Chapter Twelve
Jasmine sat silently at the empty table as Chiang set down the supplies she had asked for. His face was carefully blank, but she could see the doubts in his eyes, and she sighed inwardly. With careful hands, she positioned the mirror and candles in the proper positions, folding the yellow silk handkerchief and placing it along the upper edge of the mirror. Then she lit the candles, took a deep breath, and bent over, exhaling upon the mirror and fogging it. Before it could clear, she took up the cat hair brush and drew several words onto the mirror.
The words were barely visible with the misting cleared away, but she knew they were correct. Dipping the brush into the pot of ink, she retraced them, then waited a minute for them to dry, and leaned over the mirror, exhaling again. Chiang gasped as the mirror lit up, bursting forth with silver light, but Jasmine merely smiled. "Oh wisest of the Bright Ones, I call upon you. Share with me your wisdom, I beg, that I might use it to help those around me."
The mirror shivered, but stayed in place on the table. It started to rock in place, rising up on one spot, then turning, like someone had spun a round coin. Finally, the mirror was standing straight up, whirling round until it seemed little more than a shining, silver sun in the middle of the library. Lo Pan's students and followers gaped incredulously at her, standing back as far as they could.
Suddenly, the mirror stopped turning, and the light all but vanished. Hadriel's face appeared in the mirror, and she heard gasps of surprise. "Well met, Jasmine of Lao Wai," the angel said. "Go to the Forbidden City, to the temple once dedicated to the Lord of Destruction. Spill a drop of blood upon the door to open it, then wait. You will know what to do."
Before she could even open her mouth to speak, the mirror shattered into powder, the beaten silver turning into tarnished gray dust as they watched, and the round wooden frame fell back against the table with a thump. Feeling a little unsteady, she rose to her feet, Chiang putting a hand to her arm. "Well, Jasmine?"
She blinked up at him, and nodded. "To the Forbidden City we must go then." Her hands shook with fear, and anticipation. Many centuries ago, when the Prime Evils first walked the earth, Baal had taken over a peasant farmer, using his magic to bring the entire country to worship him. A magnificent temple was built, and a palace to house his mortal frame. When the demon was driven away by the Horadrim, the emperors had returned, and built a great wall around the palace and temple, and declared death to anyone who dared enter the walls.
There was only one gate, sealed with Horadric magic that no one knew how to open, until the angel told her now. Chiang's hand tightened on her arm, and she glared at him. "You know that the emperor's guards will stop us."
To his surprise, she pulled free. "No, they will not. The Bright Ones will see to that." Then she was gone, running out of the library and into the streets of the city. Cursing, Chiang followed after her.
The city docks rushed up on the ship, but Christof held his course, Inigra standing beside him, vibrating with tension. "Beach the ship if you have to," he said eagerly, "because I'm not letting them gain another yard on me!" The sand raider leaped down from the pilot house, running across the deck near to the bow, waiting for just the right instant.
He waited until the last moment, then yanked back on the control rods, watching through the open window as Inigra jumped again, flying through the air as the Leviathan crashed into the docks. Wood splintered, and people screamed, running away and being thrown into the water as the metal beast shuddered to a halt.
Boris shouted, pointing, and Ellonwye turned sharply on the wheel, trying to slow their ship before she came to a similar rest on the docks. Sailors pulled on the sails, fighting to slow her, and Sere's ship was doing little better. Then they were aside the docks, ramming into small fishing boats and merchant ships, and all of the warriors jumped off. Racing along the docks, they followed after Inigra, desperate to catch him in time. Ellonwye and her Amazons, however, went a different direction, clambering over the shattered wood to reach the Leviathan.
Christof watched the other two ships come to a halt, and gestured to one of his men. "Get out a white flag, damnit! I'm through with all of this fighting." Reluctantly, they complied, his crew still hoping for a final showdown with the warriors they had so recently engaged. Faced with three dozen Amazon archers, they disarmed themselves, sitting on the deck and waiting.
Inigra ran through the streets, humans screaming and fighting to get out of his path as he raced along. He could see the spire of the temple, rising ironically towards the sky and still glinting brightly with beaten gold. His two swords were more than enough to deal with the unarmed crowd in his path, and dozens of bodies littered the streets as he passed.
