"I am a god," returned Chemosh stonily. "I am always well. More's the pity."

Krell could only imagine there had been some crushing defeat in the war.

"Name your enemy, lord," said Krell, eager to please, "the one who did this to you. I will find him and rip him-"

"Nuitari is my enemy," said Chemosh.

"Nuitari," the death knight repeated uneasily, already regretting his rash promise. "The God of the Dark Moon. Why him, particularly?"

"Mina is dead," said Chemosh.

"Mina dead?" Krell was about to add "Good riddance!" when he remembered just in time that Chemosh had been strangely enamored of the human female.

"I am truly sorry, my lord," Krell amended, trying to sound sympathetic. "How did this... um... terrible tragedy happen?"

"Nuitari murdered her," said Chemosh viciously. "He will pay! You will make him pay!"

Krell was alarmed. Nuitari, the powerful god of dark magic, was not quite the enemy he'd had in mind.

"I would, my lord, but I am certain you will want to avenge her death on Nuitari yourself. Perhaps I could seek vengeance on Chislev or Hiddukel? They were undoubtedly in on the plot-"

Chemosh flicked a finger, and Krell went flying backward to smash up against the stone wall. He slid down the wall and lay in a heap of jumbled armor at the feet of the Lord of Death.

"You sniveling, craven, squirming toad," Chemosh said coldly. "You will do what I tell you to do, or I will turn you into the spineless jellyfish that you are and hand you over to the Sea Goddess with my compliments. What do you have to say to that?"

Krell mumbled something.

Chemosh bent down. "I couldn't quite hear you."

"As always, my lord," Krell said glumly, "I am yours to command."

"I thought you might be," said Chemosh. "Now come along."

"Not... not to visit Nuitari?" Krell quailed.

"To my dwelling, you oaf," said Chemosh. "There is something I need you to do for me first."

Having determined to take a more active interest in the world of the living with the view to one day ruling over that world, the Lord of Death had left his dark palace on the planes of the Abyss. He had searched for a suitable location for his new dwelling and found it in an abandoned castle overlooking the Blood Sea in the area called the Desolation.

When the Dragon Overlord, Malys, seized control of this part of Ansalon, she ravaged the countryside, laying waste to fields and farmlands, towns and villages and cities. The land was cursed so long as she was in power. Nothing grew. Rivers and streams dried up. Once-fertile fields became windswept desert. Starvation and disease spread. Cities such as Flotsam lost much of their population as people fled the dragon's curse. The entire area became known as the Desolation.

With the death of Malys at the hands of Mina, the dread effects of the dragon's evil magic on the Desolation were reversed. Almost from the moment of Malys's demise, rivers began to flow and lakes to fill. Small shoots of green thrust up out of barren soil, as though life had been there all this time, waiting only for the enchantment that held it in thrall to be removed.

With the return of the gods, this process accelerated, so that already some areas were almost back to normal. People returned and began to rebuild. Flotsam, located about one hundred and fifty miles from Chemosh's castle, was not quite the rollicking, bustling center of commerce-both legal and illegal-that it had once been, but it was no longer a ghost town. Pirates and legitimate sailors of all races roamed the streets of the famous port city. Markets and shops reopened. Flotsam was back and open for business.

Large areas of the Desolation still remained cursed, however. No one could figure out why or how. A druidess devoted to Chislev, goddess of nature, was exploring these areas, when she came across one of Malys's scales. The druidess theorized that the presence of the scale might have something to do with the continuation of the curse. She burned the scale in a sacred ceremony, and it is said that Chislev herself, disturbed by this disruption of nature, blessed the ceremony. The destruction of the scale did nothing to change things, but the story spread and the theory took hold, so these cursed areas became known as "scale-fall."

One of these scale-fall areas Chemosh claimed for his own. His castle stood on a promontory overlooking the Blood Sea on what was known as the Somber Coast.

Chemosh cared nothing about the lingering curse. He had no interest in green and growing things, so it mattered little to him that the hills and valleys around his castle were denuded, barren, empty expanses of ashy soil and charred stone.

The castle he took over was in ruins when he found it, the dragon having slain the inhabitants and razed and burned the castle. He had chosen this location because it was only about fifty miles from the Tower of the Blood Sea. He had intended to use his castle as a base of operation, planning to store here the sacred artifacts he would remove from the wreckage of the Tower. Here, he had fondly imagined, he would take his time sorting, cataloging and calculating the immense value of the sacred artifacts that dated back to the time of the Kingpriest of Istar.

The castle would not only serve as a depository for the artifacts but as a fortress to guard them. Using rock mined by lost souls in the Abyss, Chemosh rebuilt the castle, making it so strong not even the gods themselves could assail it. The Abyssal rock was blacker than black marble and far harder. Only the hand of Chemosh could shape it into blocks, and the blocks were so heavy only he could lift them into place. The castle was constructed with four watchtowers, one on each corner. Two walls-an inner wall and an outer wall-surrounded it. The most unique feature of this castle was that no gates penetrated the walls. There appeared to be no way in and no way out.

