Should it be considered problematic when the major origin of one's motivation is guilt?

In any case, it seems to work. Thanks to Emmy who supplied it. I'm just too uninspired sometimes, and usually I'm too busy with uni and/or deviantART to write anything that doesn't sound like one of my science units' reports. Though the judo classes that I'm addicted to should help with my knowledge regarding how joints should NOT bend.

This is a battle scene I've been trying to put off; I have no idea how I'll perform when writing four people in a battle. Let's see how it is then, shall we?

Disclaimer: Blizzard owns Diablo blah blah blah yeah. Emmy owns the word "Carrhandi", because she doesn't suck at making up pretty-sounding words like I do.

Chapter 29.5

Nadya

BOOOOOM!

It'd sounded almost like an explosion, the destruction of the Compelling Orb; now the sound no longer hangs in the air, as battle ensues and the only sounds filling the space around us are those of slaughter – high-pitched, but short-lived.

Hearing seems to be so much more useful than vision in this kind of heated battles. One can only see what is before him, but hearing can extend much further beyond.

Arrows whizzing through the air. From two directions: one behind me to the left, and another directly to my right, but further away.

And Natalya right at my back, the sound of her claw and katar ripping through tough skin to sink directly into the soft flesh beneath. A great splash of cold, thick blood on my left shoulder. I can taste some in my mouth as the momentum forces it on, until it splattered across the face of one of the Stygian Dolls I'm facing, who was probably a close relative of the Flayers.

By gods I hate these little pests.

The monster is startled, and I behead it with the split-second chance. Its companion shrieks and leaps up to plant a spear through my skull. My left hand is ready on the hilt of my dagger. The monster's throat is exposed as it cries a call of battle; I feel my heart beat a little harder as I go for the kill –

Something rams into my upper back and sends me falling. I manage to stop myself landing on my face just in time, and look up to see Natalya delivering a sharp kick. The small monster holds up its spear to parry the blow, but the assassin's kick breaks it and lands squarely in the monster's groin. The Doll's face contorts far beyond what I thought it capable of, before it explodes from the sheer impact of the kick.

Natalya looks down to me, smirking. I feel as if someone had poured ice-cubes down the back of my shirt… wonder if that's meant to be some sort of threat.

"That's really quite dirty." Fortunately, I seem to manage keeping my voice steady.

Before I can get back to my feet, there comes a stream of hot air from behind. Natalya and I both drop down to avoid it, and as I bounce back up I spin around to slash through the enemy's midsection. The fallen mage watches its guts spill out for a moment before it all registers, and let out a shriek of terror. I decide that I don't have the leisure to watch it groan and writhe, so I silence it with a cut across the throat.

I briefly inspect Natalya's work – a pile of assorted corpses, all covered with blood and other body fluids (and some diced-up solid bits as well). I'm just about to break away from this distraction and concentrate again, when I realise that it's gotten quiet… well, relatively so. There are still soft sounds in the background, the promise of the imminent resumption of battle.

"Is everyone alive?" Oread's voice is made hoarse by a great sigh. "No-one's lost a part of their body?"

"Well, that Doll's just lost his –"

"Let's keep going. There's more just on the other side of the walls." I manage to intercept Natalya's vulgar joke, and in retaliation, she grants me a death stare.

I thought I'd be used to death stares by now, but compared to Oread's… Natalya's are just from a different league.

We venture through the rest of the first level of Mephisto's refuge – "Durance of Hate", I believe that's what the people of Kurast called it – and encounter two more battles of similar intensity. We've decided that we want to save our strength, so although the voices wail on in the back, we go straight for the next floor down, after Natalya's set a few traps near the entrance of the stairwell.

In the safety ensured by the narrowness of the stairs, we regroup properly for the first time since we set foot within the confines of the Durance. The stairs are dark and horribly clammy, but we've agreed (with a certain degree of objections from Natalya, which resulted in a brief but heated exchange) to confide in Oread's and Celadon's Inner Sight.

"How're the supplies?"

"We should have enough. I've picked a few things up back there."

