Duty Unto Death: A Living Arcanis Story

By Jacqualine Cooper

He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou
gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee
- Beyond Good and Evil, Friedrich Nietzsche

The full plated figure stopped briefly to wonder if it was day or night – it all seemed
almost the same as of late. A quick look to the sky confirmed that it was night, and that she had
made the right decision to stop and allow the horse to rest. She was somewhere in the Coryani
province of Illonia traveling northward towards Milandir – towards home. She had gone out of
her way in order to avoid the province of Valentia… it simply wasn’t safe with all the
overzealous Beltinians around. She smiled tightly at some unknown joke as she turned away
from the view of the serene countryside and returned to her sleeping mount. She quietly
retrieved a book and pen from the saddlebag, and then carefully took a seat on the ground
beneath the nearby tree.
Carefully, she removed the gauntlets from her hands and placed them beside her on a flat
rock so that the moisture on the grass wouldn’t threaten them. Then she flexed her hands a
moment – they were stiff. She furrows her brow in worry as she casts a quick prayer to peer at
magical auras. Satisfied that the minor necromancy effect still lingered, she attributed the
stiffness to the coolness of the night and began to rub her hands together. It was a useless
gesture, the mere friction too little to warm her flesh.
With a sigh, she opens the dog-eared book and reads the first paragraph – one written by
her own hand so very long ago…

8th of Vires, 1008

Dear journal.
Daddy Father says that I should keep you, because I am old
enough. I’m not sure I like you. He says I shouldn’t write every day,
but only when important things happen. Well, getting a journal is
important. And this Festivus, Father is taking me and little Ludwig
to the faire. I can’t wait! I think that is enough. Bye bye Journal.
- Heidi

The figure smiled a sad smile, and began to flip through the book, but her stiff fingers lost their
grip on the paper and the book fell open to a tattered and worn page stained with so many tears
that it had become nearly transparent. Unbidden, her eyes could not help but begin to read the
aging entry there – having no trouble even in the pitch of night…

13th Numen, 1022 IC

Tomorrow I am to be wed, and it is to be the happiest day of

my life. I never thought that I was one for such romantic
 notions, but I have been blessed to find my true love in mind
and soul. I can think of no prayer or thanks that I can give
that is enough to…

She closed her eyes and shook her head as if wincing, but no tears were able to form. Unable to
read that entry any further, she began turning the pages of the journal again until finally she came
to a blank one. She took her pen in hand and was about to put it to the page when she frowned
and paused. She finally inhaled a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh before beginning to write
a new entry in the journal.

Spring, 1029 IC

I haven’t written in this Journal in a long time. I am

uncertain as to the date, and that has never happened before.
It seems that the days and nights blur together now. Without
sleep, it is hard to gauge the march of time. What cruelties the
Gods play upon we mere mortals it would seem, but I know
that everything happens for a reason. This is what was meant
to happen, for it must have been Hurrian’s will. Were it not,
then he wouldn’t have allowed it.

However, while I am uncertain of the date, I am certain of the

events that lead up to this moment. This is the first entry I’ve
made since I died. Indeed I have died, and Neroth has seen fit
to return me as one of the walking dead - an abomination in
the eyes of my homeland… something I once believed to be of
pure evil. Now I have learned, and the prejudices I once shared
are directed at me. Such a fate is just, I have no doubts. I only
wish that I hadn’t required such a harsh lesson in order to
learn the errors of my ways. Though I am dead, I still feel – at
least for the time being. I cannot help but wonder if I am truly
myself, or if I am just some monster that thinks it is me and
shall play at it until it tires of the trappings of my humanity,
my morality, and even my honor. I do not know the answer,
but I know that I hope with every fiber of my being and every
ounce of my unbeating heart that that is not true. I hope that I
am myself, and that any change in me wrought by this will be
for the better.

Gentle reader, I pray that my hopes are not in vain and that
this journal did not find you because I became that monster I
fear I might be. However, if that is the case then know that the
person I once was weeps for whatever pain I may have caused.
Perhaps then, that you might understand why this happened,
you would wish to know how I became that which I am.
 It began in the winter of 1028 IC. I had traveled to Nishanpur,
the capital city of the benighted land of Canceri, with my
dearly departed uncle’s bastard son, a Cancerese expatriate
named Josef, whom has now left this world behind. He was a
taciturn man whom rose above his infernal heritage and
heretical upbringing to become a champion of the Mother
Church. There was a plague in Nishanpur, a horrible bleeding
plague. All we knew was that it was killing the few innocent
people in that vile city, and all we wanted to do was help them.
All I could do was help them. Such is the way of my Lord
Hurrian, and thus I followed his tenets. The disease struck the
mind and the body... that much we knew. What we didn’t
know at the time was that it struck the Soul and Spirit as well.
The first victim of the plague that we met died in my arms,
even after I spoke the most powerful prayer of healing I knew.
None whom we saw in the beginning survived the plague.
They were driven mad as their bodies died around them. First
they became self destructive, and then they simply sought to
cause pain wherever they could - be it to others or to
themselves. Ultimately they died, and nothing that was done
could contact their souls. It was as if they simply ceased to be.
This was dark work… work of a cult that had been long thought
destroyed. There was nothing we could do to help the sick.
And then, there was nothing I could do to help myself, for I
became one of their number within a day of our first meeting
with a victim… and I fear that that drove Josef mad, for he
blamed himself for leading me into that den of evil…

* * * *

Heidi awakened to the sound of armor plates clanking together. It was a familiar sound
to her – after all she had been raised with five brothers in a family of knights. However, whereas
normally the clanking would serve only as a familiar reminder of the past, this morning it was to
her ears a dreadful din. She winced as the noise seemed to pierce her pounding head, and called
out irritably “By Hurrian’s might, Josef! Could you be any louder?”
“I take it that you are feeling no better this morning, dear cousin,” came a reply from
across the room. Josef’s voice was calm and clinical. He always called her cousin, and she
reciprocated – he had over time come to accept the truth of his parentage by her uncle during the
war between Milandir and Canceri. Heidi knew that that clinical detachment was simply Josef’s
way, and that to him any sign of emotion was a sign of weakness – such was the way with all
followers of Black Neroth. Still, she could not help but be aggravated by his stoicism this
morning. Normally this sort of thing didn’t bother her, but by the Gods’ will, she’d had enough
of it…
Heidi began to make a pointed remark but stopped and took a deep breath. That was the
illness talking, and she wouldn’t let it make her alienate the only person in this city that did
indeed care for her well being. Instead she sat up in the bed and opened her eyes slowly to allow
them to adjust to the light of day as she hoarsely replied “I feel like a few of Coryan’s legions
marched across the bed while I was in it, and from the noise you’re making I’d almost expect it
to be true.” A grunt was the only reply Josef bothered to offer.
Her eyes finally adjusted to the light, Heidi looked over at her cousin across the room.
Normally she would never have shared a room with anyone if she had any other choice, but
rooms were scarce in Nishanpur – too many people for too few inns. Somewhere deep down she
knew that it was better this way… she couldn’t be left alone with her illness. Josef had
apparently already completed his morning prayers, as he had already made his bed and was busy
strapping his black, spiked armor into place. Heidi could not help but shake her head. She
despised that dark field plate… it made her cousin look every part the stereotypical villain. Yet
he held onto those trappings of his past in spite of his kind and noble spirit. Josef was a holy
champion of Black Neroth, the god of the dead. He was proud of it too, and to Heidi this was
nigh intolerable. Neroth’s worship was all but banned in most civilized regions – at least in
Milandir. Then again, what could she expect from a bastard cousin so removed? He’d been
raised here in Canceri, and its evil tainted his past in spite of a noble Milandisian heritage.
Well… at least a part of him was Milandisian. Josef was Dark-Kin after all – cursed with the
blood of the infernal.
Apparently he had finished donning his armor, because he had begun affixing his
armband and various pins and badges earned through his adventuring career. That armband was
the reason he could legally wear armor and bear weapons not made out of the supposedly ‘holy’
– and consequently prohibitively expensive – Sarishan Steel in the city of Nishanpur. He had
fought with the current ruling regime of Canceri to put down an uprising. Heidi also knew that
Josef had been the one to slay the infernal Marilith that had been leading the rebel army. She
couldn’t say that Josef’s proud display of that armband pleased her. Not a year before, that same
regime – the Swords of Nier – had invaded Milandir and committed atrocities to its people – her
people. That had been where she’d lost what was left of her family. Yet Josef had chosen to
support the Swords as the lesser of two evils.
Shaking her reverie from her mind, Heidi forced a smile and said “So what is the plan,
Josef?” She might be a cleric of Hurrian and a knight of Milandir, but here she was out of her
depth. In a land of such evil, she had no chance of divining the evil responsible for the plague
from the sea of the same. Josef was much more experienced with that… after all, Canceri was
his homeland.
Without looking away from his task, Josef replied simply “We’re going to meet with an
old friend of mine at the Silken Noose tavern. Nym has connections with Itakyte’s people. Her
family won’t talk to us, but he might have learned something from them that could help us.”
Josef finally looked up at Heidi as he finished with his decorations. Damned if he wasn’t an ugly
sod with all of those scars, but in spite of his demonic eyes and horrible deformities his smile
was still comforting to Heidi. She mused that once her cousin might have been exotically
handsome, but after being captured and tortured by the S’sethregoran troglodytes anyone would
be ugly. “But first you had better clean yourself up and burn those sheets. You’re a mess I’m
afraid,” Josef spoke out of concern and without any hint of malice, but Heidi felt rage flair up
inside her at an insult she knew wasn’t offered. Slowly she calmed herself, but she worried yet
again that the plague was advancing in its severity within her – slowly corrupting her body and
spirit.
Heidi only nodded in reply to Josef, and she swung her legs out from under the covers as
she began to get out of bed. Unfortunately, the movement was too rapid and her vision began to
swim as the pounding in her head became a maelstrom of pain. She was vaguely aware of her
cousin rapidly closing the distance to her as she grimaced and put her hands to her temples.
Without a word, she waved him off. The last thing she wanted was to be touched right now.
Finally, the pain subsided and Heidi opened her eyes again. She looked down at her
hands and her once sky-blue nightgown. Both were covered in blood – some fresh and some
dried. The bleeding from the plague had gotten worse during the night it would seem. Slowly
and tenderly Heidi made it to her feet and staggered over to her traveling altar to Hurrian. She
collapsed heavily upon her knees and began her daily prayers in earnest.

