Chapter 4 - Black and White

"The good news is..." Dagan said as he rummaged through the contents of the wagon. "...we got to the Saber Cats before they could spoil any of the supplies here. I think there is enough to get us to Lut Gholein."

Cyrus did not hear him, though. He had just finished burying the wagon's previous passengers in the sand. Dyna was standing next to him, observing him silently as he went about the grisly work.

"Its not your fault you know," she said softly. "You couldn't have helped it. None of us could."

"This shouldn't have happened," he said bitterly. "I could have saved them. Maybe if I had acted earlier..."

"They would still be dead," she finished for him. "Why are you so upset about this? Its not like you knew them."

"They were people," he replied. "Innocent people. People men like me have sworn to protect. With every innocent death, I feel more useless."

~~~

"We have the wagon," Melchor observed. "But how do we pull it? One horse is dead, and the other seems to have run off."

"We could try to find that other horse," Dagan suggested. "This wagon can be pulled by just one anyway."

"Or, we could have you pull the wagon, my hulking friend," Melchor said, laughing. "Of all the silly ideas...that horse will be reduced to dry bones well before you find it."

"Whatever we do, we won't be able to carry all those supplies," said Viene. She glanced at the necromancer. "I know you have something in mind, Melchor. Spill it."

"I can raise that dead horse," he declared, his eyes gleaming. "It won't be as fast as a live horse, but it will be able to push that wagon untiringly."

"Cyrus will never allow it," Selene said. "Its disgusting."

"Of course, you're the only person here who still thinks the paladin is perfect," Melchor sneered. "In any case, I do not wish to aggravate our poor little hero while he mourns not having saved the day. We'll probably stay the night anyway."

~~~

Dinner had already passed. Cyrus sat by the low fire, leaning on the wagon wheel while watching the flames as they slowly grew weaker. He absent- mindedly threw more brush at the weakening fire, his mind lost in thought. Most of the party were already asleep inside the wagon. The only ones left awake were Cyrus and Dyna, who were both on watch. Dyna sat at the roof of the wagon, fletching the few arrows she had managed to salvage from the last battle.

"Are you alright, Cyrus?" Dyna asked, looking down to him. "You were quiet during dinner."

Cyrus mumbled an affirmative response, without breaking his loose concentration on the fire. Dyna sensed his depression, and was about to come down herself. A stirring within the wagon stopped her. She noticed someone coming out of the wagon entrance. It was Selene.

Cyrus was jolted out of his brooding when Selene sat next to him. She yawned before giving him a sheepish, sleepy smile. The girl looked as though partially dazed, like someone who has had a bad night.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, her voice somewhat raspy. "Dagan was snoring so loud, and I don't want to sleep next to Viene, or that crazy necromancer."

"So, why did you come out here?" Cyrus asked. "You could have slept on the driver's seat."

"To see what you were doing," she replied, before yawning again. "Besides, you might need help with the watch."

"You know, you don't have to do everything I do," he said, amused. She simply smiled, and lay her head on his shoulder.

"I like paladins," she said. "Though I've never really known one before."

"That's rather strange coming from a sorceress," he said, barely containing his amusement. "We have little in common."

"Well, before I was taken away by the Zann Esu, I used to live in Kingsport," the sorceress began. "My mother and father were both upstanding citizens, and devout members of the Zakarum Church. When I was a kid, I remember my mother telling stories of paladins, and dragons, and damsels in distress right before I went to bed. I would usually fall asleep dreaming of paladins.

"There was even a time when I had wanted to become a paladin," she continued. "Before I was given away, I remember conjuring small blades of ice and playing swordfight. My father didn't like it. I never really knew my father. It was he that gave me away to the Zann Esu when I was seven. I still remember that day..."

"What happened?" Cyrus asked.

"My mother didn't want me to go," she went on, her voice shaking slightly as she remembered. "She held me tightly. But my father pulled me away. I could still hear my mother begging him to stop. I was crying too, but he didn't hear us. He gave me to the woman standing at the doorstep, the one who would become my mentor. During those first nights, I would cry myself to sleep. I would always recount the stories that my mother told me. Sometimes, I would tell those stories to whomever would listen before I went to bed. Whenever I remembered those stories, it was as if my mother was there with me. So, I decided to live by the things my mother taught me, even as I listened to my mentor teach me magic. I tried to follow the Way of the Light, the paladin code. My mother sent me a copy. It was a good thing the Zann Esu had no religious restrictions..."

Her voice trailed off as she yawned. She leaned heavily on Cyrus' shoulder, but the paladin sensed that she was getting tired. He adjusted and allowed her to lay her head on his lap.

