And pulled them free a moment later bearing a silver glow in their grip. The shrieking specter immediately returned to the wendigo’s body, then dropped through it into the realm of the dead.
Along with it, it took Karybdus’s soul.
Or had it? Even as Salene ran to Zayl, the gray-haired spellcaster—who had appeared ready to collapse—straightened again. Ashen-faced but still menacing, Karybdus rasped, “A bit…of soul…lost…is not so burdensome as you…might think, young Zayl…. Over the years, I have lost some before, but I have…always replaced it…” He raised a hand toward the running Salene. “From those who truly no longer need it…”
“Salene!” Zayl shouted. “Watch out!”
His own reactions too slow, Zayl feared the worst for her. Yet, as Karybdus gestured and the Talon of Trag’Oul formed, Salene suddenly vanished. The bone spear instead struck the wall beyond, with such intensity that the entire chamber shook and chunks of ancient mortar came crashing down. A chain reaction started, huge cracks quickly running all the way back to where Karybdus stood.
As for Salene, she now stood next to a distracted Karybdus, in her hand a weapon of which Zayl was all too familiar.
The sacrificial dagger used on Sardak.
“For my brother!” the Lady Nesardo cried.
She started to plunge the heinous blade into the back of Karybdus’s neck, only to have his monstrous familiar leap out from the confines of the cape. As the spider tried to bite her, Salene defended herself and slew it.
But from Karybdus’s reaction, she might have indeed plunged the dagger into him. He let out an uncharacteristic cry and shoved her back. As his familiar tumbled into his arms, the stricken necromancer knelt to the floor and began frantically trying to heal the gaping wound.
A shaken Salene materialized by Zayl. Helping him to his feet, she stared at the necromancer with red eyes.
“Zayl, I—”
“Never mind!” He pulled her back just as another servant leapt at them. Zayl held high his dagger, its light blinding the creature in mid-leap. It collided with the stone altar and before it could recover, the necromancer stabbed it through the parasite atop the head. That done, Zayl held the dagger to his lips, then muttered. Around them suddenly formed a large barrier of bone, against which the other servants battered themselves to no avail.
Taking a deep breath, the Rathmian continued, “We must deal with Astrogha! Before time runs out for all of us!”
She looked at the monstrous transformation and shook her head, unable to utter any answer. Zayl understood exactly how she felt, for the demon’s work was nearly done. The sac had swollen to twice the height of a wendigo and more than that in width. Within it and partially silhouetted by the sourceless glow, something that was no longer Aldric Jitan stretched and shaped. It had some semblance to the mutated servants, yet was clearly more foul. There were eight limbs and an overall appearance akin to an arachnid, but with some touches in the shape that were more human. A huge, bulbous head sat atop, one with large clusters of eyes evident. Movement at the front of the head marked what was surely a pair of mandibles. Through the webbing, coarse black hair—the demon’s coat—thrust out in many places.
Zayl eyed the ceiling. He sensed that the Moon of the Spider had nearly reached its conclusion and that the shadow would soon vanish. If that happened and nothing had been done to stop Astrogha, then the demon would complete his transformation and walk the world in his true form, with all his powers at their peak.
If that happened, there would surely be no hope for Westmarch, and perhaps for the rest of the Western Kingdoms.
But what could Zayl do? He had failed at every turn to outwit Karybdus and the demon, and in rescuing Salene had only given them Sardak to use as a sacrifice instead—
Of course! the Rathmian abruptly thought. It is all in the blood!
He spun toward Salene. “Listen to me and forgive me for what I ask, my lady! There is but one hope to cast Astrogha out before he is completely a part of this plane! Your blood—”
“My what?”
“Be at ease! We need not much! Not even that what we took in your house to summon Riordan! Only enough to tip red the point of the dagger you took! You are of the line of Astrogha! Your blood is that of two realms—”
Salene did not want to hear his words. “I am descended from that thing?”
