Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chaos reigned as Endon, Sharn and Jarred hurried from the palace to the forge. Although it was approaching dawn, the darkness had not abated and an eerie wind was howling, piercing the core of their ears. Far in the distance, Endon could see scarlet clouds tumbling towards Del, and within them dark slits of eyes glittering with greed, triumph and malice.

Within their cottages, the people of Del could be heard awakening to the sight of evil closing in on their world. Endon's heart ached to hear their cries of terror and confusion, and their desperate pleas for help. He had caused this to happen; now his own people were paying the ultimate price while he was running to safety. It was not right that it should be this way.

But as Jarred had told him, his family had to survive or Deltora would be lost to the Shadow Lord forever. It was the only thing that kept Endon from running back into the palace to try and help his people: the thought of his wife and unborn heir dying horribly at the Shadow Lord's hands, and the thought of his people and kingdom being lost to the Shadow Lord for eternity. It was physically hard to do so, but Endon kept running, trying to convince himself that in this way he was helping Deltora; that the best way of helping his kingdom was to stay alive and safe from the Shadow Lord's view.

He looked at Sharn, running beside him, her dark eyes blazing with her determination and courage as her hand hovered over her belly, as if she could protect her babe from falling into the clutches of the Shadow Lord. He looked at Jarred, his closest friend, like a brother to him, who had promised to help them when no one else would. He had to trust that Jarred would have a plan, that he and his family would remain safe. It was the only thing Endon could do now.

Endon scanned the cottages, searching for the place that Jarred had called home for the past seven years. He could not recognise it, the forge, fabled home of Adin. The city looked so different than when he had viewed it from the palace windows. Then, it had looked beautiful: the fields had been golden and full of produce, the cottages had been well-built and stable. It had seemed as if the city was at peace, that it had no troubles. Now, the fields were rotting with weeds, and the cottages were crumbling and decaying. Homeless vagabonds prowled the streets, breaking into villagers' homes to find food to fill their bellies with. Others lined the shadows of the street, begging for a piece of bread or ale, their haggard eyes flooded with anguish. Endon could not have been more horrified. How could he have been so oblivious to the despair and troubles of his people?

He had asked Jarred what the city of Del was like outside the palace, but he had hardly believed him. How could he, the King of Deltora, have been so deceived? As he left the palace, he had turned back to see it one last time, but all that had been visible of it were the tips of the turrets. The rest of it was hidden, engulfed by a misty screen. And as he saw the city, he had seen its decay, despair and pain, and his heart choked within him.

Oh, Jarred! Endon thought. Why had I not listened to you when I had the chance?

It was his fault, all of it. If he had listened to Jarred, if he had put on the Belt when Jarred had asked him to, none of this would have happened, and he and his family would not be running for their lives in a world thrown into chaos. He was to blame. Why could he have not acted differently instead of acting like a fool, oblivious to the evil surrounding his land?

'Endon,' Jarred's voice broke into his melancholy thoughts. 'We are here.'

Endon focused on the open gates, and the small cottage light warmly from the inside, bearing the promise of safety, even if it were only temporary. He gazed at the forge, Adin's home, and now Jarred's.

'Let us go inside,' Jarred urged. 'Anna is waiting, and we must make a plan before the Shadow Lord arrives.' Endon could not mistake the love and longing in Jarred's eyes at the thought of seeing his wife.

'Yes, of course,' Endon agreed. And so Endon let Jarred lead them into the cottage, the cottage door shutting out the painful screams of the people of Del as wind howled and the chaos continued in the city.

oOo

A woman was waiting for them in the forge house. As soon as Jarred, Endon and Sharn entered, she stumbled forward and flung her arms around Jarred, her face as pale as parchment. 'Jarred!' she whispered. 'I have been so worried! Are you alright? Did you find the King?'

Jarred smiled reassuringly at her, and pecked her on the cheek. 'Dear heart, I am alright,' he said, placing one hand gently on her large belly. 'Do not stress yourself. I found Endon, and his wife the Queen. I will tell all later.' He turned to face Endon. 'Endon, this is my beloved wife, Anna. Anna, this is Endon, King of Deltora and my close friend, and his wife Sharn.'

Anna stared wide-eyed at the royal couple, their exotic make-up and rich, embroidered robes, and was silent. We must seem like foreigners to her, Endon thought. She has surely never seen the like of us before.

'It is nice to meet you,' Anna said at last. 'Jarred has told me of you, and has spoken nothing but good of you.' She turned to Jarred. 'What is happening, Jarred? Is the Shadow Lord invading?' Her fear was reflected in Jarred's eyes.

'Yes,' Jarred said bluntly. 'The Shadow Lord has invaded, and the Belt of Deltora is no more. We have escaped the palace, and have come here to plan what to do now. Endon and Sharn need to find a place of safety where they can hide.' He gestured towards the living area. 'If we sit we can discuss things more comfortably.'

Once they were all sitting comfortably on couches that surrounded a blazing fireplace, Endon decided that it was time to speak. 'What should we do, Jarred?' he asked his friend. 'You said you have a plan.'

'We must leave the city, and find a place to hide,' Sharn broke in. 'My ancestors' city, Tora, will shelter us. They have to, by honour of their ancient vow to Adin. We could send a message…'

'Yes, that is the best course of action,' Anna agreed quickly. 'You need to leave Del as soon as you can, before the roads become crowded with people trying to escape to the countryside. We must send Tora a message, and you must escape and travel there. There I am sure you will be safe.'

Endon saw Jarred's frown, and the apprehension in his eyes. 'Jarred, what are you thinking?' he wondered.

'You will not like it,' Jarred remarked. 'But I believe it is the safest way to protect you and your family, Endon.' He stared at Endon, as if willing him to understand.

'What is it?' Endon urged him, although he was not sure he wanted to hear it. He willed his heart to stop beating so rapidly. What was Jarred thinking? 'What is your plan?'

'The Shadow Lord expects you to flee Del as soon as possible to seek refuge in the countryside. He will have his creatures on the lookout for a man dressed royally and a woman with child. I believe the best course of action would be for you to stay here at the forge, while Anna and I take your places and flee to Tora to seek refuge. The Shadow Lord will never think of searching Del for you and you can live here safely until the time comes to search for the gems.' The words came out in a rush. Jarred leaned back in his chair, seeming relieved that he had finally told them his plan.

Sharn gasped. Anna's eyes widened and she stared open-mouthed at her husband.

Endon felt his mouth gape open, and felt his limbs freeze as if they were made of icicles. Was Jarred mad? 'No,' Endon whispered. 'I will not allow it. How can you think such a thing?' He gazed at Jarred, feeling his hands clench into fists at his sides. 'You have sacrificed enough for me, Jarred. I will not allow it. You have your wife and child to think of now; how can you do this to them?'

'Nothing matters more than you and your family staying safe,' Jarred said firmly. 'This is the safest place for you. It is as simple as that, Endon.'

'But Jarred, I cannot do this to you,' Endon said, his voice shaking. 'You cannot sacrifice your home and identity for me and my family.'

Jarred opened his mouth, but Sharn spoke first, gently touching Endon's arm. 'Endon, his plan is good, and he is right. What really matters is our child's safety. We will stay here, and when we are ready, we will search for the gems.' Determination shone from her very core, and Endon's heart swelled to see her courage and calmness in the midst of danger and uncertainty.

'Jarred…' Anna seemed at a loss at what to say. 'Are you sure of this?'

Jarred stood and walked to where she sat, her face blanched, trembling in her chair, her hands pressed to her belly. 'Do you trust me?' he asked her.

'Always,' Anna replied, smiling weakly up at him. 'You know that, Jarred.'

'Then let us do this, Anna,' he urged. 'I promise you, we will find a way. We will be safe, whether we go to Tora or somewhere else. I promise. Our child will be safe, and so will Endon's. We will find a way.'

Anna stared at Jarred, saw the hope and conviction shining in his eyes, and slowly nodded. She rose from her chair and into Jarred's arms. Together, they turned to face Endon.

'Fate is punishing me,' Endon whispered. 'I have lost my throne and my people's trust. Am I to lose you too?' He could not stop shaking; the thought was too much to bear. He and Jarred had been close friends since they had been four years old. Jarred had always been there for him. How could he do this to him?

'It is the only way, Endon,' Jarred said. 'You and your family must be safe, and this is the best way to do it.'

Endon closed his eyes. 'So be it,' he said flatly. 'We must send the message to Tora.'

Jarred nodded, his expression communicating his relief at Endon's logical suggestion. 'Do you have a blackbird to carry the message?'

'Yes. But first let us write the message.'

Pulling herself from Jarred's arms, Anna hurried from the room and returned in seconds with a piece of parchment and a quill and an inkbottle. She proffered it to Endon. Endon gratefully accepted them, and nodded his thanks. Placing the parchment on his lap, he dipped his quill into the ink and wrote in a shaky, urgent scrawl:

People of Tora,

The Belt of Deltora is lost, the Shadow Lord has returned. With the help of a true friend I have escaped with the Queen and our unborn child. I ask you to offer sanctuary in fulfilment of your ancient vow. Return word by this messenger. Waste no time, I beg of you.

Endon, King of Deltora.

He showed it to the others. 'I can do no better than this. If only I had my seal ring...but no matter.' He walked outside and returned with a blackbird perched on his arm. 'This will have to do.'

Endon bound the parchment onto the bird's leg, and set the blackbird free through the open window in the forge kitchen. He watched as the bird's wings beat a steady way through the darkness of the morning and as he watched he prayed with all his heart that it would reach Tora safely, and that the Torans would give shelter to Jarred and Anna. He strode into the living area, feeling as if he were carved from ice. He did not bother responding to their questioning gazes, and sank into his seat near the fire, feeling that his world was falling to pieces in front of him.

A sudden burst of wind shook the cottage walls, and a flash of crimson light could be seen outside. Jarred, Anna, Endon and Sharn started, their hearts hammering. 'The Shadow Lord is coming,' Sharn whispered under her breath, her face devoid of colour. She started for the door. 'You must go now!'

'Wait!' Jarred snapped. The others stared at him, astonished and wondering at what he had thought of now. 'First, we must change clothes,' he said. 'We will seem more believable if we are wearing your clothes, and not our own.'

'Of course,' Endon murmured, his head bowed. Did Jarred ever run out of ideas?

In seconds they had changed clothes. It was strange to see Jarred and Anna dressed in the clothes Endon and Sharn had worn. Endon felt a pang at how alike he and Sharn they seemed, even without their makeup and elaborately braided hair.

And then they were hurrying out of the cottage, and through the forge gates. The four of them paused just outside the gates, gazing at each other, reluctant to part although they knew they needed to. It was as if they had known each other for a lifetime, and not a scant few hours.

Endon clasped Jarred's hand. 'Know that I will be hoping and praying that you safe and well, wherever you go. I will be forever grateful to you for your sacrifice, Jarred. And I am sorry you had to make it.' He hoped his eyes conveyed what his words did not: how sorry he was for the predicament he had put Jarred in, and how he hoped they would meet again someday in the future, what ever happened to them both.

'I will pray that you stay safe, Endon,' Jarred said gruffly. 'And know that it is nothing, as long as you and your family are alive and well. I will be thinking of you, know that, and I pray we meet again.'

'Thank you,' Sharn said, her voice trembling. 'Thank you for everything, Jarred.' She turned to Anna. 'I am honoured to have known you, for however short a time.'

Anna smiled. 'And I am honoured to have met you, Sharn.'

'Farewell, old friend,' Jarred said quietly. He clasped Anna's hand in his own and walked away down the streets of Del with her by his side, where people had already emerged, almost trampling one another in their efforts to leave the city.

Endon watched him go, his vision blurred with unshed tears. He held up a hand in farewell, and gazed at his friend's retreating figure until he and Anna were swallowed up by the crowds.

'Farewell, old friend,' Endon whispered, his heart aching with bitterness, loss and sadness. He knew, without a doubt, that he would most likely never see his friend again in this life. But he hoped and prayed anyway that it would not be so.

oOo

Endon heard Sharn's sharp alarmed cry and spun to see a man stumbling towards him, clad in the uniform of a palace guard. In the confusion and chaos of the day, Endon reacted by reflex, his fist smashing into the man's face, shattering the bones in his nose. With a strange sense of satisfaction, Endon watched the guard collapse onto the street, unconscious to all that saw him. Now he realised that he had been furious, maddeningly furious, at the Shadow Lord, for invading his kingdom and taking his crown.

And now, Endon thought with a pang of guilt, he had knocked unconscious a man sworn to his service, someone who was innocent of the wrongs done to him and his family.

Sharn came beside him to stare into the man's face. 'Endon,' she whispered. 'We must bring him inside. It will not do to have him lying out here in the cold. I do not think he is a danger to us.'

'Of course,' Endon murmured. He stared at the man. He seemed strangely familiar, despite having never seen him before. Who did he resemble?

Together he and Sharn half-carried the man into the house, placing him on a bed in the spare room. 'We must wait for him to wake up,' Sharn said. 'Then he will tell us who he is and why he has come here.' She gazed at the big man as he tossed and turned in his sleep. 'He reminds me of someone,' she added, her brow crinkling. 'I cannot think of who.'

Endon nodded. 'I feel as if I should know him, but I do not.'

The two started as the man cried out, though evidently still asleep. 'No!' he gasped. 'Mother…dead? Killed. I must…leave…I will be killed as well…Oh, mother!' he cried out again, the rage and grief plain in his voice.

Sharn's eyes were filled with compassion. 'He has suffered much, it is plain,' she said. 'He must have been fleeing from the palace, not wanting to be killed. The poor man!'

Endon's head was reeling. Suddenly all the pieces were falling into place. 'Of course!' he muttered. 'Min! He is Min's son, who fled palace during the feast.'

Sharn's eyes widened. 'Min?' she exclaimed. 'Your old nursemaid? No wonder he sounds so afraid, and grief-stricken! He must have been in fear for his life.'

'And he came here,' Endon added, confused thoughts swirling in his mind. 'But why? Why here?'

'Perhaps he came here by instinct,' Sharn suggested quietly. 'This is the ancient home of Adin, remember. Adin may have guided him here.'

'It may be so,' Endon agreed. He thought of Jarred, who had sought refuge in the forge seven years earlier, and of himself and Sharn, who had been given refuge there. 'This forge seems to be a place of refuge,' he commented.

Min's son cried out again, in a low and pained voice, and his eyes snapped open.

Sharn gasped, and turned to Endon, who did not react, though his heart was fluttering a mile a minute. 'Peace, friend,' he said, managing to keep his voice steady. 'We mean you no harm.' He raised his hands to show the man that they were empty of weapons.

The man frowned, wariness clear in his eyes. 'Who are you?'

Endon hesitated. Should he tell this man the truth, or should he give him false names? Even though he was Min's son, Endon was not sure he could trust him. For all they knew, this man was not who he seemed, but was instead a servant of the Shadow Lord.

'I am Anna, and this is my husband Jarred,' Sharn said calmly. Endon could have kissed her for her quick and rational thinking. 'Truly, we mean you no harm.'

The man's eyes blazed as he took them in. 'You!' he exclaimed, glaring at Endon. 'You knocked me unconscious.'

'I am sorry for that,' Endon said shakily. 'I was afraid, and reacted out of reflex. My wife is with child, close to her time, and there are many dangers in the city now that the Shadow Lord has invaded. I thought you might be an enemy.'

'I—I came from the palace,' the man responded, sitting up on the bed. 'I am no enemy of yours. I left during the feast, I was afraid…' his voice trailed away, and his face hardened. 'My mother was killed before the feast. She heard that something terrible was to occur this day, and she told me. I knew I would be killed as well if I did not flee. My name is Barda,' he added.

'We do not believe you are an enemy, Barda,' Sharn said gently. 'We know your story, we heard you talking in your sleep. We know you mean us no harm.'

Barda frowned again. 'Just before I was knocked unconscious, I saw you, with two other people. They were dressed in strange clothes, rich in colour and decorative. And then they left, disappearing among the people escaping from the city. Who were they? Friends?'

Beside him, Endon heard Sharn draw in a sharp breath. He himself felt his head reel, and his heart thud. The man had seen them, and Jarred and Anna. He had seen Jarred and Anna leave, although it seemed that he had no idea who they really were. But it would be enough to implicate them if Barda whispered a word of it to anyone else. The Shadow Lord had spies everywhere—who knew where? Any one of them would be alerted if they heard of two strangely dressed people leaving the forge.

Endon and Sharn's eyes met. Should we tell him? his eyes asked of hers. Should we give away our secret to a man we have barely met?

Let us tell him, Sharn urged silently, but not everything. Her eyes blazed with purpose. She clearly wants to help this man, Endon thought, and does not want to turn him away.

Endon nodded, his decision made. He would tell Barda, and deal with any problems later. He turned to Barda. 'Barda… I was King Endon's friend when we were children. Min was our nursemaid.' The words felt heavy on his tongue. It was strange to talk about himself as if he were talking about someone else. 'We were like brothers, until I was accused of plotting to murder him. I sought refuge in this forge, and was taken in by the blacksmith and his daughter. But I swore to help Endon when he needed it. Finally, last night, he called for help, and I came. I convinced him to put on the Belt once more, but when we got to the tower, it had been ruined and the gems had gone. I helped Endon and the Queen, Sharn, escape the palace, and we came here to plan.'

'The people you saw were the King and Queen,' Sharn said to Barda. 'We saw them to the forge gates, and watched as they left.'

'We vowed to find the gems and restore the Belt of Deltora,' Endon said. 'I myself plan on going to find them when the time is right. We will not rest until Deltora is free from the Shadow Lord.' He found himself surprised at how fierce his voice had become. But he was the King of Deltora, and he had let his kingdom be invaded by the Shadow Lord. He would not rest until he had freed Deltora.

Barda smiled grimly. 'That is good. Then my mother will not have died in vain.' He bowed his head, and then added, 'And I would like to help, if you will let me. My mother died at the hands of the Shadow Lord; I wish to avenge her death. I, too, will not rest until Deltora is free.' Endon saw the man's eyes blaze with conviction and determination, and he thought: this is a good man, and he would be a good ally. But is it worth the risk to let him help?

'I will do anything to help,' Barda continued. 'I will work for you, if you like, in the forge or in the cottage. I will do anything to avenge my mother's death.'

'You will do nothing of the sort, Barda!' Sharn said firmly. The two men stared at her, amazed at her sudden passion, but she lifted her chin. 'You are welcome to stay with us in the cottage, but you need not work for your keep. We are not monsters, to turn away a man so obviously in need of our help.' She glanced pointedly at Endon.

'Of course,' Endon said, stifling a sigh at this sudden turn of events. 'Barda, you are welcome to help us on our quest, if you wish, but it will be dangerous…'

'I do not care,' the big man said. 'I want to help.'

Endon hesitated, still unsure. Could he really risk another person's live for his quest? He was the one who had doomed the kingdom; he was the only one who should go to restore the Belt. It was not right to needlessly put innocent people's lives at risk.

'You will need help on your quest,' Barda said reasonably. 'Two people are better than one, do you not agree?'

Endon nodded reluctantly. There was merit in Barda's calm rationalising, and he realised that the big man was right. It would be folly to go alone to seek the gems.

'Then it is settled,' Barda said, in a satisfied tone of voice. 'I will come with you on your quest, when the time comes.'

Chapter Text

'Are you sure about this?' Endon asked Barda, pacing around the forge kitchen, his nerves frazzled. 'Is it really what you want?' He gazed intently at Barda's determined face, searching for any signs of apprehension, but all he saw was a deep, heart-wrenching loyalty to himself and Sharn, and a fierce determination to do whatever he could to help the cause. 'Anna and I would be honoured to shelter you, give you a home right here in the cottage. You do not have to do this.'

'But I do,' Barda said earnestly. 'Jarred, I need to do this. I need to restore my honour and my pride, and repent for my sins.' At Endon's questioning gaze, he bowed his head, and when he next spoke, his voice was shaky. 'It was my fault, I know it. When I left the feast that night, I left behind my friends and comrades to face the Shadow Lord's fury. If I had stayed, we might have stood a chance. I could have told them of my mother's warning, they would not have been caught unawares…' His voice trailed away.

'They would have died anyway, Barda,' Endon said. 'They would have stayed and done whatever they could to protect the royal family in their hour of need. They would not have listened to you—they would have listened to Prandine, the King's chief advisor.'

'But…'

Endon broke in before Barda could speak. 'Years ago I tried to warn Endon of the coming danger. I tried to warn him of Prandine's treachery and convince him to wear the Belt of Deltora again. But he would not listen.' He felt the bitterness cloak his words as he spoke, felt the tears come to his eyes at the memory. 'When we escaped the palace, Endon realised his mistake, and realised that he had let his people down, that the Belt would never shine for him again. It was a bitter blow for him. He never got over it.'

He saw Barda's raised eyebrows at his final words and hastily corrected himself, inwardly cursing himself for his carelessness. 'I imagine he never got over it. Endon was distraught when we parted.'

Barda nodded. 'I can understand that.'

'What I was meaning to say is that you must not blame yourself for not being there,' Endon said gently. 'Sometimes it is better to flee and live to fight another day than to stay and die. Your mother would want you to be happy.'

Tears glinted in the big man's eyes. 'I know, Jarred. But it is difficult. That is why I need to do this.'

Endon sighed, and nodded. 'Very well, Barda. I will make you a beggar's shelter in the forge yard, where you can live in and keep up the pretence. But I do wish you did not have to do this.'

Barda grinned, and clapped Endon on the back. 'Do not worry, Jarred. You will not regret this, I promise.'

