The portal flared to life, illuminating the scarred iron plain around it with metallic light the color of old copper. A moment later, a tall and powerful human clad in golden plate armor strode through. He easily wielded his weapon, a mighty falchion forged of mithril, in one hand while hefting a massive shield bearing a large holy symbol in the other. The man's eyes quickly scanned his new surroundings; a well practiced check for danger. Behind him, a score of human soldiers in bronze breastplates and helms, armed with bows and short swords, marched through the portal and quickly formed a defensive arc in front of the ancient archway. The instant after the last man stepped onto the iron plain, the light winked out and portal was closed once more.

The squad's leader finished surveying the landscape. Only two features broke the otherwise flat and empty space; one was the portal they now guarded, the other was a small collection of buildings huddled in the middle distance. The man in the golden armor spared time for a glance upward, into the void of the plane. He spied numerous metallic cubes slowly spinning in the grayness above him. None loomed overly large in the void. The warrior nodded to himself. At least I don't have to worry about keeping my men out from under Acheron's cubes, he thought. Satisfied as to their immediate safety, the man turned and addressed his followers.

"Noble soldiers of Heliopolis, that encampment is our target. Our diviners have determined that to be the base from which the murderers of the faithful have been striking. Their crimes have shown us the nature of their hearts; there shall be no prisoners taken this day. No quarter, no mercy. We shall be swift and deliver just vengeance upon the villains. Thus are the words of our god, Horus the Avenger."

The soldiers saluted and responded in unison. "Holy Champion, we serve and obey."

The paladin nodded, satisfied with his men. They are brave and we will do our duty this day. He turned again, and led the soldiers at swift trot towards the distant encampment.

The encampment crouched on the side of one of Acheron's uncountable cubes, a broken shadow of its former might. The fortified walls that once surrounded the score of buildings lay in tumbled ruin, their bricks and spikes long since scattered by decades of invading forces. The buildings themselves stubbornly remained standing, despite gaping wounds in their foundations and supports. Rubble and bones choked the narrow paths between the structures, displaying mutely the fates of those who had sought refuge here over the course of years. Nearby, crawling forth from a rent in the cube's iron surface, a turgid, gray mass of oily liquid oozed across the plain to engulf nearly half the encampment. The toxic river licked at the buildings, slowly eating the foundations and pulling their crumbling forms into its depths. The place existed silent and empty, save for a white shadow barely glimpsed at the top of the encampment's lone watchtower.

A woman stood at the window, clad only in a thin silk robe, keeping a solitary watch over the vast iron plain of the cube. The leaning tower's height allowed for a clear view of the landscape. In the middle distance, a flare of light the color of old copper appeared. After a minute, it winked out of existence, leaving the barren landscape featureless once again. Her patience rewarded, she turned her attention to a bowl of water placed upon the windowsill hours ago. Calming herself, she closed her eyes, concentrating on calling forth the magic. A small glowing ball of mana formed in the woman's hands. Focusing her power, the sorceress cast the energy into the bowl, willing a vision to appear in its shallow contents.

The liquid rippled momentarily. Gazing into the bowl, the sorceress saw the group of soldiers moving swiftly across the face of the titanic cube. Ignoring the others as inconsequential, she shifted the vision to spy solely upon the leader of the squad. A sigh escaped her lips as she gazed upon his features. Once more she was enthralled by the nobility of his sun-bronzed face, which remained calm despite the fast pace of his movement. Her longing gaze swept over the muscles in the paladin's arms and legs, imagining them embracing her. Her desire lent an emerald blush to her aquamarine complexion.

"Callimachus, my love," she whispered to the vision in the water. "Come to me."

Nearly an hour passed before Callimachus called a halt for his squad. They were fairly close to the encampment, but still just out of bow range. The paladin kneeled down and quickly motioned his men to gather close and do the same.

"If they have scouts," he began, "our presence is already known. There are a score of buildings, but the central tower is most likely their base. Still, we must search all to avoid a scorpion at our backs. Additionally, we do not know where they are holding Osiris' petitioners. The four could be together, or kept separately. Although their rescue is desired, the most important task is delivering vengeance upon those who would defile the sanctity of a king's afterlife."

