by David Combs
“I guess I’m breaking up our little circle,” wheezed the thief. “Gods alone know what kind of trouble you two will get into without me around.” The thief smiled. “I’m proud to say though that you two, my two dearest friends, are here by my side at the end.” Galen grabbed each man by the hand and gave the weakest of squeezes.
Nestor tried to speak, but his words failed him. The big warrior who had faced terrifying horrors, and suffered incredible beatings looked up at Tyrell for help. The wizard simply smiled sadly and put his hand on Galen's shoulder.
“One day our roads will meet again, Galen. For now, the time has come for you to go join your lady again, my friend,” said Tyrell. He gave the thief’s hand one more gentle squeeze.
Neither man felt the least bit of shame from the hot tears that rolled down their faces as Galen Thale, smiled, shuddered, and died.
EPILOGUE
Tyrell Amalcheal stood before the burned ruins of Kellen Ambrose’s townhouse in Tarnath. Fallen timbers thrust into the still smoky air like the ribs of some long dead ancient beast. The wizard took small satisfaction that Kellen’s home had not escaped the ravages of the Night of Terror.
Children searched through the rubble of other nearby structures, searching for any trinket or treasure that they might be able to barter for food. So much suffering, thought Tyrell sadly. And for what? The effects of this horror would be felt for some time to come.
The crunching of boots in the ashes turned Tyrell’s attention around. Nestor came up and gripped Tyrell’s hand in a firm shake. The wizard smiled at the red sash with gold trim that now adorned the warrior's waist and marked him as an officer in the Shadow Lords. “Thought I might find you here.”
“I guess I’ve come full circle.” He shifted nervously as Nestor eyed the stuffed knapsack at the wizard’s feet.
“So where are you off to next?”
“Anywhere else. Away from here. I need to have a place where I can safely explore these newly found talents I have discovered. Better to find a place of solitude in the event that something runs wild.” He looked around again at the hungry children, now chasing after a larger boy who had discovered a burnt apple. “This place has enough to deal with for now without adding the risk of miscast magic.” Tyrell looked back at his friend.
“I’m for staying,” Nestor answered to the wizard’s questioning gaze. “Believe it or not, Lord Commander Knarya has offered me a commission, and the town does need all the help that it can get. I heard that Drayton is organizing a force to lead down into the sewers again just to make sure that all the vampires are cleaned out. You should stay. Go along and help him.”
“He has Shadow Reaver. He’ll need no other edge than that. Besides, there’s nothing left to find. All of Kellen’s created minions turned to dust when he died. Drayton will find nothing but piles of ash.” The two men stood in silence looking at the townhouse.
“Tyrell, the boy knew the dangers we all faced, and he stood right along beside us to the end. Not all the magic in the world could save him. With his lady gone, the lad’s only remaining purpose was for vengeance. He got that and found his peace. He died a true hero, not a common thief.”
Tyrell nodded. “Which is precisely why my grief at his death feels all the more proper.”
Nestor stared at the wizard then nodded his head. “I suppose that’s true,” the barbarian said softly. “Swear something to me then, my friend. Swear that this time a year from now, you’ll return here so you and I can toast the lad’s heroism. He deserves no less a salute than that from us.”
“I swear it.” The wizard smiled again at his friend, and then hoisted the knapsack over his shoulder. Nestor grabbed the mage in a fierce bear hug, let go after a moment, and then turned towards a group of men who were attempting to pull down a fire damaged wall.
“Nestor,” Tyrell called out. The big warrior stopped and turned his head. “Did we manage to prove anything?”
Nestor scratched his beard for a moment in quiet contemplation. “We proved that there truly is honor among thieves.” Nestor waved farewell, turning away as he began shouting orders to the work detail.
“I suppose we did,” Tyrell said softly. The mage took one last fleeting glance at the ruined townhouse and turned away. As he walked down the soot-filled street, he lifted his face and enjoyed the warmth of the bright sun on his face.
