wound. Hero rose. No apology or
explanation needed to be spoken; Hero understood. Paladin drew and offered his dagger. It was
accepted with the ghost of a smile. Side by side, they went on through the silvered maze.
Another young warrior appeared in a mirror, the youthful semblance of Paladin himself.
“I am Jacob. I will battle beside you.”
The words bore such earnest weight that Hero motioned Jacob to step from the glass and walk
shoulder to shoulder with them.
The fighter emerged. Reflected flesh became momentarily scaly, tentacular, before swimming into
solid human flesh! A lie garbed in borrowed shape. Paladin’s blade sundered the emerging
shapeshifter, dropping him in a thousand shards of ringing glass.
Paladin and Hero nodded warily to each other and pressed on toward the sobbing lady’s song.
They found themselves in a wide chamber ringed with heror varying reflections of her. One
mirror showed a warrior maiden, clear-eyed and noble. The next held a pirate lass, all black
leather and lascivious eyes; a third displayed a meek lady pleading from a tower window; its
neighbor showed a medusa with writhing hair. Hundreds of images implored for release from the
glass. Hero stood frozen, drawn to each pleading woman.
Paladin shook his head. False images, partial truths. Heart was no idealized image, but a true
creature. Paladin would not be seduced by lies told about women. He would be inspired by truths
told by them.
Hero nodded, understanding. Young, open, and so vulnerable, he led with his broad, brave heart.
The song rose, mournful, beyond the chamber. Paladin listened and pointed. A curving way
opened, nearly hidden between alike imploring images. The two men ventured on.
Fiends lunged without invitation from the glass, a roaring menagerie of rending claws, venom-dripping stingers, scourgelike tails, twisted horns, and smoking spittle. They flooded forth as if the
mirrors were portals gaping from the Abyss.
Paladin and Hero stood back to back, blades flashing among tentacles and barbed whiskers.
Shrieks arose amid the battle cries. Paladin severed the head of a mantis towering over him,
leaping across its carapace to slash the snarling faces of two jackal-men, and shattered the mirror
behind them. Cracks segmented shadowy figures who rushed to leap the silver margin, and all
collapsed in a rain of shards.
The pommel of Hero’s dagger crashed into another mirror, and a dozen fiends tumbled into
oblivion. He swung for the next, but flesh interposed itselfscabrous and oozing, cracked and
sword-worn. Living meat barred the way to other mirrors, lifting claws and grinning with yellowed
teeth.
Crying out the names of their mothers and their godsnames not so dissimilarPaladin and Hero
hacked at fiend flesh, winning through to panel after panel. Dead fiends lay heaped across the
silvered floor, strange blood darkening the glass, as gate after gate fell.
Ten living fiends stood atop a hundred dead to guard the last looking glass, aflicker with emerging
horrors. Hero and Paladin carved a grim path through them.
The last fiend fell, its left head laid open by Paladin’s sword and its right skewered through the eye
by Hero’s dagger. Black blood steamed, and silence fell.
Standing exhausted, Paladin and Hero looked into the last mirror and saw themselves: two blood-soaked warriors burned by gouting acids, stabbed, slashed and bone-broken. Paladin’s sword arm
changed direction in two places. A severed beast claw jutted from his temple. Hero’s ribs showed
through a row of gaping wounds, wherein his organs pulsed through a rain of blood. The
comrades were walking dead men, too busy slaying to notice that they should die. Now they had
time to look.
Hero wheeled and collapsed, lifeless.
Paladin staggered. His world went black. Falling, he smashed his sword against the glass.
The riven mirror
explanation needed to be spoken; Hero understood. Paladin drew and offered his dagger. It was
accepted with the ghost of a smile. Side by side, they went on through the silvered maze.
Another young warrior appeared in a mirror, the youthful semblance of Paladin himself.
“I am Jacob. I will battle beside you.”
The words bore such earnest weight that Hero motioned Jacob to step from the glass and walk
shoulder to shoulder with them.
The fighter emerged. Reflected flesh became momentarily scaly, tentacular, before swimming into
solid human flesh! A lie garbed in borrowed shape. Paladin’s blade sundered the emerging
shapeshifter, dropping him in a thousand shards of ringing glass.
Paladin and Hero nodded warily to each other and pressed on toward the sobbing lady’s song.
They found themselves in a wide chamber ringed with heror varying reflections of her. One
mirror showed a warrior maiden, clear-eyed and noble. The next held a pirate lass, all black
leather and lascivious eyes; a third displayed a meek lady pleading from a tower window; its
neighbor showed a medusa with writhing hair. Hundreds of images implored for release from the
glass. Hero stood frozen, drawn to each pleading woman.
Paladin shook his head. False images, partial truths. Heart was no idealized image, but a true
creature. Paladin would not be seduced by lies told about women. He would be inspired by truths
told by them.
Hero nodded, understanding. Young, open, and so vulnerable, he led with his broad, brave heart.
The song rose, mournful, beyond the chamber. Paladin listened and pointed. A curving way
opened, nearly hidden between alike imploring images. The two men ventured on.
Fiends lunged without invitation from the glass, a roaring menagerie of rending claws, venom-dripping stingers, scourgelike tails, twisted horns, and smoking spittle. They flooded forth as if the
mirrors were portals gaping from the Abyss.
Paladin and Hero stood back to back, blades flashing among tentacles and barbed whiskers.
Shrieks arose amid the battle cries. Paladin severed the head of a mantis towering over him,
leaping across its carapace to slash the snarling faces of two jackal-men, and shattered the mirror
behind them. Cracks segmented shadowy figures who rushed to leap the silver margin, and all
collapsed in a rain of shards.
The pommel of Hero’s dagger crashed into another mirror, and a dozen fiends tumbled into
oblivion. He swung for the next, but flesh interposed itselfscabrous and oozing, cracked and
sword-worn. Living meat barred the way to other mirrors, lifting claws and grinning with yellowed
teeth.
Crying out the names of their mothers and their godsnames not so dissimilarPaladin and Hero
hacked at fiend flesh, winning through to panel after panel. Dead fiends lay heaped across the
silvered floor, strange blood darkening the glass, as gate after gate fell.
Ten living fiends stood atop a hundred dead to guard the last looking glass, aflicker with emerging
horrors. Hero and Paladin carved a grim path through them.
The last fiend fell, its left head laid open by Paladin’s sword and its right skewered through the eye
by Hero’s dagger. Black blood steamed, and silence fell.
Standing exhausted, Paladin and Hero looked into the last mirror and saw themselves: two blood-soaked warriors burned by gouting acids, stabbed, slashed and bone-broken. Paladin’s sword arm
changed direction in two places. A severed beast claw jutted from his temple. Hero’s ribs showed
through a row of gaping wounds, wherein his organs pulsed through a rain of blood. The
comrades were walking dead men, too busy slaying to notice that they should die. Now they had
time to look.
Hero wheeled and collapsed, lifeless.
Paladin staggered. His world went black. Falling, he smashed his sword against the glass.
The riven mirror
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