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"A knight!.. . You are a knight... ." Dornay stared at the
ghost's ruined face - the pale, drawn skin, the boils, and the
scarlet patches.
"Plague!" Erik's sword arm extended as straight as
possible. "Keep back!"
Rennard moved closer.
"Where is your brotherly concern?" he mocked. "I am
in need. The plague still thrives within me, gnaws at me
even after death. Surely, it is for you to aid a comrade!" He
opened his arms, as if to embrace Dornay.
"May the gods forgive me!" Erik leapt forward and
thrust his sword between Rennard's helm and breastplate.
The young knight's aim was true, so much so that the
ghost expected to feel the death blow. Then, to Rennard's
bitter amusement and Erik's disbelief, the blade passed
through without obstruction.
The young Solamnian dropped his sword and stared at
his hand, as if IT were somehow to blame for the impossible
sight he had just witnessed.
"Had it been my choice," Rennard said, "the blade
would have sheared my head from my body, once and for
all ending this accursed existence!"
"Paladine save me!" Erik cried.
"Paladine cannot save you. He did not save ME," the
ghost knight hissed. "That was for another, darker lord to
do. Morgion it was, who finally heard my plea, but he
demanded a heavy price."
"Who - " The young knight pulled himself together.
"Who are you, wraith? Why does your tragic existence
haunt me now, in my grief?"
"You should know. It was YOU who called me. You -
with your song."
"The
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