Endon said nothing, but inwardly he prayed that he would be given no cause for regret.

oOo

In the darkness of the night, Endon crept from the bed he shared with Sharn and walked quietly to the forge, carrying the mangled Belt of Deltora in his arms. Once there, he heated up the fire and stared at the Belt which shone dimly under the fiery light. Even mangled, it was still beautiful.

He gazed at the empty medallions and thought of the gems that were scattered throughout Deltora. They had once blazed proudly from the Belt of Deltora, protecting the kingdom from invasion by the Shadow Lord. And they would again, Endon thought. One day, the gems would be restored, the Shadow Lord would be defeated and the Belt would shine once more for the Kings and Queens of Deltora.

With that thought clear in his mind, he placed the Belt on the forge and began to work.

oOo

As the first rays of sun lit the pre-dawn earth, a babe's healthy cry could be heard from within the forge cottage, along with its mother's contented sigh. Outside the forge, Endon halted his manic pacing, and breathing a huge sigh of relief, walked casually to the beggar's shelter he had built three months ago for Barda. 'It is over,' he muttered quietly to the darkness, trying to make it seem as if he were talking to himself. 'The babe is born.' He felt himself grin foolishly. 'My babe is born.'

He met Barda's gaze, and knew that it mirrored his own elated expression. It seemed unbelievable, that he would really become a father. At times, during the past three months, Endon had doubted that they would survive to become a family. And yet, now they were a family.

'My congratulations, Jarred,' Barda said heartily. Endon almost jumped at the sound of his old friend's name, now his name. He was still to get used to his new identity, even after three months in hiding.

He forced himself to respond to the name. 'I am just glad Anna is alright. It was a hard birth.'

'You heard her.' Barda grinned. 'She is alright. Go in there and see them!'

Endon could not help but smile as he walked towards the cottage. Over the last three months, a surprising friendship had sprung between himself and Barda—close to but not quite the same as the friendship he had shared with Jarred. That friendship had helped him survive the months until the birth of his child and heir, and Endon was grateful for it. He had never expected such a friendship to develop between himself and another person besides Jarred.

He paused at the threshold of the cottage, deep in thought, and knocked on the door. It seemed the safest course of action, he thought, as he had no idea whether he was welcome in the forge cottage. Amarantz of the Pottery had banished him from the cottage hours ago for 'getting in the way'. 'Get out and stay out until it is over,' she had barked as she shoved him out the door. 'In here you are just in the way. Wait for us to call you.' Now it was clearly over, but would it be safe to enter and face Amarantz's wrath for not waiting for her to call for him?

Sick with apprehension, he waited.

'Come in, Jarred!' Amarantz called moments later, her voice high with excitement. 'Come and see your babe!'

Endon flung himself into the cottage, barging into the bedroom he shared with his wife. He was greeted with the welcome sight of Sharn smiling up at him while resting on the bed, holding a tiny squirming babe in her arms. His eyes were riveted on the babe as it opened its pink mouth and bawled.

'What do you think?' Sharn teased him. 'Will he do?'

'He will do very well!' Endon smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Then he gazed at his son. His heir. The babe gazed back at him, gurgling and waving its tiny fingers. 'He is beautiful!'

'I know,' Sharn said. 'Here, hold him.' She held out their bundle of joy to him.

Endon grimaced as he took the babe from her. It was heavier than he had expected for a newborn.

'You have a boy,' Amarantz said in the silence that followed, her face beaming. 'A healthy boy. My congratulations, Jarred!'

'I have a boy,' Endon whispered, stunned. A boy. The future King of Deltora, the heir to the Belt's power. He had a boy! 'I have a boy!'

'Yes, we do,' Sharn smiled, her eyes communicating to him her relief at the safe birth, joy at becoming a mother, and immense love for him and their new son. 'What shall we name him?'

Endon and Sharn had already considered different names for their babe, but had not decided upon one. Now, as Endon gazed down at the babe in his arms, the perfect name came into his mind.

'Lief,' he said. 'Our son shall be called Lief.'

The babe in his arms gurgled, seeming pleased at the name. Sharn's eyes flooded with tears, her face glowing with happiness. Amarantz nodded, her face a picture of approval.

'It is a good name,' she said. 'Lief means 'loved'.'

'Which he will be,' Endon said, still unable to take his eyes off of his son. 'He will be very loved indeed.' And secretly he thought to himself: Our son Lief will be the best and most loved king Deltora has ever seen.

oOo

That night, after long hours of working in the forge, Endon crept into his and Sharn's bedroom. It was complete darkness within, and as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he saw his wife lying on the bed, her eyes closed. Resting in a crib beside the bed was their babe Lief.

Endon stayed as silent as a mouse, not wanting to wake either his newborn son or his beloved wife. He gazed at his family, his heart full. It was awe-inspiring, that they had gotten this far, that he, the King of Deltora who had failed to protect his kingdom, had managed to survive and know such overwhelming joy. He was grateful, incredibly grateful, to Jarred and Anna for giving his family a home and identity. He had realised that, after listening to travellers' stories of the state of the countryside since the Shadow Lord's invasion, if they had fled Del as they had first thought to do, they would not have survived against the vagabonds and evil that lurked there. Endon prayed that Jarred and Anna fared better than himself and Sharn.

He gazed at Lief, sleeping peacefully in the cradle Amarantz had given them. He had his mother's dark hair and pale face, but his father's eyes. He seemed fragile, but Endon sensed a hidden strength and stubbornness much like Sharn's. This son of ours will go far, Endon thought. He will make his parents proud.

And Endon vowed that he would protect his son and never give up on him. Whatever Lief did, he would find his parents proud of his accomplishments. Whether he became King or not, Endon was glad for the moment to just love him as a father loves a son.

oOo

'Papa!'

Endon smiled and looked up at the seven year old boy running up to him, proudly waving the ragdoll clutched in his hands. As his son reached him he set down the metal he had been beating into shape and turned to him. 'Lief! What is it?'

'Papa, look at the ragdoll Mama made for me!' Lief said proudly.

Endon scrutinised the doll, a replica of the Kin, a fabled race that had allegedly lived on Dread Mountain once. 'It is wonderful, Lief!' he responded warmly, knowing that that was what his son wanted to hear. 'It was very good of your mother to make it for you. I hope you thanked her.'

'Yes, papa,' Lief said seriously, but Endon saw the familiar mischievous look in his eyes.

Endon sighed. 'Go and say thank you to your mother, Lief,' he ordered, frowning at his son and making sure that he saw the censure in his eyes. 'She did you a kindness, so you must thank her.'

He waited, hands crossed around his chest, for Lief to scamper away into the cottage, and hoped that his unruly son would do as he was told. Most likely he would escape the forge and gallivant around the city with his friends. But hopefully he would listen to his parents for once.

Endon sighed again, and resumed his task. His son was a trial at times to both of his parents at times, refusing to take part in his lessons, sneaking out of the forge before he had finished his daily chores. But even so, he was the light of their lives, a precious gift of hope that had come when they had felt bereft. Lief's birth had reminded them that they were the royal family of Deltora, and that they had to reclaim their Kingdom for their son, so that he would be King in his turn.

Later, as the sun sank below the horizon, Endon returned to the cottage, feeling the muscles in his arms ache. He was met at the door by Sharn, who enveloped him in her arms. They stood there for a long moment, revelling in the wondrous gift of love and safety. Endon knew that he would be forever grateful to Jarred for giving him this blessing, even as he regretted the sacrifice he had had to make.

'Lief is sleeping now,' Sharn said softly, her voice muffled against his chest.

'Did he thank you for his ragdoll?' Endon asked wearily.

'He did,' Sharn said, smiling. 'He seemed very grateful, and I allowed him to go into the city afterwards.'

'Good,' Endon said, a tired smile gracing his face.

Sharn pulled him into the living area, and onto the chairs that surrounded the fireplace.

'Endon…' Sharn began after a long moment, her expression sombre, her eyes anxious. 'I do not want another child.'

'Why ever not?' He gaped at her. This was the last thing he had expected her to say.

'I do not want another child of ours to be born into this world,' Sharn said, gesturing towards the city outside the cottage, where Grey Guards patrolled the streets and vagabonds lay in wait, robbing anyone foolish enough to be in their path. 'This is a world of madness and danger; it is much too dangerous for any child. I do not want any child of ours to grow up and fall prey to those monsters.'

'But…' Endon could not quite explain his desire to know with all certainty that he would have an heir to his throne. He had to have more than one child. He saw now that the chief advisors' rule of only one child for each ruler had caused each King and Queen's rule to be even more precarious than the last. He had to have a large family. What was Sharn thinking? 'Sharn…'

'I know what you are thinking, Endon,' Sharn said, her eyes blazing with conviction. 'You are thinking only of yourself, of your heir to the throne. But we need to stay hidden, our son needs to stay hidden until the time is right for us to reclaim our kingdom. Lief is enough of a handful; I will not watch another child of mine go out into the city and be afraid that they will not come back.' Sharn lifted her chin. 'See reason, Endon. We will be less conspicuous with a small family, and much safer. We must stay hidden from the Shadow Lord at all costs, until it is time.' She glared at Endon.

Endon shook his head, stunned. How could he not realise that Sharn felt this way? Was he that poor a husband that he could not see when his wife was afraid for her family? He bowed his head. 'Sharn, my love,' he said hoarsely. 'I am sorry. I am just so afraid that our little one may be lost to us one day and I will have no heir to give my throne to. Call it selfishness if you will, but when we reclaim our kingdom, I would like to have an heir to give it to. More children would increase our chances of having an heir that lives to adulthood.'

'Oh, Endon,' Sharn sighed, leaning over to touch his arm, her eyes luminous. 'I, too, am afraid for our son. But we must not give up hope now. Our son will live and be a good king one day. We will make sure of that. Now we must think of our family's safety during these dark times.' Her bottom lip trembled, and Endon knew she was also thinking of Amarantz and Michel of the Pottery, who had recently been captured by the Shadow Lord for participating in a rebellion. No one knew what had happened to them, and Endon knew Sharn worried for them both. Amarantz was her oldest friend.

Endon brushed her lips with his own, feeling his heart swell with resolve and gladness. 'My darling, of course you are right,' he murmured. 'Our safety and the safety of our son should come first, always. Very well. Lief will be our only child, and we will keep him as safe as we can.'

When he drew back, he saw that Sharn's eyes were sparkling. 'I know I am right,' she said, so slyly that Endon felt compelled to kiss her again, hungrily, needing to feel the touch of her skin as if he thirsted for water. His heart leapt to see Sharn respond equally as energetically and he drew her into his arms and carried her into their bedroom, never taking his mouth from hers, and laid her out on the bed, and celebrated their safety and peace in a fashion equally satisfying for them both.

oOo

As the years passed, Endon found himself intensely glad that he had promised Sharn that they would have no more children, for although Lief was the light of their lives he was quite a handful to raise, constantly sneaking behind his parents' backs to play with his friends in the streets of the city and worrying them to bits. If one was a handful, he thought, two would be impossible! Thus, he gave way to Sharn's wisdom with grace, and never asked her for another child.

But he still worried about Lief, about the future of Deltora. What would become of Deltora if its heir was killed by Grey Guards while exploring Del after sunset? What would become of Deltora if Endon had no heir to give the Belt to? For the Belt would never shine for Endon again—but it would shine for Lief, his beloved son and heir. Lief had to survive, for all their sakes.

The only solution, Endon realised, was to 'guard' Lief secretly on the streets of Del, ensuring his safety when he was in dire danger. And the person best suited for that duty was Barda. So it was that Endon found himself travelling to the daily market one day, money jingling in a light purse tied to his trousers. Barda was commonly found in the marketplace, where he could overhear information important for their quest and relay it back to Endon and Sharn, and Endon dearly hoped that Barda would be there now, despite the storm clearly brewing in the skies. The safety of his precocious ten-year-old son was of the utmost importance, and he had to be sure Barda would protect him to the best of his ability.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he failed to notice the danger until it was too late. Thunder clapped, unnervingly close, and a flash of lightning lit the darkened sky, bathing the city in golden light. A cracking noise ensued, followed by the sound of a tree falling rapidly.

Someone screamed.

Others began to shove at each other, trampling each other in their attempt to escape the path of the falling tree. Heart hammering, Endon pushed through the crowd, but could not open a pathway between the people for himself, and soon found himself thrown onto the cobbles by another frantic person. He looked up, dazed, to see the tree looming towards him.

He heard a person scream, low and terrified, and realised that it was himself. Briefly he wondered if this was a punishment for his sins, for what he had done to Deltora.

Then the tree was upon him, and a fierce pain exploded in his body, so fierce that he cried out again. He heard townspeople gathering around him, and a voice saying, 'Why, that is Jarred the blacksmith!' He heard murmurs rise in the crowd like a wave of thunder.

And then, mercifully, darkness claimed him.

oOo

Hours later, he woke, in his own bed in the forge cottage, feeling as if every bone in his body had been broken. He heard, as if through a long tunnel, the sound of voices speaking in low, urgent tones. He recognised one of the voices as Sharn's and smiled despite the pain that wracked him. 'Sharn?' he whispered in a thread of a voice.

He heard her overjoyed exclamation, and felt her soft warm palm stroke his forehead. 'I am here,' she said, 'and so is Barda. Do not worry, my love, all is well now.' Those words conveyed to him a message which sent him into chills with the realisation that he had almost revealed their true identities. How could he have been so stupid?

He glanced at Barda, but thankfully the big man seemed as if he had not heard what Endon had uttered.

'Jarred, I am glad you are alright,' Barda said jovially. 'Or not quite alright, of course, but I am sure you will recover in time.' He flashed a grin that painfully reminded Endon of Jarred.

'I hope I will,' Endon murmured, and forced a smile. 'I will need all my strength during the quest.'

Barda and Sharn looked at each other, their faces grave. His smile faded, his heart thudded painfully. What had happened? What had given them such apprehension?

Sharn turned to face him, and the expression on her face terrified him. For a long moment, silence reigned.

'Whatever it is, just tell me,' he said hoarsely. 'Please.'

Tears pooled in Sharn's eyes as she gazed at Endon. 'The tree…' she said quietly. 'It crushed your leg. Your leg will recover, but it will always be weak and you will always have a limp.' She looked away, overcome. 'I am sorry, Jarred.'

It crushed your leg… You will always have a limp... The words rang in Endon's ears like death knells. He closed his eyes and groaned. He was finished. He was crippled. He could not go on the quest to restore the gems now; his leg would slow them down and put them all in danger. It seemed ridiculous, to think that it was a tree that felled Endon, King of Deltora and ruined their quest for the gems. It made him want to laugh and weep at the same time.

'I cannot go on the quest for the gems,' Endon said flatly, knowing that Sharn and Barda had already known this. 'I am a cripple.' He felt a laugh bubble up his throat. 'Who would have thought it?' It seemed like a strange twist of fate, as if he was being punished for his sins. Why else would such a thing happen when they were so close to beginning their quest?

'What should we do now?' Sharn said. 'Barda cannot go alone to seek the gems. It would be too dangerous.' She and Barda both glanced at Endon, as if he would know what to do.

Endon sighed. 'We will speak of this later, when I am recovered. There is also another matter I would like to speak to you about, Barda, regarding my son's safety. But that is also for a later day. Today I find I am too tired to do anything but lie here and sleep. I believe I may die of boredom over the next few days.'

oOo

Endon almost did die of boredom during his days of convalescence. There was nothing he could do but lie in bed, bored out of his mind, counting the cracks in the ceiling or taking short naps. Every once in a while either Sharn or Barda came to visit him with a bowl of broth for him to eat, and they would stay until he had drank every last drop. He found he missed his work in the forge, despite the harshness of it, for at least there he had been doing something. Now he was crippled and confined to bed, with no hope of doing anything.

His heart sang when he was pronounced well enough to leave the bed, two weeks into his convalescence. With Sharn's help he scrambled out of the bed and hobbled around the cottage, feeling his weak leg drag like a heavy weight behind him. But it was a relief to be able to walk again.

'Father?' The sound of Lief's subdued voice caused him to pause in the forge kitchen. He turned to see his son peeking through the doorway.

'Yes?' Endon said gently. 'You can come in, you know.'

'Are you alright now?' Lief walked into the kitchen to stand before Endon. 'Mother said you were hurt by a falling tree.'

'I am alright, son,' Endon assured him. 'I did not think I would ever get out of bed!'

'Mother said I was not to disturb you,' Lief said awkwardly.

'I heard,' Endon said. 'You have been good to your mother, I hope?'

'Oh, yes!' Lief's eyes brightened, and he smiled. 'I helped Mother with her chores every day so she could go to bed early because she has been so tired these past weeks. Mother said she had never had a better son,' he added proudly.

'Well done, Lief,' Endon said warmly. Pride for his son engulfed him. It relieved him to know that Sharn had not worked herself to exhaustion while he was bed-ridden. 'If you would like, you may play with your friends after you have finished your chores for today. You certainly deserve it.'

Lief's smile widened, and his eyes shone. 'Thank you, Father!' he said cheerfully.

'Now off you go,' Endon urged him. 'Go help your mother. I am sure she needs you for somewhat.'

Lief nodded, and left the room. As he watched his son scamper away, Endon thought of how responsible he had become these past few weeks, and how dear he was to both himself and Sharn. He knew with certainty that now was the time to ask Barda to become guardian to his son.

oOo

That night, Endon, Sharn and Barda gathered in the forge cottage, and discussed what to be done about the quest for the gems and about Lief.

Endon brought the topic up of a guardian for Lief as soon as they were settled in their seats in front of the fireplace. He described the fear he and Sharn felt when Lief took risks and came home after sunset, when the Grey Guards were about, and their worry that Lief would be killed one day. He outlined his proposal, that Barda could protect their son from the dangers of the city. He held his breath as Barda considered it.

'So, Jarred,' Barda drawled after a moment. 'Are you asking me to babysit your ten-year-old son while he plays with his friends in the streets?' His face was slightly derisive, and Endon prayed that he would not reject the proposal because of his pride.

'Yes, I am,' Endon said. 'Our son means everything to us, Barda. It would mean a lot to us if you would make sure he comes home safely each night.'

Barda nodded in understanding, but still hesitated in giving an answer.

'You need not do this thing if you do not want to,' Sharn said sweetly. 'We would not have come to you about this, but there is no one else we trust enough who is able to do this thing.'

Barda frowned. 'Well and so.' His expression settled to one of determination. 'Very well, I will do this thing you ask of me. But in exchange, I would like something.'

Both Sharn and Endon's eyes widened. They had not expected this. Barda was usually so stoic that he never asked for anything from them, not wanting to deprive them of much needed stores. What could he want now?

'What would you like?' Sharn said cautiously. 'You know we would give you anything you need or want.'

'I want to go on my own to seek the gems,' Barda burst out. 'I know it is not what you planned, Jarred, but you know you cannot come now, because of what happened.' His gaze drifted to Endon's stiff leg. 'Let me go alone, and I will succeed. Surely it is the only way now.'

Sharn opened her mouth to reply, but Endon spoke first. 'No,' he said gravely. He knew in his heart that Barda's plan was a bad one. What would happen if Barda was killed during the quest? No one would know what had become of him and Deltora would be under the Shadow forever. No, someone had to accompany Barda on the quest. But who?

Barda frowned. 'Jarred,' he began. Endon could sense the argument building inside of him.

'No,' Endon repeated. 'I will not have you go alone. It would be too dangerous. What if you are killed? Then the quest would be lost.'

'But…'

'You need a companion, someone to help you. I know you think anyone now would slow you down, but I believe this is necessary for the quest to succeed. Please,' Endon's voice grew gentle. 'I am sorry for speaking so harshly, but this is the truth. I know in my heart that this is needful.'

Barda let out a hard breath. His expression was frustrated. 'I know, I know! But I am capable, and I am sure I would succeed by myself. But I will bow to your decision, for now, though I will try and do all I can to persuade you otherwise.' His voice grew bitter. 'So, who will be my companion now?'

Endon hesitated, and shared a glance with Sharn. They had not thought ahead so far. Finally, Sharn spoke.

'Lief,' she said clearly.

'What?' Barda gaped at her, astonished and angry at the same time. Endon could feel his own jaw drop as well. Lief? What was Sharn thinking?

'What are you saying, Anna?' Barda spluttered furiously. 'That your ten-year-old son will be a suitable companion for me on our quest? Have you gone mad?'

Endon opened his mouth to admonish Barda for speaking to his wife like that, but could not get a word out as Sharn replied calmly, 'Yes, Barda, I am saying that Lief could come with you on the quest when he is of age, in place of his father.' She turned a gentle gaze upon Endon. 'To fulfil his father's pledge.'

Endon stared at her open-mouthed. Sharn smiled and caressed his cheek. 'It is the perfect solution, Jarred,' she said. 'Lief is our son, it is his right to take part in this quest, if he wishes to. We will prepare him as best as we can for it.'

Endon nodded, mute. Her courage and fortitude never ceased to amaze him.

Barda sighed. 'Very well. As you wish. Lief will come on the quest, when he is of age and if he wishes it. But I still think I will be better off going alone. I will still try to convince you to send me alone.'

Endon half-smiled. 'And I will try to convince you otherwise.'

Barda laughed. 'Then we have a bargain!' Then his voice sobered. 'I have just one more condition.'

'What is it?'

'Allow Lief to have more freedom to roam about the city, so that he may encounter what it is really like to be in a dangerous situation. Let him sharpen his wits and learn more of life in the city. This surely is just as important as his other duties in the forge cottage.'