Then, up ahead, a contingent of men stood in the streets, their weapons unfamiliar to him. But when they raised them to their shoulders, the pirate suddenly remembered Sere's pistols, and threw himself sideways. Bullets whined past him, slamming home in the crowd behind him. The pirate laughed loudly, racing forward unnaturally fast, swinging the bone sword like a scythe. Ice crystals flew through the air in its wake, turning the whole street suddenly into a blinding mass of swirling snow.
He heard the soldiers crying out in fear and shock, and a few more shots fired blindly down the street, striking buildings or people. Then he was among the soldiers, and past them, his entire body almost coated in human blood. As he emerged from the snowstorm, he found the street deserted, and the gates open. With a shout of triumph, he ran through them, down a long empty street and up the stairs of the temple, charging towards the open doors. There is the altar, Duriel spoke within his mind, now do what I have bid!
But as he stepped through the door, a tiny foot stuck out, and Inigra tripped, sliding across the smooth marble floor, his swords spinning off into the darkened interior.
Larzuk and Ron Bars led the charge, Boris right on their heels, with katars in his hand and his contraption abandoned on the ship. The others ran along, needing only to follow the trail of blood and corpses to find the temple. They skidded to a stop around a corner, coming face to face with a fresh squad of soldiers, their rifles held at the ready.
But before any attacks could be launched, Tyrael's voice boomed out across the street. "Go!" Without even stopping to look for the angel, the heroes raced through the gates of the Forbidden City and into the temple.
Belial stood on the street, cursing as he watched the heroes disappearing into the temple. "Arkas, get in there after them. Find the last shard, and take it from them in any way you can!" With an angry wave, the demon blinded all of the soldiers, then strode forward again. A small glimmer of hope had resurfaced in Rupert's chest when he realized that Belial had forgotten about him. He stopped there, watching as the demon vanished into the temple silently, then turned. If he could find his companion's ship, he would wait there for them. Perhaps they could find a way to end his undeath.
Inside the temple, Inigra leaped to his feet, just as the two barbarians came rushing in the door. But even as he scuttled backwards, he shouted out the magical words Duriel had given him. A massive green flame leaped up from the tainted altar in the center of the circular temple, and Asmodan stepped forward. "Is there a real big difference between fighting one Lord of Hell, and fighting two?" Sere asked quietly.
Asmodan chuckled, descending from the raised dais, and the pirate quickly regained his swords. "I have no quarrel with you, humans, only with him." He raised a hand, and several balls of sickly green flames shot forward, exploding around the door. Belial's invisibility wavered for a moment, then he was gone again.
They formed a circle quickly, facing outward and gazing into the darkness of the temple. Asmodan stood quietly on the dais, Inigra at his side, and Jasmine and Chiang stayed hidden behind the opened doors, listening and watching. Then Asmodan launched another barrage of green flames, impacting a scant few feet from where Tharos stood. He and Jezebel screamed, caught in the edges of the flames as they struck Belial.
The others charged forward to attack, the battle quickly turning into a three-way melee. Inigra wasted no time trying for his revenge against Larzuk, only to be bowled down by an angry Bowser. Arkas waited on the edge of the battle, avoiding attacks as he watched carefully, to try and determine who held the piece of corrupted Worldstone. It had been given to the necromancer, but he no longer bore it. Asmodan traded magical attacks with Jezebel and Garou, his three barbed tails lashing out to keep the assassins at bay, shrugging off the stings from their small firebombs.
With an evil grin he stepped forward, raising his sword and giving a mighty swing. Will's head separated from his shoulders, flying through the battle to thud against the altar. The piece of corrupted Worldstone, shining with a dark light, went with it, still attached by a gold chain, and flew over to land on the other side of the altar. As Asmodan leaped over the altar, Sere's pistols tore a pair of holes through his torso, and he landed past it.
Belial appeared then, holding up the corrupted shard in his hand and smiling evilly. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, Inigra sliced out with his bone sword, cleaving the demon's hand off and seizing the shard himself. As Belial fell back in shock, and the heroes turned their attention on him, he raced around them, hurling himself through one of the temple windows to the outside.