* * * *

Josef watched his cousin get up from her bed – what could have easily have been her
death’s bed judging by the amount of her blood that had soaked through it – and stagger over to
the makeshift altar to her God. He could not help but admire her strength and perseverance.
Most people faced with their own deaths became either a gibbering fool or a cornered animal.
Heidi was neither – she simply faced it and continued on. But she didn’t accept her death as
Josef and other Nerothians accepted that they must die – she battled on to hang on to her life as
long as she could, and she would not give up on it so long as there was still good she could do in
this world. Josef allowed himself a wry smile – though his scars turned it into a mockery
thereof.
When Heidi had first found him and claimed to be his cousin, Josef had been skeptical at
best. Over time, he had realized that she spoke the truth, but he had no need or desire for a
relative. Or so he thought. Josef had been alone for most of his life, with no family to care for
or to care for him. Heidi had been irritating at first – hells, she was down-right maddening at
times with her Milandisian tripe about honor and pure good and all that nonsense – but she had
grown on him. Then again… she was still maddening. How could somebody so intelligent and
perceptive fail to grasp that at times there is no good choice? Yet she continued stubbornly to
believe in the antiquated notions of the inherent righteousness or villainy of action. Josef shook
his head as she continued her prayers. He knew why she believed as she did. She wasn’t like
himself… she wouldn’t let the world sully her own spirit. That, in essence, was why Josef cared
so much for her… more than he’d like to admit to himself. He knew it was an impossible thing,
but his jaded heart felt deeply for this girl more than it should, and that was also why this plague
scared him so.
Josef was not a man to fear anything, but losing his cousin scared him. For all his
complaining about her naivety and constant chiding, he would not know how he could go on
without her around. When she’d met him, he had crawled inside a bottle with no intentions of
ever coming out again. He let the world drag him down and taint him, and he knew it. She gave
him hope that there were still people out there worth saving… she gave him a reason to hold on
to the crusade he had begun so long ago.
Heidi would be praying for at least an hour, so Josef took to the work of disposing of her
sheets. He was careful not to let any of the blood touch his skin, as even the divine providence
of Neroth was ineffective in protecting against this blasphemous plague. Josef noted that the
blood had soaked through to the mattress this time. The plague was getting worse. He hazarded
a glance back at his cousin. Her frame was that of a waif now, and her dark silver-streaked hair
was matted with her own blood. She had been bleeding from the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth last
night. Still, her porcelain skin was yet possessed by the flush of life, and her silver-grey eyes
shone brightly as she prayed to her Lord. She was a mess, but she was still in good enough
health to go with him to meet Nym. Josef idly wondered what his old friend would think of
Heidi – she wasn’t plain in appearance, but neither was she stunningly beautiful – at least not
superficially. Josef nodded silently as he came to a decision – he’d have to give Nym a swift
kick in the arse if the Altherian failed to complement her.
A snatch of Heidi’s prayer caught Josef’s attention “And shepherd my dear cousin Josef,
for he does your work in deed if not in name…” Josef felt a twang of guilt in his heart. He had
failed to protect Heidi before… the Myrantian assassin’s blade had pierced her heart, and he’d
been unable to stop it. She’d been saved by the powerful clerical rituals of faith, but that
wouldn’t save her this time. Josef owed her better… he had led her here to his homeland hoping
to show her that not all things in Canceri were evil. Now he feared that that mistake would come
at the cost of her life. Yet she prayed for him, even as his errors threatened her very soul – for
the plague damned its victims and barred them from the afterlife. Josef shook his head… he
wouldn’t let that happen. There had to be a way…

