Tree Of Life Part 26

He cared little that she now voiced her desperation. Not crying nor struggling could prevent him. Here they were spending their first and last night together. He formed a dagger in his hand. He would cut her throat. But before he could execute that intention, a throttling arm hooked about his throat from behind. He felt himself dragged backward and held, hoa.r.s.e and restraining shouts in his ear.

At the sounds of her piteous cries, half-smothered and m.u.f.fled, Theron and another man had at once been alerted to the peril, and laying detaining hands on Fraomar, at last, subdued him.

"Be gone with you!" shouted Theron in a rage. "For pity's sake what's wrong with you-you'll have us all hanged! Out before I toss you out! Go!"

White with rage, Fraomar cast one last glance at her, to which she made no response, drawn inward and choked in fumes of rage and hate and pa.s.sion.

Chapter40.

Into A Dark Forest -e was known affectionately as Bordan the beast-tamer and was the best huntsman in all of Gonriel. All manner of creatures fled before him. His face was keen as that of a hunter and scarred by the claws of those many he had tamed. His left eye was blind. His form was not fearsome, his build and height no more impressive than an average man, but there was altogether something extraordinary about him, something not to be trifled with. He, along with two other men, was a.s.signed to return the priestess and both brothers to Cheydon.

It was early morning when they prepared to make off. Deacon arose when Magenta finally came into view. There was a singular and mute aspect to her diminished countenance which rage, hatred, and despair had all drained. In her solemnity she was a visage of bleakness and endurance beyond hope, paled and sorrowed by the unleaving of perpetual winter, with no light to ward off the gloom.

Her appearance disturbed and disconcerted him in a way he could not fathom. Her eyes were cast down. He felt severed from her thoughts, a veiling over her mind. When she at last lifted her gaze, she looked at him as if by degrees becoming conscious of him, and a ghost of a smile touched her lips. For a long time they gazed, each upon the other, fearing it was to be the last. She knew as well as he that they would leave him to die.

Bordan led her over to where the others returning to Cheydon awaited them. Presently Fraomar made his appearance. He remained at a distance, holding back from the presence of his companions. Her eyes met his, and he looked away. His set face and stern demeanour told of his aversion and abas.e.m.e.nt.

From where he stood Deacon watched her, conscious of a tightening deep in his chest at the thought of going out of her life.

She looked back to him and knew what his last unspoken thought was. For a mere moment Bordan turned his attention from her. The love of her heart overwhelmed her, and in an instant she was gone from his side and over to Deacon where she flung herself against him. Breaking down all reserve, she set her lips to his in a long, ardent, soundless kiss in which two beings merge their ident.i.ty. Before she was removed, she whispered to his ear, "All my thoughts shall be with you, till you are restored to me."

Deacon, watching after her, did not endeavour to disguise his despair. The ranger a.s.sisted her upon his horse. From over her shoulder she gazed back toward her beloved as she was borne away from him.

It was late morning when they made their first stop. Bordan and the two men with him sat and ate before the small fire, while Magenta and the brothers sat together, close at hand. Slinking and lulling about the ranger's legs, as three cats might around their master, were the large bristling creatures the captives had previously made acquaintance with. He slapped their sides affectionately and fed them pieces of meat, but when he had tired of them put his boot on one of their heads, and giving a cruel push, said, "Go, till I call you." At his command all three beasts moved off toward the trees in long, languid strides.

Magenta had no intention of returning to Cheydon. She would not leave Deacon to die, not as long as there was life in her body. With a motion too slight to be noticed by the others, she retrieved from her boot a small gla.s.s vial. Her eyes lifted to Cedrik with a meaningful look, and he saw, then, that in her hands she held a means of escape.

With a subtle exchange of hands Cedrik took the vial and applied some of its liquid to the rope binding his wrists, as did his brother. The potent substance would burn through and they would be freed. His mind quickly went to work as to what he would do once his bonds were removed. He threw Derek a stealthy glance, indicating he was about to make a break.