He paused only a moment before laying out the battle plan decided upon during the squad's approach to the target. "We will split the squad and flank the encampment. You men," the paladin indicated half the squad with a wave of his hand "will take the left. Rahotep will command. The rest are with me. Each group will search the buildings en route to the center. Upon reaching the tower, take up a guard but be ready to strike. We will regroup prior to the assault. Arrows loose and swords vigilant. May Horus speed our strike of retribution."

The soldiers repeated the prayer. "May Horus speed our strike."

Satisfied, Callimachus rose to his feet. Although their sacrifice will be noble and just, I hope that none join with our god this day, he prayed silently to himself. Drawing a quick break to calm himself, he ordered his men to begin the assault. "Go!" The soldiers swiftly split into two groups and closed on the silent encampment at a run.

A sudden scream pierced the silence of the watchtower. Raucous laughter drifted up the stairwell behind it. The vision of Callimachus vanished with the breaking of her concentration. The woman hissed in anger and spun away from the window, knocking the bowl off the ledge in the process. She ignored its fall to shatter on the rubble below as she stormed down the stairs. As she descended the long flight of steps to the ground floor, a series of screams and cries issued from the chamber below. More rough and wicked laughter served as fanfare to her entrance in the room.

With a single imperious glance, she surveyed the chamber to understand the situation. A dozen rough-looking men of assorted races lounged around the edges of the room, cheering and applauding one of their fellows. He capered in the center of the room, wielding a pair of bloody knives and dancing away from the bound and gagged, still twitching corpses of three men. A fourth prisoner, crying piteously, cowered against the wall before him, weakly trying to escape. Her body displayed a horrendous number of gashes and cuts, all bleeding profusely. The laughter of the ruffians withered away as the sorceress stalked towards the murderer. He remained caught up in his amusement, flicking both razor-sharp weapons out to rip open the woman's throat, killing her and causing her life-blood to mingle with the spreading pool on the floor.

Despite being a full head shorter than the murderer, the sorceress spun him around and backhanded him hard across his scaly face. "Plane-tainted idiot!" she spat at him. "What are you doing?"

The tiefling looked genuinely surprised at her words. "What does it look like I'm doin'? I'm strikin' down representatives of a false authority structure," he growled as he idly rubbed his cheek with the back of a hand. "Ain't that what members of the Revolutionary League do?"

She lowered her eyebrows and the tone of her voice grew icy. "Lud, did you drink from the River?" she demanded, thrusting a finger to point out the collapsed wall of the room. Just outside the hole, lapping at the scattered rubble flowed the malevolent-looking water that had already claimed half of their base of operations.

"Pike that, Malja! I'm not addle-coved enough to touch Styx water."

"Then how is it you've forgotten that I am the leader of this Cell and that you do exactly what I say?" she screamed. "I told you we needed these prisoners alive for our trap. You just killed our bait!"

Lud took a step back from her fury. After a few moments of thought, the tiefling replied, "I don't see how it matters. The town knows we took live ones with us on the last raid. We left the letters you told us to. We're gonna kill the rescue squad as it is; why should we bother with the illusion of having someone to rescue?" He glanced at the other members of the cell, and saw some of them nodding in agreement.

"Because of who is coming to rescue them," she seethed. "I picked our targets so that they would send their best after us. If they know that the prisoners are alive, they'll be more cautious in the attack. That will give this inferior lot the slim chance needed to kill them." A few of the Anarchists took exception to her insult, but the sorceress ignored the outraged muttering and continued her tirade. "But you, you cross-bred bastard, have just made a sodding mess of things and blown whatever chance we had!"

Lud's confusion melted under the heat of his own anger. "Bar it, Malja! I've had enough of your insults. It's not like your elemental half-breedin' makes you better - you're just as plane-touched as me. In fact, I think we've all had enough of you." The tiefling looked to the rest of his fellows for support. Many of the other cell members were nodding in agreement, and the angry mutters grew louder. Emboldened, he brought up his knives and pointed them at the sorceress. "You've been lordin' over us for months and not spillin' the real dark on what we're doin' even once. I be thinkin' that you've got your own mission. I be thinkin' that you've not got the best interests of the Movement at heart; not even a true Anarchist at all. I be thinkin' it's time this Cell had a new leader. Throw down." With that, he dropped into a fighting crouch and began to circle her warily.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind," Malja snapped, spinning around to fix Lud with a hard glare. "Let's find out if there's anything else in there." An ominous hum, eerily akin to many deep-pitched voices, began to resonate in the minds of everyone in the room.

