Tal Rasha was a mere shade of the man that he had been just a few weeks earlier. He was distant, so much so that as he moved through the empty city streets he hardly noticed the lack of people that should have normally filled these spaces. Where the homeless and drunk were usually hiding from the prying and judging eyes of the nobles, there was nothing. Tal Rasha saw it all, but his weak and tortured mind didn’t really see the problem. He hadn’t acknowledged or worried about anything since the morning nearly three weeks earlier when Tyreal had left him standing in the ruins of the false life that he had tried to live.
At some point he had been given the Soul Stone. The meeting with Tyreal was hazy in his mind, he understood what had been said but the exact details were blurred. The ruthless murder of his family had only been the first step to pushing him to his current state, but the next night something started to speak to him through the stone. Deep within his mind, when he slept, he felt the dark whispers of a prescience that was linked to the stone. He couldn’t know if they were real or something that had grown from his own fear and doubts. He questioned his own sanity, wondering if perhaps he had formulated the cold touch that was raking his thoughts. He wondered if it was the power of Baal, or perhaps Mephisto who was entombed in a similar stone, reaching through stone to chip away at his soul. The dark whispers brought the deaths back into focus, showing his failure to save those that he loved.
He was still sane enough to continue his journey back to the Horadrim, and he had traveled hard and fast, with tunnel vision. He refused to let anything distract him, the dark parts of his soul begging for vengeance and the just parts demanding that he stop Baal before the Lord of Destruction’s plan could reach fruition. He had come into the city of Reggan a few minutes earlier, and had seen the large numbers of guards on the city walls. Where normally only a few guards would rest, the walls were covered with archers. He had sensed presence in the holes along the walls, the holes where men with spears and pike could attack invaders from relative safety. If Tal Rasha had been at his prime, he would have realized that the soldiers were all facing the inside of the town, rather than the outside, as if they were trying to keep something in, rather than out.
He finally came to a part of the city that wasn’t deathly silent, but was rather filled with bad singing, noisy yells and the hoarse voices of countless drunks. It was the same no matter where you went. No matter what the problems a city had, the people would always try to find comfort at the bottom of a cup of ale or a bad wine. It was no different for these people or for Tal Rasha. He thought that maybe a cheap beer would help clear his head, and perhaps erect a wall between him and the dark specter that haunted his mind.
***
Ray Nor was sitting across the table from the healer M’turas and thinking about troubles of the city.
“M’Turas, the council briefed you, not me, on this one. What can you tell me about the history of this place?” Nor asked as he sipped at the tart ale in the wooden mug in his hand.
“It is like the countless other cities that we have been. When the Sampin empire was still in power, roughly two hundred years ago, they built a castle on the other side of the river that cuts through the city. This city was on the border of the Sampin Kingdom and that of the Uplans Empire and this was perfect place to establish an outpost to protect the border. Farms were established to feed the soldiers, and soon several manors and estates were built for the warlords and generals who were constantly in the area. A city spread out and a giant bazaar was created to generate tax money to keep the Sampin war machine moving.”
“I thought that this city belonged to Kurast.”
“Only since about fifty years ago. After the Sampans establish a large territory in Uplan lands, this area was no longer necessary to the war and the armies slowly moved on, and the bazaar became a larger focus for the Lord who was put in charge and collecting the taxes. When the Sampin empire fell, it passed from nation to nation for several years until it finally ended up in the hands of Kurast.”
“I see,” Ray Nor said. “There is nothing in the history that might explain the recent trouble. None of the usual burial grounds, evil wizards or ancient curses?”
“Not as far as I can tell.”
“Well, what if it is...,” Ray Nor’s voice trailed off as he caught site of the haggard old man hunched over at the bar. The man’s hair was gray and his body was rail thin. He looked like a dead shell, but Ray Nor was sure that he knew the face. The old man was Tal Rasha.
“Ray Nor, what is it?” M’Turas said, bringing Ray back into focus.
“Look at the old man over at the bar.”
“The sickly one?”
“Yes,” Ray Nor said, casting another glance. “I know him.”
“It can’t be,” M’Turas said. Nor’s voice must have revealed his suspicions about the old man’s identity.. “Is that who I think it is?”
“I am hoping that I am wrong, but I think it is Tal Rasha.”
