“Because they know that it is time to make a stand, regardless of the outcome! Rather would they pass
from this world than watch it writhe and die in Deathwing's terrible grip!”
“Is there no way we can help them?”
The dragon's silence answered that.
Rhonin eyed the orcs ahead, thinking of his own mortality. Even if he managed to seize this artifact from
Nekros, how long would he maintain hold of it? For that matter, what good would it do him? Could he
wield it?
“Kras—Korialstrasz, the disk contains the power of the great dragons?”
“All save Deathwing, which is why he cannot be bound by its power!”
“But he can't wield it himself because of some spell the others cast?”
“So it seems . . .” The dragon banked.
“Do you know what the disk can do?”
“Many things, but none of them able to directly or indirectly affect the dark one.”
Rhonin frowned. “How is that possible?”
“How long have you trained in magic, my friend?”
The wizard grimaced. Of all the arts, magic truly had to be one of the most contradictory, guided by
laws all its own, laws quite changeable at the worst of times. “Point taken.”
“The great ones have made up their minds, Rhonin! By being granted the chance to take theDemon
Soul,you will not only free my queen—who will, I do not doubt, rise to their aid—but also have the
wherewithal for finally crushing the remnants of the Horde! TheDemon Soulcan do that, if you learn to
wield it properly, you know!”
He had not even considered that, but of course a relic like this would serve well against the orcs. “But it
would take too long to learn how to use it!”
“The orcs did not have willing teachers! I am not one of the Five, Rhonin, but I can show you enough, I
think!”
“Providing we both survive . . .” the mage whispered to himself.
“Yes, there is that.” Apparently dragons had exceptional hearing. “Aah, there is the orc in question! Be
ready!”
Rhonin prepared himself. Korialstrasz dared not get too near Nekros for fear of falling victim to the
Demon Soul,which meant that, despite the talisman, the wizard had to use magic to reach the orc
commander. He had cast many spells in the heat of battle before, but nothing had quite prepared Rhonin
for this effort. The dragon might have tried, but around the vicinity of the relic, his magic would have fared
worse than the wizard's. “Get ready . . .”
Korialstrasz dropped lower.
“Now!”
The words came out of Rhonin in a gasp—and suddenly he floated in the air, directly over one of the
wagons.
An orc driver looked up, gaped when he saw the wizard.
Rhonin dropped on top of him.
The collision softened his fall, but did nothing good for the orc. Rhonin scrambled to push the
unconscious driver to the side, then searched the area for Nekros.
The one-legged commander remained on horseback, eyes fixed on the turning form of Korialstrasz. He
raised the gleamingDemon Soulhigh—
“Nekros!” Rhonin shouted.
The orc looked his way, which had been just as the wizard wanted it. Now the dragon remained out of
Nekros's reach.
“Human! Wizard! You're dead!” His heavy brow furrowed and a dark look crossed his hideous
features. “Well . . . you will be soon!”
He pointed the artifact toward Rhonin.
The wizard quickly cast a shield, hoping that whatever Nekros threw at him would not be as terrible as
the golem's flames. The great dragons had not seen fit to grant him some of the extra strength they had
given to Korialstrasz, but then, the red behemoth had been near to total collapse, and they had needed
the rest of their power for Deathwing. Rhonin's own hopes all lay in his own flagging capabilities.
A gigantic hand—a hand of flame—reached for him, trying to encircle the mage. However, Rhonin's
spell held true, and the hand, rebounding off the faintly visible shield, instead engulfed an orc warrior
about to behead his dwarven adversary. The orc let out one short scream before collapsing into a burning
heap.
“Your tricks'll not hold you long from death!” growled Nekros.
The ground beneath the wagon began to shake, then crumble. Rhonin threw himself from the sinkhole
that formed just as the wagon and the animals pulling it were dragged under. The shield spell dissipated,
leaving the desperate mage undefended as he clung to what remained of the path.
Nekros urged his mount nearer. “Whatever happens this day, human, I'll at least be rid of you!”
Rhonin uttered a short, simple spell. A single clump of dirt flew up into the orc's face, lodging there
despite his attempts to peel it away. Swearing, Nekros struggled to see.
The wizard pulled himself up, then leapt at the orc.
He came up a bit short, catching the arm that held theDemon Soulbut unable to pull himself higher.
Although still blinded, Nekros seized Rhonin by the collar, trying to get one heavy hand on the mage's
throat.
“I'll kill you, human scum!”
Fingers closed around Rhonin's neck. Caught between attempting to pry the talisman free and saving his
own life, Rhonin managed to accomplish neither. Nekros began to crush the life out of him, the incredible
strength of the orc too much for the mage. Rhonin started a spell—
A winged shape suddenly darted past Nekros. Something landed on the back of the orc, throwing both
him and the wizard off the horse and onto the rough ground.
They landed hard. The murderous grip on Rhonin's throat vanished as the two bounced in opposite
directions.
Someone seized the dazed mage by the shoulders. “Up, Rhonin, before he recovers!”
“V-Vereesa?” He stared into her striking face, both astonished and pleased to see her.
“We saw the dragon drop you from the sky, then watched as you magicked yourself to safety! Falstad
and I came as soon as we could, thinking you might need help!”
“Falstad?” Rhonin looked up, saw the gryphon-rider and his mount circling back. Falstad had no
weapon, yet he howled as if daring every orc in the column to come face him.
“Hurry!” the ranger cried. “We must get out of here!”
“No!” Reluctantly he pulled back. “Not until—look out!”
He pushed her aside just before a massive war-ax would have cut her in two. A beefy orc with ritual
scars cut down each cheek raised the ax again, once more focusing on Vereesa, who had fallen to the
side.
Rhonin gestured . . . and the ax handle suddenly stretched, weaving about as if some writhing serpent.
The orc struggled to control it, only to find his weapon now twisting around him. Suddenly fearful, the
warrior released his grip and, after managing to pull free of the living ax, ran off.
The wizard reached out a hand to his companion—
—and fell to the ground as a fist caught him in the back.
“Where is it?” roared Nekros Skullcrusher. “Where's theDemon Soul?”
Momentarily stunned, Rhonin did not quite understand the orc. Surely Nekros had the talisman. . . .
A piercing weight pressed down on him from the back. He heard Nekros say, “Stay where you're at,
elf! All I need to do is lean a little harder and I'll crush your friend like a piece of fruit!” Rhonin felt cold
metal against his cheek. “No tricks, mage! Give me the disk back and I may let you live!”
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