William and Marzel left with great fanfare into aside tunnel he hadn't seen before. From what he gathered, the road he'd planned to take only led deeper into the mountains. There were vast cities of goblins there. He'd have been lost and died for sure.

Privately he thanked Elranor for the landslide. Or whatever god may have been looking out for him. Then again, if the landslide hadn't happened, many goblins would still be alive. But then he wouldn't have seen that they weren't pure evil. And who knew how that revelation might affect things?

He was suddenly curious about the goblins. He looked to his guide as they walked. Marzel didn't move very quickly; his legs were short. So William had to check his pace to keep from walking past him.

"Marzel, I would test your knowledge of your people," said William.

"What is it, great one?" asked Marzel.

"To what purpose does the Withering King put the weapons you forge in his name?" asked William. He already suspected the answer, though.

"We make as vessels by which the Einheroth are born into," said Marzel. "The souls trapped in Withering are set into them. Forged into warriors of spirit and sword! Kill humans and protect us! Why you have face?"

"Hmm?" said William.

"Why you have face beneath mask?" asked Marzel again.

His scarf had fallen away. He thought of a way to answer without directly lying. "I was allowed to keep my mortal body until such a time as it grows old and dies."

"You be favored," guessed Marzel.

"Indeed," said William. "That is why this task was appointed to me. Another question, where do your people come from? How did they come to dwell in this place?"

"Once, long time ago, goblins dwell on land to far south," said Marzel. "We as many as stars and have big, big armies. Elves leave us alone; they not want underground, and dwarves too few to stop us. Then big bad human, Anoa Butcher, kill all elves. He help dwarves drive us out.

"He be killing us for years and years, and nothing could stop. But big chief Grakak get together tribe on ships he steal and sail north. There he meet Withering King and pledge to service."

"The original Withering King?" guessed William.

Marzel shook his head. "There only one Withering King. He change armor. You must be new Einheroth."

"I am new," admitted William.

"Armor just outward shell," said Marzel. "What inside is what counts. He put goblins to work, tunneling and making fortresses for him under cold earth. He make big bad Einheroth to kill enemies and trap souls of warriors to fuel them."

"I see," said William.

The account, for what it was, was consistent with what he had heard from his histories. But Anoa the Bright had done so because the goblins were utterly evil and without hope of redemption. They had been a plague threatening to wipe out the dwarves under King Redder. Or so the legends had said.

"How did the Iron Kingdom come to be?" asked William suddenly.

"They lured here by Withering King," said Marzel. "Mortal followers who served his armor. They found great Kingdom, but Iron King come and raise a rebellion. Einheroth driven into mountains."

"Who is this Iron King?" asked William.

"Old god. Very old," said Marzel. "Very mysterious. No one knows who is. If we know, Withering King kill."

"Tell me, if you were to try and infiltrate the Iron Kingdom, how would you do it?" asked William.

"Me dig big tunnel under Iron City," said Marzel. "Then break supports. Whole city come crashing down!"

"And why haven't you done this yet?" asked Willliam.

"Mazabel say it too far to dig," said Marzel. "Also, say Iron Kingdom sense us and kill. Withering King say he want us secret."

"Of course," said William. "You remember well."

The conversation reminded him of a different problem that just occurred to him. Even if William got to the Iron Kingdom his armor might get him mistaken as an Einheroth. He certainly wasn't going to get rid of it, of course. This had been a gift from Rusara. But once he got out into the open, he'd take his helmet off. That, at least, would make it clear he wasn't a monster.

"How far is it now?" he asked.

"Not far. Not far," said Marzel. "This secret way we make only recently. Come out right near Iron Kingdom's main road. We use to go in and out in secret." He drew out a veil and covered his eyes.

"Why the veil?" asked William.

"Sun hurts eyes," said Marzel. "We no like going out for long."

"Why do you go out in the first place?" asked William.

"We scout for Withering King," said Marzel. "Bring back news of targets."

"Targets?" inquired William.

"Yes. Farmhouses far from help," said Marzel, licking his lips. "Sometimes we steal cradles and bring babies back. Souls easy to mold into Einheroth since they have no will. We also bring back corpses to decorate halls."

William suddenly wanted more than anything to cave Marzel's skull in. However, that would be wrong. Whether it had known him for who he was, it had helped him and done him no direct harm. Still, he felt far less guilty about the possibility of the Withering King punishing them now.

He asked no more questions. He had the feeling he wouldn't like the answers. They came out suddenly into a dark and colorless forest. No, not colorless. It was more like the cheer had been drained out of it. The tree trunks were miserable brown. The leaves were a sullen green.

