The men looked warily at Sahshir as he approached. Most of them were wounded in one way or another. Many were lying about being tended to. But they had formed around a golden standard shaped like a honey badger.

A formidable animal for formidable men. Even Baltoth knew to fear the Calishan Honey Badger, for one had nearly slain him.

"How do we know we can trust this Kalthakian?" asked a man, one of the few who were not wounded.

"He is no enemy of Zigilus, Amus. And we need help," said Marius.

"How can we hope to seize Zigilus now?" asked Amus. "We have saved the standard, but the fortress still stands."

"We must attempt," said Marius. "It may be that they have suffered as desperately as we have. Can we wait for the others?"

"It may be days before he returns," said Arus. "And I do not think we have that long."

"Then, we must complete our mission before that happens," said Marius. "We will press on once we are ready."

Marius' eyes fell on Sahshir's hand. Sahshir shifted as he did. "You are injured. Let my healer tend to you."

"I would appreciate that," said Sahshir.

Marius turned to one of his men. "You, where is Akius, the physician?"

An older man hurried forward, carrying a staff on which he supported himself. His skin had several scars, and his eyes were one of a man who had seen too much. Sahshir had seen the like among Asim's older warriors. "Here, sir."

"See to his injuries at once. We cannot afford to lose anyone to them," said Marius.

Akius nodded, and Sahshir sat down on a stone. As the man drew near, he looked out over the twisted landscape. Monstrous creatures began to ride out of the ground but did not attack. Instead, they wandered away as new plants grew up to shield them. Typhos' wrath seemed to have turned elsewhere.

"Let me see your hand, boy; I may be able to heal it," said Akius.

Sahshir drew off the scarf and pulled off one of his gloves. He felt a little pain from the sumps. Akius' eyes widened as he sat on the flesh, covered in boils. "...What happened to you, boy?"

"A curse from Laevian, long ago," said Sahshir.

"My sympathies. I will see what I can do," said Akius.

His spells healed the wounds, and much of Sahshir's pains and aches were recovered. Yet the fingers did not regrow. As the man worked, Marius moved up to him. "With such an injury, how did you fight?"

"I don't feel my body as I once did," said Sahshir. "This only gives me a mild ache."

"What brought her wrath upon you?" asked Akius. "Laevian uses such curses only rarely."

"Nothing I did," said Sahshir. "It was a curse on my father. All his sons in every incarnation are cursed with it. It took effect when he became who he was.

"Then, he left."

"...I remember your name now," said Marius. "You are the one known as the Leper Prince?"

Sahshir felt injured at the name. "I am called so."

Akius shook his head. "This infection is beyond my abilities. It fights against all efforts to restore the flesh. With time, I might deal with it. However, there are other injured men I must see to."

"No matter," Sahshir rose. His mouth was parched. "Do you have water?"

Someone passed him a canteen. Opening it, he drank deeply. The sensation of the water going down her throat was heavenly. He passed it back to Marius gratefully.

Then he arose and took hold of the Sword of Order. It filled him with power again. Now, he felt healthier than before, more focused on his journey. He had killed many foul enemies and slain monstrosities. Yet he did not want this to be his only legacy.

"Now, we go to Zigilus," said Marius. "To finish our task. Prepare to move out, men!"

Sahshir stood as they walked. His eyes gazed over the surroundings as they entered the unholy realm. "I believe you should let the remaining citizens live."

"Madness," said Marius. "Why would we ever do that?"

An appeal to mercy was worthless. "You lack the manpower to kill them all. They have been betrayed by their god and left to die."

"Even so, we must attempt to purge them," said Marius.

Sahshir remained silent. An idea occurred. "Would your mission be fulfilled if they fled to a separate country?"

"...Yes," said Marius after a moment.

"Then I will offer them all shelter," said Sahshir. "And you will let them go. In exchange, you will give them time to gather supplies."

"Why would you do this?" asked Marius.

For one thing, a dependent group of refugees could be valuable to him. "My land is small. The other population may help, and they must change to survive."

"They may change you," said Marius.

"Baltoth's will cannot be defied. Only appeased," said Sahshir.

Marius said nothing.

Together, they scaled gradually up toward the gates. By now, they were overgrown with thorny vines. Six black pillars had arisen like teeth on either side. And standing amid the gate were Narcissa and Alkela. They were a motley bunch, and many among them were injured. But they numbered nearly as many as the legionnaires, and more were coming.

The two stood silent, with a large force of the remaining defenders. Their weapons were out. Narcissa raised her axe. "You will not pass."

"I remember this one. She killed many of our men," said Marius as his men formed up.

"Stay where you are if you don't want it to be more," said Sahshir. "Stand down, Narcissa. Your cause is hopeless."

"Hardly. I think we can take out the rest of you," said Narcissa.

"Even if we fall, another legion will come and avenge us," said Marius.

"Maybe, but we won't go gently-" began Narcissa.

"Or you can both live," said Sahshir. "I am a Prince of Kalthak, soon to be a king. So I wish to offer your people shelter in my domain as a display of good faith."

The people eyed him. "You're our enemy. Why would you help us?"

