“What do you mean?” Terry asked, as a cold chill ran through her, in spite of the warm sunshine of the courtyard.

Hemdale looked grim. “This is not a usual case of the Duke snatching up a pretty thing that he coveted. The Duke was genuinely robbed, on the highway. It was dark, and no one could see the brigands’ faces, but he swears he recognizes Gregor’s voice. And that bag of gold he had!”

“Oh, no,” Maurice moaned. “The highwaymen. One of them did sound like Gregor. Did you tell him that the wraithlords have returned?”

“He doesn’t believe it,” Hemdale replied, and sighed. “He’s a silly man, unfit for his role, and I’m afraid the city will pay for his foolishness.”

“But how can we set him free?” Terry asked.

“I don’t know if we can,” Hemdale said, with a blank certainty that made the bottom of Terry’s stomach drop out.

“Then I’ll have to go to the Duke myself,” Terry resolved.

“No!” Hemdale said. “You mustn’t. He’ll send you back to your family—he has the power to do so—and it will not save Gregor.”

“But—this is not just about Gregor. We need to be four!” Maurice said.

“I know,” Hemdale replied. “And while Gregor’s plight is dreadful, we have to stay focused on the real danger that is creeping in on us.”

Hemdale looked around at the peaceful courtyard, peopled by his clerics, talking quietly and reading.

“This may be the last normal day our people experience for a long time,” he murmured. “Or one of the last. The days are dwindling, certainly.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Well, what did you find? I hope you were more successful than I was.”

“We were,” Maurice said, and told him quickly about the suncaves of the north. Hemdale’s grave face brightened a bit.

“Excellent work!” he said. “We’ll have to get you ready for your journey immediately.”

“But not without Gregor!” Terry said.

“Your highness, you don’t understand,” Hemdale spoke respectfully but firmly. “Gregor will be hanged at dawn tomorrow. I will choose a guide for you to accompany you to the suncaves. He will be your third. It will be best if you leave tonight.”

Terry stood up and placed one hand over her mouth, stifling a guttural cry. Maurice stood up, too, and put his arm around Terry, supporting her.

“We need rest,” he told Hemdale.

“Of course,” Hemdale said gently. “There are rooms prepared for you. Elwood will take you to them.”

Sensing their mood, Elwood stayed uncharacteristically silent as he led them down another long, stone corridor, to their small separate chambers. As soon as he left them, Terry joined Maurice in his room.

“Now before you start,” Maurice said. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“We have to try to break him out,” Terry said. “I’m not leaving him. He joined me out of loyalty, and I’ve led him to a vicious death—” she choked back tears. “Am I not a warrior?”

“In training,” Maurice said. “And I’m not one at all—I’m a cleric who can run fast. I can protect you somewhat against evil magic, but we’re not fighting evil magic—we’re fighting the Duke—the leader of this city according to every law and custom. Besides, Terry, we have a greater mission.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” Terry asked.

“Where?”

“I told you—to break him out.”

“Do you have anything resembling a plan?”

“No,” Terry admitted.

Maurice sighed. “Let’s walk over to the castle, now, while we won’t be missed,” he said. “You need to see what we’re up against.”

The two quietly exited the abbey, unnoticed, and joined the throng on the busy street. Maurice had insisted that both put on the long brown hooded robes of the cleric, so that they could move about with relative anonymity. The wide cobblestone street was a main thoroughfare, and it was crowded with people going to and fro. Street carts hawked their wares, and an occasional merchant’s carriage trundled through, its passengers presumably too delicate for the hubbub of the city streets. Soon, they approached the tallest structure in the town—the Duke’s castle, which included its courtroom, dungeon, and, much to Terrry’s horror, gallows. Two tall guards in equally tall caps stood guard at each side of the castle entrance.

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“Wait here,” Maurice said, and Terry stood by the castle wall while Maurice hailed one of the guards. He spoke to him briefly, then returned. Terry could tell by his expression that the news was not good.

“I told the guard we wanted to confer with the wicked highwayman about his immortal soul,” Maurice said. “He told me the Duke has forbidden all visitors, even holy ones, and that he is locked up in the tower. The duke is not taking any chances—he thinks his gang might try to rescue him. He’s not far off, really. Oh, Terry,” Maurice sighed. “The tower. Look!”

He pointed up, and up, and up, and Terry saw an impenetrable building, made of stone, with one tiny window at the very top.

“There he is,” Maurice said. “Even more out of our reach than I thought.”

“Gregor,” Terry whispered. “You trusted me, and I betrayed you.”

Defeated, she allowed Maurice to lead her through the city streets back to the abbey. They retired to their rooms and Terry tried to rest. She tossed and turned all afternoon in the cool, dark room, sick with guilt, and with the burden of what she knew she had to do.

At dinner time, there was a quiet knock on the door. It was Elwood. “Hemdale would like the both of you to dine with him in his chambers,” he said. They collected Maurice and met Hemdale in his rooms, where he’d had a table prepared with a rather fantastic repast. There was hot vegetable soup, roast chicken and meats, and loaves of pillowy soft and yeasty bread, still steaming from the oven.

“Our last good meal, eh, Hemdale?” Maurice said, and Hemdale made something between a grimace and a smile.

