Amor Vincit Omnia
(Love Conquers All)
Part Two: The Fragile Heart
"The Thing cannot be described - there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled."
- H.P. Lovecraft
"The Call of Cthulhu"
One more chapter to go after this one (probably...) My thanks as always to those who reviewed. Your words brighten up my day! :)
Chapter Twenty-One: The Lord of Lies
"Where is the Emperor?" Asheara demanded, barging past Baal and Tyrael to stand at the front of the group. "What have you done to Hakan? If you've harmed a hair on his head-"
"It is not I who has done him harm," said Fahkri. His tone was strange, almost sad, and the adventurers gave each other wary, confused looks. This was not the confrontation that they had been expecting.
"It's okay," Fahkri sighed. "I don't expect you to believe me. I am aware of what you have been told. But I want to warn you, killing me will not stop this war."
"And why is that?" Baal growled.
"Because I am not Belial."
"The only way that could be true," said the Hunter, "is if Belial was actually the Emperor." At Asheara's gasp, he added, "I had considered the possibility. I've felt all along that there was something uncanny about Hakan's ability to find us wherever we are – not to mention that the timing of Belial's attack on Caldeum suggests that he knew intimate details of our plan. But of course, this could just as easily be an effort from Belial to divert suspicion away from himself and onto an innocent party."
"How can we know for sure?" Saiya asked.
"There is one way," said Fahkri. "You can kill me now."
Baal shook his head. "Sorry. You may think that merely making the offer would clear you of all suspicions, but if you are Fahkri, then you'd probably be willing to die for your country. And if you're Belial, killing your human host would merely release your true form. So no, the only thing that method would prove is that we're willing to commit murder on thin evidence."
"What we ought to do is find Hakan," said Adria. "With both of them side by side, this will be easier to determine." Turning her cool gaze on Fahkri, she said, "Will you take us to him?"
"No need," said a small voice. The Emperor emerged from the shadows behind the throne. He held himself stiffly upright, hands clasped behind his back, but his large eyes were bright with fear.
"Your Majesty!" cried Asheara, going down to one knee despite the pain it caused her. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, for now. Commander, you have always been loyal to me, even in exile. Will you not do as I ask now, and slay the demon that threatens our land?"
Asheara's hand was white-knuckled on the hilt of her sword, but she made no move towards Fahkri. Tyrael held up a hand.
"Peace, child," he said, speaking to the Emperor as if he was a boy throwing a tantrum. "We must get to the bottom of this. If you are innocent, you will not be harmed."
Hakan's full bottom lip trembled. Leah said, "Tyrael, can you not tell us the truth? You were the Archangel of Justice."
"Alas," he said, passing a huge hand over his eyes, "this matter is clouded even to me."
"Baal is correct," said Ghor. "This is a battle not of strength, but of wits. Let us weigh the facts. What proof to we have to support the theory that Fahkri is Belial?"
"We have Hakan's word," said Caesar.
"He might have lied," Baal retorted. "Actually, if he's Belial, he will have lied, so that's unreliable at best."
"I have not lied!" cried Hakan, stamping his slippered foot. The immature gesture reminded Saiya sharply of how young he was – no more than ten at the oldest. Were they really considering accusing him of being one of the Great Evils?
"Hold your tongue!" Baal snapped. Apparently he felt no sympathy for the boy.
"It would be better if you remain quiet while we figure this out," Caesar said, more gently.
"But-" Hakan's protest faltered under Baal's fierce glare.
"Please, your Majesty," Asheara begged, still on her knees. "I know this must be hard for you to understand, but we must be sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that we choose rightly. I believe in you, but we must be sure."
"Before we arrived in Caldeum, Fahkri had already left the Imperial Court," Saiya pointed out. "If the Emperor had discovered his true identity, he might have banished Fahkri before he could gain any more power."
"Then why would he be granted re-entrance?" said Baal.
"Perhaps the Emperor changed his mind, and decided that holding him captive would be smarter," suggested Caesar.
"That does seem the sort of ploy a child would come up with," Adria said. "On the other hand, if he is Belial, he would naturally jump at the chance to imprison his enemy, while Fahkri's absence from the court is just as easily explained by the death of his son."
"Poor Gabe," murmured Leah. Meeting Fahkri's eyes, she said, "I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am. I truly hope that you are still yourself."
"Thank you, Leah," Fahkri said gravely, inclining his head. His eyes were damp with unshed tears, but he maintained his composure. "That means a lot to me."
"We're getting nowhere," Baal groaned. "It seems like there are two perfectly plausible explanations for everything. Fahkri left the court voluntarily, or he was exiled by Hakan." The boy fidgeted as if he wanted desperately to speak, but said nothing. Baal continued, "Hakan stole a magical amulet and has been using it to help us in our quest, making Belial's timely attack on the city pure dumb luck, or he has been spying on us all along. Belial chose to possess either the pre-established ruler of Kehjistan, which would have granted him more power but also made him more vulnerable, or he chose a less obvious victim in Fahkri, who could work safely in the shadows until the time was right."
