Thaddeus

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 Paladin is probably my favorite character. The breadth of skills he has really make him the best generalist -- he can change his tactics to fit almost any situation, recover quickly, and play the game in a great variety of ways. While he's never overwhelmingly powerful, he's never helpless; I consider that a good balance in a character. To my way of thinking, a character who makes the game too easy is as unsatisfying as one for whom it's too hard.

I've played martyrs and zealots, chargers and rangers, smiters and missionaries, but one variant I never got around to trying was the hammerdin, a specialist in Blessed Hammer. Not sure why, it sounded intriguing, but I never did it. This seems like a good time to make one, especially since Mizor found and muled a fairly nice hammerdin scepter. So... what goes into a good hammer man?

Blessed Hammer is hard to aim, difficult to use in tight spaces, and not much good for dealing with single tough targets like bosses. Fortunately, I am a believer in back-up skills, and the Paladin is excellent for that. Charge for the lightning enchanted, Zeal for leaching, and Vengeance for the physical immunes should do. Forget about Fist of the Heavens and Conversion, as tempting as it might be to turn Lister's buddies against him.
The only aura that enhances Blessed Hammer is Concentrate, and only at half effect, so Concentrate will be my aura of choice. Concentrate gives no attack rating bonus, so I will need dexterity. I will also need some energy, unlike most Paladins, so he won't be as strong or tough as my usual. My only other choice of offensive aura is Holy Freeze; it's just too useful not to take. For defensive auras, Meditation and Redemption should do nicely.
Blessed Hammer is a broad-area attack, and should work best if the monsters are all close to the Paladin in a bunch. This will take some herding, which is harder if there's a mercenary distracting some of the beasties. Our holy warrior shall go mercless.
Equipment-wise, I've got that war scepter, an "Ancient's Pledge" pally shield, a ring with loads of mana, Frostburns, some socketed stuff and the necessary runes. All I'll need is a good weapon switch, a war hammer or a big ol' maul. It's a hammer, right?

What kind of man should this Paladin be? Some background: the Paladins are from a western group who split from the traditional church during a great and bloody crusade. The western rebels felt their duty was the protection of rights, not punishment of wrongs, a defensive role. The skill Blessed Hammer also has a defensive, protective origin; a group of nuns sacrificed themselves to protect the Hammer of Ghrab Thaar from an undead invasion.

Our Paladin should think of himself first and foremost as a defender. Other people's needs should weigh more heavily on him than his own, and his use of the hammers means he'll rely less on the strength of his arm than the power of his faith. Devotion to others and to the light, self-sacrifice, and calm concentration. He sure won't be much fun at parties, but being more mature and less profane than Xanthippe isn't a bad thing. My weapons of choice will be hammers (even the war scepter looks like a hammer on the game sprite) so his name ought to evoke that... Maxwell? M.C.? No, something with a little more dignity. Thaddeus. Sounds vaguely like *thud*.

Act 1

Chapter 1

It has been told to you, in the beginning,

Light shone upon the darkness

And the foundations of earth were lain.

The herald of good tidings rose above stone and fire,

Who declared it from the beginning, and before.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 1, v. 17-21

The plains of Khanduras are home to many people, and many churches of Zakarum to serve them and protect them from darkness. When Paladins first came to the west, they were known as "Protectors of the Word", but as the western lands were blessed by the Light and teachings of Zakarum, the priests no longer needed armed guardians, and the Protectors happily faded from view. When Paladins were heard from again, they were called by a new name: the Hand of Zakarum. These guardians came not to protect their gentler brethren, but to seek out evil and wrest it from the world, by force as was necessary.

As the Paladins and priests of Zakarum advanced their inquisition into the corruption caused by demonkind over the whole world, a schism developed behind the facade of unity the church sought to project. Priests rebelled, and warriors of the light cast down their swords. The council in Kurast condemned their insubordinate members, saying they were deceived by demoniacal influences. For their part, the smaller contingent of protesters said the Church of the Light had lost its way; their fanatical persecution of free peoples had distracted them from the true teaching. But their numbers were few, and they could not hope to sway the inquisition from its determination.

Speaking could accomplish nothing, so the dissidents left quietly, going out into the less-civilized parts of the west to keep their vision of the Light alive. In the east, the Hand of Zakarum had polluted the name of Paladin in the minds of many. The older name was invoked again in the west, and the Protectors of the Word are now known again by those whom they serve. There are not many, and they have scattered to the many churches, monasteries, and small farming towns of the plains of Khanduras and Westmarch. There, they serve the Light and administer to the needs of the people... often working against the Kurastite bishops and priests sent from the east for the same purpose.

When demons began to roam the land, the dead rose from their graves, and dark clouds obscured the sun from view, Paladins began to be heard from again. Many died as darkness suddenly erupted in new places, and as the few survivors fled, word spread swiftly, and fresh acolytes abandoned their studies to take up their swords. They went where they might be needed, any settlement, village, or outpost which might be in danger. The most experienced warriors searched for the source of the demonic outbreak; it had to be one of The Three Brothers, probably Diablo, the Lord of Terror. He was rumored to have been imprisoned in this part of the world by the Horadrim, somewhere, centuries ago.

When called, Thaddeus went to the Monastery of the Sightless Eye, a well-established stronghold across a high mountain pass. The Rogues of the Sightless Eye are a martial order, no passive monks or nuns who need complete protection. But Ahlus, the paladin who watched over the monastery with the Rogues, had not been heard from since the troubles began. She was strong with the light, but always punctual with her letters. It was unlikely that such a strong monastery had fallen, so an acolyte was sent to seek her out and inquire after her tardiness. Thaddeus went to the monastery, and with him, carried holy relics for safe-keeping: the scepter Knell Striker, and the Umbral Disk, a disk of pure light encased in a shell of black iron.

When Thaddeus arrived at the base of the mountains, he found the land fouled with demons and corrupted beasts. The birds of the air, even the squealing rats who normally hid in the fields dove at him, biting and clawing. Terrible things were stalking Khanduras, and they became more numerous as he got closer to the mountains. As he reached the outer ring of farmlands which supported the Rogues with their food and fealty, Thaddeus found a crude fortress, bound together from logs and rope. The walls were manned by women archers; they must be the sisters of the Sightless Eye. What had become of the monastery?

Thaddeus approached the Rogues openly, calling out to announce himself. He was not fired upon; whatever they feared, it did not look like a man. The fortress walls circled a motley collection of tents and wagons; it looked like a caravan was sheltering here. A couple of dozen Rogues guarded the walls, or listlessly stood about near the tents. Some merchants were there too, but they looked less despondent; merely impatient and frustrated with their present predicament. A stocky, bearded man in the middle of camp stepped forward to greet Thaddeus, clapping him on the shoulders.

"Well met, noble Paladin! I am Warriv, master of this merchant caravan. It has been a long time since I have seen any of your kind here in the west! Many times, Paladins have guarded my caravan from danger, and you will always be a welcome sight for me."

"Thank you," Thaddeus replied. "I am Thaddeus, an acolyte of Zakarum. Has something happened to the monastery?"

"It is a terrible tale. A few weeks ago, a dark wanderer came through here, traveling from the southwest. I don't know who he was, but terror seems to have followed in his wake. Since he went through the pass, the Rogues have been ejected from their monastery, the gates are closed, and the land is plagued with demons and the walking dead."

"What do you know of this... wanderer?"

"Very little, I am afraid. I arrived after he was gone, and found the Rogues here. You should speak to the head of their order, Akara. She'll be able to tell you more."

"I would be able to tell him as much," a tall, red-haired woman in armor said, "if I thought it would do any good. I am Kashya. Akara may be the head of our order, but know that I lead the Rogues in battle. And I'm not easily impressed by swords and promises."

Though he had a sword, Thaddeus could not remember making any promises. Perhaps his presence was enough of one; clearly, here were people in need. "While I cannot make any promises, my sword is yours. My purpose for journeying here was to safeguard some holy relics, but instead of finding a haven, it seems to me that I have stumbled into the center of a demonic invasion. Forgive me, but I must go and speak with the head of your order now."

Near a corner of the encampment, a scrap of canvas supported by one pole protected a pile of potion bottles, staves, scrolls, and books, both religious and secular. Outside of this miserable shelter, the priestess Akara stood, slowly pacing to and fro. Her cloak and hood were soaked with rain; she had obviously not sought shelter from the downpour. Such a picture of dejection could only provoke pity, which was made worse when Thaddeus saw how her hood had been pulled far down over her face. She was clearly blind.

"Abbess Akara, I bring you greetings."

"Come closer, and be recognized, noble warrior. Ah, I see you bring artifacts of great power with you."

Thaddeus was amazed. The relics he carried were carefully packed away, where the eyes of thieves could not find them. "Yes, lady. I came here to bring them to a place of safety, which I see this is no longer."

"Indeed, it is not. Is there any place of safety in the world anymore, I wonder? The Eye sees none. Our monastery was lost a short while ago, and I have led my sisters out into the wilderness, where I can offer you but poor shelter within these rickety walls. Our sisterhood has been struck by a strange, corrupting plague: many have been suddenly turned to evil by a clearly demonic influence. How this came to be, I do not know, but they attack us daily, and none may move about outside in safety."

"Members of your own order?" Both amazed and alarmed, Thaddeus asked, "How could this be? You could not have abandoned the worship of the Light."

"I cannot explain it, but it has torn our hearts out, all of us. Those who weeks ago were peaceful, friendly comrades in arms, are now mindless things driven by bloodlust. They consort with demons, and have been raising the dead from the local villages, possibly even from our own blessed graveyards. The power of this evil seems limitless."

"The shadow is always limited where light is present, milady. Please, since safety there is none, we must take up arms and strike out against the enemy. Tell me how I may assist you, what I must do to drive back the darkness."

"Some great evil has taken our monastery from us. It came very suddenly, as poison and blood came welling up from beneath our own cathedral! Soon the whole monastery was full of choking clouds, hideous demons, and the undead. To our horror, many of our sisters joined them in joyful slaughter. What is left of our order is here. A few stragglers come in from time to time, but too many others have been found dead by Kashya's scouts. We need to find out what evil has taken our monastery and our order from us, and destroy it."

Thaddeus knelt before her. "It will be my only thought until I have succeeded, or perished. My suspicion is that such an evil can only be one of The Three Brothers, the Greater Evils."

"That has crossed my mind as well," Akara said, "and while your words are comforting, I fear we are lost. We have reports that a cotillion of demons, led by a fierce zombie lord, are gathering a force in a nearby cave, to crush our encampment upon the morrow. Their numbers are great, too great for us to fight. To insure the survival of the order, we must abandon this camp, and flee far away from harm."

"If I could move against this force, the risk to my life would mean little. But I must ask you, if I do not return, to look to the safety of the relics I carry now. They are precious things, and will be great aids to the cause of light, in worthier hands than my own."

This made Akara smile, faintly. "After all that has happened, it is difficult for me to find hope in anything. But your words comfort me, acolyte. You do not need to do this."

That surprised Thaddeus. "My lady... I do."

Chapter 2

For his rebellion is as the sin of pride,

Because rejects the teachings of the wiser.

To come with sacrifice and prayer

Is to consecrate the soil, sheep, and oxen.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 15, v. 22-25

Outside of the Rogue encampment, the fields were sodden with the constant drizzle of rain. While not exactly a wilderness, this was untilled soil, covered with wild grasses, flowers, and only a few trees. The ruts caused by the passage of many wheels, come down through the high pass of the Rogue monastery, were filled with standing water and mud. Though flowers did grow in the fields, something had trampled most of them into the mud. Trees were cut down, and left to rot, nothing good was made from them. Thaddeus had been told much of the subtle signs demons leave, so he could recognize their disguised presence. They made no attempts at subtlety now, not here, in their strength.

The fields held no demons, merely corrupted animals and a few wandering zombies. Quill Rats might once have been porcupines, shy creatures which do not shoot their quills, but after their alteration, they were hostile, hateful, and prolific. The zombies were nothing more nor less than the mortal remains of the recent dead, infected with a demonic spirit. While the spirit is willing, these decayed remains are far from sturdy, and they seem addled by the disintegrating brain. Often, they forget an enemy is present, even while being cut to pieces. Clearing the field was not dangerous, but there was a cave in the middle of the field. This must be where the demons were gathering for their assault.

Evil was strong in the cave, and Thaddeus knew this would not be an easy battle. Before entering, he bowed his head in prayer, and considered the ritual of sacrifice, anointing his blade with his own blood. The ritual was an old one, older than Akarat's prophesies that were the foundation of Zakarum; many argued that such a bloody ceremony was not fitting for the church of Light. It smacked of the older religions, of the energy that could be taken from death and pain, demonism and black magic. The Protectors of the Word teach that the sacrifice of one's own life and body is of a different character than taking it from an innocent. The offering of another is a violation, but offering yourself is a devotion.

Staring at the blade, it occurred to Thaddeus that another important part of the ritual might be the need for courage. In the seminary, it is easy to talk about the nobility of sacrifice, ignoring pain selflessly, just drawing enough blood to anoint one blade. It doesn't seem like much, but it is very difficult to actually do. There in the field, when you must deliberately injure yourself, and know it will hurt... Thaddeus was no more fond of pain than anyone else. He'd never done it before, and while part of his mind knew he should, to protect the Rogues, another part quailed at actually bringing his blade to his own flesh.

All the arguments went through his mind. The body is merely a vessel for the soul, the light's blessings will close up the wound, pain is nothing to the devoted, the needs of others must be paramount, and on and on. Twice, he brought the blade to his shoulder, and twice put it down; when he had to drive it in, his strength left him, his belly quivered with fear. Maybe it won't be so bad in there, part of him thought. Maybe I won't need a sacrifice to conquer the beasts in the cave. Surely, serving the light, the word, and my fellow human beings does not require me to shed my own blood in some archaic ritual!

All of a sudden, Thaddeus understood. He was to be a warrior of the light, and must place himself in far greater danger than this if he was to serve. If his suspicions were correct, one of The Three was here, sending demons out over the countryside. And if his courage failed him over such a trivial thing... how could it stand if he was facing the Lord of Terror himself? Staring at the blade, Thaddeus knew the ritual of sacrifice was not an offering of blood; what need had the Light for blood? Sacrifice was an act of courage, conquering the terror within. Any warrior would need to face fear; even one who wished the blessing of the Light could not be excepted.

Calmly, a prayer in his mind, Thaddeus drew his blade to himself a third time, and a trickle of blood washed over the steel. It did hurt, a lot; pain always seems worse when you know its coming. The blood on his sword congealed almost instantly, and a throb of power seemed to warm its length; it almost felt like an echo of his heart was in his hand. After it was over, it wasn't nearly as bad as Thaddeus had feared. He almost laughed at his nervousness, and resolved never to fear anything again. Fear really does eat at a warrior's heart, and if he was to be a warrior, he could never allow it into his heart again.

Inside the cave, Thaddeus met his first actual demons. Fallen are small, impish things, with red skin and sharp horns -- exactly what demons are pictured to look like, except that they are tiny, weak, cowardly and pathetic. Some depictions of the infernal make the enemy of man out to be merely misunderstood, rebels of grand poetry scoffing at the intolerant heavens, which could not control them, and therefore cast them down. There was nothing grand or poetic about these creatures, very little that might lend itself to the illusion that evil was liberating. Killing them brought out much the same emotions as crushing a particularly nasty bug. More powerful Fallen, dressed like primitive shamans, would resummon their brethren, so Thaddeus learned it was best to kill them first.

Many creatures had been marshaled in the caves: the Fallen, a great many Zombies, and hairy, man-like beasts from the mountains. They were supposed to be peaceful creatures, timid and rarely seen, but now their eyes were full of empty hate. They attacked slowly, but without mercy, and took many blows to kill. In the rear of the cave, Thaddeus found the Zombie lord who must be leading these demons; at least, he was the most powerful creature in the cave. Maybe the spirit moving the rotting flesh was a particularly nasty one, but its rotting brain could not possibly be of much use to it. Twice, while Thaddeus was striking its followers down, the Zombie wandered off to another part of the cave, and he had to go and find it again. When the last of the creatures had been exterminated, the air of the cave seemed to clear. Thaddeus bowed his head in prayer, thanking the Light for granting him the resolve to do what had to be done.

By the time he returned to the Rogue encampment, all the injuries he received in the caves had healed, thanks to his prayers to the Light. Word of his deeds seemed to have preceded him; Kashya must have sent one or two of her Rogue scouts to follow him, though he hadn't noticed them while he was there. Akara was especially pleased.

"Your return is a joy to me. This victory, though it may seem small, has given us all hope, and may restore my faith in humanity. While you were gone, I took the liberty of examining the relics you brought with you. I hope you do not mind."

"Not at all, prioress," Thaddeus said. "I had hoped you would. When I came, it was to bring these to your monastery, and ask after one of my order, who was with you."

"Yes. I have not seen Ahlus since that fateful day when we were forced out. I fear she has fallen, along with many others. Which brings me to the relics. Normally, these things would be stored in a place of reverence, but with the situation we are in, that is not possible or advisable."

"The disposition of the relics is a great concern. There is nowhere safe for them?"

"They should not be kept safe," Akara said, bringing the scepter Knell Striker from its case of polished wood. "These things are weapons, first and foremost. They were meant to be used, not kept safe in a box. I think you should take up the scepter, and use it."

"No, please, lady," Thaddeus stammered. "I am an acolyte, not even indoctrinated into the order of Protectors. A worthier hand than mine should bear the scepter."

"Whose hand, then? A great darkness has fallen over the land; I cannot believe that these things have not come to us for a reason. We must take back our monastery, and you are the only one of your order who is near. I cannot believe there is no reason for that, either."

"But I have not even completed my seminal studies... the Knell Striker is of such holiness, I should not even touch it!"

"If you doubt your worthiness, then we shall let the scepter decide itself."

Akara closed the lid of Knell Striker's case, and set the scepter down. The rain beaded on the oiled wood, and as Thaddeus watched, the scepter slowly turned of its own accord, until the haft pointed directly at him. "Take it up, Paladin. It has chosen."

Knell Striker was heavy in Thaddeus' hand, the iron knobs on its head polished bright. The power in it was awesome, it felt ready to leap and crush down anything in its path. "Thank you, great lady Akara. I do not know what to say."

"Then say nothing. But you may want to visit our blacksmith. While you do not seem to be injured, your armor is desperately in need of repair. Curious, that."

Thaddeus left, wondering if lady Akara really was blind. Perhaps the Sightless Eye had gifted her with knowledge far beyond anything he knew. For her part, Akara dropped the thread she had looped around a knob on Knell Striker's head. A slow pull on the loop had been enough to turn the scepter, but there was no need for the boy to know that.

At the northern end of camp, among the merchant wagons, Thaddeus found the Rogue's blacksmith. She was, as you might expect, a woman, but quite a large one, with very blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

"Hi there!" she bubbled, "I'm Charsi. You must be the new warrior in camp!"

"There is no other who I have heard from, so yes, I must be. I am Thaddeus. You have many weapons and things for sale, I see."

"Oh, sure! That's a pretty sad looking set you've got there. Thinking of trading up?"

"I've a sword for sale... and perhaps some of your studded leather and a pot helm. This coat has served me well, but something stronger might be necessary."

"Yeah... what's with all these scratches on the left shoulder?"

"Ah... nothing. Have you any lances here?"

"Nope, none of the big stuff. It's really hard to get supplies here, and all my best tools are back in the monastery. Wish I could get you something, though... maybe a spear?"

Looking at Knell Striker, Thaddeus shook his head. "Perhaps I should not. Though I am not completely sure what I ought to be doing."

"Hey! I just thought of something." Charsi smiled. "If you want the best stuff, go see Gheed, right over there. He's great, he's got a lot of funny stories and knows a lot about all kinds of things! He's been to Lut Gholein, and Kingsport, and the Amazon islands, all over!"

"Thank you, I shall," Thaddeus smiled. Charsi seemed like a nice girl; a bit silly, perhaps, but it was good to see that someone could still smile after all these people had suffered. Gheed also could smile, but Thaddeus liked his smile much less.

"Hello there! I'm Gheed, and I can already tell I'm going to be your best friend in this whole camp. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask! All I ask in exchange is a bit of gold, a small gem, things that would be useless to a holy man such as yourself. The taint of material wealth is the downfall of humanity, that's what I always say!"

Try as he might, Thaddeus could not believe Gheed would ever say that, even though he'd just heard it from his own lips. Zakarum preaches charity towards all; he should not assume the worst of someone on their first meeting. Nonetheless, avarice hung about Gheed like a cloak proudly worn, and despite all his teachings, Thaddeus could not find it in him to think well of him. "Wealth is not a destroyer of virtue; the love of wealth is humanity's downfall. In itself, money is no more than a means to an end. The goal towards which it goes depends on the one who is putting it to use."

"My sentiments exactly," Gheed grinned. "I hate those who think of nothing but money! A drain on our spiritual strength and resolve. If only others saw things as I do."

Thaddeus smiled. "You must be offering exceptionally low prices for your wares. As the need is so great, who could do any less?"

"Not so fast! Heh heh heh. May I interest you in this fine sword of triumphant virtue? I guarantee its performance for life!"

"My life, or the sword's?"

"The two will be the same, of course! Perhaps a helm, then? It comes with a back plate! Those pesky little devils might try to sneak up behind you."

While Gheed's wares were beyond reproach, as far as Thaddeus could tell, he felt no overwhelming need to give him any business. In fact, he wondered how Gheed could get any business at all, he seemed so untrustworthy. Either he sold only to the unwise, or he had some other, less savory line of business to make him his real money. Feeling that virtuous behavior should be its own reward, Thaddeus bid him good day, and returned to the field. Walking to the Rogue's monastery, fighting demons every step of the way, was going to take a long time, so it was only sensible to start off as early as possible.

Chapter 3

They poured out innocent blood, and abhorred their heritage.

The land was polluted, made unclean by their acts.

Thus, they became unclean by their acts,

And played the harlot for those who ruled over them.

But the covenants were remembered. With mighty arms

Twice ten-thousand chariots rode upon them.

-- The Book of Radenis, c. 36, v. 39-44

On his way out of the camp, Thaddeus was accosted by Kashya. "My scouts have reported an abomination in our monastery's graveyard! Our own dead are being pulled from their graves and raised with demonic magics!"

"Yes, the dead have been raised, many of them."

"This is different," Kashya snarled. "They are not content with the bodies of peasants and foreigners, the demons are defiling the holy ground of our own order! The blessed earth has been violated... and by my own sister in battle, Blood Raven."

Calmly, Thaddeus said, "One body or another makes little difference to the infernal spirit, once the soul is gone. Few are so holy that even their dead flesh resists dark influences. But tell me, what is a Blood Raven?"

Kashya glared at Thaddeus, then snorted. "Her name is, or was, Rabina. She was a priestess in our monastery, and my closest friend. We always called her Blood Raven for her indomitable spirit. I never imagined she could fall to the demons. Not only has she fallen, she is the one in the graveyard, raising a new cohort of undead for them!"

Thaddeus nodded, considering this. "You found in her a kindred spirit, then."

"Yes," Kashya said, a nervous blink breaking her intense gaze for a moment. "We were very much alike. I do not know why she fell, or how she could fall so far. But this violation cannot be allowed to continue. She must be stopped. She must be killed."

"I agree, she must be stopped. Every moment that passes, a new soldier of darkness is raised. Where is the graveyard?"

"Some five hundred yards from here, and to the west, is a small plateau on top of a hill. You will see two tall mausoleums, dedicated to the earliest leaders of the sisterhood. She is there, engaged in foul sorceries, but know that she is strong and quick of body as well. I was never able to best her in any contest of arms."

Thaddeus nodded. "I will do all I can. What else could I do?"

Kashya crossed her arms, her lip curled in a sneer. "You could run."

"No, I could not," Thaddeus looked to the west. "Excuse me now."

The conversation left Thaddeus worried, and wondering. Not about this corrupted priestess; he was sure she would be fierce and difficult to stop, but that did not worry him. Kashya was not upset about Zombies being raised, only that they were being raised from among the Rogues' dead. There were other graveyards, obviously - many of them, to judge from the numbers of animated dead - but their violation did not seem to concern her. Her friendship with this "Blood Raven" might also be cause for alarm. What sort of person would want to be called such a thing? Troubling speculations leapt to his mind, but he tried to dismiss them. After all, he knew little of Kashya, and it would not do to judge her too hastily.

The ground turned rocky as Thaddeus moved deeper into the wilderness. The hills rose on either side of the field, and would soon turn to mountains as he approached the pass and the monastery that sat across it. A fence had been strung between the hills, and at a gap, a single Rogue stood guard.

"Greetings, I am Thaddeus. What is this place, I wonder?"

The Rogue gave him a dubious look. "Hi, I'm Flavie. This... is a fence."

An accurate answer, but not an informative one. Thaddeus began to feel a little irritated. The day was not starting well. "Why was a fence built here?"

"Crowd control. This is the only pass through these mountains, you know. A lot of people come through some months, and we don't want them wandering all over destroying things."

"I do not quite understand."

"Lots of people go through the pass. Or did, when it was open. Right?"

Frowning a bit, Thaddeus nodded. "So I have heard."

"Right. There are inns and taverns strung out up to the monastery, right?"

"Ah, that I did not know. Each tavern owner owns the land within his fences?"

"No, we own the land. But they are responsible for any drunken sots who do something they shouldn't near their watering hole. If the damage is on their side of the fence, they have to pay a fine. Keeps them from dispensing too much ale."

"An unfortunate necessity of peacetime, then. I thought this fence was too open to serve a defensive purpose."

"You thought right. What are you doing here?"

Thaddeus rubbed at his temples. This Flavie seemed to admire Kashya enough to emulate her approach to interpersonal relations. "I am going to the monastery. Tell me, is there a graveyard near here?"

From the look on her face, Flavie's opinion of Thaddeus' intelligence did not improve with that pronouncement. "There is mortal danger for the likes of you out there. Our corrupted sisters are not to be trifled with. What's wrong?"

"Just a slight headache. You do not seem afraid to be here alone."

"I'm a lookout, I'm under orders to run and warn everyone if they approach. You're a Paladin, right? You're not supposed to run from anything."

"The Protectors of the Word are not required to fight on when all hope is lost. Our order frowns on suicide. I would appreciate knowing the location of a graveyard, which should be a short distance from here."

"It's on that hill," Flavie said, pointing. "The quickest way to get there is to follow the fencing around to the left."

"Thank you. Do commend yourself to Kashya. You are performing your duties exactly as I believe she would herself."

The land beyond Flavie's watch point grew rockier, and bare in large patches. No flowers were left here. In the distance, Thaddeus could see a large building. It was on fire, smoke pouring out in the light rain. As Thaddeus moved forward, a group of people ran towards him... women, with axes and clubs. Once he got a good look at them, he realized they were almost entirely naked. Strange green and black growths had erupted from their skin, especially along their legs and feet; their breasts were bare, and their eyes empty of all but demonic rage. These had to be corrupted Rogue sisters, but why didn't they have bows? Judging from the look in their eyes, they might have forgotten how to use them.

Thaddeus stood his ground and awaited their approach. There was no sense of tactics to their attack, or even an awareness of self-preservation; they shrieked and dove straight for him, bashing at his shield when he put it up. Thaddeus retreated in a small circle so they couldn't surround him, but never once did they try to head him off, or attack his back. All he had to do was put his shield in their faces, and they hammered away at it without thought or reason. It was frightening and pathetic all at once, how a human being could be reduced to something like this. How had this happened? What could have done this? Demons can seek out weaknesses in a person's soul, but these poor women seemed almost soulless.

Pity welled up in Thaddeus' heart. Somehow, he had to find a way to free them. Exorcism might work, but the ritual of exorcism is time-consuming. And he couldn't possibly capture all of these women and take them back to camp for the ritual anyway. Whispering a prayer, he raised Knell Striker, and brought it down on the head of the nearest Rogue. The skull caved in like a rotten melon, and with a gurgling scream, a vaporous spirit rose and dissipated out of the body. She dropped to the ground, gushing blood, very dead. Knell Striker was indeed a powerful weapon. Either that, or the Rogue's flesh and bones weakened as the spirit within twisted them into a shape more to its liking. The next one, Thaddeus didn't hit as hard, and she fell intact, incapacitated but alive.

Of the bunch, Thaddeus was able to keep two alive, and returned to the Rogue camp with them over his shoulders. They didn't even look peaceful when they were unconscious; they kept snapping and biting, their bloody raw fingers clawing as the demons inside them tried to get the body moving again. Akara had them tied to fence posts, and began the exorcism. Back out in the cold plains, Thaddeus met a few more Rogues, and tried to keep as many alive as he could. The demons he slaughtered without remorse. There were many more demons than Rogues, thankfully, all red and fiery except one. That one was poisonous green and attended by a crowd of shamans; obviously a demon of importance, so he killed it first.

Along the western side of the field, Thaddeus found a side path which lead to the hill. From this short distance, he could see the iron fence which surrounded the hilltop, and the nearest of the mausolea. A few Skeletons were wandering down the path towards him. Thaddeus met them, and smashed them to bone splinters. By now, Thaddeus had brought back seven corrupted Rogues. Before he entered the graveyard, he returned to camp to see if anything was coming of the exorcisms. He was glad to see a young woman he recognized, wrapped in a blanket and sitting by the fire. At Akara's, two more corrupted Rogues were left; the others he did not see.

Before Thaddeus could approach the girl, Warriv intercepted him, and spoke in a hushed voice. "I... think it might be a good idea if you left this one alone for a bit."

"What is wrong?" Thaddeus asked.

"Well..." Warriv scratched his beard. "I think she was aware of... she knows what she was doing. It is a terrible thing."

"Hello," Thaddeus said, kneeling next to the girl. She did not respond.

Clearing his throat, Warriv patted Thaddeus on the shoulder. "Kashya has already been speaking with her, at great length. You do not need to say anything more."

"No, I am not angry. I want to know if there is hope." Placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, Thaddeus said, "I'm sorry I hit you. I was afraid. What is your name?"

"You should hit me," she numbly answered. "I wanted to hit you."

"You don't even know me. Did you want to hit everyone?"

"Everything."

Thaddeus looked down at her hands. They were moving under the blanket, pulling at her legs. Her feet were raw and bloody where he could see them; all the strange growths had been pulled off, and took the skin with them. "What did you think?"

She was silent for a long time. Then, "I couldn't think. I just felt."

"I think the demon told you what you felt. It wasn't you. You were not in your mind." Quietly, Thaddeus listened to the tearing sounds under the blanket. He wasn't sure if he should get her to stop. Those growths looked hideous. "You were not in your mind."

"I killed my best friend," the girl sobbed, curling up even further. "I cut her heart out in her bed and took a bite out of it!"

"It was not you," Thaddeus repeated. "What did the demon make you feel?"

"Powerful," she immediately said. "I felt like I did when I came back from Tristram."

"Tristram?"

"A bunch of us went there, when Diablo was there."

"Tristram is a farming town southwest of here," Warriv said. "There are rumors that the Lord of Terror returned to the world there, and many went to do battle with him."

That was a great surprise for Thaddeus. The Protectors of the Word were unaware of that, he was certain. It is true, they were spread thin across the west... but how such a thing could happen, without anyone in the order hearing of it, was inconceivable. "What happened to you, in Tristram?"

"There was something in the church. They had a bishop. He disappeared. Some of us went in after him. The church was big, really deep. I kind of wondered about that."

"What do you mean?" Thaddeus asked.

"It was, like, this little town, with a huge cathedral, and deep catacombs, and caves underneath it. I didn't go any deeper than that, but I think it went deeper."

A cathedral in a small town is an odd thing. "Did you keep anything from there?"

"Yes. I found a powerful suit of ring mail."

"Did you all find items of power there?"

"There was a lot of magic stuff in there."

A cathedral where it should not be, full of tempting objects, and the Protectors were kept from hearing of it. This stank of something rotten, but there would be no time to travel to Tristram and investigate. "I must go speak with Akara. Young girl?"

She smiled, a little. "I'm Avilli."

"You rest, and please, stop tearing those things off. They will fall off on their own, and will bleed much less if you let them."

"Thank you."

Kashya was with Akara, who was exhorting a demon to leave the last of the living corrupted Rogues. It was laughing, snarling a few coherent words, and spitting with impotent rage. As Thaddeus watched, he could see the exorcism was not working. Akara was exhausted, and stopped, stumbling over to sit on the wall next to her tent. "Greetings, Paladin. Please, sit with me for a while."

Thaddeus did as he was asked. "The spirit seems... unyielding."

"I do not know why," Akara said. "When I think it is gone, it returns. It is as though it has bound itself into her body in a way beyond my reach."

"You have had one success, prioress... how was she different?"

Akara thought for a while. "It is a mystery to me. This has been very tiring, in mind and body, and I cannot be certain I have accomplished anything."

Thaddeus smiled. "One soul is free."

"And we all may die in the morning." Akara sighed. "Even if the monastery is liberated, I fear for our sisterhood. What is to become of them, and of us?"

"I cannot answer, prioress." Thaddeus bowed his head. "The first strike of evil is always terrible, and leaves a deep wound. It comes from hiding, and may seem strong. But once good people have armed themselves, the power of evil dissipates. They fall to squabbling among themselves, or greedy looting... or perhaps their courage simply leaves them when faced with a determined foe."

"I only hope that nothing worse will happen," Akara said. "Your words comfort me. Tell me, where have you found yourself, and what is there?"

"I was outside your monastery's graveyard. Kashya told me of a corrupted priestess there, but I did not want to move against her, until I knew whether there might be hope for her."

Akara looked up, to where Kashya was taking away the body of the last corrupted Rogue. "Hope... these ones you returned to us were filled with nothing but anger. Rabina is actively participating in her own corruption. I fear I could do nothing for her now."

As he approached the graveyard fence, Thaddeus found more Skeletons and Zombies, either wandering aimlessly or staring into space, in the way of the lesser undead. Quietly, he lured them away in groups, then destroyed them. He could faintly hear the sound of digging in the graveyard; Blood Raven was there, but there was no need to alert her while she still had an army to use. When he was satisfied that there he was no more he could do outside the fence, he ventured in. Blood Raven was a tall, fiery Rogue, still wearing scraps of chainmail and bearing a recurved long bow. Two horns had grown at least four inches from her skull, and her fang-filled jaws extended like an animal's.

"My army will destroy you!" Her voice was still clear, at least. The Zombies stopped digging and shambled to the attack. Blood Raven dashed atop a high tombstone, and quickly fired an arrow, which burst into flame in mid-flight. It shattered in a fiery burst on Thaddeus' shield, and stung a bit. He wondered if the other Rogues could do that.

"Your army is nothing to me. Stop what you are doing, this is madness."

"This is power! This is revenge! This is death! Join my army of the dead!" Methodically, Thaddeus smashed each of Blood Raven's Zombies down. She raised new ones from fresh bodies, in between shooting at him. With Knell Striker in his hand, her army really was no threat for him, and she herself wasn't making much of a dent in his armor. One last time, he tried to appeal to her.

"Rabina! This brings you no power. No one hates you. There is no point to this. You have been deceived. Think of what you are doing!"

"Rrrrrahh!" Gnashing her teeth, she fired arrow after arrow at him. Sadly, Thaddeus ran after her, jumping over the fallen tombstones as she darted lightly away from him. After much maneuvering, he got her into a corner, and as she continued to madly fire, stunned her with a blow from his shield before beating her to a pulp. There was no other way.

Blood Raven's body burst open, and lightning arced into the iron graveyard fence. Finally, a ghostly humanoid shape flashed up into the sky, and her empty shell of a body collapsed to the ground. Looking around, Thaddeus saw the graveyard had been invaded before. Three dead Rogues were hanging from the willow tree in the center; perhaps they weren't "ripe" enough to make into Zombies yet. Kashya was amazed that Thaddeus had defeated Blood Raven, yet wasn't greatly injured. She even offered the service of one of her Rogues, to accompany Thaddeus into the field.

"I'm afraid I cannot accept that," Thaddeus said. "Your women are needed here, I could not conscienceably place one in danger."

"My warriors are strong," Kashya said. "I have trained them myself to work together, and the beasts will be more dangerous the closer you go to the monastery. Even you will need someone to watch your back."

"Their strength is not an issue. So few have survived, I could not allow more to be lost unnecessarily. This battle will be won, but without your sisters, the peace that comes after would be lost. You must be able to hold your monastery once it is taken."

"Then you will need more than a weapon," Akara said, as she glided over to the fire. "Your shield may be faith, but a more material one could not possibly hurt. I believe you must take up the other half of your gift. Since we cannot keep them safe, they should keep you."

The Umbral Disk was light as a feather, quicker than any piece of iron should be. The light within it hummed like a single note, and the blue gem in its center sparkled with unearthly luminescence. Arguing with Akara's wisdom was fruitless. Her vision was indeed great. "It is clear to me," she said, "that we need guidance from one wiser than myself. Perhaps that one can answer the many mysteries we have been confronted with. There is no one in this part of the world wiser than Deckard Cain, the last sage of the Horadrim. But he was, when last I heard, living a quiet life in Tristram. There seems little hope that he is still alive."

Chapter 4

I am the man that has seen affliction

Burning the foundations of the mountains.

Our enemy has stretched out his hands

Over all our precious things. Fear

Has defiled the kings of the earth.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 87, v. 1-5

After having his equipment cleaned and repaired, Thaddeus resumed his trek towards the monastery. Moving up the mountains, a series of switchbacks allow wagons to ascend or descend safely. Travelers on foot did not have to walk back and forth all the way up to the pass, however; an underground passage had been built through a series of natural caves, allowing rapid ascent. Many travelers skipped the passage, as the taverns along the pass were well known for their hospitality.

The closer Thaddeus got to the monastery, the more corrupted Rogues he found. They were still outnumbered by the demons and undead, but their growing numbers were disheartening. The changes in their bodies had gotten worse too. Many had horns, long teeth, or the beginnings of tails. Not all bore axes or spears anymore -- there were archers, with a look of crafty awareness in their eyes. They also wore more clothing; mostly the high boots Rogues favor, or a padded leather jerkin cut off to expose the breasts and midriff. This preference for displaying their womanly charms continually mystified Thaddeus. The first few were a shock and a distraction, perhaps, but any gains it gave them were far outweighed by the loss of protection.

Using the Umbral Disk, Thaddeus could blind an enemy by willing a burst of light to blaze out of the shield's central gem; this made capturing Rogues much easier. He brought a few back to camp, but Akara could do nothing for them. The exorcisms exhausted her and produced very little by way of results, so Thaddeus eventually stopped bringing Rogues back. He could do nothing for them but crush their bodies and send them to whatever reward was most fitting. Still... he was sure there had to be a way. Stalking the fields, he turned the problem over and over in his mind, wondering what strange new technique the demons could be using to resist the rituals of exorcism. Knowing what demon lord was responsible could help; each has known habits and weaknesses that might be exploited.

While in camp, Thaddeus stopped to talk with Warriv. "I do not suppose you have been in the deserts east of the pass recently?"

"Not for a few months. Are you worried about what might lie on the other side of the mountains?"

"Partially, but the monastery and these poor corrupted women concern me now. It occurs to me, some of the demon lords have a weakness for the defilement of women's bodies. The demon lord Baal in particular is fond of it; he is purported to keep an army of female demons on hand to satisfy his depravities."

"I know nothing of that, my friend! Demons and kings are things best avoided, to my way of thinking. Well... the king will only invite you to dinner, but you risk getting hit on the nose by the cherry pits."

Thaddeus thought about that for a moment, then laughed. "You speak from experience?"

"Much experience! It is good to be close to kings, but not too close. The closer to the king, the closer to the gallows. What does this demon lord you are thinking of have to do with us? You said the Lord of Terror was imprisoned here in the west."

"His brother Baal was imprisoned in the deserts near Lut Gholein, on the other side of the Rogue's pass. I wonder if things I have seen here do not bear his imprint. He, I think, would want the Rogues to wander about as they are, and change their bodies to suit him."

"That's an unpleasant thought. Two of the Three would be terrible indeed."

"Yes. So, if you had seen anything like this when you were crossing the desert..."

"I assure you, no. Let us not think things any worse than they must be. If I am to die, I will be happier not knowing what awaits me." Then Warriv laughed. "I made a rhyme! The last line is a bit long... hmm, let me think on that a while."

"Many new proverbs will be born in these times," Thaddeus smiled.

"Like cold water to the thirsty, or good news from a far land. I am sure we will hear some good news soon."

"From who?" Thaddeus asked.

Warriv snorted with laughter. "From you! You're not that thick-headed, are you?"

"Oh! Well, I intend to bring some, when I can."

"I know you will. We all have hope. I just hope it will be soon."

As Thaddeus explored, he came across a ring of five standing stones, with a heel stone close to the circle. A little blue demon and its cohort guarded them. That was a painful fight, his most painful yet; every time he struck the demon, lightning sparked from its body, causing great pain. The demon itself was no great threat at all. A few smashes from the Umbral Disk quieted it. After killing it, its minions fled as quick as their trembling legs could carry them. The worst thing about true demons, Thaddeus decided, was chasing them down after they run away. The standing stones, Akara told him, were a gateway the Rogues used to use to travel to distant locations. Touching the five stones in a certain order would open a gate, and several destinations had been ensorceled into the ring in days of yore.

The ring was important, because Akara wanted Thaddeus to go to Tristram, in the hope that Deckard Cain might still be alive. One of the ring's destinations was Tristram. Unfortunately, no one in camp could remember which combination opened the right gate. The Horadrim had built waypoints in many parts of the world, so the older gates were not used very often, and much had been forgotten about them. The correct combinations were recorded in the monastery's library, but Thaddeus might not need to go that far. Through the underground passage, there was a fenced-off field overseen by the Inifuss family. Outside their inn was a huge dead tree, which served as a sort of community message post. Over time, many people had carved names, dates, obscenities, and the like into it; among the older inscriptions, high on the tree, Kashya was sure at least one combination for the ring was mentioned.

The entrance to the underground passage was very near the stone ring. The passage itself was full of monsters, including demons who were not quite as cowardly as the Fallen Ones. These were the Tainted Ones, another set of nameless minor demons that hide in dark places and scurry away when challenged. Having huge, weighty heads and short, weak limbs, they don't scurry very well, but can do harm at range. From their energized guts, they can spit a ball of lightning, which makes them a minor sort of threat, if you're slow enough to let them gain any distance. After smashing a few, Thaddeus wondered who could possibly be so slow that these things would be dangerous. A feeble older person, perhaps, or a very young child might be this beast's preferred prey.

On the other side of the passageway, Inifuss's inn was a blazing ruin packed with Fallen Ones. The stables were inhabited by Rogues, Skeletons, and still more Fallen Ones. The dark woods beyond the light of the burning inn were filled with even more Fallen Ones. They hid behind trees, dropped rocks from the branches, or just tried to set the woods on fire while Thaddeus was among them. If the trials a man must undergo are the driving force in shaping his will, Thaddeus knew he'd come to hate the little bastards. Being attacked by Fallen Ones is like being nibbled to death by ducks, only the ducks are braver. Finally, he worked his way around to the other side of the inn, where the tree of Inifuss stood.

A group of huge brutes guarded the tree. Their leader was terribly strong and quick, but Thaddeus stood his ground and blinded his minions with bursts of radiance from the Umbral Disk. The leader seemed resistant to this, but without the others, he fell quickly. Looking over the tree, Thaddeus saw much of the paper that had been nailed to it was burnt away. Some writing had been carved into the wood itself, and high up near the branches, he saw a few drawings of the stone ring, with directions. But the writing was archaic, using names of towns Thaddeus was not familiar with. Was Tristram even represented? Standing a bench on its end, he climbed up and carefully copied all the writing for Akara.

It turned out that in the days of yore, Tristram went by a different name. When a local king moved his seat of government there, he renamed it Tristram. The combination was on the tree, and armed with the knowledge, Thaddeus immediately took the waypoint back to the stone circle. After touching the 5 ring stones, the sky went dark, and heaven's power struck down at the heel stone. Chains of lightning arced among the ring stones, and though he did not fear the heavens' power, Thaddeus stepped back out of the ring, so awesome was the sight. A web of power leapt from stone to stone, and as five identical lightning bolts leapt skyward from the stones, a red gate appeared in the center of the ring.

After giving thanks to the Light for guidance, Thaddeus stepped through the gate, and found himself outside a small town. Smoke and the stench of death filled the air. The demons had not even spared the beasts of the field: a cow lay nearby, its belly swollen with rot, a huge gash through its skull telling that its death had not been quiet. Every building was a burning mess, and bodies lay exposed in the fields, full of arrows and defiled countless times. A huge group of Fallen Ones and Skeleton archers greeted Thaddeus as he approached the town. Never having known that Skeletons could be intelligent enough to use bows, he decided to retreat, and let them come to him, before he heard a cry for help.

Entering the square, Thaddeus saw two separate groups of Fallen, a crowd of Goatman clan champions, another Skeleton archer group (led by a spectral one) and a cohort of Skeletons wielding scythes. Near a fountain in the center of town, an iron cage was hanging from a spar, with a man inside. Fighting so many in such an open area would not be wise, but if he ran, the monsters might kill that man. His only hope would be to distract all their wrath to himself, and hope he could survive it.

First, Thaddeus ran towards the Goatmen. They were nearest, and probably the most dangerous. Quick use of the Umbral Disk blinded them for a few seconds; then he ran to the archers. The cage was high enough that the Fallen Ones were no threat to the imprisoned man, unless their shamans decided to roast him, but that was unlikely. While smashing the Skeleton archers, Thaddeus looked beyond them, and saw the biggest Zombie he had ever seen slowly plodding towards him. He must have been a smith or something in life.

Leaving the last of the archers before the Zombie smith reached him, Thaddeus went back to the Goatmen. By the time the Zombie reached him again, he had killed all of the Goatmen, so he went back around to the archers. As usual, the Fallen Ones were not a concern. Even their shamans were unable to goad any courage out of them, so they just scampered around, squeaking with rage or shrieking with fear, depending on which emotion was strongest at the moment. After killing the shamans, Thaddeus turned to the Zombie. While it took forever to lay down, eventually it dropped with a sigh, and Thaddeus cleaned up the last of the Fallen.

Inside the cage was an old man; he looked uninjured. Hopefully, it was the right old man. After lowering the cage, Thaddeus pulled him out and handed him a Portal scroll. "Go if you value your life!" The old man began to stammer his thanks. Thaddeus read the scroll and pushed him through the gate. More Goatmen were coming; better to be rough with him now, and ask forgiveness later.

After searching the town, Thaddeus came to the conclusion that no one else was left alive. The bodies were everywhere, trampled into the dirt repeatedly, burned, stabbed, abused long after their deaths. The destructiveness of demons was well-known to him, and they had obviously been at their work here for a long time. To the northeast of town, the cathedral stood empty; it was too large to have been built for such a small place. The graveyard was completely defiled; every grave was dug up, and two magnificent tombs stood open. One tomb was decorated with bat-winged women; the look of them disturbed Thaddeus. Of the great items which supposedly had been in the cathedral, nothing now remained. That was a shame; Thaddeus had developed an idea that those items were important, somehow. It might have been useful to examine one.

When he returned to the Rogue's camp, Akara gave him a ring from her own hand, and they went to see the old man, Deckard Cain. Cain was exhausted, hungry, and needed water badly, but had recovered most of his strength while Thaddeus explored Tristram. Everyone else in Tristram had been slaughtered, but the demons hardly touched him. He had been forced into the cage, hung in the wind and rain for days, but otherwise ignored. Thaddeus could sense nothing malevolent in or about him, but was still disquieted. Was the old man some sort of Trojan Horse, an unknowing carrier of evil? The Sightless Eye told Akara nothing was out of the ordinary with him, but Thaddeus still wanted answers.

Chapter 5

"Why was I brought from the womb

To live only to be carried to the grave?"

Then Zophar answered his friend,

"Should this mocking babble silence us?

Who knows not his span is short, but sweetness

And the breath of life must be our joy.

Better to plunge yourself into a pit,

Than to move beyond what is your gift.

It brings no happiness to you or I."

-- The Book of Haisin, c. 10, v. 21-22, and c. 11, v. 1-7

Slowly, with excruciating detail, Cain described the fall of Tristram, noting particulars about more inconsequential incidents than Thaddeus had any interest in. The old man's memory was absolutely superb, but sifting through the vast stores of information he had in his head could take days. Cain was a collector of information, not a user of it; prioritizing was not a skill he seemed to possess. The thousand irrelevant tangents he eagerly launched into would vex a saint. Among the dross, Thaddeus found, after gentle coaxing and firm discipline on Cain's wagging tongue, the answers to a few of his questions.

Tristram was larger when the cathedral was built, back in the days when it was a king's seat and not a farming town. No, Cain did not know how the Protectors of the Word were kept from hearing of Tristram's plight. Other heroes came, including Rabina and other Rogues. Some never came back out of the ground. Many returned from the dungeons, but then left; their nerve failed them. There were rumors of evil bandits who kept a short distance from Tristram, waylaying all who tried to leave. The heroes were able to enter, and presumably go again, unmolested; the Rogues who returned didn't mention bandits. After Diablo finally was defeated, they celebrated for days... before he left, going to the east. Tristram was destroyed immediately afterwards, like it was no longer needed.

As for the magical artifacts... Cain assumed they had been stored in the cathedral, or buried in the catacombs, or perhaps the demons brought them with them. There were many items, all the heroes were able to collect more than one, including things out of legend... Arkane's Valor, Baranar's Star, Civerb's Cudgel, the Umbral Disk, the Lightsabre.

From where he had been nodding off, Thaddeus suddenly looked up. "The Umbral Disk?"

"Why, yes! I remember the warrior who found it thought it a splendid help to him. The Umbral Disk is a disk or pure, radiant light made solid, kept contained within a shield of black iron. A 40-carat blue crystal, cut in a roundel pattern, set in the center allows..."

"Did that shield resemble this one I bear?"

Blinking, Cain looked at Thaddeus' shield. "Why, yes. How did you come by it?"

"The Umbral Disk has been kept safe in the reliquary of Linkirk Cathedral for the past two centuries. When attack threatened, I brought it here, hoping to find a safe place among the Rogues. Before I brought it there on my quest to find you, it had not been within a hundred miles of Tristram for over 200 years."

The camp was silent, as Cain sat staring at the small shield in confusion. "Well, that must mean... but Boris the warrior said... he was quite specific about its properties and usefulness in the catacombs... But... hmmm. May I see that shield of yours?"

After examining the shield, Cain muttered, "This has been in Linkirk for 200 years, you say? The resemblance is close. There could not be two."

"No, the Umbral Disk is unique, as are all those other great relics. How did they all come to be in one place, under one town, when they are known to be scattered to the far corners of the earth, or even lost in the sea?"

After thinking for a while, Cain slowly nodded. "It does seem a spectacular coincidence... at the time, with so much happening, I did not give it much thought."

"It cannot be accident," Thaddeus said. "I have an idea. But I am not sure. Excuse me, I shall return soon."

Though it was well after midnight, Thaddeus returned to the wilderness. Demons would come creeping down from the monastery, replacing their losses; Thaddeus was hunting for Rogues. After smashing two packs of Fallen Ones and a few skeletons, he found a marsh. There, he found a pack of five corrupted Rogues who were not too twisted; they had kept their hair, and had no horns or tails yet. Three remained alive when Thaddeus subdued them; it was pleasing to note his fighting techniques had improved. As they lay on the ground, twitching and snarling, he relaxed his mind and looked them over. Their spirits were twisted, but each also had a small patch of blackness, an emptiness, in some item on their possession.

The Rogues were not pleased to see him dragging more of their corrupted sisters back to camp. They were even less pleased when he began stripping them even more naked than before. With two of the Rogues, he had sensed something about rings on their hands, almost invisible in the filth. With the third, her helm caught his attention. Nonetheless, the signs were subtle and he had been wrong before; it would be best to get rid of anything that might possibly have come from Tristram.

Kashya crossed her arms and looked on with disapproval. "I thought Paladins weren't supposed to go for that sort of stuff."

"This is not something I enjoy," Thaddeus said, yanking off a boot.

"Oh? Would you rather be stripping boys, then?"

"There are no boys in your order. Why would I do such a thing?" After looking them over closely, Thaddeus nodded, satisfied. "Let us see if this time we are more successful."

Kashya smirked. "What's on your mind, big guy?"

"You are behaving very strangely tonight," Thaddeus remarked. "Cain, do you recognize these items? You must have examined hundreds, but..."

"Yes, they are all things from Tristram," Cain nodded. "This is a ring of light I identified for this young lady, who is named Tahye. A charming girl, her present condition is a great surprise to me. Why, when we first met, she said I reminded her of her great uncle --"

"Yes, thank you. If Lady Akara could..."

It seemed Akara had guessed his mind, and was already at work on the exorcisms. While she exhorted the demonic spirits possessing her daughter Rogues, Thaddeus sat down with the rings and helm. Quietly, he meditated upon them, opening his inner eye to the lines of the spirit world, which flow for good or ill through all things. These three artifacts had many threads to them, wrapped like nests around a hollow space; perhaps a spirit could rest there, and travel with the item. While with someone, the spirit might examine them, learning by observation their weaknesses and flaws. When the time came, on some signal, the spirits might take advantage of those chinks in that person's spiritual armor, possessing them. And when exorcised... the spirit could flee to the artifact, and hide there, for a while, to return when the body was safe again.

As Thaddeus concentrated on the rings and helm, he became aware that one was now filled, with a small, malevolent spirit. It snapped and thrashed and spat a thousand obscenities, for its former habitation was no longer available to it. The other two filled in short order, and Thaddeus was amused to watch the three demons writhe in their prisons. These things were not artifacts of this world. Somehow, they had been made under Tristram, beautiful little traps to snare the unwary. Is evil ever more seductive than when it seems useful? No one thought to wonder why they were all there, just waiting for someone to come along and pick them up. Even if someone guessed, the temptation to use the darkness' own weapons against it would be very strong.

Returning his mind to the camp, Thaddeus looked around. The three Rogues seemed to be peacefully asleep. Though filthy and bloody, to look at their faces now, no one would think there was ever anything wrong with them. Kashya gave an order that they were to be put to bed, and watched until they awoke. Akara was exhausted but triumphant, as dawn broke the horizon behind her. Realizing how late it was, Thaddeus realized he was very tired; it had been a very long day and night. Besides, Akara could not perform any more exorcisms until she had rested. Sleeping now would give Thaddeus a chance to talk to the Rogues when they woke up, and bring many more home from the wilderness.

Later in the day, when just about everyone was asleep, Gheed woke up. Yawning and scratching himself, he looked around the oddly empty camp, wondering if they'd been invaded and no one bothered to tell him. No, not enough blood on the ground, and nothing on fire that shouldn't be. Charsi was up and about, putting a polish on a shield.

"Hello, my best girl! How's business?"

"Oh, everything's wonderful! Have you heard? The Paladin brought back some more of our sisters, and this time, the exorcism worked!"

Gheed shuddered. "I wish he wouldn't do that. Most of those gals were scary enough before they got demons inside them."

"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say! Don't worry, the demons are out now! Akara thinks they were hiding inside trick magic items. Now that's scary. Who would have thought a ring or something could betray you?"

Gheed chuckled, noting Charsi had been working on the Umbral Disk. "Say that around him, and you'll probably get a sermon on the temptations of power."

"Oh, yeah. You think that was it? I mean, why they fell?"

"As if I care," Gheed muttered, then smiled. "We can't know why, so don't worry about it! Me, I've got enough on my plate without anyone else's problems being served up."

"Um..." Charsi thought a minute. "I guess. I'm just worried about the monastery."

Gheed sighed, casting his gaze heavenwards. "My dear girl... religion is all very well, but you have to remember business is business! Money made the monastery work, all the fees you collected from the pass. What am I going to do with you? I like you. Everyone likes you! When everyone likes you, with a little business savvy, you can make money hand over fist! Akara needs money a lot more than sermons, if you want to do her some good."

"The Paladin seems to do fine without much money."

"He doesn't buy anything, he loots it. Oh, excuse me: liberates it from the infernal hordes, to put to a holy purpose. And he brought better stuff with him than anything you or I have. Real churchly relics; they always keep the best for themselves." Then Gheed thought of something. "Say, why don't you call him by his name? He has one, doesn't he?"

"Oh, yeah, Thaddeus. It's kind of weird to just call him that. He's kind of... I mean, he comes back in, I know he's been fighting, but there isn't a speck of dirt on him!"

Gheed smirked. "Not very accessible?"

"It's weird to just call him a name, you know?"

"You know what I think of him? Boring. B. O. R. I. N. G. Doesn't buy anything, hardly sells anything, gives it all away. Worse businessman than you. Also, he doesn't laugh at any of my jokes. The other day, I told him a great one, and he just stared at me."

"What joke was it?"

