Hey, thanks for deciding to check this out. I wrote this as part of a 100 fic challenge on livejournal, and liked it so much, I decided to put it up here. I think it turned out well. Feel completely free to IM or E-mail me with questions or comments, or to review me. As far as warnings, this is Terra/Slade. Don't want to read it, stop here. Otherwise, enjoy!
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Moonlight trickled in through the tiny, square-shaped window in the dark room. It hit Terra right in the eyes, nearly blinding her with its intensity in the darkness. She heard herself draw a breath through her teeth, slamming her eyes shut before opening them again, less wide.
Terra wasn't used to seeing the room so bright. She usually slept in her own room, with a bigger window, and a few lights that usually stayed on, at least dimly. Slade's bedroom was so much darker, so much less hospitable. No wonder, she thought, no wonder he never went in here until it was time for him to sleep.
"Slade?" she whispered into the dark. She felt his arm tighten around her, his fingers, entwined in her long hair, nearly pulling a few strands out. His good eye snapped open at the sound of his name, and Terra was amazed at how quickly he was fully alert. He looked over at her, pushing himself up to a sitting position.
"What is it?"
"I...can't sleep," she said, her head sinking into her shoulders. Rather than join him at his level, she shrank into the covers, keeping the blankets wrapped around her.
Slade closed his eye again, and Terra was afraid for a moment that he would be angry with her. But he looked down and smiled indulgently, stroking her hair with his calloused fingers. Terra lay her head on his bare chest, savoring the chance to actually see his smile. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I dunno," she mumbled. He moved his hand down to the small of her back, and pulled her up closer to the head of the bed. She didn't resist, but rested one of her hands on his skin. He felt so warm, compared to her cold fingers.
"Suppose...I told you a story?" asked Slade, raising one of his eyebrows. Again, Terra's heart leapt at the chance to see his expressions. It was so rare that even she could see his face.
"What kind of a story?" Her own visage nearly glowed with her smile. It was incredible, she thought, how different he could be at times like this; alone in the middle of the night.
Slade chuckled, and removed his hand from Terra's waist. He stretched back, breathing deeply before beginning. "Once upon a time..."
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Once upon a time, in a far away land, an old couple was blessed with a child. For many years, they had prayed for this gift, until finally, the old woman became pregnant. However, the old couple was quite foolish in their happiness, and grew careless of the feelings of others.
While walking one morning, the old woman spied an herb garden on the other side of the fence from her modest home. And suddenly, the old woman decided that she wanted—no, she needed—to eat the herbs. So, she sent her husband to climb the fence, and pick the herbs that she wanted. Her husband, always deferring to his wife, set out.
But what neither of them knew was who lived on the other side of their fence. The land next door spanned acres, and they had never seen a home on the land, nor anyone living there. But in fact, the land was owned by a witch, and her disciples. They were a motley group—the witch, and one human boy were accompanied by three monstrosities. A changeling lived with the witch, serving as her lookout. On the day that the old man scaled the fence, the changeling was patrolling the land as a strange, green bird. The bird saw the stranger attempting to steal from the herb garden, and flew off immediately to alert the witch.
Just as the old man prepared to leave, and to bring back the plants to his wife, a black circle of witchcraft appeared on the ground. Nearly dropping the stems and leaves, the old man jumped back, and the witch materialized from nowhere.
"Why have you entered my land?" asked the witch, her face hidden by a dark hood.
"Please," said the old man, trembling in fear. "I am only collecting these for my wife, who is with child."
"No one is permitted to steal my herbs," replied the witch. A cloud of dark aura began to surround her, further frightening the old man.
"Please," the man pleaded, "I swear I will never enter your garden again. But please allow me to take these back to my wife."
The witch said nothing. Her strange, amethyst-colored eyes looked down at the man, turning over his offer.
"I will allow you to take my herbs," she said at last, "provided that you give me something in return."
"Anything," replied the old man, grateful for the witch's apparent generosity.
"Your daughter. On the day that she is born, I will collect her." And with this, the witch vanished, into the nothingness from which she had come.
With a heavy heart, the old man took the bundle of herbs home to his wife, along with the sad news.
The old couple was heartbroken at the thought of losing their child, but agreed that it would be worse to defy the witch. And so, when the baby girl was born, and the witch came to collect her, the old couple handed over their daughter.
