Chapter 48: The Storm of Blood and Steel

"Kilishandra."

The half-elf looked up from the table and the map spread across it, her left hand slipping toward her belt knife. She knew the voice.

"Khall?" she asked, glancing at the entrance to her tent. There was no one there.

Her tent contained the scarce necessities she needed in the field. A cot, a stand for her armor, and a single table and seat, along with the map of the region spread out before her. Her specially designed armor required a special mannequin, shaped to fit the armor like the armor fitted her.

"I'm speaking to you through Tharkus' crystal ball," Khall's voice said, "Do keep up, would you?"

Scrying, she realized. The very thought of it left a foul taste in her mouth. She had always preferred the more practical magics, like Ganon, with immediate and notable effects to the slippery magics that necromancers practiced.

"I've contacted you to inform you that we have located Ganon," Khall said.

Kilishandra drew her knife, and used the tip to clean dirt from under her nails. "And?"

"He is in Darimar," Khall said, "We expect the city to hold against Karadiv's attack."

"That blowhard hasn't got a chance," Kilishandra said, "Ganon will know he's there before the attack even begins."

"Yes," Khall said, "But we are not altering the plan. You are to take Nigel's capital city, then move southward to Darimar."

Kilishandra upended her knife and stabbed the tip into the table, through the map in the location of Darimar, at the far southern end.

"There's something else I want to speak to you about," she said.

"What?" Khall said, not hiding his impatience.

"There was no one in Whitos-Neiki who could stand up to me," she said, "I decimated the city with little effort. It would have been easy to occupy it. Only one man came forward to challenge me directly, and he was a rank amateur. I see no reason to do the same to Nigel."

"Kilishandra, we are close now to absolute victory," Khall said, "We can take absolutely no chances. It's either them or us. You know that."

"Yes, but still…"

"Enough!" Khall interrupted her, "You are within range to attack the city at dawn. I want it razed to the ground. Is that understood?"

Kilishandra sighed. "Yes, Khall."

"One other thing," Khall said, "Mur'neth and his ninja have deserted us."

Not unexpected, she thought.

"They may try to rejoin Ganon or aid in our enemy's war effort. If you encounter them involved in any such activities, you are to wipe them out."

"So be it," Kilishandra said.

"I will be in touch, Kilishandra," Khall said, then fell silent.

She knew he was gone. It was as though another presence had just left the tent. She sighed and sat back in her chair. That man had changed. He had even taken to addressing her by her full name instead of "Kili."

It had actually been less than ten days since she had first met Ganon when they found Khall. He had been sitting there in the dust, dirty and tattered clothing, what few possessions he had in a worn traveling pack.

She had been but a child then, and even remembered that she had been sitting on one of Ganon's broad shoulders, one arm around his neck, and his hands on her knees to keep her from falling. When they saw Khall, he had turned to look her in the eye, and said nothing. When they drew close to him, Ganon stopped. Khall had looked up at them, and Ganon offered him his free hand. He said nothing, and Khall had said nothing.

Then the boy that Khall had been had reached up and taken Ganon's hand, and the wizard had helped him to his feet. Then he resumed walking, still without a word. Khall had picked up his pack, and moved to keep up, and Kilishandra had realized that Ganon was slowing his enormous strides so that the boy could match his pace.

Not long after that, others started following them. Perhaps they had decided that if they weren't safe with a wizard, his apprentice, and his adopted daughter that any other human would have killed on sight, safe wasn't going to happen.

After a few weeks of travel, they had come to a crumbling castle about fifty miles south of the border of the northlands, where the barbarian tribes had ruled. They'd stopped at that castle, and with the help of those following them, begun to rebuild it, along with the surrounding city and nearly razed wall.

She'd never thought at the time that that castle would eventually become the center of the world.

Khall had already had minor training as a magician, and Ganon taught them both so much more. It was from him from she learned everything she knew about magic; though, after he left them, she would teach herself even more. Back then she had been resentful of how hard he pushed her, as children are wont to be, but now she understood why he'd pushed her so hard, even harder than he had ever pushed Khall.

