. I wanted to take her alive, she had some talking to do. But even at close range, with no zombies to hide behind, she was too dangerous. In the end, I had no choice -- it was her or me. I nailed the b!tch to the crypt wall. The spirit in her took a long time to blast its way out, almost destroying her body. Its zombies dropped like sacks of mud. She'd been hostess to something big, but not anymore. When I kill something, it stays dead.

Looking around, I was surprised at how many corpses were scattered around. You expect them to stay where they are once they're six feet under. I guess demons don't care what's hallowed or not. There's a lot of argument among the Viz-Jaq'taar about whether a priest is just another kind of mage, and if they're using is the same magic sorcerers do. Personally, I think priests don't do magic themselves, they appeal to a spirit to do their thing for them. A priest doesn't have to know anything, and most don't, they just have faith. In a lot of ways, that makes them more dangerous than sorcerers. Demons can claim to be benevolent spirits, and a faithful, naive priest would never know the difference.

Even with Blood Raven dead, I had to make sure everything in the graveyard was properly disposed of. Enough zombies were left that I was sure I'd be seeing a lot more of them in the future. In one of the mausolea, some force made a pentagram of fire that I couldn't put out. Whoever's doing all this doesn't care who knows it, that's for sure. The Rogues also left a lot of barrels in the crypts. Some exploded when cracked open, an old trick meant to catch grave robbers. All it does is encourage them to avoid barrels.

Meanwhile, back in camp, Kashya's attitude had lightened a bit. "I can hardly believe you've defeated Blood Raven!"

It makes me uncomfortable how the Rogues know what's up before I tell them. If they've got scouts trailing me, I have never spotted them. "Yeah, but I never got her to talk. She was too good. I had to put her down hard."

"But... but you defeated her!"

"When I didn't want to. I wasn't good enough." Then I saw what was really on Kashya's mind. "She was a better archer than me. I had to trick her, and it was a trick that left me no leeway. The only thing I could do was kill her."

She nodded, more satisfied now. She could still be better than me, in her mind. "She used to be my greatest friend. I couldn't understand how she could make the choice she did."

"She didn't make a choice, it was made for her. Now, I have to go."

"What? Where are you going?"

"Akara told me Blood Raven went to a town called Tristram. I think whatever she had, she brought back from there, so that's where I'm going next. We don't have any agents in that part of the world."

Kashya blinked in confusion. "We?"

"The Viz-Jaq'taar. Ask Akara, she's probably heard of us."

I was almost out of the camp before she called out, "Why don't you go the quick way?"

From what I remembered of Khanduras, Tristram was a tiny town at least a week's journey from the Rogue Pass. You could probably walk right past it if you didn't know where it was. If I had to go, a quick way there was worth investigating. I came back. "Quick way?"

"Yes," Kashya nodded, staring curiously at me. "The quick way. The one Blood Raven and the others used. You're not going to walk there, are you?"

"Don't tell me, let me guess," I said, ignoring her question. "This insignificant town not only has its own bishop, it has its own Horadric waypoint."

"No. They used the old gate out on the stony field. It's a ring of five stones. Touch them in the right order, and a portal opens that takes you there."

That would be better. "Where is this gate?"

"In the stony field just north of the graveyard. Can't miss it."

"Good. What order do I touch the stones in?"

Kashya frowned. "I never got to use them. Akara knows."

"Good. Looks like we both have something to ask her."

Chapter 4

"Ah yes, the old gate: a ring of stones in what is now a lonely field. It existed before our monastery was built, and may stand even after all signs of us are gone." Akara's wrinkled lips curled up into a faint smile. "Though I certainly hope not. The gate stones are enchanted to create portals to several locations, depending on the order in which they are activated. These were obviously important places for those who built the circle, though much time has passed and for many of them, nothing now remains. Tristram may be reached by the gate... but I am at a loss to recall its specific code."

"Try to remember," I said.

"All the codes were recorded in my personal library, in the annals of our order. Tristram's code would be used only infrequently, and was written down close at hand; I saw no purpose in committing it to memory. Though all is not yet lost."

I smiled. "Of course not. I'll just fight my way into your personal library. While I'm in the neighborhood, I might as well find out who took over the monastery and get rid of him. Don't worry, it isn't too much of a bother."

"Hush, child. It will be much simpler than that. Further up the pass, an ancient tree of prodigious size stands in a dark wood. Travelers were accustomed to leave messages there, and many of the gate's codes were carved into its bark."

"How convenient."

"The wood is some distance from here, but an underground passage you will find near the gate should afford you a much shorter journey."

"It just gets better and better," I laughed. "Do I get a porter to carry my luggage, too?"

"Sadly, no. There is little more I can offer you but my fond wishes that you will find what you need in Tristram."

No "come back and see us again" or "good luck staying alive." Guess I didn't make a good impression. When I left, Kashya got her chance at Akara. I hid behind a tent and listened. I'm as curious as the next person about what people say behind my back.

"Luggage?" Kashya started off, louder than she should have. "She came here with nothing but black leather boots and a thong, what luggage?"

"Calm yourself, it was only an attempt at humor. She is a capable warrior, and I will not speculate on her choice in apparel, though I also wondered at it."

"At least. Akara, what are the Viz-Jaq'taar? She said she was one."

The old woman went silent. When her voice crept back like someone being summoned to an angry boss's office, it was too quiet for me to hear.

The Viz-Jaq'taar, the Order of Mage Slayers, also known as the Society of Assassins. We make people nervous, even ones who aren't sorcerers. When you think about it, that's not too surprising. We're a secretive order -- we have to be. Our quarry is among the most dangerous in the world, and the less they know about what's coming, the better. A society with a good cause shouldn't have reason to hide, most people think, so they don't like secret societies, especially ones dedicated to killing. The only reason I told Kashya is because I didn't think I'd be seeing her again. Maybe killing the enemy and vanishing into the sunset would even help our reputation a little.

Kashya and Akara were talking in low tones. It looked like they were going to try to keep it quiet, so in this tightly-packed camp, everyone would know before I got back from my next run. No point sticking around, then. I'd know how they took it soon enough.

I was on my way to the waypoint when a new guy stopped me. He was skinny and pale, with lank white hair and the fullest pack I've ever seen in my life. "Howdy doo!" he almost yelled. "Somebody called for a porter?"

Oh, great, he thinks he's funny too. "Hi there. Sorry, all I need to carry are some old boots and a thong. Who'd you say you were?"

"I'm The Mule, your gorgeousness! Love the pants, but wish you'd stuck with the thong. Here, take this, you'll be needing it!" From somewhere in the pile on his back, he handed me a crossbow with a steel bow and a stock made out of two twisted iron rods. "That there is Leadcrow! I'll be back later with some other things."

All I could think to do was blink stupidly at the crossbow. I'm not usually like that. By the time I was satisfied that it was indeed a crossbow, he was gone. I never even got the chance to scan him. The bow looked fine, with no residual demonic vibrations. Its power was obvious... it looked very strong.

Following the land upwards, I quickly found the gate stones. Just like Kashya said, there were five of them, in a little ring of five with another stone a short distance away, like the stem on a flower. They were taller than me by a lot, but I'm used to things going over my head. When I got closer, a small group of demons came out from behind them. Instead of red, they were baby blue. Did they know what I was coming for, or were the stones just a good place to hide? Whichever, it didn't save them. The new crossbow was spectacular, I felt stronger just holding it. Good thing, too -- one of the little bastards zapped me with lightning before he died. I was glad to keep him far away.

The more powerful crossbow made things a lot easier. There were more little devils -- normal red ones and a few baby-blues -- but a lot more skeletons and some big goat demons. Once it has rotted down to a skeleton, killing a zombie with a bow is difficult. You have to hit the joints and other weak places until it falls apart. A club would do a better job, but these ones had bows they weren't very good with. I was actually safer at a distance, a rare thing with archers. The goat guys were persistent, and took a lot of shots to kill. Aiming for the knees didn't work nearly as well as you'd think, with their funny-looking legs.

The field was big and wide open, without a lot of places to hide. The trees were all burned down, and the grass trampled flat. A lot of times I found myself running halfway back to the Rogue camp with a crowd of goats behind me, trying to snipe them down to size. Still, it wasn't big enough that there should be another Horadric waypoint there. I know they built them all over, but I couldn't see any reason to have two so close together. Maybe this was a more important place a long time ago. I found several primitive-looking headdresses made of animal skins, which I doubt anyone had worn for a long time, and a woodsy magic-type charm that rattled with beads made of animal bones. At least, I hope they were animal.

Every once in a while, I came across a cloud of predatory birds, flapping around in a flock like predatory birds aren't supposed to do. They also lived in nests, masses of who-knows-what held together with phlegm and evil thoughts. Even if they didn't attack me, I probably would have killed them just for being unnatural. Nowhere was there any sign of who or what lay at the root of this. I did find a moldy old book in a ruined house, but it was just local history about some neglected murderess. These demons weren't the kinds mages usually summon, so I didn't know much about them.

Back in camp, I could see word had gotten out. Everyone stared when my back was turned, and no one would look at my face. Warriv got really interested in stocking the fire. Gheed was hiding under his wagon, showing that every cloud has a silver lining. Charsi wouldn't talk at all, she just fixed my stuff and mumbled only what she had to. It bothered me more than it should have, like I'd stomped on a butterfly or something.

It took me a long time to find the underground passage Akara mentioned -- it was near the gate stones, and I'd decided to look everywhere else first. These caves were just like the others, full of demons and zombies and everything else that hates the light. The entrance was guarded by a group of high-quality skeletons with bows. They were actually better archers than me, so I fell back into the shadows, dropped the bow, and charged when they came close. Archers hate it when you do that.

The passage twisted back and forth for what felt like miles, with lots of dead ends and loops to get lost in. I would up leaving bodies in certain places to mark my way. I also found my first clue about the demons, when I was attacked by a pack of Misshapen, recognizable by their huge heads and bent, crippled bodies. Lightning runs in their veins, so lightning sorcerers like them and use them either as guardians or a source of raw materials. To get them, you have to bargain with demons of despair, pain, or the upper air.

A few groups of little demons had shacked up in the back corners or the cave. There were a lot of dead Rogues in there too, probably killed trying to cover their retreat. Every pack had one or two dead Rogues on the fire. All right, maybe they are more dangerous than a half-dead spaniel. Either that, or in the tight passages, the demons couldn't run away to escape combat, and fought harder. I was alone with no one to protect, so it was easy for me to lure them away from their leaders and pick them off from hiding. On a lower level, I found some possessed Rogues. These ones hadn't changed as much physically, and still had their hair. One even had a bow, though she tried use it like a club.

By the time I found the other end of the passage, it was dark. The shapes of trees loomed black on every side, throwing deep shadows everywhere. I could already tell I was going to like this place. Faint in the distance, a few feeble torches and the baby-blue backsides of a legion of demonlings introduced me to my next set of targets.

Blue demons are tougher than red ones. Maybe the color is supposed to be lightning blue or icy blue and look scary, but it doesn't work at all. The camp was big, with several leaders and a couple dozen possessed Rogues. These girls had their hair and no bows, but used spears to charge in a phalanx. Knocking them around psychically almost wore me out. In the end, I ran. Chasing me gave them a little exercise, until they got tired and lay down.

As a personal challenge, I tried making my way through the camp by hand, dousing torches as I went. A few times, I could sneak right past a whole group of baby-blues and cut their leader's throat before he even knew I was there. Darkness isn't always an enemy. The little guys really worked themselves up trying to find me, sometimes to kill me, other times to know where to run away from. Once the leaders were dead, target practice began. They never ran as fast or as far as the red guys, though. One or two almost took a piece of me home with them.

On the other side of the now-dark camp, I was moving into some trees, when the "trees" suddenly moved. Darkness isn't always your friend, either. It was a group of Bigfeet, led by one with fists the size and consistency of maul heads. Pushing them back took everything I had. I ran, I hid, I even tried to fool them with the body of a dead Rogue, nothing worked. Finally, I stopped concentrating on the big guy (I couldn't make any progress in his head anyway) and started picking off his buddies. That worked better, so I led them in a circle around the demonling camp, whittling them down. With the big guy, I had to use my katar. I wasn't carrying enough bolts to kill him.

Deeper in the woods, I found a tree. You'd expect that, but this one was different: it shone in the darkness with a quiet, silvery light. The glow would be invisible by day, but in the dark I could actually see my hand against the trunk. Scars and carvings made outlined shadows on the trunk, like tattoos or some other violation of the body. Several nearby places had gate codes carved into the tree, but I found the one I wanted quick enough: downwards drop, one, zero, upwards drop, two. Another waypoint had been built right next to the tree. Maybe I should have expected that.

Getting back to the gate took less than a minute. Waypoints are the only way to travel. As I hit Tristram's code, the stones lit up, and started spitting lightning and arcs of electricity when the code was complete. If these old rocks weren't working right anymore, I was going to be pissed. Finally, after too much time sputtering and sparking to reassure me, a portal appeared, an old-fashioned red one.

Most of the time with portals, you don't notice a time gap. You step and you're there. This portal had a gap, tiny but noticeable. Was it really that big a distance? Or was the gate malfunctioning? I'd better make this quick. I was outside a town, clearly visible because every building was a burning ruin. Dead cows floated in the nearby stream, bloated bodies stiff and swollen. From the town square, I could hear demonic chanting and howling, and what sounded like one man, screaming for his life.

The town was a loss. I couldn't see many dead bodies, at least not lying on the ground. Walking skeletons were another matter: they were everywhere, along with goat demons and little black demonlings. Hopefully, the black guys wouldn't be too much tougher than baby-blues. Hanging over the square's central fountain was an iron cage, with an old man tugging impotently at the bars. Demonlings were trying to get the fountain to boil by piling burning wood around it. The smoke would probably dry the old man into jerky before that happened, but I felt like doing my good deed for the day anyway. A bolt through their leader's neck announced my presence.

They came out to find me in groups. The goats were by far the worst -- I would swear they could see in the dark. More than once, they cornered me, and I had to pull out the katar and take whatever hits they dished out. These skeletons were excellent archers when they saw me, which was too often for my tastes. The demonlings were easy enough, but I've had lots of practice killing them. Skirting around the burning town, staying in the shadows and alive, must have taken over an hour. On the western edge of town, the fattest zombie in the world stood guard. Maybe they expected an attack from that direction.

When I finally worked up enough guts to poke my head into the town square, it was quiet and dark. The fires around the fountain had died, but I could hear the old man whimpering. Nobody was in the buildings. Nothing was in the fields. Everything was dead, except us.

"Hello," I said. "Don't be afraid."

"I can't see you!" the old man cried. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here," I said, stepping in front of a burning building. "They're all dead. Let me get you down from there."

The old man was hunched and filthy, wearing a blue robe that might be older than me. He also had the most amazing set of thick, bushy eyebrows. He was lucky they hadn't caught fire and burned his face off. "Have you come to rescue me?" he asked.

"Well, I did," I smiled, getting my water flask. What was left in the fountain had too much demon in it to give to anyone. "My name is Amy. This is Tristram, isn't it?"

"Not long ago, it was," he sniveled. "Now, Diablo's fury has left nothing but ashes!"

The air turned cold, or maybe it was just me. "Diablo? Of The Three?"

"Yes, Diablo, the Lord of Terror! Long ago, Diablo was slain here, and his spirit imprisoned deep within the earth. When the land began to grow corrupt, I feared he had broken from his prison, and now I am sure of it! Terror walks the land again!"

"Where did he go?" I asked. "What's he going to do?"

"Not long ago, when our king went mad and was slain by his own knights, I suspected a foul influence had laid claim to his soul. As matters worsened, many traveling adventurers came to Tristram, seeking to combat the evil that was rising up from --"

"Yeah, yeah, what about Diablo? Is he here?"

"When a great hero went further than any other had dared go, and came back claiming to have vanquished the great demon, I thought all would be well again. Little did I know that was only the beginning of our suffering!"

"Wait, Diablo's dead?"

"Diablo's spirit cannot be vanquished by steel or spells. Like all greater demonkind, he is eternal and can only be dispelled, never destroyed. Our celebrations were misguided, and now I see that the hero who slew him was only a pawn in his scheme."

"What scheme!?" Would this old fart ever get to the point?

"Shortly after he slew Diablo, our hero began to behave oddly..."

Crap. "Sudden fits of madness?"

"Yes! And terrible dreams, from which he always awoke screaming. I thought the trials he had faced had been too much for him, and that --"

"He'd get better with time, right. What happened to him?"

"Always in his dreams, he shouted about 'the east.' I am not sure what that means, but it is known that Diablo's brother demon, Baal, Lord of Destruction, was buried in a hidden tomb far away in the mystical east. I believe Diablo's spirit is guiding our hero there."

"Okay, the east. That's the desert of... um..."

"The burning sands of Aranoch, full of tombs and mysteries. It seems to me that while in possession of our hero, Diablo must travel as men do. The easiest path to take through the mountains to the east is via the Rogue Monastery, north of here. I must go there and warn them of the dark wanderer who must not be allowed to pass through into Aranoch!"

I heard a thump. I think it was my heart, hitting the sole of my left boot. "It's a little late for that. I have a portal to the Rogue pass, let's get you out of here. It doesn't look like he left anything else for me to find here anyway."

Chapter 5

Back at the Rogue camp, I got the whole story. The old guy turned out to be Deckard Cain, a noncombatant Horadrim, probably the last person they ever recruited, now one of the most famous sages in the post-Horadrim world. Even I'd heard of him. He didn't bother to explain what he was doing in a cow town in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't ask. His story about Diablo was more interesting.

Back in the Sin War, the Three Brothers were hunted down by the Horadrim and imprisoned in crystals called Soulstones. In a mysterious coincidence, each Soulstone was damaged during combat with the demon it was meant for, but the Horadrim used them anyway. Burying the damaged stones seemed like the best way to keep them safe. Mephisto was caught first and buried in Kurast. Baal was somewhere in Aranoch. Diablo made it furthest west, and wound up under Tristram.

Lately, things had been going wrong for the people of Tristram. Their king went mad. His knights killed him. The knights charged into the cathedral and disappeared. The new young prince disappeared. The bishop acting as regent disappeared. A lot more people disappeared. The king rose as a super-zombie. Other dead people started rising. Demons appeared, and the slaughter began. Cain began to suspect that something might be amiss.

Since the local army was gone, the call to arms went out. Local mercenaries heard; there hadn't been a serious war in the area for months, so most of them were pretty strapped and willing to work for loot. The Rogues heard, and sent a contingent of archers. I remember that my order heard too, but this didn't seem to involve corrupted sorcerers, and unlike the Rogues, we're not interested in charity work.

A lot of fighters went down into Tristram's catacombs. Some came back up and ran away as fast as they could. One made it all the way down to Diablo and apparently took on the big red cheese single-handed. Took more guts than I have, but he did it, and every surviving citizen got together for the celebration. All 6 of them. Afterwards, their hero started acting funny, packed his bags, and shuffled off to the east. Right at sunset the evening before I got there, demons came out of the cathedral and destroyed the town. Only the blacksmith put up a fight; everyone else was dinner. Cain was last because he looked stringiest; they decided he would be better as soup than a roast, and were putting on the kettle when I came along.

There was more: wondering about what happened to the hero, ideas about possession, dire warnings for the future. I didn't listen much. Diablo, a demon prince. No way could I handle something like that on my own. Before I begged off and went to bed, Akara gave me a ring to thank me for saving Cain. Does this mean we're engaged? I've never been into May-December relationships.

Once I was alone, I disconnected and

went   out    to     the      world
I need help!               We're here             We hear
I've found trouble in the west
                                      I've found trouble in the east
             The madness fits            We hear
The madness comes from Diablo!     Baal!      Mephisto!
No! Listen!      You listen!       You listen!      You listen!
               The desert has a shadow creeping
From
      the                      slaughtered towns
            west
                      evil                       fouled water
                                 rises
  evil is                                    terror
        everywhere and nowhere
                                          somewhere
                            we                       Kurast is
                 don't                             all darkness
       know
where             I'm in Lut Gholein
                   something has come
         I'm in Kingsport                    Is anyone
      there's nothing here                 in Kurast?
                                   Kurast is
                                 all darkness
   I'm in the Rogue Pass
Diablo came through here
      He is going east

                        He'll come here!         I'll go to Kurast
 Is he already there?                          Someone has to
                    He must be here. I'm
                   undercover in a harem          Sounds fun
                             Shut up!
       More fun than I'm having
Stop laughing!  This is serious
                                         What are we
                                         going to do?
The Rogue Pass is blocked
     I can't get through                     What's blocking it?
                       Can't be Diablo
 He left demons behind            We have to
Maybe I can clear them          get together
         I'm going to Aranoch
      I'm sitting on my ass here                What about Kurast?
The Three are in Kurast, Aranoch, and Westmarch
                           Check off Westmarch
                                                              Kurast too
         Stop them in Aranoch                     I'll bet anything
                                Get together and stop them in Aranoch
I can't get there in time!                  I can't get there in time!
      If we can't stop Diablo in Aranoch,
               He will go to Kurast.                         I'm going!
I'll get through                            I'll go to Aranoch
                I'm going           Don't try anything by yourself!
                             I'll watch him
                          until you get here           I'll go to Kurast
        I'm already packing
I need to sleep  Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too Me too

Kashya woke me. The sun was already up. "Who were you talking to?"

"What?" I croaked. Mornings aren't my best time anyway.

"You were muttering all night."

"Oh. I talk in my sleep. I hope I'm not possessed."

Kashya didn't smile. "If you are, I'll have to kill you."

"Sorry, bad joke. It's been on my mind. I mean... how could I tell?"

"We can't. It's been on my mind a long time. You and Cain were both in Tristram. But I can't kill you just for that."

"That's sweet of you, Kashya. If you start acting weird, do I have your permission to kill you too?"

"Yes."

The response was so abrupt, I looked her in the face. Her eyes were hard as granite. "What? You're the one who kills people for a living. You'd know it has to be done."

"I kill bad people, Kashya. There's a difference."

She shrugged. "I don't think you'd have a hard time doing it. I know you don't like me."

"No. You don't like me. I'm just responding to that. If you stop not liking me, I'll stop responding."

"You know why I don't like you?"

"Because you think I'm a whore and a slut and I degrade women just by existing."

"No. I don't like you because you're a parasite. That outfit you had explained everything I need to know about you. You use your body to manipulate men and get what you want out of them. I hate women who do that!" Words started coming faster, a well-rehearsed torrent of righteousness. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be part of a group, dedicated to a great cause? We Rogues build things, make our own destiny! We can stand on our own feet and look men in the eye! Women get more respect because of us! The world is a better place because of us! What do you do? Show cleavage to get what you want! Hell yes, it degrades women! Men look at you and think women are toys! Is that what you want?"

I took my time mulling over that. It gave Kashya time to catch her breath. When she was ready, I replied, "You know, I think you may be half right."

Good thing she wasn't possessed. That glare might've lit me on fire. "What, have you suddenly lost your taste for leather?"

"No. In the first place, most men aren't that stupid. I know, I've talked to some recently. In the second place, men aren't the enemy. This may sound strange, but most men only want to get along, and maybe get away with some stuff they shouldn't. But you're right, I use my body to get what I want. You know what?"

Kashya frowned. "What?"

"The skimpy outfit is easier to move in. Most of the time, that's the only difference. Even some guys are offended by it, or at least act that way in front of their wives. Other times, it does make a difference. My targets are sorcerers who made bargains with demons. These guys are proud enough to think demons aren't dangerous to them. A dumb girl showing lots of skin can't possibly be a threat; they always underestimate me. So, yes... I use my body and act like a dumb toy to get what I want. Most guys won't fall for it. The ones that do... the world's a better place without them anyway."

Kashya chewed on that for a while. I got my armor on. "You've met men who think your outfit is insulting to women?"

"Some of them, yeah."

Her look reminded me of a cat who'd finally caught an exasperatingly quick mouse. "Then why do you wear it?"

I grinned. "To see who gets offended. I'm not wearing it anymore. The present enemy doesn't care about my body, except how it might taste. You know, I'm kind of surprised you were so offended. I can see your order doesn't exactly mind less than full coverage."

"We are archers. We need freedom of movement. Not easy access."

"If you knew me," I said as I got my helmet buckled, "'easy access' is not the phrase you'd think of. Just accept that you don't know me. Now: I have to get through your pass to the other side. Which way do I go?"

A slow burn rippled the air around Kashya, but she responded in a business-like way. "The only way is through the monastery. You can try to climb the mountains, but they're a lot harder and as full of demons as the pass."

"Then that's where I'm going. Be seeing you."

Chapter 6

Having a waypoint so conveniently near my kick-off point made getting back into the action a lot quicker. Using it was my first mistake of the day. There's a saying: "Never go in by the front door." My welcoming committee was a half-dozen Rogues with spears, led by a bull of a woman with a mustache Warriv would envy. Possessed Rogues don't have the discipline of human ones, and waypoints take you places fast, so they weren't ready when I arrived. I decided I could take them, and ran for cover in the trees. That was my second mistake. If I'd been thinking, I'd have gone out the way I came in and gone around the long way, giving them a few hours to forget about me. Cocky decisions get you killed. Turns out a pack of Bigfeet were in the woods, probably hunting for breakfast.

With armor on and a healer on the other end of that waypoint, I could probably take a few hits, get home, and start the day over. I could hear every teacher I ever had screaming in my head to get out of there. But no, I had to be brave. Maybe I was worried; Diablo had a long head start. I'd have to clear a path through his minions fast if I was going to get to Aranoch in time to help the others. No one should try to take on a demon prince by herself, and unless I got there, someone might have to.

My first shot went into Ms. Mustache's shoulder as I ran around her flank. Then I had another one of my bright ideas. The lancers were going to charge: that's what spear carriers do. If I got the Bigfeet between me and the spears, they couldn't charge, and would have to maneuver those big sticks in among the trees to get to me. So, I ran deeper into the woods, around the howling Bigfeet, completely forgetting about the demon camp on the other side -- mistake number 3. A casual observer would probably swear I was trying to get myself killed, but I'd have to live through this if I knew what was good for me. They don't let you into Heaven if you die that stupid.

I ran back into the trees, towards the waypoint. As a double dozen baby-blue demons chased after me, Bigfeet started tripping over them. The lancers were struggling through the trees and didn't see me. By the time I found the waypoint again, they were so confused I actually crept back and started picking them off one by one, just the way I like it. A few lancers made it out of the woods, so I had to finish them by hand, but that was nothing. If the Rogues were still spying on me, I could tell them I meant to do it this way: running into an enemy camp was nothing less than step one of my brilliant master plan.

The demon camp was packed as full as it was last night. Were these their reserves, or resummons? If Diablo was stomping across Aranoch, these had to be reserves, which meant fewer demons in the monastery. Still, he must have left hundreds of the little bastards up here. There was even an old mansion -- nine rooms, at least -- they'd ripped to the ground for no reason I could see, except there were too many of them and they were bored. Even the rain couldn't clear their smell from the air.

Further up the pass, the ground turned marshy. Black puddles of water reflected the gray sky perfectly, even as the rain broke them into silver rings. Three Rogue archers, different from those I'd seen before, were guarding a fence. These were bone thin, with papery skin flushed from below with red. Their hair was intact, long and loose. Their eyes were calm, as clear as the marsh water wasn't, but still hiding everything. Their archery was perfect, and they stuck together like a unit. Killing them took effort; when they died, they crumbled and fell apart, with no escaping spirits. I've only heard of undead creatures dying like that.

Other creatures on the marsh acted like their normal abnormal selves. I didn't see any more Rogues, but there were Bigfeet, and those freakish birds that nest in rotting garbage. Rain made their nests smell even worse, like dried meat that's gotten wet and is blooming with mold. A few hours' steady drizzle had started to clear the air, though, and beat down the tough, saw-edged grass that thrived in this boggy soil. I laughed to think, this must be why the Rogues favor thigh-high boots -- that's how high this grass grows.

The saw grass grew mostly in limited areas, so I could avoid it. Then I found a strange set of stones. They were in circles, but not like the gate stones; the rocks were small enough to trip over, placed irregularly to make a square of four circles joined at the edges. Saw grass grew along their outlines, hiding some even smaller stones from sight. I stood on top of the biggest stone. Everywhere, thin strips of dark grass separated lighter, mossy areas into shapes -- rectangles, circles, even regularly-spaced spots of dark green like columns along an avenue, marching lock-step into a shallow pool. There used to be something here, a long time ago. It didn't matter now, all of it was long gone... unless those strange Rogues had something to do with it.

Charsi was hammering something as I approached, but stopped when she saw me. "Hi, Charsi," I said, using my friendliest smile. "How's things in camp?"

"F-fine," she murmured.

This was not the chatty Charsi I'd first met. "Have you talked to Cain yet? He seems like a nice old guy, reminds me of my grandpa."

"Yeah. He's all right."

I nodded slowly. "You nervous about something?"

She shook her head and smiled like a sick man trying to get out of bed, worry prickling and spiking the air around her. "Nuh-uh."

I let her watch me chew on that a second. Leaning in close, I looked her straight in her wide blue eyes, and said, "Boo!" Normally a girl like Charsi wouldn't move very fast; she must have been inspired. With a choked-mouse squeak, she catapulted back over her table as gracefully as a three-legged dog, taking it and half her stock with her into the mud.

While Charsi lay under the overturned table, embarrassment shining through the wood, I wondered if I really should have done that. Ah, what the hell: she didn't get hurt, and everybody needs a laugh now and then. After what I hoped wasn't too long a gloat, I ran around near where her head ought to be, pleading, "Are you all right? I didn't think you'd jump like that!" with enough sweet balm in my voice to soothe any jangled nerves.

"Um..." Charsi's face, covered in mud, peered up at me. Swords and arrows jangled to the ground when I tried to lift the table. I could move it a little, with effort, before she shoved the whole deal off her back, and as she rose, delicately put the heavy table back on its feet with one hand. She probably could have lifted the thing with one hand if she wasn't afraid of getting it dirty. "I guess I'm a little jumpy."

"Oof! I don't know why, you could break me in two."

"I wouldn't," she murmured, looking at herself and at the labor scattered in the mud.

I knelt to help pick up arrows, putting on a show of not caring about getting muddy. The rain would wash it off. "I wouldn't do anything to you either. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing... I guess..."

I smirked. "Kid... I've looked at too many faces not to know. Even if I didn't make you jump in the mud by saying boo. You're scared of me, aren't you?"

"Well, um... I..."

"Are you trying not to say, 'you're a hired killer!'?"

Charsi froze, biting her lower lip hard enough for it to turn white. "Um..."

"I'm not going to assassinate you. The Viz-Jaq'taar are the Mage-slayers; we specialize in evil wizards, or evil in general. We don't just go around whacking people. That's wrong, and it's not our business. Charsi, you're in a camp with dozens of women trained to kill. I'm no different. I just have a different job."

"Well... Kashya's never killed anyone. I mean, anyone human."

"Neither have I. Well, maybe your corrupted sisters still count."

"No, it's not that. Soldiers are different. They defend us in war."

"And how do they defend us?"

"Well, someone declares war, the soldiers line up and meet someplace, and they fight."

"Oh, yeah: chivalry. As opposed to, say, entering town under a pretense, sneaking into someone's bedroom late at night, and stabbing them with a poisoned dagger."

"Yeah! That is, like, totally different! War is clean and out in the open and everyone knows what's going on. There's no hiding and lying."

There is in real war, I thought. But something else caught my ear. "Charsi, do you think I've been lying to you?"

She looked at the ground. "Well, you did, when you first came."

Score one for blondie. "Uh, yeah, all right, I did."

"And, sometimes, when you're talking with different people, you talk with different voices and different smiles, depending on what you want."

Oh, man... if I can't even fool Charsi, I need to go back to Assassin school. "Okay... yeah, I've done that, sometimes."

"You do it a lot."

"Okay, I do it a lot. It's part of my business."

Charsi nodded, sadly. "I thought we weren't supposed to be your business."

"All right! I lie to people about my job, what do you expect? You never know where evil is; you have to suspect everyone when you first meet them. I spend my time nosing around in people's lives. I hunt things down and get information without giving any back, by... some pretty unusual methods. A lot of what I do isn't very nice, and I don't want to have to try to explain it."

She nodded again, the gesture as convincing as one of Gheed's warranties. "That doesn't mean you have to keep lying. You could just ask us when you want something."

I thought about that. "Okay. Why do you like Gheed so much?"

She laughed, "Oh, he's so funny! He has all these amazing stories of places he's been, and things he's seen, and everything! He's been to Lut Gholein, and the Barbarian lands, and the eastern jungles, even dangerous places like a city of Necromancers! And he's dealt with all kinds of people, like Pygmies and Cat people and Snake people and..."

So she bought Gheed's act, but not mine. Go figure. Maybe tales of adventure are her weakness. I cut her off and asked, "What do you know about the marshes midway up the pass?"

"Um... I don't know. They're full of mosquitoes?"

"I saw some unusual formations there, like building foundations and roads."

"Oh." Charsi looked genuinely confused. Gheed's tales of adventure would be impressive to someone who'd never even been that far from home. "I've heard there's an old graveyard in a cave near there, but we're not supposed to go there. It's not safe."

"Interesting. Oh, and Charsi? I'm just Amy, okay?"

Her smile was much better this time -- still curdled at the edges, but better. "Okay."

I gave her a hug. She hardly flinched at all. It felt pretty good. "See you soon."

After an hour's search, I found the cave, a hole in the wall behind the most intact building in the marsh. Not much was left besides the foundations, which were wide and went deep into the ground. Building something that big in the wet ground of a marsh would have been quite an undertaking. A hole led down to the basement, but I wanted to see the graveyard first.

The first thing I found inside the cave was three Rogues, recently deceased. They were tied to stakes, but not burned -- they'd been drained of blood, and left as they were. I had a bad feeling about this. After dragging them out into the sunlight, hopefully spoiling any plans made for them, I continued through the cave. After a while, it was clear there was no graveyard here. I never saw a single walking dead. There were Misshapen and a few Rogue archers, even the ever-present camps of baby-blues, but no ancient bones. The Rogues were all of the crumbly type; I found most of them clustered around a newly dead Rogue or two. None of them had any blood left.

Back in camp, Akara granted me a reluctant audience. "There is nothing I can tell you of that ancient tower. It has been in ruins for centuries."

"It was a tower?" I asked.

"Yes." A curl of exasperation wisped off of her before she tamped it down. "According to our order's records, it was, but is no longer. Have I mentioned how grateful I am, for all you have done for us?" Her thoughts were smooth and cool, like a gently pushing stream.

"Well, there was the ring," I said, not mentioning that I'd sold it to Gheed. "But it's nice to hear it from you again."

"Your efforts on our behalf are inspirational. Others came before you, but always insisted on payment, which we could ill afford."

"Mercenaries." I rolled my eyes, content to let my thoughts be guided where she wished they'd go. "The world can go straight to Hell and they don't give a damn unless they get their cut of the action to make it worth their while."

"Precisely. Our order is dedicated not only to providing a safe place for the women of the world, but to aiding and protecting our neighbors of both sexes. While others seek personal gain, that has never been our way. Have you come within sight of our monastery?"

"Not yet. Have you always been there?"

"This pass has been our home since the founding of the order."

"Yes, but have you always been in the monastery? I've been in a marsh about halfway up, the pass looks nice and narrow there. If you were going to wall off the pass, that's where I'd do it."

Akara was silent. When she replied, her voice was impassive. "Others inhabited this pass before the Rogues came, but even in our early days the tower was long abandoned. I fear you will find little to interest you there."

"Maybe, but I'd better check it out anyway."

"I must implore you, leave the tower be. I sense nothing but death in that old trap. Your goal is so close now, the tower is nothing but a potentially fatal distraction."

The old woman was becoming nervous, though she hid it well. The insensitive would never notice. I decided to risk a question. "Have you had vampire problems up here?"

Akara was confused. "No..." Suddenly, she was afraid. "No, not for a very long time."

"But yes, a long time ago?"

"There was... you must understand, not all who came to shelter with the Order came with the best of intentions. The Sightless Eye does not see all, and trust can be obtained by deception."

"I know. What happened in the tower?"

"A countess came to the pass many years ago, fleeing a politically arranged marriage to an abusive man, or so she said. She chose to shelter in the tower, even then already in ruin, far from the monastery and away from watchful eyes. It was not until much later that we learned the real reason she fled her country: the countess was a murderess."

"And this disturbed you... why?"

"Her victims, and there were many, were young girls. The countess believed bathing in the blood of youth would prevent her from growing old. When her deeds were discovered, our order was accused of sheltering a vampire."

How scandalous. "What did you do?"

"The order had her executed, of course. She was buried in the nearby graveyard, and her very existence forgotten. Until this day."

I hoped my facial expression hadn't changed. "I'll have to get her, then. Diablo probably raised her and made her a real blood-sucker. Wish me luck."

I wasn't mad at Akara for lying. I'd done plenty of it myself. What I wanted to know was why. The tower basement stank, a harsh, salty smell. On one wall, a gap looked like a concealed door that had been broken in. Inside, human bones were everywhere. The floor crunched underfoot with fingers and toes. Another giant flaming pentagram burned eternally in a main hall on the second level, but I didn't need to see that to know Mr. Not-Subtle had been here. Diablo had filled the basement with blood-red goat demons, and ghosts, the first incorporeal undead I'd seen. With no vitals to target or joints to break, the crossbow wasn't much good for them. I had to switch to the katar and whisk them away.

The tower cellars went deep. I found a lot of interesting things there. There were several armories, full of rotten bows and light armor. A few side rooms turned out to be chapels, decorated with angelic female figures and blank eyes. Some recently dead Rogues had been taken down, tied to posts and drained. And there were parties of archers, on their feet even if I wasn't sure they were alive. Comparing the two Rogues side by side was interesting; the pale archers' leathers were different, looking older in style. Always, the floor was thick with bones... hundreds of dead, maybe thousands.

The lowest level of basement was obviously the catacombs. The wall niches were all empty, unused. In the rest of the tower, I'd counted over 20 Rogue archers, and a dozen more guarded the catacombs. The last, and strongest, was in the catacomb's chapel. I could only assume this was the "Countess." She was dressed like a Rogue, with more muscle in her arms than a noble would consider fitting in a woman of her station. Two standards hung in the chapel; I took one.

Back in the Rogue camp, Kashya found me with the standard. "What are you doing?"

"Comparing this old, half-rotted banner with your new one there. They match pretty closely, don't you think?"

Kashya looked the standard over. "Our order used to fly that standard. It was a long time ago, before the monastery was built."

"I see. Do you know if your order ever built a tower, further down the pass? At a nice defensible point with convenient nearby water sources to use during a siege, and caves to hide supplies in?"

Kashya remained amazingly calm. "Yes, we did. The order's main fortress was there, until we were forced away to a new location."

"By some... scandal?"

"Something much worse, which I do not wish to discuss."

"Too bad. Your 'Countess' was not some mysterious noble who managed to fool your order. She had too many loyal Rogues under her for that."

"So? Her deceptions persisted, even in death. The evil befouling our monastery -- in case you've forgotten about that -- found her new servants to use."

"I don't think so. They were too much like her, and too different from your living sisters. I think a Rogue leader and her underlings were walled up in that cellar together."

"With all I know you saw, would that have been wrong?"

I thought about that. "No."

Kashya frowned. "Does it matter, what really happened back then?"

I thought about that too. "No. There's too much trouble now."

"Then why are you bringing those old ghosts back up?"

"I pry into things. It's what I do."

"Outlander, stop doing it. Evil isn't hiding anymore. You don't need to hunt for it, it's right there in front of you. Leave our coffin lids on."

The fire beside me crackled and hissed, wet wood popping and steaming. Almost everyone was asleep. I should be asleep. "Diablo pried them open first anyway." I tossed the banner on the fire and went to bed.

Chapter 7

I've always slept light. It's good when you're in a dangerous area, but a damned nuisance when you just need to sleep. In the Rogue camp, there's no room for anyone to have her own tent, so I've had to sleep with the noise of other people breathing in the same room as me, and there's always someone who snores. Maybe I'd gotten used to sleeping through noise, or maybe last night wore me out. Even the Mule dropping something heavy next to my cot didn't disturb me until he actually talked.

"Wakey, wakey, mistress of the dark! Good work on the Countess. Maybe later, you can go back and get some runes. We need the high level ones, the best we've got is one Lem. Meantime, here's some new stuff!"

"Huh?" was the best I could do. Mornings and me are not on good terms. I looked at the armor he'd dropped by my bedside. "It's green."

"That's Hawkmail! Good stuff, for your level."

I shook my head, clearing more cobwebs. "It's... green."

The Mule's eyes rolled theatrically. "Damn, you heroes are so fussy! You should have seen the last guy, he'd preen for hours! All right, missy. I'll have some other armor waitin' for ya when you're stronger. It's not green, it's purple."

"That's better," I said, finally feeling awake. "This season, purple is the new black."

"I'd heard that," the Mule grinned. "Here's two cold damage charms to go with it. That should slow 'em down a little longer."

"Thanks. Say, why are you doing this?"

"It's my job! I hold stuff for other people to use, people like you! I bring you stuff, and if you find anything good you can't use, I'll take it away. Don't worry, it's not stealing! I hold it until somebody comes along who might have a use for it."

"I guess I haven't had anything worth taking."

"Hell, no! I throw out stuff like you've found."

"Have you ever thought about working with an organization? My order is always short on equipment, we could use --"

The Mule threw his head back in an uninhibited, gut-busting laugh. "What do you think I'm doin'? I know you don't get a lot of stuff, that's why you started out without much besides a bow and that lovely smile."

"Gee, thanks," I smiled. "Now, are you ever gonna get out of this girl's tent and let me get dressed?"

He pouted. "Aw, do I gotta?"

"Yes."

He laughed, and left. A second later, I couldn't hear him anymore, or sense his presence. I looked through a gap in the tent flap. There were no footprints in the mud outside. Damn, why didn't I think to read his mind when I had the chance?

The armor was strong, heavy iron scales riveted to a thick leather backing. Why someone tinted it green, I don't know. Charms are small druidic totems the nature boys make out of bits of wood, beads, and berry juice. Having them on you brings power, it's said. No sense in not trying them out. First, though, I wrapped them in old socks so they'd stop making rattle noises every time I moved.

The sun had already been up for a while. Getting into the monastery was taking longer than I'd hoped. Finding my way through would take even more time. Of course, I could just not stop to go through my hostesses' dirty laundry. There would probably be a lot lying around in there, left where they dropped it. I went to talk with Charsi.

Gheed was already there, telling some story. "You'll never guess what happened next!" Charsi shook her head, eyes wide and eager.

"Without so much as hunkering down, the Barbarian warrior leapt clear over my wagon and smashed the bandit's head right in with a single blow! The bandit never even cried out: he was dead before he even hit the ground. I've seen a lot of mighty warriors in my travels far and wide, but never one of such prowess!"

"Oh, wow!" Charsi squealed with excitement. "Then what did he do?"

"I never saw! As quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone, melting back into the snowy forest like a wolf into the night. To this day, I've never had the chance to thank him for his heroic rescue, but somehow, I don't think I need to. In the north, where men are men, they know gratitude when they see it in a man's eyes!"

Translation: I was busy hiding under my wagon. The Barb splattered the bandit, didn't find anything he wanted to loot, and left without noticing me. Barbarians are big and scary. I won't go back there, ever. Charsi, on the other hand, was gobbling it all up. "Hiya, Gheed. I didn't know you survived a trip to the northlands. Must not have gotten very far."

His piggish little eyes roamed up and down me, found nothing of interest, and looked elsewhere for their fun. "Nice to see you again. Kashya and Akara don't like you, you know? They don't like your attitude."

"I've had complaints about it. Like the new armor?"

His mouth split open, revealing teeth and saliva. I think it was supposed to be a smile. How could any merchant make a living with that kind of smile? He must get his money in some other line. "I've got complaints about it."

"You're just mad 'cause I'm not wearing the thong anymore."

"It did make this camp a better place to be stuck in. Did you know that armor's metal skirt makes your hips and ass look gigantic?"

Charsi looked shocked. I guess she'd never seen this side of Gheed before, which meant my good deed for the day was done. With some people, the worst you can do to them is let them talk. "How nice. I didn't know you were in the fashion police, Gheed. Do you have any interior decorating advice for me, too? Now move it, I want to talk to Charsi."

I'll say this: Gheed was enough of a merchant to read Charsi's face. He also knew when to cut his losses. She watched him slink away with a crestfallen look. "But... why did he say those things?"

Because he's a pig who was trying to warm you up so he could crawl into your pants, but is smart enough not to do it while he can't run? "Charsi, Gheed is..." Then she looked at me with those big blue eyes, wide with confused innocence. "He is... ah... Gheed tells funny stories, but sometimes he's not a nice person."

