Chapter Ten
The heroes stumbled back into the foyer of Cody's illusionary hotel, carting the wounded into the dining room while their host raided his private stock of healing potions. Ron Bars helped lower his fellow barbarian into a chair, holding the bandage in place around the dagger wound. "What happened?"
He grimaced, taking a healing vial carefully from the mage and gulping it. "Belial had another helper there, someone dressed in black-painted armor." He fumbled at his belt, and drew forth the dagger. The pommel was carved ebony of a man, mouth open and tongue torn out. "He hit me with this."
They removed the bandage to pour a healing potion over it, and one of the soldiers fainted at the sight. The wound was already starting to rot, with green pus oozing out with the blood. Cody cursed, dashing out of the room for some other magical remedy. Colin limped over, still favoring a gashed arm, and prayed over the abrasion, slowing the magical poison.
Finally, after an hour, everyone was healed and prepared. Sere stopped at the door. "Um, not that I'm ungrateful to suddenly have more people guarding my back, but no way is everyone going to fit on that little yacht we've been sailing," he said, gesturing at the remaining ten soldiers.
Colin chuckled, clapping him on the back with a smile. "Not to worry. Now that it's been fairly widely proven that Sareal was corrupt, and with me in charge of the paladins, you've got the resources of the Zakarum to draw upon."
"Should we really be sailing there?" Garou asked. "I mean, we're supposed to go east, and I'm sure it's a lot shorter to walk in a straight line than sail half-way around the world to get there."
All three of the assassins shook their head. "The tallest mountains in the world separate the Kehjistan jungles from anything further east. They might not be completely impassable, but it would take us at least a year to get there."
Erris looked glum. "Sailing there is still going to take months. The world could be completely swallowed by Belial's darkness before we reach there!"
Tharos shook his head. "That doesn't matter. We have to move, now, on the fastest ship the Zakarum can provide. I'm sure we'll get there in time."
"We didn't the first time," Oksana muttered as they trekked for the docks. Before the sun had set, the two fastest ships found in Kurast had set sail, bound for the mysterious lands of the east. Sere was the only person who had ever been there, but his memories of the visit were blurred by long years. And of course, being only six at the time he visited, the impressions could hardly be called objective.
Hadriel pushed open the door to Gabriel's small library room. "Hello, little brother," he said jovially. "How go your plans?"
The other angel grimaced, gesturing to his crystal ball where it sat on the table. The visions within were replaying the battle in Inarius' cathedral, and Hadriel watched for a moment. "I really wish Tyrael would talk to me before promising aid in my name," he said crossly. "I knew how to prevent Belial covering the world in darkness, but unfortunately, they arrived just a few seconds too late."
Hadriel nodded, perching on the edge of the desk with his wings furled. "I have a few interesting words to report from my insect spies in Hell," he said, and smiled as Gabriel's eyebrows raised with interest. "Well, as you know, our brothers and sister in Hell are doing their part to foil Belial's plans as well. And of course, returning Diablo to his place has done wonders for their morale."
The other angel leaned back, crossing his arms with a scowl. "I do know this part already," he said. "You are leading somewhere with this?"
"Of course! Anyway, for a surprise, all of them - even Baal - are following a plan set forth by Asmodan." As he took a breath to continue, Gabriel cut him off.
"I already know all of this, Hadriel. Oh please," he griped at the surprised look, "where do you think Asmodan got his little plan from? He's so desperate for revenge after centuries of humiliation that he was willing to agree to almost anything."
For a moment, there was complete silence in the room, then the older angel nodded slightly. "I had forgotten that you and Belial were born twins," he said softly. "But how in the world did you even convince Asmodan to speak to you?"
Laughing, Gabriel tapped the crystal ball, and the scene shifted.
Asmodan sat on his throne. His was the first one in Hell constructed from the tortured souls, but of course all of the others didn't remember that. He was the youngest of them all, and they would never let him forget it. Nothing he had done was ever, or would ever be, good enough to satisfy them.
His chamber of Hell was small, rather unappealing, and crowded with tortured souls. It amused him to watch them being tortured, to listen to their screams, and quite often he would retreat into this sanctuary for years at a time. What did they know of him, anyway, those older siblings he had been stuck with?
