The Journey Home

Chapter 3 - Paths in the Sand

He was running, straight into the night. It was dark, so dark that he could not see where he was, or where he was headed. He only heard a voice, prodding him on.

"Where am I?" he asked as he ran, the darkness beginning to swirl around him. "Which way is home?"

But he could not see anything. The voice didn't answer. It only called out his name.

Cyrus...Cyrus...

~~~

Cyrus woke to the sound of his name. His eyes slowly opened, for his face was being stung by the direct sunlight. He felt someone over him, straddling his chest. He couldn't tell who it was, though guessing from the weight, he doubted that it was the massive north man.

"Cyrus.....wake up, damn it!" whoever was above him said. The angry voice was followed by a rush of cold water.

Cyrus violently shook his head as he sputtered. When he finally regained his composure, he found himself staring up at the faces of Dyna and Dagan. Dagan was carrying a water flask and a goofy smile on his face, while Dyna was sitting on his chest. She smiled softly for but a brief moment, but then frowned and backhanded him across the face.

"Don't ever scare us like that again," she said, getting of his chest.

Cyrus could not remember much of what happened after charging into the fray the previous night. All he could remember were swirling images of limbs flying and men and demons screaming. He did remember that they had fought all the way into morning. The last thing he saw before passing out was the sun, nearly full circle in the sky.

"How long was I out?" he asked, picking himself up gingerly off the desert sand.

"Three hours at least," said Dagan. "Dyna and I mopped up the remaining couple of demons after you fell. Then, we spent the last hour trying to wake you up."

"What now?" Dyna asked.

"Well, the sun isn't scorching yet," Cyrus replied. "We could scrounge through what's left for supplies, and look for survivors."

He surveyed the damage of the last night's battle. Dagan's chain shirt was gone, only his furs remaining to act as a form of armor. But the barbarian himself didn't seem to be badly wounded. Cyrus' own mail undershirt was tattered, and his right gauntlet was slightly dented. Dyna had a few scratches, but was mostly unharmed. However, her quiver was already empty. Most of the wagons had been ravaged, with a few overturned. Even the wagon Dyna had been standing on was badly damaged, with a wheel completely shattered by some impact.

'Not much left," Cyrus said. "Come, we must look for survivors."

He caught a sudden look of fright on the barbarian's face. "What's the matter, Dagan?"

"I forgot all about Selene!" he exclaimed. Cyrus found himself sharing his look of shock. The two warriors quickly ran from wagon to wagon, looking for the young sorceress.

Cyrus found her first as he searched the last wagon in the line. She looked badly wounded, her quilted armor reduced to shreds. Her left arm was caked in blood, and seemed immobile. Her face was washed in blood as well, with blood running down as they mingled with her tears. She was kneeling over a corpse mangled nearly to non-recognition. Cyrus assumed it was the caravan driver she had grown close to the last few days. She was sobbing softly. Cyrus took pity on her and hastened to her side.

"He tried to protect me," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I couldn't do anything. My magic ran out on me and I was scared..."

"Hush now," Cyrus cooed as the distraught sorceress fell into his arms. He tried to comfort her, while taking care to aggravate the injured arm. "Its alright..."

"Why did he have to do that?" she asked. "He could've just ran and saved himself."

"He chose to do a good deed," the paladin whispered. "Do not dishonor the sacrifices of others by wishing they had just ran away. Who knows? Maybe his sacrifice can lead you to do greater things in the future. If you do, then it is great honor to him. But the least you can do is live...I'm sure that was what he wanted."

The sorceress took comfort in his words. When she had settled down emotionally, Cyrus felt his belt for a potion. Most of the vials had been broken in the fighting, but he managed to recover a rather large one, his last. He pulled out the cork and gently eased the red fluid into her mouth. The effect was almost immediate. Her wounds began to close, and her broken arm became movable again.

He helped her up just as Dagan came running up to them. The north man bellowed happily, finding his ward safe. Selene ran up to him, and the two friends hugged each other as if they had been separated for years.

"Don't go running off like that," Dagan said. "You know I can't watch you all the time."

"I'm just glad you're alright," Selene sighed.

"Me too."

Cyrus saw Dyna looking through the wagon they had been riding. She was searching for something, sifting through the broken wood. He joined her.

"Looking for something?" he asked.

"Just my basinet," she replied. "How about you?"

"I could use my armor," he replied. "And my shield. I hope they didn't carry off my war chest."

Soon enough, the two found the paladin's war chest. The also found Dyna's basinet, but it was dented beyond effective use; almost flattened by something large that had stepped on it. As soon as they had managed to haul out the heavy chest, Cyrus donned his ancient armor and surcoat, as well as his crown helm. He adjusted the straps on his shield, tightening them. He also placed the money hidden in the chest into his pouch, knowing that he would not be able to bring his war chest along.

"Your shoulder plate is off," Dyna observed as the paladin adjusted his belt. She stepped behind him and tugged at the straps, fixing the awkward plate.

"What's the matter? Paladin need a nanny?" said a calm, cold voice from behind the two. Cyrus angrily jerked away and drew his sword. He knew all to well who the voice belonged to. He turned and brushed past Dyna, and saw Melchor standing atop a ruined caravan wagon. Viene followed closely behind, her dark armor stained red with blood.

"Why is he unbound?!" he roared, addressing the assassin.

"I had no choice," the assassin replied calmly. "Between a meeting with the Evils in Hell and having to stand the necromancer in the lands of the living, I say I choose to live. Besides, we are going to need him if we are to get to Lut Gholein. There are no other survivors..."

"I, for one, am not looking for a tiff, sir knight," said Melchor in his usual sarcastic tone. "So, shall work together or get picked off after wasting our energies fighting each other?"

Cyrus stood silent, considering the predicament. No paladin would even dare consider asking a practitioner of the dark arts to join his party. Certainly, not a paladin of high standing, who had commanded fellow paladins in battle. But he did not control the situation. He wasn't doing the asking. It was the desert.

"Fine..." he said through gritted teeth.

"Its settled then!" Melchor exclaimed. "By the way, you could exercise a little more discretion in the use of your strength. You destroyed four potential allies last night."

"The undead you summon will never be my allies," he growled. "You summon them, and I will banish them back. No soul deserves the anguish of being under somebody's control!"

The assassin placed a hand on the necromancer's shoulder, as if to tell him not to argue. Melchor smirked, then sneered at the paladin. "This issue is not settled yet."

"The assassin is right you know," Dyna said while watching the necromancer's retreating back. "We need every man we can get. You're a general. You ought to understand."

"Doesn't matter," he replied. "I still don't like it."