"But..."

"Yes, I know, he's always been nice to you, but... Charsi, everyone is nice to you, you're a nice person. Okay? He's not like that with other people."

"But..."

"It's not like that just to me, either. Kashya hates him too."

"Yeah, but..."

"Okay, yeah, she hates lots of people. Akara also thinks badly of Gheed. Does that tell you something?"

Now bafflement was the only thing on Charsi's face, and some alarm. "How do you keep knowing what I'm going to say before I say it?"

Crap, not again. "I'm a good guesser. Um... say, can you tell me anything about the monastery? Like, how can I get in?"

"The main gate's on the right. All the merchant wagons go in there."

Go through the front door, into an open yard with no cover? "Is there another way?"

"Um... There's the cloister gate. Visitors are allowed into the outer cloisters."

"Good, good... are these cloisters little meditation alcoves along a hall or something?"

"Oh, no! They're nice big gardens outside the barracks. Hey! If you go in the barracks, maybe you could find the Horadric Malus for me!"

"What's that?"

"It's my smithing hammer. It can imbue items with magic powers. It's really powerful, but kind of random."

"Sure," I said. "I'll be happy to look for your malus. Uh... one last thing."

"Yeah?"

"If I don't ask now, this is gonna be on my mind all day. Does this armor really make my ass look huge?"

"Um..." Charsi bit her lip. "Well, you've kind of got small, uh, shoulders, and wide hips, but it's all muscle. You're in great shape. Where'd you get the armor?"

"I found it last night, while you were asleep. I don't think I'll keep it. It's green."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that."

Today, I went to a waypoint near where I'd last been, and walked the rest of the way. Sure enough, the marsh waypoint had an ambush, but they never saw me coming. Never, ever repeat a tactic, especially when it didn't work the first time. The pass got steeper as a gray wall from one side of the pass to the other came into view. This had to be the monastery. The sky was darker than any real cloud could make it, and would stay that way until every last demon inside was dead.

Outside, the killing wasn't easy. Diablo's troops kept improving the closer I got, and would probably be even worst inside. The monastery front yard had Rogue lancers with blue skin and black hair, and still more demons, orange ones improved even more from the basic red stock. The skellies could use fire and lightning magic, a Necro trick I'd read about but never thought I'd see. The lancers were the only dangerous ones, and the hardest to kill.

A cave near the middle of the yard had tracks leading in and out, all human sized. Inside, I found Rogues, Rogues, and nothing but Rogues, from one end to the other. Some had hair, more were bald, some had horns or spikes, others were growing tails or what I'd swear were the beginnings of wings. They came in every color you'd want and some you wouldn't. All were armed and nasty, as fond of jumping out of dark corners as me. By the time I got to the back part of the cave, I was so jumpy I shot down 4 bats before I realized that I must have gotten them all.

The main gate of the monastery was closed. Even if I wanted in that way, it probably would only open from the inside. The cloister gate was a lot smaller, but still nicely decorated with arrows, shields, nude females, and the blank eye shape of the order. I didn't go right in; I'd been trained too well for that, despite my earlier mistakes. Just like I figured, there was an ambush on either side of the door. When I poked a toe in, they jumped, half a dozen Rogues with swords and shields. I got chased halfway across the yard and back before I whittled them down to three. After that, I finished them off with the katar. Fanatical, but they do come smarter.

The outer cloisters were beautiful, once. The demons left just enough trees and flowers to make that obvious. Fresh and bloody human bones lay under the drooping branches. Where I could see bare earth, it was deep red and sticky-looking. Apart from scattered demons, the cloister was deserted. Barrels were stacked everywhere, even more than there had been in the tombs. More than half exploded when opened. I actually needed to drink a few potions, or I might have been in trouble. What were the Rogues doing with all this explosive powder, anyway? Do they eat the stuff? Maybe Kashya might...

Only one other door led out of the cloisters, deeper into the monastery. Black-skinned Goat demons met me at the door. I returned their greetings, but they just wouldn't get the point until it was applied more forcefully, by hand. Hopefully, the demons wouldn't keep getting tougher, or I might have to abandon the bow completely.

Inside, it was dark and close, tiny little rooms connected by short hallways. More than once, the corridor was so tight I couldn't use the crossbow at all. Why would archers make a home so hard to use a bow in? And why was I finding so many fulminating potions? The demons weren't throwing them, they just had them or they were lying around... hmm, I wonder if this is what those barrels of explosives are for? Rogues like fiery arrows. Are they experimenting with chemical pyrotechnics too? The Viz-Jaq'taar use explosives in places too dangerous to enter. Archers with bombs that powerful would be lethal. Maybe, when this is over, our orders can work together and share techniques.

Before I suggest that, I'll have to get on the Rogues' good side. I haven't been doing so good a job of that. First, find that magic hammer for Charsi. Here, malus malus... no, not a crystal sword. Paladins like those: they're shiny and pretty and heavenly pure and impossible to sneak around with. Give me honest wood and steel, nothing extradimensional. Here, malus malus malus... no, not more Goat demons!

It was two packs of Goats, one bigger than a horse, the other quick as lightning. Good thing I saw them through a door, or Hammer Quest might have ended early. Taking out the katar and fighting two at a time in the doorway, that I could handle. To my surprise, they'd been in a library. Maybe religious orders keep books in their barracks, but that didn't explain what Goat demons might want in there. Then I saw a pile of torn covers on the floor. They were eating them. Goats.

The Rogue barracks were very military, with few comforts. The furniture was spartan, simple and unupholstered. They slept on the floor with little more than a pad and a single blanket. If they and the Viz-Jaq'taar ever worked together, better living arrangements would have to be made. Finally, in a side corridor, I found the smithy. Charsi's sweet, but she really should have told me where in the barracks her smithy was. Then again, I should have asked.

A few demons were hanging around the smithy entrance, watching something. I could feel heat in the stone walls, and hear fire crackling. Something was going on in there. A bolt to the back of the demon leader's neck caught their attention. When the little ones came after me, something much bigger shuffled along with them: a toad demon. Crap. Toads are some of the most powerful demons a mage can summon, made from torn-up angel souls. They're rare, but even one is bad news. I ran, with my tail between my legs and a big yellow stripe blazing down my back, and admit it without shame.

The toad followed, fast. In no time at all, he left the demonlings behind, and was chasing me alone. The library was the best place to make my stand: it was the biggest room, almost enough space to keep the toad at a distance. Between shots, I invaded its mind, knocking it around with spasms through its muscles. Normally that doesn't work, but this thing was so powerful I could fling its body across the room with the muscles in one foot. Its mind was too coarse to notice my intrusion and push me out. I kept it up for a while, putting enough bolts in it to kill a dozen regular demons, but my mind tired before its body did. Fortunately for my health and welfare, it was almost dead when I ran in to carve it up. It got in one hit, which would have ended the career of anyone with less armor. I almost thought of packing it in and going home before I realized it was dead.

The malus was still in the smithy. That "smith" may never have known what it was. When I got back to the Rogue camp, Gheed was chatting up Charsi again. I held my tongue.

"... their legendary king, Ka-Bulsoth! Other kings of the Barbarians have come and gone, but none have united the tribes before, or since!"

"He must have been incredible," Charsi said, a little less starry-eyed than before.

"I've never met him myself... just his son, Ka-Namon! The splendor of his court is an amazing sight! All the wealth of the mountains was brought there and laid at his feet: gems and jewels of every type, gold and silver in heaps, and the finest warriors of all the Barbarian lands! I was his special guest, after all the favors I did for his people. I didn't know that at first, though, when I was summoned before him!"

"What did you do?" Charsi asked.

"At first, I worried that I had done something to offend the great monarch. Nothing could be further from the truth! It turned out that while I was in their great city of Herroga, I had helped a poor beggar with money and kindnesses. I never knew that the old beggar was none other than the king himself, in disguise!"

Charsi frowned. "Didn't you tell me you gave money to a beggar with Kurast who was really the king?"

"Ah, yes, yes, I did. That's a trick kings often play, to see who's really good to their fellow man. To see a man's true heart, look at how he treats the least fortunate."

"So, how has life been treating you, Gheed?" I asked.

Gheed startled amusingly, then sneered. "Oh, it's you. I've heard that you bear us no malus." That grin crept across his face, and he started laughing. He would laugh at his own jokes. I gave him a migraine, then pulled out the malus.

"Oh, you found it!" Charsi grinned. Happiness shone off her like sunshine. I decided I like honestly happy thoughts, they're the prettiest kind. Maybe if Charsi liked me, the rest of the Rogues would think better of me. Since it was probably a military secret, I wouldn't even mention the pyrotechnics.

"Thank you for returning the malus, outlander," Kashya sniffed, but I could tell she was both pleased and impressed.

"I'm glad to hear that, Kashya. I guess I didn't make a good first impression."

"Akara, Cain, and I have been discussing the threat we all face. Cain has been most informative about the ways of demonkind."

"Okay, but I'm not sure what else there is to know. I'm in the monastery now. I'm sure most of the demons are dead, so we can mop up whatever's left and get the caravan through."

"Not necessarily," Cain said, right behind me. "I believe the threat may be far more serious than any of us had guessed."

"Yes..." Kashya said with a frown. "And more disturbing."

"What is it?" I asked.

"When you described our sisters, and the way some of their bodies were being changed, I knew a great evil must still be in the monastery."

"Yes," Cain said. "In Tristram, some of the heroes who came to aid us described Succubi, winged, demonic women who corrupt those tempted by them. From your accounts, it would seem that some of the Rogues you met are growing to resemble them."

"Okay..." I asked. "Why is this disturbing?"

Kashya glared hard at me, for a moment. "Diablo is not master of the Succubi, and could not change our sisters into... them."

"Exactly, Kashya. Succubi are thought to be corrupted women, who entered into a foul bargain with Hell. Only one demon lord would make such an offer, and it is not Diablo. The monastery's corruption could only be caused by Andarial, maiden of anguish."

"Oh," I said, trying to look like I understood what was so serious about that.

"Diablo did not leave an army of lackeys in our monastery. Those are Andarial's minions, and she came to our monastery to make more from our sisters!"

"What is worse," Cain said, "this can only mean that the rebellion in Hell is over! Ages ago, the Lesser Evils revolted against the greater, exiling Diablo, Baal, and Mephisto to our world. Now it seems that Andarial is allied with Diablo. If the lesser are once more joined to the greater, our world is in grave peril!"

"Oh," I said. Packing it in and going home started sounding better and better.

"Andarial now inhabits our monastery, obviously left there by Diablo to block pursuit. Her armies will destroy any attempt to get through until she herself is killed!"

"Kill a demon princess. Great. Cain, is she dangerous?"

"By all accounts, she is not dangerous if compared with Diablo."

"Oh. That should be all right, then. I'll take care of it in the morning."

Chapter 8

In the tent I shared, everyone was asleep. Waking them with unconscious vocalizing would be rude, so I stuffed a bandage in my mouth and

went   out    to     the      world
Anybody there?      I am      Hi there       I'm not      Hello again.  How's
                Yes you are!                No, I'm not   things in the west?
                                        I'm here, not there
Shut up.     Hee hee     Oh, really funny     Gotcha!    Quit being juvenile
The west could
  be better             I'm here          By definition...     I said quit!
First, how goes     I'm here except
   Aranoch?          when I'm not     I'm in Viz-Jun    I'm on the Twin Seas
                                      The Sorcerers        I hate sailing
                                     are under attack
Is anybody in Aranoch?

Anybody?    I thought Inella
               was there?     She said she was                In a harem, yet
       Maybe she's asleep                   It's a hard life
                                            being in a harem
          I'm still on my way
           to Aranoch.  It's          The Sorcerers are
         dangerous on the road          under attack!
  What about             Who's attacking?             This is bad
the Sorcerers?                         A Zakarumite army          What?
           There's Jungle Cats         Hordes of zealots     That's not good
           attacking travelers          Dying in droves
             in the desert            But they keep coming
Holy crap!                      This is not news
                              Zakarum's been doing      It is news. Why
                              purges for years now      attack Viz-Jun?
           Also Raiders, the            A lot of Sorcies
         funny four-armed guys         are getting killed      Something is
         They're getting bold                                rotten in Kurast
 Attacking Viz-Jun       Did someone say
is more than a purge     Jungle Cats in
                           the desert?           Netta did     My head hurts
               I did   I've run into Quill
                        Rats on Lycander          That's way out of
They're all over        The Amazons sure             their range
here in Khanduras        don't like them         Weird     Everything's going
                                                            to Hell suddenly
 Oh! I came to tell you:
   we may have Andarial
     the lesser evil                Who?                 You know, Andy-baby
    here in Khanduras                     She of the jeweled
                                            nipple chains.
              Is this confirmed?   Oh, her             Ouch!     She likes it
I haven't seen her         I'd like         Just the big 3
But I may have to        confirmation       is bad enough!     I think so too
 go through her      Good luck!         Try to confirm her,
                  I hope Inella's OK     but try harder to
The lesser may be                          go around her        Not good!
working with the              Not good at all
  greater again                                     What are we
                          Damn...                   going to do?
            Try to stay alive          We need a plan       Here's a plan:
Yeah?                                                    Whoever you're after
                                                             forget them.
                          How's that going to help?         I'll tell you
We're at war now                                         Right.  We're at war
                                                          so forget wizards!
             A war for the world     We're not an army   Volunteer in cities
                                                         work with locals and
                                                         fight off the demons
                               But we're mage-slayers
                                    Not soldiers          We have to change
                                                         This is a new threat
It's actually a          Right. We kill mages
 very old one            in league with demons
                          but now the demons              It's not like I'm
                          are here themselves               asking you to
                                                            join an army
                  Sir! No, sir!            That's ma'am         Ha ha.
           I'll keep going 
            into Aranoch            Are we meeting
                                      out there?         I'm bound for Kurast
I'm working with the
 Rogues, but there's         I'll see you in
not many of them left          Lut Gholein                  If she gets there
   I'll get there        See you soon!         Good luck     Yeah, good luck

I slept like someone cast a spell on me, and woke in the dark dead silence before dawn. The silence of the Rogue pass was still unsettling -- there should be birds, bugs, mice, something. Deciding which waypoint to use was a problem. The last one I'd found was in the cloisters, so they'd be expecting me to use it. Not using it meant coming in from outside, through the monastery gate. But whichever way I went, I'd have to go through the cloisters, so there was one ambush point I could avoid by doing the predictable thing.

Nobody was waiting in the cloisters. The barracks were empty too. For once, I let my guard down, listening for thoughts, any kind of thoughts. That's dangerous to do around demons; maybe worse with undead. Even if you find a mind, it's guaranteed to be full of the thoughts that leave scars. At first, I felt nothing. No one was near. I opened up wider. Harsh, sharp whispers came from inside the monastery. I immediately pulled back; the contact was like reaching out in the dark and touching razors. Most of them were at ground level, clustered behind a gate at the rear of the barracks: there was the ambush, a big one. I don't think they noticed me, or understood if they did. Fewer thoughts scrabbled under my feet -- there was a basement under the barracks. I had no way of knowing if there was any way through down there, but walking into that ambush would be suicide.

The basement was a jail, probably the only place in the monastery the new owners left the way it was. They even put in some new prisoners -- three Goat demons had been locked in a cell right by the entrance. I got in some target practice. Had they committed some crime even demons disapprove of? Maybe they'd been caught being nice to someone. I didn't ask. The rest of the jail's cells were open, and empty except for skeletons and ghosts. A lot of people died here, and were never taken out. Did the Rogues bother to bury them, or leave them where they were?

Things the Rogues left were everywhere: neatly stacked crates; huge casks of water, wine, or explosives; long tables with chairs. All the torture equipment was recently used. Rogues were tied spread-eagle to tables, and disemboweled for an audience of chairs. Some tables had two legs knocked off so the ones in the back could enjoy too. In every room there were Rogues, decapitated, burned, ripped in half, torn to pieces, or broken on wheels. All were naked, but unmolested. Most likely, stripping them was purely psychological. Documents were lying around on tables or desks, probably neatly detailing punishments and the ends of many lives. I imagine most people would have a hard time with the bloody bits scattered on the floor. My problem was the papers. Seeing that much documentation, and leaving it all where it was, was probably the hardest thing I've ever done.

The Rogue jails went deep, three levels of cells and torture rooms. What the hell were they doing with so much of that stuff? Whatever the reason, the jails saw a lot of use, judging from how many dead people they had to raise. There were some demons there -- the Goats, some Misshapen in a side hall, but all the rest were undead. Why would people like Charsi have so much torture equipment? Maybe it didn't belong to the Rogues, maybe the demons somehow brought it in. Or maybe it was all old, from times when a woman like the Countess could be a Rogue leader. The modern Rogues seemed more interested in using their jail for storage.

The deepest part of the jail hid a few surprises. There were two hidden rooms the demons hadn't found, combination treasuries and armories. Kashya recognized the gear I recovered, and actually smiled. Quality weapons seem to bring her great joy. I also found two banners in the treasures: one matched the Countess', and the other I didn't recognize. I was a good girl, and didn't ask about them.

Another surprise was a centrally located hall, with tables, chairs, and long shelves of books. Some people think criminals are forced into crime by a lack of education, and want libraries in prisons so they can better themselves. As far as I know, none of these people approve of torture. Seeing a library and torture chambers in the same complex was very odd.

The biggest surprise was guarding the northern jails, near a stairway going up. On top of two pillars, stone statues of dragon or snake heads sprayed explosive balls of fire at me as I came through. They were obviously an imitation of Hydras, fire creatures mages summon to lay traps and scout dangerous areas. A success with the pyrotechnic experiments, perhaps? They worked fine, except that they didn't attack the undead. Maybe those old bones were "local" in the stone Hydras' rudimentary minds.

The stairway took me back to the surface, coming out under a covered walkway above a green lawn. Above, the sun glowed feebly though a thick layer of gray cloud, hardly giving any light at all. Down on the grass, two Rogues were desperately shooting at me, not even taking time to aim. The first shot I didn't dodge plinked off the armor; after that, I didn't bother to dodge. The lawn had a waypoint, which I was glad to see. Then, there was the cathedral, a gray stripped skeleton of holiness towering over me. That, I wasn't glad to see at all. I wanted to be on the other side of the monastery, not in its heart. I didn't like the looks of the place. My shields were up as strong as I could make them, but just looking at it, I felt spikes laced with vinegar pricking me.

I thought of leaving, of going around. Sure, the cathedral was probably in the middle of an open courtyard, with no cover. A good run might make it across. Then, if I found the other side, I might get through the gate and escape. I'd have to travel across the biggest desert in the world without any water or food. Maybe Andarial (if this is her) would only send half her demons after me. Crap... it would be easier to just go in there and kill her.

Chapter 9

Maybe I'm overcautious, but I didn't go into the cathedral. I wanted more information first. In most monasteries, the church, main chapel, or whatever is at the center, is the symbolic heart. Demons like symbols too, so the heart of the monastery was probably their command center, but making assumptions is never a good idea. If Andarial was in the cathedral, I wanted to know where. If she wasn't, where would she be?

Kashya was waiting by the fire, and was as good a Rogue as any to ask. "Hi there. You know that cathedral in your monastery?"

She laughed, a short guffaw. "Outlander... Amy... that is the most ridiculous question I have heard in years. Whoever you are, you can stop playacting. I know you're not that dumb."

"Made you laugh, though. If this is Andarial, I think she's in the cathedral. Before I go in there, I want to know the layout."

Tinges of concern cooled her normally bright aura. "You don't have to, you know. I already know I misjudged you."

"Actually, I do. My target is on the other side of the monastery. Pursuit'll be a lot easier without a demon lord on my ass. What's the cathedral like?"

She told me, in systematic detail. The cathedral is laid out cruciform, with pews, the altar, apses, and a vestry. The bell tower is at the rear, but no stairs go up. Under the cathedral are four levels of catacombs, with a funeral chapel at the bottom. Having the chapel in the deepest level is a Zakarumite tradition. If it were me, I'd put it on top so you wouldn't have to walk as far, but I don't see the point of funerals anyway. The dead don't care. A maze of tombs and lots of bodies would be very useful for her Nipple-Ringness, so she's probably holed up in the catacombs. According to historical accounts, Andarial is more of a lover than a fighter, but that's compared with other demon lords. Standard Necro tactics might work, if she isn't too tough.

The Mule was waiting next to the wagons near Charsi's armory. "Howdy do! You found that waypoint just in time. Catch!"

The crossbow thudded off my chest. It was huge, with a bow so massive it needed a crank and gears to pull. "What's this monster?"

"That's a rare we've been saving since pt. 1, Viper Flight! Test it out for us. Here's new jewelry, a plated belt, and some charms, too! Don't worry, this won't be your final gear, we've got better stuff you'll want instead, when you're big enough."

"Oh, thanks," I said, looking over the new sparklies. "You're so generous."

"That's what I do! You're comin' along great, we're all really happy to watch!"

I couldn't sense any feelings coming off him. Normally, that says heavy shielding, but I couldn't feel any shields. I reached out, and

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I came to when my face hit the ground. My eyes told me the world was made of tiny blocks of colored light, spinning in a void. If Charsi hadn't rolled me over, I might have drowned in two inches of mud. "Are you all right?"

"0000013f" I said as the world oozed back into focus. Or maybe blurred over -- I couldn't tell. "What happened?"

"You were standing over here," Charsi said, her panic spiking through the air, "then pitched over like a falling tree. What did you say?"

"I don't know what that was. I looked at that guy, and..."

"What guy?"

The Mule was gone. He'd left no tracks. "The man who wasn't there."

"I think you should see Akara," Charsi said, fear freezing her voice. "Demons can deceive your senses and make you see strange things."

"I don't think it was a demon. But a little exorcism couldn't hurt."

After stowing Leadcrow, I went back and pulled open the cathedral doors. Not that I didn't trust the new bow... but it was untested, and might be too damn slow to use. A Misshapen came to the door, so I tested it. My bolt entered the demon's open mouth and exited near its left buttock, making disgusting noises all the way through. Seeing no logical counter-argument to my proposal, he dropped without so much as a whimper. Wow. Who cares how long the thing takes to crank up!

There weren't any Rogues in the cathedral, and only one undead. There were plenty of black demonlings and Misshapen, which I seem to remember are Andarial's favorite male demons. No accounting for taste. For me, they were one- or two-hit kills. The altar was guarded by a skeleton mage with a poison bolt attack, powerful but slow. We had a sniping contest, which I'm glad to say I won. The inside of the cathedral was ordinary, at least what I could see through layers of graffiti. Oddly, there was no sign of any goddess -- even the little roof over the altar showed a male angelic figure handing a big key to a papal figure, also male. Maybe it was recycled from somewhere else.

The catacombs were very dark and close, with a lot of skeletons in the wall niches. None moved, or held together when poked. Not that it made much difference, but I wondered why these guys hadn't been raised. Instead of zombies, the catacombs were full of Misshapen and black demonlings. The stopping power of the new bow came in really handy, especially against a lightning-blooded Misshapen. It could spit sparks all it wanted at the other end of the hall, thank you.

I didn't find much in the catacombs. There were a few magic items, interred with women who might have been famous among the Rogues. I recovered them for the order and gave Cain the pleasure of identifying and describing them. He starts getting morose if I leave him alone too long, I've noticed. The religious symbols were all Zakarumite -- the Sightless Eye never made an appearance. Boiling blood burbled away in cracks in the floor, but that had to be an illusion -- I couldn't smell hot blood, something I'm pretty familiar with.

There were also a few new demon types, none of which I recognized. The first was a bunch of tiny men, wearing tiny skirts with decorated with tiny colorful flowers. Except for the tiny fangs filling their tiny gaping mouths, the not-so-tiny knives in their tiny clawed hands, and the tiny screams they squealed as they raced out of nowhere and tried to bite me off at the knees, they were almost cute. Deeper in the catacombs, they had altered animals: spiders the size of cows. They were about as quick as cows too, and ran away if I hurt them, so after the initial panic I didn't mind their being there so much.

The deepest levels of the catacombs had some more modern things, like stacks of barrels and crates. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that the undead put in an appearance too -- could be a subtle sign from Heaven that tombs are not to be used for storing explosives. The zombies were tough and stringy, and there were a few Vampires, floating blood-suckers some wizards turn into when they die. Getting in close is a good tactic if you remember to protect your neck.

Down on the lowest level, the funeral chapel was full of prospective clients. Never mind the demons -- I hope I never see that many dead naked women ever again. A pit in front of the chapel doors was full to the brim with corpses and gore. Other bodies had been skinned, or torn to bits and impaled on bony spikes. There was a preference for displaying distinctly female parts, like breasts and buttocks. I don't share Kashya's mindset, but I could not imagine why a female would do this. Why strip them, and reduce them to sexual parts? It's degrading and insulting and... you know, I think I just answered my own question.

A few zombies wandered here and there, and some demonlings. I killed from a distance as quietly as I could, but it's hard to kill off someone's army without them ever noticing. The fall of a distant zombie tipped her off, and with a bellow like an ox, what had to be Andarial came clomping out of the chapel. Physically, the demon queen was an awful mix. Some of her looked very human, enviably so. Her face might have been beautiful, if you didn't look at what was in her bloodshot eyes. Other parts were pure monster. Spider legs sprouted from her back, and her legs ended in horse-like hooves. Her body had no grace or elegance; she didn't glide, she lumbered. In an insane moment, I wondered if she'd killed all those Rogues out of simple jealousy.

My first bolt thudded into her, sounding about like I'd shot a tree. She charged, green clouds of stinging smoke billowing out in front of her. I retreated, choking as I cranked the bow for another shot. Keeping that pit of gore in the front area between me and her sounded like a really good idea. I wish it had been. For all her clumsiness, Andarial moved fast. Running through her poisonous clouds between shots made my lungs feel like they were being torn out. Drinking antidotes was pointless, she just poisoned the air again.

In the clear light of hindsight, it was obvious that the tactics which work on Necromancers would not work on Andarial. She moved too fast, was too tough, and breathing her poison for too long would kill anybody. That poison cloud was probably why so many Rogues died facing her -- they kept trying to run and whittle her down. I wish I could say I'd realized that, but I didn't. All I knew was, the bow wasn't doing the job. I had to switch and take it up close and personal.

When I screamed and threw myself in her face, she actually looked madder. It was like I'd insulted her. Rather than use her arms, she reared back, then slammed her whole upper body down, driving the ends of her spider-legs into me. The toad demon from the jails hit harder. The armor took most of her shot, so I waited for her to do it again, carving up her perfect alabaster thighs in the meantime. Sure enough, she reared back, and I sank both katar into her gut, lifting and twisting to rip the demon queen's belly wide open.

Andarial screamed fit to bring down the roof, and tried to slap me around with one hand while she held her guts in with the other. A lover, not a fighter... and not much of either, I was willing to bet. When she put her guard high, I opened the arteries that run down the insides of the thighs. Trying to guard that put her throat in reach. Rearing back let me open up her gut until intestines sprayed out, dripping to the floor. Even then, she wouldn't give up. The bitch had stamina, I'll give her that... or maybe she was just too spiteful to die.

She did die, in the end, and I didn't. No woman, even a demon queen, has that much spite in her. Her hybridized body exploded and dissolved in her own unvented bile, leaving an impressive hole in the floor and a stench the Rogues would probably never get out. My last antidote and a healing potion wiped out every sign we'd even fought, apart from the mess. Cleaning the monastery would take a lot longer. The Rogues can manage it, though. I'll bet Kashya swings a mean mop.

Concluding thoughts:

I've never been a fan of crossbows, but they're not bad weapons. Even the slow ones aren't bad with Burst of Speed on.
We likes bows when we has knockback, we likes them oh so very much.
Cloak of Shadows is nice when you're the only one who has it. The last time I played an Assassin, my Shadow Master kept spamming it. Bleah.
Act II will be the time I start playing with poison. It'll be a difficult test: there are a lot of poison-resistant monsters there.

Act 2

Chapter 10

Whacking Andarial didn't solve everybody's problems at once. Dead Rogues were still dead. Local animals were still hostile. Demons still huddled in camps. The dead still walked... well, stumbled. But there was no coming back tomorrow this time, and they knew it. It kind of took the ginger out of them. Five Rogues on top of Warriv's wagons cleared the whole pass in a few hours. Kashya took a contingent into every cave, basement, crypt, and hole-in-the-wall along the way, and never fell behind. It was impressive... Rogues are dangerous. Too bad they were surprised and outnumbered the first time, it might have been a real fight. All I had to do was sit back and watch. Conquering heroes don't involve themselves with the clean-up anyway.

The monastery itself was empty. I'd already gotten most of them, and the survivors were heading for the hills. The Rogues took a few pot-shots at their fleeing backsides, but there were too many to chase and they had more important things to do. First, they opened the pass to travelers: to wit, me. Second, they spirited me away to a secret chapel, hidden from the eyes of all men. With a quick ceremony, I was dubbed an official Rogue, with the rights, privileges, and blessings pertaining thereto. Rogue rituals are very different from Viz-Jaq'taar ones; they sing, clap, hold hands in a circle, and smile even during the serious parts. It was kind of fun, but if this means no more men, I'm gonna make a lousy Rogue.

I'm not much for goodbyes, but it was kind of sad to go. I liked being in a big group of happy people, with everyone's guard down. You don't see a lot of that in my line of work. The Rogues were too happy to notice if my mind was leaking, and I'm not sure I would have cared if they did. Charsi wasn't even a little nervous around me. I gave her Leadcrow as a parting gift; maybe she could do something with it. Kashya even went so far as to ask to be my friend, and meant it. I don't think she makes friends easily, or often. As much as I might have liked to, I couldn't stay. I have older friends, even if they're not as cheerful, and they're going to need me a lot more.

We left after Warriv loaded the wagons with casks of water. I'd heard caravans can make it across the desert if they stick to the regular routes, so I thought he was taking advantage of the Rogues at first. He was already overjoyed that they'd forgotten the fee for using the pass. Turns out he'd just listened to Cain more than I did. Diablo's minions fouled Tristram's water supply, and Warriv knew exactly how important water is in a desert. More than half the oases we found were tainted, the water undrinkable even after boiling. We didn't see any demons, but we might have died anyway without those casks. That's when I decided to spend a little time talking with Cain myself.

Right from the start, I learned things. My first lesson was, there's no such thing as "a little time talking with Cain." I thought only women knew how to talk without stopping to breathe. My second lesson was that this humble old fart knew a lot about everything in the world and outside it, and was desperate to share with me. The "conquering hero" act impressed him a lot: he was sure I was going places, and needed to be educated so I'd know what to do when I got there. The trip across Aranoch was a long one, so we brushed up on demons, and Cain got to exercise his jaw muscles. Everybody was happy, except Gheed, who kept asking if I was hot out here in this desert and shouldn't consider going back to the thong. He never did figure out why he was suddenly so prone to migraines.

Journey's end was Lut Gholein, the biggest trading port on the western shore of the Twin Seas. Last I'd heard, Lut Gholein was ruled by Faduwas, an infamous sultan infatuated with money, food, money, drink, money, women, money, and more food. Instead of a fat old man with a lot of guards, we were met by one young guy, obviously rich but not even close to what I was expecting. Warriv, now dressed like a local, paid a hefty entrance fee and filled him in on the deal with the Rogue's pass. After the prince was done collecting, he came to meet me. I couldn't have been more thrilled.

"Greetings, honored traveler," he said in a tenor voice that seemed to think it was pretty damn good. "I am Jerhyn, lord of Lut Gholein, and I bid you welcome to my city."

He was kind of short, slender yet soft. His skin was smooth as a violin's back, and smelled like perfume. His clothes glittered and shimmered. Limpid brown eyes reflected me like a pane of glass. Some kinds of women would like this boy. Others would want to spit. "You honor me, lord," I said, pouring honey into my voice. "I am Amanita."

"Warriv tells me you are responsible for opening the pass to the west, so that wealth may once again flow between our countries."

He sure has his priorities straight. "Yeah, I guess I am. Too bad so many people died."

Jerhyn sighed, and bowed his head. It was almost convincing. "Forgive me, I know I may have seemed callous. Word has come from many far off lands of struggles with demonkind; I took the suffering of your land as a given. A force I cannot identify has lain siege to my city, killing all who venture outside our walls, and many within. The situation has become so desperate, I have hired mercenaries, but the forces of humankind may not be enough to combat an enemy we can hardly see, let alone understand."

Something was hiding his thoughts. Could a man learn to shield, especially one this young? No -- he's wearing a crown. Most ancient crowns and tiaras were made of alloys given to us by Heaven, and protect the ruler from probing. "Something demonic, maybe?"

"That and much more! The dead rise from their tombs, and strange beasts have been seen stalking amongst the moonlit dunes. I myself have seen many things I cannot explain."

Nothing unusual yet. "You should talk to my friend Cain, here. He knows all kinds of stuff about demons."

"Deckard Cain, the Horadrim sage?" Jerhyn's eyes got even bigger as he turned to the old man. "My city has indeed been honored! Fortune may finally have smiled on us today."

"Greetings, Lord Jerhyn!" Cain smiled. "I knew your father long ago, and thought he would be among the living for many more years. I am saddened to know I was wrong."

"My title has come to me recently, and I would that it had not come to me as it did. My father was one of the first to be lost, and sadly, far from the last."

"What a tragedy for this land!" Cain said diplomatically. I could tell he was actually relieved. "May he achieve happiness, as all good men do."

"Your words are kind. Come, you and I must speak with my advisors. Your council is most desperately needed."

They walked off, forgetting all about the conquering hero. I spat, and went to explore. Lut Gholein was a good-sized town, with paved streets and tall buildings. Lots of people roamed the streets, probably locals hiding inside the city walls, though Jerhyn said people inside had been killed. Probably just old grudges working themselves out, then being blamed on demons. Local fashions were breezy and colorful, but I already knew tight and black are bad ideas in this climate. Going back to the thong might not be a bad idea, except Gheed is still around. Of course, he did mention finding a big bowl of "narlant weed" and smoking until all earthly sense left his body, so I might not see him again for a while.

Past a palace that took up a quarter of the city all by itself, I found an inn, got a room, and changed into something lighter. The innkeeper was amazing. The man looked like he'd been hit by everything but the bucket of a dragline. His whole body was scarred, thickened, flattened, checkered, welted, and had pieces missing. But he had humorous eyes, in a face that smiled at the whole world. His was a smile that had nothing more to fear. Everything had already been done to him that anybody could think of.

Back on the street, I got more stares, but for a different reason. Some soldiers on the wall asked where I was spending my night, among other things. Soldiers are like that, in front of their friends. I've discovered they're not nearly as brave when they meet you alone. Near the city's only landward gate, I found the captain of the guard, a mercenary named Greiz. All the guardsmen were mercs -- Jerhyn's guards were in his palace, along with the city's harems and "ladies of the night." That was odd: Jerhyn seems to like money. Spending it on mercs when he's already got guards doesn't make sense. At least Inella was someplace safe, if you can call being locked up with a bunch of lonely soldiers "safe." Later, I'll have to call for her, and see what's up.

An open-air marketplace was in the center of the city. Stories make eastern markets out to be lively, merchants maniacally buying and selling everything imaginable at the top of their lungs. I could hear beetle legs scuttling across the pavement. Must be the off season. Besides a dozen sad-faced vendors, there was an alchemist and an armorer. The alchemist was a bow-legged oldster named Lysander, who had no eyebrows and a hat he never took off the whole time I talked with him. He tried to sell me some kind of sunburn cream, but never do business with an alchemist with no eyebrows.

The armorer was a slender woman, with long hair she left loose around her face. It was nice hair around a nice enough face, but I would never have thought she was an armorer -- or a Paladin, as she told me. Her thoughts were dark, covered with a mist of guilt; you see a lot of that in Zakarumites. I didn't go beyond her surface. Clerics don't interest me, and people whose minds turn inward are most likely to notice intrusions.

It was starting to get dark, and my feet were tired. Conveniently next to the marketplace was a tavern, already pretty lively. That was the best sign I could have that this city was in trouble -- nobody was spending money on food, but there was plenty to spend on drink. The doorman had "bouncer" written all over him. He wasn't much less than 7 feet tall, and no wider than a beer barrel. About the same shape, too. The tavern keeper was an older woman, dressed in unfashionable black. I liked her instantly, then saw her mind and liked her a lot less. So, the local deaths weren't just murders of convenience. That was good to know, but you should never take murder as personally as this woman did.

There are those who think the neighborhood bar is the best place for information. I've had more luck in dance halls, but it didn't look like many people were dancing in Lut Gholein. The bouncer was already staggering; he wouldn't need much more to start talking. I bought him a drink. He almost knocked me down getting to the bottle, and it was gone before I found a chair. I had to buy another. Most men, given a choice between a bottle and a woman in a thong, know which one they should pick, but this guy wouldn't. Going back to the bar had a silver lining, though -- when I sat down, I realized why that alchemist was trying to sell me sunburn cream. I stood for the rest of our chat.

"So, handsome..." I smiled. Hey, he might notice. "What's got everybody so down?"

"Oh, I don't know... I think it's because of poor mister Andu, and her son."

"Who's he?"

"He used to own The Rising Sun, before... uh..."

"Oh, no! Something bad happened to poor mister Andu?"

"Well, if you call finding him without his heart and liver and right leg bad."

Something crashed to the floor behind the bar. When I looked up, the tavern keeper was hurrying into the back room. My inebriated friend didn't seem to notice. "It was horrible, all chopped up and parts of him gone or eaten or something. I don't like to talk about it, it makes poor Atma upset."

He stared at his hands, then began to sing. His voice cracked, which discouraged him, and he started to cry. I rolled the bottle on the table, until his eyes rose and tracked it like a bloodhound. "Atma is your bartender?"

"Mister Andu was before," he said, still mesmerized. "After Andu was found, their son went down into the sewer to kill the monster. We never found him. I'd go down there and get it, but... I... uh... I don't like all that living dead stuff."

I leaned way down over the table, and poured half a jug, knowing it wouldn't even be close to enough. "The monster is undead?"

He frowned, but it faded as I kept pouring. "Oh, it's one of those big scary tomb guardians from out in the desert. They're big scary things made from dead men, and they can rip you to pieces and devour your soul like that! They have dead servants too. No one robs tombs with them in there!"

I filled his jug, and smiled. It was empty before I put the bottle down. Never once did he look at me, just the bottle. Someday, I should get this guy to drink water, just for the novelty of it. "Why would anybody make a monster like that?"

"It's a big mummy," he said, his rolling eyes fixed on the bottle. I started pouring again. "When you die, before you go to Heaven, your soul still needs a home, so they dry you out and soak you in chemicals. I don't like talking about it. Dead things are..." He shivered, which is a big deal in a guy that size. It almost knocked the table over.

Pickled human corpses, from the sound of it. Diablo must have loved that local tradition. "Dead things are so nasty," I agreed. "Are there other things that aren't dead?"

"Oh, sure, but they don't get in anymore. Greiz has this city locked down nice and tight, so I don't know why you people keep pestering me about it. I could have done it anytime."

"Well, sure! You're such a big, strong, handsome fella. You shouldn't have to fight with icky nasty undead things anyway."

"I could have, anytime!" Now he was starting to get excited, also a big deal from a guy that big. "Just bring 'em on! That sewer monster won't come out at all anymore with Greiz's guards all over. If he can't come here and fight me, to hell with him!"

With a wild punch through the air, he launched himself off his chair and landed face-down on the floor. I wasn't too worried, his gut probably broke his fall. Sure enough, in a minute, he was snoring. Atma hadn't come back. Everyone was helping themselves to the ale cask, but they all left money on the bar. Even with a mind full of vengeance and sorrow, Atma was obviously respected. Getting her gratitude might be more important than gaining the sultan's favor. Yes... I think I know what my next "good deed for the day" will be.

Chapter 11

Back at the inn, I had a few surprises waiting for me: two scissors-katar set with sapphires, a heavy crossbow set with emeralds, and a note.

"Howdy, Miss Thang! Best to cover up your money-maker in that desert sun, but you found that out by yourself. Here's that poison bow, and new spare slasher-choppers. Don't be shy about using 'em! Dead guys don't much care about poison.

-- The Mule"

The new katar were icy-cold, glittering with pain. The crossbow was... green. It was almost enough to make me forget the bow and concentrate on martial arts, but high kicks always make my undies ride up. With the sunburn I got, that could be a fatal distraction. Pulling on my pants was enough pain for one day.

There were two ways into the sewers. One was the maintenance hatch Greiz was standing on. The other was the outflow above the bay. No one guarded it; must be because there's no need to. I went in from the bay. The sewers were almost dry, so the most recent victims were still inside: a knot of corpses almost blocked a side passage. I put a bolt into the pile; none moved. Most of the bodies were fresh, and starting to dry out. Not all were human. Maybe half had missing skin, limbs or organs, but not much had been taken from any one body. Whatever was doing this was picky, only taking what it wanted, and not every body met its standards.

Past the corpse pile was a stairway down. I've been in a few sewers -- sometimes, they're the only way into a well-guarded manor -- but never one with more than one level. Maybe the desert floods a lot, and they need extra drainage for all that water. Leaving enemies behind me is still a bad idea, so I went through the rest of the level. Whatever the monster was, it brought a lot of friends. Some were skeletal, with fire flickering dimly in their bones. Those were my favorites, they made great targets in the dark. Others had flesh, dryer than jerky and stained weird colors by who-knows-what embalming fluid. When one fell over, it burst open into clouds of stinging dust. I think they might have been a little smarter than your standard zombie, or maybe quicker. It wouldn't be hard to be either.

There were also a few Raiders, weird pin-headed humanoids with four arms. Why they were here, I have no idea, and they didn't seem too sure either. Raiders roam around the open desert, and aren't supposed to like confined spaces. Sometimes they attack people, but not often enough for anyone to really worry about them. These guys looked like they wanted to get me, but a loud scream or a bolt in the gut sent them scampering. Here, at least, poison was better than the katar. Raiders are long-legged and hard to catch, so poisoned bolts are a lot easier that chasing them down. The undead cared less, but the bow still had enough to get them in one hit. The stronger ones just took longer to fall over.

I must have been near the northern part of the city when I found a big bunch of skellies, all facing away from me, waiting patiently. I've heard that when you're shooting at a flock of birds, get the ones in the back first so the rest don't scatter. Birds don't have shields, so it didn't quite work the same with these guys. I had to retreat and hide a few times, and pick them off from behind corners, but with some patience I whittled them down to nothing. Past them was the maintenance hatch -- I could see Greiz's shadow around the edge. Never go in the front door.

A perverse thought struck me. I climbed up to the hatch and knocked. "Hi, Greiz."

I heard a yelp, then a thump. Good jump for such a big guy. "Who goes there?"

"Nobody special. You should have more guards on this thing, there were a lot of zombies and things waiting down here."

There was a banging, and the hatch opened. I grinned my best grin into the glaring sun, until Greiz's shadow blocked it. "Eh, it's you. Looks like you got yourself into trouble."

"Not that I noticed. Did you know there's fresh bodies down here?"

"Uh-huh. Every now and then, some fool decides to be a hero and go down there with a pig-sticker. Was that your idea?"

"Nah. I've been a hero already, the compensation's lousy. The monster's still dangerous, so why aren't your guys down here?"

"Lady, you may not have noticed, but this city is under attack from every direction. It's bad enough that I'm losing men every day in the desert. The sewer monster is contained. That's the best I can do without additional manpower."

I nodded. "Jerhyn doesn't have enough money, huh?"

Greiz smiled, his first of the day. He probably allowed himself four. "I think he does, but he'd rather give up a few citizens than what it would take to get my men down there. Lords like heroes. They're too noble to demand payment up front. I know better."

"I knew there was something I liked about you," I smiled back. "See you in a few. I've got a reputation to make."

Mercenaries. Say what you like, the smart ones know what the soldiering business is all about. I'll take smart over noble any day. Mercenaries are predictable. You never know what some idiot will think is the "right" thing to do.

The second level of the sewers was a lot like the first: burning skeletons, "mummies", and Raiders. Some of these skeletons had bows and shot burning arrows, but I could deal with that. The locals use some strange fighting equipment. Raiders like crystal swords, maybe because lightness is more important than toughness for these weedy bastards. When they have shields, they're wicker-work things covered with spikes. Wicker actually stops arrows pretty well, and the spikes might snare the light, curved swords the locals use. Out here, anything that saves weight would be good.

All around the level, I kept finding corpses. One room had 3, untouched aside from the fatal burns and cuts. In a side chamber, there was a funny-looking rock that turned out to be a Horadric waypoint -- in a sewer. Another funny rock up in the city matched it. Why would anyone want magical transportation to a sewer? Mages, even Horadrim, aren't half as smart as they like to think, but this is nuts.