“Only by the blood!” the Rathmian insisted. “There is no other link! Your heritage is human, of this plane, but the fact that you have that one link to the demon is not only his blessing, but his doom! What allows him to bind himself here can also sever that connection!”
A horrific, ripping sound filled the chamber. From within the sac, a frightful limb that ended in five clawed but human hands reached out, feeling the air.
The Lady Nesardo’s expression hardened. “What must I do?”
“Give me the dagger…and your wrist.”
She offered both freely. Zayl, with an apologetic expression, wiped clean the blade, then pricked her wrist.
Defying gravity, the blood flowed up the point. Zayl watched patiently, despite the constant assault by the monstrosities beyond the bone wall and Astrogha’s emergence.
“Done!” he finally announced. Whispering over the dagger’s edge, he watched in satisfaction as a dim, green glow covered both weapon and blood. He then handed the dagger back to Salene.
“Only you can do this. His bloodline, your blood, your hand. I apologize that it must be so—”
Wielding the dagger like an Amazon warrior, Salene replied, “Just tell me how to strike! I’ve lost too much because of that fiend!”
“The head. It must be the head. Between the eyes. There is little time.”
“Then, I should go, shouldn’t I?”
And even as Salene said it, she disappeared.
Zayl almost reached out to her, but knew he could change nothing. They were both very much aware that it was possible that, even assuming she succeeded, Salene would perish.
But the necromancer was determined to do what he could to prevent such from happening. His own blade held ready, he turned to Astrogha. Two more of the macabre limbs had freed themselves and now they tore off the webbing covering the demon’s face.
“Yesssss!” Astrogha hissed. “To my glory am I returned! The world shall my children devour!”
Salene materialized on his back. She thrust the blade in exactly where Zayl had said.
The demon howled in agony as the dagger readily slid in. He shook vehemently, and only because she held on to the hilt did Salene keep from falling to her death.
But, despite the necromancer’s calculations, Astrogha did not die. The Moon of the Spider had progressed too far for even this method to destroy the demon. He felt torment, certainly, but no more.
Clawed hands sought after the Lady Nesardo, tearing at her garments with fiendish abandon. Zayl realized that she was so distraught, she could not concentrate enough to teleport herself away.
“To me, Salene!” he shouted. “With the dagger! Hurry!”
The wall of bone suddenly shook, but not due to the efforts of Astrogha’s children.
Karybdus, his face white and contorted, stretched forth his hand toward his rival. The barrier shook again, this time pieces crumbling off. “I will…not permit you…to undo my years of effort! Poisoning the heir to the throne, manipulating that buffoon of a noble, and working on the weak mind of the new king…I will not permit it!”
The rest of the wall finally shattered…just as Salene appeared, falling into Zayl’s arms.
“It—it didn’t work, Zayl!”
“I know, but there is one more chance! You have the dagger?”
In response, she held up the weapon. In addition to her own blood, there was now on the tip a dark ichor that Zayl recognized as what passed for some demons’ life fluids. Despite the intensity with which Salene had buried the blade into Astrogha, there were only a few drops.
They would have to do. But there wa
s still the danger of the other necromancer.
“Salene! Whatever power you can throw at Karybdus, do it now! Hurry!”
He spoke none too soon, for the armored Rathmian was already casting. Salene unleashed a raw burst of fire in his direction.
Better prepared this time, Karybdus easily turned it away, ignoring the Children of Astrogha who perished in the flames simply because they stood in its new path. Still, it forced him to begin anew his spell, which was all Zayl asked.
As for the demon, all but one of his grotesque limbs was free. Shreds of Lord Jitan’s garments hung here and there and in the monstrous countenance of the arachnid Zayl could just make out vague features once belonging to the noble. The spider might not have gained Zayl’s learning and powers, but Aldric’s certainly augmented the Astrogha’s own. The arachnid was now far more formidable than when he had faced the Vizjerei.
With two limbs, the demon clutched the wound in its head. Black fire coursed from the area as Astrogha healed himself.
Yes, it was obviously too late to destroy the fiend, but Zayl no longer had that in mind.