~~~

"Explain to me again why the desecrator has to come along," Dagan said, trying to disguise his irritation as he followed Cyrus and Dyna. Cyrus merely grumbled.

"We need him," Dyna said. "We're all alone, vulnerable in the middle of the desert. We need every healthy pair of hands that could work and fight."

The five travelers had already filled their packs with all the provisions they could carry. Food, and scarce water, were all that they brought aside from their weapons and armor. They set off near noon, with the sun already burning high in the sky. They followed the broken caravan road, their only hope for direction on the way to the jewel city. The road was unreliable, and on many instances, disappeared under the sands.

"Ah, so the little sorceress managed to survive, after all," Melchor said, eyeing Selene. "I know I may sound insincere, with the vulgar company and all, but I really am quite glad to see another colleague in the realm of magical arts."

"I am no 'colleague' of yours," Selene retorted. "I do not practice dark magic. Elemental magic is way better, and is not considered black by the Zakarum Church!"

"Don't tell me you listen to those religious fops," the necromancer said, snickering. "You are such a child, letting a few outdated zealots determine which magic you can or cannot practice. Do you really think you can achieve true power that way?"

"The Zann Esu have, without having to use black magic," she said. "Besides, black magic is evil."

"So it seems," he said, bored. "Next time you and your elemental magic cower under a wagon cover, maybe I won't send my 'evil' minions to chase away the sniffing demons."

Selene fell silent. She turned up her nose and walked faster, catching up with the barbarian and the paladin. She cast one last irritated glance at the necromancer before talking to Cyrus.

"She's going to end up a paladin rather than a spellcaster at this rate. Certainly has the pompous righteousness of one," he said, chuckling as he turned to his companion. "What do you think, 'mistress'?

"Our Order has a kill-on-sight philosophy with all necromancers," she replied dryly. "So, she has a point. Now, am I an over-the-hill religious zealot as well?"

"No, not at all," he said slyly. "Just a money-whore!"