“Eat, drink, and be merry,” he said. “Or, at least, eat and drink. No, Elwood, don’t go. Join us.”

Elwood, surprised, sat down with the two travelers and the four of them busied themselves with their early dinner.

“As I said, I think it’s best that you leave tonight,” Hemdale said.

“I’m not leaving without Gregor,” Terry said calmly.

“Gregor is locked up in tower that has held princes and kings. He is forbidden all visitors and Hemdale, here, his closest spiritual advisor, cannot change the duke’s mind!” Maurice put his fist down on the table.

“I mean,” Terry said, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m not leaving while he’s still alive. I need to say goodbye to him.”

“You—you want to witness the execution?” Hemdale said incredulously.

“Of course I don’t want to witness the execution! I want to say goodbye to my friend. I don’t want him to die alone—” Terry put her hands over her face and sobbed quietly, just for a moment. Then she shook her head, and used a napkin to wipe her eyes. “Then we can leave. Whatever you want. We have—a mission, after all.”

A deathly silence fell at the table, and finally, Hemdale cleared his throat.

“Tonight, tomorrow at dawn—it’s hardly a difference. I bow to your noble gesture, your highness, and to the loyalty you feel for your friend. And I humbly beg your forgiveness for not being able to save him—” and here, Hemdale’s voice shook just a bit. “But there is such a wave of evil coming for our kingdom. We must be strong. We must be ready.”

They adjourned to his offices, where detailed maps had been prepared for the journey.

“I expect it will take you 10 days to reach the mountains of the north,” Hemdale said. “We’ve mapped out a route that will take you there abbey-by-abbey, until you reach our northernmost outpost, at the base of the mountains. From there, you must do your best to search out these suncaves. Suncaves that no living being has ever seen.”

“Is this … impossible?” Terry asked.

“Maybe,” Hemdale admitted. “But we have no choice. Now, come with me,” he said, and they followed him through the abbey, across the courtyard, and back to the library, which was dark and deserted. He took an oil lamp from the main desk and lit it carefully, then pulled at a handle on the floor behind the desk, revealing a dusty staircase.

“Come along,” he gestured, and the four of them descended. “Light the lamps, Elwood.”

As Elwood busied himself lighting the room, Terry and Maurice saw a great storehouse of armor revealed to them. There were breastplates, and helmets, and jewel-encrusted swords. There were shield made of iron, their cruel dents a mute witness to great battles. There were crossbows with their strings taut and fresh, and quivers full of arrows.

“The armaments of a millennium,” Hemdale said. “Produced in a time when our kingdom was in throes of civil war. There’s so little use for it now—it has remained in storage here, with some small spellcasting to keep everything in good order, for emergencies. We need it now. Take what you wish,” Hemdale said, and added, “Go on, look around.”

“Have you ever been down here?” Terry asked Maurice.

“No,” Maurice said. ‘I knew we had a bunch of old armor, but—”

They began to drift around, examining the battle gear. Some was clearly made more for parades than war, and Terry’s eye quickly adjusted to examining only the weapons that seemed useful and deadly. Her eye lit on a light, sharp rapier, with a pearl hilt.

“Elven!” Hemdale said, when she strapped it to her body and withdrew the weapon. “You have a good eye! Here is its matching helmet.”

The helmet, too, was made of pearl, and it seemed to have a soft glow.

“Pearl’s not much protection,” Maurice said.

“The stone is not the source of its power,” Hemdale said. “This helmet repels evil, and will reduce the ability of wraiths to drain your lifeforce.”

“Should I wear one, too?” Maurice said.

“Only one was ever made,” Hemdale replied. “No, your protection will be, as always, derived from your spells and potions. I do think there is something for you down here, though,” he said, and pointed. “Take a look at those sandals.”

“Sandals? In the north?” Maurice said.

“Those are the sandals of Mercury,” Hemdale said. “They will make you twice as fast as you already are.”

“Oh!” Maurice said.

Meanwhile, Elwood strapped on an iron shield and waved an iron sword about, clumsily. “That will do,” Hemdale said. “We will put the highest protection and attack spells on your armor that we can.”

“But why?” Terry said.

“Don’t you get it? Elwood is coming with us,” Maurice said.

“Oh,” Terry said quietly. “Yes. Of course.”

There was a sad pause, and then the four of them trooped up out of the library’s basement, clad in their new armor.

“Hand everything over to me,” Hemdale said. “Some of the higher clerics and I will work on blessing and charging it all. Meanwhile, try and get some rest.”

Maurice and Elwood started towards the abbey, but Terry stopped at the little fountain. The moon was truly on the wane now, and its reflection danced in the waters. “You go on,” she said. “I’ll be there shortly.”

She sat by the fountain and let slow tears drip into the water, one by one, like the pearls on the hilt of her new rapier.

“I must be strong,” she thought to herself, but unbidden to her mind came images of Gregor, grumpy in the pale morning light, half drunk with ale and dancing with Vivian in village, laughing his great booming laugh.

Well, she would see him in the morning—she would see him and say goodbye, and at that moment if she did something rash—well—so be it.

“Oh, Gregor,” she sighed. “Is this really the end?”