"Oh, just a little something between men," Gheed chuckled. "I know you're in a monastery, but mark my words, don't get religious, or you'll have no sense of humor at all and no one will like you. Look at me! Everyone loves ol' Gheed, because I make them laugh!"

Charsi laughed. "Yeah, I guess. Still wish you'd tell me the joke."

Gheed backed away, waving his hands. "Oh, no! Can't let Kashya catch me telling you things like that! I'll be banned from camp or worse."

Back in the marshes, Thaddeus found a few more corrupted Rogues, and took the survivors back to camp. There was also a huge old tower, broken and fallen into decay. This section of the pass didn't have an inn, even though it was fenced off like all the rest. Perhaps the innkeepers didn't want to stay in a marsh (the mosquitoes were annoying) or the land was owned by whoever stayed in the tower. Probably the latter; the remains of foundations told Thaddeus it was once part of a much larger building. Inside, one wall of an empty basement had collapsed, and a strange smell came up from below.

Even without the charnel smell, the feeling of evil was palpable in the cellar. Something was here, stronger than your typical demon, and should be dealt with. Beneath the tower cellar were 5 levels of sub-basements, networks of winding tunnels leading into the earth. Human bones were scattered everywhere, heaped up against the walls, in loops of corridor, even walking around of their own volition. All the bones were tiny, like those of children or youths. In addition to Skeletons, Wraiths and Blood Clan Goatmen abounded; something terrible and painful had happened here, to make so many ghosts. The Blood Clan was a bad sign as well; they often follow after Vampires and other blood-drinkers.

At the deepest level, Thaddeus found a symmetrical set of chambers, laid out like a temple of one of the old religions. A concourse, set with pillars, made the body. Four side branches represented the limbs. The entrance was central, between the legs -- make of that what you will. As he went deeper, Thaddeus was sure the "arm" chambers would be holding the "head" chamber between them, disconnected from the "body." Temples dedicated to blood-letting, the ceremonial severing of the neck, were laid out this way. Sure enough, the "body" ended in a blank wall and a cauldron of boiling blood. The temple was active.

Thaddeus inspected the "legs" first. The Blood Clan was strong here, and there were women archers as well. At first, he thought they were corrupted Rogues, but with a closer look he saw they were much older than that. Though they looked younger than any of the Rogues, their bodies were pale and withered. Their clothing (more than any of the Rogues had) had an antique look to it, and revealed their immature bodies where it was rotten. As archers, they were clearly inferior, but their flesh was much tougher. These, Thaddeus did not bother to save. Their eyes looked empty; clearly, no soul was in residence.

Scattered on the floor of the "legs" was a great deal of treasure; coinage, jewelry, and other small, portable forms of wealth. Weapon racks and several locked chests also yielded up valuables. Deeper into the temple, the "arms" only had a few barrels and a scattering of gold coin. The evil was strong, centered in the head of the temple; Thaddeus approached it cautiously. Sure enough, a group of axe-wielding girls came out as he got near; the axes were a bit of a surprise, he'd heard blood rituals usually involved daggers. After killing them, Thaddeus went into the "head."

A few members of the Blood Clan were there, along with the only grown woman in the place. She was pale and tall, but lacked the "starved" look of the younger girls. And she looked very pleased to see Thaddeus. This one, Thaddeus could tell, was beyond any salvation he could offer, save a swift death. The Goatmen stayed in the back, only coming forward after she was dead. Were they using her for blood, or had she been using them? It really didn't matter, all met the same end, but knowing the tricks demons employ could not hurt. The final chamber of the temple held a vast amount of wealth. Thaddeus had little use for it, but the sisters would be pleased, he was sure.

Chapter 6

When our works are great and honorable,

Full of generosity and majesty,

Then the work of our hands is trustworthy.

Praise endures forever for our kindred

And redemption for sins of ages past

Is the joyful inheritance of the nation.

Wickedness sees the light and is angry.

The desire of wickedness come to naught.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 55, v. 3-10

Upon his return, everyone was surprised to hear Thaddeus had been in the old tower. It was part of a manor house a long time ago, built by a countess who had fled some persecution in her home country. She attended services in the cathedral regularly, and was generous with her wealth. Perhaps the flow of money she brought with her encouraged the Sisterhood not to question her reasons for fleeing to the Rogues. Whatever the cause, attention focused elsewhere when young girls began disappearing. Despite her outward show of piety, the countess was a worshiper of darkness. Kidnapping the most beautiful girls, she offered their bodies and blood to the darkness in foul rituals, using the dark arts of necromancy to steal their youth and beauty for herself. She even used some girls to obtain other victims, before they themselves were sacrificed. Her activities, judging by the number of bones Thaddeus found, went on for a very, very long time.

From Akara's description, it was obvious after the fact that the countess was not a true worshiper of the Light. She was cruel to her servants, petty and demanding in her dealings with visitors, and derisive towards the monastery, even while making donations. Many had noted the sardonic smile she wore when coming to worship, but others were blinded by the splendor of her gowns and the allure of her face. After her activities came to light, she and her servants were buried in her dark temple, to die amid the bones of their victims. Perhaps she did finally die in there, but it mattered little when the darkness came and the tower burst like an old sore, covered over but never healed.

Leaving Akara, Thaddeus pondered how easy it is to blinded by sinful dealings, how seductive wealth, power, or material rewards can be. Then he caught himself; that was the kind of thinking that led to the Inquisition, the Hand of Zakarum, and the destruction in the east he had been told of. Not all temptations take the form of gold or beautiful faces. Crusading against evil in others, not for their goodness, is another easy trap to fall into. For someone who must keep up a cathedral, or feed barracks full of soldiers, money is very tempting, not out of greed, but because it is so useful. It would not do for Thaddeus to look down on the sisters, if they took money, or looted enchanted items from the dead. After all, he himself was wearing a fine, rare suit of scale mail he had taken from a dead Rogue.

Looking around the camp, Thaddeus felt a bit guilty. Who was he to pass judgment on the sisters, even in his mind? He had not been in Tristram, when the items seemed like harmless but useful trinkets. He had not been here when the countess was alive; if he had met her then, he might have found her too charming to think ill of her. She was beautiful, to judge from the thing he found in the tower. By one of the tents, Thaddeus saw guards still stood over the corrupted Rogues he'd brought back; he should see them, if they were awake.

The three were awake, sitting quietly on bunks near the back of the tent. "Hello," Thaddeus said, not sure how to introduce himself. He was sure they remembered their last encounter.

They fidgeted, and one looked ready to bolt at the sight of him. "Hello," one said, looking up for a moment.

Thaddeus sat down. "May I speak with you?"

"What choice have we got?" the frightened one said. "We can't go anywhere."

"You do not have to say anything to me," Thaddeus said. "But I would like to speak with you. There are things I need to know, and I think you could help me."

They sat silently, and finally one shrugged. "Help you with what?"

"When I found you... you were not yourselves. I believe I know how it happened, but I also need to know why."

A longer silence filled the tent. One began trembling, tears rolling down her face. "I don't know how it happened," another finally said.

"You were all at Tristram, weren't you?"

"I wasn't," one said.

She was the one who had a Tristram helmet. "That helmet you had --"

"I traded a bow for it... it was just an Ochre pot helm, nothing great..."

"I believe those things were trapped with demonic spirits, set to possess their users. You were possessed; it would have happened to anyone who had those things. It was not your fault, anyone would have fallen as you did." After pausing for a moment to let this sink in, Thaddeus continued, "The demons made you feel things, didn't they?"

"Yes," they said immediately, almost as one.

"Yes," Thaddeus replied. "Anger, hate, and pride, I would guess."

"I wanted to kill Kashya," one murmured.

That didn't surprise Thaddeus at all. He suspected that many of Kashya's Rogues disliked her, which would be a good starting point for a demon. "There are things within us all we do not like, which the darkness can use. That does not make you evil, nor does it make you weak. Do you still want to kill Kashya?"

Still staring at the ground, she shook her head. "No. Not as much."

Thaddeus smiled a bit. "I know Kashya has been angry with you, but she is as frightened as we all have been by this. When Kashya is frightened, I am sure she becomes angry."

"She wants us to leave the order."

Thaddeus shook his head. "Some of the greatest saints were beset by demons. They learned from their tragic lives and rose above their circumstances, to the benefit of all humankind. Kashya realizes that, I am sure."

The three stared at Thaddeus. "But she said, 'I want you out of the order.'"

That was embarrassing. Thaddeus cleared his throat. "I shall speak with her. Think on this: you have had a trial by fire few have experienced. How many know as much as you about our enemy?"

They looked less afraid now, but still not happy. Thaddeus continued, "Which brings me to what I need to know... who is responsible for this?"

"You mean..." the frightened one said, "her?"

Her. Not Diablo, or Baal. Only one of the 7 Great Evils always took female form. But the four lesser evils had supposedly rebelled against the three greater; had they reconciled? Or was this some lesser demon, not one of the greater lords? "We do not have to talk about it if you don't want to."

They nodded, and said no more. Thaddeus left quietly.

Cain was sitting by the fire, talking with Kashya. When Thaddeus came over, she snapped, "So, what'd they have to say for themselves?"

"For themselves, nothing. They have identified our enemy."

Cain said, "From what you said, I believe it to be Andariel, Maiden of Anguish!"

"I suppose it should have been obvious. She is also Mistress of the Succubi, and seems to expect all of her minions to dress the part."

"It may be that she was trying to recover from her losses at Tristram. While I was there, the heroes mentioned meeting many Succubi in the deepest parts of the dungeons. They were never numerous, and many died, so it may be that Andariel was seeking among the Rogues for... replacements."

"Can demons do that?" Thaddeus asked.

"That is not clear to me," Cain muttered. "It may be possible."

"This would also mean that the forces of Hell which were in rebellion against the Three Prime Evils have rejoined them."

Cain nodded. "Andariel was working against Diablo and his brothers for centuries, but now it appears she is with them. It is my belief that Diablo has taken possession of the hero who sought to slay him, and is making his way to the deserts of Lut Gholein to free his brother Baal. Andariel is obviously occupying the monastery to block pursuit."

"Yes," Thaddeus agreed. "So it is imperative that I get through." Turning to Kashya, he said, "And while I am doing so, I will return as many of your Rogues to you as I can."

"We won't have enough to guard them if you do that," Kashya said.

"You do not need to guard them," Thaddeus said. "They will need to be put back into your service, and soon, for there is much they need to do."

"Have you gone nuts? They can't be trusted."

"Of course they can. I would trust them before I would trust your untested soldiers; they know where danger lies. Besides, I will need your Rogues to carry letters to nearby cities, describing what has happened here."

Kashya's mouth opened and closed a few times. "I will NOT allow them to go armed in our camp! They slaughtered their fellow sisters, they gave in to demons, who knows WHAT they were doing out there with them --"

"That is all over now," Thaddeus said calmly. "Have you no forgiveness in you? They have gone through something horrible. They lost their minds, their better natures, their souls were in peril. To find themselves again, they need goodness from you and all their sisters. To be good is something more than simply shutting out evil."

"You weren't there when the monastery was attacked!" Kashya snarled. You have NO IDEA what they did! You say they were possessed. A demon can't possess someone and make them do what they'd never do themselves! Read your scripture! The ones who fell WANTED to fall, they made a PACT, the demons just rooted out the weak ones and we're better off without them!"

"No," Thaddeus said. "A demon can make someone do what they would not normally do. When possessing a mind, a demon may take advantage of weaknesses, resentment, or hostility normally held in check. All people have weaknesses. Tell me, why do you think Blood Raven fell?"

That gave Kashya pause. Thaddeus went on, "Was she weak? Or full of resentment? Did she enjoy raising the dead from their slumber when you knew her?"

"Rabina was... proud. I'd consider that her only flaw. She had a lot to be proud of."

"And as near-flawless as she was, she fell further than any other. I think your sisters fell into a cunning trap, that would ensnare anyone. To clear your monastery of everyone who could not be 'turned', you would have to empty it forever. Now, in these girls, you have some who have come back from the brink of darkness. They should not be blamed for what was done, using their bodies."

"I still cannot trust them."

"You may have to. I will write letters, which I need taken to nearby cities, and the head of my order. We have learned much of how the demons are working now, and cannot allow the knowledge to die with us. This may endanger us, but we must think of the rest of the world. I must return to battle. Please, discuss this with Akara. The decision belongs with you and she, but I beg you to reconsider your position."

Kashya is a fierce woman, Thaddeus thought as he climbed out of the countess's marshes. Pride may be her only flaw too, or perhaps merely her greatest flaw. It does not bode well to spend time contemplating the inadequacies of others, but something about her irritated and distressed him. She had probably remained behind at the monastery, keeping the barracks, when the Rogues went to Tristram. If she hadn't, she would probably be out here, armed with a bow. As he climbed a hill, the monastery came into view. The high stone walls were built across a gap in the mountains, with one huge gate, shut up tight. A gloom hung over the whole building that even the sun could not penetrate. Looking at the wall, Thaddeus wondered how he could enter, before he saw a small door off to one side. In the meantime, arrows were whizzing past him as he stood on the hilltop; skeletal archers below were taking advantage of his poorly-chosen vantage point.

The hillsides around the monastery were full of corrupted Rogues, far more than Akara would have the energy to exorcise. As much as it pained him, Thaddeus began to pick and choose who would live and who would die from among them. Any who seemed too pleased with what they were doing, died. Those whose physical transformations probably mirrored a more deeply corrupted soul were put down as well; horns, claws, even one with a vestigial pair of wings he took as a sign for death. The remainder were still so numerous, Thaddeus had to pile them up outside of camp, where the Rogues tied them to the palisades. He wondered if Akara could see to them all before they died of exposure.

On one return trip, Thaddeus saw Avilli, armed with a bow and standing watch at the first gate. Akara had evidently disagreed with Kashya, and welcomed Avilli back into the order. Warriv warned Thaddeus that it would be a good idea to avoid Kashya for a while; she was mad, and might take it out on him. Charsi also seemed leery of Kashya, but also of her formerly corrupted sisters. They still bore the physical marks of their ordeal, and made her nervous. But while you're here... Charsi had left her best tools back in the monastery, including a thing called the Horadric Malus. It could craft powerful items, and would be very useful to have. Thaddeus agreed to look for it.

Before he went back, a strange thin man Thaddeus didn't recognize stopped him. "Greetings, your holiness! It's good to see someone around here again."

"Greetings... you have been here before?"

"Many times! You see, I'm a... traveler, of a sort. I give things to deserving people I meet so they can do good things with their lives."

Thaddeus smiled. "Charitable acts are not to be frowned upon. Here, let me give you something that you may purchase food and lodgings."

"Oh, I don't want those things! I'm here to give something to you!"

"I have no need of charity," Thaddeus frowned. "Others need you much more."

"This is less a need, and more a convenience! You'll be wanting this, and this here. They'll do you a world of good."

Thaddeus now had a valuable amulet and a glowing set of chain mail, which spat and shone with sparks of electricity. "What are these things?"

"This is a Rainbow amulet of the Bat, and that there is the Sparkling Mail. Don't you worry, no demons hidin' in them! I've got to go now, so I'll see you again when you've opened the pass. Best o' luck to ya!"

"How did you..." Thaddeus looked around, but the strange man had ambled off. That was some very quick ambling, he thought, but the items did not seem to have any demonic traps. Perhaps they were a gift from the light, but the peculiar emissary seemed an odd choice.

The gates led to a small garden area, with a beautiful fountain representing three Rogue heroes in a back-to-back hilltop stand. The gardens were torn up, with blood splattered on the walls, and mangled flesh and bones in the flower beds. Some of the canniest-looking Rogues were here, along with more courageous Fallen Ones. Beyond the gardens were the barracks, where Charsi had said her tools were kept. The barracks were full of everything you'd expect: cots, weapon racks, bits of clothing and armor, eviscerated young women... Well, maybe not everything was as it should be, but all was as Thaddeus expected. The Sparkling Mail was a great help; charges of electricity surged around him, adding an extra zap to every demon he hit. The amulet was useful too, allowing him to recover much of the vigor and will he would normally lose to fatigue over the course of a fight.

In the deepest part of the barracks, a huge demon was pounding away on an anvil, probably using Charsi's tools. It looked like a Flayed One, a demon formed from the blood of an angel whose all-consuming vanity led him to revolt against Heaven. As punishment, he was thrown into the fiery pits, where his beauty was taken from him with red-hot whips and tongs of icy-cold iron. Flayed Ones are tough and powerful, but slow, so Thaddeus was in no real danger as he destroyed it. The Horadric Malus was among the tools in the smithy, and Charsi was very happy to see it again.

Thaddeus thought it was good to see the camp again. More of the Rogues he'd returned from the pass were walking the grounds. They were unarmed, and looked deeply ashamed, but they were there, and making themselves useful. There were still plenty of corrupted ones tied to the walls; Thaddeus did not think they could all have been exorcised in one day. He just hoped he wasn't expecting too much of Lady Akara; she was not young, and this might be a terrible strain for her. It was long past dark. Flavie was at her post again, and more Rogues were outside the camp walls than within, watching over their sisters. It might have been helpful for him to watch with them, but Thaddeus stayed inside. He needed light to write his letters, and then he needed sleep.

Chapter 7

The Whore of Darkness came to them in secret.

She served Baal and worshipped him,

And bade them to forsake their own house.

Zedekiah the son of Shilhim came near

And went in strength into the temple.

The Light rent the mountain, broke into pieces

Rock and beam. All who ate at her table were there,

And he said unto her, "Your servants are dead,

The door is opened up, all now know you.

Come out to me, for your time is at an end."

-- Chronicles of Zakarum, c. 13, v. 31-40

As the sun rose, Thaddeus started awake. Sleep had been fitful, full of dark nightmares and fearful worries. Somewhere inside the monastery, a Lord of Hell was sending out endless waves of minions. To save the Rogue's lives, he had to go in, find her, and kill her. He also had to live through the attempt; that Lesser Evil was in turn guarding the way to a Greater Evil. The letters he had written explained everything, but there could be no delay in the pursuit of Diablo if he was truly seeking his brother. Last night, Thaddeus had entered the monastery. He would have to find Andariel today.

According to the Rogues, beneath the barracks was a jail, where they had kept misbehaving visitors, of whom they had many. Women soldiers were a bit of a novelty here in the west, and not everyone recognized their authority. Many female Paladins had complained of this. Beyond the jails was an inner courtyard, and the Rogue's Mountain Cathedral; Akara was sure Andariel was there.

Andariel was well described in the scripture of Zakarum. While walking among humanity, she always takes a form of great beauty, for vanity and envy are her favorite sins. In times of tranquillity, she is at her most dangerous, for she and her most favored minions have great insight into human weaknesses. War is not her theater, but she is a Lord of Hell, and not to be trifled with at any time. She would take on a form more suited to combat, taller than any man, with the features of a horrendous spider -- the sort that eats its mate. Perhaps the symbolism appealed to her.

As he dressed for battle, Thaddeus wondered if he was afraid. Despite the nightmares, he felt calm and focused, but a crawly feeling came up in his gut when he thought of facing Andariel. He had read much on her and her infernal cohort; the demons he met outside the monastery were numbered among Diablo's favored minions, not hers. The trapped items from Tristram was a tactic he had never heard of either using. How much of the knowledge in Zakarum's records was inaccurate? Perhaps they was simply out of date; the demons had changed their tactics. Uncertainty had always made Thaddeus uneasy, but from here, he could not rely on the knowledge he had spent so much time learning.

Before returning to the monastery, Thaddeus looked around the camp, seeing who was there. Gheed, perhaps in a fit of premonition, was under his wagon, and prepared to stay there until winter. Kashya was with Akara, as the last of the corrupted Rogues were brought inside the walls to her. Warriv was chatting with two of the Rogues over breakfast, telling them some funny story. A laugh might do him good, so Thaddeus went to visit with them.

"Good morning," he said, dishing up a bowl of gruel for himself.

"Ah, hello there!" Warriv smiled. "Have you heard the story about the overturned wagon?"

"No, I don't think so."

"One time, a merchant's wagon overturned, right in this pass. The driver, a rather handsome young fellow, was trying to turn it up when two Rogues came by."

The two Rogues next to him were giggling. Thaddeus was sure Warriv wasn't the sort to tell embarrassing stories, so he smiled. "Go on."

"The two Rogues said to him, 'It's almost dark. Why don't you come with us? You can put your wagon back in the morning, it's not going anywhere.' The driver replied, 'I would like to, but I don't think my caravan master would want me to do that.'"

"This isn't... Gheed's sort of joke, is it?"

"This early in the morning?" Warriv looked positively aghast. "And around two lovely young ladies, too! What do you take me for?"

"Oh, I should have realized you've more discretion. I don't know how I ever could have doubted you," Thaddeus deadpanned.

"The Rogues take the driver back to the monastery, and treat him to a meal in their own hall. And while everyone treats him well, he keeps saying he has to get back to his wagon, or the caravan master won't like it. Finally, the Rogues say, 'Your master must be the worst master in the world! You don't have to be afraid of him! Who is he, anyway?' You know what the driver says?"

"No..."

"He says, 'He's the one under my wagon.'"

It wasn't even that great a joke, but Thaddeus spat his gruel out, he laughed so hard. The Rogues looked at him strangely. "Ah ha ha... ha... I'm sorry, I think I needed that."

"It seems so," Warriv laughed. "You should stop being so serious all the time. Tell me a joke you know. It'll do you good."

"Um..." Thaddeus thought a minute. "Well, I do know one, but it's not a very nice joke..."

"Oh, ho!" Warriv and the Rogues both looked surprised. "Something straight from the dark underbelly of the seminary? I can't live without hearing it now."

"If you insist. One night, a priest and a nun were traveling together and came to an inn. No other place offered hospitality, but they only had money for one room. The priest said, 'Sister, there should be no difficulty if we spend the night in one room. You may have the bed, I will sleep in the chair.'"

"I think I've heard this one," Warriv raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't," one Rogue said. "Does anything good happen?"

"That depends on how you define good," Thaddeus remarked. "During the night, the sister says, 'Brother, I am very cold here.' The priest goes downstairs, and fetches a blanket from the innkeeper."

"Ah, this is new. The one I heard, the priest asked her to look for a mouse in his bed."

"A mouse?" the Rogue giggled.

"I hope it was bigger than a mouse," the other laughed.

Hearing that was a bit of a shock for Thaddeus. "Warriv, perhaps we've been worrying too much about them hearing dirty jokes."

"Oh, come on!" the first Rogue said. "What do you think there is to talk about all night in a barracks, anyway?"

Warriv laughed, but Thaddeus's ears were burning. It was fortunate that his dark skin concealed it, or he'd probably be bright pink now. "I thought this was a monastery..."

"We're not monks. With all the cute guys that come through here?"

"Oh, don't I know it!" Warriv chuckled. "You Rogues became famous for your odd double standards, as far as hospitality goes. Most visitors see the harsh, martial side, but a select few... do not." Rolling his eyes heavenwards, Warriv did his best to look innocent. "But we'd better let your current and only guest finish his story."

"Ahem. Yes. He got her a blanket, and lay down. A few minutes later, she said, 'Brother, I'm still cold.' The priest got up, saying 'I will get another blanket for you.' She said, 'I don't think it would be sinful, if we acted as man and wife for one night.' The priest nodded, and replied, 'You may be right. So... shut up and get your own damn blanket.'"

Warriv laughed a lot at that one; the Rogues laughed, but not as much. Maybe they were hoping for something juicier. "Whoever thought of that one," Warriv said, "obviously knew what being married is really like!"

"You're married, Warriv?" Thaddeus asked.

"Happily married for 17 years. She's in Kingsport, and probably thinks I'm already in Lut Gholein, fending off some sweet young thing's advances. It's not my fault the fairer sex finds me irresistible!"

That made the Rogues laugh. "Oh, sure, Warriv! The bristly, itchy beard does it for me."

"And those cute little love handles!"

"Oh, and the gray hairs look so distinguished!"

"What can I say?" Warriv puffed his chest out in mock pride. "Charisma like mine is a gift."

"Don't worry, maybe you can still exchange it."

"You wound me, girls! Why, haven't you ever noticed how Kashya just can't stay away from me? She's always hovering about, drawn by my fierce, manly magnetism!"

This was getting to be a bit much for Thaddeus. He was sure none of them were serious, but didn't feel comfortable joking like this, especially with nice-looking young women. "For some reason, I just can't see that."

"Believe me, Kashya is glad," one Rogue said sarcastically. "She would NOT approve."

"A pity, that." Warriv looked off into the distance. "Many visitors to the Rogue's pass have admired fair Kashya from afar, but she spurns all suitors. Her marriage bed is in the officer's quarters of a barracks."

"Well, she is quite beautiful." Thaddeus finished his gruel. "But I wonder about her."

The Rogues looked at him strangely again. "Aren't Paladins supposed to, like, not notice stuff like that?"

"Why not?" Thaddeus looked confused. "I'm as human as the next man."

"Obviously, telling a joke like that," Warriv opined.

Thaddeus shrugged. "Paladins are not ordained or put under vows. We're knights, not priests. Or I hope to be, someday."

"You're not a knight?"

"I have not been knighted. When the troubles began, I came out of the seminary to serve as an errand runner. I have not passed my tests of manhood. That may have to wait for a while, until the crisis is past."

After bidding the Rogues good morning, Thaddeus returned to the jails. All through the jails, Thaddeus saw no more living Rogues. There were ghosts, more Fallen Ones, Tainted Ones, and Skeletons, but the Rogues were dead. They were impaled on stakes, nailed to tables and vivisected, shredded to bits -- every possible way of slowly killing them had been used. None of this was surprising, but Thaddeus would have to ask where all the torture equipment came from. The demons certainly enjoyed having it. A narrow staircase led to the inner gardens, just outside the doors to the Rogue's cathedral.

The cathedral was a beautiful building, made from the smooth grayish-white limestone of the mountain. The two processional halls on either side of the apse featured huge tapestries, commemorating the coming of the Rogues to the mountain, the building of the monastery, and the first battles they participated in. All the tapestries had been defaced in the crudest ways. The delicate stained glass windows had been broken, and the pews were smashed to the floor. While breaking in the skulls of a group of Fallen Shamen, Thaddeus reflected on the motives of the vandal. Some cannot abide grand, beautiful things; it reminds them there is something in the world greater than themselves.

There were some dangerous creatures in the cathedral. The Fallen Shamen, when in a group under a powerful leader, were fairly dangerous. In the other hall, a similar group of Tainted Ones also proved dangerous. Near the main altar, a Skeleton named Bone Ash was waiting. Bone Ash used to be a Necromancer, who brought his poisonous talents to Diablo's service in exchange for power. Power was granted after his timely death; Diablo continued to make use of him as a general of his terrifying skeletal mages. True, he could not enjoy his power; being dead puts a damper on your enthusiasm and enjoyment of things. But when was the last time a deal with a demon turned out to be all you'd hoped for?

Andariel was not in the cathedral, but Thaddeus found a small set of stairs near the back, which must lead down into the catacombs. Waves of almost palpable evil spilled up from the depths; something terrible was down there. Thaddeus wondered why Andariel was hiding in the catacombs; surely, someone of her temperament would be more comfortable in a boudoir or seraglio. Then again, the Rogues probably didn't have a place where she'd feel really comfortable. The catacombs gave her access to animatable corpses, which would be reason enough to make her stronghold there.

Going down into the catacombs, Thaddeus met new and strange beasts. Sitting quietly in the corners were absolutely gargantuan hunting spiders -- their abdomens were nearly the height of a man, and their legs could span a whole corridor. Unlike the other monsters, they did not charge to attack immediately, but charged from ambush. It was actually possible to not notice them in the pell-mell of battle until you were quite close to them, despite their size. Andariel might be fond of spiders, explaining their presence, but the next new monster he met was a complete surprise. These were tiny pygmy-men, smaller even than the Fallen, but with gigantic teeth and absolutely nothing cowardly in their disposition.

A horrible thought occurred to Thaddeus. According to the histories he had read, a tribe of pygmies called the Flayers lived in the jungles of Kurast. They were numerous and highly excitable, and though their diet was almost entirely meat, they were not a great danger to humankind. Usually, they avoided direct confrontation, their small size making escape easy and combat difficult for them. These ones wore the simple, brightly-colored garments typical of the eastern jungles, and certainly matched the descriptions of Flayers. But they came gibbering to the attack in a mad frenzy, with no regard for their own lives, a sure hallmark of demonic influence. The giant spiders might also be from Kurast, where all sorts of insects can grow to prodigious size. Kurast was home to the Hand of Zakarum, the Custodians of Hatred, and the Guardian Tower, built to imprison the eldest of the Prime Evils.

If Kurast had fallen... that would mean the Lord of Hatred had done as Diablo did, corrupting the land around his prison. Kurast would be full of his minions. Had he sent some, through a hellish gate, to help his brother? No, wait -- among Cain's ramblings, Thaddeus remembered that the troubles in Tristram began when an Archbishop was sent from Kurast. Tristram was far too small a town for so high an official to make his seat there. That fact should have leapt out at Thaddeus, but he hadn't noticed among the hundreds of other facts pouring out of Cain's memory. The world must be enmeshed in a secret web spun across many lands, perhaps even moving through the church of Zakarum itself! If Terror and Hatred were free and working evil, Destruction must be contained at all costs.

Muttering a quick and silent prayer, Thaddeus swiftly moved down through the catacombs with renewed vigor and concentration. The Fallen Ones down here were black and hardly cowardly at all; they might have been dangerous for those outfitted with fewer great relics. Half-skeletal ghouls, the remains of mages given over to corruption, feasted on the decayed dust of the dead. Thaddeus crushed them all, and in the lowest level of the catacombs, he found the funerary shrine. Prior to interment, bodies were lain out for a period of mourning and praising of the dead. Now, the pool of cleansing, where the purest water was held for mourners, was a broken pit in the floor full of blood and corpses. Andariel had been thorough in her defilement. Huge doors led into the shrine itself.

Thaddeus opened the doors, and glared into the smoky darkness. Tainted Ones came to greet him, then Zombies, then a pack of Fallen Ones. More minions, and still more minions. Patience is a virtue, but Thaddeus had lost all he had. "ANDARIEL! Come out!"

Nothing moved in the shrine. "Andariel! Unless you crawl back into the Hell you came from, there is no place deeper than this. You cannot hide from me any longer! You can cower behind your slaves a few moments more, if that is your wish, but do not expect them to save you from me! So COME OUT, you worm-eaten whore!"

Huge, heavy footfalls suddenly pounded the floor. A voice wailed, |YOU MAGGOT! NONE DARE SPEAK THUS TO ME!!| and Andariel came into view. She was queen of the Succubi, and some of her chosen features might have been beautiful, on some other creature. When she spat, Thaddeus caught the green glob on the Umbral Disk. With demons, you never know what might be dangerous, and spiders do have a poisonous bite. Snarling, Andariel hurled a cloud of stinking green vapor from her bosom, then charged into battle, lashing out with her long talons.

The Umbral Disk caught the brunt of her attack; the Sparkling Mail protected Thaddeus from the rest. Andariel cried out in pain as the sparks shocked her; no, combat really wasn't her forte. Zealously, Thaddeus lashed out with Knell Striker, each blow slamming into her soft body, splattering red and green ichor over the shrine. Chitin and bone crunched as Thaddeus rained hit after hit upon her, blocking her return strikes with ease. Only the noisome vapor she put out had any lasting effect on him. The fight was brief, the end inevitable. Andariel wailed in despair as her body broke and her life bled out on the floor, finally collapsing and burning from the inside. A column of intense heat blasted up from her corpse as it burned to ash and dust. Looking up at the ceiling, Thaddeus noted the exquisite carvings there, now obscured by the huge scorch mark. Typical. Even while dying, she had to destroy one last thing of beauty.

Andariel's dying wail of agony could be heard over the whole pass. Something like a shudder passed through the land, and then, peace. Back in camp, all the corrupted Rogues began laughing. They were still laughing when Thaddeus returned; he wondered if he had stumbled into a madhouse. But the joy on their faces was unmistakable. It was relief, and release, and the resurgence of hope that made them laugh; the joy of madness ending.

When they saw him, Thaddeus became the object of the biggest group hug in the history of the sisterhood. He still didn't feel quite comfortable with it, but there really wasn't any way out of it. When he was able, Thaddeus told the Rogues he would have to leave. Diablo was on his way across the deserts, and pursuing him was vital. It would take Warriv's caravan a few minutes to get started, so Thaddeus went around the camp, saying his goodbyes. Avilli was there, and many other corrupted sisters, armed and ready to clean up the last of the beasts in their monastery. The scars on their faces and bodies would never heal, but their minds and souls seemed to have found some happiness again.

Kashya greeted Thaddeus with something almost not entirely unlike a smile. "You have been an inspiration. I mourn our dear sisters, but the sisterhood stands firm. And we owe much of it to you. Many of those here, would not be, if it wasn't for you."

"Good can be found in anyone, Kashya. Evil doesn't always win. Hope is the thing; none of us must ever lose it."

"Our life is renewed here, and some of my own views as well. I heard some of the things others said about me. Perhaps I have emphasized my Rogue's martial training overmuch."

"Faith is the shield that protects the mind, which is at least as important as the body when your foe can attack your soul. Though this does not mean they should be monks... I don't think they'd enjoy that very much."

"We are warriors, first and foremost." Kashya looked down, her voice lowered. "So many of the ones you brought back hated me so much. I have always been hard on them, to master their training, but I know now that created resentment. That hate was the greatest weapon the demons had to turn them."

Thaddeus nodded, understanding now. "Warriors you are, and great ones. But we are all human beings, and the joys of life are a part of our being. Perhaps you wished to turn them away from sin; but sin is a loss of balance, not life's pleasures."

Slowly nodding, Kashya smiled a bit again. "Is that why you don't take vows of chastity?"

Thaddeus's ears began to burn again. "Eh... well... something like that, yes..."

Before he could leave, Akara summoned Thaddeus to her tent. Ordering him to kneel before her, she took up his scepter. In view of all, Akara declared Thaddeus to have satisfied all the knightly requirements of his order by leaps and bounds, and let none contradict her word on the matter. With a touch to each shoulder, Thaddeus was declared a Knight of the Order of the Protectors of the Word, Champions of Zakarum, Hero of the People, and Preserver of the Light. Returning Knell Striker to him, Akara then ordered Thaddeus to get the heck out of camp and chase down Diablo. A more fitting ceremony could come later.

Act 2

Chapter 8

Yea, O people who dwell in this place,

Rejoice, for you shall weep no more.

The sounds of your cries, the wail of your

Children, the weeping of your widows,

Has come to me. Rain shall fall for the seed.

The oxen and asses will eat salted grain.

There will be majestic songs in the night,

And your hearts will skip like young lambs.

-- The Book of Haisin, c. 30, v. 19-26

Thaddeus and the Rogues walked with the caravan wagons during the slow trek up, back and forth through the switchbacks of the pass. The underground passage short-cut had saved a lot of time, but the wagons couldn't possibly go in there. There were still a few demons and corrupted animals lurking about; it would take a while to ferret them all out. The saddest were a few pockets of Rogues, still warped in body, and sometimes in mind. Most ran away or hid at the approach of their sisters. Some just sat there, crying or pulling at the horns and spikes growing out of their bodies. Others attacked them, but without any of their old enthusiasm; Thaddeus wondered if it was some form of suicide.

After a short goodbye at the monastery, Warriv took the wagons on their long-overdue trek into the great desert of Aranoch. The journey is always dangerous, not only from the heat of the desert, but the ubiquitous bandits who roam the dunes and salt flats. Some of them are nothing more than the local nomads, who think anything they can take is theirs for the taking. Others are "civilized", but have no stomach for work and try to better themselves at the expense of their fellow men. The bandits were out in force this trip; they assaulted the caravan no less than four times. Warriv could never remember them being so ferocious.

The bandits came so often, Thaddeus was sure, because Diablo had gone through this area. Like a shadow trailing in his wake, corruption and doom were defiling the land and its creatures. The wells and oases were going dry, or black with poison. Many of the desert animals attacked them; several horses and people were stung by scorpions or snakes, and Thaddeus had to cleanse their bodies of the poison. As they approached Lut Gholein, a group of Sand Leapers, cliff-dwelling reptiles common in the desert, attacked. According to Warriv, Leapers are predatory, but these were larger than any he'd seen before, with enormous claws and a thick hide. They attacked as a pack; one would distract, the others would come in from behind.

On the journey across the desert, Warriv and the other merchants entertained each other with stories about their travels, and a lot of the talk centered on Lut Gholein. The port was the gateway to the west, the first port ships traveling from the rich old lands of the east come to. No ships had come across in recent years, but Lut Gholein was still important, as the mountainous terrain of the west often made transporting things by sea more economical than taking them over land. They were all eager to get there; Andariel had delayed them for a long time, and besides, their water was running out. Warriv thought the local well water might be drinkable if they boiled it first, but he didn't want to try unless they had to.

To Thaddeus's surprise, the caravan arrived at Lut Gholein without serious losses. Warriv assured him it was no surprise to anyone else. Over the years, he had led many caravans, some of which suffered great misfortune, but never when a Paladin accompanied them. Not only does the Paladin defend the merchants physically, but their prayers of restoration and cleansing can heal almost any injury. Thaddeus was just glad they'd made good time across the desert. According to the Rogues, Diablo went through the pass more than three weeks ago. Finding him before he dug up his brother Baal would be critical. To find him, Thaddeus would need to know where he was going.

The city of Lut Gholein was fairly large, larger than any of the towns Thaddeus had seen in Khanduras. There were also no farms surrounding it -- just empty dunes and rocky wastes. The city walls and buildings were made of baked mud bricks, sometimes painted colorfully but more often left the same drab tones as the desert soil. The people were a great contrast. Even the gate guards had robes of white and bright red. Beyond them, the people on the streets were brilliantly clothed in yellow, vibrant blue, crimson, beautiful purples and subtle pinks. No great cheer went up when the caravan pulled into the open gates, but a few local dignitaries (to judge by their beards) greeted them quietly. A young man, richly garbed and of noble bearing, was among them.

As he looked about the streets, Thaddeus wondered about the place. The "subtle pink" he'd seen earlier was more outspoken than he'd thought, on a rather unsubtle garment a young woman was wearing. A narrow strip of pink cloth was wrapped around the woman's chest, leaving her belly, shoulders, and most of her back completely bare; he'd misjudged the color because he was unaware that most of what he was seeing was flesh. Red satin trousers rode low on her hips, pressing close against her body with every movement and every breeze. A slit up the outside, from ankle to waist, was held together by a row of widely-spaced brass buttons, permitting the exposure of even more skin. Cheap-looking jewelry sparkled from her neck, bosom, and arms. Topping it all off, a veil over her face preserved her modesty.

As Thaddeus stared at this unencumbered vision, she noticed, and winked before moving on. After looking around to make sure she'd winked at him, he wondered what that could possibly have meant. Maybe she was laughing at his clothing; he was decked out in full armor, which was uncomfortably hot in the desert sun. Looking around, Thaddeus saw many of the town's citizenry were lightly dressed, even naked from the waist up. Perhaps the young woman's attire was simply sensible desert garb, and if Thaddeus thought it a bit revealing, he just had different standards. Nonetheless, even though it was very hot in the mail, Thaddeus wasn't about to change into local garb. For what he had to do, armor was the only appropriate fashion statement. Besides, that woman was still a bit suspect.

"Greetings." The noble young man he'd seen earlier had come over to greet him.

"Hail, noble lord," Thaddeus hastily bowed. "I am Thaddeus, and have come from afar, on a quest of great importance."

"Warriv has told me of your quest, Sir Thaddeus. I am Jerhyn, Sultan of Lut Gholein, and I bid you welcome to my fair port city. It is good to know you are here."

It was a bit jarring to hear the title attached to his name. In an objective way, he could see that defeating a lord of Hell in combat was a suitable test of valiance, and he deserved the title, but it would take a while to get used to it. "I am glad to be here, mighty sultan. Perhaps Warriv has also told you of what I seek?"

Jerhyn frowned, looking uncomfortable. "The dark wanderer he described did come to the city, perhaps 4 days ago. He came seeking knowledge of the location of the Tomb of Tal Rasha, and left when he discovered that the tomb is lost. Though he was peculiar, I did not attach any importance to his visit, until terrible things began to stalk the desert sands. The dead are rising from their tombs, and beasts unknown to these lands fill the night with alien calls. I must confess, I fear for my city."

Four days ago; at the Rogue Pass, Thaddeus had been behind by weeks. It was good to know he was catching up, but Thaddeus wondered what was delaying Diablo on his journey. Was he stopping along the way to raise demons, terrorizing the land? "You should not worry, my lord. Your walls are strong and well guarded, and your foe does not seek to destroy you at this time. If he is allowed to find what he seeks, then you must worry for all humanity."

"If only it were so simple," Jerhyn muttered. "The dangers outside these walls are great, and I hesitate to send you forth unadvised. You must speak to Drognan, my father's court wizard and the wisest man I know. He will be able to tell you much of what is happening. Oh, and many merchants about town have things for sale you might want. I would give you a tour, but I must inspect your caravan and then return to my palace."

"Thank you, my lord. May I visit you there again later?"

Hospitality is usually offered by a noble house to a visiting knight. So Thaddeus was a bit surprised when Jerhyn started at the suggestion. "Ah, no, please, you may stay at Elzix's inn, free of charge. His place is near the north gate, you will find him an excellent innkeeper and good company, besides. I am sorry, I cannot invite you into the palace right now. Things are... a bit of a mess."

A mess? Surely my lords' servants..."

"My servants are all gone, visiting their relatives. Ah, when the troubles began, they wanted to make sure their relatives who live outside the city were all right. I granted them leave to visit them, and they have not returned yet."

Now, Thaddeus was embarrassed. If all of Lord Jerhyn's servants were gone, he would have to wait on guests himself, not a position a sultan should be forced into. "I beg your pardon, mighty sultan, I had no idea. Your generosity impresses me deeply."

"I thank you for your understanding. And I nearly forgot: Atma, who keeps a tavern east of the market square, has been requesting my help on a matter of grave concern. While I cannot spare a single man to aid her, if you would do so, I would be grateful."

If Diablo was only a few days ahead of him now, Thaddeus probably had a little time to tour the city and see what services it had to offer. While the gifts of the church and that odd fellow from the Rogue's camp were of inestimable value, there were other things he might want or need for his quest. By the docks, several ships were moored, with sailors sitting about playing games of chance and skill. They said all ships had been ordered to stay in port until further notice. Apparently, Jerhyn was worried about travelers taking small demonic stowaways with them, something which has been known to happen. Though still a young man, Lord Jerhyn was well-advised in his rulership.

Moving up through the central market, Thaddeus saw many merchants peddling wares, from bright copper bowls to clothing of all sorts. Light and breezy was definitely the fashion here; certainly not like the staid garments the church favored for sons and daughters of Zakarum. Perhaps it was a bit dull, Thaddeus thought as he looked around, but making a display of the body could be a terrible distraction, even a temptation to stray from a balanced life. In one hour in Lut Gholein, he'd seen more skin than he had in years. Even the Rogues, who prefer to dress light so they can move quickly, would find some of the women here a bit untoward.

All of a sudden, an explosion ripped through a shop at the north side of the square. The shop held together, but smoke billowed out as a fire started inside. The people looked up... and after a moment, went back about their business. An old man stumbled out, coughing and waving the smoke away. Pulling on a handy rope, a sprinkle of water came down from pipes set in the shop's ceiling, extinguishing the fire. Judging from his preparedness and the unconcerned attitudes of his fellow citizens, this was not an uncommon occurrence, but Thaddeus decided to look and see if he needed help anyway.

"Greetings," Thaddeus said. The old man, muttering imprecations, didn't seem to hear him, and went back into his shop. Following him in, Thaddeus tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hah?" The old man whirled about, looking around, then up at Thaddeus. "Oh, hello! You'll have to pardon me, I'm a bit deaf."

"I would never have guessed," Thaddeus said, looking around at all the sooty blast marks decorating every inch of the shop's walls and ceiling. "You must be an alchemist."

"Lysander's the name! I'm the alchemist here; I make potions and things. Anything you might like, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you. Do you know where I might find a wizard named Drognan?"

"Lizard banes? Have you been having a problem with them? Pest control is a specialty of mine, but scorpions are the usual complaint." This might be harder than he thought. "I'll just have an antidote, then."

"Oh, for antique coats, you'd better go see that pack rat Elzix. He runs the inn near the north gate, and is forever selling old stuff off. I think he's trying to fence all the things he stole from other people's tombs when he was still a bandit!"

If he got anything he wanted out of this Lysander fellow, it would be by accident. "You've been very helpful. But I must be off. I bid you good day."

Friendly enough people, Thaddeus thought, but it would be better to find someone with two good ears to talk to. North of the square, past some houses and a magnificent palace, an inn called The Desert Rain sat directly against the north wall. Soldiers patrolling the walls could actually step down and walk on its roof. Elzix, the inn keeper, only had one good ear, and eye, and leg; he was the most mutilated person Thaddeus had ever seen smile.

"You look like a sturdy adventurer. I used to go adventuring a lot in my day."

The word "adventurer" has a lot of negative connotations to it, mainly because a lot of adventurers are nothing but bandits and thugs using a fancy name. "You look like you've seen a lot of adventure. It must have been a daring life."

"Daring isn't the word for it! I was the terror of the sands, no caravan ever got away from me! But that's over now. I'm too old, and too beat up to make a living like that. My days of adventure are behind me."

He spoke of it so openly and cheerfully, Thaddeus couldn't help but frown. "What do you think of the things roaming the deserts now?"

"I wouldn't go near them! The worst thing I've ever faced was an old tomb guardian, and it killed half my men after we'd put it down."

"You mean before."

"No, I mean after! They're poisonous. Not to be taken lightly."

"I see. Lord Jerhyn has told me I can take lodgings with you here."

Elzix smiled ingratiatingly. He was missing several teeth. "Anything Jerhyn says is ok by me! Remember, there's always cool wine and hot ladies at The Desert Rain."

Any port in a storm, but Thaddeus decided to keep his footlocker locked and hidden. Even if he didn't go raiding, Elzix might not have given up thievery completely. The shirt he was wearing looked suspiciously like one of Warriv's. Leaving the inn, Thaddeus wondered if he could somehow get into the palace unawares, and store his things there. It would be an inexcusable breach of etiquette, so he never really considered it. The city's north gate was right beside Elzix's inn, and a single guard stood there.

"Greetings. Could you tell me where I might find Drognan the wizard?"

"South of here, to the left, before you get to the inn. New in town?"

"Yes, I have only just arrived. I am Thaddeus."

"Greiz. Head of the Desert Eagles, the best damn merc unit in this desert."

He was wearing the same colors as the guards on the wall. "You and your men here are mercenaries, not town guards?"

"Don't ask me what's up with the town guards. They're all busy in the palace for some reason. Jerhyn hired my men to watch the gates for them. You look like you're here to do some adventuring."

"I suppose I am," Thaddeus reluctantly agreed. "Have you any advice?"

"Hire one of my men to watch your back. There's packs of monsters out there. You don't want to go up against them alone."

"You may be right. I hate to risk their lives on my own adventures, though. Perhaps I will take you up on that later, when I run into greater difficulties."

The wizard Drognan ran a small shop, selling magical wares such as staves and scepters. The shop was not very large, or particularly luxurious, as Thaddeus might have expected from someone wealthy enough to trade in such expensive enchantments. Perhaps Drognan understood the folly of ostentatious display; or he might not have many customers. The wizard himself greeted Thaddeus quietly.

"Hello. I understand you are responsible for banishing Andariel back to the burning Hells."

Word traveled quickly. "I am, though I had the assistance of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye."

"Impressive nonetheless. You will find many things here which may be of use to you. This scepter, for instance, will help you cleanse yourself of poison."

"That would be useful, but I am in possession of Knell Striker, the weapon of Saint Herven, with which he banished the --"

"Yes, I perceive that you are. Many of the creatures wandering the deserts now are the bodies of our ancestors, raised by evil spirits. The weapon you hold should be very useful. But poisonous insects are also common, and many of the living dead were embalmed with chemicals which make their touch poisonous."

Thaddeus could cure himself of poison, or visit Lysander's shop. Would visiting Lysander be safe? Probably not, but Knell Striker was such a wonderful gift, Thaddeus was reluctant to replace it. "That does sound dangerous. Carrying antidote potions with me would be wise, when moving against such foes."

Perhaps a bit miffed, Drognan nodded. "As you see fit."

"What do you know of the wanderer from the west, who came here 4 days ago?"

"He was very tall, had broad shoulders, came wrapped in a long cloak, and kept his face and body hidden from view. Of me, he asked the location of Tal Rasha's Tomb, and I told him rightly that I did not know, that no one knew anymore. He left the city, and I know nothing more of him or his travels."

They looked at each other. Thaddeus could tell Drognan suspected the wanderer's true nature, and he wasn't going to say what he thought to a stranger. The word of a Paladin means little to wizards, though history has shown magicians to be far less trustworthy where demons are concerned. "Thank you, great wizard. I shall remember your words."

Atma's tavern was just south of Drognan's shop. It was a large building, nearly the size of the palace; Thaddeus wondered how a drinking place could merit such a priority among the city's establishments. There wasn't a church in town. Inside, a dozen people sat at tables, drinking and playing with dice and cards. It wasn't much later than noon. At the back of the tavern, a beautiful young woman in very revealing clothing was standing next to a curtain which separated a small private area from the rest of the tavern. A door behind the bar led to a circular tower, perhaps the owner's living quarters. As Thaddeus looked around, with everyone in the tavern staring at him, a middle-aged woman in black came out of the door.

"Hello," she said. "Are you the one who came through the pass to the west?"

"Many have come through that pass," Thaddeus said suspiciously. "If you mean am I the one who banished the demon Andariel, yes. How may I help you?"

"If you could do that, you can help me. Excuse me. I am Atma. My husband and I used to run this tavern."

"Your husband?"

"Yes, my husband and son. A horrible thing has invaded the city sewers. It used to stalk the city at night, kidnapping and killing, until Greiz and his men bottled it up down there. But they were unable to kill it. My family was among its victims."

Thaddeus nodded. So, the city was under attack on two fronts, from without and from beneath. No wonder Jerhyn hired Greiz. "Then the sewers are where I must go next. They should be easier to explore than the desert outside."

"I hesitate to ask this of you. I do not think you would approve."

"There is a threat to the people of this city, which must be dealt with. If I could do so without killing the thing, I would do so, but that may not be possible."

"I want you to kill it. I want it to suffer like I have."

Thaddeus slowly nodded. "It may not be possible to make it suffer. Tell me..." Thaddeus gestured to the young woman at the back, and in a low voice, asked, "Why is she here?"

Atma looked at her for a moment. "She is my cook. The kitchens are back there."

"Ah, thank you. I had wondered, as I did not smell any food."

"Lunch hour hasn't begun yet. She will be busy soon. Won't you?" The woman nodded to Atma, and disappeared into the back.

Perhaps I am growing too suspicious, Thaddeus thought as he left. The way that woman had been standing there, next to the relative privacy of that curtained-off area, he really wondered just what she was doing. She certainly didn't look like a cook, they wear aprons. Well, maybe she hadn't put hers on yet. The way she was dressed wasn't unusual for the city of Lut Gholein, there was no cause to wonder. Even if there was, what was he going to say? He was here on a mission to save their bodies, not just their souls.

Chapter 9

After this, at the Abbey of St. Maccabee,

A great multitude of the dead rose up, as the

Prophecy had warned. Baham died of his wounds,

None was there to save them. Ghrab Thaar

Was there, mighty weapon of the holy saint.

The hungering dead came there, despoiling all.

The blessed relic was kept by destroying it in fire,

With all who were there, to keep their bodies

From the corruption of the fearless dead. Faith

And their sacrifice lay waste to countless legions,

And the blessing went out into the whole world.

-- Chronicles of Zakarum, c. 30, v. 10-21

Where they emptied into the bay, the sewers' main outlet was at the bottom of a small catwalk. Thaddeus noted that none of the ships would moor near it, and the people on the docks wouldn't come close. One of Greiz's guards stood nearby, and even he didn't look happy. Looking down at the narrow entrance, Thaddeus thought he heard strange noises, but wasn't sure if it wasn't just the flow of filth washing out.

"You looking for something?" the mercenary guard asked.

"A monster. I have been told one is down there."

The guard laughed mirthlessly. "I'm supposed to stop you from going in, you know. If you want to, it's your funeral. Probably won't be one, though."

"Others have entered before this?"

"Every now and then, some idiot grabs a pigsticker and tries to play hero. Sometimes we find the bodies in the bay, with pieces missing."

"Eaten away?"

"Cut up with a sharp knife. One was skinned."

Thaddeus nodded. An intelligent monster, then. "Will you stop me?"

"Hey, anybody wants to be stupid, I figure: let 'em."

"A simple philosophy. Experience is the best teacher, and very harsh for students unable to grasp her lessons. I will see you in a little while."

Marching in against the flow of the city's ordure, Thaddeus wrinkled his nose in disgust. His usual habits of cleanliness were sorely tested back in the pass, but this was even worse. Deeper in the sewers, a platform beside the main stream allowed him to walk up out of the sewage. About this time, the first fiery arrow whizzed past his head. Up ahead, visible by the light of their own burning bones, was a group of skeletal archers, mechanically firing arrow after burning arrow. The Burning Dead are one of Diablo's favorite troops. Not very powerful, it is easy for him to animate many of them at a time. The Burning Dead are more dangerous than unenhanced Skeletons in combat, and by tapping into the primal fear of fire, even more terrifying to those who behold them. The flames that flicker over those dead bones grant them some resistance to extreme temperature changes, but they are still very vulnerable to being broken apart with a club.

The upper levels of the sewers were full of Burning Dead, as well as some strange tall man-like creatures with four arms. In each hand, they carried long blades made of some very sharp crystal, but they were quite cowardly. After clearing the sewers, Thaddeus found an entrance to a deeper level. While he was not an architect, he did wonder why a sewer would need more than one level. His equipment had also taken some damage from smashing through all those dry bones. As he took a moment to clean up, it occurred to him that he hadn't seen a smith in town. Surely, a city this size had to have at least one.

In the market square, in a section he hadn't looked in, Thaddeus found a smithy. All the excitement at Lysander's had distracted him, so he hadn't seen it. The smith wasn't there at the moment. Cain was standing by the square's well; the old man insisted on accompanying Thaddeus across the desert, despite the danger. If he was guilty about surviving Tristram's fall when everyone else died, he shouldn't have been, and the Rogues would have been glad to shelter him in their monastery. But Cain was sure he could somehow be of service, and Thaddeus didn't have the heart to refuse him. At least, unlike a hired bodyguard, Thaddeus could be sure he would stay in town where it was mostly safe.

"Hello, Cain. Is the smith out at lunch?"

"No, she left just before you arrived. A strange woman."

A woman? Almost all smiths are men; to find two female ones in short order was very strange. With Charsi, it wasn't so surprising; the Rogues are all women. Besides, she was the beefiest girl he'd ever seen. "She's like Charsi, then?"

"Not in any way I can see," Cain frowned. "A slender woman, with long red hair she does not tie back, and no apron to protect her clothing. I did speak with her; an aura of sadness hangs over her, deeper than I might expect from a lonely desert maiden."

Curiouser and curiouser. Not that Thaddeus suspected anything wrong; there just seemed to be a lot of inexplicable things going on in this city. "Is there another smith? I would like to have some work done."

"There does not seem to be. Most of the merchants here sell clothing, earthenware, jewelry, and other such things. Ah, there she is now!"

Thaddeus looked behind him. A red-haired woman was peering around the corner of the smithy. She startled when he looked at her, then came out into view; Thaddeus would have sworn she looked guilty. Or embarrassed? "Hello. Please, don't be alarmed."

"Hello, brother. I am not afraid. I was just... coming back from... where I was."

Brother? "I was hoping you would repair my worn equipment."

Fara nodded, and Thaddeus handed her the Umbral Disk, scratched from the impact of many fiery arrows. She obviously recognized it, and handled it with reverence. "This is an item of great power. You must be an important man."

Thaddeus watched as she went to work. She was far less bulky than Charsi, but her long arms were deceptively strong. So careful was her work, she never burned her clothing, nor did her long hair get in the way. "I do not think so, sister; I was in a place at a time when I was needed, and was able to rise to the task. How is it that you come to be here, I wonder? I notice you have not asked my name."

"You have not asked mine either."

"Your ways seem... familiar, sister. I do not feel I need to address you by name."

She stopped working, leaning over her anvil. "Is it so obvious?"

"You are a follower of Zakarum, I perceive. You have trained with sword and shield. Even in your craft, you work with care and precision."

She kept her back to him, staring at the filthy floor of her smithy. "My name is Fara. Once I was a Paladin, in the east. Your name is known to everyone in the city."

"You have come from Kurast?" Thaddeus asked.