The sudden movement and sound startled the tiefling, and he hesitated a moment. The moment's delay was all the sorceress needed. Before Lud could initiate an attack, he collapsed to the bloody floor. The tiefling immediately began screaming in pain, dropping his knives to clutch at his head. The other criminals remained where they were, looking on in horrified silence. Beneath the horrible screaming, a wet squishing noise could be faintly heard. Lud's screams suddenly cut off as his eyes exploded and his head cracked open. The tiefling's corpse landed with a wet thud on the floor, blood and puss oozing from ears, eye sockets, and fractured skull.

Malja turned away from the body and deliberately looked each of her remaining minions in the eye, ignoring the gore pooling around her bare feet. "Does anyone else have a thought they'd like to share?" she asked in a malice-laden hiss. Wisely, not one answered. "No? Good. Now get off your worthless, shriveled backsides and man the barricades. The soldiers are here."

The glow of healing faded from Callimachus’ hands. The solider, a grateful smile on his face, carefully flexed his repaired leg and then scrambled to his feet. The paladin clapped the man on the shoulder, then picked up his weapon and continued to lead his soldiers through the ruined encampment. Although they’d not yet found either the enemy or the prisoners they’d taken, the squad had found a number of harmful, and in two cases, deadly traps in the various abandoned structures of the place. I fear for those with Rahotep. He has no one chosen by the Divine in his squad. If they have faced the same as we, there may well be more than two souls honored in the dead-book already. But righteous battle will be joined soon. The way to the tower should be beyond this rubble.

Callimachus raised his sword to indicate the men should halt. He crept forward to peer around the pile of stones that blocked the narrow street. His guess was correct - the watchtower of the encampment stood alone in a space at the center of the encampment. The space was not open, however; a number of poorly built, spiked barricades defended the entrance to the tower. The paladin observed a half-dozen men manning the fortifications, but could not determine if they wielded missile weapons. Although he could not see the other side of the tower very well, he guessed that it held similar defenses. After taking stock of the situation, Callimachus returned to his waiting men.

"The tower is their fortress," he whispered. "We will backtrack a street and then circle to meet with the rest of our fellows."

The paladin carefully led his men back the way they came, veering towards the other side of the encampment. Not many minutes passed before he caught sight of Rahotep and the men with him slowly picking their way through the rubble-choked lane. Callimachus motioned for his second to draw close. "What news?"

"Holy Champion, we found naught but cowardly traps in the ruins. I have lost three men, but the injured are still capable of serving Horus' wishes. We have just come from scouting the tower; crude barricades manned by at most six of the murderers."

The paladin closed his eyes and offered a quick prayer for the departed. Five souls flown to their final rest, he thought. I hope that those are the last of ours this day. Shaking his head to clear the saddening images from mind, Callimachus waved his squad to gather close and receive their final orders.

“We still outnumber them, but they have the advantage of walls. Our best hope is to take the fight to them and behind their fortifications. The distance is too short for bows to give an advantage; all will join the charge. Keep low and move on the diagonals in case they have bows of their own. Our speed will only give them a single volley in any case."

He paused, and looked each man in the face. "Your duty is to serve vengeance upon the murderous thugs in the courtyard. Mine is to free the prisoners and kill the leader. Once we have pierced their defenses, you men will remain to continue the battle. I shall proceed alone into the tower for my task - do NOT follow me until you have dealt with the rabble here. Now, approach the clearing and seek shelter to await my command. Pray to Horus for strength.” The soldiers nodded their understanding of his orders and crept into position, preparing their spirits to accomplish the task set before them by their god.

Malja again stood at the window of the watchtower, this time staring intently at the courtyard surrounding the building. She could see her men lurking behind the crude barricades, and sense them becoming bored and inattentive waiting for the attack. The sorceress could also see, with the advantage of height, the soldiers of Heliopolis taking up positions in the ruined structures along the edge of the courtyard. From above, it was obvious that the attackers would be able to quickly cover the distance to the fortifications and break through to swarm the defenders.

