"What was your name again?" she asked.
Keren's eyes, up to this moment fixed on Will, snapped around to her as he sensed a change in her attitude. She shouldn't be asking questions. She should be obeying without any hesitation.
"His name doesn't matter!" he snapped at her. "Do as I tell you!"
Alyss shook her head as if to clear her thoughts."Yes. Of course. Sorry," she said. Yet, even as she agreed, there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
Will glanced at her, seeing the torment in her eyes. He was resigned to the fact that he must kill Keren and that, if he did, Alyss would kill him. And he knew that if that happened, Alyss would be tortured by the fact for the rest of her life. As Keren had said, she would regain consciousness and find herself standing over the dead body of her friend, a bloodstained sword in her hand. And there would be nobody left alive to tell her how it had all come about.
He simply couldn't leave her with that burden. Keren, sensing that his hold over Alyss's will was somehow slipping, decided to wait no longer.
"Kill him! Kill him now!" His voice cracked as he screamed the order at her.
"Of course," Alyss said. There was the faintest hint of reluctance, but she stepped forward, the sword going up to full stretch as she measured the distance to Will. And in that instant, he had to leave her some vestige of memory or forgiveness for what she was about to do.
"Alyss," he said quietly, "I love you. I always have."
He saw it in her eyes. A moment of confusion. A flash of conflicting emotions. Then a sudden blinding clarity and an overwhelming sense of horror. She looked up at the sword, high above her head, and a scream was torn from her as she realized what she was about to do.
She threw the sword away from her and collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Her shoulders heaved as the sobs racked her entire body.
Will dropped the bow, all thoughts of Keren forgotten as he moved to her. Oh, god, he thought, let her be all right!
He had no idea what harm the sudden shock of realization might have done to her mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, trying to reach down and embrace her, trying to lift her from the floor. Anything to quell that awful sobbing, the sound of a tortured mind. But she huddled in a ball, defying his efforts to get his arms around her and lift her.
"Alyss, it's all right! It's all right! You're fine now!" he crooned to her. But it was all too clear that she wasn't, and she remained oblivious to his words and his touch.
"Damn you to the deepest corner of hell."
He looked up. It was Keren, moving toward him, the sword discarded by Alyss in his hand.
"Maybe she couldn't kill you. But I can!"
Galvanized into movement, Will sprang away from Alyss's huddled form. Keren followed, sweeping the sword through the air in a succession of wild cuts. It was this that saved Will's life – for the moment. There was no science or skill in Keren's strokes, just the raw emotion of wild hatred and unreasoning revenge guiding the sword.
Will regained his feet, the saxe knife sliding from its scabbard just in time to parry a side cut. He reached behind his neck for the hidden throwing knife, but once more he was impeded by the cloak and the collar of his jacket. This concealed sheath really was a bad idea, he thought bitterly. He parried another cut from Keren, but without the added leverage of the standard two-knife defense, he was at a disadvantage against the longer weapon. All he could hope to do was avoid that sword for as long as possible.
Gradually, he saw the rage in Keren's eyes subsiding. He reached for his collar again, trying for the throwing knife. But Keren saw the movement and leapt forward, lunging so that Will only barely avoided the darting point of the sword, then Keren spun the sword in his hand to deliver a high overhead back cut, almost as part of the same motion.
Will felt a cold hand around his heart as he realized that Keren was an expert swordsman and his training was beginning to reassert itself over his initial blind rage. Will couldn't hope to win this onesided battle. He retreated before another thrust, felt the wall at his back and knew he'd made a mistake. He slid sideways from the next cut, the sword striking sparks from the stones in the wall. Keren pursued him as he slid along the wall, a series of blindingly fast strokes and thrusts giving him no chance to retaliate.
It was the sound that roused Alyss. The grating screech of the sword skipping off stone. She looked up to see Will retreating desperately before Keren's clinical attack, warding off the sword with a totally inadequate knife.
She rose to her knees, then to her feet, shaking her head to clear it. Somehow, she knew, this was all her fault. She'd placed Will in this danger. Now she must save him. She needed a weapon… any weapon. She swayed on her feet, then her senses cleared and she knew where to find one. Two quick steps took her to the window. She seized the weapon and moved to where Keren had trapped Will in a corner. The point of the sword was now leveled at Will's throat. The saxe knife lay on the floor between them, finally smashed from Will's grip by the massive force of a two-handed overhead stroke.
Will faced Keren calmly, waiting for death. Then he saw Alyss moving behind the renegade.
"Alyss! Run!" he yelled. "Get Horace!"
It was only natural that Keren, poised to thrust the sword into Will's throat, should turn as the Ranger called to her. As he did, she flung the contents of the leather-covered bottle into his face.
His scream was terrible as the acid burned into his skin and eyes. The pain was excruciating, and he dropped the sword, clawing at his face, trying to ease the dreadful burning. He stumbled in wild circles around the room, screaming all the while. Alyss watched in horror as Keren reeled blindly, trying in vain to find some respite from the agony. She backed away, felt Will's arm go around her.
They both became aware of a stench of burning flesh.
Keren's movements became wilder and more erratic. His throat was hoarse from the nonstop screaming, and he stumbled and whirled in uncontrolled circles, one moment throwing his arms out to regain balance, the next clutching his hands to his ravaged face once more. He staggered into a wall, rebounded, lurched a few paces, then lost balance and reeled backward.
Toward the window.
His back and shoulders struck the bars, and for a moment they supported him. Then the thin threads of metal that held the two center bars in place gave way, opening a wide gap behind him. He teetered backward for a second, but the low sill of the window caught him just behind his knees.
His scream was long and drawn out – a mixture of pain and blind fear. It hung in the night above his falling body, like a long ribbon trailing behind him.
Then, abruptly, it stopped.
Alyss turned to Will, her face troubled.
"Will, what happened here?" she asked. She surveyed the wrecked room, chairs and table upended during Will's desperate fight with Keren, the sword discarded again on the floor, the empty bottle lying beside it where she had dropped it. Her mind seethed with images, but they seemed so bizarre and unlikely that she knew they couldn't be true.
Will smiled, his arm still around her shoulder. He pulled her to him and let her rest her head on his shoulder.
"What happened," he told her, "is that you just saved my life – twice."
He kissed her forehead gently to calm her. He sensed the confused tangle of thoughts in her mind. But she pushed back a little from him, searching his face with her eyes.