Michael. Reaching out her hand, she took hold of his, pressed it warmly.
'Thank you, Brother. We have faith in you.'
Michael's hand tightened on hers. He couldn't help himself. She was so lovely, so caring. Nikol, looking into his eyes, flushed, removed her hand from his grasp.
'Nicholas,' she said, 'it is time for our sword work. I, for one, could use the exercise.'
Her brother went to the weapons rack, lifted a sword. 'Yes, and I feel the need to sweat the touch of that fat priest out of my pores.'
He tossed the weapon to her. She caught it expertly. 'I'll change my clothes first. It wouldn't do to put any more rents in this poor dress of mine.' Teasing, she glanced demurely at Michael. 'You need not come with us, Brother. I know how fighting, even in practice, disturbs you.'
She didn't love him. Liked and respected him, but she didn't love him. How could he expect her to? What was he? A healer, not a warrior. How often he had seen her eyes shine when she listened to tales of courage and valor on the battlefield. Her dreams were of a bold knight, not a humble cleric.
The twins ran off, laughing and jesting, leaving him behind, empty, lonely, and afraid. Sighing, he went to the family chapel to say his prayers.
Part III
'You know what it is you must do?'
'I know,' growled the goblin chief. He was some part human, and thus smarter and more dangerous than most of his kind. 'Give me the money'
'Half now. Half when you deliver the knight. Alive!'
'You didn't say anything about that!' The goblin glowered, his face hideous in the bright light of the red moon, Lunitari. 'You just said bring you the knight. You didn't say you wanted him alive.'
'And what would I do with him dead?' Akar demanded testily.
'I don't know what wizards do. And I don't care.' The goblin sneered. 'Alive will cost you extra.'
'Very well.' Akar gave in with an ill grace. Reaching into a black velvet pouch, he carefully counted out a few gold pieces.
The goblin stared at them with deep suspicion.
'They're real,' snapped Akar. 'What do you expect them to do? Disappear?'
'It wouldn't surprise me. If they do, so do I. Remember that, wizard.' The goblin chief thrust the coins into a hairy pouch at his belt. 'Tomorrow night. Here.'
'Tomorrow night. Here,' repeated Akar.
The two parted, both skulking back into the dark shadows that bred and sheltered them.
It was the hour before dawn. Brother Michael's sleep had been restive. He woke often, thinking he heard a voice calling him. He sat upright, holding his breath, staring into the darkness of his small, windowless room.
'What? Who's there?'
No answer.
'Am I needed? Is someone ill?'
No response.
He lay back down again, telling himself he'd imagined it, and drifted into sleep, only to be roused again by the same call.
'Michael… Michael…'
He sat up, weary, sleep-dazed. 'What now — ' he began, then stopped and stared.
The image of a beautiful woman, surrounded by a radiant blue light, glimmered at the foot of his bed. He had seen her image before, but never this clearly, never this close. He knew, now, that she would speak to him, that she had come to comfort and guide him. His prayers had been answered.
Michael had no care for his nakedness, for the goddess sees all men naked, when they come into the world, sees the nakedness of their souls, their hearts. He slid from his bed and fell to his knees upon the cold stone floor.
'Mishakal. I am your servant. Command me. What is your bidding?'
The goddess's voice was lovely, like the song of myriad birds, like his mother's whisper, like silver bells on a bright new morning. 'Truly you are my servant, Michael. One of my faithful servants. I need you. Come with me.'
'Yes, of course, Holy One.' Michael rose swiftly, began dressing himself, hardly knowing what he was doing. The blue light surrounding him was blinding, filled his heart with uplifting joy. 'Is someone sick? Someone in the village, perhaps?'
'Put aside the cares of this world, Brother Michael. They are no longer yours.' The goddess held out a hand of surpassing beauty and wondrous softness. 'Come.'
Michael heard horns blowing the call to battle. He heard shouts and voices, the rattle of armor and of sword. He heard feet pounding on the battlements. He paused, looked behind him, looked toward the door that led to the family chapel.
'Yes, Lady, but there is fighting! They will need me — '
'Not for long,' said the goddess. 'Paladine has them in his keeping. He will gather their souls to him, remove them from a world that soon will erupt in fire. Lay down your burden, Michael, and walk with me.'
'And I will see them again? Nicholas, Nikol?'
'On the other side. You will wait for them. It will not be long.'
'Then I will come.' He was glad to leave, glad to give up the pain of living, the pain of his desires. Soon, he would be able to love her purely. He reached out his hand to take the hand of the goddess…
A scream shattered the dawning. Fists pounded on his door.
''Michael! Brother Michael! You must come! It's Nicholas! He's hurt! He needs you!'
'Nikol's voice!' Michael trembled; his hand shook.
'There is nothing you can do, Brother,' the goddess told him sadly. 'True, the valiant knight is wounded, but, even as his sister stands here, pleading for your aid, the knight is being carried away by his attackers. You will arrive too late to save him.'
'But if Nicholas has taken ill, who will lead the men? The manor will fall — '
'Brother Michael! Please!' Nikol's voice was raw with shouting.
The goddess gazed at him with cool eyes. 'What will happen, will happen. You can do nothing to prevent it. Have faith in us, believe that all is for the best, though you do not understand. You said yourself, 'What mortal can know the mind of a god?' If you refuse, if you lack faith, if you stay and interfere, you run the risk of dooming yourself, the woman, and the world to a terrible fate!'
'Michael! I need you!' Nikol cried. Fists pounded on the wood.
'Then so be it, Lady,' he said heavily, 'for I cannot leave them.' His hand dropped to his side. He could no longer look on the radiance of the goddess. It hurt his eyes. 'I love her. I love them both. I can't believe that their deaths would be for the best! Forgive me, Mishakal.'
He started toward the door. His hand was on the handle. His heart ached. He longed to go with the goddess. Yet, outside, he heard Nikol crying. He placed his hand upon the door. The light around him seemed to soften. He glanced back.
'Tomorrow night, the Night of Doom, the bridge at the Lost Citadel will open to all true clerics. Only those who have faith may pass.'
The blue light glimmered and died. Michael yanked open the door.
Nikol clutched at him. 'Where have you been? What have you been doing? Didn't you hear me call?'
'I was… at my prayers,' Michael said lamely.
Her eyes flashed. Daughter of a knight, she could not understand the soft cleric who fell to his knees and prayed to his goddess to save him, when other men were grabbing shield and sword. Catching hold of his hand, she began running down the hallway. He stumbled to keep up with her. She was clad in her nightclothes. Her long gown