"After him!" Erris shouted, racing through the front door and back to the gates of the Forbidden City. They caught a brief glimpse of Inigra, scaling the sheer ten-foot wall like it was a ladder, then they were all running back for the docks, chasing him down.
After they left, Jasmine and Chiang slowly stepped out from behind the door, looking around the temple. Blood ran freely everywhere, and Will's head lay on the evil altar, staring at the broken window with empty, sightless eyes. Then they heard a scraping noise from the other side of the altar, and slowly worked their way around the room, until finally they stared down at Asmodan.
The demon lay in a puddle of foul-smelling blood, but his eyes blinked up at them. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chiang's sword nailed his head to the ground. The warrior stepped back, leaving his sword in place as he watched the corrosive blood start to eat away at the steel. Then Jasmine grabbed his arm, and he turned around to see a hidden panel slide open at the base of the altar.
Rupert made it to the docks, shuffling through the streets as quickly as he could, fighting against the growing pains in his rotting muscles. "You will not fall down," he muttered to himself, the slurred words barely recognizable. "Will not!" Then he looked out at the chaos on the docks. He recognized the two Amazon ships, a few crew members fighting to extricate the ships from the merchant ships each had rammed.
But his attention was drawn to the Leviathan, and the three dozen Amazon archers standing guard on the deck, the sailors of Christof's crew sitting angrily on the deck, disarmed and waiting. Rupert moved forward, climbing over the broken planks of the dock, ducking fearfully whenever another piece slid loose to splash into the water. But with the other destruction, no one seemed to notice his approach with Belial's spell still hanging on him.
He noticed the leader of the warriors talking with a gray-haired man in the pilot box, assuming he must be the pilot. Somehow, the woman struck Rupert as familiar, but yet he couldn't place her face. Carefully he shuffled across the deck, feeling something pulling at him from inside the ship. But the only entrance to below decks was behind a cluster of warriors, and he wasn't confidant enough to try and slip past them.
Inigra came leaping suddenly over the broken planks of the dock, landing on the Leviathan with a clang, his swords cutting down two archers before they could even turn around. Some of the crew was cut down, but they rose in anger, grappling with the Amazons and seizing weapons. Within a few seconds, the battle was pitched on the deck, the Amazons forced to fight with knives and short javelins against the sailors armed with cutlasses and cudgels.
Ellonwye spun on Christof, but he stayed seated quietly, a furious look upon my face. "I'm not in the fighting anymore, lady, but I don't expect my crew would listen to me if I asked them to throw down their arms." With a matching look, she popped out of the pilot box, loosing a trio of arrows at Inigra as he raised his sword to strike down another of her warriors.
He dodged the arrows, barely, but then the other heroes came clambering over the broken wood, joining the battle. The sailors still outnumbered their opponents by threefold, but none but Inigra had the experience in battle that the others did. Inigra found himself faced off against the two barbarians, struggling to block and dodge their powerful blows while Bowser harried him from behind.
Rupert watched it all helplessly, seeing Belial appear on the edge of the docks, holding the stump of his arm tightly. Then some of Inigra's blood dripped down on to the corrupted shard he still held, and Belial's eyes shone. He shouted out, in Duriel's voice, "Break the shard!" Without hesitation, Inigra hurled the fragment away from him. The others watched helplessly, and Inigra died with a vicious smile on his face even as one of Ron's axes split his head in half.
Suddenly, Rupert spurred into action, racing to the edge of the deck and leaning over the rail, stretching out and grasping the shard in his hand. When it touched his flesh, the stone burst into black flames, and he screamed as it tore away Belial's illusion spell. In desperation, Rupert fell to his knees, reaching out the way he once did for his paladin powers.
The Leviathan gave a sudden lurch, and then metal gave way with a screech. A shard of Worldstone came shooting up through the deck, piercing Arkas' leg as it flew through the air to hover in front of Rupert. Other pieces came flying up from the machinery below, shattering the steel plates and melding together, hovering in the air before Rupert, while the paladin screamed in pain. The flames from the corrupted shard were working their way up his arm, consuming the flesh and turning his bones to blackened ash, held together only by the foul magic.