Down another set of stairs was a third level of sewers. How much sewer does a city need? Unless the population really goes up during tourist season, these were starting to look more like underground snuggling tunnels, or hidden dens for the city's seamier entertainment offerings. A lot of people can't enjoy their sin unless they try to keep it hidden. Skeletons were everywhere, and Jungle Cats. They looked even worse off than the Raiders; their eyes ran in the dry, dusty air, and their fur was dull and patchy. All they had to fight with were bullwhips, lousy weapons against armor. Maybe they'd been herders once.

In the farthest corner of the third level, I finally found the monster. It was too big to have ever been human, at least 10 feet tall. Hordes of skeletal mages surrounded it, too many to fight or fire through. Standard minion-dispersal tactics worked well: get servants to follow you, then strand them in empty tunnels and kill them one at a time. The big thing, unlike its minions, was too tough for one bolt to kill. A second bolt didn't kill it either, and neither did the third. A fourth might have, but I didn't want to try it; I ran in with my head down, took a couple of death bolts, and finished the thing off by hand.

Once I had a corpse to look over, I found out I was wrong. It was human, just more than one human together. Wires held spliced-together bones in place; muscles were stretched to cover longer limbs; its shriveled innards had been repacked with fresher meat. Over to one side, the monster had a collection of skins, the finest Lut Gholein's population had to offer, crudely stitched into something that might cover its body. None of it had been cured -- the older patches were already rotten. The suit, and the monster, would probably need constant replacement parts. Maybe that bouncer was right: dead things are just nasty.

Chapter 12

"Ah!" Cain's eyes lit up as I emptied my pack. Bringing the books out first was a good idea; reading always brightens the old fart's day. "You've found a Horadric scroll! How fortunate that I have the knowledge to decipher the mystic runes it bears."

"You can? Wow, I couldn't figure that out at all," I said. Actually, I could get the general idea of the scroll pretty well. Mages love writing things down, but can't stand the idea of anyone else reading them, so they invent codes. Most are simple letter substitution ciphers, not hard to figure out. Still, it's handy to have someone who knows the code.

"Hmm... yes, this is most important. Have you ever heard of Radamant the Fallen?"

"Radamant, also called Radamant the Fallen. Born in Westmarch, studied in Viz-Jun in the third century. Joined the Horadrim, active in Aranoch. Part of the group that bound Baal. Afterwards, lost his marbles and ritually murdered about half a dozen people. Killed by forces unknown, end of story. What about him?"

"Eh... yes." Cain looked uncomfortable. Describing something in a few sentences violates some basic instinct of his. "Judging from this, it appears that his story did not end with his death. It is my belief that the monster you fought was none other than Radamant!"

I nodded, waiting for him to go on. "And... ?"

"Erm, well... Radamant was a mighty Horadrim mage, and mummified after his death. As is the custom of this land, the noblest dead were infused with spells and surgically altered to give them greater status in the afterlife, and allow them to guard their own tombs from the living. Which makes his presence here all the more mysterious."

"I'm wondering why they'd mummify and enhance Radamant. He killed a bunch of people."

"He was a Horadrim, and it was traditional." Cain shrugged. "Wondering why our ancestors did as they did is an interesting, but ultimately pointless exercise. History will not change as a result of our pondering it."

"Most likely, the people he murdered were ordinary peasants who don't matter, as far as sorcerers are concerned. Anyway, what's so shocking about Radamant being here?"

Cain frowned at me, but decided to let it go. "Radamant is far from his tomb, and engaged in activities unconnected with its protection. I should not be surprised that, with so many things happening, even the ancient guardian spells are beginning to unravel."

"The 'dead rising from the tombs' stuff, yeah. Great. I have to go see Atma." I held up Radamant's skull, blowing away a bit of dust from the broken neck. "She'll appreciate this."

"I cannot imagine that Atma would want that," Cain said, blanching.

"In her frame of mind, I think she'll want it mounted over the fireplace."

"Oh, quickly, before you go!" Cain held up the scroll. "This is a description of the binding of Baal, which Radamant was witness to. According to Radamant, the Soulstone used to imprison Baal was broken, so Tal Rasha, greatest of the Horadrim --"

"Volunteered to get stuck with the stone and wrestle the demon lord for all eternity. You already told me that. What else does it say?"

"Ah... well... Tal Rasha was imprisoned in a spacious tomb, excavated under the direction of the archangel Tyrael, hidden from the eyes of man or hellspawn --"

"Behind thick walls and mighty enchantments, and buried deep beneath the desert sands, yeah yeah. Is there anything new in there, like where the tomb is?"

"Er... no, but the scroll does describe how to enter the tomb. All Horadrim carried a staff as their badge of office, as I do today to honor their memory. The members of the party which captured Baal enchanted their staves to serve as keys, should they ever have a need to open the tomb again."

"Right. Let me guess: someone stole a staff."

"An attempt was made to do just that, but it was foiled at the last moment. To safeguard the tomb, the staves were broken into shaft and headpiece, and hidden away. They then carried false staves with them, in case another attempt should be made."

"Huh. That's interesting. Anything else?"

Cain looked over the scroll, and shook his head. "No, nothing else remains. It seems that Diablo will have great difficulty reaching his brother. A true Horadric staff is necessary to open the tomb, but no one save ourselves knows this."

"Hmm, yeah. I suppose that means I should kill you now." He blinked amusingly for a few seconds, before I grinned. "Just kidding. Don't tell anybody else, though."

Over at Atma's, the bouncer's eyes almost fell out of his head when I walked in and put Radamant's skull on the bar. "Hi there. Guess what I found?"

"Oh, wow..." he said, looking at the skull. It was pretty disgusting: the bone had warped into strange shapes, and the whole thing was covered with dry, dusty skin. "That is the weirdest-looking mushroom I've EVER seen..."

"It's a skull. The creature's name was Radamant. Radamant the Fallen."

"Oh, Radamant the Fallen!" He nodded sagely, pretending he had some idea what that meant. "Now, why do you suppose they call him 'the Fallen'?"

"Maybe because he fell."

"Can't be! I've fallen down plenty of times, but they never call me 'Geglash the Fallen!' The most I ever get is 'Geglash, you've fallen!'"

Sigh. I don't know why I bothered. But Atma noticed the skull. She silently came over to my side, staring at it. "That is the monster, isn't it?"

"Had to be," I said. "There was only one of them down there."

Enough hate to boil water filled her, and she spat in the thing's face. I half-expected the bone to start dissolving. Then, just as quickly, her anger dissipated and she turned away. "The taste of vengeance is bittersweet. I thank you. Now, please take that thing out of my tavern."

"Sure," I said, expecting more, but even I can misjudge a person. "Do you think it's safe to throw it in the bay?"

"I know nothing of what is safe when dealing with such monsters, save distance and plenty of antidote. What is your name, hero?"

"I'm Amy," I smiled. "I just got into town."

"I have heard of you," Atma smiled faintly back. "The tales say you opened the pass to the west single-handedly, slaying the demon queen who guarded it."

"Yeah, that's me. I'm after something bigger than Andarial, though."

"You tread a dangerous path, but you knew that without my telling you." She looked over at the bouncer. He'd gone from staring at the head in horror to snoring with his head on his chest. "You've already met Geglash. I hope he has not offended you. The strain our city is under has gotten him drinking more than his usual."

"Nah, he's all right. I'd like to meet him sober sometime."

Atma laughed. "You should see him sober. I should see him sober. Someone should, just to say it's happened."

I liked making Atma laugh. It was easier than I thought it would be. "Anyway... I heard about your loss, and thought this was something I had to do."

"You've heard of the others who tried before you?"

I laughed. "Greiz made sure to let me know. I was worried, but knowing what the monster did just made me realize it had to die." That should sound noble enough.

Atma nodded quietly, but her eyes were shining. "Most of the armed men in Lut Gholein are mercenaries, in fact or in their hearts. Even Lord Jerhyn's guardsmen don't come to my tavern anymore. You will always be welcome here."

"Thanks, that means a lot," I smiled. I hope this woman has connections. "What are all the guards doing in the palace, anyway?"

"I wish someone would say," she said, suspicions edging along her thoughts. "They're safe there, the palace's defenses are legendary. Keeping them in there, with so much danger outside, is beginning to seem like negligence."

"And the harems?"

With a sour smile, Atma said, "That seems worse than negligent. Perhaps Jerhyn is simply guarding what he values most."

"Maybe. I'm surprised his advisors haven't told him how it looks."

"Drognan counsels Lord Jerhyn. He is reputed to be wise and sensible. He counseled our lord's father during his reign."

"Faduwas, you mean?"

"The same. Lord Faduwas -- may his reward be just and great -- grew very rich from the trade in this city, and many prospered under his rule."

The way I heard it, Faduwas got rich with crushing taxes, and only the harems prospered while he was in charge. If Jerhyn was drinking from the same well, he might think to look out for himself, and to hell with the city. On the other hand, if this Drognan had Jerhyn's ear, influencing him might be as important as making friends with Atma. "Where might he be?"

"In his shop, on the street north of here. Look for the display of wands and staves."

"Staves?"

"Drognan is a sorcerer," Atma said matter-of-factly, "and sells sorcerous things. Few customers come to his door, but his wares are the most expensive in Lut Gholein."

"I'll bet they are. One more question..."

"Yes?"

"I figure you might know. What's narlant weed?"

Atma smiled, took something out of her pocket, and handed it to me. "On the house."

She'd handed me a little cylinder about 5 inches long, made of a large dried plant leaf with more leaves stuffed tightly inside. It smelled strong, and not unpleasant. "I thought it came in bowls. What do you do with it?"

"Only complete sots smoke whole bowls. You light one end, put the other in your mouth, and inhale slowly. Try it, you might like it."

I put the cylinder away and went to find Drognan. He was a Vizjerei, all right. His hair was neatly trimmed and white as paint, his eyes clear and disdainful. He stood every inch of his five-foot-six, the paunch his red robes didn't conceal bulging in front of him. Why do Vizjerei like wearing that ugly color, anyway? The moment I walked in, he started talking, like I was fated to come to him. He'd probably been waiting for me all day.

"Greetings, Amanita. I have heard you are responsible for banishing Andarial back to the burning hells. I'm impressed; that couldn't have been easy."

"Hi there," I said, trying not to let an edge creep in. "Yep, that was l'il ol' me. I've heard you're Drognan, sorcerer supreme."

"Flippancy is not advisable, young Viz-Jaq'taar. I'm older than I look, but not so old that I can't summon up a few sparks."

In his head, he was loudly conjugating verbs in some foreign language; the noise hid every other thought. And, judging from his faint but noticeable smirk, he noticed me. Of course, I could bull past his little mental barriers and MAKE him tell... if I had anything I wanted him to tell, which I didn't. "How nice. So, most esteemed wizard, no doubt you have urgent advice for me, to aid my quest against all-consuming evil. That is what mages do instead of risking their own precious skins, isn't it?"

"I shall ignore your disrespect, for now. The danger is greater than you can understand. As you know, the Lord of Terror entered Aranoch some weeks past. But I do not think you have been told that a cloaked wanderer came to Lut Gholein, asking for the location of Tal Rasha's tomb."

"Okay, that's news. Did anyone tell him?"

If possible, admitting ignorance made Drognan look even more smug. "None living possess that knowledge; it was deliberately lost centuries ago. When he realized what he sought was not to be found here, the wanderer left. From that day forward --"

"Terror and destruction have blighted the city," I finished for him. For the love of all that's good, somebody has to take this blowhard down a peg.

Verb forms snapped back up in his mind, and he glared hard at me. "I am afraid I dislike your manner."

"I've had complaints about it. Your wanderer was probably Diablo."

"That is my opinion as well."

"I saw he had somebody with him."

That made Drognan mad. He kept his temper down, though. Damn. "Yes, since you are so bold as to say so. He was accompanied by a pathetic dolt I barely noticed, doubtless a menial servant of some sort. I am not accustomed to noticing servants."

"It's good to notice things. You never know what'll turn out to be important. Where did the wanderer go?"

"Away from the city, into the desert where the tomb lies hidden. Unless you feel you can pry the secrets you need from the dead, I will gladly offer my services, researching through old records from the palace. It is possible that the tomb's location was recorded there, in some overlooked personal journal, or scrawled into the margin of an unrelated book."

"That's sweet of you, but I need to find Diablo."

"Even in his present, weakened state, the Lord of Terror can easily elude even you. The brothers must be prevented from reuniting, and a search for Baal, immobilized as he is, is more likely to be fruitful. You, of course, would not understand this. We Vizjerei are more familiar with Hell's powers. Your own order's lore is but a subset of our knowledge, and sadly lacking in descriptions of demonic powers."

I wonder if he could hear my teeth gritting? "We all know how much Vizjerei know about demons. How much do you know? It better not be too much, or I'll have to do something very unpleasant for both of us."

"Knowledge is power, however it is used, and you will have a great need of power in days to come. And... threats should never be made idly."

"Who's idle? Anyway, if the big red cheese was asking where the tomb is, he doesn't know either. He's got a couple weeks head start, that's all. Oh, one last thing..."

Drognan frowned. He really didn't like me. Good. "Anything to be of service."

"You said you can get in the palace."

He blinked, and verbs roared through his mind again. "I do not recall saying so."

"You're Jerhyn's advisor, and you said you could look at old palace records. Unless you have them here, you'll have to go inside the palace for that."

"Ah. You are correct. Yes..." His mind was buzzing, but I couldn't get anything sensible out of it. "I may enter freely, and will be happy to do so, should you require it."

"Great. Get some of his guards out to the wall. With the sewer monster dead, maybe they can start making a dent in Diablo's guys. If Jerhyn wants to stay sultan, fortifying the palace and leaving the city open is a bad idea. You should know that."

Irritating Drognan could get to be a bad habit. He took it so badly. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a master of war. I shall take your ideas into consideration, when I am not otherwise occupied. You have the city's gratitude for disposing of Radamant, but all will be for naught if the greater evil finds what it seeks."

"Uh-huh. So, bye!"

Chapter 13

Even though the sun was going down, the city gates were wide open. Greiz must feel pretty confident of his men. For a minute, I wondered if I should leave the city to them and call it quits for the night. I'd been running through Lut Gholein's sewers all day, doing more than my fair share of community service. Then I felt the heat radiating from the ground, making the setting sun dance on the horizon. The rocky soil was flat as a broiling pan, and about as comfortable. By day, it would be like hell out here.

Everything was quiet as I slipped into the night, moving slow so as not to stumble over the rocky ground. The city lights twinkled behind me as I met my first enemy: desert lizards. Okay, they were the size of large dogs, with multiple eyes and claws they liked to rake through the air under them when they leapt over your head, but I guess I'd been hoping for more. Jumping and raking was their move of choice. It made them damn hard targets, but it seemed like they couldn't keep track of me from the air. Moving to a new shadow every time they leapt completely lost them. While they were sitting there, trying to figure out where I'd vanished to, I could take my time and snipe.

Cat People were out too, throwing javelins. At least they had shields and decent weapons this time. Hiding in the dark didn't do much good against them, but the new poison bow worked a lot better on living targets than dead ones. One hit and they were scorpion food. The scorpions around here are nasty, the size of my hand and built like tiny dreadnoughts. Any meat they see, they're all over in a second. Maybe solid metal boots would be a good idea, even with the clanking.

The ground gave up the last of its heat before midnight. Then it got cold like only deserts can, as frigid as a Duncraig debutante with a socially-unconnected suitor. I was shivering in my own armor, but it would have been worse by daylight. There were a lot of Cat People out here. Whenever I missed a shot, I'd find a dead one further out in the darkness. Now and then, I'd find the body of a Lut Gholein guardsman, mutilated and put up on a stake. A fight in daylight, where everything could see me, would not be a good idea.

Lut Gholein was just a glow on the horizon when I found the wagon. It was near an oasis of blackened water, and might have belonged to gypsies. The wagon had been pulled off its wheels and broken open, its contents dragged out and scattered. The owner's skulls were heaped up to one side. I found a little jewelry, but not much else. How did Warriv get us safely across the desert? The bad guys will attack wagons, but we never saw any. Maybe they saw more than one wagon, and figured we were too many. Maybe Warriv knows where the ambush sites are, and avoided them. Of course, he knew to bring water, something I didn't think of. I guess there's a reason he's leader.

I found my first tomb around midnight, and sat down to review my options. My mission, first and foremost, was to locate Diablo and prevent him from finding his brother. Plan B was to find Baal and keep him from linking up with Diablo. Baal was imprisoned inside Tal Rasha, who was supposed to be pretty tough, but after a few centuries with a demon lord in his head, I doubt there's much left of the guy. I had no idea where Diablo was, but Baal was in a tomb, chained down. Meeting either of them would probably mean a fight, but Baal couldn't move, and probably couldn't summon anything. To get in to him, you need a Horadric staff; Diablo probably doesn't know that. Plan B would be easier, if I can find a staff. This tomb was too close to the city to be Baal's (unless the Horadrim took the "purloined letter" approach) but there might be a dead Horadrim in there.

Predictably, the place was lousy with skeletons, a mix of mages and grunts, but nothing worse. One side tomb had a few giant beetles crawling around, but living things aren't a big worry now. They made some sparks when they died. The tomb was the nicest I've ever been in, dry and tastefully decorated. The smells of spices wafted through the air, not rot and decay. Almost a shame no one there could appreciate it. Maybe the locals used to visit their dead relatives back when it was safe, so they had the place fixed up nice. They sure left a lot of offering urns, full of valuable things. Looting them should be okay. Any lawyer would say they were abandoned property, given the circumstances.

The tomb's lower level held a richer class of dead people. The nobler classes are so much more rewarding to rob. Most had chests full of grave goods, some of them trapped. None had staves. My favorite trap was a pair of magic scimitars that floated out of a chest and attacked me. They were very striking, not too dangerous but really pretty and worth some major style points from me. The tomb netted me a pretty good haul, though kicking over so many urns made my sunburn chafe. Cain identified one belt as the Arctic Wrap or something. I thought it might resist temperature changes, which would make it very useful here, but it only works against cold.

A faint glow was turning the eastern horizon pink as I wandered into some low dunes. Sand is a pain. Try to walk on it, it shifts from under your feet. If you sit down or get knocked down, it's hard as a rock. And when grenades explode in it, it gets into everything: my eyes, my boots, my bow, everywhere. How do I know this? The Cat People are back, and this time, they have grenades: little pots of explosives like the Rogues were playing with back in the monastery. The quicker cats have sabers, crystal swords, and other light weapons; a pack (pride?) of them is a serious menace. I wonder if they killed the gypsies? That wagon did have some burned patches.

Turns out Diablo's been at work on the local birds, too. He's got vulture-demons, strange things with arms, legs, and wings all together. The ones I found were undead; I don't know if they were ever alive or not. Maybe they ate too much mummy flesh. Whatever they'd been eating before, as soon as they saw me they decided on a change of diet. Killing them was hard. They flew very high, further than I could reliably target, but were too clumsy to attack in a dive. Trying to slam into me from that far up might break them.

As the sun rose, the temperature shot skyward. In the time it took the sun to clear the horizon, it went from uncomfortably cold to uncomfortably hot, and kept going. Daylight didn't seem to bother the cats -- I think they preferred it, and they seemed to be getting smarter. Twice, they saw me and ran. The first time, I went right after them, which was stupid. They led me between two dunes and stopped, hiding behind their shields while their companions pelted me from above with grenades. I had to switch to the katar and charge into the middle of the pride to get the grenadiers off my case. The second time, I didn't follow them straight in, but ran around the side and up a sand dune. Getting to high ground for some clear shots seemed like a good idea at the time. When I got there, giant beetles surrounded and trapped me up there, while the cats bombed me. Again, I fell back on the katar. The lightning sparks were a lot worse that time.

Finding another tomb was actually a relief. By then, it was mid-morning. The salt of my own sweat was stinging my chafed hide, and the ground felt like the bottom of an oven. Inside, it was dark, and cool, and... full of skeletons, more than I'd ever seen in one place. Behind them, I counted five mummies, the big kind. Each had an ivory sickle welded to its right arm, and their heads had been replaced with those of crocodiles. That was strange. Maybe the Horadrim didn't understand the importance of the brain. I'd think that if you take any part of you into the afterlife, you'd want to keep your own head.

I got off a few shots before the skeletons surrounded me. They're not that strong, but this many was scary. When I knocked down the first one, things got scarier: a mummy gestured, and the skelly got back up again. Great... just like the little demons. The skeletons had me walled in. The mummies were casting Death Bolts, a necromantic spell that drains away life force. Unlike conventional elemental attacks, it hardly hurts at all, but I was dying a little with each and every one. Teleporting would have been really handy right then, but I'd never managed to master the discipline. The bow was useless. The skeletons were packed in too tight to knock them away. The only thing that might help was the gems in my katar.

I laid into the skeletons, whacking and hacking with no grace or style. Sometimes, they fell, and got up again. Other times, they froze and shattered. Nothing could bring them back from that. When a gap opened in their ranks, I took it and charged the mummies. My first new friend greeted me warmly, with a big slap on the back and a face-full of corpse breath. I showed him the love, and ran to the next guy, with the skeletons behind me. I got the first mummy before the horde caught up, but the second I had to leave alive or I would have been surrounded again. I hate leaving a job unfinished, it just goes against my nature. At least I could come back to him later, as long as I kept moving.

When the mummies went down, the skeletons were easy. At least they couldn't bring each other back, that would be truly terrifying. Things got so busy in there, I almost didn't notice the bats. These were Lightning Bats, which used to work as low-level mage familiars back in the old days. I've read about them, but never thought I'd actually see some. They're minor familiars for minor wizards, and not too dangerous. Another feature of the entrance chamber was the trapped floor. While under attack, I didn't have time think about why the floor kept moving. Turns out several floor tiles were rigged, set to trigger spring-loaded iron spikes. Clear avenues between trapped tiles allowed grieving relatives to visit the tomb safely. I'd have to watch my step around here.

This tomb had big mummies all over the place, with hordes of skeletons. These couldn't all be Horadrim; I don't think there were ever that many. Killing them was like taking down a Necro: first, get them away from their servants. Skeletons are stupid enough to follow you a long way from their boss, and in this case the boss wasn't too bright either. Having your brain replaced with a crocodile's can't be good for you.

The deeper I went in the tomb, the more traps I ran into. There were spiked balls that fired out of the walls, spikes in the floor, poisoned darts, fire traps, poison gas... the people who put this tomb together must have had serious money. Damned shame I never saw any of it. There were a few intact sarcophagi, and lots of skeletons and normal-sized mummies, but loot was noticeably lacking. Cat People put in an appearance in a ceremonial chamber with some big mummies, but only once. The most surprising thing was a waypoint. These were Horadric mummies, then, and the living did come visit them. That explained why all these traps were still functional -- the Horadrim made good stuff.

The deepest level was full of mummies, big and small. Horadric mummies can raise normal mummies, it turns out, but that was less of a problem. Normal mummies don't chase you like skeletons, or form a defensive wall between you and the big guy. Unless you're right next to them, they tend to mill around in a brainless way. That's literally true, by the way -- their brains scooped out their noses as part of the embalming process. Slogging through was painfully slow, kind of like the mummies themselves, but I started finding the real loot down here. Whatever else you might say, high-ranking Horadrim knew what money was for. I was hauling cash, gems, and enchanted doodads out by the bucketful. Cain was in his seventh heaven: he'd never seen so many Horadric relics in his life. There were several staves, too, but not even a piece of one we needed.

I was almost done with the tomb when I decided to go back and check a little side branch near the stairs I'd bypassed before. I knew it would be something special when Cat People came out after me. The bow dropped them just fine, and some mummies too, with a little more time. The chamber was the tomb of someone important: the main sarcophagus was huge, with about a dozen lesser ones around it. The occupants were now scattered on the floor around me, but the big tomb had a true treasure.

"A Horadric Cube!" Cain exclaimed. "You have quite a treasure there!"

"I know, I know!" I grinned. "It's an alchemy lab in a box! If I were more of a trapster, I'd be wetting myself with joy right now! It's still pretty cool."

"Ahem, yes. Let me see what formulae I can remember... ah, yes! Two quivers of arrows will make one quiver of bolts!"

"That's convenient, but I'm finding plenty of bolts. Do you think you could write some of those down for me? It's past noon, I've been up all night, I'm bushed."

"Gladly!" he smiled. "For a time there, I was growing worried! The task before you seemed insurmountable. Now, my predecessors have blessed you with a tool you need, or at least should be able to use."

"Your predecessors were whacking me upside the head with sticks all the time they were blessing me with this stuff, you know. What's next, an angel of the Light descending from heaven and anointing me with a croquet mallet? I'm tired. It's hot. My brain isn't working right. I'm going to hide someplace cool and quiet and sleep."

"A wise decision. It has been some years since I was in Lut Gholein, but well remember this oppressive heat."

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna be a creature of the night for a while. Black is just the wrong color for this climate. Thanks for all you've done."

The old guy smiled, obviously flattered. "Why, thank you very much. I have tried, in my small way, to be of assistance. If my many years of --

"Cain, just take the compliment, okay?"

"Erm... as you wish."

Chapter 14

Some inns are called "flea traps." Believe me, the bugs are not trapped in there. They're right where they want to be. The ones in my bed woke me before sunset. If I'd actually been in the bed, I wouldn't have been as upset, but after I saw the mattress moving, I slept on the other side of the room. I think I lost more blood to Elzix's subordinates than Diablo's, but I'll live. The floor was cooler anyway.

After delousing, I got dressed, and found that roll of narlant weed. What were you supposed to do with this thing? Burn one end, inhale the smoke through the other? It was dry and lit up easy, putting out a lot of smoke. Didn't smell half bad, so I sucked the other end. The flame went out and it started smoldering, a smoky wisp rising ghost-like to the ceiling. The first lung-full made me choke, but after that, it felt pretty good, kind of warm and smooth, but stimulating. I guess you always gag a little the first time. Since it would be dark soon and everyone would be there, I

went  out   into     the      world
Is anyone there?
                                           Hi there            Hello
                  I'm in trouble!
Where is          There's jungle
everyone?         cats all over!     I'm still on Lycander
                 They're attacking                          Just got to
                    everything!                            Kurast myself
   I know about
     the cats                                        It's a nightmare here
I'm in Lut Gholein                       Have you seen
                                         anyone else?
 Nobody else yet
                   I'm trying to         I can't get a
                     get there            damned ship      Kurast is being
                                        the Amazon seers   overrun by its
                                        won't let any go     own jungle
 Are there only
four of us here?                       Yes. I noticed that      Damn...
                  The cats attack
                day, night, anytime!       Where is
                                           everyone?       You sure you
                                                           want to know?
Have you seen
any of those
giant beetles?          No                   Ick            We got giant
                                                             mosquitoes
                                         Double ick!
Watch out, giant                                         And giant spiders
  beetles spit  
 lightning when                        That's worse...
  you hit them.    What do you do      I wish this was
                    about them?        just sorcerers.
                                       Sorcerers aren't
I just keep                            that disgusting     You haven't met
my distance          I'm a hand                            the right ones
                      fighter!            Try fading      That should work.
Don't take too
many risks. The     This is scary,
 big danger is       so few of us          Have you
still out there       to talk to         found Inella?
 No, I haven't                                               Another one
                                                            bites the dust
 I'm going to      I'll be there real
 look for her      soon. I think I'll
 Be careful!      be safe. I've seen a
                   city up ahead.  No                           Not even
                   lamps lit, though        No lights?         cook fires?
 That's weird       Maybe they can't
                    get any firewood     They have to cook     That doesn't
                                          with something        make sense
Be careful.
 Something          At least there
sounds wrong       won't be any cats       I used to
                                           like cats
  Hey, are my
thoughts fuzzy?        Kind of                               A little. Are
                                         Oooh, gnarly       you on narlant?
                                             weed!
Just a little                          They grow it here     I don't like
                   I've heard it's                          it. Always gave
                     bad for you                             me a headache
Doesn't seem                          Breathing in smoke
 bad so far                          is bad for your lungs
                                         after a while
                                        but not too much    Yeah, lamp lung
                    Too much of             is fine          Narlant lung?
                  anything is bad
 Whatever. It's
time to get busy                        The only way to
                    Time to move.      leave Lycander is    This jungle is
                 The cats will find     to go swimming       not natural.
                    me if I don't                           I need an axe,
                                                              not claws
So get one. Bye!    See you soon!            Bye!              See you.

Jerhyn's palace was where I'd left it. He was outside, pacing the pavement like he'd been stood up on a date. Maybe the harem girls were finally getting tired of him. The moment he saw me, he scampered over and... bowed? It was a only a short one, but he must be really desperate. Either that, or something had him so scared he forgot he was sultan.

"I have heard of your many deeds of skill and bravery," he began, "and now feel I can trust you with something I have begun to suspect: the wanderer from the west who came to my city and spoke with my people was none other than Diablo himself!"

I took a slow draw on the narlant stick. "No sh!t."

That, he noticed. After bestowing upon me an official glance of displeasure, he went on with the rest of his insights. "We could not tell him the location of Tal Rasha's tomb, so we have done nothing to help with his task. It is well known that the tomb is one of seven in a hidden canyon, deep in the desert."

"Old news, my lord. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

My infamous charm seemed to remind Jerhyn of his station. With a cool stare that might have been impressive from an older, taller, and heavier man, he said, "My advisor Drognan informed me that our 'hero of the west' is impudent, and ill-spoken before her betters. I am displeased to see his judgment confirmed."

"Yeah, I'm just a regular sweetheart, aint I? But there's something I need to know, and you're the man to tell me. How are the harem girls doing?"

His expression froze. All kinds of things must be going through his head, and I couldn't see any of them. "Everything is fine. Why do you ask?"

"I used to know one of the girls in there, in my young and crazy days. Haven't heard from her in a long time. I was wondering if we could catch up."

He stared hard at me. "You? Don't tell me you were in one of our harems."

"Nah, just visited. Anyway, where is she?"

Jerhyn didn't answer for a good three or four seconds. Either he was trying to come up with an ingenious lie, or the idea of me going into a harem had rocked his little world to the core. The sweat breaking out on his forehead was no clue. "I... you... that..."

Might as well keep him off-balance. "I'm sorry, but sometimes boys are just so nasty and smelly and mean, a girl's only got one choice! Her name's Inella. Is she here?"

Wow, he turned bright red. My butt wasn't that red, even with the chafing. "There is no one here by that name."

"Are you sure? She couldn't be anywhere else."

"She is not here. I think... I think your friend is dead."

He had to be too flustered to lie. But I half-knew already. "How did she die?"

"There was..." He glanced around, then at the ground, blinking and stammering. "Before the troubles began, there was an eastern mage, a Vizjerei I believe, who came to Lut Gholein from the west. He behaved --"

"Did he come from... a town there?"

"He mentioned a town named Tristram, and hunting for the demon prince Diablo in the catacombs beneath it. As I was saying before your interruption, he behaved very strangely. Despite that, one of the girls took an interest in him. He had obviously found wealth in the west, so I did not think her attention unusual, though perhaps unwise. Later on, there was some sort of fight in one of the side bedrooms, and the girl was killed."

Damn. "What happened to the Vizjerei?"

"He disappeared from the palace soon after, and has not been seen since. If you're thinking of revenge, you would be wiser to concentrate your attention outside our walls, where a far greater threat than a mere sorcerer looms over us all."

There might have been something I could say right then. I couldn't think of it. Even the narlant didn't make my head buzz enough. "Right. Have fun with the survivors."

The dark chill of the desert wrapped around me like a welcome cloak. The narlant stick had just about burned down, so I tossed it. No sense testing the enemy's sense of smell. The hills had a few more Cat People and leaping lizards. Beyond was a rich oasis, a low spot in the sand where water came to the surface. The stars silhouetted palm trees and cacti, and what looked like the wreckage of a lot more wagons.

Giant beetles were down by the water, and dense packs of mosquitoes in whining clouds. I could hear them a long way off, at least, and poison spread quickly through the swarms. Then, there were the crawling things: huge bugs bigger than a cow, with about a dozen legs each. When they saw me, they spat acidic venom, and laid eggs which quickly hatched into two or three hungry young 'uns. On a return trip, I asked Atma about them. The big bugs were Burrowing Maggots, and used to be tame. Their eggs were good eating, so the locals raised them. Now eggs and adults were poisonous, and too hostile to go near.

Around the oasis, I found the wrecked remains of six wagons and two homesteads, maybe ranches for the local bug-herders. The wagons were pulled to bits and scattered, but not burned. If anything, the holes in the wood looked digested. The houses had been pulled to the ground. What was really disturbing was that there were no bodies. With so many jugs left by the water, there had to have been a lot of people here once.

A round hole in the sand was my only other clue in the oasis. It didn't look like a well. The walls were lined with a cement of sand and some goo that was probably saliva. I've heard ants build like that, but this tunnel was big enough to stand in. Inside, I immediately found some answers: two human bodies wrapped in green goo. Their flesh was mostly gone, and when I poked them, the bones bent like jelly.

Call me too curious, but I went deeper in. The tunnels were narrow and twisted all over the place, and full of Maggots. They seemed to like hiding around corners, I almost tripped over one more than once. Like most poisonous creatures, poison didn't work too well on them. There was a lot of stuff in the maggot lair, travelers' lockers and chests carefully stowed in side chambers and sealed up with walls of gluey goo. The bugs may be smarter than they look, since they know to value valuable things. Then again, they can't use it, so how smart can collecting it be?

Human bodies were everywhere in the maggot lair, all in some stage of digestion. Something in the goo made the skin go clear, so the bones and guts underneath were visible. Maybe that's how the maggots judged their ripeness. I did find a few patches of green where a body used to be, but got taken away somewhere. Weirdly, even though the tunnels were incredibly moist -- sometimes water dripped on my head, which is incredible in a desert -- I couldn't smell rot or mildew.

In a deep part of the tunnels, I found a chamber full of urns. Did the maggots raid a tomb somewhere? The locals use different styles of pottery for the living and for the dead, and these were definitely dead men's pots. I hadn't seen a tomb entrance above, unless these tunnels were inside a tomb complex. Either way, if the maggots found the right thing, they might have made my job easier for me.

In the deepest side-branch of the lair, I found the answer to one question. The creature was a maggot, but bloated like a queen bee, laying adult maggots as fast as she could. Her young started spitting and laying their own eggs as soon as I poked my nose in. The smell was unbelievable. Just going near made my lungs burn. Oh, well, people have called me an exterminator before. Might as well earn the title.

The first thing I noticed was that the queen seemed immune to poison. That made sense, her whole body was probably full of the stuff. I tried picking her young off before closing, but that didn't work either. The b!tch could lay them faster than I could lay them down. I like this bow, it's come in really handy, but sometimes there's just no substitute for getting down and dirty in the middle of things. I took a deep breath, and charged.

First, I took out the cloud of little ones her young had laid. They went down quick enough, and it was out to the tunnel for another lung-full of air. My next try got two adults; the queen had laid one more. Then I got three, but overreached and had to take a breath in the chamber. It was easily the worst mistake of my career. I almost passed out, and barely made it out through a swarm of tiny maggots.

After a tactical retreat back to Lut Gholein for some healing, I stocked up on antidotes and dove back in. With the katar, I could kill two or three adults for every one she birthed, so with careful use of antidotes it came down to me and her. At no point did the queen attack me herself. Like a queen bee, she was too fat to move. She was full to the gills of poison; her death spasms sprayed it all over the room.

"Hello," Cain said as I walked into the square. "You look as though you fell in the bay."

"Yep," I said. "Went straight there after that maggot thing, and you should be grateful. I'm gonna need about a million baths before I feel clean. Got some stuff for you."

"Hmmm... Death's Guard, an unusual find. Ah! You have found a Horadric staff!"

"Huh? That thing?"

"The Horadric runes are just visible. Even better, this is missing its headpiece! It can only mean one thing: you have found part of a key to Tal Rasha's tomb!"

"I thought those bugs might have raided an old tomb... great! I'm going to fall in the bay again, then go to bed. The sun will be up soon."

"Hrm, yes, well... I believe it is past dawn."

I looked up. "It's still night, Cain. The stars are out, you know?"

"True, true... but still, the sun should have risen an hour ago. It is most peculiar."

I looked up again. The stars twinkled back at me. I could tell it was late, I'd been up a long time, but there wasn't even a hint of a glow on the horizon. "Oh, great. If it isn't one thing, it's another. Now I have to go rescue Mr. Sun."

Chapter 15

Cain didn't know (a first) what happened to the sun, but Lysander had a good guess. A few decades back, some weird creatures called Claw Vipers used a magic ritual to block out the sun. A handsome, athletic young sultan named Faduwas led an expedition against them, restoring the sun and crushing their strength. I guess he didn't get them all. I know a little about Claw Vipers. They're magical, sucking heat out of anything nearby, like a salamander in reverse. When it's really cold, they get so icy one can chill you to the bone on contact. They're the only reptile that likes cold weather. Enchanters will pay a lot for Viper skin and some of their organs. There's other stories too, about them torturing people for fun, eating babies, eating their own babies, and worshipping evil. I don't know how exaggerated they are, but blocking out the sun is enough reason to take them on. Finding them might be tricky. Faduwas found them in an ancient city, abandoned when its wells dried up after an earthquake. The city is west of the maggot ranch. I probably won't find Vipers in the city, and their trail will be long cold by now, but I've got no better leads.

After a short walk from the farm, I found my first ruined building, a small house with a cactus growing through the roof. It was dark. I never saw the cats. A breaking bottle was my only warning. As the poison cloud spread around me, I swore and dove outside. More potions came raining down from somewhere to my left. I still couldn't see the cats, and fired blind. A yowlp came back to my ears; if a shot in the dark hits, there must be a lot of them.

I knew roughly where they were, so I put a wall between me and them and listened. Little cat feet barely made the sand rustle -- I could just hear them over my own heart. My bolt crunched off a shield, and I ran as bottles crashed against the wall. As I rolled, I looked back, and saw their tall helmets against the stars. My first good target of the night. One went down with my bolt between his eyes, and I ran as the rest of the pride threw. Torches started appearing in the distance, silhouetting another cat. He died, and then another as the Raiders came into view. They had leaping lizards on leashes, and let them run the minute they saw me.

Lizards aren't hard to deal with. They're sight hunters, easy to fool, and poison works great on them. Raiders are so cowardly, they were even less of a problem. The fight actually went better once they'd brought some light onto the scene, so I concentrated on killing the last of the cats before I put them down. Once matters were settled with the city welcoming committee, I looked for loot. These cats were rich, with lots of coin and jewelry, and plenty of potions. The Raiders were well-decorated too, and the lizards all had collars, like guard dogs. Smelly, weird-looking guard dogs.

I explored some more. The city was laid out in even rows coming off a central square. Most of the houses had been fixed up: boards and slats were nailed or wedged in to hold up the crumbling walls and ceilings. Some of the wood still had the decorations desert gypsies put on their wagons. Outside the houses were packs of lizards, leashed to a post or left to roam free. They acted a lot like dogs: sleeping, chasing each other, or gnawing on fresh bones. Cats and Raiders were inside the houses, or roaming the streets. They were all as rich as the first bunch, or richer. Sometimes they had other stuff: traveler's chests, bundles of wood, bolts of cloth, or slabs of meat. The meat wasn't always human.

By contrast, back in Lut Gholein, the streets were almost empty. There were plenty of people at Atma's, maybe because she'd put dozens of lamps out. Inside, it was almost bright enough to be day. "Hi, Atma. Big crowd. Why's everybody in here?"

"Hello. Yes, I have many customers today. I think the light brings them some cheer. My hope is that if we stay calm and comforted, there won't be any sort of panic. I have no idea what else to do. This unnatural darkness is making all of us very nervous."

"Yeah. Greiz said everybody was kind of spooked." In a lower voice, I asked, "How much are you watering the ale?"

She didn't laugh, even a little. "Enough to know that my stock will last the day. I don't want anyone being truly drunk just now. It could only make things worse."

"Even Geglash?"

That made Atma smile. She looked down at her feet, under the bar. "Geglash, are you worried about the dark?"

A voice said, "Wha... ? It's dark out?"

"Never mind," I laughed. "I forgot how much he already has in his own personal barrel."

"I think that belly-full could last him until the next moon," Atma agreed. "You seem calmer than anyone. Does nothing trouble you?"

"I'm kind of worried, but I think I can do something about it. Out there, while I was looking for Claw Vipers, I found this old city. There's a lot of Cat People and Raiders there. I think they're using it as a base."

"I have seen the city. As a child, I used to play in the ruins while my mother was visiting the nearby farms. It would make an excellent bandit camp." Her voice went hard. "I trust you are dealing with the murderous scum as they deserve?"

"Yeah, pretty much. The cats can see in the dark, so it's been kind of hard. The Raiders are easy, though. Say, um... do you remember a Vizjerei visiting the palace? This would be a while ago, before the trouble started."

"Matters in the palace are usually not my concern, though I believe I know of the sorcerer you speak of. The palace guards used to come here for drink and conversation. They are not easily frightened, but that man unnerved them."

I nodded. "Kind of crazy, huh? Sudden fits of madness?"

"From what I overheard, they sensed in him something worse than the pride sorcerers are often guilty of. When our former lord died so horribly, he was immediately suspected, but was nowhere to be found."

"He was there when Lord Faduwas died?"

"Yes. But not afterward."

"How did Faduwas die, again?"

"Walls of hellish flame surrounded him, then leapt up beneath his feet. Though nothing else in the room was even singed, our lord was burned beyond recognition. We did not know it at the time, but his was only the first of many deaths we would suffer at Diablo's hands. Soon after, the desert seemed to sprout swords and spears. The dead rose up, and... well, you know the rest. Lord Jerhyn has done what he can, I suppose, but we are very grateful to you for what you have done as well."

"Thanks. I didn't know Jerhyn had done much at all."

Atma smiled diplomatically. "I would not say that aloud."

"Ah. Just one more thing... do you have any more of those narlant wraps?"

Atma chuckled faintly, and reached for a box. "They are called cigars. I'm afraid I'll have to charge you for this one."

"The first hit's free, huh? How much?"

"Five."

"What?! For that?"

"These must be imported from the Amazon isles. The Amazons are a proud people, and expensive to deal with. I charge what I must to keep narlant in stock."

"Oh, all right, one. It's not like I'm hurting for cash right now."

The burning ember at the tip of my cigar didn't seem too conspicuous. The cats noticed the smoke when I got close enough, but they'd seen me by then anyway. In the central part of the city, the Raiders had lamps and some torches. It helped me a lot, at least so I didn't trip over any more sleeping guard lizards. Five human corpses in various stages of butchery lay in the central square. The freshest was a lean, fit young woman, less than a day dead, a bloodstained pair of cesti still strapped to her wrists. Her name was Hashep.

A few whole wagons had been dragged into the square, so there was plenty of wood, all dry as tinder. The pyre would attract every enemy for miles around, but I didn't care. Let them come, I've got something for them. It kind of bothered me that I hadn't done this for anyone else, and I'd found plenty of people, but I decided not to think about it. If I did, I'd get too mad to do my job. Once she was burning enough to light up the city, I went back to work. Things went smoothly. More than once, new arrivals came out of the desert, probably wondering what the fire was. I didn't care to explain it to them.

On an upper level of the city, the buildings were larger and spaced further apart. Hardly anyone was here, except for one area. A group of zombies was wandering around an open square, next to an old stone tower. When I stuck my nose in, the tower started shooting fireballs, and the zombies came shambling after me. There were no cat or Raider tracks in the area. Poison worked even slower than usual on this bunch of undead. I wound up carving them up, then knocked over the tower with my katar. I guess it was about to fall over anyway.

Next to a large building, a trap door led to some old tunnels. The lighting was actually better down there. There weren't any tombs -- these looked more like storage tunnels -- but for some reason, they were crawling with undead. No Horadric mummies, just the regular kind, and a bunch of lightning skeletons. Maybe the building was a temple and these were priests, guarding the treasuries even unto death and all that. Whatever it was, they didn't guard it from the Raiders. There were one or two here and there, and in the back chamber, a richly dressed and well armed leader with a pack of helpers. Maybe it was the bandit chieftain and his harem. I can't tell on sight if a given Raider is a boy or a girl, and I'm not interested enough to look.

