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A.R.Yngve

DARC AGES Book Three
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Bor Damon's last sight

Chapter 44 (continued)


Everyone present witnessed the momentous collision between the two airborne knights: Lord Orbes and his sons, Lord Fache, Darc, and the villagers inside the mansion.

Tharlos was instantly impaled on Bor Damon's broadsword. The two men collided with a resounding crash, and both were tossed apart -- tumbling to the ground ten meters below. Tharlos landed hard, and lay dead, his facial visor shattered; blood welled up from his head and filled his helmet. Soon, the pale, long face disappeared in a bowl of blood. A few bubbles of air floated up on the surface and burst with muted pops.

Lord Damon landed hard too, lost his gyroscopic balance and fell on his back. His jetpack shut down automatically, and he lay still. Several men rushed to his aid -- among them was Darc. But Bor still lived. He coughed up some blood, and found he could not move more than an inch. His dazed eyes gazed forward, and saw the blue sky appearing from a crack in his visor. He could not feel his legs; he sensed people crowding around his fallen shape -- and a white-haired man moving closer.

Someone removed Bor's damaged helmet for him, so that he could see.

"Darc," he croaked. "Is that you?"

"Yes."

"Is Dohan here?"

"Please hold on. He will be here soon."

Darc leaned closer to the dying man, and asked: "Why did you come? What were you going to do?"

Bor let out a laugh, as faint as whisper.

"You called for help... you remember? I understood... this was my last chance to make good. To choose the right future."

He sighed, and his breathing sounded not quite right.

Azuch wanted to move Lord Damon to a ship, but Darc broke in: "No! We have the best physician in the world here. Lord Fache! Please trust me."

Azuch Fache, still encased in his fearsome armor, unscrewed his helmet and stared down at Darc with intense anger. But he nodded consent.

"Go then, get your damned witchdoctor," he growled.

Darc went back up into the mansion, and returned with a pale Mechao, supported by his white-clad assistants. They were led to the battlefield, and the whisper went among the troops: "Witchdoctor!" The ranks of soldiers parted, and let the slight old man move through. With the help of his assistants, Mechao made a quick examination of Bor Damon. He looked up at Darc, who saw the verdict in the doctor's grave eyes.

"Broken legs, broken spine, massive internal bleedings. He may live for another hour, if he isn't moved."

Mechao gave Bor something to ease his pains and lessen the bleedings; but all it gave him was an extra, short spate of life. Then they noticed a rising uproar among the surrounding troops. Someone was coming. There was confusion, then wild cheering -- then mute silence, as the soldiers let the newcomer pass through.

Dohan appeared, slightly burned and sooty, but well alive. He stumbled forward to his father. Bor, unmoving, moved his eyes and fixed them on the young man who kneeled over him. Dohan clutched his gloved hand.

"My son," Bor mumbled, without anger or fear.

"Father. Can you forgive me?"

"I came here so that you could live, and forgive me."

"Is everything well with the city? Our family?"

"Yes… Is it true, what Darc said... a cure for the Plague?"

Darc could feel everyone's eyes on him. They could not fully believe it; they had to see with their own eyes. He turned his head upward, to the open portal of the mansion. Cautious villagers were lining up at the barricade, rifles and shields ready. Azuch and Mechao called for calm; there would be no more killing, everyone who could would return home. And Darc heard Shara's voice. She appeared in the entrance, propping up the young girl who staggered downhill beside her.

As the two women entered the remains of the battlefield, the Castilian troops backed off; the mark of the Leper, tattooed on the girl's forehead, was enough to frighten them. The soldiers were too stunned to speak – the Leper girl was too beautiful, so utterly different from the monsters they had feared all their lives. Her slim, very pale body was wrapped in half-torn bandages and a shoddy dress, but it seemed flawless. Her walk was clumsy, like that of a child taking her first steps, but with each step she grinned with joy and pride. Her face had changed too, and the facial plasters had come off. The thick, ugly facial veins were virtually all removed or withered away; her youthful features were soft and rounded, full of life and energy. Even the eyes were, though slightly bulging, of a healthy color. Shara looked at Darc; she was too happy for words. She led Eye-Leg all the way down to the dying Bor, so that he could see.

Bor's half-shut eyes met the bright, curious eyes of the Leper girl, and he felt redemption. In his final impression, the blond girl became a vision of the Goddess reborn, rising from the rejects of mankind to bring new life to the world. Dohan saw, with great joy through his sorrow, that his father closed his eyes with a peaceful, contented face.

The Dark Ages had come to an end.