The Tamoe mountains were now a distant shadow as the wagon train trudged along the sandy wastes of Aranoch. The days had grown steadily warmer over the last few weeks, though the nights had remained just as cold. Warriv sat at the front of the lead wagon, his eyes locked in a perpetual squint. The desert stretched in every direction; a vast, sun-bleached ocean through which the Rakkisroad wound its way like a bridge unto infinity.

- "How much longer before we're in sight of your city?" the young man seated beside him asked.

Warriv sighed. The youth had been much more patient back when they had first set out from Westmarch.

- "The answer has not changed since yesterday, sir knight," he replied. "We're halfway there. It will be another week before we reach Lut Gholein, but we should be arriving to Mafqud, the first rest stop on the way east, sometime tomorrow."

- "I've told you before, Warriv, just call me Galen."

- "As you say, sir knight," the caravan master replied with a smirk.

It was Galen's turn to sigh. Warriv was a likeable, pleasant sort of fellow, but, as a merchant who often had to play the sycophant, he was much too used to honorifics, especially with those he viewed as noble-born. Something about that attitude irked the paladin. He was no longer an official member of the Knights of Westmarch, and though his lineage could be traced back to the old knighthood of Kurast, his father was a simple merchant, just like Warriv.

- "I apologize if I sound restless. You know what…who we hunt," the paladin stated. Akara had judged it only fair to let everyone on the first convoy out of Eastgate know what they were getting into. "He has an enormous head start on us, and I have no idea how we're going to find him in a city as big as Lut Gholein."

- "I understand the urgency, but I do not dictate our pace. The desert does. Our beasts can't go any faster in this heat. But take heart, perhaps the Sultan will help you once we arrive."

- "Oh yes", Galen snarked, "I can see it now: "Greetings, your magnificence, Terror incarnate is walking around in your city in the guise of a man, please help us locate him before he frees his brothers and unleashes Armageddon on the world." Can't say I look forward to that conversation."

- "Jerhyn is a fine Sultan," Warriv reassured him. "He's young, but he has his father's wit and wisdom. I'm sure he'll lend you an ear. Besides, you have a whole caravan of people who can bear witness to the demonic outbreak in the west. You'll sound less like lunatics."

- "I almost hope he does think we're insane. I fear we will arrive at our destination only to find it under siege, like the rogue encampment. Or worse still, a ruin swarming with demons…like Tristram."

- "Impossible," the caravaneer declared with sudden pride. "Lut Gholein is not the rundown seat of a fallen kingdom or the fastness of an isolated order. It's the jewel of the desert, the capital of an empire. With all due respect to the Sisterhood, Andariel and her ilk would never have been able to do to my people what they did to the rogues."

- "I pray you are right."

- "Look around," Warriv prompted encouragingly, his arm drawing a wide arc to present the landscape around them. "We've been traveling for weeks and haven't encountered so much as a bandit. The Sultan's men have kept the roads safe for as long as I have plied my trade. Whatever corruption rises in Diablo's wake has clearly been kept in check."

- "Let's not let our guard down just yet," the paladin demurred. "We still have a ways to go; who knows what evils now lurk in the sands of Aranoch."

As if to confirm his fears, a sharp fizzling sound came from the wagon behind theirs. Galen turned to see a small flame eating away at its canvas. His hand going to his sword, he scanned the surrounding dunes, trying to spot where the bolt had come from. Nothing but sand and wind greeted his eyes, and the only thing he could hear was cursing coming from the damaged wagon. He leapt off his own to walk back towards it.

He could hear familiar voices arguing as he approached. He climbed next to the teamster with a questioning look, but the man merely offered him a shrug. He ducked inside the wagon to find a small patch of it now aflame, his barbarian friend desperately trying to snuff it out with his oversized palms.

- "It's a little early to be building campfires, Ko'kal," the paladin chided.

- "Actually, it's my fault," the sorceress interjected with a sheepish grin. "I was testing his resilience to the elements."

- "What? Why would you…dammit, Talia, not this again," Galen groaned. "You know how he feels about that."

- "Calm down, blood brother," Ko'kal interceded. "I asked her to."

The paladin turned a quizzical eye to the barbarian.

- "I thought you hated getting zapped," he said, before his eyes went wide. "Oh no…you've developed a taste for it, haven't you…I've walked in on something weird. And in front of Deckard Cain, too," he finished, gesturing theatrically at the amused elder in the back of the wagon.

- "Very funny, holy man," Ko'kal laughed. "We were just talking about our first meeting; you know, in the cellar beneath Tristram. She wondered how I took her lightning without serious harm."

- "A goatman would've been fried," the sorceress explained helpfully.

- "Still hurt like a whoreson, though," the northman grumbled.