She had a natural talent for magic. She was able to learn spells in record time, and in a few cases, actually cast an enchantment in much less time than it took others, even Ganon himself. It had something to do with the level of concentration needed for the spells. She knew that today. Tharkus was afraid of her ability. It was likely that Khall was, too. They had to be. It was the only reason they could have thought to have taken the Nail of the Accused as a condition of her loyalty, ensuring she did not defect back to Ganon.

And Khall was right. Too much was riding on this to allow pity for the enemy to get in the way. Ganon had betrayed them long ago. If he did side with their enemy now, it was just one more nail in his coffin.

She stood up and moved to the stand where her armor waited. She quickly donned it, piece by piece, until her body was thoroughly encased in the extraordinarily light but tough steel, saving the massive series of plates for her left arm until last, slipping it on like an enormous glove and locking it to her shoulder.

Picking up her sword, she slipped the belt around her waist, and pulled it tight so the hilt was at her left hip. She moved to the front of the tent and stepped out the entrance. The first rays of the sun were just appearing over the eastern horizon. The camp was waking.

Nigel would fall on this day, then the march to Darimar would begin. It would be close, but they could reach it before the winter snows made the roads impassable.

Who could have ever imagined that when Ganon had been so intent on teaching her the ways of magic, that he would be teaching the very one who would kill him exactly how to do it? But there was one other thing she had to know first. He had taken them in, taught them the ways of magic, and her swordsmanship as well, led them to power, and then simply abandoned them.

If it was with his last breath, he was going to tell her why.


Alex tightened the straps on his pack, readying for his departure. He picked up his sword and slipped it into his belt.

"Leaving so soon?"

He turned to the door to see Angie walk into the room.

"I said I wasn't going to stay long," he said.

"I know," she said, "But as long as you've been gone, I was hoping you'd be around a little longer."

Alex lifted the pack onto his shoulder. "Well, who wouldn't want to stay after that warm greeting you gave me?"

"Well, considering you're heading off to locate someone else who beat your ass…"

"This is professional interest, pure and simple," Alex said as he stepped past her and through the door into the hall.

"Alex," she said, moving after him and falling into step beside him, "I've heard the news. What happened to Whitos-Neiki. And there's rumors that contact has been lost with Tyr."

"Yes," Alex said, "War is coming."

"And do you think it's better to try and run off to find this man than to stay here, with what little family you have?"

Alex stopped. They were at the top of the stairs at the end of the hall. He turned to look at her. "Angie, listen, I don't know how to explain it, but this guy's got something. Something I have to figure out what it is. Maybe it's just charisma, but maybe it's something bigger. And I get the feeling," he added with a smile, "that the frontlines are where he is going to be."

Alex started down the stairs, and Angie followed behind him. "There's no talking you out of this, it seems."

"No," he said, "I've decided my course. Besides, I'd rather find the ward than have it find us."

The room he had stayed in was on the floor above the gymnasium, and this early in the morning, it was eerily quiet, with no students or trainers there yet.

"Besides," Alex said as they crossed the large, empty room, "You're doing well enough here without me, especially considering you were scarcely as high as my waist when I left."

"And you could scarcely grow a beard."

"Well, don't tell anyone," Alex said, "but I still can't grow much of a beard."

Alex opened the front door and stepped into the street. The sun lazily peeked over the rooftops, not doing much to warm the early winter breeze. "You going to say goodbye?" Alex asked.

"Not just yet," Angie said, "I'll walk with you to the gate."

The streets were still fairly empty, the first signs of life only now coming awake in the city. It wasn't far from the gym to the west gate of the outer wall.

"I heard it was a sorceress who destroyed Whitos-Neiki," Angie said suddenly, "If you wind up face to face against something like her, what do you plan to do about it?"

"The way I understand magic, they have to be able to speak to cast spells," Alex said, "You get right up on top of them, and I bet all they can do is scream 'not in the face.'"

"Boy, aren't you confident," she said.

"Not my style to worry," Alex said.

"I know," she said, "You live only for the moment. Be good if you'd meet a nice girl, settle down, have some kids, you know."

"Look who's talking," he replied with a smile.

"I've got an excuse," Angie said, "Men are afraid of women who can kill them with their bare hands. But look at you. Tall, muscular, handsome… Women should practically trip over each other chasing you."

