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(17) Ikov quieted his thoughts and dismissed his fear. He looked about him, and ran to take his stand upon a hill. Then the dragon pressed against his mind. He did not seek a weakness like every spirit Ikov had faced before, but seemed to press already from within and from without. Again terror struck Ikov's heart. The beast dove again, straight down upon Ikov, but Ikov did not yield. He braced himself, swung his sword, and the dragon veered away. Again Ikov quieted his thoughts. He held back his fear, and he remembered the words "Remember this before the dragon." He thought of his fight with the shadowy figure: somehow, the man had been like himself, like a mirror image of himself. Likewise, the dragon was like himself. When he felt it first, he felt his own weakness. When he thought of Armadyl and of the sword, it immediately knew his thoughts. When it attacked him, it attacked from within. In it he fought the deepest spirit in himself.

(18) Ikov thought deeply, unafraid of an external attack. He felt within his own heart, deep beneath his knowledge and his strength; there he felt his weak and selfish self. There, alone, na(c)ked, and powerless, Ikov faced the dragon deep within his mind. Fear came upon him again, but he prayed, "By whatever spirit will aid me now, if any spirit may reach so deep, I will slay the beast at my very heart."

(19) Ikov ran down from the hill and across the open field toward the dragon, and the dragon swooped toward him. Ikov charged into its open jaws, ducked, and drove his sword at its heart. His blade struck deeply, and he rolled to the ground. Ikov felt his leather armor tear, and the flesh on his ribs, as the rigid scales of the dragon's tale rushed by. The dragon crashed into the ground, and lay still. Ikov rose to his feet, and walked round the corpse to see the smoking wound. Black, metallic blood flowed out with unnatural speed, draining the body dry and racing into unseen pores of the earth. Ikov removed his sword; no blood remained upon it. He then set out across the field to dine and rest with those who waited for him at the monument.

(20) Beginning from that cold, wintry day, the news of Ikov's victory spread through all the land, to the Fremennik, and to all the nations east and south of the troll-mountains. Ikov was called a hero of all humans, and peace reigned for a short time in all the world. Ikov remained with the guards at the monument for about a month. Many came to see him at the monument, but the number of visitors was not overwhelming, for the momument lay a journey of several days away from the nearest towns. At the end of the month, Ikov returned to the corpse of the dragon, which had by then become wholly dry and fibrous. He skinned it of its hide and burned the rest. From its hide he cut himself new armor, to replace the armor torn by the dragon's tail. It had been about six months since Armadyl and he had departed from the capital.

Part 10: Exit

(1) In the spring, Ikov set out west from the monument. He went to survey the land for any threats to the people that remained. He soon came to the edge of a sprawling swamp. No trees grew there, only grasses and shrubbery above the muck. Over the dense flora, he saw a low-lying lake beyond, around which the swampy land lay. A breeze brought to him its fetid air. He dismissed the stinking odor of the fen and felt for any powerful spirits there. Very quickly he sensed two spirits locked in struggle with each other, far beyond and above the lake. But he could not grasp more than that.

(2) He trudged into the swamp, intending to reach out to the spirits from the shore of the lake. But with his first step into the shrubbery he felt searing pain in his ankle. He looked down to see a bleeding slice in his flesh. Then he looked more closely at the plantlife there. Most of the shrubs had large, flat, firm, circular leaves; they had serrated edges. The whole land was filled with the sharp leaves. At once he recalled an account of that place that he had heard in the capital: the people called it Circleblade Bog, for its inhospitable vegetation - no one traveled there. So he bade farewell to the distant spirits, knowing that they would not disturb his people, at least for as long as they were not disturbed. He wrapped his bleeding ankle, and turned south to swing round the impassible swamp.

(3) Ikov stopped at few villages, remaining most often in the countryside. He soon forded the river and then followed it north into gnomish land. On his way, he passed near the place where he had dreamt of the sword the year before. He tried to recollect the vision in all its vivacity, but he could not: then he knew that it had been an illusion from the dragon. He recalled also the divine spirit honored by the two hundred fifty altars of the dwarves and wondered to what kind god it belonged. After a few weeks in gnomish territory, Ikov arrived at the small town which was the gnomish capital and received a warm welcome from the gnomish court, including a feast and a warm bed. He rested among the gnomes for some days; he spoke often with their king, though they did not dwell long on serious topics like sorcery or Ikov's journey thus far. Ikov told them that he desired to see the portal through which Armadyl had gone; they pointed him to a mountain in the west, the last mountain of the range.