Before the rope fibers had quite burned all the way through, Cedrik, applying force suddenly, tore his hands free, and in the same instant made a violent move toward their captors, who, startled and shocked, leapt to attention immediately, hastily groping for their swords. The impetus with which Cedrik rushed forward bore down the first man, and a sharp blow to the soldier's jaw won him the long keen blade, whereupon the owner quickly died.

Close behind, Derek made a mad dash for an improvised weapon, a heavy branch, which, taking in both hands, he brought against the knee of the other soldier, following the stroke with another across the back of his head with a dull crash. The injured man had not time to regain his feet before Derek was upon him, disarming him. Contrary to his nature, Derek plunged the point into the chest of his foe.

Without a moment lost, he leapt over the campfire, hastening to a.s.sist Cedrik, who had met the ranger with a clash of blades. The ranger, confronted with one of the best swordsmen the Imperial had ever produced, was overwhelmed when the younger brother hastened to his side, but backing away, he held his own and called wildly to his pets for aid.

As this took place Magenta did not sit idle but went quickly to work on poisoning several arrow tips. This accomplished, she notched one with the intent to bring down the foe she knew would soon charge upon them. Heeding the call of their master, the beasts came from the trees as with the fury of mad things. Magenta raised the bow smoothly and took aim at the brute nearest. Her arrow shot forward and struck the broad chest with fatal accuracy.

Without delay, she, with precise execution, rapidly sent forth two more poisoned arrows toward the remaining beasts. The poison quickly worked its mischief. Their powerful limbs faltered and stumbled, and at last, came down to rise no more. The ranger fighting against the two men was shortly to meet the same fate, cut down with edge of Cedrik's sword.

After Cedrik had tied a torn piece of cloth round his brother's leg to stop any bleeding, he attended to his own wounds. "I have nothing which will soothe the pain," Magenta said, sympathetically.

"It's all right," said Derek, pressing her hand. "It lets me know I'm living."

Cedrik wiped his face with a dampened cloth and tossed it down. He asked Magenta, "Do you know where it is they take him?"

"I know the name," she answered. "I know not the location."

"It matters little." For a moment he bowed his head against the sweaty forearm that rested across his knee. "There's no time for us to seek help. They'll be there and done before anyone can act."

"What are we to do?" asked Derek.

"We go to his aid."

"There are fifty or so men, eight of them magic-users."

Cedrik nodded. "I know. Do you have any fools' powder left?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"We must wait until very near to the sought item before we make any attempt," said Magenta. "There they cannot use magic against us." With that in mind, Cedrik went over the best course of action with them. These preliminaries settled, he rose to his feet, at the same time a.s.sisting Magenta to hers. For a moment the three stood close to one another, bound by love and common purpose. Magenta put a hand to both their faces. The strong love she held for them gave rise in her every higher faculty of feeling. She could not help but bestow a kiss on each of their cheeks. They were her family.

After they had taken all they needed from the fallen soldiers, the companions mounted the horses and started off toward the direction they had come from, toward Deacon.

Over a period of several days, Deacon travelled with the enemy. He looked dejected and unresponsive, refusing to answer when they addressed him. His head hung, rarely lifted to survey his surroundings. In time they came to a dense forest. The moss grew here in rough clumps, unexpectedly thick in places. Strange cries could be heard from unseen sources, yet the men continued undaunted. The forest began to loom and soon enveloped them with its large trees laden in mist, mosses, and clinging plants. They trudged on through this maze, over fallen logs, through apertures between boulders, over streams.

Their trail led them to a clearing, where, amidst the ruins of an old temple, were two great moss-covered statues of men that stood no less then twelve feet high. Facing each other, they clasped their outreached arms, forming an archway over the stone table between their bodies, and upon which sat an ornate silver goblet. There could be no argument that it was an intricate and beautiful sculpture. Encircling the impressive stone table was a tall transparent wall, constructed of pale blue energy. The obstruction prevented any from touching the sacred goblet.

