Chapter 226: Given Back

Daniel got to him first.

He came across the shelf from behind and threw both arms round the old man’s chest, and he set his feet.

[ Rooted Stance (Lv1) ]

The drag stopped.

Rishin jerked against Daniel’s arms like a fish on a line, and Daniel did not move. His boots stayed planted on the stone as if they had grown there.

The thread pulled and pulled. The old man hung against Daniel’s chest two steps from the edge, and went no further.

Link was still holding the belt. Vina was still holding his hand.

"I have him," said Daniel through his teeth. "As long as I do not move, I have him."

"Then do not move," said Helen.

"I was not planning to."

Hob came up behind him without being told. The aurochs set his great plated shoulder against Daniel’s back and leaned, and stayed there.

Logan opened Sword Intent.

The old man’s thread was pulled so tight it hummed. It ran from his chest down into the dark, straight as a bowstring. Below the shelf, the Strider hung on it with all its legs.

It was not pulling any more. It had felt the thread stop.

It was climbing.

Logan lifted Grimlord’s Blade. He could see the knot where the thread was tied into the old man’s chest. It was large and old and hard, and it burned.

’One cut,’ he thought. ’One cut, and it has no road to him. And nothing is pulling him down any more.’

"Do not touch that one, boy."

Rishin was looking at him.

He was hanging in Daniel’s arms with his face white and his feet braced on nothing, and he was looking straight at Logan’s sword.

"I see where you are pointing it," the old man said. "Do not."

"It will drag you down. It is coming up that thread right now."

"Then let it come." Rishin did not look away. "Cut anything else. Not that."

Logan held the blade where it was. He looked at the knot, burning in the old man’s chest. Then he looked at his face.

He lowered the point.

The Strider reached the top of the thread.

It hauled itself onto the unseen threads at the lip of the shelf, and it hung there on nothing. Its pale eyes found the old man. Its hooked legs unfolded and reached for him.

Rishin looked down at the girl holding his hand.

"Little one," he said.

Vina was pulling back against his arm with all her weight. She did not look up.

"Little one, listen to me." His voice was low and quick. "Your promise. The one from the lip. If I fall down, you fall down with me."

"I know!"

"I give it back."

Vina looked up.

"I give it back to you," said Rishin. "You do not have to fall with me. You do not have to. I am giving it back."

Logan saw it happen in Sword Intent.

The thread that ran from Vina’s chest to the old man’s went slack. It hung slack between them. Then it came undone, from the middle outward, like a knot that somebody has finally picked loose.

Vina’s feet stopped skidding.

She was still holding his hand. But she was holding it because she wanted to now, and the stone under her boots no longer pulled her toward the edge.

"No," she said. Her face crumpled. "No. Grandpa, no. I do not want it back."

Helen had her by the shoulders. She pulled the girl away from the old man, back across the shelf. Vina fought her. She fought with everything she had, kicking and twisting, and Helen held on and did not let her go.

The Strider’s legs closed round Rishin.

Link let go of the belt.

He let go of it and stepped round Daniel, past the old man, to the edge of the shelf. He planted himself. He raised the staff, with the cage of red fire at the top of it.

"Grandfather," he said.

Then he drove the staff into the Strider’s body.

The cage went in among the grey knotted cords where its eyes were. The forge-red flame inside the cage touched them.

The cords caught.

They burned like old rope burns, fast and bright, with a dry crackle. The fire ran along the knots of its body and up into its legs.

It ran along the threads it stood on, the threads no one else could see, and they flared and snapped one after another.

The Strider shrieked.

Its legs came open. Rishin fell back out of them, against Daniel’s chest.

"Lord!" said Link, without looking round. "The middle!"

Logan saw it. Deep in the burning body, under the eyes, there was a knot brighter than all the others.

[ Grimspire Lance ]

He put the point into it.

The Strider came apart in fire.

It went off the edge of the shelf burning, its legs folding, and it fell. It fell a long way down into the dark. Sword Intent showed it as a small red spark, and then as nothing.

[ Promise Thread Strider slain. ] [ Rishin: +800 Tower Points ] [ Warden of the Eighth Layer slain. ] [ The Spindle is open. ]

Rishin read the panel. Then he read it again.

Behind Logan, Garen let out a low whistle. "A Torch Bearer," he said. "On the shelf above the Silver, that boy was a Torch Bearer."

"He is not any more," said Isolde.

"Link," he said. He was breathing hard. "That was Link’s."

"It was your unit, Grandfather," said Link. He was still standing at the edge with the staff. "So it was yours."

He turned round. His face was set and pale.

"My foot did not go this time," he said.

Rishin looked up at him. "No," he said. "It did not."

Alice had come up beside Logan. She put two fingers on his chest, under his ribs, where the knot had been.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not now."

"You will still let them go first."

"Yes," said Logan. "Mostly."

She looked at him. Then she laughed, once, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

Daniel let go.

The old man sat down on the stone where he stood. Logan saw his hands shaking. Helen knelt beside him and closed both of hers over them, and she did not say anything.

Helen let go of Vina.

The girl crossed the shelf in four strides. She stopped in front of the old man, standing over him where he sat, and her cheeks were wet and her eyes were furious.

"You gave it back," she said.

"Yes."

"You did not ask me."

"No."

Vina stood there with her fists clenched. Then she dropped to the stone in front of him, close, and she took his hand in both of hers.

"If you fall down," she said, "I fall down with you."

Rishin stared at her.

Logan saw it in Sword Intent before he closed it. A thread rose from the middle of the girl’s chest, new and bright, and tied itself to the old man’s hand.

"You cannot give that one back," said Vina. "It is new. I just made it."

The old man did not say anything.

He put his free hand on her head, over her braids, and he left it there. Tears ran down into his beard, and he did not wipe them.