Diablo #1: Legacy of Blood

by Richard A. Knaak

  Two days? She had been trapped in the tree for two days?

  “When you vanished that night, I started a search right away, but not until morn came did I find this pouch near the side of the inn.” He held up a small, leather pouch in which Kara stored some of the herbs necessary for her calling. Necromancer spells required other ingredients besides blood, although most outsiders never knew that.

  Odd, though, that she should lose that pouch. It would have almost required her captors to spend precious time to tear it off, so securely had the young spellcaster generally kept it fastened. Of course, that made even less sense, since the only reason that they would bother to do that might be to actually leave a clue to her kidnapping, hardly something either ghoul would have done.

  But, then, they had left her alive, if buried in the heart of a dead tree.

  She felt so confused. Her irritation must have shown, for the innkeeper immediately sought to aid her. “What is it? Need more water? Blankets?”

  “I’m . . .” Her words sounded more akin to the croaking of a frog—or too much like her more vocal assailant. Kara gratefully accepted water, then tried again. “I am all right, captain . . . and I thank you for your care. I will, of course, pay you—”

  “I don’t like foul language in my establishment, milady! There’ll be no more talk of that!”

  He truly was a curiosity to her. “Captain Jeronnan, most folk, especially westerners, would rather have left one of my kind to rot in that tree, much less put together a search party. Why do this?”

  The huge man looked uncomfortable. “Always watch over my guests, lass.”

  Despite the aches throughout her body, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. Jeronnan had given her a room such as she could not have imagined in Gea Kul. Clean and comfortable, with no odor of fish, either. Truly a marvel. Yet, Kara did not let her pleasant surroundings deter her from her question. “Why do it, captain?”

  “I had me a daughter once,” he began with much reluctance. “And before you think it, she looked not a bit like you save in also being pretty.” Jeronnan cleared his throat. “Her mother was higher born than me, but my naval successes let me rise to where we could wed. Terania was born to us, but her mother never lived much beyond carrying her.” A daring tear emerged from the gruff man’s eye, one the innkeeper quickly brushed out of existence. “For the next decade and more, I couldn’t stand my life because it tore me away from the only one left to me. Finally, I resigned my commission when she was just beginning to blossom into a fair maiden and took her across the sea to a place I remembered being so beautiful. Bless her, Terania never complained, even seemed to thrive here.”

  “Gea Kul?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, lass. Was a much nicer, cleaner place a decade ago. Something foul’s touched it since, just as it’s touched every other place I hear of these days.”

  Kara carefully kept her expression neutral. As one of the faithful of Rathma, she knew well that dark powers had begun to spread over the world. The ransacking of Bartuc’s tomb only exemplified that fact. The necromancers feared that soon the world would slip out of the delicate balance it needed to maintain, that the tide would shift toward the Lords of Hell.

  That demons already walked the world again.

  Captain Jeronnan had been talking while she had considered all of this and so Kara had missed his past few words. However, something at the end caught her attention, so much so that she had to blurt, “What?”

  By now his face had turned grim, so very grim. “Aye, that’s what happened, all right! Two years we lived here, happy as could be possible; then one night I hear her scream from her room, a place no man could get without passing me first! Smashed through her door, I did—and found no trace of her. Her window remained locked, her closet I searched well, but she’d somehow vanished from a room with no other good exit.”

  Jeronnan had searched high and low for his daughter, several of the locals more than willing to join the hunt. For three days, he had looked and for three days he had failed . . . until one night, as he tried to sleep, the captain had heard his daughter calling to him.

  A cautious man despite his desperate hopes, he had taken with him the ceremonial blade awarded to him by his admiral. With it, the innkeeper had gone out into the wilds, following the call of his child. For more than an hour he had trekked through the woods and hills, seeking, searching . . .

  Finally, near a crooked tree, he had caught sight of his beloved Terania. The girl, her skin so oddly pale—even more so than Kara’s—had stood waiting for her father with arms outstretched.