Finally, all of the pieces had come together, leaving a ball of Worldstone as wide as the wheel. The black flames had covered Rupert's body completely, leaving him as only a skeleton of ash with two glowing spots for eyes. Then he raised his arm, and thrust it into the ball of Worldstone. The two sides fought for dominance, red and black flames fighting back and forth. Everyone watched helplessly, even Belial, as Rupert stopped screaming and raised his face to the sky. His jaw moved soundlessly, and a bolt of whiteness slammed down from the heavens.
Everyone fought to clear their vision quickly, everyone but Natalya. While everyone else had been focused on Rupert, she worked quietly around behind Belial. When the light struck, her katar slipped between the demon's ribs, and he grunted suddenly as the weapon destroyed his mortal frame. Thus, when everyone could see again, the second thing they saw was the Lord of Lies, stretched out dead on the deck of the Leviathan.
The first thing, of course, was the ball of Worldstone. It lay, fallen against the deck, a perfect sphere of red stone, and all of them could feel the magic power it radiated. Behind it was a small pile of ashes, being slowly dispersed by the winds. Larzuk fell to his knees, dropping his hammer with a sharp clang, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed.
Jasmine drew in a sharp breath as the child crawled out from the space beneath the altar. He held up the dark colored shard, speaking quietly, his voice echoing in the large temple. "This is a very bad thing," he said solemnly. "Gabriel said you need to destroy it."
Chiang stepped forward, grabbing up the shard, then dropping it as his face turned white. "That thing is evil!" he said in a harsh whisper, holding his hand as though it had burned him.
Jasmine knelt, carefully picking up the purplish stone. She shuddered in revulsion, feeling the corruption calling out to her, trying to seduce her. Part of her was indeed tempted, but she knew better than to listen to a creation of the Dark Ones. "How do we destroy it?" she asked the boy.
He looked at the shard, then back at her. "I dunno," he said quietly. "Maybe hit it with a rock?"
She looked at Chiang, and without a word he drew his sword and surrendered it to her. Jasmine carefully set the corrupted shard on top of the altar, then raised the sword and brought it down, pommel first, onto the evil stone. It exploded with a roar, Belial's dark magic being sucked down into the altar as the building began to shake. Chiang picked up the boy, and they ran for the doors, struggling to keep their feet as the building began to collapse behind them.
When they emerged into the sunlight, they almost went falling down the steps, finally catching themselves on the smooth road stones. They turned around, watching the temple collapse, falling in on itself until the pile of rubble barely rose to the level of the street. "I am glad that is over," she said with a sigh of relief. "Now I can go home and check on my daughter."
"Not so fast, woman," came an imperious voice from behind her. All three turned around, only to come face to face with almost a hundred riflemen. In the center of them, staring down, stood the Emperor.
Belial appeared back in Hell, and he stumbled. The other Prime Evils had all experienced the jolting, shocking feeling of being killed and yanked back to Hell, but this was the first occasion the Lord of Lies had been subjected to it. But he had been too surprised to stop Rupert when his victory seemed so close at hand. And then, once he had touched the shard, it was too late. He opened his mouth to rage, and the bolt of green flame struck him in the back.
Belial spun around, only to be confronted with all six of his siblings. Baal gave him a furious, evil smile. "So nice of you to rejoin us, Belial," he hissed quietly. "Time for you to pay the piper," and all of his siblings prepared their own magical attacks. Belial threw up a wall of illusions, but so many magical attacks came through there was no way he could avoid them all. His cave was small, sparsely decorated, lacking many of the opportunities he could have used to fool them and escape.
The battle raged for hours, and finally Belial, broken and hanging on to life by a thread, used what he thought was his last option. He staggered behind his throne of souls, and used his magic to twist its appearance, quickly layering on dozens of illusions. Clad only in a thin invisibility spell, he staggered across the room, hiding behind a stone pillar. Surely enough, the others took the bait. Asmodan blasted his throne with green flames, the others hurling bolts of cold and lightning while Andariel screeched encouragement in the background.