Ray Nor reached out with a thread of magical energy, letting it flow forward and lightly rub over the aura of the man sitting at the bar. He could feel a torrential rush of emotions coming off of the man, disturbing Ray Nor but he kept probing trying to find a clue to the man’s identity. It hit him in a rush. Suddenly Ray Nor was washed over by a tidal wave of amazing magical energy, pulling him under. It was a raw, unfocused power that made Ray Nor’s own power seem weak. Ray Nor pulled away from the power that he had found, but it had already overwhelmed him and his head was pounding, as if someone were inside his skull and pounding his brain with a dull hammer. He sensed the steady hand of M’Turas on his shoulder and he felt a reassuring wave of white healing energy fill him, bringing balance to his mind and helping to subside the dark pain.
“What happened?” The healing mage asked, as he pulled back his hand.
“Too much power, coupled with pain and grief. I wasn’t prepared for that sort of thing,” Ray Nor gasped out. His vision was returning, but everything still seemed blurry.
“Is it him?”
“It has to be. There is too much power in that man for it to be anyone else.”
“What should we do?”
“Let me talk to him,” Ray Nor said as he rose onto his still unsteady legs. A few of the bar’s other patrons were looking at him trying to figure out what had happened.
Ray Nor stood behind the old man and he recognized features that belonged to the once young and strong Tal Rasha. Tal Rasha’s sword was missing from his side, as was the old leather armor that he had worn for years, but their was no doubt that it is he.
“Hello, old friend,” Tal said without looking up. He had sensed Ray Nor without looking, an uncanny talent that Tal Rasha had honed with many years of practice.
“Tal, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for hope, my friend.”
“What?”
Never mind,” Tal Rasha said as he took another sip from the wooden mug in his right hand.
Ray Nor pulled up the stool next to Tal Rasha and asked the bartender for a drink of his own.
“Tal, a messenger came to us and told the council about what happened. I didn’t know Megan well, but I am sorry.”
“So am I.”
“Are you here about the troubles with the city or something else?”
“I know nothing of this city’s trouble. Actually I was on my way back to the Horadrim. That is M’Turas that you are here with? I met him once. A healer, I believe. Quite talented if I remember correctly.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Rya said in surprise at the lack of emotion that Tal was exhibiting. “Why would you be returning to the Horadrim, Tal? Do you really expect the council to take you back?”
“They have no choice, Ray. The world is doomed if they don’t.”
Ray Nor was about to inquire further, but Tal Rasha had pulled a small leather bag off of the string around his neck and tossed it to Ray Nor. Ray plucked it out the air and pulled the drawstring loose. He looked down into the dark recesses of the bag. The tavern was dimly lit, but the flickering candle light wasn’t needed to illuminate the glowing stone in the bag. Ray Nor had only seen one stone like it the past and that had been the artificial soul stone that a group of mages had tried to capture Baal with. Tal Rasha had been with the group.
“It can’t be,” Ray said in shock.
“It is. It came from the palm of Tyreal himself.”
Ray Nor was sticking his hand into the bag but Tal Rasha reached out and grabbed Nor’s wrist. His grip was strong and ripped Ray Nor’s hand out of the leather bag.
“Trust me, you don’t want to touch it.”
“Right.”
Ray Nor was unsure of what to say next when the door flew open and the young boy fell in. He must have in his early teens, and wore the drab cloth of a peasant. He looked up at Ray Nor, who was sitting at the bar no more than five feet from the boy who was lying on the wood floor.
“Master Nor, they are attacking again,” the boy said as the bartender helped him to his feet. “There are more this time, the guards are being overwhelmed!”
“Right,” Ray Nor said briskly as he rose to his feet. “M’Turas, we have to go,” he turned to face Tal. “Come with us, we could use your help out there.”
Tal Rasha considered it for a moment and decided that he had nothing better to do and nothing to lose. A voice in the back of his mind told him the real reason he went, though. He went because he didn’t want to bear responsibility for the death of another loved one.. . He rose to his feet and fell into a brisk trot behind Ray Nor and M’Turas, with the young boy walking at his side.
“Tal Rasha, meet Looc Pepish,” Ray Nor introduced the young boy. “His father is the captain of the local militia.”
“Hello, boy,” Tal said without paying too much attention to the youth. “Ray, what exactly are we doing?”
“A demonic menace wiped out about half the city a month ago, and we were sent to make sure that it didn’t happen again.”