The gate came into sight. "Maybe next time," Alex said, "I've got too much to do without a woman getting in the way right now, let alone kids."

"Alex," she said, grabbing his arm with one hand, pulling him to a stop.

He turned and looked down at her.

"Come back alive, will you?" she said, "I'd hate to have to force our name on any man just so it lives on."

"Oh, look, there is a little bit of the housewife in you," Alex said with a smile, "And don't worry. I've no plans on dying anytime soon. And if someone does try to kill me, I'm not going down without one roaring pig of a fight."

"I guess I'll see you when you get back, then," Angie said.

Alex nodded, and turned toward the gate. At that very moment, as if on cue, there were shouts from the watchmen on the wall, and the sound of an alarm being rung. With a heavy crash that shook the street beneath them, the portcullis of the gate slammed shut.

"What's happening?" Angie asked.

"Let's find out," Alex said, and ran for the gate.

People began to emerge from their houses, curious what the alarm was about.

There was a wooden ladder going up the stone wall on either side of the gate, so Alex dashed to one and climbed up, dropping his pack on the ground beside it. Once at the top, he ran to the front of the wall, looking out through the crenellations to see what the soldiers were shouting about in voices he couldn't make out.

"Dear gods," he said when he saw what had caused the uproar.

He'd heard the rumors that one of the Lords of Chaos was a necromancer, but had never believed it. The art of necromancy was not only forbidden, but all texts concerning its practice had been destroyed after the ancient war.

Plus, a necromancer needed bodies to animate in order to work his will, and the kingdoms of Mystara all burned their dead. Had been since before the five kingdoms had allied so long ago.

Somehow, he saw the impossible out in the fields in more ways than one. Hunched, lurching forms, staggering slowly toward the city walls, coming over the crest of a hill, like ants, pooring out steadily toward the city. Their number was already beyond immediate counting, and more and more kept appearing over the hill, like a great tide of rotting flesh and exposed bones.

Two things were proven in a short span of time. There was a necromancer with access to a large supply of cadavers, and the war had come to them, much sooner than Alex had expected.


Once again, it had been easy to breach the city walls. Kilishandra walked alone down an empty street of Nigel, the sounds of fighting still audible in the distance. There was no one here that could stop them. Her soldiers, born and raised in a world much more demanding than this one, were superior to the troops here. They were a mix of many of the different nations that she had aided in the conquest of, a mish-mash of skin colors, accents, and cultures.

It seemed that battle-hardened camaraderie was the only thing she had seen that truly removed the barrier of discrimination. Peoples that had been sworn enemies showed little trust for one another, despite being united under one banner, but after several battles where they had been forced to depend on one another to survive, the barriers vanished.

What she had seen of this world showed it was little different. What few elves there were lived like royalty, and she had not even seen any Dra'thul in the open. Perhaps it was even worse here for their kind than in her home.

Home… Odd choice of words, she realized. She had been born in a village of dark elves, her mother the only parent she knew. It was obvious to anyone who looked that her father could be none but a pale-skinned human. Her lighter skin tone, and the fact she was far too tall for an elf, and her hair, red as bright rose, was something no Dra'thul had.

And it had seemed that her mother was the only one who cared whether she lived or died. Even now, a century later, she could remember her childhood vividly. The adults of the village did their best to pretend she didn't exist, and as for the other children, there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't have fresh bruises, and returned home dirty and her clothing torn. If it hadn't been for her mother's warm smile and comfort, she might have gone mad.

Now, as she made her way down the street, stepping over a body here and there, she found herself wondering if there was a child in this city who lived as she had.

She had refused to destroy this city as she had Whitos-Neiki, but now, as she listened to fighting and screaming just a few streets away, she felt no less guilty. It had been Khall's order, and no one was to be left alive.

Suddenly, something grabbed hold of her ankle. She looked down to see one of the soldiers of Nigel, his hand gripping her ankle, looking up at her, his teeth clenched in pain. His other arm had been cut completely off, and his right leg was twisted in a manner that the bones were not only broken, but were visible, ripping right through his flesh and pants.