- "It seems your friend here might have developed a resistance to that particular element due to his many…misadventures with it," Cain elaborated. "A fascinating trait. The children of Bul-Kathos are full of surprises."

- "My people have been tempered by the cold of our native lands and the fires of war. I guess lightning isn't that different," the barbarian bragged. "Of course, I had no proof to back that up, so we decided to…experiment."

- "Experiment…", the paladin repeated incredulously.

- "I zapped him with small but increasing doses of shock magic," the young Zann-Esu continued matter-of-factly. "That last one just got a bit out of hand."

Galen heaved a deep sigh before joining his companions on the floor of the moving wagon.

- "Well?" he asked finally. "What's the verdict?"

- "Why do you think she burned the canvas?" the northman answered boastfully. "She had to get serious before I even felt anything but a tickle."

The paladin looked his brawny friend up and down bemusedly.

- "What are you?"

The barbarian's only answer was a self-satisfied grin.

- "The old blood is strong in the north," Cain chimed in.

- "I don't suppose you've developed a resistance to steel, by any chance?" Galen continued.

- "Yes. It's called armor," Ko'kal quipped back as he beat the front of his lamellar cuirass with his fist. The metal jingled cheerfully in the small confines of the wagon.

- "I hope you thanked Charsi for that," Talia interjected. The sisterhood's resident smith had worked wonders to make their gear as good as new after the beating they took from Andariel.

- "I did," the barbarian replied. "Repeatedly."

A salacious smile crossed his face, for which he received a kick on the shin from the young sorceress.

- "Ow," he said unconvincingly.

- "I still haven't figured out what enchantment she placed on my blade," Galen said almost to himself as he half-drew Providence. Its fuller gleamed faintly with a series of inscribed glyphs, though he could not read them.

- "You'll find out in the next battle," the northman assured him.

- "What about that new axe she made you? What does it do?" the sorceress inquired as she eyed the large battle-axe at the barbarian's side, its twin heads stretched out on either side like steel wings.

- "You'll find out in the next battle," he repeated with a smirk.

- "Perhaps I can be of service," Deckard Cain piped up. "Bring it here," he gestured for the paladin's sword.

The paladin finished drawing the blade and shifted to the Horadric sage's side, handing it over to him. Cain began inspecting it, admiring the maroon grip, the upswept guard, the tapered edge. The workmanship was exquisite. Too exquisite. It was all too familiar to Cain's keen eyes. He furrowed his brows in puzzlement.

- "How did you come by this?" he asked.

- "I found it in Tristram's ruined smithy. Or rather, it found me."

- "As I suspected. This is Griswold's work."

- "Griswold," Galen enounced somberly. "So that was his name. I'm sorry, elder, I'm afraid your friend was turned into an undead monstrosity by the dark powers that laid waste to your town. I only managed to put him to rest thanks to his own sword."

Cain's hand moved slowly across the metal, as if to touch the spirit of his old neighbor one last time.

- "When last we spoke, he confided that he was forging an exceptional weapon for the prince as thanks for clearing the cathedral of evil, but our savior left before he could present him with it. It seems it still found its way into worthy hands. I'm sure Griswold would be honored to have you wield his masterpiece to avenge his home," the old man finished as he handed the sword back to Galen.

- "What of its enchantment?"

- "Its blade has been imbued with an anti-magic field. It's a forgotten art created during the Mage Clan wars and later adopted by my ancestors, the Horadrim. It seems the secrets of my order have been passed along with its relics. Your sword can now cut more than just flesh; it can sever the very threads of magic. You will find it a great boon against enemy spellcasters and constructs, including undead."

- "Incredible," the paladin half-whispered, turning Providence this way and that with newfound awe. "Charsi is truly a master of her craft."

- "She's good with her hands," confirmed Ko'kal with another sly grin, which earned him another kick from the sorceress.

- "Is the Amazon still out scouting?" Cain asked.

Galen nodded. Dana had conscripted a band of huntsmen and some horses to ride ahead of the convoy in order to keep a lookout. Though the desert was largely flat and you could see an enemy coming from a mile away, some of the dunes and rocky formations along the road seemed ideal spots for an ambush.

- "She'll be at it until nightfall again," the paladin declared. "It would be nice to have her around more, but I feel safer knowing she's out there keeping an eye, despite our caravan master's confidence in the Sultan's peace."

- "Warriv knows little of demons," Cain interjected, "but he understands the peril of our journey well enough. His optimism is born of necessity, not arrogance. It's his way of giving himself courage."

- "That is the way of the people of Aranoch," Talia agreed. "They remain hopeful because they must. He who sees only the desert and cannot imagine the oasis will never endure long enough to reach it."

- "You're familiar with these lands?" the northman asked.

