'Nonsense!' he replied gruffly. 'I've lived a long life, and a good one, if I do say so myself.'
He sighed, sinking down to sit on a low shelf of stone. He was silent for a short while. 'I'm tired, Tyr,' he muttered finally. 'Don't you see? I've had more than enough adventures to comprise a lifetime. But there's one who has served you loyally who has never had these opportunities.'
He stole a glance back at the others. Miltiades stood slightly apart from his companions, watching them with what seemed, despite his fleshless face, a sorrowful expression.
'He's done the deeds in death he never had the chance to do in life. Don't you think that's worth something?' Trooper blew a breath through his drooping mustache. 'And you don't even have to worry about that precious balance of yours. One life for another. What could be more just than that?'
Trooper scratched his beard, listening. Then he grinned. 'I knew you'd come around to reason.' His expression grew wistful as he watched his questing companions. 'It's funny, but I think I'm going to miss them. Especially that impertinent elf.' He scowled. 'I always was a fool for dimples.'
He sat up straighter, his old joints creaking in protest.
'Well, I'm ready,' he whispered, annoyed. 'Get on with it!'
The blue light flared brightly about the old paladin, then dimmed.
'Miltiades!' Dread gripped Evaine's voice. 'What's wrong?'
The undead paladin stumbled backward as if jolted. Kern, Listle, Daile, and Gamaliel looked around at him in concern. Azure tendrils of light twined themselves about his armored form. A shimmering blue coil gently lowered the visor of his helm, concealing the bare bones of his face.
'My… my quest has ended,' the knight said solemnly. 'I fear that my time here is at an end.' He doubled over, his gauntleted hands clenched into fists. 'Tyr calls me home once more.' He sank to his knees.
'No!' Evaine cried. She reached out for him.
It was too late.
Like an empty suit of tipped-over armor, Miltiades buckled to the ground. The sapphire light surrounding him faded and was gone. He lay utterly still.
All stared in shocked silence.
'I'm sorry, Evaine,' Kern said finally, his voice thick with emotion. 'I don't think there will ever be another hero like him.'
'He was the first person I ever met who truly understood me,' Listle added, tears glistening in her eyes. 'I'm going to miss him.'
'As are we all,' Gamaliel said gruffly. He put his hands on Evaine's shoulders, leading her gently but firmly away from the paladin. 'Come, Evaine. We must-'
The suit of steel armor twitched.
All watched in amazement as the shining suit of armor shifted again. Then, slowly, the fallen knight pulled himself to his feet, standing tall.
Evaine let out a deep breath of relief. 'Miltiades! Are you… are you all right?' She took a hesitant step toward him.
The ancient paladin shook his helm, as if he was dizzy or unsure.
'I… I think so, Evaine,' he said, but there was something strange about his voice. Tentatively, he raised a gauntlet and lifted his visor.
Evaine gasped.
'By all the gods,' she murmured. The others stared at the knight with their own expressions of wonder. Slowly, hardly daring to believe what she saw was real, Evaine reached out a hand and brushed Miltiades' cheek.
Her fingers touched warm skin.
'Evaine, what's wrong?' Miltiades asked in concern. 'You're crying.'
She shook her head, trying to speak but unable to find the words. He still didn't realize what had happened! In answer, she reached for his hand and pulled off one of his steel gauntlets. He stared in shock when he saw the flesh-covered hand that was exposed.
'By Tyr,' he whispered softly. 'I'm
Evaine laughed for joy, throwing her arms around the handsome, dark-haired knight. His blue eyes shone with surprise, then he returned the embrace.
'Excuse me, Evaine,' Listle said wryly, after this embrace had gone on for more than a few moments. 'But there are some other people who would like a chance to hug Miltiades, too.'
Evaine flushed in embarrassment, but Listle only grinned as she threw her arms around the two of them. Kern, Daile, and Gamaliel followed suit, their laughter filling the cavern.
It wasn't until later that they discovered Trooper.
They found the old paladin sitting on a low spur of stone, his eyes closed, a faintly mischievous smile resting on his lips. Heavy, golden beams of sunlight slanted down from the jagged hole in the cavern's roof, igniting the old man's hair in a fiery halo. They did not need to feel for his heartbeat to know that he was dead.
'He has passed on to Tyr's halls now,' Miltiades said gravely. Evaine reached out and squeezed his hand tightly. Listle wept bitterly, burying her head in her hands as Daile did her best to comfort the elf.
Kern knelt beside Trooper's lifeless body, not trying to hide the tears that rolled down his own cheeks. 'Thank you,' was all he whispered softly.
On a brilliant winter's solstice day, Kern ceremonially returned the Hammer of Tyr to its rightful place in the temple. It was an auspicious day for the ritual, Sister Sendara said, for it was the day when the sun began its trek northward and the days grew longer once more, heralding the coming spring.
There were other good omens as well, for a legendary paladin walked the world again. The temple's clerics had observed Miltiades with awe these last few days. However, Miltiades did not mind. He was used to being stared at, if for different reasons.
As Kern walked to the temple's nave bearing the hammer, the sign of hope most important to him came in the form of a tall, regal, red-haired woman who sat on a marble bench. As he neared her, the beautiful woman stood and kissed him on the cheek.
'You've grown handsome, my son,' she murmured.
Kern blushed. 'Thank you, Mother.'
Only the barest traces of shadow lingered in the sorceress's cheeks. The Hammer of Tyr had healed her almost completely of the injury caused to her by the guardian of the pool.
Kern looked around, wondering where the voice came from, though he had a suspicion. He knew enough not to argue.
Shal returned to her seat next to Tarl, gripping his hand affectionately. The white-haired cleric smiled proudly, even though he could not see his son. Despite its powers, the Hammer of Tyr had not cured Tarl's blindness. While this had saddened Kern, his father had told him to put his sorrow aside. Whether he could see or not, Tarl knew that he was the same man as before. Except, perhaps, a little bit wiser.
Kern couldn't help but chuckle as he passed his grinning friends on the way to the ornate marble altar. Anton nodded to him solemnly then. It was time.
'In the name of Tyr,' Kern called out, 'I return this relic to its rightful place!' He set the hammer down upon the altar.
The next day, Phlan started to change.
True, there was little enough different to meet the eye. The streets were still dark and sullen, littered with refuse, the buildings lining them dilapidated and crumbling. But as Kern walked through the city, here and there he noticed small things that gave him cause for hope. For the first time in recent memory, the tall smokestacks looming over the city no longer belched forth black, sulfurous smoke. A steady breeze from the Moonsea was already clearing the gloomy cloud hanging over Phlan.
People had been trickling back into the city these last days. Most of them seemed a bit dazed, as if they had just woken from a dark nightmare. They stared at the city in dismay, as if only truly seeing it for the first time.
