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Legacy of Blood
by Richard A. Knaak
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Once before,
between serving causes as mercenaries, they had hunted for treasure in a small,
troubled village called Tristram. Legend had had it
that, in a lair guarded by fiends, there could be found a treasure so very
extraordinary in value, it would make kings of those fortunate enough to live
to find it. Norrec and his friends had journeyed
there, entering the labyrinth in the dead of night without the knowledge of the
local populace . . .
And after all
their efforts, after battling strange beasts and narrowly avoiding deadly traps
. . . they had found that someone else had stripped the underground maze of
nearly anything of value. Only upon returning to the village had they learned
the sorry truth, that a great champion had descended into the labyrinth but a
few weeks before and supposedly slain the terrible demon, Diablo. He had taken
no gold or jewels, but other adventurers who had arrived shortly thereafter had
made good use of his handiwork, dealing with the lesser dangers and carrying
off all they could find. But a few days' difference had left the trio with
nothing to show for their efforts . . .
Norrec himself had also taken no consolation in the words
of one villager of dubious sanity who had, as they had prepared to depart,
warned that the champion, so-called the Wanderer, had not defeated Diablo but,
rather, had accidently freed the foul evil. A
questioning glance by Norrec toward Fauztin had been answered at first with an indifferent
shrug by the Vizjerei sorcerer.
"There are always
stories of escaping demons and terrible curses," Fauztin
had added at the time, complete dismissal of the wild warning in his tone.
"Diablo is generally in most of the favorites whispered among common folk."
"You don't think
there's anything to it?" As a child, Norrec had grown
up being scared by his elders with tales of Diablo, Baal, and other monsters of
the night, all stories designed to make him be good.
Sadun Tryst had snorted. "You ever seen
a demon yourself? Know anyone that had?"
Norrec had not. "Have you, Fauztin?
They say Vizjerei can summon demons to do their
bidding."
"If I could do
that, do you think I would be scrounging in empty labyrinths and tombs?"
And that comment,
more than anything else, had convinced Norrec then to
chalk the villager's words down as yet another tall tale. In truth, it had not
been hard to do. After all, the only thing that had mattered then to the three
had been what mattered now—wealth.
Unfortunately, it
seemed more and more likely that once again those riches had eluded them.
As he peered down
the passage, Fauztin's other gloved hand tightened
around the spell staff he wielded. The jeweled top—the source of their
light—flared briefly. "I had hoped I was wrong, but now I fear it is so. We are
far from the first to delve this deep into this place."