He shook away the discordant thoughts, reaching out with his barbed tail and eviscerating another soul. The scream echoed through his ears, studded with the bones of the lesser angels he had personally killed in battle. He leaned back again, feeling more satisfied, and then stared down at the entrails, where they had spilled out onto the stone floor, spelling out his name in a graceful script.
For a moment, Asmodan merely stared at the intestines, then he looked warily around the room. Any other demon would have found it unbearably crowded, the souls of the sinners piled atop each other haphazardly as they endured their torments with unseen magic, but every one of them was like a set of eyes to the Lord of Sin. Yet through all of them, he could see nothing.
Scowling, he cast a hand, and incinerated the soul, destroying it, reducing it to a scattering of ashes in an instant. Then, with mounting horror, he stared at the floor. Burned into it with the ashes read, Do you want your revenge on Belial? "Yes," he breathed out, unable to help himself.
"I can help you," came a familiar voice, and Gabriel stepped out from behind a pile of gluttonous souls, feasting on their own selves. "If you truly want revenge for all the insults he has given you."
"Gabriel!" he hissed, angry and afraid all at once. Asmodan's three barbed tails lashed angrily behind him, and his taloned hands clenched. "What do you mean, intruding here of all places? Have you come to taunt me as in the days of old, before our conflict started?"
The angel stopped for a moment, his eyes widening with surprise. "That was not my intent, Asmodan," he said seriously. "I come in peace, and I am serious. If you want your revenge on Belial, merely listen."
The demon laughed, slowly settling back onto his throne, conjuring a skull filled with wine. "And why should I believe you, of all my siblings light and dark? For you and Belial were once the closest of us all."
He sighed, laying a hand against one tormented soul. "The stronger and hotter love burns, the easier it can turn to an all-consuming hatred," he said quietly. "That is a lesson I am sure you have learned from the souls you keep here." When only an angry hiss greeted him, he turned back. "Do you wish to hear me, or should I leave?"
He sat on his throne, thinking desperately. But finally, his curiosity won out, and he nodded slowly. "Very well," said Gabriel with a smile. "I of course, do not expect you to make any sort of promise, nor would I believe you if you did." He then set out to explain his plan, with Asmodan sitting pensively, listening attentively and occasionally shouting with surprise at the ingeniousness of it all.
Finally, the angel turned to leave. "As I said, if you wish your revenge on Belial, merely do what I have said. Or if you are still so distrustful of me, do not."
"Why did you come here, Gabriel?" he asked, leaning forward and staring intently.
"For the moment, our purposes match. We both wish to see Belial brought down, his plans thrown into ruin. Is that not enough?" Casting a last smile over his shoulder, Gabriel left the chamber.
Asmodan sat there for several minutes, talons clicking against the horns on his chin. Finally, with a broad and devious smile, he reached out, tearing the head from a soul. "Speak this message to Baal," he instructed, and then laid out the plan for his eldest brother.
Hadriel sat back, clearly impressed. "That certainly was insightful of you," he said. "But how did you already know that they've been following your plan?"
Gabriel sat back, looking a little surprised. "Tyrael mentioned your little network of ants, so I've been looking through them as well. I figured they were open-sourced to the three of us."
Rubbing his head, the older angel looked a little chagrined. "Ah. I hadn't thought that you'd use them, actually."
"Yes, well, I do like to get my hands dirty sometimes. Figuratively speaking, of course," and they shared a chuckle. "Anyway, unless there's something else, I have a lot of work to do to keep our part of this plan working."
Chuckling, Hadriel headed for the door. "Yes, since your ounce of prevention didn't work, I'd imagine getting the pound of cure is far harder. Oh well, look on the bright side - if we could stop everything by being omniscient, this would all be so much less exciting."
Gabriel stared at the door as it closed, then ruefully shook his head. "Exciting?" he asked rhetorically, then bent over his crystal ball again.
By the dawn sunlight, Xia tramped wearily through the marsh. The market for herbs and traditional cures had become a rather cutthroat business in the city of Lao Wai since the plague had started last year. Sometimes literally, she thought with a shudder, noticing a body caught in the reeds not too far away. But it was far from the first dead body she'd seen. Her family had been healers for years, and with her being the only child, it was her turn to take up the duties.
This was especially important, now that her father was sick. She was barely the age of a woman, but what could she do? She had no brothers to take up the job while she did the cooking and mending at home with her mother, and certainly the woman could not go out to do this job herself.
