stand up once more. “It’s – It’s just so cold. I can’t seem to
make my legs work right.”
Marakion helped him to his feet. “You sure you want to
keep going, kid?”
“Yes. I – I have to.” Shakily, Gylar moved forward
again.
By evening, Marakion had to carry him.
*****
A few hours after nightfall, Marakion gently set the boy
down in the snow at the summit of Mount Phineous.
Lunitari was a thin crimson slash in the sky. Solinari was
full and bright; it bathed them in a sparkling wash. The
untouched snow looked like flawless, molten silver that had
been poured over the top of the mountain and had hardened
there. The only thing that marred the icy, detached beauty
was a straggling trail gouged up the mountainside, a trail
that led to the two solitary figures who had reached their
destination.
The stars shone brightly from all around. Marakion’s
cloak, wrapped around the boy, furled and straightened
softly in the breeze. His heavy breathing plumed out white
in front of his face.
“Here . . .” Gylar said in a whisper. He nodded, with a
smile. “Yes, this is perfect, so perfect.”
Marakion swallowed hard and knelt next to Gylar. He
spread a blanket and moved the boy onto it, then covered
him with his own bedroll, trying to make him as warm as
possible.
“Let me be alone now, Marakion.” Gylar whispered, “I
want to call Paladine. It’s time for me to call him.”
Marakion nodded, slowly rose from his kneeling
position, and walked a distance away. He scuffed the snow
with his boot, wondering again about this whole thing.
For an hour, Marakion walked about in the cold. He
turned to watch Gylar from time to time. He could see the
boy’s mouth move, hear him talking to the skies.
Another hour passed, this time in silence. Nothing
answered Gylar’s feeble summons. Marakion tromped
about, fuming. He knew he shouldn’t have expected an
answer, but suddenly he was furious that none was coming.
After a time, Marakion realized the boy was beckoning
weakly to him. The man was instantly at the boy’s side.
Gylar’s flesh was almost completely wasted away. The
effect of the fever over such a short time was astounding.
But there was a smile on the boy’s face. “Marakion …” He
could barely speak.
Marakion leaned forward. “Yes, Gylar.”
Gylar shook his head. “Paladine’s not coming. He’s not
even going to – ” The boy was cut off by a coughing fit.
“He’s not even going to drop a mountain on me, Marakion.”
Gylar set a shaky hand on Marakion’s forearm.
“Remember the ogre, Marakion? I was s-so scared. It was
going to eat me. You remember?”
Marakion nodded.
“You let it go, Marakion,” Gylar whispered. “You said
for it to choose something else, a deer or something. You
said it had made the wrong choice. It didn’t believe you, and
you beat it up, but you let it go. You forgave it, Marakion.
You forgave it for being itself. It didn’t realize what it was
doing.”
Marakion swallowed a lump in this throat. Gylar closed
his eyes. His hand still gripped the warrior’s arm.
“Maybe Paladine didn’t either, Marakion. Maybe he still
doesn’t. B – But that’s okay. I forgive him. It’s okay. I
forgive them all. . . .”
Gylar’s grip went slack on Marakion’s arm. Marakion
grappled for the hand and caught hold as it started to slip
off. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bowed his head.
“Damn!” was all he said.
*****
Hours later, Marakion stood next to a grave he’d had to
fight the cold earth and snow to dig. His hands were
blistered; Glint was caked in dirt.
Marakion did not speak a eulogy. Everything had
already been said. Who would he speak words of comfort
to, anyway? The only ones able to hear on this distant,
isolated mountaintop were the gods, and they hadn’t
listened. This boy, alone, beneath the frosted, snow-swept
ground, could pardon a god for his mistake, though that one
mistake had destroyed everything Gylar had held dear.
Marakion adjusted the clasp at the neck of his cloak and
pulled the edges together. He took a last look at the sky