The witch took the baby girl back home, to the tower in which she and her disciples lived, and named her Terra, after the earth that had borne the herbs.
Sixteen years passed, and Terra grew into a beautiful young maiden. However, the witch, jealous of the attention that lovely Terra received, had her locked in the tallest room of the tower, with nothing but one small window to the outside world. Terra was forced to stay in her tower at all times.
"It is for your own protection," the witch, Raven, had insisted. "There are dangerous men in the outside world who are not to be trusted."
"I understand, Mother," Terra had replied, in the way that she had grown used to addressing the witch.
But in her heart, Terra longed for more than her meager existence, shut away in a tower. She longed for adventure, for romance, or at least for an unfamiliar face. The witch's disciples were kind to her, of course, but distant. Terra dreamed of meeting someone new and exciting.
Alone in her room, Terra had nothing to nourish and to care for, save for her long, golden hair. In the sixteen years that she had lived with the witch, it had never once been cut. By the time Terra was six, her hair flowed past her ankles. By ten, it would hang nearly two meters out of her window. At sixteen, her golden locks were nearly long enough to scrape the ground. The witch had never worried about Terra's hair—no matter how long it was, it would never be long enough for her to escape. And so, the witch had granted Terra her one joy in the tower.
Her one joy, that is, until one bright, colorful day at the start of spring.
On that day, Terra sat at her window, looking out at the world that she wasn't allowed to be a part of. A melancholy song drifted out of her lips, as she rested her head on the windowsill, her long hair trailing out behind her into the room.
The birds in the forest responded to Terra's song, as they usually did. But today, there was a strange sound also coming from the forest. Terra sat upright, as she recognized the sound of hoofbeats from the small woodland path. But the changeling, the only horse that she'd ever known, was in the tower, with all of the rest of the witch's disciples. Terra stopped singing, suddenly self-conscious. No one had ever ridden so close to the witch's land before.
In fact...as Terra strained her eyes, she saw a lovely black horse trotting along the forest path. Whoever the strange man was riding on its back, he had ventured onto the witch's land itself! Terra marveled at the courage of the man—for he was far more of a man than she was a woman. It was difficult for her to judge his age, but the pearly sheen of his hair was easy to see in the bright sunlight.
To Terra's enormous surprise, the stranger drove his horse off of the path, toward her tower.
"Sir!" She called out, as quietly as she could, while still being sure that he could hear. "You must leave this place!"
The man on horseback slowed, noticing for the first time the girl in the tower. To Terra's astonishment, he guided his horse to the foot of her tower, rather than away.
"Please, sir," she tried again, leaning her head out the window. "If you're discovered here, I can't bear to think what the witch would do to you."
The man merely reined in his horse, and looked up at her. "You're trapped up there, aren't you?" he asked.
The question took Terra by surprise. "I, well, I am not allowed to leave...but sir, I—"
"Who is keeping you up there?"
"The witch," replied Terra, "And she'll do far worse to you if you are found on her land."
The man smiled up at her. "There doesn't appear to be anyone here besides you."
"I don't know," said Terra. "The witch has a changeling who she employs as a spy. He may be listening."
The man nodded. "Very well. But I will come again." He gave his horse a kick, and started back into the forest.
"Wait!" cried Terra. "I don't even know your name."
The man stopped, pulling back on his horse's reins. "They call me Slade," he said.
"I'm Terra," she replied, without being prompted.
Slade smiled back at her. "I will come again, Terra." And he spurred on his horse, and rode back off into the forest.
Terra waited in her tower for two days before she saw Slade again. But, true to his word, he returned.
"I've been waiting for you," she said, smiling down at him.
"I've been waiting to return to you," he said in reply. "How would I enter your tower?"
"Oh, you couldn't," said Terra, "Raven the witch has put a spell on my door. Only she can enter."
"There must be some other way," said Slade, thinking hard.
Terra gasped. "Oh! I know." She reached behind her head, gathering her long, golden hair. "The witch's apprentice has sometimes had me do this, when he wishes to talk with me." With piles of hair in her arms, Terra leaned over the window, and let her hair fall. Slade was amazed at its length and its beauty. "Use my hair as a rope," she said, "and climb up to my room."
Although skeptical, Slade grabbed hold of the golden rope, and began to climb the side of the tower. It was a long climb, but when he reached the top, Terra was able to help him over the windowsill, and into her room.