"So, did you still want to be a paladin?" he asked, idly stroking the young woman's hair.

"Nah, I had to become a sorceress," she answered. "We were supposed to find sword-fighting vulgar, so I never learned. We were also taught how be feminine and all that. They said it was part of 'holistic' formation, whatever that means."

"I remember a song my mother used to sing," she said wistfully. "When I couldn't sleep, she used to sing it to me. I forgot what it was called. A song for...somebody. I think it was about a boy who wanted to become a knight. I loved that song..."

"Was it 'A Song for the Squire'?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think that was it," she replied. She looked up at him. "How did you know?"

"My mother used to sing it to me too," he said. "It was the last I remember of her."

"Do you miss your mother too?" she asked.

Cyrus just smiled. Selene slowly relaxed once more. The paladin began singing in a soft, clear voice the 'Song for the Squire', while slowly stroking Selene's hair. The old lullaby was still familiar to him, as though it were only the other day that he had first heard it.

Be brave little one, make a wish from your saddened tears,
Hold your head up, though no one is near,
An angel is waiting for you...
Have faith, little one... *

As Cyrus sang the closing lines of the song, he felt the young sorceress' rhythmic, relaxed breathing. She made soft, barely audible snoring noises. Cyrus sighed contentedly, leaning his own head back.

From her perch on the wagon roof, Dyna smiled. It was different, seeing the paternal side of the hardened warrior - general. She felt a twinge inside her. She found herself looking once more upon the distant horizon, silently hoping that the man she was looking for in Kurast was like the paladin cradling the head of a young, vulnerable sorceress on his lap.

~~~

The next morning, the sun bore down upon the arid landscape with the usual cruelty of its daily rising. The hot desert winds were nowhere to be felt, increasing the power of the sun's searing heat. The heat was enough to wake every member of the tiny band. But the heat also prevented the party from moving on. It was too hot to travel, forcing the group to wait until the afternoon.

The group ate a large lunch from the abundant supplies in the wagon. After lunch, it was time to move again. The debate on how to proceed with the wagon arose once more. Five of them gathered to discuss the situation, with Selene left out. Melchor believed she was too young and impetuous to be taken seriously.

"So, how do you propose to move this wagon?" Melchor asked Cyrus.

"We can't," Cyrus answered. "We gather as many supplies as we can carry, then continue on."

"We can't do that," Viene countered. "If we carry too much, we'd be slowed down, and the fatigue will force us to consume all our resources before we get to the city. If we carry lightly, the supplies won't last us anyway."

"Somehow, we must find a way to pull the wagon," Dagan said.

"Cyrus, Melchor told me of his solution," Dyna said. "I think you should hear it."

"Yes, yes." Melchor said, rubbing his hands together. "I propose that we raise the dead horse as a skeleton. And while I would be more than willing to take the reins, I cannot be driving morning, noon and night. I also propose raising another skeleton from the pile of rotting demons to be our chauffer."

"Never!" Cyrus exclaimed. "No skeletons! I will not have you raising your abominations here, necromancer!"

"Cyrus, there is no other way!" Dyna pleaded.

"Are we that desperate?" Cyrus countered. "So desperate as to resort to the foulest of means just to get to the city?"

"It's a means to end," said Viene. "Besides, Melchor will eventually face the Order for use of dark magic. Might as well milk it while we have it."

"You know me, paladin," said Dagan. "I have no love for the desecrator. But its not like he'll be raising human skeletons. We need to survive."

"I don't believe this," Cyrus snarled, walking away from the group in sheer disgust. The necromancer's grin only grew wider.

"So, what will it be?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Dyna. "He is a fanatic. Somebody must make the right decision."

Dyna glared back sharply, before going off to pursue the fuming paladin. He walked off to a good distance, well beyond ear-shot of the rest of the party. She caught up with him, pulling his arm to make him face her.

"The skeletons are not human," she said, pleading with him. "Doesn't Zakarum teach that on Sanctuary, it is only the human soul that is immortal?"

"Black magic is black magic," he replied. "A demon can't drive a wagon. Whose soul do you think he will rip out off the spirit plane to bind to that driver skeleton of his? If he doesn't do that, then he must spend every waking moment controlling that skeleton, which would defeat the purpose of raising help in the first place."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" she asked. "Can't you relax your code, just for one damn instant?"

"Every paladin that falls into darkness begins by asking that question," Cyrus shot back.

"But what about Dagan and Selene?" she countered. "Will you let them die for your principles?"

"Of course not," Cyrus said. "They will go on that wagon, and you will go with them. I will bear the weight of my principles alone."

"They look to you for guidance," Dyna said. "They will not get on that wagon, not without you. Especially Selene."

"Dagan has chosen his survival," Cyrus said. "As for Selene, Dagan will take care of her. And so will you. You won't let anything happen to them, right?"

"Of course," Dyna answered, her voice resigned. She knew that he will never be convinced. "I just don't understand. Personally, I think you're being an idiot, putting yourself through this just for principle."

"How dare you?!" Cyrus snapped. "I am a paladin, principle is my life! I dare you to swear on your weapon and say that to my father! You want to know how he died? He died fighting necromancers who had wanted to raid the Holy Resting Grounds outside Kurast for an ancient artifact under the Church's protection. My father led a small squad of fifteen men, battle- weary and outnumbered, to victory over an entire horde of necromancers and their minions. The leader of the necromancers surrendered. But beyond all battle-logic when fighting a powerful necromancer, my father showed mercy. Mercy to defeated foes is part of the paladin code, and my father upheld that principle. But when his back was turned, the necromancer launched a bone spear at him that pierced his battered armor and killed him. The fiend escaped, but my father died. He lived by his principles, and died by them. So, don't you dare say to my face that my father died for nothing! That I would die for nothing!"

"I...I'm sorry," Dyna stammered. "I didn't know..."

"Just go," Cyrus answered coldly.