Endon eyed Barda's obstinate expression, and knew that if they did not consent to this Barda would not agree to have Lief as a companion, and they would never be able to change his mind. Barda could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

Endon sighed. They would have to agree to Barda's condition, or the quest would be lost before it had even begun. 'Very well, Barda,' he said heavily. 'We agree to your condition. But know that we fully expect you to keep our son from being killed out there in the streets.'

'Agreed!' Barda said, his voice turning jovial now that the problem was solved. 'Lief will accompany me on the quest, and I will babysit him as he gets a taste of life in the city.'

'Agreed,' Endon echoed. He tried to smile, but only managed a grimace, thinking of what his stiff leg had deprived him of. He had so wanted to go seek the gems; he was the King of Deltora, after all, and he owed it to his people to free them from the Shadow Lord's tyranny. It was because of him that Deltora had been invaded—it was only fair that he free his people from this evil. But now it was not possible.

He thought of Lief. Lief was the heir to the Belt of Deltora, the future King. It was only right now that Lief take his father's place on the quest. But it was still a bitter blow, not to be able to help his people in this way.

Endon hauled himself to his feet, signalling that the meeting was adjourned, and walked towards his and Sharn's bedroom, feeling his energy flag with each step he took. The meeting had drained more of his energy than he had expected. With a relieved sigh, he collapsed onto the bed, feeling himself sink into unconsciousness almost immediately.

Now the waiting would begin, Endon thought drowsily as his consciousness ebbed. Waiting for Lief to come of age, waiting for the quest to begin. Waiting for Lief to be ready.

He only hoped that the waiting would not be too long.

Chapter Text

Before dawn, Endon made his way to the shelter where Barda sat engulfed in darkness, waiting for him to arrive. They had arranged this meeting privately, between the two of them. Not even Sharn knew of it—she had been asleep in their bed in the forge cottage, when Endon had left it, seeming as young and at peace as she had been when they had first married and laid eyes upon each other. As always, it made Endon's heart swell to think of her.

'So, Jarred,' Barda said sardonically, his smile not reaching his eyes. 'It is time, I see.'

Endon nodded, clearing his throat. 'Lief is sixteen years old on this day,' he said. 'It is time for the quest to begin. I trust you are ready?'

'I am.'

Barda said nothing further, but Endon could see the unhappiness in his eyes, the simmering resentment at the thought of having an unruly sixteen year old boy join him on the quest. Barda had never wanted Lief to accompany him on the quest; if he could, he would refuse to take him. But it had been a part of the bargain that he had agreed to that he would allow Lief to join him on the quest for the gems.

'You must have a companion; we agreed to it,' Endon reminded him. 'It is for the best, Barda.'

'I may have agreed to it, but it does not mean I must like the idea,' Barda said. 'I am still certain that you err in wanting Lief to join me on this quest. He will surely be more a burden than a help. But that is not for me to say now.'

'Of course,' Endon said, struggling to keep his voice even. He could understand Barda's discontent, and knew that he may have felt the exact same way if he was in Barda's position, but he could not countenance Barda's derision of his son. 'Are you ready for dusk?'

'I am,' Barda said coolly. 'I know what I am to do, in any case. Do not worry, Jarred,' he added, seeing the doubt in Endon's eyes. 'I will do what we agreed. I will not bow out now.' He flashed a humorless grin, a grin that did nothing to erase the doubts in Endon's mind.

'That is good,' Endon said. Trying, and failing, to smile, he limped away, towards the forge, where metal waited to be molded into shape and furnaces waited to be heated. Blacksmithing was a grueling trade—every night, he returned to the cottage exhausted to his very core, muscles aching, his bad leg dragging behind him like a heavy weight. How had Jarred managed it?

'Jarred.' He turned at the sound of his old friend's name, now his name. What could Barda want now? They had discussed all that needed to be discussed. Endon halted, and slowly turned towards him.

'Yes?' he asked cautiously.

'I think it may be a good idea to destroy The Belt of Deltora,' Barda said firmly. 'It is simply too dangerous to keep. It is plain proof of your guilt, if the Shadow Lord's spies should find it. You should destroy it now, before it is too late.' His eyes showed his conviction that he was right.

Endon thought of the old book, with its tattered, delicate pages. Jarred had left it behind in the forge cottage when he had fled Del in Endon's place. Endon had found it hidden in a corner of their bedroom, written in bold lettering on the front, The Belt of Deltora: Its Magic, History and Power. When Endon had opened it, he found it filled with priceless information of the Belt of Deltora and its history. It had been as if Fate had meant them to have it, Endon thought, remembering. It had provided them with vital information for their quest. During his childhood, Lief had studied from it to prepare him for what was to come. It was important, Endon knew. It was their only source of information about the Belt of Deltora. What would happen if they destroyed it?

'Jarred?' Barda prompted impatiently.

Endon shook his head. 'I cannot do it,' he said. 'That book is important, I know it. There is no other like it. If we destroy it, we will be doing what the Shadow Lord wants—destroying the history and magic of Deltora. And that I cannot do.'

Barda frowned. 'You should destroy it, I tell you. Soon a day might come when you will regret you did not do just that.'

Endon shook his head again. 'No,' he repeated. 'We might still need it.'

Ignoring Barda's frown, he walked away, to the forge, where a long, exhausting day of work awaited. And as he set to work heating the furnace, he wondered if Barda was right. Was it really folly to keep such a book as The Belt of Deltora? Was it better to destroy the information it held? But deep inside, he knew he had not the heart to destroy it.

oOo

'You once lived in the palace? You were the King's friend? You—I cannot believe this! I will not believe this!' Lief spluttered, staring at his father as if he had grown wings or horns. Endon did not blame him. For all of his life Lief had believed that his parents were ordinary and quiet, happy to stay inconspicuously living in Del under the Shadow Lord's rule. Now he was coming to realise just how wrong he was.

Endon inwardly winced at the barely concealed revulsion in Lief's voice when he spoke of the King. They had never spoken of the Shadow Lord's invasion to Lief—it was too painful, to close to heart, even after all these years. They also had not wanted to turn Lief against his own father. Almost everyone in Del hated the King, blaming him for Deltora's troubles, and rightly, in Endon's mind. They had not wanted Lief to feel the same way. But Lief had found out anyway, from his friends. Lief thought that his parents did not know that he knew, but they did. Barda had overheard Lief's friends telling him, and had told Endon.

It did hurt, having his own son believe that he had been weak, lazy and careless, although it was the truth. It hurt to have his own son hate him. But nothing could be done about it. Everyone in Del hated the old King. But it still hurt.

'You must believe it, my son,' he told Lief. 'Why else do you think we have lived so quietly all these years, tamely obeying every order given to us, never rebelling? Many, many times I have been tempted to do otherwise. But I knew we had to avoid drawing the enemy's attention to us.' He felt his hands clench as he thought about it.

'But—but why have you never told me before?' Lief stammered, eyes wide with shock.

Sharn spoke up before Endon could reply. 'We thought it best to keep silent until now, Lief,' she said gravely. 'It was important, you see, that no word reached the ears of the Shadow Lord. And until you were ten your father believed that he himself would be the one who would go to seek the gems of Deltora, when the time came. But then…' She glanced quickly at Endon's stiff leg, and Endon could see regret and remembered terror in her eyes. Endon suppressed a shudder at the memories they provoked.

Endon smiled grimly. He still harboured regret that he could not go on the quest with Barda. 'Then the tree fell, and I had to accept that this could not be,' he finished for Sharn. 'I can still work in the forge — enough to earn our bread — but I cannot travel. And so, Lief, the task is left to you. If you are willing.'

Neither Endon nor Sharn doubted that he would be willing. They knew him too well. He had inherited a sense of duty and rightness from his father, and they had done all that they could to foster that in him, as well as other equally important virtues that a King needed to have to rule. They waited, expectantly, for his answer.

'The king was not killed after all,' Lief muttered. 'He escaped, with the queen. But why did the Shadow Lord not find them?'

Endon told him the abridged truth of what had occurred sixteen years ago on the night of the Shadow Lord's invasion. He could feel his brow furrow at the bitter memory of his parting with Jarred and his failure to protect his people. He did not think he would ever forgive himself for it.

'We knew that we might never meet again,' he finished, his heart heavy. 'Endon had realised by then that by his foolishness and blindness the people's last trust in him had been destroyed. All our hopes rested with his unborn child.' The heir. Lief, he thought.

'But—how do you know the child was born safely and is still alive, Father?' Lief asked.

Endon took out the Belt of Deltora from within his own hollow belt, and placed it in Lief's eager hands. He watched Lief admire it and felt pride in the beauty of Adin's greatest work and gladness that he had been able to save it.

'I mended it, making it ready to receive the gems once more, before I hid it away,' Endon said. 'But so closely is it bound to the blood of Adin that it would have crumbled into pieces if the heir was no more. As you see, it is still whole. So we can be sure that the heir lives.'

'If you agree to go on the quest, my son, you must put the Belt on and never let it out of your sight until it is complete,' Sharn warned. Only Endon could detect the note of fear in her voice she tried to suppress. 'Are you willing? Think carefully before you answer.'

'I am willing,' Lief said. 'Where must I go to find the gems?'

Endon felt his face pale. He had never doubted that Lief would agree to go, but now that the time had come he could not help but think of the dangers, the risk Lief would be taking. Images swam in his mind, of his son lying in an unknown grave somewhere in Deltora. His son, fighting a monstrous guardian, and falling, a wound to the heart, Barda watching on in horror, unable to do a thing as the lifeblood bled from Lief's body.

He sat down again and stared at the fire to conceal his expression from Lief. Lief did not need his parents doubting and fearing for him now at the beginning of the quest. He could feel Sharn gaze on him, and knew she understood what he was feeling.

'Preparing for this moment we have listened to many travelers' tales,' he said at last. 'I will tell you what we know. Prandine said that the gems were scattered, hidden in places no one would dare to find them.'

'That means, I suppose, that they lie in places people would be afraid to go,' Lief said.

'So I fear.' Endon agreed. He picked up a parchment from the table beside his chair and began slowly to unfold it. 'Seven Ak-Baba were flying together around the palace tower on the day the gems were taken,' he went on. 'They separated and flew off in different directions. We believe that each was carrying one of the gems, and each was going to one particular place to hide it. See here. I have drawn a map.'

Lief paled as he saw and read the names of the places, but still he agreed to go. It filled Endon with pride and fear to see his son's courage.

At Lief's decision, Endon could sense his wife's courage fail her. 'He is so young!' Sharn cried out. She buried her face in her hands. 'Oh, I cannot bear it!'

Lief spun around to her and threw his arm around her neck. 'I want to go, Mother!' he exclaimed. 'Do not weep for me.'

'You do not know what you are promising!' she cried.

'Perhaps I do not,' Lief said. 'But I know that I would do anything — anything in my power — to rid our land of the Shadow Lord.'

He turned from her to look back at Endon. 'Where is the heir?' he demanded, an excited, fascinated expression on his face. 'That, at least, you know for certain, Father, for you suggested the hiding place.'

'Perhaps I did,' Endon told him quietly. 'But I must not endanger our cause by telling you of it. The heir is powerless without the Belt, and must remain in deepest hiding until it is complete. You are young and impatient, Lief, and the road ahead of you is hard. You might give way to temptation and seek out the heir before your quest is done. I cannot risk that.' It would not do to have Lief realise that he was the heir to Deltora before the Belt was whole again. Lief could not be put at risk. Endon almost shuddered at the thought of it.

Lief opened his mouth to argue, but Endon interrupted him. 'When the gems are all in place the Belt will lead you to the heir, my son,' he said firmly. 'You must wait until then.'

He half smiled as Lief sighed with frustration. Lief had always had little patience, even as a child. The coming quest would most surely cure him of that.

'Perhaps this will cheer you,' Endon said, to distract him. 'It is my birthday gift to you.' He brought out the sword from under his chair. He had spent hours secretly crafting it in the forge these past few mornings, before dawn. It was the finest work he had ever done, save his remaking of the Belt of Deltora.

He saw Lief's eyes widen at the slender, lethal blade, better than any of the swords Lief had practiced with during his mandatory sword-fighting lessons. He felt the pride swell his heart at having made this beautiful, lethal sword and that his son would be wielding it.

'I made it on our own forge,' Endon told him. He handed the sword to his son, who took it eagerly. 'It is the finest work I have ever done. Care for it well, and it will care for you.'

Lief nodded, and thanked him. And then Sharn came forward with a gift of her own—an intricately woven cloak, made to conceal the wearer, Sharn had told Endon earlier. Its colouring was unusual, variating between grey and brown. Sharn had refused to tell Endon what Toran magic she had used to make the cloak conceal the wearer.

'This, too, will care for you, wherever you may go,' Sharn whispered, pressing the cloak into his hands and kissing him. 'The fabric is — special. I used every art I knew in its making, and wove much love and many memories into it, as well as strength and warmth.'

Only Endon knew the pain she fought to hide, the fear that came to being when she thought of her only son going out into the world. He stood and put his arm around her, giving her what support he could give. Sharn leaned against him, and he could feel her draw courage from his presence beside her.

'You never doubted that I would agree to go on this quest,' Lief said quietly.

'We knew you too well to doubt it,' Sharn replied, trying—and failing—to smile. 'I was sure, as well, that you would want to start at once. Food and water for the first few days of your journey are already packed and waiting. You can leave within the hour, if you wish.'

'Tonight?' gasped Lief.

'There is one thing more,' Endon said quickly, thinking of Barda waiting outside for his cue to enter. He limped hastily to the door.

They had all agreed that it was better that way. What they knew of Lief's pride, he would have refused to go on the quest the moment he saw 'Barda the Beggar'. They had to be sure he would go on the quest before introducing him to Barda.

'You will not be alone on your quest. You will have a companion,' Endon continued.

He could see Lief gaping at him, and could imagine him wondering who else his parents would know who would accompany him on this strange quest. 'Who…' Lief began.

'A good friend. The one man we know we can trust,' Endon told him. Ignoring Lief's confusion, he swung the door open, and Barda sauntered in.

oOo

As expected, Lief's reaction to Barda was one of horror and disgust, until Barda thrust his disguise away. Then Barda, as they had planned, related to Lief his story of how he had fled the palace the night of the Shadow Lord's invasion, had met Lief's parents, and had sworn to help them seek the gems when the time came. He spoke of everything he had done; how he had watched over Lief since he was ten years old—and Lief seemed especially horrified by that, Endon thought ruefully. Betimes Endon thought he was too cocky, too proud. But then again, he was only a boy, and the coming quest would cure him of that quickly. It saddened Endon that his son would no longer be a boy when he returned, but a man fit for ruling—a King.

'My beggar's rags have been useful in other ways,' Barda was saying. 'Grey Guards talk freely to one another in front of me. Why should they care what a half-wit beggar hears?'

'It is because of news Barda has gathered in the past year, Lief, that we know it is time to make our move,' Endon added, eyeing Lief's troubled face anxiously. 'Hungry for further conquest, the Shadow Lord has at last turned his eyes away from us, to lands across the sea. Warships are being launched from our coast.'

Barda said something, but Endon did not listen as he glanced at Sharn, and saw that she was wearing the same apprehensive look in her eyes. What if they were wrong in sending Lief away? Was it really what he wanted? He looked so grim, so uncertain. But they could not back down now. To give up now would be pointless and cowardly. They had waited sixteen years for this moment; they would not back down now.

'Have you decided on our route?' Endon could hear Lief asking.

Endon opened his mouth to speak. They had planned their route very carefully- himself, Sharn and Barda. They had decided that Barda and Lief would aim first for the Valley of the Lost, which was close to Tora, the great city of the west. Sharn and Endon had discussed it privately, and had decided that since Tora was along the way, Lief and Barda would encounter it sooner or later, and would find plenty of help from the Torans in the city, as well as from Jarred and Anna, who had fled there after the invasion.

Barda spoke first, pointing to a spot on the map. 'I believe we should move east, directly to the Forests of Silence.'

Endon gasped, and heard Sharn and Lief echo him. This was not the plan. This was not the plan at all. He cleared his throat. 'We had decided that the Forests should be your final ordeal, not your first, Barda,' he protested quietly. Why had Barda decided to change it now?

Barda shrugged, and held Endon's gaze. He knew he would win this round. 'I heard something today that changed my mind. The Grey Guards have always feared the Forests, as we have. But now, it seems, no Guard will even approach them, because of the losses they have suffered. The roads around them are completely clear — of Guards, at least.'

'What say you, Lief?' Barda added in a deceptive voice. Endon could tell that he was just searching for a way to be rid of Lief. He had never fully agreed to Lief partaking in the quest—he had always wanted to go on alone.

'Your plan seems to me a good one, Barda,' Lief replied steadily. 'With no Guards to trouble us, we will make good time. And if we can find one gem quickly, it will give us good heart to go on.'

Endon could see Barda's eyes flicker slightly, saw the disappointment in them. He had dearly been hoping to go alone, Endon thought, and was grateful to his friend's sense of honour that kept him bound to his promise.

'So, Jarred?' Barda turned to him, expectant. In his eyes, Endon could see his dedication to their cause, his displeasure at Lief as a companion and sorrow at parting. Endon hoped his own eyes conveyed his own sorrow at the situation he had put Barda in, and his hopes that they would meet again after the restoration of the Belt.

Endon bowed his head, conflicting feelings broiling inside of him. 'It seems fate has taken a hand to alter my plans,' he murmured. 'I must bow to it. Do as you will. Our thoughts and hopes go with you.'

Sharn nodded her agreement, and then they were gone, travelling far, far away and into danger. Towards the Forests of Silence. Endon still felt apprehensive about Barda's choice, but he knew nothing could be done about it now. They would just have to wait, and hope for the best.

As soon as they heard their footsteps fade into the distance Endon felt Sharn crumble. She collapsed onto a chair and pressed her hands to her face, her chest convulsing with sobs. 'Oh, I cannot stand it!' she choked out.

Endon went to her, enfolded her in his arms, knowing she needed it. 'Be brave, my love,' he whispered to her. 'Be strong. Lief will return, and Deltora will be free again. We must lose courage now.' He felt his apprehension fading as he spoke, felt the confidence build up inside of himself. 'Everything will be all right,' he said, willing the words to be true.

Sharn looked up at him with tear-streaked eyes. 'I know,' she said softly. 'But it is still hard.'

'It is,' Endon agreed. 'But everything will be alright, I know it,' he added, and hoped that he would be proven true.

oOo

'Endon, we must talk.'

Endon paused his work as he heard Sharn's tentative approach, the tremble in her voice. His heart thudded at the anxiety those four words held. What was wrong? Surely it was not Lief?

He turned to face her, willing his face not to show his alarm. 'What is it, my love?' he asked gently.

Sharn simply gazed at him, mute, tears glinting in her eyes, her whole body shaking. It alarmed Endon even more. What had happened that had caused his perpetually courageous wife to break down like this?

'It—it is not Lief, is it?' he said, swallowing hard. 'Or Barda?' They had heard nothing of them since they had left three weeks ago, and despite talking with travellers from the countryside of what was happening there, they knew nothing of whether their quest was succeeding or if Lief and Barda were still alive or not. 'Tell me it is not them!' he begged Sharn, losing his nerve.

Sharn shuddered, and smiled weakly. 'Oh, I am sorry, Endon,' she said. 'No, it is not them. I have heard no news of them. It is… somewhat else. I may be overreacting…'

Endon tried not to show his enormous relief at her words. 'Then what is it?'

'Something happened in the market square,' Sharn said. 'Oh, Endon, I can hardly bear to think about it, let alone say it.'

'Tell me,' he urged her. 'Please. Whatever it is, we will be safe from it. We will stay out of trouble. Just tell me.'

'I am not sure of that, Endon,' Sharn said shakily. 'The baker's son Aldan was heard chatting about the night of the invasion. He said that the royal family—us—probably escaped from under the Shadow Lord's nose and the Shadow Lord was too stupid to realise it. He was killed on the spot, by a Grey Guard. Just like that.' She shuddered, and Endon could hear the fear in Sharn's voice. 'The Shadow Lord's spies will surely be listening even more closely now for any sign of discontent or rebellion.' She shuddered again. 'Endon, what if they find out about us? What if they are already suspecting? If people are beginning to talk, suggest things like this…what if the Shadow Lord pays heed, and listens?'

'Sharn, do not be afraid,' Endon said, trying to calm his trembling wife. 'We are in no more danger that we were sixteen years ago. Aldan was a fool; everyone knew that he had no idea where we are hiding, and neither does the Shadow Lord. We will not be discovered. We will just have to be more careful now.' He pulled Sharn into his arms, pressed his lips to her forehead. 'Have courage,' he urged. 'We will be safe, all of us. The quest will succeed and Deltora will be free again, and the Shadow Lord banished. His servants will never harm us. They would never suspect a humble blacksmith and his family of being the royal family of Deltora.'

'I hope so, Endon,' Sharn said sombrely. 'I do pray it is so. For if we are discovered we will be killed immediately, without cause.'

Endon tried not to show how much that terrified him.

oOo

The next days passed peacefully, and still with no news from the countryside. Each day, Endon would work in the forge until darkness settled over the land. Then he would return to the forge cottage to have dinner with Sharn in the kitchen, where she would tell him any news coming in from outside the city. Then, it was safe to discuss their son and their friend and whether their quest was succeeding, without worrying that they would be overheard by the Shadow Lord's spies.

On one night, he returned to the cottage to find Sharn smiling, her eyes bright. It lifted his heart to see it. Over the past days, his wife had been eaten with worry over possibility that they might be discovered by the Shadow Lord, and the realisation that no significant news was forthcoming from the countryside. Sharn's cheerful exterior told him that something had happened that bode well for them. But what?

