The villager jerked and raised his head. Terror registered in his pale gray eyes and he tried to scramble backward, but the chains with their cruel hooks held him fast, and he screamed, his outstretched arms straining against his weight. The Dark One smiled, delighted at the man’s spirit. The Lord of Lies would find this one quite suitable, indeed.
“Lɪft ðә vel frә hɪz ajz,” he whispered. As he began the incantation, the torches on the wall flared up, washing the room with light, and the man’s flesh glowed white-hot with the mark of the sacred rune. Others seemed to sense the building energy, and more shrieks echoed through the stone hallways like the gibbering laughter of the damned. The man on the hooks jerked once again, his head whipping back and forth and his entire body going rigid, muscles standing out in his arms and neck; then his head fell forward, eyes closed, and his breathing grew slow and deep.
The room grew darker again, the walls retreating into blackness. When he raised his head again, the man who had been inside that human shell was gone. Yellow eyes, fierce and full of intelligence, fixed themselves upon the Dark One’s face. The trace of a smile touched the possessed man’s lips.
Power radiated outward in waves. In spite of himself, the Dark One shivered, remembering that day many months ago in the alley, and many others since. He was once again in the presence of his lord, ruler of the Burning Hells.
He waited until Belial was prepared to speak. The Lesser Evil’s voice, when it came, was deep and powerful, a rumbling of stones that came from within the human’s chest and seemed to resonate everywhere.
“Our time comes quickly. You are ready.”
It was a statement, not a question. Nevertheless, the Dark One nodded. “The constellations will align in less than a fortnight, as you and the texts have foretold, and we will enter the month of Ratham. Our servants have been busy. The chamber is filling quickly now.”
Belial gave a slight nod. “Yet the girl remains hidden from us. Do you know what this means?”
“The spell that protects her is powerful—”
“That is no concern to us, not any longer. I have intervened.” The creature smiled. “She will be revealed soon enough. You will not fail.”
Once again, it was not a question. The Dark One dropped his gaze, his throat dry; he wondered if he dared make his doubts known. All his life, people had underestimated him. He did not need any assistance. He had everything under control, and besides, the girl might not even exist.
He felt the immense power thrumming beneath his feet. He imagined the warren of chambers far below, the lost buildings and dusty rooms and those lying dormant within them, waiting for their leader to call them back to life. Waiting for him.
“Are you sure this is necessary? I . . . I am confident that it is only a matter of time until I find her—”
“Have I ever misled you? Have I ever given you any reason not to trust what I am saying?” The yellow eyes were lighter now, full of mirth, and the smile had grown wider, the voice more serpentine and playful. But the Dark One knew the power behind those eyes, the promise of violence. One did not question the Lord of Lies; his authority was absolute.
“Of course not, my lord.”
“I have chosen you because of your rare gift of sight, and the blood that runs through your veins. The blood of kings. I have shown you this, given you proof of who you are, in spite of how you were raised by those who had no knowledge of it. But there are others who would lead our army, should you prove yourself not worthy.”
“I will not let you down.”
“I have no doubt of it.” The yellow eyes blinked, and suddenly the Dark One was no longer in the stone room beneath the tower. The walls dissolved around him, and he was standing upon a vast, empty plain with a city in the distance, the sky above blackened by boiling clouds. The parched and cracked ground exploded upward as legions of the dead tore their way free, climbing to their feet and standing ready for his command. Beyond them rose the tower and the gigantic, looming shape of the Lord of Lies, king of the Burning Hells, a beast so monstrous and powerful it was like looking into the sun.
The vision was gone as quickly as it had come. The Dark One stood gasping and shaken by the strength of it, his entire body buzzing with excitement. It hardly seemed possible that a poor orphan child from Kurast could become the most powerful person in the world, yet that power was at his fingertips. Belial himself would walk these lands, and the Dark One would lead his army upon Caldeum and would take his rightful place as the ruler of Sanctuary, ushering in a new era in which humankind was in its proper place. He shivered, and thought of the revenge he would take upon those who had wronged him.
“Find the girl. Bring her to me before the stars begin their pull and Ratham begins, and all this will come to pass. Our call for ancient blood must occur precisely on the first day of Ratham, as the sun touches the sea. There is much to do, but you will prepare everything perfectly before then. If you do not . . .” Belial’s voice trailed away for a moment, and the possessed human shell grew silent. But the eyes were still blazing with light, and they fixed upon the Dark One’s face. “If you do not, I will need to use other means that you may not find so rewarding.”
The Dark One climbed the stairs once again, more slowly this time. Belial had left his presence without another word, returning to the fiery depths from which he had come and leaving the villager from Gea Kul bleeding from the eyes and nose and mouth. The man would be useless now; the feeders would have to bring others, and there were few left nearby. They would have to step up their work in Kurast and extend it beyond the city’s borders.
Soon, Caldeum will be mine. Their plans were moving quickly. He had sensed the disruption in the balance between the Heavens and Hells for some time, but more recently he had felt other forces at work. An energy was building far across the land, led by that damned old fool Deckard Cain. Something powerful in its own right was gathering against him, mirroring an epic battle of years ago, and he did not like the feel of it.
Find the girl. The Dark One remained unsure what the Lord of Lies intended for her, but the prophecies in his most ancient texts told him the same thing: a young one hidden somewhere, not far from here, held the key to everything he had worked toward for so long. Yet she had been hidden by a spell that could not be broken, it seemed, no matter how hard he tried. There was powerful magic at work.
Where is she?
The Dark One reached the top of the tower’s ritual chamber, returned to the narrow window slots, and peered out. As the last of the sun’s rays sparkled on the horizon, his eyes began to tear, and he squinted against the pain. He could not tolerate such bright light. A creature of darkness, he had evolved from the sorry, ragtag bunch that had been his disciples, casting them off long ago. Horadrim. What a silly game they played. He had no need for them anymore. He had outgrown them; they were weak, mindless, limited in what they could do. They did not understand him or his talents, did not recognize the true power hidden within the demonic magic of ancient times. The strength to command the very creatures that haunted human nightmares. The power of the Hells themselves.
Beyond him, the land spread out like a wasteland of death and destruction. The sea lurked at its edge, flat and deadly silent, the slumbering beast of a thousand tentacles, the home of bloated corpses and watery graves.
He spoke words of power, a call that carried into the coming night, and raised his arms to the sound of wings.
A murder of crows flew by the windows, their black bodies flashing by before they whirled and returned, landing on the narrow sill and hopping inside. Thirteen of them came, all large, fattened birds, a glossy sheen to their feathers, their bright eyes studying him. “Come here,” he whispered, and they hopped toward him, briefly taking wing again with a flutter before settling on his outstretched arms and shoulders. He felt their sharp talons digging into his flesh beneath the robes; relishing the pain, he looked at them all fondly as they stared back, heads cocked and waiting, their cold, bloodless stare bringing chills.