Zayl pushed ahead of the sorcerer. He wore an intense expression that surprised most of those around him, especially Kentril. All had come to assume that the necromancer had such utter control over his emotions that nothing, not even a ghostly kingdom, could draw much reaction from him. Even the expression he had worn when first seeing the looming palace could not match his present eagerness.
"And am I right, honored sir, am I right in thinking I know you as well?"
This the white—robed figure found almost amusing. He leaned on one arm of the chair, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. "And do you?"
"Are you not—are you not the great Juris Khan?"
A frown escaped their host. "Yes… yes, I am Juris Khan."
"Saints above!" whispered one mercenary.
"Another ghost!" snapped another.
Kentril silenced the mercenaries with a swift wave of his hand. He looked to Tsin for confirmation, and although the sorcerer did not respond directly, the Vizjerei's covetous expression said it all.
Incredible as it seemed, they had found Juris Khan, he who had been the guiding light of a kingdom considered the most holy of all… and a man who should have been as dead as the horrific phantoms that had herded them to this place.
Herded them?
"He did it," Kentril informed the others, advancing on the seated form. "He had them force us here. He's the one who trapped us so that our only path could be to his palace."
If he expected the lord of Ureh to deny the charges, Juris Khan much surprised him. Instead, the regal figure rose quietly from his seat and, arms folded into the voluminous sleeves of his robes, bent his head in what appeared remorse. "Yes. I am responsible. It is through my means that you were forced to come to me… but that is because I could not leave here to come to you."
"What sort of nonsense—" But Captain Dumon got no farther, for as he finished speaking, Khan reached down, seized his robe, and raised it just enough to reveal his feet.
Or where they would have been.
Just above the ankles, the lord of Ureh's feet melded perfectly into the front legs of the chair, so much so that one could not tell where the man ended and the wood began.
Juris Khan lowered the robe and, in a most sincere tone, said, "I hope you will forgive me."
Even Tsin found this too extraordinary to ignore. "But what does this mean? What about the path to Heaven? The legends say that—"
"Legends say many things," Zayl interrupted. "And most of them are found false in the end."
"Ours being the falsest of all," murmured a voice from the darkness to their left.
Juris Khan reached his hand forward to that darkness, smiling at the one within. "They are what they seem. It is safe to come forth."
And from the shadows, the flute player emerged,hooded no more. For the first time, Kentril saw that the flowing garment had hidden a woman, a young and very beautiful woman with smooth skin like alabaster, eyes that gleamed like emeralds even in the faint light of the lamp and his men's torches, cascading red hair even more vivid than that of the women of his homeland, and an eastern cast to her features that spoke true of her birth in this faraway realm.
"My friends… my daughter, Atanna."
Atanna. A name that buried itself there and then in the veteran fighter's heart. Atanna, the most beautiful of beautiful women Captain Kentril Dumon had ever beheld. Atanna, an angel among mortals…
Atanna… the face from the brooch.
SIX
"It was betrayal," Juris Khan told them as Atanna passed to each a goblet filled with wine. "Betrayal from one whom all trusted most."
"Gregus Mazi," his daughter interjected, seating herself on the floor near Kentril. Her eyes met the captain's, and for a moment, a brief light seemed to shine in those almond—shaped, emerald orbs, but then the subject at hand doused that light. "Gregus Mazi… my father once called him brother of brothers."
"He sat at my left hand, as the good priest Tobio sat at my right." The white—haired lord leaned back, the head of his own goblet cupped in his palms. "To them I gave the glorious task of translating the visions to reality. To them I gave the blessed task to lead us to the sanctuary of Heaven."
The mercenaries and the two spellcasters sat on the floor before the imprisoned monarch, fruit and wine brought to each of them by the graceful and beauteous Atanna. After so much bloodshed, so much fear, the entire party gratefully accepted Lord Khan's hospitality. Besides, many questions needed to be answered, and who better than the legendary ruler of the holy kingdom himself?
Juris Khan fit very much the mold of a leader. Standing, he had been as tall as Kentril and almost as broad. For one of advanced years, Khan had a youthful appearance and personality and little sign of frailty. Although his features had become weathered, his strong jaw, regal nose, and piercing green eyes still gave him a commanding countenance.Even his long silvering hair did not age the ruler so much as mark his years of wisdom.
Thinking over his host's words, Kentril frowned into his wine. "But the legends say that Mazi was left behind by accident, that he spent years trying to join you…"
Juris Khan sighed. "Legends tend to be more fiction than fact, my friend."
"So you didn't make it to Heaven?" asked Tsin, already having downed most of his drink. "The spell failed?" To the captain, the Vizjerei appeared more disappointed in the fact that the magic had not worked than in the fates of the hapless citizenry of Ureh.
"No. We found ourselves trapped in limbo, trapped in a timeless passage between the earthly plane and our glorious destination… and all because of one man's evil."
"Gregus Mazi," Atanna repeated, her eyes downcast.
A tremendous desire to comfort her arose in Captain Dumon, but he fought down the urge. "What did he do?"
"When the time came for the final casting," the fatherly monarch explained, "Tobio realized that the words did not read right. Their meaning had been reversed, an invitation not to journey to Heaven… but to be thrust down into the pits of Hell!"
Kentril glanced at Zayl, who had been listening as intently as any. The necromancer nodded to him. "In many forms of spellwork, to reverse subtlely the meanings of single words is to reverse the effect. A spell of healing can be made to wound further or even to slay."
"Gregus sought to do more than slay us," murmured Juris Khan. "He sought to damn our very souls… and nearly succeeded."
The captain thought of the woman next to him cast down into the realm of Diablo and shuddered. Had he been able to, Kentril would have taken the foul Gregus Mazi by the neck and twisted tight until with his eyes the sorcerer would have been able to look down upon his own heels.
"He would have succeeded," Atanna added, blushing slightly under Captain Dumon's gaze, "if not for my father and Tobio."
"We tried to respeak the already spoken incantation, reverse what had been reversed, and so, instead of Heaven, instead of Hell, we ended up in the middle of a vast nothingness, that timeless realm from which we could not escape."
Snorting, Quov Tsin commented, "You should have recast the spell from there! It would've been a simple matter for any well—trained group of Vizjerei, much less—"
"Not so simple, my friend, when the priests and mages were all slain by the selfsame spell." A cold look spread over the generally kind features of the ruler of Ureh. "Gregus planned thoroughly. A single line altered also drained swiftly the life force of each chanting the spell except for Tobio and myself. Our superior strength and knowledge saved us but left us weak. Worse, without the others, we lacked the power to recast it."