The remnants of the Kanarekii army crept toward the forest's edge on the peak of the hill.

Dismounting, Riordan walked to the edge of the summit and stared down at what was left of Kholer. Even under the cover of darkness, the damage looked extensive. She made out the smoldering ruins of the high town, the charred and crumbling hulks of homes and markets, the dark slopes of Haelian tents. Haelian soldiers moved furtively among the ruins, about to wake the city to one last nightmare.

"By nightfall, Kholer will be liberated," Nhaille said from behind her.

She walked a few paces away from the edge of the summit and dragged in a breath of frigid air. "For our own sakes, and that of Kholer, let us hope so."

Right now it took all her concentration to calm the cold fear in the pit of her stomach, the terror of death, and Gods knew, things worse than death.

"Dawn is fast approaching," she said and swung up into Strayhorn's saddle. "Sound the battle horn."

The trumpet blast shattered the dawn.

The Sword of Zal-Azaar sailed from its sheath, catching the sun's first rays in a rainbow arc. Nhaille caught her eye, and Riordan nodded in receipt of the confidence he wished her way.

"This is it!" she shouted back.

"Laalan, God of War, be with us," he answered.

On her signal, the Kanarekii army streamed down the hillside.

Riordan put the spurs to Strayhorn. The trained warhorse responded. Plunging down the hill, he lowered his head, the metal horn of his armor poised to take down anything that stood in his path. Ground disappeared beneath Strayhorn's hooves as he dodged boulders, skirted the stumps of trees.

Hooves pounded the ground like thunder. She caught a glimpse of Nhaille on Stormback beside her. Nhaille's cousin, Penden, brought up the rear, even now organizing counter moves and emergency measures. Strayhorn's gait jarred every bone in her body.

But fueled by the Sword's lust for blood, the downward plunge intoxicated her.

Beneath them in the valley, Haelian soldiers scrambled for their mounts. Like so many ants they scurried to form ranks, to herd the army of the dead into lines before them.

Prodded by Haelian warriors in black leather, the dead climbed sluggishly to their feet. Riordan urged her army onward, hoping to scatter their ranks before they had a chance to form, hoping against all odds to get a clear shot at Rau before protective lines of the dead and his own army closed around him.

As the world flew by in a dizzying rush, she caught a glimpse of Rau's red plume, bobbing along the ranks of the dead. Like a storm gathering, the last survivors of Kanarek raced toward them.

Ranks of the dead formed, then scattered. The dead milled about in confusion. Rau seemed to be having difficulty bringing his army under his control. Shouts from the Haelian ranks carried above the din in an attempt to bring order.

Lines of dead soldiers disintegrated again. The Kanarekii army reached the foot of the hill and barreled across flat land.

Only to meet a rigid line of dead warriors.

Apparently, Rau once again had control of the dead. Riordan urged her army onward. For the first time she gave the Sword free rein. Her control dropped away, letting its desire for blood soar.

She dashed into the ranks of the dead army, swinging the Sword of Zal-Azaar in a wide arc. Caught in the expanse of her swing dead warriors tumbled. An avalanche of souls rushed into her mind.

Riordan gasped under the onslaught, losing for a moment her control of the Sword. Dozens of dying thoughts poured into her mind. Agony seared her as she felt the multitude of anguished thoughts. She screamed, swung again. Unable to stop the flow of souls, she opened her mind, pushing her own consciousness back into a tiny parcel in her brain.

Around her she heard the cries of the Kanarekii army attempting to hack its way through the fray. Riordan widened the arc of her swing, racing Strayhorn back and forth in an attempt to carve a wider breach in Hael's defense. Beyond the dead, she could see lines of Haelian soldiers forming. She cut a path toward them, toward Doan-Rau and the Amber.

Suddenly there were no more dead before her. She lunged through the last of their ranks.

To meet a wall of Haelian soldiers in black armor. Quickly she slammed the walls of restraint around the Sword's will. The Sword roared a challenge in her mind.

Riordan reined Strayhorn in abruptly. Behind her the Kanarekii army followed suit. She heard a similar order shouted behind Haelian lines. Soldiers parted to let through a plumed rider. Riordan faced her enemy.

"I give you one last chance, Prince Doan-Rau." Her voice cut cleanly through the still morning air. "Surrender the Amber, or be destroyed."

The Prince's laughter echoed through the hills. Around him, Haelian soldiers shifted nervously. His Captain's eyes widened at the sight of the crystal blade. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rau broke away from the band of Haelians that closed to protect him.

"Sir?" Captain Larz reached out a hand to restrain him. Shaking off his arm, Rau moved toward Riordan.

Azure eyes as deep as the sky glared out at her, as impenetrable as the smooth crystal of the Sword. "Our little Kanarekii myth seems to have developed some flair, if nothing else."

