Thaddeus (Chapter 30)

Template:Thaddeus nav This is a sign for you, a prophecy

Concerning all who are in your house.

"They shall go into exile, into captivity.

The prince who is among them shall dig

Through the wall and go out through it.

I spread my snare, and he will not see it;

Winds scatter all who are around him."

-- The Book of Haisin, c. 12, v. 11-17

Malah was good enough to let Thaddeus sleep on one of the empty beds in her hospital; it was a quiet, restful night. Too quiet -- maybe he should have gotten the Barbarians some ale. He was up and ready to go at the crack of dawn, and went to visit Larzuk. While his rune-armor served him well, there were some excellent suits available, and he might be wise to take the opportunity to upgrade. Some of the very heavy plate, made with curious and cunning workmanship, looked very strong and very old. Apparently, the Barbarians' ancient ancestors wore this armor, and Larzuk's family kept it for a time of need. Why Qual-Kehk and his men didn't take advantage was another mystery of Barbarian culture. Yes... the way their minds worked was indeed a great mystery.

"Good morning, Larzuk. Brought out anything new today?"

"Greetings, uh, great warrior! Here, try this one. It's one of my best."

The ancient armor was amazing indeed. The steel was thick, and the joints would hardly allow a pin to pass; yet, movement was almost unimpeded by the carefully-fitted plates, sliding over each other almost noiselessly. For all that, it was still too heavy; Thaddeus knew he'd tire quickly if he tried to wear it. "Thank you, this is extraordinary, but I'm simply not man enough for it. Your ancestors must have been very impressive."

Larzuk seemed confused. "It's not that heavy..."

Thaddeus laughed. "Perhaps not for you. Tell me, why don't more of Qual-Kehk's men wear these wonderful armors?"

"Well..." After looking furtively around, Larzuk finally said, "A lot of them aren't strong enough for it either. But I thought you would be! You killed Shenk and raised the siege!"

"Larzuk, I didn't do that with the strength of my arm. Faith carried me up the hill. In a way, I cannot even say I did it, the power comes from outside me."

Still looking confused, Larzuk snorted. "Our greatest warriors call on their totems. The spirits of the earth and the wild places watch out for us. But on the field of battle, a warrior is alone with no one to rely on but himself. No spirit will save you if your arm is weak."

"That is another thing which perplexes me," Thaddeus said. "There is not need for your warriors to attack alone. The fighting would go better if they did not. It is a simple matter to form a line of battle, charge together... or just stay close and protect each other."

"What, attack together?" Larzuk guffawed. "How do you know who gets the kill?"

"Why should it matter?"

"Of course it matters! It's everything! Look, death and pain are nothing. Everything dies in the end. The only thing that lives forever is a warrior's reputation. The songs we sing about our fallen resound to the heavens! How can we sing forever about a warrior's deeds, if you don't know which deeds were his?"

Trying not to let his doubts show, Thaddeus said, "When the fate of the whole world is in jeopardy, your personal reputation should not bear much weight. By all I have been told, the only reason your people are here is to protect Mount Arreat. Your concerns should not be about who kills the most, or puts on the best show of bravery."

"Hmm. I suppose not... I mean, if Baal destroys the Worldstone, there won't be anyone left to sing about anything."

"All songs, everywhere, would end. One man's reputation is nothing against that. This may strike you as odd, but I have no idea how many 'kills' I have made."

"Too many to count?"

"Only three matter. I have two of those."

"Well... how high was it when you lost count?"

Growing a bit impatient, Thaddeus said, "I had to take my boots off to count them all."

Slowly nodding, Larzuk said, "Wow. That many, huh?"

As he walked back towards the gate, Thaddeus reflected on his experiences in combat. He really had no idea how many demons and other creatures he had killed. Hundreds, without a doubt. Over a thousand? It might be interesting to know, but he really didn't care. If he failed in his quest to stop Baal, it wouldn't matter.... and if he succeeded, it wouldn't matter either. As far as a personal reputation went, defeating the Three would far overshadow all his other efforts. Perhaps soon, Thaddeus could find the time for pride, when his quest was complete. Until then, there was no point in even thinking about it.

From the foothills, steps carved directly into the icy ground led up into a pass. Jagged peaks rose abruptly on either side, and at the top of the steps was a waypoint. The Horadrim had built these long ago; those ancient hunters traveled widely indeed. Just how many of these were there, scattered all over the world? Today's hunters of evil would do well to leave such a helpful legacy behind them. Beyond the waypoint, an open highland spread out before him, full of more teleporting Imps.

The texts of Zakarum had little to say on these tiny demons. Mages used to summon them as servants quite frequently. They then found themselves being carved into pieces by their familiars, before each piece was used to form the body of a new Imp. Beyond that warning, they are said to be slow moving and physically weak, and to use magical attacks instead of physical ones. To judge from the ones he'd met, they were well aware of their weaknesses, and went to any length to avoid close contact with an armed man. They stayed out of the range of Blessed Hammer, teleporting whenever Thaddeus came close. The magic bolt they used was not a serious threat, but chasing them all down would be very time consuming.