Down below, Hashep's pyre had burned down to embers. I saw nothing, and standing on the cliff top, outlined against the stars, nothing saw me. I'd taken out the area bandits, so my good deed for the day was done, but I hadn't found a single clue which way to go next. Thinking about it, I remembered a story I heard, about a drunk who lost a coin. He's looking for it under a lit window. Another guy comes by, and asks him what he's doing. "I'm looking for a silver I dropped in the alley," he says. "If it's over there, why are you looking under the window?" the other guy asks. "I know it's over there, but the light's better here." The drunk is stupid, you see, but not completely: it's hard to find little things in the dark. I, despite the cigar, am not drunk. Maybe a little buzzed, but I know where to get a torch.

Right next to the temple building is a little valley, hardly more than a notch in the cliffs. I almost passed it by before I noticed the tracks. You don't often see snake tracks over a foot wide. Looks like the survivors of Faduwas' campaign had a pretty easy escape. Hidden in the valley was a tomb, like any other in the desert except for some recent additions. Two heroic statues of snakes flanked the entrance. They must have been twenty feet tall, with un-serpentlike broad shoulders and brawny arms. Fangs like stalactites filled their mouths. Each finger had a talon about two feet long. I almost laughed. This must be the place.

Like every other tomb in this damned desert, there was only one door, the front door. On top of that, snakes are likely to be venom-resistant. I took out the katar and went in. Sure enough, right inside the door, five Claw Vipers slithered to attack. I was kind of surprised to see they looked like their statues: brawny shoulders, claws big as daggers, and a mouth of needly teeth taking up most of their surprisingly small heads. They also had wicked spikes on their tails. The fight didn't go well at first. After a few body-slams too many, it was pretty clear that cold didn't faze them much. The biggest belly-crawler was lightning-enchanted, too. When I had the chance, I ran, and shot them as they chased me. Each took only a single bolt -- no poison tolerance at all!

Once I found that out, the rest of the tomb was a cakewalk. I've heard regular snakes hunt by smell, and their eyes aren't so good. The big ones sure don't seem to hear or see well, and I wear soft boots. Keeping my distance and sniping worked like a dream. In between kills that were almost too easy, I looked around at the tomb. It looked like the Vipers had been in here for years. All the traps were disabled, and the human bodies were gone. Empty sarcophagi, urns, and niches were everywhere, but no mummies. Maybe they dumped all the dead guys in those tunnels, which would explain why they were so packed. This tomb was huge, easily big enough to have held that many mummies.

In other tombs, the lower levels are reserved for those considered most worthy in the eyes of the richest living people. This one was different. The lower level was one big chamber around a central dais, probably meant to be the eternal home of some grand poobah. Now it had an altar drenched in blood and innards. The walls were decorated with heroic serpent statues and gutted human corpses, one after the other. On the right, there were cages that might have held living people at some point. On the left, there were three Claw Vipers. I shot them and ignored them as they slowly died. The last one expired as I kicked the altar to the ground with a very satisfying crunch.

When I got back to Lut Gholein with the loot, it was already after noon. Everyone was out for the sun; even Geglash stood blinking in the tavern window. "So this is daylight..." I heard him mutter. "It's overrated." It's not ale, but you can't live without it, either. Maybe it was antisocial, but I dumped my finds with Cain and crawled back to the inn. I've never been that good at accepting gratitude, and I was too damned tired to try. All I wanted was to sleep, perchance to dream.

Chapter 16

The mind is a strange thing. Even the Viz-Jaq'taar don't know everything about it. The mind never stops working, even when you're asleep so dead to the world even the bugs can't wake you. I think I was dreaming about Hashep, and Inella, fried to a crisp in some bedroom in the palace. Most of the others were probably dead too, people I haven't seen in years. My dream was dark and empty. I was struggling in a void. I could see the palace, rich and bright in front of me. Inella was there, where the harem guilds fled when Diablo started messing things up. Then the Vizjerei came, and killed her. The Vizjerei...

Suddenly, I was awake. Ticks and fleas ran for their lives, bellies not quite full. The quarter moon outside my window gleamed off the shivering dust motes I'd thrown into the air. I was an idiot. Why didn't I catch it when I heard it? Because of that damned crown. I'd gotten too used to just looking to tell when someone was lying. I threw my crap on and hustled my ass to the palace. Two guardsmen were at the door.

"Halt!" the one on the right said. "You may not enter the palace."

This was not a time for subtlety. I wasn't in the mood for it anyway. "You don't need to keep me out of the palace."

"We don't need to keep you out of the palace."

"There's no need to guard this door anymore."

Dejection crept onto their faces, and their spear points drooped to the ground. "There's no need to guard this door anymore."

"You need to go to Atma's and get blind drunk."

The one guy looked at his partner. "We need to go to Atma's and get blind drunk."

The other guy, who never said a word through all this, nodded, and they moped off. I filed their reactions for later and barged in. The palace lived up to its advertising. There were silver statues of nude ladies on pedestals draped with purple velvet, nice soft furniture, and a great many floor cushions, some with golden tassels and some just naked. A nice place if you didn't get too rough, but I couldn't find anybody inside, not even servants. There was a strange wanted poster in the city guard's offices:

WANTED: Varnae Cesare Amygda von Rhus

Height: Perfect for today's fashions

Weight: Don't ask, he'd have a nervous breakdown

Eyes: Languid, jaded

Hair: Free-flowing locks of purest (but premature!) silver

Sex: Let's have no ill-mannered speculations, hmm?

Distinguishing features: Six-foot boner

On charges of:

Public Intoxication

Impersonating a Fashion Policeman

Assassin abuse

Conduct unbecoming to a necromancer

Reward! Call LGPD for more information. Keep our city clean.

Conduct unbecoming to a necro? There is such a thing? Then I heard it: a faint shuffling from one of the equipment lockers. Through the little grille, I saw the top of a white turban, quivering faintly. A few kicks caved the locker door in, and there was Jerhyn, trying very, very hard to look like he hadn't been hiding at all.

"What are you doing in here?" he yelped imperiously, stretching up to his full height inside the smashed locker. "I'll have you know that you are trespassing. Leave at once, or I shall summon my guardsmen. And Drognan."

"Don't bluff when you've got nothing in your hand, you little sh!t. There's nobody here but you and me, and we are going to have a little discussion."

"What is there to discuss?" he huffed. "I am not fond of repeating myself, but you are trespassing. If you leave quietly, I am willing to forget that any of this ever happened."

"I don't forget that easily. I remember you telling me the harem guilds came to hide in the palace, after all the troubles began. And I remember that Vizjerei you let in here killed one of the girls, inside the palace. You were pretty specific about that."

"Yes, all of that is true," Jerhyn said, trying to push the locker open. I planted my foot on it and shoved him back in. "Release me at once, or suffer the consequences!"

"But the Vizjerei was here before the troubles began. After Faduwas got roasted, he was nowhere to be found. So he couldn't have met that harem girl here."

"I..." Jerhyn's eyes darted from side to side. "Perhaps I misspoke at some point --"

"You said what you meant to. You just got your timing messed up. What'd you offer the Vizjerei to off your father and make you sultan?"

Nothing really changed in Jerhyn's face, but suddenly he looked ten years older and twenty years nastier. "You have no proof of any such association."

"I don't care. What'd you give him? He wouldn't want money anymore. Or did Drognan handle the payoff, and keep your hands clean?"

He glared hard enough to skin a cat alive, then laughed. "He was a fool. All he wanted was to visit my cellars."

"What's in the cellar?"

"How should I know? It is the business of servants to --" The butt of my crossbow smashed into his nose. He yelped in pain, both hands darting up to protect his face.

"I don't like repeating myself either," I snarled. "What's important in the cellar? Is that where he went after killing your father?"

"No! There is no one in the cellars!"

"Not even harem girls?"

"Oh, yes, of course they're there..." The butt of my crossbow slammed into his gut. He instantly doubled over, whimpering like a child.

"How should I know? No one's seen them for weeks. Or your guards. Or anybody! Have you been bringing them food? You haven't been in the market buying food, someone would have commented on that."

"My servants --"

"WHAT servants?!" I yelled, kicking the door in on him some more. "There is no one here! You're in an empty palace, there's a murdering sorcerer somewhere, and maybe I'm going out on a limb here but I think the two might just be connected. What do you think?"

"But my guards --"

"You've got no guards! Has your yelping brought any guards running to your rescue? You are out of guards. Did they all go into the cellars and not come out?"

"There is nothing wrong," he sniveled, trying to hide behind what was left of the locker door. "Everything's fine, nothing we can't take care of if we just pull together..."

I could take the crown off and dig for the truth. It's not like it was welded on. But that would mean going into his mind, and right then I'd rather tongue-kiss a zombie. Beating him unconscious was much more satisfying. I think I dented his crown.

In the cellar, the first thing I found was a dead guardsman, impaled on his own spear the long way. A columned hall stretched away to my left, with rows of girls tied down using their own silks and satins. Someone had tried several times to see how much flesh a woman could have removed before she died. All I could think of was the old saying: a woman, though naked, may be in rags. At least there weren't any redheads.

Through a grilled window, I could see something moving around. Raiders. I dropped them like flies, and went through the rest of the cellar. The whole palace was packed with weird creatures: big monkey-like things whose skin was covered with bony spikes, pot-bellied giants swinging human bodies wrapped in chains as weapons, and skeletons. There were lots of grilles to shoot through, which was fine for the living opponents. The skeletons all had bows or magic, and didn't care much about poison anyway. At least they weren't fresh; all of them were old and burned black, summoned rather than raised from the abundant local materials.

Jerhyn wasn't kidding when he said cellars -- I counted four levels. The lower three were plain sandstone, and looked a lot older than what was above. Bodies were still everywhere. I haven't seen that many dead women since the Rogue monastery, though to the sultanate's credit, the demons didn't find any torture equipment here. They had to improvise. Jerhyn was still a little sh!t, though. What was he trying to do, keeping this hidden until his guards were almost all gone? Someone down here was summoning these things. You don't just put guards around a summoner and hope he'll get tired of summoning. Damn Vizjerei. Yeah, they supposedly swore of demon summoning after the Horazon-Bartuc debacle, but sorcerers can't stand to give up power.

The strongest Raider guarded the door to the lowest cellar's center. I took stock. This joker likes firewall, so move your feet. Fire resistance and lightning resistance are good. I kicked the door open, shoulder-rolled in... and there was no one there. The room was empty except for a gate, an old-fashioned Vizjerei spired portal. hmm... this must by why he wanted into the cellars. Come to think of it, wasn't there an old Vizjerei fort in this part of the world, way back when Horazon and Bartuc were still around?

The hunch was as vague as heat shimmers above desert sands. I went in. The gate led to a maze of marble paths, floating in a starry void. Braziers full of pure elemental fire provided heat and light. Near the portal was a Horadric waypoint, in good working order. This had to be Horazon's Arcane Sanctuary, a pocket dimension his demon "slaves" built for him. This enchanted hidey-hole was his biggest obsession, which says a lot if you know anything about Horazon. Supposedly, he put a lot of work into this place, but since he was the only one who knew how to get in, it was lost after he disappeared.

Exploring the maze took a while. Horazon had everything: working traps, impossible buildings, even teleport pads that covered a distance of maybe 10 feet. Heaven forbid that he should have to walk that far. There was no railing on the catwalks. I tried spitting over the edge. The glob fell onto the polished marble, never going over. I tossed a bolt to another section of path. It landed fine, but when I tossed bolts into the void, they wouldn't fall -- they always landed on a safe section of path. What a show-off. Why build something simple, like guard rails, when you can make a universe that bends to your every whim? Sorcerers.

Everything in there was made to flatter a high sorcerer's ego. The braziers were held by servile demons, cast in bronze. One section of maze had columns that looked like obedient demons. The bases of the lightning-trap towers were ringed by five supportive demon. A platform that might have been a library once had demons at its corners, cringing and offering up a tomes of knowledge. At least his treasuries were rich, and looked untouched. Not that the place was empty -- far from it, with a summoner in residence. The Vizjerei found some ghosts who might have been here when he arrived, and added Goat Demons and Vampires. Vampires are smart enough to learn the firewall spell, which was probably why he brought them in, but I couldn't figure out what he wanted goats for. Maybe they're fire resistant, so he thinks they're tough. I had more trouble with the ghosts, which could float over the gaps between maze sections. The others wouldn't even use the teleport pads.

Like usual, the one I wanted was in the last place I thought to look, and he'd gotten tired of waiting a long time ago. Kind of describes my love life. As I rounded the last corner, I saw the Vizjerei on a platform, wearing some very old-fashioned robes and holding a staff. Did he find some of Horazon's stuff? Likely he did, and maybe the possessed idiot thought wearing his clothes meant he owned this place. Like Horazon ever really owned this place. I hopped the firewall, dodged an ice bolt, and put one in his throat.

The platform might have been Horazon's den or bedroom or something, a long time ago. At least, he left his journal here. Most of it was typical sorcerous ravings, but he did make a few notes about the capture of Baal. In particular, he noted where the tomb was and how to get there in clear and easily-understood terms. Even I could get it. Imagine that... clear, easily-understood language from a sorcerer. No wonder he put it in his secret diary. If they ever found out, all the other sorcerers would have laughed at him. I went to the waypoint, followed directions, and there I was, in a small blind canyon with the sun just coming up over the edge. Seven tombs ringed the canyon walls, just like they were supposed to. If my luck held, this whole mission could be over before nightfall.

Chapter 17

The seven tomb complexes in this canyon were each marked with a different Horadric rune, representing different steps on a seven-tiered path to ultimate enlightenment. It probably didn't mean much. Tal Rasha was supposed to be highly respected, but he was in the tomb with a square rune, the lowest tier. It probably had more to do with where there was room. The canyon floor was littered with urns, burial chests, and dried-up human bones. Looks like the lost Tombs of the Magi weren't really so lost. Somebody'd made a good living smashing mummies for amulets and things. Of course, if I could find the place in only three days, the local nomads wouldn't have any trouble, and knowing how much money wizards usually have, there was probably too much loot around here not to go after it.

The canyon looked empty. The rocky ground wouldn't hold tracks, but I couldn't see or hear anything. Even the wind was quiet. Before I went any further, I took the waypoint back to Lut Gholein. The palace was still there, with no sign of Jerhyn. His cellars were empty. At Atma's, the two guardsmen were on the floor, snoring.

"Amy!" a voice called. Atma hurried over. "Is it true?"

"Is what true? About Jerhyn's palace, monsters in the basement, the hideous mass slaughter, all that stuff?"

She nodded, worry clouding the air. "Kaelan told us horrible things were invading the city from within the palace. The harems were all slain, as well as all the city guards but he and his friend. Is it true?"

"It was. I took care of it, though. Anybody seen Jerhyn? I couldn't find him."

"Warriv told me he saw someone fleeing into the desert on horseback, but his face was hidden. I thought only a madman would leave the shelter of our walls, but Kaelan's drunken tales made madness seem sensible. Were we really in such danger?"

"Yeah, it was pretty bad. Jerhyn had a sorcerer summoning demons in his cellars. He was trying to contain the guy, which is just stupid if you ask me. There's only one way to deal with a summoner, and containment isn't it."

"What was he doin' that for?" Geglash suddenly slobbered. Apparently, the mountain of soaked sot draped over one end of the bar had regained consciousness.

"He was crazy, pretty much." I shrugged. "He was a sorcerer."

"Maybe he didn't have anything to drink in there. I get mad when I don't have enough to drink. If you don't have anything to drink, it'll drive you to drink, but you don't have anything to drink, which drives you to drink, and... what were we talking about?"

"Nothing, go back to sleep. Speaking of sorcerers, is Drognan around?"

Atma shook her head. "His shop did not open this morning. I fear the worst."

"Look, if Jerhyn's gone, you're better off without him. Believe me."

"But who will lead our city?"

I shrugged. "Have you considered running for public office? You could make Geglash your official wine taster."

Atma frowned. "This is no time for jokes. I know nothing of running a city."

"I'm serious. The worst things in cities happen in bars and taverns. If you know how to run a tavern, you can handle a city."

"I'm sure you're not speaking from experience. In any event, with nothing to pay Greiz for his services, Lut Gholein will soon be overrun. If Jerhyn truly has fled, I have little doubt the city's treasury vanished with him."

"That might not be a problem either. I found Tal Rasha's tomb."

The look on her face was all the reward I needed. "You've found it? I always thought the tomb was nothing but a tale to frighten children... but it really exists?"

"Yep, it's there. The next step is to go in and get Baal. Plan B is to ambush Diablo when he shows up. If I get 'em both, it'll wipe out all their summons and make the desert a lot easier to clean up."

"You are already the greatest hero I have ever known. If you accomplish this, legends will echo your name for centuries. Is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all?"

"Hmm... can't think of anything. Geglash? Got anything for the conquering hero before she strides boldly into combat mortal against insurmountable odds?"

"Uh..." Geglash thought. I could almost hear the gears grinding. Finally, he spoke. "All my years of fighting, pummeling both the unsuspecting and the deserving, have yielded one insight: you can fight, or you can run. All strategies are but variations of these."

"Wow. What about fighting and running at the same time?"

That one seemed to stump him. He thought, and thought, and thought some more, until he fell asleep. I dropped five gold on the bar, and took a cigar. "See you soon."

Maybe I shouldn't have, but the first thing I did was go through the urns and chests piled up near the center of the canyon. Most were intact, and had valuables. My tomb robber was smart enough not to take it all at once, and flood the market. In fact, that might be him over there, crumpled on his side with a spear sticking out of his back. Beyond the body... Cat People, creeping towards me on little cat feet. When our eyes met, they broke into a run and were on top of me in seconds, swords swinging.

These cats were fast. I could not bring the bow up in time to shoot, or run fast enough to get some distance. Behind the sword cats were spear cats, working together almost like a military unit. All of them had shields. Only two kinds of enemies really give me problems: dead ones who don't care about poison, and ones with shields. The crossbow's slow loading gives them all the time they need to block. I've heard professional soldiers like crossbows, they're easier to use than regular bows. Professional soldiers also have rows of pikemen to hide behind while they prep their next shot. If I couldn't blow their minds, I don't know what I would have done.

The mental disciplines aren't easy, but I've always been pretty good with them. It's part of the reason I don't like mixing it up much. The strongest technique, the mind blast, hits the victim right in the seat of consciousness. For a few seconds, they won't know who they are, where they are, or what they were doing before. Mind Blasts are a great way to set enemies up or neutralize guards. It's rarely fatal, so you can stun bystanders without leaving a mess. You don't have to approach or expose yourself. And on Diablo's guys, sometimes they'll start attacking each other. Not for long, but enough to take some heat off of me. Regular people don't react that way, but regular people usually aren't as hostile as Cat People.

There were a lot of bodies in the canyon, mostly old but some very new. Even without the cats, I had a sneaking suspicion Diablo was already here. Inside the tomb, my first fight confirmed it: Vampires. They're undead, but they feed on the living, so you don't find them in tombs. Having living blood in them makes them more vulnerable to poison than most dead guys, so killing them wasn't a problem. Meeting Diablo in there might be a problem. Andarial wasn't too bad to deal with, but she was known to be a poor fighter. Diablo was supposed to be the toughest of all the demon princes. I'd much rather deal with Baal, alone.

I never did meet Diablo, or if I did see him, I didn't recognize him. The Horadrim's best and brightest were there, though. Their skeletons really clogged up the doorways. I could get the skellies with a single blast, but even after they attacked each other, the mummy just healed them and sent them back after me. My options were either to retreat and get the servants away from their master, or blast them while they were together in the middle of a room. Watching confused skeletons carving up their own master is a lot of fun after all the times those damned resurrecting bastards got in my way.

I found what I was looking for in the far southern end of the complex: an empty chamber with a socket in the floor, surrounded by the runes of the seven-fold path. One wall had deep scratches in it, like something very big had tried to get through. Yes, Diablo has been here, and left. He'd be back, when he had something to break that wall.

The staff was in my pack where I'd left it. I thought the headpiece was missing, but it turns out one of the amulets I brought back from the Viper temple was a headpiece. I'd given it to Cain, but he forgot to tell me after he heard I'd gotten in the palace. Back in the tomb, everything was like I'd left it. The cube joined headpiece and shaft, the staff went into the socket, and the wall burst open in a spray of lightning. An unidentifiable stench washed out of the hole. I didn't want to go, but I couldn't be sure if Diablo wasn't hiding nearby, waiting for me to open the wall. I dove in fast -- and stepped into empty space.

I rolled into the fall, which was about ten feet, and landed with a splat. I was on my knees in a dark room full of something slimy. A voice like a clogged drain belched "Looking for Baal?" As I fired blind, something wet crushed into me. Whatever it was, now it was sitting on my bow, bashing on my head with what felt like two axes. Out came the katar as I rolled away and tried to get to my feet. Whatever I was in, it was too slick to stand on. That mass of flesh was chasing me, sliding easily through the muck to slam me again. I skidded into a wall, and decided it might be a good place to stay. At least the thing couldn't knock me around anymore. Instead, it pushed into me, trying to pin me under its pulpy body. As I slashed, the only thing I could think it felt like was a giant caterpillar.

It hit me a lot, I hit it a lot. Finally, I stopped slashing and plunged my arms in, trying to reach some kind of vital organs under all the flab. Axe blows hammered down on my head and back until I was armpit-deep in the thing. There was nothing else to do: I took a deep breath, ducked my head, and carved my way in deeper. It seemed to object, but pretty soon I couldn't hear it anyway. Groping blindly through ropy coils of I-don't-WANT-to-know-what, I finally found something that pulsed, and cut it to pieces.

Whatever it was I did, the thing died, and flopped over like a sack of meat. I had to carve my way out upwards, through the thing's back. The things I'll do to save the world. Once I got my light relit, I had a look around. I was in an empty room, with a pile of guts, legs, and oozing fat slowly spreading out over the floor. It had a weird horned helm and a couple of daggers, but nothing special. Opposite the way I'd come in was a huge hole in the wall. I went to look -- it led to another tomb, probably the complex just south of this one. Looks like when they buried Tal Rasha, they made the front door strong, but forgot to reinforce the entire tomb. Diablo just went around, and made a back door for himself.

I went to check the rest of the tomb anyway. One side hall led to a prison chamber. It wasn't quite empty. Standing in the middle of the room, near a column draped with chains was... an angel. He couldn't be anything else. The angel was tall, and might have been handsome, but I couldn't think like that looking at him. His feet didn't quite touch the ground; he floated effortlessly above the slime. Light was leaking out of cracks in his armor. I never thought I'd ever see an angel. I must have looked pretty stupid, standing there staring at him. Then, his light shone on me.

                         I am the Archangel Tyrael.
                    for us all!               It is good
                runs out                            to see you,
             before time           oh wow             though I
            in Kurast,         oh wow  oh wow          did expect
              Mephisto         oh wow  oh wow          you earlier.
              from freeing         oh wow            Diablo came
                 keep them                        and freed his
                     You must              brother Baal.
                           I could not stop them.

It only took an instant, then he faded away as I watched. Tyrael waited here for Diablo, but Diablo's servant freed Baal while they were fighting. Now he was hurt, and was going away to rest and heal. The civil war in Hell had ended abruptly, very recently. The maggot pile in the outer chamber was the lesser evil Duriel, left to kill me as a punishment for leading the rebellion against The Three. I knew everything I needed to know: where to find Mephisto, even what was going on in Kurast. I don't know how I knew. But I knew what to do.

Concluding thoughts:

Is an Assassin with Burst of Speed active more vulnerable to poison? The Maggot Queen's venomous death seemed to hit Amanita harder than usual.
Resurrecting creatures are even more annoying when they die slow.
Mind Blast is a blast. The chance to convert at range is incredibly convenient.

Act 3

Chapter 18

"Don't feel bad, you have proven yourself too many times in our eyes," Atma said. "There are few who could have done even this well."

"Yeah," Geglash hiccuped. "It makes me look twice as bad!"

"Nah, don't worry about it," I said. "The target flew the trap, happens all the time. All it means is this'll take longer. And I know they know they're being chased."

"Can you be sure of that?" Atma asked. "I realize you must anticipate risks, but could it be that Diablo and Baal are unaware of you?"

"Not a chance. They left Duriel to meet me, didn't they? But I know they'll stay together, and head for Kurast. The three of them have to get back together."

"That must be prevented at all costs. Strange, you have been here only a short time, yet I cannot imagine our city without you."

"Oh, sure," Geglash whimpered theatrically. "Without her, there wouldn't be a city, while I was hiding in a mug of ale! Rub it in, why don't you?"

"I think she means I've left a permanent imprint of my ass on this barstool. Now, I gotta get going, time and tide won't wait. Well... maybe one more for the road." I dropped a last five on the bar and reached for the cigar box.

"Oh, no you don't." Atma swatted my hand, shoved my money back, and put two boxes, still sealed with silk ribbons, in my hands. "And I'll hear no back-talk. Besides, with the port open, I can replace these. Where you are going, I have a feeling things won't be so easy."

"If there were ships coming from the Amazons... you know, I don't think any more ships are coming from the Amazons for a while."

"It doesn't matter. Now, I asked a ship's captain named Meshif to sail you to Kurast, and he has agreed. He is waiting for you by the dockside."

"Atma, these boxes must cost a hundred each..."

"Hey, quit acting like such a hero and take 'em already!" Geglash snorted. "Ahh, you're all right, but you gotta leave us little guys somethin' to do, ok?"

"Uh... yeah." I tucked the boxes under my arm and left. "See you around."

Damn it, I was being "such a hero." It's okay to joke about it, but don't lose focus and start acting the part. When someone offers you free stuff, take it. Down at the docks, Cain was already waiting for me, next to a ship with a tall guy who looked quite piratical. No parrot, though, and he never said "arrr" even once.

The trip across the Twin Seas was quick and uneventful. I caught up on my sleep. Once we got to the river Argentek, things got worse. I heard Kehjistan was a jungle, but there's such a thing as taking things too far. Trees with nasty meaty leaves twisted up to the gray sky, draped with vines clinging like the clutching fingers of the dead. The mosquitoes ranged from midges that could crawl inside any clothing, to things we had to beat off with the oars. The only sign of Kurast we could find was a set of piers jutting into the water.

We docked, and I told Meshif to wait while I checked things out. There were people on the docks, mostly milling around with a lost look in their eyes. A little man with eyes the color of seaweed was the first to approach. He was short and thin, with a crimson toga big enough for three of him dangling off one shoulder, but the hand that wrapped around mine had fingers like pieces of tool steel.

"Welcome to Kurast, traveler. I am afraid this is the off-season, and all the tourist traps have been closed until further notice. Your wits, if you have any with you, will be more in demand, for sanity is in shorter supply than gold."

"Hi there, I'm Amanita. Sorry, but I think I have more gold than sense."

"Your presence here makes that self-evident. I am Hratli, smith and enchanter. My work is to weave magic and steel together. You and your abundant supplies of gold will be most welcome. I don't have many customers these days."

"Why is that?" I asked, wondering if I should offer this guy anything to keep him talking. He seemed to be doing fine without my help.

"The Children of Zakarum made the land their own, and in turn surrendered it to the jungle which has run riot. Zakarum's purge of that which does not fit their teachings has lost all sense of moderation. The rivers run red with blood, and warriors of the light crusade far and wide, spreading hatred and fear. Foul creatures never before seen in these lands roam free, and evil jungle tribes now have the Que-Hegan's favor."

"The who?"

"Sankekur, Que-Hegan of the church of Zakarum."

"Oh, the one with the tallest hat."

He smiled thinly, and nodded. "The one with the tallest hat. That is a good one, I must remember that. Sankekur is widely believed to have been possessed by Mephisto, the demon lord he swore to contain. It is a sign of the church's loss of perspective that he has taken his oath so literally."

"Sounds serious. What about the rest of the church?"

"For years, only the High Council of Zakarum has been privileged to see Sankekur, and even they are not the men they once were. Some priests remain, and the most fanatical warriors of the light."

"The hardest core, eh?"

"I find that they have the persistence of zombies, but without the charisma. Few of the rank and file worshipers remain." He paused for a moment. "Not that any are allowed to leave peacefully, of course."

"You found them washed downstream, I take it?"

"Some of them. I imagine few Zakarumites remain, though with the jungle hell surrounding the city heart, that offers no advantage. Our forces are few, and only the protective dome I have raised to shelter our few meager huts prevents our annihilation."

"Yeah, I don't see many people around here. How much control does the church have over the jungle?"

"Enough to make it grow, and send endless waves of jungle spawn against every attempt we make to reclaim our homes. As entertaining as it is to speculate about the Zakarum, I have grown weary of it. Let us speculate about you."

I grinned. "Sure, Sherlock. What do you think?"

"I surmise that you have come here to do battle, and while you may hope to make this a profitable venture, mere loot is not your main goal."

"Let's see... I'm wearing battle gear, check... there are easier places in the world to raid, check... right on both counts, but not surprising."

He smiled, eyes narrowing. "You have a friend here, whom you wish to see."

I blinked. "Natalya's here?"

"On the southern docks, by the fire. I do not think she is expecting you."

She was there.

Natty, I'm here                                          Amy! I'm here
     Whoa, that was hard                                 What happened?
           I had to go through all
                 of Aranoch in four days               That's a big, dry
                        I never want to see                dirty mess
                              another mummy again.       I see you! Nice
                                Yeah, they're green.    armor. And weapon
                        I hate green.                   Doesn't suit you
             Have you sensed anyone else?          Some. There's crazy
                                        sorcerers all over the place,
         I'm afraid.          even worse than usual
You think they're
      targeting us?   Probably not. We're targeting them
            They're just turning on us
             They go crazy      And we respond like we're supposed to
       They're insane enough           They're always hard targets
  to be unpredictable                        and they're not acting
                                            like they're supposed to
Did you find Inella?                     No. The harems were an abattoir
                                           I found Hashep in the desert
   Damn it. She was good                          Better than me.
                                               I'm a coward. I run
       You're still here                      away a lot
          Whatever works...                 Speaking of work...
             Oh, yeah. This place
         is lousy with sorcerers        Fleeing Viz-Jun?
     Just the Iron Wolves
  a rich bunch of mercenaries        Rich mercenaries. Wow
       They're pretty pricy         They'd have to be
              and managed by a
                   pip-squeak in
                     leather lingerie      Oh, be still my heart
                                              Do they go into the jungle?
                    When they're paid enough          Mercenaries...
                           Sorcerous mercenaries   Worst kind
                                  Full of themselves
                      The mercs in Lut Gholein    Were they sorcerers?
                No, they were just guys               Can't be that bad
         But they were mercs through and through
    So... what's the deal here?                      We have the jungle.
       First things first                            The jungle is first
     What about the church?                         The church is history
                                                   It might not even exist
  Right. The jungle                 Everything outside this dock is jungle
                                There used to be houses, farms, everything
       A city             The city of Kurast. Now its all jungle and swamp
                             On this dock, most of the survivors are mages
                                                   There's the Iron Wolves
                           drunken, spoiled, pampered mercenaries to a man
                                                   There's Hratli. He's ok
     I met him                    We could actually use his kind of talent
                                          Then there's Alkor the alchemist
                    Used himself as a guinea pig for too many potion tests
    Oh, brother                  Tell me about it. And then there's Ormus.
 Ormus? That Taan?                              The very one
      He's still alive?                 Alive and insane
            Is he dangerous?     He's always been dangerous!
       I mean, is he going
     to crack up and go buggo             He's already buggo
           anytime soon?                  But not actively hostile yet
 Whoa. How many Viz-Jaq'taar
     has Ormus taken out?                  I dunno. I want to take him
                                                  out right now.
                                              But we might need him
  Say it ain't so...                  He's powerful. We might need him
     But this is Ormus...       I'm afraid he might be a spy for Mephisto
          He probably would!                       but I've got no evidence
                 Screw evidence! You know what he's done!         I can't
                                                                  risk it
                                     Ormus was practicing forbidden magic
         He was                      but wars make for strange bedfellows
   blood sacrifice is     Yes! I know! But we don't have enough allies
                                   to start getting picky now!
     This stinks so bad                  I'd feel better if you told me
                                           this was just a social call
     No. Diablo and Baal escaped
        from Aranoch together            We are officially in deep sh!t.
       They have to come here                   to meet up with Mephisto
       Yep. Someone's got to
    break up the family reunion               Yes. Who's it going to be?
       Can we go in together?                 I don't trust Ormus alone
   No, but what are our options?                 We need to cover him
                                        Stalking horse gambit?
                                   If he's going to do anything,
           That's risky             give him an obvious target
                 Especially to the "horse"  Yeah, I know
                 Anything we can do is going to be risky
        We're between a rock          Stalking horse is simplest
          and a hard place           Complicated plans fall apart
                                     So who gets to be the horse?
        I'll flip you for it               No martial arts!
           I meant a coin                  Suuuuure you did

I lost the coin toss. I guess I wasn't interested in sleeping peacefully anyway. The central portion of the dockside was built around a stepped pyramid. Cain had already found his way over, and was deep in conversation with some sorcerer wearing a pot helm and breastplate. Mages usually aren't strong enough for anything heavier. On the other side of the pyramid was Ormus. That couldn't be anyone else. If you ignored the tattoos and tiny scars on his chest and arms, his body was perfect: muscular, tall, and straight as a steel rod. He might have been 35 or 65. He was ageless. The only hair on his head was his black eyebrows, overhanging eyes that were far too deep, without expression, without soul.

At my approach, he made sweeping motion with one of the most beautiful hands I have ever seen, and intoned, "You now speak to Ormus. He once was a great mage, was Ormus. Now he lives like a rat in a sinking vessel. You have questions for Ormus?"

I did not look into those eyes. My mind was locked tight. "No, no questions."

"Then you must ask those questions of yourself. Ormus senses conflict within you, and in all would-be heroes. With patience, you will find the answers you need."

Typical fortune-cookie stuff, and about as accurate. If I wanted to be a hero, I'd already be one. There's plenty of people who'd say so. "Yeah, thanks. Just passing through."

"Ormus does not make himself clear? Then speak to Alkor. Alkor could always explain things much more clearly than Ormus."

The big house on the north end of the pier had a banner by the door, showing a big gray wolf head on a mustard-yellow background. Inside, a dozen or so mages from various clans were sitting around, throwing dice, joking, eating, and generally misbehaving. By a table, counting coins out into piles, was a short woman in a leather bikini. She had a small, neat face with large eyes, and milk-smooth skin she'd tried to roughen up with a tan. The bikini suited her well, though she looked like she'd wear it even if it didn't. Otherwise, the only feminine thing in the room was a full-length mirror with a clean sweep of floor in front of it.

The last house on the pier was a tiny shack full of tiny bottles, rotting animal parts, and a noisome odor. I almost mistook the resident, Alkor the alchemist, for a large monkey. His face was aging and saggy, full of disgust for life and the thickening effects of liquor. But it had a hard cheerfulness I liked, and his eyes were bright as drops of dew.

"Hi there. You look like someone interesting."

Alkor squinted at me. Bad vision is not a good thing for an alchemist. "You're new here, aren't you? You must be, you do not know to leave me alone!"

"Now, why would I do that? Ormus said you could explain things pretty well."

He let out a sharp screech that ended in a wheeze. It might have been laughing. "Ah, Ormus and his silly riddles. He has been talking that way for years. I think it is because he has nothing intelligent to say."

"You've known him for years, huh?"

"No one knows him. Who would want to?"

"Well, he's got a world-wide reputation..."

"For what, babbling? Even I can do that better -- you listen, tall skinny girl: 'consider the dewdrops, which do not toil, yet vanish by late morning! How like the dewdrops are the lives of worthless men! Doodle doodle dee, wubba wubba wubba!' How was that?"

"Um... that was... really stupid."

"You catch on quick, skinny girl! I would say more, but thinking like Ormus gives me a splitting headache, which I must now attend to." He took a bottle off the wall, apparently at random, and drank the contents without even looking at it.

"I think I'll leave before that stuff kicks in. See you around!"

"Not if I see you first, or cannot see at all. Good day!"

Chapter 19

Besides the usual suspects, about a dozen more people were milling around the docks. None had anything to say I hadn't heard before: Kurast is in ruins, the jungle is full of demons, evil reigns, would you like to buy a banana, and so on. I got my luggage, set up housekeeping in an abandoned shed, and started planning my day. Maybe fixing the shed's roof would be good for a start -- no, I can hire somebody to do that.

My trunk was heavier than I remembered. After I got the cube, I quickly filled up with purple potions, they're always handy -- but something metallic was clanking off the bottles. I flipped the lid open with a katar. Everything was good, except for the circlet and plate boots on top of my spare equipment, with a note:

"Hi there, gorgeousness! Here's some new stuff. The other circlet just didn't work out, a 'Lore' helmet would have been better. The boots will solve your resistance problems. I know you wanted them in the desert, but you weren't big enough yet. Watch out for Flayers!

-- The Mule"

Yeah, plate boots would have been good with all those scorpions. My feet aren't any bigger now than they were then. Oh well, there's probably snakes around here. I know a little about circlets. Like crowns, but meant for ordinary slobs like me, they're made from heaven-sent metals, and make a transparent wall of force around your head while you've got one on. It felt kind of weird having my head uncovered again.

Before I left, I asked Cain what a Flayer was. He pointed to the town gate, where a tiny head full of sharp teeth was impaled on a stake. Tribes of midget pygmies have always lived in Kehjistan. Before, constant fighting kept them from getting too numerous, but since the jungle started growing, the Flayer tribes have been cooperating with each other. Whenever the Iron Wolves talk about the jungle, Flayers are the only enemy they mention.

Hratli's protective dome ended just this side of land. The thorny brambles on the river's edge looked like they were pushing it back. They probably were. As I approached a ruined building outside the docks, I saw him: a tall, broad-shouldered man in a floor-length robe, hood far down over his head, stumbling into the jungle. That much coverage in this climate? Walking with his hood down so far he can't see? Not to mention going unarmed -- even the Iron Wolves carried swords. Even if he didn't look like Ormus, I would have shot him. The bolt... bounced off, with a clink. He kept stumbling along like nothing worthy of his notice had happened, so I tried a mental blast...

... and woke up snorting sod. I was flat on my face, about where I'd been standing before. Four fleshy worm things were chewing on my armor, tiny teeth scraping the steel. I stomped them and looked for the hooded man. He was gone. I looked inwards. My recent memories had a gap, a dark patch I couldn't convince myself to enter.

                   Natty?                           I'm here
         Give me the once-over. Now.              Something up?
         Am I possessed or anything?          I don't see any WHOA!
     WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT!      That is the strongest
                                                repressed memory
                                                 I've ever seen
            What did I repress?         I can't see, you're repressing it
       I saw this cloaked guy going
        into the jungle, did a mind          Did you recognize him?
       blast, and woke up in the mud
     No! Why do you think I called him         No call to get nasty
     "this guy"? Is Ormus still there?      Ormus hasn't gone anywhere
       Crap. I don't know who it was         Everyone who's been here
                                                  is still here
        Can you do a mind probe to           I've never been that good
           get the memory out?                  at the mental stuff
     Please try, it might be important
                   ow
                   ow!
                 AAAAAH!!                        Stop squealing
                 aaiee...
                                                 I can't get it
                                          You're clamped down too hard
        But it is me clamping down?       Definitely. Your brain knows
                                         what it was and doesn't want to
          Damn. Brains are weird             That's why I went into
                                                the martial arts
        Ormus isn't doing anything?       He's talking with Cain. "If a
                                         peppercorn grew wings, it would
                                          be a fly. Should it lose its
                                         wings, will it return to being
                                               a mere peppercorn?"
          Gah, eastern philosophy              Tell me about it...
     Ok. Eastern philosophy is full of       I didn't mean literally!
                 Hee hee                    Being obnoxiously literal
                                                is my joke anyway
             Can dish it out,
            but can't take it?                       Shaddup

The hooded man hadn't come back. He probably never would. I went in, sticking to the riverbank where I could. Roots like twisted hides braided into the spongy soil, hairy rootlets waving in the air, wanting even more. I could see them moving. They even tried to wrap around my boots if I let my feet stop. Twenty yards in, I couldn't see, hear, or smell any sign of the docks. Thirty yards in, I met my first demons: Flayers, armed with blowguns. Maybe I'm weird, but I couldn't feel threatened by them. They were actually kind of cute, in a toothsome way, and made funny ululating noises. Their darts might be poisoned, so I stunned them with a blast and put them down. One had a jade statuette maybe half his size, a strange thing to be carrying around.

Cain identified the statuette as a stash, an ornamental thing with a hidden space. They're used for hiding valuables, contraband, and the like. Stashes of all kinds have always been popular in Kurast. Being a holy city, the people need to keep their sinning out of sight. This one had some kind of powder in it. I left it with Alkor.

Staying close to the water might keep me from getting lost, but the mosquitoes were scary. Off in the jungle, things were worse. Some of the trees and brambles had pulled themselves up by the roots and were wandering around like living things. I found a few more stashes along the stream banks, and sometimes in the trees. Many were little portable ones, but some were big, and looked like they'd been part of a wall or something. You'd never think it to look around now, but there might have been houses and people here a few years ago. I found no intact bodies, just a few bones. Flesh probably went fast.

During a trip back to the docks, I tried on some plate armor at Hratli's armory. I didn't think I looked bad at all, though maybe it was the red underpadding. I look good in red. Field plate is nice stuff, easier to move in than you'd think and not nearly as heavy. Heavier plate, with leg protection, wasn't too bad either. None of his stuff had enchantments as good as the scale, though. Damn... I'm really getting tired of green.

"A pity that you could not find anything fitting your needs," Hratli said, putting the armor away. "Your present suit, while no doubt a practical choice, is very unattractive."

"Yeah, I know. It's clunky and heavy and green."

"The blue armor fit you well. You are sure you will not reconsider?"

"Nah. Frost novas are fun, and I like the blue, but I don't want to be a pretty corpse."

"I have no intention of being a beautiful corpse. I was never beautiful, and I find that as infirmity creeps through my spindly limbs, I am rapidly losing what little I once possessed. When the sight of me would sicken a Sucker, then I shall die, and will my corpse to be put on public display as a moral lesson to the ignorant."

I grinned. "You hate humanity, don't you?"

"Not at all. It is people who frustrate me so. On the subject of frustration... have you observed that the dome I placed around the dockside seems to be weakening?"

"I noticed that. Every time I come and go, the jungle's a little further in."

"Just so. With an appropriate source of magical energy, the spell could be strengthened, but none are available at this time."

"But you're thinking of something?"

"You have read my mind," Hratli smiled, without a trace of irony. I wasn't... at least not right then. "Some repositories of power were hidden near here. One of the most powerful is an ancient dagger called the Gidbinn."

"The name sounds Taanish."

"The Gidbinn is a Taan relic. Ormus knows how to release its power for our use."

"Gotcha. Any other useful relics? In case I can't find the Gidbinn, I mean."

"A few: the Mask of Nirdall, the Spectral Shard... There are persistent rumors of a 'ruby jewel of fervor' somewhere in the jungle, but despite long searching, no one has succeeded in locating it. None hold as much power as the Gidbinn."

"Right. If I find anything, I'll let you know."

At a bend in the river, a pair of columns flanked what used to be a city street, if I guessed right. Now it was a narrow path perpendicular to the river. Paving stones had been pushed up and over by tree roots, or just sucked down into the sodden ground. A pack of Flayers was guarding the gateway. This time, they were more trouble. A few had blowguns, others had knives, and there was a one in a fancy wooden mask riding another's shoulders. Mr. Big was obviously the most important, so I knelt to aim. In the time it took me to crouch down, one of the knife guys ran behind me, charged straight up my back, and started raining a flurry of slashes down on my throat and eyes. Two more were trying to hamstring me, and Mr. Big started breathing fire in my face.

A mental blast soothed their nerves and calmed their spirits, for a second. I shot the one on my back and threw him into a blow-gunner. He expired while I was cranking up for another shot -- hyperactive critters are vulnerable to poison -- but Mr. Big raised him. A shaman, I should have guessed. Playing with their minds misdirected them into attacking one of their own, and I finished off Mr. Big. Once they were all dead, I found out Mr. Big wasn't wearing a mask. That was his own adorable mug, out for the whole world to see. I guess Flayers are only cute when they're young. I won't say little.

The path had to have been a street. It was too straight to be anything natural. It ended in a clearing on a little hill. This might have been a classy neighborhood overlooking the river. The ruins were stone, with plenty of stashes and other places with hidden valuables. One house might have had a second story once, but most of the walls had fallen from the weight of the plants. Spider webs were everywhere. On every tree and building, squirming cocoons were bursting open with masses of spiderlings. Freshly hatched, each was the size of my hand. The mothers were probably as big as those things Andarial had in the catacombs.

The largest building had a basement. The cellar was big; the buildings above were probably part of a complex served by this one cellar. Gold and goods were lying around in piles. It would have been easy to go over, and pick it up... much too easy. I opened my mind and peeked around a bit. Alien, animalistic minds full of hate were waiting in the dark, happy with the trap they'd set. I'd never heard of spiders baiting their webs, but there's always a first time. I shot one, and four rushed out. I'd never heard of spiders staying in social groups, either. They were resistant to poison, and took a lot longer to die than I thought.