“The Horadrim only sent the two of you?”
“They are undertaking a new project and our numbers are spread thin.”
Tal Rasha sighed and continued walking. He never even noticed the dark creature watching him from the shadows.
It had sensed Tal Rasha the moment that he had entered It’s city. Nothing happened within those walls that It didn’t know about. Tal Rasha would be the ticket to power that It had been searching for. The other two were strong, but Tal Rasha was the strongest that It, or any of It’s creators, had ever touched. The Master had talked about one such as Tal Rasha coming into the city, and It believed that he was the one that It had been created to slaughter. It ran It’s claws over the cobblestone street and rushed forward to keep up with the three mages.
Tal Rasha was binding his magic to form a weapon when he heard the shrill shriek from behind him and he turned just in time to see a large black shape flying out of the shadows at him. It hit him in the chest and carried him across the street into the wall of a building. He shouted in pain as he felt sharp claws pierce his chest and draw blood the surface. They were in the darkened shadows and he couldn’t get a good look at the beast. He was about to attack it when a fiery stream of fire crashed into it, pouring out of Nor’s fingertips, and knocked it off of Tal Rasha. The beast howled and fled.
“What was that!?” Tal screamed as he touched the four puncture wounds on his stomach. He pulled his fingers up and looked at the sticky blood that coated his fingers. His own healing abilities were weak, but he knew that M’Turas wouldn’t have any trouble repairing the damage. He considered himself lucky that only the skin had been cut, and no organs were damaged. He watched as M’Turas pulled a small vial from his belt and tossed it to Tal Rasha. He grabbed it out of the air and popped the cork. He let the thick gel pool on his finger tips before he applied it to the wounds. Almost instantly he felt the wounds bind themselves shut. He applied the cork to the half empty bottle and slid it into one of his pockets.
“That wasn’t like any of the creatures we saw before,” Ray stated as he looked nervously at the shadows. “It come out of nowhere and I couldn’t get a sense of it.”
“Neither could I, and that is what scares me.”
Almost as if in answer to those words, the beast attacked anew, striking with the same brutal speed and strength as before. This time Tal Rasha threw up a magical shield to stop it but, for an unknown reason, the shield didn’t work, exploded, blew both him and the beast backwards. Tal Rasha braced himself for impact just before the two of them were knocked through the wall of an old, condemned building. Tal Rasha felt his head crack against rotting wood, blood pouring out of his forehead. Suddenly a black curtain appeared over Tal Rasha’s vision, trying to pull him into its murky depths. Tal Rasha didn’t have the strength to fight it and he soon dropped into unconsciousness.
It had tried to stop Tal Rasha’s magic, but the attempt failed and had blown both It and Tal Rasha away. It was too weak to move and was just laying on the floor of the building where It had landed. Tal Rasha was not far away, and he wasn’t moving either. It would have to heal Itself before Tal Rasha could awake. It would make the kill easy.
Ray Nor was running in the direction that Tal Rasha had flown. He saw the hole in the building wall not far away and feared the worst. He broke into a run, reaching it as fast as possible and peering into the dark interior. It was too dark to see anything within, too dark to tell if there was anything waiting in ambush for you. Ray Nor was trying to understand what the beast could be that allowed it to elude the senses of both he and Tal Rasha. Only the strongest of demons had power like that. Ray Nor had to be more cautious than ever because in this darkened building an attack could come from anywhere around you. He was tempted to try casting a light spell around himself, but was aware that doing so would also make him clearly visible to attack.
He took one step into the building and felt wood supports creak and groan under his weight. He tried to balance out his weight as he took the next step and another after that. The floor sagged under his weight but seemed to be holding. He sensed something near him and decided to risk creating a small light. A small glowing spark appeared between his thumb and forefinger and he waved it towards the presence he had sensed. Through the shadows he could see the sleeping form of Tal Rasha, his face drenched in drying blood. He moved forward and slid his hands under Tal’s arms and began to pull his friend from the building.
Tal’s eyes shook open and looked up at Nor.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know, you and I are the only ones in here.”
“Be careful.”
