Within the Palace, Heron Healers worked frantically on the gravely injured Cormac late into the night while Alric and a few others looked on. Infusions of herbs were prepared and administered, poultices were bound to his chest, and incantations were spoken over his motionless form.

It was nearing midnight when the chief Healer stepped away from Cormac to speak to Alric. "My lord, we have done all that lies in our power. He is weak, and his breathing laboured. It is likely that the blow he sustained caused internal injuries beyond our ability to address. Tonight will tell the tale; either he will begin to recover...or he will die."

Alric frowned and nodded. He paced slowly out of the chamber into the Throne Room. The low murmur of conversation there stilled as he entered: more than two hundred faces turned toward him, betraying a mixture of hope and dread. All of the Quad-Cities team was there, along with many of their supporters; but also there were Berserks, Bowmen, and Mauls. A few thrall and soulless clustered near the doors. And in the far corner of the room stood three Trow.

One of the giant Trow spoke the question that was on all of their minds: "Will he live?"

Alric replied, "We will know by morning. But the Healers are worried." The hopeful faces in the crowd slowly fell at this news, and the room settled in to wait.

A few hours passed, and a Heron came rushing into the room and approached Alric on the throne. They whispered together for a moment, and the Heron left hurriedly. Alric stood.

"Cormac is weakening. The Healers feel he will not live until morning." At this news, all in the room bowed their heads, and Alric saw tears in the eyes of the youngster Farrell. "But stay! All hope is not yet gone. We will bear him to the Mausoleum of the Cath Bruig below the Palace, the holy place of the Heron Guard, and hold a vigil for him. It may be that the power that lies in those sacred tunnels will be enough to bear him safely through this dark night."

At this news, the assembled crowd stood as one and followed Alric to where Cormac lay. The Herons prepared to lift him on his bier, but his Warrior teammates took their place. When all was in readiness, Alric led the way through the Palace passageways to the broad stair that led down to the catacombs.

The procession passed quickly through passages and down ramps in the Mausoleum, until they came to a wide chamber. Heron Guards moved to the walls and lit torches standing ready in sconces, and in the growing light they saw the chamber was dominated by a low dais on which stood a stone altar carved with runes and sigils. Alric directed the Warriors to lay Cormac's bier on the dais before the altar. When it was done, he bade the assembled masses to kneel on the cool stone and bow their heads.

Standing at the altar, Alric began slowly to speak. None of those present knew the language he used (save possibly the Herons) but all seemed to understand the import of what he said. They prayed together for the safety of one fragile man, human, undead, giant Trow and savage Maul, united in common cause. They bowed their heads in hopeful supplication while somewhere far above them the night waned.

Alric fell silent. The crowd looked up. A faint rasp drifted down from the dais, and Alric leaned close. Cormac's eyes opened, and he smiled faintly.

"My lord," he said, "it is good to see you," and sat up, wincing as he did so. A ragged cheer broke from the throats of the crowd.

Alric broke into a smile. "And it is good to see you awake! See, friends, what we can accomplish by working together instead of..." He paused, and cocked his head as if listening. Soon everyone could hear it: the rumbling, grating sound of rock gnashing against rock. And behind it, something else, a bonechilling, warbling howl of bloodlust and rage. "The Catacombs!" Alric cried. "Something comes!"

Suddenly from out of the walls burst a host of cruel figures that none could mistake. Emerging from tunnels long in the delving, the Myrkridia charged at the assembed mass surrounding the dais. Surprised by this sudden assault, two Herons nearest the tunnels fell under a torrent of slashing claws before they could even draw their swords. Hastily the remainder prepared for battle. Warriors scooped up the blades of the fallen, Archers bent their bows, and the Mauls broke off pieces of masonry to use as clubs.

The fury of the Myrkridian assault bore them halfway to the dais where Alric stood by Cormac. Alric's hand groped at his side for his sword, but it was not there. He cursed under his breath, then straightened himself. His hands rose to adjust the Ibis Crown that stood on his head, and then he closed his eyes and began mouthing the words that would raise the power of the Crown in wrath against his enemies.