The dead who guarded the castle needed no gates. The wraiths, ghosts and restless spirits Chemosh brought to defend his dwelling could pass through the Abyssal rock as easily as a mortal slips through a leafy green bower. Chemosh needed an entrance for his new disciples, however. The Beloved were dead, but they still retained their corporeal forms. They entered through a magical portal located at a single point in the north wall. The portal could be controlled by Chemosh, the castle's master, and by one other, the person who was to have been the castle's mistress.

Mina.

Chemosh had meant the castle to be a gift to her. He had named it both in her honor and as a tribute to his new disciples. He called it Castle Beloved.

But only Mina's ghost had come to take up residence.

Mina was dead, slain by Nuitari, the God of the Black Moon, the same god who had put an end to Chemosh's ambitious designs. Nuitari had secretly raised up the ruins of the Tower of High Sorcery of Istar. He had seized the treasure trove of holy artifacts that was to have put Chemosh on the throne as ruler of the heavenly pantheon. Nuitari had captured Mina, taken her prisoner, and in order to flaunt his power over the Lord of Death, Nuitari had slain her.

Chemosh now dwelt alone in Castle Beloved. The place had become loathsome to him, for it was a constant reminder of the ruin of his schemes and plots. Much as he detested the castle, he found he could not leave. For Mina was there. Her spirit came to him there. She hovered near his bed-their bed. Her amber eyes gazed at him but could not see him. Her hand reached out to him but could not find him. Her voice spoke, but she could not talk to him. She listened for his voice, but she could not hear him when he called to her.

The sight of her ghostly form tormented him, and he tried countless times to leave her. He returned to his abandoned dwelling in the Abyss. Her spirit could not follow him there, but the memory of her was there, and her memory left him feeling such bitter pain, he was forced to return to Castle Beloved to find solace in the sight of her wandering ghost.

Chemosh would have his revenge against Nuitari, that much was assured. His plans were vague, however, still in formation. The death knight alone could not dislodge the powerful god from his Tower, though Chemosh did not say that to Krell. He planned to let Krell shake in his boots for a while. Krell owed Chemosh a few uncomfortable hours for losing Ariakan.

Nor did Chemosh tell the death knight that his bungling had worked out for the best. Zeboim was Nuitari's sister, but there was no love lost between the siblings. Chemosh now had a way to acquire Zeboim as a powerful ally.

The Lord of Death, accompanied by a most reluctant Ausric Krell, passed through the inner and outer walls of the castle and entered the main hall, empty, save for a throne that stood upon a dais in the center. There was room on the dais for two thrones, and when he had first built the castle, there had been two thrones. The larger and more magnificent of these: thrones belonged to the god. A smaller and more delicate throne was intended for Mina. Chemosh had smashed that throne to pieces.

The wreckage of the throne lay strewn about the hall. Krell, clumping in after him, trod on some of the rubble. Hoping to regain favor in the eyes of the god, Krell began gushing over the castle's architectural design.

Chemosh paid no attention to the death knight's fawnings. He seated himself on his throne and waited, tensely, for Mina's ghost to come to him. The waiting was always agony. Part of him secretly hoped she would not materialize, that he would never see her again. Perhaps, then, he could forget. But if for some reason more time passed than was usual and her ghost did not appear, he felt he would go mad.

Then she was here, and Chemosh gave a sigh that was mingled despair and relief. Her form, wavering and delicate and pale as though she were spun of cobweb, drifted through the hall toward him. She wore some sort of loose-fitting gown made of black silk that seemed stirred by the undercurrents of the deep, for it undulated gently around her ghostly form. She lifted a ghostly hand as she drew near him, and her mouth opened, as though she was saying something. Her words were smothered by death.

"Krell," Chemosh said tersely. "You reside on the plane of death, as does she. Speak to Mina's spirit for me. Ask her what it is she so desperately wants to tell me! It is always the same," he muttered feverishly, plucking the lace on his sleeve. "She comes to me and seems to want to say something to me, and I cannot hear her! Perhaps you will be able to communicate with her."

Krell had hated Mina in life. She had faced him unafraid the first time they'd met, and for that, he'd never forgiven her. He was glad she was dead, and the last thing he wanted to do was act as a go-between for her and her lover.

"My lord," Krell ventured to point out, "you rule rule the plane of Death and Undeath. If you can't communicate-" the plane of Death and Undeath. If you can't communicate-"

Chemosh turned a baleful eye upon the death knight, who bowed and muttered something about being happy to speak to Mina whenever she should decide to put in an appearance.

"She is here now, Krell. Talk to her! What are you waiting for? Ask her what she wants!"

Krell looked about. He saw nothing, but he didn't like to disappoint his lord and so he began talking to a crack in the wall.

"Mina," said Krell in sonorous and mournful tones, "Lord Chemosh would like to know-"

"Not there!" Chemosh said in exasperation. He gestured. "She is here! Next to me!"

Krell stared about the hall, then said as diplomatically as possible, "My lord, the journey from Storm's Keep was a strenuous one. Perhaps you should lie down-"

Chemosh bounded off the throne and strode angrily toward the death knight. "There's not much of you left, Krell, but what there is I'll shred into infinitesimal pieces and scatter to the four corners of the Abyss-"

"I swear to you, my lord!" Krell cried, backing up precipitously, "that I do not know what you're talking about! You say, 'Speak to Mina,' and I would be glad to do your bidding, but there is no Mina for me to speak to!"