Kilishandra, turned her sword over in her hand, pointing the tip of the blade down toward the soldier's chest. His teeth still clenched tightly, he nodded slightly. She stabbed downward, the enchanted blade punching through his breastplate with ease and into his flesh, stabbing directly into his heart. He convulsed once, then lay still, his grip on her leg loosening.

Kilishandra pulled her blade from him, then knelt down and used her fingers to close his eyes. One thing Ganon had taught her that she would never let go of was to have respect for the enemy. He had told her that in the past, he had encountered great difficulty because he looked down upon his enemies, and it was a mistake she should never make.

There were no great heroes here to meet her, none of the ability that seemed to come by the dozen in her homeland, but these men were fighting and dying to defend what they had, and that was worth her respect.

She didn't have a choice. She was seriously beginning to regret allowing them to use the Nail of the Accused upon her, but it guaranteed her loyalty. She knew that they feared her defecting to Ganon, should he be their enemy, but circumstances seemed to be that Khall had decided he was their enemy regardless.

And as soon as she was done here, she would march on Darimar, where he now was. She knew what would come of their meeting. She had no choice but to fight him, and kill him, or she would die herself, either by his hand or the Nail. Her options were greatly restricted.

It wasn't as though she wasn't prepared for the battle. She knew nearly every spell Ganon knew, either taught by himself, or learned on her own after his departure, and a few more besides. The one spell she knew he possessed that she had been unable to master was Venom, and it was more a method of torturous death than a worth-while destruction spell.

Individually, she was easily a match and more for Khall or Tharkus, but Khall was devious when it came to workarounds. He preferred ice magic, and while it was not as destructive as lightning or fire, he had found ways to use it few ever imagined. He had even created a new spell, something no wizard had done since ancient times, capable of freezing an entire city in a glacier.

She heard a door latch to the side. Kilishandra quickly rose to her feet, turning toward the sound. "Who's there?" she demanded.

Moving toward the spot the sound had come from, she came to the front door of a residential dwelling. She tried the latch, and found it locked from the inside. She took a few steps back, then ran and slammed into it, her massive armored gauntlet in front of her. The latch held, but the door did not, wooden splinters flying through the air, a two inch hole where the deadbolt had been above the handle.

Kilishandra stepped into the house. It was dark inside. It was a small house, of three rooms. The overturned table and chairs in front of her indicated the dining room, with a small wood stove to the back end, and to the left two doors, one leading into a small kitchen area, and a bedroom.

Something flew through the air and broke against the wall as Kilishandra ducked her head. Another clay mug came flying from the kitchen. Kilishandra ducked to the side, then moved into the kitchen. And was greeted by a woman wielding a skinning knife. The woman lunged forward, slashing at Kilishandra's face. She used her left hand, catching the blade of the knife in her hand, sparks flying as it scraped the metal fingers of her guantlet.

She wrenched the blade sideways, pulling it from the woman's hand, then shot out a kick to her stomach, sending her staggering back to fall against the wall next to the cooking stove. Kilishandra dropped the knife to the floor, the moved forward, raising her sword for the kill.

"Mommy!"

Kilishandra stopped. She turned to the voice to see a girl, maybe four years old, huddled next to the kitchen door, where she hadn't seen her as she entered the room.

A mother, defending her child…

In a flash of memory, Kilishandra could see it all over again, the worst memory of her life.


The village was on fire. Kilishandra nearly dropped the basket of apples she had gathered that morning when she saw the fires. But the sound was far worse than the fires. She could hear the screams clearly, and the laughter. The hideous laughter.

"Mommy!" she said, and broke into a run, heading for the small cottage on the edge of the village, the far end from the fires. When she came closer to the village, she could see the cause of the nightmare that filled the streets.

They walked like men, but they looked like animals. Wolves that walked upright, that would grab hold of the people with their great claws, and tear their throat out with their great teeth, and large bat-men, large leathery wings protruding from their backs. She saw one grab a child no older than her, then leap high into the air, and drop the child from a great height, to splatter his brains all over the flagstone street.