  She had called out to him again and Jeronnan had, of course, responded. Sword in one hand, he had taken his daughter close—

  Her fangs had nearly ripped out his throat.

  Captain Jeronnan had sailed the world, had seen many a marvelous and disturbing thing, had fought pirates and villains in the name of his masters, but no experience in his life had meant more to him than raising his only child.

  And nothing had ripped at his soul more than running the creature she had become through the heart.

  “It hangs downstairs,” he muttered, finishing. “A fine piece of craftsmanship and designed to be practical, too.” Almost as an afterthought, the captain added, “Plated in silver or else I’d not be here with you today.”

  “What happened to her?” Kara knew such tales, but the causes varied.

  “The damned thing is, I never found out! Finally managed to push it to the back of my mind until you vanished. Feared that it had come back for you!” A daring tear escaped his eyes. “I still hear her cries . . . both the one when she vanished and the one when I slew her.”

  Jeronnan’s unknown horror had not stalked Kara, but the two undead tomb robbers had certainly been waiting, which drew her at last back to her own immediate situation. “Forgive me, captain, for sounding so uncaring about your great loss, but can you tell me if any ships departed during the time I was lost?”

  Kara’s question caught the grieving man off guard for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Only ship that’s sailed off so far has been the Hawksfire, a cursed vessel if I’ve ever seen one! Surprised it hasn’t sunk yet.”

  Only a single ship had departed. It had to be the one she wanted. “Where was it heading?”

  “Lut Gholein. It always sails to Lut Gholein.”

  She knew the name. A prospering kingdom on the western side of the Twin Seas, a place where merchants from all over the world bought and sold.

  Lut Gholein. The Vizjerei and his grinning friend had trekked all the way here from the tomb, moving at a pace only those who felt no exhaustion could maintain. They had specifically come to Gea Kul, whose only good purpose served as a point by which to reach other realms. But why?

  There could be only one reason. They pursued the remaining members of their party, the ones who also carried with them Bartuc’s armor. Kara suspected that might be only one man, but she had to keep in mind the possibility of more in mind.

  So this Hawksfire carried either the survivors or the revenants. If the latter, the pair would have to have secreted themselves carefully in order to avoid detection, but she had heard tales of the undead doing whatever they needed while pursuing their victims. Crossing the sea would be difficult, but not impossible.

  Lut Gholein. It might yet be only another brief stop, but at least Kara had a particular destination.

  “Captain, when is the next ship sailing there?”

  “Lass, you’re barely able to sit up, much less—”

  Silver eyes fixed unblinking at him. “When?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Not for a time. Maybe a week, maybe more.”

  Much too late. By then, both the revenants and those they pursued would be long gone, the armor with them. Even more important than her dagger remained the fact that the bloody warlord’s suit moved about. The enchantments within would certainly call out to the ambitious, the evil.

  Even those not necessarily h
uman.

  “I have funds. Can you recommend a ship I could hire?”

  Jeronnan eyed her for a moment. “This is that important?”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  With a sigh, the innkeeper replied, “There’s a small but sleek vessel, the King’s Shield, near the northernmost end of the port. She can sail at any time. Just need a day or two to gather the crew and supplies together.”

  “Do you think you can convince the owner to hear me out?”

  This caused Jeronnan to laugh hard. “No need to worry about that, milady! He’s a man who used to follow many a cause, so long as it was a good one!”

  Her hopes rose. Already she felt nearly well enough to travel. The Hawksfire had a few days head start, but with a good ship, Kara might be able to arrive in Lut Gholein in but a short time after. Her unique skills, combined with a few careful questions, should enable her to follow the trail from there.

  “I need to talk with him. I must be able to leave by tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow morn—”

  Again she gave him that gaze. Kara regretted pushing, but more than her health and the patience of this other captain were at stake. “It must be so.”

  “All right.” He shook his head. “I’ll get everything ready. We’ll set sail in the morning.”