Before long, the reeds and scattered trees gave her good shelter from the sun, still so torturous even in wintertime. And then she found the plants she wanted, a special breed of water lily, and she drew a small knife from her belt. The flowers were well prized for making a healing tea, but the roots, she had discovered, did a far better job. She smiled grimly, thinking of the fat merchant who had tried to cheat her.
The sun was almost at noon by the time she had finished filling both of her bags with the flowers and roots, and she turned to slog back towards the road to the city. When leaving the marsh, it was always best to do so by the shortest and most traveled route, the better to avoid bandits.
Still, she thought, perhaps it was better in these times to be a girl. Many of the boys she had known had died, trying to hunt down the demons that prowled the borders. And the plague, of course, struck everyone. Then she was out of the marsh, shading her eyes from the bright sun while she squeezed water from her clothing. Not so many people were on the road as there were last year, she thought. And it was easy to locate where Lao Wai was from the many columns of funeral smoke.
She quickly joined the groups of traders and villagers traveling to the great city. Many people went there every year on pilgrimage to the Noble Shrine, and to gather outside the walls to the Emperor's Palace and dream of the wealth and beauty within. Xia sighed, remembering some of the outlandish tales she had told to her friends while they all washed clothes at the stream.
Then suddenly, the two traders in front of her collapsed, arrows through their chests. She stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then quickly dropped to her knees as people all around her started screaming. She fought to crawl to the edge of the road, to hide in one of the ditches, but the raiders were out on the road, waving around their spears and herding the traders together. If she left their group, she would be exposed, and they would kill her.
Then one of the raiders grabbed Xia from behind and snatched at her two bags. She screamed and fought with him, flowers spilling out as one bag pulled open, and the raider raised his spear to strike her down.
With a sudden fountaining of blood, the raider's head fell away, and he slumped to the ground, releasing her hold. Xia worked quickly to wipe the blood from her eyes as she heard the screams and the fighting. Before she could look around, someone had grabbed her arm, picked her up, and she was thrown into the ditch.
Stunned, she lay at the bottom, coughing around the fetid water that lay at the bottom. When she had recovered, she crept along the bottom of the ditch, trying to get away from the raiders and whoever had appeared to fight them. One hand then slipped, and she looked up as she realized it had slipped off someone's boot.
He bent over her, but his face was covered with a red cloth, and he held up a finger, gesturing for her silence. His clothes were cut simply in a peasant style, but they were very high quality. And on his back were two swords, one long and one short, both slightly curved. Xia began to shake in fear. Everyone had heard of these warriors, but until today, she had believed them to be merely stories used to frighten children at night.
He rose up, peeking over the edge of the deep ditch, then pulled forth a jug of water, and helped her to wash off the worst of the blood. Xia merely kneeled there, allowing him to do what he wished. Clearly he was no one she could hope to fight. Then, to her surprise, he pulled down the cloth covering his face, and helped her out of the ditch, guiding her back towards the city.
Everyone on the road made way for them, and her spirits fell the closer they came to her home. In the terminally crowded streets, no one so much as brushed her, and she felt the isolation keenly. Then she realized he had stopped right before her door, and started shaking in fear again. But her mother was already pulling the door open, and Xia followed him into her own home.
"What are you doing here, Chiang?" her mother asked, and nothing could have prepared her for that shock. She fainted, and only the warrior's quick reflexes kept her from falling to the floor. "After so many years, why are you so determined to destroy my reputation now?"
He gave her a reverential bow. "Believe me, o fair Jasmine, that was not why I came." He grunted as she kicked him in the shoulder, but straightened again without a sign of pain. "Lo Pan has need of your healing skills," he said simply, and she stiffened.
"How do you know I will help? Or that I can?" She turned away from him, not wanting to meet the look in his eyes. "You know that I chose to have nothing to do with your Order many years ago. Or has your master forgotten that?"
"Lo Pan has forgotten nothing. But three days ago, he had a prophecy, a vision of an overwhelming darkness that will cover the earth. Then he fell ill with the plague." Chiang continued to stand there, almost statue still, as he spoke. "He knows that you are the greatest healer in the city, despite your low-born rank, and sent me to ensure that your daughter returned with the medicines to heal him."
Jasmine stood there for several minutes, apparently lost in thought. "And why should I help that wretched old man?"
Chiang looked down at the unconscious Xia, and she could not help but follow his gaze. "If you do not, darkness will cover everything. What will happen to your daughter and husband when demons rule the world?"