For a long time, they talked, the young maiden and the dashing man. Terra learned many things about Slade; he was a rich noble from a neighboring country, who owned a great deal of land and wealth. His horse was named Wintergreen. And he had come toward the tower at the sound of her singing. Slade, in turn, learned of Terra's past, and her life with the witch. Of her longing for adventure and excitement. And that she dreaded the thought of the witch's return.
"If you were found here, I don't know what she would do." Slade always looked so smugly amused, when Terra protested for his safety.
After long hours of conversation, when the sun was preparing to set, Terra gasped. "The witch! She's coming, she never returns any later than sunset. Please, Slade, you must go."
"Very well," replied Slade, with another coy smile. "But I will come again." With these words, he climbed back down the rope of golden hair, and rode away into the forest.
Slade and Terra met many times after, in the deepest of secrecy. Terra would refuse to let her hair down to him unless she was sure that the witch was not in the tower. Then, she would allow him to climb her rope of golden hair, and the two would talk for as long as they could. Terra, having never been exposed to the outside world, found delight in listening to Slade's stories of what lay outside her prison walls. Slade found his own delight in seeing her thrilled expressions, as he wove her tales of what he had seen, and what she could expect to.
For Slade had convinced Terra to come away with him, as soon as the chance arose. It had taken many visits, but before very long, Terra had found herself falling in love with the handsome man. His tales of the world and his adventures in it had woven a spell around her that rivaled even the powers of the witch. And yet, Terra was anxious. She did not want to risk incurring the witch's wrath, should they be discovered. And so, many days passed, and the young couple grew closer.
Finally, Terra knew that the witch Raven and her disciples would be gone one day, between the time that the sun rose, and high noon. With careful, precise planning, Terra gave Slade the news, although she could not think of any way to escape the tower.
"Don't worry," Slade told her, holding her hands gently in his. "I'll take care of it."
It was a cold, crisp day in the autumn when the witch and her disciples left the tower. The witch Raven did not need to give any instructions to Terra, for she was certain that there was no way for her to escape. And so the witch left, along with the human boy and changeling, and the two other strange creatures whom she had trained.
Terra waited, looking out of her stone window from the moment that the witch left. The sun climbed up into the sky, turning from a pale gold to a bright white light. The sky was clear, and the leaves on the trees were a beautiful palate of bronze, gold and auburn. The fall-colored forest stretched out as far as Terra could see.
But the sun continued to climb, and still Slade had not come. Terra began to grow restless, pacing the small room in her tower, hoping that when next she reached the window, he would be there...
She grew worried as the sun approached its apex in the bright blue sky, and still she heard no sound of hoof beats approaching. Perhaps he wouldn't come, she thought. But wondered why he wouldn't.
Finally, just before the sun reached high noon, Terra heard Wintergreen approaching. She ran to the window, to see Slade waiting at the bottom.
"I was so worried you wouldn't come," said Terra.
"You needn't have been," Slade replied. "Let your hair down, so that I may come up."
"But the witch will be home any minute," Terra protested.
"Trust me, Terra," he said, with complete calm. And Terra did trust him. She gathered up her golden hair and let it fall down the stone of the tower. Slade climbed the makeshift rope, high above the level of the treetops, until he reached Terra's window.
"Please hurry," she urged him, drawing her hair back into her room. "The witch Raven will find us!"
"Precisely," Slade answered, to Terra's surprise and confusion. "I have thought long and hard, Terra, about how to rescue you from this prison. The tower is too high to jump from, without great risk to both of us. And yet the only door is locked, so that only the witch may come and go."
"Yes," answered Terra, "that's right. So how do you plan to leave?"
Slade folded his arms behind his back, pacing slowly around the room. "The witch's enchantment can be broken."
"By what?" asked Terra.
"By the witch's death," answered Slade. "If you are to escape, then I must face the witch herself, in order to break the spell."
Terra gasped, "But the witch would never allow you to face her fairly! If she were to find you here, you would become a frog, or a cat, or simply vanish before you had even a chance!"
"Do you think me so unkind?" Terra nearly screamed aloud as the witch glided effortlessly through her door. Slade uncrossed his arms, and began to reach for his sword. "Do not be a fool," said the witch Raven to Slade, "you will never escape this tower alive."