"I should've kept your hands tied," she mumbled. "Or at least, your mouth gagged."

~~~

The small band traveled under the grueling heat for hours. The sun mercilessly ground them down, the withering heat causing a constant drain on their stamina. The desert road was already broken, hidden underneath the many dunes. The group was already traveling over sand, hoping that the road went on a straight line. By the time the sun looked on the wane, they were still searching for the desert road.

"We have to stop," Melchor said. "It is useless going any further..."

"What's the matter, old man?" Cyrus taunted. "Bones not strong enough?"

"We need rest," the assassin concurred. "The sun looks just about ready to set anyway."

"No, we move until the sun expires for the day," Cyrus said. "We should try finding the road first, while there is still light."

"Yeah," said Selene. "We can still go a few more miles."

He was at the van, leading the small party without looking back. But Dyna walked at the rear, and saw everyone. Melchor, hardly a specimen of physical endurance, was hobbling along. He had a look of determination on his face, as if he was refusing to give up just to spite Cyrus. He kept his cloak loosely around him, trying to protect his pale skin fro the sun. Viene was doing just as well. While her tanned skin was not as vulnerable to the sun, her face was soaked with sweat. She had already removed much of her dark, heat-absorbing outfit, save for her dark armor, boots and red cloak. Dagan was a picture of quiet endurance,. He was far from the cold climates of his homeland, and the heat was new to him. But he endured, soaking the furs on his back with water from his flask to keep cool. Selene, though determined to emulate the paladin, looked ready to collapse. Her walk was wobbly, and was relying heavily on her staff for mobility, like a crutch. Dyna didn't like the situation. She herself was feeling exhausted. While she was used to balmy weather, the heat was simply too oppressive. She clung to her loose cloak, hoping for a light desert breeze. Cyrus, on the other hand, marched on with dogged determination despite his heavy armor. But he was a general, used to forced marches under any weather condition. None of them were like him. Summoning her strength reserves, she ran ahead of the others to catch up with him.

"Cyrus, we have to stop," she pleaded.

"No," he said. "We stop at night."

"The rest of the group are already worn out," she explained. "The sun has taken its toll."

"The faster we get to Lut Gholein, the safer we will be," he countered. "And the way to do that is to find that caravan road. If we rest, we stand to consume some of the limited supplies we have, making future rest stops even costlier."

"But if we continue at this pace, we won't even get to Lut Gholein!" she retorted.

"What good would we be in Lut Gholein if we're dead?" Viene asked.

"I'll get us there alive," he answered. "If you'll let me."

Dyna snapped under the desert heat. She grew tired of Cyrus' self- assuredness. She grabbed him by the scruff of his armor and whirled him around. She slapped him hard, then pulled him up next to her.

"Look at them!" she snarled. She saw his eyes scan the party, taking notice on how long his gaze rested on Dagan and Selene. "You stubborn, arrogant fool! What kind of a leader drives his followers to the ground? You are reckless, and unmindful of the condition of your comrades! I'm surprised they would even consider naming you a general!"

The stoic, unmoved look on the paladin's face infuriated her more. But she forced her voice to a whisper. "I know you wouldn't mind losing the death mage. But think about your friends. Dagan is a north man, unused to heat. And Selene! The girl will drive herself to the ground trying to be like you..."

Cyrus slapped her hand away. The act left the Amazon seething with anger. The two stared each other down.

"Great! A break, and a show!" exclaimed Melchor.

"You go on if you wish..." Dyna said, her voice almost feral. "But you're not dragging us to death with you! We're spending the night here..."

Cyrus didn't look like he was about to back down. Instead, he turned and walked on, mumbling "do what you want" as he trudged over the sand dune.

~~~

All the party had were basic provisions of food, water, and potions. Within the rise of the dune, they made camp for the rest of the afternoon. The sun was already setting, so Dyna and Dagan gathered together bundles of dried brush from the sparse vegetation to make a fire. Once they had gathered enough, Dyna started a fire by imbuing one of her arrows with flame and setting it upon the brush.

Dagan warmed himself by the fire, letting his soaked furs dry out as he sharpened his axe. Selene had passed out as soon as the fire was started. She slept quietly on the low rising slope of the dune. Melchor sat several feet away, his back to a large rock jutting out of the sand. Viene sat by the fire, keeping an eye on her necromantic prisoner.

Dyna paced restlessly around the fire, looking around anxiously. She seemed so distracted, that she was drinking out of her empty water flask. Dagan noticed her behavior.

"You don't think that he'd really leave us, do you?" Dagan asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "Why the hell isn't he back yet?"

"If you hadn't yelled at him..."

"Then we'd still be walking."

"Then, why are you so anxious?"

"I don't know..." she answered as she sat beside the north man. "What if he gets killed?"

