lidded, an empty smile on his lips.
I have chosen you among thousands, the Voice continued, honeyed and insistent. You for your strength and physical courage, Lord Verminaard, and you, Lord Aglaca, for your inventiveness and grace.
The mace deepened in color and intensity of light until its green darkened to blood purple, to black, then to a color beyond black itself, until all that seemed to remain was its outline, its shadow against the dark of the cave walls a silhouette darker still.
And though both of you are worthy indeed… oh, indeed worthy, the Voice continued, and though I could offer both of you the lineaments of your fondest desire…
As the words tumbled forth from the light and embraced them, Aglaca saw the walls of Castle East Borders in the glowing head of the mace. For a moment, it seemed that the great eastern gate of the castle, in one corner of which he had carved his name when he first learned to write, was opening slowly, and someone, his craggy, thin face bathed in a pure and simple light, stood open-armed in the gateway.
Aglaca blinked. His eyes smarted, and for a moment, tears blurred his sight.
But Verminaard saw clearly, coldly, a different vision- a castle, its battlements ablaze, its towers crumbling. Above it, he flew on the back of… he could not tell what it was, but it was enormous, its broad shoulders thick and striated with powerful muscles. All around him, the sky was darkened by the sweep of black wings. The sunlight dimmed, and he knew that the destruction below him, the crushed and defenseless fortress, was the work of his own hand and heart and will, and he delighted in its fierce, magnificent ruin.
I ask for only one of you. Which of you has the courage to seize the night? the voice prodded, taunted.
Verminaard smiled triumphantly. He had seen enough. He looked over his shoulder at Aglaca, who stood protectively between Judyth and the glowing rocks.
'Don't do it, Verminaard,' Aglaca urged, painfully fighting his own temptations. 'If you choose this, you'll forget that you can ever choose again.'
For you there is power, Lord Verminaard, and rule to be wrested in strength and violence. And there is the bridal of blood and night, the nuptials of your willing soul.
If you choose this, you will not need to choose again, for men will fall before you, and the fortresses of men.
'There are snares in that voice,' Aglaca cautioned.
'So be it,' Verminaard declared, lunging assuredly for the mace. 'My power will free me from all snares.'
'No!' Aglaca cried.
'Go home, little boy,' Verminaard hissed, and grasped the handle of the mace.
Its dark fire coursed up Verminaard's clutching hand, raced through his wrist and forearm in rivulets of purple flame. Judyth's careful stitching burst apart on his arm, and the blood trickled forth, 'steaming and boiling on the charged surface of his skin. Verminaard writhed in the pulsing flames, his grimace turning slowly to a dark, unholy leer as he broke the mace free.
Aglaca shouted and sprang toward Verminaard, but Judyth's strong grip held him back.
'There's nothing you can do,' she urged. 'He's in the hands of a goddess.'
Slowly, reluctantly, the two backtracked to the mouth of the cave, where they stood shaking in the hushed night air, listening helplessly to the cries and shouts of the young man who tangled in the depths of the earth with stone and fire and absolute shadow.
Alone with the goddess, Verminaard gritted his teeth, exulting in the pain. His whole body bristled with glittering fire, and sparks scattered from his hair and fingers. The Voice returned, soothing and soft, motherly and yet uncomfortably seductive and strange, singing to him the last verse of the song that had drawn him here, the love song and dirge and lullaby wrapped in an intricate bewildering melody:
And, love, what heat your frail skin hides, As pure as salt, as sweet as death, And in the dark the red moon rides The foxfire of your breath.
And still Verminaard held on, marshaling the sum of his despair and his anger to cling to the weapon as it jolted and blistered him, as it staggered him until he grasped it mainly to keep his balance, to keep from falling to where he would never, never rise again.
Then at last it was over.
You will do, the Voice breathed, all seduction gone, after a long, abiding silence, answered only by the dying sputters of the stone mace and the sobs of the youth who had wrested it from the living stone. Yes, you will do…
All other covenants are broken, soothed the Voice. Bonds of family, blood, friendship, or oath… all of your bonds.
Save for those with me.
'Aglaca,' Verminaard whispered. 'What of Aglaca?'
You must use him. Then you can destroy him. I shall reveal to you how and when.
Oh, you will do, the Voice repeated, again hypnotic and soft.
Oh, I will do, Verminaard's thoughts sang in response. I will more than do…
For I choose you as well, Takhisis.
'Let's go from here now, Aglaca,' Judyth urged. 'Leave him be.'
The young Solamnic shook his head.
They stood together at the bottom of the mountain trail, glancing nervously up into the rocks, where the shouting and rumbling had died into a menacing silence.
'Come away,' Judyth whispered. 'There are trails enough through the mountains. We can skirt Jelek and Daeghrefn's pursuit, ride through a little pass south of the ruins at Godshome, and be back in East Borders before the morrow. Home, Aglaca! I can guide you home!'
Aglaca glanced curiously at his new companion. 'You know the passes well, Judyth,' he observed, 'and the way to East Borders. For a western lass, you have a very eastern geography.'
Judyth flushed and looked away. 'Question your own bearings, Aglaca Dragonbane, for you're on the road to the Abyss itself if you keep that one company.'
She gestured disgustedly at the cave, and for a moment, an uncomfortable silence rose between them. The first cool winds of night passed over them, carrying the smell of smoke and the faint sound of shouting from the plains.
'I can't leave him, Judyth,' Aglaca explained. 'There's still the gebo-naud that binds us, and just because he'll break his part now doesn't mean that I can break my own-mine and my father's.'
'Silly Solamnic Measure-wrangling,' the girl muttered. 'You'll honor yourself to death, Aglaca.'
'Oh, I know exactly what will come to pass now,' Aglaca replied. 'He'll be changed… changed for good. We both heard the Voice when Verminaard took the mace. He's with her now, whoever she is, and I've more than a suspicion she'll swallow him whole and try to kill me in the bargain.'
'Then go west,' Judyth insisted.
'It isn't that easy. There's blood between us. Verminaard is my brother.'
'Your brother!' Judyth exlaimed. 'But he couldn't be! You couldn't… though you do have the same features… but, no, Laca…'
Aglaca's eyes narrowed. What did she know of his father?
'B-Besides,' Judyth stammered quickly, 'how can you be sure?'
'My surety is that I know it,' Aglaca declared. 'As well as I know he has taken the Dark Gods to him and that I shall never hear that Voice again. Perhaps he's taken the Dark Queen herself, but he can still choose to… to set her aside.'
Judyth glanced at Aglaca skeptically.
'He's my brother, Judyth,' Aglaca insisted. 'And I am all he has, though he doesn't know it.'
'Not anymore,' the girl whispered, and pointed toward the mouth of the cave, where a dark, hulking shape emerged into the night air.
Verminaard shielded his eyes against the moonlight. The entrance of the cave seemed unbearably bright, as though he had walked from midnight into the fullness of noonday.
Hand in hand, Judyth and Aglaca stood waiting, their faces turned toward him, eyes wide in consternation and dread. For a moment, he thought that he was taller, older… somehow terrifying with the dark weapon in his