~~~

When Cyrus returned to the makeshift camp, the wagon was already prepared for travel. The supplies were already stacked inside. And at the wagon's harness was an undead horse zombie. While the construct looked mostly skeletal, there some patches of flesh to allow it to fit into the large harness. Cyrus looked away, fighting the urge to destroy the creature.

"I told you this wasn't over paladin," Melchor said, grinning triumphantly. "So, have you come to your senses on the usefulness of skeletons?"

Cyrus ignored him. Dyna offered him a large water flask filled to capacity, which he briskly took and slung around his shoulder. He then picked up his sheathed sword and tied it to his belt. When he looked up, he saw Selene standing in front of him, clutching her long staff. She had a concerned look on her face.

"You're coming with us on the wagon, right?" she asked.

"No, I won't," he said. "But I'll be right behind you."

"You'll walk?"

"Yes."

"I'll go with you," she offered. "I don't want to ride in that wagon either."

"No, you must ride," he said. "You won't be able to walk that far."

"But isn't it wrong?" she asked. "Isn't it wrong to ride in something pulled by that foul beast?"

"Yes, it is," he answered. "It is convenient, but convenience is not an excuse for doing the wrong thing. People who believe as such must make sacrifices. However, you don't have a choice in the matter. I don't want to see you dead."

"But, I want to make that sacrifice too," she stated boldly, her eyes set with determination. But Cyrus could see the fear in them as well. He would not allow it.

"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "I'll be sacrificing enough for the both of us."

He motioned for Dagan, who had been standing right behind her, to take her to the wagon. Dagan took her hand and led her away. But she looked back at him one more time.

"Promise me that you won't leave us," she asked. "Promise me that..."