"Shall we put it to a vote?" asked Caesar. "Who believes that Fahkri is Belial?" He raised his hand, and was joined by Asheara.
Adria said, "If I were Belial, I would have chosen Fahkri."
"I assume that means you're with us, then," said the wizard. "So, who thinks it's Hakan?"
"I do," said Baal. "Without a doubt."
"I must agree," said Ghor. "It seems the more likely option."
"I may be biased by what I want, rather than what is true, but I don't think Fahkri is the one," Leah said.
Caesar turned to Saiya. "What about you? You and the angel have yet to voice an opinion."
"Honestly, I don't know," Saiya replied. "They both seem equally possible to me."
"I am conflicted," said Tyrael. For the first time Saiya could remember, his face showed some emotion other than serenity. He was frowning deeply as though in pain, and his hands were clenched by his side. He said, "Countless beings I have judged in my time, man, angel, and demon alike, and always the path of true justice has been clear to me. But now it is twisted, turning in circles, looping perpetually back on itself. Is this what it means to be mortal: this wretched uncertainty? This mental haze?"
"Go with your gut," said Baal. "That's what we humans do, and it seems to work out well for us."
Tyrael sighed. "My instincts tell me that Belial uses the boy."
"Very well," said Adria, "we are divided four to three. Cast your vote, girl, or if you will not, we have our answer."
Saiya glanced between Fahkri and the Emperor in an agony of indecision. All she could think was, if I am wrong, an innocent person will die. There was only one option she could see that would prevent that, at least for a short while.
"Fahkri," she said. "I believe that Fahkri is Belial."
"Aaaand we're right back where we started," exclaimed Baal, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Gods damn it, we have to do something! We can't just sit here debating until Caldeum is a pile of rubble, and we've all died of old age."
"Is there no spell that would force our enemy to reveal himself?" Asheara asked. The magic users exchanged glances.
"Ordinarily, yes," said Adria, "but I doubt they will work on a demon of Belial's power. We might be able to do it by combining our arcana, but such a spell would certainly destroy the human host as well. Not that I object; the most logical choice, since we cannot agree, would be to kill both."
"I beg you, no!" The cry had come, surprisingly, from Fahkri.
Adria sneered. "You would bargain for your life?"
He shook his head. "For the Emperor's. Though Belial has taken his will, I believe that his body might still be saved. Kill me first, so that the truth will be apparent. I only ask that you try your best to save him."
"Well, that settles it for me," Leah announced. "There's no way that Fahkri can be Belial, not after that."
"Do not underestimate the cleverness of the Lord of Lies, daughter," cautioned Adria. "He has been playing the game of deception for many eons, and he is the master of it."
Hakan, who had been growing steadily paler throughout the discussion, suddenly brightened. "I know what will prove my innocence!" he cried. "It has not escaped my notice that you have been at war: some of you are wounded, and all are weary. Also, since this must end in a direct conflict with Belial, you will be in need of some better equipment if you hope to triumph. Come with me, and I will make each of you a gift from my vaults of any arms and armor you might desire. I have some very rare and exquisite items."
"If your Majesty is truly willing to do that," said Asheara, "it would go a long way towards clearing you of suspicion." Adria coughed delicately, and the Commander swung around to face her with a look of fury. "I cannot think of a single reason for Belial to arm us against himself!" she spat. "You are a conniving, heartless woman whose fraternization with demons has corrupted your soul beyond hope. If you try to murder the Emperor, I will kill you myself!"
"Or die trying," said Adria. For a moment, Saiya thought that Asheara would spring at the witch, and she prepared herself to intercede if necessary, for one thing they could not afford was internal strife. But Asheara merely tightened her lips to a thin line and said, "I have my eye on you, Adria. Do not forget that."
"All of you, please, follow me," said Hakan, setting off towards the far end of the hall. His constricting clothes, combined with short legs, made his gait awkward and shuffling. The others kept pace easily, though Caesar insisted that Fahkri walk in the front of the group, beside the Emperor, so that they could keep an eye on him.
A gilded door behind the throne led them into Hakan's personal quarters, a maze of corridors and rooms walled by latticed screens. Saiya caught glimpses of elaborate indoor fountains surrounded by lush greenery: a marriage of natural and man-made beauty. There were steaming baths inlaid with lapis and gold, a bedchamber with a round bed larger than the entire floor size of some of the cottages in New Tristram, a menagerie with all sorts of animals in gilded cages. Hakan walked through it all with the casual disdain of one born to wealth, and who therefore thinks as little of it as a regular man thinks of the dirt that he steps on.
