Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [126]
The ancient paladin shook his helm, as if he was dizzy or unsure.
"I… I think so, Evaine," he said, but there was something strange about his voice. Tentatively, he raised a gauntlet and lifted his visor.
Evaine gasped.
"By all the gods," she murmured. The others stared at the knight with their own expressions of wonder. Slowly, hardly daring to believe what she saw was real, Evaine reached out a hand and brushed Miltiades' cheek.
Her fingers touched warm skin.
"Evaine, what's wrong?" Miltiades asked in concern. "You're crying."
She shook her head, trying to speak but unable to find the words. He still didn't realize what had happened! In answer, she reached for his hand and pulled off one of his steel gauntlets. He stared in shock when he saw the flesh-covered hand that was exposed.
"By Tyr," he whispered softly. "I'm alive."
Evaine laughed for joy, throwing her arms around the handsome, dark-haired knight. His blue eyes shone with surprise, then he returned the embrace.
"Excuse me, Evaine," Listle said wryly, after this embrace had gone on for more than a few moments. "But there are some other people who would like a chance to hug Miltiades, too."
Evaine flushed in embarrassment, but Listle only grinned as she threw her arms around the two of them. Kern, Daile, and Gamaliel followed suit, their laughter filling the cavern.
It wasn't until later that they discovered Trooper.
They found the old paladin sitting on a low spur of stone, his eyes closed, a faintly mischievous smile resting on his lips. Heavy, golden beams of sunlight slanted down from the jagged hole in the cavern's roof, igniting the old man's hair in a fiery halo. They did not need to feel for his heartbeat to know that he was dead.
"He has passed on to Tyr's halls now," Miltiades said gravely. Evaine reached out and squeezed his hand tightly. Listle wept bitterly, burying her head in her hands as Daile did her best to comfort the elf.
Kern knelt beside Trooper's lifeless body, not trying to hide the tears that rolled down his own cheeks. "Thank you," was all he whispered softly.
On a brilliant winter's solstice day, Kern ceremonially returned the Hammer of Tyr to its rightful place in the temple. It was an auspicious day for the ritual, Sister Sendara said, for it was the day when the sun began its trek northward and the days grew longer once more, heralding the coming spring.
There were other good omens as well, for a legendary paladin walked the world again. The temple's clerics had observed Miltiades with awe these last few days. However, Miltiades did not mind. He was used to being stared at, if for different reasons.
As Kern walked to the temple's nave bearing the hammer, the sign of hope most important to him came in the form of a tall, regal, red-haired woman who sat on a marble bench. As he neared her, the beautiful woman stood and kissed him on the cheek.
"You've grown handsome, my son," she murmured.
Kern blushed. "Thank you, Mother."
Only the barest traces of shadow lingered in the sorceress's cheeks. The Hammer of Tyr had healed her almost completely of the injury caused to her by the guardian of the pool.
No, Kern, a gruff, cantankerous voice seemed to whisper in his mind. The hammer didn't heal Shal. You healed her.
Kern looked around, wondering where the voice came from, though he had a suspicion. He knew enough not to argue.
Shal returned to her seat next to Tarl, gripping his hand affectionately. The white-haired cleric smiled proudly, even though he could not see his son. Despite its powers, the Hammer of Tyr had not cured Tarl's blindness. While this had saddened Kern, his father had told him to put his sorrow aside. Whether he could see or not, Tarl knew that he was the same man as before. Except, perhaps, a little bit wiser.
Kern couldn't help but chuckle as he passed his grinning friends on the way to the ornate marble altar. Anton nodded to him solemnly then. It was time.
"In the name of Tyr," Kern called out, "I return this