All was not lost, however: the Mule had given him a weapon just for them. Thaddeus brought out his maul and charged. As he closed on his chosen Imp, the look on the tiny thing's face was just priceless, before it disintegrated -- killed in one satisfying hit. So he ran around the highlands, smashing Imps right and left. There were some problems with the tactic. The highlands were rocky, and strewn with tough brambly bushes; tripping was a real danger. A more serious threat was howdah-bearing Crushers, huge beasts covered with armor. When an Imp teleported into the basket on one's shoulders, it could use an inferno wand mounted there. Thaddeus was vulnerable to fire without his shield, but if he charged from the side, he could knock the Crusher around and throw off the Imp's aim until he'd killed them both.

While charging around after Imps, Thaddeus took a moment to reflect on the Mule. Down in Hell, he'd been in too much danger to concentrate on anything but surviving, but he was making smooth, easy progress up into the highlands. Obviously, the Mule was a servant of Tyrael's; the archangel had brought Jamella and Halbu to provide items as well. In Hell, they must have been under the watchful eye of all the other angels, so they could not lend any aid except by playing the role of merchants. The Mule, not obviously associated with Tyrael, might escape some of that oversight and could give his things away. That made a certain amount of sense... but it didn't explain the way he behaved. Jamella and Halbu at least acted like servants of Heaven are supposed to.

Further into the highlands, Thaddeus found a pit, obviously a recent addition to the area. It went deep into the earth, with a red gate over a bridge crossing the center. Readying his scepter and shield, he went through, and found himself... in Hell again, on one of the many small islands floating in the Lake of Fire, the final destination of the River of Flame. Much of Hell's wickedness flows into it, a pit of rage even demons rarely venture into. Baal's forces were using the islands for production and storage; several had been lashed together with bridges, and slave creatures worked on siege machines under the gentle persuasion of their Overseer's whips.

As Thaddeus approached, the slaves squealed and reached for their weapons. Overseers bellowed flatulently, quivering in fear and whipping their workers into a combat frenzy. Out of thin air, a group of Imps appeared. This was turning into a party; Thaddeus cast Holy Shield and moved forward, letting Blessed Hammer fly. The hammers didn't serve as well as they had under other circumstances, mainly because of their slow speed. A energized slave could run straight for Thaddeus and explode -- the hammers often missed completely. Imps just stayed out of range. But if Thaddeus waited until an energized slave reached him, then moved away after it stopped, he could avoid the explosion, and the hammers would hit most everything eventually. Wisely using his speed of movement, most of the battle was spent casting, moving out of harms way, or chasing Imps. Those Imps were, truly and honestly, almost as annoying as Flayers. Bless the Light, they died quickly.

After killing everything on the islands and rolling the siege engines into the lake, Thaddeus went back to the highlands. A short distance ahead, he found a fortified wall -- Barbarian work, by the look of it. No Barbarians were in evidence, but there were plenty of slaves and Imps manning the walls, shooting at him from the towers. With a sigh, Thaddeus wondered just how many of these fortifications the Barbarians had built. Knowing them, they probably encircled the entire mountain with layer upon layer of stuccoed wicker walls, miles long. The whole region couldn't support a population large enough to man them. Had these walls been stone, and too high to climb, at least they could keep some demons out. As it was, there was nothing to prevent them from being burnt, or smashed down, or just taken away.

Under fire from several guard towers, Thaddeus brought out his shield and moved up to the base of the wall. The spirits of vengeance easily set the tower aflame, and Blessed Hammer crushed the Imps as they teleported out. Methodically, he moved along the wall, stepping through gaps from one side to the other, hammering and pounding Imp after Imp, slave after slave. A few Crushers sheltered inside the walls, but they were even less dangerous there. The Barbarian work was good and strong, for wicker-work, but wood, stone, and iron are far more suited to the demands of war. Maybe there weren't enough sources of raw materials in the area; the trees were certainly small and stunted at this altitude.

As he moved along the wall, Thaddeus heard cries for help -- human voices, and nearby. Rounding a corner, he saw a yard with a wicker cage. Inside were several Barbarian warriors, disarmed and stripped naked in the cold. Prisoners? Demons never ransom anyone... then he thought, this isn't a prison, it's a larder. The Imps started blasting at the prisoners, trying to kill them before Thaddeus could get near; you can always rely on a demon to prefer hurting someone else over saving itself. Blessed Hammer would be much too slow here, so Thaddeus ran in and smashed the cage door. After quickly casting a portal for them, he ran around the cage, zealously smashing through the Imps and a horde of slaves who appeared as they fled.

