Despite a week of hard riding, they made it back to the Yritti camp just in time. Rahazakir had begun to suffer from nightmares and low fevers several days earlier, but his symptoms started fading as soon as they entered the camp.

Jaska and Ohzikar once again argued about their plans. Ohzikar wanted to go after Zyrella immediately but Jaska insisted on helping the Yritti first.

"I thought you loved her!"

"This doesn't change that," said Jaska. "And I'm certain she would agree with me. Besides, Salahn won't kill her. He will use her as a lure and then try to make me surrender in exchange for her life. So he may even leave her alone until we arrive."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

Jaska thought of the Salahn he had come to know through witnessing the past. "No," he said with a sigh. "He will make her suffer, but he won't kill her."

"Let me go to her."

"Alone? You think you can defeat Salahn by yourself? That's what you'd have to do."

"If he captured me, at least I'd be with her."

"He would have no reason to keep you alive. In fact, he would use you to make her suffer more."

Ohzikar cursed and kicked his pack across the tent before storming toward the exit.

"Wait," Jaska said. "Do you know anything about Zyrella being a valrycca?"

Ohzikar paused. "I've never heard the term before."

"But I have," said Goat Shaman as he entered the tent uninvited. "It is an old Hareezan word and it means that she's a spirit leech, something like a vampire, though not precisely. It is a trait passed down from one of the ancient races."

"I don't understand," Jaska said.

"But I do." Ohzikar paced in thought. "Every time we..." He blushed and looked away. "Every time we made love ... afterward I felt completely drained."

"But when we--" Jaska stopped, realizing that Ohzikar didn't know what had happened during the sandstorm. The templar stared at him coldly, back stiff, jaws clenched, eyes narrowing. "In the caves during the storm..."

"It was bound to happen sooner or later." Ohzikar ground his teeth. "It doesn't matter. It was her choice."

After a long pause Jaska continued. "Well, nothing like what you described happened to me. In fact, it was quite the opposite."

"That," said Goat Shaman, "means that you're a valrycus, a feeder. These two blood traits seek to keep together those of the ancient blood. Those with the corresponding traits automatically feel a strong compulsion to be together, and they are never completely satisfied by others. The trait will slowly kill an inappropriate mate."

"If it's inherited through the mother," Jaska said, "then Mardha might also have it. But what about Salahn? Surely he wouldn't risk relations with her if she stole energies from him."

"But," said Goat Shaman, "if he is a valrycus as well..."

Ohzikar grew fearful for Zyrella. "Would more than one mate give him greater strength?"

Goat Shaman shrugged. "Such lore has not passed down to me. The only reason I know any of this is because the blood once ran among our people."

"But no longer?"

"The ancients were not fertile, and their blood runs thin. They will soon have no descendants left."

"This knowledge does us little good as far as I can see," Jaska said. "I had hoped it would give me some insight into defeating Salahn."

"I am sorry," said Goat Shaman.

"Why are you here anyway?" Jaska asked.

"I have come here because Chief Rahazakir tells me you will fight the Stain first."

"I feel I must destroy it now to repay my debt to your people and your chief. Besides, if I can't overcome the Stain, I can't overcome Salahn."

"You think that your former master is the greater power?"

"No, but I believe him to be more cunning. The Stain seems to lack intelligence."

"It is slow to learn, but just because it follows without overtaking, do not assume that it is stupid. It may not actually want to catch us, only to make us suffer. Do not underestimate it."

~~~

Three days later, the entire Yritti tribe, more than three thousand, gathered to see their chief off. Rahazakir spun Yumiryo around dramatically and raised his double-bladed paylar spear. "Let all the people and the gods of sky and land, and the ancestors who gave birth to us witness: Today we will end our slavery, today we will erase the sin which has long followed us. The Stain shall be no more!"

The tribe cheered and chanted Rahazakir's name as he and Jaska rode out. Ohzikar and his other companions stayed behind. Without weapons against the Stain, there was little they could do to help. Behind them, loud cheers flowed out onto the desert, despite the tribe's worry for their chief. While led by another the last several weeks, they had seen how good Rahazakir's pathfinding skills were as the Stain steadily closed on them.

When they were out of sight of the tribesmen, Jaska said, "I hope your speech proves true, but is it wise to make such an oath? What if we fail?"

"If we fail, I don't think we'll be returning to face our shame." They rode on for some time before he said, "Jaska, I am indebted to you. You are risking much."

"I think," said Jaska introspectively, "that this is simply who I am."