They reached the building’s newly made entrance and were stepping out when they heard the hideous roar from within. Tal Rasha’s hands were spinning about in the air after a brief moment, and small bubbles of magic sprayed out and covered the entrance. Each separate bubble began to pop and fuse together with the others until a translucent wall had formed blocking the doorway. The black beast was charging at them and leapt into the air to attack them. The wall hummed for half a second before the beast struck it, and the black beast rolled off of it and to the ground. Ray Nor was preparing to flee when he felt Tal Rasha shoved him away.
The withered but still powerful mage pressed his hand to the invisible wall and the wall suddenly fell away.
“Ray, I have to go back in,” he said bluntly as he stepped over the still form of the black beast. “The soul stone is in there somewhere.”
Tal touched his neck where the pouch had hung and Ray noticed that the small leather sack was gone. Tal’s hands lit up brightly, shining beams of radiance that showed him the way. The light probed through the darkness along with Tal Rasha’s eyes, seeking out the all-important pouch. Ray heard a footstep and looked behind himself. M’Turas was coming up the road, limping on his left leg.
“Where were you?” Ray Nor demanded from the healer.
“You seem to have forgot that we were out here to deal with the attacks. I was helping the injured when one of the larger demons broke through. I got back here as soon as I could,” M’Turas explained. “You let Tal Rasha go into that building, with that thing in there, alone??”
“What do you mean,” Ray said quickly. “The beast is right he-”
He gasped when he realized that the thing was gone, it’s ability to move without detection had allowed it to escape in the
brief moment in which Ray had been distracted.
“TAL!” He screamed as he ran into the building with M’Turas at his heel.
He saw Tal kneeling down on the floor not far away, pulling up the small pouch. They also saw the black monster crouched and ready to pounce once Tal moved. Tal was still relying on his magical detection to warn him, and that made the mage very, very vulnerable. He started to rise to his feet and Ray Nor felt the magic flow through him without ever thinking of it. He just threw himself into the air and flew, letting the magic give him flight. He hit Tal Rasha hard but carried his friend out of the way and took the blow on his own torso. For a moment he felt an amazing and deadly pain and then he felt nothing.
He landed with a thud, blood pouring from what was left of his chest. He could feel his life pouring from his body, his soul trying to escape from the mortal shell that had contained him. Tal had risen up and was looking at the beast with a gaze of pure rage. Ray Nor saw the wizard’s hands turn into glowing orbs and the magical energy poured out, hitting the black beast and carrying it away, that was the last thing he saw. His eyes were still open, but the darkness reached up and swallowed him. Tal Rasha howled as he punished the small creature. Its insect-like caprice was now burning and smoke poured off of it. Tal Rasha seemed to take an unholy pleasure in the avenging on Ray Nor.
It felt true pain for the first time as Tal Rasha attacked with his powerful magic. It tried to absorb the power, but its talents were not well enough developed to do so. It only wanted to escape. Perhaps the other two would be helpful. Yes, they were not on the same level as Tal Rasha, but they would do. It doubted that the stronger of the two was still alive, but perhaps a spark of the energy still rested within him. The other would give It some of the power required for another bout with the omnipotent Tal Rasha.
Tal Rasha had to focus harder to maintain the attack that he was using and couldn’t understand how the beast had survived through even the first blast. The mage had channeled the power of a dying star, nova energy that destroyed all that it touched, yet somehow the beast took the blasts and continued to move with amazing tact and speed. Tal Rasha’s rage and hate had drawn the spell fourth, but even that kind of rage could not power such a magnificent spell for long.
The beast was darting and spinning, dodging with ease as Tal Rasha relinquished the spell. Finally the monster stopped altogether and charged at one of the supports at the side of the building. Tal Rasha saw what was going to happen, but it was too late. The floor was sagging under all of the weight, and when the beast hit the support with it’s thick tail, he heard the splintering of wood and it suddenly fell in beneath them. Tal Rasha was drained from the previous ordeal, without the strength to save himself, and fell under the shattered floor, buried under tons of debris.
Turas had leapt for the supports just in time and found himself hanging twenty feet over the deep pit that had replaced the floor. The muscles in his arms bulged as he tried to pull himself onto the five foot wide wood support. He swung his legs over and lay on his stomach, gazing down into the carnage that had swallowed up Tal Rasha, the beast and Ray’s corpse. His healing powers allowed him to boost his eyesight, and he scanned the wreckage for any of the three. He saw the beast for about half a second before it flew out the debris and traveled all of the twenty feet towards M’Turas.