It fell to the ground, scorched, and Baal carefully examined it as Belial cancelled all of those spells at once. The "killing" blow had been one of Duriel's claws, almost taking the head from Belial's simulacrum. The Lord of Lies hunched there in the darkness, holding his breath and leaving only his thin invisibility spell to keep him hidden. "You idiot, Duriel!" Baal roared suddenly, whirling. "I didn't want him dead, merely punished!"
The smaller demon shrank backwards a step. "That wasn't supposed to be a killing blow," he protested. "Mephisto's lightning strike drove him right into me!"
Quarrelling, with Baal and Diablo dishing out token blows to the others, they left the cave. Even after they had departed, Belial still hunched behind the rock. In all his millennia of life, he had never come quite so close to his own death, and he stayed huddled there, rocking slowly back and forth, barely breathing. His eyes constantly roved the destruction of his cave, but they seemed to focus on none of it.
After some indeterminable time, Belial gave a final shudder, then started to rise to his feet. "I was wondering when you would get up," a voice said quietly, and the demon fell back against the wall with a shriek. Gabriel sighed, sitting on what had once been a remarkable obsidian statue. "Despite his words, I am surprised Baal let you live."
"What do you want, Gabriel?" he hissed angrily, raising one broken hand and reaching fitfully for his magic.
But Gabriel shook his head, a tiny smile upon his face. "You do realize it was my magic that saved you, Belial." They locked gazes for several seconds before the angel continued. "That invisibility spell would have pointed you out like a beacon once they took down your double. Surely you realize that much."
Grudgingly, the demon nodded. "I suppose you saved me out of the goodness of your heart, then?"
Sighing, Gabriel turned away, staring out of the cave entrance at the gloomy features of Hell. "Have you forgotten the face of our mother, Belial?"
"Do not speak to me of her!" His voice was suddenly thick, choked with pain. "What do you remember of her?"
Looking over his shoulder, Gabriel smiled. "I remember enough, brother. She said she would not return to us until we had finished with this ridiculous contest that our father set us on. And if we had done nothing, the contest would have been over, and Heaven would have won."
The shocked look on Belial's face said enough. "Do you really think this battle is one decided by strength of arms? Since humans appeared on the mortal world, capable of choosing good or evil, the battle has been over what they chose." Gabriel drummed his fingers against the stone quietly. "Your spell of darkness has brought humans together, fighting side by side in friendship and companionship. They turn towards Heaven in times of adversity, all but a few of them."
"Then why didn't you end it all?" Belial asked quietly. "End this damnable contest, and welcome our mother back with all spoils due the victor?"
"I was outwitted." The demon narrowed his eyes, gazing on his brother with speculation, then chuckled. "Yes, our father still manipulates us to his own ends, as he ever did. And he manipulated us to prevent your scheme, because he wants to end this damnable war on his own terms."
Belial gnashed his teeth, glaring angrily. "Why are you telling me all of this?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his face. "I thought you were as tired of this war as I was. Otherwise, you would not have forced your hand with this desperate bid to drive the mortal world into darkness." He fell silent for a moment, staring at Belial as though trying to read his mind. "Only once has our father been outwitted."
With a sudden laugh, Belial slumped to a seat on his simulacrum. "So, that's the reason for this longwinded spiel. You want me to switch sides, to help you end the Sin War on your terms. Give me one good reason, Gabriel."
Rising to his feet, he strode to the mouth of the cave, then looked back at his twin brother, seated on tortured flesh, coming back from the brink of death. "I don't ever feel alone," he said simply, then vanished into the smoky gray haze that covered Hell.
Belial sat at the entrance to his cave for days, staring over the realm as his strength slowly recovered, thinking of the angel's words.
Jasmine walked quickly, surrounded by the knot of the Emperor's personal riflemen. They had of course confiscated Chiang's weapons, and kept them moving at a swift pace. She held the hand of the small boy and did her best to keep him calm. Then the wreckage of the docks came into view, and her jaw dropped in shock.
The soldiers moved quickly towards the great metal ship, and the foreigners aboard. A few archers cried out in alarm, and both sides suddenly raised weapons. "Hold!" the Emperor shouted, striding to the front of his men. Jasmine watched in apprehension. A lucky shot from one bow could end his life, even though the riflemen would kill everyone on board. Then he pointed at one of the men, holding a pair of pistols. "Where did you get such weapons?"