- "Yes," came the reply. "My father and I spent much time on this side of the Tamoe Mountains before the news from Tristram reached us. We visited all the major cities on the western shores of the Twin Seas, including Lut Gholein. It was a wonderful time."

Her demeanor shifted, a trace of sorrow bleeding into her eyes. Ko'kal moved to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

- "We'll find him," he said simply.

She nodded, but the worry did not lift from her face.

- "I wonder what the he-witch is doing right now," he pondered aloud, trying to distract her from her thoughts. A small laugh escaped her lips at the epithet.

- "He's barely left that supply wagon he retired to ever since we left Eastgate," she replied. "I wager he prefers the company of the dead to that of the living. We only ever see him around the campfire at night."

- "Even necromancers have to eat." Galen stated as he opened the rear flap to peer at the trail of wagons behind.

- "The priests of Rathma are a taciturn bunch," Cain conceded. "In their defense, it's hard to make friends when you smell of death."

The paladin turned his eyes skyward; he saw two dark shapes circling overhead. Carrion birds, he guessed.

- "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he quipped, more to himself than to the others.


The teamsters were already circling the wagons by the time Dana returned with her scouts. As she dismounted, a skinny youth rushed up to take her horse and lead it to where the draft animals were being corralled, but not before stealing a few awed glances at the tall warrior in her golden scale mail. The amazon laughed to herself; she had caught not a few of her newfound retinue doing the same when their eyes should've been on the desert. She dismissed the huntsmen and made her way into the interior of the circle, where campfires and tents were being set up while beasts were being tied together in one area; in greener pastures they would've been allowed to roam free and graze for a while, but Aranoch held only thorny shrubs and hidden dangers.

Dana heard a sharp, billowing hiss and recognized her Zann-Esu companion's expedited way of igniting a firepit. The nascent flame flickered invitingly, as if to beckon her. The evening air was already growing cool.

- "Typical," the amazon jested as she walked up. "The women have to do all the work while the men are off picking flowers and discussing poetry."

- "Ko'kal is picking ingredients for a nice meal," Talia replied with a giggle. "And the only thing the paladin is discussing is the night watch's patrol."

- "You don't know what Cyrus is doing," Dana remarked with a smirk.

The image of the grim necromancer frolicking in a field of flowers flashed through the sorceress' mind and she burst out laughing. The Askari sat down next to her with a long sigh and a heavy thud.

- "Long day, huh? Did you run into any trouble out there?" Talia asked.

- "Nothing more dangerous than a heatstroke. I couldn't even put on my helmet, the metal grows hot like a furnace."

- "You don't have to tell me, I wish I could take off this oversized leather cuirass during the day at least, but Galen won't let me," the sorceress complained. "To hear him talk you'd think demons were going to manifest out of thin air at any moment.

- "I've seen some that could do that, you know."

Dana laughed at the sudden apprehension that overcame the younger woman's features.

- "Don't worry," she reassured her, "we'll disappear them faster than they can appear."

Ko'kal walked over carrying a heavy cauldron and hung it on the iron tripod that straddled the fire.

- "I hope bouncing around on a horse all day has worked up your appetite, shieldmaiden," he greeted the amazon.

- "I hope you've brought a second cauldron, scullion," she retorted.

- "I'll go get Cain," Talia announced as the barbarian began stirring the pot. "He's grown quite fond of your cooking."

By the time she came back with the old man Galen was joining their cheery little campfire.

- "Are you done whipping the guardsmen into shape?" the amazon asked.

- "The last week has made them complacent," he grumbled. "They've grown too used to uneventful vigils. I made sure to put the fear of Hell back into them."

- "How?" Ko'kal asked.

- "I described some of the things we faced back West. In detail. They seemed more alert after that."

- "I hope you didn't describe the Countess," Dana teased. "Otherwise, that was probably eagerness you read in their posture."

The paladin felt a sudden surge of shame at the mention of the vampiric blood mage. He avoided his companion's gaze and quietly sipped the bowl the northman offered him. The burst of flavor took him by surprise.

- "This is delicious, Ko'kal. I don't think I've ever eaten as well as I have since I've met you."

- "Nor have I," Cain chimed in, "…with all due respect to dear old Ogden, Heaven rest his soul."

The Horadrim's face fell a bit, as did Talia's.

- "You spoil us, barbarian," Dana declared to lighten the mood, "and with traveling rations, too. I don't know how you do it. Where did you learn to cook like that?"

The northman offered no answer for a long moment, as if he had not heard the question.

- "My mother," he eventually said, his tone softer than usual. "It's a hardscrabble life up north. The land is harsh and grudging. We learned to make do with what we had. She would whip up a good meal with nothing but roots and scraps of meat; it was her very own little form of witchcraft. She taught me everything she knew before I left home. Said she wanted to make sure I would be eating well."

