LAND PULLED GENTLY AWAY FROM DELPHI. SHE forced a smile, but her face showed pain like it had never done before. Oland felt a powerful swell of regret – he had taken this innocent girl from her sheltered life, and introduced her to everything her loving father had wanted to shield her from. Chancey the Gold was right. Delphi was too pure for this world, too innocent to be confronted with such horror. Oland was powerless. He could return her to that world, though he knew that she was forever changed. He feared she would never again settle in the beautiful Falls; he had destroyed her world, and offered her no better world in its place.

“Are you all right?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you,” said Delphi. Suddenly, she laid her head on his chest, and he found himself embracing her.

“It’s nearly over,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s nearly over.”

“Delphi!” came a voice behind them. She jumped and pulled away from Oland.

Chancey the Gold stormed towards them and grabbed Delphi by the arm.

“I am running out of words, Delphi,” he said. “I don’t know what it’s going to take. Do you understand that your safety will always be of more concern to me than anything else?” He turned to Oland. “You!” he said. “For the last time! Get out of my sight.”

“Father!” said Delphi, her eyes lit with anger.

“Go,” said Chancey to Oland. “Go.”

Oland nodded. “Yes, sir.” He turned to Delphi. “I’ll see you later.”

As Oland walked away, he heard Chancey speak to Delphi. He wasn’t angry; his tones were gentle. Though it felt underhand and though he had a horror of being discovered, Oland ducked behind a pillar to listen.

“Delphi,” said Chancey, “when the men from The Craven Lodge found me in Galenore and told me that they were taking me back to The Falls, I nearly lost my mind. I was convinced that they would find you. I don’t think I could ever fully explain to you how powerful a fear that is. All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you—”

“That’s not what Malcolm Evolent told me!” said Delphi. “He said that you wanted to protect—”

“Stop!” said Chancey, holding his finger to her lips. “Stop.”

Oland stood in the shadows, rigid. When had Delphi been speaking to Malcolm Evolent? And who had he said Chancey the Gold was trying to protect.

“Never, ever believe a word that comes out of Malcolm Evolent’s mouth,” said Chancey. “What I was trying to tell you, Delphi, is the pain I felt when I came home and you were gone. I thought my heart would break. You will not see Oland after this. I’m sorry. But you will not. We’re leaving now. We’re leaving Decresian, and we’re not returning to Dallen. This ends here, Delphi.”

Oland’s heart sank. He could hear Delphi crying, and it made everything worse.

“Father, is it true what Villius Ren did to my mother?” said Delphi.

Chancey the Gold did not respond.

“Answer me!” shouted Delphi. “Is it true that Villius Ren left her for dead, but that she survived, and she’s still alive – barely alive – somewhere, and that’s where you go to when you leave me?”

There was a long silence.

Oland could not understand how he had heard none of this, why Delphi had kept it from him.

“It is true.” said Chancey. “I love you so much, Delphi. I never wanted to break your beautiful heart with the weight of all the events of your young life.”

“And you still go and visit her after all these years?” said Delphi.

“I do,” said Chancey the Gold. “She is the love of my life, Delphi. She always will be.”

Oland had heard enough. He ran. Time and again, throughout the course of his life, and his quest, he had been given more and more reasons to do what he was about to do. And this reason, what Villius Ren had done to Delphi and her family, rose above all others.

 

Villius Ren sat at the head of the table in the great hall, a golden orb of light around his head from the contrivance of his stained-glass window. Prince Roxleigh stood a distance away. Beside Roxleigh were two magistrates, along with Jerome and Arthur Rynish. In Jerome’s hands were the cuffs and chains to lead Villius away.

Oland stood on a ridge outside, watching the scene through the window. He was holding an arquebus, just like the one that his newest tin soldier held. The weapon had come from Galenore. It had not been difficult to secure one from a son of Malachy Graham. Oland raised it to shoulder height.

In front of him, the golden circle of the stained-glass sun shone, even in the darkness. And at its centre was the black, perfectly framed silhouette of Villius Ren’s head.

Oland gave a silent order to his army of one: Fire.

The sun shattered and Villius Ren was dead.