together.'
She shook her head, frowning, confused. 'No.. .I have no power, Colwyn.'
'I take fire from water'… another 'trick'? He fears us, Lyssa.' He leaned away from the wall as a fireball exploded close by his head.
'That's why he had to take you away from me. He needs to keep us apart.'
'He spoke of sharing power with me.' Her eyes shone even in the dim light. 'What power could he want to share with me? I didn't think—''
'There is more to our union than an alliance between kingdoms, Lyssa. Between man and woman. Much more. Everything has felt so right. Ynyr… he was trying to tell me why. Our marriage … it was ordained, I think. Before either of us were born.'
'You mean the spirits.. . ?'
'No, nothing supernatural. As we were conceived, so was a definite plan. I wish I could talk to my father! He would have clues to give me, if not explanations. I can sense it now.'
'As can I, Colwyn.'
'But I don't know what to do,' he said helplessly. The flashing lights that signified imminent death were very close.
She took his hands in hers, drew him near. 'Look at me. Concentrate. Think that the glaive still exists for you to fight with it. Fight with it, Colwyn. Fight with what matters.'
He lost himself in her penetrating, intense stare. As he did so he experienced a resurgence of that strange inner trembling he'd felt many days ago when they'd stood together in the bowels of the White Castle, repeating the ancient vows. Something surged within him. He felt all that was Lyssa flowing out toward him, merging, melding, growing strong and bright.
Much of it was love . . . but there was more.
'It will not return to me except from the hand of the woman I choose as my wife,' he found himself repeating.
Lyssa was replying but he hardly heard her: 'I give it only to the man I choose as my husband.' She held out a clenched fist, opened the fingers to reveal the fire dancing on her palm. It had lain dormant there and elsewhere ever since her abduction from the castle. Now it burned furiously in her hand.
'Take the fire from my hand. In so doing may it become at last one with your own.'
Smiling, his expression distant and serene, he reached out and touched her hand. The flame shot up his arm like a live thing, a fragmented and intensely powerful manifestation of something deep within them both.
He turned to confront the Beast, his arm and being alive with energy. A fireball came straight for him and he waved at it. It split to flow harmlessly around them as a wave crashes around a rock jutting out into the sea. Lyssa at his side, Golwyn started forward.
Uncertain and suddenly afraid, the Beast retreated. As he did so he flung a gigantic wall of writhing green flame at the advancing humans, taking no care this time to spare Lyssa. Colwyn gave it the back of his hand, blasting the green wall aside and sending it curling back on itself to strike the Beast's side.
The monster turned to flee. Colwyn struck at, its legs, bringing it crashing to the ground. There was light in his own eyes now, not red but starlight-brilliant. As the Beast went down, Colwyn lavished fire upon it. Smoke rose from the body. It did not burn like human flesh, but was consumed with great speed and fury. The corpse contorted violently as it vanished. A great scream of pain and rage echoed throughout the Fortress.
Then it was gone. There were no more flashing lights, no more peculiar moans or confident threats. No more Beast.
A hand touched Colwyn's cheek as he dazedly continued to pour cleansing flame on the spot where the Beast had fallen.
'Gentle, my love. The thing is done.'
He blinked, looked over at her, then back to the severely scorched floor. He held up his own hand, staring at the fire that burned there. 'I did it, but I still don't know how,'
'We did it, Colwyn. As you said we should. Truly that was the secret the Beast sought to keep from us. From all men. It failed, and from this moment on its time on Krull is over.'
Colwyn clenched his fist and watched as the flame slid slowly down his arm to vanish between his fingers. The sand runs out, Ynyr had observed, but now something greater had come, back to mankind. Somewhere the old man must be watching them, and feeling very pleased with himself.
The spikes were close to touching his belly, and Torquil had made final peace with himself when he noticed that the walls had abruptly stopped advancing. Oswyn opened his eyes, dared to touch one of the protruding spikes. He and Torquil exchanged anxious glances.
A dull cracking sound filled the room and a hole appeared in the far wall. Through it they could see the hexagon of the Beast.
Oswyn pulled at his friend but Torquil hung back, staring openmouthed at the walls as they drew back to their original positions. The retreat was uneven, the movement of the walls
%%%
occurring in fits and starts, as if a spring or some other mechanism had failed somewhere deep within the Fortress.
The bandit leader did not rush for the exit. Instead, he slowly walked over to kneel beside Bardolph's limp, punctured body. Reaching out and over he picked up the golden dagger. Then he placed it back between Bardolph's clutching fingers and closed them over the hilt.
'He was a good man. Gold was his only weakness.' A chunk of ceiling came crashing down nearby. Oswyn waited next to the miraculous gap.
'Hurry! The walls may close in again.'
Torquil stood, oddly calm. '1 think not, my friend. But I have no love for this place. The sooner we are free of it, the better I'll like it.' Another section of roof fell in. He stepped around it and followed Oswyn.
Dust and rock fell around the embracing Lyssa and Colwyn as well. The corridor was alive with the sounds of disintegration. Something more than cement and nails had kept the Fortress intact. Now it was gone and the walls were coming down.
'The Fortress dies with its master. We must find Torquil and the others. My friends.' He smiled at her. 'You understand: I can't abandon them.'
'I would not have a man as my husband who could do so.' She kissed him gently and led him back the way they'd come when they'd fled from the Beast.
They did not have to search long. Torquil nearly bowled Colwyn over as the two men reached the corridor intersection simultaneously. He looked past the bandit chief, saw Oswyn and no others.
'Bardolph?'
Torquil shook his head. 'Glory would have made him uncomfortable anyway. He preferred his gold.' He nodded at the rumbling walls. 'A fitting tomb for a man who never lived in anything grander than a thatched hut. We heard the sounds of battle, even through the walls that held us.'
'The Beast is no more.'
Torquil indicated the princess. 'So I gathered by our sudden freedom, and the beauty that walks beside you confirms it.'
'I have learned what Ynyr did not have the time to tell me. We are free to leave.'
'We won't be if we stand here talking about how successful we've been,' Oswyn reminded them. He moved past Colwyn and started up the corridor.
They followed, Colwyn and Lyssa running hand in hand, Torquil guarding the rear lest any remaining Slayers think to try and revenge their master.
Oswyn skidded to a halt, retraced his last couple of steps and pointed at the floor. 'What do you make of this?'
Colwyn bent to stare at the bloody tracks that marred the otherwise smooth surface. Cat tracks, and a large cat by the look of it. He looked anxiously down the corridor.
'That's Ergo. It's got to be.'
'That tunnel doesn't lead outward,' Torquil pointed out. 'Maybe his sense of direction's failed him.'
'Maybe. They might also still be alive. Clearly he's hurt, and maybe the boy as well. Slayers might be keeping