"In here," he said, opening a door made of sandalwood that had more empty space in it than solid substance. With a clap of his hand and a murmured word, spell-lights flared to life, revealing a veritable horde of treasure. Coins and gems overflowed from chests and spilled out over the floor; crowns and scepters lay jumbled among jewel-crusted toys. In one corner stood a life-sized horse made of gold, with emeralds for eyes and a silk-plume mane and tail. It had been cunningly constructed so as to be capable of limited movement.
Hakan gestured grandly at his possessions. "Take what you will," he said. "It is my gift to you, for services rendered to myself and my nation, and for deeds yet to be done."
"Your Majesty," said Asheara, "I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that your offer is beyond generous. I myself want for nothing."
"Not even this?" said the boy, pulling back a cloth to uncover what appeared to be a bowl of crimson water set on a tripod stand. Adria exclaimed aloud in amazement.
"Where did you acquire this?"
"I inherited it from my predecessor," replied Hakan.
"What is it?" asked Saiya, moving closer to gaze into the murky depths of the bowl. The water was swirling slightly, as if moved by a current, and gave off a pleasantly sweet scent, reminiscent of jasmine flowers in the rain.
"It is a well of healing," said Leah. "Uncle Deckard told me about them, but I've never seen one. They're incredibly rare. It is said that a single sip will cure any wound or malady, and though they might be used up, they will replenish themselves in time."
"A thing like this should be used to help people, not hidden away gathering dust!" said Saiya, aghast at the selfishness on display. "Do you have any idea how much your people have suffered, Hakan, and how many could have been saved by this?"
The child lifted his chin, staring down his nose at her, though as she was so much taller, the regal effect was somewhat lessened. "Yes," he said, "and no doubt the coin in my coffers would make every Kehjistani peasant into a wealthy man, but if I gave it all away, I would no longer be Emperor."
"You're wasting your time, Saiya," said Baal. "If Hakan ever cared, he does no longer."
"In any case," grumbled the Emperor, "I didn't show you here so that you could scoff at me. I want to help you. Asheara, won't you drink from the well? It will make your pain go away."
The Commander was looking troubled. She said, "Forgive me, your Majesty, but I'm afraid that I must agree with Saiya. This is too wonderful a thing to keep to yourself. Your Majesty can be forgiven, because you are very young and you have not seen firsthand the suffering of your people. But please, if you mean what you say about helping, let this well be installed in Caldeum for public use. That is all I would ask of you."
Hakan sighed. "A gracious host refuses his guests nothing. It will be as you wish, Asheara. But I implore you to drink of it also. You need it sorely."
"If your Majesty wishes it, than I shall." Stepping forward, she cupped her hands and dipped them into the bowl, lifted the water to her lips, and drank. A look of relief passed over her face, smoothing away the lines carved by pain.
"Incredible," she murmured. "I feel strong … young."
"I might have some myself, if that's alright," said Caesar. "Frankly, I could use a boost right about now."
Hakan nodded. "Yes, of course. And the rest of you, take what you like from among my treasures. I have here a pair of swords owned by the renowned knight Born, who slew ten thousand demons in a single battle without a scratch. Or perhaps you would prefer the legendary Moonlight Ward, which cloaks you in a magical shield as long as the full moon shines?"
"I don't think that will be of much use today," said Adria. "Though it's an interesting piece, to be sure."
The group dispersed, wandering about the room and occasionally asking questions of Hakan about the identity of particular items. Even Baal joined in, though he kept one eye on the child at all times. There was an ample stock of bolts, and his quivers were full again in no time. He was unable to hide his excitement, however, when he came upon a ebony-and-silver crossbow of exquisite quality.
"Ah," said Hakan, upon seeing it. "A good choice for you, I think. It is Müsibet, and I am told that those struck by it cannot escape their death."
"Calamity," mused Baal. "A worthy name, but I think I shall change it." He grinned, but there was no humor in it. "I'll call it Belial's Bane, since this will be the weapon that ends his life."
"Indeed," said Hakan, "I hope it shall. You'll need some arrows for it, will you not? May I recommend these? They were crafted from the black bones of demons, and seek their targets viciously."
Saiya, meanwhile, had found herself drawn to a thin circlet of white-gold, which was set with a beautiful green gem, cloudier than an emerald, with three florets clustered around it like petals on a flower. She held it up, admiring how the light shone through it.
"What is this?" she asked the Emperor.
"The Bezoar Stone," he answered. "There is no other like it, to my knowledge. It grants the wearer foresight and wisdom."
Saiya placed the circlet on her head. It fitted as if made for her, and seemed to weigh nothing at all. The stone burned with faint warmth over her mind's eye.