He glanced at Sharn questioningly as he sat at the table in the forge kitchen, eating the meal Sharn had spent hours preparing for them both, but refrained from asking her until they had both finished their meals.

'What has happened?' he demanded, just barely keeping his voice from shaking in his excitement.

Sharn smiled triumphantly, but did not speak until he was almost mad with impatience. 'I heard a traveller in the inn speak of a great evil that has been undone in the north of Deltora, where apparently a sorceress had been ruling until recently. He said that three strangers managed to defeat the sorceress and kill her.'

Endon's eyes widened. 'You believe that Lief and Barda are responsible?'

'I know so,' Sharn said firmly. 'The Lake of Tears is in the north. Lief and Barda must have gone there after they retrieved the gem hidden in the Forests of Silence. Oh, Endon!' She clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. 'They are alive, and succeeding. They are really alive!'

Endon did not share his wife's jubilance. After all, was this really Lief and Barda they were speaking of? And who was this third person? He hesitated before speaking. 'But this man made mention of three people, not two, my love. How can that be?'

'Who else could it be? No one else would dare do this thing.' She glared at him. 'Please, Endon, do not doubt. It is them, I am sure of it!'

'I cannot help but doubt,' Endon said.

'Oh, I know,' Sharn said gently. She leaned across the table and touched his arm. 'But please believe me, my love. It is them. It must be them. Do not lose hope now. They are succeeding!'

'I pray that you are right, my love,' Endon said quietly. He did not voice the unwelcome thoughts that drifted into his mind: that Lief and Barda could be buried in an unknown grave somewhere in Deltora, and that he may have lead them to that fate. That they had no proof besides this traveller's gossip that the trio was Lief, Barda and an unknown third person. What if the quest was lost already? What if they had failed?

As always, Sharn seemed to know what he was thinking, and spoke. 'Endon, they are alive. We did not prepare Lief for this quest to just have him die. Lief is quick-witted, speedy and clever. He is a match for any monster. Barda is strong and trained as a palace guard. Do not belittle their skills by believing they have been killed already.'

Endon gazed at Sharn's fierce, determined expression, and saw the hope, courage and belief that blazed in her eyes. I do not deserve such a wife, he thought. He, who had failed his kingdom and fled into hiding like a coward, did not deserve her. Throughout their long years of waiting, she had not complained even once, or lost hope or courage. She had stayed by him and supported him for all this time. He wondered what good he had done in his life to deserve a wife like her.

'Endon?' Sharn said, smiling slightly. 'What is it?'

'I love you,' he blurted out. He could feel his cheeks redden at his outburst.

Sharn laughed, and caressed his cheek. 'And I love you, Endon.' She leaned forward and bestowed a kiss on Endon's lips. 'Believe me,' she whispered, her face inches from his. 'Lief and Barda are alive and succeeding. I know this to be true. Please believe me, and do not give up hope.'

Endon basked in her love, courage and support. He sealed the distance between them with a deep, satisfying kiss, feeling as if he were thirsting for her like never before. As they parted, he answered, 'I believe you, my love. But I cannot help but doubt, and worry. Worry about our son and the future of Deltora if he is killed. These doubts cloud my mind and terrify me. I…' His voice trailed away as Sharn kissed him again even more deeply.

'Then let me erase them,' she whispered close to his ear.

'Yes,' he gasped. 'Oh, yes.'

He awoke hours later in their bed, with Sharn enfolded in his arms, his mind lucid and clear of the doubts and fears that had plagued him for the past few weeks. As he opened his eyes he felt her gaze upon him, and he felt as if they were both young again and on their wedding night.

'Well?' she asked softly. 'Did I erase your doubts?'

A small smile graced his lips. 'You did.'

For a moment she looked abashed, and he savoured it. 'I did not mean for it to go this far, Endon,' she said.

'I know,' he said, 'but I am glad it did.'

He closed his eyes and let sleep take him again, more at peace with himself than he ever had been before.

oOo

As the next weeks passed, the Shadow Lord tightened his rule over the city of Del. The Grey Guards prowled the city as the sun set, and the townsfolk were told to be in their homes two hours before sunset or face the consequences. The Shadow Lord's spies drifted in every shadow, and it made Endon's skin crawl to think of them watching himself and Sharn speak to each other over the dinner table.

On that first night, they locked up the forge and cottage and sat in silence as the screams rang outside, not daring to peek through the curtains to see which of their friends had been taken away. Endon could imagine the fear, the denial, and the pain that person had to be experiencing. This is just one more person hurt by your actions, a voice inside him whispered. One more person that will die because of your foolishness. He clenched his fists to prevent his bitterness from showing.

It became too dangerous to speak their true names in their own home, or to speak of Lief, Barda and their quest. There was too much of a possibility that a Shadow Lord spy might overheard them and report them, causing them to be imprisoned or killed on the spot. That could not happen.

Their nights became filled with a heavy silence, filled with the words they could not speak aloud. Were Lief and Barda alright? Was their quest succeeding? Or were they buried in an unknown grave in a corner of the kingdom?

What if they were next? The thought hovered in Endon's mind each night. What if he and Sharn were the Grey Guards' next target? What if they were captured? What would happen to them then?

Endon did not think he wanted to know the answers to any of those questions.

oOo

'Where do you think they are now?' Sharn wondered as they lay in bed one night.

Endon glanced at her sharply, wondering if she had forgotten about the Shadow Lord's spies and the danger of speaking of their quest even in private. 'Anna…' he began.

'Oh, I know,' Sharn sighed, speaking the story they had fabricated to explain Lief's absence in the forge. 'Lief has left us, and will not be coming back. But I do wish I knew where he is and if he is alright. I miss him.'

'I know,' Endon said gently, his heart aching. 'I miss him as well. But we have to accept that Lief is gone and just pray that he is alive and well.'

'Yes,' Sharn agreed. She smiled drowsily, and closed her eyes, resting her head on Endon's chest. It made Endon's heart swell to watch her. 'Lief is gone now, but someday he will return. And when he does everything will be all right.'

Endon waited until Sharn's breathing slowed and deepened, and then replied. 'I hope so,' he whispered, feeling his heart ache and swell with terror and tenderness. 'I do hope so, my love.'

oOo

'Grey Guards! Run!'

Endon woke with the shout on his lips, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. He sat up in the bed, and found that his entire body was trembling. Beside him, Sharn stirred, but did not wake. Endon was grateful for it. He did not want to burden her with this. It was, after all, just a nightmare.

As his heart returned to its normal pace, and his trembling abated, he lay back on the bed, careful not to jostle Sharn. What a dream! Endon thought. It had felt so real, so vivid. In the dream, he had been working in the forge, early in the morning, so early that the first rays of dawn were still in the sky, staining the horizon a violet hue. He had heard screams, the screams of a woman going insane with grief. Alarmed at the sound, he had put down his work and limped out onto the street. He emerged from the forge to find a woman kneeling on the cobblestones, her fair head bowed, and her cheeks sodden with tears.

He had come up to her. 'Why do you grieve?' he asked gently.

She did not look up as she answered his query. 'My husband is dead. Killed by Grey Guards. See?' She pointed to a body, a man, his clothes torn and bloody, and his hair matted with gore. 'They tore at him with their hands and teeth,' the woman continued, her voice trembling—with grief or anger, Endon could not say. 'Because he stole a piece of bread from the marketplace.'

Endon looked closely at the man, and his heart grew cold. For the dead man wore the face of his childhood friend Jarred. Now afraid, he turned to the woman again. 'What is the meaning of this?' he demanded.

The woman lifted her head and gazed at him, and he found himself staring at a very pale, sweet-faced woman with emerald hued eyes. Endon felt his breath catch as he recognised her. Anna, Jarred's wife. They had only met once, on the night he and Jarred had parted and the Shadow Lord had invaded. He had never met a woman with such courage and loyalty, excluding Sharn, who was willing to give up her home and identity for a complete stranger, even if he was her king.

Endon frowned at the recollection. Why was he dreaming of her now? For many nights after the invasion of the Shadow Lord, Endon had dreamt of that fateful night, of what he could have done differently. And after the tree fell, he had had nightmares of that day as well. But he had never dreamt of Anna before. Why start now?

'Good sir,' the woman—Anna—had called, strangely calm now, considering the circumstances. 'They are coming for you.' She pointed. Endon followed her finger, and his blood ran cold as he saw them bearing towards him as quickly as the wind, their snarls filling the air. Endon wanted to cover his ears, wanted to sing and not hear his death approaching with every step those monsters took.

'You cannot stop them,' Anna said tranquilly, standing up on the cobblestones, seeming out of place in the street.

But I must! Endon thought wildly. He thought of Sharn in the forge cottage, and his heart twisted. He had to protect her from them. He had to.

'You cannot stop them,' Anna repeated.

No, you are wrong! Endon wanted to tell her, but then the Grey Guards were upon him, snarling and sniffing, as if they had come out of his worst nightmare. At that point, Endon had woken up, his heart beating like wildfire.

Endon knew it was just a dream, most likely wrought of his fears and worries. It was not real. But when he thought of that final moment of the dream, a chill of foreboding crept up his spine. It had seemed so real, he thought. Could it be that my dream is prophetic? The thought filled him with dread, as he recalled the Grey Guards' advance.

No, he told himself sternly. It was only a dream, nothing more. He would not frighten himself with such foolishness.

He lay down beside Sharn and closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep. He would not worry about the Shadow Lord now. He and Sharn were safe, for the moment. The Shadow Lord would never find them. He would never think that the King and Queen of Deltora were disguised as a humble blacksmith and his wife. Lief and Barda would restore the Belt of Deltora, and everything would be alright again. He had to believe that.

oOo

Weeks passed, and autumn turned to spring. Though Sharn kept on listening for news from the countryside, none was forthcoming. Endon and Sharn's hope, which had been raised at the knowledge that Lief and Barda had found a gem in the Lake of Tears, began to flag. Sharn became drawn and pale, her eyes full of hidden anxiety. She continued to go to the tavern each day, though Endon knew there would be no news to be had there. Sharn clung to it like a lifeline.

Endon began again contemplating the possibility that he had driven his son and his oldest friend to their graves. As each day passed, images swam in his mind, of Lief and Barda pallid and dead in a shallow grave in the furthest corner of Deltora. Grey Guards charging into his home and killing himself and his beloved wife. The Shadow Lord ruling over Deltora forever, triumphant and gloating. He began to believe that their quest may be lost.

Just as their last hope dwindled, news finally came from the countryside. One day Sharn returned from the tavern, her face glowing with new hope. As she entered the forge, Endon put down the metal he was hammering into shape and turned to greet her. 'What is it?' he asked urgently.

Sharn smiled triumphantly. 'There is good news,' she said. 'Very good news. An Ak-Baba has been sighted circling the City of the Rats!'

Endon stared at her, his heart beginning to thud. There was only one reason that an Ak-Baba would be circling the City of the Rats. His realisation must have showed in his eyes, for Sharn nodded, and added, 'The City of the Rats was in flames. The Shadow Lord must be furious.'

'Indeed,' Endon murmured. 'Does he know who took the gem?'

'I do not think so,' Sharn said, her expression turning pensive. 'There has been no talk of anyone of Lief or Barda's description being seen leaving the City of the Rats. Talk of that has not reached the Shadow Lord's ears, I am sure.'

'But it might,' Endon said flatly. Sharn nodded.

'Endon, we must be very careful now,' she said calmly. 'The Shadow Lord is becoming aware of the quest for the gems. If he realises who Lief and Barda are, they will be in danger.'

'I know,' Endon said. 'But the Shadow Lord will never capture them. We must keep hope that they will return to us safely with the Belt complete and Lief claimed as the new King. We must not lose hope.'

Sharn nodded again, and embraced him, and Endon could see her will strengthened, and he was glad of it. He could not say the same of his own.

oOo

Despite all his voiced confidence, Endon did not believe they were safe, not for a moment. The Shadow Lord had become aware of their quest for the gems; it would not be long before he realised who Lief and Barda were. Then he would turn his attention to the forge, and Endon and Sharn, or 'Jarred' and 'Anna', as they were thought to be. He would capture them, or worse, kill them.

Endon couldn't flee; his bad leg prevented it. But Sharn could. She could flee the city, find a place to hide. She would be safe. To Endon, that was what mattered most.

He brought the subject up one evening, as they were having supper in the forge kitchen. 'Sharn…' he began cautiously.

'Anna,' she corrected, reminding him of the dangers of using their real names even in this place of refuge.

Endon sighed. 'Anna,' he began again, 'I have been thinking. If the Shadow Lord does come for us… I think it would be better if you leave the city for a time. Until…' his voice trailed away as he noticed Sharn's incredulous expression. 'What is it, my love?' he asked naively.

'Do you really believe that I would flee Del by myself and leave you here alone?' Sharn demanded.

Endon sighed again. He had suspected that she would react in this way; he knew in his heart that Sharn would never agree to leave Del by herself. But he had hoped anyway that she would. He needed her to be safe, whatever happened. 'You must be safe,' he said, only just managing to keep his voice calm. 'I need you to be safe. Please listen to me.'

Sharn shook her head, fury building in her eyes as she gazed at Endon. 'I am your wife, Endon,' she hissed. 'I will not flee Del and leave you behind to face the Shadow Lord and his creatures. How can you ask such a thing?'

'I have to,' Endon snapped. 'Do you not see?' He felt his anger build up inside of him as he looked at Sharn. Curse her! Why could she not listen to him for once? Why could she not understand? He needed her to be safe. He knew in his heart that he would die if she was killed. Sharn had to understand that.

'I see nothing except your foolishness,' Sharn said coolly.

Endon clenched his teeth. Why did she have to be so stubborn? 'It will be better this way,' he said shortly. 'Do you not understand? You will be safe! That is what matters to me.'

To his relief, he could see Sharn's face soften at his words. A contemplative look crossed her face, and he wondered if she was finally considering his proposal. He waited for her answer.

'It would not be right,' Sharn said quietly. 'I could not leave you here alone; it would break me. We must stay and face this together.'

Endon's heart sank. He had desperately hoped that Sharn would agree to his plan, but as she gazed at him he knew she would never agree to it. Determination shone in her eyes.

'My love…' he began hoarsely.

His voice trailed away as Sharn caressed his cheek. 'I understand why you asked this of me,' she said softly. 'But you must not be afraid for me. They will not harm me.'

'They will try,' he said.

Sharn smiled sadly. 'I am stronger than you think, Endon. Have you forgotten that I pushed Prandine from the tower window in the palace all those years ago?'

Endon shook his head. He did not think he would ever forget that, and the awe and love he had felt towards Sharn then. 'You are not a painted doll, I know,' Endon said. 'But I still worry.'

'You need not,' Sharn said, touching his arm. 'We will both be alright, I am certain of this. We must not give up hope now.'

'I know,' Endon sighed.

As if she could see the doubt in his mind, Sharn lightly planted a kiss on his cheek. 'Do not worry,' she repeated. 'All will be well and as it should be.'

Though he tried to take heart from her words, Endon had a feeling that nothing would ever be the same again.

oOo

Endon could barely recall what happened before dawn. Later, when he languished in the dungeons of the palace, he would force his mind to retrace those final, terrifying moments, but all he recalled was a blur of terror and uncertainty, and the unbearable feeling of failure. He had not been able to protect Sharn, as he had wanted to. Despite his efforts to keep her safe, he had failed her. That pained him most of all.

The first thing Endon heard was the screams. They rang through the street like an echo of doom, chilling Endon to the core. 'Grey Guards! Run!' They were exactly the same words he had hear in his dream, Endon realized numbly. And yet, when he glanced out the window, the street was deserted.

He saw the Grey Guards marching across the street, their smiles promising bloodshed and anguish. Endon's heart almost stopped beating. They have come for us, he thought. We have been discovered, they will surely kill us now. He suppressed a shudder at the thought, and felt Sharn touch his arm gently, and drew comfort from her touch.

There was no time to think, no time to voice his fears and worries, no time to hide any incriminating evidence that the Shadow Lord could use to condemn them. The Grey Guards were upon them in moments. The Guards said nothing, but grabbed them roughly, and Endon fought to hide a wince at the searing pain that shot through his bad leg.

Sharn was silent, but Endon could feel her alarm, fury and fear as if it were his own. I am sorry, he wanted to tell her. I am so sorry. He had brought this upon her. He had brought this upon them both. He felt the bitterness consume him as the Guards dragged them from the forge cottage and into the street which was still shrouded in darkness. He felt it consume him as he saw the Shadow Lord's brand marked clearly on the swinging forge gates, and as pain jolted his stiff leg with every step he took. It was his fault, all his. He had never felt it more than he did now.

They came to the palace. It was ironic, Endon thought, that the King of Deltora was returning to the Palace not as a King, but a prisoner. There was a bitter humour to that, and Endon suppressed the urge to laugh bitterly.

They separated Sharn and himself, and as they tore them apart Endon's heart broke to see the tears trickling down her cheeks, and hear the fear in her voice as she sobbed. Sharn had always been the strong one, the one who comforted him and kept both of them from the edges of despair. To see her break down now terrified him more than he would admit.

He wanted to say, I love you, and, It will be all right. But before he could speak, she was gone, and as she and her Guards disappeared into the distance Endon felt his heart break even more. Would he ever see her again? What would become of them both?

'Where…' he choked out to his Guards, hoping that at least one of them was humane enough to answer. 'Where are they taking her?'

A Guard struck him across the face, and Endon reeled at the force of the impact. 'Shut up, tick!' the Guard snarled. The other Guards laughed noisily, and one kicked at his stiff leg. Endon closed his eyes and supressed a cry of agony at the excruciating pain they caused.

Then he was pushed roughly into a cell of complete darkness, and as he fell, he wondered if he would ever see the light of day again.

Chapter Text

It was dark as pitch inside the cell, so dark that Endon could barely see the backs of his hands. The only source of light seemed to come from the torch that hung on a wall outside his enclosure; he could not see the torch itself, of course, but every few minutes his eye would catch sight of a flicker of light that blocked out the shadows like the sun blocking out the night. It comforted Endon deeply, for in truth he feared the darkness, and dreaded it.

The darkness brought back the pain and self-loathing and bitterness that he had been struggling to suppress. It reminded him that he was truly guilty, of what the guards claimed and more. He had instigated rebellion, had angered the Shadow Lord by choosing to partake in a quest which was possibly null and void. He had doomed his own kingdom and had lost the trust of his people who had once trusted him without fail, long years ago, resulting in heartbreak, terror and sacrifice. If only he had listened to Jarred, on the day of his coronation, instead of the traitorous Prandine, then perhaps all of this could have been averted. Endon and Sharn would not be imprisoned and deep in hiding as the blacksmith and his wife, and Jarred and Anna would never have had to make a sacrifice that still brought tears of grief and gratitude and an ache to Endon's heart. He would never know for sure.

Then there were the moans, and the screams of other prisoners as they underwent torture, interrogation or both at the same time. It grated on Endon's ears to hear them, and struck fear into his heart; the fear that one day, it would be Sharn's screams he heard echoing at him, and her body that he would see being dragged away to feed the animals, broken beyond repair and barely recognisable. He had already seen such sights: grotesque, misshapen bodies, victims of an interrogation gone horribly wrong. He had been forced to watch, held back by guards, as such bodies were dragged past him toward the rubbish heap.

Those faces haunted his dreams. Accusing eyes stared mercilessly, ghostly hands clutched at his grimy shirt, dragging him into the ever-looming darkness. Voices crying out, in righteous incrimination: You should have saved us. Why did you abandon us? You deserve it all, King Endon. You deserve whatever you get for leaving us to die. Most were customers, townsfolk he had seen and met during the past sixteen years, but other faces hovered in his view, bloody and screaming. Faces of the noblemen and women he had left behind in the palace the night he had fled it with Jarred and Sharn to suffer the most heinous of deaths at the hands of merciless Shadow Lord servants. Faces of Jarred and Anna, who he had deprived of a home and identity, though they had claimed that it was their choice. So many people who he had harmed and failed. It tore Endon's heart to think of it.

Though they were both in such terrible danger, he feared for Sharn more than for himself. Sharn, his beautiful Toran wife; the wife he had never truly deserved, who had gone with him into hiding without a murmur of complaint or fear. Sharn, so brave and so steadfast, her eyes brimming with love for him and their son. She was his strength, his own painted doll who was anything but. He did not know what he would have done without her. When his own hope and courage began to fail, she was always there to support him and love him.

Sharn had never blamed him for the Shadow Lord's invasion, his failure to protect his kingdom, though fate knew that he himself had, many times. Nothing had seemed to destroy her hope that one day Lief and Barda would return with a restored Belt of Deltora, the Shadow Lord would be driven from the kingdom and their family would take their rightful place upon the throne of Deltora once more. It was something Endon had given up counting on.

What would she say to him now, trapped as he was in this filthy prison with dwindling hope and ever-growing darkness? He could imagine her luminous eyes smiling sadly at him, could imagine a gentle fingers reaching to caress his cheek in sympathy. Oh, Endon. Have faith. They will return with the Belt restored and Lief the King, and when they return we will be free. Do not lose hope now, when we are so close.

How could he have faith, when so much had been lost? He did not even know if Lief and Barda were alive. Perhaps they were dead, killed by a viscious guardian, their bodies left to rot in an unknown grave. Perhaps he had led them to such a fate. Endon could scarcely bear to think of such a thing, the agony in his heart at the thought was so great.