The healer’s hand went for the string of explosives chemicals that hung in a line on his belt. In one motion he pulled one free and threw it into the gaping jaws of the beast that was coming for him. The resulting flash of fire and smoke momentarily blinded M’Turas, but when he could see he was amazed at the vision that awaited the him. The beast had fallen onto of the pile of rubble below, but the strange thing was that its jaws were shattered and it’s face covered in blood that was a peculiar shade of green. M’Turas had seen the awesome power that Tal Rasha had used against this beast, and nothing had happened. But a small explosion had nearly taken its head off.
The beast began to move again, and M’Turas went for another potion. He let it fly but this time it missed. The vial struck the space where the beast had been moments before, and blew a small crater in the debris. His eyes followed the trajectory of the vial and not the beast, so he had no idea where it had gone. He was hoping that he had scared it away, but he also knew that was just wishful thinking. Not knowing what else to do, he began to scan the wreckage anew, hoping to find some sign of Tal Rasha or Ray Nor. His eyes focused in on a strangely colored piece of wreckage and when he examined it closer he realized that it was someone’s hand. From that distance, even with his enhanced eye sight, M’Turas was unable to tell who the appendage belonged to.
He was on the far end of a beam that rested on a column ten feet away. The two beams formed a T shape, and he believed that he would be able to lower himself down the column. Getting up had been much easier when there had been a floor just a few feet below him. He crawled slowly towards the column and wrapped his legs around it. He slowly slid down its length and moved quickly towards the hand that he had seen sticking out of the rubble. He grabbed it and his hopes sank when he touched it. It was cold, far too cold for it’s owner to still be alive.
He began the slow process of pulling away bits of wood and stone that had been a grand ceiling before, and he uncovered a bit more of the corpse with each pull. He wanted to use on of his many potions to blow away all of the debris at once, but he was afraid that he might hit the body. As he uncovered all of the arm and most of the chest, he was able to tell that the body he had found belonged to Ray Nor. All of his bones were shattered, but the chest was what revealed the identity. Four bloody and grim lacerations ran along the torso, cutting deep enough to reach the heart. It was the wound that Ray Nor had taken when he had shoved Tal out of the way.
M’Turas looked at the damage and wept. He had never been a popular with the other members of the Horadrim, they had considered him weakling for wishing to maintain life and becoming a healer, but Ray had been his friend. They had traveled together for most of the time that Tal Rasha had been away from the Horadrim, and had become a great team. When the Council had asked Ray Nor to take an apprentice, he had declined and opted to continue teaming with M’Turas. It had been at that moment that M’Turas realized that he had a friend, for the first time in his life.
As he pulled the corpse free from the rubble, his healing powers flared stronger than ever. Just as rage had allowed Tal Rasha to draw fourth amazing magical energy, M’Turas drew fourth a resurrection energy. It poured into Ray Nor, forcing his mind to live. Wounds were bound shut and his heart began to beat slowly. M’Turas didn’t realize what he had done, and continued thinking that Ray Nor was dead up until the moment when the beast struck him from behind, hitting him with the back of it’s paw and slamming his head into a piece of stone. M’Turas didn’t see anything after that, nothing but an unending darkness.
***
The next day, a battered and crushed body was dragged out of the destruction. Everyone in town had come to the destroyed building after hearing rumors that the demons had struck their city again. The men worked all day to reach the bottom of the chaos, but when they did, all they found was the body of Tal Rasha. Something had kept him alive and he still drew breath. His wounds were wrapped and he was carried away to the small inn that served as the city hospital. When it was announced that there was nothing left in the wreckage, most of the people dispersed and headed to their homes fearing that the demons would attack again once darkness fell.