* * * *

If there was one good thing about the Cancerese, it was their fastidiousness in personal
hygiene. Every room suite in the inn had its own bathing tub with available hot water, and this
one was no exception. Heidi's entire body ached, but the warm water in the bathing tub was
incredibly soothing. She laid beneath the water slowly allowing her held breath to escape in
small bubbles. The water had of course become red in hue, but at this point she didn't care. The
blood had for the most part been washed away, but she knew that she would bleed more during
the day. It wasn't as bad as it was while she slept since she could wipe it away with a cloth, but
still it was more than a little problematic. She had to be careful lest she accidentally infect
someone else. Heidi sat up in the tub allowing the water to cascade away and took a deep breath
as she reached over to take the pot off of the ignium heating plate and pour fresh water into the
tub. Sighing, she reached for the scented soap and began to work up a lather. She could not help
but think about how strange it seemed that in a land so utterly dark and foreboding as Canceri
even a commoner could expect to regularly bathe with scented soap whereas in Milandir - a
bastion of civilization and righteousness - it was rare for the common freeman to bathe more than
once or twice a week with even the cheapest of soaps. Then again, she supposed, in Milandir
people weren't packed together nearly so closely and disease wasn't a threat hanging over the
population like some pallorous fog.
As she bathed, Heidi eventually found that she could no longer avoid thinking about what
had happened - what was still happening - to her. She was eating more than ever, and yet her
weight was still dropping. Her body had become emaciated, and she couldn't help but realize the
horrible truth of the matter. She was dying and there was nothing that she could do to stop it.
Heidi pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as she began to rock
back and forth. This plague was going to kill her just like it had killed everyone else who had
contracted it. Hurrian's blessings might prolong her life, but so far she hadn't heard of anyone
surviving it completely. Heidi closed her eyes and sobbed as images of the victims she'd tried to
help passed through her thoughts. She didn't want to be like them... they madly lashed out at
those around them even as they themselves were in their death throes. Heidi knew that
ultimately she wouldn't have a choice... she would end it herself before she would allow herself
to maim and possibly kill others in a plague induced madness. She just hoped that she would be
able to go through with it - that she wouldn't be unable to recognize what was happening until it
was too late. She knew that Lord Hurrian would be with her to the end. She didn't know why he
had allowed this darkness, but she knew that there had to be a reason. Heidi whispered to the
empty room "I am an extension of His will, might the innocent be saved by my life or my death."
The old prayer somehow sounded hollow even as she voiced it. Heidi shook her head, for she
realized then that she had failed her lord. She couldn't help the people here - be they innocent or
no. She couldn't even help herself. If evidence was to be believed, she wouldn't even have the
chance to meet the Judgment of Nier... she could not help but think that perhaps that would be
for the best, for she feared that she would be found wanting.
Suddenly a knock sounded at the door and Josef's muffled voice called out "Heidi, a
message came from Nym... we have to go and speak with Arch-Prelate Shaitan before we meet
him. We have time for breakfast, but we shouldn't tarry too long." Heidi took in a deep breath
and wiped away her tears as she looked over to the door. Her hand came away with fresh blood.
She fought to keep down the bile that threatened to rise up within her not due to sickness of the
body but rather an infirmity in her soul, and she stayed silent for a moment to collect her
thoughts. Shaitan val'Mordane... the Arch-Prelate of the Coryani province of Canceri. Canceri
of course hadn't been a province in hundreds of years, but Shaitan was a lich and once granted a
title in the Mother Church was inviolate. Josef had worked for the Arch-Prelate before, but he'd
gone against orders at Enpebyn…
With a start, Heidi jumps from the tub and makes for the towel as she calls out “Josef,
doesn’t Shaitan want you dead!?!”
* * * *
Josef waited by the door of the privy silently standing guard. He had warned Heidi not to
eat so much in her weakened state, but she was simply ravenous. He didn’t want anyone to see
her like that. Since he had known her, he had felt many things – but pity was never one of them.
Contempt, anger, love, envy, pride, respect, and even admiration had come and gone in Josef’s
heart since he had met his dear cousin. But never pity. Josef didn’t know that he was still able
to feel that, and yet he felt it now. Josef shook his head… he knew that there was little that he
could do other than continue the quest – continue looking for the cure.
Heidi’s retching drew him back from his thoughts. He knew that she had had a hard life
though she would never dwell on the past since he had known her. He had been there when she
forgave the man whom effectively killed her husband, and he had visited with her the tomb of
her fallen brothers. He couldn’t let her story end like this. No matter what.
The door to the privy opened and Heidi emerged. She looked horrid, but the look in her
eyes showed that she was more embarrassed than hurt as she said “I should see to the innkeeper
before we leave… I…”
Josef interrupted her, he wouldn’t have her falling back into self recrimination. He did
enough of that for the both of them “It’s already taken care of. This isn’t Milandir, Heidi. They
expect that sort of thing in Canceri.”
“But…” she began.
“We should get moving. We still have to meet with Shaitan. I’ve procured the papers to
see him. It seems that even old enemies are willing to see reason with the plague knocking down
their doors,” Josef interrupted again. The Milandisian lass was determined to feel guilty. It
wasn’t like the Cancerese inn-keeper had never had a patron become sick during a meal. By the
gods, it was a trivial thing, barely worth comment. Yet she wouldn’t let it go.
Heidi nods and says “Well then, lead the way.”
As the two began moving towards the exit, Heidi asked “Are you sure that Shaitan isn’t
seeing you just so he can hold you to account for your actions?”
Josef didn’t want to lie to her, but how could he explain the situation. Nerothians –
especially those gifted with life beyond life – thought in terms of hundreds of years. Trivial
temporary betrayals were put aside and all but forgotten in the face of that which would have far
more permanent consequences. Shaitan could use him now… no matter how much the Arch-
Prelate wanted recompense for the betrayal, he wanted Canceri more. Josef knew that he
couldn’t give that to Shaitan… but he could run just enough interference that it would further the
lich’s overall goals. Shaitan wouldn’t hold him to account until he was no longer of use to the
lich. How could he explain that? He couldn’t… instead he replied simply, stoically “No.”
* * * *
Shaitan would only see Josef alone, and under guard. Josef had assured her that this was
standard procedure, but Heidi was worried. She didn’t trust the lich. She had never trusted the
dead – how could she. Ever since she was a little girl, she had only heard stories of how the dead
that walked stole away the children of Milandir, how they were irredeemably evil, and how they
brought only death and destruction in their wake. Little in her adult life had served to dispel this
belief. She followed Josef, yes. But Josef was not undead – he was a living man. Misled, but
still living. She still hoped that she could sway him from the path he chose to walk – the path of
one who sought the so-called blessing of Neroth. Heidi snorted derisively at the thought – her
expelled breath crystallizing in the cold before falling to the snowy blanket that had covered
Nishanpur. How could undeath be anything other than a curse? Even were the dead not
naturally evil, Heidi could not fathom how they would keep from becoming so simply from the
horror that would be their existence. To live forever as you watch everything that you care about
fall to ash around you – how could one survive that without growing so jaded that nothing would
matter any more? Add to that the inability to feel, and the horror of watching your own flesh rot
around you… Heidi shivered from the mere thought. She could not understand how a human – a
creature born of the sun and the light – could ever seek that. No, she did not trust the dead… nor
did she fear them. Heidi paused for a moment of supposition as she thought of how she truly felt
about them. Ultimately she pitied them. They were evil, despicable, and revolting… but
ultimately they were tragic. Few Milandisians would admit it, but the undead could easily be the
subject of a tragedy great enough to bring the audiences of the greatest theatre halls to standing
ovation. Still, tragic or no… they were a threat to all that is holy in the land. She could
understand them, even pity them… but she could never condone their actions. Even the
intelligent ones were evil, a cold calculating evil rather than the overt evil of the mindless ghouls,
but evil none the less.
Heidi looked about at her surroundings. She had wandered slightly while waiting for
Josef to return from his meeting. She didn’t like staying in such close proximity to the
compound. There were far too many Swords of Nier about. They might be members of the
Mother Church now, but Heidi would never forget the terrible price their invasion had cost
Milandir… had cost her. The city was coming apart at the seams. Corpses littered the streets,
and the collectors were no longer able to keep up with their work as even they fell victim to the
very plague from which they drew their livelihood. Still, the corpses vanished under the ever-
falling snow – as if Hurrian wished to wipe away the festering hole that was Nishanpur and leave
behind nothing but a sheet of pure white. Yet Nishanpur remained a den of evil from which the
innocent could rarely escape through any means save death. How could she have been so
prideful that she felt she could actually help these people? They didn’t even want her help. To
them she was a damnable foreigner – a loud, brash Milandisian who could never possibly
understand their pain. They didn’t want her pity or her help… they only wanted to drag her
down into their pit of despair along with them; just like they wanted to cast down the shining
towers of Milandir.
Heidi shook away her thoughts. She could not be certain any longer what thoughts were
her own and what thoughts belonged to the plague’s hold on her mind. She absent mindedly
tugged on her gloves to ensure that they were tightly held in place as she observed her
surroundings. Her vision had begun to blur, but she believed that she was somewhere near the
bone market. There were people huddling near a fire by one of the Erdukeen guard-posts. They
were clearly near death, but perhaps they could yet be helped. Heidi began to make her way over
to them. As she crossed the distance, she saw a Sword patrol exit the guard post and begin to
hover menacingly to the huddled, elderly couple. The Erdukeen were not like native
Nishanpurians… they were just as loud as anyone from any nation – not given to the whispering
of a thousand secrets. Heidi thought she could hear them demanding tribute, but she could not
be certain if it was truth that reached her ears or the madness from the plague. She had begun to
see things, and she realized it. Her dead brothers calling out to her… her husband disappearing
around a corner. She knew these images were not real, but she could scarcely ignore them. She
hadn’t told Josef of course, the poor dear worried too much. By Hurrian she would pull through.
Finally the distance was closed and Heidi stood behind the Erdukeen patrol. She could
hear their laughter as they pushed the old man between them. She could see the evil in their eyes
as they spit upon the elderly woman who cried for her husband and a thousand injustices suffered
at the hands of foreign conquerors. Or could she? Were these devils before her eyes mere
mortal men or could they be figments of her plague-addled mind? Regardless of the truth, Heidi
discovered her sword had leapt into her hands of its own volition. Storm’s Fury – a blade crafted
by the only hands that had ever wielded it… crafted from metal holy to Nier and enchanted with
Hurrian’s temperance that it represented a union of the two brothers of battle. It thirsted for the
blood of these unclean sinners. Its holy edge would sever the chords of their lives that the
innocent might live another day. But why was it acting of its own accord?
One of the devils turned to her – hellfire reflecting in its eyes as the smoke of brimstone
escaped its mouth and nostrils with every vile breath it took. Somehow she couldn’t hear what it
said, but she knew it to be a blasphemy against the gods themselves. Storm’s Fury raised itself
high, ready to strike the devil down. The other four infernals turned towards her, and she saw in
their evil eyes no trace of humanity – she saw the sort of irredeemable evil that she had pledged
herself to destroy in order to protect the innocent from their sordid desires. The creatures drew
their greatswords – somehow impossibly large and twisted things of pure midnight and shadow.
Heidi held her hand a moment. It was not Storm’s Fury that wielded her, but she that wielded it
– and Hurrian who dictated her actions. Even these abominations deserved some warning. She
tried to call out to them, but her mastery of languages failed her for some reason and the only
words that could escape her mouth were those of an old prayer, “Deliver me from battle, and if
blood be on my hands let an innocent be saved by the spilling… be the blood mine or another’s.”
Why was that the prayer that came to mind when she was about to do battle with the unbound
minions of the lower realms? Heidi’s mind reeled as she tried to peer through the murky, blood-
tinged depths into which it had descended, but though she knew something to be amiss she could
not fathom what it could be.
The devils gave pause and looked to one another as the two huddled figures retreated to
the shadows. The streets ran red with blood and the snow that fell to cover Nishanpur
transformed into lightning before Heidi’s eyes. She looked about herself and saw that her own
flesh glowed with holy light, and she was contented that this was the right path. The infernals
cowered before her holy might, and Storm’s Fury became an extension of her will. The blade
swung downward towards the head of the lead infernal just as its own blackened sword flashed
out towards her. The world began to spin about her and there was nothing left but the darkness
of uncertainty. She felt herself lash out again and again, her holy weapon biting deep in the flesh
of evil, but she no longer saw or felt what she did. The blades of the enemies bit into her own
flesh, but her faith sustained her and their blasphemies could not harm her.
She did not know how long it had lasted, but the creatures were gone – slain and sent
back to the nether realm from which they had been summoned. As the bloodied haze that had set
over her vision subsided, Heidi looked down to check on the two she had sought to protect.
There was no sign of them, but she saw five Swords of Nier wheezing on the ground – wounded
but still living. How did they get there? Had the infernals claimed these soldiers before setting
upon the two innocents? Heidi called a prayer to mind and healed her own wounds before she
began upon the others. As she approached, the leader of the patrol managed to sit up a moment
and wheeze out a few words she could not understand before he spit at her. Heidi could scarcely
believe that these men would be so craven as to turn aside the hands of a healer seeking to help
them. Yet they were Swords of Nier… it was in their nature. Heidi simply smiled and said to
the wounded man “I will tend your wounds, but I cannot tend your pride. I am only glad that I
arrived before the devils finished you off.” Heidi then spoke a quick prayer that spread a small
amount of healing energy to each of the men. She wouldn’t let them die, but such callous men
did not need to be completely revitalized. Better that they learn from their mistakes and become
better for it.
As she turned to leave, she could not help but wonder why the wounded man she left
behind her looked so confused. She supposed that it was simply the nature of the Cancerese and
the Erdukeen to be so jaded that they could no longer comprehend the compassion of the
Milandisians. Regardless, she would offer succor to any – even those that did not appreciate it.
Such was her duty before Hurrian.
Heidi looked up at the sky – still raining snow upon the city. Josef had been too long in
his meeting with Shaitan. She’d have to go back and make certain that he was alright.
* * * *
Josef was indeed alright, though he had refused to speak of what transpired during the
meeting. Heidi supposed that it did not matter so long as her cousin was alright, but she chided
him for his stupidity anyway. He always took unnecessary risks. Didn’t he realize that even he
– the great Josef Skorzeny, slayer of the infernal General Teotaxin and countless sinners – was
mortal? Sometimes she doubted his heredity. The man was a thrice damned idiot and a martyr
to boot. She had told him as much too… and he only stayed silent. What insolence, did he not
know that the blood that ran through his veins – tainted though it was – was of noble stock?
Why could he not leave this Cancerese bile behind and claim his birthright as a Milandisian?
As she followed him into the tavern, she gave him a swift kick in the shin for his idiocy.
He merely grunted and ignored her. For a moment Heidi thought she saw worry on his face.
Perhaps her words were finally starting to sink in. Perhaps he was finally worried about his own
future.
The patrons of the tavern were the usual sort, but there were some familiar faces. As
Josef went over to the bar to speak with the Altherian man he had come to meet, Heidi looked
about. She spotted Sir Amerith and could not hide her elation that he was still in good health.
She smiled and waved at him. Amerith Tensen-val’Sosi… if only more in this imperfect world
could be like him. He reminded her so much of her dearest husband. He had the same panache,
the same grin, and even the same temperament. Until Amerith, she had never seen another man
so able to bring out the best in people.
But what was that noise? Something was scurrying about… no… a lot of things. Did no-
one else hear? The din of the tavern’s patronage grew louder and Heidi could barely hear her
own thoughts. Then she looked, and she saw that everyone was watching her… their eyes dark
and soulless as if they had died and their bodies become host to some abomination from the
deepest reaches of a mad necromancer’s mind. In unison the creatures opened their mouths and
began to laugh with insidious glee. She saw amongst them facsimiles of those she knew…
Amerith, Josef, Grutan, Acutus, and so, so many others. Instantly Heidi drew her sword and
cried out “Foul creatures! What have you done with my friends?!” The things did not answer,
but rather stood and began to hover menacingly ever closer. “Stay back! Stay away from me
abominations or I’ll send you back to the Hells from which you sprang!” she called out,
sounding weak even to herself. She no longer had the will to fight on… she was weak,
desperate. She felt as if she was a trapped animal – cornered with nowhere else to go but into
Neroth’s waiting grasp kicking and screaming, trying to take as many of her attackers with her as
she could. Yet the creatures paused… they showed fear.
No… not fear… they were waiting… the noise was getting louder. Without warning the
ground erupted beneath Heidi and a swarm of something evil threatened to consume her.
Scarabs… hundreds of thousands of the flesh-eating children of Black Neroth. They covered
her, burrowing under her skin… she cried out as the creatures devoured her from the inside and
she began to hack at her own body in a vain attempt to stave off the swarm. Then the creatures
erupted from her face underneath her half-mask. She ripped the mask away as she dropped her
sword and began clawing at her face to stop the tide of insects. Her hands came away with flesh
and carapaces, and her plague-tainted blood flowed freely. The rest of the world had dropped
away, and she felt nothing but pain as she clawed at the swarm with both hands.
Suddenly she felt strong arms wrap around her, and she screamed once more as she
rallied the last of her strength against her new unseen foe. Then all went black as she succumbed
to the bliss of unconsciousness.
* * * *

