Skilgannon knelt again by Decado’s side. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘I need to know.’
But Decado was dead.
He glanced at Jianna. ‘Do you know why?’
He saw her face was unnaturally pale. She swayed and sagged forward into his arms. His hand touched the dagger. Gazing down he saw the black hilt, the blade buried deep in her chest. Jianna’s face settled against his shoulder. ‘I. . thought I had. . killed you,’ she whispered.
‘The old priest had a shard of. .’ In that moment he thought of the shattered crystal. Heaving her into his arms he ran for the dais. Jianna cried out.
‘The pain! Put me down, Olek. Please!’
‘In a moment, my love. Hold on!’ He carried her back up to the dais and laid her on the ground, then searched among the shattered glass. Finding a large shard of crystal he returned to her side, raised the crystal shard — then stopped. Realization struck him, and he groaned aloud.
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I cannot save you. I would give my life to have Jianna by my side. But I can’t allow the Eternal to return.’
‘It is all right, Olek,’ she whispered. ‘The Eternal’s time is over. I’m glad we. . met. . again. I missed you. . so much.’
Her eyes closed, and her head sagged. Skilgannon leaned down and kissed her lips. Then he sat alongside her, head bowed. Her body spasmed. A single word escaped her lips.
‘Stavi!’
Skilgannon spun round. Grasping the dagger hilt he pulled it from her chest. She cried out. Instantly he took the crystal shard and held it to the wound. ‘Lie still, Askari,’ he ordered. ‘Just lie still until the strength returns.’
He saw her colour begin to return, and her eyes opened. ‘Where is Stavi?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where am I?’
‘Lie still. I will explain all when you are well again.’
Her eyes closed. Alahir came alongside and touched Skilgannon on the shoulder. Leaning in close he whispered: ‘Stavut is dead.’
‘Sit with her for a while,’ Skilgannon told him. ‘Hold this crystal to the wound.’
He rose and walked across to Druss. ‘I’m ready to return to the Void. How do I do that, Druss?
How do I give that young man his body back?’
‘You can’t, laddie,’ said Druss. ‘I took Charis to the Golden Valley. The lad chose to cross with her.’
The shock was intense. ‘I don’t want it! The only person I ever loved has just gone to the Void! I should be there!’
‘You will be. But not now,’ said Druss. ‘If I see her there, I’ll help her as best I can.’
‘You are going back?’
‘Aye, laddie. My time here is done. I’m going home to Rowena. It was good to breathe the mountain air, but I am done with death and slaughter. I’ll not return.’
Skilgannon sighed, then reached out and shook Druss by the hand. ‘One day, perhaps, I’ll make it through to that Golden Valley.’
‘You could have done it any time, laddie.’
‘No. I remember I was scaled, like the other demons.’
‘There never was anything stopping you — save your own conscience. You believed you needed punishing — so you punished yourself. Now you have a life again. Live it well. There is a world full of evil out there, and a lot of defenceless people who will need your strength. Give it freely. Then when you go to the Void, walk straight towards the light. I’ll see you there.’
Druss walked to the wall beneath the window and lay down. ‘Harad will be here soon. Tell him I was proud of the way he stood his ground against the beasts.’
‘I’ll do that. You be careful in the Void, Druss. Wouldn’t like to think of a demon stopping you getting home.’
The axeman laughed. ‘In your dreams, laddie!’ he said. Lying back, he closed his eyes.
Skilgannon walked to the dais and retrieved the Sword of Night. Askari was sitting with Alahir. He had his arm round her shoulder.
Sheathing his swords Skilgannon began to fill his pockets with more shards of crystal. Then he returned to the priest’s chamber.
The old man was still alive, but he looked different now, his hair white and thin, his face heavily wrinkled. His breathing was ragged. Skilgannon knelt beside him, opening the man’s deformed hand and pressing a shard of crystal into it.
The priest sighed, and his eyes opened. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It will not be enough to save me.’
Skilgannon reached into his pocket for more shards. ‘No!’ said the old man, placing his hand over Skilgannon’s arm. ‘Save them for those who will need them more.’
‘What is happening to you?’ asked the swordsman.
‘Time is. . catching up with me. Those five hundred years you spoke of were not cheated. They were merely waiting to claim us all.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘You destroyed the crystal?’
‘Yes.’
The old man looked desolate. ‘No golden age to discover now,’ he whispered. ‘No end to disease and starvation. No bright, sparkling cities reaching the clouds.’
A slow rumbling sound came to Skilgannon, and the walls began to vibrate. ‘What is happening?’ he asked the priest.
‘The Mirror is closing, drawing itself back.’ Tears fell from his eyes. ‘All I have lived for is gone now. I am so tired.’
‘Then think on this, priest: you stopped the Eternal from finding greater weapons. Your actions here have led to her death. The world is free again.’
‘Free? Of one tyrant perhaps. You think there will be no others?’
‘No, I do not. But I know there will always be men to stand against them. You grieve because of a pure magic lost. That magic was corrupted by evil. This is how evil thrives. We find a herb that cures disease, and someone will make a poison from it. We forge iron to make a better plough, and someone will make a sharper sword. There can be no power that evil will not corrupt. There may be no golden age to come now, but equally there will be no more Joinings, no more twisted, malformed beasts. No more wizards casting dark spells.’
The old man’s fingers opened, and a black shard of stone fell from his hand. ‘The Eternal is no more?’
he said, his voice barely audible.
‘She is gone from the world.’
‘Then. . some small good came from. . my actions.’
‘Aye, it did.’
His eyes closed, his head sagged back. Skilgannon sat by the body for a few moments. The decay continued rapidly, the hair growing, the skin drawing tight over the skull. Then it split and peeled away, falling in dust to the floor. Skilgannon rose.
Then he walked from the temple, and out into the desert night.
Epilogue
The next few days were spent by the rock pool. Skilgannon used the crystal shards to heal the worst of the wounded, but the power was soon used up, and the shards turned black. Of the two hundred and fifty men who had set out with Alahir fewer than sixty survived to make the return trip.
Every day more bodies of the dead were transported down into the valley, where deep graves were dug. Alahir presided over all the funerals, speaking movingly about each man. Harad helped with the digging, and not once did Skilgannon see him holding the axe of Druss the Legend.
On the third morning Skilgannon saw Harad sitting by the pool with Askari. He joined them. ‘How are you feeling, my friend?’ he asked.
‘I am alive. I would not have been had Druss not returned. I heard what he did — and how he turned back the enemy.’
‘It makes you sad?’ asked Skilgannon.
‘No. It makes me proud. He is a part of me. It shows me what I may become.’
‘That gladdens my heart, Harad. Where will you go now?’
‘Back to Petar, I think. It is my home. I am sorry about Stavut,’ he said to Askari. ‘I liked him greatly.’