Scene Forty One
Quicksilver is carried forth to lie next to the insensible Miranda. The two centaurs carrying him joke and laugh.
Quicksilver didn’t know what to think. He’d seen the troll, Caliban, then Miranda, also collapse.
Caliban — what a tangle of deception he’d woven -- had been a good troll all along, trying to protect his mistress, and for the sake of that, Quicksilver would gladly forgive him any offenses towards himself.
But now Quicksilver and Will were left alone and defenseless.
“The fool thought to trick us,” Hylas said, and laughed coarsely, as he dropped Quicksilver to the hard ground. “By changing to the aspect of this female and in that aspect entreating us let him go.”
Proteus raised his eyebrows and smiled. He’d drawn a knife from his belt. “Aye, the fool. The cursed fool. That’s an old, accustomed trick of his.”
The knife was dark onyx and sparkled. It was the same knife, Quicksilver knew, that had inflicted the wound that still smarted upon his shoulder. It must be magical, and now it would sever his life.
“What will you use for shield,” Hylas said, "if she won’t do it and would rather collapse than serve you in this?”
Proteus laughed. “Oh, she’ll help easily enough. One of you, revive her.”
And, while the brown centaur knelt by Miranda, patted her face, and reached for her with his power, forcing her awake, Proteus ordered, “Bring me the mortal.”
With Will within his reach, he lifted him up and put the knife to his neck.
“She’ll help me for the love of him,” he said.
Trembling, Quicksilver imagined Will’s dear life severed here, before his eyes.
Quicksilver would have helped for the love of Will too. He closed his eyes. He would have killed himself for Will’s love, also. But he could not move or use his magic. He didn’t wish to see Will like that.
He didn’t wish to think that in seconds, all their misbegotten lives would be over. He might deserve it, but these others didn’t. Silver had been right, Quicksilver wrong. Divided as Quicksilver was and as unworthy as any of the tyrants of old, who’d murdered trolls and oppressed centaurs — good and bad alike.
Silver herself would never judge anyone for his appearance. Oh, if only Quicksilver could be here again. He’d never realized she had been a true gift of the gods, of magic and of fate, designed to guide him, to make him a better king.
If only he could have accepted her and learned from her.
Within him, he felt Silver stirring, mourning her lover’s life, and her lost life too.
But it was too late. He didn’t know how to accept her. How he wished with all his mind, his power, his heart, that he could be Lady Silver again, and be one with her.
Oh, what a tangled web Quicksilver’s elven life had woven that fate found a way to kill his joys with love.