He bowed his head. Sharn had always been the stronger one, the bravest of them both. It was he who had always found support in her strength and courage, when otherwise he would have given up in despair. Now he was alone, trapped and in fear of his life and Sharn's. He would have to find a source of strength to bolster him and keep up his flagging spirit, but he had no idea what he could do, how he could keep hope alive. It felt as if all the hope had been sucked from the world along with the light.

'Father!'

The sound broke through his daze, returning clarity to his mind. His heart thudded painfully. For a moment, he could feel Lief's presence as surely as if he had been standing right next to him. But how could that be? Lief had left Del months ago. Unless...

Slowly, he lifted his head, and stared, simultaneously hoping and dreading at what he may discover.

Almost immediately, his heart sank.

There was no one there. Of course, there was no one there.

'Dreaming,' he murmured, bowing his head again. He was dreaming. He had to be. Lief could not be there; he was far away, traveling across Deltora, facing who knew what dangers in their quest to retrieve the gems. He was a fool if he let himself believe Lief was truly there. But he could have sworn he had heard him, just for a second...

The sound of a key grating in a rusty lock almost made him jump. He jerked his head up just in time to see the man who stood in the entrance to the cell, sided by two bulky figures. In the shadows, their faces were obscured from his view, but he could tell that the middle man was richly robed, and that the others beside him were suited in the fashion of palace guardsmen.

'So, Jarred!'

Endon felt his heart give a jolt. He recognised that voice. He would recognise it anywhere.

In one grand gesture, the man stepped from the shadows, taking the torch from the guardsman. He strode to the centre of the room, his crimson robes swishing around him as he walked. His eyes gleamed with triumph as he gazed at Endon, a slight smirk on his bony face.

'Prandine!' Endon breathed, staring at him.

Prandine. His old Chief Advisor, who had revealed himself to be a traitor, a servant of the Shadow Lord. Jarred had tried to warn him of his treachery, long ago when he was first crowned King, but he had not truly believed until he had seen Prandine on the night of the Shadow Lord's invasion, had seen him confess to all Jarred had accused him of. Had seen him confess to murdering his mother and father, and handing Deltora into the hands of his true master, the Shadow Lord.

Sharn had killed him. It was something which had comforted Endon for all these years, knowing that his parents' killer had met his end in a way he had least expected. Endon had watched him fall to his death from the tower of this very palace. How could Prandine be standing before him now?

Prandine's narrow face contorted into an amused smile. 'Not Prandine, blacksmith,' he jeered. 'The one called Prandine fell to his death from the tower of this very palace over sixteen years ago, on the day the Master claimed his kingdom. Prandine was careless — or unlucky. Perhaps you know something about that?'

'I know nothing,' Endon said.

'We shall see,' the man who was not Prandine said, smiling thinly. 'But where one dies, there is always another to take his place. The Master likes this face and form. He chose to repeat it in me. My name is Fallow.'

Fallow. Endon suppressed a shiver. A fitting name. A name to remember.

'Where is my wife?'

He felt his voice crack at the words, despite all his efforts to suppress it. Sharn. The last time he had seen her she had been sobbing as the guards dragged her away, reaching for him. What had these monsters done to her?

Fallow stared at him, his eyes glittering. Slowly his features transformed into a horrible sneer. 'Would it please you to know?' he said. 'Perhaps I will tell you — if you answer my questions.'

Questions. Questions about his son, about the quest for the gems. Endon had no doubt that this was why they had been taken from their home-Adin's home- and imprisoned in this place. Questions he could not answer, not if he valued his life, and that of his family and Barda.

'What questions? Why have we been brought here? We have done nothing wrong.'

Ignoring him, Fallow turned to the door, where the guards stood watching. 'Leave us!' he ordered. 'I will question the prisoner alone.'

The guards nodded, and withdrew.

With a feeling of dread, Endon heard the door slam shut and the bolts run. Fallow did not waste any time; as soon as this happened he slipped one claw-like hand into the folds of his robe. It returned with a familiar, small blue book.

The Belt of Deltora. The book Jarred had taken with him from the palace the day he fled it in fear for his life. The book Endon had found years later, hidden snugly in a corner of the forge bedroom. Endon cursed himself inwardly. You fool, Endon. You should have destroyed it when you had the chance. Barda had warned him of this, but he had not listened, not wanting to destroy one more piece of Deltora's history and culture. Fool, fool. He should have listened to Barda. He should have always listened to Barda.

Fallow dangled the book in front of him, smiling slyly, searching for a reaction. Endon quickly schooled his face to calm.

'This book was found in your house, Jarred,' Fallow said. 'How did it come there?'

'I do not remember.' His heart was beating wildly, but he forced himself to look this monster in the face and answer. More than his own life hinged on it.

'Perhaps I can help you. It is known to us. It came from the palace library.'

'As a young man I lived in the palace.' Endon forced the words out of his numb throat. 'I may have taken it away with me when I left. It was many years ago. I do not know.'

Fallow tapped the book with bony fingers. The cruel smile never left his face. Endon wanted to wipe it off, badly, but knew it would serve no purpose. And he was afraid, terribly afraid, of what it would mean for Sharn if he did attempt to do so. What torments could this Fallow conjure for her, if he had a liking to?

'The Master thinks you have deceived us, Jarred,' Fallow said coldly. 'He thinks you kept in contact with your foolish young friend, King Endon, and at the last helped him, his idiot bride, and their unborn brat to escape.'

Endon suppressed a sudden hysterical desire to laugh. Even now, his false identity protected him. Even now, this Shadow Lord servant had no clue that the blacksmith that he had arrested for conspiring in a rebellion was in actuality the deposed King of Deltora, safely hidden as the true Jarred took his place on the western road to Tora with his wife Anna.

Endon felt his head shake in immediate denial to this man's cruel accusations.

'Endon was fool enough to believe me a traitor,' he said in a low, even voice. He could feel his throat tighten with every word he spoke. 'Endon would never have turned to me for help, nor would I have given it to him.' How wrong that was! For years he had believed Jarred to be a traitor, an enemy to the throne of Deltora. He had believed everything Prandine had had to say. What a fool he had been, so blind! And yet, when it had counted most, Jarred had returned to help him when no one else would. He owed his very life, and that of his wife and child, to his old childhood friend.

'So we thought,' and at those words Fallow's lips thinned. 'But now we are not so sure. Strange things have been occurring in the kingdom, blacksmith. Things my Master does not like.'

Strange things... Endon's heart hammered painfully within him, and he kept his head bowed so that Fallow could not see the raw hope that must surely be evident in his eyes.

'Certain allies, valued by the Master, have been viciously killed,' Fallow went on, his eyes narrowing to slits. 'Certain — goods — also valued by the Master have been stolen. We suspect that King Endon is still alive. We suspect that he is making some last, useless effort to reclaim his kingdom. What do you know about that?'

The words resounded in his head like drumbeats. Could it mean... surely... that they were succeeding? That their quest was succeeding?

'Nothing,' Endon said quickly. 'Like everyone else in Del, I believe that Endon is dead. That is what we were told.'

'Indeed.' Fallow paused, and Endon watched as he deliberated for a moment, surveying Endon's face for any sign of a guilty conscience. Finding none, he frowned. And then, before Endon had time to even blink, his face loomed close to Endon's, thrusting flickering amber-gold flames before his eyes. Endon just managed not to flinch at the unnerving proximity of heat, and gritted his teeth against the sting of the smoke.

'Where is your son, Jarred?' Fallow spat.

Endon fought not to show just how much that question pained him. It had been months since they had had any news of Lief, or Barda. For all he knew, his son was dead in an unknown grave in Deltora's countryside, and Endon had led him there.

'Lief left our house months ago,' he said roughly. 'The blacksmith's trade bored him. He preferred running wild with his friends in the city. We do not know where he is.' That much was true, Endon thought. He and Sharn had not received any news from the countryside for weeks, and only knew that Lief and Barda had managed to wrest the two gems from the Forests of Silence and the Lake of Tears. For all they knew, they could have been killed in their attempt to find the other five gems. Endon's heart ached to think of it. 'Why do you ask about him? He broke his mother's heart, and mine.' He did not have to fake the tremble in his voice that came at those words.

Fallow stared at him condescendingly. It was hard to tell if he was fooled by Endon's act; for all their sakes, Endon prayed that he was.

'It is said that a boy of about your son's age is one of the three criminals who are roving the land, trying to overturn the Master's plans,' Fallow said in a slow, deliberate voice. 'With him are a girl and a grown man. A black bird flies with them.'

This time it was Endon's turn to stare. Fallow's lip curled in triumph at his reaction.

A boy, a man, and a girl with a black bird, Endon thought furiously. The boy had to be Lief, the man Barda, but who was the girl? And why was there a mention of a black bird? He felt himself move restlessly, impatiently. What was Fallow's motive in giving him this information?

'Why are you telling me this?' he demanded aloud.

'This boy,' Fallow responded, 'could be your son. You are crippled, and may have sent him on some useless quest in your place. The man — could be Endon.'

What?

Endon's eyes widened. A laugh choked his throat before he could prevent it. They truly thought that Barda was the King? It was absurd. It was absolutely ridiculous. Barda was nothing like him. Endon was courteous, gentle, careful, and quiet, whereas Barda was...not. There was no way they could truly believe such a thing. Barda was nothing like Endon. In fact, Barda had often reminded him of Jarred, in some ways.

Fallow stared at Endon, trembling in fury. Clearly, he did not like being ridiculed, Endon thought with a dim satisfaction. He leaned forward again, thrusting the flame of the torch before Endon's face. Endon suppressed a shudder at the sting of pain the proximity gave him.

'Take good care, Jarred,' he snarled. 'Do not try my patience too far. Your life is in my hands. And not only yours.'

Endon felt the despair return with a vengeance, and he felt his head bow under the weight of it. He was a fool, to ridicule Fallow. Any act of defiance he chose to do, any action that angered the Shadow Lord and his servants, Sharn would pay the price for.

Satisfied with the reaction to his threat, Fallow walked to the door. 'I will be back,' he said in a low voice. 'Think over what I have said. The next time I come to see you, I will come expecting answers. If you have done what we suspect, mere pain will not make you tell the truth. But perhaps the pain of one you love will be more persuasive.'

Endon was silent as Fallow exited the cell. There was nothing to say. Both he and Sharn were totally at the mercy of the Shadow Lord and his servants. He had brought them to this point, with his reluctance to destroy The Belt of Deltora. If he had, then perhaps Fallow would have had no reason to imprison them and would have set them free. Or they would have been killed outright and their bodies tossed into the rubbish piles. He would never know for sure.

All Endon knew was that this was another piece of his foolishness that would plague him until his dying days.

Through the despair, however, he could feel a glimmer of hope shine, sparked by the knowledge that Lief and Barda were succeeding in their quest. He could feel it in his heart like an inner fire, the sheer joy the news gave him. His son was alive. Their cause was alive.

'They are alive,' he whispered. 'Alive, and succeeding!' The words echoed in his mind like a song of hope.

Tears stung his eyes. He could feel the heavy chains on his wrists rattle as he clenched shaking fists. He could still feel Lief's presence, strongly, but could see nothing of the boy. It was madness to think Lief was truly there, but he spoke anyway, in the hopes that perhaps, somehow, he was there and could hear him. 'Oh, Lief, Barda — good fortune! I am fighting my fight here, as best I can. You must fight yours. My hopes and prayers go with you!'

oOo

Each day, Fallow would come to his cell to interrogate Endon, certain that the crippled blacksmith would admit his guilt to spare his wife the torture that was surely coming. But Endon refused to speak. It seemed the only choice he had, Endon thought grimly, staring into the darkness and trying not to think of what it would cost them both. At the very least, they would be maimed and branded, tortured beyond the realms of sanity. They would not be killed outright, he was sure; they were too important. The Shadow Lord would not want them dead before they revealed their treachery to his servants. But once they had outrun their usefulness...

Endon shuddered to think of it. No, he decided. The best course would be to say nothing that would implicate his son and Barda as conspirators in the quest for the gems. No matter what the consequences for himself and Sharn.

Secrecy was even more important now, here in the dungeons of the Shadow Lord's headquarters. He could not let it slip that he was King Endon, or that he knew anything about the quest for the gems. His life, and his family's, depended on it. So every day, when Fallow came to his cell demanding answers, Endon kept his mouth sealed, and stared stubbornly at the grimy stone floor, secretly rejoicing as Fallow gritted his teeth and spoke with barely concealed rage.

Fallow knew, Endon thought, that it was that he was refusing to speak rather than that he could not speak. It did not matter, as long as Lief and Barda were not incriminated. He looked at Fallow's baffled face and hid a smile. If there was one piece of enjoyment he received out of all this, it was watching Fallow.

One day, Fallow saw Endon's face turn away in stifled amusement, and his face darkened.

Fallow's fingers clenched around the torch, and he stared at Endon with fury. 'Why do you not speak, blacksmith?' he said in dangerous, silky tones. 'Surely you know that your silence will bring grief to your wife. Or do you look forward to hearing her screams?' He smiled in satisfaction as Endon shuddered. 'For she will scream, I promise you. She will scream until she has no voice left. We will torture her until she begs to be killed, and when she does, it will not be quick. Oh, no,' and his smile widened as Endon blanched, chilled to the core. 'We will tear her apart piece by piece, slowly and painfully, and you may listen to her screams as she dies.' He gazed intently at Endon. 'Is that what you want for your wife, blacksmith?'

Long after Fallow's departure, Endon's thoughts returned to that conversation. In truth, Fallow's words had terrified him deeply, more deeply than he could afford to show. The only thing that gave him heart was that Fallow's threat of death for Sharn was null and void while their guilt was yet to be ascertained. The other threats, however... Endon clenched his teeth as the images came into his mind: of Sharn, sobbing in mingled fury and fear, being held down by guards as they did unspeakable things to her body. Her screams wrenching the air, tearing his soul to pieces as he listened helplessly, unable to help her. It was his worst nightmare, and he closed his eyes to the horror of it.

The thing that pained him most was that, even if it came to it, he would still say nothing. He would not have it in him to betray his son and Barda, even as he heard his wife screaming. The cause was too important. It was ingrained into his very soul, the need to keep silence, the need to do anything in his power to make sure Deltora was free from tyranny one day. Sharn would understand, he knew. If she were beside him now, she would tell him that their quest was too important, that no matter what happened to her he must not give up on Lief and Barda. Do not fear for me, Endon. I am stronger than you think. Was it not I who pushed Prandine from the tower window all those years ago? I can withstand torture. That was what she would tell him. Endon half-smiled at the thought, his heart swelling slightly. His Sharn, so much more than a painted doll. She was stronger than Fallow knew.

It had been on that night, the night Jarred returned and the gems were scattered from the Belt, that Endon knew that he truly loved her. He recalled the moment with clarity. They had been about to die at the hands of Prandine, when Sharn toppled him from the tower to his death, surprising them all. And as she turned to face the two men, her face brimming with defiance, he had felt the stirrings of love, and awe, and fierce pride. Before then, their relationship had been stilted and shallow, two young people playing their part to beget an heir for the kingdom. Endon had certainly not loved her, not in the wild, awe-inspiring way he did now. He had barely known her. And then on that fateful night, he saw her and her insurmountable courage and he just knew.

By fate, he prayed, do not let her be harmed.

oOo

It could have been weeks or months that passed, as they languished in prison. Endon could not tell. The days and nights ran into each other; it was impossible to tell the different in a cell as dark as a tomb. Each day, Fallow would come. And each day, Endon would tell him nothing. Whatever Fallow threatened or did to him, it was still the same. Nothing could make him betray his family. Not torture or starvation or even fear for his wife.

At first, it was simply threats. Fallow would threaten to withhold the torture, branding, death, and humiliation that he swore would come if Endon would just talk and reveal his guilt. But still Endon refused to speak.

'You are a fool, blacksmith,' Fallow sneered, after a week of refusals. 'Would you truly subject yourself and your wife to such a fate? Why do you not speak up? If you do now, we will grant you mercy. That I promise.'

Endon did not believe him for a moment. Shadow Lord servants did not know the meaning of mercy. How could they possibly administer it? And if he told Fallow what he wanted to here, it would mean death for himself and his wife, as well as for Lief, Barda and their cause. That Endon could not do.

He lifted his head, feeling his chains clink in response to the movement, and looked his captor directly in the eye. 'I do not speak to you because I have nothing to say,' he said quietly. 'I know nothing of this criminal business you speak of, and neither does my wife. We have only ever sought to survive and make a living for ourselves. We never dreamed of rebellion. We only wish to be left alone to live our lives in peace.'

For a moment, Fallow was silent, his face screwed into a grimace. He shook his head, as if ridding himself of unwanted thoughts, and glared at Endon.

'We will see, blacksmith,' he spat. 'We will see.'

After that day, Fallow came no longer. It was a temporary relief, Endon thought bitterly upon reflection. At the time, he was simply relieved to not be at the mercy of Fallow and his threats which always made Endon's blood run cold. For a time, he was left alone, in complete darkness save for the light in the corridor. On the first night, he took heart in the respite, staring up at the ceiling and wondering where in Deltora his son and Barda were. How many gems had they managed to recover so far? Four? Five? Were they, at this moment, racing to find the sixth?

And, too, he wondered about Jarred. His oldest friend, the brother of his heart, who had given up so much for him. Had Lief and Barda reached Tora at the last, had prevailed themselves of the hospitality of that great western city which was so faithful to the crown? If so, then they would have ample help from the Torans, as well as Jarred and Anna who had fled there during the invasion, to spirit them to their final goal, the Valley of the Lost. He wondered what they would make of Jarred, Anna, and their child, who was only a few months younger than Lief. Jarred had always been so rebellious, impatient, determined, and sure of himself. He had not even hesitated when sacrificing his own safety and livelihood and that of his family for Endon, Sharn and their child. Endon wondered if he still thought the sacrifice worth it, even after all these years.

If he knew Jarred, Endon thought, then he probably did. To Jarred, nothing mattered more than Endon's safety, and that of the royal family. It both pained Endon and filled him with gratitude to think of it. They had been friends since they had been four years old. If Endon thought of a brother, he would always think of Jarred.

By fate, he did miss him.

Here, in this hellish dungeon, Endon felt it with a vengeance. In past years, he had not had the time to even think of it; there had been the quest to plan and prepare for, and there had been Sharn and Lief and Barda to think of. Sharn, who was as dear to him as the earth itself, and his son Lief, his heir and only hope. Barda, the friend he never expected to have, Min's son. Barda who had reminded him so much of Jarred, from his steady loyalty to his wicked sense of humor. Now they were gone, and the loneliness in his heart threatened to consume him.

He fell asleep that night with the faces of his loved ones in his mind.

Five days (or at least, he believed it to be five days) after Fallow's final visit, Endon found himself awakening to a sound that set his heart to hammering- the sound of Grey Guards' footsteps, ominous and deadly, marching toward him. Before he could even struggle into a sitting position, bleary-eyed with sleep, they were upon him. Limp and still half-asleep, he felt himself be hauled from his cell, his stiff leg dragging painfully behind him.

He did not bother asking where he was being taken; they would not tell him in any case. Listening to the sounds of the moans and wails rise and fall on either side of him, and the slow passing of time as his feet scraped along the stone, he guessed that he was being taken through a corridor, toward some sort of room. But for what? Endon's blood chilled to think of it.

Soon he was to find out. After what seemed like an age, the Guards halted, and Endon could hear the sound of a bolt sliding open. He felt himself be shoved forward, through an opening, and fell senselessly onto stone floor, wincing at the blazing pain it produced in his stiff leg. He lay there, gasping for breath though he had not overextended himself at all.

'So, Jarred,' and Endon looked up to see Fallow's narrow face and the cruel expression it bore. He just managed to hide a shudder.

'Why have you brought me here?' he asked.

Fallow's mouth curled up, but his eyes remained as cold as ice as he responded. 'You know why, blacksmith,' he said. 'You would not answer my questions, so now you will pay the price.'

Sharn. Endon's heart hammered, and he glanced around wildly. His panic died when he realised that she was not there.

'I will deal with her another day,' Fallow said, his eyes narrowing as he watched Endon. 'She knows more than she is saying, that is plain. But she will talk soon enough, given proper encouragement. As will you, blacksmith.'

Never, Endon thought.

'I have a little treat for you, blacksmith,' Fallow continued. His eyes were gleaming madly as he drew something from his robes; a knife? A dagger? In the dim light, Endon could not be sure. Whatever it was, it gleamed like metal, and had a sharp point. He gave it to a Guard outside the door, snapping something that Endon could not hear. And then heavy footsteps, and a sudden painful jerk as Endon felt his body hauled up in one movement. A Grey Guard's malicious smile loomed before his face, convulsing him into shivers. It was a smile that promised bloodshed.

Cold metal sliced at him; Endon gasped at a sudden flash of searing, agonizing pain.

'You will tell me all you know of these three criminals,' and he thought he heard Fallow's voice from somewhere above him, soft and solicitous, and at the same time hard as metal and cold as stone. Another slash, deeper this time; more blood oozing onto the tiles. Waves of pain swamped him, and he gritted his teeth against it. He could not, would not give into it. It was what Fallow wanted. Yet another slice, and another, deep and deadly, searing pain that made the breath in him choke. 'Tell me,' Fallow's voice hissed, cold and insistent by his ear. 'Give me names!'

'Nothing!' Endon gasped out, as the agony sliced at him again. 'I know nothing!'

Still the cutting continued, deeper and deeper, until he could feel the blood clinging to his shirt, soaking it through. Pain continued to explode inside him, making black spots dance before his eyes. He could feel his strength waning with every drop of blood that left his body. Please fate, let this be over soon, his mind screamed. He did not think he could bear any more. Surely they did not mean to keep at it forever...