"Thank you," she said. "This is a precious thing, and worth more to me than all the gold in the world."
Caesar, practically bursting with energy after imbibing from the healing well, had been rummaging through a chest and came up clutching a strange-looking wand. It was carved from crystal and had a bluish tint to it, and a dragon's head, remarkably similar in form to the hydra that the mage had summoned, coiled around the handle to form a kind of hilt, protecting the user's hand. The other end came to a sharp, lethal point.
"This wand …" Caesar murmured. "Where did you get it?"
"Oh, that old thing?" said Hakan, looking at the weapon in disinterest. "When I was younger, I had a desire to learn magic, so my servants acquired a number of wands for me, including that one. None of them worked, and I eventually moved on to greater endeavors. I had forgotten all about it."
"Might I have this, your Majesty, if you no longer want it?" inquired the wizard.
"Certainly," Hakan answered. "I have no objection."
Among the Nephalem, only Ghor had chosen nothing from the treasure horde. Adria and Tyrael also declined to accept a gift, and stood motionless – waiting, it seemed, though for what Saiya had no idea. She herself was more than pleased with the Bezoar Stone, though she also found a pauldron to replace the one that had been destroyed when she'd been attacked by the serpent in the oasis. It was slightly too large, but the design was lovely: red enamel set on gold, pattered like the wing of a bird, with the feathers fanning out over her upper arms. Hakan insisted that she take the pair of them, so that her armor would not appear lopsided.
"This delay is pointless," said Adria at last. "You all do realize, I hope, that a decision is inevitable. We must choose one or the other, or both, but the answer cannot be neither."
Baal had opened his mouth to answer her when he was interrupted by a low retching sound. It had come from Asheara, who was bent double, clutching her stomach.
"What's wrong?" Saiya cried, stepping towards her. The Commander glanced up, and Saiya caught one quick glimpse of her dark face twisted in agony. Then she convulsed and black vomit came surging from her mouth – great gouts of it, frothy and thick. She collapsed to all fours, still heaving. A foul smell filled the air.
"Nobody move!" Adria snapped. She glided forward to kneel beside the sick woman, pulling the hem of her skirts away from the spreading pool of sludge. Asheara's skin was nearly grey, and sweat stood out heavily on her brow.
"What …" she gasped. "What's …"
"You've been poisoned," the witch said, curtly. "Try not to panic."
"Was she bitten in the battle earlier?" asked Caesar.
Saiya shook her head. "No, but she took a trident to the arm. But that wound should have been healed by-"
"These are not the symptoms of serpent venom," Adria interrupted. "This is a different kind of poison, far more insidious. This is demonic corruption, but to be so potent, it would have to come from a powerful source. There is nothing more dangerous to the body than holy energy that has been tainted by evil."
They all turned simultaneously to look at the healing well.
"Ah!" the wail came from Hakan. The Emperor had backed up until he reached the barrier of the decorative screens, his small, plump hand pointed directly at Fahkri. "He has done this! He has killed Asheara!"
Without a word, Baal spun around, lifted his new crossbow (which he had already loaded), and shot the boy in the head.
For a moment, it seemed as though one of Eirena's time-stopping spells had been cast over the room. The adventurer's stood frozen in shock, eyes fixated on the black bolt protruding from Hakan's forehead. The Emperor's expression registered only surprise. His brows furrowed quizzically, large eyes rolling upwards as if trying to get a good look at the thing which had killed him. Then he sagged backwards against the wall, his small form sliding down it to rest at the base, arms falling limply to his sides. All eyes turned to the Hunter.
"Baal," Saiya breathed. "What have you done?"
"What I had to do," he replied, calmly snapping another bolt into the channel.
A terrible cry of grief and rage burst from Asheara's ravaged throat, and she lurched upright only to fall again. "Haramzade!" she screamed. "Men evvel seni öldürmek lazimdir! Men sizin ürek kesilmis lazimdir!" Then, with a moan like a dying animal, "Oh Hakan … Hakan …"
"Have you lost your damn mind?" Caesar growled. "You just murdered a child, Baal!"
"Look again, mage," Baal said, nodding his head towards Hakan's body. The boy still lay where he had fallen, pathetically tiny and limp, but something had risen up out of his corpse, filling the air above it, hulking and indefinable.
"Belial," said the Hunter, his voice ringing strongly out in the heavy silence. "You show yourself at last."
Gradually, the empty space that before had contained the mere suggestion of a sinister form began to coalesce into a visible entity. It was horrendous beyond imagining, having no shape that a human mind could relate to. Instead of legs, the torso ended in a conical abdomen reminiscent of a wasp. The arms came down lower than this, tipped in hands consistent of three elongated, clawed digits. The exoskeleton was inhabited by a sort of green mist that swirled through the chest cavity and burned like fire in the skeletal maw. But it was the eyes that were most terrifying: green pits in the motionless face, they had neither white nor pupil, yet everyone there swore afterwards that the void-like gaze pierced them to the soul.