Worthless fools, she mused. They forget that the soldiers are not the helpless sheep they're used to murdering in their sleep; they'll be cut down within minutes. Malja heaved a sigh and promptly dismissed the other Anarchists from her mind. That doesn't matter; only my love matters. She continued to peer out the window, anxiously trying to catch a glimpse of Callimachus.

"VENGEANCE!!!"

Even though she'd been expecting it for minutes, the battle cry of the charging soldiers startled her as much as it did her minions. In the few moments it took to calm her heart and refocus her attention on the courtyard, the attacking forces covered half the distance to the barricades. The few ruffians who had thought ahead fired their loaded crossbows into the onrushing soldiers, but only felled one. The remaining Anarchists who'd been fumbling to load their weapons were forced to drop them and draw steel as the attackers reached the fortifications. Malja scanned the chaos below, quickly locating the paladin by his size and golden armor. The man leaped off the top of a barricade, cleaving a defender in half as he landed. He threw a second aside with a strike of his shield, running out of the battle towards the door of the watchtower. Off to the side, a tiefling saw Callimachus' path and grabbed a discarded and loaded crossbow, taking aim at the paladin's back.

Malja hissed in anger and quickly reached out to the magic again. Focusing her will on the melee, she pulled the mana into turbulent ball and hurled it downward.

An explosion of heat and flame erupted directly behind Callimachus, tumbling him from his feet. The man slid a few paces across the rough surface of the courtyard, acquiring numerous cuts and scrapes. As he shook his head to recover his senses, a second explosion sounded, this time off to his right. The paladin risked a glance over his shoulder, back towards the barricades.

The fortifications were aflame, and the air became choked with the smell of the charred flesh and the screams of the wounded. A pair of fireballs had detonated in the midst of the battle, burning both attacker and defender alike. Gritting his teeth and forcing his concern for his men to the back of his mind, Callimachus regained his feet and resumed his course for the tower's entrance, this time with shield raised high overhead in case more spells should fall. I will help the survivors once the mission is done, he resolved. What monster would have no concern for its own forces?

Not knowing when another destructive dweomer might be cast, the paladin charged towards the tower's closed door at full speed. At the last instant he shifted his shield to the front, impacting the portal with the force of a battering ram. The portal burst apart under his assault, shattering inward in a spray of wooden shards. Barely slowed by his attack, Callimachus remained on-balance as he ran into the structure, sword raised to strike down any in his path.

Three strides later the paladin's feet slipped out from under him. The man fell heavily to the floor and skidded several feet, propelled by his momentum into the rubble that used to be the room's far wall. Callimachus' collision with these fallen bricks saved him from sliding headlong into the murky river that had swallowed half of the encampment. He rolled away from the tributary and regained his feet, ready for an attack, eyes searching for what had brought him low. What he saw took his breath away for a moment.

The chamber had the look of a slaughterhouse. One wall displayed a spray of blood, and much of the floor was hidden beneath a congealed mass of blood and gore. It was this fetid slick that had robbed him of his footing. In the center of the pool lay a single corpse - that of a scaly-faced tiefling. The cause of death appeared to have been the man's head exploding due to overwhelming internal pressure. Since the body was not one of his men, or one of the prisoners he expected to rescue, Callimachus dismissed it as one of the murderers he'd been sent to kill. Evil always turns on itself. The presence of the pool he had slid through worried him; it was far too big to have come from only one person.

Ignoring the blood and gore that now slowly dripped from his armor, the paladin looked at the room more carefully, seeking clues to what had happened. He quickly spotted a trail of bloody footprints leading from the gore and up the crumbling stone stairs. Hefting his sword, Callimachus crossed the room and cautiously ascended, carefully avoiding debris and staying well away from the holes in the walls. After several minutes of tense progress, the holy warrior reached the landing at the top of the stairwell. Drawing breath to call out the vile leader of this band of murderers to single combat, he stepped out into the single chamber at the top of the watchtower.