There were two more layers of walls as Thaddeus moved up the highlands, and two more cages full of captured men. No women, curiously, though he had seen dead ones here and there. Perhaps the Barbarians felt being a warrior was man's work, as many ancient cultures used to. Even the church of Zakarum felt that way, long ago. Thankfully, the southern lands did not adhere so rigidly to the ways of their ancestors, and the sisters of Zakarum could stand against the foes of the Light as freely as anyone. Though a woman's arms tend to be less powerful, faith, honor, and virtue are a Paladin's true strength.

The highlands narrowed again, to a pass between two high cliffs. There were a few corrals which might have held farm animals, but no walls or any other barriers. When the Barbarians built their defenses, why did they not fortify these narrow places? They built everything out on the open plateaus; did they think it would be cowardly to concentrate themselves behind one truly defensible wall? Thaddeus supposed there was really no point in asking now; what was done was done, and couldn't be undone now. At least Barbaric thinking made it easier to attack their mountain than it could have been. Then again, Malah and Qual-Kehk had mentioned previous assaults on the mountain; how had they failed?

Back in Harrogath, Qual-Kehk thanked Thaddeus for rescuing his men. "They have spoken well of your bravery. They say you move quickly, but always into the fray; your hammers of power strike with devastating effect. Our legends speak of wielders of the Hammer, but from what I understand, few are seen in these times."

"Much of the knowledge of Blessed Hammer was lost, but has been rediscovered. There may be many more like myself soon."

"Then the southlands, at least, will be in good hands. Speaking of which, take these runestones. I thought to put them in a shield, but you may use them first. The Paladin is master of the shield, even using it as a weapon." Qual-Kehk guffawed. "A strange use for a thing made to protect a warrior from cowardly archers."

Ral, Ort, and Tal, Thaddeus thought, just as in the shield I now bear. "This is a princely gift, great... man-at-arms. Are you sure you would wish to part with them?"

Laughing, Qual-Kehk clapped Thaddeus on the shoulder, staggering him. "Outlander, your people may have forgotten this, but we here in the mountains remember: a man's generosity is the measure of his worth. What good is hoarding wealth you have no use for? Do you think to buy a longer life, or honest friends? The warriors you brought home to me mean far more than three rocks."

Well... that's not such a bad thing, Thaddeus thought. Heaven would approve. "I bow to your wisdom, Qual-Kehk. There are many who would do well to hear those words."

"I know. Southlanders never seem to remember their lessons. Should you wish to have any of my men accompany you, I will be pleased to send them."

Should he refuse? Thaddeus had always worked alone, to avoid placing others in danger. But refusing aid might be an insult, especially if he told Qual-Kehk the reason. "I would be glad to accept your offer! But first, it occurs to me that I haven't been very generous to you, and there is something I must do."

Back at Atma's, everything was just like Thaddeus remembered it, only hotter. Coming from the mountains, the desert heat was wilting. Atma greeted him; when word came about Kurast, Farah took the first ship out. The church needed her, she had said, and so did the land; there would be many wounds of the spirit to heal. It pleased Thaddeus to hear she had found her faith again. Geglash was at the tavern, and he was even sober. Everything was looking up. Quickly, Thaddeus picked up two kegs of Atma's best ale. Staggering under the weight, he dragged himself back to the waypoint and returned to Harrogath.

"Qual-Kehk, your men mentioned they had no ale. I hope this will meet their standards, which are no doubt very high."

Looking at the barrels, Qual-Kehk laughed uproariously! "Paladin, you surprise me and I like it! We haven't had cause to celebrate for too long, but there's plenty of reason now. Drink up, men! Tomorrow we may die, so let us enjoy life while it lasts!"

Unsurprisingly, Barbarians drink like they fight; with reckless abandon. Some observers might have a hard time distinguishing a Barbarian celebration from a pitched battle. Thaddeus nursed his ale along, and took a moment to quietly ask Cain something.

"Cain... do you know anything of southlanders invading these mountains?"

"Yes, of course!" Cain said, adroitly dodging a happy Barbarian. "The ancient Horadrim came here, and were greeted with fierce resistance. In more recent times, some princes have sent small expeditionary forces into the mountains, looking for gold or other worthwhile resources. Only a few ever returned."

"Small expeditionary forces?"

"Yes... no more than 20 men or so."

These Barbarians spoke like they'd pushed out whole armies. In their minds, maybe they had. And to judge by the waypoints, the resistance the Horadrim met wasn't fierce enough to keep them out. Cain's expression told him that saying more in front of them might not be wise, so Thaddeus let the matter drop. The Barbarians were dropping too; Atma's finest ale on a mostly empty stomach could put down a horse. Of course, since they were in no shape to fight, Thaddeus would never expect them to accompany him into battle... he'd explain it to Qual-Kehk in the morning. Right now, he had to get further up the mountain. Baal had to be somewhere behind all those walls.