Epona suddenly wore bright red, the skirts still billowing out in an unfelt wind. She rose straight up again, pointed the demon spear at him, mumbled something very, very old, and hurled it at him.

His hurled his owr! sword. It clashed hard against the demon spear in midair, both hitting their tips together; then as one, they exploded, filling the room with a rainbow of lights. Then Nicholas dove for her, his hands outstretched.

She screamed, "No!" and in her hand was a knife. "You damnable wizard! You're dead!"

Nicholas simply thought it and the ancient sword was once again in his hand. He knocked her knife aside and plunged the sword through her, its point sticking out of her back a good foot.

She hung there in the air, staring down at the sword thrust through her chest. Her surprise was plain on her face. She looked up at him. "This cannot happen, it cannot. My demon chant, none can overcome it, but you have killed me."

"Yes," he said. "It is a very old, very powerful sword."

"But my demon spear-"

"Naught but weak and pitiful evil," Nicholas said, and reached out. He pulled the sword out of her body. She hung, as if suspended by unseen strings, until finally she fell onto the floor, on her back. He hovered over her and watched her eyes slowly go blank into death. He watched white drops of blood pool out around her body, seep into her gown, not red now, but white again. And the white mixed together. Her face began to lose its beauty, its youth. She began to change, her flesh growing slack, wrinkles digging into her cheeks, her forehead. She continued to wither until nothing but a skeleton lay on the floor, swathed in white. Then there was nothing save a small pool of white blood where her back had once lain.

Nicholas dropped to the floor and raced to Rosalind. The boy was gone. The knife was still in her chest. "No," he whispered and pressed his face against hers. "No, this was not to happen. You cannot die. You give your own life for the boy's? No, surely that was not to happen!"

"Nicholas, could you please pull out the knife? It is very cold inside me."

He jerked back, stared down at her. He was shaking his head, then suddenly-

"Yes, you remember what Sarimund told me. No evil can touch me. And so it didn't, just blotted out the world for a moment and sent me into darkness. But I am here again and I am all right. Please, pull out the knife. I tried to order it out of me, but I couldn't, and my hands don't want to move. I don't think I yet have the strength."

He couldn't, couldn't-he grasped the hilt and jerked it out of her. He stared down. There was no blood, only the rent in her white wool gown.

"Ah," she said, still not moving, "that feels much better."

He went back onto his knees. "I believed that monster had killed you."

"No, no. You killed her, just as you were supposed to, just as I knew you would. I was conscious, I simply couldn't move, couldn't speak. Where is Egan?"

"I saw the boy leaning over you when I came in, but then he was gone."

"Well, now, that makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Nothing makes sense in this accursed place."

Rosalind lightly touched her fingers to her chest. The gown was whole once again. "Ah, I am coming back to myself." Slowly, she sat upright, smiled at his hand cupping her elbow.

"You swear to me you are all right?"

"Oh, yes. Egan is gone, Nicholas, because you cannot meet yourself, even here in the Pale. You know that."

Suddenly they heard Taranis trumpet.

Nicholas and Rosalind walked out of the strange stark white room. But there was no endless corridor with statues of warriors and rooms filled with colorful cushions. No, they were once again standing on the ramparts of Blood Rock.

They raised their faces to see Taranis hovering above them, his wings whipping the rivulets of blood outward on the black rocks, making them splatter to the rampart stones.

Taranis raised his huge head and trumpeted again, the sound echoing off the rocks, making the sky lighten to a pale gray color. The wind died. All was silent, save for the echo of Taranis's shattering bellow. She knew all could hear it- every Tiber, every Lasis, even the yellow Sillow tree. And the wizards and witches.

He sang to them, "All is well. All is well. You saved Prince Egan, mistress, as you were supposed to. Ah, Sarimund, finally, his spell succeeded.

"To know a modern man can kill a monster, it is gratifying. It is over. The mistress saved the prince, and you, the man, paid your debt to her. It is over and Prince Egan will rule as he was meant to rule."

Nicholas smiled at her. "I wonder how high I can jump here in the Pale?"

"As high as the eggplant clouds. After all, you can fly." She couldn't help herself, she threw back her head and laughed. "Ah, Nicholas," she shouted, and threw herself against him, her arms locked around his back.

He kissed her once, twice, unable to stop until Taranis cleared his mighty throat in what sounded like a muted roar. Nicholas released her, stepped back, and raised his head to the heavens. He spoke in a voice that shook the very rocks of the fortress. "Sarimund! She saved the boy who is your son. I paid my debt. Epona is dead. You heard Taranis, now Egan will rule over the Pale as it was meant to happen.

"All will be different now, all will proceed now in the Pale on a very fine path indeed."

He nodded, as if hearing a reply. He looked back at his wife and smiled at her. "Do you hear the rumbling? It is time for us to leave. The boy is now a man. It is time for the change to come." He gave her a crooked grin. "As much as I would like to, I cannot meet him. What would happen were the two of us to come face-to-face? I do not know and I don't want to know."

Nicholas lifted her onto Taranis's back. The dragon lifted into the sky above Blood Rock and hovered. He sang to them.

A new season for the Pale, A new life force to leaven the plains, A calm darkness to bless the nights. And wisdom to light the spirit.

As they rose higher, they watched as the fortress began to tumble in on itself. Black rocks began to crash down the side of Mount Olyvan, the sound like mad thunder, deafening them. The turrets tumbled, the arches split asunder, the air was thick with rubble and dirt.

They watched until Blood Rock was no more, until the top of Mount Olyvan stood quite bare. Slowly, they saw Mount Olyvan begin to green, wildflowers spring up, bushes with incredible color begin to cover the mountain. There were yellow Sillow trees spouting from the very rock itself, glowing bright.

"Ah, the new kingdom," Taranis sang, "and a new leader for our land." And they watched a white fortress build itself, the stones fitting themselves together, rising into the air to great heights, brilliant white turrets springing upward, gleaming beneath a new sun that glistened over all the land.

Banners flew from the ramparts. They were white with three pale yellow moons covering them. They fluttered in a soft wind.

The air smelled different. It smelled whole.

They saw Belenus and Sarimund walk out of the vast white palace, onto the ramparts. They were speaking to each other. Another man appeared, a beautiful man, a young man, and he stood there, until Sarimund held out his arms to him. Prince Egan walked quickly to him and they embraced. Sarimund raised his head to look up at them. He smiled.

Rosalind heard him say clearly in her mind, "I thank you for saving my son, Isabella. Egan rules now. He is good. If ever you need me, you have but to call. My lord, your debt is paid. All thank you. Captain Jared Vail thanks you. Go home, Isabella, go home."

Taranis hallowed once more and raised himself straight up. "Hold tightly," he sang to them, and flew straight up directly toward a sun the color of a ripe lemon. They looked down to see the land below become smaller and smaller, then disappear. The air was warm, like swirling silk sliding off their flesh.