- "She clearly outdid herself in feeding you, big man," Galen remarked. "That's quite the mother you have there."

- "The very best," Ko'kal answered simply.

- "Be sure to thank her for us when you go back home," the sorceress said between bites of her soggy bread.

- "If I ever go back," he demurred. "We'll be lucky if any of us make it out of this alive."

- "At least we'll go out with a full belly," the amazon offered as she reached for a small barrel of ale and poured him a mug.

He accepted the drink with a chuckle, his mood improving visibly as he quaffed it while Dana served the others their own. The combination of warm stew and liquor helped offset the growing chill that settled upon the desert as the hour grew late.

Cain was beginning to nod off when Galen stood up, grabbed an empty plate and filled it with what remained of the stew before heading off.

- "Talia, you're in charge of leading the first watch tonight," he told the Zann-Esu as he walked away. "Wake Cyrus up for the second."

- "I wonder why he didn't join us," Dana thought aloud.

- "I don't know, but I bet he's hungry," came the paladin's distant reply.


Eyes in the dark. Unblinking eyes, burning with malice. Eyes and fangs and steel flashing in the night. The desert is on fire. It burns with the smell of brimstone and charred flesh. The sand is mixed with ash and blood. Ash and blood and tears. Howling on the wind. The moon is red. An ill omen. Superstition, they said. Unheeded. Someone cries out a name.

- "Cyrus."

No escape. Men and women and children huddled together. Fear. Dread. Terror. Fire everywhere. Foes everywhere. No escape. A shadow looms. Blood splatters on the wall. A scream. A name.

- "Cyrus!"

The necromancer jolted and suddenly found himself looking into Galen's concerned face. His mind struggled to catch up with his vision as he tried to recall where he was…who he was.

- "How late is it?" he asked as he disengaged his shoulder from the paladin's hand, squinting in the dark as one who wakes from a bad dream.

- "We're about to settle in for the night. Are you alright? You seemed to be in some sort of trance. Your eyes were white and you were shaking."

- "I'm fine," he said dismissively. "Have you organized tonight's rounds?"

Galen studied his companion for a moment, but decided not to press him any further. If he knew anything about Cyrus, it was that he was a secretive man.

- "I just told Talia to wake you up when her watch is done. Ko'kal will take it up from you and I'll take it up from him."

- "We need to double the guard and make sure they're especially vigilant," the death mage asserted.

- "Why? Did you see anything out there?"

Cyrus hesitated, unsure how to reply. He had indeed seen something, though not in the way the paladin meant.

- "The spirits are restless," he answered cryptically. "Dark things roam these lands."

- "Spirits?" Galen asked dubiously. "Are you telling me you hear voices?"

- "That is what it means to be a necromancer. When you call forth the dead, the dead speak back."

The paladin contemplated his ally's demeanor once more, looking for any trace of uncharacteristic humor. Unsurprisingly, he found none.

- "Is that what you were doing just now? Speaking with the dead?"

- "I will say no more," Cyrus declared curtly as he got up from the wagon floor and made his way to the front. "I'll join the sorceress on her watch. We should all double up tonight, even if it means getting less sleep."

- "Very well, if you think it necessary. But you shouldn't deprive yourself of food as well as sleep. Magic alone cannot sustain a man," Galen pontificated as he produced the bowl of stew he had brought. "I'm afraid it's lukewarm at best at this point."

The necromancer was slightly taken aback by the gesture. His dark eyes looked at the bowl as though it were some alien object whose function he could not divine, then back to the one presenting it. Tentatively, he reached for it, offering a quiet nod of gratitude in return.

The paladin left his companion to his meal and went to find the guardsmen. Talia was already there, gathering the pikemen for their patrol while the crossbowmen were taking position atop wagons. Galen chuckled inwardly at the endearing sight of the wispy sorceress ordering men around in her best impression of a grizzled old sergeant.

- "Knight Galen at your service, captain!" he cried out in mock salute.

The young woman made an impressive effort to contain the laughter that threatened to undermine her gravitas.

- "Well met sir knight," she responded without breaking character. "We're about to set off on our rounds. Care to join us for a while?"

- "I'm afraid I must answer the summons of my bedroll, but I leave you in the charming hands of your fellow mage."

Talia made a displeased face and the men a disgruntled sound.

- "Why? It's not yet his shift," she complained.

- "We're doing double shifts," the paladin informed her. "Keep your eyes peeled, Cyrus has an uneasy feeling about tonight."

More disgruntled sounds. A heavy sigh from the young sorceress. Galen kept his amusement to himself and headed back to the campsite. He couldn't wait to get out of his armor for a few hours of sleep.