And with those words, Slade disappeared. Terra lunged forward to the space where he had been, but the witch caught hold of her long hair, and pulled her back.
"And you, my daughter," said the witch, "you have disobeyed me."
"Mother, please," said Terra, wincing from the grip with which the witch held her hair. "Please let him go!"
"I have warned you many times about men like him," said Raven, without loosening her grip. "You have not heeded my warnings. And you and he must both be punished."
"Please, mother!" Terra cried. But the witch did not listen. With her strange and arcane power, the witch summoned a knife to her hand, and brought it to Terra's head. With one swift stroke, she separated Terra from her long, beautiful golden hair, the one joy that she had nourished for her entire life.
"Perhaps now you will listen to me," said the witch Raven. "But you no longer have my trust. From this day on, your hair will never grow longer than it is at this moment."
Terra touched her fingers to the edge of her hair, hanging now just below her shoulders. Terra felt the tears growing in her eyes, but not for the loss of her hair. She cried instead for the loss of Slade, for she was certain that he would never survive the wrath of the witch and her disciples.
"You will never escape this tower alive."
The witch's words followed Slade, and he found himself transported to a strange room. There were no windows in this room, and yet Slade knew that he was at the bottom of Terra's tower. Slade looked around the room, trying to find some clue as to what he should do next.
Slade did not need to look very long, before he knew that he should draw his sword. Before him, hovering in the air above him, was a girl. And yet, she was nothing like any girl that Slade had ever seen. Her long hair was a fiery red, and her eyes bright green. She floated as though it took her no effort to do so. It did not take long for Slade to realize that she must be one of the disciples of the witch.
"You have entered our home without permission," said the girl, narrowing her eyes at Slade. "Raven has ordered you destroyed."
"I'm aware," replied Slade, coolly, his sword in front of him.
"But I do not wish to fight with you," the girl continued. "I would much rather allow you to leave, but you must promise to never again return to our land."
"I cannot," replied Slade.
"Are you certain?" asked the girl.
"Yes," replied Slade.
"Then forgive me." And the girl concentrated on her hands, gathering together a ball of bright green energy, and she tossed it at Slade. Slade was able to duck in time, and knew that he must not allow her the chance to prepare her attack again.
Slade struck with his sword, charging forward to where the girl hovered. But she shot into the air, and the same hot green energy began to collect behind her eyes. Slade was only just able to roll out of the way of the blast, when she released it.
Slade wished that he had more time to plan. After all, he was armed only with his sword, leaving him at a great disadvantage against this airborne witch. The best plan that he could think of for now was simply to dodge, and wait for her to come close enough.
The plan seemed to work. As the girl witch continued to miss her target, she floated closer and closer, although she was still too far away to attack. But the girl witch had been very well-trained, as Slade could see. It was growing more likely by the second that her attacks would hit him before he had the chance to fight back.
For a fleeting moment, Slade considered the thought that he might lose the fight. But then, an idea came to him.
"Stop," he called out, and the airborne girl witch halted her attacks. "I surrender."
The girl witch seemed relieved at Slade's announcement. "Then you may leave," she told him, "If you will only promise never to return."
Holding his sword limp in his left hand, Slade mutely offered his right to the girl witch. She floated down to the ground, preparing to take his hand to shake.
The girl witch held out her hand, and took Slade's.
And Slade's own fingers tightened quickly around hers. Before the girl witch knew just what he had done, Slade had twisted her hand, rendering her unable to use her magical attack.
Furious, the girl witch began again to collect her bright green energy behind her eyes. But Slade was not fool enough to let her.
His left hand swung the sword with as much skill and accuracy as his right, and the girl witch fell.
Slade did not re-sheath his blade; there were still four enemies waiting for him in the tower. He did find a set of stairs in the back of the room, and climbed them.
One down.
When Slade reached the top of the tower, he found another of the witch's disciples waiting for him. Slade did not know what to call him. The creature looked to have once been a man, but was one no longer. But even this was the wrong description. Parts of the man's dark body were still alive. Yet much of it had been replaced by strange, demonic-looking devices. When the man spoke, his voice was gruff.
"Starfire is kind," he said, "even to the worst of men. I am not."
"That's wise of you," said Slade, readying his weapon.
"You will not be able to defeat me so easily," said the strange half-man.