"I highly doubt it," Dagan said, laughing. "He's strong. He'd be welcome in any Northern Tribe on any day!"

~~~

Deep into the night, he returned. All were already asleep. But Dyna heard his heavy footsteps. She woke to find him sitting on top of the dune, looking out into the horizon. She rose up and rummaged through her pack for some bread and dry meat. She placed the food on a tin and went to him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked as she came up behind him. The paladin nodded his head.

"I forgot that all I had in my pack was water."

She sat down beside him and handed him the food. She looked out into the horizon as well, listening to the paladin grunt as he finished off the food.

"How is everybody?" he asked, brushing away the remaining crumbs from his mouth.

"They're all sleeping," she said. "Selene passed out, but she's fine now."

"That's good," he said.

"She would've been worried about you. Most of us were," she said. She turned to look at his face. He was still staring out into the horizon. "Look, about what happened earlier...we'll go at first light to find the caravan road."

"I already found it," came the paladin's reply. "It's no more than half a mile from here, behind those dunes, just half an hour away. We could have reached it well before nightfall."

"I'm sorry," she said, noting the triumphant tone in the paladin's voice. "But...why didn't you come back after finding it?"

"And ruin your moment?" he asked, smiling. "Don't be sorry. You did a good thing, showing concern for the others. I can respect that. I wasn't about to ruin that and undermine you. Besides, there was a small oasis by the roadside, with a charming pond in the middle. So, I decided to go swimming."

"A pond?" she asked. She also noticed that the paladin's hair was recently wet. She smiled and playfully punched him. "You bastard!"

After exchanging play punches, the two settled down once more, facing the outward horizon while the rest of the party continued to slumber. The deep blue moon illuminated the desert's nighttime landscape, allowing the two much to stare at. But the silence was an unbearable cloak to wear. Dyna was far more used to having someone talk.

"What is it that drives you, Cyrus?" she asked. "Why were you so bent on finding that road?"

"I have always been that way," he replied pensively. "My childhood revolved around achieving goals. It comes with the family name. The House of Belisarius was strong."

"What is it that you fear most?" she inquired, seeing that the thoughtful paladin seemed to be in a talkative mood.

"Failure...dishonor...disgrace," he answered. "Especially in these times. There is much to fear."

"What do you mean?" she asked, pushing further.

"I've heard rumors, you know," he replied. "Rumors that Kurast had fallen, and that the High Council that we served, as well as most of our brethren, were corrupted by demonic influence. I never believed them. After all, Kurast is the greatest city in the known world. The Faith is very strong, and God Himself had promised that the Faith would never fall."

"That is why I rush to get back," he continued. "I want to disprove the doubts in my head; to see for myself that everything is fine. But, I have seen what Diablo did in the West, and that Cain had said that he is headed east to find his brothers disturbs me. If the rumors are true...then all that I have worked for all these years would have meant nothing. And that would be the greatest dishonor of all. But I am tired, and I do pray that all the rumors are false. I just want to return home, and gaze upon the glorious city once more. Then, I can retire to the family manor, knowing that I have served with honor and that the world is a better place for it. I can spend the rest of my days of service in the High Guard of Travincal, never having to leave home again..."

"That is a good dream," Dyna said.

"I know, but..." Cyrus sighed. "I feel there are far too few of us paladins left. That is why I ordered Eldric to stay behind in the Rogue encampment. I cannot stand to lose anymore of our number. In the days of my ancestors, the Paladins of Zakarum were the greatest fighting force in all of Sanctuary. Demons fled at the mere sight of the golden cross emblazoned on paladin armor. But as the world grew safer, the smaller the number of young men who wanted to take up the call to arms. The decline was slow. Even in the days of my father, we were still glorious. But now...the class I came into the Academy with was the smallest on record. Many even dropped out in the middle of the formation into knighthood. Many paladins were retiring, and the crop to replace them was very small. There are too few of us left to crusade against the evil in the world. And if the rumors of corruption are true...then it shall be the greatest dishonor paladins will have to endure. If I allow that to happen, I would have failed in my life's mission. I would have failed my father. There shall be no rest for me."

"Then, we won't let that happen," Dyna said reassuringly. "Before Diablo can head further east, he must go to Lut Gholein. We will stop him there. Then, I will journey to Kurast with you."

"I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to," Cyrus said.

"No. I want to," she said.

"Why?"

"I...have something I need to do in Kurast."

"What is it?" he inquired. The Amazon just smiled.

"Some other time, paladin," she said. "I don't think I'm ready to tell anybody yet. Maybe over a drink in Lut Gholein?"

"I'll hold you to that," he said, smiling.

"But tell me something," she said. "What is your father like? I mean, you seem to live under his shadow."

"Well, I wouldn't know where to begin," he replied. "All I know was that Origen Belisarius was a great general. His name is among those in the Halls of Valor in Travincal. But most of what I knew about him came from those who knew him. I myself never really got to know him personally. He died in battle when I was barely nine years old. My mother died of grief a few months after. My mother's brother took me in and raised me in Kurast. But basically, I'm still an orphan."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," he said. "The one thing I did know about him was that he loved me, and had high hopes for me. I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He gave me a dream and a mission...a purpose in life. What greater gift could a man give his son?"