It was the most bitter sight William had seen yet, somehow. And yet everything around him was perfectly healthy. It was like the soul of the land was dying. He looked to Marzel. "I thank you for bringing me this far. You have done well. Very well indeed. Where is the road?"

Marzel pointed. "That way. It lead to main road. But Iron Soldiers keep eye on. You no want to go that way."

William sighed. "Farewell."

And he walked into the forest toward the road.

William would have gone through the wilderness, but he had no knowledge of this land. He would likely get lost and starve. Or be hunted down by wild beasts. Neither was attractive. Every few miles, he saw great black pillars rising from the roadside. They seemed the center of the sickness he'd seen on entering. It was like they sucked all the beauty out of the world. Then he heard the sound of combat.

Rushing toward it, he came to the edge of a clearing and saw a full-scale battle going on. Many gray-armored dwarves and humans were laying about them with swords and axes. The Einheroth were on the other side, and both were tearing each other apart. The leader of the dwarves and humans slew two Einheroth with strokes of his sword. Bringing the blade around, he ran through another.

Yet there was something wrong with all this.

The being of flesh and blood were silent. There were no war cries. No commands. No screams of agony when struck by weapons. They fell backward and said nothing as they were dragged away by comrades or slain.

Yet the undead, lifeless and unholy, roared and screamed a great deal. It was disturbing to William that the dead had more emotion than the living. He wondered if he should take a side. Even so, he realized his looks were against him. He might lose his head and never be known as human. So he watched as the combat continued. At last, the Einheroth drew back, leaving many broken and ruined suits of armor behind. Among them were many corpses as well.

The leader watched them go.

"Byran are we sure we may defeat the Einheroth," asked a soldier.

"We are not," said Byran. "However, we must at the least delay them. If we may hold the Einheroth in place long enough for Raka to rally her forces, we may gain victory. But it will be by a slight margin."

"Do you really think that even a trained militia will be of any use," asked the soldier.

"The Iron City has long protected those outside its walls," said Byran. "But our ranks have thinned while the undead has gained in power. With our weaknesses, people are beginning to waver. We had to crush several cults this year alone.

"The people must learn that the strength of mortals is greater when not using gods as a crutch. Thus Raka must succeed. If she does not, I fear for the Iron Kingdom."

Then there was a long, mournful cry. It resounded through the hills. Willaim felt a shiver run down his spine.

"That voice... what is that?" asked a soldier.

"It is the call of the Withering King," said Byran. "The Einheroth are pouring forth in their full might now. Draw back to the Fort of Steel. So long as we hold that the Withering King cannot advance."

The side of the hill opened like a maw, and the dwarves and humans streamed into it. Byran was the last into it, waiting until the wounded had been carried in. He stayed long enough for Einheroth to pour out of the trees in far greater numbers. The grass beneath their feet withered and died. William realized he could easily be caught if he wasn't careful. So he ran for it.

Inwardly he prayed this Byran would halt the advance of the Einheroth. Then again, it would be a simple matter for all he knew. He did not know the defenses of this Fort of Steel or the Einheroth's plans for piercing it. Nor even the numbers on both sides.

No one pursued him. It seemed he had gone unnoticed. Yet soon, he could hear the unholy shrieking of the Einheroth. Smoke began to rise, and great clouds of dirt were thrown into the air. The shadow cast by the mountains seemed to lengthen into a claw. The world around them became ever more miserable.

And yet William almost preferred it. It was a different kind of misery. The kind where one still feels life within them. One was motivated to grow stronger and become better. The further he got from the mountains, the less life he felt. Soon he had to stop as he came out onto a road. He followed it, preferring speed to concealment.

As he walked, he saw those pillars again. There was one every mile now. It hurt just to look at them, and above clouds gathered gray. But everything seemed gray in this land. Every step hard than the last. William tried to call on the power of Elranor to give him strength. Yet it was drained away as soon as he did so. He could not wield it here.

This was bad.

And then he saw the shadow of one of the images on the pillars take shape into the form of a girl his age. He sighed. "Oh no, not you again."

"You wound me, dear William," said Arraxia. "After all, it has been ever so long since we enjoyed each other's company."

"It has not been long enough," said William. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," said Arraxia. "I was wondering where you were going."

"I am going to the Iron Kingdom, and from there, I am going home," snapped William. "Don't get in my way. I'm not in the mood for your particular brand of nonsense, and I just might put my sword through you. Again."

"My, overconfident, aren't we?" mused Arraxia. "After all your powers aren't working right now, are they?"