She could see some of the men and women of the village trying to fight back, only for the wolf-men to rip them apart. She saw one of them being grabbed by two of them, who took hold of his arms and legs, and started to pull, and ripped him in half, the red ropes of his insides spilling onto the street as he screamed in agony.

Walking through the midst of the carnage, as though oblivious to his grotesque surroundings, was a human man, his flesh pale as the moon, and silver hair draped loosely over his shoulders. In his right hand, he carried a massive scythe.

A dark-elf man spied him, and made a run toward him, sword above his head, to cut the human down with one stroke. The human took his weapon into both hands and slashed the great blade upward in front of him. The two halves of the one who had attacked him fell on either side of him, sliced from his groin to his shoulder in two nearly perfect halves, the blood pooling rapidly around the human's feet.

Then he turned, and looked directly at her, and smiled. Kilishandra's legs felt like they were about to give way. He knew she was watching him, and started walking directly toward her with a slow but deliberate pace.

This time she did drop the basket of apples. They spilled across the street as she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She ran straight toward the cottage, hoping her mother was all right. They could both run away, and hopefully escape. All she could think about was getting away from that human man.

She arrived at the house and reached up to open the door when it suddenly flew open before her. "Get in here!" her mother said, grabbing her shoulders and dragging her inside.

"Mommy, what…"

"Hush, child," her mother said, shutting and bolting the door, then turned and guided her toward the back of the room.

The cottage was small, only a single room. Her mother stopped by the edge of the rug that was beneath the bed. She flipped up the corner, revealing a trapdoor. Kilishandra was shocked. She hadn't even known they had a basement. Her mother lifted the lid, revealing a ladder leading down into darkness.

"Get down there and don't come up, no matter what you hear," her mother said.

"Mommy?" she asked.

"If I go down too then I won't be able to hide the trapdoor," her mother said, "Don't worry, just go down there. You'll be safe there."

Kilishandra started down the ladder. She looked up at her mother. "It'll be all right, child," she said, smiling at her daughter, "Just stay down there and don't come up no matter what you hear, understand?"

Kilishandra nodded, and her mother shut the trap. There was another sound, like metal sliding on wood, and then silence. She made her way down the ladder by feel, then stopped at the bottom, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she made out the shape of some barrels. This must be where her mother stored some of their food. She tapped on the side of one of the barrels and found it contained a liquid of some form.

Her inspection was interrupted by a crash from above. She heard her mother shout, but could make out what was said, then there was a crash of metal on metal, then a dull thump, and a man shouting in pain. There was some more crashing, and the sound of breaking dishes.

Kilishandra moved to the ladder and climbed about half-way up to better make out the sound.

"Don't kill her," came a man's voice, "She's mine. Get some of that rope there, tie her to the bed."

She could barely make out the voice, thin and whispery as it was, and the sound of her mother fighting something, shouting obscenities and overturning furniture in the process, made it more difficult.

Then there was a thump, and it grew quiet. "Oh, I hope you didn't hit her too hard, otherwise you're about to take her place," the whispery voice said.

"She's alive, master," a growling voice answered.

"Good," the whisper said, "You may leave me then. Go find someone else to kill."

There were heavy footsteps overhead, and they moved toward the door then vanished.

Kilishandra heard her mother groan. "Waking up, good," the man said, "You don't me, but my name is Sileth Reaper."

"Why did you attack out village?" Kilishandra's mother asked.

"Because I could," Reaper said, "and no one could stop me. Now, as a warning against further interruptions, you only get ten questions, and each time you ask one, I'm going to break one of your fingers."

There was a distant cracking, and her mother screamed. "That's one," Reaper said when her screamed died away into a groan through her teeth.

"Now," he said, "I followed a cute little girl in here. Where did she get to?"

"I sent her out the back window," her mother said, "and told her to keep running and not look back. She's fast, and long gone by now."

"Is that so?" Reaper said, then there was another crack. Kilishandra heard her mother scream.

"I didn't ask anything!" her mother said at last in a half scream.

"No, but you volunteered information that I didn't ask for," Reaper said, "And I think you're lying to me."

Kilishandra realized she was sweating. She moved down the ladder, as slowly and quietly as she could. Her hands were clamming and threatening to slip on the ladder.

"What do you want with her anyway?" she heard her mother ask.