So this is a Great Evil, thought Saiya. How the hell are we supposed to kill it? Can it even be killed?
Belial's jaws opened, and a voice emerged, smooth as silk, sweet as elderberry wine. "Nephalem," it said, "behold the glory of my true being. Will you not join me? I can offer you riches beyond reckoning, power among your own kind, freedom to live as you choose. Join me, and become gods!"
"I'd sooner die!" Baal snarled. Drawing his favorite bow, he unleashed a rapid-fire stream of arrows into Belial's insubstantial form. They had no effect, passing through him as though he were a desert mirage. With a diabolic cackle, the Lord of Lies floated backwards through the wall and disappeared from view.
"Shit!" gasped Baal. "We have to go after him!"
"What about Asheara?" Saiya exclaimed. "We can't just leave her here!"
"I will stay with her, and do what I can," said Adria. "Daughter, I require your assistance … and yours as well, sangoma, if I am to save her life."
"Right. Keep an eye on Fahkri as well. His people will need him – if we all come through this in one piece, that is. Everyone else, with me!" He bolted for the door with Saiya, Caesar, and Tyrael on his heels. Skidding out into the hall, they spotted a wisp of green down the corridor to the left, and pursued it, weapons drawn.
The wizard fell to the rear of the group as they ran, and seemed to be having trouble maintaining the pace. Much like Asheara, his pale skin had turned ashen. His eyes had a glazed look to them. With a stab of concern, Saiya recalled that he had also drunk from the poisoned healing well.
"Are you alright?" she murmured, dropping back so that she could speak to him without the others hearing.
"F-fine," he stammered, unconvincingly.
"No, you're not. Caesar, you have to go back! Ghor and Adria will be able to help you. If you come with us, you might die."
"But if I don't, you might," he retorted. "We need everyone together to win this battle. I'll be alright."
She wanted to argue more with him, but Baal was almost out of sight already. Cursing the mage's stubbornness, she put on a burst of speed and caught up just as he exited the palace and charged out into the open space of the Fair-Weather Court.
Belial was waiting for them, but he was not alone. Faint disturbances in the air indicated that at least ten of his minions had answered his summons. Saiya didn't wait to fully size up the situation before launching herself into the nearest group, striking and kicking with all of her strength and energy.
There was undoubtedly a difference in the way she fought, but it felt so natural that she didn't even notice at first. But eventually she became aware that she was aware, without even trying to be, of all that was happening around her. It was as though she had eyes on the back of her head. The serpent advancing behind her, trident poised to strike; the stray bolt of ice magic from Caesar aimed right at her head; the twin attacks from either side – she saw them all in the moments before they happened, and was thus able to avoid them. It was a new level of perception of the world, and it reminded her of something that the head monk had once told her: "There are three stages of the warrior's path. First, the hand holds the sword. Then, the hand becomes the sword. But when mind and body come together in a state of perfect unity, the sword vanishes. Then you will know that you have achieved enlightenment."
She felt as calm as the surface of a lake on a windless day, content in the knowledge that a stone might cause ripples, but the water would part around it and come together again, seamless and whole. The weapons of her enemies could not harm her. She was cloaked in the shield of her own serenity. And indeed, a trident that arced towards her bent in the air, curving away from her to land ineffectually on the ground. She touched its wielder on the chest with her palm, as gentle as a lover's caress, and left a glowing handprint. The serpent dropped without a sound.
It was then that an overwhelming presence filled her senses, clouding her mental acuity. She turned around, stumbling slightly. Belial loomed above her, his great gaze effortlessly penetrating her defensive sphere. He lifted his arm.
Saiya could have dodged, but she didn't. There was something about the demon lord's stare that mesmerized her, compelling her to remain still. At the last moment, she closed her eyes and poured all her power into a protective mantra.
The impact, when it came, felt like an entire mountain had fallen upon her. She was thrown to the ground, a crushing pressure on her chest driving the breath from her lungs. The shield held, but only just: a shimmering golden shell of energy that bent and stretched like a bubble under the weight of Belial's hand. The tip of his central claw had pierced through, and as he removed it, the entire construct dissipated, leaving Saiya defenseless.
The withered limb descended again. With a discordant clang, the bell tolled out, meeting it in the air. But it had little effect, barely slowing the downward movement. This time there was no chance to evade, no hope but for a swift and merciful death.
Saiya cried out, and there came an answering yell – a streak of silver and a billow of white. Tyrael stood above her, holding his sword up like a staff above his head to block Belial's hand. The angel moaned through gritted teeth as the sharp edge bit through his mailed glove and into the web between thumb and forefinger where the blade was braced, but he held his position even as blood ran down his arm. Saiya scrambled up, and he released his grip, deflecting Belial with a turn of his wrist, bringing the sword around to slash at his flank.
