Diablo: Moon of the Spider

by Richard A. Knaak

  Clutching a nearby trunk, Zayl turned from the still form. How much farther he could manage he did not know, but he had to keep going. Somehow, he would reach Westmarch. There was no choice.

  From behind him, there came a long, deep grunt and the shifting of rubble.

  Zayl looked over his shoulder and beheld the wendigo rising like a dark phoenix from its ashes. It shook its head as it stood, and although the Rathmian could not see the eyes, he felt them fix on his.

  Gritting his teeth, the necromancer propped himself up against the tree. He raised the dagger, but at first his mind was too unfocused for him to cast a spell.

  The furred giant weaved uncertainly. Zayl marveled that it even lived, much less could stand and walk. If lightning could not stop the beast, what force could?

  The wendigo stumbled, then fell to one knee. It paused there, its heavy breathing yet another sign that the lightning had indeed done it great damage. The necromancer grew calmer; now more than a dozen spells came to mind that would rid him of his monstrous foe.

  However, the wendigo then did a strange thing, an act so extraordinarily different from what Zayl would have expected of it that the spellcaster lowered his dagger and stared.

  The forest denizen looked at him … and stretched out both hands in what was clearly a beseeching gesture.

  The wendigo—the fearsome creature who had just sought his blood and flesh—now wanted his help.

  TWELVE

  “This isn’t a wise idea,” muttered Humbart from the pouch.

  Salene tapped the sack. “Hush! The guards will hear you.”

  She stepped up to the two men at attention near the doors to Torion’s office. They were the fourth such set that she had confronted since arriving. The time the noblewoman had been forced to expend at each juncture had driven her to the point of fury. Somehow, Salene was certain that the general’s and Zayl’s paths had crossed again, just as the nameless mercenary had suggested. If so, every moment counted, for surely Torion would not treat the necromancer well.

  “I am the Lady Salene Nesardo,” she declared imperiously. “Kindly inform General Torion that I would have a word with him. Now, please.”

  Both men clearly recognized her. The senior guard bowed his head, saying, “I will relate your message to the general’s adjutant.”

  A minute later, a young, dark-haired officer with a long nose and pointed chin stepped out. He gave Salene a gracious bow. “My Lady Nesardo! This is an unexpected pleasure!”

  “Thank you, Alec. Please lead me to Torion, if you will. I must speak with him urgently.”

  The adjutant’s expression soured. “My lady, now would not be a good time. There are matters about at the moment that have demanded his immediate attention and I can’t say when that might change. You see—”

  Salene knew that if she let him, Alec would go on and on with his explanation. It was the method by which he deterred inopportune visitors, for most eventually tired of the barrage of words and agreed to come back at the general’s convenience, not theirs. She had witnessed him use it on others, but never before on her, a favorite of his commander.

  Steeling herself, the noblewoman cut into his reply. “I understand how busy Torion is, but I think that he’ll want to see me, Alec. I can promise you that.”

  “But, Lady Nesardo—,” the adjutant began, clearly aware that here was one person who would not so easily be swayed.

  They were both saved from further sparring by none other than General Torion himself. The veteran officer, the collar of his uniform undone and his sweeping hair somewhat disarrayed, came not from his office, but from the hall down which Salene had only minutes before walked.

  “Pardon, my lady!” rumbled Torion, sweeping past Salene without realizing who she was. “Captain Mattheus! I need you to—” He blinked, then glanced over his shoulder at her. “My Lady Nesardo!”

  The noblewoman kept her expression masked. “General …”

  “Well, that deals with one matter I had for you, captain. As for the other, I want you to send word to the Guard commander on duty. Have him send a force to House Nesardo. Better yet, you lead the force yourself—”

  “Torion!” Salene’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean to do? Soldiers in my home?”