"Oh, nothing in particular. I saw a cute child that might like some of the wisdom I can impart to her," Reaper said, "Like about how I am skilled enough to actually remove a person's heart from their chest without killing them. At least at first. There's usually just enough time for me to hold it up for them to see that they get to watch it stop beating."

There was another crack. This time, though, instead of screaming, Kilishandra's mother could be hard groaning through her teeth. She had braced herself for it.

"I don't see anywhere in this house you might have secreted her," Reaper said, "as small as it is. Do you have a cellar, by any chance?"

Kilishandra felt like her heart stopped.

"Do you see a trapdoor anywhere?" her mother asked.

"Not at the moment," Reaper said, "But that doesn't mean its not under something like this rug."

There was another crack, accompanied by her mother's sounds of agony.

"Now, let's have a look," Reaper said, and Kilishandra heard his footsteps.

There was a pause. He's looking under the rug, she thought, I'm dead.

"Nothing here," he said, "Oh well, I suppose she did have to leave via the window. Very reckless, sending a child off like that on her own. Who knows what kind of trouble she'd get into out there."

"Better than letting you get your hands on her," her mother said.

"Well, I'm bored with breaking fingers," Reaper said, "What say we try something a bit more imaginative? Have to get this shirt out of the way first, though."

There was the sound of tearing cloth. "Ooh, no underwear," Reaper said, "Someone likes to be free."

"Go to hell," Kilishandra's mother said.

"Someday, I'm sure," Reaper said, "But right now, I'm still here. Let's just go ahead and get this skirt gone, too."

There was more tearing clothe. "That's funny," Reaper said, "No corset or even a breast strap, but you bother to wear garters? Women just make no sense, sometimes."

"Well, if you're going to rape me, just get it over with."

"Don't think me so low-brow," Reaper said, "We're going to have a great deal of fun, you and I. I have places to be, so I'm afraid I can't hold it out for days like I usually do, but I think a few hours won't hurt. Now, shall I prove what I said a moment ago and remove your heart? Oh, but that takes such care and only provides a few seconds of wonder for you. How about I dissect you while you watch? I can keep you alive for a few hours that way, and you can see it all."

"Someday," Kilishandra heard her mother say, "someone is going to find you, and they will kill you in the most agonizing way you can imagine."

"I can imagine quite a bit," Reaper said, "In fact, I think I'll show you just what I can imagine. Watch, I make a small slit just here…"

Kilishandra heard her mother scream.

"…now I get a hold of this here…"

The scream grew louder. Kilishandra's heart was trying to leap out of her chest on its own.

"…cut it like so, and now tie it off so you don't bleed out, and now we see how long you last. You'll be surprised how long you'll last like this."

The scream of her mother seemed endless. Kilishandra closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears, but she could still hear it. Hours went by, and though the screaming quieted every so often, it renewed a moment later, when her mother got her breath back.

In fact, the scream was so imprinted on Kilishandra's ears that when it finally quieted and stayed quiet, she could still hear it in her head.

There were footsteps up above. Then the door squeeked as it opened and then closed. There was silence above. Kilishandra realized that she couldn't hear the fighting anymore either.

She wanted to get out of the dark basement, but she was a smart child, and knew perfectly well that to go up before Reaper was far away was to die. She waited. She might have slept, but the adrenaline rushing through her was so great that it was making her shake, even as she sat silently in the dark.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, until she realized she was getting hungry. She must have been sitting there most of the night. She opened one of the barrels to find it piled to the top with dried apples. She took one and bit into it. It wasn't nearly as good as a fresh, juicy apple, but it would have to do. It made her thirsty, so she opened the barrel of liquid, finding water, and drank her fill, then sat down to wait some more.

Finally, she could wait no more. She moved to the ladder and climbed up, pushing open the trap. The sun shone through the window on the east side of the house. She'd been sitting down there the entire night.

She looked over at the bed, and immediately wished she hadn't. She looked away, tears stinging her eyes, and her stomach rising up in protest, dropping her to her hands and knees, thick bile welling up in her throat to spill across the floor, leaving her choking and coughing, unable to removed the horrid image from her eyes.

