He realized that although she had told him her name he had not introduced himself. "My name's Norrec—"

"Yes. Norrec Vizharan. I know."

"How?" He recalled that she had used his name earlier, yet the two had never actually met as far as he knew. Certainly he would have remembered.

"I have been hunting for you ever since you left Bartuc's tomb with the armor."

"You? But why?"

She leaned back, apparently satisfied that he had not suffered much from their ouster from Horazon's bizarre domain. "Along with the Vizjerei, my people took the responsibility for hiding the warlord's ensorcelled remains. We could not destroy either the body or the armor at that time, but we could keep them from those who might find a use-either corrupted mages or deadly demons."

Norrec remembered the monstrous creature in the sea. "Why demons?"

"Bartuc started out as a pawn of theirs, but even you must know that by the time of his death, even the lords of Hell looked in awe at his power. Although only a portion of his total might, what remains in the armor itself would be enough to entirely upset the delicate balance of life and death in the world… and even, perhaps, beyond."

After all that he had seen, he had little trouble believing her. Norrec struggled to his feet, Kara assisting him. He looked down at her, thinking back to what had just happened. "You saved me."

She looked away, almost seeming embarrassed. "I had some part in it."

"I would've died otherwise, right?"

"Very likely."

"Then you saved me-but why did you do it? Why not simply let me die? If I had, the armor would've been left with no host. It would've been powerless!"

Kara stared him in the eyes. "You did not choose to wear Bartuc's accursed armor, Norrec Vizharan. It chose you, although I do not know why. Whatever it has done, whatever foul deeds it has performed, I felt you innocent of them-and therefore deserving of a chance of life."

"But more might die because of that!" The bitterness must have shown in his expression, for the necromancer withdrew slightly. "My friends, the men at the inn, the Hawksfire 's crew, and just now that witch! How many more must perish-and most before my eyes?"

She put a hand on his own. Norrec feared for her, but the suit did nothing. Perhaps whatever fueled its evil task lay dormant for a time-or perhaps it simply awaited the best moment to strike. "There is a way to end this," Kara replied. "We must remove the armor."

Norrec burst out laughing. He laughed long and hard-and with no hope. "Woman, don't you think I've tried? Don't you think the first chance I had I pulled at both gloves, attempted to peel off every bit of plate? I couldn't even remove the damned boots. They're all sealed to my body, as if a very part of my flesh! The only way you'll be able to remove the suit is if you take my skin off with it!"

"I understand the trouble. I understand also that, under most circumstances, no spellcaster would have the power to undo what the armor has done—"

"Then what could you possibly hope to accomplish?" the frustrated soldier snapped. "You should've let me die just now! It would've been better for all!"

Despite his outburst, the raven-haired woman remained calm. She glanced around before answering, as if looking for someone or something. "He did not follow. I should have known."

"Who… Horazon?"

Kara nodded. "So you recognized him, too?"

Exhaling, Norrec explained, "My memories… my memories are confused. Some of them I know are mine, but others…" He hesitated, certain she would find him mad for what he believed. "… the others belonged to Bartuc, I think."

"Yes, very likely they did."

"That doesn't surprise you?"

"In legend, the warlord and his crimson suit seemed as one. Over time, he imbued it with one mighty enchantment after another, transforming it into more than simply pieces of metal. By the time of his death, it had been said that the armor acted as if a loyal dog, its own magic protecting and fighting for Bartuc as hard as he himself would. Small wonder that his life has been imprinted upon it… and that some of those vile memories have seeped into your own mind."

The weary veteran shuddered. "And the longer I wear it, the more I'll succumb. There's been times I actually thought I was Bartuc!"

"Which is why we must remove it." She frowned. "We must try to convince Horazon to do it. I feel he is the only one who has the capability."

Norrec did not exactly like that notion. The last time he and the bearded elder had seen one another, the armor had reacted instantly and with clear malice. "That may stir up the suit again. It may even be why it's being so quiet now." Something suddenly struck him. "It wants him. It wants Horazon. All this damn distance, all the things it's put me through-it's all been because it wants to slay Bartuc's brother!"

Her expression indicated that she had come to much the same conclusion. "Yes. Blood calls to blood, as they say, even if the blood between two is bad. Horazon helped slay his brother at the battle of Viz-jun and thearmor must have preserved that memory within it. Now, after all this time, it has risen and seeks to repay the deed-even though Horazon should have been dead centuries ago."

"But he isn't. Blood calls to blood, you said. It must've known he was still alive." Norrec shook his head. "Which doesn't explain why it waited so long. Gods! It's all insane!"

Kara took him by the arm. "Horazon must have the answer. Somehow we must find our way back to him. I feel that he is the only hope by which we can put an end to the warlord's curse."

"Put an end to it, someone says?" rasped a voice of no human origin. "No… no…This one desires otherwise, he does…"

Kara stared past Norrec, who immediately began to turn.

"Look—" was as far as the necromancer got.

What resembled a sharp, needlelike lance darted down toward him. It would have caught Norrec through the head, but at the last, Kara pushed him aside. Unfortunately for both of them, the wicked lance continued its downward thrust unabated-and buried itself in the woman's chest.

The lance quickly withdrew. Kara gasped, collapsing. Blood spilled over her blouse. Norrec froze momentarily, then, knowing he could do nothing for her if he, too, perished, the veteran fighter turned to confront their attacker.

Yet, what greeted his horrified eyes proved to be no warrior, but rather a thing born of nightmares. It most resembled a towering insect, but one clearly spawned in more hellish climes. Pulsating veins crosscrossed its grotesque form. What he had taken for a lance had actually been one of the creature's own appendages, a lengthy, sicklelike arm ending in a deadly point. Beneath the sickles, savage skeletal hands with claws opened and closed. Somehow, the massive horror managed to support itself on two lengthy hind limbs bent back in the manner of the mantis it so resembled.

"This one came in search of a treacherous, wandering witch, but such a prize will serve better! Long has this one hunted for you, for the power you wield…"

Even dazed, Norrec knew that the demon-for what other creature could this be-meant the armor, not the man.

"You killed her!" he managed to reply.

Blood dripping from one sickle, the mantis dipped his head. "One less mortal makes no difference. Where is the witch? Where is Galeona?"

He knew her? Norrec did not find that at all surprising. Even half under the spell of the armor, he had known that much of her story had been lies. "Dead. The armor killed her."

An intake of breath indicated to him that the demon found this startling. "She is dead? Of course! This one sensed something amiss-but did not suspect that!"

He began to emit a peculiar, rattling noise which the soldier at first thought anger. Only after a time, however, did it become clear that the monstrous insect laughed.