"But she can't die," Kern whispered hoarsely.
"Why?" Trooper asked sternly. "Because she's only an illusion? Is that what you still think?" His blue eyes sparked fire. "Well, if you do, you're more fool than I took you for, Kern Desanea, and a waste of time at that."
The paladin whirled and stomped away, leaving Kern speechless.
"There is one more who might save her," Miltiades said in his sepulchral voice.
"Who?" Kern demanded.
The skeletal knight's empty eye sockets seemed to regard Kern silently.
Kern's shoulders slumped as he realized what the undead paladin meant. "But I can't heal her, Miltiades," he said helplessly. "I don't have the power. I'm only a paladin-aspirant. I'm not really a paladin."
"If that is what you believe, then it is so," Miltiades intoned quietly.
Kern looked to the others for help-Evaine, Gamaliel, Daile. All regarded him sadly, silently. There was nothing they could do to help him. Nothing at all. It was up to him to act.
He made a decision. Confusion became calm.
"No, Miltiades." He clenched his jaw tightly. "I spoke wrongly. I am a paladin."
He reached out and laid his hands on Listle's brow.
"By Tyr, I believe I am."
Blue light flared brilliantly about his hands. The wound on Listle's forehead dimmed to a faint shadow, then vanished. For a moment her breathing halted altogether, but the azure radiance beat brightly. Then her chest began to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm. The light in her ruby pendant began to glow steadily.
The blue nimbus faded.
Kern lifted his hands, staring at them in amazement.
Listle stirred, her silvery eyes fluttering open. "What's everybody grinning at?" the elf asked in annoyance, her voice weak but clear.
'You," Kern said with a grateful laugh. He stood, lifting her easily to her feet and pressing his lips to hers. He stepped away, smiling broadly.
The elf's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would come out.
For the first time in her life, Listle Onopordum found herself completely speechless.
20
Trooper stood in the shadow of a huge stalagmite, a short distance from the others who were still tending to their battle wounds. A faint, bluish light shone about the old paladin as he argued adamantly with another voice only he could hear.
"It's not as if I was constantly asking you for favors, you know," Trooper whispered cantankerously, his shaggy eyebrows bristling. "Did I ask for a reward when I rescued that twittering, pea-brained Procampurian princess from that kobold den in the Stonelands? No! Did I expect any payment for destroying the Beast Cult of Malar when they had their mangy jackals harrying the highway from Cormyr to the Caravan Cities? No! Did I complain when I had to wade through the sewers beneath the biggest goblinkin warren in Faerun just so I could spy on that dull-witted orc god for you?"
He cocked his head, listening to the reply.
"Well, all right, perhaps I did in that case," he admitted with a snort. "But mind you, it was three years before the smell finally wore off!"
He shook his head, his long white beard wagging. "But that's not the point. I said that you owed me one when I agreed to help the young pup, and I meant it. Now the lad's a true paladin. That means my work is done." Trooper's steely eyes flashed resolutely. "It's time to settle our deal, Tyr."
The blue haze about him flickered for a moment. Trooper listened to the words no other could have heard.
"Nonsense!" he replied gruffly. "I've lived a long life, and a good one, if I do say so myself."
He sighed, sinking down to sit on a low shelf of stone. He was silent for a short while. "I'm tired, Tyr," he muttered finally. "Don't you see? I've had more than enough adventures to comprise a lifetime. But there's one who has served you loyally who has never had these opportunities."
He stole a glance back at the others. Miltiades stood slightly apart from his companions, watching them with what seemed, despite his fleshless face, a sorrowful expression.
"He's done the deeds in death he never had the chance to do in life. Don't you think that's worth something?" Trooper blew a breath through his drooping mustache. "And you don't even have to worry about that precious balance of yours. One life for another. What could be more just than that?"
Trooper scratched his beard, listening. Then he grinned. "I knew you'd come around to reason." His expression grew wistful as he watched his questing companions. "It's funny, but I think I'm going to miss them. Especially that impertinent elf." He scowled. "I always was a fool for dimples."
He sat up straighter, his old joints creaking in protest.
"Well, I'm ready," he whispered, annoyed. "Get on with it!"
The blue light flared brightly about the old paladin, then dimmed.
"Miltiades!" Dread gripped Evaine's voice. "What's wrong?"
The undead paladin stumbled backward as if jolted. Kern, Listle, Daile, and Gamaliel looked around at him in concern. Azure tendrils of light twined themselves about his armored form. A shimmering blue coil gently lowered the visor of his helm, concealing the bare bones of his face.
"My… my quest has ended," the knight said solemnly. "I fear that my time here is at an end." He doubled over, his gauntleted hands clenched into fists. "Tyr calls me home once more." He sank to his knees.
"No!" Evaine cried. She reached out for him.
It was too late.
Like an empty suit of tipped-over armor, Miltiades buckled to the ground. The sapphire light surrounding him faded and was gone. He lay utterly still.
All stared in shocked silence.
"I'm sorry, Evaine," Kern said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't think there will ever be another hero like him."
"He was the first person I ever met who truly understood me," Listle added, tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm going to miss him."
"As are we all," Gamaliel said gruffly. He put his hands on Evaine's shoulders, leading her gently but firmly away from the paladin. "Come, Evaine. We must-"
The suit of steel armor twitched.
All watched in amazement as the shining suit of armor shifted again. Then, slowly, the fallen knight pulled himself to his feet, standing tall.
Evaine let out a deep breath of relief. "Miltiades! Are you… are you all right?" She took a hesitant step toward him.
The ancient paladin shook his helm, as if he was dizzy or unsure.
"I… I think so, Evaine," he said, but there was something strange about his voice. Tentatively, he raised a gauntlet and lifted his visor.
Evaine gasped.
"By all the gods," she murmured. The others stared at the knight with their own expressions of wonder. Slowly, hardly daring to believe what she saw was real, Evaine reached out a hand and brushed Miltiades' cheek.
Her fingers touched warm skin.
"Evaine, what's wrong?" Miltiades asked in concern. "You're crying."
She shook her head, trying to speak but unable to find the words. He still didn't realize what had happened! In answer, she reached for his hand and pulled off one of his steel gauntlets. He stared in shock when he saw the flesh-covered hand that was exposed.
"By Tyr," he whispered softly. "I'm alive."
Evaine laughed for joy, throwing her arms around the handsome, dark-haired knight. His blue eyes shone with surprise, then he returned the embrace.
"Excuse me, Evaine," Listle said wryly, after this embrace had gone on for more than a few moments. "But there are some other people who would like a chance to hug Miltiades, too."
Evaine flushed in embarrassment, but Listle only grinned as she threw her arms around the two of them. Kern, Daile, and Gamaliel followed suit, their laughter filling the cavern.