Packed into various corners were crowds of sand maggots, just like the ones in Aranoch. What they were doing in the spiders' lair, I had no idea, until I remembered the spiders resist poison. The maggots' fast reproduction rate won't be a problem if you can eat them safely. There were two kinds of spiders, green ones and bigger red ones. The red kind were the most obviously demonic -- eyes (all 5 of them) glowing like red coals, genuinely corrosive venom, burst into flame when they die, the usual.

The last red spider was fast, and enchanted with a Necro curse. It was almost impossible to keep the thing at a distance, but there was a health shrine down there. It came in really handy when the fight was over. While I was wiping off my katar and looking for survivors, I found a chest, one of the strong metal ones. Those almost always have something worth taking. Inside was a pile of gold... and a human eye. It was intact, still soft and squishy, untouched by rot or mold. Dirt wouldn't even stick to it.

"Hey, Cain, I found this in an old box. What do you make of it?"

He studied it for a moment, then his eyes widened. "This can only be a saintly relic!"

"How do you know it's saintly? It's kind of red..."

"Demons, and those allied with them, decay into nothingness quickly. Only those friendly with Heaven can be blessed with bodily incorruptibility."

"That still doesn't explain why it's red."

He ignored me. "I have been speaking with our new friends here. Ormus is a fascinating fellow, I think you would do well to consider the puzzles he proposes. For instance..."

"Uh, Cain? The eyeball?"

"Oh, of course. It seems Sankekur assumed the position of Que-Hegan after the death of his predecessor, Kahlim. No one now knows, but Kahlim's death is rumored to have been a violent one, and at the hands of the High Council of Zakarum itself!"

"Wouldn't surprise me. From what I've heard, they were pretty nasty."

"Kahlim was the last incorruptible one, who resisted Mephisto's insidious takeover of the minds and bodies of the church elders. After he was killed, the body was committed to the fire. A few pieces proved indestructible. One of them was Kahlim's eye."

"Ok, that's good. Hey, if he was 'blessed with bodily incorruptibility' how come it didn't work for his whole body?"

Cain sighed with exasperation. "Amy... I cannot understand all the ways in which Heaven works. Kahlim's eyes, heart, and brain survived the pyre, and were hidden in Zakarumite strongholds throughout Kurast."

"So that's what that building was... go on."

"It may be that, as the last and holiest Que-Hegan to stand against Mephisto, obtaining the blessing of Kahlim may be instrumental in bringing about Mephisto's downfall!"

"Um, Cain... Mephisto killed him. How good can he have been?"

"Hush, child! Saints do their best work when Hell seems to have triumphed. Hope shines brightest in the midst of despair. We now know Heaven smiles on us. Put this somewhere safe, and carry on with your quest."

Chapter 20

Cain was really excited about the eyeball -- he was showing around it to everyone who'd look. I know he's a pretty enthusiastic guy, but I didn't see why an eye was worth getting so worked up over it, even if it was a Zakarumite relic. Hell, you'd think being a Zakarumite relic would make it a bad thing. But if it made the old guy happy, that couldn't be bad. If it made everybody on the docks happy, that would be good... which was probably why the old fart was making such a big noise about it. I smiled, and treated myself to a cigar. My good deed for the day was done.

It was sliding towards sundown, but I didn't feel like quitting yet. Back in the jungle, I found a couple more streets branching off the river. All the smaller streets must have been eaten by the trees. I couldn't find a trace of anything, not even paving stones. The larger avenue ended in another big Zakarumite complex, home to more spiders. These guys were a bit smaller than the others, and didn't keep maggots. In all this time, I never found bolts. It wasn't that they rotted away -- there were plenty of arrows. Hratli sold bolts, so they know what crossbows are. Maybe Kurast archers just don't like them.

Beyond a pool with bubbles coming up from the bottom, the ground sloped down and turned marshy. Tree men were out in force. Poison worked slowly on them, but it worked, and they didn't move very fast. I could walk away and wait for them to die. I only had trouble with them once. They'd chased (if I can use that word) me onto a patch of land surrounded by water on three sides. They were almost dead, so I wasn't too worried until I saw something white coming up through the water behind me. The white thing rolled over, and an arm broke the skin of the water. Then the face came, a swollen blotch of pulp without eyes or mouth, a mass of dough with human hair on it. Zombies... and even nastier than usual.

I ran through the trees, letting one or two get their shots in before they died. Who says I'm not generous? They collapsed while I was picking my ass up out of the mud, a trade-off I'll always be happy to accept. The zombies were as vulnerable to poison as ever, but I think being water-logged made them slower than usual. I had all the time in the world to look around, search for goodies, even explore ahead while they wandered around dying. One had a necklace, a chain of green stones half-embedded in the area under the head. I had to cut the head off to retrieve it. How these bodies had survived, I don't know. Maybe the ones who died in the river got preserved somehow.

Another batch of Flayers was guarding another side avenue. The shaman got his first. Even then, he still had time to raise a couple of his friends. I could really get to hate those guys. Down the avenue, I found about a dozen wicker baskets. Stone buildings had fallen, whole streets were gone and forgotten, but wicker survived. Unless the Flayers were using them, and I don't know what they would want with baskets. They don't carry much stuff, and if the way they act in combat means anything, they don't store food. They're meat eaters and then some. Confuse them enough, and they'll try to eat each other on the spot.

There were no buildings at the end of the avenue, just a broad hill surrounded by marshy ponds. On top of the hill, temptingly out in the open, was a shiny gold strongbox. Between it and me, Flayers, tree men, and zombies. Of course I had to take them out: I had to know what was in the box. First I sowed confusion in what passed for their minds, and took down the trees and zombies. I wanted the Shamans, but there were too many bodies in the way to get a clear shot. At least the little buggers could only raise their own kind. Once the big boys were resting comfortably, I could get the shamans. Getting them to stand still and die was the hard part. An odd thing happened while I was hitting them mentally: two of the three shamans started attacking their own, and got taken down by their minions. Most of the time, followers turn on their masters. Could this be jealousy? Maybe I can use that, at least to stop them from resurrecting their underlings.

When all the Flayers were finally dead, I approached the chest. I'd seen the big green thing with tentacles in the pond, so I knew what it was that was making bubbles. I did not expect two giant frogs to jump out. The tentacle thing should be big enough to eat frogs like that. They jumped me quick, and spit blobs of poison that knocked me on my ass again. Then the tentacles came up, and spat more poison. Ambushes are great, but to make them work you need to kill fast. Poison is not the right tool. I poisoned them right back, drank an antidote, and checked out the strongbox. No saint bits here.

I struggled through the marshes for a while, picking off slow-moving enemies at my leisure. When it got dark, I could hunt the moving trees by ear, to say nothing about the wet noises the local zombies made. After the ground started to rise again, I started seeing fires glowing through the trees. If that meant civilization, it was a little late. My boots couldn't get any more mud in them anyway. The thought was short-lived. As soon as I got within sight of the torch, the Flayers came. They were still kind of cute, in their little flowered sarongs. If they weren't trying to kill and eat me, I think I could like them.

Sad to say, they were trying to kill and eat me. A rough dozen with knives and spears led the assault, with blow-gunners and shamans behind to whittle me down. Fast, organized, and suicidally brave -- the Iron Wolves would have real problems with these guys. As for me... a little examination has told me they're hungry, jealous, and made up of several clans who violently hate each other. It only takes a little knocking around to start the infighting, and the shamans are the easiest of all. Age doesn't always bring wisdom.

They tried all kinds of things to deal with me. One group of three found a lance, and charged me like it was a battering ram. Another time, a shaman tried wearing a chainmail jerkin. It might have been a good idea if it didn't hang completely over the guy carrying him. He couldn't see where he was going, so he tripped and brought them both down. That started what might have been a real knock-down fight inside that mail, until I intervened. Sometimes, you need a third party to resolve interpersonal issues. The cleverest use of resources had to be a pair of blow-gunners running around inside a breastplate, firing through the arm holes. Only one could shoot at a time, and they couldn't move very fast, but their mobile fortress worked fine until I caught them and kicked them into the river.

A side avenue led to a small lake with a little building in the middle. A Flayer-sized bridge led out to it, and on the shore was a waypoint. It was almost midnight. Back on the docks, I went to visit Alkor before I turned in. He had stuff to gamble, and was about the only one still awake this late. I burned some cash into the local economy, such as it was, and got a rare ring out of it, which was actually quite decent.

"Not bad, not bad at all," I said, admiring my new ring. "I even like the color better than my old one. I've spent a lot of time gambling. It's hard to get good stuff."

"I know that, I have spent much time letting fools gamble their money away. In gratitude for the luck I have brought you, I expect you will wish to compensate me somehow."

"Oh, sure. I'll do you the honor of letting you buy my old ring."

His face wrinkled like a prune, eyes almost disappearing. "As though you need the money! You are the sort of girl who likes her drinking and gambling, yes?"

"Yep. But not together."

"Most excellent! As you are done with gambling, I present you with this potion, brewed from the ashes you brought to me today. It disgusts me to display generosity to someone as ungrateful as you, so drink it now before I am sick in it."

"Those were ashes?"

"Indeed! Most special ashes. Drink, it will do you much good."

"I'm not in the habit of drinking things crazy old alchemists give me. What's in it?"

"A small amount of life, distilled and vitalized. Drink, and do not worry! It will eventually be good for you, and you have all night to recover anyways."

You can't argue with logic like that. The brew clawed its way down like bad whiskey and lit a fire in my gut I knew I'd need to sleep off before I did anything else. That night was not a good one. There was never any pain, and I didn't feel feverish, but I got so hot, I knocked a hole in the floor and dunked myself naked into the river just to get some relief. Natalya even sensed it, and came by to see what was up. I told her it was probably swamp fever and sent her away.

I finally fell asleep in the water, my head resting on the hut's floor. When I came to, it was almost noon. I was wrinkly as an old woman, covered toe to tit with leech bites, and felt a lot more lively than I had any right to. Also ravenous. After a huge breakfast of fried frog, rice, and bananas, I went back by waypoint.

The little building led down into a wet, swampy pit, with water oozing out of the walls and puddled on the floor. There were bones on the floor of the entrance room, stripped clean and gnawed by sharp teeth, but no clue about the building. A small tunnel led away; I crept down to another room. There were Flayers there, with a shaman and a group of mummies. I was surprised any amount of preservatives could win over Kurast's climate, but there they were, shambling about, making soft squelches as their innards sloshed around. At least they weren't Horadric mummies. Two kinds of resurrectors would be annoying as hell.

The room looked like it might be a temple, with a columned hall and two symmetrical alcoves. The next room was more of a mystery. Part of the floor had collapsed and filled with water, wiping out any clues. While I was looking around next to the pool of water, I heard a click. I ducked, and a jar of poison vapors smashed against the wall behind me. The gas was old and weak, not a problem in itself, but the noise was. A tentacle monster reared up out of the pool and knocked me back into a corner. Then, quicker than anything, my newest least-favorite monster scuttled in: skeletal Flayers.

Being unburdened by flesh, they were fast but not very strong. That wasn't the problem. I found out what the problem was when they surrounded me. When one dies, it explodes, and that explosion hurts a lot. Normally they'd be far away from me, but these guys were right in my face and not going anywhere. By the time the first went ka-boom, I'd poisoned them all and couldn't get out. The trap kept pelting me with bottles, the tentacle kept spitting, and the Flayer skeletons were going off like fireworks, one after the other. I don't know how many potions I drank just to stay alive. But there were only six skeletons, and eventually they all went off. The tentacle stopped spitting; I think it looked nervous. I shot it just as it tried to dive, and watched the water turn red.

A deeper level of the pit had misty ghosts, a kind I've heard are found in swamps. There were tombs here and there, but I didn't think this place was a temple. For one thing, there were too many traps, and I don't think Flayers are up to building mechanical traps. A pity the traps only targeted me and anything I'd confused enough to attack its friends. The deepest level convinced me this was not a temple. It was full of tombs and traps, enough to convince me no one was meant to have free access here. This had to be some rich family's mausoleum, or maybe a bunch of rich families. The amount of loot was enough to convince me they were rich, anyway.

The jungle was still knee-deep in Flayers. Any deeper, and they'd have to start stacking. Fallen logs actually made good defensive points, particularly over water. They wouldn't try to jump over water, so on a bridge, they'd all stack up behind the one or two actually on the bridge. I could stun the whole bunch, then any behind them. Once they started getting confused and trying to eat each other, I had almost complete chaos. Sowing chaos is a lot of fun if you have the power to do it right. Finally, I found what had to be the center of the new Flayer empire: a tiny village. No, literally: the huts were about five feet high. Human remains in various states of butchery and rot were lying around here and there. It surprised me that Flayers would leave anything. Maybe since the jungle started growing, it's been a race between their teeth and creeping decay, and decay has been winning.

There weren't many Flayers in the village. They'd probably all come out to take me on, and there weren't many left to guard the old homestead. Just this once, I decided to go with a battle cry: "Greetings, tiny hut people! It is time for your weekly beating!" Then I swept the village out. It didn't take long. The last one, hiding inside a hut, had a bronze knife that looked like a Taan sacrificial dagger. With a satisfied "see you next Thursday," I took it.

The dagger was the Gidbinn, to no one's surprise, least of all mine. I handed it over to Ormus and watched. Taan rituals are not for the faint of stomach. There's a reason Ormus has those scars all over his chest and arms. I don't know any other mage clan that will do things like that, but it does summon up energy. After he was done, the Gidbinn was left floating on a pedestal next to the pyramid. All the sorcerers looked relieved. I couldn't see any difference, but I don't consider that necessarily a bad thing.

It seemed like everything was falling into place. First, the eyeball, which cheered everybody up. Then I stumbled across the Gidbinn, exactly what we needed, exactly when we needed it. I don't believe in saints or fate, but it did feel like something was working for me behind the scenes, trying to make things easy for me. Thing is, I don't like getting help from unseen hands, they always have their own agenda. And I don't like it when things look easy. I don't like it at all.

Chapter 21

To celebrate me getting the Gidbinn, Ormus made up a poem.

Amanita, the ebon-hued minx!

The black clothes suggest certain kinks.

Did she strip down for speed,

Or just have too much weed?

She does like the green stuff, methinks.

I made up one right back. I was nice enough to keep it to myself, though.

I ain't a good poet,

but I know it.

Before I went back out, I checked my gear. A set of purple plate armor was waiting by my stuff. The Mule didn't even bother with a note this time. I got some red underpadding the purple looked good with. I like red, and look good in it, and the purple matched great. But the crossbow was still green... and now it clashed. I hate green.

Maybe I could dye the bow later or something. No point mucking around with it now. This is a mission, not a fashion show. Back in the Flayer village, I found some stairs leading down. It turned out to be another tomb complex, with coffins, traps, and undead. Tombs aren't so bad. They're nice and dark, with plenty of places to hide and slow, stupid monsters. Mostly, they're boring, as poison doesn't hurt undead much so it takes them forever to die. One level of the tomb didn't have a single solid enemy in it, only ghosts and will o' wisps.

The lowest floor of the tomb was a big maze, trapped to hell and full of rich burials. The Flayer Shamans were using the corner tomb as some kind of meeting hall, I counted seven in that one room. That fire breath of theirs can make things pretty toasty, so I took the better part of valor and stayed outside, sniping as they scampered past. The leader, resplendent in his emerald-studded loincloth, was too fast for me to target. I didn't get him until I aimed at someone else, and he ran into the bolt's path. In the back of the tomb, the most protected place in the whole damn jungle, was a steel strongbox with... a human brain.

Hey, Natty, guess what I found?                    New armor! Lookin' good
       Yeah, this is a lot better.                    Why is it purple?
                    Guess what else?               All right, it's better
                                                        than green...
        Forget the armor a minute        Ok, ok. What'd you find?
                   More saint bits        Hey, a brain!
                    I like brains     You're good with them
                 It's still pink too     It looks alive
                      I don't see why it shouldn't.
           AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!                  AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!
     You didn't say that!                        Well, you sure didn't!
                     Please pardon my interruption.
       The brain is talking                    This is too freaky
      How can you talk? You
       don't have any lips!                   Not to mention blood,
      Ok, you don't need lips                 a stomach, a skull...
         to share thoughts
        even if Natty moves
      her lips when she sends                  No I don't... do I?
                  I could not say, as I cannot see you.
 Holy sh!t, the brain can talk                       It's alive! Alive!
       Why didn't you say
             anything before?
                You did not seem to desire conversation.
              And, being noticeably irreligious, might not
                   welcome comment from one such as I.
           What's that                                   Ouch
        supposed to mean?
                  Neither more nor less than you think.
      Listen, buster, I got
       no use for religion
     or saints giving me lip
                  My lips, wherever they may be by now,
                         shall never bother you.
                                                    Never mind her
                                                You're Khalim, I guess
                                  Yes.         What are you doing here?
                I have been waiting for the opportunity to
            fulfill my vow to protect the world from Mephisto.
        You still upset
          about that?       I was not pleased.     Wouldn't you be?
    I'd think being cremated
  would mellow me out a little                      I think I'd be
                                                    even more upset
            Being upset or not makes little difference. I see
           that both of you understand the importance of a vow.
      Well, yeah                                         Of course
           All my life, I tried to live my vow to be a shield
           of faith and virtue for the world. But my vision was
        flawed, and I did not see the rising corruption in my own
        house. When I was finally forced to see, my heart failed
          within me. My strength wavered, and I was destroyed.
     Religion ain't good
       for your vision                                Amy, shut up
        You have called me a saint, but it is failure that nails
        me to the earth. I must atone, and destroy my destroyer.
    That'll take some doing                 You are kind of handicapped
                         It is my only purpose.
        I don't suppose you
         have much else to                 Amy, quit being a bitch
           do these days                   Khalim, what can you do?
                              I can wait.
                                        That's... not much
       Hadn't you been
      doing that anyway?
          I have nothing now, but that will change. The Angels
          would not leave me here unless I could do some good.
            Hmm...                     Can't argue with that
                                        What should we do?
             The best you can, with whatever you are given.
       Keep doing what we
        were doing, then               Or something like that

I went back to my hut, with Natalya following. Her shields were up and tight. I don't know if Khalim could still read me from inside the cube, but it was the most secure place I had. Once he was put away, Natalya spoke to me, out loud.

"What the hell was that? You don't talk to saints that way."

"Why not? If he's a saint, he can take it. Patience is a job requirement."

"It looks bad. This is -- or was -- a holy city, so lots of people around here are religious. Let's see a little more reverence, huh?"

"Since when did you stick up for religion? It's a crutch for people who can't take life without a mommy to kiss their boo-boos all better. Yeah, there's higher powers, but it's not like they ever cared about us common people."

"This is public relations, Amy. It's about not pissing people off. The world's falling apart. It's not just missions anymore. We can't kill one guy, have everything go back to normal, and fade quietly into the night. It's never going to be like that again."

"What, you want people to know about us? Maybe we should tell everybody we can read their minds? Or control their minds? That'll go over real nice."

"People aren't stupid, Amy. They've figured out you've got something nobody else does, or you wouldn't still be alive. They don't know what it is yet, but they're not stupid."

I didn't say anything. I knew a lot of our cover was blown, I blew some of it myself. "So I piss people off sometimes. I never said I was a saint."

"You don't have to be. Amy, we're independent-minded people. The order picked us because we were. But you'll be a hell of a lot better off if you think about other people's feelings once in a while."

"Yeah... I've been yelled at about that before." I smiled. "I'll try, ok?"

Natalya smiled back. "Ok. I'm trying too. It's hard."

"I guess it's just that I've been trained to think of 'feelings' as something in the target's mind I can use against him."

"It's not just missions anymore. Just keep saying that."

"Ok. It's not just missions anymore."

"Good. Now get back out there. Ormus hasn't done anything yet."

"Unless he did it while we were standing around yammering."

"Shut up," she suggested. "Now get out there and kill those midgets."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chapter 22

After I left the village, I didn't see many Flayers -- just a pack or two hiding in the leaves, nothing serious. It wasn't a long walk before I saw the outer walls of Kurast. The wall was made of some white stone probably meant to symbolize purity, and used to be pretty high. Letting trees grow next to your protective wall is a bad idea anyway, but letting the trees get big enough to knock over pieces of your wall is even worse. I guess the jungle is the city's wall now, or the Zakarumites don't care anymore.

The first gap I found was big enough to march an army through. I can see that they might let their wall fall, but I didn't think they'd leave a hole this big. Not unguarded, anyway... ah, some bramble-men standing in the trees, quiet and still. I picked them off at leisure. They were a tough bunch: the leader took two shots. No one was on watch inside. Kurast was overgrown with greenery -- I know, big surprise, but there were still recognizable buildings here. Most were wood and wicker, but a few had stone foundations and were in better shape.

I looked around in the first few buildings. Each had at least one human corpse, tied to a post or splayed out in the middle of a room. From what I could tell, most died of blood loss due to torture, though they looked like it had taken hours, not days. While I was knocking around, a pack of big lizards ambushed me from where they'd been lurking in the trees. They looked like relatives of Aranoch lizards, but were very fast, hit really hard, and had magical help: a fiery orange aura. They were hard to target, and whenever I tried to get some distance, one or two would leap to cut me off. It was good pack tactics, but they were only animals and didn't know from a false retreat. A quick fade back a few steps would get them in the air, and I could nail them when they landed.

There were some black apes too, big spiny things that made great targets, and more demon vultures. One of the vultures had a magic aura too, a blue misty one. I couldn't tell what power it had, probably because I killed it before it got close. I'd heard of Zakarum's paladins having auras like those. They describe them as a blessing from Heaven or something. Looks like Hell blesses its minions too. Either that, or these are the paladins and I'm being fooled somehow... no, they've got hateful little demon minds. Pretty weird, but I haven't seen a human being yet. The place hadn't even been looted, there was plenty of gold and jewels and stuff still tucked away in people's houses.

             Hey, Natty                           Hey, how's going?
      Visiting scenic downtown
     Kurast. Food great, hotel
     great. Wish you were here!                  Found anything good?
         Nope. How's Ormus?                          Same as ever
                                                 While you're there,
                                               see if you can find the
                                                 Tome of Lam Esen
       Uh... which one was...                 You know, the Black Book
               ...                          Didn't you read our history?
       Oh! The one with the order's code in it, written by the sage and
                                            prophet Lam Esen. You got it
        It's in Kurast? Why?                 It prophesies the downfall
                                            of Kurast, so they were kind
                                                of interested in it.
       Yeah, all right. It'd                   I want to know how the
       be good to get it back                founders put together the
                                                martial arts system
     That was mostly Butu Dahed               Yeah, she was damn good
    I didn't know you knew glyphs             It's written in glyphs?
         All those damn old
      prophets wrote in glyphs
        to confuse everybody                   Oh, yeah. Most of them
                                               were wizards or mystics
              Or both                                    Yep
                                          Lam Esen was an alchemist-mystic
        Better spacing-out
         through alchemy!                      Anyway, we should have
                                               the book, not Zakarum
    Anybody here read glyphs?                          I dunno
         I'll ask around

"Hey Hratli, what do you know about glyphs?"

"Absolutely nothing, as it should be."

"Neglected your dead languages, huh?"

"My life is devoted entirely to insuring my own survival, and material wealth. Neither would be improved by the study of linguistics. For purposeless command of facts from the distant past, your friend Deckard Cain would seem the ideal source."

"Cain, right. Anybody else who might know?"

Hratli paused for about a heartbeat. "If Cain does not know, I cannot say who in the world would, excepting possibly Alkor. His life is one of continual study and endless dissipation, and his constitutional liking for useless information is well known."

"Ok, thanks."

Cain probably knew how to read glyphs, but would be my last resort. Giving him a new book, then getting him to focus only on what you want, is a nightmare I wouldn't wish on anyone. Alkor was in his hut, sitting on the floor and staring into space. His eyes were deep crimson, pupils fixed and dilated.

"Is this not a good time?" I asked.

His eyes tracked around the room, lids fluttering like dying butterflies. Eventually he gave up and closed them. They probably hurt. "For you, there is never a good time."

"I don't know, I think I can be a pretty good time. I want --"

"As though what you want is important," he quickly cut in.

"Never mind, I'll ask Asheara. I don't think you'd know."

"Asheara will not see you. She has made her weekly purchase, and will see no one for the rest of the day."

"Weekly purchase?"

Alkor blindly showed a freckled grin in my general direction. "Asheara buys a potion of manliness from me every week. She is an excellent customer."

I cocked an ear. I could hear vague thumping sounds from her place. "Ah, ha. So, is she a moaner or a screamer?"

"It depends very much on who has the stud detail this week. It pains me to waste time with you, so get to the point. What will make you go away?"

I like reasonable men. "Can you read glyphs?"

"Ask your friend Cain."

I snorted. "Why does everyone think he's my friend?"

"Because he is, stupid girl. How obvious must it be to everyone but you?"

"Ah..." I mulled that one over a few seconds. "He's all right. Ok, he's not bad. Couldn't ask for a nicer old fart to follow me around. Anyway, I need someone who can read the Black Book of Lam Esen. It --"

His eyes darted open, and somehow found me instantly. "You have found the book?!"

"No..." I smiled. "Not yet. Do you know glyphs?"

"Should you find the book, I know glyphs. If you do not find it, I know nothing about anything and you will never bother me again!"

I nodded. "Fair enough."

Past another wall I found more of Kurast, better constructed than the wicker-work down below. Some of the buildings had stone walls, and two pyramids stood a short distance from each other. The trees hadn't knocked everything over, but they were trying. Some of them had even walked in to do it. Along with bramble-men were vultures, and living swarms of mosquitoes just like the ones in Aranoch. For whatever reason, Diablo brought a lot of his helpers over here with him. Either that, or he'd developed some bad habits during his stay in our world.

This section of town was even richer than the first. Obviously, I was moving up in Kurast society. I still hadn't seen Zakarumites, or any human who wasn't long dead. I couldn't see what a lot of the buildings were for, so they were probably temples or ceremonial causeways or something like that. Most of them had big, red-eyed skulls with gore spattered on their teeth for decoration. Several times, I had to tell myself the gore must be just paint, and not to look too close. There was a waypoint there, which was good, and a couple of basement entrances, maybe sewers.

The pyramids were topped by small rooms, each with a tiny stairway going nowhere. It was obviously symbolic of something, probably a ceremonial ascent into Heaven or something. I doubt anyone from around here will be going to Heaven anytime soon. Then I noticed the button, to one side on the lowest step. When I nudged it with my foot, the steps dropped and turned into a stairway down, into the body of the pyramid. The sewers can wait. I'm getting tired of sewers anyway.

The instant I walked down the stairs, the world broke out in flame. I could barely see the giant blue spiders jumping from the corners. I rolled in, took one shot I think might have hit something, and grabbed the katar. I was in a small room with two entrances to either side of the stairs. Vampires were in the doorways, at least two at each. Four big blue spiders were untangling themselves in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, between me and the way out. Rolling in may not have been a good idea.

I targeted a Vampire first. He took the first few hits smiling (hard not to) then turned and floated away. The spiders were on top of me by then, so I hit their tiny minds as hard as I could and made the second Vampire in the doorway my new special friend. While the spiders were trying to eat him, I scooted around the wall to the other batch of Vampires, who were coming into the room. There were three of them, and they kept their distance, so I hauled out the bow and gave them one each. It would be enough, eventually.

The first Vampire came back as the spiders realized the error of their ways. The whole room was on fire. There were even rocks exploding around me: neat trick, I couldn't see how they were doing that. I got my back to the wall and thought as hard as I could at the spiders. It almost overloaded their minds, and put a serious strain on mine, before they got confused again and started attacking each other. Vampires started dying while I sniped the survivors, and the firewall died down just as the last one fled and died. Then it went quiet... a good thing for me.

The pyramid was probably a major temple, and had a lot of ornaments. It also had a lot of those red-eyed skulls. The red stuff wasn't painted on. I cleared it and left fast, going over to the other pyramid -- this time with the katar ready. The entrance room was small, with side doors and a big archway leading to large inner chamber. There was no ambush waiting, there or in either of the side chambers. The temple couldn't be empty, but I felt safer switching to the bow now that I knew I had room and some places to run to. No place else to look, so I poked my nose into the main chamber.

The first thing that tried to kill me was a group of three Bigfoot-type guys. Somewhere, I'd heard they were supposed to be rare, and reclusive. I shot them, waited a few seconds, and poked my nose further in. A naked woman with a wicked-looking dagger and a homicidal snarl on her face scampered into view. My first human! So what if she was nude, smeared with blood, and down on all fours like an animal? I held my fire as she and about half a dozen friends came out into view, looking... hungry. I stunned them and gave them a quick once-over. Then I shot them. Believe me, it was the best thing I could do.

The inner chamber was big, probably taking up most of the pyramid. A blue spider with a weird greenish aura was hiding in one corner, and a pack of Vampires was in the other. I had a good chance to watch the Vampires in action. They somehow pulled their exploding rocks from the temple ceiling without damaging it. I'd heard the Vizjerei recently discovered a spell to summon exploding rocks from the sky, but that shouldn't work inside. It probably wasn't the same spell, Vampires usually only know old spells. Whatever, the rocks hurt a lot worse this time around.

At the end of the inner chamber, by an altar with a butchered human being laid out on it, was a lectern with a book. A black book, interestingly enough, and written in glyphs. I woke Natalya and gave it to her, saying Alkor could read it to her if she wanted. I'm going to bed without a story.

Chapter 23

I don't remember sleeping -- I lay down, ten hours passed, and I was awake again. The sun was high, my belly was empty, and the sweaty padding I laid out the night before was almost dry again. If I ever retire from the business (dying is always an option) I'm going somewhere where clothes dry out eventually. Breakfast was palm nuts and fish with ginger. The woman who did the cooking didn't charge me, and was really eager for me to like it. It was probably the best food she had. I guess I've made an impression.

I'm still not much for accepting gratitude, so I skulked out into the jungle. Well, 'ported out into the city. By waypoint. There were two ways I could go: across a bridge further into Kurast, or down into the city sewers. There was only one bridge over the canal, and it was sure to be guarded. The sewer might not be, at least not deliberately. There were probably some nasty things down there, and it would stink, but that's what cigars are good for. I lit one up and headed down.

Kurast's sewer system is weird. First off, there aren't any tunnels. The sewer is one open area, with small blocks of stone to hold up the ceiling and channels in the floor for the water. Every now and then there was a big block, probably the foundation of a temple. The sewer nodes were more like ponds; some even had boats tied up at the edge. Why would anyone go boating in a sewer? It did seem like a well-used sewer, signs of activity were all over. I kept finding stashed trinkets, chests, or things hidden under rockpiles, or human skulls. The skulls didn't all look recent, either. Some holy city this was turning out to be.

There were bats, and a few tentacle things in the bigger nodes. There were also skeleton Flayers running around, but only a few. They weren't half as much trouble in an open area with plenty of places to run. Off one corner near the river, I found a hatch to a lower level, maybe extra drainage for rainy weather. Three poison spitters were living in the muck pool down there, with a dozen chests and strongboxes stacked neatly on the sides. Hell of a place to put the city treasury, though it might explain the boats. Well, whosoever it was, possession is at least nine-tenths of the law. The last chest had a heart in it. What's-his-face the saint will be thrilled.

The sewers went right under the canal, and there were hatches going up. This part of Kurast was the richest yet -- the pyramids were the tallest, and even the ordinary buildings were stone. There was no welcoming committee either, so I explored. There were tree hulks and vultures, but the worst was what was left of the church's paladins.

There were only two groups of men, about half a dozen each, with a priest. The first group was near a temple pyramid, probably guarding it. I've got no love for murderous zealots, but this was the skinniest, sorriest bunch I've ever seen in my life. The shining armor was gone, most of them didn't even have shoes. All they had were rusty farm tools, sticks, and rocks. Rabid, yet pathetic. I hit their minds, and almost yelped when I felt something else inside their heads.

My shields snapped up almost by themselves, and I took a longer look at the nearest zealot. Something else was belted around his mind like iron. Was it the priest? I shot him. He died fast, and went up in a puff of dust and fire. Stylish, but not exactly heavenly, and the grip on the zealot's minds didn't die with him. Every now and then, one would defy the hold and run, but they never made it very far. Whoever or whatever was on them might not always be paying attention, but they couldn't break the hold. None of my mental battering could either. They were in such bad shape, one actually died from it.

The second group of men was waiting by the gate, with a big group of tree men. I confused them and took out the trees, then got the priest between me and his zealots before I killed him. Even the sight of their priest going up in flames couldn't shock them out. They weren't even surprised. They already knew.

"Hey, Cain, what do you know about mind control magic?"

"Mind control?" The question worried him. "Have you encountered such a thing?"

"Maybe. But I've never heard of anything that could control more than one person."

"Hmm..." His brows knitted together. I thought of two caterpillars having marital relations. "It may be that Mephisto is using a compelling orb. These fiendish devices can sap the wills of more than one victim, but I have never heard of one being used to command more than a few at a time. Even a demon as powerful as Mephisto could not concentrate on every mind in Kurast at once."

"How about forcing a few to attack, then moving on to another bunch? Those paladins up there attack, then run away. They don't want to attack, but can't break away for long."

Cain was silent for a while, bent in thought. I couldn't believe it, but I might actually have stumped him. Eventually, he said, "I know little about the use of artifacts, even less about ones such as this. Perhaps Ormus could help us. I have been speaking with him, and must say I am impressed with his knowledge of artifacts and of the church."

Yeah, I'll bet he knows all about compelling orbs. And Mephisto. "Oh, I almost forgot: I found another saint bit in the sewers."

"Ah, Khalim's heart! Every day, you bring us good omens. We can only hope this provides us with the courage to face the Prime Evils."

"Yeah. I'm going to talk with Ormus. Wish me luck."

Cain smiled, shaking his head slightly. "At times, you amaze me. Your own courage never seems to falter."

"Are you kidding? I'm scared pissless. But if I don't take 'em out now, I'll have to do it when they're together. That scares me even worse."

Ormus was standing where I'd left him, like he never went anywhere at all. Could he be controlled? No, he wasn't twitchy enough. Could he be controlling them? No, that's crazy thinking, even he doesn't have that kind of power. When I stepped around the corner, his eyes locked into mine. I was expected.

"You have done well, noble hero. Ormus congratulates you. The time has now come to face those responsible for the evil that has stifled this land. You must destroy the High Council of Zakarum!"

"If they're in my way, sure. What do you know --"

"The council serves Mephisto as cruel mockeries of the holy men they once were. Using a compelling orb, the council commands the jungle itself to choke the life from our home."

Ah. "You know about this orb?"

"The orb was taken by the church many years ago. In happier times, the orb was used with reluctance, to find truth in those who wish it concealed. Now, it is used continuously, to force obedience from the reluctant hands of Zakarum."

I lit a fresh cigar. Those things were getting to be a real habit. "You were listening to me talking with Cain, weren't you?"

"Ask this of yourself: what else is there to hear?"

I looked at him, then listened. The jungle was quiet. You could have heard a Flayer fart, it was so quiet. I'd been running in and out so fast, I never noticed.

"Diablo and Baal have surely reached their goal," Ormus continued. "and the Three have been reunited. Their dark gathering must be disrupted at all costs. Should you die on your quest, Ormus will compose an epic poem in your honor. It will survive to the end of humanity's last days."

"No matter how long that is. Right. How do I take out the orb?"

"The High Council of Zakarum guards it and the blackened Guardian Tower where Mephisto was buried. Slay the council, and Hatred's hold over the land will be broken."

"Then what?"

Ormus stared impassively into the distance. "Ormus suggests you wing it."

There were only two more temples in Kurast. I emptied them both, killing more spiders, bats, Vampires, and cannibal nuns. Above the city was a lake, with a bridge leading to a built-up island in the center. Two more temples were on the bridge. I cleared them out too, fighting off Claw Vipers and lightning beetles. Maybe I shouldn't have taken the time, I was on a mission, but I didn't want to leave anything behind me. Or maybe I was scared. Who the hell wouldn't be? My best information says the three most dangerous beings in the universe are on, or in, or under, that island.

I stood on the bridge. The sun was going down behind me, the last red light oozing up a cold ash-black tower on the far side of the island. The sky was clear, but the air crackled like a storm was coming. The air smelled like dried blood. I charged in.

Chapter 24

A gateway was at the end of the bridge. Two half-skinned bodies the flies liked were tied to fluted marble columns. No one else. Stone walkways branched right and left. The biggest tower was right up the middle. I went straight, not my usual choice. Past roofed pavilions, the center of the island was a high dais. Two altars covered with blood, next to two pits. Something saw me: two Vampires. Plink one, dodge the meteors, get the other. Zealots come fast from the other side. They're quick, not much shining armor to slow them down. Hard to lose, or confuse, so I finally put them down. At the tower: a covered walkway around the base, ponds on either side of the door. Bubbles in the ponds, so some tentacle monsters. Ah, here comes something.

Damn, those guys are ugly. I thought the Rogues had it bad. At least they have clothes, cardinal red robes that can't fit them anymore. Three of them, charging fast. Shoot and fade back to the dais. The levels and stairways on the dais confuse these guys a lot more than they should. Makes you wonder why anyone would think demonic gifts are good things. Maybe the first thing they take away is your judgment, if you ever had any.

Something scorched my leg. A hydra had sprouted behind me. I ran around to a lower level, dodging firebolts. Two demon-priests came after me. I kept running, and almost tripped over the third. Wow, he made a colorful splat. Who knew anyone could have so much blood in him? The second died doing laps. The third was tougher. I shot him again and kept him running. He was the one summoning hydras. He also threw sparks of pink lightning, and was taking damn near forever to die. Finally, I just carved him up.

At the tower, the tentacles were up and waiting. Four more priest-demons raced out of the gate. No point taking them all on at once. I faded back, opened my mind a tiny bit to give them the once-over, then slapped one until he thought one of those tentacles was his worst enemy in the world. Poor bastard tried to strangle it. The others hopped over to stop the sacrilege. He didn't last long, but it gave me time to put a bolt in each of them. I gave them some exercise around the dais, and another died. Then the survivors started casting spells on each other. Crap. They're healing each other. You'd think priests couldn't do that anymore once they turned into demons.

I mentally slapped one, and shot the other. They both came after me. Crap. I ran them around the dais, and finally got them separated. If I stayed near the base, the one on the far side didn't chase me. Maybe if he couldn't see me, he didn't remember I was there. The other closed, so I got the katar and minced him. The other died during the fight. Except for the tentacles, nobody else was in the tower. Scratch one council. Easier than I thought it'd be, charging in the front door like a moron.

The tower had plenty of stuff, mostly religious icons and candles and crap. Off to one side, a crystal ball was sitting on a bloody pedestal. In the ball was an eye, blue as a corpse's, set in the translucent flesh of a face I was glad I couldn't see. It was looking straight into me. I grabbed everything I could carry and ran through a portal.

"It's official," I said, dropping my stuff in a pile at Cain's feet. "It's a compelling orb."

                              You have found it.
Huh?
                     That is my flail. You have found it.
Can you please not
jump in like that?

Cain's eyebrows rose. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no. Just having another conversation. 'scuse me."

     This flail, with the
          spiky skull balls?         Yes.
               I thought you couldn't see
                     And why would you have such
                          a nasty looking weapon?
                               I thought you were supposed
                                    to be kind of, you know, saintly
                                         Saints aren't supposed to have
                                              flails with skulls for balls
                          Perhaps it has been changed
                            since I was able to see.
                                But it is mine.

Cain took a couple of steps back. "Ormus? I fear something has happened to Amy."

"Then tragedy has overcome us all. My other watchdog may be forced to bestir herself. Deckard Cain, see what is here! She stands before you, whole and unmarred in flesh or spirit."

"Physically, I agree..." Cain mumbled, waving a hand in front of my face. "But physical harm is the least of what can happen to those confronting the forces of Hell."

"Hmm..." Ormus peered into my face. "Has she spoken to you?"

"Before she became unresponsive, she said something about being in a conversation. Then she picked up that flail. Its appearance worries me."

                                                    How do you know the
                                               flail is yours?
                                  It is mine.
                                     If I had some idea what
                                criteria you're using
                           Nothing that is rational.
                           Nonetheless, I am certain.
                  Ok, can't argue with that
             What do I do with it?
                                Bring it to me.
                            I will make use of it.
And the "hands" issue?
                         Faith guides me. I know now
                         why I am bound to the earth.
                           I see your path for you.
I don't need help
   from saints
                        As vexing as you may find it,
                             I fear that you do.
          Why? Enlighten me
                            That might take more
                        patience than any saint has.

"This mighty flail once belonged to Khalim, Que-Hegan of the church of Zakarum," Ormus pronounced. Not many people really know how to pronounce things. "The council has tried to alter its form, but their efforts could not taint the spirit within."

"Ah!" Cain smiled, looking relieved. "The Light still shines upon us! Now I wonder, what does this mean? What must we do?"

"None know, save Khalim himself. Quiet your fears, Deckard Cain. The saint speaks to the sinner, who may yet carry out his will."

     So, Mephisto's using the
          compelling orb to get that
               fanatical loyalty from them
                                     Yes.
     He also hid the tower key
          in the pedestal after
               his brothers went in
                                     Yes.
     The pedestal's solid granite
                                     Yes.
     How do you know all this?
                               I have seen it.
          Not much of an answer
               I want more information
                           I have nothing for you.
                         Why should I believe
                              anything you say?
                             Trusting another is
                             difficult for you.
                                             With good reason
                           That could be disputed.
                       Would you be more at ease if you
                       felt I acted from self-interest?
                                                            Well, sure
                Very well. I have told you I am bound here until
                  I destroy Mephisto's hold over this land.
                                             Ok so far
                  I have no desire to remain on this earth.
                              Sounds logical
                  Smashing the orb will accomplish my goal.
               If I break the pedestal as well, you will have
                   access to Mephisto's Durance of Hate.
          How do I know you will?
                    Because it is the right thing to do.
    ...
                    I am with you for a reason. Trust me.

Cain and Ormus were staring me in the face when I noticed them. I think anyone would have pitched over backwards if that was the first thing they saw. After I picked myself up and told Cain I wasn't in any trouble, I put the flail in the box with Khalim's bits. Couldn't think of anything else to do with it. A flash blinded me, and when I could see again, the flail was gold and glistened like oil on water. The balls were still skulls, though. Inside the tower, the eye was still there, staring into me. I took the flail and smashed it in.

The orb didn't really shatter... more like evaporated in a glassy mist. The pedestal split in half right down the middle, and an iron key fell on the floor. The flail disappeared. Outside, the humidity had dropped by at least half. I could see trees dying, and vines falling off of buildings. I decided to look around. There were about 30 or 40 more people on the island, and a dozen priests and Vampires. They wouldn't attack me, or anything else. I'd have thought they'd jump at the chance.

Mephisto's "durance" (whatever a durance is) was a maze of pits and catwalks. Everything that could have spikes did, and what didn't was on fire. Everywhere, there were bones, all of them human. A few were fresh and bloody, but they probably went back decades. A lot of chests and stashes were laid out among the bodies. All were locked. Some were laid out in keyhole patterns, why I didn't know.

It's hard to sneak through a room full of bones. I thought dead leaves were bad, but a floor covered with dry bones is worse. Every time I tried to move, something would clatter and they'd come shrieking out of the dark: Flayer skeletons. I was so sick of dodging those little scuttling bombs of bone I wish the Three would just come out here and get it over with. There were others, mostly undead: Vampires who'd eaten so much they could barely move, some preserved corpses, and a few giants.

One room on the second level was worse than the others. I'd managed to creep in without being noticed when I saw the giants, eating. A few lights were moving around the floor. Only the strongest glow. I hit the giants mentally. One stumbled to its feet and stepped on a Flayer. It went up beautifully, and the rest of the Flayers attacked the giants. A crowd of walking corpses I hadn't seen came over. Meteors started falling. I kept them going for a while, taking the time to put a bolt in every Flayer -- I did not want them to survive. When it was over, all that was left was one giant, staggering around half dead even before I put a bolt between his eyes.

The lowest level was the grossest: all the blood and gore drained down, into a pit in the middle of the floor. It must have taken decades to fill. There was still no sign of the Three. There were demon-priests, one with the same green aura I'd seen in Kurast. The cold nova when he died was incredibly painful. I haven't been that frigid in... well, ever. A red gate, screaming like the damned, was out in the middle of the pit. This didn't look good.

"Ok, Cain, here's the description: big pit of gore, red portal that gives me the quivering willies out in the middle. What's it mean?"