When Heidi screamed in the tavern, Josef was the first to react. There were few people
the two of them knew here, and he did not trust strangers to react well to a foreigner with the
plague. He was horrified to see that she had drawn a weapon, and many of the tavern’s patrons
had done the same in response. Even Nym behind him was readying a prayer to Althares for
protection. Then his cousin cried out nearly unintelligibly before she began to hack at herself
with her enchanted blade.
Josef closed the gap as quickly as he could, but Heidi had already begun to mutilate her
own face before he could get to her. He ignored the danger as he wrapped his arms around her
and held her tightly to him. “Its all right, its me… you’re safe Heidi, you’re safe,” he tried to
comfort her even as she clawed at him. Then finally she lapsed into unconsciousness. Josef
looked up at the other patrons of the tavern… then to Nym. He could only say one thing. He
said to his old friend “I have to save her, Nym. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Though the words sounded hollow, Nym nodded. Josef knew that Nym was allied with
Itakyte val’Mordane. Shaitan wouldn’t do what had to be done… but Itakyte… she’d listen to
his pleas. And more importantly… she needed the gold. Josef held his unconscious cousin close
to him – the only family he had – and he wept as he cradled her limp form and carried her from
the tavern. He had to save her, and he only knew one way. Gods, he hoped that she would
forgive him, but in her madness she could not speak for herself. She was going to die, and her
soul would be lost in spite of everything. Rather than let the plague claim another victim in its
senseless tarantella of despair, shouldn’t it be better to save what he could of the woman he
loved? Shouldn’t it be better that she be reborn of flesh and mind than cease to be altogether?
Somehow Josef knew he was rationalizing… but he didn’t care…

He needed her.