Sahshir shifted and thought about the question. He didn't feel sad at the deaths that had happened, nor would he have any great regret if these died. "I feel a moral obligation to protect you from extermination. Stay here, and Dinis will wipe you out. Gather your people and follow me, and you may have a chance.

"What keeps you here? Garacel sacrificed you on Typhos' altar."

Their eyes were distant and blank, as if they had become the background to a picture without an identity of their own. "We exist for Zigildrazia."

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"Have you considered existing for something else?" asked Sahshir.

"You're one to talk, Calishan," hissed a man. "Your kind live and die for Baltoth."

"I serve Baltoth because I choose to. Now-" Then he stopped.

Rage filled him. These wrangling fools had tested his patience long enough. He would kill them, strike them down where they stand! But, no, what was this sensation? He heard murmurs of anger from both sides. Men raised their swords as the glare intensified.

"Wretched woman!" cried Marius. "What treachery is this?! Speak, or I'll cut your eyes from your head!"

"Kill the worshippers of Zigildrazia! Kill them all!" cried a man.

"Death to Dinis!" cried one of Narcissa's men.

Sahshir stabbed the Sword of Order into the ground. There was a flash of white, and the feeling departed. Sahshir felt Baltoth's will within him. "Hold!

"Come to your senses! This is a spell!"

"Indeed it is." said a very familiar voice.

A figure of darkness descended from high and landed between them. Then, finally, the night cleared, and Sahshir saw before him a lone man. He was tall and was the fairest creature Sahshir had ever gazed upon. His skin was dark as night but without blemish, and his body was the epitome of perfection. The man's eyes were glowing pink, and he stood with perfect poise, clad only in a white skirt that led to his knees.

"Master Garacel?" said Narcissa.

"Indeed, I am Narcissa. The man rose to his full height. He laughed, his glowing eyes blazing. "I feel! Flesh and blood! The sensation of the ground on my feet, the wind on my face! The scent of endless carnage!

"How I have missed it!" Then he raised a hand, and armor formed upon his body, identical to what he had once possessed. The Blade of Chaos appeared in his hand as his face was covered. "This is the beginning for me! And the end for many others!

"Would any care to dispute me?"

Sahshir shifted. He had never thought Garacel would be so majestic in appearance. It mattered not. "How is this possible? I killed you."

"You destroyed my physical body," said Garacel. "But Zigildrazia fulfilled her promise. And Typhos was grateful for my service to her." He took a stance. "Now, I will finish this, once and for all."

Sahshir glanced back as he took a stance. "Step back, Marius. He is mine."

Marius shrugged. "By all means, save me the casualties."

Sahshir moved forward, and Garacel mirrored the motion. They circled one another, but Sahshir noticed something. Garacel was spinning the blade in his hand, leaving openings as if experimenting.

Sahshir rushed him. Bringing around his sword, he found it parried. Garacel thrust in a counterattack that nearly impaled him through the head. A flurry of blows passed between them before Garacel vaulted over him, kicking him in the back. It sent Sahshir to the ground, and he narrowly rolled away before the blade was driven into the ground.

He parried a strike and fought a losing battle against Garacel. Gradually, Sahshir was driven around the plateau and up against the cliff's edge. He was fighting for his life for a moment, and then he found his strength growing. Something had taken hold of him. Even now, his blade was moving faster, with stronger strokes.

Yet, Garacel increased at the same time. As they fought, a glow emanated from the Blade of Chaos and the Sword of Order. Soon, it was blinding, and yet Sahshir could see. He felt now more like he was the sword in the hand of a warrior than in his own right.

Garacel was forced back. He flipped his silver hair around him as he drew back his blade. A smile was on his face.

"A duel between gods, is it?" said Sahshir's wielder.

"Baltoth?" asked Garacel. "Baltoth, is that you?! Excellent! I have been looking forward to killing you in some form for ages! Ending the existence of your Disciples' son is beyond a good start!" Then, wings grew from his back like a hawk, and he surged into the air. As he did, he raised the Blade of Chaos skyward. Tendrils of green energy poured down from above as the blade glowed white-hot. "Death to the Archon of Pride! Glory to Valranor!"

Sahshir found himself rising into the air to meet the creature. Wings like those of a back had grown from him as his hands became akin to claws. He now saw through a white glow as he surged to meet Garacel.

Garacel charged down, and they clashed in midair. Sahshir used Garacel's momentum to send him spiraling toward the ground. But the god twisted with absolute grace and redirected himself to charge again.

They clashed again and again.

As they did, Sahshir felt hatred welling deep in his heart. This man had invaded his city. Sacrificed so many, and for what? He attacked with greater violence, and his hatred only increased as he saw Garacel's smile.

Garacel weaved and dodged away. "I'll admit, Baltoth. You're putting up a better fight than I expected! You were always among the weakest of the Demonic Archons in direct combat! But I wouldn't have it any other way!"

"You are a mad dog, aren't you, Garacel?" said Sahshir, but it was not his voice. Instead, it was an aspect of Baltoth himself, acting through him.

"Mad?" Garacel laughed. "Perhaps I am, but it is a madness of your making!