  Kara was touched by his sudden offer. “It is more than enough that you can convince the King’s Shield’ s captain to take this journey, but you need not tear yourself from your beloved inn! This is no longer your concern.”

  “I don’t like when my guests are nearly killed . . . or worse, lass. Besides, I’ve been too long on dry land! Be good to feel the sea again!” He leaned nearer, giving her a smile. “And as for convincing the captain, I don’t think you understand me yet, enchantress! I’m owner of that fine vessel and by all that’s holy, I’ll see that she sets sail in the morning—or I promise you that there’ll truly be hell to pay!”

  As he hurried off to see to arrangements, Kara slumped down, caught by his last words. Hell to pay?

  Captain Hanos Jeronnan had no idea just how fateful his oath just might end up being.

  Seven

  “My men grow restive and I can truly understand their positions, Galeona. Greatness beckons and we have sat here on the edge of the desert!” “ ’Twas by your command that we remained yet longer, my dear Augustus.”

  He towered over her. “Because you said that soon we would better know the location of Bartuc’s armor! We would soon know where this fool brings it!” Malevolyn seized her hair, pulling her up until their faces nearly touched. “Find him, my darling. Find him—or I may have to find myself mourning your passing!”

  She let him see no fear. Those who showed fear to the general became much reduced in his eyes, nevermore respected, forever expendable. Galeona had worked long and hard to make certain that she remained invaluable and she would not let that change now.

  “I will see what I can do, but it must be accomplished without you this time.”

  He frowned. “You always required my presence in the past. Why the change now?”

  “Because what I must do will require me to delve deeper than I ever have before . . . and if for any reason I am disturbed at the wrong point, not only will it kill me, but it may also perhaps slay anyone nearby.”

  This clearly impressed even the general. Brow raised, he nodded. “Very well. Is there anything you require of it?”

  A voice suddenly spoke in Galeona’s head. There must be . . . some sacrifice.

  The sorceress smiled, wrapping one arm around Malevolyn and putting her lips to his. As she pulled away from the kiss, she absently asked, “Who’s failed you most of late, my love?”

  His mouth set into a straight edge, unyielding and unforgiving. “Captain Tolos has proven something of a disappointment of late. I think his dedication is slipping.”

  Her hand stroked Malevolyn’s cheek. “Then perhaps I can make him more useful to you.”

  “I understand. I’ll send him to you immediately. Just give me results.”

  “I think you’ll be pleased.”

  “We shall see.”

  General Malevolyn marched out of the tent. Galeona immediately turned to the shadows, one in particular. “You think it’ll be enough?”

  “This one can only try,” replied Xazax. The shadow separated from the others, moving nearer. Part of the shadow crossed over the sorceress’s foot, sending a sensation like approaching death through her.

  “I must find him this time! You see how impatient the general gets!”

  “This one has waited much longer than the mortal,” chittered the shade. “This one desires the finding far more than even him.”

  They both heard footsteps outside her tent. Xazax’s silhouette immediately sank back into the rest of the shadows. Galeona brushed back her hair, then adjusted her arresting garments for best viewing.

  “You may enter,” she cooed.

  A young officer, his helm in the crook of his arm, entered. Red-haired, with a slight beard and eyes too innocent, he looked like a lamb coming to the slaughter. Galeona remembered his face and the interesting notions that had crossed her mind more than once. “Come closer, Captain Tolos.”

  “The general sent me,” the officer returned in a voice that held just a hint of uncertainty. No doubt he knew well of the sorceress’s reputation . . . not to mention her appetites. “He said you had a task for me.”

  She went to the table where she kept wine for the general, pouring Tolos a cup of the finest. Galeona held it up for him to see, beckoning the man to come to her. Like a fish to the lure, he did just that, his expression still confused.

  Pressing the cup into his hand, Galeona led it to his mouth. At the same time, her other hand followed the course of his body, which further increased his anxiety.

