In a Weary World

Chapter XXXII: And Last

You have no idea what an appetite it gives one, being executed. -- C. S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

Rigmor was the first person to reach the scene of the duel. The Magician was still alive when she got there. His body twitched as if he was suffering an electric shock. A dreadful rattling noise issued from his mouth. The sword was still embedded in his chest.

The princess looked at him coldly. Then she grabbed hold of the sword, pulled it free, and sliced off his head. His corpse crumbled to dust before it hit the ground.

Solvej lay on the ground a few feet away, curled into a sort of half-ball, clutching her throat. As Rigmor approached she heard her muttering something under her breath. The wound on her throat did not appear to be bleeding. Instead blood trickled from her mouth, dribbling down her chin to drip on her red jacket.

"How bad is it?" Rigmor asked, kneeling down. She paid no mind to the sawdust getting on her purple skirt.

Solvej managed a faint smile. There was blood on her teeth too, and a thin stream was beginning to drip from her nose. "About as bad as it could be."

The ghost took her hands away from the wound. Rigmor recoiled in shock. There was no blood. Instead the skin around the cut had turned black. Blisters full of pus dotted the gangrened area. The edges of the cut appeared to be decaying before Rigmor's eyes. And most alarming of all, the blackness was spreading. It was slowly but surely creeping up and down Solvej's neck, onto her face and her shoulder.

"Oh my god," Hjalmar whispered.

Rigmor jumped. She hadn't heard him approach them.

"We need a doctor," he said shakily. "Is it a sort of poison? It must be poison. We'll have to find the antidote-- Oh my god it's getting worse what do we do--"

"Hjalmar," Solvej said, propping herself up on her elbow, "you're babbling. It isn't poison. It's magic. Where's that sword?"

It took Rigmor a moment to realise she was still holding it. "Here."

She held it out to Solvej hilt-first. The ghost shook her head.

"You'll have to use it. See the wound the Magician made?" She gestured to her throat. "You'll have to cut out the skin around it."

"My god!" Rigmor and Hjalmar exclaimed in unison.

"I know," Solvej said. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. "It sounds horrible, it'll hurt like hell, you'd never dream of doing it. But it's the only way to get rid of the magic that's causing--" She gestured to the blisters and the decaying skin "--all this."

Rigmor looked at the wound and winced. It was getting worse. "Isn't there a spell you could cast, or a potion that would cure it?"

Solvej shook her head. "Not that I know of. The Sky Queen's sword was forged specifically to destroy monsters far darker than the Magician. It's the only thing I can think of that could undo the damage he caused."

The princess took a deep breath. "Hjalmar, help me hold the sword."

Hjalmar moved to stand beside her, looking as if he wanted to run a hundred miles in the opposite direction.

Rigmor forced herself to consider the situation from an emotionally detached position. She had become very good at that when she was cursed. It came in handy now. Fact: Dark magic was slowly killing Solvej. Fact: the quickest and surest way to stop this was to cut out the infection. Fact: she would have to do this cutting out. Fact: delaying would not make things any easier.