The raven-haired woman spoke for the first time. “Spare us your hypocrisy, Diran Bastiaan. In the process of determining whether Makala’s mind and spirit were strong enough to make her a suitable sacrifice, I learned all about you, priest. You are a killer at heart, a predator in cleric’s clothing. You may pretend that you slay those beings you deem ‘evil’ in order to protect the innocent… whoever they are, but deep down you’re no different from Erdis, Onkar, or me.” As she spoke, Jarlain began walking toward Diran, reaching out as if she wanted to take his hands in hers. “You kill because it’s your nature… because you’re good at it…” The woman was almost close enough to touch Diran now. “Most of all, because you love it.”
Diran wanted to deny Jarlain’s words, but how could he when at times he’d thought the very same thing himself?
Jarlain reached out to touch him, but before her hand could make contact, Ghaji stepped between them.
“Shut up,” the half-orc growled and swung his axe in a flaming arc toward the raven-haired beauty.
Diran saw the surprised look in Jarlain’s eyes for only an instant, then her severed head flew away from him. Blood fountained upward from the stump of her neck, and her body slumped to the ground, lifeless. Blood continued to gush from her corpse, spreading toward the edge of the pool.
Tresslar ran to Jarlain’s body, grabbed it by the ankles, and began pulling it away from the pool. “We have to move her before-”
It was too late. Jarlain’s blood ran over the edge and poured down into the pool where it merged with the roiling mass of liquid. The pool’s level rose only the merest fraction of an inch, but that was enough. Blood began flowing along the twenty-five runnels toward the alcoves where the withered corpses of the goblinoid warriors stood waiting. The corpses’ desiccated feet stood in the runnels, and as the blood flowed around their ankles, the first of them began to move.
Diran looked at Ghaji.
“Damn,” the half-orc said.
CHAPTER
The undead hobgoblins opened their eyes, revealing empty sockets-no, not empty, rather filled with pulsating shadow. Arms that were little more than bone covered by dried parchment-like skin lifted swords, spears, halberds, and war hammers, dark magic supplying the strength their withered muscles couldn’t provide. The goblinoid warriors stepped forth from the stone alcoves where they had stood throughout the long years waiting with the patience that only the dead can know. Leathery lips parted for the first time in centuries as the living corpses let out silent battle cries.
Erdis Cai laughed. “You’ve failed, priest!”
The vampire lord turned his back on them, and still holding onto his sacrificial blade, he stepped closer to the dais where Makala lay staring at him with wide, fear-filled eyes and shaking her head in denial. As if it were an afterthought, he said, “Slay the intruders, my warriors, while I tend to more… pleasant matters.” His teeth drew back from his fangs in a hideous parody of a smile and Makala screamed.
Diran turned to Ghaji.
“Tresslar and I will deal with the goblins,” Ghaji said. “Go save Makala.”
Diran nodded, drew the last wooden dagger from his cloak, and ran for the walkway that crossed over to the dais. Behind him, he heard Tresslar said, “What do you mean we?”
“Be quiet and put that dragon-stick of yours to work, old man!” Ghaji shouted, then Diran heard the sound of clashing metal and he knew the battle had been joined.
“Old?” Tresslar sounded quite affronted, then there came the crackle of released mystic energy as the artificer did as Ghaji advised.
Trusting his companions to take care of the resurrected hobgoblins, which were now striding forth from their alcoves by the dozens, Diran ran across the walkway toward the dais. Erdis Cai leaned over Makala, clearly intending to sink his teeth into her neck and infect her with his vampiric contagion. Though she looked terrified, Makala remained motionless as the vampire lord bent down over her. Diran guessed that Erdis Cai must have placed her in some sort of paralytic state, for such simple bonds as those encircling her wrists and ankles would never have prevented her from fighting otherwise. Diran held his wooden dagger in a tight grip, but Erdis Cai was standing at an angle to him, depriving Diran of a clear shot at the opening in his breastplate. He heard Emon Gorsedd’s voice then.
If you can’t take your best shot, take your second-best.
Diran hurled the wooden dagger at Erdis Cai’s unprotected neck. The blade severed the vampire’s artery as it pierced his undead flesh, and black slime spurted from the wound. Erdis Cai spun around, eyes aflame, fangs bared in a feral snarl. He made no move to withdraw the dagger jutting out of his neck as Diran approached. Instead he raised his own knife, the one formed from the unholy Mark of Vol, and lunged forward to meet Diran’s advance.
Diran stopped and raised his right hand. It was empty at first, but then a glimmer of silvery light appeared. The glimmer burst into brilliant radiance and Diran Bastiaan held the power of the living Silver Flame in his hand.
Erdis Cai broke off his attack and raised an arm to shield his eyes, dropping the sacrificial blade as he did so. The weapon fell into the roiling blood pool, which was slowly draining, its thick crimson liquid flowing up the sides of the pit and into the runnels as it continued to restore life to the hobgoblin army.
“It’s over, Cai!” Diran said. Energy blazed through every fiber of the priest’s being, but there was no pain, only a sensation of strength and Tightness as the Silver Flame did its holy work through him. He was the weapon, and the Silver Flame, which was the power of Life itself, was the hand wielding him. Some called Diran the Blade of the Flame, and that title was never more appropriate than at this very moment. “Surrender, and I promise your destruction will be swift and merciful!”
Erdis Cai cringed from the intense illumination radiating from Diran’s hand, and the priest stepped closer, reaching back into his cloak for a dagger-any dagger-that might end the vampire’s foul existence, but before Diran could locate a suitable blade, Erdis Cai turned and clamped his gauntleted fingers around Makala’s throat.
“Extinguish your light, priest, or I’ll close my hand and pop off her head like the bloom of a dandelion!”
“Don’t-” Makala started to say, but the vampire lord tightened his grip, choking off her voice.
Diran knew what his former lover had intended to say, for he would’ve said the same in her place. Don’t worry about me-kill him! Diran also knew that as a priest of the Silver Flame, it was his sworn duty to destroy creatures like Erdis Cai, regardless of the personal consequences. Diran knew then what he had to do. , He closed his fingers around the silver flame burning in his hand, extinguishing it in his fist.
The blinding holy light gone, Erdis Cai released his grip on Makala’s throat and whirled around to face Diran once more. His armored hand lashed out and fastened around Diran’s neck. The priest felt a jolt of freezing cold as the metal came in contact with his skin, and a numbing sensation became to spread outward from his neck into the rest of his body. He felt weary, listless, drained of energy, then he understood what was happening. Erdis Cai’s obsidian armor was enchanted, and the vampire lord was using it to absorb Diran’s lifeforce.
Erdis Cai’s inhuman gaze bored into Diran’s eyes. “You put up a good fight, priest, I’ll give you that much. In fact, it was the most fun I’ve had since I became immortal, but the game’s finished and I’m the victor. Go to your death knowing that your strength will be added to my own, and your woman will join me in the dark glory of undeath. Farewell, Diran Bastiaan.”
Diran caught a flash of orange-red out of the corner of his eye, and Erdis Cai’s head snapped back as Ghaji’s fire axe bit into his skull. The vampire lord screamed as his head burst into flame, and he loosened his grip on Diran’s throat-not much, perhaps, but enough. Diran felt the transference of his lifeforce cease, and he opened his hand to reveal a still-glimmering flicker of the Silver Flame. The flicker grew and lengthened until to became a dagger of pure energy, and then Diran rammed the blade of silver fire through the opening in Erdis Cai’s breastplate.
The vampire lord opened his burning mouth to scream anew, but all that emerged from within was a shaft of
