Dania did not move to defend herself. Janik felt paralyzed. He thought a flicker of a smile crossed Dania’s face, and she began to nod—or else bowed her head in acceptance.
Then Krael swung the sword with all his strength, cutting deep into Dania’s shoulder. Krael screamed along with Dania’s cry, smoke and silver fire surrounding his hand.
Janik’s heart was suddenly a lump of stone in his chest, and he couldn’t seem to draw a breath.
“No.” His lips formed the words, but he had no breath to give them.
Krael dropped the sword and stepped back. Dania was drenched in blood but her body was slow to fall to the ground. A soft white light surrounded her, a contrast to the shadow that emerged as she fell.
Janik’s heart pounded again, a brief terror seizing him as he saw the Fleshrender take shape before him. The spirit was clearly visible, like a zakya with ebon fur. It was a black flame raging, shadow streaming from its insubstantial form like a radiant darkness. Even as the life ebbed out of Dania, Janik could see the life pouring out of the fiend, for it bore the same mortal wound in its shoulder. As Dania slumped to her knees and then, lifeless, onto the floor, the fiend staggered away from her, falling to the floor a few steps away.
As Janik continued to stare, the fiend’s body dispersed into wisps of darkness and was gone.
20
Reconciliation
Janik fell to his knees and stared blankly around the room. Mathas was near the door, slumped against the wall, his head lolling to one side. Auftane lay on his face halfway between Janik and Mathas. Maija’s crumpled form was close, and Dania lay in a spreading pool of blood. The serpent torc was still coiled around her neck, and the eyes seemed to stare up at him.
He looked over his shoulder at Krael.
“What was that you said about returning the favor?” he said. His own voice surprised him—it was flat, emotionless. He felt a sea of rage and pain churning inside him, but managed somehow to float on its surface, not letting himself feel it. He merely observed it, noted it, and tried to keep from collapsing on the floor.
“She helped kill Havoc,” Krael said, “and freed me from his control. And I freed her.” Krael’s voice was shaking as he cradled his wounded hand to his chest.
“Then you accomplished a great deal with that one blow,” Janik said. “You repaid your debt to her, fulfilled Dania’s oath—which I presume you prompted, one way or another—and you got your revenge against the Fleshrender for making you a vampire.”
“It’s been quite a day.”
“It certainly has.”
“What about you, Janik? Is it time for your revenge?”
“What?” Janik said.
“Aren’t you going to kill me?” the vampire said, his voice growing stronger. “I assume you still loathe me, after all our history, and I did just kill your dearest friend.”
“So you did,” Janik said, his gaze falling on Dania again. “I find I’ve lost my taste for revenge. Just go, Krael.”
Krael walked slowly to the door. He peered intently at Auftane as he walked past, and kneeled briefly beside Mathas.
“Leave him alone, Krael!” Janik called. “Leave before I change my mind.”
Krael stood and stepped into the doorway, then turned back. “They’re still alive, you know. They need some attention.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Janik … I’m sorry it had to end like this. Dania was a worthy adversary, a woman of spirit and purpose and conviction. I’m … I’m sorry she had to die.”
Here comes the pain, Janik thought, and he bowed his head so that Krael wouldn’t see the sudden rush of tears.
When he looked up, Krael was gone.
It took all his strength to get to his feet. He knelt beside Maija first, fearing the worst despite Krael’s words, and gently rolled her onto her back.
She looked like she was sleeping—she even made the quiet whimper she used to make when Janik would extricate himself from her arms early in the morning, trying not to wake her. He felt her pulse—strong, slow, and even—and then hesitantly brushed the back of his hand down her cheek. He wanted to stay there, to watch her until she woke up, to be the first thing she saw. But Auftane groaned and twitched, so Janik hurried over to check on the dwarf.
Auftane was a mess. His forehead and nose were scraped from his encounter with the floor, and a trickle of drying blood ran from his mouth into his beard. His once-shining breastplate was caved in on one side, and Janik set to work on getting it off so the dwarf could breathe. As he did so, Auftane’s eyes fluttered open briefly and one corner of his mouth twisted into a half smile.
“Janik,” he whispered. “Did we win?”
Janik returned Auftane’s smile, but found that he didn’t know how to answer. “Are you going to make it, Auftane?” he asked instead.
“Dolurrh can’t have me yet,” the dwarf said. “Too much to get done.”
“Glad to hear it.” Janik took off his coat, rolled it into a bundle, and tucked it under Auftane’s head. “Rest a bit. I need to check on Mathas.”
The old elf lay so still and looked so frail that Janik could hardly believe he was still alive.
“Oh, Mathas,” Janik muttered as he started tending to his friend, “I’m sorry for this. Please, pull through for me, and I swear I’ll never drag you along to Xen’drik with me again.”
Mathas’s eyes did not open, but his mouth moved. His words were a hoarse murmur Janik couldn’t understand.
“What did you say, Mathas?”
“Then I’ll have to go without you,” the elf repeated, only slightly louder.
Janik laughed long and loud as a fresh wave of tears spilled from his eyes.
Auftane worked himself upright, sitting on the floor and looking for the wand he had lost when he fell. Janik spotted it and handed it to the dwarf, who coaxed enough power from it to heal even the scrapes on his face. Looking worlds better, Auftane stood and walked over to crouch beside Mathas.
Mathas’s eyes flickered open at last as the first wave of magic from the wand poured into him.
“That’s better,” he said, and he smiled as the dwarf continued to tend to him. “Janik, what happened? Where’s Dania? And what happened to Maija?”
Janik didn’t answer, but turned around to face the two bodies on the floor—Dania lifeless, Maija still lost in sleep. I wonder what she’s dreaming, he thought as he watched Maija’s face twitch, her brow crinkling slightly. Let her sleep, he reminded himself.
He heard Mathas draw in a sharp breath behind him, and looked over his shoulder. The elf’s eyes were wide, a look of horror on his face.
“Are they both …?” Mathas said, his voice trailing off.
“I think Maija will be all right,” Janik said quietly. “She doesn’t seem badly wounded—I think she’s just asleep.”
“And the fiend has left her?”
“Yes. Dania cast it out.”
“What happened to Dania?” Auftane said, following Mathas’s gaze.
Janik walked over and dropped to his knees beside Dania’s body. He had been dreading it, but he had to do it—to look at her face once more. He had to say goodbye.
Slowly and gently, he rolled her onto her back. The front of her armor was tacky with drying blood. Her helmet was twisted around to cover part of her face, so he took it off, then brushed her red hair from her face. He was only dimly aware of Auftane and Mathas coming to stand behind him. Mathas’s whispered prayers to the Sovereign Host were a comforting drone in the back of Janik’s mind.
Her eyes were still open, staring blankly past him. He reached out and closed them. Auftane handed him Dania’s sword and he took it, feeling the holy power within it but loathing it at the same time. He turned it over in his hands and noticed for the first time an inscription in the blade, carved in small, flowing script: By my life, my honor, and whatever is holy.
“Your oath is fulfilled, Dania,” he said quietly. “Rest easy.” He laid the sword on top of her body, folding her hands over its hilt on her chest.