His challenge remained unvoiced. Although he had tried not to let himself be blinded by anger or prejudice and thus be unprepared for whatever form the enemy general might take, Callimachus found himself completely surprised by what he saw. There was no blackguard warrior with a retinue of assassins; nor was there a scheming wizard surrounded by conjured minions. The lone occupant of the room was not even a foul fiend. The paladin, sword and shield raised high ready to smite evil with holy vengeance, found only a petite woman, kneeling in supplication before him in a crumbling chamber with two walls and most of its ceiling open to the uncaring void above.

Callimachus stood still for several moments before he became aware that he was staring at her. As a man, he had to admit to himself that she was quite alluring. The white silk dress she wore was rather loose and allowed for a nearly uninterrupted look at her flawless aquamarine complexion as well as, due to her posture, a generous view of her bust and thighs. Hair the color of sea foam fell in loose curls across her shoulders. The woman's exotic beauty was overwhelming, with a hint of the familiar about it. It was almost enough to distract him from his duty. Almost.

Malja's heart leaped into her throat when Callimachus stepped out of the alcove and into the room. She struggled against the instinct to run and jump into his arms, remaining instead in her vulnerable and non-threatening pose. She gazed up at him through the hair hanging in her face, drinking in the details of his features. The moment was everything she had dreamed it would be - the valiant warrior, weapon dripping with the blood of vanquished evil foes, breaking into a prison to sweep her off her feet in a glorious and passionate rescue.

Across the room, the paladin quickly shook his head to clear away the distracting thoughts the woman caused. He began to circle warily around the edges of the chamber, trying to focus his divinely sharpened senses. Where is the monster that kills innocent petitioners and rains destruction upon its own forces? Is she what I seek? Evil is no stranger to pretty face. Or is she an accomplice, or even an innocent, placed her as a distraction and trap? Expanding his awareness, Callimachus sought out the auras given off by all beings, mortal or otherwise. There was only one, that of the kneeling woman. The paladin sensed that it held the taint of evil, but was no great sinkhole.

The sorceress' expectant expression collapsed when Callimachus moved away from her. What is wrong? Why does he not approach and sweep me off my feet? Her thoughts became a confused blur. Did my pawns harden his heart to me? Did I choose men who weren't weak enough to be easily defeated? Does he see me as threat? Remaining kneeling, she shifted her legs to face the paladin once more. Trying to keep her voice steady, the sorceress reached out her arms towards the object of her desire and pleaded, "Holy Warrior, I humbly surrender myself into your care. Take me away with you."

Duty warred with honor in Callimachus' psyche. I have been commanded by my god to slay all who were responsible, but I cannot in good faith strike down an unarmed and surrendered foe. I must know more of this… Still not detecting any evil intentions, he lowered his weapon but did not sheathe it. "Who are you? Speak quickly that I might know your heart," he stated in a firm tone.

She could no longer contain her emotions. "Don't you recognize me, my love?" she cried, scrambling to her feet. "I'm Malja; the one you once called miw-sheri. As for my heart, it is as it always has been - yours forever." The sorceress took one step towards him, face full of hope but with eyes very close to tears.

Her aura faded from sight as his concentration shattered in a confused tumble of thoughts. How can she claim to know me? I know of no one like her. There is no Malja… wait. Miw-sheri… Once there was one I called that. Could it possibly be? A memory surfaced, one long discarded and buried. The holy warrior looked into his mind's eye, and finally recognized the woman before him. He could do so only by seeing her as she was then, a frightened child narrowly saved from disaster by a novice paladin nearly two decades ago. Callimachus swallowed, to find his voice. "Little Miw-sheri?"

"Yes!" Malja cried joyfully, finally seeing the recognition she hoped for in his eyes. The woman charged across the room, throwing herself against him. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could in a tight embrace, ignoring the pain caused by her impact against his breastplate. "I knew you would come, my darling, I knew it! Rescue me again like you did once before, my love."

The man stoically endured the embrace, mentally comparing his memory of a timid child to the seemingly brazen and well-developed woman now wrapped around him. When his discomfort was too much to bear, Callimachus cleared his throat and began to disengage himself from Malja, his gentle efforts hampered by the presence of sword and shield. Eventually he freed himself, putting her at arm's length. Trying to give himself time to think, the paladin took a few moments longer than needed to sling the large shield he bore across his back. She could be the little girl I rescued so long ago. But coincidences are often the first sign of danger. There are still mysteries here. He then drew a slow breath, trying to calm himself and refocus his divine senses.

