Timothy Zahn - Triplet

Within minutes, maybe even seconds, the demon/troll would be after him again... and Astaroth still had one lethal crossbow bolt left.

That last bolt remained unfired as Ravagin made it across the clearing to the relative safety of the Tunnel. Activating his firefly ring, he ran as quickly as the sloping floor and uncertain footing permitted. Barely halfway to the curved section the sudden sound of more breaking branches reached him. Swearing under his breath, he tried to pick up his pace... and just as he reached the curve and started around it there was a faint twang from far behind him and a crossbow bolt whistled past him to ricochet from the wall. Clamping his teeth hard, he kept running, resisting the impulse to shut down the firefly. With the curve between him and the demon/troll, darkness wouldn't give him any more protection and would only slow him down in the race ahead.

And it was going to be a race. Ravagin had seen trolls run before, and it was only the fact that the curved path slowed both of them down that gave him any chance at all of beating the machine to the telefold. Even with that, even with his head start and Astaroth's limited control over the troll machinery, it was going to be close. If Danae wasn't ready...

Another bolt ricocheted around the corner behind him, jarring him out of his thoughts. Astaroth, shooting blind with—Ravagin saw—one of the blunted stun bolts. Presumably the last one had been the other stun bolt, which meant he was saving his remaining sharp one for last. For right before the telefold.

Another fifty meters to go. The demon/troll's heavy footsteps could be heard now, their echoes mixing with those of Ravagin's to fill the Tunnel with rolling thunder. A few more seconds. The center of Ravagin's back itched with the thought of that last crossbow bolt—his breathing sounded ragged in his ears above the pounding of his heart—almost there—

He came around the last part of the curve... and skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted him.

Danae was waiting for him, all right. Her nude body lay stretched out against the wall directly ahead of him, her eyes closed in the firefly's light, a dark bruise almost visibly forming beneath her right ear. A half dozen meters further ahead, facing him from the Karyx side of the telefold—

"Astaroth," Ravagin gasped, dropping down beside Danae, shielding her with his body from whatever was to come. "His name... is Astaroth."

"Understood," Hart said, glacially calm. "I'm ready." The tone of the thudding footsteps behind Ravagin suddenly changed, and he twisted his head around to see the demon/troll come into sight, crossbow raised and tracking—

"Hakleb—!" Hart shouted.

In that instant Astaroth must have realized what was about to happen. The demon/troll shifted its aim, instinctively firing its last bolt at this new and unexpected threat. Reflexively, Hart ducked as the bolt came at him—and came at him, and came at him, covering the teleport's five meters over and over again until it struck the floor and finally lay still.

"—Astaroth—"

The demon screamed, one last welling up of hatred and fury. And perhaps of fear, for he knew now he was defeated, and Ravagin could only imagine what punishment the fourth world would order for that failure.

"—mirraim!"

And with the last part of the invocation spell Astaroth's wail suddenly changed its position, shifting in an instant from the troll behind Ravagin to the Karyx side of the telefold.

From Hart's side of the telefold. "Come on—move it!" Ravagin shouted at the other.

Hart needed no urging... but even as he leaped toward the telefold and the safety of Shamsheer an explosion of green flame abruptly enveloped his body. He gasped with pain, the sound mixing with the demon's own howling to set Ravagin's teeth on edge. A second later Hart was through the telefold; and as the corona vanished he collapsed to the ground in a smoking heap.

Ravagin was at his side in an instant. "Hart!" he snapped, fingers probing for the other's pulse. Weak, rapid, thready... "Come on, Hart, come on. You're safe now. Hang on—you can make it."

Slowly, the other opened his eyes. "The demon," he said with some effort. "Is he...?"

"It worked," Ravagin assured him. "Exactly the way we thought it would. Of course he's across— who the hell do you think attacked you?"

"And... Ms. mal... ce—"

"Danae's fine," he sighed. "You didn't hit her all that hard. For God's sake, Hart—"

He broke off, but Hart answered the unasked question anyway. "She wanted to do it," he whispered.

"She insisted on... taking the same risk... you were taking. I... couldn't let her."

Ravagin gritted his teeth. "Danae!" he shouted, turning his head around. "Wake up, Danae—come on, damn it, I need you."

"Don't bother with me," Hart said, fingers clutching at Ravagin's sleeve. "The shock alone... just get her out... and back home. Just... leave me here."

"The hell I will," Ravagin growled. "With air transport to a Dreya's Womb only a prayer stick call away? Sit tight, Hart—I'm going to go out a ways and call a sky-plane."

"Ravagin—"

"No argument, damn it. Just think of it as part of my job."

He wasn't sure... but as he stood up to go he thought he saw the faintest trace of a smile on the other's lips.

It seemed fitting, somehow, for them to meet at the Double Imperial for their quiet celebration.

Danae was late, and as she was led to the table she saw Ravagin was already there. "Sorry," she said as the maitre d' slid her chair in. "I stayed longer than I'd planned to at the hospital."

"No problem," Ravagin said, his eyes burning into hers. "How is he?"

She shook her head, feeling her throat tighten with the burden of memories. "They've found some more neural damage they have to try and track down. The right side of his face, this time. Aside from that... well, he's conscious and as calm as ever and... not in too much pain..." She broke off, blinking against sudden tears.

Ravagin nodded heavily. "Anything come of the suggestion that the doctors take him into Shamsheer and see if the Dreya's Wombs can do anything more for him?"

"They're afraid to move him," she said, wiping her eyes. "Especially since they can't take any support gear across with them." She took a deep breath. "I almost wish—"

She broke off, but too late, and she winced at the look of pain that appeared on Ravagin's face. "I'm sorry, Danae," he said in a low voice. "There just wasn't any way to get to Saban's circuit diagrams in time. I don't know—maybe I should have tried—"

"Hey," she cut him off softly, reaching across the table to grip his hand. "It's all right—really it is.

Besides, what would we have told people when they asked us how we did it?" But even as she spoke, the thought of the diagrams rose, siren-like, before her. Perhaps if Ravagin could just have brought one of them out for her to memorize... With a supreme effort of will, she crushed the thought back down. "No, it's better this way," she sighed. "You saw what happened to Saban; those diagrams were his own private addiction. Even with just a taste of it—you think we could have held out against the temptation to go back and get just a little more? Especially since we know how to do it?"

"Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath. "You're right. Let's get the hell off the subject before we blow Hart's whole sacrifice out of the water and replace Saban with one of us."

Hart's sacrifice. Unbidden, fresh tears formed in Danae's eyes. "It should have been me," she whispered.

Ravagin understood. "It was his choice, Danae," he reminded her gently. "He knew what he was risking when he took your place."

"I know. Just part of his job, he'd say," she said with a trace of bitterness.