She cursed him, and he stood there, stolidly as before. "Is Lo Pan at least man enough to pay for a healer's services?" In response, Chiang pulled out a pouch and tossed it to her, the rich sound of silver coins clinking in her hands as she caught it. "Very well. Let me wake my daughter first and gather my things."
The warrior continued to stand there in the middle of the room while Xia was awakened. "Listen to me, daughter. I have to go with this man to heal his master, Lo Pan. You stay here, bar the door and care for your father." Jasmine straightened, going into the next room and gathering up several small things into a bag, then taking several of the roots Xia had harvested. "I will return soon, perhaps tomorrow."
"But mama, he is a demon!" Xia cried out, shrinking away from Chiang as she scrambled to her feet.
"No," her mother contradicted her. "He is a fool, and more stubborn than a mule most times, but he is not a demon." She sighed, reaching for the door. "That is his master."
Then they were gone into the streets, leaving Xia staring at the closed door in fear and shock.
On the seas north of the Amazon islands, Inigra stood on the deck of his new ship. They had reached the island two days faster than his previous ship could have done, and truthfully, he was quite impressed. He'd also spent a great deal of time skulking around, listening to the workers. Once he understood enough to run the ship on his own, then Christof and his men would be dropped somewhere.
He scowled, and looked down at the deck. They other sailors had made a wide berth around him when he brought forth the child he had kidnapped the day before when they stopped for supplies, and there had been just enough blood to make a proper circle. It wasn't easy, drawing it on the middle of a ship on the ocean, but he'd had years of practice with his own ship.
Inigra raised all four of his swords, chanting in the warbling language of his people. He was sure, in some back corner of his mind, that all of the crew who could were gathered around the far side of the deck, watching his ritual. But all of his attention were on the words of the ancient song, the story of how his people gained their powers.
The sailors watched the ceremony with thinly-veiled suspicion, Christof especially watching with narrowed eyes from the pilot box at the rear. Then the pirate reached the crescendo and a burst of hellish fire filled the blood circle. When it cleared, the slug-like figure of Duriel towered over everyone on the deck. Sailors screamed in fear, some reaching for weapons and others fleeing below decks. One desperate man even threw himself overboard. "Why have you summoned me here," Duriel roared in the sand raider language, "little pest?"
Inigra smiled, genuflecting to the demonic lord. "Oh great Duriel, savior of my people, I have summoned you to ask a boon of you."
The demon scowled, pressing forward against the wall of the blood circle. "You, maggot, wish to ask a favor of me? Do you think I am your personal valet?"
"I saw those humans who stopped you so many years ago, great lord!" Inigra shouted over the angry questions, and Duriel stilled, thinking. "I have seen them on a ship, traveling to stop your brother Diablo, and I wish your aid, so that I might properly teach them of vengeance."
The Lord of Pain sat back for a moment, sizing up the pirate. "Indeed, you have about you the weight of one who has brought much misery and suffering to the world," he said grudgingly. "Tell me then, how would you teach them of my vengeance?"
For the next hour, as the sailors listened horrified, Inigra spoke of tortures and methods to cause pain that most of them had never imagined or heard of. Finally, with a satisfied laugh, Duriel nodded. "You are truly a great one among your people. Give me your sword, and you shall have my blessing."
Inigra gave another bow, drawing his best blade and tossing it into the circle. Somehow the demon caught it, and then proceeded to carve up one of the great claws he bore as arms. The pirate watched hungrily as a sword formed from the demonic bone, and finally it fell ringing on the deck next to his other blade. "You have a weapon, little raider, and it will serve you well in your vengeance." Flames shot up to surround him, and he vanished from sight.
Christof handed control of the wheel to one of his sailors, and came storming out of the pilot house. "Are you mad?" he ranted. "Summoning one of the Lords of Hell onto my ship? It could have disrupted everything!"
His words spluttered to a halt as Inigra spun around, his new sword in hand. Metal screeched as he dragged the edge along the steel plates, but in the end it was the metal that gave way, leaving a groove as he raised the sword to stop an inch from Christof's face. "I am the master of this ship," he said dangerously. "Do not forget it again."
Cradling his new weapon carefully, Inigra vanished below decks, doubtless for his cabin. The old man watched him disappear, then slowly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm having serious second thoughts about this," he muttered worriedly.