Chemosh halted. "You cannot see her?" He pointed to where she was standing. "If I extend my arm, I could touch her." He suited his action to his words and held out his hand to her.

Krell turned his helmed head in the direction indicated and stared with all his might. "Oh, of course. Now that you point her out-"

"Don't lie to me, Krell!" Chemosh cried savagely, clenching his fist.

The death knight recoiled. "My lord. I am truly sorry. I want to see her, but I do not-"

Chemosh shifted his gaze from Krell to the apparition. His eyes narrowed. "You don't see her. Strange. I wonder..."

He raised his voice, shouting, so that it echoed through the shadowy realm of death. "To me! Servants, slaves! To me! Now!"

The hall filled with a ghostly throng, constrained to come at their master's bidding. Wraiths and specters gathered around Chemosh and waited in their customary silence for him to command them.

"You see these minions of mine, do you not, Krell?" Chemosh made a sweeping wave of his arm.

Left behind by the river of souls as it flowed through eternity, the undead who had fallen prey to the blandishments of the Lord of Death floated in a stagnant swamp of their own evil.

"Yes, my lord," said Krell. "I see them." They were low creatures, and he cast them a disdainful glance.

"And you don't see Mina standing among them?"

Krell stood dithering in an agony of indecision. "My lord, since my death, my eyesight is not what it used to be- "Krell!" Chemosh shouted.

The death knight's shoulders slumped. "No, my lord. I know you don't want to hear this, but she is not among these-"

The Lord of Death flung his arms around Krell, embraced him tightly, crumpling his armor, and staving in his breastplate.

"Krell," cried Chemosh, "you have saved my sanity!"

The death knight's eyes flared in astonishment.

"My lord?"

"What a fool I have been!" Chemosh declared. "But no more. He will pay for this! I swear by the High God who cast me out of heaven and by Chaos who saved me that Nuitari will pay!"

Releasing Krell and dismissing the other undead with an impatient gesture, Chemosh stared at the image of Mina, still floating before him.

"Give me your sword, Krell," Chemosh ordered, holding out his hand.

The death knight drew his sword from its scabbard and handed it to the god.

Gripping the sword, Chemosh stared for another long moment at the ghost of Mina. Then, sword in hand, he raised it and leapt at the illusion.

The image of Mina vanished.

Chemosh stepped back, thinking out loud. "A remarkable illusion. It fooled even me. But it could not fool you, my dear brother, my excellent friend, Lord Krell!"

"I am glad to have pleased you, my lord." Krell was confused-thankful, but confused. "I don't quite follow you, though-"

"An illusion, Krell! Mina's ghost was an illusion! That is why you could not see her. Mina is not in your realm-the realm of death. Mina is alive, Krell. Alive-and a prisoner."

Chemosh grew grim. "Nuitari lied to me. He did not slay her, as he pretended. He has imprisoned her in his Tower beneath the Blood Sea. Why, though? What is his motive? Does he want her for himself? Did he assume I would forget her, once I thought she was dead? Ah, I see his game. He has probably told her I abandoned her. She would not believe him, though. Mina loves me. She will be true to me. I must go to her..."

He paused.

"What if he has succeeded in seducing her? She is mortal, after all," the god continued, his voice hardening, "This Mina once swore to love and follow Queen Takhisis, only to turn from her to me. Perhaps Mina has turned from me to Nuitari. Perhaps they both plot against me. I might be walking into a trap..."

He whipped around. "Krell!"

"My lord!" The death knight was trying desperately to keep up with the peregrinations of the god's thoughts.

"You say that Zeboim recovered the khas piece containing the soul of her son?" Chemosh asked.

"It wasn't my fault!" Krell said hurriedly. "There was a kender and a giant bug-"

"Quit whining! You actually did something right for a change. I am going to send you on an errand."

Krell didn't like the god's sly smile.

"What errand would that be, my lord?" the death knight asked warily. "Where am I going?"

"To Zeboim-"

Krell clunked down onto his knees. "You might as well finish me now, Lord Chemosh, and get it over with."

"Now, now, Krell," said Chemosh soothingly. He was suddenly in an excellent humor. "The Sea Goddess will be glad to see you. You are going to bring her welcome news-provided she allows you to live long enough to tell it... "

Chapter 2.

The dwarf and half-elf had been gazing into the dragonmetal basin, both of them sniggering at the sight of Chemosh's lamentations over his "dead" mistress and mocking the Lord of Death, making sport of him as they'd done for many days now, when things began to go terribly wrong.

"He's onto us!" said the dwarf, alarmed.

"No, he's not," said the half-elf, sneering.

"I tell you he's figured it out!" cried the dwarf. "Look there! He's got a sword! End the spell, Caele! Quickly!"

"We're in no danger, Basalt, you coward," said Caele, his lip curling. "What do you think? He's going to leap through time and space and cut off our ears?"