There.

He rose, the soil sliding in chunks and muddy rivulets from his arms. He moved several yards to his left and knelt once more. But this time, when his hands plunged into the soil, they did not emerge empty. He carefully examined his prize: a skull, cracked and broken, packed with earth.

Without hesitation or hint of revulsion, Kaleb lifted it to his mouth and drove his tongue deep into a socket, probing through the dirt to taste the essence within. It was not a technique his "master" Nenavar would have recognized. For all the old wizard's skill, there were secrets of which even he remained ignorant.

Six years, but there was just enough left to work with. Just enough for Kaleb to taste, and to know that this was not who he sought.

No surprise, that. The dead from Audriss's rampage, lost amid burned ruins and collapsed buildings-buried by nature, by time, and by the rebuilding-numbered in the hundreds, if not more.

Kaleb, frankly, had no interest in taking the time to search them all.

With a grunt, he planted the skull before him and began to trace symbols in the mud. Twisted they were, complex, unpleasant even to look at, somehow suggesting memories of secrets never known…

He was chanting, now, his words no less corrupt than the glyphs accompanying them. Sweat covered his face, a sticky film that clung despite the pounding rain.

Until, audible to none but him, a dreadful wail escaped the empty skull.

"Speak to me," Kaleb demanded in a voice nigh cold enough to freeze the surrounding storm. "Tell me what I need to know, and I'll return you to your rest. Refuse… Refuse, and I will bind you to these last of your bones, here to linger until they've decayed to dust."