"They aren't. But you already knew that," said William. "So the question remains; what do you want?"

"Well, I was thinking," mused Arraxia. "We've been running into each other repeatedly and have cooperated quite well together..."

"You've tried to kill me twice," said William. "Wait, no. Let me think. There was the attack on Hrungeld's ship. My capture on the shores of Seathorius. Attempting to get me to sell my soul. Then there was that ambush Massacre rescued me from. You used me as an unwitting pawn to defeat Melchious, then tried to drive me to suicide. Then there was your attempt to murder me directly.

"Oh, then you tried to cut my head off with the Axe of Fortenex.

"I think that counts at least as four times. However, your intentions may have been my capture. Still, I have no doubt I'd have ended up dead or worse when your plans finished."

"Yes, it has been a healthy relationship," said Arraxia. "Better still, you've survived. I'm moderately impressed. On a separate note, I was thinking about how you were born from Melchious' being. Then I had a sublime thought; With that connection, you might learn to use hell's power yourself."

"I was indeed born of Melchious' will," said William. "But my service belongs to Elranor alone. One who is greater than you by far."

"Oh, what an adorable speech," she said. "Did you rehearse it? Or just copy it from a religious text?"He had.

"Just be silent," said William.

He walked past her. Her shadow moved to the next pillar as she walked. "At any rate. You are alone and surrounded by enemies. Elranor has been shut out from your heart by those pillars. But the demonic power within you might not be shut out. These dreary stones cannot keep out a power already within you. And you show much promise.

"I thought I might give you the chance to join me."

"Join you?" asked William. "I believe I already gave you my answer before."

"No, no, that was a contract," said Arraxia. "Something designed to snare a fool which you clearly aren't. No, I'm offering you a partnership, William."

"Partnership?" asked William, smiling despite himself.

"Yes. I can teach you many things," said Arraxia. "Many powers that Elranor could not."

"And I imagine as soon as I learned them, I'd lose all my paladin powers," said William.

"Would you?" asked Arraxia. "Elranor may not even be privy to this conversation with all these old stones about. And even if he is, we are practically partners already."

"No, we aren't," laughed William.

"Isn't Duke Vanion making many arrangements with me?" asked Arraxia. "And Kiyora and I have made several alliances as it is. Elranor has raised no objection to them. Why should he, if you try to claim, what is your birthright?"

"And I suppose if I refuse, you'll try to kill me again," said William, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, me?" she asked. "Of course not. I'll leave that to the Iron Kingdom. That armor is very memorable, and you have a very distinctive face. On the other hand, if you agree to help me, I will help you, and you can not only get home but return home a conqueror."

William realized that even if he wasn't going to cooperate, it wouldn't help to have her trying to end him. He decided he'd pretend to agree so she would go away. "...I am willing to cooperate with you to get out of here. However, I reserve the right to break our alliance at any time. I will not burn villages; I will not take any action which violates my moral code."

"Oh? So you aren't interested in learning to control the power within you?" asked Arraxia.

"No," said William. "It would only corrupt me."

"Disappointing," said Arraxia. The shadow tensed as though sensing something. "Ah well, it isn't as if I object to putting less effort into my side of the deal. Still, if you are going to prove yourself worthy of my time, you'll have to pass a particular test. It is nothing to be concerned about, a small matter..."

At that moment, the Vulture of Melchious descended and landed. In his hand was a flaming spear which he hurled. William blocked it on his shield and was nearly thrown from his feet beneath the weight of the strike. The heat from the strike burned him, and he hacked the spear away.

The demon landed, and in his hands were clutched lances of flame. His wings were outstretched, and his eyes were flaming red. His beak opened to let out a war cry before taking a stance. "You shall never leave this land alive."

"Would you be a dear and kill him?" asked Arraxia.

This was ridiculous.

More than that, it was dangerous. He had no access to healing magic. Even if he gained victory here, he could be wounded. It would be best to avoid a fight. He didn't believe for a second that Arraxia had actually summoned the Vulture here.

"I would love nothing more than to spill your blood across these flagstones," said William. "However, it is in neither of our interests to do battle."

This response surprised the Vulture. "Why not?"

"Because we're in the middle of a highway," said William. "At any moment, reinforcements from the Iron Kingdom could be coming down this way. Or an army of victorious Einheroth. We'd both be killed then."

"Fool," said the Vulture. "I am an avatar of Melchious. When slain, he may return me to life with only a portion of his power."

"But will he?" asked William. "Think of that."

"My will is his," replied the Vulture. "I am an extension. As your arm is an extension of you." He drew back his flame javelin. "On this road, I shall spill your lifeblood!"

