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. The young knight backed slowly away,
the sword stretched out before him. Rennard could guess
some of what the knight must be thinking. Exhaustion
could do things to the mind, especially one filled with grief
and a burning desire for vengeance. Dornay probably
debated which was more terrible - the thought that he had
gone insane or the prospect that he faced a spirit from
beyond.
"A trick," he muttered.
"I am real, Erik Dornay, as real as the armor you wear,
but as insubstantial as your faith in the oaths you took when
you donned the mantle of a knight." Rennard laughed.
Erik put a hand to his breastplate and touched the rose
symbol. "Why do you haunt me, specter? Why reveal
yourself to me now? Leave me! Go back to your rest!"
"Rest?" The word struck Rennard as sharply as a
wellhoned sword. "I cannot rest! I am not allowed to rest!"
He stalked forward until he was almost face-to-face with the
other knight, who continued to stare wildly around. "Gladly
would I call an end to this accursed existence of mine!
Gladly would I earn my REST!"
Erik stepped back again, aware that whatever haunted
him lurked just ahead, but not at all certain what could be
done about the situation.
Rennard found relief in venting his centuries-old anger
on someone. "Would that I could reveal myself to you,
Knight of the Rotting Rose, so that you could see the fate
I've been condemned to!"
And there and then, Erik Dornay, staring in mute
horror, nearly dropped his sword and fled, for the ghost,
without knowing it, had done just that
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