Hello!

Mikldud: I wanted to answer to you via email because of spoilers, but since you're unregistered, oh well. I know what happens to the warrior, and… it's written in this chapter here. Also, I remember, now that you mention it, the Blood Raven business. But I'm not writing Blood Raven. As for the sorcerer… errr… I let him for someone else to write… I have no inspiration for him, sorry.

TheOnlyOne20001: Thank you for your reviews :)

So, here is the end of this story. I had not planned to finish it quite so quickly, but here the end is. A sequel is underway though. Please, review and let me know what you think!

Chapter VII. Facing a Prime Evil

"Your story is quite grim, my friends," Cain answered after they told him what had happened. "Lazarus will surely burn in hell for his horrific deed. Even if the boy is not our prince, I believe that Albrecht may yet be in danger. The symbol of power that you speak of must be a portal in the very heart of the labyrinth. Know this, my friends – the evil that you move against is the dark Lord of Terror. He is known to mortal men as Diablo. It was he who was imprisoned within the labyrinth many centuries ago and I fear that he seeks to once again sow chaos in the realm of mankind. You must venture through the portal and destroy Diablo before it is too late."

"Just that," Shurvi said, darkly.

"It must be done!", Cain protested. "You both have great power, we can all see it. You are our only hope."

"Facing one of the Prime Evils?", Liria said, unbelieving. "I sure can aim an arrow, but between that and killing the king of Hells, there's a step higher I'm not sure I can climb."

Cain sighed, looking at the young man and woman before him. "Diablo is surrounded by his most powerful minions, which will not be especially less powerful than him. If you have managed to walk up to his very chamber, I do not think you are totally helpless before him."

There was a silence. Finally, it was Shurvi who said: "Fine. Either we die fighting him, or we die fleeing him. I better die fighting."

There was another silence. He was looking straight at Liria, and Cain felt totally alien to the intense, meaningful stare they were exchanging. Finally, she swallowed hard, and declared. "Very well. We will attempt it. I can always have a teleport and a town portal ready."

That night, they were utterly silent in a corner of Ogden's tavern. They were picking at their food without any enthusiasm. Liria was feeling a little unsettled still by the events of the day – finding Lazarus, almost frying to death from his fireballs, seeing a young boy dead of torture, sacrificed to Diablo. She looked up from her plate to Shurvi. Sensing her regard, he lifted his eyes also, and they looked into each other's eyes for a while, still in their complete silence. She wondered what he thought. Finally, he lowered his eyes, but put a hand on her arm, thinking maybe she needed reassurance. She did. They both saw how much they communicated even without words, and kept staring at each other in silence for a while longer.

Then, Gilian came to give them more water, and was struck at how intimate they were suddenly as they jumped when she came closer. She had not expected to interrupt anything, since they were just there in their usual corner, not saying much as was usual, and looking weary as was also usual.

"Thank you, Gilian," Liria said with an earnest smile as the barmaid gave them more water.

"You're welcome," she responded with her good-natured smile.

Shurvi noticed it was the first time he heard her voice of the whole night; she had not even commanded her food, just nodding at Gilian's question if she wanted "the usual". There was a longer silence as they both picked a little more intently at their food, finally eating something, and then the meal was over. Both looked at each other, unsure of what to do, and finally went upstairs to their rooms.

Their parting seemed strange to both. They went to their rooms, separately, and prepared to sleep. Liria lay down on her bed to try to sleep. She kept staring up at the ceiling, wondering what had happened to her parents, and if the same would happen to her. She closed her eyes against the tears, and decided it would not do to torment her spirit with that all night long, that it would not put her in fighting form for the next day.

She got out of bed, and slid on her leather tunic, although she did not wear the leggings. She pulled her boots on, and stepped besides her bed. There she hesitated, but she was not about to reconsider lying down to mortify herself until she died out of fear, was she?

There she stopped, halting in the middle of her move of pulling on her second boot. It dawned on her that, Diablo being the Lord of Terror, it was possible that he was reaching to the town to cause fear to everyone, and it was also possible that he pushed the terror onto them as well. What Cain had said was probably true; they had killed the Archbishop, surely one of the most powerful mortals in his time, and probably even more powerful once turned to Darkness. She was a little reassured by the realization that maybe she did not need to fear Diablo because he was a demon, but causing them to fear him was a way to ensure his safety.

She opened the door, and walked down the hall towards Shurvi's door. A servant girl was there, cleaning the floor, and for a minute Liria was embarrassed to be seen going to his room. But she pushed the embarrassment aside, and knocked.

He opened the door quickly enough, bare chest and only in trousers, looking at her from his half-opened door. His look was grave, and as it was between them, he understood instantly why she was there precisely. He would not have needed to say anything, but he decided to speak up for the servant girl. He would not have her think that he was dishonouring Tristram's Heroine.