"Surrender Rau." Riordan moved Strayhorn closer and rested the Sword's point inches from his breast. Soldiers rushed in to guard their prince. In her mind, the Sword shrieked for her to take his life, but she deafened herself to its cries. Time enough for that later. She didn't want Rau's foul thoughts pressing against her mind. Not unless there was no other way out. Sitting astride their mounts put their eyes on the same level. Riordan glared at him and decided she liked that meager advantage. "Now or later,"

she said, rational against his hysterical laughter. "The choice is yours."

"She has inherited her father's capacity for bluster," Rau said acidly.

Larz realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it quickly.

"Hasn't she, Larz?"Faced with answering the question, Larz nodded noncommittally. "Your Highness, I really think--"

Rau waved his concerns from the air. With a swipe of his hand, he knocked the Sword from his chest. "Her father's capacity for noise and blunder and you see Larz, also his reticence for killing."

In challenge, the Prince raised the stake of Amber. A power stone, shaped like a dagger, potent enough to enslave an entire army.

But even the power stones drew their energy from the Amber Orb, itself. Where is the Master Stone? Riordan wondered. If not with them in Kholer, where? But Rau robbed her of time to ponder that thought.

"Surrender, Your Majesty?" Rau laughed again at his own wit. "It is your kingdom that lies in ruin. Soon Kanarek and Kholer will be merely a dim memory."

The Sword's voice became an insistent scream in her mind. Deprived of Rau's soul once, it recognized its withheld prize and demanded to be appeased. The Amber in Rau's hand tempted it, luring it closer, until it took the sum of her strength to stop the blade from impaling Rau on its tip. A last resort, she thought and tightened her grip.

"Have it your way, Doan-Rau." With confidence far beyond what she felt, Riordan backed Strayhorn away. "But you're wrong, Your Highness."

Blue eyes glared back at her from the shadows beneath his visor. "About what?"

"About my inability to kill. I'm merely saving you as a last choice morsel. You will surrender my good Prince. It won't be Kanarek that fades from memory, it will be Hael. Along with the name Doan-Rau."

Rau's face crumpled, his expression turned from disbelief to ugly rage. His fist gripped the power stone. She watched as his face contorted in concentration.

Fury poured from the Amber into each dead mind. Through her connection to the Sword, Riordan felt it, recoiled from it. It tore through her as if glass ran in her veins. She slammed her mind shut against his onslaught and sent her own down through the Sword.

The remnants of the army of the dead snapped to attention. Haelian warriors raised their swords. Kanarekii soldiers poured in behind her.

Mental chains fell away. Riordan set the Sword's bloodlust free. Strayhorn reared up on his hind legs and bolted toward the tide of decaying bodies lurching their way.

The Sword desperately wanted the human bodies around it that throbbed with life. She dragged its interest away, bolting through their ranks, taking out an entire row of the dead with one sweeping arc of the Sword.

She hacked them down like so many trees, and tried not to think about how vastly outnumbered they were, even with the Sword.

Disjointed thoughts flooded into her mind. Horrifying visions from beyond the grave. She slammed the floodgates shut and raised the Sword for another blow.

Then she realized her mistake.

Each Kanarekii soldier the Haelians killed became another footman in the army of the dead. Her reach was limited to the Sword's length. And the Sword could only cut down and dispose of so many bodies. Haelian soldiers drove stakes of Amber through the eyes of the fallen Kanarekii and turned their converts against their countrymen.

It was the Haelian army she had to wipe out. Outnumbered as the Kanarekii were, they had to thin the ranks, get to the Amber and destroy it. After that the dead would be granted their rightful rest and cease to be a threat.

She wheeled about, sighting Nhaille's spiked helmet mere paces away. He followed, trusting in her strategy, in the Sword's desperate hunger.

Beyond the ragged line of hewing dead bodies, she saw the red plume of Rau's helmet bobbing with each stroke of his sword.

Strayhorn dashed forward, butting Haelian warhorses with the spike on his faceplate.

Haelian soldiers saw her coming. Swords barred her path.

Riordan looked at the blades preventing her path like a fence of knives. Stormback's hooves pounded the earth as Nhaille hacked his way toward her.

She raised the Sword. Eyes widened beneath Haelian helms. Innocent youths, drafted into Rau's services. Innocent lives about to be lost to his insanity. Where will it stop, she wondered, hesitating for a fraction of a second.

I have no choice. Unless I put an end to it, the killing will never stop.

Tearing her gaze from the youthful eyes that looked back at her, Riordan raised the Sword and swung.

Dying screams echoed in her mind. Terror, memories of loved ones fell into the tearing vortex in her mind. The Sword, never appeased, clamored for more.

