Heroes of the Lance III > Journals

Part III

Under spells of protection wrought by Adrienne, the party traveled as swiftly as Jared's wounds allowed. The world around them had changed. It seemed that everywhere the demon horde passed, the land died. The skies were dark and angry, and day and night became of little difference. The wind carried a foul stench of death and decay. Strange nightmarish creatures stalked in forests of rotting trees, whispering, beckoning the party to join them. Only Adrienne's spell circle kept them at bay. They struggled on, tired, hungry and mentally exhausted, as each night became a battle of wills, each nightmare becoming more and more real and alive. Jared's wound refused to close, and he fell into a dangerous fever, which not only drained him of strength, but of spirit as well.

"This is no ordinary wound, 'tis a demon blade that did pierce his armor," cursed Denshur. "Else it would have scabbed already, and not weep blood and pus each new morn. Only by the will of the gods is my prince still alive!"

Adrienne pointed towards the mountains they were heading towards. "We have to get him to Dwarholt fast, or even the will of the gods cannot keep him from Death's door. I know a healer there who can save him."

"Trust dwarves? They who closed their gates to us when we begged for their aid to repulse the demons? What makes you think they will help us this time?" scoffed Aldar.

Adrienne sighed. "They already have. If they had sent aid, their armies would have been wiped out as yours had been. By closing their gates they remain alive to provide refuge for those who need it. Their armies alone cannot help turn the tide. Only by uniting all the races and nations could we stand a chance of halting the horde's rampage. Halt them long enough for us to kill Sarkas. And if we fail, then all is lost. I'm sorry about Cartholian, but your city was doomed. It was too late for us to save it."

"Us? Who are these 'us' you mention?" gasped Jared. "You could have sent aid! We could have routed the demons! You...you left us to die?" he doubled over in pain as the words left him.

"No Jared! You must believe me! We had no choice. The Alliance is...not strong enough yet. They bicker and fight each day! Besides, your proud human kingdoms spurned our offer to join the Alliance. Even your father the king. They'd rather not rely on an alliance of trolls, dwarves and elves. Hell, they didn't even believe there was a demon army till it was on their doorstep!" Adrienne stood up and uttered a word of power. A vision appeared above the small campfire they had lit. The men watched in awe and silence as the battle of Cartholian replayed itself before their eyes.

In a strange, haunted voice, Adrienne spoke. "The demons can be killed, yes. But look how their numbers replenish. Every man that falls and is not devoured joins their ranks. The horde grows from strength to strength. Sarkas, or Karos Soul-eater, has complete control over their minds. No army can stand for long, no matter how powerful or well led, because while their ranks thin, the enemy's grows stronger. And they will have to kill those who had been friends and relatives the day before." With another word, the vision vanished.

"How then, do we fight an army that does not need food or rest, that doesn't stay dead! How do we fight the faces of our own loved ones?" uttered Kedrin in despair.

"We fight, or this world we live in will be no more." Jared said softly. "Lady, I am sorry for my outburst, but you must understand...my grief." Despite his pain, Jared knelt before Adrienne. "I pledge my allegiance, and that of what's left of my country, to the Alliance. And I...will bear testament to the power of this demon horde. The Council of Man will listen to me. They have to! I will gather a force of such that has never been seen, and we will turn this tide of darkness..." he coughed and spat blood. "If I live..." Adrienne chuckled softly and said, " Oh you'll live, I'll make damned sure of that!"