All that had changed. With Takhisis gone, Sargonnas had gained power for himself and his people. His minotaurs had raided the ancient elven homeland of Silvanesti, driven out the elves, and taken over that lush land. The minotaur empire was now a force to reckoned with. Minotaur ships ruled the oceans. The Solamnic Knights were said to be negotiating treaties with the minotaur emperor. Sargonnas had built a grand (if ostentatious) temple to himself in Solace, constructing the temple of stone shipped at great expense from the minotaur isles. His minotaur priests walked the streets of Solace and every other major city in Ansalon. Vengeance had become fashionable in certain circles. Chemosh watched the horned god’s rise in jealous envy.

Thus far, the balance had not yet been disturbed. Kiri-Jolith, the god of Just War, proved an excellent counterpoint to Sargonnas. Minotaur warriors who valued honor prayed to Kiri-Jolith as well as to Sargonnas and saw no conflict in this. The priests of Mishakal, working with the mystics of the Citadel of Light, were spreading the belief that love and compassion, the values of the heart, could help ease the world’s problems. The Aesthetics of Gilean were advocating and promoting education, claiming that ignorance and superstition were the tools of darkness.

Not to be outdone by his fellow gods, Chemosh ordered a temple built in Solace, constructing it of black marble. The temple was small, especially compared to that of Sargonnas, but it was far more elegant. True, not many people dared venture inside and those who did departed rapidly. The temple’s interior was shadowy and dark and smelled heavily of incense that could not quite mask the foul odor of decay. His priests were a strange lot, more comfortable around the dead than the living. Still, Chemosh’s temple in Solace was a start and as all men must eventually come to stand before the Lord of Death, many deemed it wise to pay him at least a courtesy call and leave a small offering.

Because of this new image, Chemosh could not allow Krell and his Bone Warriors to be seen rattling through the streets of Solace abducting small children. Another riot, larger than the first, would serve as a diversion and cover Krell’s attack. Krell had to move fast, for neither he nor Chemosh knew when Mina might take it into her head to depart. One of their spies reported that Mina was staying at the Inn along with the monk. The spy overheard Rhys and Nightshade talking and confirmed that Rhys was planning a visit to the Temple of Majere, and that the kender and the little girl were to join him there.

Krell had been thinking he might have to stage an attack on the Inn (in which case another riot in Temple Row would draw off Gerard and his forces), and he was pleased when he heard this news. He could snatch Mina and kill Rhys Mason at the same time. Krell had no fear of Majere’s peace-loving priests, who went out of their way to avoid a fight, even to the point of refusing to carry weapons.

Krell was pleased with his new Bone Warriors. He had not yet seen them in action, but they looked to be formidable foes. All three of them were dead, which gave them a distinct advantage over the living. They had been hand-picked by Chemosh, who chose them from the souls who came before him, and all were trained fighters. One was an elven warrior who had died in battle against the minotaurs and whose bitter hatred of minotaurs kept his soul bound to this world. One was a human assassin from Sanction whose soul was drenched in blood, and the third was a hobgoblin chieftain who had been slain by his own tribe and who now thirsted for revenge.

Chemosh animated the bodies of the three, preserving the flesh and bone, then turning them inside out, so that their skeletons, like a ghastly semblance of armor, protected the rotting flesh. Sharp bony spikes and protrusions extending from the skeletons could be used as weapons.

Having learned his lesson with the Beloved, Chemosh made certain that the Bone Warriors were bound to him and would obey his commands, or the commands of Krell, or anyone chosen to lead them. Chemosh wanted his Bone Warriors to be intimidating, but he didn’t want them to be indestructible. They could be slain, though it would take powerful magicks or blessed weapons to do it.

The Bone Warriors had one flaw Chemosh had not been able to overcome. They had such hatred for the living that if their leader lost his hold on them, the Bone Warriors would rage out of control, venting their fury on any living being that fell into their clutches, be that person friend or foe. Chemosh’s clerics might find themselves battling their god’s unholy creation. A small price to pay, however.

“The monk, Rhys Mason, has entered the Temple of Majere,” Krell reported to his group.

He and his Bone Warriors were safely ensconced in a secret underground chamber located beneath the Temple. Here Chemosh’s clerics performed the less savory rites, those meant to be witnessed by only his most loyal and dedicated followers. The chamber was dark except for the light of a single blood red candle placed on the altar. No stolen corpses were here at the moment, though a discarded winding cloth and a burial shroud had been stashed in a corner.

The priestess of Chemosh was on hand, much to Krell’s annoyance. He was convinced that Chemosh had placed her here to spy on him, and in this Krell was right. Chemosh trusted no one these days. Krell had tried a few times to get rid of the woman, but she persisted in staying and, not only that, she felt free to voice her opinion.

“We have now only to wait for Mina to arrive,” Krell continued. “When I give the order, we attack the temple of Sargonnas, though we will make it appear as though his priests have attacked us.”

Krell pointed to the three Bone Warriors. “Your task will be to keep the sheriff’s men busy, and any others who seek to intervene, such as the foul paladins of Kiri-Jolith. I will snatch Mina and kill the monk.”

The Bone Warriors shrugged their bone-armored shoulders. They had no care who or what they fought. All they sought was a chance to take out their undying rage on the living.

Having said all that was necessary, Krell was about to rise when the priestess spoke.

“You are making a mistake allowing Mina to enter the Temple of Majere. You should capture her before she sets foot on the grounds. Otherwise, Majere’s priests will defend her.”

Krell bristled. “And since when should I fear a bunch of monks? What are they going to do to me? Kick me with their bare feet? Maybe hit me with a stick?” He chortled and thumped the heavy bone armor that covered his body.

“Do not underestimate Majere, Krell,” the priestess cautioned. “His priests are more powerful than you think.”

Krell snorted.

“At least take me with you,” the priestess urged. “I can deal with the monk while you kidnap the child-”

“I go alone!” Krell stated angrily. “Those are my orders. Besides, my fight with the monk is personal.”

Rhys Mason had given Krell no end of trouble, starting from the day Zeboim had dropped the monk down on Storm’s Keep. The monk had made Krell look bad in the eyes of his master, and Krell had long dreamed of the time he would have him at his mercy. Still, Krell would have been just as happy to slay Rhys in the middle of a crowded marketplace as in a temple, but there was another consideration.

Chemosh had given Krell specific instructions to search the monk’s body and bring to him any objects the monk might be carrying. Krell had asked point blank what Chemosh was looking for. The god had been evasive. Krell guessed the monk was carrying something valuable.

Krell tried to imagine what such an object might be-treasure valuable to a god-and at last he decided it must jewels. Chemosh probably wanted to give them to Mina.

“And why should she have them and not me?” Krell asked himself. “I do all my master’s dirty work, and small thanks I get for it. Nothing but insults. He won’t even make me a death knight again. If I have to be a living man, I’ll be a rich living man. I’ll keep the jewels for myself.”