* * * *

Josef stood by her bedside so long as he could, but Shaitan and Itakyte both asked much
of him. He had long ago stopped caring about the rest of the city… he only cared about saving
her. It had taken much work, but now he was on the verge of success. The Blight Bearers’
plague still had no cure, but now Itakyte val’Mordane’s line of Cancerese Nerothians was ready
to join with the Mother Church and renounce Palic val’Mehan’s Dark Triumvirate – as well as
their Ventakan brethren. It was a great success for everything Josef had ever stood for… but that
victory paled in comparison to this. Through that alliance, Josef had gained the pull and
resources he needed. Yet the priests would not agree to do what he asked until one last thing had
been done.
Josef looked up to the brown-robed priest Itakyte had sent. His senses as a Deathbringer
told him that this man was not alive, and so he began “Honoured one, she is addled by the plague
and not of her right mind, but with your blessing I will attempt to wake her and prove her
willingness.” The words sounded false even in Josef’s own mouth. Deep down he knew that she
wouldn’t be willing – not without much soul-searching. But he didn’t have the time to convince
her, nor did she. He hoped that she would understand what he had done when she re-
awakened… that she wouldn’t hate him. He had to do it… there just wasn’t any other choice.
He didn’t care what the order thought – it wouldn’t work unless Neroth found her worthy
anyway, and if the leaders of the Temple of the Shroud wished to crawl from their mighty crypts
and challenge him then he would proudly defend his actions. Or perhaps not… Josef supposed
that it was wrong that he would do this, but what other choice did he have? He wouldn’t sit by
and watch the one person he had let become close to his heart die and have her soul cast down by
some evil plague born of heresy.
The implacable priest merely stated in his hollow voice “Proceed, Josef Skorzeny. I bear
witness for the speaker.”
Josef nodded and removed the damp cloth from Heidi’s face. He could not help but
wince at what she had done to the left side of her once beautiful face in her madness. The cloth
in his hand still dripped with blood, and he hated to wake her from her drug induced slumber.
Still, he had to show the priest what he had come to hear. Josef knew that Heidi would be in a
state of disorientation – he had to use that to get her to say what needed to be said. From
somewhere inside himself Josef felt sick. He hated himself for what he was about to do, but he
could do nothing else. He pulled the smelling salts from the healer’s kit by the bed – her healer’s
kit – and waved them under her bloodied nose. In response she began to cough violently – blood
spewing from her mouth followed by a string of curses that Josef could scarcely believe came
from her normally calm and sweet voice. Finally her bloodshot eyes opened, and she looked
upward at Josef.
“Release me, Demon, and I’ll show you the quality of Milandisian steel!” she screamed.
Josef winced… she didn’t even recognize him in her state. She was already pulling at her bonds,
trying her best to free herself. Josef was under no illusions that she wouldn’t violently fall upon
him were she to be freed. She howled in anger even before he could muster any words.
“Calm yourself, Heidi… it’s me, your cousin Josef…” he began.
“I’ll rip your throat out for speaking his name, worm!” came her spitting reply.
Josef nearly fell with despair, he could not reach his cousin through the madness – he
could tell that already. They had kept her sedated, but the rage that the plague caused would not
subside long enough. He’d have to get the answer he needed another way. Josef closed his eyes
and took a deep breath. This whole situation reminded him far too much of the things that he
had done so many years ago in the catacombs beneath Ventaka… things he’d done in the name
of the unholy Dark Triumvirate as one of their torturers. From those memories he called up a
voice that he had not used since he had renounced that blasphemous faith “You’ll do no such
thing, vaunted Knight. You are at death’s door and can do nothing for anyone… not even
yourself,” he spit as he tried to channel all the hatred that he had felt in the past. Yet he found
that that old hatred would not come, and he knew that any sane observer could see that it was an
act. Yet he hoped that in her madness his trickery would work. He could hear Itakyte’s priest’s
dry chuckle in the background. That evil bastard was enjoying this. But if evil had to be satiated
that the good would survive another night – be it living or no – then he would do what had to be
done.
“Hurrian sustain me! Your evil shall be wiped clean, villain, and this land will be free
from tyranny!” Heidi continued to rail against her bonds – some of them threatening to break.
Her strength was impressive in spite of her frailty.
Josef fought the urge to stop and take pity on her. There would be a time for that. For
now he had to make her angry enough to say what the priest needed to hear. That bastard knew
what he was doing… he just wanted to make Josef do this… he just wanted to enjoy the
spectacle. He knew that there would be no truth here… no real permission drawn from Heidi’s
plague-addled mind. Josef forced himself to continue “And how do you plan to do that, little
mortal? Your flesh betrays you even now… you can’t hope to challenge immortal evil when
your pathetic excuse for a body will fail and leave you in Black Neroth’s embrace before you can
even say a simple prayer! What will you do when your strength, your health, and even your faith
abandon you?”
Heidi cries out as if crying for release from her torment before she grimaces and replies
“I’ll do whatever I must, sinner! I won’t rest until I cleanse the world of evil – be it yours or any
other! I will fulfill my duty no matter the cost to my body or soul!”
Josef flinched, he couldn’t force her anymore. Perhaps the priest sensed the
Deathbringer’s unwillingness to continue, for his raspy words filled the void of silence “Would
you become what you hate dear child? Would you seek Neroth’s blessing that your duty not go
unfulfilled?”
Josef wanted to imagine that he saw a moment of sanity in her eyes, but he knew that that
was simply his wish to avoid culpability for his actions. She spit blood at the undead priest and
cried out “By Hurrian, I will see his will done! I will not rest until my duty is done and the
innocent are safe! I will never stop! I will never stop…”
The observing Nerothian merely nods at Heidi’s words. That was the admission that he
needed. Josef felt sick as he said softly “Then sleep, cousin… I’m sorry for what we’re about to
do.”
His inner-guilt is only compounded when she violently spits at him and cries out “The
most insidious evil bears a mask of righteousness, Demon… your mask will shatter… wait and
see!” Even as his cousin rallied forth her strength once more against her bonds, he knew that she
didn’t know what she was saying, but the words drove home what he had done all the same. The
ritual would be performed. And should she not be found wanting… then she would spend
eternity paying for his decision… his decision born of selfish desire rather than any benevolent
goal. His sin… what he hoped would be his final sin.
No, it was too selfish a thing to ask… how could he have done this? How could he go
through with it? As the undead priest began to turn away, Josef spoke in a weak voice – nearly a
whisper “Wait…”
The priest paused and turned, cocking his head quizzically at the Deathbringer. In a
slightly stronger voice, Josef spoke again “We can’t do this to her… she doesn’t deserve that
fate. There has to be another way to save her…”
The priest’s laugh was a hideous thing. Were Josef not accustomed to such things it
would have sent a shiver down his spine. Instead it simply chilled his soul, for he knew what
words would follow even before they were spoken. “Dear Deathbringer, the die is cast.
Preparations are made, and contracts signed in blood and oath…”
“Then keep the gold… I will still serve, but don’t do this… its wrong… I’ve known it all
along, but by the Gods I just didn’t want to lose her… let not my selfishness cost her everything
that she is!” Josef protested.
“She is the petitioner now, not you. Your sin brought her to us, and her sin binds her to
Neroth. Such is the road of power that she now walks. As one of our kinsmen you surely
understand. She will wallow in her misery and suffering as she becomes what she despised all
along just to fulfill her much vaunted duty. I can think of no better fate, and the delicious irony
will surely sate Lord Neroth as well. When all is said and done, the path of sin and power will
be fulfilled. You began it, and she shall finish it… both of your Own. Free. Will.” The
intonations of the priest were mocking in nature as he pronounced each of those last words like a
death knell, their echoes reverberating through the room… or was it just through Josef’s mind?
“But she is in the grip of the plague’s madness, surely that is not free will…” Josef
began.
“Dear wayward child, in madness there is truth. We see here her truer self than ever have
you seen before. I feel her anger, hatred, and sin… it courses through her as eldritch power long
buried and finally freed. The plague facilitated it yes, but it was always there. She buried it
under all those petty Milandisian ideals and honors until she had become nothing more than the
puppet of their false beliefs. Through Neroth’s plague she has freed herself to come to us, and
through Neroth’s blessing she shall have time enough to be freed once more in waking memory
as she was in madness. As the centuries pass she will lose all that confined her, and she will
become that which she was meant to be. Your feelings are irrelevant, and your purpose is
served. Her life belongs to the Church now, dear Deathbringer, by writ and rote of kin and
priest. So it has been, and so it shall be.” The priest’s words were deep, sonorous, and sorrowful
– almost like a funeral dirge. There was no malice in them nor was there joy. They simply were.
Josef felt sick… the priest was right. This was his doing. He had run from sin, and ultimately he
returned to it when he had been cornered. By Neroth, it had been so easy to return to sin that he
had scarcely realized what he was doing… but he realized it all the same. He had been weak in
faith.
 “We will return for her at the height of the black moon. Make her ready, Deathbringer,
for the Reaper of Souls comes for her this night.” With those final words, the undead priest exits
the room, the door lingering open behind him as the only sign of his passing save for the smell of
the grave and the words echoing in Josef’s mind.
Yet Josef did not know what to make of those words. At once he was sickened and
heartened. Part of him was elated that he would not lose his only true companion, and another
part of him knew that he had done her a great injustice. He slowly became aware that he had
been upon a crossroads… that ultimately his damnation or redemption had rested upon a single
action. Now he realized that his choice had been made… if only he could stave off the end long
enough to put right as much of the wrong as he could. And if only he could be worthy of the
forgiveness that already he longed for.
He looked over to his cousin – she had returned to a fitful sleep. He could not imagine
what nightmares played out in her mind as the plague ran rampant through her body and soul.
He only hoped that when she awakened she did not find herself in a waking nightmare from
which she could never escape.
* * * *
Josef felt sick. He was wandering through the streets of Nishanpur without aim. The
entire world seemed as if it were conspiring against him, and nothing made sense anymore. How
could he have been so foolish? He knew what would happen when he set upon the path, but he
had done so anyway. Ultimately he was the only one to blame. He had brought her here, and he
had damned her. He shook his head as he trudged through the snow. He had been so very, very
stupid.
“Josef!” came a baritone call from behind the Deathbringer. Josef immediately
recognized it as the voice of Sir Amerith Tensen-val’Sosi. Amerith had been a comrade and
confidant over the years. Josef had known the man since the Battle of Semar – the battle where
he was captured by the S’seth. Amerith’s party had helped Josef recover and strike back at the
S’sethregorans. Josef stopped and turned to meet his old friend. Amerith looked none the worse
for wear. He appeared stoic as ever – though unlike Josef’s stoicism which came from many
years of practiced suppression of emotions, Amerith’s stoicism came from the power of the
blood of the Serenity of Beltine. “Have you found anything else of the cure?” asked Amerith as
he caught up with Josef.
“No… I fear that I haven’t…” Josef began a reply before trailing off. He really didn’t
know how to explain what had happened to his friend… he just didn’t know how he could
explain it to anyone. He felt so ashamed of what he had done, but still there was that part of him
crying out that there had been no other choice.
“I see. What of Heidi, has her condition worsened?” Was that concern in Amerith’s
voice… dear Neroth, Amerith had always been so cordial with Heidi… could it be something
more than the bond between siblings of faith? It was so damned hard to tell with Amerith. Josef
briefly wondered if Heidi found his own stoicism similarly maddening. He couldn’t lie to
Amerith regardless. He had to tell him something… but how?
“Amerith… I have done something… a terrible mistake, but I couldn’t lose her that
way…” Josef couldn’t finish. The look on Amerith’s face was one of shocking realization and
disbelief, his serenity seemingly shattered without the actual act even being detailed. Josef
couldn’t stay. He turned and walked away from his friend. Somehow it seemed that that was all