Whispering his spell and drawing an oval shape with three crosses upon it, the necromancer touched the sacrificial dagger’s tip to his own and pointed both, not at Astrogha, but rather at the discarded remains of the demon’s former prison.
This is the place where the two realms are closest, where the boundaries are weakest, Zayl reminded himself as he concentrated. This is why the Vizjerei created the sphere here and why they attempted to destroy this temple afterward!
He heard a cry from Salene, but dared not break his concentration. It was now or never…
The shell that had been the Moon of the Spider opened like a flower…or perhaps a hungering mouth. The sphere swelled and as it did, Zayl felt a great wind arise. A wind rushing into the artifact.
“Whole I am again!” hissed the giant arachnid, not yet noticing what happened behind him. He eyed the necromancer. “Yours the first blood upon which I will sup!”
Four of the limbs darted toward the necromancer, and even then, Zayl did nothing but focus.
The clawing, grasping hands came within inches of his body—and could reach no farther. They struggled against an invisible but irresistible force.
“What is this?” demanded Astrogha.
“I am returning you to the only world you will ever rule, demon!” yelled the necromancer. “The only one you deserve!”
The gargantuan spider peered behind it…and for the first time, Zayl heard fear in the demon’s voice. “No! Not there! In there I will not go! Never again!”
“But you must! You have no choice!”
Within the swollen shell, a vast emptiness beckoned. The wind grew stronger. Zayl’s cloak flowed madly toward the artifact, but the Rathmian was able to stand his ground.
One of Jitan’s transformed servants was ripped from the wall to which it clung and went flying past both Zayl and the demon, vanishing into the shell. Another followed, then another. As the Children of Astrogha, they were cursed as the demon was and so had to share his fate.
However, then something else happened for which the Rathmian had not planned. On the ground near the altar, Sardak’s body shook as if suddenly alive. It slid slightly toward the direction of the shell, only to become caught between several large chunks of stone that had fallen from the ceiling.
The Nesardos, too, were bound to Astrogha, which meant that they were also in danger of being sucked into the orb.
Fearing for Salene, Zayl momentarily dared take his focus off his spell. Only then did he discover that, to his horror, she lay unmoving on the floor. Her body also sought to slide toward the sphere, but, like her brother’s, had momentarily become wedged.
The necromancer tried to reach her, only to be suddenly pulled toward the struggling Astrogha. The demon had managed to snag his leg. The small but vicious clawed hands tore at his garments, ripping through the skin in some places.
Leg nearly buckling, Zayl tore his dagger from the spellwork and slashed at the clutching hands.
Hissing, the demon released his hold. Astrogha now clung to the edges of the gigantic shell, desperately seeking purchase. He spat webbing Zayl’s way, but it landed short, draping over the altar. If the demon thought the heavy stone piece would save him, he was horribly mistaken. Instead, as the tension increased, the altar came loose. The demon’s efforts to pull himself toward it instead sent the altar flying at him like a catapult missile.
It struck the spider full in the torso. Astrogha’s grip failed. With a frantic hiss, the gigantic arachnid went spiraling into the blackness. “Nooo!” he cried. “Noooo…”
Astrogha vanished, but the orb continued to suck in all things bound to the arachnid. Behind him came the rest of his horrific children, each of the creatures scrambling for purchase they could not find.
Zayl felt even the sacrificial dagger seek to follow Astrogha into the shell, but the Rathmian needed it a few moments more. He had to be absolutely certain that the sphere would seal…
An armored forearm wrapped around his throat. In his ear, he heard Karybdus snarl, “You have ruined everything! The Balance may never be put even now! You blind fool!”
“The only one—blind—,” Zayl managed, twisting around so that the two faced one another, “—is you, Karybdus! Blind, to your madness, to your evil!”
The older necromancer paid his words no mind. “Give me the dagger! There is still time to remedy this!”