"Yes. A few years ago."

"How fares the church, in Kurast? Very little has been heard in the west."

Fara paused before answering. "The church stood, when last I saw it. Any further word does not reach us here."

The Protectors split away years ago, objecting to the growing intolerance and brutality infecting the church. Khanduras might not receive news, but surely Lut Gholein would see travelers from Kurast. "You do not go to see the ships from Kurast?"

"Ships do not come from Kurast. Nothing does anymore."

Thaddeus slowly nodded. "Except a few who escape?"

Fara did not answer. As she went back to work on the shield, Thaddeus saw a teardrop fall on the iron. "Much has changed in the east, but it take too long to describe it all."

Pressing the matter seemed pointless, for now. Thaddeus had his things repaired, paid Fara, and went back to the sewers. In the third level below the city, groups of preserved bodies shambled about, and Skeleton Mages cast fiery bolts at him. They were joined by packs of cat people, wielding whips and curved knives. How did these creatures get into the sewers under the city? Especially the cat people; surely, they needed to eat. Hmm... it might explain why not all the "heroes" who went into the sewers came out again. He'd seen a body or two, here and there, but not many.

Outside an empty sewer node, Thaddeus ran across a pack of blackened Horrors. These are Skeletons so burnt and baked by heat and electricity, they are nearly immune to the natural elements. They're still vulnerable to being bashed to bits with a club, though. The first one Thaddeus took down brought faint laughter echoing into the tunnels. Dark tendrils of magic swirled out, the bones swirled up into their former shape, and attacked again. Something back there, probably the "monster" Atma spoke of, could resurrect fallen minions. Shamans can be so annoying. Thaddeus knew the drill; fade back, striking down underlings a few at a time, then move around them and charge the shaman.

Fortunately, the sewer node was well lit, with several lamps. Thaddeus saw the monster, and the rest of its entourage, well before he was committed to his attack. The thing was some kind of undead, made of a patchwork of parts. The bones were human, mostly, bound together with longer animal bones, increasing the thing's height. Dried flesh clung to the bones, except in places where the skin looked much, much fresher. Behind it were a dozen more Skeletons, including several mages. As one, they all began casting bolts of elemental energy, while the monster hurled bolts of black negative force.

Looking over the situation, Thaddeus decided a straight charge might not be his best option. Thinning the herd would be a more sensible approach. Turning around, Thaddeus stumbled back out of the node, loudly gasping with pain at every magical bolt. Retreating to a corner, he waited out of sight as the Skeletons came to get him. All shamans have to see their dead underlings to raise them. After a short while, Thaddeus felt the situation would be easier to manage, so he charged back in and hit the thing hard, smashing it back into the wall.

Despite its patchwork nature, the monster was surprisingly sturdy. Its leathery flesh was sewn together with sturdy wire and layers or reinforcing magic. In addition to spells, it could also gasp out the powdery remnants of its dried-up lungs; the tissue was full of poisonous chemicals. Even after snapping in half from many repeated blows, it kept moving; Thaddeus had to crush every bit of it to lay it to rest. This thing was like nothing Thaddeus had ever heard of from Hell; obviously, it was made from pieces of many dead creatures, joined and infused with unholy life. Perhaps it was something new to the world; he would have to write more letters to his order describing it.

In the monster's lair, Thaddeus found pieces of human bodies: organs, bones, and muscles all sliced out with surgical precision. Next to a worktable soaked with gore, a suit made from a haphazard collection of human skins hung from the ceiling, not quite complete. The sight was chilling, both for the materials, and the implications. This leathery covering wouldn't fool anyone into thinking the monster was a man; its height alone precluded that. Did the thing want to walk among humanity? Thaddeus looked around some more. It had a library, full of tomes from the era of the Horadrim. The owner had written his name on the endpapers of many of the volumes: Radament. Thaddeus took all the books and scrolls with him when he went back up to the city. And the thing's head.

Everyone was glad to see Thaddeus, and know the thing was dead. Jerhyn was pleased and relieved; the monster had obviously been a great worry to him. Atma was very glad, but Thaddeus tried not to pay her joy much mind. When something has to die, it is best to kill it quickly and not gloat; no good comes from that. Cain told Thaddeus that the Horadrim used to "mummify" their dead. Mummification was traditional in this area; the body was prepared with poisonous preservatives, and could remain inviolate in a dry tomb for centuries. Part of the Horadrim "mummification" process incorporated parts of animals and magical amulets into the body, to increase the power of the undead being they were creating. That way, Cain explained, the dead mage would be able to guard his own tomb against invaders. The sewer monster was probably Radament, an ancient Horadrim mage, but he was far away from his own tomb. Why he had come to the sewers, and what he was doing with all those body parts, was a complete mystery.

Thaddeus was deeply shocked. Deliberately making an undead creature was the sheerest folly; making it as powerful as possible only compounded the error. Yet, no one in the city seemed to think anything of it. Drognan even outlined his own mummification wishes in his will. In complete disbelief, Thaddeus even went so far as to ask one of the drunken sots in Atma's tavern his opinion of the old tradition.

"Oh, I dunno," the huge, slovenly brute said. "I don't like all that living dead stuff."

"Exactly! Why on earth do you make such creatures, and consider it an act of reverence for the dead?"

"No, you got it all right! All wrong, I mean. They're our anshest... our incestors... our foreborers... our parents. They're not gonna hurt us."

"The living dead certainly are attacking the living," Thaddeus reminded him.

The sot made a sputtering noise. "Scary, huh? Our incestors have fallen."

Thaddeus nodded. "They've been calling the monster 'Radament the Fallen.'"

"Dunno why. I've fallen lots of times, and they never call me 'Geglash the Fallen.' Maybe they say, 'Geglash! You've fallen!' But I can figure that out for myself. Sometimes."

Arguing against ancient, respected customs is rarely fruitful. Particularly when you try to argue with someone whose mind wanders this much. "Many ancient practices must have seemed harmless, in their day. I'll leave you to your drinking now. Try not to have too much, Atma may need you to throw someone through a window tonight."

"Oh, I do that better when I'm drunk! When I'm sober, I always remember to check if the shutters are open first, and sometimes they get away."

Talking with a fool is folly. They lower the conversation to their level, then outmatch you with their greater experience. The sewers were empty; clearing them took all afternoon and into the evening. Before long, it would be dark, and Thaddeus would rather start his search for Diablo in daylight. Besides, the books from Radament's lair intrigued him. Cain had quickly borrowed them; he'd read anything, but those dusty tomes practically made him salivate. Most of the books looked like the usual tomes of science and magic, but Thaddeus had seen a few that looked like religious texts.

The first was a Skatsimi text, with the references to the undead circled and notes made in the margins. Radament obviously had been looking for useful information, not enlightenment. The next was an early copy of the Chronicles of Zakarum; glancing through it, Thaddeus saw the text was not quite the same as the version he had studied with. Had there been errors of copying? He'd have to save it, and get it to his order for study. The third book was a real find, something he never expected to see; a book thought to be lost, all known copies destroyed. There, in his hands, was a copy of Saint Maccabee's Book of the Hammer. The text outlined the way of the Hammer, one of the most spiritually demanding paths a warrior of the light could follow. In ages past, Hammer Paladins were the mightiest of all who fought for the church of Zakarum, drawing on the power of Ghrab Thaar, Saint Maccabee's mighty hammer. Having this holy book come to him, at such a time, amazed Thaddeus. Could this possibly be a sign?

Chapter 10

Praises be to the Light eternal!

We build, protect, and honor.

The hammer on the chisel

Shapes the stone for the wall.

The hammer against the nail

Holds the beam o'er the child.

Blessed Hammer, from my hand,

Move against the foes of light!

-- The Book of the Hammer, c. 1, v. 1-8

Holding the precious volume, Thaddeus wondered if he should read it. It would be a terrible thing if he were to damage it accidentally. While he was always careful with books, this one was very old, and the pages might tear easily. On the other hand, the desert's dry heat can preserve things in good condition for centuries... the book might not be any more fragile now than the day it was made. But on the first hand, this book might be the last of its kind, and the knowledge within irreplaceable. Risking it would be unconscionable, and his responsibility would be to find an absolutely safe place for it, then tell the Protectors.

As he sat there, staring at the book's cover, Cain glanced over from his chosen text. "You seem to have found something interesting."

"This is a piece of Zakarumite scripture, thought to be lost."

"Ah!" Cain said, glancing at the cover. "The Book of the Hammer. A rarity indeed! There must be all manner of interesting things hidden in Lut Gholein's many ancient tombs."

"This may be the last copy in the world. I would love to read it."

Cain laughed. "You will not damage it. Radament's tomb has kept these books very well. Go ahead. A book is meant to be read!"

One of Thaddeus' teachers told him that when faced with a quandary, go to a holy book and open it at random. Meditate on the first passage of scripture your eyes light upon. That will usually resolve your dilemma. Here was a holy book. The pages did not feel brittle; it would not fall apart if he opened it once. Casually, he opened it, and his eyes found: "To use thy chisel blunts its edge. Not to use it wastes its edge utterly." Things are meant to be used. Even a relic like Knell Striker is valuable only in use. Left in a cathedral reliquary, the finest scepter might as well be nothing but sticks and lead. Cain was right; a book is meant to be read. That is its use.

However, he should not be the only one to read this book. Chisels can be resharpened, but the Book of the Hammer contains knowledge, which cannot be discovered again so easily. Before starting into the text, Thaddeus drafted letters, one to Akara, telling her he had arrived safely and of his discovery, and another to the head of his order, with more detail about the book. Across town, Warriv was buying raw iron and steel, hides for leather, and other raw materials the Rogues could use.

"Ah, hello there!" Warriv smiled. "I'll be returning after I've made some purchases, to outfit the Rogues more properly. Just let me know if you want to tag along."

"I would be indebted if you would carry my words with you," Thaddeus said, entrusting the letters to him. "I have made what may be an important discovery."

"So soon? No wonder everyone's talking about you! But after all you did back at the pass, I'm not surprised."

"Fortune has been with me, but it is best never to rely on it. If my luck should change, others must be able to follow in my steps. When will you be leaving?"

"In a few days. There are a lot of things the Rogues need. You know, I've gotten a lot of letters to carry west. Do you think they've missed us?"

Hopefully, nothing would happen to Warriv on the way back; Thaddeus could not go with him this time. Maybe hiring guards would be a good idea, if they could be spared. The only thing he could do was make sure there were guards to spare, by reducing the threat from outside the walls. In the morning, he would start; the sun had set, it was getting cold and dark, and he didn't want to start exploring the desert at night. Elzix had a rule against burning lights in tenant's rooms; the inn was very old could burn down easily. More likely, he didn't want to risk any of the magic items stored there. For reading, Atma's tavern was well-lit, and things never got too loud or boisterous, so Thaddeus sat down in a back corner to study.

The Book of the Hammer was one of the shortest pieces of scriptures Thaddeus ever read, only 18 pages. Even going through slowly and carefully, he read the whole thing three times before going to sleep. On the surface, the way of the Hammer looked surprisingly simple. The only martial technique was invoking the spiritual hammer, a combination of mana and the diffused energy of Maccabee's Hammer. The description sounded like summoning a Holy Bolt. Unlike Holy Bolts, the spiritual hammer seemed to be an effective offensive weapon, as the Hammerdins of old were some of the greatest fighters the church had. Much of the book was devoted to a rather stern code of conduct the Hammerdins were expected to observe, and some spiritual philosophy. That would need more contemplation; Thaddeus felt he already knew enough to call on the Hammer.

Come morning, Thaddeus prepared his equipment and himself, then sallied forth from Lut Gholein's north gate. At first, all was just flat, rocky wastes, with a few vultures flying high up in the sky, looking for something dead. A short distance from the gates, Thaddeus came upon a large slab of stone, covered with archaic writing, now mostly buried in the desert sands. Near it, half sunken, a gigantic head rested, with a curly beard, conical helm or hat, and a smile of utmost benevolence. The time of these antique things was obviously long past. A dead body, one of Greiz's mercenaries by the look of him, stained the sand next to the head. He wasn't long dead, but none of the vultures had come near him. Strange.

Looking up, Thaddeus saw the vultures coming down. Each one had four legs, as well as wings, and their eyes were locked on him, not the more convenient corpse. Ah, he thought, no wonder; this one's been dead for much too long, they want something fresher. Demonic meddling with living creatures can physical change them in many ways, but the motivations given to the afflicted animals are very predictable. As Thaddeus moved away from the stone head, the vulture demons landed and stalked towards him on foot. Perhaps they were too heavy and ungainly in flight to dive at a victim, unlike the smaller Blood Hawks found in Khanduras. When enough had landed, Thaddeus stopped running, concentrated, and flung his arm out to summon a blessed hammer.

Just as the scripture said, a small bronze hammer spun away from Thaddeus' hand, whirling around his body. As it spun, it moved further away from him, eventually reaching the vulture demons. The spinning hammer smashed through the group of demons, scattering and tossing them before it, before continuing blindly on its way. Eventually, it came around Thaddeus again, but the vultures had moved now, and were inside its arc. He backed up a bit, and let another hammer go; it moved much the same as the first, hitting each vulture at most once before they had moved out of its path. Some it did not hit at all, instead passing on their right, left, before or behind them. Satisfied, Thaddeus beat the vultures to death normally.

Blessed Hammer was indeed powerful; even two hits from the hammer had greatly hurt those vultures, who were fairly tough as demons go. But it spun blindly about, undirected. The random nature of the attack bothered Thaddeus; he valued precision and discipline in war. While he did not expect the hammer to fight for him, he had hoped it would be easier to aim and direct. Perhaps that was why the Hammerdin's path required such stern discipline; the Paladin must choose his position and await the right moment. It is not a sorcerous attack; a sorcerer can simply stand there and unleash blast after blast at his foes. Blessed Hammers would require careful positioning and timing to get the best use of them.

As he moved further into the deserts, Thaddeus experimented with Blessed Hammer. Large rocks would stop the hammer, so it would be useless in narrow areas. Having more than one hammer spinning through an area greatly confused the demons, with so many attacks to try to avoid. The hammers would not harm him, so he could walk through battlefield without worrying about them. Sometimes, Thaddeus could send the hammers spinning and stroll from demon to demon almost unchallenged. But much of the time, Thaddeus did not use the hammers. As he got deeper into the desert, the demons were growing more dangerous, and he was quite unskilled with them. While back in town, Thaddeus stopped to ask Cain about some of the demons, but Cain had something for him first.

"Ah, there you are! I have just found this scroll among the treasures you brought from Radament's lair. This is an important find!"

Thaddeus smiled. Cain thought just about everything was important, or at least worth telling him about for hours. "There is something I wish to ask you about..."

"This is a Horadric scroll!" Cain smiled triumphantly.

"Wasn't Radament a Horadrim mage, so every scroll he had would be a Horadric scroll?"

Cain thought for a moment. "That is most probably true! In fact, the wealth of knowledge you have brought to us with may be the greatest treasure anyone could find! The return of the glories of our past, tempered by the hard experiences suffered since then, could..."

Now that Cain was started, Thaddeus could look at the scroll himself and see what it was without wasting too much time. It was written in glyphs. "Ah, Cain, what is this?"

"... in the 4th decade of the Moon King's rule, so he was... ah? Oh, yes, the scroll! This is a description of Tal Rasha's tomb, where Tal Rasha and Baal are kept imprisoned!"

"There is someone in the tomb with Baal?"

"Don't you know about this?" Cain asked. "You seemed... well-read, I thought."

On secular history, Thaddeus' learning was a bit weak. But if Cain knew that, he'd never hear the end of it. "Cain, what's in the tomb?"

"It says here, that to safeguard the tomb, it can only be opened with a Horadric Staff, the mystical weapon of a great Horadrim mage. There is an inner chamber, you see, where Tal Rasha and Baal were entombed together, to wrestle for all eternity."

Thaddeus vaguely recall hearing about that. "So Diablo could not open the inner chamber without one of these staves? Or could a demon lord as great as Diablo simply smash his way into the chamber by brute force?"

"Well... to use an analogy, the staff is the key for a lock. But many locks can simply be broken. Hmm. Well, the Horadric Staves were all broken centuries ago, to prevent anyone from opening the way to Baal."

"Very sensible."

"However, if Diablo does not need a staff, you might, to reach the inner chamber. If he is there, with no one to challenge him, he will be able to free his brother. If you were find the pieces of a staff, they could be repaired with a Horadric Cube."

That could not be allowed. "A Horadric Cube?"

"An alchemical device, used for transformations and transmutations."

Thaddeus looked at Lysander's shop, still smoking from something unsuccessful he'd done earlier. "Let me guess: most of them have been destroyed over the ages?"

"I fear so." Cain thought for a moment. "Many Horadrim originally came from this area. There may be others entombed here and there. Have you found any tombs yet?"

"Just one, full of the foulest demons and undead creatures. I wanted to ask you about something: I have met groups of humanoid felines, which attacked me. They are in league with the demons, and I do not recall any account of such creatures in the deserts, but their bodies do not seem twisted. They are in their natural shape."

"There are tales of Saber Cats, a species of felinoid men from Kurast. I cannot know how any would come to be in the deserts. Being jungle creatures, they would have difficulty surviving in the barren wastes."

Another creature from Kurast, here where it should not be. "Thank you, Cain. I shall keep an eye out for anything Horadric."

As he trudged across the dunes, Thaddeus began to feel the weight of his armor under the heat of the desert sun. There were oases here and there, with trees he could rest under, but the monsters seemed to congregate there too. The swarms of insects were the worst; they had a way of crawling into the armor with one mind, biting and stinging. Finding a tomb was almost a blessing, even if they were full of undead, more mummies than you could shake a scepter at. The open areas of the tombs gave him ample opportunity to practice with Blessed Hammer; it was very effective against the undead. The hammers smashing through everything but a stone wall helped a little against the big Horadric mummies, who resurrected lesser undead. It was still more efficient to distract the lesser ones and charge the greater; with more practice, Thaddeus was sure he could make better use of the hammers.

This particular tomb complex was extensive and very deep; many of Lut Gholein's citizens must have been entombed here. Sarcophagi were everywhere, ordinary mummified people, others so old they were completely skeletal, and every now and then, one of the Horadric mummies. Whatever creature had donated the bone for their hand scythes, Thaddeus did not want to meet. They must have been three feet long, and sharp. The Horadrim's heads had been replaced with crocodile heads; how did they keep their own brains, Thaddeus wondered? An idle thought; he wasn't about to go over the corpse to find out.

In the darkest deeps of the tombs, fuzzy bats hung from the ceiling. Though strangely cute, these were Lightning Bats, denizens of Hell's outer reaches. One tomb held another surprise: giant beetles, standing the height of a man on two of their six limbs. These creatures were slow moving, but looked very heavily armored and tough. When Thaddeus hit one, lightning spat out; he began to regret neglecting his defensive disciplines, which included resistance to electricity. By backing up, then charging and hitting hard, he was able to knock them down without suffering too much damage himself.

One room in particular was full of the tomb's worst denizens. A group of javelin-hurling Saber Cats, a swarm of bats, and a pack of Horadrim Mummies filled the room. One Horadrim was bad enough; Thaddeus was forced to retreat. A horde of lesser undead came out after him, joined by the cats. Luring them a short distance away to a pillared hallway, he used the pillars to hide from the javelins while smashing the skeletons. The cats were much easier to deal with afterwards; then the bats, and finally the Mummies. Dividing and conquering was as good a strategy as ever. The tomb held a great deal of treasure, as well as a strange box. A cube-shaped box. How curious that Cain should have told him about Horadric Cubes, and he would find this almost immediately.

The box was a Horadric Cube. By pressing two catches on opposite sides of the box, the sides fell away from each other and the box opened into a cross shape. Even though the closed box was no larger than a helm, you could pack swords, long bows, even a spear into the box and close it up again. Watching the objects as they were folded up, then unfolded, was fascinating. They were also protected inside the box: you could put a chunk of granite, a honeycomb, and an egg inside the cube, and nothing would be crushed or befouled by the other things. All sorts of things could be transformed with the cube; three small gemstones could be made into a single larger one; potions could be transmuted. And most important, broken objects could be rejoined into a single whole.

Thaddeus had collected a lot of gemstone chips. They were useful, if placed in equipment socketed to hold them, but bigger gems had stronger effects. Nothing he was using had sockets, but now that he had a few good-quality gems, he might find a use for some new equipment. But when he opened his footlocker, he found something strange. Nothing was missing, Elzix had not come to visit. Someone had added a few things, and a note:

Your worshipfulness:

Congratulations on the whole Horadric Cube thing! Yes, you were meant to find that little item, it will be very helpful for you. As a kind of reward for being such a good boy, we've decided to hold Christmas early this year! No need for a midnight mass, but here's a couple of presents. The scepter isn't perfect, but it's the best we could do. The shield word is "Ral-Ort-Tal", the Pledge of the Ancient Ones. You can send your old stuff back with Warriv. There's a cathedral reliquary that could sure use those shinies. Good luck with the hammers, they sure are fun, aren't they?

-- The Mule

Thaddeus was confused. Whence this? That pale fellow called himself a mule, but he sure wasn't in Lut Gholein. Even if he was, how did he know what Thaddeus had been up to? Maybe he was an angel, or other spiritual messenger? That might explain it, but Thaddeus expected angels to have a bit more dignity.

Chapter 11

Be not sad, all those who suffer on this earth,

Whose hands are frustrated and see no success.

He who is wounded, hands will bind him up.

In time of famine, he is redeemed from death.

Do not fear wrath or the scourge of the tongue,

The scepter shall rise for your defense in war.

When evil comes to you, know good may as well

And all that was taken away may yet return.

-- The Book of Radenis, c. 5, v. 17-24

Before doing anything else, Thaddeus took the things he'd found in his footlocker to Cain. A complete analysis failed to turn up anything out of the ordinary -- they were just very nice items, finer than anything he'd yet seen. The scepter was a Monk's War Scepter of Fire, with high bonuses to the skills of Zeal and Blessed Hammer, and an even larger one for the weilder's Concentration. The shield was a Crown Shield, a seldom-seen item only a Paladin can use. Of superior quality, the shield bestowed high resistances to the elements. Three runestones set in the shield, Ral, Ort, and Tal, granted the shield even more resistance and strength. It alone would take care of almost all Thaddeus' resistance needs.

These were wonderful gifts, there was no denying it. All the same, Thaddeus couldn't help but wonder where they'd come from, and why they were given to him. Judging from the tone, the note must come from the same man who'd given him the Sparkling Mail; obviously he was far more powerful and knowledgeable than he'd let on at first. As far as he could remember, Thaddeus hadn't told anyone he'd been experimenting with Blessed Hammer. Cain knew, he'd seen the book, but didn't know anything about Thaddeus' benefactor. Perhaps this was a blessing from above, by an unexpected messenger. All the angels he'd heard of in legends sounded quite different, but this might be a lesser celestial being.

Or possibly... an infernal being? Thaddeus could see nothing wrong with the items, no hidden spirits or unseeen traps. Perhaps Fara could help. He'd been looking for a chance to speak with her again, and this would be an excellent opportunity.

"Hello, Fara. May I ask your opinion about some things?"

"I would be honored."

"This War Scepter came to me, and this shield. Have you seen such things before?"

Slowly, Fara examined them, then shook her head. "Not in this part of the world. When I was in Kehjistan..."

For a long moment, she was silent. Whenever the lands across the Twin Seas came up, Fara tended to go quiet. Sensing that she wouldn't be ready to talk about it yet, Thaddeus said, "I wondered if there was anything wrong with them."

"I cannot see anything. The shield is a wonder, a great rarity. This scepter I would consider adequate at best; you could find better."

"What do you mean? It seems quite a good weapon to me."

Fara smiled a bit. "This scepter increases your skills, but those you gain the most in are not the best. There are few other advantages to using it as a weapon."

Thaddeus nodded. "I would think Blessed Hammer, and Concentration, very useful skills, and of great value."

"When I went forth with the Hand of Zakarum, the blessing of the light I found most useful was Fanaticism. Calling up the vengeful spirits of Paladins past is far superior to simple zeal. And while this scepter is quick in the hand, I always favored the sword or lance."

"Charging with a great spear is a devastating attack."

"Absolutely." Combat and weapons seemed to be a safe subject; Fara was starting to open up. "No one calls on the Hammers of Maccabee anymore. In ages past, all Paladins were masters of concentration, and the Hammers were very powerful. Now, all you will find are fanatics, who strike with the speed and vigor born of unthinking certainty."

"Must fanaticism cloud the mind?" Thaddeus inquired.

"It often does." Fara's eyes were flashing, her voice rising as she spoke. "The weakness of concentration is that you must be sure of what you concentrate upon. It is a great help for you and others, but it is slow. A fanatical warrior is a frightening opponent; it makes combat quicker, and easier. After all, our goal is to deal with the enemy quickly, yes?"

"Yes...?"

"Yes! There is no need to think of who we were striking down, of what crimes they are accused. Fanaticism is the enemy of thought -- flail away at whatever moves, as you are instructed. For those who survive, death comes more slowly, but there is no need to worry about that either. They are possessed by..." Suddenly Fara stopped, and dropped her head to stare at the floor, her face flushing nearly as red as her hair.

"Yes, well..." Thaddeus shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Surely, even a fanatic has calmer moments, and may consider their actions while at peace."

Returning to examining the shield, Fara nodded. "But some avoid it, even when they can, lest they come to realize just what they are doing. This shield is very impressive; it would be difficult to find its better. The scepter will serve. Where did you find them?"

"In my room. Someone left them for me."

Fara blinked with surprise. "These are very valuable things. I could not begin to pay you what they are worth. They were simply given to you?"

"Yes," Thaddeus shrugged. "By a pale, thin man, who I had seen earlier, I believe. He also gave me the Sparkling Mail, which I now wear."

"I had noticed," Fara said, staring. "I have not seen this man here in Lut Gholein."

"I suspect he has not actually been here."

"Then how did he place these in your room?"

Thaddeus shrugged. "It is a mystery. That is why I wished your opinion."

Slowly, Fara nodded. "Perhaps you have been favored by a higher power."

"I have wondered, but worried more that I might be misled by a false light."

"But no one has tried to dissuade you from your quest?"

"I have been given tools, and knowledge of ages past to help me. Perhaps they were given with the intention of distracting me, encouraging greed or pride in my heart. The ways of Hell can be subtle; is evil ever more seductive than when it is useful?"

"Yes," Fara said. "When evil gives you the goal you put your life towards."

That was a disturbing idea, Thaddeus thought as he returned to the desert. Something truly terrible must have happened to the Hand of Zakarum. To judge from what Fara said, a new fanaticism that had overtaken the Paladins there, and much suffering resulted. The order of Protectors guessed as much, especially when no word came from the east for years. But Fara had come from the east more recently, and from what she said, there was evil there... giving her the goal she put her life towards? Shuddering, Thaddeus strode out through the dunes towards a large oasis. The Protectors saw the service of man and the Light differently than the Hand of Zakarum, but surely evil could not take hold among them.

As he approached a pool of stagnant water, tight swarms of biting flies come to meet him, as well as a crowd of vultures. The vultures were green and dried out; Thaddeus was sure they had eaten nothing but undead flesh, or were already dead themselves. His new scepter should greatly increase the power of the Blessed Hammer, so he set a few hammers whirling, moving a few steps to unleash each from a different spot. The bronze hammers spun and spiraled out, blasting through the insect swarms and striking the vultures dead on the spot. Very shortly, Thaddeus was surrounded by corpses; he never needed to raise his hand to any of them.

Throughout the oasis, the story was much the same. Demons come out. The hammers ring around him. The demons all fall down dead. Clearing the oasis went very quickly, except for a ruined house whose walls stopped the hammers. Inside, a group of Lightning Scarabs laired, and their chief was resistant to magic. This made the hammers far less useful, so Thaddeus lured them out and killed them with a series of charges. Bouncing from one to another, Thaddeus kept them separated, avoiding the lightning and preventing them from coordinating their attacks until all were dead. It was all so easy. Once, he caught himself thinking, 'Yea, though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I shall not fear evil, because I am the most dangerous bastard in the whole valley.' Now, what would the other Paladins think of that?

Soon, the oasis was empty of life, even unlife, apart from Thaddeus and whatever innocent animals had survived the demonic occupation. Even the scorpions seemed pleased to see them gone. All that was left was a round hole in the sand, leading to a tunnel. The tunnel sides were sand cemented together with some kind of slime. The result was almost as strong as stone, so the narrow tunnel could go very deep into the ground. Thaddeus thought about certain insects he'd seen, which dig a hole, then dart out to attack passing prey. Nothing leapt out as he approached the hole, so he went inside.

The first thing Thaddeus found in the tunnels was a human body, thoroughly covered with slime, cemented to the floor. It seemed to be dissolving, like the slime was digesting it. This was not a sign of anything good. As he ventured into the tunnels, he had to crawl on hands and knees, the ceiling was so low. Down here, the hammers would do him little good; there was no room for them to spin. He'd have to rely on his new scepter exclusively as a weapon. After a short distance, he found one of the things that made the tunnels: a gigantic insect, easily 10 feet long, with legs everywhere and a fat body covered with chitinous plates as hard as stone. It spat a stream of poisonous slime, then retreated to cover a group of pulsing, throbbing eggs with its body.

There could be no doubt about identifying this thing. Accounts of Hell had mentioned them many times, horrible things called Maggots. The eggs they lay mature with unnatural speed, hatching into ferociously hungry young. The mother creature, meanwhile, busies herself laying more eggs. The horde one mother can produce will quickly overrun many opponents, if she and her eggs are not dealt with. The tunnel conformed to the Maggot's body shape: low but wide. Thaddeus barely had enough room to swing his weapon; any narrower or lower, and killing it would have required a spear. Before it died, the eggs hatched into small Maggots. They took longer to kill, but at least they were too young to be poisonous.

Back in Lut Gholein, Atma told him that the Maggots were not creatures from Hell, just large but common desert creatures. Before the troubles begain, they had not been so big, vicious, or venomous, and were easily tamed. Farms used to raise small herds of them, making their eggs into a nutritious paste that was mixed into vegetable soups to enhance the flavor. But over the last few weeks, all the Maggots had grown huge, and many killed their keepers. Their flesh was now corrosive, and unfit to eat.

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" Atma asked.

"Absolutely. These creatures are mentioned in the annals of explorers who visited the burning hells, though I cannot account for their peaceful presence here."

"They have always been here," Atma said. "One of the few good things to come out of the desert. This is not a productive land, otherwise."

"I'll tell ya," Geglash interrupted, "Bug soup's the besht hangover cure there ish. Well... maybe shecond best. The besht is gettin' drunk again! Ya know, hare uva dog what bit ya. Dunno why dog hare, I don' like rabbit or dog..."

Thaddeus pointed in a random direction. "Geglash, look! It's Bigfoot!"

"Whaa? Where?!" Geglash left to look around the tavern.

"Forgive him," Atma said. "With the city in the trouble it is, he has taken to drinking more than his usual."

"I am sorry, I should be more patient," Thaddeus sighed. "I wonder, if there might be some infernal species of maggot, which is influencing the mundane ones?"

"Are there hellish versions of common animals, then?"

"Some are known to me. I will keep looking. As for you, you may want to water Geglash's drinks more than you do."

Atma smiled. "I water everyone's drinks, these days. Though it may not be a kindness."

Of course his advice had been unnecessary. Years of experience no doubt told Atma exactly how much Geglash should have. Still, his behavior was worrying. Geglash was unlikely to be dangerous, but distractibility and clouded judgment can be trouble even in a peaceful place. Especially in someone that big.

Deeper in the Maggot's lair, insect swarms and Lightning Scarabs filled the tunnels. Were these things coming up from the depths too? The swarms could deal with the tunnels easily, but the beetles had to crawl, and weren't very good at it. A hard-hitting charge was out of the question in the narrow tunnels, so Thaddeus beat the beetles to death by calling on the vengeful spirits of Protectors past. It was, as Fara noted, an effective maneuver.

At the bottom of the lair, a huge chamber held what Thaddeus suspected all along: a Maggot queen. The bloated creature might once have been an ordinary mundane Maggot, but Hell's poison filled its distended body now, apparently through pulsing tendrils snaking into its body from the earth. Its chamber held at least a dozen Maggots and their young. The monstrous queen was so engorged with venom it couldn't move, not even to lift its head to spit. Its offspring, however, defended it with a frenzy of spitting and egg-laying. Thaddeus tried to charge in, but a horde of young Maggots blocked him. Laying about with great zeal, he flailed right and left through a rain of corrosive spittle, smashing Maggot young and any adult foolish enough to come within reach.

His new shield made him almost immune to the creature's venom, and the waves of Maggot young were easily killed; there were just so many of them, it was almost impossible to reach the queen. Pushing in through heaps of crushed bodies, Thaddeus started releasing hammers into the chamber, driving deeper as the way was cleared. Soon he was casting Blessed Hammer from right next to the queen; they tore through it and its offspring easily. One last Maggot hid in a far corner, next to a chest. Once it was taken care of, Thaddeus killed the queen, his scepter crunching into it repeatedly. It died squealing hellishly, its remaining life spraying out in an explosion of icy-cold, venomous slime.

Thaddeus was completely, thoroughly beslubbered with half-frozen corrosive ichor. It was almost enough to make him vomit himself. For once, he didn't even try to clean up before going back to town. It took a rinse in the ocean to get it all off; several fish died. The queen had collected some magical items in its lair, all in that chest. Strangely intelligent of it... but Thaddeus was more grateful that the chest had protected its contents from the corrosive venom. In the chest was a broken staff, its headpiece snapped off. Cain identified it as the Staff of Kings, a Horadric staff. He was very happy to see it, but Thaddeus only frowned again. Once again, something he needed just happened to turn up, in the last place he would have looked for it. Perhaps it was fate, or an unseen hand guiding him to some goal, but he was beginning to grow very suspicious.

Going back to the inn, turning over the day's events in his mind, Thaddeus opened the door and found... something new in his room. Again. A gleaming set of gothic plate stood on a rack next to his footlocker. Two runes were set in the breastplate, and a note was stuffed under the pauldron.

Master Cleanliness-is-next-to-holiness,

Gross! And to think of what that salt water can do to chainmail, too. You're doing just fine, but here's something to help you on your new career path. The runeword is "stealth." Don't worry, it's got nothing to do with sneakiness, it's just something to help with casting spells. Let those hammers spin, dude!

- The Mule

Chapter 12

The wicked go astray from their birth

And speak like the venom of serpents.

Deliver us from these enemies! By night

They come prowling about the city,

Cursing and trapped in their lies,

Consumed in their pride and wrath.

Let only sweet peace come at night,

Rest for all who labor long and truly.

The upright rejoice in their faithfulness,

And sing in the goodness of their houses

Which the wicked try to steal by deceit.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 58, v. 1-11

For a long while, Thaddeus stared at the armor. Then he went to have a talk with Elzix.

"Elzix, has anyone been in my room?"

"Of course not," Elzix smiled. "The privacy of my lodgers is very important. Something missing?"

"No, something that shouldn't be there is."

"Are we getting those damn black scorpions in the rooms again?"

"No, it's a suit of plate armor, enchanted with runes, very well-suited to my needs."

"Sounds like your lucky day," Elzix's smile faded, his one eye blinking in confusion. "What's wrong with that?"

"Absolutely nothing, except that I do not know where it came from. Anything that works in hiding is not to be trusted."

Elzix shrugged. "That's why I believe in complete openness and honesty. Won't catch me trying to hide anything, except the enchantments on the stuff I offer to gamble."

Thaddeus knew of Elzix's gambling, expensive risks he offered for enchanted items. He kept a display of them in his window, claiming they had all been accidentally left behind by former lodgers. Thaddeus had his doubts. "Such heavy armor is not suitable for this climate, anyway. The metal will heat up intolerably in the sun, and I do not have a surcoat which would fit over it."

"Hey, I got an old surcoat back here." Elzix held up a broad piece of cloth, white with red trim. Decorating the front and back were two symbols: a blazing star of golden light, and beneath it, a deep red hammer. "I'll give it to you free for one gamble. What do you say?"

Thaddeus stared at the cloth. Then he looked in the window. Right there in front, a huge sledgehammer gleamed dully in the lamplight. A hammer. "How about that maul?"

"Damn. That's one of the decent ones." Elzix handed over the maul, a Maul of the Leech, and draped the surcoat over Thaddeus' head. "Doesn't look that bad on you."

Thaddeus silently stared at the surcoat, the maul, his shield, the scepter, and back up at his room. "Excuse me." He got the armor, and dragged the whole bundle over to Cain.

Cain seemed to have turned in for the night, as was sensible. Knowing full well he shouldn't go around waking people, Thaddeus pounded on the door of Fara's smithy until she finally answered. "Fara, tell me, what is this?"

Blinking sleepily, holding her nightshirt closed, Fara looked at the armor. "Socketed Gothic Plate, set with the runeword 'Stealth', excellent for a spellcaster, but no resistances..."

"No, I know that! What was it doing in my room?"

"Even if I could tell you, I could not tell you at this hour. What time is it?"

Thaddeus sighed. "It is late. I am sorry I woke you. My mind is troubled."

"It seems so. If it worries you, leave it here. I will examine it in the morning."

After setting the armor and maul inside Fara's, Thaddeus returned to the inn. But he couldn't sleep. So far, things were going very easily for him in Lut Gholein. But he had no idea where Diablo was. Events were guiding him onto another path: finding the tomb of Tal Rasha, and opening it, leading the way to Baal. His quest was to locate Diablo, not to find Baal or open the way to him. As far as the world was concerned, Baal could stay lost forever. Baal was doing no harm lost, but might if found. And one of the things pushing him onto this alternate path was the gifts of the Mule.

Sometime close to midnight, Thaddeus stopped trying to sleep, and went to search the city. The Mule, or even anyone like him, was nowhere to be found. The city at night was full of things he hadn't seen by daylight, though. A few houses rang with song and laughter, their lights shining in the night. The women dressed even more daringly than by day, if that were possible. A few walked about the marketplace, though all the shops were long closed; others stood on nearby street corners. The rest of the city, from the dockside to the palace, was dark and quiet. It was strange for the palace to be so dark, Thaddeus thought. Even at this hour, there ought to be a few servants at work, unless they still hadn't returned.

Perhaps the Mule, if he was in Lut Gholein, was not to be found on dark streets and alleys. The houses, where many people had gathered, might be more to his tastes. The first one Thaddeus visited was a shock for him. What kind of party was this? The floor was littered with empty wine bottles, and men and women freely mingled, singing obscene songs. No one noticed him at the door, so Thaddeus took a quick look around and left. No one who looked like the Mule was there; if he was there, he was in some deeper part of the house Thaddeus would not enter.

As he stepped away, a voice said. "Hi, Mr. Green-Jeans! Don't see anything you like?"

Thaddeus looked around. Apparently, someone had seen him; a young woman, clad mostly in her reputation, stood smiling in the doorway. "I'll bet you do now."

"Yes, very nice," Thaddeus stammered. "Excuse me, I am looking for someone."

"I'm looking for someone too."

"No, I'm trying to find somebody."

"This is some body, isn't it?" She laughed, showing herself off indecently. "What's the matter, baby? Is it your first time?"

His face flushing, Thaddeus sputtered, "You're a bold one!"

"You don't know the half of it. Come on! It's too cold to be wandering the streets. You need a warm bed and some company."

Thaddeus hissed, "If you were wearing something decent, even one thing, it wouldn't seem so cold! Just what are you doing in there, awake in drunken debauchery at this hour? Does your family know where you are, or what you're doing?"

Standing up straight, the woman answered, "Oh. You're that Paladin, aren't you? I didn't recognize you without your helmet."

"Yes, I am that Paladin, young lady. And you haven't answered my question."

She ignored him, coolly looking him over. "You should wear the helmet. You have a really funny-shaped head."

Thaddeus' eyes narrowed. "If we're going to talk about strangely-shaped body parts, you really ought to wear more on your chest, and not just because of the cold."

She gasped, almost believably. "There is nothing wrong with me!"

Raising an eyebrow, Thaddeus stared pointedly at her. "So you're smuggling two olives out of the house? Whatever, madam. Enjoy your night."

Despite all further searching, the Mule was nowhere to be found. Exhausted, Thaddeus went to bed, and woke up late the next morning. Fara had already examined the armor and the maul, setting them to one side in her shop.

"Good morning," she said as Thaddeus dragged himself in. "Did you sleep well?"

After a few muttered imprecations, Thaddeus shook his head. "No. I couldn't sleep at all most of the night."

Silently, Fara nodded. "The things you brought me appear to be perfectly ordinary. Are they more gifts from your unknown friend?"

"Yes. Worry is gnawing at me. My benefactor operates in hiding, and I fear I am losing track of my quest. Events have distracted me to another path."

"You feel suspicious about the origin of these things. It concerns you greatly."

Thaddeus glared at Fara. "Shouldn't it?"

"Of course it should. But I think you may be responding improperly."

"And how should I respond when pushed onto a certain path, by one whose motives are kept hidden from me?" Thaddeus kicked the maul, knocking it over. "When I am told I need a certain staff, I immediately find a certain staff. A piece of scripture comes to me, telling me of a path to great power, and tools suited to that path begin to appear out of nowhere. What am I to think of this?"

Patiently, Fara set the maul upright. "Perhaps a passage from scripture might help you."

Thaddeus snorted. "I have thought of many passages. None set my mind at ease."

"I will try to help you, then. The passage that came to mind is this: 'Let not worry or fear tell your mind. The first guide must be the love of mankind.' Brave Thaddeus, you are so consumed with worry, it is interfering with your quest far more than any demon."

Nodding, Thaddeus said, "That is very true. But you see why this is a worry to me? You must understand, there is so much at stake here, I must be vigilant."

"Vigilance is a virtue, and our calling." Fara shook her head. "But any virtue, carried too far, can lead to our destruction. Let me tell you a tale of vigilance. As you doubtless know, in the east, the Hand of Zakarum went forth against the sin of the world."

"Yes, I have been told. A great campaign against the evil in others."

"A campaign of vigilance, seeking out what is hidden, exposing it to the Light. Everywhere the church looked, darkness was uprooted, but our efforts only seemed to increase it. The church encouraged us, glad at the numbers of heretics we found. One day, when I was with the Hand of Zakarum, I arrested a child, only 8 years old."

"Such innocence could harbor few demons," Thaddeus said with alarm.

"I know. He had set fire to a shrine. He did this because we had arrested his father, and his mother, his older brothers, his uncles and aunts... his family had been destroyed by our vigilance. Then I realized, our fear of heresy had created this new heretic."

Thaddeus nodded. Unflappably calm, Fara continued. "As I read the scriptures and looked at the church, I saw only paranoid fanaticism, not a blessing for the world. Somehow, what was wrong with the rest of the world had become more real that what was right within us. This was well after the schism. When your order split away, I cursed you with my brethren. Now, I wish I had been with you, before I saw the things that shattered my faith."

"Surely," Thaddeus said, "All is not lost for you..."

"Oh, no! You have come." Fara smiled. "When you first arrived, I was ashamed to be seen, I felt so tainted. You do not seem to realize what your presence means for these people, or for me. Your actions have been so selfless, and you have gone so far to ignore our many flaws. Were the Hand here, half the city would be on fire; you disapprove of much of what you see, I know, but I have not heard you utter a single cross word."

Now Thaddeus felt ashamed, deeply ashamed, of his conduct last night. Worry and fear had overcome him; he had spoken hurtfully to that woman. She was trying to be friendly... in her own way. Sort of. "You have not heard everything I have said, or thought."

"Your thoughts are your own. Your deeds count for more. Brother, what you have been and done is inspirational. The church is alive here in the west, the real church. When good things come to you, I believe it is because you have been blessed by a higher power."

"Surely not!" Thaddeus exclaimed.

"I do not mean to offend your modesty," Fara bowed her head. "'Blessed' is not the best term. Events have gone in your favor, as though guided by an unseen hand. Perhaps in time, you will play a part in restoring the church's honor and spirit. Perhaps... I could take up my sword again, without fear of myself. You are an inspiration, brother."

Nervously, Thaddeus stared at the floor. "The church needs stronger souls than mine."

"Perhaps it does," Fara sadly said. "These last few days, I have seen your mind so full of suspicion, I worried. The fear of evil is familiar to me: it nearly consumed my soul. The fall of the east began with suspicion. You must not let it overtake you."

Thoroughly chastened, Thaddeus felt unable to lift his gaze. "You are right. I was so worried about losing track of my quest... I lost track of myself."

"Losing yourself would mean the loss of more than your quest. These gifts worry you, and me, but none of us can find anything wrong with them. Put them from your mind, and return your thoughts to your mission. If you like, I have more ordinary equipment here."

"No, please," Thaddeus said. "Perhaps these things have come to me from a higher source. I do not think myself blessed. Sometimes, pride or anger finds its place in my heart. But an object cannot do harm unless I give it a hold over my soul. I should not fear things, or look relentlessly for evil where none may be."

Thaddeus wore the plate, with the surcoat, and kept the maul on his back. A charge with that great hammer would be devastating, though it meant dropping the shield. Back out in the desert above the oasis, a ruined town sat on a mesa. There were many buildings, broad avenues, and large open squares; this was once a mighty city, larger than Lut Gholein. Now all was ruins, the roofs caved in, with the marks of fire everywhere. Also many Zombies, all bearing signs of disease on their decaying bodies. While Thaddeus was gathering some of them together for a flurry of Blessed Hammers, everything went dark.

Thaddeus looked up. Had he suddenly gone blind? No, he could see familiar stars and the outline of the sun, its light faintly visible behind... something. A knock on the head reminded him of the Zombies. After killing them, he looked back up at the sun, and over the land. All was in darkness. He sat down to meditate on this. Darkness conceals, and is often called upon for that purpose. Darkness can also give strength to beasts which fear light or heat. Could it be that Diablo was near, hiding in this summoned night? Or was it something else? Before moving on, Thaddeus would need the advice of others wiser than himself. Cain had no idea what caused the darkness; natural eclipses occur only when the moon is new. Fara was no wiser, but was sure Drognan would know.

Drognan was sure the eclipse was caused by Claw Vipers, humanoid serpents who dwell out in the desert, far from man's dwellings. Evil beings with black hearts, they crave cold and darkness, and happily ally themselves with demons for their own purposes. Sometimes, lone travelers in the desert are kidnapped by the Vipers; those who escape tell of dark rituals around unholy altars, blood sacrifice, and cannibalism. Where nests of them are found, the desert inhabitants feel no compunction about stamping them out.

Cain was almost overjoyed to hear about the Claw Vipers. In addition to their other habits, the Vipers are fond of loud ostentation and display. Jewelry is particularly important -- no Viper is ever seen without huge quantities of rings, bracelets, necklaces, and other baubles. Most is worthless, made of string and shiny pebbles or bits of broken glass; sheer quantity of display is what matters to the Vipers. Chiefs bear more valuable things, taken from the poor humans who fall into their hands. Their unholy altars are decorated with the most precious of all. Perhaps the Vipers had the headpieces of some Horadric staves.

Before returning to the desert, Thaddeus noticed Lysander motioning to him. He went to see what he wanted. "Hello, Lysander. I hope the darkness hasn't bothered you too much."

"Of course it has! I'm deaf, not blind. Though there are blessings to deafness; I no longer have to listen to the tedious gossip of others. I have asked you over to see a new invention of mine."

I've got a bad feeling about this, Thaddeus thought. "Something for the Claw Vipers?"

"Hah? Saw wipers? I didn't know you were interested in carpentry. No, this is something I think you will find useful. North of here, along the coast, lies the land of Magnesia."

"I know of it. Magnesia, land of milk."

Lysander looked at him suspiciously. "Silk? That's produced on the Amazon islands, all the best lingerie comes from there. What would you know about it?"

With a sigh, Thaddeus said, quite loudly, "What about Magnesia?!"

"No need to shout, my friend, I'm not so deaf as that. In the mountains of Magnesia, they know of a certain metal, which few have found any use for."

"How reassuring."

"Indeed! I have found a use for it! When burned, this metal lights up in a brilliant flare of light, glowing like the sun. In this darkness, it would be extremely useful."

"That might be useful, yes. When you... burn it, you say."

"No, when burned. Pay attention!" Lysander brought out a tangle of wire, drawn from a light silvery metal unfamiliar to Thaddeus. "It takes a very hot flame, but when set off..." Lysander touched the wire with a firestone, an enchanted gem common in laboratories.

'Setting it off' was a good way to describe what happened. The blaze was brilliant. Blinding white light filled Lysander's shop -- until the white-hot metal burned through the table and fell to the floor. Cursing, Lysander reached for his water sprinkler. At the touch of water, an explosive sizzle shattered the burning wire, and bits of it scattered throughout the shop. Including, Thaddeus noted, a nice big chunk into Lysander's pile of immolation potions. The pottery jars began to crack as the hot metal lay on them. Lysander moved to pour more water on the fire. Quickly deciding that this would not be a good idea, Thaddeus grabbed the old alchemist and carried him out of the shop. Lysander was swearing a blue streak, but Thaddeus hardly heard him over the explosions.

Once the fire was out and peace restored, Thaddeus congratulated Lysander on his great discovery. Obviously, he was onto something, but he'd have to exercise more caution in the application of this breakthrough. For his part, Lysander was terribly upset about the loss of so much inventory. He would also need some way of controlling or extinguishing the fire if he was going to experiment with it any more. "Maybe some sort of chilling spell? Or something to take away the air? Things can't burn without air, I know that well. Hmmm..." Thaddeus left him to his musings. Moving against the Claw Vipers would be difficult in the dark, but far better to curse the darkness than to light THAT candle.

Chapter 13

An abomination is the sacrifice of the wicked,

Much more when brought with evil intent.

Out of sight and hearing, envy rends them

With scourges of desire for harm and infamy.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 15, v. 15-19

After Lysander's shop was extinguished, and his more hazardous wares cleaned up, Thaddeus went to sleep. He felt tired, so it was probably night; the sun had been invisible since early afternoon. Before he returned to the inn, he made one stop. The party at the bawdy house he'd visited earlier was more subdued tonight; the strange night must be putting people off their normal nighttime routine. Looking in the door, he saw the woman he'd insulted speaking with an older woman, perhaps the head of the house.

"Excuse me, please."

"Oh!" the old woman said, "what a surprise! You're welcome here, of course! Business is off tonight, so you can have --"

"May I speak with your..." Thaddeus caught the young woman's arm before she slipped away. "Her, please."

"Excellent choice, master! Almost all the rooms are open --"

"I just want to speak with her, please." After a moment's thought, Thaddeus got his purse and shook out a small pile of gold coins. To judge from both women's reactions, he was being very generous. "I want to apologize."

The older woman beamed. "Apology more than accepted! You may insult us with your presence anytime you like, master Paladin!"

"Thank you." The young woman had stopped struggling, so he let her go and went with her to a corner of the room. "Young lady, I am sorry for the assumptions I made, and the way I spoke to you. There was no call for such rudeness."

"Yeah, sure," she replied, glaring suspiciously. "What else?"

Thaddeus was confused; he thought he'd been clear about what he wanted, and all he wanted. "Nothing else. I'd hoped that would be enough."

"That's a lot of money to say you're sorry you're a pompous jerk."

Thaddeus thought the nasty names were best ignored. As for the money, he had a lot, even after donating his Rogue's Pass treasure to the Sightless Eye. Most of it was theirs anyway, and they'd need it far more than he. In the deserts, he'd found much more on the ancient dead, and most of his expenses were taken care of by Lord Jerhyn. "I don't know what the usual charge is in here."

She looked dubiously at him. "You've pretty much rented me for a week, you know."

Thaddeus nodded. "I have other plans for the week. You may do as you wish."

Sneering, she said, "Oh, now I'm supposed to go all gushy and throw myself on you?"

"No... why would you?"

"Because all the 'nice' guys think that if they do something nice for me, I'll like them and give it up free."

"But I don't want 'it' from you."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you prefer boys, then?"

As hard as it was, Thaddeus did not frown. Of course, she was trying to goad him. He'd hurt her feelings and she wanted revenge; not a good motivation, but an understandable one. "Romance is not on my mind just now. Minstrels have sung of a night that lasts forever, but now that I'm in one, I don't like it very much."

"Uh, yeah." She looked out the window. "I guess it is really weird."

"I do want to go to bed. Alone; I need to do my work in the morning."

She nodded. "Hey, uh... I'm sorry about the pompous jerk part."

Thaddeus smiled. "But I am a pompous jerk. You're not the first person to say that, or tell me I have a funny-shaped head. Who am I to fly in the face of public opinion?"

"Um... okay..."

"Now, if you want to take the week off, by all means do so."

"Not much choice if there's no business. You've got your vow of chastity, I know."

Again, a vow of chastity; why does the untutored laity always assume that? Correcting her might be taken the wrong way, so Thaddeus said, "I do need to sleep, really sleep. This night must end soon."

"Yeah. See you around."

The next morning, Thaddeus wondered if he'd overslept: no sun came in the window to wake him. The darkness gave everything a timeless quality, so he had no idea how much time had slipped away since yesterday. Out in the desert, the ruined city was full of plague-ridden Zombies and the thin, four-armed giants. Fara identified them as Desert Raiders, a race of nomads who roam the deepest deserts. They are cowardly by nature, but will attack lone travelers if they think they won't meet strong resistance. Fighting a few at a time involved more chasing than fighting; they weren't as cowardly as Fallen Ones, but once frightened, they weren't bloodthirsty enough to come back without allies. They grew bolder if Thaddeus pretended to be afraid, so he could herd a large group together into an open area by "fleeing" them. The effect of Blessed Hammer on such groups was devastating.

The ruined city held a great deal of wealth. Death had come suddenly, by some quick stroke of great evil. No one had been buried, so it occurred to Thaddeus that the whole city could be seen as a huge graveyard. Still, he collected loot; Jerhyn might need the money to help Lut Gholein recover from its losses. His treasury was probably nearly empty by now. While exploring a peculiarly large underground vault, Thaddeus reflected on pillaging. The desire for gold drives many mad, and they forget themselves. Greed drives many to despoil graves, breaking the covenants the living keep with the dead. Thaddeus was looting the dead; did it really make a difference that these dead walked, and were trying to kill him?

Something odd happened when Thaddeus found a small stick on the Zombie of an old man. Made from the spine of a small animal, it was doubtless some sort of Necromancer wand. While he was looking at it (with some distaste,) a pale hand appeared out of the darkness and plucked it away! A note then appeared in a puff of light:

O vigilant one:

Sorry, didn't mean to scare you like that! Don't you worry, I serve a higher power, who is indeed looking out for what's best for you. You see, I hold things for people, taking items of power from those what got 'em but can't use 'em, and giving them to those what can! That wand was useless for you, but some Necromancer may want the whole Sander's set, which you have just completed. Congratulations!

While the note didn't satisfactorily explain things, Thaddeus purposefully did not worry about it. He didn't know enough to make a decision about the Mule. Hopefully, the first sign of the Mule's true nature wouldn't be a fatal experience. In a small valley near the city of the dead, Thaddeus found what had to be a Viper lair. It looked like an old temple, or perhaps a tomb, with huge, ostentatious statues of intimidating serpent men flanking the entrance. Before going in, Thaddeus visited Lut Gholein once more.

"While I was in that city," Thaddeus told Fara as she hammered a dent out of his shield, "it occurred to me that I was pillaging the dead in unprecedented numbers."

"From what you have told me," Fara replied, "that is nothing new for you."

"That is true, I have looted the dead many times. The scale of this place saddened me, though. So many, men, women, and children. The desecration was so much worse."

"It is a great sadness when the young are cut down; sadder still when they come to such an end as this. They have little need for their wealth now. If they could be aware - and we should thank the Light they cannot be - I am sure they would understand."

"Isn't it the excuse of every tomb robber, that the dead do not need their wealth?"

"A truth put to foul ends, as an excuse for greed." Fara stopped her work for a moment, staring into space. "If you learn nothing else, know that there is nothing which cannot be corrupted. No ideal, no matter how high-minded, cannot be used as an excuse for hate and destruction. In the mouth of evil, the most gentle sentiments are instruments for terror."

Thinking back on the Rogues, Thaddeus nodded. "Must evil always win?"

"No," Fara said. "I might have thought so once, but no longer. Corruption comes from hidden places, for it needs time to work unopposed. Given time, nothing, absolutely nothing, is too pure. But all corruption contains its own destruction. Evil will, after its first burst of strength is spent, devour itself."

Thaddeus smiled. "What should we expect from those who hold greed, the lust for power, and bloodlusting anger as virtues?"

Fara looked up at the heavens, smiling with great calm. "The chronicles of Zakarum tell of many battles between Heaven and Hell. In most, Hell's strength seems overwhelming. They strike suddenly, viciously, where good is at its weakest. All seems lost. But as an answer to Hell's fury arises, their strength vanishes. The lords of Hell become consumed in squabbling; their forces work against each other; their troops flee any determined resistance. They are swept away, we mourn the sadness they brought, and pledge vigilance anew."