that he had ever done – walk away from his problems. He always helped everyone else with
their issues, but never dealt with his own. He didn’t do it because he wanted to help them – only
because he had to forget. It was just another way of walking away – and now he finally realized
it.
For whatever reasons, Amerith didn’t follow. Josef made his way through Nishanpur
aimlessly, but eventually found himself back in front of the Mother Church’s compound where
Arch-Prelate Shaitan val’Mordane made his temporary home. Before he could turn away again,
a guard approached to say “Sir, the Arch-Prelate gave orders that you are to see him at once.”
Josef had no idea as to what else he could do, so he consented and followed the guard into the
compound.
* * * *
Acutus was a fool, and Allandra was a twit. Josef didn’t know what to think about Osric
val’Virdan other than that the man was completely out of his depth. There were two others, but
Josef couldn’t recall their names – just more faceless diplomats whom Shaitan had seen fit to
saddle him with. Well, at least none of them were as bad as Ar’khan val’Sheem. If Josef ever
had to aid in negotiations with that man again, then he just might go mad himself. Regardless,
they all had to work together here. The Sarishans were still practicing their blood rituals –
spreading the plague. Josef had resisted being sent on this mission – he hated diplomacy. He
was good at it he supposed, but he still hated it. It seemed that in diplomacy the ability to cut
past all the idiocy and boil the situation down to its simplest was at times a boon.
He looked to the others again. He knew that he could count on Acutus to balloon and
bluster his way past the Sarishan’s initial stance, but the man lacked the backbone to burrow any
deeper. He would mince words for hours and never actually accomplish anything. Allandra on
the other hand – the wife of the Altherian Arch-Prelate – she was manipulative, but unfocused.
She also happened to be about as sharp as an iron ingot when it came to intellectual matters.
Still, she had the political pull of the Arch-Prelate’s ear. That counted for something.
And then there was Osric the Milandisian from the duchy of Sylvania. This man was a
fighter, through and through. How he made it on this team simply mystified Josef save for the
look in his eyes. Josef wondered idly how much of this man’s buffoonery was an act and how
much was actual naivety. Josef shook his head – it did not really matter. The Cancerese scorned
outsiders, and he was the only native here. Yet even he wasn’t a native. He had left Canceri and
joined with the Coryani. He had let himself get drawn up in the matters of the outside world.
It had all started so simply… he had become weak in his faith in the Dark Triumvirate, so
he arranged to be sent to New Althre’ to join the Shining Patrol. He hadn’t lasted a week before
he had been ejected for his violent behavior. It was self-defense, but that didn’t matter… the
man was still a superior officer. Josef supposed that he was lucky they didn’t execute him for
that. All he had wanted was to continue his research, so on to Grand Coryan from there… but by
the time he got there his money had run out and few were willing to hire a Dark-Kin – much less
a Canceriman – for anything other than adventuring. That’s how it began. All he had wanted
was to find the truth about the Gods, but the further he traveled – the closer he got – the more
questions he had. Now he was a veteran of more battles than he cared to count and a so-called
hero to nearly every nation. Yet he was no closer to his answers. He had seen war without end,
and for some reason he could never fathom he kept getting involved. He had fought men both
good and evil, and he had wakened things so inhuman and ancient that they were best left
forgotten in the past. He had even become part of secrets and societies that could shake the very
pillars of heaven. All this, and he had never gotten any closer to what he really wanted.
Then she came, and everything changed. She had shown him the way, and had made him
actually want to do the things that he had done before simply to open doors that would have
otherwise been closed to him. He had done so much before, but with her by his side he had
come much further than he had ever hoped. Now he had betrayed the one person he cared
about… and the worst part about it was that he didn’t even know how that made him feel.
People called him a hero, but he was no such thing. Even if he had risked his life time and time
again, it was never truly heroic. He only did it because he had to. The truth of it was that he
knew he couldn’t die until he found himself – so what did the risk matter? Judgment or Oblivion
waited for him, and either way he would be satisfied – for he would either learn the truth he had
sought for so long or he would no longer care. He did what he did because in the end it was in
his best interest. He supposed that in a way he never really left Canceri. For here in his
homeland sin and suffering were a way of life – a way to reach divinity. Now he called that
heresy, but it was just as true in his life. He just had reversed the flow – brought the sin and
suffering to himself instead of inflicting it upon others. Heidi had claimed that he kept trying to
martyr himself. The truth was that he just didn’t know any other way to escape, and for that
others called him a hero and might one day call him a martyr.
The Sarishan envoy’s entrance drew Josef from his thoughts. He looked her over
quickly. She was beautiful, but she was an ordained priestess and the intelligence coldly
gleaming behind her eyes marked her as an adversary every bit as dangerous as any devil. Josef
was not disappointed – the Sarishans were treating them with respect, even if the rest of the
group did not realize it. They sent a woman because most of Shaitan’s diplomats were male – it
would throw them off guard. Further, they made certain to keep the group waiting past the time
of appointment in order to make the matter seem as if they felt it trivial. Josef expected that in
the end the Sarishans would have made the most gains in these negotiations. Honestly, he didn’t
really care so long as the plague stopped spreading through them. Curious as to if the envoy
herself was infected, Josef called upon the divine abilities granted to him as a Deathbringer to
see life and death around him. She was indeed alive and healthy. Acutus on the other hand was
in the grips of the plague… and Allandra… by the Gods she was more of a twit than he
thought… the stupid girl was pregnant. She had traveled to Nishanpur of all places while with
child! At times Josef wondered if the human race had any redeemable qualities at all when he
saw certain examples thereof. He supposed it did, but they were surely hard to find at times.
The negotiations proceeded as well as could be expected. Josef had stayed quiet for the
most part – only interrupted when Acutus had found an impasse or Allandra had strayed too far
into the realm of idiocy. Osric had also stayed silent for the most part, but judging by his
demeanor he was following it closely as well. Josef allowed an inner smile – the man was less of
a buffoon than he had originally believed. Perhaps there was hope for the boy – he just needed
to expand his experiences beyond his backwards Sylvanian perspective. The other two spoke
whenever there was an opening or pause, but Josef couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.
For her part, the Sarishan envoy had masterfully manipulated the group into giving her
nearly everything they had to offer. Now she smiled insidiously as she pursed her full, lovely
lips to whisper in the Nishanpurian fashion “Yes, this is all fine and good, but it hinges upon
your claim that our blood magic indeed transmits the disease…”
“How can you say it does not?” Acutus began.
“Because we have seen no actual proof. Anything we have seen could have been
coincidence. You ask us to give up the root of our power for promises of future recompense. Do
you think we would do so without solid proof, my dear?” came the Sarishan’s sweet venom.
Josef liked this woman. It was unfortunate that she was ultimately the enemy in faith,
disposition, and faction.
 Finally, Osric spoke “Then I will give you your proof. Perform a ritual upon me, and I
shall contract the plague to prove the point. If it saves others from the same, it shall be worth it.”
Josef cocked an eyebrow. This had gotten interesting. The Milandisian was noble, he’d give
him that. It was one thing when – like Josef – one had nothing to lose. It was quite another to
offer your life and soul when you had everything to live for as did this Sylvanian. If people
wanted a hero, here was one before them even if they didn’t realize it.
Acutus looked like he was about to speak, but instead the Coryani diplomat hung his
head. Josef could imagine that the naïve young man wanted to take Osric’s place but knew that
he couldn’t, because he was already infected. Josef suspected that Acutus would have done so
out of some sense of duty to humanity. It’s easy to think of your duty to humanity and volunteer
for damnation when you had never had a taste of it before. It’s much harder to swallow the
poison you already know than to delve into the unknown – contrary to what any philosopher
might think.
Then Allandra – in her infinite wisdom – deigned once more to speak “I can’t let you do
that Osric, Tessa would kill me if I were to let her fiancé kill himself just before the wedding.”
At once Osric earned respect from Josef and Allandra became even more of a moronic wench
than before. Osric truly had everything to lose – he had found love, and was willing to throw it
to the winds for the greater good of humanity. That was something Josef had never been able to
do. Either find it or sacrifice it. Allandra on the other hand would kill an innocent life within her
own womb as flippantly as another would choose a white wine over a red. She had no desire to
protect the greater good – she only sought to fuel her own overly inflated ego and draw others to
her side by playing the part of the martyr. By the Hells, she probably didn’t even realize that
there was another life within her. It wasn’t like that thick skull had thought about seeking a
divination following numerous copulations with her husband.
Suddenly, before he even knew what he was doing, Josef stood and slammed his open
palm upon the table – knocking over the assembled wines. He wouldn’t let a good man throw
away true love or an idiot woman kill an unborn innocent. Not when there was a pathetic wretch
already damned thrice over who could make the sacrifice. Hell, it wouldn’t even be a sacrifice.
Josef was ready to give up already. The only thing that kept him going was the fact that he was
just too damned stubborn to quit. “NO! Think of your unborn child!” Josef suddenly called out
with a force of rage he hadn’t realized he’d felt. He barely managed to bite off the insult he
wanted to add… there was no sense in alienating future resources. But why was he so angry?
Did he actually care? Perhaps he did, but it was so hard to tell what he was feeling when he had
trained for so long to bury emotion.
Allandra, for her part, seemed stunned into silence. That blessed sound was worth any
sacrifice, other conditions not withstanding. He could see the expectations in the others’ eyes as
well as something else. Could that be admiration? If so it was misplaced, but Josef wouldn’t
correct them. People needed heroes, and even heroes themselves were people. Before anyone
could object, Josef took his ceremonial dagger from its sheath and tore open his own palm. As
he did so, it occurred to him that this dagger had been with him since the beginning. The only
reason it survived Semar was because he had left it behind at the inn. This same dagger took so
many lives at the behest of his Ventakan superiors… then it was part of rituals and rotes for the
Mother Church once he had converted. It had been this dagger that had placed the scars of the
symbols of the pantheon upon his chest… this dagger that had spilt his blood upon the cursed
blade of Fleshripper as he blessed the weapon nightly before it was destroyed. He had used this
dagger to free the trapped souls in the Voei shaman’s shrunken heads in the heart of the Blessed
Lands. It had been with him since the beginning, and now it would lead to his end. How
fittingly poetic a fate.
Fleshripper… Josef hadn’t thought of that blade in some time. It wasn’t the first curse he
had endured, nor was it the last. But it was the only one that truly had moved him. Ophelia
val’Tensen… her name came unbidden to Josef’s thoughts. She had been a kindred spirit, even
though she had been long dead when Josef met her trapped soul within the blade’s dreamscape.
He had tried and failed to save her, for in her he saw so much of himself. When he failed that…
that was when he had lost hope he thought. He carried with him her memory, and the hope that
one day he might meet her soul again in another mortal vessel. If things had been different, he
wondered what might have been between them. Probably nothing, but still his imagination could
not help but wonder. He saw some of Ophelia in so many other women… even in this Sarishan
before him. He supposed that was why he was attracted to Andromache… she was so similar in
temperament and inner-fire to Ophelia. He had oft wondered if Andromache was another
kindred soul… but unlike Ophelia and himself, she hadn’t allowed the world to taint her. Josef
was under no illusions that he wasn’t tainted in blood, mind, and soul. That was why it had to be
this way. That was why if there was a sacrifice to be made then it would be him – wretched
creature that he was – who made it.
As Josef presented his bloodied palm to her, the Sarishan envoy smiled. Josef felt
nothing but guilt as he said “Perform the ritual, snake, and be done with it.” Such sweet pain this
