Sparhawk tightened his grip on the spear with both hands again and feinted with it. Ghwerig swung his club at the extended weapon, and Sparhawk jerked it back.
"Ghwerig's rings!" the Troll shouted in triumph "Sparhawk from Elenia brings the rings back to Ghwerig. Ghwerig feel their presence!" With a hideous roar he leaped forward, his club tearing at the air.
Kurik struck, his spiked chain-mace tearing a huge chunk of flesh from the Troll's massive left arm.
Ghwerig, however, paid little heed to the injury, but continued his rush, his club whistling as he bore down on Sparhawk. His left hand was still tightly locked on the crown.
Sparhawk gave ground grudgingly. He had to keep the Troll away from the brink of the chasm for as long as it held the crown.
Kurik swung his mace again, but Ghwerig shied away, and the blow missed the raw elbow. It appeared that the first stroke had caused the Troll more pain than had been evident. Sparhawk took advantage of that momentary flinch and stabbed quickly, opening a gash in Ghwerig's right shoulder. Ghwerig howled, more in rage than in pain, and immediately swung the club again.
Then, from behind him, Sparhawk heard the sound of Flute's voice rising clear and bell-like above the muted roar of the waterfall. Ghwerig's eyes went wide and his brutish mouth gaped. "You," he shrieked. "Now Ghwerig pay you back, Girl-child. Girl-child's song ends here."
Flute continued to sing, and Sparhawk risked a quick glance over his shoulder. The little girl stood in the mouth of the gallery with Sephrenia hovering behind her. Sparhawk sensed that the song was not in fact a spell but rather was intended to distract the dwarf so that either he or Kurik could catch the monster off-guard.
Ghwerig hobbled forward again, swinging his club to force Sparhawk out of his path. The Troll's eyes were fixed on Flute, and his breath hissed between his tightly clenched fangs. Kurik crashed his mace into the monster's back, but Ghwerig gave no indication that he even felt the stroke as he bore down on the Styric child.
Then Sparhawk saw his opportunity. As the Troll passed him, the wide swings of the stone club left the hairy flank open. He struck with all his strength, driving the broad blade of the ancient spear into Ghwerig's body just beneath the ribs. The Troll-Dwarf howled as the razor-sharp blade penetrated his leathery hide. He tried to swing his club, but Sparhawk jumped back, jerking the spear free. Then Kurik whipped his chain mace at the deformed side of Ghwerig's right knee, and Sparhawk heard the sickening sound of breaking bone. Ghwerig toppled, losing his grip on his club. Sparhawk reversed his grip on the spear and drove it down into the Troll's belly.
Ghwerig screamed, clutching at the spear with his right hand as Sparhawk wrenched it back and forth, slicing the sharp blade through the Troll's entrails. The crown, however, still remained tightly clenched in that twisted left hand. Only death, Sparhawk saw, would release that iron grip.
The Troll rolled away from the spear, gashing himself open even more horribly as he did so. Kurik smashed him in the face with the chain-mace, crushing out one of his eyes. With a hideous howl, the monster rolled towards the brink of the chasm, scattering his hoarded jewels in the process. Then, with a scream of triumph, he toppled over the edge with Sarak's crown still in his grip.
Filled with chagrin, Sparhawk rushed to the brink of the abyss and stared down in dismay. Far below he could see the deformed body plunging down and down into unimaginable darkness. Then he heard the light patter of bare feet on the stony floor of the cavern, and Flute sped past him, her glossy black hair flying. To his horror, the little girl did not hesitate nor falter, but ran directly off the edge and plunged down after the falling troll. "Oh my god!" he choked, reaching vainly out towards her even as Kurik, his face aghast, came up beside him.
And then Sephrenia was there, Sir Gared's sword still in her hand.
"Do something, Sparhawk!" Kurik pleaded.
"There's no need, Kurik." She replied calmly. "Nothing can happen to her."
"But…"
"Hush Kurik. I'm trying to listen."
The light from the glowing waterfall seemed to dim somewhat, as if far overhead a cloud had passed over the sun. The roar of the falling water seemed mocking now, and Sparhawk realised that tears were streaming down his cheeks.
And then in the deep darkness of that unimaginable abyss, he saw what appeared to be a spark of light. It grew steadily brighter, rising, or so it seemed, from that ghastly chasm. And as it rose, he could see it more clearly. It appeared to be a brilliant shaft of pure white light topped by a spark of intense blue.
And then Bhelliom rose from the depths, resting on the palm of Flute's incandescent little hand. Sparhawk gaped in astonishment as he realized that he could see through her, and that what had risen glowing from the darkness below was as insubstantial as mist. Flute's tiny face was calm and imperturbable as she held the sapphire rose over her head with one hand. She reached out the other to Sephrenia, and to Sparhawk's horror, his beloved tutor stepped off the ledge.
But she did not fall.
As if walking on solid earth, she calmly strolled out across insubstantial air to take Bhelliom from Flute's hand. Then she turned and spoke in a strangely archaic form. "Wrench open thy spear, Sir Sparhawk, and put the ring of thy queen upon thy right hand, lest Bhelliom destroy thee when I deliver it up to thee." Beside her, Flute lifted her face in exultant song, a song that rang with the voices of multitudes.
Sephrenia reached out as if to touch that ethereal little face in a gesture of infinite love. Then she walked back across the emptiness with Bhelliom held lightly between her two palms. "Here endeth thy quest, Sir Sparhawk," she said gravely. "Reach forth thy hands to receive Bhelliom from me and from my Child-Goddess, Aphrael."
And then, quite suddenly, everything became clear.
Sparhawk fell to his knees with Kurik beside him, and the knight accepted the sapphire rose from Sephrenia's hands. She knelt between the two of them in adoration as they gazed at the glowing face of the one they had called Flute.
The eternal Child-Goddess Aphrael smiled at them, her voice still raised in choral song that filled all the cave with shimmering echoes, and then the light which filled her misty form grew brighter and brighter, and she speared upward, faster than any arrow.
And then she vanished.