  Ignoring her outburst, the general continued, “The men are to treat the home with the utmost respect, but also are commanded to search every room. I want it verified that he is not hiding there.” As an afterthought, he pointed at the two sentries. “Take these two with you. I’d like to speak to the Lady Nesardo alone.”

  Alec Mattheus gave Torion a crisp salute. “Yes, sir! Come along, you pair!”

  As the trio marched off, Salene’s longtime suitor finally focused his full attention on her. “I was going to send an escort to your house, too. One for you, specifically.”

  “Me? Why?”

  His voice softened slightly. “To make sure that you were not there during the search. I am trying to protect you! Salene, I warned you about that grave desecrator! Now he’s added murder of the most heinous sort to his deeds! I’ve not seen such butchery even on the field of battle! The guard was an innocent!”

  Her fears heightened. He could only be talking about something concerning Zayl. “Torion! What’s happened?”

  “Your friend the necromancer was brought in by the City Guard just barely before the Zakarum’s elite got ahold of him. There was a claim that he was trying to cast a spell over the crowd at a tavern, then used his powers on the Church’s faithful. How much of that was true, I didn’t care at the time—”

  “So you had him arrested and thrown in a cell?”

  He looked offended. “Would you have preferred him to be purified by the Church? In retrospect, I wish I’d let them have him! I tried my best for him because of you, Salene, and a good man’s been slaughtered because of it—not to mention that somehow that damned sorcerer’s escaped from the inescapable! Salene, the guard was literally torn to pieces!”

  Dismayed by that but still secretly relieved that the necromancer was not a prisoner, Salene thrust a finger at the soldier’s armored chest. “Zayl is no murderer, Torion! He’s only done what he could for me, and nearly died because of it! He’s a good man, one I trust—”

  “He’s beguiled you! I warned you of him! The Zakarum are already asking about you, you know. If I can give them Zayl, then I think they’ll turn a blind eye to you.” He shook his head. “Just when I thought that matters were changing for the better, with the king finally acting like a man …”

  Ignoring his change of subject, the red-haired woman turned away. If Zayl was not here, then it stood to reason that he would return to her home … which meant that she somehow had to go there, too, before the men Torion had just dispatched arrived.

  A heavy hand tightened on her arm. “I wouldn’t suggest going right now, Salene. I must insist, in fact—”

  But the veteran commander got no further, for Salene, reacting instinctively, put her own hand on his—and General Torion froze in mid-speech.

  “Torion?” She peered up into the man’s eyes. They stared blankly at Salene, neither shifting nor blinking.

  A shiver ran through her. Peeling his fingers from her, she backed up. The general remained as he had been, his one arm stretched out, his fingers clutching empty air.

  The noblewoman touched the hand again. It felt warm. She leaned close to his chest, but could not detect any breathing.

  “Oh, Torion! What have I done to you?”

  “What’s the matter, lass?”

  At first Salene thought that the general had somehow managed to speak, but then she recalled Humbart in the pouch. “It—it’s Torion! He stands as if a statue!”

  The hidden skull unleashed a low-spoken but very effusive epithet, then added, “Thought something went awry! Heard him send the others away, so I took a chance to speak! Does he look pale, pasty?”

  “No … he just looks like Torion … only completely still! I can’t detect any
breathing—I’ve killed him!”

  “Not so! Not so!” interjected Humbart quickly. “Seen the like before. Probably just temporarily frozen in place. ’Tis like he’s sleeping … really deep.”

  Such sleep, Salene had seen only with the dead. She shook her head. “No! I’ve slain him!”

  “Nay! You’ve got the gift of sorcery—we’ve seen that already—and it’s coming to the forefront! He’s only asleep! Likely it’ll wear off soon!”

  She hoped and prayed that he was telling the truth. “Is there … is there anything I can do?”

  The skull gave a grunt. “I can’t tell you what to do in that respect, my lady, but me, I’d be chasing after Zayl, I would. The lad’s my friend.”