Mephisto placed the crimson Soulstone atop the Hellforge, and stepped back. Legions of demons, and all of his siblings, the other masters of Hell, watched as Baal raised the hammer and shattered it to pieces. Within minutes, Diablo's body had begun to reform, his essence free of its magical prison. When he again stood on the shores of the River of Flame, the demons let out a great shout, shaking the very firmaments of Hell.
"Welcome back, brother," Andariel crooned sweetly. Her brothers echoed the sentiment, but Diablo grumpily waved it all away.
"Is it true then? Has Belial won, outwitted all of us to end this conflict on his own?" He gnashed his teeth, clawing furiously at the empty air.
Baal draped a calming arm across his brother's shoulders. "Not here," he said quietly. "We mustn't lower morale too much amongst the troops. Follow us to Asmodan's lair, and we can lay out the true plan." Baal led the way, his face almost serene, basking in the cheers of the demons - and the occasional screams of agony when he trampled a slow mover.
Eventually, they reached Asmodan's cave, closing off the tunnel entrances with their magic and gathering around. "So what are we do to about the little runt," Diablo asked angrily. "He has outwitted all of us, made us look like fools, like his personal bitches!"
"I resent that," Andariel said quietly, but not particularly forcefully. "But Belial has been manipulating all of us since before this conflict started. Now, we might have a chance to stop him."
The crimson-scaled demon nodded grudgingly, settling his bulky form on a pile of flesh. "So what is the plan?"
Baal and Asmodan did most of the talking, with the others listening again to the master plan of how to outwit Belial, and turn his plan into their own destruction of Sanctuary and a victory in the conflict. Finally, Diablo sat back with a thin smile upon his face. "I have only one question, Asmodan. When did Gabriel come to you with this plan?"
Duriel and Mephisto growled with anger, turning towards him, but Baal's upraised hand stopped them. The smallest demon shrank back, his hands twitching nervously. "I approached Baal with it the same day," he answered quietly.
Scowling, Andariel feinted towards him with her claw-tipped arms. "You stupid little baby," she chided, "falling straight into their trap!"
But Baal's laugh cut off any further comment. "Stuff it, sister. Gabriel has been the only one of us to ever outwit Belial. And even if his plan is a trap," he looked gravely around the room, "it still is probably our best chance for stopping him and teaching him a lesson."
Diablo tapped his claws against the stone, thinking. "But to finish the plan, one of us will have to return to the mortal world - outside of a summoning circle. And all of us are forced to wait due to those damnable heroes!"
Asmodan smiled slyly and inched forward again. "Not so, brother. I am not laboring under any such difficulty."
Duriel slithered forward at that. "And I know how to get him summoned to the mortal world at the correct time. There is a sand raider, a follower of mine, sailing after those heroes in a rather incredible ship. Since they are going towards Belial …" He let the words trail off, confidant that his siblings would finish the train of thought.
Diablo leaned back. "So all we have to do is have your servant summon Asmodan at the right time. Then Belial will be back in Hell, and we can enact our revenge upon him."
"It won't be easy," Baal cautioned. "He's obviously been working at this since the beginning - our exile, to shatter the Worldstone and allow him to enact this darkness spell over the world of Sanctuary." He caught everyone's gaze, one at a time. "He will have prepared for every outcome he could imagine."
"I doubt he's prepared for this one," Diablo said quietly. He rose and banished his magical wards, the others following his lead and departing back into their personal corners of Hell.
Baal was the last to depart, and he paused at the entrance to turn back and look at Asmodan, sitting on his throne of flesh. "You do realize that Belial will likely kill you for this," the elder demon said.
"I know," he said grimly. "Even if it means my ultimate destruction, I wish vengeance." He sat there, silently brooding, watching Baal walk away.
Inigra was awakened by a sudden crash inside his cabin. He was out of the tiny bed in an instant, four weapons held at the ready. But it was only the small mirror, fallen off the wall and lying in pieces on the floor. He cursed under his breath, and started to lower his weapons, when a black mist boiled up out of the mirror's pieces. It formed into a rough facsimile of Duriel's face. "Listen, my servant. Those heroes are headed for a city in the east, where they plan to visit an abandoned temple to darkness. Arrive there first and wait in ambush. When you arrive, summon my brother Asmodan, and he will explain more."