"We shall see," replied Slade. With only these words, Slade sprang forward, determined not to give the half-man the advantage that he had given to Starfire, the girl witch. His aim was true—the blade made contact with the half-man's dark shoulder. But with only a twist of his arm, the half-man directed the blow to his arm, made of a hard, resilient metal. The steel of Slade's sword slid off of the metal, and the half-man swung around his other fist. Slade was knocked back by the blow, nearly dropping his weapon.
But Slade was not an easy man to take down. He recovered quickly from the blow, and focused his attention on the half-man's physique. He noted with pleasure that the dark skin of the man's shoulder was bleeding where his blade had made contact. If he were only able to attack the part of him that was human...
With visible smirk, Slade found his target. As the half-man stepped forward—confidently, deliberately—Slade readied his sword. And the moment that the half-man stepped into range, Slade attacked. The steel of his blade met the steel in the half-man's neck, but only after first slicing through the flesh of the neck's other half. The half-man crumpled to the floor, clutching at his throat.
"You haven't killed me yet!" he cried.
But Slade merely walked passed him. "I did not need to," he replied. "You are beaten." And leaving the half-man on the floor, Slade found another set of stairs, and advanced to the next floor.
From the strange décor in the next part of the tower, Slade thought that he knew who to expect to fight next. The room was covered in dirt and plants, a small pool of water sat in one corner; it looked like the kind of place an animal would live. With this in mind, Slade was not surprised when the changeling appeared in front of him, having been no more than a fly on the wall.
"Step aside," ordered Slade, showing the changeling his stained blade.
"You've hurt my friends," the changeling replied, stepping into a fighting stance.
"I will hurt you," said Slade, "If you do not step aside."
"And you mean to hurt Terra," said the changeling, not moving.
"I would never dream of it."
"Liar!" the changeling accused. "You planned to abduct her! To steal Terra away from us!"
"Terra does not wish to stay locked away," said Slade, still calm. "She wants to leave her prison."
"Liar!" cried the changeling again. And in the blink of an eye, he had transformed his body into that of a brilliantly green tiger. Slade took a step back, but was not thrown. He dodged the tiger's first attack, and was even able to strike the tiger's flank as the changeling passed.
But the changeling recovered quickly. On his second pass, he changed from the tiger into a bright green falcon, and dived for Slade's head. Slade was ready, even for the changeling's strange attacks.
The changeling fought long and hard, but Slade was himself a fighter of great renown. Although the changeling had many strange and unpredictable attacks, he was no match for a master of swordplay. After a long and ferocious fight, the changeling fell, as had his friends before him.
Slade did not proceed up the stairs then, as he had before. Instead, he paused a moment, taking a drink from the clear pond that the changeling kept in his room, and regaining his edge. It would not do to charge forward tired, he knew. But Slade's rest was only momentary. He stood, refreshed, and continued up the tower stairs.
The witch's apprentice stood ready at the top of the stairs. He was a small boy, with dark hair, though he seemed in perfect fighting shape. He had clearly been trained in many disciplines, and was not slow to show off this fact. The boy held out a staff, made of steel but with no blade, and positioned it into a guard. He did not say a word.
Slade knew this boy as a strong fighter, simply from the way he stood. And so, he faced the boy with his own weapon drawn, with the same silent respect for a fellow combatant.
This was the only signal needed for either of them. And when their duel began, its fast pace and high energy was loath to slow.
Steel clashed against steel, and sparks flew around their heads as the blade of the sword tried to dig into the staff. But the boy's weapon was too strong, too thick to be sliced. Slade knew that he would need to aim for the boy himself, and admired how closely he kept himself guarded.
Slade advanced, driving the boy back into the corners of his room, where the light from his window could not reach, and there was nowhere left to run. As the boy found himself cornered, he only quickened his pace. The staff swung in front of him in a blur, countering every thrust and parry that Slade tried.
Slade feinted and lunged, trying every trick he knew to get through the boy's whirling shield and to his skin. But though young, the witch's apprentice was a master with his weapon. Slowly, so slowly, he began to push forward, out of the darkness of the corner, and when he could, he leapt to the side. The boy sprinted across the room, as though he were daring Slade to catch him, and attack again.
Slade was not one to refuse a dare. He began to run after the boy, but quickly realized that he should save his strength. After all, the witch would be next, and Slade needed as much strength as he could muster to face her. The boy was not worth wasting that energy.