Here amidst all the deep, green splendour the travelling party made camp. All around them, looming in dark places, were the men lost to shadows. Their presence was felt, but they could not be seen. These tortured beings were mere agony in the form of a vague visage, reminiscent of men. The insatiable hunger for power tormented their insubstantial, shadowy existence. Loosely bound to the physical world, they were vapour and shadow.

With an eye almost of hatred, Fraomar wandered about the site, taking in all the magnificent detail. Water still flowed from a half-standing fountain near to a stone altar where the priests of long ago ritualistically laid their dead before burning their bodies to ash. The temple was dedicated to Demise, the G.o.ddess of death. Many believed that those who had erected it still haunted its fallen walls.

The shadows of night began to gather around the men. They felt oppressed by the dampness and were quick to start a fire. Deacon sat solemn and incommunicable, his gaze sweeping over his tormentors. Taking them separately, he could have succeeded in the defeat of each one, but collectively he stood no chance.

Fraomar pa.s.sed discovering fingers over the great statue. "I despise this place," he said, his gaze roving over the surroundings. "Can you not feel its malignant spirit? Evil walks here in discontent, a restless malice, things born of no woman."

Theron whittled a piece of wood. He said, "Must you always be touching things? Sit down; you make me uncomfortable."

Fraomar was disconcerted and would not sit with the others, but stood tensely. His gaze soon settled on Deacon, who looked down absently at his bonds. The mere sight of him provoked Fraomar and made him burn with an anger sharp and unsubduable. With persistent intensity he watched the captive. A sore sense of unfulfilment ever churned in the pit of his stomach.

As if knowing he was watched, Deacon, with dark, defiant eyes, looked up. It was enough. Without warning Fraomar went and took hold of him with aggressive hands. "d.a.m.ned miserable fool," he said. He threw Deacon to the ground and with his boot gave a kick to his ribs, so sharp Deacon choked and coughed. While he was prostrated still on his hands and knees, the aggressor stood over Deacon, then raised an arm and delivered such a terrible punch his fist withdrew covered with the other man's blood. Deacon felt one side of his face go numb and could taste a silvery bitterness.

"d.a.m.n it-no more!" shouted Theron. "He needs strength!"

Fraomar looked up and the blow he meant to deal died. "I don't mean to beat him into immobility," he said, panting, desiring to return to his task.

"Restrain yourself, or I will make efforts to have you quieted." Theron's sharp words held his companion, and he returned to his seat, leaving the other to pick himself up.

Before Fraomar moved away, he looked at Deacon. "I will see you dead before the end." As he spoke he wiped the blood staining the back of his hand over the owner's bruised cheek. Deacon strained his face away, his eyes full of dark rage and hate.

The air was damp and miserable. The scents of brewing coffee and of food cooking over the fire did little to make the forest friendly. Theron set a bowl of hot something before Deacon. When no movement was made toward it, he said harshly, "You will partake of something, even if I must force it down your throat."

Deacon ate slowly and without enthusiasm. When he laid his head down and closed his eyes, sweet thoughts and memories settled upon his troubled mind. He clung to them as he would to her own soothing form, yet their very sweetness could have made him weep, and for all the hope he was forever torn.

When morning came he was left to sleep, and all throughout the day none disturbed him. In the heaviness of utter exhaustion Deacon went in and out of sleep, vaguely conscious of the other men and their movement and voices about him. A melancholy and dreariness lay heavy on his heart. He dreamed of her fingers pa.s.sing through his hair, her breath near and warm. He could hear faintly the sound of water trickling over smooth rock, or perhaps it was gentle rain. When he awoke he lay motionless, his eyes closed. He heard steps approach, and he sat up quietly. The cool, moisture-heavy air made him shudder.

"We do this now," Theron said gravely, removing the wrist irons. Deacon clenched his jaw and gave a single nod. A dread stirred within him. Theron rested a heavy hand on the young man's shoulder, "Do not fear," he said, the gesture a cruel and empty imitation of friendship. "Men die at every hour, and many for far less cause."

