These dark souls were newer, less powerful Necromancers than those original few, but the fanaticism of hell still burned in their eyes and hearts.  A tall, lithe man entered the room and the assembly humbly knelt on one knee before him.

"Brothers, we are ever closer to unraveling the riddle of the Soulstone… soon we will have it." The man clenched his fist, revealing arms that were swathed with bandages as if to hide something.

"My lord," a younger Necromancer spoke, "he is here."

"He?  Oh, you mean the Vizjerei apprentice… he is right on time.  Do not worry about him unduly, Sithian… we are more than a match for an army of Vizjerei apprentices."

"Of course, my liege."

"What are your plans for him?" another asked.

"Patience, patience… all will be revealed soon, Ansin.  Tell the guardians that I want this one alive…"

"Necrozar, you can't be serious… if the Vizjerei knew…"

"The Vizjerei know nothing, Bazaris, this one is on a mission of vengeance, not sanctioned by the Brotherhood."

"How do you know?"

"I know much… more than some of the highest ranking Vizjerei serpents."

There was an awed silence; many considered Necrozar a king, if not a god.  There were rumors that he had once been one of the fabled Horadrim, those mortals who were given the secrets of the Archangels.  Those among the Vizjerei balked at these claims, stating that none of the Horadrim had ever turned to evil and that they were as close to righteous as mortals could get.  The Necromancers smiled at this, knowing the one truth that made it all likely, the truth Necrozar had himself spoke at his own exile.  Still, he had said, even Angels may fall.

"I will inform of the guardians of his lordship's desire."

Necrozar smiled to himself, a cold smile that did not seep into his strange eyes.  Outside of the temple, Tariel shivered with a wave of cold that seemed to come from nowhere, and a silent dread crept into his heart.  If I enter this place, then I enter to die, he thought as he shook, inside is my death, inside is my doom.  For a moment he felt his courage breaking, dissolving like ice in the desert sun.  Then, unexpectedly, something rose from his heart howling like a wolf, no damn you, it said, you will try!  Tariel gathered up his Turinash again and began to walk towards the temple.

It was foreboding, and Tariel could feel eyes tracking his movements.  He was scared, but he would not let the fear master his senses, or his emotions.  The door to the temple loomed large out of the intricate stonework, it was ajar and entering would only require squeezing through the opening the two doors made.  Suddenly he saw movements out of his peripheral vision, and he quickly turned.  Whatever it had been was motionless now; Tariel readied himself for whatever may come.

"I'm here…" he said to the shadows, "show yourselves."

They did.  With a screaming litany they erupted from the shadows, small demons that looked as if they were crafted from the night itself.  Tariel pulled forth his mana and shaped into Firebolts, hurling them at the miniature demons.  These things were tough, but two blasts bowled them over backwards, their charred bodies unmoving.  Just when Tariel thought it was easier than he thought it would be, a huge hairless brute threw the doors to the temple open with a savage grunt.  The giant creature stood nearly twice Tariel's height, and held in its hand a corpse wrapped in iron chains it was going to use as a weapon.

Tariel rolled as the brutish thing brought his macabre club down, kicking up a large plume of sand.  Conjuring forth more mana, Tariel crafted the complex Fireball spell and let it fly towards the giant.  The Fireball exploded spectacularly, and amidst the blast Tariel saw the giant fall, a huge, black mark on its knotted chest.  Just as he was going to walk past its body he saw the beast come to, shaking its head groggily and preparing to get back up on its feet.  His energy was flagging, but he had enough mana to fire two more Firebolts that successfully sent the creature sprawling to the ground, dead for certain this time.

Tariel walked into the temple's doors, feeling the cold, musty air of the old crypts hit him.  The smell was of niter, bitumen, and age… and most certainly death.  He progressed onwards, not at all surprised when the massive doors slammed shut, sealing him in this place of bones.  There was no light in the temple, but Tariel felt along the walls until he found a single flambeau and lit it, dispelling the darkness with the flickering light.  He was afraid of this place already, for it felt not like a temple but like a tomb, like his tomb.  He fought again the urge to run, to escape, overmastering the terror for now.  He heard movement behind him and froze.

"Sorcerer…" came the clotted, ancient voice from behind him.

He turned; prepared to face another of those giants with the corpse-clubs, but what awaited him was beyond even his imagination.  Two tall, gaunt things, each one emaciated to the point that they could not possibly be alive anymore.  Their wore headdresses, but these was marred by the teeth-filled maws each one possessed.  On their right arm was equipped a cruel-looking scythe blade that was made of either steel or polished bone.  It was these things that had spoken to him, Tariel felt faint.

"Yes?" he said wearily.

"Our lord… wishes to see you… alive…"

"Who is your lord?"

Apparently the things were not interested in answering such questions.  Summoning false courage, Tariel spoke proudly.

"What if I choose to fight?"

"Then you… will die…" the other answered without feeling.

Tariel stood his ground, conjuring the last of his mana into whatever he had left.  A gout of mystic flame erupted from his outspread fingers, the Inferno spell.  The two guardians stood as the flames buffeted them, their glittering eyes indifferent to the spectacle.  When the last of Tariel's mana had been used, the flames died out, the source of their power extinguished.  Tariel meant to run, but before he could even turn a noxious stream of poison spewed from the guardian's maw.  Tariel could feel his strength and resolve ebb as the gas hit him, and he tripped over his own feet and sprawled to the sand-covered stone floor.  Then the darkness consumed him, dragging him down into unconsciousness.