would bring… perhaps it would be enough that he could for a time forget what he had done.
* * * *
Josef opened his eyes as he fought off the tendrils of unconsciousness. Something warm
and wet stuck to him, and he heard the sound of something dripping echoing through the plates
of his armor. He slowly sat up – his vision swimming. He was in the ceremonial chambers
where he had been watching over Heidi as the dark priests did their work. Beneath him had
pooled his own black blood – tainted by some infernal forefather in distant past. He didn’t know
how long he had been out, but he doubted anyone had noticed given his quiet nature and
concealing armor. He peered into the room from his great helm, and he saw the three priests
praying over Heidi’s prone form.
She was dressed in her armor and had her sword laid upon her chest – for that was the
way in which the Milandisian nobles buried their dead. She had to be laid before Neroth as if
already in his sway before the Black God would hear the pleas for her release. Josef knew as the
chanting reached its crescendo that her life neared its end, and he winced as he knew what would
come next. Here and now he would either lose her forever – knowing in his heart that it was the
best fate for her – or he would know that his actions had doomed her to an existence unfit for one
of her faith and spirit. It took a dark mind and soul to seek the blessings of Black Neroth – and
he knew that she was of neither. He stood and took a step towards her. He could still end it
before it was too late. His life and soul were already forfeit, for he would never stand before the
Judgment of Nier and not be found wanting even if his soul survived the plague’s onslaught.
Already he sensed his life force ebbing before the plague… it would be so easy to consign both
himself and his dear cousin to oblivion. Josef took another step forward as his hand fell to the
Sarishan steel blade at his side… the Spirit of Freedom, engraved with the name of the woman
he could not save – Ophelia val’Tensen. A single swift stroke would end his cousin’s suffering
and save her from the fate to which he had consigned her. A third step took him ever closer. He
could save Heidi like he had failed Ophelia… A single strike was all that it would take… then
he in turn would die at the hands of the priests. All would come full circle, and the cycle of pain
would be over. A single stroke of the blade to end all the pain for both of them. Oblivion
together, with a single, poetic action.
The sound of metal upon metal reached Josef’s ears as the blade began to exit its sheath
with a seemingly inexorable slowness. As if a man in a trance, Josef continued towards the altar
where his loved one lay. Unbidden the words came to his parched lips to deactivate the
enchantment of mercy upon the blade. One clean stroke, and his sin would be undone. All
would be given to Neroth’s embrace, and finally the voices of doubt would be silenced.
The priests did nothing as Josef strode up the steps to the raised dais. They continued
their chanting as the sword escaped its scabbard. It was as if they did not see the Deathbringer
coming to practice his art one last time before the end of his days. Josef stood by his cousin as
she lay helpless upon the altar. One last sacrifice to his dark God… one last sacrifice to end the
line of countless dead whom had fallen before him… and his work would finally be done. His
quest would be over, and him along with it. He looked upon her face, and the familiar pain of
memory came to him as he saw her porcelain skin pulled taught over her skull where it was not
marred by the scars made by her own hand. The plague had robbed her of her beauty and health.
Now she would be robbed of her soul by plague or priests… the only matter left was if she
would be given to the freedom of oblivion or cursed to an existence as one of Neroth’s children.
One clean stroke and it all would end. The entire world of sin and torture would crash down
around his ears, and the two of them would finally be free.
He raised the blade of the Spirit of Freedom high, ready to make that stroke. It was for
the best. “I’m sorry, dear cousin…” the words escaped his lips, and for a moment the world
stood still.
* * * *
Somewhere in the starless black sea of a subconscious mind facing destruction, the
intellect of Heidi val’Tensen watched without emotion as her sister – her soul – tore and frayed
as the metaphysical plague destroyed her. Heidi’s intellect knew that she should weep, for part
of herself was being destroyed. Yet though she knew everything that she should feel and do, she
was not possessed to do it any longer. She was the sum total of memories and personality of that
woman she was a part of, but she was not the woman. She could do nothing but watch in rapt
silence and wait for the end. Still, her faith transcended feeling and thought both, and she spoke
a prayer to Hurrian that the end would come soon and end the misery of her soul.
Then there was another present… one that did not belong in this realm. The intellect
turned and said unto it “What is this that you would invade the realm of soul and mind in our
final moments? Be you a Valinor come to claim us before the oblivion finishes its work?”
The creature did not reply, but rather held out a clawed hand. The intellect took one last
look at her sister – her soul – and said “Farewell… find peace in oblivion,” before she took the
hand of the other and stepped into his being to become something else in the moment her soul
was consumed.
* * * *
The raised Sarishan steel blade threatened to flash downward, but it halted. Josef looked
to his sweet, sweet cousin and realized that he could not do it. The blade clattered to the stone
floor, and the Deathbringer fell to his knees weeping. He had failed her.
Around them, the priests ceased their prayers… their dark eyes falling upon the two to
watch what would unfold. All in the chamber was silent, awaiting Neroth’s answer to the
petitioner. Josef could do nothing but hold his eyes closed and weep. Finally words formed in
his mouth as he said “Oh, Heidi, I am so sorry… I couldn’t save you… I failed, Heidi… I failed
again…”
Suddenly he felt a hand placed upon his armored shoulder, and he looked up as he heard
the words of his cousin “Josef… what is this?” Josef looked up from his mourning and saw her.
By the Gods she was beautiful… her silver-grey eyes looked down upon him with the cloudy
sheen of the soulless dead… the blessed and the holy. Her body was yet unmarred by rot, but the
eyes are the window to the soul – and through hers he could only see the void left in the wake of
Neroth’s blessing. Neroth had found her worthy, and now she had become a holy being of his
faith. Where others might see a monster, Josef only saw the one he loved transformed into
something greater than she had been before. How could he have been so foolish as to wish to
end it before she could be reawakened? The miracle and beauty of her rebirth stunned him and
robbed him of speech. He could do nothing but look upon her undead visage in awe…
* * * *
“Josef, what is this?” Heidi repeats her unanswered question. Looking around, she found
that there was no color to the world. She was somewhere away from the sun or any other light –
yet she could see clearly. All about was the smell of embalming fluid and the implements of
Josef’s faith… and who were those men surrounding her? She removed her hand from her
cousin’s shoulder as he looked up at her silently, and she sat up slowly – her muscles shifting
strangely in response. Somehow they were stiff and unresponsive, but they did not hurt or
protest. In fact, she felt nothing at all. As she sat up, she felt something slip from her chest.
Reflexively she reached for and caught her sword before it clattered to the ground.
Why was she in her armor, and why was her unsheathed sword laying over her? Heidi
looked about again in confusion before she realized that she was laying upon a Nerothian altar.
Instantly she jumped to her feat, Storm’s Fury at the ready as she cried out “WHAT IS
THIS?!?!”
The three priests looked to her, but she could see nothing behind their porcelain masks.
She swung her sword about, as if expecting an enemy to leap at her at any moment. Something
was terribly wrong. Then she caught it out of the corner of her eye… a strange reflection upon
the metal of her blade.
“Sister, be calm… you are with friends…” one of the three priests began in his raspy,
hollow voice as he approached her. She looked to him a moment in disbelief… why had this
Nerothian… this Canceriman… called her sister?
“You are confused, it will pass… let us help you, Sister,” the second priest continued as
he stepped forward. What in the lower realms was going on?
“But first the ritual of transition must be completed,” the third priest spoke. Transition…
what in the bloody…
As Heidi takes a step backwards away from the triumvirate of priests, her footing slips
slightly. Looking down to see what made the floor slick, Heidi first saw the pool of obsidian
blood – Josef’s blood. Then her eyes focused on the image reflected in that liquid, and she saw
her new face for the first time… the milky eyes… the sunken cheeks… the unbleeding
wounds… All that she could do for a moment was stare as realization slowly dawned upon her as
to what had happened. First she whispered “Dear Hurrian, what have they done…” and then she
screamed in abject horror.
The three priests hurried towards her, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.
Josef just looked to her – his face suddenly a mask of anguish. “Stay back or Hurrian help me
I’ll run you through!” she cried out. The priests paused in their pursuit, and Josef did not move
at all. This was all too much for Heidi… how could she have become a monster… how could
Josef have done this to her? She took several more steps backward, her sword still pointed at the
priests, though it was wavering. Finally she turned and bolted for the door.
A hundred thousand things ran through her mind, but none of them could touch the horror
that was the realization that she had become the very thing she hated. She had become an
abomination – a soulless creature neither living nor dead. She ran from the room, unable to
handle the oppressive sense of evil within it. Finding herself in the ante-chamber, she realized
that she had no idea how to leave the complex. Regardless, Heidi began running again.
The rest of the temple became little more than a blur of passages and questions to her.
Parishioners and priests who would have once demanded explanation of her presence instead
made motions of respect as she hurried past. She couldn’t bring herself to look at them, and
every mirrored bronze surface made her gut wrench. She wondered if her heart was still her
own, and she wondered in horror if she was still herself or rather only some creature that thought
it was her. Shaking her head she pushed these things from her mind… she just had to get out of
this evil, forsaken place.
Finally she found the exit to the street… Nishanpur was still covered in a blanket of
snow, but somehow the cold was no longer discomforting. Heidi didn’t know where she was,
but she kept running – now through the city. As she ran, she realized that the citizens of
Nishanpur were looking upon her differently than they had before. Where before they had only
gazed upon her with contempt, now they looked upon her in a mixture of fear, awe, and respect.
The Sword patrols that had once been at best amused by the Milandisian woman now regarded
her warily. Somehow it seemed to Heidi that in her death she had become a part of this evil city,
and it sickened her to her very core.
Eventually Heidi became aware that the number of people on the streets had dropped
dramatically. Slowing down, she began to finally take stock of her surroundings. Her mad
running had brought her into the heart of the corpse quarter… one of the poorest parts of the city.
Here was where the plague’s devastation had run most rampant. She did not see a single living
soul… only the blanket of snow over a desolate urban wasteland. Idly, she realized that she was
not short of breath – that a run in full armor she should have been hard pressed to make at all had
not even tired her. Physically, she felt the same as she had when she first awoke within the
Nerothian ritual chambers. She wondered if anything would ever be the same again… and she
wondered if it was still a sin to take your own life when you did not live. How could she go on
existing like this? She had become the very thing her people had hated and feared for generation
upon generation… She had become one of the evil children of the dark land to the north.
Suddenly, as Heidi contemplated ending it all, she heard something that set her instantly
on guard. It was the sound of someone crying just out of her vision. Heidi would have drawn
her blade, but she realized that she had never sheathed it. She crept slowly forward – wary of a
trap – as she called out “Is someone there? Do you need help?”
The sounds suddenly ended, and Heidi realized too late that her same wariness of a trap
would be magnified twelve fold in the mind of a native to the city. She called out again “I am a
priestess of Hurrian from Milandir… I will help you, but you have to show yourself.”
Identifying herself was a gamble, but in her experience as much as Nishanpurians looked down
upon outsiders they were more than willing to take advantage of those outsiders’ good nature.
She slowly crept forward looking for any sign of the other… then suddenly a scream pierced the
cold, crisp air of the Nishanpurian winter. Heidi immediately bolted towards the sound, crossing
into a side street. Though it was pitch black, she could see clearly in grey, muted tones. There
was a child of no more than nine summers screaming as he was pinned under an abandoned cart
– having apparently taken refuge under it only to have the weight of the snow snap the rotten