And Belial howled, a deep wound in his side oozing green. This weapon, it seemed, could injure him. Tyrael pressed the attack, driving the demon lord back with a flurry of thrusts and slashes. Granted a momentary reprieve, Saiya took stock of the battle. All of the serpents were dead. Baal was unharmed, and currently occupied in adding his firepower to Tyrael's fierce assault, but there was no sign of Caesar.
Horrified, Saiya scanned the bodies covering the ground. The mage was not among them. She had just begun to think that he must have heeded her advice after all and retreated to the women for healing, when she heard a strangled sound from behind a clump of ferns, followed by a fit of coughing. She hurried over to find Caesar kneeling on the ground, gasping for breath, a puddle of black vomit before him.
"I'm fine!" he snapped as she reached out to touch him. "I don't-" Another spasm wracked his body. There was red mixed in with the black this time, and Saiya cringed as she realized what that meant. Fresh blood was a sign of major internal damage; she was amazed he was still able to speak, let alone stagger to his feet.
"Come on," she said, striving and failing to keep the tremor from her voice. "Caesar, you're in bad shape. Let me take you back to Ghor."
"No." Feebly, he pushed her away and wiped his chin clean with the back of his hand.
"Don't be stupid!" she yelled.
"Not … stupid." Even drawing breath was a struggle for him.
"Yes you are! What can you possibly do in this condition?"
As soon as she said the words, she knew she'd made a terrible mistake. If she'd been trying to encourage him to keep fighting, she could have picked no better method. A steely glint entered Caesar's eyes, and he ground out a gravelly laugh.
"Watch," he said. "I'll show you the true power of a wizard."
Throwing his arms wide, he shouted at the placid sky in a language Saiya was not familiar with, and the sky answered. Clouds boiled over, the wind picked up, the temperature lowered. Caesar continued to utter commands, walking slowly towards the center of the arena, where Belial was trapped between Tyrael and Baal.
"Tempestas, exaudi orationem meam!" roared the mage. His voice seemed to whip the air into a frenzy. Snowflakes began to spiral down, growing thicker by the second. Caesar continued, "Ajuro vos, et tene illum manu tua incidunt Belial!"
With that, the clouds opened and a cascade of ice came pouring forth. It covered Belial, forming a solid pillar around him.
"Now, Tyrael!" Baal exclaimed. "Finish him off!"
Without hesitation, Tyrael drove his sword through the ice and into the trapped demon's chest cavity, all the way to the hilt.
There was a sound like the world cracking. A bright light blinded the human fighters, and when they were able to see again, the Lord of Lies was free of his bonds. There was a great rent in his center where Tyrael's blade had driven through, but he appeared to be more infuriated than harmed.
"You impress me, Nephalem," he said. "You are more powerful than I anticipated, but you would not have made it even this far were it not for the company you keep. That is no mere mortal aiding you, but the Archangel of Justice himself. Greetings, Tyrael. It is long since last we met."
"You have not changed, Belial," Tyrael said.
Belial cackled. "Ah, but you have. You've grown weak, angel. Humanity has crippled you, robbed you of the might your name once carried. You … are … nothing."
Plunging one of his claws into the hole in his chest, he drew it out dripping with greenish bile and pointed at the heavens, uttering a single word that burned on Saiya's ears. Instinctively she knew that it was Incaentic, and horror settled over her heart like a tombstone. If a witch like Adria could work such potent magic using that dread tongue, then what would one of the Great Evils be capable of?
She didn't have to wait long to find out. As soon as Belial had finished speaking, the palace around them began to crumble, huge pieces of it falling away into a void of swirling nothingness that had appeared on all sides. The little stone platform on which they stood, all that remained of the Fair-Weather Court, appeared to be sailing through space and time, lost to the world of men.
Belial too had altered in appearance, expanding into a colossus that towered above them. His arms had thickened, taking on the qualities of some crustacean of the deeps, and his disembodied torso hovered beside the platform, while the mist around them seemed an extension of his own miasmic energy.
"Ytar have mercy," Saiya whispered.
Beside her, Caesar lurched on his feet like a drunken man. His gloved hand shot out to seize her shoulder, leaning heavily on her. He was muttering under his breath, but Saiya could not make out the meaning of his words, or even the language they were in.
"Saiya!" cried a voice from the shadows to her left. Turning her head, she saw Baal running towards them, his eyes blazing crimson.
"What's wrong with the mage?" he asked.
"Poisoned," Saiya answered curtly.
Baal swore. Snapping his fingers an inch from Caesar's nose, he said, "Hey, idiot! Can you hear me?"