***
With everyone but a few drunk stragglers gone, nobody saw the young boy playing in the rubble. No one saw the child grab the small leather bag on top of the rubble. No one saw the youth pull the drawstring and rip out the golden crystal within. He discarded the leather bag and skipped away with the stone in his hand. On the way to his home, an older bully stopped him and took the stone away. The child ran off crying but the bully was already thinking about the money he could get from selling it. He tried to hide it, but his drunk step-father saw the light emitted from the stone and beat the boy. The step-father stumbled to the bazaar and sold the stone to one of the few booths that was still open. While the step-father drank away the few gold pieces he had got for the strange rock, the vendor who had purchased it threw it into a chest with similar rocks and jewelry. He locked the chest and placed it on a wagon along with his other wares. He hollered and the driver of the wagon pulled out of the city along with the twenty other wagons in the caravan. It was bought in a city three hundred miles away the next week and the teenage boy that bought it gave it to his girlfriend. As soon as the boy was gone, the two-faced girl ran to the necromancer who awaited her at an inn not far away. She gave him the glowing yellow stone, expecting to be given more of the addictive purple drug that he had supplied to all of the youth but instead had her throat slit by the necromancer’s black dagger. He smiled as he looked at the blade, marveling at how easy it had been to addict the children of this poor city. His dream of a treasure coming to him in the city had been correct. He smiled and walked out of the inn.
As the soulstone went from hand to hand, thousands of miles away the young barbarian Therkcan watched as his allies and brethren assembled the large camp in a manner of minutes. Tents were thrown up and firepits dug. Trees were chopped to build walls and a small shack was built for the leader of the expeditionary force. In less than an hour, a small town had been erected on the mountain summit, not far from a cliff where the barbarians who had built the town could watch over the people who had built a similar town in the valley below. A few hundred people were living in the valley, farming and hunting off of barbarian lands. The children of Bul Kathos would let the people from the south build their new city, but a force of twenty warriors had been sent out to make sure that their presence in the barbarian lands remained innocent.
Therkcan jogged to the cliff and looked at the small town. It disgusted him. The people that lived there were weak and fat and had never truly experienced life. They hid within their huts, never running along side the wolf or grappling with the bear. None in the newly founded town had ever been in a great Hunt and they never would. Therkcan was the leader of the small army that was in charge of keeping the newcomers in line, but he knew that those who had come with him would never allow him to chase the humans out of barbarian lands. They would challenge his power and overthrow him. He was just over nineteen years old, and the tribal leaders had put him in charge to see if he had the makings of a great warrior.
The axe at his side, that he had been awarded to him upon being named leader of the band, begged him to use it, but he knew that no one within the valley community would be a match for his combat skills. It would also be pointless to challenge anyone in the barbarian group to a fight because he already had higher rank and there would be no honor in defeating someone weaker than yourself. As the thought of honor passed through his mind, a dark hand reached out from the shadows. The fingertips brushed his head and the hand faded away. It happened so quickly that Therkcan didn’t notice the cold touch, but it affected him nonetheless. He ripped the axe from his side and swung it in a twisting defensive pattern. He howled and pulled the weapon back behind his head. He couldn’t explain the dark rush emotions that overtook him in that moment but he was fully prepared to launch the axe into the hearts of any of the people below him.
As he swung it forward something crashed into him from the side. He stumbled and the axe dropped to the ground. Before he could gain a glimpse of who had struck him, another blow pounded his chest. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. He tried to draw oxygen into his lungs as he rose to his feet, and he looked up into the face of Resworb, a much older barbarian. He tried to fight back, but the man, who Therkcan had thought to be weak and unable to serve elsewhere, grabbed his fist and pulled him off the ground. Resworb drove his knee into Therkcan’s sternum and dropped him to the ground, next to his axe. Therkcan coughed and spit out blood.
He couldn’t understand what had happened. He had not sensed a single soul around him when he tried to throw the axe, but Resworb stopped him easily. The older barbarian had been an enigma to Therkcan, but he hadn’t believed him anything to worry about. He never spoke and Therkcan didn’t even know what tribe Resworb had come from. When you reached that age, you should be a great warrior and commander, and it is a true insult to be placed under the control of someone so much younger. It reflected on poor combat skills, or Therkcan had believed. But the actions a moment before had suggested strength. Perhaps Resworb was sent by the tribes to keep the young leader in line? He forced himself onto his feet even though he was still dizzy. He had already been dishonored, but he would not lay on the ground like a helpless animal. He would make Resworb pay.
Just a few feet away, hidden within the shadows, the cloaked figure smiled. It was all proceeding as he had planned. Therkcan had been manipulated without trouble, and the watcher knew that he would be the perfect tool to carry out his plan. He had also revealed the enemy within the camp. The cloaked figure had known that an agent would be in place to prevent him from making a move, and the older barbarian had been that agent. The figure looked at the barbarian camp and then at the village below. Soon, very soon, Baal thought to himself as he faded further into the shadows.