Cyrus smiled. "I promise."

~~~

The wagon creaked and bumped along the rough desert road as the party made its way closer to Lut Gholein. It had already been four days since they set out on their undead horse-drawn wagon. The sun outside still bore the oppressive heat that swept the desert, but the group did not feel its burning sting. They sat, bored, inside the wagon as the skeletal driver drove along.

Melchor sat shotgun, preferring to be by himself as was his usual. He found more comfort in the company of the undead, rather than with the living. He watched the vast expanse of desert. He knew he could easily escape. Nobody within the group had enough power to stop him. But he knew he must survive long enough to reach Kurast. It was the whole point of allowing himself to be "captured" by the assassin.

The priests of Rathma were always searching for new ways to augment their control over the Great Cycle of Being. This need for arcane knowledge had been the driving force behind the secretive order, leading them into conflicts with other mage clans, and more significantly, the Viz-Jaq'taar Order of Mage-Slayers and the Paladins of Zakarum. While his captor, the assassin, was still around to keep an eye on him, he knew he was safe. It was the paladin he had been worried about. He felt better now that the paladin was gone.

He parted the curtain separating the front seat from the wagon interior. He saw the Amazon sitting just behind him, twiddling with her bow. She had been unusually silent the entire time, and he knew why.

"Don't look so glum, darling," he said, with his usual poker smile. "The change in leadership was a needed development. You are doing fine."

She cast him an annoyed look. Shrugging, he closed the partition and watched the horizon once more. Looks like it will be a pleasant trip, he thought, as he shaped one of the bones he had kept into a sharp knife with his powers.

At the rear of the wagon, Selene stared at the landscape outside. Her eyes fell on the empty road behind them. She had almost given up. During the first night, he was there, keeping up with the wagon. He walked as fast as he could, trying to match the wagon's pace. But Selene noticed then that he was falling further behind. The next day, she woke up to find him gone. She thought he had merely been left behind, and would show up as soon as they stopped. But she hadn't seen him since his disappearance. She had but little hope.

He'll come back, she thought.

"He won't be coming back," Viene said, noticing her far-off stare. "So, you should stop looking."

"He will," she said defiantly. "He's a paladin. He will keep his promise."

"He is a fanatic," Viene said dismissively. "Fanatics are blind followers. He will follow that code to his own death. His beliefs will count for more than a promise to a pathetic little girl. You want to know where he is? Either he is dead in the sand, or off to save some sand maggot in distress."

"He will come back! Paladins always do!" Selene retorted, defiant almost to the point of tears.

"Will you stop being so naïve?" Viene said. "Paladins are not the heroes who rescue princesses and slay dragons. They are as human as you and me. I've seen paladins that were as petty as desert bandits and as brutal as any demon Hell can produce. Granted, such paladins are classified as 'fallen', but who is to say that Cyrus cannot fall? Who is to say that he cannot make mistakes and fall into darkness? So stop being such a starry- eyed little girl. Grow up! He's not coming back!"

Selene shrank back, turning to the barbarian beside her. Dagan, who had been listening to the short exchange, placed a large arm around the sorceress.

"Do you think he's coming back?" she asked him.

"Oh, I think he will," he said. "Watching my brothers-in-arms defend Mt. Arreat, I have seen my share of fallen paladins. Cyrus is a man of honor. He won't fall so easily."

"I expected more smarts from you, barbarian," Viene said. "But I suppose intelligence was never the forte of the barbaric peoples."

~~~

It was already the fifth day. For once, the clouds came in force, and the sun's mighty heat was blunted under the cover of a stratospheric blanket of white vapor. Travel was easier for the party, who had welcomed the dissipation of some of the punishing desert heat. They were also nearing their goal, the shining jewel of the desert, the city of Lut Gholein.

Dyna sat on the roof this time, relishing the cloudy-day winds that swept through the desert. Her strawberry-blond hair whipped wildly in the wind as she pulled her cloak about her. Slowly, she scanned the distant horizon behind them. There was still no sign of Cyrus, nor of any other travelers. But she took heart. Lut Gholein was just a day's journey away.

Suddenly, the wagon stopped. She heard voices, but she could not make out what was being said. She shouted out to Melchor, who had been sitting in front almost the entire time.

"Bandits!" screamed Melchor from below. Immediately, Dyna sprang into action. She stood and turned to see where the bandits were.

Below her were several blue-clad nomads. Each had his or her face concealed under a turban and a layer of cloth across the face. The only visible feature of their faces were their eyes. They each brandished a shiny scimitar, but had other weapons as well. The leader, on horseback, already had her sword to Melchor's throat. The necromancer looked coldly on her, seemingly undaunted. The other bandits carried crossbows, while a few carried ropes with hooks attached to the end.

"Not today..." Dyna whispered to herself. She took one of her few remaining arrows from her quiver and notched it to her bow. She pulled back, and let the arrow fly. The projectile flew at a straight path for the leader's head. But somehow, the leader caught wind of the arrow, and intercepted it with her bare hand. She pointed to her and uttered an order to attack.

She barely had time to react. A hook quickly attached itself to the roof of the wagon, followed shortly by its thrower. The blue-clad bandit tackled her, knocking her quiver to the ground below. She punched the man's back, as he latched on her, grappling with her. Using all the strength she could muster, she turned on her side. The bandit had not expected the counter, and the hold was soon reversed. The bandit was now the one underneath. Dyna straddled the startled thief and repeatedly punched him in the face.

Inside the wagon, Viene lashed out at the first bandit who tired to enter. Her claws caught him across the face, leaving a vicious wound and a torn costume. She then kicked the man out. Before anymore could enter, she swiftly dove out of the wagon, rolling softly on the sand after executing a graceful move. She got up and soon found two scimitar-swinging bandits on her. She parried one attack with her left claw and gave the attacker a swift side kick to the throat. Then, without bringing her kicking foot down, she whirled into a heel kick that smashed the other attacker's jaw. But as soon as the two dropped, four more charged to take their places.

"A little help here!" she cried out over the din.

Dagan punched another attacker that had tried to take the entrance. The man was knocked senseless. He heard the assassin's call for help. He grabbed his giant axe, but before leaving he turned to Selene.

"As soon as I get out, seal the entrance with a wall of ice," he instructed. Selene meekly nodded.