A mass of Myrkridia charged straight for the dais where Alric stood. Only a few Herons stood in their way, and they quickly fell before their brutal assault. Many of the Warriors and Berserks saw the danger and tried to intercept the charge, but they were hard-pressed by their own battles. On the dais, Cormac scooped up the blade of a fallen Heron and stood with his back to the altar, preparing to defend his lord. The Myrkridians poured onto the dais like a wave, trying to get to Alric. Cormac whirled the unfamiliar blade about him like a madman, and he was splashed with the gore and ichor of the battle. Frustrated by his frantic defense of Alric, the Myrkridia split up and charged around both sides of the altar. Cormac leapt up onto the stone, swinging and thrusting desperately. One of the fiends leapt up beside him and one swipe of a claw opened a great rent in his side. Another blow tore his leg to shreds. Crying aloud, Cormac threw himself from the dais onto the backs of the monsters about to attack Alric. His impact knocked them offstride and bought a few precious moments for the Emperor.

Alric opened his eyes, his incantation complete, and argent fire played about the points of the Ibis Crown. Suddenly a massive concussion deafened all in the chamber as lightning flashed out from the crown and smote all the nearby Myrkridia, burning them horribly. A Heron and two Berserks rushed onto the dais and slew the surviving fiends, and Alric was safe for the moment. He got up on the altar and let fly another great blast of lightning, and more Myrkridia fell.

The crash of explosions among the melee jerked Alric's head around, and he saw two giant Myrkridia standing on the battle's edge, hurling their evil missiles into the fray. The allies were fighting bravely, but they were outnumbered by the foe and he thought that taken by surprise as they were, there was scant hope of a victory. Then the Trow charged into the battle, scattering Myrkridia aside and charging the Giants. Trapped against the walls, the Giants were forced to give battle, and the Trow pounded them mercilessly. But several of the Myrkridia turned and slashed at the Trow from behind, and it was a Trow that first turned to stone and crumbled to dust. Then one of the Giants was dispatched at the same moment another Trow turned to stone. The last Trow swung his leg in a mighty kick to dispatch the last of the Giants, but even as his blow landed the pack of Myrkridia subdued him as well.

Alric let loose another great blast, and the pack of fiends was scattered. The surviving champions of the races swept forward and descended upon the weakened foe, not relenting until none of the Myrkridia remained alive. Pausing to survey the situation, the surviving Herons began moving about ministering to the wounded. However, the thoughts of the Warriors went instantly to Cormac, and they rushed back to the dais.

Cormac sat slumped against the altar still clutching his sword, blood running freely from his many wounds. His grey, haggard face had no life in it and as Alric turned to him he breathed his last. His face twisted with grief, the Emperor cried out "This shall not be! Not here upon the very Altar of Eternity!" Alric stooped, lifted Cormac in his arms, and laid him on top of the altar. Alric raised his arms over Cormac's body, and began speaking the Rite of Eternity. As the rolling incantation echoed throughout the Mausoleum, it sparked remembrance in the Herons' minds, and their skin prickled at the touch of a familiar power. The rest of the survivors watched in awe as a cloud of golden motes rose from the altar and whirled about Cormac. In that warm light, his blood was staunched and his wounds closed. Finally the motes stopped their dance and coalesced about Cormac, blending into his form and imbuing it with the glow of health. Cormac's eyes opened, and he sat up.

"Cormac, such devotion and self-sacrifice as yours cannot go unrewarded," Alric gravely said as gasps rippled throughout the room. "Tonight you have saved me and the Empire of the Cath Bruig from certain destruction at the hands of these fiends. In thanks and reward for your unswerving heroism, I have used the power of the Ibis Crown and that of the Cath Bruig to grant you the health and eternal life of the Heron Guard." Alric turned to the stunned allies and gestured to the fallen Myrkridia that lay torn limb from limb about the chamber. "This is what I meant by unity. Not the domination of the strong over the weak, or the assimilation of all your cultures into one great Empire. No petty thirst for power over the wide lands. You see, here, the evidence that all of us standing firm with one united purpose can accomplish anything. Our differences bring strength, if we can defeat the darkness that lies within all of our hearts." He bowed his head for a moment and said softly, "This is what I wanted to achieve with the World Cup. I only wish the price had not been so dear."

When the wounded had been ministered to and the dead laid in honor, Alric and Cormac led the survivors up out of the catacombs and into the growing light of a new day.