And he hurled a volley of spears. William blocked one and dodged the others, trying to ignore the heat. He drew his sword and charged, but the Vulture surged upwards and hurled more spears. William was slow to dodge, and one of the spears glanced at the side of his helmet. He was thrown to the ground with the force of it.

He rolled aside as more spears came downward. Some impaled themselves on the road. One burned his foot. Pulling himself up, William rose and warded off and assault with a flame whip by the Vulture. The whip wrapped around his shield, which was yanked to one side.

William swung his sword, but the creature pulled back. Now it drew its bow and began to fire arrows at him. William blocked one after another. Yet the creature was always moving, and it seemed like his arrows created a rain of poisoned steel.

So it went. Seconds passed into minutes. The creature launched one projectile after another at him. Then Melchious ran out of arrows. William readied himself to face it in melee.

Instead, it descended and took hold of one of the pillars. Tearing it from the ground, it hurled it spinning toward him. William threw himself to the ground. The pillar passed over him. It smashed against the flagstones, raising a shower of dirt and stone.

Before he could stand, the Vulture was on him. One claw was clutching him by the throat. His shield was thrown away, and his sword fell from his hand. He reached for it while trying to ward off its stabbing beak.

Reaching up, William struck the beast across the eye. It recoiled, its grip loosened, and he snatched up his sword.

Then he drove it upward. The blade pierced through the creature's skin, deep into its heart. The beast screamed in agony and recoiled. It tried to fly away, but William was too quick. He brought around his sword to strike it across the neck. It made a bloody wound, and the beast gasped. Another stroke took the head clean off.

"My, what a magnificent show," said Arraxia. "Yet what horror! You appear to have been injured!" William felt the marks left on his neck. And also there were the burns which had been left to him. He sighed. "It's only a scratch."

"A scratch that could get infected and kill you," mused Arraxia. "A shame you don't have access to divine energy. Perhaps I might suggest an alternative..."

"I don't need your help," hissed William.

Opening his pack, he drew out some bandages and his waterskin. He did his best to clean the cut, then wrapped the bandages around him and tied them.

"Hmm, what primitive methods of healing," mused Arraxia.

"Rusara taught me how to heal minor injuries. That was before I learned to work miracles," snapped William. "I'm more than capable of treating this." Putting his things away, he began to walk. His foot hurt severely, and he was limping.

"It certainly would be quicker just to take my training," noted Arraxia.

"What was that demon even doing here, anyway?" asked William. He was trying to distract himself from the pain. "How did it get here?"

"The Iron Kingdom works with demons," mused Arraxia. "Not with Melchious, of course. But their shields allow my kind to pass freely."

"Why would someone ever want to shut out the gods and not demons?" asked William.

"Well, obviously, to play into my hands and allow the hell's free reign in this land," said Arraxia.

"I mean, why would a mortal want to shut out the gods?" said William. "I know why you would do it. You'd probably do it purely out of spite. Even if you stood nothing to gain."

"Ordinarily, I would object, but all I can answer is 'probably.'" mused Arraxia.

"How would you even do it?" asked William as he limped around the broken pillar on the road. "Divine power lives in the heart of every mortal being to ever live. You can't just block it out."

"The Iron Kingdom didn't. They merely drain it," said Arraxia. "It is actually rather clever. You see at the heart of this domain in the Iron City, the center of the godlessness. All of the divine energy which is drained by those is drawn into the Iron City. At the heart of it is a great crystal known as the Void Stone.

"The Iron Council, who reigns over the Iron Kingdom, chooses what to do with the divine energy."

"And they don't think it's worth using it to maintain the boundaries between this world and the next?" asked William.

"Not really," said Arraxia. "An occasional demonic attack gets people scared and makes it, so they are less likely to repel. Tyrants positively love an overarching enemy. It lets them pose and posture and justify their monstrous actions.

"It makes it all the more fun to torment them after the fact."

"Is this from personal experience?" asked William.

Arraxia was oddly silent for a moment ." ...Not really. Tormenting sinners is a cush job with few risks or rewards. I signed on to rule all creation. I'll leave the damning of souls to those with no ambition. Are you quite well?"

"Yes," said William. "I'll live."

"Oh, excellent," said Arraxia. "What about the poison?"

"Poison?" asked William.

"Yes. That demon has poisoned claws," said Arraxia. "It's running through your blood right now. If you don't accept my help, you'll die."

"I already said I wouldn't work for you," hissed William. Then his vision went blurry. His legs collapsed out from under him. He fell, and his eyes darkened.