A/N: Here is the final chapter of 'The Hidden King', at long last. I can't believe it, but it took me over a year to find the time, motivation and ideas to write this up. It contains depictions of torture (just how graphic it is I can't decide) because the chapter is set during Endon and Sharn's imprisonment and I don't believe they would not have had something of the sort, given how sadistic and cold-hearted most Shadow Lord servants are. Also, lines from the final scene are taken from Return to Del. I've tried to stick to canon as much as possible, and I hope I have. It took me longer than I expected to finish, and ended up being longer than I thought it would be. But finally, here it is. :)

Fight for Freedom

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.