Роджер Мур - The Reign of Istar

“I can’t!” Michael cried savagely. “Look! Look!” He yanked the holy symbol from its hiding place beneath his robes, held it up for Nikol to see. “It’s dark, as dark as that path before us. Do you know what that means? The goddess has turned away from me. She won’t answer my prayers. Even if we did find Nicholas, I could do nothing for him.”

Nikol stared at him, not comprehending. “But … how? How could the goddess abandon you?”

Because I abandoned the goddess! I did it for you, for you and Nicholas! Michael wanted to shout at her, vent his frustration, his fear and anger—anger at her, anger at the gods …

He shivered suddenly. He shouldn’t be angry. That was wrong. The faithful were never angry, never questioned. Again, he’d been found lacking.

“I can’t explain,” Michael said tiredly. “The matter is between myself and my god. But, now, you must come away from this place. As you see, there’s nothing we can do …”

Nikol let go of him, as she might have tossed away a piece of rubbish.

“Thank you for accompanying me this far.” Her voice was cold, bitter with disappointment. “You needn’t go on with me. This place holds far more danger for you than for me, for now it appears that you are defenseless against its evil. Farewell, Brother—! mean, Michael.”

She turned and walked, with firm step, into the fearsome, fire-ravaged forest. The shadows surrounded her instantly. He lost sight of her, could not even see a glint of her armor.

Michael stood shivering on the outskirts of the blackened woods. Mishakal’s words, forgotten until now, came back. to him suddenly, as if spoken for this very time, this very place.

If you lack faith, if you stay and interfere, you run the risk of dooming yourself, the woman, and the world to a terrible fate!

He had stayed. He had interfered. He had helped bring this evil upon her, upon himself, perhaps upon the world!

“I should have faith,” he counseled himself. “If I did, I’d let her go. Paladine is with her. Love armors her. She will only lose her life. I might lose my soul! I should turn away, seek the Lost Citadel, beg the goddess to forgive me. I have only until tonight to find it, to retrieve my faith …”

He did turn away. He turned his back on the dark and fearsome woods into which she had vanished. He took a step away from her and then another. And then, he stopped.

He could not leave her. He could not leave her to die alone, in pain and in terror. Although it would cost him his soul, he would go with her, be with her until the end.

Until doom fell upon them … and the world.

Michael was blind. Darkness, thick and suffocating, fell over his sight the moment he entered the fearsome woods. His loss of vision was utter and instantaneous. He could see nothing—not vague shadowy outlines, not movement. He could see neither the shine of Nikol’s armor nor the sheen of her golden hair. So strange and terrifying was his sudden blindness that he involuntarily put his hand to his eyes. It seemed to him that they must have been plucked out.

“Michael?” Nikol was frightened. “Michael … is that you? Michael, I can’t see!”

“I’m here,” he said.

He tried to sound reassuring, but he choked on the words. Yes, he was here. A lot of good it would do her, do either of them. He reached out with groping hands toward the sound of her voice, the silvery jingle of the buckles on her armor. “I … can’t see either, my lady.”

He paused, blinked. Suddenly, he could see. He could see the way out, the way back. He could see the hot sunlight shining in the clearing, see the ruts left by the wagon wheels leading into these woods. He gasped aloud in thankfulness. He had feared, for a moment, that his sight had been stolen from him forever.

“What is it, Michael?” Nikol heard him, caught hold of his hand.

“Turn around, my lady,” he said, guiding her.

She did so, slowly, feet shuffling in the charred undergrowth and ashes. Her eyes widened, she clasped his hand tightly.

“I was so afraid!” She breathed, shifted to look at him. Her smile slowly faded. “I can’t see you!” She moved her head around. “I can’t see anything ahead of me …”

“We can see the way out—”

“But I don’t want to go out!” she cried angrily. “I—”

The sound of the scream came again, but it sounded farther away, came from deeper within the wood. They could hear a horse’s hooves and the rattle of a cart being driven at a slow pace over uneven ground. Letting go of Michael’s hand, Nikol ran forward.

“Nikol! Come back—”

He heard her running footsteps, then heard her stumble, fall, heard the sound of angry, frustrated sobbing. He made his way toward her, fumbling through the terrifying darkness that seemed to become darker the farther into it he ventured. He almost fell over her, knelt beside her.

“Are you hurt?”

“Leave me alone!” Nikol started to get to her feet. “I’m going after him.”

He lost patience. “Nikol, be reasonable. It’s hopeless! Even if you could see, could you keep up with a cart on foot? You can’t find the trail! You can’t see what obstacles or dangers lie in your path. You could step off a cliff, fall into a chasm—”

“I will not abandon him. I will go after him if I have to crawl!”

He felt her, so near him, turn. He knew she was looking back the way they’d come. He turned as well. Never had sunlight looked so bright or so beautiful. The clearing, which had seemed a place of terror before, was now a haven of peace and safety.

Thus do we take our blessings for granted, until they are gone, he thought in bitter sadness, putting his hand to the symbol of Mishakal that lay, a heavy burden, on his chest.

“What is causing this?” Nikol demanded in frustration. “What evil has created this darkness?”

“Nuitari,” answered a soft and whispering voice, “god of the unseen. You walk in the light of the dark moon.”

“Who is it?” Nikol was on her feet. Michael heard the ring of steel. She had drawn her sword. “Who is there?”

“Your weapon is useless, Sir Knight.” The voice was heavily ironic. “I’ve been sitting here, watching you two bumble about for the last ten minutes. I could have slain you both twice over before now.”

Michael stood, grasped Nikol’s sword arm. He could feel her trembling in frustration and fear. She shoved him away, swung the sword in front of her wildly, more to relieve her own sense of helplessness than in hope in hitting anything. He heard the blade whistle harmlessly through the air.

The unseen watcher began to laugh, a laugh that caught suddenly in his throat, changed to a racking cough. After long moments, the coughing spasm ceased. Michael heard a ragged, indrawn breath.

“My lady,” Michael counseled, reaching for her, finding her arm, holding it firmly. “If this person has watched us, as he claims, then he must be able to see.”

“That is true,” said Nikol, lowering her sword. “Can you see?”

“I can,” answered the voice calmly. “To those of us who walk in Nuitari’s night, this wood is lit as brightly as the day. For you, it will grow ever darker with each step you take. But, perhaps you have wandered in here by accident. I suggest you leave, while you can still find the way out.”

“If you have been watching us, as you say, you know that we did not enter this wood by accident,” said Nikol coolly. She had turned in the direction of the voice, her sword still in her hand, her guard raised. “Someone has been taken into this wood, someone dear to us. We have reason to believe he is being held captive by goblins.”

“A young man?” asked the voice. “Comely, well made, with a grievous wound in his side? He is wrapped in bloody bandages …”