"Unfortunately, yes, I can." The wizard's tone was low and strangely blank, as though all emotion had deserted him.
"Good," said Baal. "Hang in there a bit longer, okay? I think that we're trapped in some kind of illusion at the moment. If that's true, the world should go back to normal when we kill this asshole."
"When?" Saiya cried, feeling a spike of hysteria rising in her chest. "When? Baal, have you seen that fucking thing? It makes the Butcher look like a helpless child! My bell had no effect on it whatsoever! How are we supposed to kill it?"
"Everything has a weakness, Saiya," Baal said smoothly. "Even a Lord of Hell. In Belial's case, all his strength lies in his ability to deceive – to make you think he is more than he really is. Undo the deceptions, and you have undone his very essence."
"I don't know if you've been paying attention at all," Saiya snapped, "but there is nothing fake about how powerful he is."
"He is powerful because your belief gives him power."
Frustrated at his inability to understand, Saiya turned away from him. The Hunter hadn't lain on his back with that terrible claw pressing down on him, unable to move. He knew nothing of Belial's capacity to destroy. Their combined strength was useless against him; he would swat them aside as if they were flies buzzing about his head, and turn his ire on the rest of the city. And from there … all of Sanctuary would burn.
Then, just as the tide of hope was at its lowest ebb, her gaze happened to fall across the center of the arena. Her eyes widened.
Tyrael stood alone against the great demon before him, his pale, shining sword no larger than a toothpick compared to Belial's bulk, the billowing cloth of his cloak his only shield. But even as the massive arm descended upon him, he stepped to the side and swung his blade. A single spike was hewn clean off, clattering across the stone to disappear into the green gulf.
"You see?" Baal said, his mouth warm against her ear. "All is not lost. We can still prevail."
"Watch out!" Caesar shouted. Saiya glanced up to see Belial's other arm swinging down like an executioner's axe, directly upon them. She shoved Baal to one side, leaping in the opposite direction, and the serrated edge of the claw split the stone between them. The arm lifted and swept towards her with hardly a pause, and she barely avoided it by squeezing herself flat against the ground as it passed over her. If not for the well-crafted armor of the Iron Wolves, she would have suffered some injury as the spines scraped across her back.
She scrambled up again, only to see an entirely different kind of horror approaching: Belial's monstrous head, bent low over the arena, his breath a poisonous exhalation spewing into the air. It covered the whole platform, with one exception: the space right beneath his chin, at the very edge of the arena. Saiya was already half-way to safety when she realized that Baal and Caesar were not following. She paused, on the brink of going back, but there was no time. She dove forward just as the toxic cloud reached her, feeling the heat and stench of it whispering across her skin.
The young monk landed with bruising force on her knees and forearms, but the pain didn't even register amidst the panic that burst across her mind. They didn't make it! Baal and Caesar-
Picking herself up off the cold ground, she spun around to search the court with frantic eyes, trying to ignore the vast bulk of Belial at her back, nearly close enough to touch. Tyrael at least had withstood the assault, though in places the fabric of his cloak had been eaten away.
Then she saw them, two silhouettes merged into one through the clearing haze. Caesar's arm was slung over Baal's shoulder, and he hung off of the Hunter like an ill-fitting coat, while Baal held him upright with an arm about his waist. The dying traces of snowflakes on the air indicated that Caesar had managed to raise a whirlwind, keeping the worst of the contamination away from them – but at a severe cost. He appeared to have spent the last of his energy, and even as Saiya watched, his legs dropped out from under him, forcing Baal to sink to the ground beneath his dead weight.
Baal shook the mage, quite roughly, but there was no response. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Saiya's, and his expression said, We're losing him.
Crouching in Belial's shadow, Saiya racked her brain for any technique in her arsenal that might be strong enough to turn the tide. The bell had already proven impotent against Belial's first form; she didn't see how it could have any effect now. As for mere fists and feet … well, surely they would bounce off of Belial's carapaces like pebbles thrown at a mountain!
Baal was firing his new crossbow, the one Hakan had given him (or, Saiya supposed grimly, Belial had given him, in the form of the child emperor). The bolts stuck in his massive body like needles, but they could not pierce through to do any real damage. The ones that targeted his eyes or the interior of his mouth passed straight through him and vanished.
Two-handing his weapon, Tyrael charged in with a roar of defiance. Belial met him halfway, however, and with a blow of his arm sent the angel tumbling head over heels. Tyrael's sword fell from his grasp, and he himself barely managed to catch hold of the platform with one hand as he slid off of it, dangling precariously above the abyss.
Before Saiya could move to help him, their foe raised both arms high and brought them down with brutal force, burying the points of his claws deep into the stone. Foul green slime – the same stuff that had hindered their progress on horseback – boiled up from the ground all across the court, forming noxious pools, each a few feet in diameter. One of these oozed out from the spot where Tyrael was holding on for dear life.
