For a moment after the blow was struck, time seemed to stand still for Andreas. Kadrian and the black knight stood facing each other, and Andreas wondered if he was looking at a horrid picture or truly witnessing the death of his best friend. Perhaps, after all, the fiend’s sword had only slashed Kadrian's doublet, and not penetrated beyond. The horrid duel would continue. Then Andreas saw the blood dripping from the lord’s sword, and heard his friend gasping desperately for breath, only it sounded more like trying to inhale water. Kadrian dropped his dagger and sword, fumbled with his cloak, trying to pull it around him, and fell to the trampled yard.

      Suddenly the black form moved again, raising his stained weapon for the finish. Andreas’s senses sprang into action, and the anger and pain welling inside his soul burst forth in a great cry. He drew his sword and grasped it in both hands and jumped into the makeshift arena. The knight turned his head at Andreas’s cry and laughed; he took the final step toward Kadrian’s mutilated form. Running up to the knight’s side, Andreas spun quickly to his left, and bringing his left boot around full circle, he kicked the knight’s arm awry, knocking his sword away. At the same time, Andreas brought his sword down, across the knight’s torso diagonally, and dealt him the same blow from which Kadrian now lay dying. The enemy crumpled and lay on the ground, struggling to breath with a shredded lung. Andreas put his foot on the man’s hand and bent low over him, breathing hard.

      “Die the torturous death you have inflicted, man,” he almost spat the last word, “and may God forgive you for your evil pursuit. Taste the bitterness of vengeance!” Andreas turned his back on him and staggered for Kadrian.
     The young man lay on the ground, his festive garments torn, and their bright colors almost indiscernible under the flow of blood from his chest. Andreas knelt beside his friend and lifted the weak head to his knees. Kadrian’s face was white. Andreas’s heart nearly broke looking at his friends rent chest, and he lifted Kadrian’s cloak with shaking hands and gently laid it over his body. Kadrian stirred, his eyes opened.
      “Andr-dreas?” he whispered hoarsely. Andreas bent over to better hear him.
      “I’m here. Are you comfortable?”
      “As m-much as p-poss-sible.” Each word seemed forced, as if he were trying to talk without breathing. And he was. Andreas surmised that the wound across Kadrian’s torso had pierced his lung, and every breath he drew brought blood into his lung. Every breath hastened the end. Yet still he struggled to speak.
     “And-dreas, can you h-hear m-me?” Andreas shifted so that he was looking forward at Kadrian, away from his wound.
     “I hear you. Rest, be still, we have time.”
     “You d-do.” The reply made Andreas’s heart cry, but he didn’t let it reach the surface. Kadrian closed his eyes and clutched his chest as he took a few slow careful breaths.

             Strange, Andreas thought, how man can suppress so many emotions, admiration, respect, love, practically anything positive we can mask if we feel it will help us seem calm, or wise, or strong. Why is love counted, at times, a weakness, when it is truly one of the greatest powers on earth? Tears slid down his cheeks unbidden.
     “It w-was a-a great f-fight, w-wasn’t it-t?” Kadrian’s broken voice broke the silence.
     “I haven’t seen one more nobly fought, friend.”
     “Nay, c-all me ‘b-brother’, for ind-deed, so you h-have b-been to me.”
     “Brother.” Andreas said the word tentatively. “Must I then lose one so quickly, who I have only just gained?”
     “N-no hiding t-truth w-with you, I see.” Kadrian almost smiled.
     “You have been ever frank with all, I know you well enough that you would not wish me to speak soft words to- mask the truth.” Andreas recalled his former thoughts.
     “I am-m dying, Andreas.” Andreas said nothing. “What w-was th-that v-verse, from the new Earth book? Gah, we were just r-reading it an-n hour ago.” As Kadrian drew a careful breath, Andreas’s repeated the verse:
     “I am the resurrection and the life, who ever believeth in me, though he were dead, yet he shall live.”

             Indeed, how can love be called weakness, and other feelings, or rather the show of them, be counted as strength? How could created man believe that our God, who loved us so much as to die for us, would think man strong for his hate, anger, or bitterness, when indeed these come so easily? Is it not much more difficult to love all, and openly? Then Andreas looked at his best friend who lay dying, and saw even past him to the girl and child he would leave behind. At times, perhaps, yes. But as for the rest, God is gracious, and he who first loved us has created us to love one another. And such love cannot be severed by death. His mind refocused on his friend.
     “Kadrian, are you, awake? Can you hear me?” Now it was Andreas’s turn to worry. But Kadrian’s eyes opened, and he looked around him as if roused suddenly from a very deep sleep.
     “Andreas, it was like, l-like, that space between s-sleeping and-d finally w-waking.”
     “You have to- stay awake, a moment longer. I know it will be- better for you- there. But tell me, something, a word to give— your wife? She l-loves you, dearly, K-Kadrian.” He looked away, to hide his eyes from Kadrian’s piercing glance. Andreas’s voice cracked with the effort not to weep. Kadrian looked at the horizon, red, purple and blue. His eyes filled with tears, but he turned to Andreas and whispered very clearly.
     “Her sun will rise again, my brother, will it not?”
     “I don’t understand.” Andreas lied. To keep Kadrian from his rest a moment longer, it seemed heartless, but he did it anyway.
     “You d-do.” Kadrian coughed and wiped the blood away from his lips with a shaking hand. “Y-you d-do. Your l-love w-will help-p her t-to- t-to-” His voice cut off and he looked imploringly at Andreas.
     “To heal.” Andreas finished. Kadrian nodded.
     “Thank-k you, Andreas, th-thank you for let-ting me h-have her, for g-giving your h-hope of joy t-to me-he.” Kadrian coughed again, but not even the corner of his cloak could wipe away the blood for long. “B-but, wha-at of y-you? B-brother. . .”
     “Oh,” Andreas’s voice shook, “I too will mourn you, Kadrian. You will be a loss that will be felt for a long time. But don’t despair for me; God is a god of healing.” Kadrian closed his eyes. His grip relaxed from his chest.
     “I-I am-m th-the-” he choked on the words, and tried again, “The-the resurrect-ct-t-” Andreas finished the verse for him, and the words served to strengthen and comfort, though hot tears streamed down his cheeks and neck.
     “I am the resurrection and the life, he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet he shall live.” Kadrian sighed, and did not breathe again.