The Halfling

Chapter 16 [END]

Theresa emerged into the rubble that was the Throne Room, her face grave, her black brows quivering in distress. Her forehead, sprinkled with fine streaks of dust, creased. "They're not here."

The two soldiers behind her nodded. They watched the open sky, rain drippling through, humming.

She tried to arrange the story, for the events were scattered. "Samuel and Morris...Pire. All three of them dead?" But she couldn't rearrange it that way; she'd fall apart herself. "That can't be! Sam and Morris are alive, I know they are. They killed the dragon, surely. And they're alive, of course. That's right. There are fine miracles and I'm sure this'll be one of them."

The soldiers' faces crumpled with concern. But they did not speak of this to the princess. Obviously, she was dealing with a difficult matter.

Theresa lay there, waiting. But waiting for what? And waiting took too long and she needed to look. But looking meant knowing. And there were very profound prices to pay for knowing. Being devastated by the truth of a matter was one of them. She could be like other people and hide herself from the truth, fling herself away, into another land, and, all the while, hope that they lived.

But that's impossible. They were her friends.

She raced through the devastated halls, the soldiers scrambling at her back. The corridors were a menagerie of blocks and bits and detritus and all those golden-silvery meshes that attracted all races. She had no need for them so she went forward, towards truth.

A skeleton emerged from the door. A spider clambered from the ceiling. The soldiers shouted for the princess to continue, they'll take care of it. The rain's harsh cries prevented them from being heard.

Theresa pressed on. She wanted to help her friends at that moment. Save them from the clutches of the beast.

She remembered what Morris had told her: he came back to save Samuel. That Fate shouldn't be so cruel on someone young as the boy was, so full of vigor, so full of potential. He should be the one to die.

Morris, clunky-faced Morris, sat atop Grayn, who was tied with snakelike ropes. He had arrived just when the dwarf was about to stab the princess and walloped the former down.

"And don't you think we should stop him?" he asked.

"But," Theresa sobbed, "I was the one to tell him to go and face Pire. I was the one who told him that we needed him. And he looked so serious then, as if he had known this all along, as if he had guessed that he would have to sacrifice himself. To stop him would be to rob him of his destiny."

"Well and I won't accept it," Morris said, coldly. "I'll go."

"And don't you think," came a muffled voice, "that the boy wouldn't want you to go? That he's set his heart for this task, come what may?"

Morris turned around. "Why should we even listen to what you say, Grayn? You're a traitor."

"A traitor! I'm anything but a traitor! I love the dwarven race. It's you who's a traitor. Am I wrong or were you captured and made a slave by the halfling and the filthy daughter of Men? And why aren't you betraying them right now—you are a traitor to your own race."

The slime's face fell. "I have set my loyalty to my friends, not to my kin. But that's none of your business." He looked at Theresa. "Good-by, Theresa. I hope it isn't our final one, but good-by."

Theresa slipped. Blood trickled from her cheek. She picked herself up, skittered down the halls.

Rain clamored. Armor clanked. Voices resounded.

But she was deaf to it all, hearing only her own rough breathing, the muffling of her footsteps. Her face was scrunched, pale in the near-dawn light. But even then, she looked beautiful.

"There's a chance," she reminded herself. "There's a chance."

The battle was happening. But far away, so very far away. The clinking of metal; the bitter screams of dying; growls, howls, sniffles and sobs. All far away.

Theresa reached shore. She rounded the beach, breakers humming to her right. Wan light came from the horizon, a flush of a green pallor, casted over the sickly plains. Pillars rose up in black stones to her left, cragged and beaten by the rain.

She reached shore and that is when the rain ceased and that is when the clouds parted and dawn first showed her face on the horizon, as of yet a small rim of gold hovering over the waters.

Samuel and Pire were ashore. Morris was nowhere to be found.

The dragon was still terrifying. A fifteen-foot jaw of white iron resting on the scintillating-gold sands, blue waves moving it to and fro, imitating a mock flight. Its wings were hands that flailed upon the seas, streaked with gold-colored streams. One of its forelegs was missing, a pool of hot blood replacing it.

The boy, on the other hand, was a few feet away. He stared at the sky, his face the pallor of ivory, his chest rising slowly. At that time, each moment was like the incredible silences between lovers when all that is weary and worn-out rests.

Theresa sat by him and did not say a word. She put her hand on his. They watched the sky, a white orb now rising from the East.

"I'm sorry," Theresa said, finally. "I thought...No...I was being selfish. I thought of nothing else but the Kingdom. I shouldn't have sent you there."

"Hey," Samuel said, smiling, his voice gravelly. "I'm not dead. Don't write me off just yet. I may almost be, but not quite. And why apologize for caring about your land. Is it wrong to think of what is most important to us?"

"But," she said, "you're also important to me. In fact, you're more important to me. I've never been in love with this land. Only an attachment, a futile one. And I've grown to love you more than I do this land."

"You know that's not true," Samuel said. He caressed her locks, put them behind her ear. "Ah, you have a wound on your cheek. Was it Grayn? What happened?"

She held his hand. "No, not Grayn, funnily enough. I slipped inside one of the hallways and cut myself."

Samuel touched her face, wiped the blood off. "Isn't that better?"

Tears fell from the princess' eyes. She wiped them. "Morris is gone and you're beaten-up. I'm sorry, Samuel. All I've brought upon you is suffering."

"What are the sufferings of vagabonds compared to the life of a princess," Samuel asked. "Nothing, really. And, more than that, we are friends, we are companions. If more people gave the whole of their hearts up for love, it would be a happier world."

"And yet your lives are much nobler than mine,"

"Quite untrue," he chuckled. "Heaven knows how evil I've been."

They were quiet. Samuel squirmed; Theresa stirred.

"It's nothing," he said. "Nothing, really. I just need some rest for today. I'm quite knackered."

"I wish we might have peace the rest of our lives," she said. "We've had enough adventure to last us for a lifetime."

"You may be right. But I don't think it's possible."

The skirmish shrieked on.

THE END