Why the simpleton who had stolen it from the tomb still lived to wear it, only Xazax could say. It amazed Malevolyn that the mantis had let the man live this long. Perhaps Xazax simply had not wanted to bother with carrying the suit back himself and had forced the fool to bring it along. Well, for that deed, the least the general could do would be to grant the armor's present wearer a relatively quick and painless death.

"And what prize is this you bring, my friend?"

The mantis sounded quite pleased with himself. "Agift surely proving this one's intentions match those of the warlord. This one gives you one Norrec Vizharan- mercenary, tomb robber, and host for the glorious armor of Bartuc!"

"Mercenary and tomb robber…" General Malevolyn chuckled. "Perhaps I should hire you on for your expertise. Certainly I should congratulate you for bringing to me at last the final step in my ascension to glory!"

"You-want this suit?" The fool sounded incredulous, as if he, who had worn it so long, could not comprehend its majesty, appreciate its power…

"Of course! I want nothing more!" The general tapped his helmet. He saw that Norrec Vizharan instantly recognized the link between them. "I am General Augustus Malevolyn, late of Westmarch, a land, from your looks, I think you know. As you see, I wear the helm, lost when Bartuc's head and body were separated by the fools who by fluke managed to slay him. So fearful-and rightly so! — of his tremendous power, they placed body and head on opposite sides of the world, then secreted both in places from which they thought no one would be able to take them!"

"They were wrong…" muttered the mercenary.

"Of course! The spirit of the Warlord of Blood would not be denied! He called to his own, awaited those whose links to him would stir the powers to life, to new horizons!"

"What do you mean?"

Malevolyn sighed. He supposed he should have slain the fool out of hand, but the commander's mood had grown so light that he decided to at least explain what Norrec had obviously never understood. Reaching up, General Malevolyn gently removed the helmet. He felt at some slight loss as it left his head, but assured himself that soon it would be back in place again.

"I did not know its secret then, but I know now… forthe artifact itself revealed it to me. Even you, I daresay, do not know the full truth, friend Xazax."

The mantis performed a mock bow. "This one would be delighted to be enlightened, warlord…"

"And you shall!" He grinned at Norrec. "I would wager to say that many died in the tomb before you came along, eh?"

Vizharan's expression darkened. "Too many… some of them were friends."

"You'll be joining them soon, have no fear…" The ebony-clad officer let Norrec get a better view of the helmet. "I daresay it was the same with this. The same fate for every minor tomb robber until one-one with a very special, inherent trait that gave him just enough of an advantage." Malevolyn's hands suddenly began to shake slightly. Quickly but still with an air of casualness, he replaced the helm. An instant feeling of relief washed over him, although he made certain not to let either the man or the demon know. "Can you guess what you and he had in common?"

"A cursed life?"

"More a magnificent heritage. In both of you, the blood of greatness flowed, albeit in quite a watered state."

This explanation only made Norrec frown. "He and I- were related?"

"Yes, although in his case that bloodline had become even more diluted. It gave him the right to take the helmet, but he proved too weak to be of use and so it let him be slain. With his death, it grew dormant again, waiting for one more worthy…" The general proudly indicated himself. "And it finally found me, as you see."

"You share the same blood, too?"

"Very good. Yes, I do. Far less tainted than that which flowed through that fool and, I have no doubt, far less tainted than you. Yes, Norrec Vizharan, you might saythat you and I and he who discovered the head and helm are all cousins — several times removed, of course."

"But who—" the soldier's eyes widened, truth at last dawning. "That's not possible!"

Xazax said nothing, but clearly he still did not understand. Demons did not always comprehend human mating and the result of it. True, some of their kind knew the process and, indeed, bred rapidly at times through its use, but they bred as animals, without any concern for bloodlines.

"Oh, yes, cousin." Malevolyn smiled broadly. "we are all the progeny of the grand and noble Bartuc himself!"

The mantis clacked his mandibles together, rightly impressed. He looked even more pleased with himself, likely because he had chosen rightly in joining forces with Augustus Malevolyn.

As for Norrec, he took no evident pleasure in the revelation, like so many lesser mortals not at all understanding what Bartuc had nearly accomplished. How many men had earned the respect and fear of not only their fellows, but Heaven and Hell, too? It disappointed the general slightly, for, as he had said, the two were indeed cousins of a sort. Of course, since Norrec only had a few moments left to his life, the disappointment was not all that great. A fool removed was still a fool removed, always a plus in the world.

"Blood calls to blood…" Norrec muttered, staring down at the sand. "Blood to blood, she said…"

"Indeed! And that was why with you, the armor could act as it could not for so many centuries. Great power lay dormant within it, but power without life. In you flowed the life that had given that sorcery a spark. It was as if two halves, separated for so long, came together to create the whole!"

"Bartuc's blood…"

Augustus Malevolyn pursed his lips. "Yes, we'vegone over that… you mentioned ‘she'? My Galeona, perhaps?"

"A necromancer, warlord," Xazax interjected. "Quite dead now." He lifted one sickle limb up, indicating the cause. "But as for the witch-she is also no more."

"A pity, but I suppose it had to be, anyway." Something occurred to the slim commander. "Excuse me a moment, will you?"

He turned back to where his hellish warriors harassed Lut Gholein, picturing the demon who wore the face of Zako.

In the distance, the ghoulish minion suddenly turned from his task at the lead catapult and rushed toward Malevolyn. The moment he reached the general, the demon went down on one knee. "Yes, warlord—" Asharp intake of breath escaped the false Zako as he suddenly noticed Norrec and the armor. "Your-your command?"

"The city has no more value. It is yours to play with."

A savage, toothy grin spread an impossible distance across the dead man's features. "You're very gracious, warlord…"

General Malevolyn nodded, then waved him off. "Go! Let no life be spared. Lut Gholein will serve as notice of what hope any other kingdom, any other power, has against me."

The thing with Zako's face rushed off, fairly bouncing up and down with glee as he hurried to tell the others. The horde would ravage the city, leave nothing standing. In many ways, it would assuage the warlord for what had happened at Vin-Jun.

Vin-Jun. Malevolyn's chest swelled with anticipation. Now that he had the armor, even Kehjistan, legendary home of the Vizjerei, would fall to him.

His hand traced the fox and swords crest on his own breastplate. Long ago, after he had slain his birth father and burned down the house that had never acknowledged him, Augustus Malevolyn had decided to bear the symbol of that house on his armor in order to remind himself that what he wanted he would always be able to take. Now, though, the time had come to set aside that symbol for a better one. The bloodred suit of Bartuc.

He turned back to Xazax and the mercenary. "Well, shall we begin?"

Xazax prodded Norrec forward. The man stumbled, then dared to glare at the demon. Malevolyn's opinion of his distant cousin rose a notch. At least the buffoon had some nerve.