"Ages! Ages trapped beneath the earth! It's laboring to send my spirit out of the mine! And for what, for stealing the love of one of your lays for the night!"

"I loved her," replied Baltoth, voice cold as ice. "All that I have built has been in her honor. I knew that she did not return my feelings, and I accepted it. But you twisted her and transformed it into hatred." He slashed, but Garacel moved beyond his reach.

He is always beyond his reach.

"You did most of the work yourself," said Garacel. "Or do you imagine she held you in anything but contempt? I felt her mind. You were never anything more than an attack dog to her."

"You lie," said Baltoth, voice cold.

He surged forward, but Garacel moved aside. This time, he nearly took his head off. Sahshir winced as he felt a slash on his shoulder. Wheeling back, his left arm went limp, and his right was fighting defensively.

"Do I?" asked Garacel. "You cloaked yourself in the trapping of order for so long that you've forgotten what you were born of. Pride.

"It was not for the sake of people, real or imagined, that you laid low the Dust Elven Empires. It was to appease your pride. You would have gladly taken up the domain of chaos if Valranor had wielded that instead.

"You sought to place yourself above gods and demons. And you killed everyone who got in your way for pride's sake. You exploited weakness and tore down what others built! You ripped their self-image apart until they convinced themselves you did it for them!

"You were a mad dog long before I was, Baltoth!

"She spoke soft words to you, seduced you, then sent you toward her enemies! You never mattered to her at all!"

The damn broke. Sahshir's knee moved up and hit Garacel in the face. He reeled backward, and Baltoth pressed his attack. He was now fighting as a berserker, hacking and slashing. "A thousand ages beneath the earth would be too good for you, Garacel!

"CALISHA WILL BE AVENGED!!!"

He surged forward, and all his hatred and anger was poured out. Garacel was sent careening down toward the ground, and Sahshir was after him. They grappled, tearing and slashing at each other before finally hitting the ground. The land howled beneath their conflict as a red hand appeared in the skies above. It was blotting out the newly rising sun.

Sahshir was thrown down and hit the ground as Garacel rose, drawing back his sword. Sahshir snatched up his sword and parried the blow. Garacel flew backward, circling to charge forward.

Then Narcissa interposed herself between them. Garacel veered off, sliding to a halt, as Sahshir realized the obvious. Baltoth was filled with silent fury. But he mastered himself and calculated innumerable plans. Then, he chose to wait.

"Why do you stand between him and me, Narcissa?" asked Garacel.

"I need him," said Narcissa. "If you kill him, we'll be wiped out. He's offered us sanctuary in his kingdom. If we stay here, we'll all die. Please, Master Garacel! We need him!"

Baltoth withdrew his wrath. Sahshir remained where he was for a moment, waiting as Garacel sheathed the Blade of Chaos. If he killed Garacel now, he could seize it back. But Sahshir was exhausted. He was more likely to be killed here.

And he had no time to die. He had more important matters to attend to.

The transformation upon both of them faded away. Sahshir managed to remain standing despite it. To his silent anger, Garacel showed no signs of exhaustion. He doubted he would have been victorious if that battle had continued. Of course, victory had been conceivable but not worth the risk.

Of course, Garacel regarded this as a victory. And it was, in some sense, one for him. He had regained his former self, but doing so had been necessary. Zigildrazia had lost her primary agent's unconditional fealty. Typhos had been wounded in battle and forced to withdraw, destroying many of her broods.

Garacel turned the Blade of Chaos into a replica of his earlier katana as he slid it into a sheath. "Very well, then. I have had the satisfaction of victory. Nevertheless, I will spare your life for the sake of Narcissa and her people."

"If you ever threaten my people again, you will die for it," said Sahshir, refusing to let himself fall to one knee, although it hurt.

"So long as my servants are treated well, you need not fear that," said Garacel. "Besides, I contend with higher powers." And he faded into pink smoke, tinged with pure blackness. All that remained were several hawk feathers.

No doubt, Zigildrazia was crowing about how all had gone according to her plan. Perhaps Typhos had yet to take notice of Sahshir's attack. He might have been no more than an insect beneath the gaze of higher powers. He was incapable of influencing events in any measure. To thwart their will might be like holding back the sea with a bucket. Or for a single grain of sand to resist the foot pressed upon it.

Sahshir couldn't care less, to be honest.

If Zigildrazia wanted to pretend this was her victory, she could have her delusions. Dinis had been weakened, Zigilus had been destroyed, and Baltoth stood triumphant. Best of all, despite his enemies dying, Baltoth still had the moral high ground. All by demonstrating more care for their citizens than they did. Just because his victory was not as total as it could have been changed, nothing.

Perhaps his actions had been but a pinprick. But a pinprick at the right time and place could be a fatal distraction. If the wound became infected, one could die from it all the same. Even so, none of that was of any further consequence. Sahshir had gotten what he wanted. None would dare speak the name of Leper Prince to him now.

"What about the Blade of Chaos?" asked Narcissa suddenly.

"What of it?" asked Sahshir flatly. "The sword is irrelevant. Only the wielder matters." Then he sheathed his blade and went to get something to eat.