Rage and rebellion worked in Deacon. Pale and silent he got to his feet. It was late afternoon. The light of day had begun slowly to fade, but the last streams broke through the dense vegetation in brilliant effulgence. The men had packed up and prepared their horses ready to flee, not trusting what might occur once the goblet was removed from its place of keeping.

It was with grave solemnity that Deacon approached the formidable statues, Theron and two other men close behind him. White as a man facing the executioner, he raised his open hands toward the energy obstruction, but before he could proceed there was a low swift sound, and a painful cry of the arrow striking its mark. The man next to Deacon collapsed to the ground. An arrow had gone through his throat all the way to the feathers.

Two more fell dead, before any could make a move against their unseen a.s.sailants. From the fire they had not yet extinguished there quickly followed an explosion and flaring torrents of flame, which caught alight some of the men who stood too near. They twisted and writhed violently in the damp earth, trying to put out the flames on their bodies. In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil.

Taking advantage of this, Cedrik and Derek rushed forth, swords drawn, headlong, into a fierce battle. Upon the sight of his cousins, Deacon wasted not a moment. He shoved his shoulder into Theron, knocking him down, and jabbed his elbow into the face of the man next to him. Stunned, with a broken nose, the soldier was then grasped and slammed against the hard statue. Deacon took his sword and dagger, and thus armed, rushed into the conflict. He leaped over the body of one foe to throw his weight against another from behind. In the same instant he hurled the dagger from his hand, an action which prevented his youngest cousin's back from being laid open.

Into the face of a soldier Cedrik struck a full blow, and, bringing down his sword, severed the head from its body, even as he turned and directed his point into the chest of another. The soldier made a mangled sound and fell dead. The three young men worked their way closer and closer toward one another, cutting down the enemy without mercy or restraint.

Derek deftly moved his head aside, just as a blade whooshed past and almost took off his ear. "Do not kill them!" shouted Theron wildly, standing back from the commotion, his head pounding with the hot blood of battle.

To gain a better vantage point, Magenta steadily arose from her place of concealment and with a flat back and steady eye, took aim. Her priorities were the rangers, who posed the greater threat. The first man she could take a clear shot at, she put an arrow into, right through the chest. The hit itself had not taken him down, but the poison that began to work through his veins.

Amidst the chaos she became aware of a man coming toward her from the side, slightly behind. Her bow string drawn taut, she turned sharply and released. Her arrow pierced his throat. Unfortunately she had not been aware of the second man. Quickly he came round behind her and brought her down. As she struggled to rise again, his heavy body fell upon her, pinning her face down so that she might not use her evil against him.

Deacon turned sharply at the sound of her cry and took a blow to his jaw.

The man atop Magenta seized her hair with the intent of smacking her face into the ground, so as to render her senseless, but she had managed to free one hand, grasping his that was entangled in her hair, and with all her force, put into him an infliction of withering. Its effects were immediate. Crying out with pain, he found his fingers stiffening, and he released her. She, however, did not release him. She knew once she got her hands on him it would take a stronger man than him to stop her. Her abilities were not reliant on magical energies. Distended veins ran up his hand and arm and up into his neck. His face became livid, and he toppled dead from her body.

When Theron saw that the two soldiers had failed to bring down the priestess, he hastened to it himself. As Magenta's hand reached for the bow it was kicked from her reach by a heavy boot, and with a back-handed stroke Theron knocked her to the ground. He did not leave it there, but gave a sharp kick to her side. She curled in breathless agony and with a feeble gesture tried to move away from him. Bending down, he seized her arms and she was forced to stand.

Somewhere amidst the violence Deacon came up against Fraomar. With unchecked fury he fell upon the hated man, knocking him to the ground. Forgetting all those around him, Deacon put his weight heavily on the body. The beast had worked its will on Magenta, hurt her, and now he had it in his hold. It was his turn now! His blood pounded his head suffocatingly, like a madness, and with his fist he struck Fraomar full in the face, over and over.