Sere was silent for a moment. He had drawn the pistols when the riflemen came striding up the docks. Another group of about twenty had gone up a nearby dock, flanking them to easily rake the deck. But their leader, judging by the fine quality of his clothes and the fist-sized diamond in the hilt of his sword, was obviously someone important. "I got them from my father, who received them as a gift when he visited this city many years ago," he said loudly.
The Emperor stood there, thinking and stroking his elegant mustache. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed. "Yes, you were the little boy who ran around the deck causing trouble. I remember." He smiled at the memory, then grew more serious. "All of you must come with me. For centuries, the Forbidden City has been sealed, yet all of you entered it. You must explain your actions."
Natalya gave him a sour look, and kicked Belial's corpse. "What about this body the Lord of Lies was using?" In almost perfect unison, every soldier made a warding sign against evil. Several of the heroes glanced around in surprise.
"Leave it. Your ship will not be going anywhere, and my soldiers will make very sure it does not get disturbed." He started to turn away, then caught sight of the giant sphere of Worldstone. "By all the forgotten Emperors, how did you get such a piece of magic stone?"
Larzuk stepped over, resting his hammer on the deck and grunting as he lifted it up. "One of our friends gave his life to stop Belial. This is the result." They matched gazes, the barbarian's burning angrily, and the Emperor's quiet and blank. "If you want answers, let's get moving."
With a tiny chuckle, the Emperor nodded, then turned around, speaking orders to his soldiers. Two dozen moved onto the deck of the Leviathan, taking up stations on deck and settling in for what could be a very long watch. The heroes, and their Amazon compatriots, slowly climbed over the pile of shattered lumber, following the Emperor and his soldiers. Ellonwye glared at one of her archers who didn't return an arrow to quiver fast enough.
Then Tharos and Oksana caught sight of their son, Jaresh, still holding Jasmine's hands. With happy cries, they all met together in a big hug, while the soldiers watched, most with surprise. "Daddy, what happened to your golem?" the boy piped up, as Ron Bars picked him to ride on the barbarian's wide shoulders. But one of the soldiers shushed them, and then they were off.
They marched through the city, the native inhabitants gazing at the foreigners with some surprise, and a great deal of mistrust. Then again, with Inigra's kills still laying in the street, less than an hour dead, some of them could empathize with a little mistrust. To their credit, the riflemen watched everyone in the crowds, not just the foreign warriors.
When they finally stopped, almost an hour later, they stood before one of the most amazing palaces any of them had seen constructed. Unlike Jerhyn's palace in Lut Gholein, the outside was constructed of rather simple material - stone blocks, bricks, and wood. But every inch they could see was covered in carvings, and the stone itself was fit for a monarch - white marble, pale green limestone, and a fiery red sandstone. They passed between the doors, Garou running his fingers over a carving of a pair of wolves on the wooden frame.
The inside of the palace was even more stunning. Clean-burning oil lamps studded the walls, their bronze holders polished and shining, and the smooth wood floors bore no trace of dirt or water marks. Then they at least reached a sort of throne room, and the riflemen split away, marching off to line the walls, their weapons held at the ready, just in case. The Emperor calmly mounted the dais to his throne, a huge thing built of the bones of demons and padded with silk cushions.
He sat down, settling comfortably on the cushions, then looked down, and pointed at Jasmine. "I caught you coming from the temple just before it collapsed. What were you doing there?"
"I believe I can answer all of your questions," came a voice from the doors. When every turned, there stood Tyrael. "All of these brave warriors have been doing our plan, to stop Belial's attempt to plunge your world permanently into darkness."
Tharos couldn't help smirking at the angel. "Took you long enough," he said, sounding amused. "I mean, last time you popped up as soon as we killed Baal."
Glaring, Tyrael turned to look at the necromancer. "I was busy ensuring that everything else had gone the way it should. The magical darkness is receding now, and in another month your world will be back to normal. Gabriel's trick was remarkably effective. He found the boy wandering in the desert, on the brink of death, then slipped away with him, leaving a false corpse behind. Then he hid inside the altar, and when the shard went flying over the altar, swapped it for a carefully prepared shard of normal Worldstone."