"Same, but I'm running low on arrows."

"You can have my spare quiver, Celadon."

"Thanks, but –"

"We can always open a portal if need be."

"All right. Everyone's got enough potions?"

A moment of the bright golden glow of the Horadric Cube filling the space. "Now I do."

"I think demons can sense it when you activate such a holy item, Oread."

Indeed, the cries of monsters are approaching, as the ground beneath our feet start to rumble with the deep, thunderous voices. Ormus spoke of "Wailing Beasts"… and now I think I know why they're named that.

"My bad." Oread's voice is nonchalant, as expected. Natalya snorts, but no comments are made on such remark.

The sounds get nearer. The muffled noises are becoming distinct battle cries. "Celadon, can you tell how many levels this thing has?" I ask the Rogue. Between her and Oread, she has greater skill with her insight.

"I can't sense anything below –"

"Three." Natalya cuts her off. "The level below this is Mephisto's hideout." A gust of wind rose from the floor and encircled her body. "So let's finish these off and call it a day."

She charges down the stairs, her feet seeming to glide over the steps. I charge up my Bone Armour before following her – there's no need to hold back on mana now that I know how much more there is to come.

On my entrance to the open chamber two monsters crash against my Armour. Almost at once two arrows zip past either side of my head, one landed in an eye, and the other square in the throat. I focus my energy and the corpses explode before they hit the floor.

"Thanks, Necromancer, now I'm all covered in bloods and bits. And I think I have a bit of lung in my mouth." Oread splutters from a foot or so in front of me. Both of them have already run ahead.

"You're welcome. You shouldn't have kept your mouth open." I hear a cuss, then the familiar sound of an arrowhead exploding into flames.

I sneak a look around. This level is similar to the one above, but it's a lot more open. There are four doorways leading from this large central chamber, one at the middle of each wall. Three are open, with monsters pouring out of them; the one at the opposite wall to the stairs is closed, blocked with a dark, polished slab depressed into the stone wall. Ominous energy radiates from it.

"Celadon!" She's the closest to the entry to Mephisto. "Try and get that doorway open. It's the entrance to the bottom level."

An energy-driven gale comes from my left; I let myself fall and a large fist just missed my shoulder joint. I respond to the sharp sensation of burning with five Teeth in the beast's skull. It topples over, and I manage to explode it into shreds before it crushes me.

I get to my feet and shake my blood-soaked bangs off my eyes. The larger demon's blood feels warmer than my own, which is seeping from the new cut in my shoulder. "Celadon?"

Oread is in Celadon's place, as the mercenary defends her master. "It says here that the chamber must be washed with the blood of two hundred before the seal is released." She looks back. "Are there two hundred monsters in here?"

"In any case, we'll just have to kill 'em all." Natalya grinned as she lunges herself at a Dark Lord. The power of her whole body is channelled into her victim, which happens to be a minion of the Fallen. The kick lands square in the chest and the small monster doubles up sharply, beyond what's physically possible, as blood spurted from its eyes, nose and mouth. It flies like a rag doll into its fellow minions standing behind; as the corpse explodes at my will, the entire group is annihilated, their shattered bodies painting an abstract mural on the stone wall behind it in bright, fiery colours.

"We make a pretty good team, Nyhl." Natalya laughs, apparently very amused by her own comment.

"Don't joke about stuff like this."

"You'd be better off if you keep the killing going, instead of taking the time to talk back." The metal of her claw-katar pair buzzes with unreleased potential power, and she finds her new targets in a group of Dark Lords in the corner to her right. A few shouts as she hacks at the monsters, then a loud whoosh and a mild wave of heat as she scorches them to death.

But it's her words that held me… no, it can't mean that she knows anything about my damaged mana system. I'm over-interpreting things…

A howl, then it stops abruptly, replaced by a gurgling noise. My eyes focus onto a Cadaver, its mouth agape with a pointed blade protruding from it. The gurgling stops, and as the body falls, the vertically-positioned blade slices the head in clean halves from the mouth up.

