The Last Guardian of Everness (War of the Dreaming 1) by John C. Wright

things you most love about your wife, whom you are so soon to lose. An invisible power will undo the knot. When this happens, draw the sword and hand it to me. No more will be asked of you.”
    Raven took the scabbard from where it hung off the figure’s long sash. His fingers were numbed with terrible cold when he touched it.
    Raven opened the door. A putrid smell, mingled with disinfectants, greeted him. Inside, he could see a cluster of doctors and nurses bent over a half-naked young man on a table. One medic pumped oxygen into the young man’s mouth. Another had electrodes in his hands, which he was rubbing together. This second nurse shouted, “Clear!” and touched the electrode paddles to the body.
    The young man jumped and thrashed on the table for a moment. “We have the pulse again!” shouted a voice, and a steady beeping came from one of the machines in the room.
    “No!” said Raven. “This was not our bargain! I did not say I would help you kill a man!”
    “Yes. Yes, you did.”
    Raven stood still, holding the scabbard. The icy numbness in his hand throbbed like fire, creeping toward his elbow.
    Koschei said, “Choose. Shall it be this man, who is nothing to you? Or shall it be your wife, whom you claim to love?”
    Raven squinted. “There is someone else in this room. Some power which keeps you away from the young boy, eh? You devils do not need mortal men to do your work unless there is trick involved.”
    “Go to your knees. Pray for the salvation of your wife. Your prayer will be answered.”
    “What is in this room?”
    “Though you cannot see her, clever mortal, there is a unicorn in this room, standing guard over Galen Waylock. Each time my poisons reach the boy’s heart, she touches him lightly with her silver horn and works his cure. I cannot wound or drive her away, except with this, the one weapon to which she is vulnerable. It is a terrible weapon, and she must unknot the bindings herself to let it be drawn against her.”
    Raven looked at the scabbard. The swordhilt was plain and black, and the scabbard itself was all of white leather. The scabbard was fitted and bound in rings of bone, which looked like spinal vertebrae. Through these rings ran white cords, which tied the hilt into the scabbard with a complex knot, all bows and loops and dangling tassels.
    “What is the name of this sword?”
    Koschei said softly, “My weapon is called Pity.”
    Then Koschei said, “Step forward, Raven. If you keep Pity hidden in its sheath, no pity will be shown your dying wife.”
    Raven stepped forward woodenly, his eyes wide and staring, his face slack with pain and indecision.
    He was in the room. The doctors were ignoring him. By the faint breath of movement before his face, the sudden sweet smell like the breath of aspring wind, he knew that the unicorn was nearby, invisible, watching him with wide eyes. Sadly, Raven sank to his knees.
     
    II
     
    “I am not a good man with words. And the woman I love, she should have poetry and songs, the most beautiful of words, to speak of her. Words without equal.
    “I do not know how to say how deep I have love for her. Her eyes are bright, she smiles like the springtime. And how she laughs! I think angels must laugh like that. Most people laugh at what is ridiculous and mean, laughing what they see as silly, stupid things. You know? But her laughter is laughter made in joy. Like those soda cans filled with bubbles, and you shake them, and it all come bubbling out. . .
    “Once I was lost at sea in a lifeboat. The freighter I served on, the
Pavopodopolus,
out of Athens, went down when an engine explosion broke the hullplate loose below deck. It was many hot days in that lifeboat, and we did not know if the radioman had told our position to anyone in time. When we ran low on water, we cast lots to see who would drink that day and who would go thirsty.
    “One man went mad because he drank sea water, and he tried to break our water bottles. We clubbed