|Chapter 15: "Lord Mhoram's Victory"|
"We and Lord Foul are not the only powers. The Creator himself may act to meet this need."
Her waifish eyes probed him, trying to locate the source of his serenity. "I lack your faith in this Creator. Even if such a being lives, the Law which preserves the Earth precludes--Do not the legends say that if the Creator were to break the arch of Time to place his hand upon the Earth, then the arch and all things in it would come to an end, and the Despiser would be set free?"
"That is said," Mhoram affirmed. "I do not doubt it. Yet the doom of any creation is upon the head of its Creator. Our work is enough for us. We need not weary ourselves with the burdens of gods."
Amatin sighed. "You speak with conviction, High Lord. If I were to say such things, they would sound glib."
"Then do not say them. I speak only of what gives me courage. You are a different person and will have a different courage. Only remember that you are a Lord, a servant of the Land--remember the love that brought you to this work, and do not falter."
"Yes, High Lord," she replied, looking intensely into him. "Yet I do not trust this power which makes Desecration possible. I will not hazard it."
Her gaze turned him back to the krill. It's white gem flamed at him like the light of a paradox, a promise of life and death. Slowly, he reached out and touched its hilt. But his exaltation had faded, and the krill's heat made him withdraw his hand.
He smiled crookedly. "Yes," he breathed as if he were speaking to the blade, "it is a hazard. I am very afraid."