"Watch your ass, stupid Necromancer!" There stands Oread, her spear still held up high, with fragments of the Cadaver's brain slowly sliding off it.

One bit drips off. Shlop.

And that sounds all too familiar.

But what's more important… there's a Cadaver on the floor… I reach out and jerk Oread over the rapidly-putrefying corpse between us, silence her with my hand over her nose and mouth, and try to throw up a Bone Wall as quickly as possible.

I can barely make it in time. Small streams of poisonous gas wafts between the gaps in my defence, and even though I'm holding my breath, the poison manages to singe my airways. It doesn't feel like it's done too much damage, but I still can't help but choke and cough a few times.

"Oh, shit!" Oread exclaims, and then she whips around to slash open the belly of a Wailing Beast. She bends over me as the massive string of intestines of her recent kill starts to pile up on the floor. "I've got no antidote on me –"

"I'm all right; it wasn't a direct hit." I start to stand and she offers me her hand. I take it, somewhat surprised by the deed. "Thank you."

"Likewise." She replies, and dashes off to assault some Stygian Dolls.

My Bone Wall breaks down, and up come more Cadavers, their eyes rolled back and their mouths open, fetid-looking muck dripping down their chins from their mouths and nostrils.

They're in a tight group. I trap them with a prison made from the bones of their own allies, then distance myself from the group before I send Teeth flying into and through them. Green, grey and brownish gunk makes heavy strokes of deathly shades on the floor... another fine work of art.

… Damn, I can't be admiring this. My hand gestures my wish for their souls' peace in the afterlife almost automatically. I suppose this can calm me down a bit.

It works; but as my mind refocusses, I also realise that my threshold is running low. This has to be finished off quickly.

I do a quick check. About forty or so enemies left and the other three are far away enough. Good. I haven't used this in a while…

Turning my back away from my companions, I gather that there are about twelve monsters within my range, and at least thirty corpses. Plentiful. I'm confident that I can restrict the effective area…

Some fireballs are hurdling towards me. I try to dodge them as I establish connections between my mind and the creatures of decay within the bodies. A fireball catches me in the side, but I'm close…

It's done.

The creatures are humming voicelessly in my mind. They want to claim the bodies, and I can give them the strength to do this a whole lot more efficiently.

So I give it to them.

The humming stops as the wet squirming sounds take over. The bodies are being consumed and dense clouds of ink-blue smoke pour forth from their wounds and openings. The living demons are being engulfed by the corrosive gas, their bodies decompose, starting with the eyeballs and the tongue. The hair and nails drop off, and then the lips and fingertips go. Skin melts away to reveal flesh of colours that vary from monster to monster – the Beasts' are bright red, the Fallens' brown, the Dolls' a delicate fuchsia, the Dark Lords' violet.

Organs drop out of body cavities, hanging on at first by the major blood vessels, and then helplessly splattering onto the floor, squashing out blood bubbles from beneath as the pile grows bigger. The bones finally appear, bloody at first, but gradually fade to bleached white.

And the lives leave the bodies, now reduced to naught by a puddle of thick dark slime. The final screams hang in the air.

It always amuses me somewhat that the voice boxes are the last to go.

"Holy damn, Necromancer." Oread's voice is shaking. The chamber is quiet again.

"Is it all done?" I turn around to see all three of them standing there. Natalya's trying to flick blood off her weapons, Celadon's gazing into the newly-opened doorway into pitch-blackness, and Oread's just gawking at me with a slight frown.

"For today, yes." Natalya is still cleaning her blades, but she looks at me once every few seconds out of the corner of her eyes. It's better for me to shift my own eyes away from her.

"It seems to be quiet." Celadon's trying to look into the dark entrance to Mephisto's lair. "I don't think they're gonna come up."

Regardless, Natalya set up an elaborate array of traps before we left via a portal. Oread takes note of her caution, and Natalya is usually sincere in showing her appreciation.

Celadon and Oread step through the portal first, and I'm finally able to inspect the doorway. The slab that closed it off has slid up to reveal the stairs, but a little section still hangs over the top of the entrance. A few runes are still partially-readable, and –

They're in Carrhandi.

