Fear and Vengeance

Nights in the Death Frontier were much like the days—the constant howling of the desert wind still kept the sky a strange faded no-color. Even the eerie silver orb of the Moon That Never Sets could scarcely be seen through the haze.

The Dragoons slept fitfully, bedding down on the scoured stone floor and occasionally hacking out sand that had somehow filtered into their throats. But Rose did not sleep—she rarely did since they had left Vellweb. She was always lost in her thoughts and her long, long tapestry of memories, and that made sleep almost impossible.

But that wasn't all—and to be perfectly frank, it wasn't the real reason she couldn't sleep tonight.

In truth, Rose feared Dart.

Like her, he'd very rarely slept or eaten since they'd set foot in the Death Frontier. Most nights he would sit on a rock, sharpening his sword or his knives on a whetstone, staring up at the great pregnant Moon in the sky (when she was visible, of course). Rose was afraid that Dart would finally spring at her and take her head off with his sword. She wasn't afraid of death—in truth, at times she craved it—but still the fear was there.

And why shouldn't she expect it? All his life Dart had been seeking revenge against the black creature that had razed his childhood home to cinders, and now, after years of fruitless searching, he had finally caught up to the villain. He had spoken at length around campfires over the last year about what he would do to the Black Monster when he finally confronted it. Rose had, of course, found those conversations particularly uncomfortable.

But now the truth was known, and still Dart waited.

A hand fell on her shoulder like dead fate.

"Let's go," Dart whispered roughly.

* * *

They clambered out of the pit, and for a long moment they just stood there, slender Rose's black armor dusted gray, Dart's a dull maroon. The harsh arid wind had slackened a little, so they did not need to raise their voices above a dry whisper.

Dart stabbed a finger toward the horizon. "Walk."

Rose glanced over her shoulder and looked at the pit. She could still see the rest of the Dragoons, still sleeping at the bottom. Her stomach twisted in knots. They reminded her so much of her old friends, all of whom were now long dead.

Except for her. And Zieg.

When they woke up, would they ask Dart any questions? Or would they all know, intuitively, what had happened? Would her absence be noticed?

Would she even be missed?

She closed her eyes, and felt a fugitive tear spill down her cheek. In her mind, she said goodbye to them all—studious Albert, dainty Meru, stolid Haschel, gentle Kongol, even hot-tempered Miranda. She said goodbye to them like she had wished she'd done for her old friends. Then she turned away from the pit, knowing in the depths of her heart that she would never see them again.

He was still standing there, his desert-blond hair whipped and flogged by the wind, his jaw set in an all-too-familiar grim expression. It was how Zieg had looked on the day he slew Melbu Frahma. And those eyes, like chips of glittering flint, were fixed on her. And Rose could almost feel the blade already between her ribs—in her heart.

"Dart," she said.

"Walk," Dart said again, pointing. His voice crackled harshly. His other hand dropped to the handle of his sword.

Rose's eyes went to the direction Dart was pointing. Another tear traced a clear track through the grime on her face. She nodded once, brushed the tears away, and started to walk toward her destiny.

* * *

They walked for a long time—it seemed like an eternity to Rose. Every step she took felt like the ticking of some long-running clock that was finally winding down. She would look back over her shoulder from time to time, but Dart was still close behind her, one hand still fingering the hilt of his sword. Neither one spoke. Soon the pit where the others slept had disappeared behind them.

They were all alone now.

The thought of begging, of pleading, never once crossed her mind. She knew that Dart would not listen to such mercies. Not from the woman who had murdered so many. The best she could hope for was that her death would be quick.

Then Rose saw it—it was as though the gods would allow her one final look at the last remnant of her sacrifice. The sandy haze had begun to dissipate, and now she could see it.

It was a cruel joke the gods had played on her. She had been alone for centuries, for millennia, forced to cut a swath of murder and misery that had caused her to be branded a monster by history and legend. And all that she had sacrificed would be for nothing now. Soon the Moon would reveal its final terrible secret, and she would not be around to stop it. The Moon Child lived, and now the world—all of it—would soon be dead.

She didn't even realize she'd spoken the last sentence aloud until Dart whispered, "So now you want to murder Shana, too?"

Rose turned away from the sky and looked at Dart. Dart was watching her with those damnable eyes.

"It's not what I want, Dart," she said, fighting back an old surge of fury. "Don't you understand? It has nothing to do with what I want. It's either Shana or the entire world. Would you sacrifice every man, woman and child for your love?"

"Gods damn you." A vein was throbbing in his neck as he stared her down. "You chose to be a murderer in the first place. You've killed Soa knows how many people—and for what? Because you wanted to."

"I never wanted this for myself!" She felt her own hand drop down to her rapier, the first time in weeks. "I never chose this life. The gods chose it for me. I wish I had died with my friends—but their sacrifice would have been for nothing if I didn't become the Black Monster."