And quite suddenly, Slade knew how to get to the witch's apprentice. He stood still in the middle of the room, his sword hanging limply in his hand. He only prayed that the same trick would work twice.
The witch's apprentice was as smart as Slade had hoped he would be. When he saw his enemy weak, rather than stop to see what had happened, he sprang.
Slade was ready for the boy's attack. Once again, his prowess with a sword had been underestimated. It was the work of a moment for Slade to dodge to the side, return his blade to a fighting position, and to strike at the boy after he had passed.
Slade did not even wait to see if the witch's apprentice would get up, before he walked the stairs to the final room, before Terra's.
This room was darker than the others—far darker. There seemed to be no light, and yet the most basic of features could be seen. Slade could not see where the meager light was coming from, as the room had no windows.
But before Slade could think about the lighting, a swirling circle of darkness appeared on the floor in front of him. He took a single step back, once more holding his sword at the ready. Although, for the first time, Slade was afraid.
The witch Raven rose out of the circle on the floor, staring Slade right in the eye as she did.
"You have trespassed on my land," she said, as the circle disappeared, and she sank gently to the ground, her dark cloak billowing around her. "You have corrupted my daughter's heart. And you have murdered my friends and pupils."
"You have kept Terra locked in a prison," Slade countered. "You have shielded her unjustly from the world. And you have done a great wrong to her in doing so. A far worse wrong than I have done her."
"You had no business coming here," said Raven, seemingly incensed by his words. "Had your crimes stopped there, perhaps I would be willing to let you live."
"Remove the spell on Terra's door," Slade ordered, gesturing slightly with his sword to the stairway in the back of the room.
"I will not, to allow you to steal her from me," was the witch's reply.
"In that case," said Slade, "You will die, and your curse will die with you."
"You are mistaken, Slade," replied the witch Raven. "If either of us is to die today, it will be you."
Slade did not move. He did not need to, in order to signal the beginning of the duel. Although he breathed heavily, Slade did not feel tired. He held on to the thought that Terra was only one fight away. If her captor could only be killed, she would be free.
The thought of Terra's freedom was more than enough to keep him fighting.
But the witch Raven was like no other foe that Slade had ever faced. She moved along her territory with more deftness and speed than any mortal he had ever seen. She struck at him with strange, demonic attacks made of black energy. Slade was only barely able to dodge these—one hit his arm, knocking the sword out of his hand, and rendering it useless. Slade cried out, and the witch advanced, hovering just over the ground in front of him.
But Slade had not been a fool enough to carry only one weapon.
Although his right arm had been put out of commission, Slade's left was more ready for battle than it had ever been before. As the witch Raven drew closer, preparing for a final attack, Slade's left hand seized a small dagger from the hidden sheath inside of his belt. It was nearly invisible to anyone who did not know that it was there—until Slade decided to let them have the knowledge.
Raven was thus unprepared when the knowledge of Slade's dagger was given to her, through her right leg.
The witch Raven cried out, sinking to the ground in pain, and Slade dashed across the floor to collect his fallen weapon.
"You cannot kill me so easily!" yelled the witch, as a bubble of the same strange, demonic energy enveloped his sword, leaving Slade with no choice but to use the dagger. There was no longer an element of surprise, and the dagger forced him to fight in even closer quarters than before.
"You will fall, Slade," proclaimed the witch, sending yet more energy his way. Slade was hit once more in the same arm. He felt himself beginning to lose his advantage. He felt the exhaustion in his legs, and knew that they were threatening to give out on him, leaving him at the mercy of the witch. He knew that the battle must end soon.
Slade circled slowly around the room, as a predator would when confronted with another of his kind. The witch Raven did not take her amethyst eyes away from him, but for the moment, seemed content to watch.
"You will fall, Slade," she repeated. "It is only now a matter of time."
"I will not leave Terra at your mercy," said Slade, still pacing in a large ellipse around the witch.
"My mercy will be far better to her than yours," snapped Raven.
"We shall see." Like the lion who has cornered his prey, Slade pounced. The dagger still in his left fist, he moved with such speed and grace that even the witch could not dodge him.
Slade had no more time for careful planning, or for delicate moves. He plunged the knife into the witch's heart.