But still it continued, until he could no longer swallow back his gasps of pain. Fallow's voice chanted in his ear, 'Tell me, tell me!' But Endon had no wish to tell anything to this monster. No matter what, he thought dimly. He would say nothing. He would never betray his son or his cause, no matter what Fallow did to him. No matter what. He mouthed the words to himself, drew strength from them.

Awash with pain, he felt himself drift. Faces swam in his vision, familiar and dear. Sharn, smiling and caressing his cheek. Jarred, telling him to hold on. Lief, calling his name. Barda, jovial and wise. Min, his old nursemaid, as he had last seen her in the chapel, blank-eyed and at peace. His parents, dead so many years from the poison Prandine had given them, strong and full of love. He clung to them all, almost sobbing, feeling his head fall back in exhaustion.

It was then that everything faded, and a darkness descended so deep that Endon thought he was dead.

oOo

Endon awoke to find himself lying sprawled on the stone floor of the room he had been brought to, filthy cloths bandaged around his middle. It was complete darkness; there was not even a torch to light the corridor, as there had been in the other cell. It frightened Endon more than he could say, and he closed his eyes to prevent prevent the panic from overwhelming him. At least I am still alive, he thought. For a moment, just before he lost consciousness, he had not been sure.

Despite the coldness that was encasing him, chilling him to the bone (a result of the extreme lack of light, he determined), exhaustion overcame him once more and he slept. He awoke some hours later (just how many he could not tell; the absence of light kept out the day) with a cry on his lips and the remnants of a nightmare in his mind, a horrible nightmare. Sharn, bleeding and weeping, at the mercy of the Grey Guards, their large hands tearing at her body as if they were crumpling paper. And Sharn, her eyes blazing, screaming at her captors, the vessels in her eyes popping with the force of her cries. It brought tears into Endon's own eyes to recall it. What would they do to Sharn? What had they already done to her?

It was no use asking any of the Guards; they would tell him nothing, he was sure, reveling in his fear of not knowing. Each time he had asked Fallow, the man (if he was a man) had sneered at him and told him that if he truly wished to know of his wife's condition, he would confess his crimes and be done with it. So Endon was forced to endure the agony of not knowing, wondering with a thrill of terror just what they had done to Sharn.

Please do not let her be harmed, he prayed once more. At least, not permanently. For surely they have already harmed her.

He fell asleep once more, chanting those words silently to himself over and over again, willing them to be true. Let Sharn be safe. Let us all be safe. When he awoke, he found Fallow standing over him, smiling sourly. Endon's heart froze to see what he held casually in his hands like a toy.

Fallow's smile widened, and he fingered the poker between his hands. 'Well, blacksmith,' he said, almost cheerfully. 'It is time to begin.'

Endon shuddered, and felt a dread so fierce that he almost keeled over. He closed his eyes as footsteps approached, heavy and eager on the stone, and knew them to be Grey Guards. Fallow would not do his own dirty work; he was too proud. Endon had realized this of him during the past week.

And then the distinct sound of metal heating up on coal. Endon swallowed hard, and tried to quell the terror that was threatening to burst free.

'You will tell me everything, blacksmith...' Fallow hissed from somewhere beyond.

He spoke some more but Endon did not hear the words as just then, metal met flesh and he felt a burning, searing, unbearable pain and he screamed, feeling his back arch and smelt the acrid scent of burning flesh. He felt the force of his cries burst vessels in his eyes, and when he finally opened them, sobbing, the world was tinged in crimson. Like blood, he thought dimly. Later, he would dream of that moment, of the blood splattering the walls of his prison and Fallow's insistent voice ordering him to speak, to confess. 'Confess now and all your pain will end, blacksmith.' Fallow's face, shadowed in red, smiling, laughing, sneering, but always with a cold, calculating look in his eyes that not even sadistic pleasure could eradicate. It haunted his dreams, all of it. To his dying days, he would never be free of it.

As with the night before, Endon found himself awakening alone, his wounds roughly bandaged. And as with the night before, he slept again like a log, praying. Praying for Sharn's safety, and his own. Praying that he had the strength to endure what came next. The next morning Fallow came again, and the torture continued. The stench of blood became common, so common that after the first week Endon paid no mind to it, as he ignored the dried blood that splattered the cell walls in large puddles. The only thing that mattered was that Fallow did not discover anything from him about the quest, Lief and Barda. Whatever hardships Endon faced did not matter when it came to it.

As the next weeks passed, he became used to the pain, and the blood that drenched his shirt and consumed the cell. Fallow came every day, always with fresh torment. Sometimes it was a sound whipping; at other times it was a flaying or use of a hot poker. Whatever it was, Fallow seemed to enjoy each one, watching as Endon shook in intense pain and his cries choked in his throat when he was forced to retch at the stench of blood. For the rest of his life, Endon thought, his dreams would be haunted by Fallow's cruel, taunting smile and cold eyes. It made him hate him even more than he already had.

But, despite it all, Fallow never broke him. Not through torture. It was something of a triumph to Endon, on that final day when he awoke and Fallow was not there to torment him as he so enjoyed. He had been strong enough, after all, and had not given up his son and Barda to this cold creature. He had not breathed a single word. And so Endon silently celebrated the temporary victory.

He expected his meager ration of food to slide through the slot in the door, as it always had in previous days in the other cell. Nothing came. At first he assumed they had forgotten, or had pretended to forget; the Guards often did this as a cruel prank to their prisoners, to remind them just how dependent on them they were. But always, at the most by the end of the day, they would deliver. They knew that they would not be rewarded for allowing their prisoners to die of starvation without official permission. And so Endon waited, and counted the hours silently to himself as he did so. An entire day passed, and there was no food.

His heart sank as he realised the truth.

They meant to starve him out. Not to kill him, of a surety. Not during an interrogation period. They meant to weaken him, weaken his willpower, so that if he did have knowledge of Lief, Barda, and this third stranger then he would not have the strength to resist Fallow's questions. In Fallow's mind, Endon surmised, if Jarred the blacksmith did not confess under such circumstances, then he had no knowledge of the three 'criminals' and their rebellious actions as he had claimed from the beginning of his incarceration. Fallow most likely did not believe that any guilty person could withstand prolonged starvation without confessing their misdeeds.

Fallow is wrong, Endon thought savagely. He felt his hands clench painfully into fists by his sides. He was not so weak, as to betray his family and his cause due to a terrible hunger. A hunger that even now clawed at him, causing his stomach to rumble sickeningly. The room seemed to sway before him, tinged with spots of darkness. Endon shook his head. No, he was not so weak. No matter what occurred, he would never willingly give up his cause. It would be like a betrayal to himself and a triumph to the Shadow Lord who had taken so much from him and the land he loved. He would not give up just to satiate his hunger.

Again his stomach rumbled, and again the need to eat smothered him. And for the first time, uncertainty filled him. Was he truly strong enough to resist Fallow, even during starvation?

Only time would tell.

oOo

The next days passed in a hunger-induced blur.

Fallow came every day. He came so often that Endon soon came to dread his visits. Most times, he would simply watch Endon as his strength waned, with a sadistic smirk on his sallow face. If he had the strength, Endon would have been tempted to lash out, but as it was he barely had enough energy left to breathe. Starvation was draining all the energy out of him, bit by bit.

Betimes Fallow would say in his slimy, cold voice, 'Are you ready to speak, blacksmith?' To which Endon would just shake his head, lacking the energy to do anything else.

'Are you certain?' Fallow's eyes glittered with malice. 'You will not be able to eat until you confess, you must know. You must be hungry, blacksmith.' And his lips parted in a silent chuckle. 'Your wife will not speak, also. A very strong woman, stronger than I expected. Even under the most dire torture, she will not admit her part in your little rebellion.' Another chuckle. For a moment, Endon thought he saw wonder in Fallow's eyes, but the emotion was quickly disguised. 'Do you wish to know what we have done to her, blacksmith?' No, Endon thought bleakly. The thought must have showed on his face, for Fallow smiled. 'It is better if you do not know. I will tell you,' and this time Endon was sure he heard the amazement in Fallow's tone, 'she did not scream, even once, except to rail at her tormentors. Through excruciating pain, at that...' His voice trailed away, and he shook his head.

Endon suppressed the bile that surged up his throat. He could feel the tears burn in his eyes, sharp and agonizing.

'She knows nothing,' he said hoarsely, meeting Fallow's eyes with as much dignity as he could muster. 'We know nothing of any rebellion. Spare her this torture, Fallow. She will tell you nothing.'

Endon had no doubt that this was true. Sharn's strength never ceased to astonish him. Most women would have broken at what she had experienced; yet Sharn remained whole. Yet, the thought of Sharn enduring such treatment carved up his insides even more than the hunger did.

Fallow looked at him consideringly. 'I may,' he said silkily, 'when you choose to confess.'

To that Endon could not respond.

Endon could not tell exactly how long the starvation went on for; over ten days, he estimated later. With each day that passed, he felt himself grow weaker, and thinner. By the sixth day, he could barely raise his head, and chose to stay slumped where he had fallen asleep the night before. He tried not to think of the unbearable hunger. Thinking of it just made the agony worse and he could not afford to be tempted, even for a moment, to give into his hunger. The cause was too important.

To distract himself from it, he thought of Sharn, imprisoned somewhere in the dungeons away from him, at the mercy of Fallow and the Grey Guards, and perhaps in torment as well; of Lief and Barda, striving to complete their quest with help from a third person and face who knew what dangers; of Jarred, who he both missed and feared for. Somehow, it made the torment more bearable, as he was reminded of how many people were counting on him to keep silence and endure. Perhaps this was even a punishment, a cruel reminder that he had caused Deltora's current situation and even now was being punished for his sins. If he was, Endon thought bitterly, then by fate he deserved it. He deserved all that came for him in the end for doing what he had done to his own kingdom.

The one thing that Endon felt triumph over was that even at his weakest, he still would not give Fallow the information he desired. As he had grown weaker, he had feared that he lacked the strength, but at the last, Fallow could not draw any knowledge of Lief, Barda and the quest from him, through physical torture or starvation or mere threats. He was too strong, and his determination too great for Fallow to break him.

Though the starvation seemed to endure for longer than Endon could have imagined, one day, almost as if out of the blue, Fallow was the one who gave in. One morning, Endon awoke to find a tray of gruel placed crudely before him.

He almost wept with relief, and was not ashamed to admit it to himself. It had been a harrowing ten days.

It took an almighty effort to lift the bowl to his lips; his fingers trembled so badly and could barely maintain their grip. The moment he swallowed, however, his stomach lurched and he was forced to clumsily drop the bowl onto the floor as he found himself vomiting. It went on for some time. When he finally stopped, he would try to eat again and again he would find himself retching. Slowly, however, he managed to eat and keep down the food.

Fallow did not appear that day nor on any of the following days. Surely, Endon thought, he had given up. He cannot get the information he wants from us, so he must assume now that we are innocent, for what guilty person would withstand such torture and not feel the need to confess to anything? He must take us at our word now. For the first time, Endon felt the beginnings of hope. Perhaps now it was over...

oOo

It was days later that Fallow chose to pay his prisoner a visit. For days, he had not come, for reasons unknown, but now, when he did, he came with a vengeance.

Fallow strode into the cell, his eyes glittering with unconcealed rage. Without a word, he stepped forward and as quick as lightning Endon felt himself backhanded. Blood welled in his mouth and trickled out of his nostrils. Like a bundle of rags, he felt himself collapse onto the stone floor, his legs too weak to hold him up.

Almost immediately, Fallow was in his face, his eyes bulging with hatred.

'You lied to me, blacksmith,' he hissed.

Endon gaped at him. How could he have found out?

'I said no lie,' he said. 'My wife and I know nothing.'

Fallow laughed a high, disbelieving laugh that grated at Endon's ears. 'No, blacksmith,' he sneered, his eyes colder than Endon had ever seen them. 'You lied. We know, you see. We have received word from a valuable source that proves that you are up to your neck in treason and rebellion against my Master. Your wife with you.' His eyes glinted manically. He grasped Endon's arm roughly, and Endon felt nails as sharp as knives dig into his flesh. 'You made a fool of me!'

Endon swallowed back an agonized cry. 'I did as I must.' There was no point denying it. He could see it in Fallow's eyes; it was not simply a bluff to deceive him into talking. They knew. He could not think of how, or who would betray their cause, but in any case it did not matter. They knew.

'You will pay for this!' Fallow ranted, tightening his grip until Endon saw stars. 'You and the woman both. I will make you pay for this. First you will watch your pretty wife die, piece by piece, scream by scream, and then you yourself suffer until you long for death. This I promise you.' With a death's-head smile Fallow placed his boot on Endon's stiff leg and pressed down. The pain was so intense that Endon cried out, and felt a lightheaded-ness overcome him. He slumped against the ground, feeling his face drain of all color. 'You will pay for making a fool out of Fallow.'

In the distance, Endon thought he heard footsteps coming closer, but paid no heed to them. At that moment, all he could see was Fallow, filled with rage and humiliation, determined to take both emotions out on the two prisoners he believed deserved it most.

The man stooped forward again, one hand clenched, ready to deal a blow. Endon closed his eyes, and braced himself, waiting for the impact.

None came. Instead, there was a muted voice, murmuring somewhat which Endon could not hear for all the blood was roaring in his ears. Fallow replied, in a fury-filled voice that would have terrified the least humane of Grey Guards. Again, Endon did not hear. What the newcomer said then wiped the anger from Fallow's voice, and when Fallow spoke, it was in a tense, more reasonable tone. And then the sound of two footsteps backward, as if Fallow were retreating. Hardly able to believe it, Endon slowly opened his eyes.

Fallow stared back at him from a few feet away, in his eyes a mixture of resignation, fury, and disappointment. 'Well, blacksmith,' he spat. 'It seems my Master wishes to make an example of you and your foolish wife. In less than a week's time, you are to be executed on the Place of Punishment.' There was a flicker of contempt in his eyes, then. 'You are a fool, blacksmith. If you had confessed from the start, I could have granted you leniency. I could have given you the mercy of a quick and painless death.' His lip curled. 'You could also have spared your wife some needless torment. As it is you are to receive double-branding and death, the both of you. A fitting end, do you not think, blacksmith?'

Endon felt laughter choke him, bitter and despairing. So it had come to this, at the last. He could face his own death with courage, but not Sharn's. Not like this.

'Why tell me?' he said, bitterness cloaking his words. 'Surely it would be more entertaining for you to see our horrified faces on the day of execution when we realise what will happen to us?'

Fallow cocked his head to one side, and regarded him with a surprisingly thoughtful expression in his eyes. 'Because, blacksmith,' he said at last, 'I have come to respect you, loathe as I am to admit it. You and that woman are the only ones ever to have resisted torture as long as you have. Yes,' and he nodded, wonder clear in his eyes. 'You have indeed been a worthy adversary, blacksmith. A worthy adversary must be dealt with as necessary. As much as I wish to crush you where you lay, I must bow to my Master's wisdom and decision. You and your wife will be executed before the crowds in less than a week's time.'

With a mocking sneer and bow, he edged out of the cell, and his footsteps could be heard pattering as fast as could be down the corridor, leaving Endon to contemplate the hope-crushing, frightening news.

Less than a week until his death, until Sharn's death. It did not trouble him as it once would have; in fact, at that moment he felt the acceptance of it envelop him. Yes, they were to die, but what did it matter? As Sharn had said so long ago, it mattered naught if they died, as long as the heir lived after them to save their kingdom from the Shadow Lord. Lief was the one who had to survive.

Endon had always hoped to see his son return as the rightful King of Deltora. Now that was not possible, but Endon felt no regret. He could only pray now that the Belt would shine for Lief, so that the Shadow Lord could be driven from the land at last and the guilt could leave him. Only then could he rest in peace. He would see Jarred again in the world of the spirits, as Jarred had long ago predicted. Endon's heart ached to think of it, but he had no regrets. His country would be free one day, and that was what he had worked and prayed for most of all.

He only wished he could be there to see it.

oOo

The day of execution dawned bright and clear. Endon found himself awakened by the moans and cries of the other prisoners who knew what was to occur this evening on the Place of Punishment. Double branding and death, for all those brought onto the platform. Endon had thought of it many times since Fallow had told him of his fate, and though he knew he would willingly go to his death to protect his kingdom and his son, he still felt fear. It would be painful, agonizingly so, Endon knew. He was not sure if it would be worse than anything he had experienced during his weeks of torment, but it would be close to it. Fallow would not have been so gracefully accepting of the Shadow Lord's order otherwise.

Only a fool would not be afraid, Endon thought wryly. But his heart ached for Sharn most of all, who had been so brave and steadfast throughout all their years in hiding and their months of imprisonment, that now she was to meet such a brutal, humiliating end. It was not what Endon had wanted for either of them. Now, he could only pray that Sharn would not feel too much pain from the branding and hanging before she succumbed to death. She would maintain her dignity even then, he thought, in her final moments. He could imagine her lifting her chin defiantly, her eyes blazing with pain, grief, and rage, refusing to give the Guards and Fallow the pleasure of hearing her scream. She had always been the strongest of them, the most determined and full of hope for Deltora. However much he tried, Endon had never been able to match her strength.

Grief flooded through him. In less than a day, they would both be dead. Lief would return home to find the forge abandoned, and his parents' bodies swinging at the end of a noose on the edges of the Place of Punishment. What he would think, Endon could not tell. He would be grief-stricken, and so would Barda, loyal Barda who had never wavered in his support of Endon (or Jarred, as Barda believed him to be) and their cause, in the end choosing to accompany Lief on that perilous journey around Deltora. But Lief would have others to support him and guide him in his grief and the ways of ruling a country: Barda, certainly, as well as Jarred, Anna and their child- that was if Lief had encountered them on his journey as Endon had hoped he would. He knew that Lief would never fully get over it, but that he would go on to rule with wisdom and honour, and be a much better king than Endon himself ever was.

All day, he waited with unquenchable fear in his heart, thinking of Lief, Barda, Sharn, Jarred and Anna. All the people he loved, and would never see again in this life. Jarred, the brother of his heart, who had given up so much for him it made Endon weep to think of it. Their place in the forge had protected them for all these years, until the beginning of their quest. Even now, they had no idea that the man and woman they were about to execute at nightfall were the missing King and Queen of Deltora. Briefly, Endon wondered what Jarred would make of it if he were there. They had lived as Jarred and Anna of the Forge for so long, and now it seemed they would die as them.

Soon enough, the Grey Guards came for him. Two of them, snarling with glee. Large hands grabbed at him, shoving him into the corridor, mindless of the agony such movement gave his stiff leg. He found himself stumbling, falling, his vision blurring at the intense pain, and trying to raise himself he found that he could not. With impatient snarls the Guards hauled him up and dragged him the rest of the way.

'Ruddy tick,' Endon heard one mutter. 'They're all weaklings. Pah!' Spit flew from his mouth, splattering onto the floor like a blister. Quick and precise.

'Quite right, Bak 4,' his fellow grunted.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was only mere moments until Endon found himself being shoved through a side door of the palace and out into open darkness. He could feel the cool air on his very skin, and basked in it, briefly, before the Guards dragged him on.

As they mounted the platform, he heard a gasping sob, in a voice so dear and familiar to him that it brought tears to his eyes. Sharn. Sharn! Endon bit his tongue to stop himself from calling her name.

He drank in the sight of her, as he was hurried across the platform. She appeared bedraggled- her clothes were rumpled, torn and stained with what seemed like dried blood, and her dark hair was so tangled it looked as if it had survived a windstorm. From his viewpoint, he could see that her skin was marred with cuts and bruises, most prominently on her cheeks and temple. Her face was pale, but set; her eyes were fearful.

Despite this, she was still the most beautiful woman Endon had ever known, or ever would know.

Upon seeing him, tears filled her eyes. He could see her reach out to him, the expression on her features achingly sad but at the same time bitterly joyful. He saw her mouth something which he could not understand, but which he could guess at. His heart ached unbearably. He longed to comfort her, tell her that he loved her and that everything would be alright. At that moment, he longed for it most of all. However, he knew he could not find any words of comfort to give her. Nothing would be alright for them, not when they were facing death and double branding. The only thing he knew was that he loved her, and always would.

His Guards shoved him onto the boards, and he collapsed, his legs unable to hold him up. Groaning, he lay there in a heap for a moment. Then, in a flash he felt Sharn's arms envelop him, strong and comforting. She helped him to sit up, and they clung to each other, shaking, Sharn's head against Endon's chest and his face in her hair.

And then they were jerked away, gasping as the manacles around their necks tightened. Scrabbling at his throat, Endon barely saw the crowds begin to drift into the area, and almost did not hear Fallow's sharp voice calling for attention, or the heavy footsteps behind him of Grey Guards mixed with the clinking of chains and stumbling of light feet. More prisoners, Endon thought, here to be executed. He felt pity for these people, that they should be so unlucky. But what had they done to earn them a double-branding and death?

He did not have the time, or strength, to dwell upon the thought. As soon as the denizens of Del were standing before the platform, Fallow called out, 'People of Del! You have been gathered here for a very special occasion- to bear witness to the deaths of those who would pit themselves against our Master!' He gestured toward the prisoners standing behind him. 'These six enemies, along with the two traitors at my feet, joined in a plot to overthrow our great leader. A plot doomed to failure, as all such evil is doomed. See them, people of Del?' Fallow shrieked. 'See these strangers? See their ugly bodies? Their twisted, evil faces? Monsters! Invaders of Del! Double branding, and death!'

Six Guards came forward, and thrust iron rods into the pot of coals, sneering and laughing as they did so. Bile filled Endon's mouth at the sight.

