you seek now is it not?”
“How could you know that?”
“Even before the Citadel fell there were rumours of a wanderer who sought such a thing. To most he is long forgotten but I have lived longer than most, I do not forget.”
“How can you be so sure I am this wanderer?”
“I may not be the man who once owned this body but as you say, he died next to you. Your own mind was laid open by your encounter in the Citadel, you were swept into darkness together, before he died he shared your vision and I took that from him when I raised him once more.”
“Necromancer filth!” Blake spits, as if to clear a bad taste from his mouth. “What you have done to this man is an abomination.”
“You think me unnatural? A strong condemnation but then you should have died yourself, you had enough wounds when I last saw you and I suspect you have more years than you have any right to. How did you sustain yourself? How did you see the light in the sky in the first place? Not with your own eyes I’ll warrant! You stole it from another, sucked it from them with their tainted blood. The same blood that, even now, keeps your body together, just as my own enchantments keep these old bones from falling to the desert floor.”
Blake glares down at the grinning clown, “I never said I was not damned myself. I simply do not revel in my corruption as you do.”
“My corruption, as you call it, was almost as vital as your own in destroying the Strigoi fortress.”
“You were at the battle?”
“I was indeed, and I can tell you that what you sought that day is not lost, the Gate may yet be found.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying you know where it is?”
“No, the Gate is old, as old as my own order or the Citadel. Whichever Strigoi you drained to see that image must have been old perhaps even one of the fathers of that misbegotten race.”
“She was the first,” Blake explains simply, “I think she wanted to find it again almost as much as I do now but after centuries, I think she had given up all hope of redemption.” Blake trails off, the memory of the Elder’s blood on his tongue is a guilty secret that he will not share with this bone puppet or the Necromancer behind it. “There have been others who shared this hope since, even a few who remembered seeing it but their experience was as vicarious as my own, I do not think any who saw the Gate in person still walk the Bowl.”
“I thought as much, even among the undying, the quest for the Gate is an ancient one. How strange, that it should reemerge so suddenly in recent years.”
“I have been searching for decades… Are you saying there are others, seeking the Gate?”
“ Leedon did not burn everything he found in the Citadel; over the last several years I believe he has been studying some of what you yourself hoped to gain from that place. It is even possible that he has had the help of the Strigoi.”
“He’d not work with them knowingly, I’ll wager. For that matter how do I know that you are not one of the blood suckers yourself? They’ve laid traps before, they know what I seek.”
“Yes, they seek it too and now they may have a mortal agent who can go where they have not been able. As to whether I am a Strigoi, you have been in the desert long enough to know that my methods are not theirs.”
“You think they are not capable of animating a few bones? One of the summoners or cults perhaps?”
“Necromancers are hardly any better and certainly no more trustworthy.”
“I don’t care if you trust my motivations or not, only that you listen and believe that what I am telling you is the truth.”
“Your puppet still has a head, I am listening, bone-mage.”
“Very well. Last night General Leedon’s intended bride was abducted. I believe this was accomplished by agents of the Elders, who somehow avoided destruction at the Citaldel . Both Leedon and the Strigoi believe that she is the key to finding or using this Gate of
“How could you know that?”
“Even before the Citadel fell there were rumours of a wanderer who sought such a thing. To most he is long forgotten but I have lived longer than most, I do not forget.”
“How can you be so sure I am this wanderer?”
“I may not be the man who once owned this body but as you say, he died next to you. Your own mind was laid open by your encounter in the Citadel, you were swept into darkness together, before he died he shared your vision and I took that from him when I raised him once more.”
“Necromancer filth!” Blake spits, as if to clear a bad taste from his mouth. “What you have done to this man is an abomination.”
“You think me unnatural? A strong condemnation but then you should have died yourself, you had enough wounds when I last saw you and I suspect you have more years than you have any right to. How did you sustain yourself? How did you see the light in the sky in the first place? Not with your own eyes I’ll warrant! You stole it from another, sucked it from them with their tainted blood. The same blood that, even now, keeps your body together, just as my own enchantments keep these old bones from falling to the desert floor.”
Blake glares down at the grinning clown, “I never said I was not damned myself. I simply do not revel in my corruption as you do.”
“My corruption, as you call it, was almost as vital as your own in destroying the Strigoi fortress.”
“You were at the battle?”
“I was indeed, and I can tell you that what you sought that day is not lost, the Gate may yet be found.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying you know where it is?”
“No, the Gate is old, as old as my own order or the Citadel. Whichever Strigoi you drained to see that image must have been old perhaps even one of the fathers of that misbegotten race.”
“She was the first,” Blake explains simply, “I think she wanted to find it again almost as much as I do now but after centuries, I think she had given up all hope of redemption.” Blake trails off, the memory of the Elder’s blood on his tongue is a guilty secret that he will not share with this bone puppet or the Necromancer behind it. “There have been others who shared this hope since, even a few who remembered seeing it but their experience was as vicarious as my own, I do not think any who saw the Gate in person still walk the Bowl.”
“I thought as much, even among the undying, the quest for the Gate is an ancient one. How strange, that it should reemerge so suddenly in recent years.”
“I have been searching for decades… Are you saying there are others, seeking the Gate?”
“ Leedon did not burn everything he found in the Citadel; over the last several years I believe he has been studying some of what you yourself hoped to gain from that place. It is even possible that he has had the help of the Strigoi.”
“He’d not work with them knowingly, I’ll wager. For that matter how do I know that you are not one of the blood suckers yourself? They’ve laid traps before, they know what I seek.”
“Yes, they seek it too and now they may have a mortal agent who can go where they have not been able. As to whether I am a Strigoi, you have been in the desert long enough to know that my methods are not theirs.”
“You think they are not capable of animating a few bones? One of the summoners or cults perhaps?”
“Necromancers are hardly any better and certainly no more trustworthy.”
“I don’t care if you trust my motivations or not, only that you listen and believe that what I am telling you is the truth.”
“Your puppet still has a head, I am listening, bone-mage.”
“Very well. Last night General Leedon’s intended bride was abducted. I believe this was accomplished by agents of the Elders, who somehow avoided destruction at the Citaldel . Both Leedon and the Strigoi believe that she is the key to finding or using this Gate of
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