Few moments had there had been in his life when Zayl had felt true rage. The greatest was that day when his spell, needed to cast out the evil against which he and his parents fought, also destroyed by cleansing fire everyone but Zayl. That Zayl had survived—almost completely unscathed—had ignited an anger at himself with which he had fought for years afterward. He had even dared the unthinkable, trying to fully resurrect his parents and, in their place, give his soul to the realm of the dead. Only the work of his mentors had kept him from creating an even worse disaster and finally forced him to come to grips with the fact that he could not have changed what had happened to the only ones for whom he had ever deeply cared.
But if there was an anger approaching that, it was what Zayl now felt for Karybdus, whom he had once admired so greatly. Karybdus had made an abomination out of everything Zayl believed in. He had become what all outsiders feared the Rathmians were. Worse, at their feet lay a woman who had come to Zayl for help, a woman who had affected him in a manner unaccustomed. The thought that Salene was dead, dead at Karybdus’s hand, was the final impetus the younger necromancer needed.
“The dagger is yours, Karybdus!” he cried into the other’s face. “May the Dragon take you both!”
He thrust Astrogha’s blade into his adversary’s chest. Where nothing else had penetrated the enchanted armor, the demonic dagger—fueled by every last iota of Zayl’s magic and, even more, by his will—bore through the metal as if it were soft mud.
Karybdus gaped as the blade cut through his black, soul-lost heart.
Zayl spun him around, so that the gray-haired spellcaster’s back was to the closing shell.
“The Balance shall be maintained,” he whispered to Karybdus.
Zayl shoved his foe as hard as he could, releasing his grip on the dagger. Karybdus made a desperate but feeble grab at Zayl’s cloak…and failed.
With a wordless cry, the armored necromancer went hurtling after the spider demon and his fiendish get. Karybdus struck the gap just before it would have been too small to take him. He grasped at the edges, but with no more success than Astrogha. Karybdus was sucked inside.
His scream ended only when the Moon of the Spider at last sealed itself shut.
Spent, Zayl dropped to one knee. Around him, the temple, stressed far too much by the powerful forces in play, began collapsing. The necromancer paid it little mind, caught between his regret for Salene and the sinister orb. As the insidious lunar phase finally passed, the sphere suddenly began to shrink, rap
idly returning to its former state.
Zayl knew that he had to do one last thing. Even if the temple was falling apart, the Moon of the Spider could not remain here. It was too close to the weakness between the planes. Even the slightest risk that Astrogha might somehow free himself again could not be taken. And then there was Karybdus…
Zayl tried to rise and when that failed, forced himself to crawl. The orb, now no larger than when Aldric Jitan had wielded it, taunted him with its closeness, but more and more Zayl suspected that it would remain out of his reach. He could go no farther.
Then, a pair of powerful hands gripped him at the shoulders, lifting him as if he were a baby. Zayl could only imagine that the wendigo had somehow survived and now sought to aid him. He tried to thank the unseen forest dweller, but words proved past him.
At last, Zayl could touch the Moon. Clinging to it for support, he pressed his dagger against the side and uttered one last spell.
They came as shadows, all three. He had felt their distant presence since the first time he had come here. Little more than shadows, they were still clearly to him Vizjerei. Karybdus had done something upon entering this place to eradicate their threat, but even as only memories of men, they would do for Zayl.
Swallowing, he managed to say, “The…the Moon…take it! I command you to bury it at the bottom of the deepest point in the most obscure body of water possible, there never to be found by man, demon, or angel ever again!”
The middle of the three reached down and, with hands of smoke, took the Moon of the Spider into his vaporous arms.
It will be done, came a whisper in the necromancer’s ear. And gladly …
And with that, specters and orb disappeared.
Rolling onto his back, Zayl prepared to order the wendigo to take Salene’s body back to the gates of the city, so that she could at least have a proper burial. To his surprise, however, nothing stood above him. When he twisted his head to the side, it was to discover that the wendigo lay where last he had seen the furred giant. The wendigo had done nothing to help him; in fact, Zayl finally recalled that he had even summoned the brave creature’s spirit against Karybdus.
Diablo: Moon of the Spider Page 31