Darkwell - Douglas Niles [151]
"And this is Chauntea?"
"Yes, she of the Rose-in-Sun sign." Robyn nodded at the well, then looked back at the king. "You, too, have lost something."
He looked toward the water, where the Sword of Cym-rych Hugh had vanished forever. "It was a fitting end for the sword. I hope that its destruction also marks the end of my need for a weapon."
The king turned back to the black-haired woman beside him. "The beast is slain now, and the northmen… Grunnarch is a good man and a strong king. He and I will be allies, and our friendship will seal the peace between our peoples."
Robyn nodded. "With such a mixture of old and new, both the northmen and the Ffolk cannot help but prosper."
For a moment, thoughts of his past flooded Tristan's mind. He pictured his lifelong teacher, Arlen, killed in the first skirmish of the Darkwalker War. He recalled the sacrifice of the blacksmith, Gavin, saving Robyn as the Bloodriders stormed into Caer Corwell, but only at the cost of his own life. And all the others who had died during the war rooted in the bowels of a dark and hateful god.
"Is the god Bhaal truly dead?"
"I don't think so. I don't think we could possibly kill him, at least not here in our own world. But that is of little matter. The truth is that his power here has been broken, and so it shall remain for many generations."
The king thought for a moment of Daryth, and he knew that his pain would never vanish entirely. He said a silent prayer to his friend. Somehow, perhaps only because of his present sense of well-being, he felt a whisper of affection and forgiveness in Daryth's memory.
Then his mind came back to the present, and he smiled unconsciously. His shoulders had grown accustomed to bearing the weight of his chain mail, but now he unclasped the armor and shrugged free of it. He felt a delightful lightness of foot as the iron rings fell free.
Tristan looked awkwardly away from Robyn, disturbed by the warm glow in her green eyes. Then he looked back, hesitantly placing his arms upon her shoulders.
"I know I have hurt you, and we have seen the agent of this hurt today, in the body of your teacher and the Beast, Kazgoroth. Once I claimed to have been bewitched by her, but I know this isn't true. I simply made a mistake – an error in judgment that, because it has caused you such pain, I would do anything to take back. But I can't do that. All I can do is hope that you will be able to forgive me."
"I can," Robyn said simply, smiling. It was as if the weight of a great burden had been lifted from the king's shoulders. "The only bewitchment, I fear" Robyn went on, "was the anger in me that would not die. That anger was a poison as venomous as your infidelity, and lasting far longer. I believe that was her whole purpose in pursuing you, to break the bonds that hold us together.
"I owe you thanks that your love was deep enough to accept my anger, and still keep you by my side."
He swept her into his arms, kissing her warmly, and welcoming her returning embrace. A thought came to him as he remembered the calling of her druidic faith, when Robyn had been willing to serve her goddess as Great Druid, should such be the Earthmother's need.
"This new goddess… does she require… that is, must you remain chaste? Will you marry me?"
"I know nothing about that aspect of my new faith," Robyn said in mock seriousness, "but I promise not to ask until our children are grown."
* * * * *
The soul of Bhaal tumbled away from the well, down from the Moonshae Islands, out of the Forgotten Realms. The cord connecting the god to his home plane of Gehenna contracted violently, pulling his tortured and writhing form through the ether.
Thus Bhaal was ripped through the Outer Planes, past the bottomless pit of the Abyss, above the fiery levels of Hell, to be cast in defeat and impotence on the flaming mountainside that was his own world.
Here he lay in broken despair, scorned by other gods of evil