"Our worst fears have been realized!" the old man wailed. I hate it when he talks like that. "This can only mean the Three have succeeded in opening a portal to Hell itself! Legions of their followers will issue forth to overrun the world!"

"There wasn't any issuing going on down there. How do we close the gate?"

"The only..." Cain stopped in mid-thought, blinking. "Nothing was coming through?"

"Nothing. C'mon, speed it up, we don't know how long it'll last!"

"Hmm... based on Andarial's cooperation with Diablo, I was sure the Lesser Evils had fallen behind the Greater once more. If that is not the case... the Three would need to go to Hell and rally the fallen to them. We may yet have the time we need!"

"Yeah, so don't waste it! How do I close the gate!?"

"Portals may be closed by destroying those who created them, most simply..."

"Right," I muttered. "It's what I do best anyway."

"It's what we do best," Natalya interrupted. "Let's go. I'm sick of standing around."

"What about Ormus?" I asked.

"What about Ormus? Screw Ormus. He's not doing anything."

I grinned. "You can screw Ormus, he doesn't do anything for me either."

"Shut up. What's the situation?"

"We've got a wide open room with a big pit of gore. Hell gate in the middle of the pit, no obvious way to get there."

"Then we find a way. You go left, I'll go right, meet you on the other side."

This was more like it. I don't mind being alone, but being alone here was really giving me the shivers. All the dangerous enemies were probably dead anyway, we just had to find a way through the gate. Of course, this wasn't the first time I was wrong: my side of the pool had another demon-priest and some Vampires. They slowed me down enough. I was dodging the dying priest when a laugh like nails on slate shook the floor under my feet and sent ghosts up my spine. Then came a scream, just one, and a noise like breaking glass.

I ran in, two Vampires still on my tail. They died about the time I saw Mephisto. He looked like a ghost on a huge scale, the biggest spirit ever, floating in a cloud of poison mist. When he looked at me, I knew that eye. I ducked my head and jumped to the side, firing blind in the direction of the icy ball that hissed past me. The bolt might have hit, I didn't look, and don't know if it would have done anything anyway. I dove in with the katar, my mind shut tight and my eyes barely open. Good thing he was a big target.

It wasn't the cleanest kill I've ever made. There was a lot of indiscriminate hacking, kicking, and screaming for no good reason at all, and I'm the one who lived through it. The cold ball was probably the worst thing Mephisto had, and he didn't use it up close. I think he made some sparks, and the frozen venom evaporating off his body wasn't too bad. Duriel was worse. After a long time of hacking, he fell to pieces, leaving nothing but three clean, white, human skulls, and a blue crystal.

Natalya was gone. All I found was a puddle of blood, bone, and shattered metal. I picked up the crystal. Could I break it? Should I try? There was no sign of Diablo or Baal. Why didn't the Three stay together? They must not need to, once they opened the gate -- that was their goal. Mission accomplished, the other two went on to phase two of their little project. Their gate was still open, waiting for them.

Near the back of the room was an iron box, about the size of a child's coffin. I hauled it to the pit and tossed it in. With me in it, it barely floated. Using one of the Vampire's staves, I poled my way out to the gate, stood, and just before my little tugboat went down, jumped through.

Concluding thoughts:

Mind Blast is turning out to be an Assassin's greatest friend. I'm wondering why I never used this skill before.
Heavy poison on a missile weapon + Cleglaw's Claws + Rattlecage = Gawdly. My only objection is that it's so slow on high hit-point monsters. Monsters with poison resistance that can resurrect are also a serious problem.
Using a heavy crossbow without Burst of Speed is sloooooow. I might be better off using BoS instead of Venom, and making up the damage with charms.

Act 4

Chapter 25

IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN, AMANITA.                          Where am I?
                T      W     I        W  E                
                H  P   O  T  N  G  T  H  V             W  
                E  O   U  A  T  R  H  E  E     S       I  H
                   R   L  K  O  A  E  R  N     U   L   T  E
             MEPHISTOS DEFEAT WAS A GREAT VICTORY FOR THE LIGHT
                E  A      N  T  P  E     Y  O  V   N   O  P
                L  L   H     H     N  N  O  U  I   G   U  
                L      A  Y  E  O  E  O  U  L  V       T  
                       V  O     F  M  T     D  E          
                       E  U        Y                      
Who are you?                                         YOU KNOW ME, AMANITA.
                                             I AM THE ARCHANGEL TYRAEL.
                          I HAVE RESTED, MY WILL IS STONG AGAIN.
      PERHAPS IT WOULD BE SAFER FOR YOU TO ARRIVE HERE,
      A                     O
      N                     R
      D         THE LAST BASTION OF HEAVEN'S POWER
      E                     R
      M                     E
      O                     S
      N      BEFORE THE GATES OF THE BURNING HELLS.        ooh pretty
      I
      U      THOUSANDS OF CHAMPIONS OF THE LIGHT,
      M      MANY OF THEM MORTAL, LIKE YOURSELF,
             HAVE HALLOWED THESE HALLS WITH THEIR BLOOD
             LOST IN BATTLE WITH ETERNAL DARKNESS
             IN A WAR WHICH NEVER TRULY ENDED.
Angels bleed? YES. Angels die? YES. I could kill an angel? PERHAPS. Wow
         AMANITA, YOU MUST PREPARE YOURSELF TO BATTLE DIABLO
                             Oh yeah, him
             THE LORD OF TERROR HAS GONE TO HIS FORTRESS
                  AND IS CALLING HIS MINIONS TO HIM
                    FOR AN ASSAULT ON YOUR WORLD.
            YOU MUST DESTROY HIM, AND CLOSE THE HELL GATE
                     AND YOU MUST FACE HIM ALONE
                                 What?
         I HAVE BEEN FORBIDDEN TO AID YOU
                          INTERVENTION
                     IS FORBIDDEN
                      BY HEAVENLY          SAVE FOR A FEW BITS OF WISDOM
                       EDICT                  THIS MUST BE THE HOUR OF
                     ASSISTANCE              MORTAL HUMANITY'S TRIUMPH.
                     DISALLOWED
                 COMPLETELY                    YOU MUST SUCCEED ALONE
        Alone?                              TWO MORTALS REMAIN HERE, AND
                                           STAND READY TO LEND YOU SUCCOR
Can I bring someone else?                    YOU DESIRE THE COMPANY OF
                                            DECKARD CAIN OF HE HORADRIM?
Yeah. Will he be safe here?                 LONG AGO I SWORE AN OATH TO
                                            PROTECT THE HORADRIM. HE IS
                                             ALSO YOUR FRIEND. NO HARM
                                              COULD COME TO HIM HERE.
Well... ok

The Pandemonium Fortress was pretty... or maybe "awesome" was a better word. Marble and bronze shone in the light of torches and lamps. Everything was so straight and white and gleaming, I felt cleaner just looking at it. I hoped I wasn't leaving a mark on the floor. Then I looked down. Everything on me was exactly in place, cleaned and polished within an inch of its life. The armor was oiled, the bow had a new coat of wax, there were even fresh strings in my pouch. I didn't know whether to be happy or annoyed.

Once I got him in, Cain was ecstatic about the Pandemonium Fortress. You've never seen anyone so happy to be dragged off to Hell before -- he must not get away from home much. Knowing him, the chance to interrogate an archangel about Horadrim history probably made going to Hell worth it.

"Can you believe this place? Did you ever dare to dream that you'd one day stand upon the crossroads between Heaven and Hell? This is truly miraculous!"

"Yeah. Cain... I'm not so good with all this angelic miracle stuff, so... I was wondering if you could do most of the talking with him?"

"I..." Cain blinked, shaking his head. "Well... I will help you in every way I can. If you do not with to, though I cannot understand why anyone would deny themselves the chance to speak with the archangel Tyrael. Such opportunities do not come often."

"Yeah, I know, it's awesome and all that... I don't know, I just don't feel comfortable."

Cain smiled, and patted me on the shoulder. I didn't quite avoid flinching. "Though well-known for his compassion, the company of angels is seldom a comfort to mortals. But I think something else is bothering you. You never did say what happened to your friend Natalya."

I shrugged. "Frozen and shattered. Happens to the best of us."

He nodded. "A terrible thing to have happen. Who could take comfort in the presence of the eternal, when our own mortality has recently been made so clear?"

"Yeah, whatever. I've gotta get busy. Diablo's in some kind of fortress, it's gotta be near here." I frowned. "He didn't say anything about Baal. Could you ask him?"

With a confused look on his face, Cain nodded, and turned towards Tyrael. I grabbed him before he could say anything. "Not now! Wait 'til I'm gone."

"Amy, this is absurd... if I didn't know you, I would say you were intimidated. Tyrael may seem powerful, and he is, but he will do you no harm!"

"I know. He's an ally. I'm just not an "ally" kind of girl, ok? I know he's compassionate and devoted and eager to help, but I... I just don't want..."

With great compassion of his own, Cain listened to me fluster and blather for a while, then patted me on the shoulder again. I wish he wouldn't do that. "Calm yourself, everything will be all right. It seems to me Natalya's death is bothering you more than you think. Perhaps, in time, you will be able to properly mourn her."

I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and very calmly said, "Cain... can we have a little less of the soppy, get-in-touch-with-your-feelings crap right now?"

"You'll hear no more from me until you are ready. Your journey is far from over. Diablo is in Hell. Only when he is beaten will our world finally have peace."

"Yeah... he's in a fortress, with the Hell gate, calling up an army. Probably got a big crowd with him already. Good thing the angel picked me up before I got there."

Cain's eyebrows rose to his hairline. I envy those eyebrows. "Tyrael picked you up?"

"Yeah, he picked me up. I'm kind of cute sometimes."

Now staring in utter confusion, Cain slowly shook his head. "I see..."

"Said the blind man. Well, sands of time and all that. I gotta get going. See ya!"

I should have known making a joke like that about an angel, especially Tyrael, might offend Cain's sensibilities, but if you're gonna go to Hell it might as well be for a good reason. At the other end of the fortress, two people were waiting -- the mortals, presumably. Halbu was a Zakarumite paladin and smith, Jamella a Zakarumite priestess and mage. Either one alone could have been the most beautiful human being I'd ever laid eyes on. The sight of both together got me to wondering if I could earn some more reasons to be in Hell, but they wouldn't say much to me. Polite, but... maybe they could tell what I was thinking.

I usually don't think like that on a job. Something was getting to me. Maybe it was Natty: there's worse ways to go than freezing, but it's pretty bad. Whatever the cause, there was no time to worry about it now. The Pandemonium Fortress had one gate. Looking down, I saw we were suspended in the middle of a black abyss. Sharing the emptiness was an empty plain not far below, looking as cold and gray and empty as the ashes of love. Naked steps barely wide enough for one person led down.

Chapter 26

Sixty-six steps down from the fortress, and I was in Hell. I guess I knew it was going to happen someday. At first, the inferno wasn't blood, flame and nightmares, just dark gray ash and grit that felt like cremated bone. A metallic taste hung in the air, maybe from the fires I could see in the distance. The horizon was completely black. I couldn't see far in the gloom, but there didn't seem to be a single living thing around. Something had been here, at least long enough to build some free-standing pillars and what looked like doorways. None of them were part of anything, or even connected to each other.

There were no obvious threats, so I went to look at a doorway. It was probably a gate, but opening it would take a spell. I didn't mess with it. When I came up to one of the pillars, it opened its eyes and looked at me. A person, as ash-gray as everything else, was melted halfway into the pillar, and more were around the sides. They stared as I paced a slow circle around them, but their eyes were empty, like they were just tracking movement and nothing else. I couldn't tell what sex they were, what race, anything. Everything individual in them was gone. So this is damnation. Looks incredibly dull... which may be the point.

Something rustled in the grit behind me. I dove away as a red-and-gray blur bounced off the pillar and skidded off, kicking up clouds of ash. More came behind it. They looked a lot like the leapers from the desert, but bigger, spikier, and covered with open sores oozing bloody liquid. An odd choice of creature to demonize -- I would have picked Flayers. They were as vulnerable to poison as ever, so I put them down fast. One damned soul took a swipe at me while I was maneuvering, and hit just hard enough to upset me. I paid it back with a bolt in the throat once the leapers were dead. It died too. Are souls in Hell undead? They could die, or at least stop moving... nah, too much thinking. Undead, demons, animals, people -- everything dies if you hit it hard enough.

Hell didn't have many landmarks. One direction looked the same as another. I couldn't get lost with the fortress up in the sky, so I picked a horizon and started walking. It wasn't long before a bloated shape picked itself up and started slouching vaguely in my direction. It wasn't headed towards me, so I held my fire and watched. The creature was big, mostly a huge gut with some spindly limbs pushing it along the ground. Its head was small, perched over a gaping mouth surrounded by feelers. It shambled right past me to a dead leaper, ducked its head, and consumed the body in one gulp.

All right, the thing was gross, but it was just the clean-up crew. It would account for the lack of recognizable remains around here. I was about to move on when it turned towards me, and spat. The dead leaper, already partly digested, arced gracefully over the plain and splattered on the ground behind me. It missed, but the smell almost killed me anyway. Teeth clenched, I barely managed to keep breakfast down, and with my eyes tearing up, shot the biggest moving thing I could make out. Mr. Mouth hurled two more bodies before he died, but I wouldn't expect poison to much bother something with that kind of diet.

Exploring around, I found a few things, none of which made any sense. There were plenty of pillars, with dead guys and without. Some also had big chains draping off them, or running along the ground. Every now and then, I'd find a skeleton hanging in an upright tomb. It probably meant something in some religion's symbology. I just saw a "hung skeleton" and thought of this one Necro joke I heard once. The land had an edge to it, supported by buttresses made of either shiny stone or dull metal. What the buttresses were resting on, I couldn't see -- everything down there was dark. Looking over the edge made my scalp crawl, so I didn't stay long.

There were also a few recognizable demons, wandering around in packs. The most common were Balrogs, one of the biggest, angriest, and stupidest demons around. Poison didn't mean much to them, but they're easy to turn on each other. Just whispering in one's mind "Hey, that guy's been looking at you funny" was enough to start a fight, and I could snipe away to my heart's content. The dangerous ones were rarer: Doom Knights. They're faster and a lot smarter than Balrogs, and almost as poison resistant.

"How are you getting along?" Cain asked me back at the fortress.

"Fine," I shrugged. "It's business. Ran into a pack of Doom Knights, that was bad."

"Dear me! I hope you were not frightened by their skull spirits."

"What? Nah, they weren't that powerful, just curses and poisoned blades. Diablo's probably keeping the big boys closer to him. Speaking of the lesser of evils, have you heard anything about where Baal went?"

"I have spoken with Tyrael. Baal's whereabouts are unknown to him... and he has asked to speak with you himself."

Damn. My stomach knotted up again.

                Hi there                          GREETINGS.
THERE IS A TORTURED SOUL WHO WAS TRAPPED WITHIN THIS FORSAKEN REALM AGES AGO.
      Z
      U             L A
     WAS HIS NAME AMONG MORTAL MEN. HE WAS MY MOST TRUSTED LIEUTENANT.
      L             N O                I
                   AGAINST MY WISHES, HE LED AN ASSAULT UPON THE HELLFORGE
                                       L
                            THE RUNEBLADE AZUREWRATH.
                                       I
                       T           STRENGTH AND VALOR PREVAILED NOT
                       W               G
                   AND IZUAL WAS CAPTURED BY THE PRIME EVILS.
                       S
           TORTURED BY THEIR PERVERSE POWER,
                       E
        IZUAL WAS FORCED TO BETRAY HIS OWN KIND
   AND GIVE UP HEAVEN'S MOST CLOSELY GUARDED SECRETS

D       A
E D   D N
S E F I D
E G O S                                 F
CORRUPTED BY THE PRIME EVILS, HE BECAME A SHADOW OF HIMSELF
R A L O E                               L   N
A D E R F                               L   G
T E D T I                          NEITHER HEAVEN NOR HELL WOULD TRUST.
E D   E L                               N   L
D     D E
        D
             FOR HIS TRANSGRESSIONS, IZUAL'S SPIRIT WAS BOUND
      WITHIN THE FORM OF A TERRIBLE CREATURE SUMMONED FROM THE ABYSS.
HIS MADDENED SPIRIT HAS RESIDED WITHIN THAT TORTURED HUSK FOR MANY AGES NOW,
           ROAMING THE EMPTY PLAINS OF HELL'S OUTERMOST STEPPES.
                IT SEEMS TO ME HE HAS SUFFERED LONG ENOUGH.
        AMANITA, I IMPLORE YOU TO SEARCH OUT IZUAL AND RELEASE HIM.


Um... how?
             DESTROY THE PHYSICAL FORM IMPRISONING HIS SPIRIT
                 AND PUT AN END TO HIS GUILT AND ANGUISH.
                  THOUGH HE NO LONGER WIELDS AZUREWRATH,
                    SUFFERING HAS POLLUTED HIS VISION,
                 AND HE WILL ALMOST CERTAINLY BE HOSTILE.
                               BE CAUTIOUS.

Cain smiled in a way he hoped would be comforting as I came stumbling back. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? What did Tyrael wish to speak with you about?"

"He wants me to go after his lieutenant Izual."

"Tyrael has asked you to confront Izual the Fallen? He must have great faith in your abilities! But then, why shouldn't he?"

"I dunno. I wonder why he wants me to bother with a corrupted angel, though. You'd figure that would put him beyond redemption, and he should stay locked up. Unless he and Tyrael were more than friends or something."

A frown darkened Cain's brow. I still envy those eyebrows. "I hope I'm not going to hear more innuendo..."

"Hey, love flies out the door when money comes innuendo. Besides, angels probably don't do that kind of stuff. They probably don't have thingies. Demons sure don't. Well, most of 'em. Goats do, and the cat women had boobies..." I glanced at Cain. He was so blanched and sick, I wondered if he'd had a heart attack standing there. "Why don't I head back out right now before I say any more?" He nodded quietly. I went.

By one edge of "Hell", a stairway led downwards to another ashy plain. The bottom of the previous area was solid stone, supported on pillars from the level below... an ash pit the size of a country, built on top of another pit. I'd heard once of the "666 layers of the Abyss," but didn't think that meant literally. Did they build a fresh layer when one filled up? Whatever, this fresh hell looked a lot like the one above: gray, gloomy, and lifeless. The big difference was the cracks in the ground: down here, faint red light flickered up from below.

The demons were mostly familiar too. There were Balrogs and Vomiters, but also some weird things that looked like stiff starfish floating through the air. They were magical, and used their arms to make little crackles of lightning that crawled along the ground. Bizarre, but not a serious problem.

It took a long time to find Izual. I actually found a stairway to the next layer first, but decided to make a clean sweep before I got myself in any deeper. Izual was pretty easy to identify. The body he was in was icy blue, covered with horns and armor, and incidentally, about twice the size of a Balrog. Also, strongly poison resistant. He was too heavy for my bolts to knock back, and too stubborn to run. You'd think an angel would be wise enough to mention little things like that... or that I'd remember to ask instead of wondering if they were making hot, hot angel love back up in Heaven.

I gave Izual a lot of exercise. Say what you will, Heaven knows how to make a prison. I ran him all the way to the stairs up to the fortress and back again, but he just wouldn't die. Finally, I closed and sliced him up with the katar. It still took forever, but at least dodging him kept me from getting bored. Finally the body cracked, then shattered in an explosion of ice chips. A spirit floated free. It was sort of angelic in shape, and almost as bright as Tyrael, but something was wrong... I snapped my shields up in time, just before something hit me.

        mortal fool! you mean to stop me??
                                         I think I just did
                                       You bounced, pretty-boy
                               i am weak now
                      but when my    strength returns
               you will suffer          as no other has!
          do you think                         a mortal pawn
      can affect the                             outcome of this
   magnificent game                               for your world?
                            Sure I can
       know that it                            was I who told
           the PRIME EVILS                about soulstones,
                  and how to           corrupt them!
                          He was tricked!
            Who was tricked?                    he was!!  ha!
            I don't think so                 fool!! you mock me?
         Look, you're obviously
         kind of a lightweight
     You can't even bring yourself
          to say Tyrael's name                of course I can!
                                      I will not sully my lips with it.
          When are you spirits
        going to figure out that
         YOU DON'T HAVE LIPS!?!

                                                 my body has been destroyed
                                           my power has been dissipated
                                     but my masters will remember
                               the service i have given them
                         now they plague your world
                    bringing destruction to you
               from two directions.
          nothing can stop them.
     your doom is assured.

He floated away. I've heard that you shouldn't gaze into the abyss, lest the abyss gaze into you too. At his low point, Izual couldn't look into my mind, but I could look into his. Some of what he said was true. He did tell the Three what Soulstones were, and how they worked. But he didn't do it of his own free will. The same pride that got him to charge the Hellforge wouldn't let him understand that the Three broke him. His head turned going against Tyrael's wishes into a clever plan to fool him. Izual's deluded wreck of a mind faded into the distance, giggling about plans and promises made. Then I went down, deeper into the abyss.

Chapter 27

The next layer of the abyss looked a little more organized than the ones above. There were buildings there, for one thing. They were all burned up and falling over, with plenty of gaps to snipe through, but urban warfare isn't such a bad thing. The damned were all lined up in rows, with open flat areas on either side. The landscape was in worse shape, though. Lots of big holes were knocked in the ground, and a red glow from below lit up the layer. Bridges went over some of the big gaps. Naturally, I had to look down. The layer below was a pit of bubbling lava, with chunky bits floating in it: just what Hell is supposed to look like. I hocked up a loogie and spit. Never even heard it sizzle.

The first building looked like it used to be a barracks or meeting house. It was empty and roofless now, and half the walls were gone. While I was poking around a gap in the wall, a group of Balrogs on the other side noticed me, and swarmed in. Only two of them figured out they're supposed to walk around the building to get me, not through it. A few Vomiters came to clean up the mess. Once you know what they're going to do, dodging them is easy, and the digestive gunk helps give the place a little color.

Most of the time, the terrain worked to my advantage. Balrogs and Vomiters are both the "big, ugly, and dumb" type, and keep getting lost in the buildings. I could snipe as I pleased through gaps, and quickly put a wall between me and anything smart enough to go around. Everything was going great until I saw the Abyss Knights, undead made from combat mages. They're smart, organized, and like to snipe almost as much as I do, with magic and elemental spirits instead of bolts. One bolt will still kill 'em, but lining up for a shot without making myself a target for the whole pack is tough. At least they can't do anything once they're hit. It's kind of funny watching them cast Bone Armor once they feel the poison draining their energy, like more armor is going to help them.

One ruin was weird: it was built like a cathedral in reverse. The building was square, with thick outside walls. Inside through a double door, most of the floor was a massive glowing red pit that looked like it had been made that way deliberately. An island was out in the middle of the pit, with stained-glass windows in purple and orange around the edges. Most of the windows were broken already, and some big Balrogs were running around inside. When I got close enough, they ran for a bridge and charged. With Abyss Knights, I might have been in trouble, but I can outrun a Balrog any day. My biggest problem was running out of bolts, I wound up putting so many in them.

The biggest pack of Abyss Knights were waiting next to the biggest pit in the layer. More than one high-ranking wizard was there, along with a Balrog lord and his buddies. The opening volley of elemental spirits knocked down half a building -- I ran for my life in among a group of small pits and started attacking mentally. I'd been avoiding the mental side of my options, for the most part. The less I know about what goes on in their minds, the happier I am. Hitting them while keeping my own shields strong is exhausting, so confusing a couple of Balrogs was all I could do. It got most of them out of my hair, so started hitting them a little less frantically. Once I got some of the weaker Abyss Knights attacking their lords, I knew I was safe and went back to sniping. The Balrog lord was the last to go.

In the pit, there were stairs down, into the lava lake. I could see a few small islands down there, but no sign of Diablo's fortress. Next to the pit was... a waypoint? I made a portal and went back to Pandemonium.

"Hey Cain, have you ever heard of demons making a fake waypoint?"

"Ah, hello," he said, looking a bit warily at me. "Is all well?"

"Yeah, it's going fine. Had some trouble with undead wizards, they're dead now. Do you think the demons could make a fake waypoint, and trap it?"

"Hmm... I cannot recall such a thing ever occurring. If you have found a waypoint, that should not surprise you. The Horadrim are known to have entered Hell during the Sin War, and I believe they did construct waypoints for their own use."

"Huh. Wouldn't think that would be safe."

Cain smiled. "I believe the waypoints are enchanted in such a way that they respond to the presence of mortal life-force, which would prohibit demons from using them."

"Unless the demon's possessing somebody, which we know they do."

"Ah." Cain frowned, and diligently studied his shoes. "Well... we know that now. We can hardly blame our predecessors for acting on the knowledge of the time. The rank-and-file demons of Hell surely could not use a waypoint against us."

"For now, anyway. Tyrael said anything else?"

"No. I fear your report of Izual's corruption has disturbed him deeply. I fear it may be possible that Izual deliberately betrayed his fellow angels, which would be even worse."

"I don't think so. I think he got broken, and was trying to justify it to himself. Uh... Cain, I'm sorry about some of the things I said earlier. They were way out of line. I don't even know why I said them."

The old man nodded, vague bafflement on his face. "I am as confused as you."

"I don't know, it's kind of weird. Out there, I hate what I see, but when I come in here, I don't like it either. It's like they're opposites, but I can't stand either of them. Hell is cold and nasty, but this place is so pure and clean and forgiving, I come in here and I start thinking the filthiest things. And I don't know why."

Cain slowly raised an eyebrow. "It has occurred to me that you seem more comfortable in a different setting... something more earthy."

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged

With a faint nod, Cain smiled. "And like many people of action, you are would rather crawl through a sewer than sit in a church?"

"Well, yeah. I might get something done in the sewer. Speaking of stinking pits, did you know there's a layer of boiling, flaming lava down there?"

"Ah, you are approaching the River of Flame! Diablo's Chaos Sanctuary is there, as is the Hellforge Izual sought to destroy."

"Oh, his fortress's down there! I was wandering around this ruined city looking for him."

"Yes, they are there. The Three are fond of the River of Flame, for they can draw power from its immense heat to use during battle. Now, before you enter Diablo's sanctuary, it is vital that you find the Hellforge. Only there can the Soulstones be destroyed, and free our world from their evil forever!"

"Ok, that'll be important. Diablo can draw power from the fire?"

"All demons can, to some degree... though I understand Andarial is not fond of the flames. Now you must go. I am afraid you will have to venture out onto the River of Flame, and face whatever forces of Hell inhabit that frightful place. Surely your efforts have angered Diablo, but he will not leave his fortress to seek you out."

"No, that would be stupid. And stop calling me Shirley. First, the Hellforge. I'll avoid a direct frontal assault swinging an angelic runeblade, so I should be all right. See ya!"

Sixty-six steps down, and I was standing on an island. The ground was rough and bubbly, and cracked into sharp edges wherever I stepped. The heat was suffocating. Chunks of building stone floated out in the lava, probably fallen from above. There might have been other stuff out there, but I couldn't see more than 10 yards through the shimmering. The other layers of the abyss looked like they'd been built. I wondered who in their right mind would build a giant tub of lava. While I was looking, a burned human skeleton tried to crawl out, then fell back in. The river has as good a reason to exist as anything else down here, I guess. Somehow, they draw power from it all.

There were Abyss Knights down there. They obviously relished the chance to blast me from other islands. Not that I blame them, it was a good strategy, so after a little persuasion to direct their attention elsewhere, I returned the favor. Seeing Vomiters was no surprise, they seem pretty common. The maggots, I didn't expect. I guess they made a good impression on the big D while he was in Aranoch; he imported a whole mess of them to the River of Flame. How they could tunnel through the ground here, I'll never know. Heat from the lava should kill anything, and if that didn't, the sharp ground would.

The islands in the river were connected by bridges, natural or made of cut stone blocks. On some of the islands, I found shrines and even wells, quietly steaming in the heat. Maybe the heat wasn't that bad down inside the islands. The maggots might go down there for some relief. Out in the river, sometimes I could see submerged walls or archways, like there used to be something out there before. Maybe, during the wars, drowning an area in lava was Hell's way of making sure they'd keep it -- sort of like spitting in the cookie jar.

One of the worst fights on the river was an island covered with maggots. I'd had to move around the island and approach it from the other side. Meantime, they'd been breeding like mad and the place was knee-deep in hungry baby maggots. There was hardly room for the Vomiters to move around. My first move was to tell all the starving babies about those big slabs o' juicy flabby meat over there, much tastier than stringy ol' me. My next move was to move around and snipe at the mommy maggots, and a few unhatched eggs. That cleared things a little, and stray bolts killed most of the Vomiters. They killed a few Abyss Knight I didn't notice in all the confusion too. How sad. Again, my biggest problem was running out of bolts. I had to finish the last maggots with the katar.

One of the out of the way islands was built up with a high platform. As I approached, I saw what looked like a blacksmith's forge on top. The smith, a fat grotesque with a green aura, was almost alone. He looked like he could lose some weight, so I shot him a few times and gave him some exercise. One thing about the high-mass demons: they take forever to die. I hate waiting. At least he wasn't running around naked. I do not want to see that.

After clearing out a few Abyss Knights, I had the forge to myself. I had no reason to doubt this was the Hellforge Cain was talking about, but there was really only one way to be sure. Smashing Mephisto's Soulstone before I went after Diablo would be a good idea anyway. If I died in there, at least one of the Prime Evils would be out of commission. One hard hit from the demon smith's hammer shattered the stone. There was a howl in a familiar raspy voice, and dozens of skeletal human spirits escaped and floated away. Maybe they might even float out of Hell. My good deed for the day was done.

Chapter 28

Just past the Hellforge was another waypoint. It activated like all the others, and took me back to Pandemonium. Convenient. Past the waypoint was an island with six larger-than-life statues of evil knights, looking at me as I approached. Ooh, spooky. Hovering above the far end of the island was an angel. This one was smaller than Tyrael, and his armor was silvery instead of gold. Maybe that's the difference between archangels and angels.

                  PROCEED, AMANITA, INTO TERROR'S LAIR.
     DIABLO HAS CONCEALED HIMSELF     WITHIN HIS INNERMOST SANCTUM
                 TO CONFER WITH         HIS GENERALS.
            IN       AGES PAST,         THEY STROVE       AS
          ONE          AGAINST           HEAVEN'S          WILL
         AND         SHOOK THE           FOUNDATIONS        OF THE
         WORLD     STRIVING TO           OVERCOME ALL     THAT IS
           HOLY.      DIABLO'S           SANCTUM IS      HIDDEN
              BEYOND THE SIGHT           OF MORTAL HUMANITY,
                  PROTECTED BY           MYSTICAL SEALS,
               IN TURN GUARDED           BY THE REMNANTS
     OF HELL'S LAST GREAT ARMY.         IT IS GOOD THAT YOU DESTROYED
  MEPHISTO'S SOULSTONE. NOW, UPROOT TERROR FROM HIS PLACE OF CONCEALMENT
                              AND DESTROY
                            HIM, OR ALL YOU
                         CHERISH WILL BE LOST.

Ok, I was right. It's an angel, one of Tyrael's attendants, here at his master's behest since I won't talk to him myself. I don't think I needed him to draw me a picture, though. Anything like that, I think I can figure out for myself what it is.

Beyond Waypoint Island was a maze of cut stone paths, and a new kind of pain. The Abyss Knights I'd seen before. They love sniping in wide-open areas with difficult terrain almost as much as I do, so the maze was ideal for them. The new pain was the worms. First, there's the mother-thing, a mass of rotting green flesh on four legs. When one sees something good to eat, like me, it rears back and gives birth with all the maternal beauty of a constipated leper taking a dump, and their little wormy spawn comes slithering for me, teeth gnashing. Unlike maggots, they're all demon: fast, full of hate, and hungrier than any actual need for food. I think I was cured of any last vestiges of my maternal instincts.

Speaking of burning into my head... the river was spitting rocks into the air now. Sometimes they came down on the path and exploded. The lava got choppier and a lot more active the further up I went. What was going on down there? Did I really want to know? Dodging falling river rocks, I kept going until I could see a black shape through the shimmering haze in front of me.

Diablo's sanctuary looked just like the picture in my head: tall, buttressed walls with arched doorways, and lots of windows. In fact, it looked like a cathedral in ashy black rock instead of white marble. I kind of liked it, it had a lot of style. Too many windows for a fortress, though. The defenses must be mostly magical. Too bad I don't play that way. The walls had plenty of gouges and holes, and the windows were all broken. Made it easy to see the shadows of the Balrogs waiting in ambush on either side of the door.

Balrogs are easy kills, but take forever to die. The flying starfish are smarter, but not nearly as tough and kind of timid. One time, I confused one enough to think I was its friend. The stupid thing floated over and hid behind me from the other demons. The worst thing in "the remnants of Hell's last great army" was, as always, the upper ranks: Oblivion Mages, also known as a Necromancer's most delirious wet dream. I only met one or two at a time. Each had Doom Knight bodyguards, a typical Necro "wall of meat" strategy. Confusing the guards took several mind blasts, and by the time I'd gotten them fighting each other, I was cursed with something and had at least 2 Skull Spirits on my ass. Even after they got shot, the damned mages kept casting and cursing, right up until they died.

The sanctuary was laid out like a cathedral: a long part leading up to the center where the altar sits, and three wings branching off to the cardinal points. Back when it wasn't a wreck, maybe there were pews lined up to face west instead of east. There wasn't an altar in the center, just a pit emptying into the river, capped with a black iron pentagram. Human skulls littered the floor. Say what you want, you can't accuse the big D of subtlety.

The seals were off in the wings, behind Diablo's army. After a round of "eeny, meeny, meiny, moe" I went straight up the middle. The wing wasn't completely open, but narrowed down to a twisted path through the lava before I got to the one seal. The Oblivion Knights liked the chance to snipe, but so did I, and their guards couldn't get in my way as easily. It was kind of funny watching them fight each other, nothing coming near me. I kicked in the seal with a smile. Hell's best weren't that tough.

On my way out, I saw a Doom Knight, and he saw me. No, wait... that's an Oblivion Mage, without any guards. There's another, and another, and they've got this evil-looking orange aura around them... oh, shit. I ran back to a corner, and looked across the lava, wishing I'd learned how to do super-jumps like the martial artists. Three Skull Spirits came cackling in to make friends with me. Nothing for it: I was in a dead end with only one way out. I ducked my head, ran past the spirits, and took it.

There were half a dozen of the bastards, resplendent in their jeweled and rotting finery. I didn't bother to fire the bow; that would have taken a quarter-second away from running. Where in Hell did these guys come from? Wait... Diablo is conferring with his generals. The Oblivion Mages I killed before must have been lesser officers. Since I broke a seal, he sent the big guys to take care of me. Sending minions is typical of demons, I guess. I'd go with them to make sure the job gets done, but I'm not a demon lord. Well, if I don't have to fight Diablo and his best troops at the same time, I won't argue about it.

Slowly, I inched my way back, until I saw the mages again. They'd stayed in a tight group, and didn't chase me at all -- smart. Also perceptive. One cast a spell, and suddenly my joints creaked and the armor weighed a ton. I gritted my teeth and, as Skull Spirits bit into me, took aim and fired. They spread out, forming a line, and fired volleys of spirits and curses. I ran several times, battered their minds, did everything I could think of, but they would not break formation. Finally, I had to take a portal out, back to Pandemonium. I'd actually run out of healing potions. I don't think that's ever happened before.

I came back by waypoint instead of my gate. I was sure they'd set a trap around it -- that's what I'd do. The gate was still there, so I approached from another side, looking across the lava. Two mages had died while I was gone. Smiling, I ran slowly away, listening to Skull Spirits chattering away behind me, and lined up for a shot. One more died, then another. I got out the katar and charged the last two. They bunched up tight, and both cast curses at the same time; discipline had broken down. A single slash killed one. I backed the last into a corner and pounded his bony face in. Damn, that felt good. You'd think a high-ranking mage would have better magical stuff than leather gloves and a club, though.

The next wing also twisted down to a narrow path, a perfect trap. I really should have seen that coming. There were two seals. Maybe those Oblivion Mages were all the generals Diablo had, but betting my life on it would be stupid. I kicked in the nearest seal and ran like a bunny. Little crackles of lightning chased me along the floor -- flying starfish. I stopped, turned around, and shot them. They flew up to me, made little crackly noises, flew away, and died. General Starfish lasted longer and didn't run, that was about all the difference.

The last wing had two seals, and a lot of Oblivion Mages and Balrogs spread out along the narrow path. Balrogs smash Doom Knights good. Doom Knights smash Balrogs good. Oblivion Mages die very stylishly. I admire that in a wizard. After clearing everyone out, I looked over the seals. Judging from recent trends, when I break the seal, Diablo will send another general after me. I've seen Oblivion Mages and starfish, so this time they're likely to be Balrogs. Balrogs are big, strong, tough, and stupid. Getting cornered by them is bad, but they're so easy to turn it's almost impossible for them to be a threat. I kicked in the seals, and ran to the back corner.

Balrogs appeared, right on schedule. The crowd was huge, at least a dozen of them. I've never seen demons that big in my life. The smallest one was still bigger than anything in the rest of Hell. Obviously, General Balrog didn't choose them for their brains. I opened their minds and told each of them that the guy next to him said something rude about his mother. While they were sorting things out, I ran past into the main sanctuary.

In the minute it took them to figure out that demons don't have mothers, I'd poisoned just about all of them and was waiting patiently. When they came after me, I corrected their misperceptions: it wasn't their mother, it was their sister. They took 3 or 4 bolts each, but I was never under any threat. As the last one burned up and died, the whole sanctuary went red. A howl Cain could probably hear made my ears ring, and a deep voice announced, "NOT EVEN DEATH CAN SAVE YOU FROM ME!" It's official. The Big Red Cheese is in the house.

I put extra venom on my bolts and went to the center of the sanctuary. He'd be there, of course. It wouldn't occur to him to show up anywhere else. The long trip across the world, always in disguise, must have been a terrible strain on him. He needs a nice long rest. As I approached, he came running up to me on all fours. I stepped away just as he charged in, and put my first bolt right in his rosy... er, scaly red butt. The second bolt skittered off. Damn, that's going to be inconvenient if it happens too often.

It wasn't much of a fight, I guess. There was no striding into the infernal maw, standing toe to toe with Evil Itself and smiting it most valiantly. That seemed to confuse Diablo. I think he'd been expecting something else. Don't know why. He ran around, shot lightning from his fingertips and fire from his mouth, but I just didn't come anywhere near him. Every now and then, I put a new bolt in, like sticking a fork in to see if he was done. Finally, he bowed to reason and kicked the bucket like a good boy. That one general of his gave me more trouble.

Diablo's Soulstone was red where Meph's had been blue. Might have something to do with their powers -- bloody terror as opposed to cold hate -- but they smashed just the same. Back at Pandemonium, Cain was almost crying.

"I knew there was great potential for good in you! You have done amazing work!"

"Oh, you weren't sure I was a good person?" I asked.

"No, no!" he said, immediately aghast at his words. I've got to learn not to be sarcastic around Cain, he has a bad habit of taking me seriously. "All I meant was --"

"I know what you meant," I said, giving the poor old bastard a hug. "I was just trying to be cute. I do that sometimes. You should know by now."

Cain laughed, still looking embarrassed. "I am just glad I was able to help you find your way. Our world has never seen such deeds as you have wrought."

"Yeah, yeah. Now, we've done good, but we're only 2 out of 3. Do you or Tyrael have any idea where Baal is? We need to --"

"YOU BOTH MUST RETURN TO YOUR WORLD." Man, Tyrael sounds impressive even when he isn't in your head. "BAAL HAS REMAINED ON EARTH, AND RECOVERED HIS SOULSTONE. WITH ITS POWER, HE HAS SUMMONED AN ARMY AROUND HIMSELF, AND FORGED DEEP INTO THE HIGHLANDS OF THE NORTH. BAAL KNOWS, AS TAL RASHA KNEW, THAT THAT IS THE LOCATION OF THE MYSTIC WORLDSTONE! DIABLO AND MEPHISTO HAVE BEEN BANISHED FOREVER FROM YOUR WORLD. YOU HAVE DONE THIS, AND DONE IT WELL. BUT IF BAAL FINDS THE WORLDSTONE, ALL YOUR EFFORTS WILL HAVE BEEN FOR NAUGHT. YOU MUST GO TO HARROGATH, LAST BASTION OF ORDER ON THE SLOPES OF MOUNT ARREAT, AND STOP BAAL FROM FINDING THE WORLDSTONE!"

I blinked. "Well, crap."

Cain nodded. "Mount Arreat is the highest peak in the northern ranges, and it has long been the most sacred duty of all the disparate Barbarian tribes to protect it. Scholars have long debated why this is so."

"Looks like we just found out."

"It would appear so." He smiled. "There will be much to learn in Harrogath, and perhaps something for you as well. At the very least, we will be back in our world. Heaven's gates are a marvel to behold, but like you, I do not wish to go through them for many years. Let us go."

Concluding Thoughts:

Heavy Crossbows are very slow without Burst of Speed. The more I play, the more playing with BoS instead of Venom makes sense. Maybe if I was using a 6-socket bow instead, I'd feel more comfortable not using BoS.
High hit point monsters like Izual aren't any less boring to kill with poison than not. Maybe I should have shot Izual, cleared the rest of the level, and come back to him.
On the other hand, Act V should be fairly simple. :D

Act 5

Chapter 29

One second, the air was hot and dense, stinking of rot and burning flesh. Then it was ice, stabbing at my face and stinging my lungs. I hate traveling by gate, there's no time to acclimate yourself. Cain and I were standing in an empty street, next to a high stone wall. Snowflakes flurried aimlessly underneath a shining force dome. Judging from the dome's arc, it covered a smaller area than Hratli's. I smelled smoke, not all of it from wood, and heard bellowing, clanging, and what sounded like thunder.

"The city of Harrogath!" Cain smiled. How he could be shivering with cold and still happy was beyond me. "This is a truly historic moment: no outsider has ever been so deep in the Barbarian highlands. I do not expect we will receive a warm reception. Outsiders are not welcome here, on pain of death."

"I don't think we'll find anything warm around here," I said, wishing I had a real helmet for once. I've heard you lose something like half your body heat through your head, and I can believe it. "Well, the 'pain of death' part sounds pretty heart-warming."

"The thought does get one's blood flowing, I suppose..." Cain looked around. "I can hardly believe this! You see the grotesques on that building? That style has not been seen in our lands for centuries. Yet, to look at them, they might have been carved yesterday!"

"For all we know, they were. If you ask me, this isn't much of a city. It's tiny. I can see the far wall from here."

Cain stood as straight as he could, and squinted. All those years of compulsive reading must have done a number on his eyes. "Oh. I believe you're right. Though that is to be expected: the Barbarian tribesmen are not reputed to be city-dwellers. They are nomads who roam the hills and mountains of their homeland as free the air, taking what they wish from nature, making no home nor ever needing one. I have heard they hardly even leave footprints in their ceaseless treks."

"Huh. Wouldn't think guys like that would make good wizards."

He laughed. "All accounts agree that Barbarians hold the magical arts in contempt. I have no idea what they will think of you. Perhaps I should try talking with them, in the hopes of cultivating their trust. We may be here for some time."

"Tell 'em Tyrael sent you. I'm wondering who made the force dome."

Frowning, Cain blinked up at the sky. "Hmm. That is peculiar. I wonder if there may be more to these people than anyone suspected."

"Hard to get word out if no one gets in here alive. Sounds like there's a fight outside."

"Baal is here, and no doubt longs to destroy this city as he has everything else that lay in his path. I am amazed to see everything so... untouched."

"Force domes'll do that. As long as there's a fight outside, the Barbs probably won't try to kill us unless we do something stupid. Let's look around."

"An excellent idea! I suggest looking inside that building, out of this snowstorm."

I looked up at the few flakes drifting down. "How about you find a fire, there'll be people hanging around there. I'm gonna go check out that clanging. Sounds like a smithy. I need a few dents hammered out."

We split up, and I went down some stairs to another street. I've never seen stairs on city streets before, Harrogath must be built right into the side of the mountain. The smithy was half in and half out of a rough stone alcove, with weapons and armor everywhere. The smith was the biggest chunk of a man I've ever seen in my entire life. Damn, they grow 'em big in the mountains. Charsi could have broken me in half. This guy could probably break Charsi in half with one arm. He noticed me, jumped a little... and smiled. "Oh, hello."

The smith had a bald head, large ears, friendly eyes, and thoughts like a clear pool of cool water. He looked about as dangerous as a squirrel and a lot less nervous, even if he was slowly munching on something. I instantly liked everything about him. "Hi there. My name's Amy. I'm new in town."