As Derek swung and cut down one of the soldiers he took a blow to the back of the head. He stood up only to be knocked down again. From the corner of his eye Cedrik saw that his brother had been battered down, disarmed, and detained. For a short moment Cedrik continued on but found himself unequal to the task. When he realized the battle was hopeless he reluctantly threw down his weapon in an acknowledgement of defeat.

Deacon remained atop Fraomar, maintaining an unbroken series of blows. A force made of hatred, he struck the bloodied face again and again. As he did this, many hands fell upon him, and after beating him some length, they finally subdued him. Fraomar, badly beaten, staggered to his feet and went to the fountain to put cold water on his wounded face. The sting was so severe he swayed as if he might lose consciousness.

The brothers were bound and tossed to the ground together. Theron half-carried, half-dragged Magenta and threw her down with them. Beaten and bruised, they huddled near her as they would their own sister. Theron choked with outrage, "d.a.m.n you, if you move, I'll-"

His gaze went over to one of his companions, half-reclining against a tree where he had dragged himself. An arrow stuck out from his panting side, his lips stained with the hue of evil. Theron was only a few paces away, but the man was dead before he reached him. In a slow rage, Theron pulled out the arrow. He returned to the captives, and in a sudden outburst of violence, stabbed the broken shaft into Cedrik's thigh. Cedrik jolted and cried out. Clenching his teeth, he blinked the tears of pain from his eyes.

Panting with an excess of hostility, Theron pointed a warning at Magenta, then moved off, ignoring Derek who shouted wrathful curses till his mouth was silenced with a hard blow.

Theron went to where Deacon lay. "Let us get this over with," Theron said and dragged him grimly forth. Together the two men stood before the thrumming energy-wall. A low wind ran along the ground, the leaves rolled past, and a sense of foreboding settled over the camp. Slowly Deacon raised his hands, closing his eyes. Magenta watched. Her heart beat with a terror that paralyzed.

There was a shifting in the waiting shadows, and something with no physical body and no mind, but a terrible want, felt the use of power. As it moved it made a low sound like sighing on a breeze. The air turned very cold, and there was a creeping sensation as of some unseen foe drawing near. Out from the darkness of the trees came strange phantoms, clawing along the ground, dragging their shadow forms, which appeared terribly long, far beyond human scale, their vague human shapes somehow grossly stretched.

These dark spectres, rising as the mists arise, gathered about Deacon, reaching out with greedy antic.i.p.ation. Behind him, they penetrated through leather and deep into his flesh, drawing no blood, yet his body strained as if every muscle was tightening in reaction. Without a sound he bore their torture on his feet, his head bent down and eyes squeezed shut. Mercilessly they drew from him, and he felt his power along with his life being drained.

Deacon dared not turn his head and look at his tormentors. Always his hands were raised to the energy wall. To sustain the strength and concentration necessary to complete the task took tremendous effort. Only after a few minutes' durance he was weakened. A bead of sweat ran down his strained neck. Momentarily his efforts faltered, and with a painful groan he dropped to one knee, the pain intense. He rose with difficultly. He knew if he fell he would not get back up. Defiantly he went on, though with rapidly diminishing strength.

Cedrik and Derek were half-overcome with fear and horror. There were a dozen of these shadow-like creatures all steeping into Deacon, smothering him in their darkness. Besides the distraught and fixed attention of the captives, there was another no less deeply absorbed.

Fraomar watched with increasing enthusiasm. Again he looked to Magenta and was almost beside himself with malignant and spiteful joy. He saw before him the gratification and accomplishment of long-sought revenge. He only wished he could feel the strength of her misery within his arms. The temptation was too strong and Fraomar went to her.

"Let us have a better view," he said, taking hold of her and standing her on her feet.

