“I am Thulos, god of war,” he said. He did not need to shout, for his deep voice boomed in the quiet. “I command the bloody fist. I lead the Warseekers from star to star. Those who kneel may live in servitude. All others die.”

The larger man at the door drew a pair of swords.

“And I'm Harruq Tun,” he shouted. “Consider me your welcome.”

Thulos shook his head. Centuries upon centuries later he had returned to a world he had once destroyed, and now some pathetic runt of a man wanted to challenge his rule? There were more pressing matters to attend to. He needed to find Celestia, as well as hunt down his two renegade brothers and make them answer for their cowardice. He did not have time for this. Where were his soldiers? Ulamn, leader of his invasion troops, where was he?

“Be gone, fool,” Thulos told Harruq. “I will grant you death another time.”

“Foolish, yes,” the frail-bodied one beside Harruq said in a raspy, ruined voice. Thulos recognized him as the one who had begged for the portal to be closed. “But not so great a fool as you. Look behind you, supposed deity, and see your folly.”

Thulos sensed no trick, so he glanced behind. The portal, the lifeline to his many worlds and near limitless troops, had faded away, like clouds broken by a warm summer breeze. His way out was gone. He was trapped on the world of Dezrel.

“Your name?” the war god demanded, pointing his sword. His arm shook with rage.

“Qurrah,” the man said, and then a bitter smile creased his face. “Qurrah Tun.”

Brothers, thought Thulos. So be it. He would kill them both.

He let his muscles relax, let his perfect reflexes and skill take over.

“Step aside,” he told the image of the goddess. “I will have words with you when this matter is done.”

Tessanna shivered and walked to the wall. The laughing man in the corner sat up, bracing his body against the stone so he might watch. Thulos shifted his sword into both hands, surveying his opponents. He was a full head's length taller than the warrior, and certainly stronger. The other had to be a caster of some sort, for he wore black robes like the man in the corner. He wondered if they were the necromancers that had borne the portal's burden.