A/N: After several hints I have finally decided to split the story into chapters. It´s far easier to read like this. Enjoy and *pleading eyes* R&R

Oh, and I don´t own BMT, Trudi does

An alternative ending to Trudi Canavan´s THE HIGH LORD

Please note, that this story has been rated M. Some chapters may contain light adult themes.

CHAPTER 39

A missing body

Rothen looked down at the expressionless, white face that was framed by dark locks that had grown to Sonea´s shoulders since the time he had first seen her. His hand was still holding Sonea´s small one. Only after having doubled the dose of nemmin had she finally been able to sleep. He loosened his grip and brushed a hand lightly over Sonea´s face.

He felt his heart twist painfully at the vivid memory of her demented grief not so long ago. Again and again she had pounded her fists on Akkarin´s chest. 'Wake up, p l e a s e, wake up.' The former High Lord had lain still, his head lolling from side to side with the impact of Sonea´s frantic attacks.

The moment the last of the Ichani had hit the ground Dorrien and he had run down to them. It had been clear at first sight that Akkarin was dead. He hadn´t needed to see the compassionate and sad expression on his son´s face the moment he had touched Akkarin´s forehead to confirm the worst. Sonea hadn´t seemed to be aware of them at first.

'Sonea, look at me.' Dorrien had forcibly dragged her off the body and started shaking her. 'Sonea, please. I´m so sorry.'

His son´s icy-blue eyes had filled with tears as Sonea had finally met his gaze. Her face had been that of a stranger, wild-eyed and then suddenly void of all emotion. Where a moment before utter despair and a kind of wild hope had been set in every line of her features she suddenly had been swallowed by bleakness. She had neither moved nor responded to any of their consolations. She hadn´t protested when Rothen had finally swept her up in his arms and carried her to his rooms. The will to live had seemed to have left her entirely.

Rothen sighed. He too would have been reliefed to use the sleeping drug and forget all that had happened these last few days if even for a moment. However, he had responsibilities to see to. Dorrien and Lord Balkan had moved Akkarin´s body into the Healers´ Quarters, had removed the dagger and healed the wound. They didn´t want the body to drain of all blood.

Nobody had had to bury a magician in a very long time. There never had been a body to do so. After Akkarin had explained about the old Guild having used 'Higher Magic' the mystery of the Guild´s graveyard had finally been solved. However – scholar though that he was – Rothen hadn´t felt the exhiliration that normally followed such a revelation at the time, because he had been too worried about Sonea.

Lord Balkan had communicated the fight to the rest of the Guild magicians that were still alive. Afterwards, however, they had decided to stop mind communication as long as the King and the Higher Magicians hadn´t decided otherwise, since the order of not using it except as a last resort in the fight had still not been lifted. Lord Balkan and Dorrien had then gone to inform the King and the magicians that were still hiding with the Thieves.

Sonea moaned in her sleep bringing Rothen´s attention back to the room. 'Rest, Sonea', he murmured, 'you´ll need every bit of strength you can get.'

I know how it feels to loose the one you love.

And Sonea had loved Akkarin, of that he was sure after having seen her reaction to his death. And Akkarin had certainly loved her he had to admit. He had sacrificed himself for her, had given her all his strength to save her and the Guild.

I have misjudged him and now it´s too late for reconciliation. He had been telling the truth all along. Oh why couldn´t he have shared his burden? ´Cause you would have reacted exactly as you have when you found out and you know it, old fool. Rothen snorted. I really must be getting old, speaking to myself.

He still couldn´t quite grasp how the change of the relationship between the High Lord and Sonea had taken place. He had seen her change toward her new guardian even before the trial. He had seen her smile at him that one morning and it had terrified him. Then Sonea had shown her loyalty to Akkarin by first revealing her own wielding of Black Magic and then refusing to accept the Guild´s punishment, thus preventing his execution and giving him a chance of survival in the Sachakan wasteland. Had she loved him even then? Rothen wondered.

The purple-robed magician looked out of the window in time to see Lord Balkan and Dorrien return with most of the magicians and novices that had survived the fight for Kyralia. They looked haunted and tired. None of them had truly believed that what Akkarin had claimed was true until finally they had come face to face with the Sachakan magicians who had so easily taken over the Fort, killed the Guild magicians in Calia and ambushed the City. Many had lost relatives, friends or at least people known to them. Rothen sighed. Yes, they would need time for mourning, as well. Time they might not have, if other Sachakans decided to follow Kariko´s example.

He saw Lady Vinara detach herself from the rest of the group and hurry towards the Healers´ Quarters. Confirming for herself that Akkarin could not be helped any more, Rothen guessed.

He hurried down to meet the other magicians in front of the University. Strange, he hadn´t noticed these many staircases before. Now it felt like an eternity until he finally reached the remnant of the Guild magicians.

Dorrien walked up to him quickly. 'How is she?' he asked.

'She has finally fallen asleep. Don´t worry, Dorrien. She´ll come around again.' He laid a hand on his son´s shoulder, meeting and holding his gaze, willing him to feel reassured.

The Healer sighed, 'I very much hope you´re right. I cannot bear to –'

'Balkan!'

Lady Vinara came running round the University building, her face flushed and her normally composed features a mask of horror.

Something must have happened. Rothen couldn´t think of anything that would unsettle the stern Healer like that.

'What –' Lord Balkan began. The Head of Healers drew in a deep breath.

'The body − it´s gone!'