"Miserable-Let her alone," Cedrik said through his pain, himself not knowing whether it was a plea or threat. Either way, Fraomar ignored him and took Magenta over closer. He positioned himself behind her, clasping her tightly in his arms, so that he might feel her tremble. From over her shoulder he watched the pitiful spectacle.

The task almost complete, Deacon was barely able to stand. The obstruction came down, and he stumbled backward, ceasing his output of energy. His legs, slack and unsteady, gave way beneath him and he collapsed. The shadow-men, not relinquishing their hold, enshrouded him, as if a black cloud had descended upon him. He seemed to tire and lose courage and tried to crawl away, dragging his body slowly, painfully, as though each limb was heavily enc.u.mbered by a great weight.

But they were upon him, forcing his life out of him, devouring both sources within him. There was no escape. Too deprived of energy to fight, he rolled onto his back, struggling as if he might go into convulsions. He was in great agony. He could steal only glimpses at Magenta in his panic. It was as if he was constrained with tight bands, every muscle in his body seized tightly enough to tear painful cries from him. His face expressed such torture that it was terrible to be seen.

Magenta strained against the arms that held her, in agony at the sight before her. She saw that Deacon could not free himself and broke into earnest attempts to disengage herself. Her pleas and desperate implorations went unanswered, and none made any attempt to deliver the sufferer from his torment. Theron went quickly to retrieve the sacred artifact. Nervously he took it into his possession and with haste went for his horse. As he pa.s.sed Fraomar he said, "We have it, let us go!"

"Wait. I want to see this!" was the quick reply. He still gripped the woman hard and detained her.

Writhing under the torture of their touch, Deacon had no thought of his coming death. He could feel nothing but the pain. His strength failed him, and he felt he had nothing left in his body to go on with. His violent actions suddenly died into stillness and he became limp, lifted only by the sheer force of their a.s.sault. His life, extracted from him, ran in a stream towards them. The internal force was so great that blood began to spill from his mouth. He seemed to be losing consciousness.

Magenta ceased her struggle and became motionless. Her heart stood still within her. His life seemed like a flame flickering out before her eyes, as if he was fading out of existence. A look of affliction came over her despaired features. "He's dying." She scarcely breathed the words.

Theron tucked the artifact away into one of the horse's saddle bags as if it was nothing more than a mere trinket. He caught the reins of the horse and looked over his shoulder, his voice bare with command, "Fraomar, bring her!"

In an instant Theron's blood ran cold. There was a terrible, thunderous sound, much as if something large was being uprooted. All at once the two great stone men became animated with life. The soldiers staggered backward in horror as one swung its ma.s.sive fist with such colossal force that the tree it collided with shattered into splitters, as if it were brittle and aged a thousand years.

Knowing what it was they sought, Theron mounted the horse and made off with the treasure in haste. His companions remained to fend off the colossal foe. One of the men, slashing frantically with his blade, fell to a crushing death. His efforts had done little to halt the impervious forms of the giants, who struck out mightily, smashing and shattering all in their path. They smote with powerful blows, causing havoc and fear in the hearts of the soldiers, fighting with the constant will of dead men.

Among the scatter and confusion, the mangled screams and cries, Cedrik and Derek got to their feet. As his brother was unable to do so, Derek began to kick the wooden picket that they were tethered to with hard consecutive blows, hoping to avoid the crushing impetus of the giant's swinging arms. Fortunately, it seemed, the stone men were interested in a single target-the one fleeing, and only those that deliberately stood in the way were removed.

Fraomar did not enter into the conflict, but, stumbling back, clung to his captive, determined to watch the last thread of life grow thin and sever from the body of Deacon. All the commotion and chaos about Magenta dissolved from sight and mind and faded into nothingness. Her focus bent upon the writhing form. In the confusion of her mind came the start of a small hope. Forgotten words whispered slowly to her consciousness; the words she had heard her father speak.