~~~

With the Stain looming before them, they paused and drank from their canteens. Jaska passed one of the white-steel sabers to Rahazakir. "Keep circling your blade and don't let the darkness close in on you. I'm hoping it will react with fear since it has never before encountered anything like this. Otherwise we won't last long enough to reach its heart."

"There's a saying among my people. To know yourself you must fight against the inevitable, to attain immortality you must defeat that which cannot be defeated. I'm hoping to end this day with both self-knowledge and immortality."

"Speaking of knowledge, I'd like to know exactly what we're facing. What created this Stain?"

"I guess I owe you that much, and it could be important." With his eyes closed, he told their story.

"Long ago, the sky goddess Sefarinah granted my people an immunity to all diseases in honor of the way we cared for the sick among us. We even treated sick outsiders as if they were our own. As the generations passed, we used our gift to serve as healers in neighboring communities during outbreaks of disease.

"But one day, while we were in the midst of a protracted war with a neighboring state, a woman came to us covered in boils and wracked with fevers. Instead of helping her, we used her as a weapon. We sent her among our enemies to spread her disease. We knew what would happen, and our people had approved the action through a vote.

"The disease spread and destroyed not only our enemies but thousands of innocents all through the region, much as it had in the homeland of this nameless, forsaken woman who had lacked even the strength to speak with us. Our shaman, however, had known who she truly was but said nothing, for he was a vile man.

"Only when she died did the rest of the Yritti learn that she was Sefarinah herself."

"How could that be?" Jaska asked.

"Sefarinah was, like your White Tigress, one of the beings raised to divinity by Kashomae the Gentle Savior. But Sefarinah had somehow lost her godhood--we never knew how or why. She then returned to her homeland as a mortal only to find that disease had spread among her people. She journeyed far seeking us, avoiding contact with people all the way. She hoped we could cure her and aid her people. But we thought her a tool we could use however we wished.

"When our enemies slew Sefarinah, the blood that ran from her pooled into a black puddle, and no one would touch it for fear of the dark aura emanating from it. As more and more people died, this stain grew.

"We regretted what we had done and moved among others trying to relieve the sickness we had spread. But because we were still immune, people blamed us for the disease and chased us away. Soon, we found that the Stain of Seferinah's blood had grown into a black fog cloud like you see today. And then it began to pursue us."

"But you're not immune to the disease the cloud sends when you're away too long."

"Not at all. That's the irony of it."

"Still, many nations have such dark histories. Some darker than yours."

"Perhaps we expected better of ourselves. We'd never done anything like that before. Even our ancestors turned against that first generation. Once the Bright Spirits began to help again, it was too late."

Rahazakir stood and gripped the hilt of the white-steel saber. "But my people have now suffered enough for a mistake made twelve generations ago."

"Then let's end it."

Rahazakir saddled-up and flicked the reins. "Hai-yah, Yumiryo! To battle!" And he rode with Jaska by his side, toward the Stain, toward what must be certain death.

Kyshaiar flew ahead, undaunted and equally determined to see it ended. He was a child of Avida and felt that he existed for destroying shadows. His form began to glow intensely like Avida in the night sky.

The Stain sent a tendril out toward them. As it neared, they swung their blades. The tendril snapped back, recoiling as if in pain. The Stain began to pull away and fold back in upon itself, like storm clouds rolling backwards. When they rode too fast for it to pull away entirely, it began to clear a wedge ahead of them, conveniently opening a path toward its heart. By the time they were halfway through, the Stain realized the danger and began to close the way behind them, encircling them in shadow.

The Stain braved a strike with a slender tendril aimed at Rahazakir. He swept out the white-steel saber to meet it. The blade sliced through the tendril as a normal sword would pass through smoke. However, the blade severed a section of tendril from the main body of the cloud, and the severed section evaporated instantly. The remainder of the tendril recoiled.

The Stain sent out another tendril and this time reached toward the leg of Jaska's mount. He struck the tendril and destroyed it easily, but the Stain didn't give up. Assured that merely touching the white-steel wouldn't mean complete and instant death, the sinister cloud shot forth dozens of thin tendrils.