Boris suddenly slapped a hand against his forehead. "Of course! We had put the corrupted shard on a chain, and when Belial grabbed it, it was loose."
"Indeed. It worked perfectly." He frowned, looking at the giant ball of Worldstone that Larzuk had set down by his feet. "Though that was rather unexpected. Hadriel was very sure that nothing could restore the Worldstone."
Jezebel perked up. "Wait. Are you saying that we can restore the Worldstone? Bring magic back to the world the way it was before?"
"Not exactly." He held up a hand to stall her further questions. "If you put other shards against this one, they will … melt into place. But some shards have been broken, and so some pieces will never again be put back."
There was a sudden bang, and everyone turned back to the throne. The Emperor slowly lowered the small gavel against the arm of his throne, and glared at Tyrael. "Why was all of this necessary to open the Forbidden City and enter the temple to the Lord of Destruction?" he glared angrily at Jasmine and Chiang. "It has remained sealed for centuries because we wished no one to return to worshipping the Dark Ones."
"Because it was Baal's corruption on the Worldstone," Garou said, surprised at his revelation. "If we destroyed the shard in his temple, then all of that evil magic would return to him, instead of being spread out on the world."
"Indeed." Tyrael smirked back at him. "Since the other four pieces were consumed by Belial's spell of darkness, all of Baal's corruptive magic was linked to that last piece. Which the lady," he gave an idle wave towards Jasmine, "sent back to Baal, bringing the darkness spell to a sudden close."
"This is fascinating," the Emperor said dryly. "But why did all of this have to take place here?"
Tyrael stepped forward, lifting the sphere of Worldstone effortlessly. "The new Worldstone will be placed here, under your people's care. It will not be safe forever, but perhaps as many generations as the barbarian tribes nobly defended it from the encroaching of evil." He stepped forward, holding out the sphere to Boris and Natalya. "These two will start a new monastery here, which you will help them build where the temple used to stand."
His eyes wide with surprise, the Emperor descended from his throne, running a hand along the Worldstone that Boris held gingerly. "You assign my people a great task, Bright One," he said unhappily. "One that will put my land in great danger from the Dark Ones and their schemes."
"We have done well so far, my Emperor," Jasmine said quietly. He turned, looking at her sharply, before finally nodding grudgingly.
Tyrael turned to go, only to be stopped by Larzuk's hand on his arm. "What about Rupert?" he asked quietly, his eyes full of tears again.
With a smile, Tyrael waved his arm, opening a silvery portal into Heaven. The realm itself was spectacular, shining with a warm, silvery light, and in the distance, they could see Rupert. A small set of white, ephemeral wings fluttered from his back, and he stood upon the walls with a scepter in his hands. "He is a guardian of Heaven now," Tyrael said quietly. "There can be no return for him. But you will meet again, someday, when the sands of your own life run out."
They all watched as he vanished through the portal. Then Christof sighed. "Skies above! Please tell me there are taverns in this town, because after this nightmare of a journey, I have a sudden need to go drink myself to death."
Erris glared angrily at him. "What about your great metal beast, cluttering up the docks?"
In surprise, the Emperor turned towards him. "That is your ship? Tell me, how does it work?"
Christof looked towards the sphere of Worldstone with annoyance. "It was powered by shards of that lovely red stone. Unless you mean to chip me off a few pieces of that one, it's not going anywhere."
"I have an idea," Colin said, stepping forward. "I have no doubt that the Emperor can get his hands on enough shards to get your ship up and running again. The Zakarum church will buy your ship, and we will return to Kurast, so to bring back all of the shards that were collected by Sareal's campaign." He looked at the Emperor calmly.
He nodded slowly, stroking his mustache again. "You would return to your people, to bring back more shards, and restore the world's magic?"
Colin merely smiled. "I am a paladin," he said simply. "It is my duty."
The Emperor clapped his hands twice, and several servants appeared. He barked out orders, and the heroes slowly began to talk among themselves, most of them planning for their return home.