"Caught up a bit more of this jigsaw puzzle we're trying to figure out?", he asked.

"Maybe."

He nodded, and opened the door so she could come in. She tried not to let her eyes wander too much to his bare chest, muscled shoulders and perfectly defined abdominals. It was impossible to mistake his compact, muscled body even under the gothic plate he was now wearing, but it was the first time she saw him chest naked. He sat on his bed, looking at her sitting at the desk in front of him, waiting for her to say what she came to say.

"Do you think Diablo could be influencing us?", she asked.

He tilted his head. "How?", he wondered.

"Being the Lord of Terror… terrifying us," she answered.

He considered, and she saw his shoulders relax as he sighed. "It is very possible, Liria."

There, he had called her name again. She instantly felt like a different person to him, not his travelling companion, with whom he boasted, joked and sliced demons, but… a closer friend.

"But I am not a coward," he added. "Neither are you."

She nodded. She was still trying to unwrap herself from her confusion of character at him suddenly calling her by her name.

"Shurvi," she said finally.

She saw the same exact thing happen to him suddenly. She had shed the usual battle nickname, and was addressing the person, not the warrior. As a warrior, he could easily banter with her all day-long, and fight besides her, and defend her life and trust her with his. As a person, he was a lot more confused this night, with her in his room, and he felt very naked, all of a sudden, to be bare chest before her.

They looked at each other in silence. Much passed between the two, about how they hoped to survive and feared what would happen to Tristram and Khanduras and the whole of Sanctuary if they did not. After a long moment during which neither moved, Liria stood to go out, nodding to Shurvi. Again, he squeezed her shoulder. But there were no words to be said between two people who were probably walking to their deaths the next morning. He looked down at her in silence a while longer, and finally she solemnly bowed her head and went back to her room.

ooooo

The demon fell. Diablo, the dark Lord of Terror, fell, a sword through his heart and an arrow in his eye.

Shurvi stepped back, badly burned and hurt by the claws, tail and teeth of the monster. Liria was standing behind him, badly injured despite a Mana shield; her Mana shield had been burned off twice by the advocates and doom knights packed with Diablo in the chamber where he was imprisoned.

Both drank potions, so they could stand properly, and took a few seconds to catch their breath.

"The Soulstone," Liria suddenly pointed.

Shurvi looked at Diablo's forehead, and there was indeed a Soulstone through his forehead. Shurvi walked slowly forward, getting a dagger out of his belt, and dislodged the Soulstone easily.

Both watched as the body of the Prime Evil shrank back to human size, shapeshifting to a young prince.

"Albrecth," Shurvi said, seeing the boy breathe his last breath, an open wound in his chest, and an arrow in his eye.

Both warriors stood over the body for a few seconds, sad at the fate of the boy, but there was no other possible conclusion to his possession. Liria made a quick prayer, hoping he would be forgiven and allowed Paradise.

"What are we to do with the Soulstone?", Liria finally asked.

Shurvi turned to her, looking at her darkly. "Is it not obvious?", he answered. "The demon must be contained."

They knew each other very well; they were fighting together since the beginning, and they had shared much time speaking of their respective past and beliefs. They talked much without words, and right now Shurvi's face was telling her all that she needed to know.

"It is well enough contained within the Soulstone as it is!", she protested against the very idea he was proposing.

"No it is not. It corrupted Leoric and Lazarus," Shurvi answered quietly.

"And it corrupted Albrecth too, if you notice!", she answered.

Shurvi looked at her with mild disdain. "I did not think you were the kind to back up before fear or sacrifice."

She reddened. "I'm not!", she retorted angrily. "Damnit, give your brain half a workout as that of your muscles and think for a while, Burnt head! It's a Soulstone! It's already influencing you! You can't possibly resist it on the long term if it's planted in your forehead! It's a lot easier to resist in the current form."

Shurvi thought for a while, considering her words. She was not stupid and, when it came to magic, she was often right. But he could not conceive that the Soulstone could be kept free.

"Then what do you propose to do with it, Red head?", he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Let's take it to Cain. He will surely know what to do with it."

Shurvi bristled. She was observing him, and in that instant she realized how much she had been right without knowing it seconds earlier. The stone was influencing him, only much more strongly than she had thought possible. The man in front of her was not the man she had fought with during the last weeks. A cold apprehension crawled into the pit of her stomach.

"We should not be taking it to the surface," Shurvi stated, "much less let anyone else know of its existence. It could bring the attention of evil."