(4) He soon departed from them for the west. He forded a river and came before the ancient portal. There he camped. For many days, he sat before the portal and studied it. Through it he sensed spirits and life across many worlds. He could feel where Armadyl had gone. But soon he found that no spirit called out to him from the portal; he had no interest in passing through it. Instead he walked around northern edge of the mountain and intended to travel to the shore of the western sea. But he found that his way was blocked. Countless large, gray-skinned, reptillian creatures lumbered across the plain. The aquatic creatures appeared awkward walking through the grass, but Ikov sensed that a spirit drove them from the sea: to cut across the land, from the sea in the west to the sea in the north. He could not tell why they took that route: whether it would bring them to their destination more quickly or whether they feared something in the waters along their way. In any case, he knew that they and the spirit that drove them would not threaten his people, though they would come very near the Fremennik in the north.

(5) After watching the gray creatures in the plain, Ikov retraced his steps around the mountain and then followed the mountain range south. For weeks he wound his way amidst foothills and swamps, until he arrived at the villages and towns built against the mountains. There he found the mood of the people improved. Many retained their reserved demeanors, but he sensed no frustration in them. With the destruction of the spirit in the mountains, unspoken dreams of restoring their dominion over their richer countrymen in the east had been abandoned, and several had begun to seek other ways to improve or to reconcile themselves with their lot. Ikov spoke with many of them, and enjoyed a warmer reception among the nobles.

(6) For many weeks Ikov traveled south along the mountains and passed beyond the southernmost towns of that nation. Ikov sensed nothing haunting the mountains but was freed to feel for what lay beyond them. There, between the great mountains and the western sea he sensed many lives, and an immense spirit racked by sadness and guilt. He did not speak to the spirit and to the divine being to which it belonged. And it did not speak to him. He simply felt it, and wondered what could have caused its anguish. He knew the spirit was ancient and had long struggled with its guilt, but in it he also sensed a new feeling, present only in the past few years: a deep and foreboding worry. But its object he could not discern. For a second time on his journey, he wondered what would worry a god. As he passed farther to the south, the spirit became more distant, and he bade the complicated spirit farewell.

(7) As Ikov followed the mountains south, he found the river coming ever closer to his left. At last the river ran between sheer rock walls at the base of the mountains on its right and the steep hills of the skavids on its left. On one day early in summer, Ikov swam across the river and followed its banks through the land of the skavids. He felt their presence, thousands of them, hidden within the hills and in their cities further off, but they feared to reveal themselves to him. Ikov passed them by and followed the river through the marshes surrounding its mouth before the sea. At the river delta, all the land turned to mud but for a single, large, rocky promontory which extended south into the sea. Ikov walked up upon the bluff and there beheld an ancient platform, built from large blocks of yellow sandstone - like those common to the Kharidian - brought from far away. On its top stood a lonely archway also made from yellow stone.

(8) Watched by skavids spying from some distant rocks, Ikov paced about the platform, around and through the empty portal. He felt it with his mind. He knew a spirit had led him there. He did not pitch camp that night but sat before the arch. The winds blew while a storm brewed out at sea. For another day, Ikov paced about, demanding an answer from the ancient structure. He sat before the portal for another night.

(9) On the next day, a monsoon struck the shore. High winds threatened to toss him from the bluff. Massive waves crashed against the promontory below. Driving rain soaked him to the bone. But Ikov ignored it all. Through eight days of storm, he remained focused upon the mysterious stones and arch. He slept little and ate nothing. Then late one night, he stood upright before the portal, still, amidst the chaos of wind and rain, the spray of the crashing waves, the booming thunder, and flashes of lightning; and the portal sprang to life. Crackling bands of light sparked to and fro within the arch. Calmly, Ikov stepped through the portal, and departed from the world. It had been three months since he left the monument built to honor him. This is the story of Ikov.