Then the mist was gone, and the pirate lowered his weapons again. "Baal's teeth," he muttered quietly, then finally sheathed his swords. He unbarred the door, moving swiftly through the cramped corridors, almost trampling several of the crew in his haste. Christof was asleep, only natural at an hour past midnight, but the pilot box was manned, and he swung up and into the box, hulking over the pilot. "We're heading towards the countries of the east. Can this thing go any faster?"
The human stared up at Inigra's inhuman face, and gulped. "Well, yes, but not for long periods of time," he stammered.
"Punch up the speed a bit," the sand raider growled, looking out through the open window at the empty sea in front of them. "We need all the advantages we can get on this trip." Without another word, he stalked out again, descending to the main deck and pacing back and forth. Nervously, the pilot nudged up the speed control to two-thirds, and the Leviathan gave a barely perceptible lurch as she sped up.
Three score miles behind them, the pair of Zakarum ships sailed along silently in the darkness. Garou paced the deck, sleepless and almost alone. Other than one man on the wheel, and another up in the crow's nest, the ship was filled only with the slumbering. He sighed, leaning against the rail and watching the shifting reflections of the stars on the water, then raised his head, sniffing.
He cursed under his breath, turning paler, and threw himself at the mast. "Raise a white flag," he shouted, and other sailors sleeping on deck awakened. "Raise a white flag!" he called up again, scaling up the rigging towards the crow's nest.
The watchman above muttered something unflattering, then set about unrolling the flag. He had only started to tie it to the ropes above him when a dozen grappling hooks came flying out of the darkness on both sides, latching onto the ship as the pair of Amazon ships came gliding up from behind them. The druid cursed, scrambling back down a little bit before launching himself off the rigging to land heavily on the deck. "No fighting!" he shouted desperately, even as the Zakarum were drawing their weapons.
The other ship was faced off with three Amazon warships, and Garou knew it could only be Ellonwye and her friends. But they hadn't gotten the last message from Munin about their sudden aid from the Zakarum church, and naturally, they had been harassing passing ships. He regained his feet, stumbling towards the larger of the two ships and yanking off his white shirt as he ran. "No fighting!" he called again desperately.
But both sides seemed to be eager to pick a fight. To his surprise, only a few arrows came flying out of the darkness, and he wasn't sure if that meant they couldn't see to fire, or if they had another plan in mind. Bowser came leaping onto the deck from below, growling at the sudden confusion of armed men.
Then the first ship was less than a dozen feet away, and someone on board the Amazon vessel raised a staff. Blinding white light flared forth, and Garou fought to keep his eyes open, waving his shirt desperately. He heard the whistle as a pair of arrows cut past him, and the roar as Bowser threw himself across the gap, landing on the other ship. Men and women shouted, but the massive dog leapt again, landing on the man bearing the staff.
It flew from his hand, and the light suddenly dimmed. "Bowser, heel!" the druid shouted, just in time before the massive dog tore the other man's throat out. The dog had a half-dozen arrows hanging in his sides, but seemed completely untouched by it. "Who the devil are you and what is the meaning of this?"
The man coughed, wheezing as he regained his breath with Bowser still looming over him. "I am Achilles," he finally managed, "and you Zakarum have several prisoners, among them my daughter Erris and her husband."
Scowling, Garou turned towards the hold. "Damnit, someone go wake up Ron, and tell him to get up here and talk some damn sense into his father-in-law!" Achilles gaped as a soldier jumped to do his bidding, and within moments the other heroes were on the deck.
The other Amazon ships were called off, but not before almost two dozen people lay dead or wounded on both sides. By the time dawn rose, the leaders of both sides were gathered on the deck of Achilles' ship to discuss tactics. Ellonwye and Erris embraced happily. "Well, daughter, at least our warriors are still as good as ever," the older woman said, somewhat sadly. "But what are you all doing, cooperating with the Zakarum?"
Tharos explained the entire situation, from Sareal's betrayal of the Council through Diablo's betrayal by Belial and the summoning of the darkness. "That was almost a week ago," the necromancer said sadly. "The darkness probably covers all of that mountain, and it's spreading every day."
"This is bad news indeed," Achilles said. "Our islands will be very badly struck by this. Without the sunlight, the jungle plants will die. When they die, so too will the animals. What can we do?"
"We have to get all the way to a city in the east," Sere said. "A place called Lao Wai. There's apparently some sealed temple of evil there that we have to reach to stop this spell of darkness." He sighed, then looked up at the masts thoughtfully. "You know, it wouldn't take much to make your ship like the Smoking Trail," he mused.
