The hunt was over and the lich lay down in the darkness as a pile of dust, almost indistinguishable from any other dirt in the tomb. I swore to that creature that I would leave him so, and Balian Shrike always fulfills his vows.
The victory had not come without cost, but the butcher's bill had come much lighter than Balian had expected. Brave Telen lost his eye but was certain to live. The rest of them had been bloodied and scraped, but Vordekai had taken none with him into final death. Balian looked over his companions resting on the ridge, tired but happy to live. They all proved themselves several times over. Down in the darkness, new heroes of Miras were born.
Balian heard shouts and as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw people below. Several thousand stood in the valley. Varns whose souls were saved when Vordekai was destroyed. They looked up expectantly. Balian raised his hands, "People of Varnhold! I am Steward Balian Shrike of Miras. Your bodies and souls are forever free of the lich's evil. I know you must be as eager to return home as I am. However, I have some bad tidings."
Balian reached back and drew the Sword of Varn sheathed on his back and raised it toward the sky.
"Your good leader, Lord Varn fell in the darkness below. Your holdfast of Varnhold has also fallen under evil. It is a cold, haunted place now. Until we find a way to free it, you are welcome as guests under the banners and protection of Miras. The road home will take my men and I through the village of Leveton. I urge you to travel with us and settle there in safety until word can be brought to you that Varnhold is free."