  Salene did not hesitate. With a last sorrowful glance at Torion, she hurried away. Fortunately, the only guards she came across were those who had already allowed her to pass by. Unaware of what had just happened, they bowed their heads to the noblewoman but did not slow her departure.

  Retrieving her mount, Salene turned back to House Nesardo. The weather remained foul, but she barely noticed it, so intent was she upon reaching home before Captain Mattheus and the searchers. Her one hope was that it took the adjutant a little bit of time to arrange his departure for House Nesardo. Still, every second counted.

  It seemed an eternity before she reached the gates, but, to her relief, there was no sign of the soldiers. Her own guard saluted her, then quickly let her through.

  “There will be a party of soldiers arriving shortly,” she informed him.

  “My lady?” Although his tone was that of a question, his eyes betrayed his suspicion as to whom they sought.

  “Please delay them as long as you can without causing harm to yourself … please.”

  It was a credit to the loyalty that she stirred in her servants that the man immediately nodded. “You can depend on me, my lady.”

  With a nod of thanks, Salene rode on to the house itself. She left the horse near the front, then leapt up the steps. The pouch carrying Humbart bounced madly at her side.

  The door swung open as she reached for it. Salene jerked back out of surprise, then felt the pouch containing the skull slipping loose. She caught the sack just as the strings holding it to her belt came completely undone, then glanced up at the figure in the doorway.

  “I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” remarked a surly Sardak.

  “I—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. Zayl. You slipped out even though I was listening for you! By the time I knew what had happened, you were gone into the night! I almost followed after, but I was afraid we’d miss each other—”

  Holding the pouch in one hand, she pushed past him. “I’ve no time for this! They could be here at any moment! Where is he? In his room?”

  “Who? The necromancer? I’ve not seen a sign of him and I’ve been in the sitting room, at this point waiting for either one of you.”

  Zayl was not here? Salene tried to think. She had been so certain that he would come here. To her.

  Then, the noblewoman recalled the tragic scene that Torion had described. Although she was certain that Zayl had not been responsible, clearly something had taken place—and the necromancer would have been caught in the heart of it.

  At that moment, both siblings heard shouts from the gates. Sardak swung the door shut. “Friends of yours?”

  “Captain Mattheus and a squad of guards. They’re here to search for Zayl.”

  “Well, he’s not here, but they’ll search anyway. What do you suggest we do, sister? Just let them go ahead? Seems reasonable.”

  She suddenly thought of Torion. If the adjutant met her here, he would wonder why she had so quickly returned—and also how she had managed to slip free of his commanding officer in the first place. “It might be best if I wasn’t found here, Sardak. Don’t ask me why …”

  His brow arched. “And to think I always considered myself the reckless one. How you’ve changed, Salene …” He frowned. “But you can’t very well hide from them. Torion’s lapdog is nothing if not efficient. He’ll peek in every nook and cranny, that one will.”

  Her mind raced. There was only one place she could imagine him not entering. “Then, I’ll hide in the crypts.”

  Humbart started a muffled protest, but a stunned Sardak cut him off. “You’re not serious! After what you described? Better to face the captain! What could you have possibly done that would make you even consider that place?”

  “I can’t tell you!” She started toward the back of the house, Sardak following. “Besides, I’m not going to go all the way down. Just to the stairs. There are some alcoves. I can wait there.”

  “He might go down there, Salene.”

  “No. It would be considered sacrilege. It’s one thing to search the house and even the ancient dungeons, but another to disturb the rest of the ancestors of one of the oldest houses in Westmarch. He’ll have to go back to the general for permission … and that will buy us some time to think.”

  Sardak shook his head. “I am just dying to know what terrible thing you’ve done.”

  “Later, Sardak …”

  He guided her to the entrance, but the noblewoman stopped him from coming any farther. “I leave it to you to deal with them,” Salene murmured. “Please, for me, don’t—”

  “Don’t fail? Fear not, I won’t let you down.”

