One of the other officers caught sight of a shadow in one far corner of the tent. It moved, shifting toward the general. Trained by experience not to speak of such things, he swallowed and held his tongue, hoping that the shadow would not, at some later point, turn in his own direction.

Galeona draped herself against General Malevolyn's breastplate, looking up into his eyes. "Have you ever had this dream before, my general?"

"You would have known."

"Yes, I would've. You know how important it is to tell me everything." She separated from him, returning to the pile of plush pillows. A glimmer of sweat covered every revealed portion of her body. "And this most important of all… For this is no ordinary dream, no it is not."

"I suspected as much myself." He waved one negligent hand toward the aide who carried the cloth-covered object. The man stepped forward, at the same time ripping away the material in order to reveal what lay beneath.

Ahelmet with a ridged crest glistened in the weak light of the single lamp. Old but intact, it would have covered most of the head and visage of its wearer, leaving but two narrowed gaps for the eyes, a slight passage for the nose, and a wider but still narrow horizontal gash for the mouth. The back of the helmet hung low, protecting the neck there, but leaving the throat itself completely open.

Even in the dim illumination one could clearly discern that the helmet had been colored bloodred.

"I thought you might need Bartuc's helm."

"You may be right." Galeona separated herself from Malevolyn, reaching out for the artifact. Her fingers brushed the aide's own and the man shivered. With the general facing away from her and the second officer unable to see from his angle, the sorceress took theopportunity to let one hand briefly caress the aide's wrist. She had tasted him once or twice when her appetite had demanded some change of pace, but knew that he would never dare tell his commander of their encounters. Malevolyn would be more likely to have him executed rather than his valued witch.

She took the helmet and placed it on the ground near where she had originally been sitting. The general dismissed his men, then joined Galeona there, placing himself directly across from her.

"Do not fail me, my dear. I am adamant in this."

For the first time, a bit of Galeona's confidence dissipated. Augustus had always been a man of his word, especially when it came to the fates of those who did not live up to his expectations.

Hiding her concern, the dark sorceress placed her hands palm down on the top of the helmet. The general removed his gauntlets and did the same.

The flame in the lamp flickered, seemed to shrink to nearly nothing. The shadows spread, thickened, and yet somehow also seemed more alive, more independent of the frail light. That they had a surreal, unworldly sense to them did not bother General Malevolyn in the least, though. He knew of some of the powers with which Galeona conversed and suspected others. As a military man with imperial ambitions, he saw all as useful tools to his cause.

"Like calls to like, blood to blood…" The words slipped readily from Galeona's full lips. She had uttered this litany many times for her patron. "Let that which was his call to that which was his! What the shadow of Bartuc wore must be linked again!"

Malevolyn felt his pulse quicken. The world seemed to pull back from him. Galeona's words echoed, became the only focus.

At first he saw nothing but an eternal gray. Then, before his eyes, an image coalesced in the grayness, animage somewhat familiar to him. He saw again Bartuc's armor and the fact that someone wore it now, but this time the general grew certain that the man before him could not possibly be the legendary warlord.

"Who?" he hissed. "Who?"

Galeona did not answer him, her eyes closed, her head bent back in concentration. A shadow moved behind her, one that Malevolyn vaguely thought resembled some large insect. Then, as the image before him grew, he threw his attention wholly back into identifying and locating this stranger.

"A warrior," the sorceress murmured. "A man of many campaigns."

"Forget that! Where is he? Is he close?" The warlord's armor! After so very long, so many false trails…

She twitched from effort. Malevolyn did not care, willing to push her to the very limits and beyond if necessary.

"Mountains… cold, chill peaks…"

No help there, the world was filled with mountains, especially the north and across the Twin Seas. Even Westmarch had its share.

Galeona shuddered twice. "Blood calls to blood…"

He gritted his teeth. Why repeat herself?

"Blood calls to blood!"

She teetered, nearly losing her grip on the helmet. Her link to the spell all but broke. Malevolyn did his best to maintain the vision on his own even though his own magical skills paled in comparison to Galeona's. Yet, for a moment, he managed to fix better on that face. Simple. Nothing at all like a leader. In some ways, panic stricken. Not cowardly, but clearly far out of his element…

The image began to falter. The general silently swore. The armor had been found by some damned foot soldier or deserter who likely had no idea of either its value or its power. "Where is he?"

The vision faded away with such abruptness that itstartled even him. At the same time, the dark witch let out a gasp and fell back onto the many pillows, completely shattering the spell.

Atremendous force threw Malevolyn's hands from the helmet. Astring of harsh epithets burst from the general's mouth.

With a moan, Galeona slowly rose to a sitting position. She held her head with one hand as she looked at Malevolyn.

He, in turn, considered whether or not to have her whipped. To entice him with the fact that the armor had been found and then to leave him without the knowledge of where it was.

She read his dark look and what it likely meant for her. "I haven't failed you, my general! After all this time, Bartuc's legacy is yours to fulfill!"

"Fulfill?" Malevolyn rose, barely able to keep his frustration and fury in check. "Fulfill? Bartuc commanded demons! He spread his power over much of the world!" The pale commander gestured at the helmet. "I bought that from the peddler as a memento, a symbol of the might I sought to gain! A false artifact, I thought, but well done! The Helmet of Bartuc!" The general let out a harsh laugh. "Only when I put it on did I realize the truth-that it was the helmet!"

"Yes, my general!" Galeona quickly rose and put her hands on his chest, her fingers caressing the metal as if it were his own flesh. "And you began to have the dreams, the visions of—"

"Bartuc … I've seen his victories, seen his glories, seen his strength! I've lived them all…"-Malevolyn's tone grew increasingly bitter—"but only in my dreams."

"It was fate that brought the helmet to you! Fate and the spirit of Bartuc, don't you see? He means for you to be his successor, trust me," the witch cooed. "There can be no reason, for you're the only one to see these visions without my aid!"

"True." After the first two incidents, each during a period in which Malevolyn had worn the helmet, the general had commanded a few of his most trusted officers to try the artifact on for themselves. Even those who had worn it for several hours had admitted to no subsequent dreams of their own. That, to Augustus Malevolyn, had been proof enough that he had been chosen by the spirit of the warlord to take on his glorious mantle.

Malevolyn knew all that any mortal man could know of Bartuc. He studied every document, researched every legend. While many in the past have shrunken away from the warlord's dark and demonic history-fearing some taint spreading to themselves-the general had devoured each scrap of information.