"It is… good to see you again, Malja," addressed her as his eyes roved around the ruined room, searching for anything out of place. "But it has been so long. I only know of you then, not who you are now. What are you doing here? I have been sent to-"

"I killed him for you, Callimachus."

He blinked in surprise, not sure he heard correctly. "What?"

"The one who took your people. That's why you came - a rescue. But he killed them. So I killed him and left his body as a present for you, my darling." She stepped close to him again, taking hold of his free hand in both of hers and pressing it to her bosom. "Your mission is done, so now we can leave, together."

That would explain the body below. But the manner of death… The shy child I knew could not have done such a thing. He pulled his hand away from her grasp and took a step back. "How is it that you are here to do such a thing?" the paladin asked, ice rising in his voice. "You will tell me. Now."

Malja's face fell again as Callimachus pulled away from her. "What are you doing, my love? I killed him for you. It doesn't matter how I did it. All that matters is us." His subtle rejection and continued aloofness cracked her pleasant demeanor. "Why can't you see that?" she cried, her voice rising in volume. "Why won't you take me away with you?"

To the paladin's divine senses, her aura began to shift. The dark taint of evil intent flared and began to consume the light in her aura. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, indicating a sudden danger. Callimachus tightened his grip on his falchion, half-raising it into a warding position. Still, he tried to reconcile his memories with the present to make sense of the situation. "What are you talking about, Malja? 'Us'? What 'us'? There is no relationship between you and I."

"How can you say that?" Anger and despair drove her now, pushing the sorceress closer to hysteria. "I've loved you from the moment we first met. And I know that you loved me too, even if I was a child then. But I'm a woman now; we can finally be together as we were meant to, my love. You can't walk away from me now! Stay with me, darling. I know that you can love me again!"

Callimachus took another step away, placing his weapon between them. He could read her true aura now - a malign blight to his eyes. This is no longer the child I knew. "No. What I loved was the light in your soul. That light is gone now - your body has become only a shell for evil. We could never be 'together'. But, I will honor your... 'gift' to me, and leave you in peace. If you truly love me, as you claim, you will let me go and nothing more shall pass between us. If you are wise, Malja," he warned her with a cold, forbidding glare, "there will be no future meeting." With that, he deliberately turned his back to her and strode towards the stairwell, body tensed and ready to defend himself.

The finality in his voice snapped the thin strands of control left in the sorceress' psyche. "DON'T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!" she screamed. "You can't walk out on me! Not again!"

Callimachus said nothing as he continued his path towards the exit.

Malja fell to her knees, giving voice to all her conflicting emotions in one hideous wail. Anger, hatred, and jealously smothered her reason. Her vision filled with a red haze as she glared at the man's retreating back. Giving in to her instincts, the sorceress called on her genasi heritage and reached out with the power infusing her blood, seeking to embrace the wave and make it do her bidding - to lash out and hurt him, as badly as he had hurt her. The only body of water in the encampment answered her desire.

The paladin spun around at the sound of her despair. He expected her to act as a normal woman would, charging him with nails bared to scratch out his eyes. As such, he was caught completely unprepared when a massive pillar of putrid gray water swelled into view outside the watchtower, topped with a giant fist. The construction rose high into the air above them, crested, and then rushed at him with supernatural speed. Callimachus tried to shrug his shield forward into some kind of defense, but it was far too late. May Horus protect... The fist struck, and he thought no more.

Malja hissed in satisfaction as she watched the watery fist engulf Callimachus. Then, the realization of what she'd done swept her anger away, leaving only shock and desperation. "My love!" she cried, rapidly banishing the fist out of the tower and letting it fall back into the cursed river from which it came. She ran over to the fallen paladin, kneeling down beside him. "Oh, my love! What have I done? Speak to me!"

The man on the floor moved his mouth like a gasping fish, saying nothing.

She cradled his head in her lap, sobbing uncontrollably. Malja looked deeply into the vacant stare of her love's eyes. "I'll make it all better, my love," she promised. "I'll make you better."