"I am Larzuk, Harrogath's armorer. How did you get here?"

"I sort of flew in. I'm from the south. Sorry if that means I'm under a death sentence just for being here or anything."

He laughed, and shook his head. "Our people have suffered so much since Baal came, I don't think any of us could stand to see more human blood shed. Soon, I fear I'll need to put down my hammer and take up a sword, though I never have in my life."

"I'd heard all your people were warriors."

He laughed again. "Someone has to make the weapons. My family has done so since the days our ancestors walked with the angels. You can't be here as a warrior, are you?"

I'd have thought the armor and weapons would clue him in. "No, I'm just holding this stuff for someone who is. I'm guessing you don't see many women around here."

"Well, there's old Malah, she's been healer here since before most of us were born. Where is the warrior you're assisting? He should talk with Qual-Kehk, our senior man-at-arms. I'm sure he'd like another strong sword arm to challenge Shenk."

Sigh. Sarcasm is obviously not the way to go around here. "Who's 'Shank'?"

"Baal isn't here himself. He's left his most vicious general, Shenk the Overseer, to besiege the city. Qual-Kehk hasn't been able to break through his lines. I don't know what's wrong. Qual-Kehk has never failed us before."

Oh, so Baal's not here. I doubt anyone here knows, they're blocked in under siege. Then something occurred to me: "Say, what have you been chewing on all this time?"

Larzuk spat a lump of something brown into his hand. "A piece of my apron. We haven't had much food here since the siege began. If I chew on something for a while, I don't feel as hungry."

O-kay. "Uh, good idea. I'll go look around some more. See you soon."

Breaking the siege will definitely be the first order of business. Let's hope Baal's army isn't too much tougher than Diablo's. On the south side of town there were a couple more Barbarians, both big and meaty but not even close to Larzuk's size. One was roasting a rabbit that looked like it might last him two bites. The other was just sitting. While I watched, he started to sing what sounded like a battle song, but his voice cracked and it discouraged him. Neither looked up when I walked through. It's not like I expect to turn heads all the time, but they should at least notice a foreigner walking around their city.

The biggest house in town was by the western wall. Not that it was that big -- Harrogath was only about four houses wide, there wasn't enough room for anything more impressive than Larzuk. Outside, near a fire with an empty cook-pot over it, was a thin-faced man who reminded me of a diseased rat. I haven't seen that kind of pallor since my last Necro. If he weren't in such a rugged, manly setting, I'd think he was a Necro, especially after he saw me and that sneer oozed all over his pasty mug.

"Well, well. A Viz-Jaq'taar. Imagine that."

Recognizing my profession is a bad sign. I don't think any member of my clan's ever had a reason to visit these mountains, which means skanky here must have been in civilization at some point. "Hi there," I smiled sweetly, not offering to shake hands. It'd probably feel like strangling a towel rack. "And you are... ?"

"Surprised to see one of your kind here. Why should you take an interest in the Lord of Destruction's assault on my homeland? Even if Baal wished to do so, there are no wizards here to corrupt."

"Where'd the force dome come from, then?"

He stared hard, then smiled. "You have a quick mind, more so than most. Perhaps I should qualify my earlier statement."

"Kind of thought you might."

"As you doubtless do not know, every Barbaric tribe is ruled by an elder. We elders retain knowledge of magic from the old times, when the Druids and our clans were like brothers. Our knowledge was kept hidden until the day Destruction came to the sacred mountain." The smile started to fade as he went on. "The elder Aust foresaw doom sweeping down upon us, so he gathered the elders, and proposed raising the dome over Harrogath. I saw little use in walling our people up inside this death trap, where we would die of starvation long before Baal could be forced from our mountain, but went along with Aust's wishes out of respect for his wisdom. The effort cost the other elders their lives, and while it has kept the walls of Harrogath intact, our people die in droves every day."

By the end of the speech, the guy was honestly angry and frustrated. He was really mad: his mind was a boiling mass of red, he kept stepping from foot to foot, clenching his hands until the knuckles turned white... he couldn't stay still at all. No Necromancer would be that upset about people dying, they don't think death is a problem. "So... what should be done about Baal? My name's Amanita, by the way. I'm after Baal, not a sorcerer."

He frowned, and stared into the fire. I could hear his teeth gritting. "That is the problem now, isn't it? Perhaps we should have sent messengers to your kingdoms, and asked for aid when we still could. Qual-Kehk's pride would not permit it. Ah, I should not lay all the blame at his feet. None of us thought to seek allies. Now we are paying for our foolish pride."

"Uh, yeah. Anyway, I never did get your name."

He looked at me, like he'd be irritated if he could summon up the energy. "I am the elder Nihlathak. A pleasure."

"Thanks. The other elders all died, you say?"

"Yes. The ritual was a great strain, another reason I disapproved of using it."

Hratli put up a bigger dome than this by himself, and is still alive and sinning. These guys must be using some pretty old spells, from back in the days when everyone thought magic was supposed to hurt. "Just one more thing..."

He sighed, head hanging. "You ask many questions."

"Which way to the siege?"

With a snort, Nihlathak pointed northwards. "Do you mean to loot our dead? Or do you believe your skills can succeed where so many others have failed? Follow the smell of roasting human flesh, on which our enemies feast night and day."

Harrogath's only gate was in the north wall. The courtyard was empty except for an old man in gleaming bronze plate, with a huge sword on his back. His hair flowed just so in the wind, his beard was nicely trimmed, and he'd obviously put a lot of work into polishing that armor.

"Hail, warrior," I said, figuring a soldierly greeting would be my best bet. "You must be Qual-Kehk, senior man-at-arms."

"Aye," he said reflexively, looking me up and down, obviously not liking what he saw. "A southerner, here? And a woman? You are a woman, aren't you?"

I guess they're called Barbarians for a reason. Physically, Qual-Kehk was in fine shape, like his whole life was nothing but getting ready for this battle. Mentally... he didn't have a whole lot going on upstairs, and was damned proud of it. "Yeah. I'm here after Baal. Just thought I'd check in before I go out and get myself killed."

"Don't expect anyone to mourn you," he said, completely seriously. "Better fighters than you lie dead in the field, cut down without pity by Baal's legions."

There wasn't much I could say to this guy, even if he'd listen. It was time to get started on my next good deed for the day. "Yeah, I've heard that. I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to go see to this little siege of yours. Amy go smash now. Bye!"

Chapter 30

It was as cold as a razor blade outside Harrogath's gate. Short sections of fence, tastefully bedecked with human skulls and clan totems, stood around the gate. They gradually opened out as I moved away from the walls, obviously meant to force anybody attacking the gate to bunch up so the defenders would have an easy time mowing 'em down. Pity the attackers weren't falling for it. The area in front of the gate was uncontested. I saw exactly one dead demon, which could been dragged there. All the action was downhill, on a bunch of hills that were probably the only way in or out or Harrogath. I guess they never expected the demons to just block them in when they built this place.

The demon, by the way, was an earth demon called a Death Mauler. The name is nastier than the demon, but they're tough and hard to hurt physically, probably why Baal sent them here. As I moved out, I met the other demon he was using, a kind I didn't know at all. They were humanoid, maybe 4 feet tall and stocky, and had thick skin with bony plates that could probably turn the Barbs' axes pretty well. All of them were naked, and obviously male. Don't know what Baal was thinking with that. In combat, they used ordinary weapons and shields. I think their arms are too short to draw a bow, even if the shoulder plates didn't get in the way, so I had no worries about seeing archers.

A few Barbarian warriors had come out to try and break the siege. The demons didn't charge up to meet them -- they hung back and waited for the Barb to charge in, then surrounded him. Simple, but it worked on the Barbs. A good martial artist could really make hay of that tactic, but these guys just didn't have the skill set to take on groups. I didn't either, but I have other ways. Getting the demons to fight each other was harder than usual: they were motivated by fear, not hate or anger. I had to make them more afraid of me than Baal to get them on my side, and that took serious effort.

As I moved down the hill, it was pretty obvious that the good guys were losing badly. The demons outnumbered them at least 10 to 1. Trenches, fences, and barriers covered the hill, but with so many troops, that actually worked more for the demons. Every now and then, a pot of explosives or a bundle of heavy darts came raining down from an empty sky. If Baal had invisible flying archers, we were all in trouble. Random death from above is too much for anybody. Of course, going out in nothing but a horned helmet and a kilt wasn't such a hot idea either. Viz-Jaq'taar have never gone into open battle, but I think even the martial artists would want a little more than a strip of cloth and a smile.

It's always a good idea to work with the locals, so I did my best to keep some of them alive. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. My techniques don't work that fast. They weren't too grateful, but they probably didn't know I was doing much. My techniques aren't that obvious, either. They have no way of knowing why one demon suddenly turned on another, or that my bolts pack more of a wallop than a dozen axe blows, and I'm not about to tell them. Letting them think they can claim my loot is annoying.

In Harrogath, I met Cain by the well in the main square. He seems to like hanging around wells and fountains. Maybe old age makes you thirsty. Anyway, the locals hadn't killed him yet, so he could give me his impressions of Harrogath and its charming denizens. Qual-Kehk looks like a powerful, capable war leader to him, exactly who you'd want to defend your city. I didn't share my opinion. Larzuk scares him. That didn't surprise me, even he'd never seen someone that big before.

Cain's opinion of Nihlathak is interesting. He feels Nihlathak "speaks with a venomous tongue and acts as if the entire weight of the world rests upon his shoulders." If that's a fancy way of saying he's a sneery, arrogant prick, I agree. Ok, maybe he feels bad about outliving his friends, then spending a siege standing around being useless. He might even be trying to think of a way to save the world.

I'll talk to Nihlathak about saving the world later. First, Cain said he met the town healer, a woman named Malah. From what I've heard of Barbarians, I'd have thought they'd tough it out like real men. Then again, they're not supposed to cast spells either. Malah's hospital was against the eastern wall. A dozen big brutes were laid out inside and outside, bandaged like mummies and a lot quieter. They looked depressed, except for the guy missing his right arm, who looked drugged. Malah was an old woman, slow-moving and bent. Her face was gray and puffy. Under a dirty scarf with burned ends, her weedy hair was that color that is neither brown or blonde, too tired to be red but not clean enough to be gray. Everything she did screamed exhaustion, but she kept doing it. She didn't see me in the door, maybe her eyes weren't so good. I dropped a bunch of healing potions I'd collected and left. When I've done what needs to be done, I'll talk to her. Besides, I hate hospitals.

Cain also told me about something the Barbarians told him. Just for Harrogath, Baal invented something new: catapults. Made of demon flesh and steel rods, they're basically an arm, two sharp eyes, and just enough brains to make them work together. All they do is look in front of them, find a target, and throw. Baal's equipped them with some nasty payloads: the Barbs have reported what sound like grenades, javelins, shock webs, fire pots, gas pots, and ice balls. Our trapsters wish they had that many tricks -- chilling bombs would be incredibly handy. Catapults can hit you from a long way, I've found, but once you get within 20 yards, you're safe, and they're easy to kill from up close.

Another problem with the high life among the hill people is that they don't know a damn thing about crossbows. They know about bows, they use them for hunting. Putting a strong bow on a stock and taking it into battle bewilders the heck out of Larzuk. He just can't see why. He also doesn't know how to make bolts, and I'm not finding any among Baal's troops.

The demon's camp was at the bottom of the hills. I counted four fire pits with roasting warriors. There were plenty of rabbits, white fluffy ones, but the demons weren't interested in them. After dumping snow on the cook fires, I used my last bolt on one of the humanoid demons and dragged out the katar. Sapphires probably wouldn't work so well around here, these guys didn't seem to care much about cold, but there's not much I can do until Larzuk makes copies of the bolt I left him.

Past the camp, in a narrow section, the terrain started to climb. Some Barbs had joined me by now. The katar seemed to interest them a little, a lot more than the bow did. In the narrows, we found exactly the kind of demon I don't want to fight hand to hand: Familiars. They're tiny demons made to look like wizards, subtle flattery for the sorcerers they palled around with in the old days. Even a crowd of them isn't likely to kill you, but they'll teleport if you look at them funny, so killing them is a huge pain in the ass. Stunning them tired me out good. Still made me wish I could use the bow.

Further uphill, the hills widened out again. Attacking upslope is a lot harder, I'll bet none of these guys had ever made it past this. Back in Harrogath, Larzuk was still working on the bolts. He did have an idea for a crossbow-based trap: rig one up on a tree next to a deer path, with a string to pull the trigger when the deer goes past. He must be getting really hungry. Once he's made bolts, I'll get him a couple of rabbits.

The sun sets slowly this far north. It was almost dark when I found Shenk. He was a huge fat bastard, like a Toad Demon but far less lithe, graceful, and attractive. While he waved a whip, a wall of lesser demons surrounded him, waiting for me to come closer. I went to work convincing a few that their swords were better than his whip, and why were they taking that kind of abuse anyway? They bowed to reason, and promptly turned on him. One who looked like he had a serious glandular problem actually exploded, spraying his own overworked brains all over his former master. It was beautiful.

Pretty soon, Shenk was alone and bleeding from dozens of wounds. It only took a little encouragement to turn every one of his troops against him. I went up on his little platform and finished him off. The bastard was pathetic without anything to hide behind. He even had a patch of summoned lava to keep his fat ass warm, and furry slippers for his almost non-existent feet. What a freak.

Chapter 31

"Thank you for destroying that monster," Malah said as she put healing potions on a shelf, ready to be grabbed. "Lifting the siege has lifted all of our hearts, and given an old woman reason to hope again."

"Not a problem," I said, then thought maybe I shouldn't have. Some of the local fighters were still hanging around in the doorway of Malah's hospital. Doing what they couldn't, then calling it easy, wouldn't earn me any friends. "Well, Shenk was a problem. Getting to him was a real problem. Come to think of it, I don't think I've had a more difficult mission."

Malah looked at me curiously. "Strange... your friend Cain told me you came here from Hell itself, after you slew Baal's brother demon Diablo in his own lair."

"Oh, that," I shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, that was bad, but this was pretty bad too."

"Though Shenk is slain and his army broken, no one saw you make the kill. Those on the battlefield say you moved with such speed that they could not keep pace, and yet after you passed, none of the enemy remained alive."

"Crossbows are pretty good one shot, one kill weapons. And the mission goal was Shenk, not his underlings. I've always been quick. You just have to focus."

The air was still pretty frosty over by the warriors. Malah shook her head and went back to a kettle of herbs she had boiling. "I also thank you for the potions you brought back with you. Under the siege, everything was in short supply."

"Oh, that's right! I was gonna bring some rabbits back too."

"There is no need," Malah smiled. "Our people are great hunters as well as mighty warriors. Though night was fallen, many have already gone for badly-needed food." She glanced at the men loitering in her doorway. "Haven't they?"

With a few murmured acknowledgments, the men hastily left. Malah smiled at me. "Cain also told me you use poison on your arrows. His words make you out to be a hunter of men, not game, so you may not realize poisoned meat will do us little good."

I blinked, then nodded. "Oh, yeah. I don't know if anything I shoot with this bow is safe to eat. And chasing rabbits with the katar would look pretty stupid."

Still smiling, Malah stirred her pot. "I hope you understand that not everyone is as happy to see you as I am. We are a proud people, and do not easily accept aid from others."

"So I gathered. Qual-Kehk was still sure he could break the siege. I only saw a dozen guys out there, you can't take on an army with that."

"Protecting the holy mountain is our most sacred duty, and Qual-Kehk's greatest calling. He has devoted his life to keeping outsiders away. Baal's coming has been very hard on him. One third of those under his command were slain in our first sally. So many have fallen or been captured since then... they have weighed heavier on him than chains of iron. If he has spoken ill to you, I beg you to forgive him."

Hard on him? Sounds like it was harder on his men. But I said, "He... well, he gives me the impression of someone who thought about things once when he was young, decided how his life was going to be, and hasn't thought about it at all since. He would have been fine if... well, if all he had to deal with was... um..."

Impassively, Malah said, "Sometimes, it is good not to say too much of what is in your heart. Leaders like Qual-Kehk must be respected."

"Oh, I respect him," I half-lied. "I'm sure he's a great fighter. I wouldn't want to fight him. It's just that war takes strategy, and having enough troops."

"Baal's forces have swept over our lands like an avalanche. We have never seen such numbers. I understand the southern kingdoms have fared no better against his brothers."

"No, nobody's doing all that well," I admitted.

Malah's eyes were like flint. "What strategy would you recommend, then?"

I grinned a little. "Poisoned arrows?"

The old woman's eyes softened, and she chuckled. "I cannot approve, you understand. Cain has described your ways of stealth and poison, which are not honorable methods."

Honorable, schmonorable, it's about what works. There's also my secret tricks, but mind games and perception tricks would be even less honorable to these guys. "Well, ok. Earlier, did you say 'captured'? As in taken alive?"

"Some of those who returned spoke of escaping cages the demons built. What their fate would have been had they not escaped, I cannot say, but shudder to think."

I nodded. "Where were these cages?"

She looked at me, clucking her tongue. "If defeating Shenk was as difficult as you say, I fear you should not make an attempt on the prisons. Long ago our people girded the sacred mountain with high walls and strong towers. Baal took them, but did not destroy them as he did everything else. His demons man them now. Stealth and venom can do little against a wall of stone or bars of iron."

I almost kept myself from smiling. "I'm pretty handy at infiltration. And I've got no plans for tomorrow. You mind if I bed down in here? It looks pretty empty now."

"Of course not. You may stay as long as you like."

The next morning was bright and clear. Something at the back of my head was nagging me, something I'd almost forgotten. Food? No, it looks like everyone's gotten some. Two rabbits wouldn't have made Larzuk more than a snack anyway. Larzuk? He should have bolts ready by now, but that's not it. Oh yeah, Nihlathak -- gotta make sure he won't try doing anything about the situation we're in. When I talked to him, he sounded arrogant and depressed, not a good combination in a tribal shaman. If he tries something I'm not expecting, it could go badly for both of us. He was sitting outside by the fire, chewing on some rabbit. Two Barbs with heavy spears were with him.

"Hi there," I said, putting on my best smile. "Can we talk?"

They all looked at me, chewing slowly. Distrust and intolerance simmered under the skin of their minds, but none of them said anything. Finally, Nihlathak got up and walked into his house. I followed.

"What?" he delicately inquired.

"Just wanted to know if you've heard anything about some prisons out there."

"Pens for the sheep, you mean?" He wiped rabbit grease off his chin. "They are there, and in use. You will find them inside fortifications our ancestors built. These fortifications have proven very useful for our enemies. Earlier, the boys could escape by throwing themselves back and forth between the walls until they broke. Baal's slaves now place no more than five in each. More than that, I cannot say."

Something besides the meager amount of information caught my ear. "The boys?"

His smile was wan and tired, with no joy. "These are our children. I remember days past, when they were learning the ways of war and fighting. After a glorious day spent knocking each other over the head, Malah would bind their cuts with poultices, set their broken bones, and give them medicines to cure their fevers. Now they come to her with wounds that will never heal."

I decided to gamble. "What do you think should be done about it?"

He stared at the floor, then shook his head. "No one knows. All I know is that fighting Baal has brought nothing but loss. Our youth is gone, slaughtered like lambs. Much of the heaven sent wisdom of our elders is lost as well; I do not know all of it. The outcome of the siege, and any battles which follow, are irrelevant. We have already lost." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "I am tired. Please leave me."

No worries about him doing anything but sitting around moping. I got two quivers of bolts from Larzuk, and listened to his idea about a giant crossbow that could throw bolts the size of spears for miles. Gotta admit, that would probably be more accurate than Baal's slinger-things and might be faster to reload. On the other hand, Baal's catapults can throw several kinds of payload, like grenades or those pots of explosive powders. If any Viz-Jaq'taar ever take an interest in siege weaponry, I'll tell them to look Larzuk up. He's got some ideas.

Outside, some Barbarians were hunting bunnies with throwing sticks. I've heard of primitives hunting like that. I prefer bows, but that goes without saying. Beyond Shenk's platform, the ground rose. Crude stairs were carved into the rock, the steps worn smooth by generations of feet. At the top was a Horadric waypoint in the middle of a frigid plain. The old bastards made it up here too. Cain will be thrilled when he finds out.

Out on the plain, I ran into one last pack of humanoids, and hordes upon hordes of Imps. The place was dripping with the little giggling freaks. Why Baal is deluding himself into thinking they're any kind of threat was beyond me. There were only two times when they might actually be dangerous. One was when they were mounted on another kind of demon, big brutes called Crush Beasts. They're one of the oldest kinds of demon in Hell. Sorcerers used to use them to guard treasure vaults. They're more responsive than undead, but can still go for years without food, then eat anything that'll fit in their mouths. Makes body cleanup a snap. Baal doesn't have many, but the ones he's got are completely encased in plate armor with fire jets mounted on their shoulders where an Imp can use them.

The other way an Imp can be dangerous is if it gets to one of the towers in the Barbarians' walls. From there, it can dump rocks, boiling oil, or other obnoxious things on me. The walls aren't nearly as impressive as Malah made them out to be. They're not stone walls, more like barricades made out of frozen mud. I can kick them down in places. A little house near one wall was made a lot better, so I don't know what's up with the walls being so bad.

Going through the barricade was slow and painful. There were doors, but they were barred, not locked. I'd have to drop the bow and punch through with the katar. Of course, the minute I put the bow down, Imps teleported in and started taking shots at my behind. By the time I got the bow again, they disappeared, and I could hear them laughing on the other side. When I did get the door open, a pack of humanoids would be waiting on the other side to swarm me. Finally, just to make my day complete, catapults in the next wall up were bombarding me the whole time. I got to eat ice balls or bundles of grenades if I ever stopped moving for more than five seconds. This settles it: sneaking in the shadows is the only way to go. War is for masochists.

I didn't expect to see a cage in the barricade closest to Harrogath, and for once I was right. The next wall had one, a sad mess of wooden stakes tied together with twine. The door didn't even have a lock, it was tied in place. Inside, there were five Barbarians, and at least twice as many armed humanoids and Imps outside guarding them. It probably took that many to keep the Babas in line.

Since I am here to help these guys, I'd better make it clear as day that that's what I'm doing. The bow doesn't impress, but that's ok. Katar are a lot flashier. With what I hoped was a fearsome war cry, I jumped in, almost tripping over an Imp. Kicking the little bastard out of my way, I charged the cage, hacked through the bindings on the door, and cast a gate. "Follow me if you wish to live." I love saying things like that.

Once all the big boys had run away home, I went with a more sensible strategy: I ran like a bunny and started sniping from cover. Catapult shots were still coming down, so there had to be another barricade beyond this one. Why so many? Were there enough warriors in the northlands to man that many walls? Either the Barbs thought the sight of all those barriers would intimidate everyone, or this is the most misguided defensive strategy in the world... which would explain Qual-Kehk's thinking. He's emulating the people who came up with this.

Once the second barricade was behind me, I headed up to the third. In the middle of the field, I found what had to be the last thing I ever expected. Right in the middle of the frozen tundra, snowflakes hissing up into steam the moment they touched it, was a red Hellgate, hovering over a bridge across a glowing red pit of lava. I actually had to drop an Imp skull down there to convince myself it was real. What fresh hell is this? I thought the three Prime Evils had to work together to open a Hellgate, that's why Diablo raced across the world to Kurast, and dragged Baal with him. Isn't it?

I did a quick check of my facts. One: Mephisto's and Diablo's Soulstones are now nothing but sparkly bits scattered around the Hellforge. Two: Tyrael said smashing their Soulstones will prevent them from returning to this world. Three: Baal is in this world. Four: Cain said the Three have to be together to open a Hellgate. Five: I am looking at a Hellgate, in a place where Hellgates should not be. Conclusion: at least one of these facts is not a fact.

Maybe it was stupid... no, it was stupid, but I went through the gate. That's the only way I've ever found to deal with the stupid things. The gate led back to the river of fire, opening onto a set of islands I didn't recognize. Siege weapons were lying around, and weapon racks full of... bolts! Hundreds of bolts, free for the taking! I filled my quiver and moved on.

This little piece of Hell was obviously a staging area for Baal's war machines. He also had tons of archery supplies. I found enough bolts to last a lifetime, more than I could even carry. Larzuk was happy to stockpile them for me, he didn't seem to like making them much. The islands were populated by Imps, a conference of Shenk-like toads, and something new: bull-like demons in plate armor, swinging two axes each. That's goat people, cat people, snake people, and now cows. The bulls were quick-moving, strong armed, and had teeny, tiny brains full of easily misdirected anger. We got along well.

After clearing the islands, I had enough bolts to last a lifetime. "Hiya, Larzuk," I said as I dropped the last bundle by his forge. "This is all of them."

The big guy just shook his head, looking at the stacks I'd already dropped off. "Are you sure you want to keep all these?"

"You never know when you'll need 'em. I'm wondering where Baal's hiding the archers who'd use these. I haven't seen any."

"No one I know has seen any either. Say, while you're here: I was thinking some more about Baal's machine, and had a new idea."

I grinned. I love these. "What is it?"

"You said the catapults fling pots full of explosive powers..."

"Grenades, yep."

"Instead of throwing a pot and having it explode, why not make a pot so strong it won't break, but open on one side? Then you could aim the whole explosion at one enemy."

"Woof, that could hurt somebody. Could you make a pot strong enough?"

He kept talking excitedly. "If it were made of iron, or braced with iron bands, it should be strong enough. Oh! Make it a long tube instead of a pot. You could back the explosives in one end, and leave enough room to pack something else in with it, like a heavy iron ball or sharp bits of metal. Imagine something like that hitting a demon!"

"He'd never know what hit him. You know, you should learn to write so you can write this stuff down."

He kind of laughed. "Oh, I don't know..."

"No, really! This is good stuff. Ideas are what changes the world."

"Qual-Kehk thinks my ideas are strange. Do you think it's because I lack battle scars, or am I just a few bolts short of a quiver?"

I snorted. "In my order, the trapsters would love your ideas. If you could make that tube-guided explosion thing work, the world would beat a path to your door."

Grinning a little, Larzuk shuffled from one foot to the other. "Oh... I'm just a smith, from a long line of smiths. I've never been anything else."

"So? You might get to meet Charsi. She'd like you."

Now he started to blush. "Aw..."

I grinned. "Sure. You're really her type."

He stammered a bit, then gestured to his forge. "I have... um... there's a thing I have to hammer here."

It was a struggle, but I didn't laugh. "Sure. Well, think about it."

Larzuk and Charsi would make an incredibly cute couple. They could have many large babies together. The third barricade had two cages, for a grand total of 15 freed Barbarians. I gave myself a hearty cheer and went back to Harrogath. Night was falling, and there's only one thing worse than hunting down Imps: hunting down Imps in the dark. That's beyond the call of duty, and my good deed for the day was done.

Chapter 32

I woke up slow the next morning, just like the last morning. Clean mountain air doesn't suit me, I guess. As I blinked awake, a shadow not much smaller than a mountain was quietly looming next to the bed. I pulled my furry blanket up and said, "Do you mind?"

"I want to thank you for rescuing my men," Qual-Kehk said quietly. "They have spoken well of your bravery."

"Oh," I replied. "Uh... you're welcome."

"It has been two days since you and your companion Cain joined us. In that time, I have heard no end to his questions, yet you rarely make a sound. When a warrior claims a great victory, he should shout it to the four corners of the earth, so his triumph will live on in song long after he has joined his ancestors. Do you not celebrate victories? Your ways are strange, but any warrior should be proud to have done what you have done."

It didn't look like he was going to move anytime soon, so I grabbed my top and put it on under the blanket. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. I'm... kind of shy."

"Yes, I see. You come and go so quietly and so fast, this is the only way I could be sure to find you, but I see now you know your deeds should speak for you. It is good to think so. Words without action are but wasted breath. Though perhaps you also believe that none here will think a female worthy of a hero's mantle."

I was grabbing for my pants. "Uh... that kind of did occur to me."

"Though not... common, it is not unknown for a woman to learn the ways of war. On the field of battle, one's deeds are what matters. When night falls, come to the fire, and speak to your companions in arms. Tell us of your triumphs, and we will tell you of ours."

"Yeah, okay," I said, throwing off the blanket and wincing as my bare feet touched the icy floor. "Um... are you planning on sending your men out again?"

Qual-Kehk frowned, but mostly in bafflement. "Who could stop them? They are rested and fed now, eager to avenge their dishonor. Baal's forces are making their way here again, and now we have the numbers to give them a more proper greeting."

"They're attacking the city again?" I said as I pulled on my padding.

"Baal longs to destroy us, as he has all else in our lands."

"Good," I mumbled, planning my next move. Baal's not coming to Harrogath himself, he's got better things to do. But the fewer bodies between me and him, the better. Behind enemy lines sounds like the place I want to be. "I'm heading out by waypoint."

"The enchanted stones? Aye, Cain has told me of their purpose. My people have no need of them. Before you vanish and I do not see you again, take these," he said, dropping three runestones in my hand. "I was going to put them in a shield, but you may find a better use for them. Fare thee well."

Three runestones, and not the most common ones either. At least, I hadn't seen any of them before. Not bad. I suited up and headed out. Last night, I'd found a narrow section of hills and fences being guarded by some Death Maulers, with the waypoint just beyond. In daylight, I could see I was on a flat plateau on the side of the mountain. The ground was a churned-up mess of footprints and wheel tracks, but no one was anywhere near.

I headed back to the narrows and looked down. An army's worth of tracks headed down into the hills. The corpses I'd left last night were nothing but pink smears in the mud. Harrogath was safe under the dome. Qual-Kehk and his boys would attack anyway. Maybe they could handle them, maybe they couldn't, it wouldn't make much difference. I turned around and started up the plateau.

A little ways up and I could see yet another Barbarian barricade ahead. With all the energy they put into making the things, they could at least have made them better. There were also a few scattered whip-wielding toads, driving groups of humanoid demons towards the hills. I guess the little guys are some kind of slave, maybe not even real demons. Didn't stop me from shooting them, of course. After its slaves started dying, the toad made a growling noise and lashed at a survivor. The humanoid squealed, fell to its hands and knees... and swelled. Its whole body looked like a boil about to burst.

Whatever else that whip did, it also burned my poison out of the slave. With a strangled squawk, it staggered to its feet and came straight at me, apparently as healthy as ever. Now, it dropped its sword when the toad demon hit it, but I'm not in the habit of letting screaming naked guys get anywhere near me. I put another bolt in it. The humanoid stopped, blinked at me, and exploded. Yuck. Maybe taking out the leader first would have been a better idea.

The next group I met I tried slapping around mentally, to see if I could confuse the slaves into attacking the master. It appeals to my sense of fair play. Imagine my surprise when the toad started attacking the humanoids. Then it looked at me with what might pass for love, raised its whip, and YEEEEHAAAAAH!!! INSTANT HIGH THE AIR IS ON FIRE AND I'M ON MY WAY TO THE MOOOOON!!! I pumped bolts into the slaves, the bow cracking as I pulled and slammed the trigger again and again! Then the toad turned on me. They always do. I killed him. I still felt buzzed. And dirty. And for some reason, I really needed a smoke.

Lucky for me, a fire was burning right outside a little hut not far ahead. I killed the slave creature coming out the door and lit a cigar. Another slave came out. While it was dying, another came out. Weird, the hut just wasn't that big. After the fifth one, I kicked the roof in and moved on. There were a few more slave-master groups, but whatever happened that one time didn't happen again. Maybe that was a good thing. I might get to like it too much.

The barricade was manned-- or Imped-- and had catapults. Damn it, Assassins are supposed to slip through walls like they were air, and no one would ever know but the target. There is an art to getting through walls. It's one of the physical arts, the martial artists are best at it. I, meanwhile, had to do it the old-fashioned way. I even tried an axe on a door, but it was so clumsy I went back to the katar.

Beyond the barricade was another Hellgate. I've got to remember to tell Cain about these. Having this many gates to the infernal abyss open can't be a good thing. Inside, I was back at the river of fire again. How big is this river, anyway? This particular set of islands must be where Baal keeps his slaves, with masters to keep them in line. There were also more bull-men, bigger and smarter than the last crowd. They didn't confuse very well, but it was easy enough to shoot them across the gaps between islands.

Another barricade went by, and another one. It was getting dark when I found the top of the plateau. It ended in a cliff, with nowhere to go but straight up. Along with a few Imps, a pack of masters without any slaves was there. Maybe they were masters to the other masters, they had pretty good gear. They were fast enough to chase me, and the biggest one knocked me around a while, but I just didn't feel the love.

The only thing I found up there was a weird-looking burial urn. Baal wasn't around. He was somewhere on the mountain, but I'd probably have to scour the whole damned rock to find him. Hell... chasing Diablo didn't do me any good either. I couldn't get him until he stopped running. I took a few puffs on the last of my cigar and thought about that. Going after Baal isn't doing me any good. This would be over a lot quicker if he had reason to come after me. Now, why would he come after me? The only thing he's after is the Worldstone, and I doubt I can fool him into thinking I've got that.

Back in Harrogath, there was a big fire in the main square. A lot of powerful voices were singing and chanting. I looked. Where the Barbs got an ale cask, I didn't know, but there it was, with lots of big, beefy brutes singing and bragging about the day's kills. I don't brag about kills. The ideal kill is one where no one has any idea you did it. Cain was down there, looking small and frail. A hearty backslap from someone with arms the size of cows almost knocked him into the well. There was Malah, with a beer mustache. Larzuk and some other guy are arm-wrestling... ouch, poor guy.

Eh, what the hell. I went down there with them.

Chapter 33

The sun was already up when the sound of snoring woke me. My skull was pounding and my mouth tasted like a plumber's handkerchief. I pried an eyelid open, and the bottom of an unfamiliar table slowly came into focus. Over my head, an ale cask, one lonely drop hanging from the tap, hung over the edge of the table. Two beefy brutes, one spear-bald, the other with a head of hair you could knit a coat from, were under there with me. Baldy had his mouth open, like he'd been all set to catch the last drop, but he fell asleep first. Now he was just drooling on me. I shook my head and wiped the crud away from the corners of my eyes, then winced when I realized my bladder was about to explode. Three guesses what I got up to last night. At least I still had my clothes on.

After taking care of the necessaries, I went to hunt up some grub. I don't know any good hangover cures -- believe me, I've tried everything -- but getting something on my stomach besides booze is a good first step. Harrogath's chief cook wasn't on duty at the moment, so I stopped by Malah's. She was awake and looked sober, which put her at least one up on me, and had some goat jerky and fresh-brewed herb tea on hand. A word of warning: do not try to eat Barbarian jerky when you've got a hangover. The stuff is tougher than boot leather, and trying to bite hard enough to get a piece off when your head is already throbbing is a pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

"Is everything all right?" Confusion hovered around Malah as she watched me pound the dried meat with the butt of my crossbow.

"Just trying a little brute force," I grunted, then stopped. These people must have iron teeth, the stuff won't even crush. I thought about it for a minute, then dunked it in the tea to soften. Stupid. Force is no substitute for finesse.

Malah shrugged, and casually tore off a hunk using two of her remaining five teeth. "We were very happy to welcome you to our gathering last night. You impressed the menfolk greatly when you won the drinking contest."

I blinked. "I did, huh?"

"Against our strongest warriors, yet! You are such a slender thing, I had to wonder how you could hold so much."

"It's the evil life I lead. I'm good at holding my liquor, but I usually hold him by the ears." The jerky was softening up by now. I took it in both hands, dug my teeth in, and finally managed to tear off a piece big enough to be worth eating.

Malah hemmed, and decided to change the subject. "Have you found any sign of Baal, out there on the mountain?"

"Nope, he's made himself hard to find. I've gone around to a plateau on the east flank, but it dead-ended. I figure I'll start above the foothills and go around to the west. It's either that or start climbing one of those cliffs."

"There will be no need. I know the place you speak of. If you search the base of the cliff, you will find a cave which leads to a maze of tunnels under the icy cap of Mount Arreat."

I cocked an eyebrow. "You think he's in there?"

"I am sure he is not. But... what he seeks lies beyond." Malah sat down, and stared into my eyes with deep seriousness. "Our people have many secrets about this mountain. The ice caves are but one. They have kept our people safe when your people attacked Mount Arreat in the past, so you must understand what it means to tell you of them now."

I bowed my head, letting the gravity of the situation speak for me. "I understand. You must keep your silence about what, exactly, lies beyond."

The old woman's prune-like face wrinkled into a smile, and she patted my hand in silent agreement. I was amazed Cain hadn't already blabbed that we know about the Worldstone. He's a nice old geezer, but getting him to shut up is a full-time job. Then a memory suddenly lit up in Malah's mind, bringing anxiety and suspicion with it. "Actually... there is another matter, which I hesitate to speak of..."

"What is it?"

"Our great elder Aust had a daughter, Anya. She is a strong young girl, wise beyond her years, with a spirit like no other. Before he died, her father was guiding her along the path of the elders, and none know as many of the secrets of our people as she."

"Huh. I got the idea your elders were all men."

"That is not so. Hush, now. You are aware of her father's death, along with all the other elders save Nihlathak. They gave their lives to save us, and seemingly just in time: Baal's forces gathered outside Harrogath and began the siege within hours of their deaths. Anya confided in me that she felt Nihlathak was somehow responsible for her father's death and the demons' quick arrival. I counseled her to confront him face to face with her suspicions, as has always been our way."

Uh-oh. "And she disappeared?"

Malah's eyes went wide. "That very night. I heard her shouting at Nihlathak in his home, and never again afterwards. Nihlathak says she left the city to go out onto Arreat's slopes, seeking what was left of her family. Do not believe him! He may also tell you he is sure she is dead. Anya would never die so easily! My heart tells me she is still alive, and Nihlathak has done something terrible which only she knows."

I nodded, and lied. "I'm sure she's alive. I'll look for her."

Malah grabbed my arm, squeezing through the plate, and stared into my eyes, trying to make me believe. I guess I'm not as good a liar as I thought. "Anya is alive! The wisdom of the elders is in her. Save Nihlathak, only she knows the secrets of Mount Arreat! Only she has been..." She stopped short, and bowed her head. I decided not to pry.

"Don't say any more. I'll find her."

My first stop was Nihlathak's house. No one answered when I knocked, so I opened my mind a bit and peered around inside. No thoughts met mine. The house was empty. I opened my mind more, lightly touching drunken dreams and waking worries as I let myself drift over all of Harrogath. Plenty of thinking, but none of his. The last elder was gone. Where could he go, on a mountain crawling with demons? It was suspicious, but I've been wrong before. I put Nihlathak in the back of my mind and headed for the waypoint.

The cave entrance was well hidden. Viz-Jaq'taar are trained to find concealed things, and it took me three passes to find the damned thing. Inside, the caves were all ice, so cold my exposed face instantly went numb. The walls glistened in delicate blues and purples by the light of a few scattered torches, which couldn't even come close to melting anything. The floor, though was a maze of cracks and impact shatters, and broken ice was everywhere. Something big had come this way. I walked softly.

Around the first corner, I found my first enemies. The Viz-Jaq'taar know about Succubi, you occasionally run into them in the lair of a particularly perverted wizard. Outside of the usual bedroom power games, they're mostly decorative. Only a moron would send them into combat. So, when I looked around a corner and saw a swarm of airborne airheads coming my way, I wasn't too concerned. Behind them was something I wasn't familiar with. They were big all right, white and hard and shiny, like ice come to life. They were also slower than molasses in January, so I had no problem keeping my distance and pegging them repeatedly, once I got the demon bimbos out of my way.

Around the next corner was something much worse: a pack of bull-men. They smelled me as soon as I saw them, and the chase was on. These bulls were very strong, and not nearly as stupid as I would have liked. They didn't scare or confuse easily, and I had no islands to snipe from. My only advantage was speed, and a loop of tunnels I could lead them around without exposing myself too much. The occasional mind slap stopped them long enough for me to get away, but it took them so long to die I was mentally exhausted, even after drinking two mana potions.

Bull-men were rare in the caves, lucky for me. Succubi were not. There must have been hundreds of them in there freezing their g-strings off. If all of them belonged to Baal... he must be hung like a field mouse. Can we say "overcompensation," anyone? They weren't even loyal. It hardly took anything to turn them on each other, and they responded very well to a mental slap. Too well, maybe: some of them never went back to attacking me. They just followed me around, moaning softly, with this weird look in their eyes. Ok, they'd attack anything that came near me like a bat out of Hell, that wasn't so bad... but that moaning was just plain disturbing.

I had two of them whimpering along behind me when I found an ornate burial urn. I pried it open, hoping for gold or maybe a magic item, when another pack of Bull-men appeared out of nowhere. The Succubi attacked, and in three seconds, I was two short of a threesome and running like a scared rabbit. Running away, stopping to fire behind me, has worked in the past, but this time I made a wrong turn and ran into more Succubi. This, I suppose, is the kind of situation where the local tough-boys tend to die. I've found some of their bodies. After a moment of reflection (during which I am glad to say I did not soil my armor) I decided to turn this obstacle into an opportunity. I slapped those sluts silly, then ran through them while they went after the Bulls.

Some ice-beasts were behind the Succubi. After a little more effort on my part, they were all fighting each other. It was a thing of beauty. Blood and ice were everywhere, axes flying, claws ripping, freezing breath blasting, and none of it anywhere near me. I strolled around the edges of the melee, sniping to my heart's content. When the screaming stopped, the biggest, baddest Bull-man was the last one standing. I put a bolt in him, he considered his position, and obligingly kicked the bucket.

The deepest part of the caves was down on the mountain bedrock. Trickles of melting ice had pooled on the rock, flowing out into streams. It made me feel good to think I was responsible for some of that. There were Succubi near the water, but also some pure white Bigfoots, and Zombies. The Zombies looked like they were made from frozen bodies that never had a chance to rot. I even sensed some slow mental activity in their iced-up brains. They had greatswords and armor, and remembered enough about fighting to know to charge archers. Still, dodging them wasn't too hard. The problem was that it took five or six shots to keep them down. Maybe being half-frozen makes them even more poison-resistant than usual, but I haven't had anything take that long to die since Diablo.

Deep under the ice, right up against the side of the mountain, I found a half-frozen pond, the biggest puddle in the area. Some kind of stone platform was out in the middle, and between me and it was a nasty pack of Bigfoots. Knowing how demons usually work, it was pretty obvious they were guarding something. If I ever have a treasure to hide, I'm going to set up a maze of killer traps and monsters, then hide it under the entrance sign. No one will ever find it. I finished off the Bigfoots and some stray Zombies, but there was nothing on the platform but a pillar of ice. Something in the ice was... red. I took a closer look.

A human shape was inside the pillar. Whoever it was, they couldn't be alive. As numb as I was, I could feel cold radiating off the thing. I spit on it, and the glob tinkled off, frozen solid while it was still in the air. Why would someone be frozen like that? Maybe it's some ancient Barbarian king, laid to rest lo these many centuries ago, to awaken and lead his people into battle when the enemy comes. Hmmm... why not? I leaned close to the pillar, closed my eyes, and opened my mind.

                     Hello?

        All hail mighty King Barbaricus!


                 Anybody home?



                    Anybody?


                                                      ...

                   Somebody?
                   Somebody?
                                                  ...  ?  ...
                 Yes, somebody
               Wake up, somebody
               Wake up, somebody                       ?
               Wake up, somebody
                I know it hurts
              It's cold and dark
            But you have to wake up                    !
               I'm here for you                       !!!
                 You're angry?                     !! *@* !!
               Calm down, open up                  !! #$* !!
               You don't know how                  !! %&@ !!
                to send thoughts                 !!! #%@)# !!!
               Just calm down and               !!!!!@@@@@! !!!
             let me see who you are            !!!&!!!*^^ !!*!!!
                I SAID CALM DOWN            !!!!##!%! **!@&#$!#^! !
               QUIT FIGHTING ME!!       !!!!*#**()&^( $%@^%# @^!!!@!!^!
         If you don't stop, I'll leave.

                 That's better                         ??
                  Just relax,
               find your center,
                  and open up                          !
               I won't hurt you
              I need to know what
            happened, but you don't
              know how to tell me                     !!!
           Don't try. Just let me in
             I know I'm a stranger
            who's stranger than most
                Please, trust me

I walked into Malah's hospital. "Malah? We need a Tepida potion."

Malah stared at me. "Where have you heard of such a thing?"

"From Anya. We need it now, please."

Chapter 34

We returned to Harrogath. The city was intact, shining white under a new blanket of snow. But there was no time to rejoice. Nihlathak is betraying the world to the Lord of Destruction, giving him the Relic of the Ancients in exchange for an empty promise to spare Harrogath. She cast the portal, and I stepped through to the Temple of the Snake, where the traitor is doubtless hiding. The Relic of the Ancients is our most holy totem. With it in his infernal grip, Baal will not be challenged by the guardians at the peak of sacred Mount Arreat, and the world will be his.

