Skull Gate (38 page)

They followed his upward gaze. The stars shifted again; constellations took on their familiar shapes and claimed their proper positions in the heavens. Then a tenuous web woven of soft saffron light segued over the firmament. Tangled in the strands was Kalynda. She did not struggle. Indeed, she smiled and beckoned to her father.

But in the center of the sky-spanning web, Frost spied something else, an amorphous black thing, limbless, eyeless. She had the sensation of being scrutinized and knew that the thing looked back. The hairs stood up on her neck.

“Gath?” Tras Sur'tian whispered.

She could only nod.

Father?
Kalynda's voice touched their minds.
Do you love me, Father?

Onokratos gave a small, choking cry and nearly collapsed. Tras Sur'tian moved with surprising speed, considering his twisted knee, and caught the old man. He gasped from pain as he took part of the weight on his broken arm. But he did not let go.

“The chaos lord waits,” Orchos said.

Onokratos recovered himself. His gaze drifted up to Kalynda's image. “She needs me to be with her,” he told everyone. To Orchos: “What must I do?"

“Give yourself willingly."

His eyes never left Kalynda, never wandered to the yawning blackness that was Gath. “I've already said I would."

Orchos answered, “Then, there is no more."

With a serene grace, the wizard fell back into Tras Sur'tian's arms. The Korkyran made not a sound but lowered him gently to the dusty floor, peered deeply into the open eyes, which even in death seemed fixed on his daughter. Tras's shoulders drooped, and he hung his head, unable to give voice to his feelings. Finally, he looked up. “He's gone,” he said.

“So is Gath,” Frost informed him, “and Kalynda and Orchos."

They gathered him up between them and placed his lifeless corpse beside his daughter. Frost touched the cheeks of the silken-haired child. It was no longer enchantment that kept her so still, but cold, icy death.

“What about Aki?” she asked of Tras Sur'tian when he bent over the little queen.

“She breathes,” he said, though all joy seemed drained from him. “See, her chest rises and falls in an easy rhythm."

She leaned over and felt Aki's face. It was warm with life. Two small eyes fluttered open, then closed again. A faint smile lighted her innocent face. “Let her sleep a while longer,” Frost decided. “Maybe we can carry her away before she has to see any of this."

Tras sat back wearily and covered his eyes with a hand. The pain of his injuries was present once more in his demeanor. She sat down beside him, wishing she could lean her head on his shoulder as she had done once before, wishing for the comfort of arms around her. But that would cause him greater discomfort. She would have to get up soon and find something to splint his broken arm.

“I think I've had enough of this business,” she confided quietly. “A farm, maybe, even a tiny one like Oona's could be nice. Or maybe a tavern or an inn where I could dance and drink with my customers. Travelers would sit by my fireplace and sing songs in the evening, and you'd come visit me sometimes.” She lay a hand on Tras's knee as she stared at the sky. “Can't meaning be found in a life like that?”
 

Tras didn't respond. He had passed out or fallen asleep.

She looked at the stars, at the blackened crater rim, at the bodies of Onokratos, Kalynda, and Kimon. Somewhere, upon the road, was Gel's body.

“Thank you, Ashur,” she said to the unicorn, who was standing patiently close at hand. He tossed his mane, whickered, and was quiet again. “Thank you for killing him."

Her gaze fell lingeringly on Kimon. A wistful memory stole upon her of a day in the woods and soft breath on her face. That little knife began to turn in her heart again, and she waited for the pain to pass. She had tamed bitter memories before. If only she could cry; but she was too exhausted.

I know thee has no tears...

She started as the thought touched her mind. “Orchos!” She sat up. There was no sight of the master of men's souls.

... or thee might rouse him from this sleep as thee did once before.

In an instant she scuffled through the dust on hands and knees to lean over Kimon. Her tears
had
awakened him once before from a spell Onokratos had called the doom-sleep. How many days, weeks ago? Would it work now? Was that all Kiowye had done? If only she could cry! She had to cry!

Do not, daughter. He is my gift to thee. Unlike the chaos lord, I am not so pinching with a soul. I get so many, and I shall have him again someday. But there is one more matter...

A piercing shriek from the far side of the arena brought her to her feet. “No!” she wailed. “I saw it destroyed!” She clutched the empty silver sheath on her hip. “I haven't the will to fight it. I'm too tired!"

It was not destroyed
, Orchos told her.
It can never be destroyed. It was Ouijah's illusion that made thee think it ruined, and my power that kept it under control when thee cast it away.

The tortured sound reached a higher, insistent note. “It wants blood!” she said. “And I am sick of blood!"

The image of the lord of nine hells took shape before her. In his hand, he held Demonfang. He studied it curiously, turned it so the blade caught and reflected starlight. The dagger screamed its hunger.

Be silent
, she heard the death god say, and Demonfang obeyed. He tossed it at her feet.
Now, sheathe it.

She hesitated, reluctant to reclaim the cursed weapon. “No, I want no more from it. I have fed you souls long enough, corpse-eater. I am done with killing."

Sheathe it, daughter. Then bury it, if thee likes, or drop it in a well. But it belongs to thee for as long as thee walks this earth.

She bent, picked up Demonfang from the dust, and slammed it into the sheath. Then she unbuckled its belt and held it out to the death god. “Take this burden from me,” she begged. “I can't bear it any longer. I'm too weary."

Orchos was no longer there.

“Samidar?"

She turned at the sound of her name. Kimon stirred, raised himself up. His eyes opened slowly, beautiful eyes that smiled and made her forget Demonfang's evil, eyes that filled her with joy. She flung herself down beside him and kissed him, pressed her face to his.

Then the tears came, grateful, happy tears.

And a voice in her head said:
Farewell, daughter, until we meet forever.