Paul Kemp: Twilight Falling

Riven drew Cale's sword, and touched it to the water. Nothing.

It was over, he knew then.

He replaced the sword in Cale's scabbard-the man ought to die with his own weapon. Cursing under his breath, he climbed to his feet. So too did Fleet and Magadon. All of them shared a look of resignation.

The water was knee deep. In moments, the entire dome would collapse.

Riven struggled with himself for a moment before pulling from his cloak the two bronze teleportation rods he had taken from the slaadi. Fleet's eyes went wide with surprise, then darkened with suspicion.

"Two of us can use these," Riven said.

He handed one to Fleet and the surprise in the halfling's face almost made their plight worthwhile. He handed the other to Magadon. Riven couldn't leave Cale. They were bound together by their god.

"Take them," he said, "and go."

Fleet took the rod, looked at it, then looked at Cale. He shook his head and held the rod back out to Riven.

"I'm not leaving him," he said.

"Don't be an idiot, Fleet!"

"I'm not leaving him," Fleet said again, with that same mettle that had long ago ceased to surprise Riven. "Besides, we don't even know where these will take us."

"Anywhere is better than here," Riven replied.

Jak merely smiled and shook his head.

Magadon too smiled and handed back the rod.

He looked to Cale and said, "I told him I was in this, and I am. To the end."

Riven stared at them both and wondered how Cale managed to inspire such loyalty in his comrades. Only then did he realize that he too was prepared to die at Cale's side.

There was a lesson in there somewhere. Too bad he had to die to learn it.

"Then we'll all die fools," he said, and tucked away the rods.

They gathered up Cale, sloshed through the water a ways, found a suitable spot, and waited. Riven saw that Fleet held his holy symbol in his hands. His teeth were chattering. Riven considered praying to the Lord of Shadows but didn't; it just was not in him, not then. He worshiped Mask for power, not comfort. Still, he was surprised to find his hand over the onyx disc at his throat.

"Riven …" Fleet began.

Riven shook his head and replied, "I know, Fleet."

Fleet looked him in the face, nodded, and went back to his prayers.

Together, they sat in the cold water and waited for death. All of them watched the dome sink farther, watched the dribbles turn to torrents. More and more water filled the bubble. It would be only moments before it burst and the lake crushed them.

Fleet took Cale's regenerated hand in his own and said, "It's been fun, my friend."

Cale, with his eyes still closed, made no reply.

Magadon surprised them all with a chuckle.

"You know," the guide said, "you still owe me three hundred gold pieces."

"That'll have to wait," Riven said, as the bubble finally gave way.

A roar louder than a thousand warhorns sounded in Riven's ears. Millions of buckets of water poured down, foaming, churning. Riven stared up in defiance.

His mind turned to his dogs, his girls, and he wondered what would happen to them after he died. The water washed away any tears he might have shed.

A peculiar darkness surrounded him and he knew no more.