The native language of the Necromancers.

Oread can read it…

A hand on my shoulder. It makes me jump, but Natalya appears to have taken no notice of it.

"We need to talk."

"Huh?"

"Meet me before the altar of the Gidbinn at two hours past midnight. It's important… no-one else must know about this, or I'll kill you." Her eyes never lifted from the floor throughout her speech, but her voice alone promises that she's not joking at all.

The sky's cloudy tonight, and the air is light but stagnant… it's probably going to rain before sunrise.

Natalya is standing beside the altar, fully dressed. Her eyes seem to have been fixed upon mine ever since I came into her view. I wonder if she is going to kill me…

"So… you wish to speak to me, Natalya?" I try to make my voice sound as assertive as possible. This woman… every time she looks at me it's like she's trying to rip something from me. Something that wouldn't easily or pleasantly yield.

And her presence… it resonated with something deep inside, a part of me that I've tucked away into the dark depths of memory.

"Yes." She replies, stern and cold. Her cheery, crude façade seems to dissolve with those words, and when she looks back, her eyes appear as if they've put up some kind of smoke screen – I fail to read anything from them. They're focused and undiverting, directed at me, yet they don't seem to be… looking.

She holds out a closed hand. "I think… after what I saw today, I can be sure that I know who you are." Her tone is kept flat, as her other hand tries to touch my face. I draw back, a little too sharply than what's proper, but her expression doesn't falter. "How long has it been… almost ten years? You've changed a lot, Nyhl."

I try to imagine a ten-years-younger-Natalya; she's probably in her mid- to late-twenties, I think. A teenage Natalya… it's not hard to get the picture. She has a very youthful face.

Only now she seems to have aged twenty years.

"What's your point?" I ask. By instinctive reflex I was weary, alert. There was instability in the air; a potential that may soon explode.

"Do you recognise this, young Necromancer?" The way she says it reminds me of Oread for a split second, inspiring a sick feeling in my chest. She opens her hand.

Lying in the centre of her palm is a round medallion that serves as a silver pendant for a necklace. I step in for a closer look. A concentric, symmetrical pattern weaved by thorned vines, boasting a hummingbird in the centre, its wings spread and entangled in the deathly bondage.

"My brother's." I conclude. I'd have snatched at it if it weren't for the weird way she's acting now. She didn't come out to taunt me with this; there must be some greater purpose in her actions. Still… "How did you get it?"

"You make it sound as if I'd stolen it." I'd thought she would accompany such words with a smirk, but she looks almost a little… sad? However it is, this is getting on my nerves. How she got the medallion is one thing, but as an Assassin of the Vizjerei, I don't think it'll be much of a surprise.

"It's mine, Nyhl. I own it. With every right."

Okay, I was wrong. She's doing this with less style than I'd expected. I open my mouth to ask for it –

"Rien gave it to me."

"What?"

"Your brother, Nyhl. Is it too hard for you to recall his name?" Natalya strokes the medallion with her other hand with surprising delicacy. Her eyes are now fixed upon it, in a sort of distant, longing gaze that's chillingly eerie.

After an agonisingly long moment, she continues. "Rien gave it to me when he asked for my hand in marriage." Her voice grows gradually louder, as her body tenses up and her aura boils with anguish and defensiveness. "Your people have taken everything from me, Nyhl! I know the Vizjerei isn't the most popular order in the Sanctuary, but… do you have any idea how much I've given up for Rien?"

She's shouting now.

I've nothing to say to her; I'm just trying to run everything through my head and make some sense out of it all.

"I left my family for him; I was banished from my order because of him. Yet what do I get in the end? I don't even get to kiss my fiancé goodbye?"

It finally clicks.

… Damn, I've never actually met her before? Oh yes, Brother went through a few rows with Father because of this. No wonder…

She's mad. She comes up to me and seizes me by the collar, pulling me down so that my eyes level with hers. My spectacles slip a little, but she's so close that her light-olive eyes are in perfect focus.

