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.
She drew her sword from its sheath.
"I do not know what dark and evil place you spring
from, but you desecrate the armor of a knight - "
Michael shook free of his fear, ran forward, caught
hold of her arm. "Put your weapon away. He means us
no harm." Pray Mishakal that was true! "Look at him,
Nikol," Michael added, barely able to draw breath
enough to speak. "Don't you recognize him?"
"Lord Soth!" Nikol whispered. She lowered her
sword. "What dread fate is this? What have you
become?"
Soth regarded her long moments without speaking.
The chill that flowed from him came near to freezing
their blood, the terror freezing their minds. And yet
Michael guessed that the knight's evil powers were
being held in check, even as he held the reins of his
restive steed.
"I hear pity in your voice," said the knight. "Your pity
and compassion touch some part of me - the part that will
not die, the part that burns and throbs in endless pain! For I
am one of the undead - doomed to bitter agony, eternal
torment, no rest, no sleep. . . ."
His fist clenched in anger. The horse shied, screamed
suddenly. Its hooves clattered on the frozen ground.
Nikol fell back a step, raised her sword.
"The rumors we heard about you, then, are true," she
said, trying to control her shaking voice. "You failed us, the
knights, the gods. You are cursed - "
"Unjustly!" Soth's voice hissed. "Cursed unjustly! I was
tricked! Deceived! My wife was warned of the calamity. I
rode forth, prepared to give my life to save the world, but
the gods had no intention of being merciful
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