Her mother lay on the bed, arms and legs tied to the posts, the sheets stained red with blood, and the ropes of her intestines piled across her. They had been pulled out a small slit in her belly in a long, agonizing process.

She realized that the handle used to open the trapdoor from this side was gone. That had been the sound she'd heard when her mother shut her in the cellar. She had removed the handle, and the trapdoor had looked like no more than a section of the floor.

Unable to look at her mother's body any longer, Kilishandra moved to the front door, needing a breath of fresh air. She opened the door, andwas greeted with the aftermath of a slaughter.What buildings weren't burned down had been torn down, and were piles of wood and splinters.

Bodies filled the streets, none of them in one piece. One just a short distance away had his entire torso ripped open, and his innards spilled across the street.

As for fresh air, she couldn't get a breath of it. The village reeked of death, a clinging smell of blood and meat rotting in the sun, and something else entirely, something that was beyond description.

She couldn't take it. Tears running down her cheeks like rivers, she screamed, and ran. She chose a random direction and ran as fast as she could, for as long as she could, just wanting to get away from the horrible place the village had been transformed into, and never come back.


And now Kilishandra stood there, her sword ready to kill, aimed toward the mother trying to protect her child, and doing even less of a job of it than her own mother had. Her hands were shaking violently.

The girl had moved across the room and put her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face in her shoulder. The mother was holding her child, and looking up at Kilishandra, her expression one of complete terror.

What am I doing? Kilishandra thought, Have I… Have I become no better than Reaper? Am I as much a monster as him?

She slowly lowered her weapon. The mother was staring at her, still terrified, but a small bit of confusion was visible on her face as well.

Kilishandra realized she was crying. She could feel the tears on her face, and could do nothing to stop them. It was one thing to face an opponent in battle, to kill in order to survive, but this…

This was murder. She could think of no better way to describe it. And Khall had ordered it. He had ordered the murder of this entire world. And for what? To draw Ganon into the open? To eliminate a threat before it actually was a threat?

This wasn't how things were meant to be. Even in his darkest moments, Ganon had never been this terrible. Only once had he ordered the complete extermination of an entire settlement, and then it had been a band of mercenaries that had poisoned a grain shipment with plague-ridden foods and cost thousands of lives of their men.

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She turned and sheathed her sword and started for the door. When she reached it, she looked back at the woman and her daughter.

"Stay here," Kilishandra said, "Stay here and stay silent, and you'll get out of this alive."

The woman nodded her gratitude, and Kilishandra shut the door behind her. Her loyalty to the cause was assured by the curse she carried, but eventually, she knew, Khall was going to get his for what he had ordered and done.

You can't outrun your sins forever, and when they catch you, you will pay a hundred fold for each one.

She didn't fancy herself an avenging angel, but if it came to it, when the battle was over, she realized she just might be the one to confront him. Him and Tharkus. The necromancer had a hand in everything, and she knew it. She just wasn't sure how or why.

But the people came first, and if they didn't win this war, it would be their people who suffered.

As she stepped into the street, she paused to wipe her face on her hand, but before she started moving again, a strange feeling overwhelmed her. It was familiar, and terrifying.

She turned to face the south, her breath hissing through her teeth.

"Father…" she whispered.


At that moment was when Ganondorf unleashed his fury on the hapless wizard known as Karadiv, ripping his flesh from his body, and turning what was left into a thick, red ooze, thicker than blood, that slowly dripped down the side of the building he had been standing upon.

Kilishandra hissed through her teeth, as though she had been slapped.

In the mountain citadel, Khall and Tharkus both looked up from what they were doing with sharp intakes of breath, turning toward the southeast.

And finally, Mur'neth, who had been moving quickly across the countryside southward to rejoin his men, stopped, the few with him also stopping, but they did not feel it as he did.

"There he is," he whispered, "It has to be…"

Venom was one of the darkest, most vile magics ever conceived. An unexpected side-effect during it's creation was that any who had felt its auras at a close range before, even those not magic sensitive, would be able to feel it again, even at great distances. Exactly how far was unknown, but the effect was undeniable.

Mur'neth smiled to himself. He now knew his next destination.