"Which grows lax as the generations pass, and the scars on the land heal over."

Fara shrugged. "The common men must live their lives. The crops must grow, the cattle need tending. Not all can live in vigilance against a threat that will not come in their lifetime. And even the vigilant can be... misdirected. Turned away from the true threat."

Thaddeus nodded. "I had also wanted to ask you about the Claw Vipers. Tell me, what do you know of them?"

"They are cold-hearted serpents, with arms like men, and evil eyes. When I was in Kurast, I saw a few of them."

"They are from Kehjistan?" Thaddeus asked.

"No, they are native to Aranoch."

"I have seen many creatures native to Kehjistan here in the west, in the service of evil. You have seen western creatures in the east?"

"A few. What have you seen here?"

"Giant Spiders and Fetishes, infesting the monastery of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye. There are also Saber Cats here in Aranoch."

"Fetishes and Saber Cats are native to the jungles, yes. Giant spiders are common in the east. Their webs are collected and woven into subtle garments, light yet terrifically strong."

"Yes, I believe Lysander mentioned them. When I fight the Vipers, what must I fear?"

"They are rumored to engage in necromancy. In combat, they strike with their claws, or the poisonous spine on their tail. Their touch chills the body, I have heard, though perhaps that is an effect of their poison."

No one else knew much more about the Vipers, so Thaddeus went in to find out for himself. Immediately, a horde of Skeletons came out of the darkness; this seemed to confirm the accusations of necromancy. Behind them, a few Greater Mummies and a pack of the Vipers waited. Backed up to the temple entrance, Thaddeus couldn't make good use of the hammers, so he bashed his way through the Skeletons by hand and charged the Mummies. The Vipers might be more dangerous, but the Mummies were raising their skeletal cohort again, so they'd just have to wait.

That was his first mistake; the Vipers charged Thaddeus, placing themselves between the Mummies and him. For snakes on a smooth stone floor, they moved very quickly, and their touch was chilling. Most summoners, especially necromancers, like to hang back and let their minions do the dirty work, but these serpents were braver. The pack surrounded Thaddeus, striking quickly enough to interrupt his attempts to cast Blessed Hammer. Behind him, the Skeletons began rising right and left. Even one of the Mummies shambled forward to breathe a cloud of poison. Snarling imprecations, Thaddeus zealously bashed in heads and crushed bony limbs, grabbing potions from his belt when he had a moment's pause to do so.

The nearest Greater Mummy died amid the fury of blows, leaving an opening for Thaddeus to charge the other one. Slamming the monster back into the wall, Thaddeus pounded it about the body without mercy until it snapped in off at the waist. To his amusement, the legs wandered around for a while as Thaddeus finished off the Vipers. He'd never seen an undead do that before. Eventually, all the skeletons were smashed to bits, and Thaddeus paused to rest. True to what he'd heard, Claw Vipers were fond of jewelry. Their bodies were draped with baubles, most of them valueless. Some of it was worth something, and the biggest of the Vipers carried a magical amulet.

The amulet was not a Horadric staff headpiece, but Thaddeus did find another which was, on a fearsome Salamander deeper in the temple. It didn't match the staff he'd found, though. All in all, there were nearly a dozen magic rings and five amulets in the temple, all decorating some serpent or hanging from rude shrines. Cain told Thaddeus to look for an altar, the probable focus for the magic being used to blot out the sun. There were two shrines on the upper level of the temple -- neither dispelled the darkness. One shrine was placed very, very interestingly, right next to a set of stairs leading down to a lower level. The shrine granted high resistance to lightning. He didn't need it, but Thaddeus wondered: is lightning going to be a problem down there? Is this another sign?

Below the main level of the Viper temple, a small chamber of horrors awaited Thaddeus. The walls were hung with people, gutted and partially stripped of flesh. As he advanced, a small group of powerful-looking Vipers came to meet him. At least there didn't seem to be any of their undead servants down here. On his first strike, Thaddeus knew destiny was working behind the scenes as much as ever: the chief of the Vipers was lightning enchanted. When he found out who was responsible for this, Thaddeus was going to have a word with them. Maneuvering around the close confines of the room, Thaddeus dealt with each Viper one at a time, leaving the lightning spitter for last. It was fast, and hit hard, but hitting it back would only make matters worse until he was ready to deal with it alone.

The chamber was small, with a low pit in the center. An blood-drenched altar lay in the pit, half-buried in rotting flesh. As he killed the remaining Vipers, Thaddeus noticed the matter in the pit of decay was moving on its own. By all the Light, what were these things making in here? No time to think of it now; Thaddeus killed Viper after Viper until only the chief was left. The Viper chief looked at Thaddeus. Thaddeus looked at the Viper chief. It attempted to grin; at least, the expression looked more silly than threatening. Then it ran and hid in the corner. Thaddeus picked up his maul, charged, and bashed in its head.

Around the Viper pit, over a dozen human bodies hung from the walls. More slumped in iron cages, obviously starved and tortured to death. The pit was full of rot and blood, rippling in waves around the jewel-festooned altar. Something was coming to life in there. Muttering a prayer, Thaddeus gingerly leapt on top of the alter (he couldn't bring himself to even touch the filth in the pit) and started kicking the jewels and carvings away. A groan came up from the pit, and shudders went through the roiling corruption. Finally, with enough desecration, the altar broke. A great shiver went through the pit, and silvery lights floated up out of the filth, swirling around Thaddeus. They looked so clean and pure, coming out of that mess. Gently, the lights swirled up to the ceiling through the darkness, and in a bright burst, went through the stone. Sunlight, glorious sunlight, shone down onto the altar.

The sun was out in its full glory; it was almost noon. Everyone in Lut Gholein was overjoyed, even the ones who normally only come out at night. The jewelry from the Viper altar was valuable, and some was magical. The only piece of value was an amulet, socketed for a staff. The staff Thaddeus had in his footlocker was a perfect match.

Chapter 14

The liars served, stole, and feasted

Upon the souls of these wise fools.

One great fool argued with another

Over which of them was the greater.

They did contest, and the liars made

Them feast on each other's tongues.

-- The Book of the Hammer, c. 5, v. 11-16

The Viper's amulet looked like a corroded piece of brass, green and crumbling at the edges, but it fit the acid-etched piece of wood Cain had identified as the shaft of a Horadric staff. The two could be reunited using the Horadric Cube, and Cain was eager for Thaddeus to do so right away. He saw no point in it. Opening the tomb would serve no purpose; it might even make it easier for Diablo to reach his brother. The demon lord might be able to open the tomb himself, but if a complete Horadric staff was the only way Diablo could open the tomb, one Horadric staff in the land was one too many. Keeping shaft and headpiece separate would be the best thing to do; the shaft was in his footlocker, so the amulet would have to be hidden away somewhere else.

The best place, in all probability, was in the palace. It was the safest place in the city: guards stood at the doors, all the windows were barred day and night, and every member of the city guard had been in there for weeks. Thaddeus hadn't asked to enter since he first arrived in Lut Gholein; he'd been too busy in the desert to think about it since then. Now that he did think about it, it was strange that the place was locked up so tight, or that Lord Jerhyn's servants never seemed to have returned. Was Lord Jerhyn hiding something from the whole city? Thaddeus could sense no malice in him; nervousness, yes, but that wasn't out of line for a young ruler trying to navigate through a crisis of these dimensions.

Any palace was sure to have a secure vault, for the Lord's treasury. Putting the Viper's amulet in the vault would be an excellent excuse for looking over the palace, and perhaps ask a few questions of Lord Jerhyn. Nothing seemed unusual while Thaddeus was walking to the palace, but Lord Jerhyn was waiting outside the palace doors with two guardsmen. The guards weren't facing out towards the town, either; they faced inside, staring in the palace doors, weapons at the ready.

"Good morning, Lord --"

"Thank the Light you are here!" If Jerhyn had seemed nervous before, he was positively panicky now. "How did you know to come?"

Despite the restored sun, Thaddeus suddenly felt cold. "Uh..."

"Never mind, you are here, and I have a great need of a miracle. I hope you can provide my city with another one."

"Whatever you need, my Lord, will be mine to give if I can."

Jerhyn nodded, his eyes darting back and forth. "I do not know how to begin."

Calmly, Thaddeus said, "The beginning might be the best place."

"Yes, of course," Jerhyn laughed nervously. "When our troubles began, the city's harem guilds sought shelter within the palace walls. Some of the demons had managed to breach the city's defenses then, and they were afraid for their lives."

Despite himself, Thaddeus frowned. "Harem guilds."

"It was a reasonable request, and I granted them shelter. Everything was fine, until one night when we heard screams coming up the stairs. The poor girls were being slaughtered by a horde of bloodthirsty demons!"

"In the palace?"

"Yes. They must have come through the gate in the cellar."

This just got better and better. "A gate in the cellar?"

"Yes!" Jerhyn sputtered. "Is something wrong with your hearing?"

Thaddeus took off his helmet. "I'm beginning to wonder. You have demons in the palace, and have for weeks, but have mentioned nothing of it to the rest of the town?"

"Drognan knows, I would do nothing without his advice. We have tried to push them back, but there seems no end to them. I had to hire Greiz and his men to guard the city walls, and concentrate what was left of my own guardsmen in the palace. When the sun went out, they seemed to sense it, and came in even greater numbers. These two are all that remains of the city guard. I need your help desperately."

Thaddeus could hardly believe what he was hearing. "My Lord Jerhyn," he said, trying not to lose his temper, "I cannot believe you have been keeping this hidden..."

"Drognan's advice was to keep this secret, lest the city panic. My brave guardsmen were holding them off until recently. When you came, your quest seemed more important!"

Poor excuses, all of them, but pointing that out now would do no good. Fuming silently, Thaddeus nodded. "So we have been under attack from within all this time. Your whole city came so close to being overcome, almost nothing remains of your defenders. While I may question Drognan's judgment, I cannot fault your present decision. You do need my help."

Looking pale, Jerhyn nodded. "Riches, power, favors only a ruler can give, all will be made available to the one who helps my city."

"Bribery will not be necessary," Thaddeus snapped. "I am sorry, my Lord. I did not mean to say that. It will satisfy me to know how a demon gate came to be in your cellar."

"It has always been there; it is older than the palace itself. Drognan believes this to be the site of an ancient Vizjerei fortress, and the gate is a relic of those times. As long as the city has been here, the gate has been quiet, and would not open for anyone. Drognan has always wanted to see what lies beyond it."

"Now it has opened on its own."

"This may not be important, but... a few months ago, a Vizjerei mage came here from the west. While I was giving him a tour of the palace, he seemed to recognize the gate, and asked to study it, alone. I granted his request, and he was never seen again."

Thaddeus blinked. "Had this mage visited a small town called Tristram?"

"I believe he mentioned such a town, yes. Is that important, do you think?"

Thaddeus felt another headache coming on, a strong one. Perhaps Jerhyn would be wiser not to grant so many requests in the future. If he had a future. "Lord Jerhyn, you must open your palace to me now. The future of your city is at stake."

Jerhyn gasped with relief. "You may go anywhere in my palace, or throughout my city for that matter. My confidence in you is absolute."

Ah, good; he could freely enter any harem in town. Replacing his helmet, Thaddeus strode into the palace. "I'll be done before sundown."

The conversation left a bad taste in his mouth. The lord of a city should be someone his people can respect. There is always an incentive to hide weakness, but sending his guards in to die against endless waves of foes was incomprehensible. Was Jerhyn foolish, or simply ill-advised? Thaddeus would have to speak with Drognan about the gate.

The first basement level of the palace was a huge pleasure arena, with rooms large and small, full of furnishings and decorations intended to stimulate and gratify sensual pleasures. In his poor mood, Thaddeus thought all kinds of uncomplimentary things about Lord Jerhyn, though he had to admit that the Rogues' jails were less pleasant by implication. The silks and incense burners were all drenched in gore now, with the occasional mostly-intact body arrayed decoratively around the rooms. The demons were Desert Raiders, Skeletons, and huge fat giants called Blunderbores. The Blunderbores' choice of weapon was a human body, wrapped in heavy chain and slammed into an opponent; an unsophisticated style, but difficult to avoid or block.

Beneath the seraglio, the palace's cellars went deep. The stonework looked more like what you might find in a fortress, though later workers had widened all the doors. Narrow doors are easier to defend, but hard to move through, and were doubtless altered in peaceful times. Much of the palace's bureaucracy had worked down here, including the city watch. In their offices, Thaddeus found a strange poster.

WANTED: Xanthippe

Height: Very short

Weight: Frequently thrown around

Eyes: Wide and flashing

Hair: Luxuriant black

Sex: *You* can try, but I want to have children someday

Distinguishing features: Only uses weapons bigger than she is

On charges of:

Public bitchiness

Disrespect of city elders

Mercenary abuse

Conduct unbecoming to a sorceress

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

The lowest level of the cellar, a strange artifact was set in the floor. A vaguely triangular shape, the object was complex, but had no obvious function, so it must be the gate. At the top, a toothed wheel hung suspended in the air between two prongs. Thaddeus set the gear spinning. A blue gate, large enough to walk through, appeared in the base. Staring at it, he thought, no, it can't be that simple. According to Jerhyn, this gate had defied centuries of efforts to open. Maybe that Vizjerei had found the gear that made it work? Drognan was glad to hear that the palace had been purged of evil.

"Excellent, your success is admirable," Drognan smiled. "You must have reached the lowest levels of the cellars by now, and found the gate. Have you found it?"

"Yes, I have. It is open."

With visible excitement, Drognan asked, "Have you seen what lies beyond?"

"That, I have not seen. What happened in the palace was terrible, of course."

"I am sure it was. Tell me, have you any idea how the gate was opened?"

"No," Thaddeus lied. "You have a guess where the gate might lead, then?"

"Centuries ago, this was the site of a Vizjerei fortress, built by Horazon, a leader of the order. If legends are true, Horazon built an Arcane Sanctuary, whose gate was within the fortress, as a retreat from the cares of the world. All of Horazon's greatest works were kept within the sanctuary, safe from ignorant minds."

Thaddeus nodded. "The Vizjerei were demon summoners, I have heard."

"Naturally. Horazon was a great, powerful, and wise archmage, master of many branches of magic. It is well known that he was served by demonic slaves."

"In the church of Zakarum, we were taught that Horazon was an example of the folly that lies in the pursuit of power. He believed he could bend demons to his will, as they allowed him to believe; they were using him for their own purposes."

Drognan smiled thinly. "I am sure your church holds many beliefs. The Vizjerei still revere the great Horazon, as a master of otherworldly forces beyond compare."

"And the deaths in the palace?"

Still smiling, Drognan shrugged. "An unfortunate incident, yes. If he is still alive, then no doubt Horazon's work was interrupted, and he sent his servants to see to the matter. It is more likely that he is not alive, in which case his servants were trapped in the sanctuary for centuries, and have reverted to their normal behavior."

Thaddeus nodded. "Lord Jerhyn told me that some months ago, a Vizjerei sorcerer came to the palace, and examined the gate in the cellar."

"This one also came to me. He was obviously insane, and I dismissed him. Perhaps... you may think, could he have penetrated the Arcane Sanctuary?"

"That thought occurred to me."

"An interesting theory, but his skills and knowledge would not have been sufficient."

"Of course," Thaddeus nodded. "If you could not open the gate, how could he?"

"Indeed. Perhaps he found some way in, and lost what was left of his ravaged mind. If you encounter him in the sanctuary, he could be dangerous."

Thaddeus raised an eyebrow. "In the sanctuary?"

"Of course. If I do not know how the gate was opened, I cannot know how it is to be closed. The Arcane Sanctuary must be explored, and cleansed."

"Then, the knowledge within may be studied at leisure." Thaddeus nodded. "Besides, so long as the sanctuary contains demons, the city will be in danger."

"Of course, of course. I shall be glad to follow along behind you, of course."

With as little care as Drognan had displayed for the lives of others, Thaddeus wasn't sure he wanted the old wizard as a battle companion. "You are a very brave man. The hordes of demons in the palace were a terrible threat, and they took such a delight in death by slow, painful torture. There would probably be even more in the sanctuary itself."

Drognan paled a bit. "Ah, no, that is not quite what I meant. At the moment, I must go to the palace, and advise Jerhyn on his next course of action. When you have finished with the Arcane Sanctuary, please inform me."

"Oh, I misunderstood. I hope no one has entered the lowest cellars. While I was here with you, more demons may have come through the gate."

Drognan frowned. "Of course. When you are done, come and inform me."

Looking at the gate, Thaddeus wondered best how to sabotage it. While he didn't approve of harems, that didn't mean their residents should be condemned to a painful death. Drognan had been quite unconcerned about that; he only cared about knowledge of ancient Vizjerei ways. As for Jerhyn... he obviously liked harems a lot, to devote an entire floor of his palace to one. Perhaps Drognan encouraged this weakness, to make him easier to rule. If there was power beyond this gate, neither of them should have it. On the other hand... there were obviously demons in there, and they must not be allowed to remain, even if he could deactivate this gate permanently. Closing the gate while he was inside might trap him, so any sabotage would have to wait until after he'd gone through.

On the other side of the gate, Thaddeus found himself staring out into a black, starry void, empty save for a maze of stone catwalks suspended in nothingness. Wherever it was, this was a horrible place, a disconcerting emptiness devoid of light or life. Looking down was terrifying, but looking up or sideways wasn't much better. The stone pathways were more than confusing: their layout seemed designed with the sole purpose of defying the natural order of the world. You couldn't be sure if you were walking up or down, even if you were right on them! Surely, this place could only be the result of a twisted mind -- exactly what a sorcerer might build. The gate was at the top of a short flight of steps, above a waypoint. Thaddeus immediately returned to Lut Gholein, and rejoiced in the normalcy, bathed in the sunset's light.

Back at the marketplace, Fara had closed up shop. Lysander was still there, putting up the last wall of his new store. "Hello."

"Hello, Lysander. It has been a trying day. You haven't heard any rumors of demon summoning from anyone in town, have you?"

"Good heavens, no. Anyone who tried that would get his tongue cut out, his fingers all burned off, and then they'd start getting mean. You think someone is doing that?"

"No, no. But Drognan believes I have found someplace called Horazon's Sanctuary."

"Yes, Canker Bees are a problem. Demons are very fond of insects, too."

"HORAZON'S SANCTUARY."

"Oh, Horazon! A terrible man, who came to a bad end. Had to lock himself in to protect himself from his own servants. That's the fate of all summoners -- that, or damnation. Let me tell you something: there are old summoners, and there are bold summoners, but there are no old, bold summoners."

"A foolish but tempting path, for mages who lack foresight. For all their reading, you would think wizards could read something of history. It might not repeat itself so often if they did."

"Repetition has its good points; someday, you might get it right."

It is true, doing something more than once can serve to correct flaws in a basically sound procedure. Returning to the waypoint, Thaddeus went back into the sanctuary, and through the gate into the palace basement. No one was around, so Thaddeus took the gear away. Sneaking out of the palace through a window was not very dignified, but he didn't make too much noise, and returned to the Arcane Sanctuary by the waypoint.

The marble paths were full of Goat Demons, the demonic Hell clan, strongest and darkest of that accursed race. The undead were also present, vaporous Wraiths and vampiric Dark Lords. Perhaps they were the remains of mundane servants and mages, trapped in here with the Goat Demons when the Sanctuary was closed. While cleansing the Arcane Sanctuary, Thaddeus found it was quite impossible to fall from the catwalks. He couldn't even knock the demons off; perhaps the empty space he saw was all some kind of illusion. Stockpiles of treasure were stored in certain parts of the maze, including ancient texts full of arcane lore. Some were about the elements, some were about the enchantment of items, and some were about the summoning and binding of demons. Unfortunately, some of the books and scrolls caught fire, in unavoidable accidents.

After a long battle with some vicious Dark Lords, Thaddeus found a large platform. A pile of old clothes lay on the floor, next to a book. The clothes contained a relatively fresh body, his head caved in by one of Thaddeus' hammers; Thaddeus hadn't even seen him up here. Hopefully, the man had found some peace, as it was doubtful he'd been up to any good. The book was Horazon's private journal. While locked up on this platform, Horazon had plenty of time to observe events in the real world. He didn't dare leave, or his "servants" would seek him out and kill him, but he could still watch and record what he saw. Baal's imprisonment occupied several pages of detailed observations. Tal Rasha's tomb was set in a secluded valley, flanked by the tombs of 6 other archmagi. Horazon's sanctuary could send Thaddeus there instantly. Before he went, Thaddeus took the gear that opened the sanctuary, and left that with the dead body. It was his, he may as well keep it.

Chapter 15

The Lord of Pain, fifth of the Great Evils,

King of flies and maggots, all rot and filth.

Devouring, he comes behind Destruction,

Jealous of his primacy, desiring all himself.

Greedy, violent, gluttonous, rebellious --

His lords have punished him many times…

-- Chronicles of Zakarum, c. 14, v. 1-6

Inside Horazon's sanctuary, several spells were permanently set to create gates, going out to various places around the world –- or out of the world. Some names were familiar; Gehenna, Abaddon, the lake of fire. Horazon must have gone directly to the infernal reaches to look for slaves. No doubt this suited the "slaves" just fine; why seek a victim out, when he will come to you? Not all of Horazon's gates led to hellish destinations, but many of the earthly places no longer existed, or were unknown to Thaddeus.

There were a few books on the platform, so Thaddeus began looking them over. Perhaps the ancient mage had observed the entombment of Baal and made a note of it. The first book he went to was a diary, open on a tall stand; Horazon's private journal. As might be expected, most of it was sorcerous ranting about power and such; Thaddeus' gorge rose from reading it, so he paged through quickly. Near the end, he found Horazon's account of Tal Rasha and Baal. Most of it was empty rambling, but Horazon noted that the entombment in the "canyon of the magi", a small canyon with the tombs of six other sorcerers. Baal was in the corner tomb, the largest.

One of Horazon's gates led to the canyon of the magi, so Thaddeus went directly there. The sun had just risen: light was peeking into the gorge, creeping slowly across the walls where seven ancient tombs yawned wide open. A waypoint, its flames extinguished, sat on the canyon floor. It was covered with dirt, obviously disused for a long time. After getting his bearings, Thaddeus set out for the north-east corner, sure that was Diablo's destination.

As he walked, the ground began twitching under his feet, and a huge Sand Maggot burst up underneath him. More tunneled up through the sand as a crowd of javelin-hurling Saber Cats sprang out of hiding, peppering Thaddeus with their spears. After blocking most of the first volley, Thaddeus summoned the hammers, sending them spinning through his enemies. The Saber Cats quickly learned it was best to avoid the slow, spinning missiles, so Thaddeus had to close and deal with them in melee. The maggots weren't nearly as intelligent -- besides, they were much bigger targets.

As he fought his way to the tomb, Thaddeus wondered if Diablo had reached the tomb first. The monsters in the canyon might indicate so, they were his beasts, and seemed to have been expecting Thaddeus' arrival. When he got the tomb entrance, his heart sank; two sets of human footprints led in, and one set ran out. Was this Diablo, and some companion? What manner of man would travel with a dark lord? There was no time to ask questions; the tracks looked fresh, so there might still be a chance to catch him.

In the tomb's interior, Thaddeus lost the trail on the stone floor. While there was some sand and grit, he wasn't a good enough tracker to read such poor signs in near-darkness. The tomb was huge, with tunnels branching everywhere. All were full of ghosts, mummies, and the huge Gorebellies, who had fresh corpses to use as weapons. Thaddeus hardly had a moment to look for his quarry, the place was so thick with defenders. Finally, in a small side tunnel he almost overlooked, he found the tracks again. They went into a small room with a socket set in the floor; the trail led up to the north wall -– and through, as though the stone wall wasn't even there.

Panic gripped Thaddeus. He bent to examine the tracks -– they were no illusion. The wall was real and solid, not giving in the slightest to his shoulder. The empty socket in the middle of the floor was where the Horadric staff would no doubt go; Diablo hadn't needed one after all. Thaddeus quickly returned to Lut Gholein, and put the staff together. With the press of a button, the corrosion filled out with shining metal, the bent shaft straightened and acquired a new polish, and the two pieces joined as though they had never been separated. Cain was very happy to see the staff, but when he asked to hold it, Thaddeus just grunted and ran to his portal. The staff fit into the socket; a glow filled the room, and lightning shot out of the staff's head, shattering the north wall. A foul smell washed out into the room.

Heedless, Thaddeus climbed over the pile of rubble, peering ahead into darkness. In his haste, he didn't watch his footing; the rubble gave way, sending him tumbling into a deep pit full of horrible-smelling mud. Standing up, Thaddeus realized it probably wasn't mud; it was alive with maggots, some of them nearly two feet long. Then, something slammed into him, sending him flying across the room into a wall.

@Looking for Baal?@ a voice croaked, full of equal parts amusement and phlegm. A huge THING was bearing down on him again. In shape, it was much like the maggots squirming around his legs, but the end rearing up was easily ten feet off the ground. Its long body, covered with many insectile legs, negotiated the pit of filth easily. Blocking the charge was pointless; it just slammed into him again. Dodging was impossible, thigh-deep in muck. Gathering his wits, Thaddeus prayed for a Blessed Hammer, but the thing chopped at him with its axe-like arms, breaking his concentration.

Whenever Thaddeus tried to gain some distance, the maggot slid across its pit of ordure to slam into him. Finally, the thing pinned him to a wall with its body, hammering down on his shield with both arms. Thaddeus got a good look at its face; this was Duriel, the Lord of Pain, one of the Princes of Hell! Certainly not his quarry, and a sign that Diablo had been here and gone. Just like Andariel, this lord of the maggots had been left behind to delay pursuit. This, of course, meant Thaddeus had to defeat this worm right now.

Pinned to the wall, his shield in Duriel's face, Thaddeus couldn't do much. But Duriel couldn't do anything besides pound on the shield; his body was far too soft to press the breath out of Thaddeus' lungs. Duriel was big and powerful, but by all Zakarum's accounts of him, demon lords do come smarter, and he'd never been known for patience. Casually, Thaddeus took a potion from his belt and drank. Feeling better, he calmly said, "When you are ready, o minor lordling of all that squishes. You're not getting anywhere doing this."

With a snort, Duriel pushed away from the wall, and tried to slam in again; Thaddeus barely avoided it. Now that he had room to swing, Thaddeus went at it zealously, his scepter bouncing off Duriel's pulpy body, occasionally breaking the translucent skin. Every now and then, he'd miss with a shield block, letting Duriel get in a strike. Better to let him think an open fight was working, than to invite another slam into the wall. While Duriel's arms were powerful, his weight was his true advantage.

By judicious use of healing potions and making Duriel's few hits look worse than they were, Thaddeus slowly whittled the monster down. Whenever it looked like Duriel was thinking of a slam, Thaddeus let a blow hit, or would let his own strikes diminish to egg him on. A scepter might not be the best weapon to use on him (something with an edge would slice into that pulpy body,) but perceptibly, Duriel's strikes weakened. His head lowered, bruises appeared under Thaddeus' blows, and finally, his body slumped forward. Thaddeus finished with a blow to the back of Duriel's skull, perhaps the only hard part of his body.

Light finally entered the chamber. Thaddeus was in a pit full of filth, absolutely covered with the stuff. Before him, Duriel's body had burst, spewing maggot-ridden intestines and foul liquid all around him. Huge, hairy worms also squirmed in the pit, waving their heads and slithering along the floor. It was all too much; Thaddeus threw up all over the inside of his helmet. Feeling weak and ashamed, Thaddeus emptied the helm, and looked for something to wipe it out with. Everything he had was covered with something far worse. Sickened, he put the helmet back on and tried to climb out of the pit. The way back to the tomb was too steep, but another entrance stood in the east.

Through a short hallway, Thaddeus saw a gentle glow. In a large cave, a bridge led over a pit of fire; hovering over the bridge was... the most beautiful, awe-inspiring being he could ever have imagined. The glow of its wings filled the room with sublime illumination; armor sheathed its body and a sword hung by its side, but there couldn't possibly be any malice from this being. So overwhelming was this vision, Thaddeus completely forgot that he was still up to his eyeballs in muck. Barely aware of his own body, he went forward, and knelt at the angel's feet.

"Greetings, mortal. I thank you for my freedom... though I did expect you earlier."

"Glorious angel! My feeble efforts have been for naught. I have come here in pursuit of Diablo, but have been unable to find or stop him."

"I have tried to aid you in your quest, but cannot do so openly under Heaven's eye. Last night, Diablo and I fought. I tried to stop him from freeing his brother Baal, but I have failed. Now, both stalk your world."

Suddenly, all was clear. Thaddeus had been under a watchful eye, all this time; the fear that gripped him seemed so foolish now. "Your blessings are clear to me! All your gifts have been great and good, though my own weakness and fear have overcome me, so my quest is not complete."

"You must seek out Diablo and Ball. They journey to Kurast, to join their brother Mephisto, who is now lord of that place."

Thaddeus' heart sank. "The prisoner now rules?"

"He has corrupted his Soulstone, and uses its power against his captors. I cannot pursue them; my body is spent, the energies binding me to this world are fading. You must go to Kurast, and prevent the Three from reuniting. If they do, all hope for your world is lost."

"I shall, great angel! I pray for the strength to succeed, to dispel my doubts..."

"Let your prayers rise up from the boat. Time is precious."

"Yes, great angel! I... I..."

The angel gave no sign of impatience, but said, "Go. Now."

Back in Lut Gholein, Thaddeus hastened to Jerhyn's palace, to explain about the sanctuary, the canyon of tombs, the battle with Duriel, and the wonderful angel who appeared to revitalize his quest. On the way, he wondered why everyone in town was running away from him, holding their noses. The palace doors were shut, with Jerhyn and his two faithful guardsmen peering down from the battlements.

"Lord Jerhyn! I bring you news!"

"Whatever you are, go away! I'm summoning more guards!"

Looking down at himself, Thaddeus realized he was still caked in demon sh!t and his own vomit. He'd gone before an angel looking like this! Though his face was burning with shame, Thaddeus pulled his helmet off and addressed Jerhyn again. "Lord Jerhyn! Your palace is safe, the gate went to Horazon's Arcane Sanctuary!"

"That's safe?" one guard asked the other.

"Oh, it is you!" Jerhyn laughed. "You encountered something much worse than Horazon, I take it?"

"I encountered Duriel, the demon lord of excrement!"

Jerhyn nodded. "That would explain it."

"He was defeated, but Diablo and his brother Baal have escaped! I must go to Kurast in pursuit of them, with all possible speed!"

"Go to Meshif, and tell him he is free to go, so long as he takes you there. And please, do something about yourself first! If you come near him, you might kill him!"

Thaddeus stopped in the market square, to take advantage of Lysander's sprinklers. While getting rinsed, he explained everything to Fara and Cain.

"This is a serious setback. Baal is in possession of one of the world's most powerful mages, and Diablo guides his path." Cain frowned. "There is much known only to the Horadrim, which Baal could make use of against us. I fear for our future."

"I do not," Thaddeus smiled. "We are on their heels, and Heaven watches over us."

"What do you mean?" Fara asked.

"In Baal's tomb, there was an angel, who had contested with Diablo."

"Ah, that must have been the enigmatic archangel Tyrael!" Cain smiled. "He was advisor to the Horadrim from the beginning, and gave us the Soulstones. Of all the heavenly host, he could he called the bravest and most sympathetic towards humanity's plight."

"But... he could not stop Diablo?" Fara asked.

"I suppose the combined might of two of the brothers was too much for him," Thaddeus surmised, shaking the last of Duriel off. "Which is why I must go to Kurast, and prevent the third from combining with them."

Slowly, Fara nodded. "I would that you could go anywhere else."

Thaddeus shook his head. "Tyrael told me Mephisto is master of Kurast now. I suspected this some time ago, and am not afraid to have it confirmed."

"I think I suspected it as well." A tear came to Fara's eye. "I fear for you, going to Kurast. The Hand of Zakarum is wicked, and can only have grown worse since I last saw it."

"I... do not know what I will find there." Thaddeus rinsed his helmet out. "No doubt terrible things await my arrival. But I must succeed. There is no other option open to me."

"Of course there isn't," Cain said. "That is why I must accompany you. I have not set foot in glorious Kurast for many years, but I hope my knowledge can aid you."

"I am sure it will. You have been a great help to me. There, I feel a bit more presentable. We must go to Meshif's ship. Time and tide wait for no man."

Concluding thoughts:

Okay, Blessed Hammer is a good skill, but you have to know how to use it. It's not a point-and-shoot. Moving around and spamming hammers is a good strategy for dealing with crowds, but it's lousy on single monsters.
I haven't been using Holy Shield, I need a few more skill points to get the duration up to something decent. Soon, though.
Charging with a Maul is sweet.
Xanthippe recently got through Act 1 nightmare. Damn, that's hard on players 8. Bosses everywhere, and 2 out of 3 are lightning enchanted. She's let Kasim go into retirement, and gotten herself a might merc. Let's see how he does.

Act 3

Chapter 16

The elaborate plans of man all end,

Everything that stands will fall.

Nothing is safe forever, my friend;

Do not let its end surprise you.

Can you picture what will be

Years from now, in a desperate land?

-- The Book of Haisin, c. 22, v. 5-10

Foul winds were blowing across the Twin Seas, unseasonable winds straight out of the west. The trip to Kurast should have taken a week, but the ship was at the mouth of the Argentek in two days. Either Thaddeus was meant to be in Kurast sooner than soon... or something else was taking the same route, and he was along for the ride. According to what he'd read, the city of Kurast was huge, straddled over miles of both sides of the riverbank, far inland. The wind swept the ship along, driving in against the slow current of the river. This wasn't a journey; it was a delivery. Thaddeus was here on a mission, and it was being brought to him like room service.

The whole country was a jungle, a green eagerness enveloping the land. Everything was moist, spreading under its own thick weight; fecundity run amuck and gone rotten before it had time to ripen. From the river, all the way into Kurast, Thaddeus couldn't see anything but green. He could hear much more: squeals, hisses, gurgling, the groan of wood growing so fast it seemed to move on its own. Sometimes, voices came to his ears... high-pitched chittering with a vague language to it, or the groans of those past caring about life. Sitting on the prow of the ship, listening because he couldn't see anything meaningful, Thaddeus felt the whole land tightening around him the further in they went. Dull fear and inactivity ate into his mind. It didn't feel like angel's wings, pushing him where he wished to go. He was going to the worst place in the world, even if he didn't know it yet.

Where the glorious city of Kurast once stood, there was only empty green. The wind died away to a whisper. Apparently, they had arrived. Meshif's men started rowing, looking for a place to land. The green wall opened as the ship turned a bend, where a rotting wooden dock jutted into the river. Fighting against the sluggish water, thick with slime and snaking roots, Meshif steered the ship in. From his vantage point on the prow, Thaddeus saw the people first -- dark, slender people, staring at the ship with empty eyes. If he and Meshif's crew had been angels from heaven, these people probably wouldn't have cared. Some were armed; Thaddeus kept his hands away from his weapons.

"I gave you my word," Meshif said, "and brought you here. But by all that is holy, I wish I never saw this. Are you sure you want to go on?"

"There can be no doubt in my mind," Thaddeus said. "Who are these people?"

"I've never seen any of them. I haven't been here for years. I don't know what this evil is, my friend, but it's obvious it must be stopped. I pray you can before the jungle consumes the last vestiges of my beloved homeland."

"The land does seem to be... consuming itself."

Meshif shook his head. "The jungle made this land a paradise. Now it's as though paradise has festered... and burst open. You don't suppose they'd try to hurt us, do you?"

"It might take more will than they have." The ship thudded against the dock. Thaddeus stepped off, and held up his empty hand. "Greetings. We have come from Lut Gholein, to visit Kurast, and receive what news we may of your situation."

"Welcome to Kurast, traveler," a small man in red said. "Few come willingly anymore, so you may understand your appearance comes as a surprise to us. Tell me, how fares the Hand of Zakarum in Lut Gholein?"

"The Hand does not reach there," Thaddeus said, letting antagonism creep into his voice. "All there thank the Light it has not. My order, the Protectors of the Word, left the Hand and the church in Kurast many years ago, and count ourselves fortunate we did so."

"And the present state of Kurast?"

Thaddeus frowned. "Do you speak of the church, or the city it has become synonymous with? No word has come from either for years. Since I began my journey here, I have seen nothing good, and fear for this land. Or what is left of it."

Without much visible change, the tension permeating the dockside dissipated. Only the man in red was able to smile, though. "I am Hratli, smith and enchanter. As much as it pains me to say, your presence in Kurast is welcome."

"Are you in charge here, master Hratli?"

After a short pause, Hratli answered, "As much as anyone is. Tomorrow, you may be in charge."

"I cannot be in charge of a city," Thaddeus said. "What has happened to the city?"

"What city? There is no Kurast, only the wretched jungle hell which covers all the land and water. I have placed a protective spell over the docks, so if you wish, you may call the seven huts we have left to us 'The Glorious City of Kurast.'"

Despite himself, Thaddeus was beginning to grow annoyed. This strange man was talking in riddles -- complaining in riddles, really. "Where did the jungle come from?"

"From the ground. It is tended by the Hand of Zakarum."

Slowly, Thaddeus sighed. Turning back to the ship, he said, "Meshif, stay in the boat. I will go explore the glorious city of Kurast."

"Don't you worry, I'm not leaving this boat. Never get out of a boat, unless you're going all the way out."

The crowd wandered away while Thaddeus was talking to Hratli. Hratli wandered away while he was speaking to Meshif; the dock was empty now. Aimless wandering seemed to be the order of the day in Kurast, so Thaddeus wandered. Over some rickety wood bridges, past two of Hratli's huts, he found a stone platform built up from the river bottom. Roofed booths surrounded a bonfire; this might have been a marketplace once. Several people wandered around, a few carrying wares.

"Bananas, sahib? Only a penny for the bunch."

The man's voice was so plaintive, Thaddeus gave him two. "That's very cheap, compared with Lut Gholein."

"That is the price. I buy rice from Irenii for a penny, she buys bananas from me, for the same penny. None of us have seen meat in weeks."

A very closed economy, Thaddeus thought ruefully. "Surely animals can be found in the jungle? It can't all be plants."

"Go into the jungle, sahib?" The man looked genuinely terrified. "The jungle would eat me! If we are lucky, the Iron Wolves bring back more than they can eat, but that has not happened for a long time."

"The Iron Wolves?"

"Lady Asheara's mercenaries, sahib. Though I do not consider her much of a lady."

As he ate a banana, Thaddeus noticed a tall woman by the bonfire, staring at him in an appraising sort of way. "Is this lady Asheara?"

"No, sahib, that is Natalya. I do not know who she is."

"I shall ask her, then."

Natalya was quite tall for a woman, and slim. Her hair was cropped down to almost nothing, so looks might not be important to her... however, the leathers she wore gave a different impression. Thaddeus hadn't seen that much female skin since that house in Lut Gholein. Part of him was already starting to dislike her; he tried to suppress the prejudice. Though she might look better if she let her hair grow out. Fara's hair was much nicer.

"Hello. I've heard of your exploits in the west... I must say, I'm quite impressed. Taking on any of the Great Evils is a daunting challenge."

Thaddeus calmly chewed his banana. "You've heard of my exploits?"

"Word does reach here, from the outside. I am Natalya, a member of a secret society pledged to hunt evil."

"You've come to the right place," Thaddeus said. "How did you hear of my exploits?"

"Sailors love to talk, you know that." She smiled; she had a great smile. "It's good to see a warrior in Kurast again, someone who can take on the jungle."

"The jungle is merely a symptom, it seems to me, of a great evil hiding within it. As for sailors loving to talk, I did not know that. The sailors I have sailed with had very little to say about anything."

"You have to know how to talk to them. Let's say I have a certain advantage when it comes to talking with sailors. You're absolutely right about the great evil, by the way. You know it's your own church, and your own patriarch, Sankekur."

"I do not know that, either. Though I admit it is likely. I did not know Meshif or his men left their ship, or that they spoke with you at any length. They are afraid of this place, and seem to be unwilling to come this far."

"You're persistent, aren't you?" Natalya laughed. "Don't worry, I like a man who presses me hard. Tells me his mind's on the right things. You're right, I didn't talk to Meshif. He's still hiding in his cabin. My orders were to come to Kurast as soon as you left Lut Gholein. I've only been here a short time."

Perhaps it was the narrowing of his eyes that gave Thaddeus' thought away. "I'm not lying this time," Natalya said. "I don't like being called a liar."

"Even when what you say is intended to deceive and distract?"

"My organization is a secret; it has to be. I am not disposed to discuss it now."

"Do not worry, I doubt you have anything of importance to say." Thaddeus dropped his banana peel on Natalya's shiny mail boot. "Even if you did, I do not think I could trust your word, so it is better to pay you no heed unless you interfere with my mission."

Striding away, Thaddeus wondered if he should ignore Natalya, or keep a very close eye on her. She knew far too much, and how could she possibly have reached Kurast before he did? Only waypoints allow such speedy travel, and very few people have the knowledge and will to use them. Of course, if she was from a powerful order of hunters, and had visited Kurast before, she might be able to use the waypoints. Perhaps Cain would know something about her, and her mysterious 'order.'

Turning left, Thaddeus wandered onto a larger platform, dominated by a tall pyramid. The sight was not a pleasing one; the Skatsimi religion made use of such monuments. According to the lore of the church, before Zakarum made its home in Kurast, the native inhabitants practiced blood sacrifice, tortured their tribal enemies to death, and even engaged in ritual cannibalism. The pyramids, which they believed made stairways to Heaven, were central in their bloody rituals. Animals, even humans, were sacrificed at the top. After their hearts were cut out, the bodies were cast down the steps to be skinned and eaten. As though the Light could be pleased by such foulness.

Steps did lead up the side of this pyramid, and a fire burned at the top. Perhaps it had been put to use as a lighthouse, guiding ships into port. There were no stains on the steps, thank the Light. At the base of the steps, a tall, muscular man stood, deep in meditation. His priest-like looks suited the setting, but Thaddeus tried not to think ill of him. Thinking ill of people he'd only just met was getting to be a bad habit.

"Greetings, honorable... man. I am Thaddeus, of the Protectors of the Word."

"You now speak to Ormus, noble Paladin."

"Actually, it's Sir Thaddeus. Lady Akara, high priestess of the Rogues, knighted me."

"Ormus was once a great mage. Now he lives like a rat on a sinking vessel. You have questions for Ormus. You have questions for yourself."

A mage; that's not too bad. "I did wonder after your profession."

"The lives we all led, our elaborate plans, are at an end. Ormus is a poet, a teacher, and a seeker. What he seeks, even he cannot say. Seek wisdom with Ormus, or turn away, and seek it in thyself."

The light in Ormus' eyes was either the most sage wisdom, or raving lunacy. Thaddeus was leaning towards the latter, though some of his words were familiar. "What we seek, depends on what we need."

"Can you picture what will be? Are you so limitless and free? Can you picture what will be, years from now, in a desperate land?"

This guy made Hratli seem like a paragon of plain-spoken common sense. "Present needs might overwhelm such long-term concerns."

"Your wisdom is profound. Kurast is desperately in need of some stranger's hand. This is now a desperate land. All of her children... are insane."

Suddenly, Thaddeus recognized the half-quotations Ormus was babbling. They were from the Book of Haisin, one of the most hallucinatory pieces of Zakarumite scripture. Reading it always gave him a headache, but it might help for understanding Ormus' meaning. "My purpose is to rid this land of what plagues it. The demon lord Mephisto has infiltrated and taken over the church of Light. He must be expelled for the Light to shine here again."

"My friend, your words carry your love with you. The blessings of the church are upon your enemies. Go forth, and destroy all you value."

"That is not my goal," Thaddeus frowned. "Nothing here holds value for me."

"Can you picture what will be? Ormus thinks not."

There seemed little purpose to any more talk. Despite being in a churchly order, Thaddeus had never had much patience for mysticism. Solid knowledge and common sense were more reliable, and easier to communicate with the rest of humanity. Past the pyramid, a large house, two stories tall, rose above the water. Several armed men were gathered around the door; it seemed to be some sort of meeting. In all likelihood, these were the Iron Wolves, and the not-quite-a-lady Asheara was inside the house. It would not do to disturb their gathering, so Thaddeus went to look at a small, uninhabited shack near the edge of the docks. Maybe he could stow his locker there.

The shack was inhabited, just in miserable repair. As Thaddeus opened the door, a heavily accented voice squealed, "Leave me alone!"

"Hello. I thought to introduce myself."

"Oh, you're new here, aren't you?"

"Very new; my name is Thaddeus."

"I am Alkor, I peddle potions and salves. Should you wish to go into the jungle, you may want to buy some, but don't come around too often! I do not like being interrupted."

"I suppose insect repellent is popular here."

"Always. If only it did any good for the big ones. Have you seen them? Of course you have not, you are too new. How did you get here?"

"By ship from Lut Gholein, with your countryman Meshif."

"You came with Meshif? The 'tour guide to the stupid'? I am surprised you are here in one piece. Now go away!"

With a shrug, Thaddeus closed the door. "Charmed to have made your acquaintance."

The Iron Wolves' meeting had broken up by now, and they were scattering out among the docks. Thaddeus looked in the open door, and suddenly understood the banana peddler's words. "Hello there," the house's owner said. "Come on in."

Completely at a loss for words, Thaddeus did as he was told. Asheara (it could be no one else) was wearing something a Lut Gholein harem house might consider tasteless. A few tiny patches of cloth barely clung to her most unmentionable parts, not concealing anything at all. Even the color was hardly different from her deeply-tanned skin. "You must be a great adventurer to risk coming here. I'm Asheara, leader of the Iron Wolves."

"Uh... I... ah..."

Obviously greatly amused, Asheara said, "Fresh from the choir, eh boys?" A couple of her mercenaries, standing nearby, started laughing. "Close your yap, Paladin. Guys like you aren't supposed to drool anyway."

His face flushing, Thaddeus stood up straight and stared hard at Asheara's eyebrows. It would look like he was looking her in the eye. "I am Thaddeus, come from Lut Gholein, and the Rogue's Monastery before that. I am on a quest to prevent the reunification of the Three Prime Evils."

"And you came here to do it. Heh. That'd explain what's happening in the jungle. My boys keep blasting 'em to oblivion, but they just come back for more. Should have known there was a prime evil behind it."

"There certainly is. This land is under the sway of Mephisto, lord of Hate. His brothers, Diablo and Baal, are seeking him out."

"If he's anywhere, he's deep in the jungle. Some of my boys have gotten as far as the outer walls, and it's walking trees, psycho midgets, and mosquitoes the size of dogs all the way in. You've got your work cut out for you."

"That does not worry me," Thaddeus said, still staring. "The fate of all life is at stake."

"Uh-huh. If you can't handle it, you can hire one of my men, but don't expect me to hand out help for free."

Thaddeus looked her in the eye for real; she meant it. "I would never suggest it. The mercenary's code is well-known."

"Better be. And don't piss any of them off, either. They're worse than anything you'll meet out in the jungle."

"I am sure they are. My funds are limited, but perhaps I will see you again later."

Asheara raised an eyebrow. "High-quality armor for a poor warrior."

"It was a gift," Thaddeus explained. "Excuse me."

This was a troubled land, in desperate need, but also a troubling place. Everyone he'd met was either hopeless, mad, or almost naked. But then, he'd found the people of Lut Gholein troubling when he first met them, and the sisters of the Rogues. As he went back to Meshif's ship to pick up his footlocker, Thaddeus wondered about that. Was he only seeing the bad in people, on first meeting them? Common townsfolk will be different from those he'd known in the seminary; uncommon folk might be very different. Slowly, he repeated to himself: different does not mean bad. The Protectors of the Word fled a church that thought different was bad. The consequences of those evil thoughts were all around him now. Not for the first time, Thaddeus wished there were someone he might confess to. The state of his soul worried him; the final battle might be fought there.

Chapter 17

Arise and go, for this is no place to rest.

Uncleanness destroys with grievous waste.

If a man should go about and utter lies,

saying, "I will preach to you of hate and fear,"

He would be the priest for these people!

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 62, v. 8-12

Back on Meshif's ship, Thaddeus assessed the situation. Apparently, glorious Kurast has been all but consumed by rampant jungle growth. This small zone on the river is under a spell of protection, and remains relatively safe. The area is full of refugees, who blame the Hand of Zakarum for the city's fall and their predicament. A band of mercenary mages hunts in the jungle, keeping the creatures at bay, mostly. And their attitude towards him, as a follower of the church of Light, seems to be one of exhausted tolerance.

After his experiences in the west, Thaddeus had some idea of what he needed to do. Merely rooting out evil would not be enough. These people needed more than a respite. To give them hope and a reason for living, Thaddeus would have to bring some goodness back to this land. The church had been overcome by evil decades ago; Mephisto was master of his keepers, and they would certainly strive to protect him. While Thaddeus would need to kill him and his brothers, he could not destroy the church. Sadly, the church would have to be purged and cleansed before it was fit. It was meant to be a vessel for the light; destroying it would leave an emptiness. The church would have to be filled again with the joy of proper worship, to shine once more, as it was meant to.

As he carried his footlocker off Meshif's ship, Thaddeus wondered about the patriarch of the church, Sankekur. Though they'd never met, he'd heard his name many times. He was one of the most distinguished priests Kurast ever produced. Brilliant and compassionate, strong and deeply spiritual, a humanitarian of wit and humor whose whole life was inseparable from the church, Sankekur was outstanding in every way. Even the simple, raw facts of his many accomplishments read like the best efforts of a dozen men. It was only natural for him to rise to the highest position in the church. And now... according to Natalya, Sankekur was at the center of Kurast's corruption. As much as he tried, Thaddeus could not connect the evil around him with the stories about Sankekur. It was easier to believe he was dead, and Mephisto had put some impostor up in his place.

The dockside was full of people, so Thaddeus could not find a house with room inside for him to stay. Rather than board on the ship, he decided to put his things out in the open, next to the pyramid/lighthouse where Hratli's protective spell was centered. It would demonstrate his trust to the locals; hopefully, it would be reciprocated. When he put his footlocker down, Thaddeus heard an unfamiliar rattle. Inside, a battle crown sat next to two runestones, with another one of those notes.

Your devoutedness,

Glad to see you're making such progress. Don't mind the crown: it's not vanity, it's a fashion statement! The runeword is Lore, "Ort Sol." Don't worry, you'll love it; you'd look lousy in a Great Helm anyways. -- The Mule

Even if he was a heavenly agent, this Mule really needed to work on his grammar. For that matter, is "devoutedness" even a word? The battle crown was not a vanity; they were first made in Kurast for Paladins to wear in combat. The radiant spires are imitations of the glory of the Light; only later did crowns become a symbol of temporal authority. Made from an extraordinarily strong alloy of steel and unknown metals, battle crowns are imbued with a wall of force, an invisible shield completely surrounding the wearer's head. Though open in front (allowing the wearer to be recognized) the shield protects the face nearly as well as steel. Knowledge of making battle crowns was kept in Kurast; the skill might be lost now. Any crown you might find is an antique, but they are very durable and if the shield is intact, there is no better protection.

Set with the runes, the crown seemed to help Thaddeus remember more. The light radiating from its spires was certainly heartening; a much nicer runeword than "stealth." Feeling much better about his chances, Thaddeus turned to the path leading off the platform, and out into the jungle. The first thing he saw was a tall man in a traveling cloak, slowly walking into the greenery. That was surprising, and alarming; no one but the Iron Wolves dared to enter the jungle, and this man wasn't one of them. Thaddeus ran to intercept him.

With his hood pulled down, Thaddeus couldn't see the stranger's face. As he watched, the man disappeared in a puff of brimstone, and four fleshy worms appeared in his stead. They attacked viciously; Thaddeus struck them all down, but the stranger was gone. That had to have been one of the Prime Evils, Thaddeus was sure. But he couldn't find him again; the demon lord was gone. If Diablo and his brothers could vanish whenever they chose, how was Thaddeus going to stop them before they had achieved their goals? He might have to defeat all three together, something no one had ever done. It might not even be possible.

The dockside was lost to view very quickly as Thaddeus moved into the jungle. The green seemed to close in behind him, dank and dark and suffocating. To keep from getting lost, he followed a small river, which thankfully did not branch confusingly, as is often the way of marshy waterways. The first thing he met was a flock of Blood Hawks. What were these creatures doing here? They had never been seen this far east -- Diablo must have brought them with him from the Rogue's pass. The three brothers were rearranging the world to suit them. Thaddeus had found Quill Rats more annoying, but maybe Diablo thought differently.

Beyond them, a group of Thorned Hulks stood by the riverbank, almost indistinguishable from the woody bramble around them. As Thaddeus approached, they stood, and slowly shuffled towards him, hatred burning in their eyes. This was a sad sight. Hulks had always protected Kurast, and worked alongside humans who sought to live with the jungle. Is there anything good which cannot fall into darkness? Perhaps they had simply been deceived: Hulks protect their jungle from invaders, and might believe this unnatural growth was good. Thaddeus was being considered an invader, a threat. As the Hulks came closer, he stood his ground, hoping they wouldn't attack... but fearing they would. They did -- the nearest raised its huge arm, and brought it down where Thaddeus had been a moment ago. A few Blessed Hammers ended their lives.

A jade statuette of a warrior lay tangled in the wood and seeping bracken of a Hulks' body. How it got there was a mystery; maybe this Hulk had grown through the remains of a ruined house, Thaddeus had seen a few among the trees. It would sell for a bit, and money was a great convenience. Then he remembered a collection of statuettes Meshif kept in his cabin, mounted in a special cabinet on the wall. Since he seemed to have a fondness for them, he might appreciate this. It might also get his mind off the destruction of his homeland. Material things can be a distraction from higher, spiritual values, which is why the church frowns on a concern with the material. In this case, however, a distraction would be good for Meshif; he was taking Kurast's plight very hard.

Thaddeus also met a group of Flayers. That was no surprise, they were native to this place, but a shaman was with them, like the shamans of the Fallen Ones. The Flayer shaman did not walk on his own: another Flayer was pressed into carrying him atop his huge head. Like the Fallen shaman, the Flayer could bring his dead lackeys back to life. After beating him to death, Thaddeus let a few hammers fly to deal with his underlings. As they watched the Blessed Hammers spin by over their heads, missing them all completely, Thaddeus could swear he heard them giggling. So he beat them to death as well. Being so small made them hard targets; if Thaddeus ever met more, he would have to find some more efficient way to deal with them.

It turned out that the statuette was part of a collection, commemorating a group of warriors who saved a city from an invasion of the undead. Meshif started telling Thaddeus about the incident, which apparently involved a lot of very large men flexing their muscles, fathering the city's next generation with every woman in the place, and incidentally killing all the undead. As fascinating as the tale was, Thaddeus felt compelled to return to business in the jungle. His long wait in Lut Gholein had left Meshif a bit cash-poor, so he couldn't pay for the statuette, but insisted Thaddeus take a golden bird statue as compensation.

The bird statuette was a frilly little thing with screw holes in its feet, as though it was meant to fit on a perch. While examining it, Thaddeus found a compartment on the underside, full of a spicy-smelling powder. Meshif hadn't known the compartment was there, or what the powder was; maybe an alchemist might know? When Thaddeus brought the bird to Alkor, he leapt at the sight and grabbed it out of Thaddeus' hands. Cackling, he began mixing some preparation, and told Thaddeus to come back later.

While repairing Thaddeus' equipment, Hratli mentioned, "As I told you before, I placed a spell of protection over the dockside. Now, that spell seems to be weakening, and the jungle is creeping ever closer."

Thaddeus was watching a snail crawl along the edge of a sword. "I have noticed it myself. That Flayer head on the spike next to the gate has begun to sprout."

"We certainly would not want more of them here," Hratli said. "With a suitable source of magical power, the spell might be reinforced."

"You know of such a source, perhaps?"

"In my old house, quite near here, I had an old artifact called the Gidbinn, dating from the time of the Skatsimi. In appearance, it resembles a small knife, made of copper. It was of little use to me then, but it is a great repository of power, and would be more than suitable for strengthening the spell."

Thaddeus nodded. "I'll see if I can find it."

Meanwhile, Alkor had mixed the powder with a few other choice ingredients to make a potion for Thaddeus. Eager to demonstrate his trust, Thaddeus drank it; it was strong, not very pleasant to the taste, and went straight to his head. When Thaddeus came around, he was lying on the floor of Alkor's hut, with the old alchemist kicking him.

"Get up! Get up, you lazybones! I do not want you lying about here all day, the floor is my favorite spot!"

Slowly, Thaddeus sat up. "What was that you gave me?"

"A potion of life, of course! You are not supposed to fall over dead from it. Get off of my floor! It is my floor, you may not have any of it."