The Guards facing the crowds lifted their slings menacingly, grinning in anticipation. It was their task to fire at the spectators at any sign of disobedience. It was a task they seemed to take delight in.

Immediately the chant rose: 'Double-branding and death!'

Endon's heart ached at their blank, hopeless faces, and the emptiness in their voices. They were little more than empty shells, just going through the motions of life, trying to avoid the Shadow Lord's notice. They were his people, those who had once trusted him and looked to him to guard Deltora from the Shadow Lord. He had failed them in that; his people had trusted him, and he had failed them. No wonder they hated him! He had brought them to this.

It was as well he was to die this day. Endon bowed his head, the bitterness almost consuming him.

It was then that he heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him, and felt Sharn's fingers gently brush against his leg. A signal, Endon thought, and lifted his head.

What he saw almost made his blood run cold.

Fallow was standing, almost trembling. His eyes were alight, his face up-turned toward a distant toward filled with malice and crimson clouds. At the top of the tower, seven Ak-Baba perched.

Endon fought to suppress a shudder.

The Shadow Lord was coming.

Fallow swung back to face the crowds. 'Their punishment can wait!' he said, in a voice almost crackling with excitement. He hastily motioned for the six prisoners standing behind him to be moved back. From the corner of his eye, Endon saw the Guards roughly comply. He heard someone groan, and inwardly winced sympathetically.

If the sight of the Shadow Lord's presence made his blood run cold, Fallow's next words chilled him to ice.

'I can now announce, that, by my orders, our three greatest enemies have been captured! I knew it would be so!'

No. No!

Beside him, he heard Sharn gasp softly, in such a broken voice that it hurt him to hear her. He felt her entire body tremble; saw her head shake in automatic denial.

Endon's heart stuttered painfully. He fought for breath, shaking.

Lief, he thought numbly. They have Lief. Our son.

The world swayed sickeningly. Black spots danced before his eyes. Dimly, he felt himself wrenched upward by the neck, chains clinking. He felt himself sag, numbly, in Fallow's hands. He felt Fallow grab his collar in a rough shake, and almost groaned at the pain it caused. Then, mercifully, he was on his feet. He could not stop himself from swaying; it took much of his strength to simply stand.

'These two wretches will see their son before they die!' Fallow snarled. 'Behold them! The father and mother of treachery! Now they will pay for the evil they have caused, the lies they have told!'

Endon stared out into the sea of faces before him. Some were blank; others were creased with pain. Many of them had been his customers and friends, stopping at the forge to make use of his services or to speak with Sharn in the forge cottage. He could see that their eyes were dark with grief for the quiet, kind couple who had made a living in the forge, who were now to die in this unfair and brutal way.

He felt tears spring into his eyes, hot and stinging. They did care, however much they appeared not to. For sixteen years they had lived alongside them as Jarred and Anna of the Forge; had gotten to know them and love them for the work Endon did as a blacksmith. It was one thing to watch the execution of a fellow neighbour- it was quite another when one knew that person, had spoken to them and come to respect them for their kindness and their generosity. Endon saw this on the faces of the people before him now, and his heart ached at it.

There was a commotion from by the palace windows. Fallow could be heard shouting orders in his cruel, impatient voice. At his word, the Guards touched torches to the red cones. A white light begin to shine, hissing and flaring, almost blinding the inhabitants of the Place of Punishment. It eradicated all shadows and darkness, so that every nook and cranny could be seen clearly. Endon almost flinched at the shock of it.

For a brief moment, Endon saw the gazes of some of the audience drawn to the palace above the Place, but he had no time to ponder what it meant, for the newest prisoners were coming.

He watched, barely able to breathe, as three blindfolded and hooded figures were dragged to Fallow's side. Fallow's face lit up in triumph at the sight of them, and he turned toward them, his lip curling. Sudden fury rattled Endon, and he felt his hands clench to fists at his sides. Fallow had taken so much away from them- their peace of mind, their home, and, eventually, their very lives. And now he had crushed their hope and sought to kill his son and Barda, and this third stranger who had somehow become a part of the cause. He was truly a Shadow Lord servant, Endon thought bitterly.

'Now!' Fallow cried. 'Now I show you three traitors who nearly escaped, because a vain and foolish creature, bloated with pride, thinking to be my rival, put his own secret plans into action while I was — occupied with other important duties.'

Grinning, he snatched off the first hood, revealing a small, tanned face framed with tangled dark hair. Emerald green eyes sparked fiercely as she looked at Fallow, who was already moving on to the next prisoner. The next hood thrown back revealed Barda, steady and alert, his eyes darkening when he saw Endon and Sharn. But the final prisoner... Endon watched intently as Fallow drew back the hood with a flourish, to reveal... a face that was not Lief's. Endon's heart gave a jolt. He felt his eyes widen. He knew this face, so well. Though it was older, harder and marred with a jagged scar on the side, he still recognised him. How could he not?

He felt his eyes light up, felt mingled joy and pain swell in his heart. Joy, because the brother of his heart was within his sight once more, as he had prayed so long for. Pain, for the situation they had both found themselves in. Double-branding and death. Endon had longed to see Jarred once more, but not like this. Not in this place, awaiting gruesome, agonizing fates.

He held out a trembling hand.

Jarred stared back at him, his eyes blazing with shock, awareness and memory. Then, suddenly, he was turning this way and that, as if searching for someone he could not find.

How had he come to be there? Endon wondered. It did not matter in any case, he knew, for they were all to die in a scant few moments. But still... if Jarred was there on the platform, where was Lief?

Fallow's smile had faded, replaced by alarm and fury. He stepped back, hissing to the Guards. 'You fools! This is not one of the three! Where is the boy? The boy?'

The Guards mumbled, confused, backing away quickly from the enraged Shadow Lord servant. They were not fools, however blindly obedient they were. They would not risk disturbing a servant in the Shadow Lord when he was like this.

It was at that moment that everything fell into chaos. A great cry came from the crowd below the Place, just as a figure swung into the air above, landing clumsily on the platform. Lief, Endon realised with a shock, and rising hope. Lief, holding the completed Belt of Deltora in his hands. From the corner of his eye, Endon could see a blackbird fly in the boy's wake, screeching harshly. Beside him he could hear Sharn's no longer broken gasp. Briefly he glanced at her to find her gazing at Lief with wonder and fear.

Lief began to make his way toward the green-eyed, dark-haired girl, who looked at him with wild eyes. What was he doing? Why did he not put the Belt on? Endon desperately wanted to call out to him, but knew that the boy would hear nothing in this chaos.

Guards milled, confused, waiting for orders to deal with this disturbance. Fallow screamed at them to move, move! 'Do something, you spineless fools!' While, from far away in the tower, the malign presence of the Shadow Lord decided to act. A cry of rage pierced Endon, so forceful and filled with malice that he almost groaned. He could tell by Sharn's gasp that she also felt it. The very force of the cry forced Lief to his knees.

With a vengeance, lightning struck the place where Lief was kneeling, just as Lief in a panic rolled to one side, narrowly evading it.

But the lightning had broken the platform, causing the front wooden-boards to collapse and the others to become increasingly unstable. His heart hammering, Endon clutched Sharn's hand and struggled to keep them both balanced on the tilting boards and stop them from toppling into the yawning pit that was opening up before them. He could see Grey Guards plunge with shocked cries into the abyss, burning coals falling after them. Thunder roared. He heard Fallow's enraged shouts, though he could not see him through the blinding flashes of lightning that continued to strike wherever possible.

Lief was clinging tightly onto one of the unstable boards, his eyes filled with desperation. Endon's heart almost burst with alarm for him. The people of Del also noticed his danger, calling to him, screaming to him. And Lief tried to move across the platform, seeming intent on going toward the girl. But- at first Endon thought he was dreaming, in between the flashes of lightning and deafening noise, but as he heard Sharn's desolate cry, he knew it was real. Fallow was rising behind Lief, his eyes maddened by rage and hate. With long, thin fingers, he grasped Lief by the throat, dragging him upward. His face screwed into a grimace of triumph as Lief choked and gasped for air, trying in vain to reach for his sword.

Endon and Sharn's gasp was drowned out by the cries of the crowd. They reacted by instinct. Endon was not sure who first moved- himself or Sharn. It did not matter. Nothing mattered except the scene before them: of their son, struggling for air, at the mercy of this monster of a man. Endon felt fury spike his heart as he looked at Fallow. Fallow had already taken so much from him; he would not take his son. Not on his watch. Feeling Sharn tremble in rage and determination, he knew she felt the same.

In one, precise movement, they looped their neck-chains around Fallow's stick-thin neck and pulled. Endon did not know when Fallow had let go of the chains; it only mattered that he had. Unprepared for retaliation from the most unlikely source, Fallow floundered, his eyes bulging, his fingers desperately clutching at the tightening chains. For the first time, horror flashed in his eyes.

Yes, Fallow, Endon said silently. You did not expect this, did you? You thought us broken, not a threat to you. But you were wrong.

Savagely, he heaved at the chains, drawing predator away from prey. For Lief, his beloved son and heir. For Sharn, for the agonising torment she received at this man's hands. For his own torment. For the nightmares, the stench of blood, the face in his dreams that would never completely go away. He grasped the chains with his two hands and pulled, tightening, inflicting as much pain as he could muster. This man deserved all the pain he could give.

From far away, he heard Lief's horrified cry, and saw him attempting to make his way across the unstable platform toward them, holding in one hand the Belt of Deltora. Why had he still not put it on?

He saw Lief lunge forward.

'No, Lief!' Endon snapped at him. 'The Belt! You must-' You must put it on!

Before he could finish, cold metal pierced his middle, and a searing pain engulfed him, so agonising it brought tears to his eyes. The shock of it threw him back, back against the tilting boards, with Fallow dragged, screaming, with him. He felt rather than saw Sharn catch him, cushioning his fall, and heard her alarmed scream as she clung one-handed to the edge of the platform as if for dear life.

Through a haze of pain, Endon saw that Fallow had entangled himself from the chains that had bound his throat, and was now balancing precariously on the boards. Then he saw the red cone of light sliding toward him, and made a grab for it. Too late he saw his danger. The cone tipped, slowly, and burning liquid covered him, sizzling, and he screamed and screamed. Endon watched with a strange sense of satisfaction- finally, finally, Fallow had gotten what he deserved. Endon felt only a tinge of horror as this man who had destroyed their lives sizzled to death before him.

There was a roaring, rushing sound from somewhere above. Endon could imagine dark red clouds, furious and menacing, tumbling from the tower to put a stop to this rebellion. All who were at the Place of Punishment at that moment saw the clouds, and shivered.

The Shadow Lord was coming.

Lief had been separated by a pit from the rest of the group, Endon noticed dimly. He saw him eye the gap and deliberate. Put the Belt on, Lief, Endon prayed. Just put it on! He willed Lief to hear him, listen to him. He was the only one who could stop the coming danger. Endon prayed he would be sensible at the most critical moment of his life.

Lief hesitated for a brief second, and then clasped the Belt around his waist, preparing to make the leap across to Barda and the girl.

Endon held his breath, waiting.

There was a loud, crackling sound, so loud that it stilled the panicking people below the Place, and caused the malicious clouds to draw back, howling in fury and surprise. Lief stood, frozen in his tracks, his mouth gaping open in shock. Endon felt Sharn squeeze his hand gently, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She, too, was holding her breath.

The Belt began to shine, its gems glowing with radiance. By now, all at the Place were holding their breaths, watching in silent wonder.

He had not sensed Jarred's approach, but suddenly there he was, kneeling beside himself and Sharn. Endon clasped his strong, calloused hand, trembling with the strength of his feelings. He said nothing; there was nothing to say. He saw Jarred turn to Sharn, saw him nod respectfully at her, and touch her gently on the shoulder in greeting. He saw Sharn tremble and smile, even as her eyes brimmed with tears. He saw her grasp Jarred's hand, and his own, and it was like this that they watched the end of what they had begun so long ago, when they had fled to the forge and sworn a vow to restore the Belt of Deltora when the time was right. Hand-in-hand, they watched as the Belt exploded with light, illuminating each great gem in brilliance.

The Shadow Lord roared, in agony and rage. Dark clouds shrank away from the light, away from the tower. Away from Del. As fast as lightning, the disembodied sorcerer fled, knowing itself defeated. As it left, it abandoned the Grey Guards, who were vainly attempting to control the now dancing, joyful crowds. It passed swiftly over their heads and was gone, ignoring the cries of its servants, toward the Shadowlands, the one place it knew it would be safe.

He heard Sharn sobbing, felt her cradle his head in her lap. He clung to her hand, feeling almost consumed by amazement. They had done it. For all of these years, they had hidden, silently planning the beginning of the quest, preparing Lief for its undertaking. And now... it was over. It was over at last. Endon could hardly contain the joy that flooded through him then.

He met Jarred's eyes, and Sharn's, and saw his joy reflected. And the grief. They knew that Fallow had dealt a mortal blow. Endon had known from the moment the knife pierced his insides. However, Endon had no regrets at it.

He grasped Jarred's hand again, and smiled weakly. 'It is good to see you, old friend,' he said quietly. 'Fate is merciful, after all.'

There was a shadow of a bitter smile on Jarred's face. 'So it seems,' he agreed.

'But how...?' Endon desperately wanted to know, and regretted that there was not enough time to hear it. How had Jarred come to be there? He had thought Jarred and his family had fled in safety to Tora. Perhaps they had never even made it to that great city of the west. Jarred's face was of a man who had suffered and lost much, and Endon grieved at it.

Jarred smiled sadly at him. 'That is a long story, Endon, and I fear you will never hear the whole of it.'

Endon shook his head, feeling mingled tears of laughter and grief sting his eyes. 'No,' he said. 'But at least I have seen the end of it.'

Beside him, Sharn wept and caressed his cheek. Jarred merely nodded, a world of sorrow and regret in his eyes.

Behind them, the chaos was dying. The prisoners on the platform were now unchaining themselves, embracing each other in gratitude and wonder at their good fortune. Barda and the girl were making their way toward them with elation in their eyes. As the glow from the Belt dimmed, Lief stood, rooted to the boards, his eyes wild. He had changed, this son of his, Endon thought ruefully. He was no longer a boy, but a man. A king. He had left Del as a prideful, impulsive adolescent, and had returned a mature, responsible, and wise adult, ready to take his place on Deltora's throne. It heartened and saddened Endon to see it.

All around, people were rejoicing. Their enemies were dead; their long years of tyranny were over. It seemed unbelievable- some shook their heads, as if they could hardly take it in. They had come to the Place of Punishment expecting mass execution and the crushing of a doomed rebellion, and instead darkness had left their lives forever, freeing them. And so they danced, joyful and cheering, their cheeks stained with tears of thanks.

Endon's heart swelled watching them. They were safe; all were safe. At last. Safe, and free.

Fate had been merciful, after all.

oOo

Seeming dazed, Lief knelt at his parents' side. Endon could see the questions teeming in his eyes as he embraced Sharn and bent to Endon. Behind him, Barda and the girl were sinking to their knees, finally free of their chains. Now that he could properly see the girl, it was obvious that she was Jarred's daughter. It was in her dark hair and tanned complexion, and the restless, rebellious spirit he could see in her emerald green eyes. How many times had he seen that in Jarred?

Lief, still confused at the sudden turn of events, turned to Jarred with questions in his eyes.

Jarred gave him a not-quite-bitter smile. 'The perfect hiding place,' he murmured. 'Was it not? For whoever would suspect? Whoever would suspect that the man and woman who ran from Del that night nearly seventeen years ago were laying a false trail? That they were not the king and queen at all?'

His eyes warmed as he looked at Endon and Sharn. 'Who would suspect that the king of Deltora could live as a blacksmith? And a queen, a fine lady of Toran blood, could grow vegetables, and spin common yarn? Yet, what was Adin, but a blacksmith?' He turned back to Lief, and raised an eyebrow. 'And what should be more fitting than that the heir to Deltora be brought up as a common boy, learning without trying the ways of his world, and its people?'

'You had the idea of decoys once before, then, Doom?' Lief murmured.

Jarred nodded. 'So it seems. Though I did not know it, when I sent our Toran friends to the west. It is good to think that they, also, are safe.'

Doom? Endon wondered at that, but did not have the strength to voice it. It seemed that what little strength he had was ebbing away quickly. Soon, he thought, he would lack the willpower to even open his eyes.

The sound of fighting could be heard in the palace, the shouts and screams of enemy Guards rising and dying.

'The Resistance has arrived,' Jarred said casually. 'They will take care of the last of the Guards. Like Barda and Steven, I thought it wise to make a special plan, known to no one else. There is a certain drain-tunnel in Del, that leads to the palace kitchens …'

'think I know it,' Endon heard Lief say. 'I found it once. On my birthday …' His voice trailed away, as if he could still hardly believe what had just occurred. There was turmoil in his eyes. Sharn gently squeezed his hand, her eyes bright and knowing. It was a shock, to discover that his parents were not who they had claimed to be; that all his life, they had lied to him for his own safety and theirs, protecting him from the truth until the time was right to reveal it.

Lief looked at Endon, and at last there was comprehension in his eyes. Endon could imagine what he was thinking, the revelations coursing through his mind. His father was not the blacksmith Jarred, as he had believed for his entire life, but the King of Deltora. The King whose blindness had caused Deltora to fall to the Shadow Lord. But Endon no longer felt bitter at that failure. Deltora was free. Whatever mistakes he had made, they had been redeemed by all he, Lief, Sharn and Barda had done in the name of their cause. Knowing this, he could die in peace.

He heard Barda's sharp intake of breath, and felt Sharn tremble. Lief's eyes burned with tears. Endon felt his own eyes sting.

They knew.

'Do not weep for me,' he murmured. 'I am happy. My life is fulfilled. Here, now, at the moment of my death, I have what I have longed for. The knowledge that the evil caused by my fault has been undone. The knowledge that, with my dear wife, I have raised a son who can lead his people wisely, know their hearts.'

'Why did you not tell me, Father?' Lief asked quietly. 'Why did you not tell me who I was?'

'While you did not know, you were safe,' Endon whispered. 'And — you had to learn — to love and know the people, and be one of them. That — I had sworn.'

'But … Barda?' Lief glanced at the big man, who was kneeling beside him with tear-filled eyes.

Sharn shook her head, and Endon could see her forehead crease slightly as she spoke. 'Barda did not know the truth. He had seen Jarred and Anna leave. He thought they were the king and queen, for that is what we told him. At the palace he had only ever seen us from a distance, dressed and painted in palace fashion. We never told him the secret. We had sworn to keep the plan between the four of us. And when you went on your quest — why, we thought that as soon as the Belt was complete, there would be no need for explanation. We thought it would shine! We did not know …'

'We did not know that the order of the gems was important,' Jarred finished. 'How could we? The book told nothing of that.'

'It did,' Lief said quietly. 'But it told it in riddles.'

Endon felt himself smile. Fitting, that. And clever. The answer had been hidden in plain sight all along. In all his readings of that small blue book, he had never seen it. It was their good fortune that Lief had, at the last.

Pride filled him- pride for his son, who had agreed unhesitatingly to go on the quest despite the dangers and risks to his own life, who had, along with Barda and this girl who was kneeling beside them, defeated all obstacles and had managed to work a miracle and save their kingdom. Endon could not have been prouder. It did not matter that he truly was to die this day; he would be leaving behind a free Deltora, and a son who would rule it to the best of his ability. It was all he had ever wanted and prayed for.

'That is fitting,' he said. 'For all along, Lief, this has been a story where nothing is as it seems. I have always liked such tales. For such tales usually have happy endings…. As does this one.'

He felt his eyes flutter closed of their own will, and felt his body sag into the wooden boards of the platform. As if from down a long tunnel, he heard Sharn's muffled sob, and longed to tell her that he loved her always, and did not want her to be sad. This was meant to be. Perhaps it was a final judgement for his sins; perhaps they would only be redeemed in his heart at his death. Endon did not know. The only thing he knew was that the thought of the release of death felt like ecstasy, euphoric and blissful. Even the darkness that was fast dimming his mind did not frighten him, but elated him.

Feeling at peace like he never had before, he exhaled, and let the darkness take him.

Chapter Text

Sharn sat rigidly on the wooden platform, her ears ringing in the somber silence that followed Endon's passing. It was a respectful silence, a fitting tribute to the death of a king who had borne so much in this life and who had meant so much to his family, the royal family of Deltora. Tears sprang into Sharn's eyes to see it, from the people who had passionately hated him in their mistaken belief that he had cared so little for them that he had abandoned them to their fates over sixteen years ago.

Endon's body was still warm; she could feel it underneath her fingertips. She knew that she should let go, but found herself unable to. In a detached way, she knew that her already grimy, dust-wrecked skirt was sticky and moist with blood- her husband's lifeblood- but she did not care. Why should she care of such things, when Endon was dead? Endon, who had not deserved any of it. Endon, who she loved with all her heart, and much more besides.

She bowed her head, Lief's hand held in her own. Here was Endon's legacy, and her's. A king, wise in the ways of his people, who would guard the Belt of Deltora and their kingdom from the Shadow Lord with all his heart. Lief would not make the mistakes Endon had; his parents had made sure of it, raising him to know his people, and care for them. Growing up in a city devastated by tyranny, Lief had come to know deep in his bones the price of a king breaking faith with his people, whether it was done a-purpose or not. He would not risk it happening again. That was one mercy: there would never be another Shadow Lord invasion as long as Lief lived.

Oh, Endon...