Unlike the sluggish souls of the reanimated dead, this was her first taste of pure human blood. Souls ripped through the Sword's consciousness jagged as glass. Sickened, she toppled backward, catching herself inches before she slipped from the saddle.

A flash of steel beside her. Metal grated against metal. Nhaille deflected the blade aimed for her throat.

No time, Riordan thought with another desperate swing. No time to debate who was right or wrong. In war there were only sides.

Nothing about killing was right.

Soldiers fell as Nhaille and the Kanarekii cleared a path around her. Haelian replacements surged in from all sides. Repulsed, she caught a glimpse of Haelian soldiers rushing to add their own fallen comrades to the numbers of the dead army.

Soldiers, mere seconds dead, rose to raise their own swords again. Dead eyes, devoid now of all thought but mindless killing, defied her.

"No!" Her scream cut across the battlefield. Riordan swung widely, taking out an entire line of the newly dead. Disjointed memories blew like a storm through her mind. This time she reveled in it, the utter horror driving her on. She swung again, losing herself to all but the motion in her arm, the sweeping arc of the Sword's devastation.

Bloated, decaying bodies disappeared into the Sword. Haelian soldiers followed their fate. Kanarekii soldiers formed a barrier with their bodies, protecting her as she surged forward, clearing a path toward the Haelian Prince at the center of the fray. Bodies tumbled into a heap to be vacuumed into oblivion by the Sword's magic.

Then there was only the Haelian Captain, Larz, between them. Rau looked up, suddenly appalled.

Swiftly, he covered his fear and faced her with his customary smirk. "Well done, Your Majesty. What a fine addition you'll make to my army."

His blade sang through the air. Riordan brought the Sword up in a desperate parry.

Steel met crystal. She riposted quickly. Stone and metal crashed again.

"The only army you'll command," she grunted with another swing, "will be one in Al-Gomar." "So kill me," Rau taunted. "And I'll live in your mind, forever."

Riordan deflected the sword aimed for her heart. The thought of carrying Rau's madness inside her chilled her.

Even now the voices of the dead clamored for attention in her mind, strengthening the Sword's ardor for more killing.

"You won't find my mind such a hospitable place," she growled.

He parried her upward stroke. Behind her, Nhaille and Larz stared coldly at each other over crossed swords. She heard the clash of metal, hoped vehemently Nhaille was winning.

Rau backed his warhorse away. For a second she was certain he'd flee. Then he rushed her.

Ground spiraled toward her. The earth reached up and dealt her a full-body slap. Nhaille's shout of warning came too late.

Riordan managed to get the Sword out from under her and twisted, rolling away from the trampling hooves of Rau's stallion.

Suddenly riderless, Strayhorn reared up, stamping the ground nervously.

Her breath came in short bursts, burning her lungs. Riordan forced her legs under her. Rau's warhorse stampeded toward her.

She snatched up the Sword. Throwing herself to the side at the last second, she drew the crystal blade across the its legs, cutting both tendons. The majestic animal pitched forward.

A heavy armored body pinned her to the earth. Riordan looked up into searing blue eyes. She got a leg between them, kicked viciously, trying to unseat him far enough to get the Sword between them.

"Riordan!" She heard Nhaille's call from somewhere off to the right.

"You are really starting to annoy me." Dark hair tumbled down around her. Rau had lost his helmet in the fall. He wrenched the amber dagger from his belt. "And I've worked so hard to spare your pretty face."

Freeing her right hand, Riordan swung the Sword toward him.

He parried, catching it at the hilt with the amber dagger. Energy sizzled down the blade, ancient sorceries long parted, greeted each other. Bending her arm backward, the Amber blade inched toward her face.

Lightning crackled. Golden beads of light formed within the Amber. The Amber blade became transparent. Then, before her eyes, it faded and disappeared. In her mind, Riordan felt the Sword's power weaken.

So, I was right. They cancel each other out. Hope soared.

Rau tumbled forward. For a fraction of a second, they lay face to face like lovers. Fear, the first real fear she'd seen, crossed his face.

The Prince stared at his empty hand, the horrifying realization dawning that without the protection of the Master Stone, he had no chance against the Sword of Zal-Azaar. Terror overtook disbelief. Like the Shraal before him, he'd thought his magic weapon was invincible. Rau scrambled to his feet.

"Pull back!" he shouted as Larz reined in beside him. "Retreat to Hael!" Like a coward, Rau fled, leaving his Captain to stare in dismay after him. Snatching up the Sword, Riordan dashed after him.

To find Larz' blade blocking her path.

Beyond the steel gray of his sword, she saw Rau's black cloak flapping in the breeze as he fled.The Sword, weakened by its run-in with the Amber, demanded to have its strength restored.

Riordan swung.

"No Riordan!" Nhaille moved so swiftly, she barely saw him as he leapt in front of her, knocking her sword arm from its target.