surface, just as the darkling had described. In the center of the altar was a small depression, exactly the size of the stone. All he had to do was place the stone within the hollow. Then nothing would be able to stop him. The throne of Darkon would be his.
Once again, Caidin marveled at the ancient magic of the Soulstone. He had enjoyed using the stone to drain the life-forces of the victims of his false inquisition. The stone had transformed the hapless peasants into zombie slaves-but wondrous as that was, he had only begun to scratch the surface of the stone's potential. Now, trapped within the dark stone were hundreds of combined life-forces. With the proper ritual, those forces could be transferred to any inanimate object, granting it the ability to move and obey orders. That was the true greatness of the Soulstone.
'I wonder what the look will be on Azalin's face,' Caidin mused with a self-satisfied smirk, 'when he sees my living tower of war walk across the plains and stride right up to the walls of Avernus.'
No army Azalin could raise would be able to block his way. The tower would crush them all beneath its ponderous weight. And that was only the beginning. Once he reached King Azalin's fortress, he would transfer the life-force from the tower to the stones of Avernus. The very walls of the castle would obey his commands. He could order the animate stones to attack Azalin's servants and imprison the king. Then all he had to do was pluck the crown from Azalin's head.
'I will turn Azalin's own fortress against him! His strongest defense will become his greatest weakness. And I will become king!'
Carefully, Caidin tucked the stone back into the pocket of his midnight-blue coat. He had a few extraneous affairs to tidy up before he set the wheels of his victory in motion. No doubt Jadis was even now desperately waiting for his return, so that she could tell him where he would find the courier, and therefore save her life-at least what was left of it.
Then there was Wort. Caidin's eyes rested upon the gleaming curve of the bell that hung above his head. The Bell of Doom. With its dark magic, he would be unbeatable. His tower was no longer simply a tower of war. It truly was a Tower of Doom.
Now, to test the bell and see for himself how its formidable curse worked. The rope dangled near the circular hole in the stone floor through which the bell had been raised. Caidin drew out the handkerchief he had taken from Wort and tied it to the rope. That way the three spirits would be certain not to mistake the token he offered them.
'Poor, Wort. I almost pity you. From the day we were born, I have always taken everything from you that I wanted-your noble blood, your humanity, your precious bell, and now… finally, your life.' Reaching out strong hands, Caidin gripped the rope. 'But if it is to be me or you in this game, Wort, then by all means-let it be you.' Murder glinted in his' emerald eyes. 'Farewell, my brother!'
Suddenly the world seemed to spin around Caidin. It took his brain a moment to realize what was happening, and by then it was already too late. Struck by an unseen force, he found himself hurled backward, the rope slipping through his groping fingers. Pain exploded in his body as he struck the tower's stone wall. Dizzily, he blinked through the haze of pain to see a twisted face floating before him and grinning hideously.
'Come now, my brother,' a voice spat. 'Did you really think that the threads that bind us could be cut so easily?'
Only a single word escaped Caidin's lips, but in that word there resided a veritable ocean of disgust, hatred, and terror.
'Wort…'
Mika clutched the ghostly gray stallion's mane with freezing fingers as the beast thundered across the rolling heath. Skeletal trees and crumbling stone waljs flashed past, but she only vaguely noticed these, as if they were part of some other person's murky dream. She rode directly into the wind, her pale hair streaming wildly behind her. In the distance, the dark tower drew her inexorably onward.
After leaving the charred husk that had once been the Lady Jadis-and that finally now lay lifeless, thanks to the sharp saber-Mika had made her way to the stable. There the stableboy had fled in fear at the sight of her.
'The White Lady!' he cried. 'The White Lady has come for me!'
Mika did not know what this meant, nor did she care. She had grabbed the reins of the first saddled horse she came upon. Climbing into the high saddle, she had kicked the courser's flanks until it leapt into a gallop. Horse and rider had careened wildly down the road from the keep and out onto the open moor. Living for so many years in the city, Mika had little experience at the art of riding. At any moment the horse could stumble on the uneven turf, throwing her to the hard ground, injuring her, even snapping her neck. Still she prodded the horse, urging it to go faster yet.
As the land flew by, Mika reached up with one hand to grip the golden locket dangling about her throat. 'Let it be that I come in time, my loves,' she whispered. 'Let it be that I can atone for the wicked deeds I have set in motion.'
Though it was midday, the sky overhead was dark and heavy as iron, weighing oppressively on the barren countryside. Livid green lightning flickered behind the menacing clouds. It was as if the land itself were somehow aware of the terrible events that were unfolding upon it. Perhaps in a sense it was. What other explanation could there be for the evil that plagued Nartok but that it rose like some noxious vapor from the very soil itself to infect all those who were forced to dwell in its fumes.
The three Vistani women had spoken of an ancient battle between Light and Dark. Mika did not believe their words any longer. She could believe nothing except that Dark had always reigned supreme in this land, and that it always would.
'When this is over, I will leave this place, my loves.' Tears streamed coldly down her cheeks, tracing pale tracks through the dirt and grime. 'I will leave this cursed fiefdom far behind. Perhaps I will even return to our little flat in the city, to our river, and our white, white gulls.'
Finally the dark walls of the tower rose up before her. The stallion skidded to a halt. She unclenched her stiff fingers from the creature's mane and half climbed, half threw herself to the wet ground. Numbly, she looped the stallion's reins about an iron ring set into the wall of the tower. Turning, she stumbled to a shadowed archway. Mika paused only for the space of a heartbeat, then plunged inside.
Wort pressed Caidin viciously against the stone wall, his gnarled fingers clamped tightly around the baron's neck. Caidin gripped Wort's wrists, attempting to force the hunchback away. Powered as they were by the strength of rage, Wort's hands closed about the baron's throat. Caidin's handsome visage began to darken. His lips turned blue. Elation flooded Wort's misshapen chest. How glorious, to finally be robbing his brother of something instead of the other way around.
'You see, Caidin,' Wort jeered between clenched teeth. 'In the end your pretty face comes to nothing. The worms will devour comely flesh as readily as ugly. Just so long as it is dead!'
Hoarse laughter escaped Caidin's lips. 'You will not kill me, Wort.'
'You think not?' Wort squeezed harder. Caidin's hands were growing tired. They could not hold Wort back much longer.
'No, you will not,' Caidin gasped. His green eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, yet a mocking smile twisted his lips. 'What are you without me, Wort? I…' He struggled desperately for breath. 'I define you. I am day to your night..You cannot exist if I am gone. Without me, you are nothing!'
Caidin's words plunged an icy spike into Wort's chest. For a fleeting moment he wondered if this could possibly be true. For so long he had dwelt in awe of his brother, and then in jealousy, and then at last in loathing. Every day of his life, his feelings for Caidin had shaped him, molded him into what he was. What indeed would happen to him when Caidin was dead? Would he simply vanish, like a shadow on the wall when the candle that cast it was extinguished?
A dark seed of doubt crept into Wort's heart, and his hands relaxed ever so slightly. It was just the opening Caidin needed. The baron brought his knee up forcefully. Crying out in pain, Wort stumbled backward. Caidin did not wait to strike again. This time the baron's black boot caught Wort square on the chin. Wort spun around, a crimson arc of blood gushing from his mouth to splatter against the wall. Caidin advanced, digging his elbow into Wort's hunched shoulder. Wort cried out once more. Again and again, Caidin struck the hump on Wort's back, sending waves of paralyzing pain through him. At last Wort sank to his knees.
Caidin grinned in satisfaction. 'Yes, you are nothing without me, Brother. But I–I am everything without you.'