"I do feel a bit livelier..."

"So demonstrate it, by getting out of here!"

After thanking Alkor, who kicked him in the shins for his pains, Thaddeus went back to the jungles. In a small clearing, draped with spider webs, he found an underground cavern. To no one's surprise, the place was full of huge spiders, just like the ones from the catacombs of the Rogue's monastery. Most of their tunnels were too narrow for Blessed Hammer to spin properly, so Thaddeus went through by hand, trying not to strike or step on the many human bodies wrapped up in the webs. In the deepest part of the caves, a golden chest held a great deal of money, and a well-preserved human eye.

The chest was a strong one, all metal, with the highest quality lock. The eye must be very important, but Thaddeus had no idea why. Then he remembered the story of Khalim, a Paladin who rebelled against the Hand of Zakarum, but who did not escape Kurast with the rest of the Protectors. Unable or unwilling to flee, Khalim was struck down (with great sorrow, of course) by the Hand, and his body burned for his heretical beliefs. To the great shock and anger of the church, Khalim's body would not burn, a clear sign of incorruptibility and Khalim's saintly nature. News of this was brought west with many followers of Zakarum; it was the sign they needed to know which side to take. Khalim's body was hacked into pieces, mutilated and scattered to the far corners of Kurast.

Finding even a small piece of Khalim's body, the relic of a saint directly connected with the battle against Mephisto, was the best sign Thaddeus could have found. Cain was very excited to see the eye, and was sure that if more of Khalim's body were recovered, the saint would take some more active role in the battle. Despite the terrific news, no one around the docks seemed to care. Their dejection ran deep, and Thaddeus would have to go to much greater lengths to revive their spirits.

Chapter 18

In the beginning, rock and branch

Were all we had. Then came the Light

And the glory of the hammer's magic.

We built, and carved, and forged

Life and harmony from crude wildness.

To reject the hammer is to renounce

Order, and all the gifts of the Light.

-- The Book of the Hammer, c. 2, v. 1-7

Khalim's eye would have to be kept safe. Not that the minions of darkness could destroy it, or they would have by now; however, it might get lost again. Maybe pickling it in a spare rejuvenation potion would be a good hiding place. When Thaddeus opened his footlocker to get one, a new item was sitting on top, with yet another note:

O sanctified one,

Howdy-doo! The gauntlets are "Frostburns", to help those little guys you're about to run into chill out and relax. You also get more mana; what more could a Hammer-man want? Better boots, I know; if you're a very good boy, I'm sure we can work something out.

-- The Mule

Archangels work in mysterious ways. Providing equipment superior to what would otherwise be available was a good way to help indirectly, but why such an odd courier? Thaddeus would not deny he'd worried too much about his gifts, but Tyrael's choice of servant did not help set his mind at ease. Perhaps that was the point of the odd choice... there was some message in it. When he rested, he'd have to meditate on the Mule. There must be a reason for an exalted being like the archangel Tyrael to use such an unorthodox servant.

As he closed his locker, Thaddeus looked around the dock. At least the people seemed to have accepted his presence. Still... something seemed wrong. On his return trips from the jungle, he could feel a presence here near the pyramid. The pyramid was not to blame, he'd examined it several times. Nor did he feel the unconcealable aura of evil a demon emanates. Nonetheless, the feeling was there and wouldn't go away.

The area near the docks hid one more cavern of spiders. Thaddeus diligently cleared it, but didn't find any more relics of the saint. Venturing deeper into the swamps, he met more of the corrupted Hulks, guarding knots of water-logged Zombies and misty ghosts which shot lightning. The spirits, called Will-o-wisps, are a peculiar form of spectral undead common in swamps and marshes. Some believe Will-o-wisps are created when an evil person dies from a lightning strike, or perhaps when anyone dies alone in a swamp. In happier times, they were only encountered singly, and didn't attack so brazenly. This section of jungle contained so many undead, Thaddeus wondered if some great battle had been fought here. The Zombies didn't even have the rusty remains of armor on, so it seemed unlikely.

Another new encounter in the swamps was the Tentacle Beast. Huge reptiles with long, thin necks and bodies, these poison-spitters were dangerous for livestock even before the land was corrupted. Now, they would attack man or beast, rising from pools and deep waterways to launch globs of sticky venom at anything passing by. Thaddeus met several in the marsh; they kept just out of his reach, spitting and lashing out with two long tentacles. A Blessed Hammer or two killed them, if they hit; Thaddeus had to position himself just right.

Wandering the marshes, finding dead ends, soppy bogs, and impenetrable tangles of growth, took a long time. Thaddeus tried to go against the current, but the river was so tangled, sometimes it flowed back against itself. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he was lost. Going back to the docks by portal was easy, but he didn't seem to be getting any closer to Travincal. Mephisto was in there, and Thaddeus couldn't waste valuable time wandering around in some forsaken swamp. It pained him to admit it, but he might need a guide, even though it meant exposing them to danger.

The Iron Wolves had reached the outer walls of Kurast, so they knew the way. However, hiring one would mean dealing with Asheara, and he wasn't sure if he was feeling charitable enough to take Asheara seriously yet. Hiring one of the townsfolk might work, but who? Hratli was too smart to go out there. Thaddeus was too smart to take Ormus out there. Alkor couldn't be trusted to find his own rear after he'd been "testing" his elixirs. Meshif still didn't feel comfortable even getting off his boat. So, Thaddeus went to speak with Natalya. He'd have to apologize for the banana peel incident, of course.

When Thaddeus entered the marketplace, she wasn't there. Perhaps she was out hunting evil. Then, very suddenly, she appeared behind him. "Hello."

Normally, Thaddeus was not the excitable sort, but he *never* knew there was someone behind him. He almost hit her. "Oh, hello! I apologize, I was startled."

"Good," she grinned. "I'm not losing my touch. What can I do for you?"

"Well, firstly, I would like to apologize for my earlier rudeness."

"What rudeness?" she asked quizzically.

"I... did not trust your word, or take you very seriously."

"You shouldn't take my word, if I'm lying that badly. And I like it when people don't take me seriously. Makes it easier to get 'em in the end."

Thaddeus shifted uncomfortably. "Yes... Cain has told me he suspects you to be of the Viz-Jaq'taar, the order of Mage Slayers."

"Not so loud, ok?" Natalya smiled. "Don't see why that would make you nervous."

He blinked. "Madam... if what Cain says is true, your order is dedicated to policing the mage clans... by killing any who step out of line."

"So? How is that different from what you do?"

Frowning, Thaddeus crossed his arms. "There is a world of difference. The Protectors of do not conceal themselves, emerging only to kill, and then vanish again. We guard and shield common people and great alike. Doing good for the world is more than eliminating evil."

She was unfazed. "This is a weird apology, you know."

Thaddeus glared... then slowly lowered his eyes. "You are right. I am judging you ill again. That has become a very bad habit of mine."

"Especially since you don't know what you're talking about. How do you know that all the Viz-Jaq'taar does is sneak around and kill people?"

"That is all anyone knows."

"Well, maybe they know wrong. Nobody knows anything about the Viz-Jaq'taar, so everyone assumes the worst. How do you know we don't have more charities than you guys? Because we don't make a big public statement about it? Because we don't go around making sure everybody knows what nice stuff we do, getting them to admire us? Don't criticize what you don't understand."

Try as he might, he couldn't see Natalya running a soup kitchen. "Concealment is the way of evil, hiding in darkness. It has always been."

Natalya laughed. "You're taking on the church of Light. They never hid the terrible things they were doing. Must be a real nice bunch of guys, they operate so openly. You have no idea what you're talking about. If we let them know where we are, the mages would destroy us. Secrecy is the only advantage we have over the magically gifted."

"The church's words were a mask over their deeds; the motivation was concealed behind rhetoric and twisted readings of the scriptures. Horrible as they were, the open statements allowed the wise to see what was happening. Your order claims to watch the mages, but no one is allowed access to them; who watches over the watchmen?"

"We've taken many steps to keep demons out."

"So did Zakarum," he snorted. "I do not believe anything is inviolable anymore. Stealth and the creation of confusion would be more vulnerable to corruption than anything else, it seems to me. It is too easy to simply lie."

"Yeah, I lie, and sneak around, and no one knows about it. Not all of us have the luxury of clanking along in shiny armor, and looking down our noses at everybody else."

Thaddeus fumed, but slowly said, "All I am saying is that lying and hiding can conceal anything, and good people rarely have things they need to hide. Evil thrives in hiding. The assumption is a natural one, and only to be expected. I am not looking down my nose at you. You're too tall, for one thing."

"Evil can hide anywhere, even out in the open. Wait a minute, did you just crack a funny?"

"Yes. I can do that, can't I?"

"I was beginning to wonder. Ok, maybe you're right, there's not much accountability from the outside. We can't lie to each other, unlike you churchmen."

He sighed. "They have been lying to themselves, I think. Anyone can do that."

"Yeah... not much anyone can do about that. Anyway, your sort-of apology is sort-of accepted. What do you really want?"

He'd gotten so distracted, he had to think for a moment to remember. "Ah, I have had difficulty making my way through the marshes. If you know the way into Travincal, and could find a way to help me, I would be very grateful."

"Sorry, I don't know my way in there. My orders are to keep an eye on Ormus."

"Ormus? He seems unbalanced, but hardly threatening."

"He'd like you to think that, but who knows what evil lurks in his soul?"

Thaddeus smiled a bit. "Now, who's making assumptions?"

"He's a mage," she said, as though that explained everything. "I'd like to help you, I know you're going up against the greater evil, but I have to stay here. He could betray us all to Mephisto if given a chance."

Slowly, Thaddeus nodded. "Asheara does not bother you, though?"

With a snort, Natalya answered, "She's nothing but bluff. Tough-talking, but she's never faced true evil. You can tell."

"All talk and no action?"

"Exactly. I mean, who'd go into combat in that outfit?"

A few choice comments about Natalya's own ensemble leapt to mind, but they were better left unsaid. "Someone with something to prove. Or it's for the 'distraction' value. Mages tend to need less armor than other warriors."

"A 'distraction'? You can't have noticed."

"Why not? She's an attractive woman, even if she does try a bit too hard."

"Uh..." Natalya seemed genuinely shocked. "Sure. You had any more thoughts about your church? And Sankekur? What are you going to do about him?"

Thaddeus frowned. "I am not sure what I will do when I find him. They tell me Sankekur now embodies Mephisto."

"He does."

"I cannot quite believe it. I have read sermons of Sankekur's, letters he wrote to the brethren in other lands. His voice was so clear and pure. I cannot connect that voice with someone who embody Hate. The two cannot mesh in my mind."

"There's darkness in everyone's soul. When you're the head of a church, with thousands of followers, power can go to your head."

"That can happen," Thaddeus said. "For the great, temptations are great. Temptations confuse the mind. Power, ideals, the morality handed down to us, and practical necessity are at war. Perhaps a great and powerful man might be tempted to play god."

Natalya said, "There's conflict in everybody between good and evil, rational and irrational. Good doesn't always triumph. Sometimes the dark side overcomes the better angels of our nature. Every man has a breaking point, and the darkness can find it."

On that cheery note, Thaddeus returned to the jungle. The marshes went on forever, all soggy muck and tangled trees. Insects just loved to crawl into his armor, looking for blood or a place to live. Even the monsters made a mess; drowned carcasses let out a horrific splash when you hit them. The Cleansing aura was getting a lot of use. Occasionally, a corpse would shatter and melt away neatly, thanks to the Frostburns, but not often enough. Along the way, he wondered about Natalya. She wasn't such a bad sort, certainly not as bad as her order's reputation. In a way, she and he did similar things: keeping an eye on evil, and eliminating it when necessary. Doing more would compromise her order's secrecy, though Thaddeus wasn't convinced secrecy was really necessary.

She's also been surprised he'd make a joke, or acknowledge a woman's attractiveness. True, Thaddeus was never the funniest fellow. Even back in seminary, the other students teased him about it. So serious. So earnest... completely unlike the Mule. Every note the Mule left was full of jokes, ribbing, and outspoken humor. Almost...

The thought was interrupted, as a horde of psychotic midgets scampered out of the jungle, howling and gibbering and leaping onto Thaddeus. Flayers, but Thaddeus had never seen this many. They were actually climbing up his body to get closer to his face; three were on his head already, trying to stab his eyes out. Shaking them off, Thaddeus dropped to one knee, and let Blessed Hammer spin. It was a lousy position for defense, but the hammers hit this time; hearing the whirling bronze mallets pound the little guys into jelly was strangely satisfying. By the time the Flayer shaman was carried over, all the underlings were dead. Thaddeus knocked him off his ride easily.

As he continued, he ran into Flayers, and more Flayers, and still more Flayers. Hordes of 20 or more were not uncommon. This section of jungle must be their home area. The hardest part of fighting them was remaining calm and letting the hammers fly; their shrill screaming was quite unnerving. Fortunately, Blessed Hammer did excellent work on tightly compressed groups, leaving only a few survivors to mop up. Sometimes, the shamans would come within Blessed Hammer's range too; they didn't last very long. Certain Flayers used blowguns, with tiny darts, but the "Lore" helm reduced the damage to insignificance; he only had to chase down the Flayer itself. Holy Freeze was helpful for that.

The Flayer Jungles went by with great ease, and eventually Thaddeus found a small village. Literally, a small village. The huts were only 4 or 5 feet tall. The place was full of flayed and dismembered bodies, human and otherwise. Human heads decorated stakes on every roof, and every low wall. Of course, it was full of Flayers. After wiping them out, Thaddeus found a small knife, suspended above a pedestal in the middle of a magic circle. It was made of copper, and shone red in the light. Looking at it, Thaddeus frowned. By Hratli's description, this was the Gidbinn. A small, Skatsimi knife, a repository of magical energy. Thaddeus just hadn't thought about what that meant.

The old religion relied on sacrifice, blood and death to release magical energy. The sacrificial blade was an obvious way to store this energy. The Gidbinn looked old, and had probably been in use for a long time before Zakarum came to the land. It might even have been used afterwards; Skatsim was suppressed, but its adherents were not killed or imprisoned for life. Not in those days.

But now... Hratli wanted to use the energy in the knife to increase the power in his spell. It would protect the people on the dockside. The thought of using this disgusting thing was revolting for Thaddeus. The simplest rituals of the Paladin also use sacrifice, but the Paladin sacrifices of himself, his own blood and energy going into his blade. Taking from another was repugnant and wrong, even worse if their life is taken away to feed some magic. The Gidbinn was an instrument for dark rituals, a power sink. Every bit of mana stored in that blade had come at the cost of pain, probably even death. But if he did not use it, he'd have to find some other mana source, and Thaddeus wasn't sure where he might find one. Every time he went back, the jungle had crept closer to the docks. The people needed the protection of the spell dome, no matter what the source or power.

Thaddeus could think of many good reasons to return with the blade; the only reason against it was his own repugnance for the relic. That was no good reason at all, so Thaddeus went to pick up the Gidbinn. As he touched it, it vanished, and fire leapt up from the pillar. A trap! A small group of Flayers ran screeching out of the darkness -- the one in the lead wielding the Gidbinn. Calmly, Thaddeus knelt, and sent hammers spinning into them. It was a short battle, and the Gidbinn was his.

As a modern earth and fire mage, Hratli didn't know how to draw power out of the Gidbinn. Ormus did; maybe Natalya was right to worry about him. As a reward, he gave Thaddeus a ring, which did him no good, and composed a poem commemorating the event:

A holy knight in Kurast, some would say he is not brave,

Retreating from close combat which he clearly does not crave.

His manners and appearance are clearly meant to please,

So polished is his armor (he's charged outrageous fees.)

But woe to moaning Zombies, which lurk among the dips,

And especially to the Flayers with whom he comes to grips!

Though evil hordes press forward, to victory they think,

They became carpentry projects; you could say that they stink.

Who can say whether his methods are sound, or deeply flawed?

Darkness begins its last retreat when he holds up his rod!

Thaddeus smiled, and applauded politely. Ormus obviously meant well. The useless ring he gave didn't do Thaddeus any good either, but he thanked him nonetheless. While Ormus had been reciting his masterwork, one of the Iron Wolves told Thaddeus that Asheara would like to see him.

"Hi there," Asheara said as Thaddeus walked in. "How's the jungle treating you?"

"Hello, Asheara. You wished to see me?"

"Rumor around town is that you need a guide to get into Kurast."

"It... would be helpful. I do not know the way."

"Why didn't you say so?" Asheara motioned one of her mages over. "This is Devak. With the protection dome juiced up, I don't need him on the docks anymore. Devak, you wanna take our boy into Kurast?"

"Sure, ma'am. Hey, where are you in the jungle?"

"At a small village. A very small village."

"Hey, you're in the Flayer Jungle. Great -- I love the smell of burning Flayers."

Asheara laughed. "Wish I could join you. Pity I don't have that sartorial flair."

If an Iron Wolf had been listening in on his conversation with Natalya, Thaddeus hadn't noticed him. He was sure Natalya would have; Natalya didn't like Asheara. Maybe one of the townsfolk heard them. "You look fine, Asheara. Flowing robes wouldn't suit you."

"Damn straight," Asheara grinned. "Come see me again sometime, Teddy-boy. There's nothing to be scared of in here."

Chapter 19

Their ways are naught but whitewash and lies!

What do they tear down that cannot be rebuilt?

Shut a man out, and the way may be opened.

Ask of the wise. They know judges to be fools,

Send priests away stripped of discernment,

Lose the crowns of kings and bind them in sacks.

We come from the womb for but a few days.

The Light can never be extinguished.

-- The Book of Radenis, c. 14, v. 12-19

Devak accompanied Thaddeus back to the Flayer village. The place was still littered with bodies and blood, which seemed to meet with Devak's complete approval.

"Woo-wee! Looks like it got pretty hairy here."

"Hairy?" Thaddeus asked.

"Don't think I've seen this many of the little bastards dead in one place yet. You say you went in here alone?"

Thaddeus was removing human heads and other decorative elements from the huts. "I am a soldier of the light. I am never truly alone."

"Yeah, whatever you say. Looks like you just bashed in their skulls, didn't ya?"

"It was necessary. I understand that, in happier times, these strange little people were friendly with the peoples of Kehjistan."

Devak shrugged. "No way are they ever gonna be again. These little lunatics killed too damn many of us. Better to just wipe the little fvckers out."

Quietly, Thaddeus laid the Flayers' last victims beside a still pool, and knelt in prayer. He'd found many bodies in the jungle, poor people who hadn't fled quite fast enough. There was no time to bury them, but it didn't matter, with the speed everything rotted. "That does sound very sensible."

"Fvckin'-A! Hey, sorry if the language is bad or anything?"

Thaddeus shook his head. "Violent words for violent times. Tell me, do you know this place? How close are we to the walls of Kurast?"

"Just up the river. You're practically in sight of it. If you could see anything, anyway."

"Very good. Tell me, what is that hole there? Those look like stairs."

"Flayer pit. Never go into those."

"Why not?"

"They've got some heavy sh!t in there, man. Tight little tunnels, can't stand up, can't see anything. Go in there, you don't come out again."

"Hmm." Blessed Hammer, Thaddeus knew, didn't work well in confined spaces. He'd have to go through by hand, and might not be able to give Devak much protection. "Perhaps you should just show me the way to Kurast, then."

"I'm not afraid to go in there, you know! I'm not afraid to go in that place, I'm not afraid to go into that fvcking place!"

Thaddeus looked surprised. "I never said you were. You were assigned to show me the way to Kurast, and nothing else. It wouldn't be right to expect more from you."

"Yeah. Yeah, those were my orders. You gonna sit there all day?"

"I was kneeling," Thaddeus said. "There is nothing more I can do. Show me the way."

"Glad to. Just stay out of the way of my fireballs."

Having a mercenary was a lot of trouble for Thaddeus. Devak was the guide, so he had to lead the way -- but he wasn't up to a full frontal assault from a pack of Flayers. The Iron Wolves usually came through in a pack, covering each other, and Thaddeus had to break his concentration many times and rush to defend him. Granted, having a sorcerer was nice for the Flayers with blowguns, but they weren't the dangerous ones. A pack of pygmies would filet him in an instant if Thaddeus weren't in the way. The Book of the Hammer didn't say anything about working with others. The way of the Blessed Hammer seemed best suited to a single warrior, with no one to protect but himself.

Working with Devak had other disadvantages. Foremost among them was his charming personality. He went at the business of being a mercenary with great relish, blasting Flayers right and left, or dueling with the shamans to see who could roast the other fastest. Mages aren't sturdy enough to fight a war this way; Asheara's influence, no doubt. It did seem to reflect a certain lack of practical experience. Occasionally, Devak would take direction, if it involved burning something. Put a string of fireballs along the treeline, please set this bush on fire, things of that nature.

When they found the second Flayer village, they'd both had just about enough of the hireling experience. Thaddeus' skills worked best when he was by himself, with the enemy clustered around him. For his part, Devak wanted to keep well away from the Flayers, and didn't like Thaddeus standing near something he wanted to blow up. Clearing this second village was harder and more time consuming, thanks to their lack of cooperation. Near the village was a waypoint, and a boggy pool of water. A stone platform sat in the middle of the pool, with a tiny causeway connecting it to land.

"That looks like another pit in the middle of that pond."

Devak was just grinning. "You smell that?"

Thaddeus sniffed. "Smell what?"

"Burning Flayers. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love that smell. Smells like... victory. Someday, this war is gonna end. When it does... we are so gonna rule this place."

"You think so?"

"Hell yeah. We're doing really good now. Got a lot of money, lot of equipment, nobody else in the place can take it away from us. You smash the church, who they gonna call?"

Thaddeus frowned. "Who will call?"

"Whoever's in charge! Hell, it might even be Asheara. Who's gonna say no? That'd be cool. We'd be, like, the power brokers."

The Iron Wolves would be the only military presence left in Kurast. "Taking care of the church will come first, of course."

"That's your job. Your technique's kind of weird, but, hey. Whatever works."

Thaddeus nodded, trying to ignore the bad taste in his mouth. The more he dealt with this mercenary, the less he liked him, or Asheara. They were so... mercenary. Having them be in charge of a country would be madness. But they would be, by dint of sheer force, without something to rein them in. "How far to the city?"

"Couple hundred yards upriver."

"Very well. Now that I'm out of the marsh, the river's course is clearer. You have been a great help to me; please commend yourself to Asheara."

"Hey, I was figuring I'd take you into the city. You know, see the sights, waste a bunch of your fellow Paladins. They fry up nice."

With effort, Thaddeus kept his expression neutral. "Before I go to the city, I plan to search the Flayer pits. I am sure they have put their most valuable things down there, and it would be worthwhile to find them."

"Oh. Yeah, that's a good idea. So... you don't need me sticking around, then?"

"I feel I can manage. Besides, someone has to bring word back to the docks."

"Sure, yeah. I'm gonna do that. Well, see ya."

Below the stone platform, tiny steps led down into a deep dungeon. How they kept this pit from flooding completely was beyond Thaddeus. Muddy water was everywhere, dripping from the walls and ceiling, in deep puddles all over the floor. The only good thing about it was that the splashing of tiny feet could be heard long before the Flayers arrived. As might be expected, they were in force in their own lair, and Thaddeus' best skill was useless in the cramped tunnels. In an occasional open area, he could let the hammers fly, but most of his fighting was done by hand.

The Flayers weren't alone in the swampy pit; the place was full of Wraiths. These spirits are created by painful death, so there must have been a great deal of agony down in the pits in the recent past. Human bodies, and pieces of them, were everywhere. To judge from them, Flayers were cannibalistic, and liked their meat still bleeding. These wretches had probably been kept alive for days, their limbs slowly being carved away in pieces to feed the Flayers' hyperactive appetites.

After methodically emptying the second pit, Thaddeus went back to the first. This pit was less damp and more open, but the fighting was even more savage. Flayers, Wraiths, and Tentacle Beasts filled the dungeons, and there were traps in every corridor. For a while, Thaddeus wondered how these dungeons had come to be. The Flayers seemed like a very primitive people, not up to large excavations, or working stone. Then he remembered, this area was civilized until very recently. This was probably someone's basement. It was still impressive that they managed to keep water out, given the swampy soil.

The deepest part of the Flayer dungeon was home to an exceptionally fiery shaman and a pack of his cohorts. Thaddeus tentatively approached, and got a face-full of the hottest flame he'd yet felt. No wonder the Iron Wolves stayed away; even with great resistance to fire, these ones were dangerous. But they were all in an open chamber... with no columns or walls to get in the way. After assessing the situation, Thaddeus smiled, and calmly walked through them into the middle of the room. They seemed surprised (but not ungrateful) when he went down on one knee; then the hammers started spinning. Another short battle behind him, Thaddeus looked over the room.

A glowing, golden chest sat in one corner of the chamber. It held a few rare items (nothing particularly noteworthy) and a well-preserved human brain. Another of Khalim's artifacts? It had to be; anything else would have rotten away long before this. After a short but joyous prayer, Thaddeus returned to the docks.

"Cain, I have a brain!"

"I should hope so," Cain deadpanned. "Though as with all things, the use is more important than the possession."

"No, another of Khalim's relics! I am sure of it."

"Oh, of course! This is most fortunate. Khalim's brain will know Mephisto's weaknesses. I wonder if the Horadric Cube could be used to reunite the parts."

"I would not expect so. This is a miracle from Heaven, not alchemy."

Cain smiled. "The forces of heaven make use of the same magical powers we ourselves do. It is quite likely that our own understanding of magic will be enough to help this miracle along."

While it might be true, Thaddeus had his doubts. Then again, Heaven may have arranged for him to have the tools he needed, without their direct intervention. "If I attempt such a thing, we will need more of Khalim's body. Given how thoroughly the church has divided and scattered him, I am afraid resurrecting the saint may be too time consuming. I may have to make my assault on the Brothers myself."

"Oh, yes." Apparently, Cain hadn't considered how much time it would take to reassemble Khalim's entire body. "Perhaps if we bring together more of him, we may at least speak to him, and ask his advice."

"That may be so. I cannot imagine that I have found these relics, unless I was meant to. In a quiet way, Heaven's will is at work here. As we respected their voices, we must respect their silence, and do as we know we must."

From the waypoint, Thaddeus made his way upriver again. A few solitary knots of Flayers still attacked, but their power was broken. Just as Devak had described, the outer walls of Kurast soon came into view. Jungle growth covered the stonework; any attacking enemy would have his choice of vines to climb, if the gates hadn't fallen off already. The closer he got, the more the walls came into view through the trees, the worse the smell was. He saw the pair of giant, gemmed skulls over the open gates as he was walking down an avenue of heads. Row after row of human heads, impaled on pikes. The outer ones had fallen over into the bogs; piles of them now filled the water.

A cohort of Thorned Hulks guarded the gate. One must have come from a lightning-struck tree -- electricity filled its every fiber. Fortunately, it wasn't so huge that a well-placed charge wouldn't knock it over. After putting them to rest, Thaddeus entered the lower city, a ruin covered with trees and vines. Buildings still stood, but bodies were everywhere. Most had rotted down to scattered bones already. The ones who weren't had been tied to posts or around trees, and cruelly tortured until they died.

Lower Kurast was full of animals. Some of the desert Leapers were here, their skins gone green with some fungus. Huge black apes, with razor-like spines along their backs, might have been temple monkeys, or the passive vegetarian giants of the jungle, once upon a time. It was while he was dealing with a pack of apes that Thaddeus saw Zakarumites.

How could the Iron Wolves call these creatures Paladins? No auras of holiness accompanied them; they bore no shields. All wielded giant axes or scythes, common farming tools. Yet... they wore the ragged remains of churchly robes, now stained and half rotted away. Paladins are expected to wear these simple robes in the temple, to represent the purity and simplicity of faith. They plied their crude weapons with zeal, such as might be expected of the Hand of Zakarum. Could they have fallen so far?

Thaddeus stopped casting Blessed Hammers, and attacked the Zakarumites by hand. These men did not look possessed; the glare of Hell did not shine from their eyes. He'd captured Rogues, and did the sisterhood a lot of good. Maybe he could capture a Zakarumite. The trouble was, these warriors fought on no matter how much Thaddeus battered their bodies. The spirits who possessed the Rogues could only force so much from their hosts. The Zakarumites fought with such fanaticism, the only way Thaddeus could stop them was to kill them. Finally, only one was left. Instead of striking him down, Thaddeus slammed him with his shield, then tripped him up and sat on him.

"Hail, brother. Why are you here, in this place?"

"You are no brother of mine," the Zakarumite spat. "You're one of them, wrapped in a cloak to conceal you. You're lying, father of lies, splitter of falsehoods and tongues!"

"Fragments of scripture do not make up wisdom. I am a Protector of the Word; we left this place years ago. Are you of the Hand of Zakarum?"

"You're with them. We must kill them. We must incinerate them. Pig after pig, cow after cow, village after village, army after army. You lie. You want us to be merciful to the ones who lie, how I hate you... Get off me!"

This might take more time than dealing with the Rogues had. This man was in control of his faculties... after a fashion. "Maybe you're right, I have been listening to lies. You can enlighten me, set me straight on the path of righteousness."

"There is no turning back from the twisted path!" the Zakarumite screamed. "I am lost. Claws scuttle along the floor of the temple. A man in a brown mantle came, and I had to bow and worship him."

Maybe this wouldn't take so long after all. The Zakarumite was starting to cry. "May I see him, the man in the brown mantle?"

"You don't talk to him! You don't talk to any of them. You listen. Sankekur has enlarged my mind. He's a poet-warrior, greater than all of us. The temples, they're all for him now. Sometimes he'll, uh, well, you'll bow to him, and he'll just walk right by you, he won't even notice you. And suddenly he'll grab you, and he'll throw you in a corner, and he'll say, do you know that fire is cool? It's not hot, it's cool, and heals, he told me that. It has been told to us! In the beginning, Light shone upon the darkness and the foundations of earth were lain. The wicked try to steal by deceit, and sing in the goodness of the houses, while the Patriarch of all tells us, if you can trust yourself -- I mean I'm no, I can't -- I'm a little man, I'm a little man, he's, he's a great man."

With growing sadness and alarm, Thaddeus listened. "A great man, yes."

The man kept babbling. "He said, I'm going to kill you. And he meant it! He gets friendly again, he does. But you don't judge him like an ordinary man. If you could have heard the man, just two days ago, if you could have heard the man! His sermons are unbelievable! There's so much purity, and strength, and power, and he forgets himself. I mean, we all forget who we are, no, we remember! Why do you want to kill him?"

"Why would I want to kill who?"

"Him! He's expecting you. He expected someone like you. Do you know you're expected? Why? Why would a nice guy like you wanna kill him? Did you know they like you? I heard them, them saying you were coming, they talked about you. They like you, really like you. Now him, he's got something in mind for you. There's something happening here. You know something, I know something, but you won't talk to me. You just sit there and lie. That's right, I know you're a liar! The man is clear in his mind, but his soul is mad. He hates all this, he hates it! But something in his soul wants it to happen."

"Something is sitting in his soul," Thaddeus slowly answered. "You know that is true."

"He likes you because you're still alive. He's got plans for you. You're going to help him. This is suffering on the earth, our hands were frustrated and saw no success. The Hand went everywhere, we killed and killed, but the enemy was behind us. Logic says there is love, and there is hate -- no fractions! I love you, man. You ever consider freedom? From the opinions of others, even yourself? I want to be free. I hate you so much..."

Thaddeus couldn't make out any more words. Listening to the Zakarumite sob, no words would come to him. He just wept. They cried together for a while. The Zakarumite still tried to push Thaddeus off and reach his axe. But Thaddeus knew it wasn't him doing it. When no more tears came, Thaddeus kneeled on the man's back, and swung his scepter at the spot on the back of the skull, just where the neck joins.

On the docks, Thaddeus asked Cain, "What do you know of Compelling Orbs?"

"Hmm? A Compelling Orb is a powerful device indeed, made by the mage clans of..."

"How may one be found and destroyed, Cain?"

The tone in Thaddeus' voice alarmed Cain. "You... believe there is one in Kurast?"

"The church has had one for centuries. It was used to compel truth from priests taking their vows, and to keep lies out of trials. In unhappy times, the orb could compel truth from enemies without torture. It is being used for something else now. I know it."

"Compelling Orbs are very powerful, and not easily destroyed. How do you know this?"

"Because my brothers and sisters in Kurast love me, and have seen the madness of their ways. How do you destroy an orb?"

Cain thought for a while. "I am not sure. It is rare for anyone to want to destroy one."

"I need to now. You do not know?"

Cain shook his head. "I am afraid I do not."

Thaddeus glared at the ground. "You are useless, old man. I need to sleep."

Chapter 20

He said, "There is great power here,

Which may be used to our purpose.

Why can we not use it, as it was used

By those who are now our slaves?

In their foolishness, all the brothers

Answered, "Yes, let us use it on them."

-- The Book of the Hammer, c. 5, v. 5-10

The secrets of making Compelling Orbs were lost long ago, but few mourn the loss, as their power has great potential for good or evil. An Orb's purpose is to control the minds of those placed under its influence. Paladins found one at a temple dedicated to Mephisto, centuries ago. They could not destroy it, so it was taken back to Kurast for safe-keeping. Naturally, there was great temptation to use the Orb's power; eventually, its use was accepted, under tightly proscribed circumstances. It was deemed beneficial for the Orb to be used at trials; the inability to lie made cases much shorter, the judgments easier and more fair. Many potential priests, whose inner weaknesses would have made them unworthy of trust, were revealed for what they were by the Orb's light.

When Thaddeus passed through the gates of Kurast, he began to feel a compulsion. These here in Kurast were his brothers and sisters, not the greedy sinners and worthless pagans of other lands. It was confusing at first; the skulls, the bodies, the idols of death worked into Kurast's very walls, these were not signs of the church of Light. Only after speaking with his brother Zakarumite did the cause become clear. The confusion in the man's mind mirrored his own, but he was trapped inside the madness, trying to get out. No mere fanaticism clouded these men's minds; Mephisto had found his Orb. Could he have intended this, all those years ago, and allowed it to be captured?

Lying on his bunk in Meshif's ship, Thaddeus stared at the ceiling, the full enormity of this ages-old demonic plot beginning to dawn on him. Mephisto's temple had infested the land openly, brazenly daring the church to attack it. Was it built with the intention that it would be lost, to aid his greater victory later? Demon lords are willing to sacrifice all their followers for their own enrichment, and their ends are always kept hidden from view. As he lay there, a feeling of weakness crept through the walls, a sick feeling that no matter what he did... they'd know beforehand. Every move he could make was anticipated, expected, worked into their plan. They planned this for ages, sitting in the dark, waiting for it to happen. Every minute that passes, they grow stronger, closer to their goal.

Someone tapped on the door of the cabin. "Hey," Natalya's voice said, "the sun's been up half an hour."

Thaddeus stared up at her as she looked in the door. "I'm sorry. It's been a bad night."

"You're usually a crack-o'-dawn guy. What's the matter?"

What a stupid question, Thaddeus thought. It's beyond words. But he said, "Perhaps I'm just tired. It is no concern of yours."

"Yes it is," She sat down on the edge of the bunk. "You made it into Kurast?"

"Yes."

"Cain said you were rude to him last night. He's never seen you be rude to anybody."

"Cain may follow me everywhere, but he is not my keeper. Yes, I have been into Kurast."

"You had to kill some people?"

Thaddeus didn't answer. "They've fallen into darkness," she said. "You did what you should have. You did your duty."

"I'm doing my duty. They're doing their duty. So what?"

"How about a little faith?" Natalya smiled. "They just can't see right now. They'll be fine when you kill Mephisto."

Thaddeus shook his head. "I've chased the Brothers halfway across the world. They will not meet me in battle, they do not have to. I will not find Mephisto unless he lets me. He will not let me unless he knows he can win. All of this was planned."

"They can't plan everything. Come on, you're letting them get to you. Yeah, Mephisto's taken over your church. That's even more reason to get out there and get him!"

"Yes," he mumbled. "That has to be done."

"So come on," Natalya said, pulling him up from the bunk. "I'll help you get your armor on. Man, that stuff has a lot of buckles. Which end of this stick do you hit things with?"

"The end with the crown on it." Thaddeus inspected his armor padding; overnight it had grown green with mold. "I hate this jungle."

"You think you hate it? Meshif's been going on and on about the mushrooms growing on his deck. Have you seen those things? They're huge!"

On his way back into the jungle, Thaddeus stopped to apologize to Cain. The old man was not offended, thankfully; just very confused. "If my advice has been inadequate in some way, I truly regret it..."

"Please, do not worry," Thaddeus reassured him. "You have done all you could. All of us are doing all we can. It was just... a very bad night. That is all."

"I wish I could tell you more about the Compelling Orb. They are rare things, considered very valuable to those who hold them, though their potential for evil is great."

"Absolutely. A very powerful tool. I will be going into Kurast today, and hope to find the Orb. Perhaps deactivating it would help our situation."

"I hope so as well. Oh, before you go, let me say that the people of Kurast are very grateful to you for the aid you have given them."

Thaddeus smiled thinly. "I'm sure Asheara is happy with what I have given her. The rest will have to wait until Mephisto's power is broken. Of course, that will make Asheara happier still. I will see you again soon, Cain."

Thaddeus went through the waypoint, and was gone. For his part, Cain was more confused than ever. What had Thaddeus given to Asheara? As far as he knew, Thaddeus didn't have a very high opinion of Asheara; he didn't even like visiting her.

"Hello, Asheara," Cain said as he walked into her house.

"Hi there," she said. "What can I do you for?"

"I have a question. What do you think of our earnest young Paladin?"

Asheara laughed. "Not bad. Can deal with the midgets. He'd make a decent Iron Wolf; just needs to pull that broomstick out of his ass and relax."

"Has he... given anything to you?"

"Sure. A hard time. If he's giving anything to anybody, it's that Assassin. He likes her. They talk about me behind my back."

Cain smiled pleasantly. "Surely there's no harm in that. In these trying times, gossip is one of the few distractions we have."

"If you're gonna talk about me, say it to my face. Anyway, Assassins don't gossip. They collect information. I'm not givin' him anything, as long as he hangs around with her."

"Hello, Natalya," Cain said as he walked down to the marketplace.

"Hello, Deckard Cain. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have been wondering about something. Tell me, what do you think of Thaddeus?"

She shrugged. "He's ok. But he doesn't appreciate where he is. He takes it seriously when he has to kill someone."

"Shouldn't he? Ending a human life should not be taken lightly."

"When you have to do it, yes. He's fighting church followers, so I guess it's natural. But if he keeps taking it like he is, it's gonna drive him crazy. You don't kill someone, then try to be compassionate about it. You kill, and move on."

"Hmm. You would know more about that than I do. Has he been visiting with Asheara that you know of?"

"Not that I know of. I know he likes her. I think it's the outfit."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "You believe she may have... turned his head?"

"Ever heard of 'opposites attract'? The repressed ones always go for wild girls. They want to do all the naughty things they heard whispered about in religion school."

"That would explain some of the Zakarumite priestesses I met in my youth." For a moment, Cain looked distracted by fond memories.

"You wild and crazy old bastard, you." Natalya laughed. "Don't think you'll find any of them anymore. Have to make do with Asheara."

In Kurast, Thaddeus finished exploring the lower city, and found a bridge over a canal into the middle city. The area he found was a bazaar, a great marketplace with open stalls and large blocks of closed shops. Many of the merchants and customers were still there... in body, anyway. They had been dispatched with slow cruelty. Someone apparently thought it would be humorous to kill the merchants with their own wares; the cutler had been sliced to ribbons; the millner was crushed to a red paste between his grinding stones; a kiln disclosed the ashy remnants of a potter; a vegetable merchant was stuffed until he burst.

Great Thorned Hulks guarded the bazaar, and green vulture demons circled above. But the worst for Thaddeus were the men, now accompanied by their cantors. The zealots sent to greet him in the bazaar were more energetic than those he'd fought earlier. For a while, Thaddeus tried to avoid them. He hid behind buildings or trees, but they interpreted this as cowardice and came for him even more eagerly. That failed, so he tried running around to strike down the priest directing them. When the cantor died, his body disintegrated, the pieces sucked down to the earth by his descending soul.

"Look, there, my brothers!" Thaddeus cried. "Your leaders are corrupted! Evil lies in the heart of the church, do not follow your priests and councilors!" There was no reaction from them; either they couldn't see, or were beyond caring. As they surrounded him, Thaddeus cursed Mephisto, and let the hammers fly. Part of him knew, this is war, a cruel and horrible war. In war there are moments for compassion and tender action. There are moments for ruthless action. The only possible compassion was to see clearly what was to be done, and do it directly.

Another part of him screamed every time a hammer ripped through a human body. He'd killed dozens, hundreds of creatures; these men were just another enemy. It shouldn't matter who they were or what they believed. But as much as he tried to lie to himself, these men were his brothers. They thought as he did. Some might even still think what they were doing was right and good. When it was all done, Thaddeus dropped to his knees, weeping and cursing and praying all at once.

As he went through the bazaar, he ran into more Zakarumites; each encounter ended much the same way. Two temples sat at the corners of the bazaar; the claws of moldy vultures scuttled across blessed stones. Inside, the temples were full of Vampires and Hulks, as well as the priestesses and nuns Thaddeus never saw outside. Inside, cloistered away from the outside world, they had grown pale, and their nails were like claws. To judge from the quantities of human bones littering the floor, sacrifices were held here. In the old days, the remains of any sacrifice were devoured by the priestesses.

In one ruined temple, Thaddeus met a paladin of renown, Sarina. He couldn't think of much to say to her at this point. Not for the first time, Thaddeus wished someone were with him, someone he could trust and take comfort in. It would be nice to have Fara here, he was sure she could overcome her fear. Having her here would help him overcome his own fear and hate. Hate was welling up within him, looking at what Mephisto had done to Kurast. But hate is Mephisto's strength, his greatest weapon and support. Hating made Mephisto strong; but how could Thaddeus move through Kurast without coming to hate Mephisto himself?

Sarina was guarding a book, a black book shaped like a coffin. The text was all old glyphs, which he did not have the knowledge to read. Back on the docks, Cain identified it as the book of Lam Esen, a seer from the distant past. Alkor would be most likely to know how to read the book.

"You have found the Black Book! It contains information on the Prime Evils."

"Such as how they may be found?" Thaddeus asked.

"I will not know until I read it. Busy yourself with slaughtering. I have a love of morbid excess."

Chapter 21

Menesemi did not do what was righteous;

He walked with darkness on the paths of sin.

Images were made for the great Abominations.

His sons, and others, were slaughtered as offerings,

Amid burning incense on the high temples.

Smoke of incense covered every high altar,

Burning under every good green tree to cover

The stench of the blood of many, many children.

-- Chronicles of Zakarum, c. 14, v. 23-30

Slaughter them all, in morbid excess, Thaddeus thought as he left Alkor. By all that's still holy, if there is anything left, he would never speak to Alkor again. Everyone on the docks says, kill them all, just kill them all. It would be so much simpler if he could do that. It's not that he couldn't... the hammers could spin them all away. Most of them weren't even here, in their minds. They'd long since escaped into the comforting womb of madness, so beyond this place they wouldn't even know they were dead. Thaddeus wasn't afraid, not of them, of the giant skulls with blood between their teeth, or the altars draped with human intestines. If they died in this evil place, would their souls be trapped here? Would they sink under the weight of sin imposed upon them? It occurred to Thaddeus that he might die here. If he did, he'd rather go to Hell than stay trapped in the jungle.

As Thaddeus vanished through the waypoint, Cain heard a voice next to him say, "Damn. He's not going to make it."

"I am sure he will be fine," Cain told Natalya.

"No, he's gone. Did you see his face? He keeps trying to judge this."

"How should that be a problem?"

She tsked, and crossed her arms. "Never try to judge the people you're killing. You have a right to kill them, you don't have a right to judge them. Judgment is trying to do the right thing, and you can't judge anything in war."

Cain shook his head. "Any anger must be directed. Without a moral compass --"

"Did I say anything about morality? I didn't. You gotta be a moral person, yeah; then you have to have the strength to put that aside and kill without feeling. You're not a warrior, I don't expect you to understand. But judgment will kill you."

For a while, Cain was a loss for an answer. Carefully considering his words, he replied, "Perhaps he is trying to do something more than simply eliminate the enemy."

"If he's trying to restore the local's faith in the church, he can forget it. Everything he's brought back to aid the cause has been Skatsimi. The Gidbinn, the Black Book; everyone thinks the old religion is gonna save them. The church is a lost cause."

Cain decided to change the subject; this was too depressing. "Your concern for him is touching. Thought it is not something I would have expected."

From her shadow, Natalya frowned. "What, you think I like him?"

"That is not what I said."

"No, you just thought it. He and me are both police, but he's a rookie, earning his stripes in the worst possible place. It's painful to watch. Why'd you think I like him?"

Cain considered his words for a moment. "Earlier, you said you thought he was interested in Asheara."

"Yeah."

"Well, Asheara is sure that he is interested in you."

"What?!" Natalya's shadows dropped. "What does she know about it?"

"Careful," Cain smiled, "Ormus will see you."

As she raised her cloak again, Cain continued. "You speak to him so frequently, and show such concern for his well-being. Besides... if there really is any attraction for the 'bad girl'... you could fill the bill just as well."

"Cain, quit talking stupid. As the last survivor of the Horadrim, I must show you respect, but you're pushing it. I'm gonna go straighten that witch out right now."

As the shadow whisked off to Asheara's hut, Ormus came over. "Hail, Deckard Cain. My shadow has left me; does this mean I have risen from the dead, to feast upon the living?"

"No," Cain chuckled. "It means the ways of women's hearts are as confused as ever. It seems to me that men should never chase after women. If they are polite, well-spoken, but feign disinterest, they will soon find the women are doing the chasing."

"There is a poem called 'Woman,' which Ormus cannot read. There are no words. Asheara is self-conscious of her womanhood. Natalya is ignorant of hers. Combine the two, and true sisterhood will flourish."

Raising an eyebrow, Cain said, "They call each other a lot of things, but not 'sister'. This is something I've seen many times. Any man who approached either of them directly would be rebuffed. But take the same man, and have him express an interest in the other woman, and suddenly a competition arises. I wonder what will come of it."

"Not the noble Paladin," Ormus remarked.

Cain laughed! "Everyone seems to think he has taken a vow of chastity. But I think any romantic inclinations are far from his mind. A pity, it might do him a world of good."

The Kurast Bazaar was beautifully, gloriously empty of life. Except for a Tentacle Beast, poking its head out of a sewer entrance. As Thaddeus approached, it made a borborygmic rumbling noise, and ducked down into the sewers. Thaddeus followed. The sewers under Kurast were huge, almost a single large chamber underlying the upper part of the city. Permanent enchantments slowly cleansed the water, and forced it down to the river. The system was sophisticated and did a marvelous job of keeping Kurast dry; perhaps this was why cellars didn't flood here.

One blessing of the sewers was that while they were full of all kinds of monsters, there were no living humans to be found. Lightning bats and Tentacle Beasts were plentiful, as were the undead, in the form of mummies. As far as Thaddeus knew, the people of Kehjistan never mummified their dead; the warm, wet climate prevented it. These were imports, and did not take to the damp of the sewers well. They stank of decay and mold, and their touch was virulent with disease. Thaddeus was sure they would all fall apart within a week or two, as even their preservative-laden flesh succumbed to rot. Hastening their departure from this world was actually a pleasure, one he could partake of without guilt.

Exploring the sewers was a relief. A few nodes had entrances leading back to the surface, but Thaddeus went through every corner before he had to go back up. One large node had an entrance to a lower level, perhaps some sort of maintenance cell. Down below, a Greater Mummy guarded a small chamber. His pack of skeletons looked odd; perhaps they were the remains of lesser mummies who had lost their flesh. Blessed Hammer sent them to their rest as efficiently as ever. Several chests of treasure were stored in the cell; was this a demonic armory? Or did people, now probably dead, hide precious things down here?

The last chest, near the back of the cell, held the answer: a human heart, miraculously preserved in this most inauspicious place. All the alchemical arts known to man could not keep soft flesh so intact in Kurast, especially under Mephisto's influence. Though he couldn't feel it through the cold of his gauntlets, this heart was alive, alive with the courage and spirit of a saint. Thaddeus sat with the heart, cradling it in his hands. Quietly, almost too faint to be heard, the words of the song came to his lips.

"Lords of Light, hear my prayer,

Give your ears to my supplications.

Enter not into judgment with thy servant,

For no man living is righteous before thee.

The enemy has pursued me,

Has crushed my life to the ground,

Made me sit in darkness like those long dead.

My spirit faints within me.

The heart within me is appalled.

My soul is parched and dry.

Let thy will come to the righteous,

Bring me out of my trouble!

For the love of humanity that is mine,

Let me strike down my adversaries

For I am the servant of mankind,

And thy servant as well!"

Sitting in the silence, darkness all around him, Thaddeus thought he heard a heart beating. Maybe it was his own, thumping against his breastplate. He got up, and walked back up, out of the sewers and into upper Kurast. A crowd of moldy vulture demons attacked him; the hammers spun and destroyed them. Thorned Hulks came from behind them, and fell the same way. There was the waypoint; Thaddeus took it back to the docks.

"Hello, Cain," Thaddeus smiled. "We must take heart."

Cain looked quizzically at Thaddeus. "Hello. Something has happened?"

"Yes, how could you tell?" Laughing, Thaddeus showed Cain the heart. "I've a song in my heart, a heart in my hand, and I am sure Heaven's blessing is upon me."

"You have found Khalim's heart! Perhaps it has given you the courage to face Mephisto. Surely, this is a sign from Heaven!"

"That was never in question. But yes, the sign is heartening. So to speak."

With a chuckle, Cain replied, "I haven't the heart to tell you how awful your jokes are. Put that away now, before someone tries to cook and eat it. Where was it?"

"In a dark pit, deep with filth and rot. My boots were a disgrace."

"I am surprised you're still wearing the leather ones."

"They don't go well with the plate, do they? Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find a better pair. Boots seem to be my Achilles heel."

Cain blinked. "Young lad, are you trying to be funny?"

"And failing, apparently." Thaddeus looked up at the night sky, smiling. "Though I know I should, I do not feel tired at all. Instead, I shall go back into Kurast, and hopefully reach Travincal by dawn. The Guardian Tower is there, where I am sure Mephisto awaits."

"Are you sure? Meeting a Prime Evil is dangerous enough even with a full night's rest, and Mephisto may not be alone."

"Time is precious, and I do not think sleep would come to me anyway. But before I go, there are a few things I ought to do."

First, Thaddeus visited Asheara. "Hello, Asheara!"

"Hey there," Asheara smirked. "You look happy. Been 'gossiping' with Natty?"

"No, I came to see you. I just wanted to tell you, you were right, and I was wrong. There is nothing to be alarmed about with you!"

"I wouldn't say that," Asheara said, looking a bit displeased. "What do you mean?"

"When I met you, I judged you by your appearance. Of course, I'm supposed to; you're working very hard to project a certain image."

"Uh... yeah?" she said suspiciously.

"Whenever someone tries so hard to be impressive, they are probably covering up their own vulnerability with a display of bravado. So you see, there is no need to be alarmed by you. I should be trying to reassure you that you should not be alarmed by me!"

"Hey, that's not --"

"There is nothing wrong with letting others see your softer side! It would be good for all of us to be more forgiving with each other. The pillars of humanity are faith, hope, and love; intolerance for each other's foibles is not included!"

"Don't you get any funny ideas about love," Asheara snapped.

"Why not?" He picked Asheara up under the arms and gave her a big, wet, sloppy kiss. "We all should love each other a little more. Now excuse me, I'm off to see the non-wizard. And remember: lighten up a little! It'll do you good."

Next, Thaddeus went to see Meshif. "Meshif, you need not remain here. Your services are not needed, there is no further need for you to stay."

"That's very kind of you! But why would I go now? From what I've heard, you've almost reached Travincal. The High Council of Zakarum is there!"

"And this gives you what reason to stay?"

"Hratli tells me the High Council is responsible for the jungle. They fell to Mephisto's evil ways a long time ago, and once you get rid of them, the jungle will stop growing and go back to what it was before! Why would I want to miss that?"

Though still terrifically happy, Thaddeus realized he'd forgotten the council. They were great priests, all well known to him. If Mephisto possessed Sankekur, head of the council, those men and women would be deep in his service. The cantors and rectors he'd met in Kurast were certainly tainted; the council would be even worse. "Oh, yes... yes, there will be more killing before I am done. Restoring balance to this land will require it. Do you know who sits on the council now?"

"No one outside Travincal has seen the council for years. Rumor has it they've lost much of their humanity, and look like horrible monsters."

"Hmm. Not a good sign, when they remain in hiding. Speaking of hiding, let me speak with Natalya. She's something of an authority on that."

Down in the marketplace, Natalya was waiting for Thaddeus. "Hi there. Heard you went to visit Asheara."

"Yes, I thought I should let her know I no longer think ill of her."

"You can say that again."

"Of course I could, but there wouldn't be much point. I just wanted to reassure her that she could relax around me."

"Why would she want to?" Natalya snidely asked.

"It is her own choice. But she is trying so hard to be impressive. There must be a great vulnerability underneath that prickly exterior she cultivates so assiduously."

"So, when did you become interested in her soft girly bits?"

"When I realized why she is behaving the way she is. Someone must have hurt her, a long time ago, and she's never recovered her trust of humanity."

"And you have just the thing to save her from herself, right?"

"I don't know about that," Thaddeus lowered his head. "I just hope I can bring some good to the people of this land. Some time ago, a very wise woman told me that my actions helped restore her faith in humanity. That's really all I want."

Natalya raised an eyebrow. "For a guy like you, you seem to know a lot of women."

"A whole sisterhood of them," Thaddeus said, chuckling. "I'd also like to thank you. As horrible as Kurast has been, you have helped me see and learn many new things."

She seemed surprised. "Like what?"

"Not to judge by appearances and first impressions. The soul is far more important, deep within and sometimes hard to reach. Knowing why someone does as they do, reaching some understanding of them, I need to look past the skin into the heart." Natalya almost jumped away when Thaddeus gently kissed her. "You have a good soul, Natalya, though your means and methods are unfamiliar to me. But they're not what matters."

"Uh..." Natalya murmured intelligently.

"Now, I must get back into Kurast. A world of time may pass in a moment, but even a moment is precious to us. I hope to return soon."

Chapter 22

I know your many transgressions,

How great your sins are.

Do not turn aside at my gate --

No righteous man shall afflict you.

I have built a house of hewn stone,

But you shall dwell in it.

I have planted vineyards for you;

You shall drink of the wine.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 101, v. 1-8

It was dark in upper Kurast, and the zealous defenders of the city's ruins smeared burnt cork on their skin to blend into the darkness. At least it looked that way at first; after Thaddeus killed them, he found the sooty black would not come off. Finding Khalim's heart had brought him joy, but this sobered him again, as he wondered what this physical change might mean. The Rogues of the pass had changed, but they were possessed. Perhaps these warriors, closer to the heart of Kurast, were more willing participants in their own downfall than the sad wrecks he had met earlier. The thought made killing them a little easier.

The ruins of the upper city held much wealth, and two more temples. Not for the first time, Thaddeus wondered how the giant skulls on the walls got blood and gore between their teeth. He was probably better off not knowing. Nuns were cloistered in the temples. They used bows and arrows; Thaddeus was reminded even more of the corrupted Rogues. Other violations in the temples were crowds of slobbery Blunderbores, Vampires, and Claw Vipers. Thaddeus kept Khalim in mind, to know he was not alone, and not think of the gory altars and bones scattered on the floor. Above one high temple, the roof had partially collapsed; enough remained for Thaddeus to climb up and look inwards to Travincal.

Holy Travincal is the city within the city of Kurast. Zakarum's holiest places, most sacred artifacts, and all the hallowed traditions were kept on an island of stone in the middle of a lake of pure, clear water. Like the rest of Kurast, the water was black and bubbled with the stench of decay. White marble was stained a dark, rusty red; the blood of thousands had been poured out there. The temples were knocked over or gutted. With some, new buildings stood in their place. Others were empty pits of slimy water. Thaddeus hadn't known what to expect of Travincal. Somehow, he'd thought it would look worse than it did.

Meanwhile, back on the docks, Natalya went to visit Asheara. "Hello."

"Hi there," Asheara regarded her suspiciously. "Kill anybody yet?"

"The night's still young." Natalya tapped her foot nervously. "Did he come here?"

"Yeah, about half an hour ago. He was acting really weird. What's it to you?"

"Did he... want anything?"

"Yeah... I didn't give it to him, if that's what you're thinking."

"If what is what I'm thinking?"

Asheara folded her arms. "What are you talking about?"

"What are *you* talking about?"

"Don't get cute. You know damn well what I meant."

"I simply wish to know. It is a perfectly fair question," Natalya responded innocently.