wood of the axle. However, that was not why the boy was screaming; further down the street
was a group of no less than four figures. Heidi’s keen eyes immediately registered that they
were not human. It was the way they moved, keeping their center of mass low to the ground as
they strode on the balls of their feet. They moved in a quick and feral manner that could be
matched by no human movement. Their clothing marked them as having once been guards or
mercenaries, but the stench that preceded them combined with their gaunt flesh and cold soulless
eyes told Heidi the truth – they were ghouls.
The others apparently had seen Heidi enter the street, for they quickened their pace even
as she moved with magically augmented speed to help the child. “Cover your eyes!” she called
out to the boy as she began to bring down her blade. She did not know if the child heard her, but
as Storm’s Fury came down upon the tongue of the cart splintering the support, the cart’s weight
shifted it forward, raising the back half by several inches. Looking up at the oncoming ghouls,
Heidi could see that they were nearly upon them. She unceremoniously grabbed the boy by the
scruff of his shirt and hauled him out from under the cart, pushing him behind her as she said
“Stay behind me, I won’t let them hurt you.” Even as she did so, the ghouls howled in rage.
That howl immediately called to Heidi’s mind the stories she had been told as a child and the
horrors she had witnessed firsthand as an adult. Once those memories had frightened her
terribly, but now she only found within herself a cold resolve. She spoke a word of power, and
the blade of Storm’s Fury crackled to life with electric energy casting an eerie glow upon the
alleyway. The child clung tightly to her as she called out “Find a meal elsewhere, for you will
not find one here!” Normally, Heidi would have never given monsters like these an option other
than to be destroyed, but tonight she was outnumbered and could not let them so much as touch
her charge for fear that they might carry the plague. The plague… by Hurrian, what if she
herself was a carrier? She pushed the thought from her mind; it would do no good now.
The ghouls paused and dropped into fighting stances about thirty feet from her. One of
them – apparently a pack leader – cocked its head and moved warily forward – as if testing the
reactions of this new creature between it and its prey. Heidi could barely suppress the rage
welling inside her… that these creatures ran rampant through the streets was a testament to the
evil of this land. Behind her, the child’s grasp loosened suddenly, and Heidi could hear a quiet
gasp of shock. She imagined that with the light cast by her weapon he had seen what she had
become. She looked over at the child and saw that he was backing away slowly. “Please, I
won’t hurt you – it’s not safe to go alone,” she said. As the child began to run, she realized that
she couldn’t help him except by keeping the ghouls from pursuing. The ghouls’ leader cried out
in rage as the pack charged forward.
Heidi could immediately tell that they meant to move past her to pursue the child. She
called up in her mind a prayer, channeling her faith into the ancient words and through her holy
symbol. Suddenly, just as the ghouls closed the distance, hundreds of spinning longswords
erupted behind her from the cobblestones of the street to form a wall of deadly blades. The
fastest of the ghouls was unable to stop his advance in time; his screams pierced the night as the
magically summoned blades tore him apart. The eyes of the remaining three locked upon the
one who had denied them their prey and slain one of their pack. Those eyes glowed with an
infernal light that made their intentions more than clear.
As the first one charged her, Heidi shifted her weight at the last moment and brought
Storm’s Fury upward to deflect his reckless advance. The creature only momentarily lost
balance as it ducked into a roll and came to rest in a crouching position – already able to pounce
again. Before Heidi was able to turn back towards the other two ghouls, she felt claws madly
tearing across her armor and finding purchase into her side between the plates. It was an odd
feeling – she had been wounded before, but this was different. She did not so much feel pain as
she felt the necromantic energy that sustained her faltering slightly… just as unpleasant if not
more so than pain, and yet it was not the same as pain.
Heidi spun, elbowing the creature in an attempt to push him away long enough to cast
another spell, but the third ghoul jumped in from the other side and threw her off balance. She
staggered to the side a moment and called a prayer to her lips as the first ghoul that had attacked
her moved to take advantage. Just as he lunged forward, Heidi’s hand erupted with radiant light
as she completed her prayer. The energy coursing through her undead form made an incredible
pain shoot through her arm – feeling as if she were on fire. She grimaced through the pain as she
caught the ghoul in its throat and channeled the summoned power of the prayer into her foe. As
the pain left her own body, the ghoul was blown backwards and fell to the street like a
marionette with its strings cut – the last glowing embers of its eyes dying out.
The remaining two ghouls were taken aback a moment, thrown into confusion by the loss
of their leader. Heidi took the opportunity to maneuver herself away from them and buy herself
a little more time. They were not inactive for long however, and the two remaining ghouls began
circling their foe. They were far more wary than before, and Heidi knew that that made them far
more deadly. One screamed as it charged her, and Heidi was barely able to parry his ferocious
blow with Storm’s Fury. However, by parrying the first ghoul’s attack she opened herself to the
attack of the other from behind. His clawed fist darted for her, just barely missing her face. It
struck her shoulder, and she felt her collarbone shatter rendering her left arm nearly useless.
The ploy had cost the ghouls however – the decoy was still off balance from his reckless
charge. Heidi called upon Hurrian for aid as she struck with her remaining arm, bringing
Storm’s Fury in an upward, diagonal arc. The blade flashed with holy energy and bit deeply into
the ghoul’s abdomen – cutting through his form and into his spine. The electricity and holy
energy seared its putrid flesh, and the creature opened its mouth to cry out one final curse – but
its cry was silenced before it began as the burning embers of its eyes died away. With the
quickness of a practiced swordswoman, Heidi pushed the corpse from her blade and turned to
face her final opponent. The last ghoul took one tentative step backwards, then another, and
finally it turned and began to run. Heidi called upon another prayer, and a glowing orb formed in
front of her. With a motion of her blade, she directed the spell, and the orb shot towards the
fleeing ghoul transforming into a blade of searing light. It caught the fleeing opponent at the
knees, severing its legs. The ghoul fell into a roll as it screamed in anguish.
Heidi allowed herself a smile as she approached the prone form of the ghoul. These evil
creatures deserved nothing more than destruction… their very existence was an abomination
before the gods, they… dear Hurrian, what was she thinking? Heidi paused as she neared the
ghoul, and her smile transformed into a look of horror. It suddenly came back to her that she
herself was a creature abhorrent to nature – a corpse animated by fell energy. Her grip loosened
on Storm’s Fury as her resolve began to evaporate. The ghoul in front of her was not yet
destroyed, and as if to compound her horror it looked up at her with a whimpering, piteous moan.
These animals would harm… devour… a child… and she was like them? The very
thought sickened her. Then that sickness became anger and hatred as she gripped her sword so
tightly she threatened to warp the plates of her gauntlet. She took the remaining few steps
towards the ghoul as she said lowly through gritted teeth “I’m not one of you…” The ghoul’s
eyes widened as she closed the distance. “I AM NOT ONE OF YOU!” she cried out again as
she brought the blade down. Over and over she repeated it like a mantra and she brought the
blade down again and again. She continued far longer than the ghoul survived. She wasn’t sure
how long she had continued, but when she finally stopped there was little left of the ghoul’s
mutilated corpse. Heidi slowly stood, straightening herself as she deactivated the enchantments
on her sword and sheathed it. She looked down at her gauntleted hands, covered in the ghouls’
coagulated blood. She whispered to the empty street “I’m not one of them,” and her balance
wavered for a moment.
Suddenly, Heidi heard the twang of a bow and felt something strike her back and erupt
from her chest. She spun to see her new assailant, and at once her heart leaped for joy and fell to
horror. A hundred feet down the street stood the boy she had saved, and with him was an Ellori
– a wind elf unless she was mistaken. The Ellori was obviously an adventurer whom had come
to the city for much the same reasons as Heidi had. She watched in horror as the elf knocked
another arrow, and she cried out “No! Wait, I…” The only response he gave was three more
arrows fired in rapid succession. Two of them struck her in the chest, and Heidi somehow
instinctively knew that her undead form could not take much more abuse before failing. She
only had three options open to her. She could let the Ellori destroy her, kill him, or run. For a
split second she thought that she would allow herself to be consigned to oblivion, but then she
looked again to the child’s face. It was then that she realized that no matter what she had
become, she still had a duty to humanity… she was still a cleric of Hurrian and a Knight of
Milandir… she was still a val’Tensen.
Heidi turned and ran as quickly as she could through the streets, ducking through alleys
and side passages – resolute to make it as difficult to follow her as she could. She didn’t know
how long she had been running when she reached a dead end alleyway, nor did she know if she
was still being pursued. She leaned against the wall of the alley and looked down at her chest.
The first of the three arrows that had struck her remained in her breastplate. She saw its head
protruding from her armor where it had pierced her unbeating heart. There wasn’t even any
blood. In mental anguish, she allowed herself to slide down the wall where she collapsed to the
ground in a heap. She wanted to cry, but found that she could not force her eyes to moisten, so
instead she began to pray.
* * * *
Josef was sitting in the common room of the inn quietly turning a gold coin end over end
in his hand. He was worried about Heidi – having not seen her in several days. He’d looked all
over the city, but apparently she did not wish to be found. The plague was coming under control
in the city – but the death toll was enormous. The work that he and Heidi had done had helped
greatly, but there were far too many who contributed for it to be considered instrumental. Josef
had never seen so many in Canceri working together for an arguably altruistic cause. There was
still no cure, but the journal that Shaitan had entrusted to him was a good start. Shaitan had said
that the reason he gave it to Josef was because he knew Josef would make certain that the
information was spread to those who needed it regardless of secular or religious beliefs. Josef
might no longer be the Church of Neroth’s champion, but at least the Arch-Prelate still thought
highly of him still in spite of the betrayal at Empebyn.
Yet what did it all matter? He had lost the one person he truly cared about, and he was
dying. At the behest of an unknown benefactor – reputedly a Gnomish necromancer – Itakyte
had offered Josef the ritual of blessing to save him from the plague. Yet Josef did not know if he
wished to take it. Was his wretched life really worthy of it? He had done such terrible things in
the past, and then – just as he believed he was close to redeeming himself – he did something just
as terrible, and the worst tragedy of it was that he did it to someone he cared deeply for.
Josef looked down and stared into the glass of dark liquor he had ordered. He hadn’t
touched it… he’d been down that road before. Just as he was contemplating yet again traveling
that path, a cold slender hand brushed his shoulder. Josef turned and was surprised to see Heidi
standing behind him… He began to say “Heidi, I’m so sorry… I…”
She interrupted him however, and she said “It’s alright Josef… I can forgive you… it’ll
just take time…” In that moment Josef knew what he had to do.

* * * *

The figure sitting beneath the tree stopped writing a moment and flexed her hands. Then
she took a deep, superfluous breath and continued:
Not long after we were reunited, Josef himself underwent the
ritual. He confessed to me beforehand that he did not expect it
to succeed – he did not feel that Neroth would find him worthy.
He was proven wrong – just as I knew he would be.

Ultimately, we failed in our mission to Nishanpur, and

we were changed forever by that place. In a way he never left
that place… and I suppose neither did I. We traveled far
together since then – from the King’s Court to the Western
Lands and onward to…

The figure stops writing in her journal… her pen dripping a drop of stray ink as she whispers “To
Seremas…”
Looking up, Heidi watches the dawn… she had been writing all night. She retrieves her
gauntlets and stands. As she dons them she idly wonders if anyone would ever read her journal,
or if the subject would survive the text. Only time would tell she supposed. She hurriedly
gathers her things and makes her mount ready. Before mounting her stallion, she looks to the
load she had just strapped once more upon its back… Josef’s corpse, wrapped in brown linen
sealed by knotted twine, remains silent.