Diablo: The Black Road. Mel Odom

      

      “IT’S THE DEMON’S DOING,”

      PALAT SNARLED.

      “The demon knows we’re down here.”

      In the next instant, a frightening figure surged from beneath the water. Formed of the rats’ bones, the creature stood eight feet tall, built square and broad-chested as an ape. It stood on bowed legs that were whitely visible through the murky water. Instead of two arms, the bone creature possessed four, all longer than the legs. When it closed its hands, horns formed of ribs and rats’ teeth stuck out of the creature’s fists, rendering them into morningstars for all intents and purposes. The horns looked sharp-edged, constructed for slashing as well as stabbing. Small bones, some of them jagged pieces of bone, formed the demon’s face the creature wore.

      “That’s a bone golem,” Taramis said. “Your weapons won’t do it much harm.”

      The bone golem’s mouth, created by splintered bones so tightly interwoven they gave the semblance of mobility, grinned, then opened as the creature spoke in a harsh howl that sounded like a midnight wind tearing through a graveyard. “Come to your deaths, fools.”

      DIABLO®

      THE BLACK ROAD

      MEL ODOM

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      © 2018 Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved. Diablo and Blizzard Entertainment are trademarks or registered trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc., in the U.S. and/or other countries. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the copyright holders.

      ISBN: 978-1-9456831-2-1

      First Pocket Books printing April 2002

      First Blizzard Entertainment printing March 2018

      10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

      Cover art by Bill Petras

      Printed in China

      CONTENTS

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

       NINETEEN

       TWENTY

       TWENTY-ONE

       TWENTY-TWO

       TWENTY-THREE

       TWENTY-FOUR

       TWENTY-FIVE

       EPILOGUE

      THE BLACK ROAD

      ONE

      Darrick Lang pulled at the oar and scanned the night-shrouded cliffs overlooking the Dyre River, hoping he remained out of sight of the pirates they hunted. Of course, he would only know they’d been discovered after the initial attack, and the pirates weren’t known for their generosity toward Westmarch navy sailors. Especially ones who were hunting them pursuant to the King of Westmarch’s standing orders. The possibility of getting caught wasn’t a pleasant thought.

      The longboat sculled against the gentle current, but the prow cut so clean that the water didn’t slap against the low hull. Sentries posted up on the surrounding cliffs would raise the alarm if the longboat were seen or heard, and there would be absolute hell to pay for it. If that happened, Darrick was certain none of them would make it back to Lonesome Star waiting out in the Gulf of Westmarch. Captain Tollifer, the vessel’s master, was one of the sharpest naval commanders in all of Westmarch under the king’s command, and he’d have no problem shipping out if Darrick and his band didn’t return before dawn.

      Bending his back and leaning forward, Darrick eased the oar from the water and spoke in a soft voice. “Easy, boys. Steady on, and we’ll make a go of this. We’ll be in and out before those damned pirates know we’ve come and gone.”

      “If our luck holds,” Mat Hu-Ring whispered beside Darrick.

      “I’ll take luck,” Darrick replied. “Never had anything against it, and it seems you’ve always had plenty to spare.”

      “You’ve never been one to go a-courtin’ luck,” Mat said.

      “Never,” Darrick agreed, feeling a little cocky in spite of the danger they were facing. “But I don’t find myself forgetting friends who have it.”

      “Is that why you brought me along on this little venture of yours?”

      “Aye,” Darrick replied. “And as I got it toted, I saved your life the last time. I’m figuring you owe me one there.”

      Mat grinned in the darkness, and the white of his teeth split his dark face. Like Darrick, he wore lampblack to shadow his features and make him more a part of the night. But where Darrick had reddish hair and bronze skin, Mat had black hair and was nut brown.

      “Oh, but you’re up and bound to be pushin’