"Did he... want anything?" Asheara asked coyly.

"Yes?"

After regarding the other woman for a moment, Asheara smiled faintly. "Oh, he was hot and bothered. Really passionate. I might consider it."

Calmly, Natalya replied, "Good. You could both use it."

Obviously, this was not the answer Asheara was expecting. "What?"

Natalya smiled. "Yeah. After he left you he came over to me, and he was oh so sad for you. You must have been hurt something awful to put up such a front, he was saying. He's sure you're all warm and tender inside, if only you could trust other people."

"That is such bullsh!t. He did not say that. No, he probably did. Sh!t."

"Sure he did! Let me ask you something personal."

Frowning, Asheara said, "Go ahead."

"How long has it been since you've actually been with a man?"

"WHAT?"

"You heard me. You sure put it all out on display... but how long has it been since you've actually done anything with it?"

Asheara fumed. "I've got a merc band to run."

"And that takes how much of your evenings? Or are you just... nervous?"

Glaring, Asheara snarled, "I would hand him his balls if he even thinks about threatening me..." Then she smirked. "How long has it been since you've done anything with a man? Besides kill him, I mean."

"Don't change the subject," Natalya snipped. "Besides, I'm on duty."

"Yeah, sure. Hmm, maybe you're right. I haven't broken any vows of chastity in years. Might be fun again. He sure as hell wouldn't want it out of you."

"Yes, he would. He kissed me."

Asheara laughed. "How courtly and romantic. Face facts, sugar: he went to you second. And all he did was try to kiss you."

"He could have done more than that, but he didn't. He's a gentleman. Probably why he's not interested in you."

"You should have been here earlier. Mmmm..."

"Don't try that act on me. He only has pity for you. Oh, she's so defensive, she must be so afraid, you should hear him go on about you."

"Poor Natty. A buddy to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, then he comes back to me. Don't worry, it'd just get in the way of your 'duties': sitting on your skinny, pale ass all day, staring at Ormus."

Natalya gasped! "There is nothing wrong with being fit."

"Someday, you'll learn men like a woman with a little padding on her." Asheara breathed in deeply, looking down at her chest with approval.

"Is that why he never comes to see you, then?"

"He did."

"Once. What'd he have to say?"

"He didn't do much talking..."

"Then he left. And you weren't even trying to chase him out, were you?"

Asheara frowned, "Yeah, all right, he went running off. But he came to me first!"

"I knew it!" Natalya cackled. "A pity mission. Then, his duty done, his thoughts turned to pleasure..."

"Quit twisting it! He likes me best!"

"No, he doesn't! He likes me best!"

While Thaddeus was back on the docks visiting Ormus, he heard a fearful row coming from Asheara's house. Someone was having a fierce argument in there; he went over to look.

"Hello?" he said as he walked in the door.

"What do you want?!" Asheara and Natalya screeched together.

Thaddeus blinked in surprise. "Nothing, I suppose."

Thaddeus left wondering what on earth those two had to argue about so loudly. As far as he knew, they had as little to do with each other as possible. Whatever the cause, it would probably be best if he did not get involved. They were both strong-willed women, and might not accept him meddling in something he had nothing to do with. Back in Kurast, Thaddeus found the grand causeway, a permanent bridge connecting the upper city with the inner city. Two more temples rested on the causeway, and a group of the Desert Raiders of Lut Gholein guarded them. They were no happier in the jungles than any of the other desert dwellers; their morale was so poor that only the leader ever came anywhere near Thaddeus. After clearing the bridge and temples, he arrived at the gates of Travincal.

From up close, the corruption of the city was palpably worse. The salty smell of blood was everywhere; once-white marble was deeply stained with layer upon layer of gore. Entering was easy: the gate towers supported no gates. Why should they, when the Light's enemy was within? Even at the entrance, Thaddeus could feel the Orb, pounding at his will from the Guardian Tower on the other side of the city. He strode towards it; no one opposed him until he reached a central platform where four bloody altars stood. There, black-skinned zealots charged en masse, with a circle of priests hiding behind them.

The crowd around him was too great; he couldn't reach the tower without dealing with them first. He couldn't even get to the priests without striking down the zealots. For what he hoped would be the last time, he cast Blessed Hammer on a fellow Zakarumite, letting the hammers spin and strike them down. Several of the priests died in the flurry, and a group of Vampire Lords; the rest he killed by hand. As the last of the priests fell, one of the High Council of Zakarum came out of the tower.

By all the Light, Thaddeus hoped never to see such a sight again. Mephisto had twisted as much of the man's body as could be, wrenching it into bizarre shapes hobbled by deformity. Yet, exactly as much humanity remained as would assure the viewer that this creature was once human, and a particular man at that. Of all Zakarum's priests, Ismail, called Puretouch for his blessed power with healing, was always considered the gentlest and kindliest. His barely recognizable face twisted into a leer of pleasure as he bore down on Thaddeus with a huge, three-headed flail.

His gorge rising, Thaddeus could not bring himself to hit this thing. He wanted it dead, but not if it meant touching it. What remained of Ismail was no concern anymore; Mephisto only left enough of the man to horrify any who saw him. Thaddeus positioned himself, and cast Blessed Hammer repeatedly, pounding the thing into jelly. Luckily, the hammers also killed a pair of Tentacle Beasts living in the watery pits near the towers. As Ismail dropped the flail, it flashed with silvery light, and a voice said, "Return with me. I bear you good news."

Thaddeus was not in the habit of ignoring miracles. He picked up the flail and cast a portal, returning to the docks. "Cain, do you know what this is?"

He does not. I am the spirit of Khalim.*

"Ah!" Cain said. "Khalim did bear a great flail as his favored weapon."

My child, you have no idea how long I have waited. I would that more of my body were here, but there is no time for more searching. Diablo and Baal have entered Mephisto's Durance of Hate, and you must pursue them with all speed.*

"Yes, great Khalim! The Durance lies beneath the Tower, I know."

The door is sealed, by Hell's strongest magics. There is a weakness I know of; Mephisto has worked the spell through his Compelling Orb. When it is destroyed, the door will open. I have little to offer you, but do possess the power to destroy the Orb.*

"This is good news!" Cain said. "What is to be done?"

Place this weapon in the Horadric Cube, with what you have of my body. My spirit will craft a weapon of power. Use it to destroy the Orb.*

This Thaddeus did without hesitation. When he brought it out again, the flail was golden instead of cold iron, and each ball resembled a human skull. The flail's appearance was a bit shocking for Thaddeus, until Khalim spoke again. The skulls mouth's moved in unison with his voice. *Go into the tower, and smash the Compelling Orb. Do this, and your compatriots will be free, as will I. Quickly, now! There is little time.*

When Thaddeus returned to Travincal, another councilor was waiting for him. Geleb, Keeper of the Flame in the holy city, was once a mighty priestess. Now, she summoned fiery beasts from beneath the earth for her master. Thaddeus charged right through her, smashing her up and down the length of Travincal until her grotesque body gave out. When he returned to the tower again, two more councilors came out. These he did not recognize, but beat them to death as zealously as if he had. Two more came out; one was Toorc the Avenger, a Paladin of much renown. At least, he was once. When they were dead, Thaddeus bowed his head for a moment's prayer. They had not come all at once; Thaddeus might have died if they had. Perhaps their jealousy of each other had saved his life.

Inside the blackened tower, dried blood on the floor crunched beneath Thaddeus' boots. The whole building seemed to pulse with angry, arrogant energy, demanding his obedience and the surrender of his will. It felt like his helmet was the only thing keeping Thaddeus' head from bursting with the pressure. Through a red haze of pain, he looked around the tower; a blinding white Orb sat on a black stone pedestal. Taking Khalim's flail in hand, Thaddeus struck the Compelling Orb. There was no sound of breaking glass, or splintering stone -- no sound at all, in fact. The Orb simply vanished in a puff of smoke.

The aching pressure in his head suddenly gone, Thaddeus stood gasping. When he could open his eyes again, he saw that the tower floor had collapsed, tumbling down into a broad set of stairs leading into a pit. Before going down, he went out into Travincal, and found a group of Zakarumites. They ran at his approach. Khalim's flail was gone, vanished along with the Orb. Thaddeus took up his scepter again, and went down into the Durance.

Chapter 23

Mephisto, terrible Lord of Hatred,

Bringer of sorrow after sorrow, spoke:

"Know that I determined your ruination long ago.

I planned from days of old what will come to pass.

I know your comings and goings. Rage against me,

Dismayed and confounded by what I have brought.

I will heap evils upon you. Hunger will waste you,

Icy winds and poisonous pestilence devour you.

Teeth of beasts and crawling things, flow with venom!

You will never discern to what end --

For you will not know me when I come."

-- Chronicles of Zakarum, c. 19, v. 18-28

It hurt to even enter Mephisto's Durance. The air was dry, dry as old bones, from an oven-like heat hanging in the air. This should not be; these chambers were in the middle of a large lake, water should be seeping in through every crack in the surrounding rock. But there was none, only a crackling crust of dried blood inches thick on the floor. Thaddeus stepped in, to the edge of a pit. A sludge of human blood and gore half-filled the pit, with dozens of bodies tossed in like unwanted guests. He could smell them drying out, withering; it smelled of slow death, disease, nightmares. In a way, it was fitting that all the water had been forced out of this place. Everything in Kurast flowed out from here.

The welcoming committee was a pack of Fetish skeletons, the kind that explode when they die. Gingerly, Thaddeus stepped around them, casting Blessed Hammer, watching them dart in and out among the whirling hammers. Sometimes they hit, and the skeleton went up in a burst of fire and bone fragments. Sometimes they missed, and Thaddeus had to charge the skeleton to kill it. Charging with his shield sent most of the bone fragments away, so he was rarely hurt. Behind the Fetish skeletons were Vampire Lords. Their decaying bellies bulged from gluttonous feeding, stretching the skin tight and translucent. As the hammers whirled through then, they burst like ticks, thick fluid oozing from their rotting guts.

On a return trip to the docks, Natalya stopped Thaddeus on his way to Hratli's. "Hello. How are you holding up?"

"I don't feel anything at all."

"That's good," she replied. "You're getting used to it."

"I do not want to be used to it," Thaddeus sighed. "Killing is necessary, but it should not be something we grow accustomed to. It is too easy an answer."

"It's the only answer. These aren't people you're dealing with."

Not now, Thaddeus thought. "There do not seem to be any in the Durance."

"No, Mephisto sent the Zakarumites out to die. The Iron Wolves captured some."

"Really?" Thaddeus stared at her.

Suddenly reticent, Natalya said, "But they haven't lasted long."

"What is the difficulty?"

"Um... a lot of them are killing themselves."

"Oh," Thaddeus nodded. "I understand. Many do, when their fall is clear to them."

Natalya nodded. "Well, they're... really, really contrite. But everyone here on the docks is happy and grateful for what you're doing. I just hope you can defeat Mephisto."

"I have to," he said. "If I do not, all of this will begin anew."

"Mephisto is embodied by Sankekur, maybe the most powerful mortal in the world. This is an incredibly dangerous quest. I wish I could help you somehow."

"Could you leave Ormus, with a clear conscience?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No! He's probably waiting for something like that. He'd get us right at the worst possible moment."

Frowning a bit, Thaddeus nodded. "I have seen no outward sign of corruption in Ormus."

"Unlike your Zakarumites, he's smart enough to hide it. No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I can't go with you. But maybe... if there were something I could do for you here?"

"There is nothing to be done here. Kurast will rebuild itself, I am sure, but that must wait until afterwards."

"Yeah," Natalya said. "But there must be something I can do for you... maybe take your mind off your problems for a few minutes?"

"My will is focused now, I could not encompass distraction. Were I to turn away, I might not be able to return to my duty in time."

"No, you don't understand... it wouldn't take long at all."

"Diablo and Baal have already entered Mephisto's durance. The longer they are together, the worse it will be for us. Perhaps I can catch them in their reunion, before they unleash whatever new horror they are planning. I must leave now."

"But... no, you're right. Duty comes first."

Deeper in the Durance of Hate, Thaddeus found more pits of death. It was hotter down here, and all the blood was dry. He could walk over the dead; they puffed into dust under his boots. The level was full of Vampires and giant Blunderbores. The flabby flesh of giants was less vulnerable to Blessed Hammer than the brittle bones of the Vampires -- Thaddeus often had to kill them by hand. In one large chamber, he broke up some sort of conference of the fat, smelly things: two named Blunderbores, one enchanted with lightning, the other enchanted with cold, and with a spectral hit. The battle ranged all over the room, as Thaddeus dodged behind chests, around columns, constantly casting Blessed Hammer and zealously smashing any who came too close. It was worth it in the end; one dropped a pair of plated boots, rare ones with useful enchantments.

His old pair of leather boots looked a bit odd with the plate armor, so Thaddeus was eager to trade up. Asheara happily took the old ones off his hands. "Hey, faster running and some great poison resistance. Quite a few of my Wolves would kill for something this good."

"I am sure they will go to a deserving warrior."

"Uh-huh. How's the durance?"

"Dry and still, full of fiery death."

"Sounds like a nasty place," she smiled. "Need anything for the fire?"

"Something to deal with giants would be better. They swing human bodies as weapons." After a moment's thought, he said, "During a battle with the giants, I heard something. A bellowing scream, horrible, but with no fear in it. Like a man breaking from himself."

"Gotta be one of the Three, at least. You're close."

"Very close. I can't see them... but I can feel them all."

Nodding, Asheara turned to her bodyguard. "Get lost."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and left.

"What is it?" Thaddeus asked.

"It's traditional," she said as she sidled up to him. "The conquering hero always gets the lady's favor before he goes in." Then she grabbed him behind the head, pulled his face down, and kissed him hard, tongue snaking into his mouth.

"Mmmphglff!" Thaddeus said, stumbling a bit as he tried to catch his balance and not fall over on her. Part of him crazily wished that she'd at least put her python down before she did things like this; it was poking curiously at his ear.

Breaking the kiss with a smack, Asheara grinned. "Smooth, lover-boy. Can tell you've had a lot of experience with this."

"Madam!" he sputtered, "the last thing you should call that is traditional!"

With a wicked grin, she purred, "If you really want to be traditional about it... I think the traditional favor is a piece of the lady's clothes, worn next to her knight's heart..." She reached behind her to undo her top.

Thaddeus quickly looked away. "I don't think you have enough to spare."

"Least I can do, for the man handing me a new kingdom. Come on, you know it's gonna happen. Somebody has to be in charge of this mess. Did you think it would be Ormus?"

"That is no concern of mine. And yes, I knew it would happen."

"You obviously don't object too much," she smiled. "Lady Asheara, Lord of Kurast. I like the sound of that. And I owe it all to you. So why are you getting so upset about me bestowing my 'favors' on you?"

For a moment, all Thaddeus could see was red, with Asheara in the middle of it. "Since you are so *kind* as to ask my opinion... I think you will be the worst ruler Kurast has ever had!! Ruling a country is much harder than managing a band of mercenaries, and you don't even do that very well! But... no one left alive in Kurast wants power as much as you do, so you will get it. Knowing what will happen does not mean I approve of it!"

Glaring at Thaddeus, Asheara drew herself up to her full height. "You damned Zakarumite. All you people do is stand around judging everybody! Look what that holier-than-thou crap got you: your church is a corrupt wreck, Paladins are demons' slaves, everybody in the whole fucking world hates you! I am going to run this country. When I do, no one's gonna judge me! I will do whatever I want, and no one can say jack-sh!t about it! Now go back to your damn assassin and get out of my sight!"

"I will go back to Travincal. My duty lies there."

What did Asheara know of duty? Nothing. Who could lead, without knowing the duties that fall upon a leader? In the old days in the west, there had been hordes of men and women like her. Hundreds of tin-plated dictators ruling tiny patches of land, thinking all should go according to their whim. They tried to conquer their neighbors regularly, thinking to increase their holdings. None knew how to govern what they had -- would increasing the demands on their authority improve matters? They couldn't even govern their own natures. Now that good government had collapsed in Kurast, the worst and most desperate for power would come to the fore, clawing for all they could get.

In the durance, no more cries echoed up from below. It took Thaddeus forever to find the stairs to the lowest level; why had the Horadrim made this such a maze, anyway? Vampires, Blunderbores, and a frighteningly fast Fetish skeleton pack harried his every step. Slowly, horror crept into his mind, worse horror than Mephisto's lackeys could inspire. He was too late. Whatever the Three Brothers were doing, they had already done it. Now, they were just toying with him, waiting for him to deliver himself to them so they could laugh in his face and destroy him. Then they'd destroy the world. He should turn around now, cut his losses, turn around and get out of this place. The Three together in one place was too much for any man -- even angels would fear to tread there, who was he to go in? Then, in the last place he looked, he found the stairway down into darkness.

At first, Mephisto was little more than a voice. \Come in, honorable guest./

"I hear you," Thaddeus called. "Will your brothers not speak?"

\My brothers have escaped you. But not by much. Your arrival is very punctual./

"Flattery will get you nowhere, demon." A horde of Fetish skeletons ran hissing out of the darkness. "What, more useless minions? How much more time do you need?"

A raspy chuckle echoed out of the darkness as Thaddeus let the hammers spin. \You presume too much. My business is done. All that is left is pleasure./

Rigorous application of Blessed Hammer destroyed all the skeletons but the most powerful, which ran away and hid. Thaddeus charged and smashed it. "I will not bother to ask what pleases you. Answering me would give you too much satisfaction."

\You know me, then. They did not./ As he said this, two more council members ran out of the darkness. Only seven sat on the council, Thaddeus had not expected to see more. To judge from his face, one was Bremm, famous for calling lightning down from the sky to smite his enemies. None came now, though he fought with conviction. \Tell me... what do you think of my methods?/

"I see no method at all," Thaddeus grunted as he beat the councilors to death. "Random death and pointless destruction, accomplishing nothing of lasting value."

More chuckling. \I expected someone like you. What did you expect, in this place?/

In a central chamber, a pit of boiling blood took up most of the room. It might have been lava, but for the human bodies roiling and bobbing in it. Thaddeus went to the side, where he could see an entrance. "Cease this questioning, demon. I have no more tears left to shed for your satisfaction."

\I shall tell you what you should have expected. Honesty./

"Honesty from the father of so many lies?" Thaddeus spat. Yet another council waited in the wing: Wyand Lifebringer, though he would not call her that now. "Even when you speak the truth, it is in the service of a lie."

\Who should expect honesty from the church of the Light? You train the young to spread fanaticism, destroy with lightning and holy fire. But you cannot allow yourselves to say a simple word like 'fuck' because it is obscene!/

"Fuck you," Thaddeus snarled, fighting his way through a few Vampires.

That brought a hearty laugh. \Such horrors you must have seen, to bring such anger out of someone like you. Good, honest anger. I detest the stench of hypocrisy and lies./

"You're lying, you hypocrite." Thaddeus finished Wyand off and found another entrance to the back of the chamber.

\Who is lying? Tell me... are you an assassin?/

"The assassin is sitting on the docks."

\An assassin is sent to kill. Are you an assassin?/

"I am a soldier of the light."

Mephisto appeared out of the darkness. \You're neither. You're an errand boy, sent to collect a bill centuries old. And I am the one who sent you./

Thaddeus took out his maul and charged. Straight into an icy ball Mephisto let fly. Without his shield, it chilled him to the bone instantly, and the impact stopped him dead in his tracks. He charged again, to be struck down by the laughing demon lord. This was not working; all the goading had made him too angry to fight. Rolling away as Mephisto floated forward, he got to his feet, quaffed a potion, and readied his shield. The second ball of cold shattered on it, chilling Thaddeus for but a moment. Swatting at his long, bony arms, he slowly moved in, towards Mephisto's misty body.

Clouds of venom and ice swirled around Mephisto's body, deflecting most of Thaddeus' attacks. Numbing cold, or sparks of lightning, shot from the demon's hands, but they didn't bother Thaddeus much. The greatest danger, here up close, was those long arms, which struck terrifically hard. He kept his shield up, zealously smashing away, eyes shut to slits against the sharp fragments of ice that came from every blow. When Mephisto tried to move away, Thaddeus let a few hammers fly before closing range again; some of them even hit. The ice ball seemed to be Mephisto's most dangerous attack, but he couldn't cast it as long as Thaddeus was so close, flailing away at him.

It was a grueling battle. Thaddeus cast Blessed Hammer; he called on the spirits of Paladins past to wreak vengeance on Mephisto; he even charged him when he tried to retreat. Every skill he had, he used on the demon lord, keeping the fight close and avoiding all his most powerful attacks. Slowly, Mephisto weakened, but it took such a long time... Thaddeus almost wished he'd speak again, just to relieve the tedium. Finally, after a very, very long time, Mephisto crumbled to the chamber floor. And Thaddeus' wish was granted.

\The horror... the horror you will face when I come again... I will exterminate you all./

All that remained was a broken-up human body, stretched and twisted out by that hideous strength. And a stone, a soulstone glowing with an icy illumination. Thaddeus took it. A few Vampires remained in Mephisto's durance, hiding in the corners. They guarded all the greatest treasures of Kurast; at least, the ones which survived. There was an axe, the Axe of Fechmar, a relic of legend. The legends hadn't mentioned it being ethereal.

Back on the docks, Cain and Ormus greeted Thaddeus. "This is a great day!" Cain said. "You have Mephisto's soulstone! The demon's essence is trapped there, though it will not make a permanent prison."

"You have defeated a Prime Evil in combat. Ormus is impressed beyond words. But what of his brothers, who came so far to join him?"

"They were not in the durance, so far as I could see. But there was, in the middle of a boiling pool of blood, a red gate full of the screaming insane faces of the damned."

"Not a good sign," Cain said inadequately. "Surely, the Three have opened a Hellgate into Hell itself! Diablo and Baal must have gone through."

"Of course," Thaddeus nodded. "All of their old portals were closed long ago. Why would they return there?"

"Who does not miss the sights and sounds of home?" Ormus asked, without a trace of irony. "Gates to Hell have always meant but one thing; invasion is imminent."

"Diablo and Baal were the highest commanders of Hell's armies. They bowed to Mephisto, but the eldest Brother seldom took direct command in war. I would imagine that they want to reclaim their infernal thrones, and marshal Hell's forces to invade our world again!"

Slowly, Thaddeus nodded. He felt weak. It wasn't over, it was only just beginning. The world was not ready for this. The church, intended to be the shield against invasion, was in tatters. Only a few faithful were left, in far off lands. "The gate must be closed. Can it be closed by any art we possess?"

"Ormus knows not the ways of Hell's magic."

"In the past, Hellgates were closed only after enormous efforts by many Horadrim. The source of the gate must be found and destroyed... but the magics are usually based in Hell itself, and well protected by Hell's mightiest forces."

"Then I must go through. Tell Asheara's Wolves to be on guard against anything coming through the gate. Where are all the Iron Wolves, anyway?"

It suddenly occurred to Thaddeus that the docks looked deserted. "Well..." Cain started to say, then lapsed into silence. Ormus never said a word.

"Where is everyone?" Thaddeus asked.

"Celebrating," Cain replied.

Happiness did not seem to accompany the word. "Where are they?"

"By the south docks."

Near the marketplace, Thaddeus saw fires burning. A great gathering of people clustered at the edge of the dock, cheering and shouting happily. Their noise almost covered up the screams. They had some Zakarumites. One was tied to a log, being ducked into the river until he nearly drowned. Just before his struggles ceased, they pulled him out, gave him just enough time to recover, then ducked him again. Another had been bound to a stake and covered with wet clay. He was rotating over a fire, slowly roasting to death inside his boiling prison. More were being slowly fed into a pit of Flayers, screaming for a quick death while the starving things ripped them apart and ate them from the ankles up.

Several Iron Wolves stood by, laughing and joking about having to go get some more; these ones were almost used up. The townspeople laughed and shouted, beating and kicking the Paladins of the Hand of Zakarum for dead wives, husbands, children, or friends. The scene was like something out of Hell. Thaddeus stared. When they noticed him, the shouting died away into silence.

"These were men," Thaddeus whispered. "These were men who fought with their hearts and souls. They had families and children, filled with love. Their judgment was taken away from them, and they became monsters. That is over now."

"SHUT UP!" a woman screamed, throwing mud into Thaddeus' face. "They butchered my husband, my sons, my daughters! It took days for them to die! My husband begged to die before they were through! Now THEY are going to beg ME to die!! SO SHUT YOUR PREACHING FACE!!! I will HAVE what's MINE!!"

A roar of approval went up from the dockside. Everyone started throwing mud, rotten bananas, or whatever else came to hand. The Iron Wolves started laughing, and some of them got in on the fun too. In his mind, Thaddeus could hear Mephisto laughing along with them. Defeating a Prime Evil in combat meant nothing -- a temporary setback at best. His victory in Kurast was far, far greater than his defeat.

Slowly, Thaddeus turned around and walked away. There was nothing he could say. He could not save them, nor the Zakarumites, or anyone else. There was nothing he could do. Except... try to foil Mephisto's plans, whatever they were. Back in the empty durance, the Hellgate stood waiting. Three human skulls, white and clean, lay on the ground where Mephisto died. For a moment, Thaddeus stared at them, wondering whose they were, and what their presence might mean. No answer came. He stepped into Hell.

Concluding thoughts:

I've never had this easy a time in the Flayer Jungle with a Paladin. Bosses are harder targets, though. I miss Fanaticism.
Frostburns are very good gauntlets for this build. The extra mana is very helpful, and the bonuses to damage handy. When Thaddeus got them, he almost had more mana than life.
With Frostburns and a Wyrm's ring of Sorcery, it seems I shouldn't have put any points into Energy at all. They give me more than enough mana for Blessed Hammer, and when I need more, unlike other spellcasters I can effectively leech it. The Hammerdin may have problems leeching enough in Hell difficulty, but I haven't had any problems yet.
Can't wait to see that Blessed Hammer does to Lord De Seis. And Lister.

Act 4

Chapter 24

We walk together. I never leave, yet

Who is the one walking beside you?

Counting us, I see only you and I

Here on the white road. Ahead of me

There is always another beside you,

Gliding wrapped up in a brown mantle.

I cannot know from where he comes.

Who is that always close by your side?

-- The Book of Haisin, c. 2, v. 1-8

Blackness engulfed Thaddeus, and he found himself in a strange place: a huge hall, with floors of marble and walls of black iron, surmounted by guardian spires of gleaming bronze. Cauldrons of brass, supported by representations of demons, burned with eternal fire, while vague mists drifted in the air. Demonic images are not an encouraging sign, but nothing in the place warned Thaddeus' senses of evil. If anything, all he felt was an overwhelming calm. The mists seemed to sing beautiful calming music.

The strange fortress looked empty. One small wing was empty; another held a waypoint -- the Horadrim had been here, at least. Upstairs, Thaddeus found his footlocker, against one wall of the fortress. As he looked around, he saw a huge fireplace, with weapons of great power mounted on the wall surrounding it. Deckard Cain was there, humbly conversing with an angel... the archangel Tyrael. Thaddeus went into his presence in silence.

"It is good to see you again, hero. I welcome you to the Pandemonium Fortress, the last bastion of Heaven's power before the burning hells."

Of course, Thaddeus thought, how could I not have known? "Hail, noble Tyrael. I have just come from Kurast, where I failed in my pursuit of Diablo and Baal."

"Your quest was far from a failure," Tyrael answered. "The Prime Evils' plan has been upset by the defeat of Mephisto. He remained to guard the Hellgate, awaiting Diablo's return to the mortal world with his army. After you entered it, I closed the Hellgate behind you. The last brother, Baal, travels the mortal world alone."

"Baal did not enter Hell?" Thaddeus asked.

"The brothers are divided," Cain smiled. "You have followed Diablo, and Tyrael tells me Natalya is pursuing Baal. Whatever plan they had will not come to pass."

Somewhat reassured, Thaddeus nodded. "What purpose could Baal have for remaining in the mortal realm?"

"That, even I cannot answer," Tyrael intoned. "If fortune is with us, we will never need to know. With the Hellgate closed, Diablo must not only placate his rebellious underlings and gather them for battle, he must create a new gate. Even if this is possible, I know it will take more time than he has."

Cain smiled. "It seems we have a bit of breathing space, my boy. I suggest we use it wisely."

With immense relief, Thaddeus bowed to the angel. "Great and munificent Tyrael! Your tidings gladden my heart. It is also good to know that the Pandemonium Fortress stands yet; these sanctified halls are rich with legends of heroism. It is an honor --"

"Erm..." Cain interrupted, "you have Mephisto's soulstone with you?"

"Yes! It is here." The stone glowed blue with a tiny, writhing spirit.

"It will not contain Mephisto for long. Unless properly destroyed, he will escape into Hell."

"There are many ways to destroy a soulstone... but the Hellforge is the most convenient," Tyrael said. "The Hellforge is a place where raw chaos is harnessed, and any bond of spirit or sorcery may be broken. The Pandemonium Fortress was built here to stage an assault on it, many ages ago... which brings another thing to mind."

"I have heard of the Hellforge, great Tyrael. Is it not on the River of Flame?"

"You are correct. But before you reach there, you face a long journey through the outer steppes of Hell. There, a tortured soul has been imprisoned: my most trusted lieutenant, Izual. It was he who led the ill-fated assault on the Hellforge. Fallen into the clutches of Hell, he was tortured for eons, and told his captors many of Heaven's most precious secrets. For his transgressions, he was imprisoned in the flesh of an ice demon, summoned from the blackest heart of the abyss. Ever since, he has roamed the outer reaches of Hell, unable to leave this place, or to enter the cities of the damned. I think he has suffered enough."

"The tale of Izual is known to me, noble Tyrael. Bearing the crystalline blade Azurewrath, he led a Heavenly host against Hell's fiery legions --"

"Hero, you must go forth and find Izual. The demon imprisoning him must be broken, and his soul set free. Then, you must proceed to the Hellforge."

"Yes, exalted Tyrael, I shall. Though I wonder if I can succeed, going where angels would fear to tread."

"Hell has been in disorder ever since the Three were exiled," Cain said. "I think you will find no organized resistance awaiting you."

"I can provide you with no assistance, save a few bits of wisdom. This must be mortal man's triumph alone -- your triumph."

My triumph or my death, Thaddeus thought. "My quest is before me. I only hope I can complete it as I intend to. Thank you, grand and glorious angel, for your confidence and the hope you bring me."

Downstairs from the fireplace, Thaddeus met two great heroes of legend. Halbu was a master forger for the church of Zakarum, martyred in a surprise attack from Duriel's forces on Kurast, ages ago. The other was Jamella, an enchantress and court scribe who died long before the church was founded. A virtuous and righteous pagan, her presence was all the proof anyone would need that the church was not the only way to Heaven. Both had goods for sale; the necessity of coin struck Thaddeus as odd. One would think that these elevated souls would have been left such material attachments behind.

Both seemed mildly amused by Thaddeus, but neither of them spoke to him, apart from Halbu offering to clean and repair his equipment. He was about to refuse, as he should not need it, when Halbu plucked a rotten banana peel off his head. Mud, dung, and rotten bananas were dripping off Thaddeus onto the Pandemonium Fortress's pristine floors. He was so awestruck, he never noticed he was leaving a trail. Deeply embarrassed, he let Halbu do the work; Jamella definitely giggled. Will I ever appear before an angel when I'm not covered with filth, Thaddeus wondered? That might be difficult to arrange in Hell.

A single stairway, floating in a void, led from Pandemonium down onto Hell's outer steppes. Hellish instruments of war lay scattered about in ruins, reminders of past attacks on the fortress. With as few defenders as the fortress had now, Hell could take it easily, if there were any armies to commit to the effort. As Thaddeus entered Hell, the only sound was the granular, ashen soil crunching under his boots. Nothing appeared to notice him. Stopping to look around, Thaddeus noted that not all the structures were war machines; some were the ruins of buildings, their construction similar to the Pandemonium Fortress itself. While looking at a steel archway equipped with chains fit to restrain a giant, Thaddeus heard something approaching -- something that sounded just like the desert Leapers.

They were Leapers, just like the ones from the desert, and from Kurast. As far as he knew, they had never been encountered in Hell before; were these some lingering remnant of those Diablo had taken with him to Kehjistan? They looked like they were starving; perhaps they had escaped during their transferal, and now wandered loose in Hell, trying to find something to eat. Demon flesh was poisonous to natural creatures; Thaddeus was probably the only thing fit to eat in all of Hell, and it looked like they'd guessed it.

Though it was a pity, Leapers are just animals, and Thaddeus killed them without concern. While casting Blessed Hammer, moving about to spread the hammers, some genuine demons caught sight of him: Venom Lords. No one could mistake these creatures for a beast of nature. Tall and powerful, armed with huge scythe-like blades, they looked like everything a demon should look like - but were famously weak in battle. Their bulk made them ponderous, slow to react and easy to block. Though Hell's fires burned within them, it only took a few holes to let the flame out, where it would consume their bodies to the bones instantly.

When the battle was over, Thaddeus found his first damned souls. Melded into a stone column, they stood as he approached and started clawing at the air, trying to reach him. He had heard of these damned ones, those condemned by the sin of Envy. Never satisfied with what they can accomplish, these sinners always compare themselves with others. Vanity and bitterness poison their souls, weighing them down with their own inadequacy until they plummet into the abyss. As their lives were spent anxiously looking and listening, in Hell they are put to use as watchers. Thaddeus moved past; there was nothing to do for these poor souls. Even beating them to pieces would serve no purpose.

Demons were everywhere on the steppes, and undead as well. Skeletal knights attacked in slow-moving but disciplined units; trapped souls screamed within their blades, dripping with foul venom. Blessed Hammer struck them down easily. The souls of sinners lay scattered over the empty plains too, on the ground where the demons trampled them. Some were in pairs: those taken by the sin of Lust. So lost were these souls in pleasures of the flesh, they actually felt that the only way to escape temptation was to give in to it. Others lay face down in the ashes, clutching some minor treasure, usually a sackful of coins. These ones were lost to Avarice, greedily clutching their wealth as if it were the only thing in the world. None of them cared about anyone but themselves, so they lay naked and exposed on the open plains; even the demons didn't care enough to pay attention to them.

Outside the ruins of a cross-shaped mockery of a church, huge braziers held those consumed with the sin of Pride. As blind as they were to the virtues of others, they now provide illumination in the meanest, humblest way -- as kindling. Burning eternally to light the way for others, these prideful souls rail and writhe in pain and shame. As he passed by, Thaddeus could hear a few claiming they were far too good for this. If these demons had any brains, they'd realize their talents for evil merited far better consideration. A desk job, at least. The vanity of it struck Thaddeus as utterly absurd... until he remembered that vanity was exactly why these people were here.

Not all the condemned were so loud. Those doomed by Gluttony hang in cages until they waste away to mere bones. The sin of Sloth is the monk's sin, one priests must especially beware of. Many, disgusted with humanity, turn away from their responsibilities to their fellow human beings and become hermits, striving to maintain their own purity by avoiding temptation. By trying to escape sin, they fall into the sin of pure selfishness; in Hell, the slothful are put to use weapons and instruments of temptation. The less said about the latter, the better; demons love to put former priests to the most depraved uses.

By the time he found the stairway down to the next layer of the abyss, Thaddeus had seen every sin but Anger. Those lay ahead, where they burned forever in the River of Flame, not realizing the river was nothing but their own all-consuming wrath. The Hellforge was on the river, drawing its heat from the destruction of angry souls. Thaddeus would know the river well before he was done in Hell; very few living people had been there. Beyond it, a ring of fortifications surrounded even deeper hells; Diablo would probably take sanctuary in one, to gather his forces and establish a new link with the mortal world.

Chapter 25

"They cast me out from their presence.

Shall I ever look again upon thy temple?"

She said, "When my soul fainted within me,

I sang and prayed to the Light; I was heard.

Arise, and go to that great city we know

Proclaiming the glory and joy of the Light.

Your persecutors are now ashes and rust,

Only a sad remembrance of long past days."

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 42, v. 9-16

Following the slope of the land downwards, Thaddeus found himself on the Plains of Despair, famous for the legendary battles fought there. It was here that Izual was defeated when he attacked the Hellforge, trying to stop the completion of the demon blade Shadowfang. This land had been soaked in the blood of thousands - infernal, angelic, and mortal. Neither side ever claimed possession for long in those days. With Heaven's retreat from mortal concerns, the field had been abandoned... but even Hell didn't seem to want anything to do with the place. The plains were a wasteland, stomped flat or gouged with deep holes, through which a fiery glow shone. Ruined engines of war, broken weapons and armor, and the bones of thousands lay untouched in the charred ash that substituted for soil.

Of course, nowhere in Hell is truly empty. As might be expected, the plains were given over to the dead and those who live upon them. When Thaddeus saw a faint glow, cast by no light source he could see, he knew what it was: a Will o' Wisp, like the ones from Kurast's swamps. Drifting about and crackling with electricity, a pack of these creatures can be very dangerous for the unprepared. Floating creatures that looked like giant scale lice, or perhaps a giant's ribcage that had taken on a life of its own, came behind them. These creatures also cast lightning attacks, little trails of bolts that crept along the ground. Both fell quickly to Blessed Hammer; they must be undead.

The grotesque things that came to gnaw on their shattered bones were resiliently, horribly alive. None of Zakarum's texts mentioned these. A flabby, pale body was supported by four legs, all bent backwards, like a human being "crab-walking." Under a blank face with three long horns, pendulous breasts hung, with a gaping red opening taking up most of the thing's underside. Their appearance was nauseous, but as a few approached Thaddeus, they added a whole new level to their grotesquery: each gave birth, pushing a tiny worm-like young out into the world with all the maternal beauty of the painful aftermath of a "beans, broccoli, and cabbage" feast night for someone with life-threatening hemorrhoids. The young ones, hungry mouths gnashing, rushed Thaddeus. After reflecting for a silent moment on Hell's endless ingenuity, he dropped to one knee to cast Blessed Hammer.

The young died easily; the mother things less so. Sending a cloud of hammers whirling would get them eventually, but they didn't often approach close enough to make the attack really effective. They preferred to let their young go in first; perhaps they'd been wandering the plains looking for food, and wouldn't spit out their young until they found one. The ash-grey souls scattered around didn't seem fit for their consumption, yet. Once souls have "ripened" enough in their despair and desperation, the lords of Hell deem them fit to be ripped to pieces and reassembled in new, ever-more disgusting forms. Or simply devoured, to fuel the ever-hungry fires that burn within every demon.

Apart from the episodic terror of battle, the plains were the most tedious stretch of ground Thaddeus had ever had to cover. Even the deserts of Lut Gholein were never this empty; there was always some bit of life to take comfort in. Thaddeus never thought he'd see the day when he'd miss scorpions. They were nasty and ugly and venomous, but at least they were natural creatures, not actively malicious. And having thought that, he ruefully realized, Hell would immediately set to work making scorpion monsters. At one point, it became so dull he actually spoke with one of the dead souls littering the ground.

"What do you have there?" he asked an avaricious soul.

"It's mine! You can't have it!" the soul screamed, covering something with its body.

"There is nothing you can use it for, here. You're devoting eternity to something that does you no good."

"IT! IS! MINE!!! It's all I have! Who cares for you, I've got it and it's MINE!!"

'It' was probably three coppers, or a cheap piece of jewelry. It amused Hell to see a miser clinging to the last bit of his collection, only because it was his last. Perhaps an alternate strategy would be more helpful. "How many of those did you have, once?"

With a low growl, the soul clutched about its treasure tighter. "You're just trying to find out what it is, aren't you? Don't even try!"

"You're very clever," Thaddeus told him. Or her. It was hard to say.

"Very clever, cleverer than you! I had thousands. Millions!"

"Truly, you must have been wise in the ways of commerce."

"Kings were at my feet! Dukes at my call! They pressed about me, only a fool wouldn't take them for all they had! Oh, how the money rolled in! Oh, my glory, my glory, the power I wielded with but a single word..." The soul's voice trailed off into mutterings.

"What did you do with it all?"

"Do? What's to do? Get more, that's what to do!! Money is for investing, to get more money! And more, and more! Don't look at me like that, preacher-boy! I gave tithes, my bishop was always glad to see me. A sound investment, a ticket to Heaven! All sins may be forgiven when Heaven is glorified with golden chalices..."

Thaddeus nodded. "Did you have a family? Children?"

The soul spat dust on the ground. "Ingrates! Ungrateful wretches!!"

At the seminary, Thaddeus had heard of a poison described as 'inheritance powder,' useful for getting rid of inconvenient relatives standing between you and a legacy. Whatever family this person had, Thaddeus guessed they took after him in the worst way. The soul was still ranting about spiteful children; Thaddeus didn't want to hear any more, so he kicked its head off. At least this way, Hell would not get the use of it. The treasure was a chipped bit of diamond. Staring at it, Thaddeus shook his head; gems have value in their use. The gems sitting in his locker are valueless, so long as they stay there.

While laying a group of Flesh Mothers (as Thaddeus decided to call them) to rest, a loud bellowing shook his concentration. A huge blue demon, armed with a gigantic blade, slowly came out of a deep pit. Its body seemed to be made of ice or crystal, and a bluish-white spirit could be seen struggling inside. As Thaddeus disposed of the last Flesh Mother, the crystal demon raised its blade and let out a great blast of chilling cold. Perhaps it was ice, surely a rarity in the fiery pit. The ice demon looked dangerous, so Thaddeus lured it back to an empty area, where he'd be able to deal with it without interference.

This demon had to be the one imprisoning Izual. First, Thaddeus cast Blessed Hammer, to see what the hammers would do. They went through with little effect. Physical attacks might be more fruitful, so he zealously bashed away at it. That was better, but the demon still barely noticed. Perhaps the fires of vengeance would help, so Thaddeus called on the spirits of his brother and sister Paladins to smite the demon. Was his arm not strong enough? Nothing seemed to slow it down. Finally, Thaddeus backed away and brought out his maul. A few blows from a sledgehammer might do the trick.

A full-body charge with the maul stunned the demon, and some chips broke away from its body. His blows were damaging it, but it would take a long time to break it. Fortunately, the demon was fairly slow and easy to outwit; Thaddeus could take his time. Every now and then, it would release another frost explosion, but beyond that it was no threat. Eventually its crystalline body shattered under repeated blows, and an ethereal spirit floated up from its remains, laughing and free. Laughing, at least...

"Tyrael was a fool to have trusted me! AH HA HA HA!!"

Sensing that all was not well, Thaddeus cleared his throat. "Hail, noble Izual?"

"Hello, tiny mortal." Izual smiled, obviously immensely pleased with himself. "An obedient servant to the last, like Tyrael and every other idiot in Heaven!"

Thaddeus frowned. "Am I to understand that I have been misinformed?"

That bought even more peals of laughter. "'Misinformed'! A truly impressive capstone to the monument of lies your church is! You place your faith in Heaven. Heaven abandoned you to us, to save themselves!"

"And 'us' is... ?"

"I am the one who told the Three Brothers how to corrupt the soulstones. Now they are batteries and conduits for Hell's power. This was a plan we set in motion centuries ago, and nothing can be done to stop it. You, and all your kind, are doomed."

What a proud defilement this angel is, Thaddeus thought. "What could you possibly hope to gain by this?"

"Power, tiny mortal. I will be master of Hell's legions, overrunning and crushing Heaven and all their hosts. When our plan bears its full fruit... nothing can stop us."

Now Thaddeus thought, what a stupid angel! "You hoped to get power from the Prime Evils, angel? Every Fallen One they hurl at their enemies hoped to gain power from the deal! Your future is to be nothing but an above-average slave."

"You DARE speak to me thus!!?!" the angel roared, its ghostly wings flailing in the air. "Do you think you know anything of power, or what we have in store for you? I am not a fool to be taken in by offerings of gold or petty temptations! When I speak with The Three, I speak as an equal!!"

Without a body, Thaddeus knew the angel was no threat, no matter how angry it got. "An equal. They do not even treat each other well. Do you expect them to let you rule in Hell?"

"Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven," Izual snarled, and floated off into the sky.

Another being, turning to darkness seeking power and freedom, Thaddeus thought. What is it that convinces some that evil means freedom? That they will be allowed to go where they please, and do whatever their black hearts desire? To fall in with darkness is to become a slave; every Fallen One has learned that. Somehow, Thaddeus was not surprised that Izual did not survive his torture and long imprisonment uncorrupted. What on earth or in Heaven cannot be corrupted? Allying with the Prime Evils was unexpected, however. Izual probably was very powerful, and would make the Three an excellent slave. He might even manage to convince himself he was really the master.

Casting a portal to return to the Pandemonium Fortress, Thaddeus reflected on the fallen angel. If ever he'd heard the sin of pride speak, he'd heard it today. A very proud spirit might imagine he could ally with Hell and come out something more than a servant. And in falling, Izual's betrayal would aid Hell's cause immensely. Tyrael was glad when Thaddeus told him he'd found Izual, but greatly concerned when he heard Izual's words.

"I thank you for your mercy on Izual... he was a cherished friend, and faithful companion. Or so I thought. If what you say is true, I have been played for a fool all along."

"We have all been played for fools!" Cain said. "This is terrible! All the sweat, blood, and tears the Horadrim shed pursuing the Three were nothing but part of their plan!"

"This was not a simple plan, I fear," Thaddeus said. "I must confess, I have wondered why Baal chose to remain in the mortal world, when he could easily have returned to Hell."

"He lacks his soulstone, so his power will be limited," Cain said.

"That may not be true," Tyrael murmured. "Baal's soulstone was last in the possession of a weak and fear-filled man. I instructed him that he must take the stone into Hell and destroy it... but this has not happened."

"Tyrael..." Thaddeus cleared his throat. "The journey into Hell is not for the faint of heart."

"No, it is not," the angel bowed his head. "In my haste and alarm, I may have expected too much. Hero, continue your quest. Destroy Mephisto's soulstone, then find and defeat Diablo, wherever he may have hidden himself. Do so with haste, for you may have to seek out Baal as well."

"Don't worry," Cain smiled, patting Thaddeus on the shoulder. "Natalya will seek out Baal, wherever he is. You may not have to at all."

"I hope it can end here," Thaddeus muttered. "I must return to the battlefield. There is no time to waste. I shall return."

After he was gone, Cain said to Tyrael, "Natalya at least slowed him down, I hope?"

"Not enough, I am afraid," Tyrael said. "Baal's personal bodyguard, headed by Lister the Tormentor, was too much for her. His rampage of destruction continues, across Entsteig, and into the Barbarian highlands."

Cain's eyes widened. "Towards Mount Arreat?"

"There is nowhere else he would go."

Below the Plains of Despair, a city lay in ruins. Fallen souls were abundant here, hanging from every building, or stuffed into holes in the broad avenues like paving stones. Balrogs and lightning bats were common, along with a new sort of demon. These were fat, shuffling things with enormous mouths surrounded by tentacles. They could lurch into battle quicker than Thaddeus would have thought, and hit fairly hard; there was obviously a lot of muscle under that blubber. However, their most disagreeable trick was to devour a fallen comrade and spit it back out, half-digested and with great force. A 300-pound meat missile covered with poisonous digestive juices was an impressive way of dealing with a foe. This indelicate tactical maneuver moved them to the top of Thaddeus' "To Be Killed" list, as there were no Flesh Mothers in the city.

The city of the damned had obviously been overrun many times, but no one ever bothered to fix anything. That might involve work, Thaddeus guessed. Even worse, it might make the city a comfortable place to live and take the edge of the demon's anger, and we can't have that, can we? In the city, he found roofless, empty houses, shops selling nothing, and star-shaped church mock-ups covered with filth. Demons came clawing out of every corner; even the damned souls seemed to want a piece of him. After a great deal of effort, he explored every inch of the place, but couldn't find a way further down. Then he looked into one of the glowing red pits scattered about.

It was a soul-searing sight... the River of Flame. Even from a distance, is was painful to behold, burning bright and terrible. Shimmering waves of heat rose from below, carrying with them the roar of the fire's anger and the screams of the damned. A narrow stairway led down, to a small island of something solid in the middle of the flames. As he stood staring into the abyss, one of the souls crushed into the ground spoke to him.

"Scared to go down there?" the soul asked, in a neighborly sort of way.

"Only a fool wouldn't be," Thaddeus said. "I suppose you disagree."

"What makes you say that?"

Thaddeus stared at the lustful soul in disbelief. These were naked souls; all their flaws of character could be clearly seen by anyone. "Just a wild guess."

"Don't you think you're being a little quick to judge?" The soul smiled, in what it hoped would be an ingratiating way. It looked like a leer. "I'm not a bad person; I have no idea why I'm down here. I'm sure this is all a mistake."

"You think so," Thaddeus said, wondering why he was wasting his time with this.

"Sure! Listen: why should Hell even exist? I mean, what's the point?"

Thaddeus felt a headache starting to come on. "That's rather a pointless question."

"You don't get it, do you? Why bother with this 'torture people for eternity'? Nobody gets anything from it. It doesn't make any sense!"

"So, the place where you are has no reason for being... and what has happened to you has no reason for happening?"

The soul shrugged. "Look, you're a Paladin, right? Answer me this: why should the universe care how I live my life?"

Thaddeus sighed. "Hell is not here for a purpose. Hell is, and Heaven is. To think that your torture has a purpose beyond the temporary satisfaction of a demon's malice is flawed in a fundamental way."

"The way I see it is this," the soul continued, as though Thaddeus never spoke. "Each of us is responsible for ourselves, right? So if someone gets upset over what I do, that's their fault! They don't have to get upset about it. What I do is my business, what they do is theirs, they have no right to impose their standards on my life."

"So: all men are islands. Our lives never touch anyone else's. Therefore, we can do as we please, and if someone doesn't like it, it is their responsibility, not ours."

"Exactly! Why should anyone care what I do? I never hurt anybody. They're just trying to impose their standards on me."

"Heaven forbid," Thaddeus said. "I suppose your philosophy must give you some comfort. It seems that the universe has not been working in a reasonable manner, in accordance with your wishes, and owes you an apology. If you will excuse me, I have no time to waste."

As Thaddeus started down the stairs, the soul called after him, "What kind of bullshit was that! You think you're better than me?! Then why are you down here, huh? You're in Hell too, you know! You think you're so great, why are you in Hell too, huh?!"

Thaddeus stopped and looked back. "I'm a tourist, not a resident." He continued down, ignoring the fading cries of the damned.

Chapter 26

The humble stone dost not know

Why hammered chisel cleaves it.

The hard iron dost not know

Why fiery flame scorches it.

When thy life is cleft and scorched,

Death and despair leap at thee,

Wilt thou beat thy anguished breast,

Howl and curse thy evil fate?

Give thy thanks in humble prayer

For the trials that wilt shape thee!

-- The Book of the Hammer, c. 9, v. 11-20

Squinting through the shimmering heat, Thaddeus gingerly stepped down a narrow causeway to the River of Flame. Each stone step floated in the air, and moved as weight was placed on it. At the bottom of this alarmingly unstable descent, a chunk of solid matter floated on the river; it looked like dried blood, baked solid. When he stepped onto the island, it bobbed under his weight; it truly did float, like a scab clinging to an open wound. The chronicles of the saints described Hell as a place where nothing was secure, not even one's footing. He'd have to be cautious, falling into the river might be fatal.

Angry heat pulsed up from the River of Flame, and not just on a physical level. Every ebb and flow seemed to howl with rage, directionless and without focus, a boiling pit of wrath from which Hell derived much of its power. At times, the crust on the surface would clear, and Thaddeus saw a few souls in the river, fighting and tearing at each other. Every now and then, one tried to leap out; its fellows dragged it back down for more punishment. No, falling in would not be a good idea. Even if the heat didn't kill him, he might never get out again. These suffering dead, consumed with anger at everyone and everything around them, would hold him down for no better cause than sheer spite.

Several islands bobbed in the suffering, with demons clinging to their surfaces. Thaddeus wondered if they ever tried poling them through the river to get from place to place, or if they were content to sit and drift. Then he noticed the bridges, made of some clinging slime and coated with the same stuff as the islands. A group of Flesh Mothers came across to him, whelping as they approached. Kneeling to set the hammers spinning, he wondered what a male of these creatures looked like. They probably didn't need males; matters of the flesh only interest demonkind when they can use them to get their hooks into a mortal soul.

Also on the islands were some of the giant poisonous bugs from Lut Gholein's deserts, living off who-knows-what down here. They and their offspring were hungry for mortal flesh. To complete the experience, the spitting fat demons joined them all. Any of the various young Thaddeus killed, they would suck up and spit back. Thanks to the Flesh Mothers and the bugs, there was never a shortage of bodies. By keeping Blessed Hammer spinning almost constantly, Thaddeus made his way along the islands without much mishap, occasionally stopping to zealously bash some worm the hammers missed.

So long as he kept safely away from the edges of the islands, the River of Flame was hectic rather than dangerous. The swarms of little beasts fell easily to a rigorously applied Blessed Hammer cloud. In spots, he found solid ground, permanently built up from the bottom of the river. These permanent islands held profane temples, full of blood and pentagrams, or walled areas suitable for staging troops. A named Strangler attacked, but the hammers killed it and its minions very quickly. Thaddeus was growing troubled, though; on his next trip back to the Pandemonium Fortress, he confided in Cain.

"Cain... have you had any luck talking with Halbu or Jamella?"

"No, I'm afraid. Though I have spent many an hour with Tyrael. He has been kind enough to answer many questions, so long as I remember what not to ask. The ways of Heaven will always be a mystery for me, I fear, while I am in this world." Cain looked around. "Well, not THIS world, but... oh, you know what I mean."

"Yes," Thaddeus smiled. "I find it difficult to speak with Tyrael."

"We both noticed that. You're not shy about praising him."

"He is worthy of great praise. But an angel is not someone you just... chat with."

"Oh, no," Cain shook his head. "It is difficult to feel comfortable around angels, and those who have joined them."

Thaddeus nodded. "The only others I have spoken to are the condemned. Perhaps they are more accessible, but I don't want to speak with them any more."

Cain chuckled. "Not your sort of people?"

"Sometimes they are. In the River of Flame, I recognized one of my teachers."

"Oh! That must have been a shock."

After a moment's thought, Thaddeus shook his head. "No, it wasn't. Sister Ermeda was a nun from my seminary, always ready with ruler or rod. She strongly believed that physical pain was the best way to impart virtue. Her memory for insults was long, even the ones she only imagined, and she had no forgiveness in her. I have no good memories of her... and I hate myself for standing here judging her, saying her fate does not surprise me."

Cain nodded slowly. "You cannot help using your own judgment, especially for someone you know so well..."

"No, no. Everyone judges those around them, that happens constantly. But I have been thinking about judging others, and the things that happened in Kurast."

"What do you mean?"

"This may not be right... it is only an idea... but I think the Hand of Zakarum was deceived because they were encouraged to judge others, but only see the bad things in them. It is easier to see the bad, particularly if you seek it out. The church became a sort of negative church, for whom evil was infinitely more real than good."

Cain nodded. "No one would contest that, I believe."

"By encouraging them to see only the bad in others, to judge, and act on that judgment, Mephisto infected the church with hate, and the rest of the world responded in kind. The pillars of the church should be faith, hope, and love. I told Asheara that, and I'm starting to see the true meaning of it myself."

Glancing over, Cain noticed that Tyrael seemed to be listening. "Go on, please."

"My faith has taken a terrible battering on this journey. At times, I felt lost. Hope nearly abandoned me once I began to see the design of the Prime Evils' web of deception. And as far as love goes... most of what I've done, I did out of duty, not a love of humanity. Love? I don't even like most of the people I've met."

"Well... just because you don't like someone doesn't mean you dislike all of humanity..."

"No, Cain," Thaddeus shook his head. "Love should not be that abstract. What good is it to say you love humanity, but don't like humans? One wag once said, 'I love humanity! It's people I can't stand,' but that's not a good way to think."

Cain chuckled. "Instead of loving humanity, try treating your friends a bit better."

"That is a beginning," Thaddeus smiled. "But how to treat them well? Sometimes, they do wrong. If I say nothing, they take it as tacit approval. If I speak out against it, I seem like a moralistic busybody. I ask you, Cain: is there anyone more odious than those who torment us for our own good?"

Chuckling, Cain shook his head.

Thaddeus grinned. "I've gotten off track. Of the three things, faith, hope, and love, the greatest is love. I'm not going to learn to love humanity from the condemned in Hell; they excite pity, but if anything seem to be souring me on the rest of humanity."

"I suppose they are not examples of the best in human nature," Cain mused.

"They're self-interested, violent, manipulative, proud, hateful whiners."

Cain patted Thaddeus on the shoulder. "And yet, you can pity them. Many would respond with hate and contempt. Tell me, how did your sister Ermeda react to you?"

"I'm not sure if enough remained of her mind for her to recognize me. In her present place, mindlessness may be a blessing."

"Even now, your thoughts towards her are merciful. Let me try a small exercise with you, one that I was given in my long-distant youth."