"Don't even try and justify yourself!" Now Dart's fingers closed around the haft of his weapon and slowly drew it out. "You've spilled blood—innocent blood! How does that make you any better than the gods?"

"Don't you dare compare me to them!" Now her rage burst forth in a geyser. "This was my destiny! Don't you understand? The gods said Shana would be the Moon Child. That was her destiny! And my destiny is to kill the Moon Child."

Dart braced his sword in both hands, his eyes never leaving hers. "And me? Am I destined to kill you to save Shana?"

Rose felt the old rage become engulfed by the new regret as she unsheathed her rapier. "As long as I live, the Moon Child will die."

Dart grimaced—and for the briefest instant, Rose saw a flicker of regret in his own eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the fury that had left Rose. "If it is the will of the gods, then so be it."

He charged forward in a bull's rush, swinging his sword in a hard overhead arc. Rose saw the blade coming and moved her rapier up to deflect the blow, while at the same time sidestepping it. Dart's stroke went wild but he managed to hew a devastating kick into Rose's thigh. She was bowled off her feet and landed heavily on the ground. She was up in a flash, though, just as Dart's blade plunged downward. She rolled to the side, and the blade buried itself halfway to the hilt in the sand right where her head had been.

Dart wrenched the sword free and whirled to face Rose. Rose came at him, thrusting forward, her stiletto-thin blade barely missing Dart's jugular. He parried the blow and spun rightward, his other hand bunched in a fist. It crashed heavily against Rose's temple. She saw stars but did not falter, and as Dart brought his sword up again she sprang forward like a leopard, thrusting low. The blade ripped through Dart's left thigh. Dart grunted with pain and knocked her back, and as Rose staggered away she saw blood pouring freely down Dart's leg.

Dart seemed not to notice, however, as he raised his sword and scythed it hard. Rose raised her rapier to parry the blow . . . and in doing so, fell for Dart's trap. He quickly and deftly thrust forward instead of swinging, and the blade sliced across Rose's cheek. She felt a hot stinging agony, and her eyes began to well.

She shook her head to clear it, and saw Dart was coming. She hurled herself back as Dart slashed with all his might; Dart's blade sundered the haft of her rapier. It flew in twain into the desert darkness; the weapon she had carried into battle for thousands of years was finally gone.

Dart stepped forward, left leg still dripping blood. Rose watched him come and felt a strange sense of awe overcome her. This moment had been foretold. Stacked atop all the other moments of her existence lay this one, the last thing before she died.

He took another step, almost floating along. It all seemed a dream to Rose. The sword came up in his hands.

"At last," she breathed, dawning blooming in her gray eyes. "End it now."

Dart let out a loud roar—an ancient battle cry from deep within his soul—and with all his strength hewed his sword down. At the last moment Rose closed her eyes, and waited for the killing blow.

* * *

She awoke to pain and the sound of footsteps. The pain informed her she was not in heaven.

She opened an eye and saw dull pale stone. She opened the other eye and saw more stone. A wall. She recognized it—the ancient corridor of Gloriano. Her head throbbed. Her last memory was of drawing her sword against—

Her sword. She moved slightly and felt for her rapier. It wasn't there. Her head throbbed ominously. Cautiously, she put a hand up to the side of her head. It had been laid open, and there was a heavy crust of drying blood there. She was alive. She felt a distinct sense of surprise at this discovery.

Dart. He had struck her down and left her for dead.

But how did she get back here?

She eased herself to a sitting position and felt blood rushing back to her legs with a tingle of pins and needles. Her head hurt horribly when she did.

She let out a hoarse croak as she cleared her throat. A shape moved in the dark.

"You're awake," said a familiar voice.

In the dim light she saw his face. Her mouth fell open in shock.

"You brought me back. Why?"

Dart shrugged and eased down beside her. His left thigh was swathed in bandages.

"It's done," he said.

Rose felt her throat harden. "Why? Was it pity?"

Dart shook his head. "No. It's because you're right. My father is going to destroy the world—he's going to destroy everything. It's not just about me or Neet or even Shana."

Rose's eyes widened. "What about your revenge?"

"I killed the Black Monster," Dart said. "Now there's just you. Rose. My friend."

He put a hand to her cheek. At his touch she felt a tingling warmth that had nothing to do with the cut furrowed there.

"I am sorry, Dart. For everything."

Dart smiled faintly. "All is forgiven."

He stood and walked back to where the other dragoons lay. Overcome by it all, Rose lay back on the sandy stone floor. She took several deep breaths, pushed herself up again, and staggered toward them. Not long ago, she had thought she'd never see them again. She wanted to join them but she found she could simply not move any more. The dizziness kept coming. She remembered Dart's words to her.

All is forgiven.

Then darkness fell across her eyes, and she knew no more.