Dagan rushed out with a roar. But another bandit was waiting on the roof. As soon as Dagan's head was exposed, he clubbed him with a mace, knocking the barbarian unconscious on the sand.

Before Selene could seal the entrance, the bandit jumped in. He brandished his mace, taunting the frightened sorceress. But Selene would have none of it. Despite her fear, she got up and hit the man with her staff. She thrust her staff at him, forcing him to the entrance.

Melchor was busy himself. He parried the bandit leader's blows with his long bone knife. The bandit leader did not even bother getting off her horse. She just hacked at him, allowing him no time to concentrate his powers on raising any of his minions.

Viene was overwhelmed by the number of attackers facing her. The first attacker tried to come at her with an overhead blow, but she countered by slashing his belly. The second attacker came at her from the left. She dodged his strike, then leapt into the air and kicked him at the back of the head. She landed on a hand-spring position, her hands to the ground as she broke another attacker's neck using her legs. While she managed to kill three of them, the fourth knocked the wind out of her with a vicious blow to her stomach. She fell on the sand, doubled over in pain. She could only watch helplessly as the bandit raised his scimitar, ready for the killing blow.

But out of nowhere came the sound of a running horse. The sound quickly grew closer. Before the bandit could bring his scimitar down, a clean stroke of a sword took his head off, sending it flying toward his companions. Viene looked up at her savior.

It was Cyrus, on horseback.

The holy knight was radiating a powerful aura of Might, as he sent his horse charging once more into battle. He scattered the bandits gathered around the unconscious barbarian, and pulled off the one Selene had been fighting. He brought his sword down on the hapless bandit, as the others ran away, suddenly frightened by the paladin's grim Conviction. Before Selene could react to seeing him, he quickly wheeled his horse to the side and charged to the front to meet the leader of the bandits.

The leader caught sight of him. She quickly abandoned Melchor and charged on the knight, her sword raised high in the air. Cyrus rode on, undaunted. When their paths met, she brought her scimitar down on his head. But Cyrus managed to get his shield up, causing the blow to bounce harmlessly off the steel. At the same time, he thrust Shadow Cleaver upwards, catching the bandit leader's throat. She fell dead from her horse, her blood painting the desert sands a cruel dark red.

But the paladin had unfinished business. He rode the horse to the front of the wagon, where Melchor was. He waited as the staggered necromancer sat up on the driver's seat. He looked at him straight in the eye, pointing his sword at the undead horse.

"Dismiss this abominable creature," he ordered, with great satisfaction. "We won't be needing it anymore."

~~~

The group had already resumed their journey to Lut Gholein. Cyrus' horse was already harnessed to the wagon, with Melchor holding the reins. The stronger, faster horse pulled the wagon at a greater speed. Inside the wagon, the barbarian had already regained consciousness after some of the paladin's healing prayers. The group, save for the necromancer and the Amazon on the roof, had already gathered around Cyrus.

"I told you, he would come back!" Selene exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she taunted the assassin.

"You have to tell us where you have been," Dagan said. "We were worried about you."

"Yeah, you just disappeared into thin air," said Viene. "Why did you do that?"

"Its actually quite funny," Cyrus began. "I stepped on some horse dung while walking at night. I realized it was fresh. So, with only my sword as a light, I looked down and saw spatters of horse blood. It was the blood of the other horse that got away. So, I quickly broke away from the road, and followed the blood drops on the sand. By morning, I had already found the wounded horse near a small water hole. I healed its wound, and rode it back to the road."

"I would have caught up with you sooner," he continued. "But one night, I stopped near an old crypt for shelter. I thought it was one of those old, raided crypts in the desert. But I was wrong. The place was swarming with undead. As a paladin, I could not just leave the place to endanger other lives. So, I prayed for Sanctuary and destroyed every undead creature I could find in that tomb. I also found this..."

The paladin held an object wrapped in bandages in front of him. He slowly unraveled the wrappings, revealing a beautiful, golden cube carved with ancient figures and designs.

"What is it?" asked Selene.

"That is precisely what I will ask Cain," Cyrus answered.

There was a knock from the roof. It was followed by Dyna's voice. "We're near! You should all come out and see this!"

The wagon stopped, and the rest of the party piled out. They were standing on a ridge. But beyond the ridge, after a large expanse of sand, was the great sea. But before the sea, illuminated in the night by the light of a thousand lamps, was the jewel of the desert; the port city of Lut Gholein.

~~~

* inspired by the Rescuers theme song (owned by Disney)

Author: Hope nobody minds my adding some non-Diablo elements, such as horseback riding. I think it adds more flavor to the Diablo-verse.