"I know what you did," she slurs the words through her teeth, and then tugs me forward sharply, positioning her face to whisper in my right ear. "What you did at the funeral… that was the first time I'd seen you. You couldn't see me; nobody could see me. I daren't show my face in your parents' presence, but I had a perfect view of you."

…

"You thought you were alone, then?"

I swallow; my throat feels like it's coated with sand.

She goes on in that hiss-like whisper. "You've the same eyes as Rien, except for the lighter blue." She still has my collar as she forces me back a little, and her eyes come into view again. "They're just as I remember them… It amazes me, you know, how eyes of the softest shades can belong to such a remorseless child."

"He deserved it." I don't know if she can hear it, but I can feel my voice starting to quiver. She knows, and she's blackmailing me with it. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Well, perhaps you won't be so confused if I told you a little more, or maybe if you actually face what you've done, you little bastard." She let go of me with a shove of such force that I stagger back a few steps; before I can establish my footing my knees give in and I fall, right before her. "Are you scared of the past?"

"I don't like what's happened, but I had nothing to do with it." My control over my voice has gone out the window; I can't even bring myself to look at her.

"What a blatant lie."

I don't think I even saw a shadow, but something strikes me hard enough on the right cheekbone to make my vision blur for a few seconds. I hear my spectacles clatter on the ground off to my left. "You know that's a bloody lie! He died because you got in the way! He left the citadel to go back to those shits who called themselves his parents!"

My face is burning like crazy; she'd kicked me in the face. She's not afraid to get violent, but this isn't going to scare me into submission. "Don't talk about my mother like –"

"Shut up!" Her voice sounds closer; she must be leaning over me. "Your mother was weak and so were you! He went back to protect you! And then a month, a whole month later they told me that my fiancé's funeral's in five days?" She somehow got her leg under to hit me in the chest, and then she flips me over and slams my back to the ground, pins me down with her entire body and starts screaming in my face.

"What did you people think I was? Vizjerei or otherwise, I was Rien's fiancée and wife-to-be, for holiness' sake! They didn't even tell me anything! Who killed him, when he was killed, nothing!"

"Nadya!" She's had me winded, but I somehow manage to force out the name.

She stops. I grab at the chance to calm her down and avoid certain death by her hands. "You… You've taken on the job of a mercenary to escape it?"

Her eyes are getting teary, and they dart about aimlessly in tired anxiety. She relaxes, and I free myself from under her, but get only to my knees to stay at her level.

A teardrop rolls out of her left eye. "Until I met you… I didn't think anyone would…" She sniffs and wipes her eyes hastily with her hand. In the back of my mind, rather inappropriately, I wonder what would've happened to me if she was the one who found me in Flayer Jungle.

"Say the name again."

So it is her, the one I remember hearing about but only ever have a hazy image of. "Nadya."

"You sound like him…" Her head droops. I can no longer see her face.

I sit with her for a few minutes, and when it's established that neither of us can manage to conjure up anymore words concerning the topic, I break the silence. "Nadya, please… don't tell anyone –"

"Nadya died with Rien. So, you don't want Oread to know?" She lifts her head, and when she starts to smile I feel a chill down my spine. It's going to take a while to get used to this. "She sort of reminds me of those days, really, the way she acts around you. Is it really right to hide such things from your love?"

My insides clench and I taste acid in the back of my throat. My hand finds my spectacles on the ground and subconsciously, I put them back on. "I can't love her."

"But you do."

"I'll… let her know when it's right."

A lopsided grin; the "Natalya" personality is creeping back quickly. Perhaps she was right – Nadya was buried with her love. "I see."

I start to reply, but there's no use trying to bargain, nor to justify myself. "All right, what do you want?"

"Just a little truth."

"That's ironic."

"I want every detail this time. No lies, no secrets, no obscurities. I want to know what really happened to Rien, what happened to you and your family, what happened at the funeral."

"Are you afraid of the past, Natalya?"

"No, just scared of dying without knowing."