I shook my head, and breathed in deep. Cold air seared my lungs, but the pain helped clear away her residue. That little girl does have a spirit like no other. I clonked my forehead with the butt of my bow a few times and looked around. The Barbarian's biggest clan temples are carved into Arreat's sides, both as a protective circle and to share the mountain's holy vibes. Outside the temple, a bigger-than-average ledge with a double row of standing stones led to the entrance. A few dozen frozen human bodies were scattered around, most old enough to be mummified, and all armed to the teeth. They weren't moving... yet. Zombies. Why does it always have to be Zombies?

I thought about it for a few seconds, then hauled out the katar as the first Zombie stumbled to his feet. Keeping my distance is good, but Zombies don't care about poison and if I break them into pieces they might not give me as much trouble. A quick mind blast stunned the first group, and I laid into them. Frozen rotten meat flew -- bleah. At least having them in nice tight bunches made mental blasts easier.

They fell down, and got up, and fell down again. I slapped and smashed and hacked, slowly thinning them out. Some cracked up, but not enough. Right about the time I started getting tired, they had enough room to charge me. I'm really starting to hate these guys. At least the ones in the swamp didn't charge. A splat like that might be enough to make me quit the business.

When I finally had enough room to move around, I started kicking bodies off the ledge. Hope there's nothing important down there. I swear I heard one saying "Oh no, not again" on the way down. More Zombies were in the entrance hall. They were even tougher than the first bunch -- the nastiest-looking one was rigged to blow up when he fell. Cute trick. Made me wish I'd been using the bow. Trappers sometimes rig bodies, but they do it after they're dead... well, ok, technically a Zombie is dead, but they need them to stop wiggling. Nothing else was in there, so I pried myself out of the wall and went inside.

For a temple, the Temple of the Snake smelled a lot like a mausoleum. Right inside the door was a shallow grave, recently dug up. Even the walls looked like they were made of bones. The local rock is mostly white, so I know it's just my imagination. The banners hanging on every corner were dyed leather too thin to be oxhide. It was probably my imagination that they looked like human skin, too. Then there were the skulls piled up in the corners, the ribs and vertebrae in baskets and crates, long bones stacked like firewood next to them... maybe they don't have much burial space, and have to move old bodies out to make room.

The temple was crawling with Zombies. Every now and then I ran into a couple of Bull-men, but otherwise it was Zombies, Zombies, empty graves, and more Zombies. At least when you knock the Bulls down, they stay that way. None of these guys confuse easily -- Bulls are too stubborn and the Zombies are too stupid. The temple layout didn't help. The whole place was nothing but a maze of twisty little passages, all alike. Pretty impressive how a bunch of Barbarians hollowed all this out of the mountain side.

I had to go through the maze at a snail's pace, but it didn't take long to find something more incriminating than piles of bones. In one corner, there was a shrine, candles still burning on the altar. In front of it were two very recently dead locals, a man and a woman. Both were tied to wooden crosses and tortured to death. Fresh, bloody tools were resting on the altar. I don't think Bull-men would bother with scalpels and chafers. In fact... the last time I saw things like those was in some Necromancer's basement "laboratory."

A set of stairs going down was in another back corner. Damn. One maze wasn't enough for these guys. The next level was full of Zombies too, with some Death Maulers and a critter I didn't recognize. The new demon was a flyer, or maybe more like a floater. The upper part was a round bladder full of gas, with a spindly body hanging down under. They hang around at the backs of groups, and implant their young in the bodies of other demons. They don't even buy them flowers first. Even Zombies try to run away. Poison kills the incubator, but not the young floater: when the host dies, they chew their way out. They look a lot like Hell's mother-thing baby worms. Demons are so cute when they're that age... not. Just like the slave drivers, they don't do much in combat, just make everything else worse. And, just like the slavers, they became my new number one priority to kill.

Down on the second level, whoever was in charge was a lot less shy about leaving the tools of his trade lying around. I found several Necromantic totems, wands, staves, and magic orbs, along with a rare demon bone shield and helmet. A couple of times, I found statuettes of a weird squid-like thing on top of columns. One was bronze, the second was jade, and both of them were creepy as Hell. In the back corners were more tortured Barbs, and the remains of experiments. One looked like a dead knight, but it turns out to have been a blood golem someone tried to bind inside a suit of armor. Making golems is bad enough, but trying to combine blood and iron is more than enough reason to put a Necro down.

Grinding up the Zombies was slow, exhausting work. The Death Maulers didn't make it any easier, but at least they'd attack something when they got confused. Zombies just stand there, looking dumber than usual. One weird thing did happen, though. A Zombie had on a suit of armor that was mostly intact. While I was stripping the Zombie, and chopping it up, the armor disappeared and a note fluttered into my hand.

"EEEEEEE!!! SIGON'S SHELTER! You beautiful tall dark and gorgeous mistress of the night! That's the whole set! I could kiss you, but my lips can't reach that far. Remember to put those boots you found in your stash too, we might have a use for them.

-- The Mule"

I don't think I'll ever get used to that.

More stairs led down from the second floor. Double damn. This level was sure to go faster, though: no Zombies. The first thing to charge out was slave humanoids, still naked. Then came Succubi, also lightly encumbered. I'm beginning to feel overdressed. Hmph. Slaves and Succubi. I haven't seen anything that directly implicates Nihlathak yet, but whoever's been down here, they're someone I have to put down.

Unlike the other levels, the basement of the temple was laid out evenly: four long halls off the central staircase. The first hall I looked in was lit by candelabra shaped like subservient demons. Haven't seen anything like that since Horazon's place. And the end of the hall was a pit full of corpses, flayed and bled dry. The skins were hanging on the walls. I didn't stay long. That mass of flesh in that hole looked like it was moving. There was nobody special in the second hall, or the third. Some of the tombs hadn't been opened, but not many. The wall decorations were definitely Rathman, and fresh.

As I worked my way into the last hall, I went over my Necro techniques. There are three ways Necros kill: minions, bone missiles, and exploding corpses. There were plenty of Zombies up above, but none down here, so he could start raising skeletons. Bone missiles hurt, but you can dodge 'em. Explosions would be dangerous. My favorite tactics don't give me much control over where the bodies fall. Let's hope he's a bone specialist.

I looked around the corner. A group of slaves was in the end of the hall, gathered in a tight group around Nihlathak. "Finally!" Nihlathak shouted, obviously happy to see me. "And here I thought your sort was supposed to be quiet." He gestured. A Succubus behind me went up in a cloud of blood, slamming me into the wall.

Damn, again. I retreated, downing a potion. He's made a study of explosions, and I've mined the whole basement for him. If I was a trapper, I could make my own bombs of these bodies and control them that way. A martial artist could slide in there and get him without him ever knowing it. I... shit, slaves coming. I blasted, shot, and watched them die. More bombs. Damn. Killing them just gives him ammunition.

"I see you have run away, and are being uncharacteristically quiet!" He was talking again. I hate targets who want to chat. I can't stand the needling, but talking back means giving away your position. "You're obviously thinking about how to get out of this desperate predicament. You could leave. Did you ever think of that?"

Nope. No point thinking about it, I'll never do it. He kept talking. "While we're on the subject of thinking... has it occurred to you to wonder why Baal's forces captured and held our men when they could, instead of killing them?"

No again. Meat keeps better alive. I started toward the other corner of the hall, slowly, while he went on. "Do you understand that none of this is necessary? All of this suffering, and for what? Baal wants one thing. Why not give it to him and go on with our lives?"

I wonder if he'll start babbling about how much we might learn from honest and open trade with demons. I'll have to ask him what kind of trades the Succubi are here for. Or, I could keep my big mouth shut and concentrate on business. "No one wants to kill anyone here. I profit nothing from your death." Then he sneered, "All I am doing is defending myself. From you, the aggressor here.

How many people are in that pit of burbling flesh in the other hall? A lot for somebody who just defends himself. I got to the far corner and took stock while he jabbered on. "I have treated Baal like an equal, not a mindless aggressor, and he has responded. Harrogath is safe, safer than Qual-Kehk, or Aust, or you could have made it!"

Mindless aggression. A germ of an idea formed. I closed my eyes and reached out to the slaves around Nihlathak. They hated him, and hated and feared Baal more. No mindless aggression there, they put a lot of thought into it. Nihlathak's voice faded to a soft whine as I concentrated on the slaves. It didn't take long to find what I wanted. It was right on the surface of their minds. They hated Nihlathak, but they hated and feared Baal, and he'd told them to obey the man until he had what he wanted. I smiled.

Suddenly, the slaves heard something -- their master laughing in triumph. The sound came from their own memories, but they didn't know that. It was a familiar sound, and they knew just what it meant. Nihlathak's voice stopped. Then he screamed.

I waited a while, making sure everything in there was doing what they most wanted to do, except Nihlathak. When I opened my eyes again, he was floating towards the back of the hall, blasting ice at his own slaves. Another cute trick, never heard of a Necro doing that. They usually don't want to waste the bodies. No sense letting the little bastards have all the fun, so I put a bolt in him. Nihlathak shrugged it off, yelling something I didn't listen to. He was probably wearing poison resistance gear. If I knew I was coming, I would.

Nihlathak knew lots of nifty tricks. He floated, and teleported, and the ice blast made it really hard on the slaves. I put a few more bolts in him, mostly for fun, until he'd killed off the last of them. The hall was full of bodies. I had to go in there, and couldn't let him die slow. If he had any time, he'd blast me all the way back to Harrogath.

I fired one last time, dropped the bow, and charged. The bastard teleported behind a pile of bodies. I ran straight towards him, then jumped to the side as he set off the first one. He never set off the second. The slaves hardly left anything for me, but that was all right. I was alive and everything else was dead, which was fine by me.

"You stopped Nihlathak," Anya said, "but he didn't have the relic?"

"He probably handed it over hours ago. I've gotta get back out there."

"Are you sure it wasn't there? You cannot know what it looks like. Maybe it was..." I looked her in the eye. She blinked, then nodded. "You know."

"I'm sorry, but I do. It doesn't matter now. I have to get to the top of that mountain before Baal does. Wish me luck."

Chapter 35

It looks like no rest for the wicked tonight. I don't know if demons sleep. I've never caught one napping, but I'm not exactly the quietest Assassin in the world. The ice caves were full of demons again: Death Maulers, Ice Things, and more of those damned frozen Zombies. I'm really, really starting to hate those guys. Why couldn't it have been Succubi? They turn easily, put curses on other demons, and the catfights are pretty funny to watch.

I knew the caves went a long way, but after I found a second Horadric waypoint, I started marking the walls with demon blood X's. The Horadrim don't put their waypoints anywhere near each other, and neither was close to an entrance. It would be easy to get lost down here. There aren't many landmarks, though sometimes I can tell if I've been through from the frosted-over lumps on the floor. One columned hall had two local boys on ice, and a batch of ice Zombies guarding a treasure chest. I think one of the Barbs was still alive when he got frozen. Unlike Anya, he didn't stay that way.

On a return trip to dump potions with Malah, Cain tried to make chit-chat. "Amy, please stay a while. I wish to speak with you."

"Ok, what is it?" I said, already angling towards Larzuk's to pick up more bolts.

"I have been speaking with Anya. She is a fascinating young woman, by the way. I feel the future of the northern highlanders is secure with such strong-willed and devoted young people to lead them."

"Great, great. And... ?"

He chewed his lip for a few long seconds. "Anya asked me about you, and I was forced to confess that, though we have traveled together for months, I do not know you well."

"What's to know? I'm doing a job that's gotta get done."

"She mentioned something, about how you rescued her from her imprisonment..."

"Oh, that was nothing," I tried to brush it off. "I found her frozen, asked Malah what to do, and she gave me the potion."

Cain's eyebrows met in a dark line, like a wall between his ears and his brain. "Malah told me you did not. You came to her already knowing what you would need."

"Look, it doesn't matter. Ok, I have a talent. My naturally sweet disposition can only take me so far, so I play head games. It gives me an edge in a fight. That's all."

"What Anya described is more than that!"

A cool anger tinged Cain's thoughts: he's a little offended, but not very. Not yet. He's a nice old fart, willing to give me the benefit of a doubt. But I can't tell him everything. "Ok, it's not just head games. I can enter other people's thoughts, and tell what they're thinking. It helps me find things out. Sometimes, I can tell what someone's going to do before they do it. Strong, healthy people can kick me out of their heads. Anya almost did. For what I do, it's useful, but kind of limited."

He nodded solemnly, still a bit upset. "I have heard of this talent of yours. By all accounts, it is very rare."

Actually, it isn't, but most of us don't blow our cover as badly as I have. "I guess. I don't know anybody else who can do it."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Why have you not told anyone?"

I shrugged. "No reason to."

"No reason to?" he sputtered. "All this time, you have claimed there is nothing out of the ordinary about you! I have followed you through Hell itself, always sharing what I knew in the faint hope that it might be of some help to you, and only now do I found out about this extraordinary gift of yours?"

I shook my head, and gave him my best shit-eating grin. "Aw c'mon, Cain! Dames like me lie about anything, just to keep in practice. A guy your age should know that!"

He frowned, sadness tingeing his response. "Amy... though I do not know you well, I know you well enough not to believe that."

Damn it. I could take it if he was mad, but when he's just disappointed in me... "All right, all right. I don't tell anyone because it scares people. They think I'm gonna invade their thoughts, steal all their secrets, and control their minds to turn them into my willing slaves or something. I do not go around reading everyone's minds all the time, even if I could."

"Of course not," Cain smiled, relaxing. "Were your talent as powerful as that, you would not need to bother with lying. Or you would be much better at it."

"Thanks a lot," I snorted. "I also would have spotted Nihlathak a lot faster."

"That is water under the bridge, young hero! All the time I have been with you, I feared for your life. So many others had fallen where you ventured, but you always returned, and in the end, triumphed. I never understood how you could remain safe in the midst of so much danger. Now, all my worries have been banished. Like the heroes of old, mighty forces work through you, making you something more than merely human --"

"Uh, Cain?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you think you're laying it on a little thick?"

He looked baffled. "But..."

"Repeat after me: it's just Amy. She's weird. Ok?"

"Well... as you wish."

"Thanks. Now, I gotta get some more bolts. Back in a while."

In a set of ponds under the deepest ice, I found what I wanted: Succubi! Howling catfights accompanied my every step, and none of the other demons ever got near me. I don't want to know what Baal does to his Succubi to make them prefer me. Unless... nah. The whole idea behind Succubi is completely heterosexual. Twice I was ambushed by packs of demon-slut sisters when I opened urns. A third urn brought out a single one. The more I look at them, the more sure I am that the fancy burial urns aren't local. Barbarians make pots, but never anything that elaborate. They're a trap for the greedy, which must be why they've gotten me so often.

At long last, after stomping my way through I don't know how many miles of ice, I found an exit to the caves. I came out near the edge of a cliff, in an icy wind so hard and cold I had to clench my teeth hard to keep them from chattering. If only this damn circlet wasn't so useful... I crawled to the edge of the cliff and looked down hundreds of feet into a mist of snow, the ground nowhere in sight. I could probably kill something by spitting -- it would freeze hard as a rock on the way down.

This was the coldest, nastiest part of the mountain I'd seen yet, but there were still signs of human activity. A campsite with a dead Barbarian, lightly clothed as usual, was right near the cave. Further out, I found burial chests, cached weapons, and signs of other campsites. I could not see anything that would support human life up here, but that was probably because of all the demons. An Imp 'ported in almost as soon as I started poking around, and soon I was knee-deep in the little pests. Then the Crush Beasts came. Sigh. I amused myself confusing the crushers into attacking the Imps. It was fun to hear one come running in, then squeal when the big guy turned around and stomped him.

The high tundra was probably a special place for the Barbarians. The peak of the mountain was close, I could look up and see something shiny that wasn't snow up there. I found a couple of stone circles. The stones were small, no more than a couple of feet tall, but there they were. The loot was great. Cain was happy to see a legendary bow called Raven Claw, and said I should try using it. Maybe, but I like something with a little more power. There was also a sword called Death's Touch, Isenhart's helm, and an axe of some kind.

When I found the Hell gate, I walked right in. The heat was a relief for about 15 seconds, and then I hated it as much as usual. This set of Hell islands was a barracks, full of slaves creatures, slave drivers, and Imps. Midway through clearing it, an amulet popped out of thin air and fell into my hand, along with a note. Guess who.

"Congratulations on your 45th! Here's my gift, a Shadow Amulet! Sorry it's got nothing else going for it, but that's the way it came. Those boots back in your stash will make up for your lightning resistance. That's all I got for you. Remember, walk softly, and don't forget to give those Ancients a little extra juice. Venom, that is.

-- The Mule"

My birthday was 4 months ago. I'm only 27. But he can think what he wants for a Shadow Amulet! There are high-ranking Viz-Jaq'taar mentalists who can only wish they had one of these bad boys. I put it on, tossed the old one, and went to kick some serious ass. It was great. I was faster, my mind was clearer, and my poison was stronger than ever. I even felt better fighting with the katar. Natty would have been so jealous...

After I cleaned up my little corner of Hell, I went back to the tundra. The Barbarians had some barricades up here too, manned by Imps and slaves as usual. It was getting so boring, I'd almost rather see ice Zombies on the walls. I did manage to confuse three Crush Beasts at the same time. Their heads were poking over the wall, ripe for the picking, and after a little mental misdirection they were fighting on the side of right and never knew it. I love the sound of shrieking Imps. It sounds like... victory.

Another Waypoint was up on the tundra, near a cliff under the icy cap of Mt. Arreat. I knew what to look for this time, and found the cave entrance without much trouble. More ice caves. They'd be easier than trying to climb the ice, but not by much. I was tired. The sun was going down; I'd been out here all night and all day again. But how much time was left to catch Baal? There was no way of knowing until I got to the peak.

"Warrior?"

I'd been standing by the waypoint, wondering if I should pack it in and get some sleep. I knew I wasn't going to, but I always leave myself open to temptation. Life is more fun that way. "Yes, Qual-Kehk?"

"Every time I hear of you, your deeds have become more legendary. You have already gone further than most men can follow. None see aught but footprints and the corpses of our enemies in your wake. Even your prowess at the table outmatches us."

I smiled, feeling a little fuzzy-headed. "Uh... thanks."

"Now, I understand you are approaching the very summit of Mt. Arreat. Even I have never dared venture there. Thanks to the snake Nihlathak, you must face the challenge of the Ancient Ones. Your reputation here does not matter. It is they who will determine your worthiness."

"Thanks. Um... who are the Ancient Ones?"

"Our ancestors, of course. We were like gods then. You must face them without flinching, or be cast down."

"Uh... what do you mean, face them?"

Qual-Kehk stared hard, not sure what the question meant. "Trial by combat. What other measure of a warrior can there be?"

"Oh." I thought about that a minute. "Then I guess I'd better get some sleep."

Chapter 36

In the morning, I got up with the sun, had a hearty breakfast, put on my armor and resumed the quest. One way or another, I've got to get this over with soon. It's been all work and no play, and I'm developing too many healthy habits. A few weeks off for some good, old-fashioned debauchery will do me a lot of good. But, business first.

This second set of ice caves was like the first, apart from being even colder, dry enough to make my nose crack, and more full of nastier critters. The only good thing was that there weren't any Zombies. Maybe Baal finally ran out... and, having thought that, I've probably jinxed myself and he'll find a fresh supply. Anyway, the caves were full of Ice Things, Death Maulers, and Bull-men, which was enough to keep me busy. I'd like Bull-men a lot more if they were easier to confuse.

Near the cave entrance, I found my first urn, one of the evil Baal ones that's really a trap. I don't know why he keeps using those. Because I keep opening them, and one's bound to get me sooner or later? From long practice in doing the wrong thing, I popped it open, and mind-slammed the herd of bulls that instantly appeared behind me. None of them got hostile on each other, but they did stop long enough to let me get some distance. From there, I ran to a loop of tunnel and drew them on, around and around. The leader spit some nasty sparks, but that's about all the hurt I took.

The second evil urn didn't work out so well. This bunch of bulls was fast. I never got a chance to hit them before they were all over me. Out came the katar. I spread the love around until I had a second to breathe, then hit them with everything in me. Two started attacking the others, and the herd boss turned away to deal with them. I didn't look back until I had the herd at maximum range and could peg them in safety. They went back to Hell with a few more pieces of me, but the first pack lasted longer.

Back in Harrogath, I stopped by Larzuk's to get my skull welded back together, and maybe get some brains put inside. I'll try anything once. He didn't have any to spare, but he did have good things to say about my performance at the party. "I've never seen anyone drink so fast! You emptied two steins before Vardhaka even finished one!"

"Oh, yeah," I smiled, wishing I could remember any of it. "I've had lots of practice."

"You said that too, when one of the women asked you. You said the trick was to open wide, let it slide in over your tongue, and don't gag, and that you've had lots of practice. Then you started laughing." He looked at me quizzically. "What was that about?"

I blinked. "Nothing. Hey, where'd all the bolts go?"

When I came in, I'd noticed my stash of bolts was empty. I figured Larzuk would tell me why sooner or later, but sooner suddenly sounded like a good idea. He looked over, did one of the worst double-takes I've ever seen, and said, "Oh! There aren't any. You must have used them all up, and I forgot to make more."

He wouldn't look at me, just stared at the empty shelves and shook his head. Boy, is he a rotten liar. I shrugged, and played along. "Gosh, what an oversight! I only have part of one quiver, and that won't be enough. Wherever could I get more?"

"I know!" Larzuk beamed, obviously relieved. "Anya has been going through her father's things. I think she has some arrows that look a lot like your bolts."

I smiled. "Yeah. Well, I guess I'd better go talk to Anya. Thanks!"

It's not that I don't want to talk to Anya. I don't think she'd want to talk to me after what I did to rescue her. Nobody likes having a mind-reader in their head, and being coerced into it is worse than rape. Mulling it over as I walked across town, I decided this probably wasn't her idea. If she wanted to see me, she'd come see me. Larzuk was in on it, but he'd never try anything subtle on his own. Malah? No. Cain? When I walked past a gap between two buildings, I glanced over at him. He was looking, but quickly turned away when he saw me. Ah. Anya must have confided in him, but swore him to silence, so he doesn't want us to know he set us up. He's so cute when he worries about me.

I let myself in with the key hidden under the second tile next to the side door. Anya didn't hear me. She was in the front room, where Aust taught her the Songs of Wisdom, which describe the hidden ways of... I turned around and left as quietly as I'd come, went to the front door, and knocked loudly. When she saw me, her eyes turned to stone. I kept myself from looking any deeper.

"Hi," I said. "I was hoping you might have something here."

"What do you want?"

I held up a bolt. "Do you have any of these?"

She looked at it, and nodded. "The strange arrows. A group of southlanders came three seasons ago, some armed like you. We killed them and took their weapons. I will find them for you."

The clan's most valuable weapons were kept on the second floor. No one told me to stay out, so I followed her up and looked around. The first thing I saw that I didn't recognize, I pointed at and said, "Ooh. What's that?"

Anya stared at me, two quivers of bolts in her hands, the feathers not completely moth-eaten. "How could you not know?"

"I don't know everything."

"But you went into --"

"I couldn't see everything, Anya. Even if I wanted to, you kept pushing me around. You don't know how much work it took to figure out what Nihlathak did."

Nothing much about her changed, outside. "I... pushed you?"

"You were practically in a coma, but you almost pushed me out. You scared me, girl. If you had any training, you would be scary."

Something glimmered in her eyes. As her back and shoulders relaxed, I think she got about an inch taller. "Could you push your way in now?"

"I don't think so. You're awake and rested. Do you want to try?"

"No," she smiled faintly. "There is much you must do, and little time. I am glad you came to me. What you did was so strange, I was afraid of you."

"It would have been stupid not to be, I guess. But I'm not inhuman. Big brains won't help if someone puts a sword through your guts."

"Then you will fear the Ancient Ones as much as any. I fear you must face them."

I nodded, frowning a little. "Ok... what are the Ancient Ones?"

Anya's smile got a little more clear. The more I just talked, the more she relaxed. Pretty soon, all I could see in her was hope. "They are our ancestors, who in ages past, made the ultimate sacrifice. The greatest of them surrendered their freedom to roam free as men ought, and now keep watch over the Temple of Heaven forever. Madawc leads, as he led his joyful hunting parties across the wild --"

"Uh, could you hit the high points?"

She nodded. "The Ancient Ones are mighty warriors, but you must be as well, to have come so far. All who wish to pass into the presence of the Worldstone must prove their worth against them, in the time-honored ways of old. If you meet them, and are strong enough, I am sure they will find you worthy to enter the Keep of the Worldstone."

The caves dragged on, all pretty much the same. One low section went so far under the ice, I was actually standing on rock. There wasn't any meltwater under there this close to the mountain's top: it was all frozen solid. And, screw me for thinking of it, Baal had some Zombies left. They were all wandering around in the deepest tunnels. At least there were Succubi down there too. Succubi are always good for a laugh somehow. One dressed like a skeleton (and almost as skinny) dropped a nice rare sledgehammer.

The third evil urn was in the middle of an open cave, near a section of looping tunnel, as good a place as any to run from an ambush. I popped the urn, and the bulls appeared right in the tunnel. Damn. A few mind slaps quieted the bulls while I sprinted for the other end of the loop. One followed me, then ran away, obviously trying to lure me back to his boss. He didn't last long, and neither did the next one. With careful use of the loop, I whittled them down one at a time, and finally killed the leader with my katar.

The fourth urn was in a narrow hall. A new pack of bulls popped in right behind me, where I should have known they would, and I had no place to run but uncharted territory. Believe it or not, I do learn from my mistakes... so I can make all new ones next time. Scampering squealing like a little girl through caves full of demons is a great way to attract a following. When I had at least 40 demons on my ass, I turned around and slapped them silly, enough to need two potions to get my energy back. The result? Pure chaos. Everything died, with a little help from me. If anyone asks, I'll say I planned it that way.

About 20 feet from the fourth evil urn was a fifth. Honestly, I think this Baal guy is trying to do me harm. Does he think I'm that greedy? Ok, I am, but first I cleared out the rest of the caves to make sure I had a place to run. That's when I found the sixth one. For a demon lord, he sure doesn't have much imagination. Both urns were popped, and the bull-men who jumped me slapped, pummeled, and pierced in due course. Finally, standing over the body of the last Bull-man as he gasped his life out, I rattled my claws and screamed "ANYBODY ELSE WANT SOME!?!" I can be plenty brave when I know everything's dead.

That left the stairs. You could hardly call them stairs, more like a ladder carved in stone. At the top, I clambered out into cold stillness. The sky was a dark, empty blue, with the sun shining weakly overhead. There was no wind at all. Even in that quiet, I barely heard the bars sliding over the gate I'd just come out of. Smooth... and with no visible lock. I looked around the summit of Mt. Arreat.

The top of the mountain was a smooth patch of stone and ice, with cliffs on every edge. Two barred gates were at the ends, one I'd come in -- and the other, which had to be where I'd go out. In the middle was a temple: three rings of eight stone pillars each, around three weathered statues, and a central altar. Nothing else.

The Ancients "surrendered their freedom" to guard the Temple of Heaven, so these statues were most likely my opponents. All of them were huge men. One had a shield and sword. The second had two surprisingly small axes, no bigger than hatchets. The third had what might have been a halberd, though it didn't look that big in his hands. I couldn't make out much else. Enchanted statues tend to need a trigger to activate, which was probably on the altar.

"Ok, boys," I said as I lit a cigar and put extra venom on three bolts, "I'm gonna try to be reasonable about this. I think we all know why we're here. And I think we all know I'm not the one you should be after. But if you don't or can't open that gate, I'm gonna have to get rough with you. I don't care if you want to meet me in the time-honored ways of old. I don't care what you think if me at all. I just need to get in that damned gate. So if it doesn't open in ten seconds, we do this the hard way. You hear me?"

I waited, counting breaths. Nothing. I went to the altar and slammed my fist into it. That did it. The statues didn't animate: they disappeared in a blaze of light, and three mighty Barbarians stood in their place. The glare blinded me for a moment -- I dove and rolled between two pillars as something whizzed through the air behind me. A throwing axe? Should have known. The axeman got the first bolt, taking it in the neck like a man. Sure, it popped out when he flexed his trapezium, but the hard work was already done.

The swordsman whirled towards me, skimming over the ice like a puck. I made sure to protect my teeth. The next bolt went into the halberdier, right in the thigh as he jumped into the air. The swordsman was the hardest target, he had a shield. I got him on the third bolt, and walked away. This fight was over. The Ancient Ones had the heaviest armor I've ever seen, covering them head to toe. That pretty much insured that they'd never catch up to me. The halberdier could jump pretty well, and the swordsman liked to skim along the ice, but I could walk away from either of them any day.

The axe thrower got in a few good shots before he died first. Silently, he vanished in a golden mist, and his statue reappeared on its pedestal, shiny and new. The others took one more bolt each, but never came near me. The halberdier vanished, and then the swordsman. The air was quiet for a minute, and then the bars slipped away from the other gate.

All that talk about the Ancient Ones had me nervous over nothing. They were just old-time, take-it-on-the-chin heroes who fought in an old-fashioned way. Beating them took more patience than bravery. A mighty feat indeed. Well, maybe I'm not so good... but I guess I'm good enough. I walked into the gate.

Chapter 37

The whole population of Harrogath was waiting for me in the square. When I poked my head in, they all let loose the loudest cheer a double dozen Barbarians can manage. Snow fell off the roofs and icicles tinkled to the ground. I almost jumped.

"Congratulations!" Cain shouted, trying to make himself heard.

"Besting the Ancient Ones is a mighty feat indeed," Qual-Kehk said, having a much easier time of it. "I hope this means you're ready to face Baal."

They looked pretty surprised when I dropped the crossbow by the well and started taking my gauntlets off. "No. The Worldstone is toast. He got to it already."

The square went silent. "You are certain?" Qual-Kehk finally said.

"There's pieces of red crystal all over the place, chunks as big as houses. They're in the floor, in the walls, the whole place looks bloody. The Worldstone was red, right?"

Anya nodded. "Then vengeance is all we have left to live for."

"I don't do revenge, or lost causes. There's no point. That's it. They got what they were after. Game over."

The square was still silent. Finally, Qual-Kehk said, "You left Baal alive, then? He is inside Mt. Arreat?"

I looked around. Everyone was staring at me. "Don't you get it? He won! He probably won last night while I was asleep. There's no point going after him anymore."

"We understand your words," Anya said. "It is the spirit in them that is strange. You have become a hero for me and my people. To fall into despair now is... unlike you."

"Many warriors' hearts fail when they see the enemy's power," Malah said, then smiled up at Qual-Kehk. "Even you were afraid, on your first raid into the southlands."

"I was. But I did not let that fear stop me." Qual-Kehk crossed his arms. "Warrior, the destruction of the Worldstone bodes ill, but to let the destroyer to live on would be foolish beyond measure. The Ancients themselves have honored you above all others. Does their will mean nothing to you?"

I looked at Cain. "They don't get it."

"Amy..." he began, his eyebrows wrestling each other up and down his forehead, "the end of the Worldstone does not mean the end of the world."

"It doesn't?"

"I have been speaking with many of the clansmen and women while you were away. The true nature of the Worldstone has always been a mystery. In fact, the whole history of the northlands is almost completely unknown to us, and --"

"Cain? High points! Please?"

"Uh, yes. Heaven gave us the Worldstone for our protection, but our world existed long before, and I am sure we can continue on without it."

"Oh," I said. I need some snappier comebacks.

"Our lives may be harder without the safety the Worldstone offers --"

"But they will be harder yet with the Lord of Destruction loose in our lands!" Qual-Kehk interrupted. "Outlander, why do you question what must be done?"

"You met and defeated the Ancient Ones, whom Baal feared to face," Anya said. "He must be exiled from our world if we are ever to have any peace. What comes tomorrow, we will face tomorrow. The destroyer must be destroyed today!"

Cain nodded energetically. "Taking Baal's Soulstone to the Hellforge should --"

"All right already!" I screamed. "I'm going!"

Inside Mt. Arreat was a network of wide corridors, high ceilings, columned halls, and braziers full of crackling flames that made it almost comfortable inside. Everything was made of stone and iron, without a sign of rust. If I saw red, it was either a piece of crystal, or a puddle of human blood. It looks like there were a few locals in here before me. Either that, or Baal and crew brought snacks.

The "crew" was the usual: Zombies, Succubi, and some of the floaty worm things. At least the Zombies had thawed enough I could carve them into pieces. The Succubi were wearing gold lame, and could throw a genuine Amplify curse. Bitches of quality, I guess. The curse might have worked better for them if the Zombies ever got near me. The next level down was probably just like the first, originally. The Worldstone pieces were bigger, and a dust of crystals covered the floor. The only demons were slaves who could blow themselves up without a slave-driver. Dedicated, but they still need pants.

The third level started getting dangerous. It wasn't the fire in the floor -- that wasn't good, but nothing would have been. It was the bulls. Baal's biggest load of bull-men was there, with Imps for back-up fire. The bulls hardly needed it. The Ancients wished they could move that fast, probably because the bulls didn't armor their backsides. Why, when you never run away? I gave the bulls my best efforts mentally, both to sic 'em on the Imps and so they'd turn their unprotected asses towards me. A confused bull or three is a damn fine thing for clearing out a hall.

The deepest halls were lit in red, and there was a nasty smell. The rest of Baal's bulls and his finest Succubi were scattered around, obviously waiting for me. Bulls go through Succubi even faster than Imps, but the Succubi's Amplify curse does a number on the bulls too. The Succubi were the best looking of all of them. Also the meanest, and they were all wearing lavender. I suspect that means something.

Sneaking through the shadows, I took a look through the central hall. This isn't as easy as it sounds -- Baal didn't get the good looks in his family. His bugness was up on a palanquin in front of a red gate, passing the time idly crushing bits of crystal between his fingers. I went to clear the rest of the basement before dealing with him. No reason to rush, and I didn't want a bull sneaking up behind me while I was with their boss. The last few Succubi were in the hall with him, probably his favorites. He didn't raise a finger to protect them either... just sat there, giggling like a loon.

I shot him and closed with the katar. He might have said something, but I hate listening to freaks. He let me get inside his range, then threw down a curse: Decrepify. Then more demons appeared between me and him: Fallen Shamans. Damn, this would be harder than I thought. I fell back, waited for the curse to fade, and started sniping. Fallen aren't that bad, except for that resurrection thing. I targeted the most resplendent one, then picked off the others.

The last shaman bit the dust, and Baal summoned up a bunch of Mummies, still giggling like a schoolgirl. That's another thing I hate about having to listen to targets-- too many of them giggle. The mummies brought some skeleton mages with them. I used the standard luring tactics on the mages, then closed on the Mummies like usual. That was a mistake. Baal dropped Decrepify again, and the Mummies breathed. The stench almost knocked me out right there. I grabbed a purple, hacked the biggest Mummy to bits, and ran for safety before the rest could gang up on me. Three reds weren't enough to get rid of the poison. I had to crawl home to Malah to get it out of my system.

When I got back, Baal had more demons waiting: twisted sorcerers, led by Bartuc, Horazon's brother and Hell's most famous apologist. Seeing him now, I had to smile. So, Bart... how's that "respectful relations and open exchange of knowledge" thing working out? He and his friends didn't think much about it anymore... or anything else. It was easy to turn what was left of their minds on each other. The only problem was when they summoned Hydra. Fire spirits don't have minds I can affect at all, so I got a little singed.

The next wave was a crowd of Balrogs. It occurred to me I hadn't gotten a clear shot on Baal since the first one, but these guys were too tall to shoot over. These guys were green, which sometimes translates to poison resistance in a demon, so I used luring tactics to draw a few away for testing. They were poison resistant. Some mental misdirection and sniping whittled them down, then I cornered the last few one at a time and hacked them up.

Baal was still laughing while I raised my bow. The least I could do was shut him up, but the next and last summoning appeared right when I fired. These were strange-looking things. I've never seen or heard of anything like them. I'm not really comfortable with unknowns, especially ones that are trying to kill me, so I fell back and let two follow me out of the hall. A shot stopped one, and I let the other get me back into a side corridor. It was time to experiment.

I put my worst poison on a bolt, took careful aim, and got it right where an artery should be in anything whose anatomy makes sense. It made a strange noise, and followed me around in circles until the venom wore off. I put in another, for a repeat performance. That was bad. Even the toughest of the Ancient Ones only took two bolts. Out came the katar, and I closed in. That was also bad. The thing lowered what might have been its head and butted me across the room. I dodged the next slam, jumped over a stomp, and retreated to drink a potion. My little puppy followed, the poison worn off. I put in another bolt and led it on again. Again, no rush. I might as well see how long it takes these things to die.

A long time, it turned out. Longer than I have patience. After 5 bolts, I'd had enough, and went in with the katar again. It stomped, then swung its head. I dodged both, then jumped in and stabbed. It didn't take long to figure out that the things are incredibly strong, but not quite as strong as they are heavy. They actually need a few seconds to recover from a swing -- dodge that, and you've got 'em. It still took a long time for it to die.

On my way back to the central hall, I ran into the one I'd lost earlier. It took me so long to kill the other one, I'd forgot about it. Fortunately, this was not a problem -- now I had a chance to experiment with mind games. My first look at the thing's mind was shocking. First off, there was hardly anything there. Secondly, it had no instincts for fear or aggression, Hell's favorite motivaters. Its senses fed directly into a few simple brain pathways, with no higher processing. The only things it recognized were others like it, and Baal. Everything else, it smashed. This huge monster had a mind like an insect, only not even that complex. I couldn't misdirect it, or confuse it. There was nothing there to confuse. The best I could do mentally was overwhelm its senses and stun it for a few seconds.

Killing the second went quicker than the first, and I stopped to review my options. Mental tricks were not going to work. Poison was out. Going hand-to-hand with more than one at a time was too risky to even think about. But it looked like there was only one answer. I took a trip back to Harrogath to get my blades resharpened, and stepped in to lure them out, one at a time. They came three at a time, but a couple of mind slaps trimmed off the stragglers. Me and the leader went to an unoccupied corner to sort things out. After about 10 minutes of running, dodging, and carefully placed stabs, I squished the bug. The last two I took on together. I was feeling brave, or maybe just stupid, but they didn't hit me too much.

While I was off with his bugs, Baal left. I couldn't imagine him just leaving without saying goodbye, so I checked out the red gate. It took me to a cave almost completely filled by a giant bloody-red floating glassy clear crystal of almighty awesomeness. Even broken, it was stunning. Most of the top was gone, and pieces were floating around like clouds. Clouds that weighed several tons, to look at the gouges in the walls and ceiling, but --

The Decrepify curse hit me, and tentacles schlorped up out of the cave floor. I cursed and took off as fast as my aching joints could take me. Baal was on a catwalk leading out to the Worldstone. He's on a catwalk, giggles like a girl, all his favorite girlfriends wear lavender... in spite of all the spells, I was having a hard time taking this Lord of Hell seriously. As I ran to the catwalk, he teleported behind me, and stamped out a wave of cold that almost pushed me off the edge. Ok, that was serious. I put a bolt in him and hid behind a pillar until the chill and his curse wore off.

When I looked around again, there were two of him. One had to be an illusion, but it was a damned good one. I could sense active minds in both. But only one had a crossbow bolt sticking out of him. I concentrated on that one, from outside his spell range. Baal's spells, it turned out, were very powerful, but had lousy range. His cold wave petered out at about 20 yards. Likewise a tentacly spell I didn't recognize. He could still curse, but with no way to reach me his curses meant as much as mine did. Sniping was my best option, moving when he did, slowly filling him with poison until he threw his own guts up and collapsed.

Now, guess who turned up next? That's right, Tyrael. The second Baal stopped twitching, his pureness vaporized a hole in the ceiling and he fluttered in on a beam of light.

                         MORTAL, EVEN I AM IMPRESSED.
                    YOU HAVE ACCOMPLISHED THE IMPOSSIBLE.
                    BUT I FEAR IT IS TOO LATE TO SAVE THE

WW   WW  OOOOOO  RRRRR   LL     DDDDD    SSSSS  TTTTTT  OOOOOO  N   NN  EEEEEE
WW   WW  OO  OO  RR  RR  LL     DD  DD  SS        TT    OO  OO  NN  NN  EE
WW W WW  OO  OO  RRRRR   LL     DD  DD   SSSS     TT    OO  OO  NNN NN  EEEE
WWWWWWW  OO  OO  RR  RR  LL     DD  DD      SS    TT    OO  OO  NN NNN  EE
WW   WW  OOOOOO  RR  RR  LLLLLL DDDDD   SSSSS     TT    OOOOOO  NN  NN  EEEEEE

                     BAAL'S CORRUPTING TOUCH HAS BROKEN
                  THE BONDS WHICH ANCHORED IT TO YOUR WORLD
                   AND MADE IT THE SHIELD THAT IT ONCE WAS.
                    NOW IT CAN ONLY BE A WEAPON, FOR HELL.
                   IN TIME, EVIL WILL RECOVER ITS STRENGTH
                   AND THEY MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO USE IT
                  AGAINST YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU HAVE MADE.
                   TO SAVE YOUR WORLD, I MUST DESTROY IT.

There's no way I could explain to Cain what I did next. I walked up to him and kicked him in the shin.

You damned sorry excuse for an anthropomorphic manifestation how DARE you come traipsing in here and say "NICE TRY, BUT TOO LATE" after what I had to go through slogging up this stupid mountain through all those stupid Imps and the stupid Zombies and those bulls and everything that was in here just to get here too late to do anything because Nihlathak was so stupid he gave away the whole game that you guys gave us the stupid artifact didn't you? so get your face down here where I can slap you right now you stupid aw fuck it

He didn't kill me.

                       BAAL'S SOULSTONE IS LINKED TO THE

WW   WW  OOOOOO  RRRRR   LL     DDDDD    SSSSS  TTTTTT  OOOOOO  N   NN  EEEEEE
WW   WW  OO  OO  RR  RR  LL     DD  DD  SS        TT    OO  OO  NN  NN  EE
WW W WW  OO  OO  RRRRR   LL     DD  DD   SSSS     TT    OO  OO  NNN NN  EEEE
WWWWWWW  OO  OO  RR  RR  LL     DD  DD      SS    TT    OO  OO  NN NNN  EE
WW   WW  OOOOOO  RR  RR  LLLLLL DDDDD   SSSSS     TT    OOOOOO  NN  NN  EEEEEE

                        SO HE WAS ABLE TO USE ITS POWER
                    TO PREVENT ME FROM ENTERING THIS PLACE.
                          YOUR ANGER IS NOT MISPLACED.
                   ALL THAT TRANSPIRED ON YOUR LONG JOURNEY
                     GREW OUT OF MY MISTAKES IN AGES PAST.
                    BUT REGRET WILL ACCOMPLISH NOTHING. YOU
                   HAVE EARNED A LONG REST FROM THIS BATTLE
                       WHICH WILL CONTINUE ANOTHER DAY.
                       I HAVE PREPARED A GATE FOR YOU.
                    GO, AND MAY HEAVEN SHINE ON YOUR PATH.

I looked at the red gate, and shook my head. "Nah. I'll find my own way. I'm going back to Harrogath. There's a party I need to start."

Concluding Thoughts:

Wow, the Ancients went down easy. I hardly had to do anything. Lister was a serious problem; he just would not die.
The Assassin's in-game dialogue has to be the worst of all the characters. Maybe I got spoiled by the Necromancer, who has some of the game's best lines, but I didn't like anything about what the Assassin said or how she said it.
Venom Assassins are better off with bows than crossbows. The Heavy Crossbow I was using was much too slow without Burst of Speed, and I couldn't use that and Venom at the same time. I think you can use both in version 1.10.
Using a Shadow Warrior or Master with a ranged Assassin might be good, if the Shadow doesn't start spamming Cloak of Shadows. That's why I didn't use one. However, this build would be fantastic with a Holy Freeze merc.

Poison is pretty good with a ranged attack. Maybe when I switch over to 1.10, I'll rebuild Amanita, but I've had enough of poison and want something that kills faster. And when I think of a fast girl, I think of the Amazon!

Epilogue

Stony, Matriarch Amanita (Diablo: IncGamers)

Source

Stony's Grand Tour was originally posted in Diablo: IncGamers (formerly Diabloii.net) Single Player Forum. While almost all original posts are long gone, Vesper, one of our Community Members, contacted him and was given the original documents, and permission to reproduce them at the Amazon Basin.

Amanita

Act 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Act 2

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Act 3

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Act 4

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Act 5

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Source

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