Jaska and Rahazakir were forced to slow their advance as they hacked and sliced to guard themselves and their mounts from the Stain's deadly touch. They would have been overwhelmed except that each tendril touched by white-steel had to withdraw back into the cloud and reform before attacking again. Also, the Stain wouldn't risk touching Kyshaiar who circled them, always edging ahead. Wherever his glowing form went, the Stain would peel back.

At last a tendril got by them both and wrapped around the leg of Jaska's mount. He cut it free, but it was too late. The horse stumbled. Jaska leapt to the ground, immediately fighting off tendrils. As the poor beast lay thrashing on the ground, unprotected, other tendrils latched on and drained its remaining life-force.

Rahazakir pulled up, swinging his blade about him. Yumiryo pranced beneath him. "Get on!"

"No, you ride! I'll follow and guard your back!"

With Jaska jogging behind, they moved deeper. Because it feared Kyshaiar and the white-steel, the Stain did not swallow them with a single wave of shadow.

Steadily the darkness thickened until they had to cut their way forward. Only through her own perceptiveness and reflexes did Yumiryo survive. The Stain forced Kyshaiar to fly in faster and tighter arcs to hold the darkness at bay, to hold it to only striking tendrils. And never once did the falcon touch shadow or vice-versa. Jaska would later wonder why the two avoided one another and what the result of contact would have been.

At last, the heart of the Stain appeared, a dark pulsing mass infused with glowing veins of crimson. Its heartbeat rumbled like thunder.

Neither man could advance any longer. Though Kyshaiar kept it clear right around them, the Stain began to slide along the ground underneath his valiant sweeps. They fought without moving for several minutes and began to tire. The Stain knew its best defense was to wear them down.

Rahazakir realized what he must do before they became overwhelmed, though it pained his heart. "Guard me, Jaska!"

Without hesitation Jaska did so, noting out of the corner of his eye that Rahazakir was whispering into the ear of his mount.

"Forward one last time, Yumiryo. I must rescue my people." He kissed the mount on the head and cried out, "Hai-yah!"

Yumiryo galloped forward with Rahazakir slicing through the shadows ahead as best as he could. At that speed, he couldn't cut through all of it. Tendrils snared Yumiryo's legs, and she plowed into a lake of black cloud. Rahazakir swung his saber like a madman.

When a sliver of Stain brushed along his cheek, taking life-force with it, he fought harder. Yumiryo faltered but didn't quit. She wouldn't let an easy death overtake her.

"A few more steps, brave heart!" A tendril gripped his off-hand wrist. It took only a moment to cut it free, but already he felt a numbing cold spreading through his limbs. His vision swam. His breathing shallowed. The world became quiet, distant, vague. He fixed his mind on the one goal of reaching the Stain's heart. If nothing else, he would cut a path Jaska could follow.

For the sake of her companion, Yumiryo managed a few last steps. The moment her legs bent and her head dipped, Rahazakir leaned forward and dove ahead. Despite the weakness in his limbs, he rolled up onto his feet, cut through a massive fist of shadow speeding toward him, and charged the last few steps to the heart.

He plunged the white-steel blade into the pulsing mass and crimson smoke spewed forth.

The heartbeat thundered twice, then the woven darkness unraveled with a hissing whine so loud that Jaska thought his eardrums would burst. He intoned a hasty spell of silence that dampened the sound just enough for him to continue fighting. Long shadow tentacles thrashed about, forcing him to wildly dodge and swing his saber. Kyshaiar flew rapidly around him, only a few feet away.

The Stain's tendrils began to shrink as the cloud folded in on itself. Rahazakir wasn't able to dodge them. He drew the white-steel saber back and stabbed the heart repeatedly. Black whelps rose on his skin. His eyes turned yellow. His hair fell out. His skin wrinkled and aged. But he would not fall. He refused to give it his life-force, and it no longer had the strength to pull it out of him. Without the touch of white-steel grounding him, he would have perished upon the first touch of the Stain.

With a tremendous whoosh, the last of the Stain collapsed in upon the heart. Sunlight streaked down through the dissipating shadow vapors. Then the remnant heart leapt upon Rahazakir. He screamed and collapsed, writhing and gasping for breath.

Jaska knew death was upon Rahazakir. The Stain had twisted his body. Black splotches marred his skin.