"A lesson?" Thaddeus asked.

"Yes. Do you remember the Rogue's encampment?"

"Yes, very well."

"Find something good to say about... Kashya."

"She kept her head when all about her were losing theirs, and had the courage to retreat when it would save lives, even at the cost of her own honor."

"Very good. Now say something good about Gheed."

Thaddeus paused, thinking. "He lusts for gold and drives a hard bargain, but you get what you pay for. His wares are not false."

"Interesting. Now, something about Geglash."

Thaddeus smiled. "He's a very funny fellow. In times of trouble, we need funny fellows to keep our spirits up."

"How about Elzix?"

"Another funny fellow, who will not betray a confidence or hold a grudge. My possessions were safe in his hands. Or, hand."

Cain chuckled. "I don't believe you dislike humanity at all. Now a hard one: Asheara."

After taking a deep breath, Thaddeus thought. And thought. And thought. Finally, he looked up. "She's got a really nice set of knockers."

"Ahem!" Cain stammered, "I suppose that's true..."

"No, really! She is hot, she sizzles, I freely admit it. If she were less... I mean, if she had more of a... if she were a completely different person from what she is, I'd like her a lot."

"You don't need to convince me. It seems to me you have no difficulty seeing the good in others... perhaps your trouble lies in expressing yourself."

Thaddeus rolled his eyes. "Stop preaching?"

"You never started, my boy. I think you need to relax a bit, and share your thoughts with others more often. Why, I don't think any of those people know you think so well of them."

Thaddeus hung his head. "I admit, I am a bit reticent. And perhaps too serious."

"And spending far too much time talking about it," Cain said. "Meditate on this, but not for long; not while Diablo still roams free in Hell."

"Ah! How long was I standing here, wasting time? Forgive me, I must go."

After Thaddeus ran off, Tyrael said, "He is still very much attached to the earth, and misses the company of those like himself."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "How could it be otherwise?"

"True. Few so young can separate themselves from worldliness. Soon, he will be able to return to your world, and perhaps take some lessons with him from Hell."

"If he survives. That is in question."

"Of course. If he survives."

Pushing further along the river, Thaddeus soon found a huge floating island. The rhythmic pounding of metal could be heard over the river's roar. Approaching cautiously, Thaddeus slowly made his way through crowds of Hell-spawned larvae until the Hellforge came into sight. Working at the forge was a huge, fat demon, its features a distorted mockery of an angel's beauty. From what he knew, this was Hephasto, a warrior of Heaven who fell from grace. The Prime Evils twisted his body and soul, shaping him into something more suitable to their purposes. All enemies who came near him lost their resistance to Hell's heat, even other demons. As his hammer was always white hot from the Hellforge, this made combat with him particularly dangerous.

After disposing of one last Flesh Mother, Thaddeus ran away, feigning injury. The armorer followed, giggling and drooling in anticipation. When he'd reached a safe distance, Thaddeus took up his maul and charged, battering him back to the edge of his island. Stunned by the powerful blows, Hephasto stood there helplessly; with nothing to distract him, Thaddeus could pound away at the fallen angel with impunity. After he fell, Thaddeus took his hammer (cooled by now) and a few other items back to the Hellforge. Hephasto was making great demonblades, each infused with a damned soul.

"help us! no! please, make it stop!" voices wailed from the pile of weapons.

I wonder if Izual knows the fate of his predecessor? Thaddeus mused. "You there, in those blades. I can offer you nothing but quick destruction."

"help us! please!" they continued.

"You are lost, I fear. I can offer you nothing but death."

They all went silent. Except one. "i don't understand! i did nothing wrong!"

Sighing, Thaddeus asked, "What did you do that was right?"

"my life was virtuous!" the thin voice whimpered. "i followed every word of the sacred texts to the letter! i don't deserve to be here! help me!"

The wailing began again. Being trapped in those poison-infused blades must be sheer agony for naked souls. "I know nothing of your lives, or how you came to be here. The only thing I can give you is an end to your suffering."

"i couldn't save the world... i was just one man," the voice said. "all i could do was save myself from the world..."

Thaddeus nodded sadly. "Does that seem selfish, now that you look back on it?"

There was a silence, and some of them began sobbing. "yes. it was," a voice said.

"I fear it was. And now, there is only one mercy I can offer you."

One tiny voice said, "thank you. i am ready."

Thaddeus broke each blade on the Hellforge, pounding them to shards with the armorer's mighty hammer. Sometimes, wisps of soul would float away and dissipate in Hell's feverish air. A few times, an intact soul floated away, up into the sky. What caused this, Thaddeus wondered? Maybe there was hope for redemption after all, even in Hell itself. After he had broken everything Hephasto had made, Thaddeus took out Mephisto's soulstone and sat it on the Hellforge.

"Lord of Hell, most contemptible of all the infernal forces, I hope I see the last of you here. I know that you have succeeded in bringing great suffering to the world, and this will be no more than a temporary inconvenience for you. You have destroyed a church with hate. You have not destroyed faith. Even knowing you will return, we will rebuild, for we have not lost hope. And nothing you do, nothing at all, will touch the love we bear for each other. All the hate, destruction, and terror you unleash will amount to nothing in the end."

Taking up the hammer, Thaddeus grinned despite himself. This was going to feel damn good. Mephisto's soulstone shattered into a million pieces, and dozens of trapped souls floated up and away from the forge. Feeling very satisfied, Thaddeus left the hammer there. It would be tempting to try to destroy the forge, but not yet. He still needed it for Diablo.

Chapter 27

Throwing off his disguise, Lechiem said,

"Let the names of all who fled from this sham

Be stricken from the rolls of our order.

Our foe is the Lord of Terror himself.

He comes with fire and fear; the dead are his,

All of our own who die will rise 'gainst us.

Every horror Terror can conjure will meet us;

Blades and hammers will not prevail where

The heart is weak. A cringing coward who

Cannot stand will not be our friend tomorrow." -- Chronicles of Zakarum, c. 20, v. 15-24

Moving along the River of Flame, Thaddeus came to a platform of stones, laid down on the foundations of the river. Four oversized statues of armor-clad demons glared down at a path through the center of the platform; obviously, some sort of processional area. Thaddeus strode directly down the center of the path, though he felt wary when he noticed the heads of the statues turning to follow him. Was this another trap? Would they attack? Nothing happened as he went through, but no doubt Diablo had been informed of his arrival. Far up ahead, through the haze of heat, he could see the squat ugliness of a Hell border fortress, crouching amid the river's flames.

Much closer at hand was a completely unexpected sight: an angel in silvery armor, floating gently above the path, never deigning to touch Hell's soil. Thaddeus' heart sank; had Izual found a body, and he would have to fight him again? Or was this some other false light, fallen from Heaven? No sign of malice or corruption presented itself, but appearances can deceive. Cautiously, Thaddeus advanced, and the angel spoke.

"Fear not, Paladin. I am Hadriel, come to advise you."

"That name is known to me, noble Hadriel. I would cherish a word from one so wise."

"Your caution is understandable, but I am here only to tell you the way. Diablo is in the innermost sanctuary of this fortress of chaos. Three of his greatest lieutenants and advisors have come to him, with a few retainers. Most did not survive the Dark Exile, and Diablo's power is at its weakest. The sanctum is protected by five seals, all of which must be broken to open the way."

"I thank you for your guidance, great one. Know you of Izual's fate?"

"That one has drifted into realms vast and wild, awaiting the reward he thinks will come for his patience. His masters have no use for him yet, but will find one for battles to come."

"The Brothers' power will return, then?"

"Yes. Humanity has been ill-used; your quest is naught but an attempt to erase the many mistakes Tyrael made centuries ago. The most hopeful outcome is that the balance will be restored to what it would have been had Tyrael never acted. He has always been among our most compassionate... but not our wisest."

Past the angel, Thaddeus noticed a group of Blunderbores approaching. Before he had time to say anything, Hadriel spoke: "They would not dare to attack me, but I can offer you no protection. Rejoin the battle, I will not stay."

Hadriel gently floated away, leaving a sweet scent behind. It was quickly overwhelmed by the gamy smell of Urdar, the largest tribe of Blunderbores. Thaddeus advanced with clouds of hammers whirling; Urdar, grotesque Flesh Mothers, and strange Strangler ghosts came and died. On this section of the river, there were no rough floating islands, only stony platforms and avenues. The demons fell quickly, and some could be redeemed by holy prayers, for which the Light rewarded Thaddeus with life and energy. Without much incident, he made his way to the gates of the Hell fortress.

Before entering, Thaddeus returned to the Pandemonium Fortress. "Noble Tyrael, before I enter Diablo's lair, there is one question I must ask."

"I see something troubles you, hero. This is an inopportune time to lose your nerve."

"On a path on the River of Flame, I met an angel, claiming to be Hadriel. He offered me advice about Diablo's sanctuary."

Tyrael's wings quivered. "I cannot account for that. In my every effort, Hadriel has long cautioned me against folly. His words fell on deaf ears... so perhaps he might try to help you without my knowledge. Can you tell me his words?"

Thaddeus gave Hadriel's words about Diablo's three advisors, the five seals, and an edited version of his comments about Tyrael. "The words sound like his, and what he says is true," Tyrael replied. "At least, so far as I know. The last is an opinion he has voiced to me himself... in similar terms."

"Could it be that I was deceived, and opening these seals will release some greater horror to serve Diablo?"

"Sealed inner chambers are to be found in all Hell's fortresses. Whatever is within must be dealt with. Do not despair; what greater terror could you find than Terror himself?"

Cain, who was always nearby, replied, "Terror, and all his host with him?"

Thaddeus shook his head. "That would only mean more targets for me. Thank you, Tyrael. I shall play this out and be on my guard."

Venom Lords greeted Thaddeus at the open door of the fortress. Why hadn't Diablo simply closed the gates? Then Thaddeus noticed there were no gates; they had been smashed off ages ago and never replaced. Most of outer Hell seemed to be in poor repair. The Venom Lords weren't very dangerous, but the next group of monsters were: Oblivion Knights, led by an Oblivion Mage. The knights are a sad lot, the remains of the noblest warriors who fell into temptation. Their corruption is complete when they are fit to serve an Oblivion Mage, a former necromancer of the highest station.

Blessed Hammer rendered the knights a mere nuisance to Thaddeus, but the mages were dangerous. Like all necromancers, they ran from combat, though undeath made them sturdy enough to withstand more than a few blows. (The habits of a lifetime are apparently not easy to shed, even when life is gone.) But running put them beyond the range of Blessed Hammer, or at least let them hurl many, many laughing skulls of death before the hammers reached them. When Thaddeus tried to charge, they cursed him with a damage-reversing spell, so he was hurt more than the mage was. Several times, he found himself being chased away by two or more flying skulls, trying to find a healing potion or a body to pray over.

There is no shame in a tactical retreat, but Thaddeus had a terrible time when three of the cursed, cursing necros all got together at once. Hiding (and not ashamed to call it hiding) behind a column, Thaddeus called out, "All right, come and get me."

Dry laughter echoed off the walls. "No. You come get us."

"Then stand still, damn it."

"No. That would be foolish. We are not fools."

"Not fools? Look at where you are!!"

"You're in the same place we are."

Thaddeus frowned. "Good point." The curse was gone by now. Taking a deep breath, Thaddeus charged out with renewed vigor and bashed one over the head with his maul. The others hurled laughing skulls; he charged around and bashed another, killing it. Once there were only two, he could handle them. Three was far too inconvenient.

In the center of the fortress was a dais shaped like a pentagram. Iron clamps the size of Thaddeus' whole body held the top of the dais down, like some kind of lid. He couldn't see any seals to break, so he went into one wing of the fortress. After clearing away everything but the Oblivion Mages (and very carefully excising them) he found two strange structures: flat disks set in the floor, surmounted by metallic rings. Their function was unclear; he hit one ring with his scepter, stepped on the disk, and finally pushed the rings down to the floor. Glowing runes appeared on the disk, and glowing Stranglers appeared out of thin air. A few rounds of Blessed Hammer reduced the crowd to one, who bowed to reason and followed the others into the void after a zealous beating.

The next wing of the fortress had only one seal. Thaddeus opened it, but nothing appeared until he returned to the center of the fortress. Five flying skulls bit into his soul, and several crippling curses shackled onto him. Oblivion Mages. It had to be Oblivion Mages, probably led by Lord de Seis, an infamous necromancer still admired by that sect of mages. Running past, Thaddeus noted 5 of them, including one who was probably de Seis. Once the skulls had given up their chase and the curses were gone, Thaddeus tried a few spins of Blessed Hammer. One died; the others cursed and blasted him with death again. Switching to his maul, he charged de Seis as fast as his arthritic legs could take him, stunning the mage lord. More charges kept him wobbling, as Thaddeus knocked him away from his retinue where they couldn't help him. After beating him to death, Thaddeus returned and polished the flunkies off. These must be Diablo's advisors, he thought. As the seals are undone, Diablo was sending them out instead of coming himself. Typical of demon lords, he would only fight his own battle if there was no possible alternative.

The last set of seals brought out the last of Diablo's three advisors: the Infector of Souls, a powerful Venom Lord. Hideously fast, he and his minions quickly surrounded Thaddeus. Not that Thaddeus minded; he did his best fighting from the middle of a pack. A concentration of Blessed Hammers quickly pounded them all to jelly, and Thaddeus opened the last seal. A red glow shone from the center of the fortress, and the whole building shook.

^NOT EVEN DEATH CAN SAVE YOU FROM ME,^ a voice growled.

"At least you're not running anymore," Thaddeus called out as he approached the dais.

^NOW IT IS YOUR TURN TO RUN.^

"Are we taking turns, then? I have no patience to speak with you. Your brother was a far better conversationalist."

Diablo leapt ponderously out of a hole in the floor of the fortress, the piles of burnt skulls surrounding the dais bouncing under the impact. He towered over Thaddeus, angry red, covered with spines, horns, and scales. From his forehead, a red gem protruded. How had it wound up there, Thaddeus wondered? Mephisto's had gone through Sankekur's heart. With a roar, Diablo launched a bolt of lightning across the room; Thaddeus' shield took almost all of it. Then came a wave of fire, which Thaddeus sidestepped. Never putting his shield down, Thaddeus charged, slamming bodily into the demon lord. To his surprise, Diablo actually fell down... right on his behind. Thaddeus smirked. "If you're going to frighten me, you'll have to do better than this."

A swat from Diablo's heavy tail stunned Thaddeus; the touch was chilling, too. Maybe the Claw Vipers learned their tricks from him. Retreating a few steps, Thaddeus cast Blessed Hammer a few times. Diablo avoided the hammers, and cast his lightning again. After three hits of lightning, Thaddeus began to worry, so he took a potion and ran in to zealously strike at Diablo. Most of the blows were turned by Diablo's many horns and spiny bits. A few hit, but not nearly enough.

Dissatisfied with his light scepter, Thaddeus backed up and charged Diablo with his maul. It was a hit, a palpable hit, but Diablo's return fire hurt without his shield. The Lord of Terror was laughing now; Thaddeus realized he must look frustrated, and Diablo was interpreting it as fear. He tried calling on vengeful spirits, which worked well -- when he hit. The difficulty was getting past Diablo's thick hide. Blessed Hammer, of course, would go through Diablo's armor like it was nothing... but aiming the hammers at a single target was difficult. Thaddeus moved to the other side of the dais and cast Blessed Hammer. Diablo charged in, and the hammer hit him; Thaddeus cast again, but Diablo moved out of the way. Blessed Hammer seemed to be his best way of hurting Diablo, if he could hit with it.

For a while, Thaddeus and Diablo exchanged spells. He cast a few hammers until Diablo hit him with lightning. After moving, he cast a few more hammers, and the process repeated. After enchanting his shield, the lightning wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been -- but surviving wasn't the goal. Finally, he saw his chance. Diablo had come between two of the firepits flanking the dais. Placing himself to block his advance, Thaddeus cast the hammers again and again. Caught between the pits, Diablo was hit again and again, twitching and roaring with pain and anger. After casting so many hammers he had to drink another potion, Diablo died. Writhing, flames bursting out of the holes pounded through his body, the beast's flaming red spirit tore loose and was drawn into the soulstone.

Diablo's frame collapsed and shattered on the floor. The remains might have been human, stretched beyond recognition and burnt to ash and bone. With a sigh, Thaddeus knelt beside the body, praying for the salvation of whatever poor soul had been forced from that husk to make way for Diablo. It was over. At least, this was over. After taking Diablo's soulstone to the Hellforge and taking care of it, there could only be one problem left in the world.

Concluding thoughts:

If the Hammerdin has a weakness, its the Oblivion Mages. Blessed Hammer is too slow to catch them most of the time, and standing there casting it repeatedly is a good way to get yourself killed. Of course, de Seis and company give lots of characters problems.
Diablo's high blocking percentage is annoying for anyone who doesn't hit very hard.
Killing him with Blessed Hammer was very satisfying, though.
Nonetheless, his drop was one of the worst I've seen. A rare saber almost worthy of Durf's crappy rares collection, magic padded armor, two flawed gems and an El rune.

Act 5

Chapter 28

A city built on a hill cannot be hidden;

It is a beacon in war. Look and despair!

Even now, I would that you knew the ways

Peace is brought through faith and arms.

Are any so blind, as they who will not see?

The days are come when your enemies

Surround you, hem you in on every side,

Dash you and your children to the ground... -- Visions of Akarat, c. 63, v. 4-11

It was cold and snowing in Harrogath when Thaddeus suddenly arrived, appearing through the gate Tyrael made for him. No one was nearby; the town looked deserted. Smoke rose from outside the city, and screams could be faintly heard, but Harrogath was intact. Cain was very surprised; according to Tyrael, while Thaddeus was pursuing Diablo, Baal had put together an army and cut like a scourge across the continent. The Lord of Destruction never left one stone upon another behind him. Now he was in the Barbarian highlands, where few men ventured, seeking the Worldstone.

"What is the Worldstone, Cain?"

"I have no idea. The outside world never knew what was hidden in mount Arreat. I only know because Tyrael told me, while we were in Pandemonium."

"Surely, someone must have guessed?"

"The world's sages have long debated the purpose of Mount Arreat. Among the Horadrim, at least 5 theories were considered credible, though I think the idea that it contained the egg of a new world is a bit far-fetched. Not that the idea is without merit; many seers have spoken of worlds coming into being this way, and the --"

"All right, never mind. Why was it placed here?"

"For protection, I believe. Tyrael said that the soulstones used to imprison the Prime Evils were in connected to the Worldstone, but the Worldstone is far more ancient. Apparently, the local Barbarian tribes were charged with its protection for all time, which is why they have always been so hostile towards any outsiders."

Thaddeus frowned. "Why Barbarians? From what I have heard, they do not seem to be the most... reliable of people."

"Now, now... don't believe everything you hear." Cain smiled. "I am sure Heaven had its reasons. Perhaps these hardy folk were seen as purer, less corruptible than civilized men. Or it may be that the profound isolation of these mountains makes keeping it isolated from humanity that much easier. You must admit..." Cain said, looking at the snowy peaks rising to the sky around them, "it would be difficult to find anything hidden up here."

"At least during winter," Thaddeus agreed.

"Perhaps we should part ways and explore the town. I am eager to meet these people, as I have heard many tales of their fearsome battle prowess and wild ways. Judging by the rumors, the best approach with them is to be blunt, but respectful. Candor is held in higher regard than tact."

"And to think I resolved to be more polite," Thaddeus said ruefully. "You feel you will be safe, alone among these people?"

"If I am not, it would be best if I found out now. I am sure you need not worry about whether it is safe to be here, but you must be here. Natalya failed to kill Baal, you must do so in her stead."

Cain went off to the right, along the high platform they found themselves on. Thaddeus took the left-hand route, down some stairs towards the sounds of a smithy. In one corner of the walled town, he found an enormous man hammering out a giant axe on an anvil.

"Greetings, I am Thaddeus."

The Barbarian looked up, brow knitted in confusion. "Who are you?"

Perhaps working in such a noisy environment had damaged his hearing. "I am Thaddeus, a Paladin of the order of Protectors of the Word. I am here for Baal."

Tossing aside his hammer, the Barbarian grunted, "All of us are! Won't do you any more good than it's done us. How'd you get into our city?"

Thaddeus looked around. City? He'd been in fortresses bigger than this. "If I am trespassing, I apologize."

"What are you sorry for? You own the ground under your feet until someone takes it from you. Probably wouldn't be too hard, you're a weedy little one."

"Then I will not take up much room. To judge from the few people I have seen, you have a need of warriors; I hope I can fill that need."

For some reason, this seemed to amuse the Barbarian immensely. Thaddeus wondered if he might ever stop laughing. When he finally did, he clapped Thaddeus on the shoulder, staggering him. "I haven't had a good laugh for a long time! Sure, you can be a warrior! If you want to take that tiny hammer of yours and dent a few skulls before you die, go right ahead! While you're at it, why don't you kill Shenk the Overseer?"

"I would be glad to," Thaddeus said as he straightened his helmet again. "Where might I find this Shenk?"

"Behind the besiegers! Where else would a general sit out a siege? Take your clean, shiny behind out the gates, up the hill, past that little army out there, and kill him."

"Sounds simple enough. Though I assume there is a good reason your people have not done it themselves."

The Barbarian picked up his hammer again. "You trying to be smart with me?"

An answer leapt to Thaddeus' mind, but he decided not to express it. "I meant, Baal's army must be more formidable than that."

With a groan, the Barbarian returned to the axe he'd been working on. "When Baal came, our warriors sallied forth, the way they'd been born to. Almost a quarter of them died that first day. Our elders had sacrificed their lives to put a magic dome over the city; all it did was trap us here to starve."

"A magic dome?"

"The invisible dome over the city. Didn't you see it?"

Raising an eyebrow, Thaddeus said, "It must have escaped my notice."

The Barbarian chuckled. He didn't seem like such a bad fellow, despite his rough way of greeting strangers. "You never told me how you got inside the city."

"You never told me what I can call you."

"No, never did, did I? I'm Larzuk, smith of Harrogath. I'm descended from a line going all the way back to Krugim, the personal armorer of our Immortal King himself. But my smithing days are almost over."

"There must be a great need for a smith now... unless there are so few warriors that your arms and armaments go unused?"

"Not yet. More of Qual-Kehk's men die every day. Soon, I'm going to have to put down my hammer and take up a sword myself."

"Hammers are capable weapons in the right hands. I think you'd do well to study them."

"There's no matching a sword in battle; all real warriors know that. I once had an idea of rolling a cart fitted with flailing hammers up the battlefield, to run through the enemy at high speed while keeping the warriors safe... but it's a stupid idea. No one could make it work."

"Something like that might be as dangerous for your own troops as the enemy. Who is Qual-Kehk, by the way?"

"Our chief man-at-arms. By the gate. Didn't you walk past him?"

"He... must have escaped my notice too."

"How did you get in here, anyway? You sure didn't come in the gate, and there isn't any other way!"

"I came through another gate, a magic one. I had to come a long way, you see."

Larzuk snorted, crossing his tree-trunk arms. "Do you think I'm daft? I know better than that. If a magic portal could go through a dome, Baal's forces would be in here!"

"That is true," Thaddeus nodded sagely. "You have to be right, so I guess I came in the main gate after all."

"You climbed the back wall, didn't you? No, there's a thousand-foot cliff back there..."

"That would be a difficult climb in full armor, carrying this locker."

"Yeah... so how'd you get in?"

Thaddeus shrugged. "A magic portal. I've just come from Hell, where an archangel made a gate for me to come hunt down Baal before he destroys the Worldstone."

With a snort, Larzuk returned to work. "Lying to make yourself look good is the mark of a coward. If you don't want to say, just tell me to shut up like a man would."

"I'll have to remember that. It's been good meeting you, Larzuk; I hope to be back soon, with good news."

"Wait... how did an outsider like you know about the Worldstone? Or that Baal's here after it? Word couldn't possibly have reached anyone yet!"

"The archangel told me."

Larzuk looked nonplused. "Oh."

Continuing his tour, Thaddeus found most of the city to be empty. A few very large men sat by small cooking fires, and a few very large women moved slowly about on various errands. All stared as Thaddeus went past, but no one did anything, or responded to his smile. Only one sneered: a thin, white-haired man Thaddeus detested on first sight.

"Well, well. The siege has made everything in short supply... except fools."

Thaddeus sniffed. The air smelled stale and moldy, with a hint of clotted blood. He hadn't smelled anything like that since he'd been in the tombs of Lut Gholein... except the mummies smelled nicer. "Greetings. You must be someone of importance."

The sneer changed to a smirk. "And what makes you say that? Please, enthrall me with your acumen."

Thaddeus quietly said, "You have obviously been studying necromancy. Such a man would have to be very bold, or of high standing, to show his face on a public street."

The two stared hard at each other in silence. "That is a strong accusation for a stranger to make, against an elder of Harrogath. You have some evidence to offer?"

"I will not, after you wash your hands."

After glancing down, the elder tucked his hands close to his body, as though for warmth. "As the last elder, it is my task to prepare our dead for cremation and burial. Few can keep their hands as clean as you obviously have."

"I have had blood on my hands, but it was fresh. You are the last, you say?"

"I did. The others sacrificed themselves in a useless ceremony to save this city."

"The force dome. I hope it was not as useless a gesture as that."

"Saving Harrogath would be very simple. There is no need for this battle, apart from Qual-Kehk's desire to have some purpose for his life. All could be ended easily, without bloodshed, but few have the wit to see how or the courage to do what would be necessary."

"And a sharp-witted person like yourself... ?"

"Each man must do what is right... without caring what others think."

Every instinct Thaddeus had was screaming to smash this sneering old man's head in right this moment. "Honored elder... I have been trying not to judge ill of people I have only just met, and see the good in them when I can. You are making this very difficult."

He took a step back. "You do know that if you raise one hand against me, you will never leave this city alive."

Lead me not into temptation, Thaddeus thought. "I have no intention of beginning my visit to your 'city' with armed assault. Whatever you have done, it is far less important than the things we will do now."

Nearby, a square with a well sat roughly near the center of town. The city gates were just to the north. Next to the well, Cain was talking with a white-haired and bearded man, clad head to toe in bronze and iron armor. He was huge (everyone in Harrogath was huge) and very impressive looking, with a great-sword on his back. Even at his obviously advanced age, Thaddeus would not want to meet such a man in battle.

"Here he is!" Cain exclaimed, motioning Thaddeus over. "Come over and introduce yourself to Qual-Kehk, something of a leader here."

"Hello, Cain. It is an honor to meet you, Qual-Kehk. I have heard your name spoken with great respect."

"Hail, noble Paladin," Qual-Kehk intoned. Very few people know how to intone. "You are welcome here, in our hour of need. In my youth, I considered joining your order, and making the pilgrimage to Kurast."

Thaddeus wondered, what order of Paladins might he have gravitated towards? Or would he just have taken the knowledge of the Light back to the mountain? "You would have been welcome. The church would have been glad to receive your devotion."

"Having a true man among you would have done your order good! I was young and foolish then, and should have known my place would always be here. The protection of the sacred mountain is a higher calling than anything your church could possibly offer."

Cain laughed, a bit nervously. "He means, his people received instructions directly from Heaven to protect Mt. Arreat. Leaving would mean abandoning that charge!"

"Of course," Thaddeus nodded. "The word of Heaven should not be ignored."

"Or twisted to suit slick-tongued priests, who want golden chalices where wooden cups will do. Word has reached us that your church fell under its own ponderous weight. Such is the fate of 'civilized' men, who do not respect the ways of the ancestors."

Thaddeus smiled. "You are a proud people, I perceive. My only hope is that I can make something of myself among such capable warriors."

"It will be an honor to have a warrior of the Light fighting alongside my men. Our sagas mention your ancestors, shield-bearers of noble bearing who strengthened our men by their mere presence." Qual-Kehk smiled. "Not that they could do much on their own. If you could do even that much, you would have my gratitude. But don't expect any gifts of Heaven to protect you. They haven't saved my men."

"What more can I do than my best?" Thaddeus asked.

"And that has been a very great deal!" Cain smiled. "Two of the Prime Evils have fallen, the third surely cannot be far behind. Baal is on the run, it is only a matter of time."

"Yes..." Qual-Kehk frowned thoughtfully. "You have told me of these things, Deckard Cain. Somehow... it simply does not seem likely to me."

"I understand," Thaddeus nodded. "I hardly believe it myself."

"Ha!" Qual-Kehk laughed. "Any real warrior knows what he can do. Go out with my next wave of men, and try to make a showing of yourself. Watch the catapults; I've lost many to their long range. If you mean to live, either be quick, or a coward."

"I shall be quick."

Chapter 29

The proud are forced to abase themselves before

the Light, but the lowly stand and are saved.

We deliver the innocents of the world to justice;

You will be delivered into righteous glory

Through the cleanliness of your hands.

-- The Book of Radenis, c. 22, v. 28-32

Thaddeus walked to the gates of Harrogath, where several Barbarians stood in their battle gear. They were certainly well armed, often with another sword or axe instead of a shield, but none seemed to bother with more protection than a helmet. There was plenty of armor available, if Larzuk's armory was any indication.

"Hail, fellow warriors. Have you --"

"What do you mean, fellow warriors?" one spat. "Look at Mr. Shiny-Britches here, 'fellow warriors!' Don't he look pretty?"

All of them laughed, far more than was really necessary. "He must be scared! Look at the little guy! With all that on, he might be half my size."

"And he's got a shield to hide behind! Baal's troops don't use arrows, fool!"

"What do you want around here, anyway? You don't belong here! Run home to your mammy, you coward. This is work for men!"

Nodding, Thaddeus slowly said, "Actually, I meant to ask you something, but you have just answered me. Who will be leading you against Baal?"

"None! We have no leaders, all are equals!"

"You little striplings from the southern lands take orders from kings and generals! Anyone tries that with me, I'll smash his face in!"

One Barbarian laughed. "Makes you feel better, I'll give you orders! Fetch me an ale, little boy! Ha ha! What'd you think of that?"

"I didn't think there was any ale here," Thaddeus calmly answered. "I would have guessed that you've drunk it all already."

"That we have," one snorted. "We might have left a thimble-full for you! I'd guess that's all you could take!"

"Naw, don't give the little guy ale! He'll piss himself when he sees Baal's troops and get his nice shiny suit all rusty."

At that point, the gates of Harrogath were opened. With a tremendous yell, the Barbarians beat their chests with their fists and sallied forth, running onto the battlefield. Thaddeus walked behind, wondering what Baal's troops would be like. Surely, they couldn't be worse than anything in Hell itself. There were demons outside the gate, small one with leathery skin plating their backs and shoulders; they probably wouldn't have been dangerous if the Barbarians had stayed in a tight group. Instead, after racing each other out the gate, they split up and attacked in a frenzy, making no attempt to coordinate their attacks, protect each other, or even avoid being hit. Thaddeus couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The demons were obviously familiar with Barbarian tactics. They waited in clusters of 5 or 6 individuals, just enough to surround a single screaming-mad Barbarian and cut him to ribbons. Concentrating, Thaddeus ran up behind the nearest Barbarian and began casting Blessed Hammer. The blessing of Saint Maccabee protected the man from the whirling hammers, but Baal's minions were struck down. After thinning the herd enough that the Barbarian could take care of himself, Thaddeus ran to the next, repeating his performance. Moving upwards past the resentful Barbarians, he began to see old fortifications built into the sides of the hills. There were trenches filled with stakes, or flat areas for siege engines. Their layout seemed to reflect a theory of warfare the southern lands abandoned centuries ago as too simple-minded. Any reasonably intelligent opponent could move around them easily. Baal's demons got more use from the fortifications than the Barbarians ever would have.

None of these demons were ones Thaddeus had fought before, but the texts of Zakarum described them well enough. The small leathery ones were slaves to an overseer, great fat things armed with whips. The slaves were no great threat unless charged into a suicidal frenzy by an overseer; they would then run to an enemy and explode, sacrificing their own body to serve their master's will. Without slaves between themselves and an enemy, the overseers were nearly helpless, but getting rid of their "wall of exploding meat" could be tricky. Here on the foothills, there were no overseers. The only other demons were Death Maulers, extravagantly named creatures made partially out of stone and metal. They had a trick of extending long tentacles from their arms, burrowing underground to strike up at an enemy. To Thaddeus' surprise, they could do this across trenches, the tentacle snaking among the stakes and bursting out on the other side.

The catapults Qual-Kehk had warned Thaddeus about were siege machines manned by a few Death Maulers. They had been set on the platforms, and would have rained death down on Harrogath if any were close enough. Their range was great, but not that great. At least the Barbarians hadn't built too many things their enemies could use. Since they couldn't be used on the city walls, the catapults were loaded with alchemical explosives for use against men. Every now and then, a ball of fire or ice would burst where Thaddeus had been a moment ago. If he kept moving he was reasonably safe, and it was easy to destroy the catapults once he was close enough.

Meanwhile, back in Harrogath, Cain was trying to speak with Qual-Kehk. "The battle with the Lord of Terror was surely the worst, but he has seen no need to speak of it."

With a snort, Qual-Kehk intoned, "IF he defeated Diablo, it was by accident and he is too ashamed of his weakness to tell of it. This Paladin you brought with you may be a fine priest, but he is not much of a man."

"Surely, someone who had defeated two Prime Evils in combat does not need to prove himself any more..."

"A warrior's reputation is everything. When I spoke to him, I called him a coward to his face. A man, a warrior, with any pride would have struck me. He answered with meek and mewling words, obviously afraid of an old man. The words of a coward mean nothing to me. I cannot believe he defeated Hatred and Terror, no matter what anyone says."

"No, no... he would not strike you, out of deference to your great reputation! You may remember, he said he heard your name many times."

"Hmm, that may be so," Qual-Kehk said, puffing out his chest. "It would be foolish to strike at me, so perhaps he is simply not a fool. Nonetheless, he did not answer me as a man would have. If he dares to face them, Baal's forces will tear him to pieces."

"Ah," Cain said, pointing to the gate, "here comes one of your men with news."

"Vardhaka," Qual-Kehk smiled. "One of my strongest warriors. He has slain many demons in this siege. What could have brought him back so early in the battle?"

"He looks a bit dejected," Cain said impassively.

Ignoring Cain, Qual-Kehk asked, "What news?" when Vardhaka approached.

"The battle goes well," he muttered. "The siege may be lifted soon."

"What?! Has having one Paladin on the field made us that much stronger?"

"My strength is nothing!" Vardhaka screamed in anguish. "As I went to face the enemy, great bronze hammers appeared out of thin air, and struck them down before I could reach them! Once, I hit one; my axe sent the demon reeling like never before, but before I could attack again, the hammers came from nowhere and killed it! When that shrimp bothers to use his little stick, it hits harder than I, in a fury of blows fast as Heaven's lightning! What good are weapons to us? All of us might as well never have been there at all!"

Cain was pleased to note that Qual-Kehk looked visibly shaken. "Are you wounded?"

"Hardly scratched," Vardhaka wept. "He healed me as he went past."

"Then what are you doing running back here?!" Qual-Kehk demanded. "There is a siege to be lifted, and here you are whimpering in the city square. Have you no shame? I don't care what any southlander does, your place is on the battlefield. Get back out there! Harrogath and our ancestors look on you."

Sniveling a bit, he put his helmet back on and ran out the gate, with far less enthusiasm than he had the first time. Cain looked up at Qual-Kehk, who was frowning and obviously deeply troubled. "I hope nothing is wrong?" Cain said.

"Of course not. What could be wrong? The battle goes well. Events seem to be turning in our favor for the first time in weeks. Soon, there may be cause for celebration." Qual-Kehk paused to touch a wooden fence, then said, "If so, I will be very pleased."

Thaddeus hammered his way through the first set of fortifications into what seemed to be an enemy camp. Great rollers used for crushing city walls stood idle next to tents made from huge bones and skins. The bodies of a few Barbarians, stripped of most of their flesh, hung on meat hooks next to great cauldrons. By now, four Barbarians were moving along with Thaddeus in a group. They seemed to resent it, judging from their baleful looks, but stayed with him. Every now and again, Thaddeus stopped to pray, helping his companions recover from the injuries they insisted on getting. This irritated them even more.

Shenk was not in the camp, so they moved on. Beyond was a cramped defile between a high cliff and a steep drop. As might be expected, the narrows were defended; tiny Imps with big heads and small bodies, almost as small as Fetishes, began teleporting around and hurling balls of fire as they approached. Thaddeus charged into the middle of the group, but Blessed Hammer was not particularly useful here. These little ones kept their distance and peppered him with fire; the Barbarians weren't having much more luck. Finally, Thaddeus had to just chase them down and smash them. They weren't as tough as Fetishes, though they might have been even more of an annoyance.

On a return trip to Harrogath, Thaddeus saw several of the Barbarians he'd gone out with lying in beds in a single building, obviously a hospital. A single old woman he hadn't yet met tended them. Not introducing himself to such a caring person was a tremendous breach of etiquette, so Thaddeus went to meet her.

"Greetings, noble mother. I am Thaddeus, of the order of Protectors of the Word."

"Hello, young man. You need not be so formal. I am Malah, and I welcome you to Harrogath."

"I have been here for some time, but thank you. You are running a hospital for these poor men?"

"It is all I can do to help. You have the look of a warrior to you; if you are here to help too, you need only ask for healing potions or anything you might need."

Smiling, Thaddeus took several healing potions from his pack and gave them to her. "I had been selling these to Larzuk, but you will find a better use for them."

Malah's eyes brightened. "So that's where Larzuk found so many of these. You must be a great warrior indeed to have so little need of them."

"The Light blesses me with healing, and redemption from victory in battle. Your people are stronger than I am, but Heaven aids me directly to aid me in my quest." I also dress and act more sensibly, Thaddeus thought.

"What is your quest? Is it to kill Baal?"

"Of course. It must be done, to save us all."

Malah sighed. "A short time ago, I might have told you to go home, and save yourself the trouble. I do not know why we cannot stand against Baal. Every invasion that came before was defeated easily. Now, I wonder if the Ancient Ones have revoked their blessing in our hour of greatest need, and we are destined to fail in our life's purpose."

Thaddeus shook his head. "I do not know why events have turned out as they have. But the Worldstone is safe, and your purpose is fulfilled. Baal will be defeated."

"That is very good of you to say. You know, I have heard tales of an outlander coming to town, who claims to have defeated Mephisto and Diablo in single combat. Now, I think that has to be you... but you haven't said a thing about it."

"There is nothing to be said. Yes, I defeated Mephisto and Diablo in single combat, but all that effort will be for nothing if I cannot kill Baal. Now please excuse me; the longer I stand here, the closer he comes to his goal."

Beyond the narrows was another open plain full of demons. These must be the reserves, or perhaps they were guarding Shenk. Judging from the bodies, Thaddeus could see that a few Barbarians got this far sometime in the recent past. Most of his compatriots were still with him, so Thaddeus went up the hill, casting hammers repeatedly. By now, he'd seen the great and mighty Barbarians in combat enough to form an opinion. They were indeed mighty, fierce and fast and terrifically strong. But they weren't fighting the demons. They were competing against each other. Racing out the gate, they were trying to prove who was bravest. Those suicidal charges were to show they weren't afraid, even though a sensible person would have been. Avoiding injury in battle wouldn't let them show off how tough they were, which must be they resent healing. It may be a good way for an individual to fight and impress others... but it's no way to win a battle.

As they approached the top of a hill, Thaddeus heard the crack of a whip, and a guttural voice howling orders. Smiling a bit, he hammered through a crowd of Death Maulers up to a group of slaves gathered like a wall around the hill. At the very top, a demon so fat as to be almost globular squealed and shook a great bullwhip. This overseer's bulk would probably make it very hard to kill -- getting any weapon deep enough to reach the vitals through all that fat wouldn't be easy. Its short legs were almost invisible behind the wall of slaves, but its long, spindly arms had almost no strength to them; other creatures had always done the overseer's work for him.

Thaddeus stood at the bottom of the hill and cast Blessed Hammer. As the overseer plied its whip, several of its slaves had swollen with energy, flesh actually protruding from under their body plates. Getting rid of them before they got near would be an excellent idea. Hammers skimmed along the edge of the hillock, tearing through the front rank of slaves. One hit was enough to get the energized ones to explode, messily; their companions did not appreciate this. Unfrenzied slaves would come down the stairs and attack (the Barbarians took care of them well enough) but the exploding ones ran for Thaddeus in a straight line; standing well away from the stairs ensured they would never come near him. Finally, Shenk was alone.

Climbing the hill, Thaddeus stepped over a pile of dead bloody slave-bits to attack Shenk. The overseer's great rolls of flab flopped back and forth as he ran around, howling at his troops to drop everything they were doing and defend him. A few more slaves came from the other side of the hill; Thaddeus started casting Blessed Hammer. All went well until one frenzied slave managed to avoid all them and get right next to him. The explosion was one of the most painful he'd recently experienced; thank the Light that Oblivion Knights never did things like that. Looking out from behind his shield, Thaddeus couldn't see Shenk. Anything that fat and slow couldn't have gone far... where was he?

"You bastard! You killed him," a voice said from below.

Thaddeus looked down the hill at the Barbarian. "What was that?"

"You killed Shenk! Those damn hammer things killed him!"

Next to Thaddeus, a huge pile of greenish goo was dripping off a surprisingly delicate skeleton. It was as though all the fat burst off Shenk's body after he died, and was oozing away from his bones with a will of its own. "Oh, I didn't notice. That's good."

"YOU DIDN'T NOTICE?!"

"My mind was on dealing with his slaves. Now, I'm sure Baal will send another one of his generals to renew the siege, if we give him the opportunity. Let us smash all these catapults and fortify those narrows, to keep Harrogath safe. There isn't much food in town, either; we should get as many of those rabbits over there as we can."

Returning to Harrogath, Thaddeus was pleased to note plenty of Barbarian warriors in the town square, on their feet. The healing potions he'd brought back had done some good. No one was hurling insults either. Qual-Kehk was happy to see the siege lifted, and agreed that fortifying the narrows would be a good idea, since he had so few men they couldn't possibly hold the wider plains. Larzuk was deeply impressed, and apologized for doubting Thaddeus. He'd never expected to hear a Barbarian apologize for anything, so he was very pleased and accepted graciously. There was an odd thing in his footlocker, though -- a maul and three runes, with one of the Mule's notes.

Your humbleness,

Howdy doo! This is the last thing I have for you -- the runeword is "Black." You might try it out on those teleporting Imps; a charge should do the trick. Be good, show them Barbies it's not all about who's got the biggest sword, and keep the faith, brother!

- The Mule

"Black" was not the most pleasant-sounding word, but he was already wearing plate set with the "Stealth," and that wasn't so bad. Thaddeus set the runes in the maul, which came out deep black and icy cold. It was better than his old maul, a sharp maul of the bat he'd held for the occasional charge. After a pleasant supper of roast rabbit and turnips, flavored with wild mountain garlic and sage, Thaddeus began to feel better. He even considered going through the waypoint back to Atma's to pick up some ale; no doubt it would be appreciated by everyone in town.

Chapter 30

This is a sign for you, a prophecy

Concerning all who are in your house.

"They shall go into exile, into captivity.

The prince who is among them shall dig

Through the wall and go out through it.

I spread my snare, and he will not see it;

Winds scatter all who are around him."

-- The Book of Haisin, c. 12, v. 11-17

Malah was good enough to let Thaddeus sleep on one of the empty beds in her hospital; it was a quiet, restful night. Too quiet -- maybe he should have gotten the Barbarians some ale. He was up and ready to go at the crack of dawn, and went to visit Larzuk. While his rune-armor served him well, there were some excellent suits available, and he might be wise to take the opportunity to upgrade. Some of the very heavy plate, made with curious and cunning workmanship, looked very strong and very old. Apparently, the Barbarians' ancient ancestors wore this armor, and Larzuk's family kept it for a time of need. Why Qual-Kehk and his men didn't take advantage was another mystery of Barbarian culture. Yes... the way their minds worked was indeed a great mystery.

"Good morning, Larzuk. Brought out anything new today?"

"Greetings, uh, great warrior! Here, try this one. It's one of my best."

The ancient armor was amazing indeed. The steel was thick, and the joints would hardly allow a pin to pass; yet, movement was almost unimpeded by the carefully-fitted plates, sliding over each other almost noiselessly. For all that, it was still too heavy; Thaddeus knew he'd tire quickly if he tried to wear it. "Thank you, this is extraordinary, but I'm simply not man enough for it. Your ancestors must have been very impressive."

Larzuk seemed confused. "It's not that heavy..."

Thaddeus laughed. "Perhaps not for you. Tell me, why don't more of Qual-Kehk's men wear these wonderful armors?"

"Well..." After looking furtively around, Larzuk finally said, "A lot of them aren't strong enough for it either. But I thought you would be! You killed Shenk and raised the siege!"

"Larzuk, I didn't do that with the strength of my arm. Faith carried me up the hill. In a way, I cannot even say I did it, the power comes from outside me."

Still looking confused, Larzuk snorted. "Our greatest warriors call on their totems. The spirits of the earth and the wild places watch out for us. But on the field of battle, a warrior is alone with no one to rely on but himself. No spirit will save you if your arm is weak."

"That is another thing which perplexes me," Thaddeus said. "There is not need for your warriors to attack alone. The fighting would go better if they did not. It is a simple matter to form a line of battle, charge together... or just stay close and protect each other."

"What, attack together?" Larzuk guffawed. "How do you know who gets the kill?"

"Why should it matter?"

"Of course it matters! It's everything! Look, death and pain are nothing. Everything dies in the end. The only thing that lives forever is a warrior's reputation. The songs we sing about our fallen resound to the heavens! How can we sing forever about a warrior's deeds, if you don't know which deeds were his?"

Trying not to let his doubts show, Thaddeus said, "When the fate of the whole world is in jeopardy, your personal reputation should not bear much weight. By all I have been told, the only reason your people are here is to protect Mount Arreat. Your concerns should not be about who kills the most, or puts on the best show of bravery."

"Hmm. I suppose not... I mean, if Baal destroys the Worldstone, there won't be anyone left to sing about anything."

"All songs, everywhere, would end. One man's reputation is nothing against that. This may strike you as odd, but I have no idea how many 'kills' I have made."

"Too many to count?"

"Only three matter. I have two of those."

"Well... how high was it when you lost count?"

Growing a bit impatient, Thaddeus said, "I had to take my boots off to count them all."

Slowly nodding, Larzuk said, "Wow. That many, huh?"

As he walked back towards the gate, Thaddeus reflected on his experiences in combat. He really had no idea how many demons and other creatures he had killed. Hundreds, without a doubt. Over a thousand? It might be interesting to know, but he really didn't care. If he failed in his quest to stop Baal, it wouldn't matter.... and if he succeeded, it wouldn't matter either. As far as a personal reputation went, defeating the Three would far overshadow all his other efforts. Perhaps soon, Thaddeus could find the time for pride, when his quest was complete. Until then, there was no point in even thinking about it.

From the foothills, steps carved directly into the icy ground led up into a pass. Jagged peaks rose abruptly on either side, and at the top of the steps was a waypoint. The Horadrim had built these long ago; those ancient hunters traveled widely indeed. Just how many of these were there, scattered all over the world? Today's hunters of evil would do well to leave such a helpful legacy behind them. Beyond the waypoint, an open highland spread out before him, full of more teleporting Imps.

The texts of Zakarum had little to say on these tiny demons. Mages used to summon them as servants quite frequently. They then found themselves being carved into pieces by their familiars, before each piece was used to form the body of a new Imp. Beyond that warning, they are said to be slow moving and physically weak, and to use magical attacks instead of physical ones. To judge from the ones he'd met, they were well aware of their weaknesses, and went to any length to avoid close contact with an armed man. They stayed out of the range of Blessed Hammer, teleporting whenever Thaddeus came close. The magic bolt they used was not a serious threat, but chasing them all down would be very time consuming.

All was not lost, however: the Mule had given him a weapon just for them. Thaddeus brought out his maul and charged. As he closed on his chosen Imp, the look on the tiny thing's face was just priceless, before it disintegrated -- killed in one satisfying hit. So he ran around the highlands, smashing Imps right and left. There were some problems with the tactic. The highlands were rocky, and strewn with tough brambly bushes; tripping was a real danger. A more serious threat was howdah-bearing Crushers, huge beasts covered with armor. When an Imp teleported into the basket on one's shoulders, it could use an inferno wand mounted there. Thaddeus was vulnerable to fire without his shield, but if he charged from the side, he could knock the Crusher around and throw off the Imp's aim until he'd killed them both.

While charging around after Imps, Thaddeus took a moment to reflect on the Mule. Down in Hell, he'd been in too much danger to concentrate on anything but surviving, but he was making smooth, easy progress up into the highlands. Obviously, the Mule was a servant of Tyrael's; the archangel had brought Jamella and Halbu to provide items as well. In Hell, they must have been under the watchful eye of all the other angels, so they could not lend any aid except by playing the role of merchants. The Mule, not obviously associated with Tyrael, might escape some of that oversight and could give his things away. That made a certain amount of sense... but it didn't explain the way he behaved. Jamella and Halbu at least acted like servants of Heaven are supposed to.

Further into the highlands, Thaddeus found a pit, obviously a recent addition to the area. It went deep into the earth, with a red gate over a bridge crossing the center. Readying his scepter and shield, he went through, and found himself... in Hell again, on one of the many small islands floating in the Lake of Fire, the final destination of the River of Flame. Much of Hell's wickedness flows into it, a pit of rage even demons rarely venture into. Baal's forces were using the islands for production and storage; several had been lashed together with bridges, and slave creatures worked on siege machines under the gentle persuasion of their Overseer's whips.

As Thaddeus approached, the slaves squealed and reached for their weapons. Overseers bellowed flatulently, quivering in fear and whipping their workers into a combat frenzy. Out of thin air, a group of Imps appeared. This was turning into a party; Thaddeus cast Holy Shield and moved forward, letting Blessed Hammer fly. The hammers didn't serve as well as they had under other circumstances, mainly because of their slow speed. A energized slave could run straight for Thaddeus and explode -- the hammers often missed completely. Imps just stayed out of range. But if Thaddeus waited until an energized slave reached him, then moved away after it stopped, he could avoid the explosion, and the hammers would hit most everything eventually. Wisely using his speed of movement, most of the battle was spent casting, moving out of harms way, or chasing Imps. Those Imps were, truly and honestly, almost as annoying as Flayers. Bless the Light, they died quickly.

After killing everything on the islands and rolling the siege engines into the lake, Thaddeus went back to the highlands. A short distance ahead, he found a fortified wall -- Barbarian work, by the look of it. No Barbarians were in evidence, but there were plenty of slaves and Imps manning the walls, shooting at him from the towers. With a sigh, Thaddeus wondered just how many of these fortifications the Barbarians had built. Knowing them, they probably encircled the entire mountain with layer upon layer of stuccoed wicker walls, miles long. The whole region couldn't support a population large enough to man them. Had these walls been stone, and too high to climb, at least they could keep some demons out. As it was, there was nothing to prevent them from being burnt, or smashed down, or just taken away.

Under fire from several guard towers, Thaddeus brought out his shield and moved up to the base of the wall. The spirits of vengeance easily set the tower aflame, and Blessed Hammer crushed the Imps as they teleported out. Methodically, he moved along the wall, stepping through gaps from one side to the other, hammering and pounding Imp after Imp, slave after slave. A few Crushers sheltered inside the walls, but they were even less dangerous there. The Barbarian work was good and strong, for wicker-work, but wood, stone, and iron are far more suited to the demands of war. Maybe there weren't enough sources of raw materials in the area; the trees were certainly small and stunted at this altitude.

As he moved along the wall, Thaddeus heard cries for help -- human voices, and nearby. Rounding a corner, he saw a yard with a wicker cage. Inside were several Barbarian warriors, disarmed and stripped naked in the cold. Prisoners? Demons never ransom anyone... then he thought, this isn't a prison, it's a larder. The Imps started blasting at the prisoners, trying to kill them before Thaddeus could get near; you can always rely on a demon to prefer hurting someone else over saving itself. Blessed Hammer would be much too slow here, so Thaddeus ran in and smashed the cage door. After quickly casting a portal for them, he ran around the cage, zealously smashing through the Imps and a horde of slaves who appeared as they fled.

There were two more layers of walls as Thaddeus moved up the highlands, and two more cages full of captured men. No women, curiously, though he had seen dead ones here and there. Perhaps the Barbarians felt being a warrior was man's work, as many ancient cultures used to. Even the church of Zakarum felt that way, long ago. Thankfully, the southern lands did not adhere so rigidly to the ways of their ancestors, and the sisters of Zakarum could stand against the foes of the Light as freely as anyone. Though a woman's arms tend to be less powerful, faith, honor, and virtue are a Paladin's true strength.

The highlands narrowed again, to a pass between two high cliffs. There were a few corrals which might have held farm animals, but no walls or any other barriers. When the Barbarians built their defenses, why did they not fortify these narrow places? They built everything out on the open plateaus; did they think it would be cowardly to concentrate themselves behind one truly defensible wall? Thaddeus supposed there was really no point in asking now; what was done was done, and couldn't be undone now. At least Barbaric thinking made it easier to attack their mountain than it could have been. Then again, Malah and Qual-Kehk had mentioned previous assaults on the mountain; how had they failed?

Back in Harrogath, Qual-Kehk thanked Thaddeus for rescuing his men. "They have spoken well of your bravery. They say you move quickly, but always into the fray; your hammers of power strike with devastating effect. Our legends speak of wielders of the Hammer, but from what I understand, few are seen in these times."

"Much of the knowledge of Blessed Hammer was lost, but has been rediscovered. There may be many more like myself soon."

"Then the southlands, at least, will be in good hands. Speaking of which, take these runestones. I thought to put them in a shield, but you may use them first. The Paladin is master of the shield, even using it as a weapon." Qual-Kehk guffawed. "A strange use for a thing made to protect a warrior from cowardly archers."

Ral, Ort, and Tal, Thaddeus thought, just as in the shield I now bear. "This is a princely gift, great... man-at-arms. Are you sure you would wish to part with them?"

Laughing, Qual-Kehk clapped Thaddeus on the shoulder, staggering him. "Outlander, your people may have forgotten this, but we here in the mountains remember: a man's generosity is the measure of his worth. What good is hoarding wealth you have no use for? Do you think to buy a longer life, or honest friends? The warriors you brought home to me mean far more than three rocks."

Well... that's not such a bad thing, Thaddeus thought. Heaven would approve. "I bow to your wisdom, Qual-Kehk. There are many who would do well to hear those words."

"I know. Southlanders never seem to remember their lessons. Should you wish to have any of my men accompany you, I will be pleased to send them."

Should he refuse? Thaddeus had always worked alone, to avoid placing others in danger. But refusing aid might be an insult, especially if he told Qual-Kehk the reason. "I would be glad to accept your offer! But first, it occurs to me that I haven't been very generous to you, and there is something I must do."

Back at Atma's, everything was just like Thaddeus remembered it, only hotter. Coming from the mountains, the desert heat was wilting. Atma greeted him; when word came about Kurast, Farah took the first ship out. The church needed her, she had said, and so did the land; there would be many wounds of the spirit to heal. It pleased Thaddeus to hear she had found her faith again. Geglash was at the tavern, and he was even sober. Everything was looking up. Quickly, Thaddeus picked up two kegs of Atma's best ale. Staggering under the weight, he dragged himself back to the waypoint and returned to Harrogath.

"Qual-Kehk, your men mentioned they had no ale. I hope this will meet their standards, which are no doubt very high."

Looking at the barrels, Qual-Kehk laughed uproariously! "Paladin, you surprise me and I like it! We haven't had cause to celebrate for too long, but there's plenty of reason now. Drink up, men! Tomorrow we may die, so let us enjoy life while it lasts!"

Unsurprisingly, Barbarians drink like they fight; with reckless abandon. Some observers might have a hard time distinguishing a Barbarian celebration from a pitched battle. Thaddeus nursed his ale along, and took a moment to quietly ask Cain something.

"Cain... do you know anything of southlanders invading these mountains?"

"Yes, of course!" Cain said, adroitly dodging a happy Barbarian. "The ancient Horadrim came here, and were greeted with fierce resistance. In more recent times, some princes have sent small expeditionary forces into the mountains, looking for gold or other worthwhile resources. Only a few ever returned."

"Small expeditionary forces?"

"Yes... no more than 20 men or so."

These Barbarians spoke like they'd pushed out whole armies. In their minds, maybe they had. And to judge by the waypoints, the resistance the Horadrim met wasn't fierce enough to keep them out. Cain's expression told him that saying more in front of them might not be wise, so Thaddeus let the matter drop. The Barbarians were dropping too; Atma's finest ale on a mostly empty stomach could put down a horse. Of course, since they were in no shape to fight, Thaddeus would never expect them to accompany him into battle... he'd explain it to Qual-Kehk in the morning. Right now, he had to get further up the mountain. Baal had to be somewhere behind all those walls.