  “Lady Galeona,” Tolos stammered. “the general sent me here for a purpose. It would not do for him to discover—”

  “Hush . . .” She pushed the drink to his lips, making him sip. The fiery-tressed soldier swallowed once, twice, before the enchantress lowered the cup again. With her free hand, she brought his lips to hers, keeping them there long. He hesitated for the first few seconds, then pressed hard, lost in her charms.

  Enough of frail pleasures, came the demon’s voice in her head. We have work to do . . .

  Behind the enamored officer, the shadow grew, solidified. A sound akin to a dying swarm of flies arose, enough of a noise to finally snap Captain Tolos from the enchantment Galeona had woven over him. The light of the oil lamp let part of a new shadow cross his field of vision, a shadow shaped like nothing human.

  Tolos pushed her away, then sought his sword as he turned to face his supposed assassin. “You’ll not take me so—”

  Whatever words he planned failed him. Captain Tolos gaped, his skin turning completely white. His fingers still fumbled for the sword, but the overwhelming fear enveloping him made his hand shake so much that he could not maintain any grip on the hilt.

  And looming before him, the demon Xazax surely represented a sight capable of instilling such horrific fear. More than seven feet in height, Xazax resembled most a praying mantis, but a mantis as only Hell could create. A mad mix of emerald and crimson colored a body upon which pulsated great golden veins. The head of the demon looked as if someone had peeled off the outer shell of the insect, seeking the equivalent of a skull beneath. Oversized, yellow pupilless orbs stared down at the puny mortal and mandibles wider than a soldier’s head—with smaller yet equally savage ones nearer the actual mouth—opened and closed with terrible eagerness. Astench like decaying vegetation pervaded the area surrounding the monstrous creature and even began permeating the tent.

  The middle appendages, skeletal arms with three-fingered claws, reached out with lightning speed, dragging the petrified officer near. Tolos finally tried to scream, but the demon spat first, covering his victim’s face with a soft, sticky substance.

  Xazax’s main a
ppendages rose high, two jagged scythes ending in needlelike points.

  He thrust both lances through the breast plate of the unfortunate officer, skewering Tolos like a fish.

  The body quivered violently, something that seemed to amuse Xazax greatly. Tolos’s hands feebly clawed at both his chest and his face, succeeding in freeing neither.

  Galeona frowned at the sight, trying to cover her own dread of the demon’s physical presence with anger and sarcasm. “If you’re done playing, we do have work to do.”

  Xazax let the still-quivering body slide free. Tolos dropped to the ground, his blood-soaked carcass splayed out like some stringless marionette. The hellish mantis prodded the officer’s corpse toward her. “Of course.”

  “I’ll draw the patterns. You be ready to channel.”

  “This one will be prepared, make no mistake about it, human Galeona.”

  Touching Tolos’s chest, the witch began to shape the patterns needed. She drew first a series of concentric circles, afterwards placing a pentagram in the midst of the largest. Galeona then traced in crimson both the marks of summoning and the wards that would protect her and even Xazax from being overwhelmed by the forces of the spell.

  After a few minutes’ work, Galeona had everything prepared. The sorceress glanced up at her demonic companion.

  “This one is ready, as promised,” came the raspy reply to her unspoken question.

  The mantis approached, his scythelike arms reaching out to touch the center of Galeona’s main pattern. A sound that grated the sorceress’s ears erupted from Xazax, the demon speaking in a tongue with no earthly origins. She gave thanks that her protective spells kept anyone outside from hearing the creature’s unholy voice.

  The tent began to shake. A wind arose inside, one that lifted Galeona’s hair and blew it back. The oil lamp flickered, at last dousing, but another light, a dank, poisongreen aura, emerged from the blood-soaked chest of the dead soldier.

  Xazax continued muttering in his demonic tongue, at the same time the mantis drawing new variations in the crimson pattern. Galeona felt forces both natural and hellish come forth, then mix in a combination otherwise impossible in the real world.