Recollection began to build within her, and with it a stronger ambition. Her gaze fell to where one of the poisoned arrows lay within reach. Fear and her love for the man dying gave her strength; with all her force she broke free of Fraomar's hold. Before he could clench her again she darted forward and seized the arrow. He lurched violently and grasped her arm, but ere he could make a move to prevent it, she turned and drove the arrow up into his chest.

A look of shock and of pain crossed his features. Grasping her still, and without looking down, he clutched the shaft and dragged at it. Magenta watched in horror as he tore it out, and with a savage gesture tossed it aside. In a paroxysm of wrath he pulled her to him and made a sudden violent, jerking movement. She felt a sharp pain stab her side. Slowly she looked down. She did not see the instrument which he used to wound her, but she watched with detached interest as blood began to soak through her dress and stain her fingers.

Fraomar choked and gagged as if unable to swallow. A tremulousness took possession of his nerves, making him quiver uncontrollably, which was a sign the poison had begun to work its evil in his blood. Groping to clutch her, his knees buckled beneath him and brought him to the ground, choking. Blood-stained froth bubbled to his lips; his face contorted with a look of fear and confusion. The pull of his frantic grasping, and the weakness she felt in her bled limbs, almost brought her down with him.

As she looked upon his face, his utter wretchedness, she could not help but feel a pang of bitter pity for the creature that seemed had no empathy to spare the feelings of himself or others. She tore away from the clutching hands and fled toward Deacon. Any emotion of fear for herself was excluded by the deeply fixed fear of losing him.

Having lost his support, Fraomar pitched forward into the dirt, writhing in utter agony. A rageful gurgle spluttered up from his throat as he watched, half-blinded, the retreating form of the woman he loved and hated fling herself across the body of the man who had stolen her from him. All his bitterness and all his hatred boiled up, and his end came in one awful, hideous convulsion.

Laying herself over Deacon, shielding his body with her own, Magenta spoke the words she prayed would protect him. A radiating force of concentrated energy came from somewhere deep inside her and engulfed their two bodies momentarily in sheer brilliance. She clung to him, waiting for the darkness to disperse and release its hold.

She was as if pressed down by a force that would not lift, and for a terrible instant she feared they would not leave. She could feel his a.s.saulted form being jolted and torn up from the ground. Then suddenly, all at once, they were dispelled, gone back into shadow and darkness. His body became absolutely still beneath her. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against his slightly breathing chest, spent and exhausted. The lingering energy suffused them with a soft, tender glow.

After some length, Deacon stirred. Gradually he became conscious of the warmth and heaviness of someone lying across his body. Progressively the darkness lifted from his eyes, and they soon opened. All was quiet. None of their foe were to be seen. They had either fled or been killed. Their bodies were scattered about the forest floor. The stone men also were gone.

Deacon lay heavy and fatigued. Weakly, he lifted his head to look down at Magenta. He wanted to see her. She did not rouse when he touched her hair, and he felt that something was very wrong. He struggled to raise himself, then sank back down. He had barely any strength. Again he touched her head, the top of which brushed his chin, and murmured her name, but she did not stir. Sick with terror, he closed his arms round her, and with effort rolled her weight off his body, gently laying her flat. He, in turn, lay across her.

She remained motionless, looking up at him, her breath faint. The instant he beheld her white face he was stricken with the certainty that she was dying. He made a wounded sound above her and choked out her name. Looking down at his wet fingers, he found them covered with blood, which he discovered gushed out from her pierced side. His hand shook as he pressed it firmly against her, trying to staunch the bleeding. Her trembling lips seemed to part, but no sound issued forth.

"Hush, hush," he whispered. He did not want her to be afraid. Smothering his fear and choking on his grief, he caressed her softly. "It's all right," he soothed. "You will be all right." As if he had no belief in his own words, broken plaintive sounds issued from him. Tears trembled in his eyes. They held hers with desperate intensity, as if so long as their connection remained she could not pa.s.s away from him. He spoke again with something of pleading in his tone. "Look, we are no longer apart, but together. I am here to be with you at last and always."