moons.
This was no world tree, but something darker and deadlier. A world in itself, huge and alive,
orno, a creature that wished to be a world. Its thousand limbs in their dark and mighty
magnificence clutched the glowing diamond.
He looked at that awesome stone. It drew him up. The lady hung unseen within it, crushed on all
sides by titanic, yet balanced, forces. She sang out from its bright depths.
Paladin would save her.
He was suddenly there, beside the diamond, a cage within a cage. In it, entrapped, was Heart,
who called to him.
Now he saw how the stone had held so powerful and beautiful a creature as Heart captive so
long: the diamond was no clear crystal, but a hall of mirrors. Reflections, semblances, illusions; the
most potent of magics in a world of truth. A labyrinth of lies and deceptions, receding into endless
illusions that worked with eye and mind to betray body and soul.
Truth is, in the end, powerless against dazzle and shine.
The mournful throb of Heart came distantly from within.
Mirrors can be broken. Paladin drew steel. He would smash his way into the maze and carve a
path inward to Heart.
The luminous mirror before him bore his own determined features. He shattered them and
stepped into the slanted space beyond. Angled planes all around gave back his appearance.
The first few reflections showed Paladin as he was, only subtly reversed. His sword arm was
switched, his forward knee had been traded for the trailing one. Others held images even farther
from
Paladin gritted his teeth and swung. A delicate magic can slay if it reverses thoughts until self and
purpose are lost. Ten images of swordsmen struck in unison.
The world shattered. Another passage opened. Paladin stepped through.
The mirrors he now faced showed him the snout and tusks of a boar, black lashes and snakelike,
slit-pupiled eyes, a blood-gorged cockscomb and wattle. He looked like a monster. He was a
monster. Monsters must die.
“You fall first,” he snarled in sudden rage, and clung to what he was, naming himself aloud as he
swung shattering steel. Shards boiled away before him like smoke, and suddenly that unreal and
trivial world where his body lay dead swam back, overwhelming all else. Snarling silently to muster
his will, he returned, seeking the cry of Heart.
Paladin strode deeper into the diamond. The next mirror held a reflection that moved like him, but
had cruel eyes and olive skinand a sword arm whose flesh gave way to bare bone. Paladin
remembered this man from the world he’d left but could give him no name.
He lifted his arm. Bare bones moved in unison. “I’m no assassin,” Paladin said fiercely, and heard
the eerie reflection make the same resolve, the silver-slim words mocking.
“I fight for what is right. I slay for freedom.” Paladin and Assassin spoke those words together. Lie
and truth lay together, indistinguishable from one another. The diamond’s power was deepening
with each new chamber. It pressed viciously on head and heart.
Heart. Paladin’s lips set in a thin line, and his blade flashed out. Assassin cracked. He stared for a
moment in surprise, bony sword arm uplifted, before the cloven mirror gave way and slid tinkling
to the floor.
Deeper. Up and in. Heart drew him on.
A young man’s face confronted him next, full of hope, honest and determined and inexcusably
innocent. Paladin swung his blade without hesitation.
It met not chill glass and uncaring silver but soft flesh. The man sobbed, staggered, and fell
forward.
A real man? Another warrior seeking Heart? A comrade!
Heart’s own sorrow bled into the moan that came from Paladin. He set a hand to the young man’s
bleeding side.
This one, too, had a name, lost in the wash of truth and illusion. He was in Paladin’s mind nothing
more or less than Hero. Paladin’s touch closed the weeping
This was no world tree, but something darker and deadlier. A world in itself, huge and alive,
orno, a creature that wished to be a world. Its thousand limbs in their dark and mighty
magnificence clutched the glowing diamond.
He looked at that awesome stone. It drew him up. The lady hung unseen within it, crushed on all
sides by titanic, yet balanced, forces. She sang out from its bright depths.
Paladin would save her.
He was suddenly there, beside the diamond, a cage within a cage. In it, entrapped, was Heart,
who called to him.
Now he saw how the stone had held so powerful and beautiful a creature as Heart captive so
long: the diamond was no clear crystal, but a hall of mirrors. Reflections, semblances, illusions; the
most potent of magics in a world of truth. A labyrinth of lies and deceptions, receding into endless
illusions that worked with eye and mind to betray body and soul.
Truth is, in the end, powerless against dazzle and shine.
The mournful throb of Heart came distantly from within.
Mirrors can be broken. Paladin drew steel. He would smash his way into the maze and carve a
path inward to Heart.
The luminous mirror before him bore his own determined features. He shattered them and
stepped into the slanted space beyond. Angled planes all around gave back his appearance.
The first few reflections showed Paladin as he was, only subtly reversed. His sword arm was
switched, his forward knee had been traded for the trailing one. Others held images even farther
from
Paladin gritted his teeth and swung. A delicate magic can slay if it reverses thoughts until self and
purpose are lost. Ten images of swordsmen struck in unison.
The world shattered. Another passage opened. Paladin stepped through.
The mirrors he now faced showed him the snout and tusks of a boar, black lashes and snakelike,
slit-pupiled eyes, a blood-gorged cockscomb and wattle. He looked like a monster. He was a
monster. Monsters must die.
“You fall first,” he snarled in sudden rage, and clung to what he was, naming himself aloud as he
swung shattering steel. Shards boiled away before him like smoke, and suddenly that unreal and
trivial world where his body lay dead swam back, overwhelming all else. Snarling silently to muster
his will, he returned, seeking the cry of Heart.
Paladin strode deeper into the diamond. The next mirror held a reflection that moved like him, but
had cruel eyes and olive skinand a sword arm whose flesh gave way to bare bone. Paladin
remembered this man from the world he’d left but could give him no name.
He lifted his arm. Bare bones moved in unison. “I’m no assassin,” Paladin said fiercely, and heard
the eerie reflection make the same resolve, the silver-slim words mocking.
“I fight for what is right. I slay for freedom.” Paladin and Assassin spoke those words together. Lie
and truth lay together, indistinguishable from one another. The diamond’s power was deepening
with each new chamber. It pressed viciously on head and heart.
Heart. Paladin’s lips set in a thin line, and his blade flashed out. Assassin cracked. He stared for a
moment in surprise, bony sword arm uplifted, before the cloven mirror gave way and slid tinkling
to the floor.
Deeper. Up and in. Heart drew him on.
A young man’s face confronted him next, full of hope, honest and determined and inexcusably
innocent. Paladin swung his blade without hesitation.
It met not chill glass and uncaring silver but soft flesh. The man sobbed, staggered, and fell
forward.
A real man? Another warrior seeking Heart? A comrade!
Heart’s own sorrow bled into the moan that came from Paladin. He set a hand to the young man’s
bleeding side.
This one, too, had a name, lost in the wash of truth and illusion. He was in Paladin’s mind nothing
more or less than Hero. Paladin’s touch closed the weeping
Similar Books