~~~

Early the next day, the small group swiftly packed up and moved on. Cyrus led them to where the desert road emerged out of the searing sand, and allowed a rest stop at the small oasis beside it. There, they refilled their water canteens and water skins, hoping that the water would be enough until the next oasis along the way.

The sun shone cruelly once more over the dry sands of the Aranoch desert. The hot desert wind blew hard, painting the air with a humid, yellow hue from all the sand it had carried. Under the oppressive conditions, the small group continued to trudge on. They passed by many broken wagons and bleached animal bones, all evidence of the many perils that lay on the desert trail.

"We won't reach Lut Gholein on these supplies," Melchor said, swishing the water inside his near-empty canteen. "We have to find and be able to carry more."

"But where will we find more supplies?" Selene asked. Her own pack was almost empty.

"Trust in Providence," Cyrus answered. Selene nodded, relived by the paladin's words.

"Why not try looking instead of expecting God to hurl blessings at you?" the necromancer asked.

"Don't test him, Melchor..." Viene whispered. "Its already bad enough as it is."

"He's supposed to lead us," Melchor replied. "How is he supposed to do that when he tries to solve everything with paeans to some deity?"

Suddenly, the air was disturbed by the high-pitched growls of Saber Cats. Cyrus rushed forward and saw a caravan wagon being ransacked by a pack of the feline hunters. He could not see any of the occupants, save for some limbs scattered over the desert sands. Yet, the fact that a few more cats were coming in from the desert suggested that the raid was fresh. Cyrus immediately thought of rescuing any potential survivors. He turned and motioned for the rest of the party to gather around him.

"Alright," he began. "The cats have just raided, so there might be survivors..."

"We could just sneak around them," Melchor suggested. "They'll be too busy to notice us."

"Show some compassion, desecrator," Dagan retorted.

"Its only logical, barbarian," Melchor countered. "It is not our fight."

"Enough," Cyrus interjected. "We'll fight, and that is final."

"Melchor, Selene, Dyna, you three form the back line," he continued. "Selene, you cast spells. Dyna, you know what to do. Melchor, summon one of your clay constructs..."

"And some skeletons?" the necromancer asked with delight.

"Out of the question," Cyrus answered, irritated. "Dagan, Viene and myself will take the front. C'mon, let's hurry."

The group moved quickly, falling upon the raiding pack of Saber Cats in formation. Several ice bolts struck the first line of Saber Cats, slowing them down. Dagan smashed the frozen cats into icy chunks that melted in the desert heat. Cyrus immediately pounced on the Saber Cats on the wagon entrance. His first sword stroke cut across the chest of one cat.

"Viene, on the roof!" Dagan shouted. The assassin nodded, and in a great feat of agility, scaled the wagon roof in one smooth motion. She knocked away the javelin in the Saber Cat's hand, before slitting its throat with her bladed talons. She casually pushed the dead cat off the roof.

Dyna rained the few arrows she had managed to salvage from the previous battle upon the more recently arrived Saber Cats, crowding them onto one side of the wagon. Melchor's massive clay golem finished off several of them, mauling two cats with its great fists, before crushing a fallen cat under its great foot.

Cyrus went after the three Cats already inside the wagon. He stabbed the one at the entrance, throwing off its dead body. The other cats inside rushed out to attack him. The first one leapt at him, snarling. Cyrus thrust his sword into the cat's mouth, the blade's point bursting out of the skull. Before he could pull out his sword, the second cat leapt at him, javelin in hand. Cyrus raised his shield and blocked the javelin thrust, then smote the feline humanoid as she landed.

The battle was quickly won. The remaining Saber cats were routed, and fled screaming into the desert dunes. Cyrus darted inside the wagon to look for survivors, while the rest of the group gathered outside. A few moments later, he emerged, a scowl on his face.

"No survivors..." he muttered angrily. He threw down his sword. "Damn it!!"

~~~