"Very logical, Burnt head, but wrong," she answered calmly. She nervously wondered if the Soulstone was just beginning to influence him, or if the corruption had started earlier, along with the fear Diablo had forced onto them. She considered her next words carefully; it was not the time to make a mistake. So much was at stake. "Cain is the last of the Horadrim, he already knows of its existence. And moreover, he is the last descendant of those that bound the Three brothers. He ought to know what to do with a Soulstone."

Shurvi hesitated yet, and she feared her words would not be enough.

"I'm not sure. Something is wrong," Shurvi said.

She did not dare to repeat that the stone was influencing him, because she saw his trust in her was diminishing rapidly. If trust was beyond his grasp now that he was corrupted by the demon's essence, maybe he still remembered friendship.

"Please, Shurvi," she almost never used his real name. She saw with relief that it did catch his attention. "Let's just ask Cain's opinion. Please." She was not begging. She was asking her friend, earnestly, to consider her opinion.

There was a fleeting moment of silence. But then, he took a step backwards. "No," he answered. "You're a coward, and you would flee the last responsibility that comes with facing Diablo."

She raised her bow. "No," she said firmly. "I am trying to knock some sense into you, Burnt head."

"Do not threaten me," he retorted, not moving, his voice low and with a vicious tone.

She did not lower her bow, but her face softened. "I'm not. Please, Shurvi. Don't." Then she paused. If friendship was also beyond his grasp… there was only one thing left she could call to. Her throat was painfully tight when she said: "Shurvi, please… I love you."

This unsettled the warrior. He looked at her for many seconds, trying to read the look on her face, and she had immense hope that his heart would be touched. She hoped he would know it was true, and that the human in him would win over the demon's essence. But finally his features hardened, and he declared: "You are trying to trick me. I will not listen to you."

Horror settled in her heart. But she was a warrior, and she was prepared to do what she must, despite Shurvi's statement of the opposite. It occurred to her rather too late that maybe this was a type of argument he would have more readily accepted, but she had made her gamble already. So she faced the consequences. She bended her bow, and shot through his hand as he was preparing to plant the Soulstone in his forehead. He grunted in pain, not letting go of the Soulstone, and turned to her, his dagger still in hand, lifting it.

He wore a full plate mail and a helmet, and she had hardly any target at all for arrows. She aimed through the coming tears blurring her vision, seeing the dagger come swiftly, and shot.

The arrow lodged itself in his neck, and his dagger pierced her armour and plunged straight into her heart. She gasped for air, pain shooting throughout all her body, as her knees were failing her. The arrow had missed the carotid and jugular, by curious circumstances, although the wound was bleeding profusely. Shurvi grunted as he broke the arrow, pulled the shaft out of his neck and drank another potion.

He looked down at Liria. His heart was strangely hard and cold to see her convulsing on the ground, blood shooting from her mouth. What a pity her folly killed her. She was gasping on the floor, and he heard her murmur: "Please… no… Shurvi."

He wondered with detachment what she expected him to do now. The thought only crossed his mind, and she died. He looked upon her body a long time, a cold curiosity pushing him to wonder how things could have turned out this way. Why did she turn on him at the last minute like that? They could have been the Heroes of Tristram together. She could have found a way to contain the demon with her magic. This reminded him of the Soulstone still in his left hand, and he shrugged the matter off. He turned his eyes once more to the brilliant red stone he was holding. He sighed, thinking of what needed to be done, and planted it in his forehead.

Hellfire burned through his skull, and his vision blurred with an eerie red glow. Fresh blood flowed into his eyes, and with a start he realized he could hear the tormented whispers of the damned.

He had done what he knew must be done. The essence of Diablo was contained.

As he felt the evil of Diablo make itself known, he began praying; he was strong, he kept repeating himself, strong from his long quest, and he prayed he would be strong enough to contain him, not to let him take over and spawn legions of demons as Albrecth had.

He wondered now what he could do. He was reminded of the Far East, this mysterious land of the Horadrim, where the demons and angels had battled at first, and where there was great mystic knowledge. He thought his only hope for salvation, if not for himself, than for Sanctuary, must lay beyond the desert of Aronakh.

He turned, leaving Liria behind without a thought, and opened a town portal to go back to town.

The villagers were grave when they came to see him. He did not move right away, frozen on the threshold of the portal, trying to understand what was making this return to the surface so different from all the others. Then he realized; it was not a break in the fight when he could relax. This new fight he was just beginning was one he could never take a break from.

Cain was in front of him suddenly, and he asked:

"Liria?"

"She perished during the battle," he answered weakly. It was easy to omit the truth, and he could not possibly realize how wrong this simple statement should have sounded to his own ears.

Cain lowered his head, and put a hand on Shurvi's shoulder, as if to comfort him. The warrior did not move for a time, but then he freed himself, and was guided by the remaining villagers to the house they had decided to give him in Tristram.

And so, Shurvi's story was over. That of the Wanderer was just beginning.