"Hang on!" Saiya screamed, dodging between the pools as she tried to reach her imperiled companion. But she was too late. Tyrael's fingers slipped from the edge, and he plummeted downwards, his wide eyes fixed on hers until he disappeared into the green mist.
Saiya felt as though she were lost in an underground maze, and her lantern had just been snuffed out. Our last chance … gone! she thought. I didn't act soon enough, and we lost another friend because of it. Her heart ached at the thought of Tyrael falling endlessly, sinking like a drowning man unable to reach the surface. Would he ever hit the ground, or would he just continue to fall forever?
She and Baal were all that remained now, and the Hunter was fully occupied with dragging Caesar away from the rapidly spreading slime. A despair unlike anything she had ever experienced washed over Saiya as she crouched, trembling, her hand outstretched as though she could still pull Tyrael back.
It was over.
They had failed.
Belial began to laugh. His claws were still planted in the ground, forcing up more corrosive bile. Soon, the entire arena would be covered in it; and they would have to choose between an unbearably painful death, and the uncertainty of leaping into the gulf. In the end, despite their years of training, despite all the good intentions in the world, they were simply no match for an evil such as Belial's.
Saiya's hand dropped limply back to her side – and fell upon something hard and strangely warm. Looking down, she saw that her palm rested on the hilt of Tyrael's sword. This was the weapon that had killed Maghda, the weapon that Deckard Cain had died defending. Saiya had never really paid much attention to it, either during the time that she and Baal were hunting for the shards, or afterwards, when the blade had been forged anew. Now she gazed at it and realized that it was a thing as deadly as it was beautiful.
Sliding her brass knuckles from her battered hands, she secured them to her belt and lifted the sword, marveling at the lightness of it, as though it had been crafted of pure sunlight.
A wordless battlecry poured from her throat as she raced towards the great arm closest to her and, leaping, clung to it. She began to climb, using the spikes as hand-and-footholds. On the platform below, she could hear Baal yelling insults as he emptied his bow into Belial's chest, and with a glow of gratitude realized that he was offering himself a distraction, as she had done for him when they fought the Butcher.
"Don't get yourself killed, love," she muttered under her breath, reaching for the next protruding spike. "If you do, I'll never forgive you."
She had reached Belial's shoulder by the time he became aware of her presence, and by then, there was little he could do besides thrash his massive body back and forth in an attempt to shake her off. But Saiya's balance was superb from a childhood dwelling in the mountains, and she ran along the heaving plane of his shoulder as easily as she might walk the ridgepole of a house, and so arrived at his head.
Now at last she understood what Baal meant about weakness, for at last she had found a flaw in Belial's defense: from her perch, she could attack with impunity, while he could reach her with neither his cumbersome claws, nor his plague-ridden breath. And she could sense something new roiling beneath his aura of intimidation: fear. She readied the weapon in her hands to strike.
"It is pointless, Nephalem," Belial said. "You cannot kill me, not with that puny dagger. Surrender now, and I will show you mercy."
"You think I would trust you, after all that?" Saiya snarled. "I'd tell you to go back to Hell, but … the only place you're going is into the Black Soulstone."
With all her strength, she drove Tyrael's sword into the side of Belial's head, just below where his ear would be, if he'd had them. A deafening howl rose up around her, shaking her very bones. Her feet slipped out from under her as the demon threw himself backwards, and suddenly she was suspended over the void, anchored only by her firm grip on the sword hilt. She swung back and forth there as Belial writhed and shrieked, cursing her in the wicked language of his ilk. If she'd had her footing, she would have drawn the blade out and plunged it in again, over and over, until the job was done.
She thought of all those whose lives had been stolen from them by Belial, or his minions. Deckard Cain, Peter Rumford, Jan, and the others who had perished in the destruction of Wortham. The citizens of Alcarnus, tortured for Maghda's amusement. The Wolves who had died fighting against the Coven. The young man at the gate, who had plead with Saiya to help him as he lay crushed beneath a thousand pounds of rock.
All those faces were bright in her mind, but only one name rose to her lips.
"For Hakan!" she cried, and released the bell. Once, twice, thrice it tolled, waves of holy power rippling down the length of Tyrael's blade and into Belial's skull, shattering his armor and spilling his essence in rivers of green.
The sword came free, and Saiya fell earthwards like a bird with furled wings. The last thing she saw before the mist closed around her was the great bulk of the Lord of Lies crumbling into dust.
* Asheara said, "Bastard! I'll fucking kill you! I'll cut your heart out!"
* Caesar's spell: "Storm, heed my prayer! I adjure you, fall upon Belial and hold him in your grasp!"