As the mountain fastness reluctantly opened its snow shy;bound gates to the rest of Krynn, Ariakas knew for cer shy;tain that his time in the tower was drawing to a close. A life in one place, however luxurious, would not content him-he needed more freedom than he could find here. And with the lady at his side, Ariakas knew he could be happy anywhere he journeyed.
On one remarkably warm day, the first day that could truly be called summerlike, he sought his lady in her chambers, after he had finished his fuel-hauling labor- labor that had not lightened in any way, despite the com shy;ing of spring.
"Lady, will you come away with me-to Sanction?" he asked when he found her resting on the soft divan.
She rose to a sitting position and regarded him with an expression akin to sadness.
"Do you really want to leave?" she inquired, a curious catch in her throat.
Ariakas fell to one knee. "My time with you has shown me the true value of life," he declared. "And if it meant leaving you behind, I would stay here with you forever. But think of it-you and I, together in that city of fierce splendor."
She sighed and lowered her eyes to the floor.
"I have money," he assured her, afraid that worries of poverty brought her hesitant response. "We could live like nobles there! And there's the treasure in the room below-if we took just a few of the largest stones we could trade them for another fortune! We could have all the wealth and power of monarchs!"
"But pray, Ariakas," she retorted. "Is that not how we
live here, now? Is there a king or a queen on all of Krynn who shares the freedoms, the pleasures and joys, that are our daily fare?"
"It is the matter of freedom," Ariakas admitted. "This tower has become our palace, but it has also become our prison! Don't you yearn, just a little bit, for the sounds of civilization, the press of a crowd or the bustle of a great marketplace?"
She shook her head, and he was startled at the raw honesty of the gesture. "No," she replied, "I don't. But I see now that you do, and that is what is important… to us both."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is time for you to remember your promise-do you?"
"Of course." His pledge, to perform a single task for her without question, remained fresh and vivid in his mind. "It's a pledge that I shall honor! Is it your com shy;mand that I remain here with you?" Though Sanction had begun to loom in his imagination, he would not have been heartbroken to agree.
"No-if only it could be that simple!"
Now he studied her in surprise, for he sensed that she was on the verge of tears. "What is it, Lady-what is your command?" he pressed. For the first time he felt a vague but growing disquiet. "Tell me, and it shall be done!"
"Tomorrow will be soon enough," she said, and there were tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "For now, tonight, you must hold me and love me."
That night passed, and with the dawn Ariakas remem shy;bered her words. "Now tell me," he begged. "What is your command? Tell me so that I can demonstrate my love!"
She rose and went to the great sword-the two-handed weapon he had claimed from the ogre he had slain his first night in the tower. After months of tender care, the blade was as keen as any on Krynn, the weight
sufficient to crush bone. Bringing the weapon to him, she extended the hilt toward his hand.
"My command to you, Lord Ariakas," she told him somberly, "is this: You are to take this blade, and with it you must slay me."
For a moment he reeled backward, certain that his ears had deceived him. The determined look in her eyes-it was no longer sadness, but instead a kind of grim accep shy;tance-told him that he had heard correctly.
"But-why? How can you ask this-the one thing I can't do!" he protested.
"You can, and you will!" she retorted. "Take it!"
Dumbly he took hold of the hilt, and she pulled the long scabbard away with a jerk of her hand. "Now, kill me!" she cried.
"No-tell me why!" he demanded.
"Because she commands it!"
"She? Who?" His temper exploded into fury.
"My mistress! She who has given me the power to heal, to feed-even to love you," she cried. "It is the price she exacts, now."
"Tell me the mistress you serve!" Ariakas demanded furiously.
"You will know soon," the lady said. "But it is not for me to tell you. Now, I command you-in the name of your promise to me-kill me! It was a promise you made freely, and remember, Lord Ariakas-you pledged that you would carry it out without question!"
"Wait," he said, his own tone softening, grasping for some shred of sanity. "Forget that I suggested we go to Sanction. We'll stay here all summer-for all the sum shy;mers to come, and we'll be happy. I… I can't do what you ask!"
"You must!" she insisted. Almost scornfully she tore the bodice from her dress, exposing her breasts in a brazen challenge. "I command you, Lord Ariakas-in the name of the pledge you have made! Slay me!"
A furious passion took possession of him then, lower shy;ing a kind of blood-fog over his mind, numbing the sen shy;sations of grief that nevertheless racked him. He knew that she was right; he had made his pledge, and he would honor his word.
He stabbed her through the heart, his blow powerful and true, the blade penetrating her rib cage and emerg shy;ing from her back in a shower of blood. With an agoniz shy;ing yank, he pulled the weapon free, and waited for her to fall.
Thick liquid spurted from the wound, splashing onto Ariakas's boots and quickly pooling onto the floor. He reeled in shock; the blood that spilled down her belly was verdant green in color. It pooled between her legs, a surreal puddle of false paint. Ariakas gagged in shock and revulsion.
The lady kept her dark eyes upon him, and he stared into them with anguish in his heart, waiting for his vic shy;tim's vision to glaze with the fog of death he had seen so many times before.
But she didn't fall!
"Again!" she commanded, her voice as strong as ever. Sickened, he thrust once more, chopping at her throat and releasing another shower-but this time the liquid was bright blue. Unquestioningly he hefted the blade, thrusting it through the center of her torso in another surely fatal blow. This time crimson blood showered forth, quickly gushing into a pool on the floor. His next thrust cut her deeply across the stomach, and blood of pure, midnight black spilled forth.
"Die! Why don't you die?" he choked.
He attacked again, slashing wildly with the great sword, chopping her head from her shoulders with one brutal slice. The bright white liquid erupting from the wound like thick milk was a final, grotesque horror. Overcome, he turned away and retched the contents of his stomach over the floor.
Yet still, as her head thudded to the flagstones and his heart broke within him, her body did not fall. Instead, it seemed to shrink, as if the multicolored blood had inflated her skin, as if the very stuff of her body flowed outward from the gaping wounds.
Ariakas stumbled backward, noticing that the blood flowing around her was no longer liquid, no longer col shy;lecting in sticky pools on the floor. Instead, it became like smoke, swirling upward into the air, forming serpentine columns, coiling into five great snakes. Each slinking form was the color of one shade of her blood.
The sword fell from his nerveless fingers as the snake-like shapes writhed, spreading and encircling him in their coils. He saw wicked heads take shape at the end of each snake, each with a pair of eyes that glittered wisely at him. Five horrific mouths gaped, and the smoky snakes thickened in the air until they seemed solid and real. Yet he sensed in the depths of his soul that these things were not real, that he beheld a presence that came from beyond Krynn. It was only the sacrifice of his lady that allowed this grim creature to appear, to reach out and speak to him.
"Tell me, Lord Ariakas," commanded one of the snakes-the red one-in a voice that was sibilant and heavy with might and power. "Do you know, yet, whom you serve?"
He could only shake his head.
"Take up your sword, warrior," commanded the crim shy;son serpent.
Numbly, he reached down and raised the weapon. He noticed, with distant surprise, that the blade was a clear, unblemished white in color.