Sharn felt herself shudder, and repressed it. She had to remain strong, now, to reassure her stunned people and bring order to the city. It was what Endon would have wanted her to do. She could grieve later, in private, during her vigil over Endon's body which, by palace tradition, would last until dawn. Until then, she would give her people what support she could. She was the Queen of Deltora; she could do no less.

She lifted her head, feeling the burden settle on her like a mantle.

'Barda,' and she turned to where the former palace guard knelt, head bowed in grief. He looked up, seeming slightly startled at the command in her voice. 'Arrangements must be made for my husband's burial. I-we-' She looked at Lief, who nodded-'would like him to be laid to rest, as is his right, in the chapel, beside his forefathers. Will you oversee it?'

With wide eyes, the big man nodded. 'It will be done, Anna... Sharn. You may be sure of it.' Tears glinted in his eyes, and Sharn knew she had chosen aright. Barda had always been completely loyal to herself and Endon and Lief, ever since that fateful first meeting nearly seventeen years ago. She knew he would carry out this sad task as steadfastly as he had the others she and Endon had asked of him over previous years.

'And,' she added, glancing at Jarred. He raised an eyebrow. 'If the Resistance has finished in the palace, would they scour the city to be sure there are no more of the Shadow Lord's servants left?'

'They already know to do so,' the scarred man said. 'Though as the Shadow Lord has gone, most of his servants will have died at the loss of their power source. But nothing should be left to chance.'

'No,' Lief broke in, agreeing. 'Then-' he broke off again, his eyes widening as a sudden thought occurred to him. 'Someone must get word to Withick Mire,' he said, urgently. 'Ailsa is there, waiting. She will be worried; we left there in haste, and toward danger. She will be fearing that we are dead.'

Almost desperately, he searched the group, now consisting of themselves and the six freed prisoners who had gathered around them in the moments following Endon's death, for a willing volunteer. All were injured in a fashion; some could barely stand, Sharn noted, scanning the group of strangely assorted Deltorans. They would be tended to, in due course, as would all that had been present at the Place of Punishment that day. She herself would see to it that every person in Del was cared for to the best of her ability.

'I will go,' and a short, stocky woman stepped forward, her eyes shining fiercely. Sharn noted with surprised that she was dressed rather strangely, in a shirt made of a rough hide- or fur- and pants of a similar material. 'On the honour of the Dread Gnomes, it will be my pleasure, King Lief.' She bowed her head at him, and Sharn saw tears glitter in her son's eyes.

'Well, then...' and Lief looked at Sharn, unsure. He was young, Sharn thought, and only just coronated. He had to be feeling overwhelmed, and as heartsick as she. Briefly she experience a pang of mingled maternal pride and regret. She knew she would always be proud of her son, for all he had done to save their kingdom and his readiness to take on the mantle of leadership. However, she did feel sadness that it had to be under such circumstances, upon the heels of his father's sudden death.

She squeezed his hand, and stood, gently setting her husband's body aside. It almost killed her to do it, but it had to be done. She could not hold on to what was left of Endon forever; sooner or later, she would have to let him go. Besides, Lief needed her now, as did the whole of Deltora.

Strong. She had to be strong, for just a little longer. She took a deep breath, and lifted her chin.

'I suggest we retire to the forge,' she said firmly, 'to rest and recover from what was a frightening ordeal. We will see to King Endon's burial, and send whatever messages that need sending.' She let her gaze encompass all present, and smiled. 'A great miracle was wrought this day. Our Enemy was banished. Our people freed from tyranny. A new king was crowned. But we must not forget all that was lost and sacrificed in doing so.' Sharn blinked rapidly, feeling hot tears sting in her eyes at the thought.

There were murmurs of agreement among the group. From the corner of her eye, Sharn saw Barda murmur something to Jarred, and quickly leave with several others toward the palace. The Dread Gnome was nowhere to be seen; she had most likely slipped away already, and was heading for the city gates.

As the group was dispersing, an elderly woman in a flowing scarlet robe made her way to Sharn's side, straight-backed and proud. A Toran, Sharn realised incredulously, gazing at her silky dark hair and eyes, so much like her own. For her entire life, she had been told that she was of Toran blood, and had felt pride in it. Now, she felt a sudden jolt at the thought that there were other Torans that she could befriend, once that great city of the west re-established relations with Del. Other Torans like herself, who would understand her heritage and teach her more of it, as she had always longed for. For all that she had poured through the ancient texts for information concerning Tora, and had made queries, she had never learnt much of that part of her ancestry, other than that her features were so obviously Toran. She barely knew anything about that ancient city, and the thought of finally learning of her Toran heritage filled her with something akin to delight.

'Queen Sharn.'

Bewildered, Sharn stared as the woman knelt at her feet, her head bowed humbly.

'I am Zeean, of Tora,' the older woman said. 'On behalf of all Torans, I express our relief and joy at finding you safe and alive. We are sorry at the death of your husband the king. Fate was cruel to take him so suddenly, and swiftly.' Sharn swallowed hard, and nodded, feeling her eyes prick.

Zeean's voice trembled. She looked up at the queen, tears glimmering in her luminous eyes. 'We are so sorry for everything. For all that you have endured,' and Zeean's gaze widened to encompass Jarred and Lief as well, who had stayed standing at Sharn's side during the exodus of their allies and the common people of Del. Jarred, who had risked his own life, and that of his wife, to take the royal couple's place on the road to Tora- a fact which Zeean now knew.

'In our pride and folly, we forgot our ancient vow to Adin, and our loyalty to the crown. We should have supported you as our far-sister, and your husband the King with you. Instead, we tore up your plea for sanctuary, and turned you away in spite and anger.'

Sharn's heart ached at the pain of guilt that was evident in the old woman's expression. She, along with the rest of the people of Tora, had believed they had been asked to give shelter to the rightful King and Queen of Deltora and their unborn heir, when in truth, it had been Jarred and Anna who had been seeking sanctuary. How terrible Zeean must feel! Though Tora should have sheltered Endon and Sharn if they had fled as originally planned, and Sharn could see that Zeean was guilt-ridden at Tora's refusal to support their far-sister and the bloodline of Adin, she also saw that the realisation that their folly had also drastically endangered three other innocent lives almost broke Zeean.

'If we had known...' Zeean's gaze lingered briefly on Jarred, who stared back impassively. She shook her head, and sighed. 'I do not know what we would have chosen. I only wish we had chosen differently.'

'I am sure you did what you thought was right,' Sharn said.

'No,' and Zeean shook her head again, sorrow in her eyes. 'We did what we thought was best for ourselves. We were selfish, and filled with pride and resentment toward a king we considered a stranger, who we thought had abandoned us when we needed him. We were wrong, so wrong, to do so. We should have put aside out petty grievances and pay more heed to what was happening outside our marble city. We should have given shelter to anyone who asked for it, whether it be the king and queen or an ordinary couple. Because we believed you to be the king and queen, we turned you away, when we should have offered shelter in the name of our ancient vow.' There was bitterness in her eyes.

Gently, unable to stand anymore of Zeean's remorse, Sharn helped the old woman to her feet, and kissed her cheek. 'Dearest Zeean, know that we cast no blame on Tora for what occurred sixteen years ago. You acted as you thought you must. Myself, and Endon and Lief, found a place of refuge right here in Del, thanks to this man who stands beside me now. And Jarred and Anna found a safe haven, as well.' Sharn glanced quickly at Jarred, who nodded in confirmation.

'Zeean,' Sharn went on, more hesitantly, for she did not know how her next words would be received. 'I grew up sheltered in the palace, and know almost nothing about my Toran background. I would be honoured if you could teach me, tell me more about my heritage. If you would be willing, that is. I would like it if we could become friends.' She tried not to let a note of longing creep into her tone. She had never had a close friend before, and not one that was as close to a cousin as one could get. She waited, nervously, for Zeean's response.

Zeean's face lit up in a wondering smile, and she gently touched Sharn's arm. 'It would be my honour, Queen Sharn,' she said. 'I hope, as well, that we may become friends and strengthen relations between our two cities once more.'

Then, all of a sudden, she pulled Sharn into a tight, warm embrace that conveyed the strength of her feelings. And for the first time, Sharn felt the tears she had held back stream steadily down her cheeks.

oOo

Later she sat in the chapel, staring between the flickering candles surrounding Endon's body. It was almost dawn; she could see the blaze of the sun slowly edging up from beneath the horizon, flooding the room with soft pink-grey light. On the platform, Endon lay in state, seeming at peace in death as he had never been in life. If she had not seen him die with her own eyes, she would have almost believed that he were merely sleeping.

Only Sharn had remained for the entire time, from sometime past dusk until dawn, as palace tradition dictated. Lief had come for a time, but had gone again, having business to attend to with Doom, Barda and Jasmine, much to his regret. However, Sharn knew Endon would understand, if he were there, that Lief had his duty to the kingdom to think of, even mere hours after his coronation. It was what they had tried to instill in Lief, after all, time and again.

At some point during the small hours, Barda had also sat with her for a time, his head bowed in deep grief, but he too had been called away in the end, to organise the formation of a new palace guard. Sharn did not blame him for that; it was a relief to be truly alone, so that she could give into her grief. She would not have, otherwise, she knew.

The first hour had been the worst. As soon as she had entered the chapel, her grief had overcome her. She had fallen to her knees before the platform holding her husband's body, nails digging painfully into the hard edge, and a cry of anguish had burst from her throat, so torn and broken in the dead silence that it had frightened her deeply. But she could not stop herself; she was too far gone for any voice of reason to be of use. She had lay curled on the floor, her chest heaving and aching, as hot, sticky moisture flowed down her cheeks and into the corners of her hair. It was then that the loneliness was most unbearable, when she felt the absence of Endon so keenly. It made her weep with even more abandon to think of it.

She did not know when she had hauled herself from the floor and into a pew. Time seemed to blur, so that she could not tell exactly how long she had spent ensconced in this room which held so many memories, both good and bad. She only knew that she had risen, at one stage, still weeping, to collapse into the pew closest to where she had been curled. She was not ashamed of it, this unabashed weeping; she had her right to grieve in her own way. It was simply the suddenness of it, and the way it had burst from her like a wailing torrent, that had produced a deeply unsettled feeling inside of her. She had never expected it of herself, to express grief in such a way.

It was close to dawn now, Sharn could tell, noting the dim light slowly blanketing the horizon outside the chapel window. Though she could feel the dark smudges underneath her eyes, she did not feel on the brink of exhaustion. Her need to keep the traditional vigil over Endon's body had energized her, as had the grief that she could still feel swirling in her heart. It had happened so quickly, and with little forewarning. There had only been Lief's agonized shout, and the enraged look in Fallow's eyes, before his knife struck into Endon's chest with precision. Endon, oh Endon! How cruel of fate, that Endon should meet his end just as they had achieved what they had waited so long for!

She could feel the tears burn in her eyes once more. Endon would never know the peace and joys of a free Deltora, a Deltora free from the rule of the Shadow Lord, and also a royal family free from the dangerous, restricting Rule the previous Chief Advisors had conjured up as a means of weakening the power of the monarchy. How much had been lost because of it! It had been because of the Rule that Endon had been reluctant to listen to Jarred and wear the Belt of Deltora; it had been taught him, from birth, to obey the Rule and listen to his Chief Advisor. He had always believed it to be his duty, until the unthinkable had happened.

Now Endon was dead. And it was a relief to know that the monster who killed him was dead as well. Fallow, who had destroyed their home in the forge and sought to break them both in his attempts to make them speak of their complicity. He had failed, Sharn thought with bitter satisfaction, but not without a terrible cost. She could still feel the marks where the Grey Guards' iron rods had cut into her back with burning precision, and feel the phantom pain of the metal carving into her flesh. It had been mere days ago, when she had been a prisoner of the Shadow Lord under interrogation in the palace dungeons and separated from Endon. Now, she was free once more, while their enemies and Endon were dead. How quickly their fortunes had changed.

At the sound of footsteps approaching she felt herself tense; when Jarred appeared at the doorway she felt herself relax. It had become a habit of hers, she feared, to start at the sound of footsteps. She looked up as Jarred entered, hurriedly wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks and darkened her eyes.

It was the first time he had come; Sharn did not know why he had not come earlier. He walked into the room slowly, his expression grim and slightly hesitant. The scar gleamed pale on the side of his face.

She smiled at him weakly, struggling to keep her composure. For the past ten hours she had been a wreck, barely able to form a proper string of words without weeping. She had always been the stronger one; and yet, at her husband's death, she had reverted into a stammering, weeping wreck. It almost shamed her to think of it now, though she knew there was no reason to feel that way.

He sat down beside her in the pew, touching her hand briefly in a gesture of support.

'Jarred,' she began, and her voice trembled with emotion she fought to suppress.

'Doom,' he said quickly, frowning at her. 'I am Doom, now. I cannot think of myself as Jarred; I am not that person anymore.'

For a moment she stared at him; then, she felt herself nod.

He had changed; so had she. She barely recognized this scarred man as the young man she had met in this very chapel nearly seventeen years ago, the man who had brought them to safety in the forge and given up his home and identity for them.

'I was not sure you would come,' she said quietly, after a moment. 'It is almost dawn.'

'How could I not?' Jarred-Doom-looked at her with surprise in his eyes. 'Endon was like a brother to me, once.' His mouth twisted bitterly. 'I almost did not come,' he muttered. 'But I knew I must. Whatever I thought of him, he was still my friend. And I think he would have wished it.'

'I am sure he would have,' Sharn said gently.

For a time, they sat in silence, gazing at the body on the platform surrounded by light. He looks so at peace, Sharn thought sadly, much more so than he had ever been in life. Perhaps now he has found the forgiveness he has been longing so long for.

She must have made a small noise, because Jarred-Doom-looked at her.

'He would not want you to weep, Sharn,' he said. 'He died at peace, knowing that you and Lief were safe, and Deltora freed. It is a better death than he could have expected.'

Sharn knew; the chants of double-branding and death still rang in her ears. She shuddered. 'It just happened so quickly,' she said. 'All of it. And just when we were so close...' She drew in a shaking breath, struggling to hold back the tears she could feel forming in her eyes.

At least Endon had lived to see the defeat of the Shadow Lord, and the Belt shining for Lief. It had indeed brought him peace; Sharn had seen it in his eyes, in his final moments. Jarred was right-her husband had died with a light heart and a clear conscience. It was something Sharn was glad for. In life, Endon had always been so conflicted, so sorrowful, that she had felt anxious for him at times. Even in the most joyful occasions, there had been a slight shadow in the depths of his eyes, that spoke of guilt, bitterness and determination to restore the Belt and undo what he believed he had inadvertently helped cause. Sharn had never believed that he was at fault, and had always told him so, and yet, it was that very guilt that had fueled his purpose to restore the gems to the Belt and free Deltora from the Shadow Lord's tyranny. Without that purpose and leadership, they would surely have given up long ago.

Doom was gazing at Endon, his eyes dark with emotions Sharn could not name. 'I had thought we would not meet again in this life,' he said. 'I am glad to have been proven wrong. I am glad that he died as he did-quickly, and almost painlessly. It is a better death than any he would have received at the hands of the Shadow Lord.' He turned to look at Sharn, his expression unfathomable. 'And I am glad that you and your family are safe, have been safe for all these years. Fate is indeed merciful.'

'But was it worthwhile for you, truly?' she asked him, her voice shaking. His wife was dead, that much was plain; she would be there with him if she were not. He was scarred and distant and a completely different man than he had been sixteen years before. Did he really think it worth it still for himself and his family, even after all these years?

He stared at her as if she had gone mad. 'Of course,' he answered impatiently. 'For if I had not done as I did, you would be dead, Lief with you, and the cause lost before it had begun. Deltora would have been under the shadow forever.' As she stared back at him numbly, debating her next words, he continued to speak. 'Tora refused you refuge, Sharn. It was as well Anna and I went instead. You and Endon would never have survived in the countryside by yourselves; if you had gone, you would have been destroyed by the dangers lurking there. I have seen them. You would not have stood a chance.'

She almost flinched at the hardness in his tone; his gaze pierced into her like a knife. 'And did you know, there were Grey Guards posted on the road to Tora, killing any man and woman with child they saw. If you had traveled down that road, you would have died, all of you. It was as well that the message from Tora came when it did,' he added almost musingly. 'Otherwise we would have been lost. But we survived.' His eyes were sad, Sharn saw, and she felt her heart ache within her. 'You would not have.'

Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. He was right, and always had been. It still hurt, though, that Endon was dead, that so many sacrifices had been made, with terrible consequences for Jarred and Anna. Sharn did not know the whole of it, and knew she most likely never would. But Doom did not look like a person who had led a life of peace and comfort, and neither did his daughter, Jasmine. She shuddered to think of what had happened to Anna. Whatever it was, it had broken something inside of Jarred- or Doom. She could see it in his eyes, and was saddened by it.

'Endon had always longed to see you again,' Sharn said. 'It would have pained him if he had died before he could.'

'I know,' Doom murmured.

'We were to die, both of us.' To her dismay, she found herself shaking quite badly, and struggled to still herself. 'Double-branding and death. I had thought that we would die, until Lief saved us all. I...' Her voice trembled; she felt the world tilt around her dizzyingly. Gritting her teeth, she straightened and looked Doom firmly in the eye, or attempted to. Her vision seemed to blur around the edges; she could almost see the black dots dancing before her eyes.

Before she could fall, Doom grabbed hold of her arm. 'You should rest, Sharn.' He peered at her with a concerned frown, and shook his head. 'You look as though you would keel over right now. When did you last eat and sleep?'

'I do not know,' she admitted. Too many hours ago, she thought. Sharn dimly recalled eating a meal sent to her hours before; she could not recall the last time she had slept properly while imprisoned in the palace dungeons. She had not taken the time to rest before beginning her long vigil; there had been too much to do all over Del, too many people who had needed her attention. Shortly after their leave-taking of the Place of Punishment, Sharn, along with Zeean of Tora and Nanion of D'Or, had walked through Del, stopping from house to house, giving out foodstuff and blankets to all, and also tending to the sick and injured whenever possible. It had been exhausting work, but necessary. How could she think of resting when so many of her people desperately needed her help?

Now, she felt a wave of exhaustion sweep through her, and swayed, gathering support from Doom's arm placed on hers. The adrenaline rush that had sustained her was wearing away, leaving her utterly tired.

'I cannot leave him yet,' she whispered. It was truth- she was not ready to leave Endon, not yet. She was not ready to say goodbye. Her heart ached at the mere thought of it.

'He would want you to look after yourself and rest.'

Sharn shook her head. 'I cannot, yet,' she repeated. 'I must wait until dawn.'

Doom looked at her thoughtfully, and then nodded. 'In that case, I will stay with you. I do not think you should be alone now.'

There was a deep sorrow in his voice, and anguish lurking in his eyes. With a jolt, Sharn realised that he did not offer just for her, but for himself as well. He grieved, too, for the boyhood friend he cared for like a brother, who he had expected to never see again after that fateful night nearly seventeen years ago when the Shadow Lord invaded. How must he feel, to be reunited with his childhood friend just as Endon lay dying?

'Thank you,' she whispered to him, gently squeezing his hand, and she could feel her voice tremble with the force of her feelings. 'Thank you.'

oOo

They sat in companionable silence until the first rays of light began to filter through the chapel window. Sharn and Doom looked at one another, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. Endon had been her husband and king, and Doom's closest-and only- friend. There was nothing either of them could say that would make the loss any easier to bear.

Sharn gripped Doom's hand, drawing strength from its calloused feel. 'I would like to know all that has happened, since the Shadow Lord's invasion, if you wish to speak of it,' she said.

He gazed at her with raised eyebrows, and his lips twitched ever so slightly. 'Perhaps, in time,' he agreed. 'When we are both ready.'

'Yes,' she said softly, holding his gaze for a long moment.

Unsteadily Sharn stood, and walked to the edge of the raised platform, and stared down at her husband's dear, beloved face. It was peaceful, content, grave- everything it had and had not been in life. Yet, it was more. Gently, she held a trembling hand to his cheek, cupping it as she always had when he was alive. It felt pallid and cold to her fingers. She held onto it for a moment longer, and then turned away, biting her cheek to stop the tears from falling.

Endon was dead, but she was alive. Somehow, she would have to go on living without him; she could not think of how she would manage it. Endon had been the love of her life, the man she had grown to care deeply for in all their years of marriage. She would never forget him, the king who had lost so much but had never given up on their kingdom when others had. The blacksmith king, hidden in plain sight for sixteen years, waiting for so long to reclaim his kingdom and see his son inherit.

Someday, Sharn vowed, she would record Endon's -and her-story. Someday, she thought, she would tell it to her grand-children along with their parents' exploits, and they would marvel at the bravery and determination of their grandfather, and learn from his example. Someday, Endon's memory would be celebrated, and not thought of with the scorn and resentment so many Deltorans had expressed during the hard years of the Shadow Lord's rule. Sharn would make it that way.

With a calmness she did not feel, Sharn accepted Doom's offered arm with all the grace she could muster, and they walked out of the chapel, leaving a body ringed with flickering lights behind them. Goodbye, her heart whispered.

From somewhere above, the spirit of Endon watched them go, with the peace and serenity that only death could bring. He would always watch over them, Sharn most of all, and Lief. The new king, who would set his kingdom and people to rights and rule with a better hand than his father before him ever could. Already his people loved him, for he had freed them from tyranny and given them the hope they had never dared to feel or think. Lief would not take their faith in him for granted, as his father before him had done. Lief would always remember that the trust of his people was an important part of his power, and he would wear the Belt of Deltora and never let it out of his sight.

And the spirit knew, without a doubt, that he had been right all along: his son Lief would indeed be the best and most loved king Deltora had ever seen.