Between rasping coughs, Rahazakir said, "The last of it ... is within me." He crawled to the shriveled corpse of Yumiryo and ran his crooked hands over her drawn, flaking skin. What had once been cloud-white was now ash, and her eyes were as dull and dry as the stones of the desert.

"Yumiryo," he whispered as he clutched her once-golden mane. "You deserved better. You were the best of all mounts, and without you, I would never have made it. For this my people shall worship you until the end of time."

Jaska brought him water and poured it into his mouth. "I will get you back to the tribe."

"Do not touch me. I fear what might happen."

"The Stain will not pass from him," Kyshaiar said. "You can touch him safely."

Jaska touched Rahazakir and nothing happened.

"You are a gambler, my friend."

"I trust my instincts. Now, let's get you back."

"Leave me. This thing will slay me before long."

"Fight it," Jaska said. "Goat Shaman may be able to help you."

"I am done. Let me pass."

"But if it's within you and you die, it may return."

"Then slay me now," he begged. "One final stroke of white-steel will finish it."

"He must return," the falcon said to Jaska, not allowing Rahazakir to hear him. "The deed is not yet finished. He must die a symbolic death for all his people. This must be handled properly. Do not tell him this, though. Leave that to his shaman."

"You must return, Chief Rahazakir. My instincts tell me that." Jaska picked him up and carried him.

"You know," rasped Rahazakir, "I think part of it wanted us to win."

"I wish then that it had made it easier."

~~~

A crowd gathered as Jaska trudged into the camp with Rahazakir slung over his shoulder. After celebrating the disappearance of the Stain, they had awaited their chief, praying to the Great Deities and the Bright Spirits, hoping he was safe. Kyshaiar cleared a path to Goat Shaman's tent. Jaska rushed Rahazakir within. The Yritti chief was semiconscious, mumbling and drooling, barely breathing.

"Back!" Goat Shaman cried. "The Stain is defeated! But our chief is wounded! He needs air and silence!"

Inside the lantern-lit tent the shaman looked at his chief and tears welled in his eyes. "The Stain has taken him."

"He plunged one of the blades into its heart even as it lashed him," Jaska said. "Then, after the cloud folded in on itself, the heart entered his body. Kyshaiar tells me he must be a martyr now, that he must die a ritual death."

"I can see the wisdom in that. It was the nature of this evil to fully eradicate the tribe. With the white-steel swords, we foiled that requirement enough that we can substitute our chief in place of us all. Regardless, we can do little else. I will take care of him through the night and ease his suffering. We will proceed at dawn. You will need to use the white-steel blade to finish him. The martyrdom is only symbolic."

"You want me to do it?"

"If a member of the tribe did it, it might seem as if Rahazakir had wronged us."

~~~

Every member of the tribe, young and old, gathered at dawn. That they had remained in place for three days and the Stain wasn't on the horizon was a miracle in itself. Word had spread about Rahazakir's success, but also about his condition. His wives and children hadn't said how he was, but they had been seen crying and had spent much time with him. Still, the people hoped a rejuvenated leader would speak to them, or at the least, that their elders would tell them how he would soon recover from his wounds.

Goat Shaman climbed the stage hastily erected in the night and explained what must happen. Ohzikar and Jaska led Rahazakir out, with his arms draped over their shoulders. Some tribespeople cried out. Others turned their heads, unable to look at their once handsome chief who was now an old, disease-stricken wretch. That he bore the last of the Stain was obvious. Not only could they see the marks upon him, they could feel its hateful aura.

Despite his infirmity, Rahazakir spoke to them, buoyed by drugs Goat Shaman had given him. "My people, the Stain has been confined to my body. Soon, it will kill me, and if it does, the Stain may escape and begin once more. By dying now, I die this death for all of you. I do this with a glad heart. I will go contented that I did my duty to you and the generations that shall come after."

He looked to his three wives and his young children who had gathered at the front of the crowd. "I love you all dearly."

Rahazakir lifted the white-steel saber lying before him. He knelt, took a deep breath, and smiled. Rahazakir then plunged the sword deep into his abdomen. Not a sound was heard on the desert except the whisper of a cool breeze and Jaska's sword as it sliced through Rahazakir's neck with a single, clean strike.

The head rolled down the stage and into the crowd. The blood running from it was a pure crimson. From the neck of the corpse rose a puff of black steam that dissipated. This was the last of the Stain. The Yritti were free.