  “That was not what I was going to say.” Salene touched his cheek. “I know you’ll do just fine. You always do. What I don’t want you to do is risk yourself unnecessarily.”

  “But that’s what I do best,” he replied with a grin. Then his grin faded some as a sound from the front of the house reached them. “Best you go now. I’ll deal right with them. You won’t have to worry.”

  With a last grateful glance, the noblewoman descended. The painful memories buried in the old cells stirred as she entered the area, but, as Salene had done since childhood, she forced them from her attention.

  At last, Salene reached the crypt door. There, she paused, struck by the sudden recollection that she had left her horse in front of the house.

  Salene cursed herself for a fool, but the situation could not be helped. It was too late to go back, she told herself, and besides, Alec Mattheus might not even recognize her mount. Perhaps Sardak would be able to salvage the matter simply by saying that it was his.

  Perhaps …

  It was all too much. Salene knew that she should just go back and face the captain. Before long, Torion would be discovered and all would recall who had been the last to see him. At least if the general’s men took her into custody, she would not have to fear an inquisition by the Church.

  But then Sardak would be left with no one to take care of him … and there would be no hope at all of saving Zayl.

  If he was even still alive.

  The door to the crypt proved impossible to open with only one hand. Salene put Humbart’s pouch on the floor and began struggling with the handle. The skull remained silent, clearly aware that even the slightest sound might be heard by the men in the house.

  As she pulled, she thought again of Zayl. Had the same monstrous force that had attacked them below succeeded in taking him from the cell? If so, it seemed—as even the habitually reckless Sardak had pointed out—folly to now enter the ancient chamber.

  But there truly was nowhere else to hide that Torion’s adjutant would not search. The very thorough Captain Mattheus would journey all the way down into the old dungeons—but he would not go farther, not even if he suspected that there was someone in the crypts. That definitely required permission.

  Or so she kept hoping.

  To her dismay, voices suddenly could be heard above. Eyes fixed on the corridor behind her, Salene gave the door another harsh tug.

  With a creak, it opened just enough for her to slip inside.

  The voices grew louder, more strident. They seemed to be nearing her. As quickly as she could, the anxious noblewoman entered, then pulled. With a much
too loud groan, the door shut behind her.

  The instant it did, Salene was struck by an uneasy sense that she was not alone in the crypt. She stared down the darkened steps, certain that she saw movement.

  A voice just outside made her start. How had the soldiers gotten to the crypt so quickly? Salene stepped away from the entrance, surprised that the search had already drawn so close. Had they forced the truth out of Sardak? Surely the captain would not go that far!

  Not certain what else to do, Salene descended several steps to one of the alcoves that she had mentioned to her brother. Falling back into it, the Lady Nesardo waited for the soldiers to either enter, despite the sacred restrictions, or to continue on elsewhere.

  The sense that she was not alone swept over her again. Salene shivered, caught between desire not to be discovered and her memories of her last visit here.

  If I only had light, Salene thought as she pressed herself flat against the stone. Just a little light. Something Alec’s men wouldn’t notice if they’re near the door—

  A small blue glow formed before her.

  Salene let out a short gasp. Fearing that she had been heard, the noblewoman waited for the door to swing open and soldiers to come rushing inside.

  But the door remained shut. As she waited, Salene continued to stare at the astounding glow. For some reason, it comforted more than frightened her. Salene gave it some thought and finally realized that she was the cause of it. She had asked for a light, and it had formed.

  Fascinated, the noblewoman reached out to it. It was slightly warm to the touch, but in a pleasant way. Curiously, at the same time, her general sense of unease concerning the crypts was fading away.

  Salene glanced at the door. The voice had ceased. She exhaled, her pulse finally slowly to something akin to normal—

  Suddenly a movement at the bottom of the steps caught her attention.

  She stared. At the very edge of the glow, Salene made out the silhouette of a hulking figure. A hulking figure she would have known anywhere.