With a cry of pain and of despair, the witch sank. Slade jumped back, crouching on the floor, ready again to spring at any moment. But there was no need. The witch was dying. The dagger remained stuck in her heart, and the witch was falling to the ground. Her cries echoed around the small, stone room, and the strange energy that she had used against Slade had turned its loyalty. An aura of it surrounded Raven, dragging her down into another ebony circle on the floor.
And then, all was silent.
Slade looked around the room, still cautious. He did not know the ways of the witch, and did not know whether this was some trick of hers. But the minutes passed, and after a quarter hour, Slade allowed himself to relax.
There was a noise coming from the door at the top of the stairs. A cautious shuffle, a confused joy. Slade knew it to be Terra, lifting her tearstained face and wondering what had happened in the tower below her. But Slade had slid down against the wall as he relaxed, and found that much of his strength had gone. His right arm hung limp at his side, and his legs spread haphazardly in front of him. He couldn't summon the energy to stand, no matter how much he longed to free Terra from her prison.
But what Slade didn't realize was that he already had.
Slowly, the door at the top of the stairs began to open. A tiny sliver of light flowed into the witch Raven's dark room, landing on the spot where Slade rested.
"Hello?" called out a young girl's voice, timid and confused. "Is anyone there?"
"Only me, Terra," said Slade, looking up the stairs to see her frightened face, nearly obscured by the light at her back.
"Slade!" she cried, throwing open her door and nearly flying down the stairs. "Oh Slade, I worried so. When the witch found you, I worried—"
"You need no longer worry about the witch," Slade assured her. "Nor the changeling, or the boy, or any of her pupils."
Terra kneeled next to this knight, who had rescued her from a multitude of perils. "You're hurt," she said, touching his wounded arm. Slade could not even feel her touch.
Rather than answer, Slade reached his other hand to her head. His fingers brushed against the fringe of her hair. Terra touched her own hand to his, and this time, he could feel her warmth.
"Let me help you," said Terra, arranging her hands over Slade's hurt arm. "The witch may not have taught me as completely as she did her other students, but I did learn a bit."
And as Terra chanted, Slade could see the witch's demonic energy seeping out of his arm. Wherever the darkness flowed out, his sense of feeling returned, until the entire limb was once again unharmed. With this healing, Slade could also feel the weariness leaving his legs, and he stood.
"You are an angel," he told her, again running his fingers through her still-long hair.
"You've saved me," said Terra, who had stood at the same time as he had. "I don't know how to thank you."
"I believe you do," said Slade, moving his hand from her hair to her shoulders, and to her back. She did nothing to resist when he pulled her close to him. Instead, she draped her own hands around Slade's shoulders, even taking a step forward into his arms.
They kissed, the rescued and the rescuer. Slade could think only of her loveliness, and of the softness of her skin. Terra could not think at all; she was too much swept away by his embrace.
"Come," said Slade. "Wintergreen is waiting. And you've nothing left to keep you in this place."
Terra only smiled. There was nothing of value in her room, nothing left to do. Slade kept his arm draped around her, and led her down the stairs. He did not need to shield her from the grisly scenes on each floor. Terra possessed the confidence to look upon the fate of her former captives, not with pleasure perhaps, but with calm acceptance.
Slade helped Terra onto his horse. She nearly slipped, having never ridden in her sixteen years, but held him around the waist to steady herself. Slade touched her hand once more, and turned to kiss her gently, before giving Wintergreen a kick.
And the young girl and her rescuer rode off together, far from the tower which had been her prison, to the vast and open land that Slade would share with her. And the two lived out the rest of their lives together, happy, for ever after.
0-0-0-0-0
Slade looked back down at Terra as he finished his story. For a minute He thought that she had fallen asleep; she lay quiet and warm against him. But she sighed, content.
"You know what the best part of the story is, Slade?" she asked, in a sleepy murmur. She wasn't yet asleep, but she was coming close.
"What's that, my dear?"
"It might as well be true." Terra smiled, breathing deeply and calmly as she relaxed even further against her lover.
Slade chuckled, and Terra could feel his laugh rumbling around his chest. With a lazy, absent-minded movement, he wound a lock of Terra's long blonde hair around his finger.
"Thank you," whispered Terra, her eyes closed, and the sliver of moonlight no longer assaulting her eyes.
"Good night, Terra." Slade slid down, back under the blanket, and rested his head against hers on the pillow.
The moonlight still played outside the window, but had lost its aim. The room was dark and quiet as the lovers fell asleep.