Achilles frowned thoughtfully, and the two of them wandered about the deck, discussing ship construction and how to get the most speed out of their vessels. Ellonwye sighed, smiling at her husband. "Well, what must us warriors do to aid you?"
Colin held out a hand. "The important part is getting there in time. But if you can, send a ship home to warn your people. They'll have to prepare supplies for months, and they won't have a great deal of time." Carefully, the Amazon shook his hand, showing her willingness for a truce. "And if your ships are faster than ours, we need to bring more soldiers aboard."
Ellonwye nodded. "Truly, this is the most important thing we can do. I regret the fighting between your people and ours." They stared at the rising sun in the east, frantically eager to reach their destination.
Jasmine was escorted into the room, past a pair of armed guards almost as stoic and blank of face as Chiang. She sighed, remembering how familiar it had all been to her, once upon a time. Then, of course, she had fallen in love with her husband, and discovered what a demon Lo Pan truly was. It had driven her away from the library and the famous philosopher, but that was a small price to pay.
He lay on a cot, with one of the servant girls wiping down his forehead with a damp cloth. Sure enough, he suffered from the same plague that gripped the entire country. It did not kill so many as most people thought, but that made it no less scary. As a healer, she had a duty to use her services to heal anyone who needed help, but she almost felt that for Lo Pan, she could make an exception. Then he opened his eyes and saw her. "So, Jasmine, you return to us after all," he wheezed out.
She gave as small of a bow as she could get away with, and moved to the side of the cot. "Chiang gave me little choice," she said, throwing the man a dirty glance. "He saved my daughter from bandits." Gathering her dress, she knelt beside him and tied a cloth mask in place. "How long have you been sick?"
He answered her questions as best he could, while his servant girl continuously wet his forehead, attempting to keep his fever down. He stopped frequently to cough, and she noticed the blood he tried to hide from her. "Why did you send for me?" she asked finally, scooting backwards as he reached for her.
Lo Pan coughed again. The plague had aged him so quickly he could have passed for her father. "The end of the world is coming," he said thinly. "Darkness is coming to cover the world, brought on by the Dark Ones. Our only chance for survival is to ally ourselves with them."
Jasmine's mind reeled. Everyone knew of the battle between good and evil of course, with the Dark Ones fighting for the cause of evil, and the Bright Ones fighting for the strict cause of good. While the philosopher had often been on the verge of heresy against the Emperor before, he had never been this blatant. "You are a fool," she whispered.
"A fool? Perhaps." He stopped to cough again, not even bothering to hide the blood this time. "But the Dark Ones have won their battle finally." His face looked drawn and pale, and for a moment she pitied him. "Night is already starting to cover the world. When it falls at last, the sun will never again rise. I might be able to bargain with them for us to survive, but only if you heal me!"
She thought about it for a moment. Of course, when he said bargain, he meant only for those who lived and worked at his library. Lo Pan cared for no one but himself, and it had taken her a long time to realize that. "I can do one thing for you," she said, and bent over to rummage through her bag.
She drew forth the dagger and plunged it into his heart, so quickly that not even Chiang could react. His hand was on her wrist a moment too late, and she stared into the philosopher's eyes as his life faded away. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he asked in his quiet, always level voice. "You have taken away our hope."
Jasmine stood up, shaking free of his hand angrily and leaving the knife where it lay in Lo Pan's heart. "If your hope was to bargain with the Dark Ones, then you had no hope," she spat. The servant girl was crying and sobbing over his body, but she ignored it as she gathered up her bag. "I need to look something up in the library," she said, turning away.
Chiang grabbed her arm before she had even taken one step. "Why should I let you use these books for anything, you filthy murderer?"
"Do you really want to survive the darkness?" He matched her gaze for several tense moments, then finally nodded. "Then release me and let me work." She carefully slipped out of his grasp, and stepped back into the main library. The scrolls were all very well organized into their cubbyholes, but it had been many years since she walked through them. Finally, she found the one she was looking for, and drew it down. "Find me a mirror and a pair of yellow candles," she said with authority, not even waiting to see if anyone would follow her order.
It had been many years since she tried to summon one of the Bright Ones for help, but it certainly seemed like a better plan than Lo Pan's, she thought grimly.