Chapter 31

Many a man proclaims his own loyalty,

But who can know a truly faithful man?

He who states his case first seems right

Until another comes and contradicts him.

Rebellion will come by a cruel messenger,

A false face, brother to him who destroys!

Against sound judgment, the estranged

Perverts the ways of justice for a bribe.

Let me meet a she-bear robbed of her cubs

Rather than a fool in the grip of his folly!

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 15, v. 1-10

Above the highlands around the base of Mount Arreat, a high plateau was being used as a gathering place for Baal's Overseers and their slaves. From a tree, Thaddeus could see more rings of fortifications girdling the mountain ahead. Why, oh why did the Barbarians build all these forts they couldn't possibly man? Were they trying to prove something, put on a show of intimidation? Or had they seen forts elsewhere, and erected these without understanding the requirements of maintaining a wall? With the Barbarian's pride, he could see them making them just so they could brag they had the most and the biggest. Size was very important to Barbarians. Shaking his head, Thaddeus advanced onto the plateau, hoping the demands of Barbarian pride wouldn't slow him down too much.

Almost immediately, he came across a group of high-ranking Overseers, champions of their type. Only a few slaves accompanied them; soon all were whipped into an explosive frenzy and running for Thaddeus. Blessed Hammer killed a few before they reached him. The rest he avoided, watching their bursting guts illuminate the night with fire. How in Hell or Heaven could anyone imagine being a servant of darkness would bring pleasure? Many who fall into evil think it will get the freedom to do as they will, partake of pleasures freely, or speak their minds as they like. Most end up as slaves, but even overseers were enslaved by their lords, subject to their cruel whims. For that matter, even The Three cannot be said to be free. Their every thought must go to maintaining and expanding their power, or it will all be taken away by an ambitious underling. There is no freedom or happiness to be found in darkness; all are held prisoner by it, high and low alike.

A slave's spine bounced off his armor, and Thaddeus remembered where he was. This was no time for reflection. A few casts of Blessed Hammer softened up the Overseers, then he zealously beat them to death. Tougher than most, they took a long time to die; he finally brought out his maul and scattered their gristly bones across the plain. Of course, this got the attention of more demons, but they fell more readily than the first. Clearing the plateau went quickly and efficiently.

Back in town, Thaddeus stopped at Malah's to donate the potions he'd found. Her stock was mostly replenished, but she always accepted them graciously. This time, she seemed nervous. "Good Paladin... there is a matter on which I hesitate to speak..."

A Barbarian hesitating to speak, on any matter? True, their women were more reticent than the big warriors, but this must be something important. "Please speak freely, Malah, if your wisdom deems it necessary."

"You are aware of the magic dome over our city? And how all our elders, save Nihlathak, sacrificed their lives to raise it?"

"I have been told of this, but I did not stay to listen long." Thaddeus bowed his head. "In my great haste, I have spent much time on the mountain, but little listening to the wisdom of those who know this land."

"I do not know how he survived unscathed when all the others were slain. It seems Anya had some suspicions. Late one night, I heard her confronting him, though my ears are old and could not make out what was said. The next morning, she was gone."

There were many women in Harrogath, more than there were men, but Thaddeus couldn't remember one called Anya. "I do not recall..."

Shaking her head, Malah smiled. "Oh, bless me, my mind is going. This happened before you arrived in Harrogath, you cannot have met Anya. She is the only daughter of our great chief Aust, a girl of remarkable wisdom and understanding for one so young. Had you met her, you would not easily forget her."

"And one night, she went to see Nihlathak... and disappeared?"

"He says she left the city on a fool's errand, and died. Do not believe him! Anya is blessed with great strength of spirit, and is not one to die easily by the hand of any beast. I am sure Nihlathak has done something with her, to cover up some guilty secret."

Though he could easily believe Nihlathak was guilty of something unspeakable, Thaddeus tried not to make too many assumptions. "You do understand, it is very easy for anyone who leaves this city to meet a bad end, regardless of any inner strength."

With eyes as hard as flint, Malah rapped her cane on the floor. "Not Anya! Never would she fall into the grasp of evil, unless betrayed by one she trusted! Death has not come to her, I know it in my bones! She must be alive!"

Barbarians, Thaddeus thought. Whenever they grow fond of someone, they make them sound like the hero in an epic poem. "I shall look for her."

"I know you will find her. Nihlathak is too much of a coward to kill her outright. When you have found her, you must find out what he has done. He would never betray us to Baal, but if he had a hand in the death's of the other elders, we must know!"

As Thaddeus left Malah's, he wondered if he should just go back to the mountain and forget all this. One dead woman among so many could not weigh heavily against Baal. How would even recognize her if he came across her? Perhaps Nihlathak did do something to the other elders. Their deaths made him senior man among the Barbarian tribes, a position many might kill for. But even the most underhanded political machinations were less important than the fate of the world. Thaddeus was not here to seek out and destroy sin, any sin. He was here as protector; the Hand of Zakarum had shown the folly of crusading against the evil in other people's hearts.

On the other hand... doing good is not just destroying the evil outside the walls. If Nihlathak did wrong, it would be a grave misdeed to leave Harrogath in his care. If Anya was the only one who knew, bringing her back to witness against him would be a very good thing to do. Besides... it felt good to bring people back alive. Nothing filled him with more hope, and Anya might resent being rescued less than the Barbarian warriors did. Not sure what course to take, Thaddeus stopped to speak with Qual-Kehk.

"Greetings. May I ask you about someone?"

"Anya, you mean?" Qual-Kehk answered.

"Yes," Thaddeus blinked. "Malah asked me --"

"To look for her. She has asked all of my warriors to do the same. She is convinced Anya is alive, and I cannot help but feel the same. And that elder Nihlathak had a hand in her disappearance."

Thaddeus nodded. "Her opinion of Nihlathak is widespread, then?"

"He was always the least respected of our elders. Fear and death cling to him, and his tongue is sharper than a blade. No true man should act or look as he does, but I have always given respect to the position he holds."

Ah so, Thaddeus thought. Barbarians do respect social position... just not anyone else's social positions. "As an outsider, I hesitate to involve myself in your affairs."

After clearing his throat, Cain said, "If I may interject... it is my suspicion that Nihlathak harbors some dark secret as well. But I do not think it directly involves Anya."

"How so?" Thaddeus asked.

"After speaking with him, it seems to me that Nihlathak believes the safety of Harrogath rests on his shoulders alone. He feels as through he is carrying an enormous burden, with great resentment, and has nothing but contempt for any other efforts to save the city."

Qual-Kehk grunted. "It is my opinion that elder Nihlathak has done nothing to protect this city, or sacred Mount Arreat. When the demons came, he slunk away, leaving others to die in his stead. His behavior is most unfit, especially for an elder."

"I think he has done something," Cain continued, "something that he believes protects the city from harm. What it could be, I do not know."

Quietly, Thaddeus said, "I will speak with him now."

Nihlathak was stirring a small pot by a fire. As Thaddeus approached, he sneered, "Well, well. If it isn't the good shepherd, having returned the lost sheep. A job well done."

He wasn't expecting the punch to the gut, or the shield slam to the head. Some nearby Barbarians leapt to their feet, but none approached. Picking Nihlathak up, Thaddeus stared him hard in the eye. "What have you done?"

"Take your hands off me this instant!" Nihlathak spluttered.

"No. And you may notice that none of the 'sheep' are coming to protect you. Your foul deeds have been exposed. Now, where is Anya?"

"What? Who have you been talking to? Never mind, I know," Nihlathak snarled. "And you don't know anything. She ran off after a friend of hers, who used to live on the plateau. I am sure both of them are long dead by now."

"Wrong answer. Great protector of Harrogath, on whose shoulders the safety of the city rests... what bargain did you make with Baal?"

Nihlathak turned white as chalk. "Bargain?" he stammered, "What would lead me to bargain with Destruction? Just because he took our capital in less than a day is no reason to believe Qual-Kehk and his idiot warriors couldn't protect Harrogath! Of course a simple shield will hold him off forever! Or maybe, a hero will come like something out of a saga, and defeat his entire army single-handedly! There are so many things that might save my people from Destruction, I should rest calmly, knowing the matter is well in hand!"

Someone behind Thaddeus was shouting. Ignoring it, he was about to answer when a powerful blow to the back of his head sent him reeling. Behind him, a warrior with a glazed look in his eyes was holding a giant axe, ready for another swing. Thaddeus slammed him back with his shield, and his vision suddenly went dim. In the sudden darkness, there was confusion and more shouting. More people began hitting him; he heard the clang of metal on stone; Thaddeus prayed for Holy Freeze and moved away. When his eyes cleared again, he saw a pile of Barbarians, including Qual-Kehk, wrestling some of their fellow warriors to the ground. In the confusion, he'd lost his grip on Nihlathak. Damn; he'd heard Necromancers use curses which confuse the mind, making one believe friends are hated foes. This certainly seemed to confirm his suspicions of necromancy; but where was Nihlathak?

Thaddeus ran to the door of Nihlathak's house. He wasn't there, nor could he be found anywhere else in town. He'd known the Barbarian elder was bad the moment he laid eyes on him; why didn't he strike then? Because doing so then would have brought all of Harrogath down on him. Even if he could take them all on, he wasn't going to destroy the town in order to save it. Finally, he went back to Qual-Kehk.

"The snake has slipped our grasp. Your insight was true; Nihlathak has made some bargain with Baal."

"We cannot be completely sure of that," Thaddeus muttered.

"What more proof is needed? All saw when you confronted him. The eyes speak clearly when the tongue is silent. I cannot believe it! The protection of Mount Arreat has been our purpose from the days of the Ancients; what could bring an elder to betray us?"

Dark suspicions crept into Thaddeus' mind, but he said, "Malah believes Anya knows, and that Nihlathak is too cowardly to kill her. Where might he hide her?"

"There are many places," Qual-Kehk mused. "The most secure would be his temple, where his tribe keeps the relics of their ancestors."

"Where would that be found?"

Qual-Kehk crossed his arms, looking deeply troubled. "Each tribe's temple is in a secret place, protected from looting and other tricks. The elders of the tribes know them all, but that does not help us now. Anya would know."

Thaddeus nodded. "Her father must think well of her, to confide in her so much."

"Think you Aust would tell his sons?" Qual-Kehk laughed. "Secrets are best kept by women and old men. When a warrior possesses knowledge, he knows he must survive the battle to pass the secret on. His hand is slowed by caution, he cannot fight as he ought. Aust did think well of her. You will think well of her, if you find her before Nihlathak has destroyed us all." Pausing for a moment, he laughed again. "It is good that you, of all warriors, are going to find Anya! Any or all of Harrogath's daughters would be safe with the likes of you!"

Why does everyone assume I've taken a vow of chastity? Thaddeus wondered. It would be best not to correct Qual-Kehk; he might start making other unwarranted assumptions. "Please try to find Nihlathak again. He cannot have gone far. As for your temples, I would not know one from another, so I plan to enter any I find. Should I defile your sacred ground, I apologize in advance. I must go."

Hammering his way further up the mountain, Thaddeus pounded through more forts, and another small pit of Hell. The pit led to another set of islands in the Lake of Fire, guarded by frenzied Minotaurs. They fought like Barbarians, but were strong and tough enough to almost get away with it. Blessed Hammers made a good impression, when they hit, but he spent a lot of time charging. Thankfully, when a charge meets frenzy, the charge wins. Anya was not in Hell (thank the Light for her sake) so Thaddeus continued up the plateau until he came to edge of a glacier. There was no way he was going to climb the ice, but a crack at the base led into an icy cave.

The ice tunnels under the glacier made a formidable maze. Naturally, Minotaurs lived there, as well as strange ice beasts, abominable snowmen, and Succubi. Thaddeus never expected to find Succubi attacking him in an icy cave. Helpless victims and luxurious surroundings were more to their liking. For all their howling and cursing, they were probably the easiest kills he'd had yet; they seemed to have good reason for avoiding open combat. Baal must be in dire need to be using them here. The Minotaurs and snowmen were more formidable; with their speed they could avoid the hammers and quickly close to melee range, where their strength and size made them very dangerous. Ice Beasts, huge and painfully slow, fell to Blessed Hammer almost without Thaddeus noticing.

The ice caverns extended for miles underground. In a deeper level, Thaddeus found zombies in great numbers. He was surprised they weren't frozen solid; they still had enough water in their bodies, and no apparent source of internal heat. Then it occurred to him: none of Baal's other minions were undead. But Nihlathak could raise Arreat's fallen. Thaddeus went deeper into the caves, hammering through wave after wave of monsters, until he found a platform built out into a bubbling pool. On the platform, encased in a shell of crystalline ice, a woman stood shivering in the numbing cold. Through the frost, Thaddeus could see her eyes were open; she looked at him. Nihlathak had been afraid to kill her after all.

The air near the ice prison was noticeably colder than anywhere else under the glacier. The ice itself was frozen harder than rock, and Thaddeus could hardly chip it. When dealing with ice and frost, the best solution Thaddeus could think of was warm water, but that might not be enough here. Malah had a better idea: anoint the ice with burning oil, using a special recipe she knew for thawing ice. It worked like a charm -- Anya walked out of the pile of steaming ice unharmed.

"Thank you, great hero, for rescuing me... who are you?"

"I am Thaddeus, of the order of Protectors of the Word. You must be Anya. We have to go back to Harrogath immediately, so you may tell them about Nihlathak."

"Has he been captured?" she asked hopefully.

"No, he escaped. This is no place to converse, and anything you tell me, you will have to repeat in Harrogath. Let me take you home now."

Chapter 32

Let his habitation become desolate;

Let there be no one to live in it.

Of his office, let another take it.

-- Visions of Akarat, c. 15, v. 38-40

When Thaddeus returned Anya to Harrogath, a meeting of the oldest surviving Barbarians was called: Malah, Qual-Kehk, and a few others came. The others waited respectably, but very worriedly, outside the door. Not far enough away to avoid hearing, Thaddeus noticed, but shooing them away didn't seem important. Thaddeus and Cain were invited as well, for both had earned some esteem by now. Apparently, Cain's bottomless well of knowledge held him in good stead, especially all the drinking songs he could recite from memory.

"It began one night, when I noticed Nihlathak going back to his temple. Outlanders, each clan has its own temple, but Nihlathak is the elder of his tribe..."

"Was the elder," Qual-Kehk frowned.

"Good. Nihlathak is priest of the grandest temple of all the snake clans. One night, I saw him returning there by portal. My father taught me portal spells as well, so I followed."

Malah shook her head. "I am amazed our elders kept their Druidical knowledge hidden from us, and for so long!"

"I have been told of the great division which occurred between your people and the druids, long ago," Cain said. "The two paths were deemed incompatible, but each agreed that the other's ways had some merits. Your elders must have considered their magical knowledge a great secret, which could not be shared with warriors."

"Exactly," Anya said. "But this is not important now. What is important is that there, in the garden of Nihlathak's temple, waiting for him, was Baal himself with all his attendants!"

The room went silent. "Nihlathak was bargaining and wheedling, offering to show Baal the path to the summit in exchange for the lives of our people. He would have given Ball the Worldstone if he could! I could not believe what I heard, and stayed too long; one of Baal's creatures discovered my hiding place. Nihlathak wanted me alive for himself, so Baal took me away and put me in that icy prison."

"As a bargaining chip, no doubt," Thaddeus muttered. "But something confuses me. Nihlathak was willing to show him the path to the summit, but this was not enough to satisfy Baal... is that not where the Worldstone rests? Or is there more?"

Qual-Kehk darkly said, "What lies at Arreat's summit is something we have not spoken of to any stranger. Few go there, and fewer return."

"All with knowledge of the magical arts have debated the purpose of Mount Arreat," Cain began. "But none have --"

Sensing another long speech, Thaddeus interrupted, "-- to know what is there. If Baal is unsure of going there, that is all we need to know."

"I'm afraid he may not be for long," Anya said. "While I was gone, Nihlathak took the Relic of the Ancients! With it, Baal would not... he would be able to pass the summit safely!"

"The... Relic of the Ancients?" Thaddeus asked.

"As chief of all the tribes, my father kept it in his temple, but all the elders had access to it With it, the summit would hold no fear for Baal. Any more, I should not say. It is imperative that Nihlathak not give him the Relic!"

"If his temple is the safest place for him, that is where I must go, now."

As Anya cast the portal spell that would take him to Nihlathak's temple, Thaddeus noticed every warrior in the city was watching. Hadn't they seen a portal being cast before? Maybe not -- the Barbarians may not teach their warriors about portals. Some feel that if a fighter knows he has an easy retreat, he'll fight less bravely. That was never a problem for him, but maybe others lacked his concentration.

The area in front of Nihlathak's temple was strewn with bodies, many in an advanced state of decay. What kind of temple was this? Not a good kind, that was obvious. Cliffs surrounded the temple garden (if you could call it that) except for a single, narrow path climbing up -- the only non-magical access. Thaddeus walked to the center of the garden, readied Blessed Hammer, and waited for the dead to awaken. This they did, and the hammers rang through the garden. Like the rest of Nihlathak's zombies, they had a bad habit of rising up again after they'd been killed, but the prayer of Redemption helped immensely with that.

As he disposed of the Zombies, Thaddeus mentally reviewed his order's advice for dealing with Necromancers. Whenever possible, simply avoid the wall of dead flesh they seek to impose between themselves and danger. Their curses do no harm in themselves; they are a coward's way of hampering an opponent to compensate for weakness. If cursed with faded sight, rely on the Light to guide your steps; few Necromancers can outrun a charging Paladin. The curse of the iron maiden is torturous, but can be assuaged by calling on Holy Shock or Vengeance. But beware the power of a Necromancer to use his minions even after they are struck down, by causing the corpse to explode! Redeeming the souls of the dead by holy prayers will take this power from him.

Nihlathak's temple was full of the dead, staggering and stumbling all over the place. Judging by the empty niches all over the temple catacombs, and the zombies' thick, sturdy bones, these were his own tribe's dead, raised to serve him more obediently than they ever did in life. Every now and then, one would mutter what might have been words; rotted tongues and broken jaws made their meaning unguessable. If Nihlathak had somehow found a way to bind the souls of dead warriors, instead of just using their mortal frames, his evil had gone far beyond mere necromancy. Thaddeus made sure to stop and pray for all these tortured dead, releasing them from Nihlathak's power.

Baal's creatures defiled the Barbarian temple too, Minotaurs and Maulers. Blessed Hammer was less effective on them, but killing them was simply a matter of time -- time Thaddeus hoped he wasn't wasting. He'd seen no sign of Baal in the temple, but it had taken him most of a day to find Anya since Nihlathak disappeared. In that time, Baal might have come and gone. The temple's catacombs were huge, easy to lose himself in, and the stairways small, tucked away in unexpected locations. Things got so bad, Thaddeus had to go back to Anya and ask where he should go.

"The catacombs are three layers deep, with many shrines and burials. Has Nihlathak left the paintings on the walls intact?"

"The paintings were broken by powerful blows; I think the demons there were offended by their beauty. Nihlathak will probably hide on the deepest level. Do you remember where the stairs from the second level are?"

"I have never been that deep inside, but I believe they are to the north and west. You are nothing like our people, outlander."

"How so?"

"You will stop to ask for directions. And you've barely even looked at me. Do you think I would be a danger to your vows?"

She asked the question so straightforwardly, the insinuation almost didn't offend him. As he glared at her, Thaddeus suddenly became aware Anya was attractive for a Barbarian. A bit sturdy for his tastes, with a rather long nose, but far above average for the race. Maybe the Barbarians weren't staring at the portal after all. "For all our sakes, time is not something I can afford to waste. I also did not think you would want anything to do with an outlander, so there would be no point in expressing an interest."

"A man, if he is a man, would look. What kind of man are you? You seem a warrior, but Cain tells me you slay your enemies by magic."

"Would you be happier if I had looked at you?"

"I would have struck you for your impudence. A simple warrior does not look at the chief's daughter."

All the simple warriors looked at the chief's daughter; Thaddeus saw a lot of them were still looking. They looked from a distance, admittedly... but Anya's stand-offishness seemed at variance with the facts. Was this an intimidation tactic, trying to keep the stranger from trying anything he shouldn't? Or some sort of strange Barbaric flirting? Either way, he didn't have time for it. "I hope I am not so simple. Thank you for your help, I must go now."

Thaddeus finally found the stairs, and descended into the deepest halls of the temple. Some of Baal's slaves met him at the entrance, and behind them was a horde of Succubi. The level was full of Succubi, beautiful ones with brightly feathered wings; was this a way for Baal to bend Nihlathak's will? Or a reward for services rendered? Whatever the reason for their presence, they died as easily as ever. At one point, he felt so confident that he cornered one and asked her a question.

"Before I kill you, tell me what you've been doing with Nihlathak."

The Succubus spat at him. It stank. "Nothing! He keeps mooning over some Barbarian bitch like a born love-slave."

Oh, ho. "What are you doing here?"

"Having no fun at all. Something you'd know nothing about."

Thaddeus shook his head. "Why does everyone think I've taken a vow of chastity?"

The Succubus' eyes brightened. "You haven't?!"

"No! Not that it matters for you, though." Then he beat her head in.

In a remote corner of the catacombs, Thaddeus finally saw Nihlathak. He was floating over a horde of slave creatures, surrounded by a spinning shell of bones. Thaddeus never heard of Necromancers being able to fly. As the slaves came for him, he retreated to a safe distance and let the hammers spin. As he paused to clean up the bodies, Nihlathak spoke.

"I suppose you're wondering what I hope to gain from this."

"The safety of Harrogath, and the hand of the great chief's daughter," Thaddeus said, as the last demon body vanished.

"Correct! You have no idea what you're interfering with!"

As he collected a new group of minions for death and disposal, Thaddeus replied, "Does this mean I won't be invited to the wedding?"

"I invite you to die!" There was a pause, in which nothing happened. "Damn it! What are you doing back there?"

"Come closer, and I will show you."

"Oh, no! I am perfectly comfortable back here. Don't think getting rid of those slaves will save you. It is a simple matter for me to raise more. Do whatever you like with them."

"The Succubi have been wondering why you won't do what you like with them."

The sneer was audible. "I'm not stupid. I know what Succubi do to men, better than you do. You honestly think this will do some good, don't you?"

By this time, Thaddeus had moved around to the other side of Nihlathak's lair, collecting a new batch of minions. "Having fewer Succubi in the world is a small improvement. Anya is much better looking."

After a small pause, Nihlathak answered, "Don't even think of touching her, or my revenge will not stop when you're dead."

"You think I'll break my vows over a Barbarian?"

"Do you take vows? Or is it just a way of disguising your interest in choir boys?"

Thaddeus took a deep breath, and replied, "Big talk, for someone who surrounds himself with naked slave men."

"This is insulting and pointless!" Nihlathak suddenly seemed to lose patience. "You're just hanging back, trying to draw me out! It won't work. Are you a coward?"

"No, merely sensible. But if you insist..."

As quickly as he could, Thaddeus ran into the room. Nihlathak was hovering over a raised pentagram The crowd around Nihlathak was much smaller than before, but still too large; he ran out the other entrance with the crowd of slaves behind him. After disposing of them, he went back and charged.

Just as he was about to bash Nihlathak's brains in, he vanished, reappearing a short distance away. Blast, Necros weren't supposed to know teleporting spells; he must have studied the magical ways of several clans. Who knows what he could do? Nihlathak summoned a slave, and Thaddeus prepared his shield and called on the spirits of vengeance. As far as he could, Thaddeus ignored the slaves, beating through the bone shield around Nihlathak until he had to summon it again. Finally, frustrated with his scepter's lack of killing power, he switched to his maul and charged. That was just what Nihlathak was waiting for.

On a signal, a slave jumped between Thaddeus and Nihlathak, and died. Nihlathak gestured, and the explosion blasted Thaddeus across the room. Fire was a terrible threat without his shield, and the rest of the slaves were between him and Nihlathak. As Nihlathak laughed, Thaddeus fell back around the corner, killing and disposing of the bodies as they came. This could get we killed, he thought; what should I do? Charge was very risky. The hammers might be worse, if he sets off more than one corpse at once.

Thaddeus put the maul away, and readied Blessed Hammer. It had killed Diablo; surely it could take care of one Necromancer. He could hear Nihlathak in the chamber outside his lair. "Oh, Pally-boy... where have you hidden all the bodies? Do you fear me so much?"

"I sent them away to their reward. You'll meet them again soon enough."

"I don't think so. I have a world to rule. And its about time, too."

"No, Nihlathak. There won't be a world out there. You've given him the Relic of the Ancients, haven't you?"

"You forced me to do that, you know. When you found the girl, Baal was going to call off our whole bargain and send all his armies into Harrogath! That foolish shield would have done no good at all, and neither would you. I had to give it to him to save my people!"

"Nihlathak, you have destroyed your people. Do you think Harrogath will survive long after he destroys the Worldstone?"

"He gave me his word!"

Thaddeus actually looked around the corner at Nihlathak. "His word?"

For the first time, Nihlathak actually looked nervous. "You don't think he's a man of his word?"

Thaddeus slowly turned away. The headache was coming back. "You idiot."

"DON'T YOU CALL ME THAT, YOU STUPID WARRIOR!! All you muscle-headed louts are so stupid! You're stupid, stupid, stupid! If Baal tries anything, my magic will save Harrogath!"

Thaddeus just shook his head. "You IDIOT..."

"I can take on anybody!" Nihlathak's voice was rising to a high pitch. "Do you know how long, how many years I worked to make myself the ultimate killing machine!? No one can beat Necromancy for mastery over life and death! But I didn't stop there, I studied sorcery, and thaumaturgy, even alchemy! Go on! Ask me anything about anything magical!"

"YOU IDIOT..."

Screeching now, Nihlathak replied, "I told you to STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!"

Thaddeus ran around the corner and charged Nihlathak. The elder took it right in the gut; Thaddeus hit him again and again, slamming him back into a wall. After teleporting away, he summoned another slave. This time, Thaddeus carefully sidestepped and slammed him into a wall again. While he was stunned, Thaddeus got between the slave and Nihlathak, slamming with his shield to knock him back before charging along the wall. After a few solid hits, his defenses collapsed, and Thaddeus sprayed his brains all over his dead minions. An infernal gate opened up in the floor, and as Nihlathak hovered there, screaming out his last breath, the flesh was stripped from his bones and his bones wrenched apart. The whole gory mess was drawn straight down into Hell as the gate closed up.

Watching him get his reward for all his efforts, Thaddeus thought: nice fireworks, Baal. Then he looked at the last slave. It looked at Thaddeus. It tried to smile. Thaddeus didn't smile back. After crushing its skull, he looked around for anything resembling a relic, in the dim hope that it might still be here. None were to be found.

Chapter 33

Hadst I a hammer,

I would hammer in the morning!

I would hammer in the evening!

All over this land! -- The Book of the Hammer, c. 10, v. 17-20

"Nihlathak didn't have the relic?" Anya asked Thaddeus.

"Before he died, he said he gave the relic to Baal. I have brought you everything I could carry away from the temple. If the relic is not here, it is lost."

"Then you must go to the summit. The path to take is through the ice caves you found me in, by way of a hidden passage next to a river." Sighing, she lowered her head. "You must think me presumptuous. I cannot ask this, you have already done so much."

"There is no presumption; you need not ask. The Worldstone must be protected by any means you or I possess. My hope is that we can cooperate, but you have not spoken of yourself. All this must be galling for you; I know you are a proud people."

She stared hard at him for a moment, before her eyes fell. "Yes. Which makes Nihlathak's betrayal all the more mystifying. The Worldstone is the source of our pride; it is our whole purpose. How could he have done this?"

For a minute, Thaddeus was silent. Not that he couldn't think of anything to say; if Anya honestly wanted answers, he could easily spend an hour answering her. A dozen different answers came to mind, none of them good things to say. Finally, Anya asked, "Before you killed him, he said things about me, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"I know he wanted me for himself..."

"Yes. But I do not think he was fond of you. If I might speculate... ?"

"Speak freely, outlander. It is our way."

"You are the great chief's daughter. Marrying you would be an act of taking power."

Anya frowned. "Here in the north, a man must make his own way. He may not marry into power and expect to keep it."

"That is not quite what I meant. Nihlathak was a proud man; in fact, he felt he was better than anyone else. I cannot help but notice that all the men in Harrogath admire you. Taking you from them would have suited his pride."

"He was never any more proud than the other elders," she murmured. "But his misguided pride will be our undoing. I wonder if our ways confuse you. When I first saw you, I thought you must be quite a man to have come so far up the mountain, through so much danger."

Laughing a bit, he replied, "And now you think differently?"

"I did, but I changed my mind again. You confuse me. You stand up and look men in the eye, but have no pride in yourself. Your confidence seems absolute, but you will not allow others to see it. Qual-Kehk tells me he and his men, down to the lowest, insulted you to your face. Your reply was to walk out our gates and defeat Baal's army. You have great strength; why are you ashamed of it, to hide and belittle it so?"

"Anya, in my religion, pride is considered a terrible sin. A mortal sin. It is... how should I explain this?" After some thought, Thaddeus said, "I know a story written in the chronicles of Zakarum about the Nephalem. I don't suppose you have heard of them; they were a race of giants, mighty men of ancient times."

Very quietly, Anya said, "Go on."

"When the angels descended from Heaven, some made congress with mortals, and children came of their union. These were the Nephalem. Favoring their own blood over all others, the angels gave them power and privileges, saying 'You are first among all mortals. Let our blessings be upon you, that you might be a blessing for the world.' They became humanity's first guardians, and the first kings."

"They must have been great indeed," Anya said with a smile.

"They learned of power from their heavenly parents. The discernment of Heaven, peaceful for eons beyond our knowing, was theirs. So great was their power, they grew proud."

Anya nodded. "The mighty are always proud."

"But pride led to contempt. Their strength was such that none could stand against them, and they did as they liked. People everywhere groaned under the weight of their demands for land and wealth. In time, they grew arrogant and withdrew from humanity, and could not be bothered with the concerns of lesser mortals."

"And Heaven?"

"Heaven turned a blind eye towards her favored sons. The angels, whose wisdom is not infinite, felt their children would be so wise they would not fall into sin. But the Nephalem remembered only that they had been blessed, not why. After long ages, Hell did invade. The Nephalem said to themselves, 'These devils have not threatened my place. They do not walk in my house, or take my cattle. Let other men fight for their things; they have great fear of us, and will not come to our places.'"

"I see," Anya said.

"Hell took realm after realm, until finally the stench of them rose up to Heaven. When the angels came to their children, they found them laughing and at play, racing each other or hunting in the woods. The angels said to them, 'Your enemy is upon you, they are shaping evil for you, what stubbornness is this?' The Nephalem replied, 'They are far away, and will not come today. Any who come here, we will strike down.' Meant to be a blessing for all, pride made them a hated curse."

"What became of them?"

"The chronicles are not clear on that. They do not walk the earth now."

"That is an interesting story, Paladin. Perhaps, when we first heard rumors of troubles in the south, the elders ought to have sent our warriors out to destroy it. Evil would not have had time to grow as strong as it is now."

"Though I risk speaking ill of your father, it is your way, so I will speak. I do not think your elders would ever do so. Since I came here, I have heard nothing but talk of the greatness of Barbarians, what mightiness you possess."

"And you think that is arrogance? Outlander, it is nothing but a statement of fact, clear to any with eyes to see. Even you must admit it."

"Whether it is true is not important. But since you are so mighty, blessed by Heaven with a great and noble guardianship... why would you bother to help other, lesser men? You and your father heard rumors before Baal reached you. Did you have any thought of going forth into the world to help others?"

Anya stared quietly at Thaddeus. "No. It never entered our minds."

"Your elders, Heaven bless them, sacrificed themselves to protect Harrogath. But they were meant to protect the Worldstone! Why wasn't this shield put up over Arreat?"

"Do you suggest that my father was willing to forget the Worldstone? A father must keep his children safe! And a chief must see to his people!"

"I do not mean to imply that. But protecting something means you must be willing to sacrifice yourselves for its safety, not sacrifice it for yours."

"Only Nihlathak did that!" Anya spat, glaring at Thaddeus. Standing at her full and not-inconsiderable height, she began to speak... then stopped and lowered her eyes. "Maybe you are right. Cain has told me you spoke poorly of our warriors. You feel they fight with pride but no strategy, in ways that assure their defeat."

"That is not quite what I said. I said their strategy was born of pride, and I believe it is their undoing. A warrior here fights first, for his own glory and reputation; second, for the glory of his clan and tribe; third, for the loot of the battlefield to enhance his family's wealth; fourth, and last, to defeat Baal's army."

"That is the way we have always fought. The endless war between our clans has made us strong, but perhaps you southlanders know more of fighting armies. Baal's minions are slaves who receive no glory. I always thought that would be a weakness, but it is a strength for them. They have no fear of cowardice."

"It is not cowardice. Working together can defeat a mighty foe. A soldier must forget himself and fight for the common good of his people."

Anya shook her head. "Your words are wise, but my heart will not listen. This is not our way. I am glad you are here; you have all of our gratitude, even those too proud to express it. Perhaps things would have been different if we had asked for help from the neighboring kingdoms. The walls might have been manned, the fortresses full of spears; catapults of our own might have rained death on the demons as they came."

Quietly, Thaddeus nodded. "I must be going, while there is still hope. The summit of Mt. Arreat is sacred for you, but I must know what I will find there."

"The Nephalem."

Thaddeus blinked. "The who?"

Faintly smiling, Anya answered, "The Nephalem. They are our ancestors. The Ancient Ones came to these mountains long ago, led by our immortal king Bul-Kathos. He is the only king Barbarians have ever bowed to. Our blood has thinned and weakened since those days; we are less than what we were, so do not be surprised when you see them. The first time I went to the peak, I knew I was in the presence of gods."

"Oh," Thaddeus mumbled intelligently.

Qual-Kehk laughed when Thaddeus asked him about the Ancients. "I have never dared to venture there. I am sure I would be found unworthy. Anya is the one to ask."

"Please! I was insulting her father, insulting her people, and then I find out I was insulting her ancestors. I couldn't speak to her again."

"What's wrong with that? Maybe they deserved it!" Qual-Kehk laughed and clapped Thaddeus on the shoulder again. "Besides, they're my ancestors too, and you're speaking to me. What of it?"

"Well... maybe. I was embarrassed."

"Why?"

Smiling, Cain interjected, "You must consider, Qual-Kehk, you're not nearly as attractive as Anya."

"What does he care? Don't these armored priests take vows?"

Cain began, "Well, actually --" when he was suddenly cut off by Thaddeus stepping on his foot. As he stumbled off, Thaddeus laughed. "Anya is such a vision of loveliness, most any man's vows would be put to the test. You do grow 'em nice up here! I'd better get back on that mountain right now, or I might lose complete control of myself."

Qual-Kehk frowned dubiously. "You're not getting any funny ideas, are you?"

"Oh, no! Perish the thought. Well, must run. Bye now!"

Where did that come from? Thaddeus wondered as he went back to the ice caves. Anya is an attractive girl, but no one should even suggest that he might like her. She's the chief's daughter, and he's got the wrong set of ancestors. Damn; maybe it was too long since he had been with a woman. There hadn't been much time for it. On the other hand, it could just be nerves. Nihlathak's betrayal was a serious blow to his quest.

The ice caves were full again, with Ice Demons, Maulers, and Succubi. Ice Demons might be dangerous if they ever got to melee range; they were so slow, Blessed Hammer bashed them to bits while they were still creeping in. The Succubi were annoying if their curses struck while a group of Maulers was attacking. Otherwise, nothing prevented Thaddeus from finding the path to Arreat's heights. The Barbarians had hidden the entrance behind a wicker barrier covered with a thick layer of ice; Thaddeus never would have found it by himself, and Baal probably wouldn't have either.

A few last rings of forts, covered with ice, sat on the high frozen tundra surrounding the summit. One last set of caves, and he was through to the peak, thrust above every other mountain in the range. Thaddeus had to take a moment to look down on the rest of the world. There was Harrogath; he couldn't see any people. The Worldstone was not on the peak, nor were any angels or sons of angels visible. Stairs led down into the mountain, but they were locked behind a closed gate. An altar surrounded by three statues of Barbarian warriors stood at the center of the summit. Unlike anything else in Barbarian art, the statues were very realistic, and obviously extremely ancient. They were also huge, far larger than life. The one's sword was taller than any man.

Tribal cultures often have "sky temples", particularly on mountain tops. Though this was not the way of Zakarum, this was holy ground, and out of deference to his hosts Thaddeus knelt in prayer before approaching the altar. As he stepped inside the ring of statues, three male voices spoke in unison.

)We are the Nephalem, the ancient ones of the mountains. Ages ago, Heaven made our kind guardians of the world and all that is in it. Now, we have been chosen to guard sacred Mount Arreat, wherin the Worldstone rests. Before you enter, you must defeat us.(

In a flare of light, the statues came to life. Of course, Thaddeus thought, I should have known. And, getting in to the Worldstone would be a trial of combat. Barbarians. Winning a fight makes you a good fighter, not a worthy person. As two throwing axes whistled through the air, he quickly moved out of the way and started casting Blessed Hammer. One of the Barbarians, armed with sword and shield, charged in a peculiar fashion, spinning around and screaming as he whirled through the temple. Thaddeus stepped aside and let him pass; he must have taken 6 hammers as he went through. That was interesting to watch, but then Thaddeus noticed a shadow beside his own. Another Barbarian crashed to the earth next to him, his axe clanging off Thaddeus' shield.

Moving back a bit, Thaddeus got right next to the axe Barbarian and started casting Blessed Hammer. The swordsman was smarter than he looked, and didn't try that mad whirling charge again. Instead, he closed and stood next to his partner, pounding away at Thaddeus' shield. Smiling a bit, Thaddeus moved two steps over and recast; from here, the hammers went right through both Barbarians. The third Barbarian, the one with throwing axes, stood back and pelted Thaddeus. It was annoying, but tolerable.

When the axe Barbarian died, his body vanishing in a puff of luminescence, they changed strategies. The swordsman began whirling again, but stayed almost in one place, raining blow after powerful blow on Thaddeus far faster than he could block them. When he tried to get away, the swordsman followed him, spinning through in quick, sweeping charges. After quaffing a mana potion, Thaddeus hid behind a pillar near the thrower. As expected, the swordsman came for him again, but by then he had half a dozen hammers in the air, whirling around the pillar to strike both Barbarians. Another trip through the cloud of hammers at full speed was too much for the swordsman; he died and vanished like his comrade.

Looking around, Thaddeus noted two of the Nephalem statues had reappeared. Instead of rusty iron, they looked like solid gold now; they must have been standing there beside that altar for a very, very long time. Did Heaven do that as a punishment? He couldn't believe anyone would desire immortality if the price was standing on a mountain top, frozen forever. The thought crossed his mind in a moment -- the last Barbarian was still standing there, peppering him with throwing axes.

"You there," Thaddeus called. "Must we do this? You are not my enemy."

)Your enemy is below. We may not open the gate for you unless we have been defeated in honorable combat.(

"Heaven has so decreed this? You must stand on this mountain forever?"

)We must. Finish this quickly, warrior. Baal will not wait for you!(

For once, a Barbarian was making sense. As he threw axes, Thaddeus switched to his maul and charged. The huge man didn't budge from the charge, or the second one. The third finished him, though; he vanished to his pedestal, and the gates into the mountain opened.

Chapter 34

Woe to you, destroyer, treacherous one

With whom none has dealt treacherously!

Your time among us is spent; when you

Cease to destroy, you will be destroyed.

Where is the fury of destruction,

When there is nothing to destroy?

-- Chronicles of Zakarum, c. 28, v. 11-16

It was clear, once Thaddeus got inside the mountain, that Baal was in already. The signs of Destruction's presence were everywhere. Precisely carved slabs of stone were once laid out in intricate patterns on the floor. Glorious wide vaults, roofed with arched stone pillars, had sheltered shaman's temples and elaborately roofed tombs. Now the bones were dragged from their resting places, the idols broken to bits, and the floors broken out by huge chunks of red crystal driven upwards from somewhere below. The crystals were the worst sign of all. Demons rarely use crystal; its orderly inner structure is ill-suited to the magic of chaos. But they love to destroy it. As a gift of Heaven, the Worldstone would doubtless be made from a single pure crystal. To judge from the pieces, it was enormous and beautiful in the extreme... when it was still whole.

As he gazed sadly at the precious pieces battered through the walls of this sanctum, the first group of demons attacked. They were just Imps, with a few Minotaurs in golden armor. Thaddeus dealt with the Minotaurs first, then battered the Imps back into oblivion with his maul. Then he stood in contemplation. What was he to do? What could he do? By all indications, it was too late to save the Worldstone. Baal won the race, thanks to Nihlathak. As Thaddeus stood there, a burst of lightning erupted from under his feet, accompanied by the sound of laughter. His infernal eminence was obviously awaiting the pleasure of his company, and didn't like to be kept waiting. Bastard.

So on he went, exploring and admiring the shattered magnificence of the place, smashing every demon he met. Whenever he stopped for too long, clouds of poison, a burst of icy cold, or lightning bolts would goad him on again. Baal let him stop to kill his minions, but seemed to have little tolerance for sightseeing or prayers for the dead. There were a few dead Barbarians in the keep... probably heroes who'd managed to defeat the Ancients, but couldn't deal with Baal's army any better than Harrogath's warriors could. Fortunately, Baal couldn't stop Thaddeus from casting a portal, so he returned to Harrogath.

"Hello, Cain. Here are a few things you might look at."

"Excellent! I'm very happy to see you again. Have you met the Ancient Ones, then?"

"Yes. They were very fierce."

Thaddeus could sense Qual-Kehk behind him, itching to ask about the Nephalem. Cain simply nodded. "You do not seem... triumphant."

"Defeating the Ancients was difficult, but Baal has already gone past them. There is... was a sanctum dug into the peak of Arreat. Huge pieces of crystal are everywhere, smashed to bits. I fear hope for the Worldstone is lost."

"You bested the Ancients, warrior?" Qual-Kehk burst in. "Every time I hear from you, your deeds become more legendary. Now, you have gone beyond all our legends."

"Qual-Kehk, it doesn't matter! Who cares for legends? They will mean nothing without the Worldstone! Baal has destroyed it. There will be no one to speak of legends anymore."

"Nonsense," Qual-Kehk calmly answered. "Baal cannot defeat you now. Think on this: the Ancient Ones defeated the hordes of Hell long before the Worldstone even existed. You have defeated the Ancient Ones. What threat could all Hell's fury hold for you?"

"I cannot replace the Worldstone. I don't even know what it does."

"It seems to me that Qual-Kehk has a point!" Cain smiled. "The Worldstone was given to us eons ago, but the world existed long before that. It may be that we can live without it... though perhaps life will be harder."

"What's wrong with a hard life?" Qual-Kehk smiled. "It makes men tougher and stronger when they can rely only on themselves. So the Worldstone is gone. Maybe the world has enjoyed its protection long enough. With the light to guide us, and heroes like you walking the earth, we cannot help but prosper."

Thaddeus looked at Qual-Kehk. "The Worldstone protected the world?"

"Why do you suppose there have been so few demonic invasions these last few centuries? The Worldstone did that."

"Ah," Cain exclaimed. "One theory of the Worldstone's purpose is that its energy interfered with Hellish energies trying to enter our world. With their power weakened, demons could not function. This gave us respite from constant invasions, and allowed kings and kingdoms to grow and consolidate."

Qual-Kehk shrugged. "It is not my place to know what it did or how. My calling was to protect it. I failed, but maybe the world is better for it."

"Surely not," Thaddeus replied. "Heaven gave us the Worldstone for a purpose."

"Purposes change!" Cain said. "Many of Heaven's gifts only last a short time. When the need for them fades, they fail or are allowed to be destroyed."

With a shock, Thaddeus wondered... could this all have been a Heavenly gambit? Hell can plot and plan for centuries; why should anyone think Heaven is less clever? Surely, the other angels knew of Tyrael's actions... stopping him would have been easy, if no good could come of them. "Yes, humanity's power has increased since the days of old. Angelic protectors were not the answer to the infernal threat. Perhaps simple, common human beings needed to band together and become strong enough to protect themselves."

"Simple, common human beings?" Qual-Kehk snorted. "Maybe you started that way, but a true hero is far greater than any lesser man. The world needs heroes."

Cain added, "And if the hero must work hard to improve himself, that just may be what makes him a hero. Heroes are made, not born."

Thaddeus nodded. "Well, since it seems I cannot save the Worldstone... there is only one thing I can do, and I will actually enjoy doing it."

"What is that?"

"Making Baal wish he'd never been born."

Thaddeus went down through the Worldstone sanctum quickly, constantly moving lest Baal get the satisfaction of giving him another one of those magic hotfoots. The place was full of Baal's strongest troops, obviously the ones he'd kept closest to his person on his journey up the mountain. The most powerful slaves had learned how to excite themselves, and could explode without any Overseer to whip them up. Such devotion was appalling. The Minotaurs were the strongest he'd met, and the Succubi were almost a threat in and of themselves. Baal must like them that way.

The deepest level of the Worldstone sanctum was full of Minotaurs and Succubi. These witches could work stronger magic than curses, casting tiny bolts of pure red death from great distances. They fled from close combat, but charging with his maul took care of them very neatly. Dealing with the Minotaurs was more difficult if Thaddeus couldn't get a good angle for Blessed Hammer; charging them without his shield was out of the question, they hit much too hard. Despite all the pieces of crystal blasted up through the floor, Thaddeus felt strangely at peace. There is a certain freedom in having nothing to lose. Of course, he kept killing Baal's demons -- they had to be removed from the world. Even if the Worldstone was lost, there was still hope. No matter what Hell did, there would always be hope.

When Thaddeus finally found Baal, he was feeling almost light-hearted. Baal was in a good mood too. He was in an impromptu throne room, up on a dais with a red gate behind him. The way to the Worldstone, no doubt. *Finally! Welcome to Destruction's throne!*

"You're a mean host, Baal. No wine, no entertainment... not even hors d'oeuvres."

Like the servant you are, you will provide the entertainment, and the meal!*

Baal threw down a glowing ball of energy, and cast a crippling curse on Thaddeus. His joints ached and his muscles felt weak, but the minions Baal summoned were a joke. A group of Fallen Ones, shamans throwing fireballs. Thaddeus didn't even bother to move, just cast Blessed Hammer until they were all pounded to jelly.

"You should have told me you were on the throne, Baal. I would have waited."

The laughter diminished slightly. *I have spent enough time waiting for you! Do you have any idea how slow you are?*

"So kind of you to wait on me, Baal. Now, be a good lad: my boots need a bit of a polish. I seem to have gotten your servants all over them."

A twitch developed at the corner of Baal's eye. Thaddeus smiled to himself; this worked better than taking him seriously. These proud spirits cannot endure to be mocked. Snarling, Baal summoned another group of attackers: Greater Mummies, with burning skeleton mages. His resistance to cold was excellent, so Thaddeus yawned theatrically and started casting Blessed Hammer. This group was a little tougher than the Fallen Ones had been. At one point, he prayed for the mage's redemption, not only for his own spiritual strength but to bless the dead so the mummies couldn't resurrect them. As the last of the dead went to their final sleep, Baal snarled some more insults.

You are strong. A pity you're so stupid!*

"This from the creature summoning these things. I'll not match wits with you, Baal; you're too lightly armed."

A pathetic joke! I was flaying angels alive while your kind was still crawling on their bellies in the dust! How did you delude yourself into thinking you can defeat me?*

"I believe your brothers said something like that. Personally, I'm disappointed. After all the talk I've heard, I expected far more, especially out of you. In fact, if I'd known you were this weak, I wouldn't have bothered coming."

DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DEALING WITH!?! I AM DESTRUCTION!!*

Baal threw down a third group: warped humans. They looked much like the council of Kurast, but they were all dead. As he retreated to draw them away from Baal, he gave the nearest one his most pleasant greeting. The string of filth it uttered didn't sound like anything he'd heard in the church. Then he noticed the remains of magic symbols on their clothing. This must be Bartuc the Bloody, lord of the Vizjerei before his death, made Warlord of Blood after his demonic "slaves" dragged him down into Hell. It was a pity there were no Vizjerei here to see the state he'd sunk to, some of them still respect his memory. The hammers disposed of Bartuc and his followers easily enough.

"Oh, Mr. 'I am destruction'? I must apologize; as a guest, I should not interfere with the way you treat your servants. But they are making a terrible mess."

Not half the mess as you'll make! Take this!*

Another curse. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but curses never hurt me. Don't you have anything left at all? Is this the worst you can do?"

RRAAAAGHH!!*

Another group of monsters appeared. "Balrogs. Oh, please."

Thaddeus took the Balrogs a short distance away and disposed of them. Baal's minions were getting tougher, but they were still nowhere near as tough as the Ancients had been. They weren't even tough enough for Thaddeus to use anything but the hammers. No wonder Baal had feared to take the summit; the Ancients probably wouldn't let him enter unless he fought them himself, and he was nothing without his army. In that respect, he was the inferior of the Barbarians. He'd won the war on the mountain by being the one who chose how it was fought. Thaddeus should probably get up on that dais and teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget, but goading him was intensely gratifying.

Whistling a jaunty tune, Thaddeus came back in. "Look, this is all very entertaining, but shouldn't we get to the business of sending you screaming back to Hell? I'm afraid you've overstayed your welcome by a considerable margin."

I'm not going anyplace! YOU ARE! When I am done with you, I will bring my minions back, and cut a swath across your world like Heaven has never seen!*

"And these minions are... what? More Fallen Ones? Perhaps some Zombies? Maybe a dyspeptic Quill Rat or two? I don't think you've got anything left."

Baal grinned. It was a very unpleasant sight. *You aren't the first to think that... So say hello to my little friends.*

Thaddeus backed up to give them space, and began casting Blessed Hammer. This bunch was odd looking, with four legs and four arms, all bony plates and huge teeth. The hammers didn't stop them in their tracks like most beasts; they walked right up to Thaddeus and flailed their fists at him. When the first hit his shield, he knew he was in trouble; it knocked him right off his feet and back into a column. Being trapped among them would be very bad, so Thaddeus took the better part of valor and beat a short retreat. They came for him again, slowly ambling along; he had several hammers in the air before they reached him and bashed him back again.

The hammers hurt them, probably a lot, but these things were so tough it hardly seemed to matter. As Baal laughed, Thaddeus retreated all the way out of his throne room with the things in pursuit. In the entrance hall, he got behind a pillar and cast a few hammers; one of the beasts died, but more came up behind and battered him into the open again. Swearing, Thaddeus retreated again and again, getting off one or two hammers before they were on him again, not nearly enough to set up the cloud of death he needed. Finally, he just ran back to an open area, hoping they would follow.

They didn't follow; Thaddeus looked out and saw them waiting in the hall. Well, what now? Subterfuge? Perhaps a charge? No, they'd mutilate him without his shield. Subterfuge would be much better. He stepped out into the hall and began casting. They came forward, he retreated, casting a hammer with every other step. When they got too close, he kept backing up. They began to wear down, but Thaddeus ran into a problem. He'd backed into a wall, and was trapped in a dead-end room. Throwing caution to the winds, Thaddeus walked into the middle of the group and began casting Blessed Hammer. He got exactly one off before they smashed him into the wall again.

With nothing else to do, Thaddeus zealously hit them with his scepter. All of them gathered around and pinned him to the wall with repeated blows. That was it; if he ever got out of this, he was getting a bigger scepter. Smiting one away, Thaddeus walked out of the crowd and into the middle of the room again. After a couple more hammers, he retreated down the hall, exactly as he'd come in. Most of the hammers missed, damn it, but as he reached an open area, he had time to cast a hammer cloud. Another died; now there were four, still too many but he could probably deal with them up close now.

After downing a rejuvenation potion, Thaddeus retreated to the main hall. Two followed; the others stayed behind a low barrier and watched. That was strange, but Thaddeus wasn't about to question their decision. Casting and retreating, he drew the near two away, until finally there was only one, the biggest. He took out his maul and battered it senseless. The last two fell easily.

Back in the throne room, Baal looked very unhappy to see Thaddeus. He ran through the gate; Thaddeus followed. The Worldstone chamber was a huge natural cave, dominated by a pure red crystal of enormous size. Bits of stone and broken crystal floated through the air, as bits of the Worldstone broke away from the main body and smashed into the walls. That they could float so delicately and still hit with such power was strange, but the Worldstone was of Heavenly origin and their ways are not easily guessed. Baal was on a causeway which led up to the Worldstone, laughing triumphantly.

Behold, the final act of Destruction!*

"Well, final act is correct. A pity, it was a beautiful thing."

Your world is doomed! You may defeat me, but I will be back!*

"Your brothers said that too. You demons are so repetitive. Blood this, doom that, I'll be back the other thing. I know you'll return; the whole world knows it. You'll have about as much of destroying the world then as you have of defeating me now. So shut your face, you pathetic weakling. If you haven't got it now, you never will."

Twitching with rage, Baal summoned tentacles from the floor. Thaddeus ignored them. He summoned a duplicate of himself. Thaddeus stood between them and cast Blessed Hammer, giving both equal treatment. At one point, Thaddeus tried a charge, and Baal replied with a wave of cold, pushing him back. With a shrug, Thaddeus put his maul away and cast Blessed Hammer. Without his minions, Baal was truly a weakling; the cold wave was about all he had to defend himself. Thaddeus was drinking potions more to restore his mana than to recover from any damage Baal could inflict.

Baal died messily, collapsing to the floor and puking his mummified guts out. The smell was more offensive than any of his attacks. Strange translucent spirits floated up from his body; hopefully, they would find the peace they deserved away from Baal. The earth trembled, the ceiling cracked... and Tyrael descended into the chamber.

"I am impressed, mortal. You have accomplished the impossible."

"Hail, Tyrael. Is the Worldstone lost forever?"

"I am afraid you are correct. Baal's destructive touch has corrupted it completely."

Thaddeus nodded. "So... what was it?"

Tyrael regarded him silently for a moment. "Ages ago, Heaven retreated from the mortal realms, leaving the Worldstone behind as protection. When the Prime Evils were exiled to your world, I hoped to use the soulstones, whose vibrational energies were in harmony with the Worldstone, to contain them forever. This would have turned the balance of power between Heaven and Hell to our favor, and kept it there. Now, the Worldstone must be destroyed, or Hell will be able to use its power against us both."

"The world will survive without it?"

"That is my hope."

"Then we do not need it anymore." Thaddeus smiled. "There is so much more to be done. The church must be rebuilt, new stones laid for the foundations. Do you know anything of Fara, and if she has come to Kurast?"

"She was not greeted warmly, but is earning their admiration. You will be pleased to know that Asheara did not remain Lord of Kurast for long."

"How surprising. I hope she didn't do too much harm?"

"Very little; she grew bored with the position and left of her own accord."

"She will find another war somewhere else. Has peace come to the Sisters of the Sightless Eye, and their monastery?"

"They have established themselves in strength once again, and new converts flock to their monastery from nearby kingdoms."

"I wonder if they would consider admitting men. Probably not, but there are other places men may go to learn. Hopefully, they'll stay out of necromancy. What will become of the Barbarians, now that they have no purpose to unite them?"

"Whatever they wish to do, they will do. That has always been their way."

Thaddeus chuckled. "Unless someone tells them to do it... then they do something else."

"You seem different, mortal. Has your quest changed you?"

"How could it not?" Thaddeus laughed. "I have been considering your servant, the Mule. His humor confused me at first, but then I saw the joy and love of life in it. Joy and honest laughter are things demons do not understand. Your Mule could mock me, and not give offense. When you mock evil, it grows angry. Contemplating that humorless selfishness, the joylessness of an evil existence, may be the most compelling lesson I could carry away from all my encounters."

After a moment's silence, Tyrael said, "I have no servant called the Mule."

"What?"

Concluding thoughts:

Blessed Hammer is still a viable skill, but don't make it your only one. There are some situations it simply doesn't work in.
Like many old-style Paladins who relied on Concentration as an aura, Thaddeus started running into Attack Rating problems late in his career. Small ones, but they'll only get bigger as he moves on. Finding an unenchanted scepter with good skills, having Larzuk socket it, and putting in Holy Thunder, King's Grace, or Honor may be the way to go these days.
It may be possible to put together a viable build that just uses Charge and Blessed Hammer. Spire of Honor may be a good weapon for this.

This has been fun, but I think I need better weapons to make the Hammerdin shine. It's time to move on and do something else. Something simpler, without all these religious issues and complicated interpersonal relationships. And when I say "simple," I think of the Barbarian.

Epilogue

Stony, Patriarch Thaddeus (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. Onderduiker 11:54, 29 August 2012 (PDT)

Thaddeus

Act 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Act 2

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Act 3

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Act 4

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Act 5

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue

Source

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