“What are these rifts you speak of?” asked Valko.
Nakor said, “Be brief; we have little time left.”
“Rifts are portals, if you will, between worlds. Those I understand are fashioned with magic that is both powerful and subtle. But this one, used between our two realms, is a thing of death magic, necromancy of a power beyond my capacity to contemplate. It is more like a vast tunnel, allowing travel in both directions, and it is fueled by the deaths of your people. I think there must be a way to close it, to save my realm from the Dark One, but I won’t know until I reach it.
“The Dark One is a bloated creature of the Void, near-mind-less in his hunger for life. The next realm, my home, is far richer in life. That is why he seeks to rise into my realm, rather than extend his reach beyond the Twelve Worlds.” Almost to himself he 3 2 7
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added, “The only mystery is how he found the means to reach our plane from yours.” Pug paused, then continued, “The Dreadlord is seeking a way into my realm using the deaths of your people as a means. He has been devouring your people for ages, building up his strength and readying himself for this migration to my realm.
He’s now using this wholesale murder to fuel the rift between our worlds, and doesn’t care if he kills every living thing on this world or the other eleven ruled by the Karanas in his name.
“He will destroy the entire Dasati race if needed to reach the next plane of reality. There is nothing that can change the fate of the Twelve Worlds unless we conspire to destroy the Dark One.”
Valko looked to where Bek waited, his body covered in orange blood, his eyes fixed on the doorway leading into the inner sanctum of the TeKarana. “Is he the Godkiller?”
“If he isn’t, I don’t know who is,” said Pug.
“No,” said Nakor. “He is not the Godkiller.”
All eyes turned to Nakor.
In amazement Pug said, “What did you say?”
“I said he’s not the Godkiller. Bek is here to allow the Godkiller to destroy the Dark One, but he is not the Godkiller.”
“I don’t und—” began Pug.
“There’s no time,” said Nakor. “Bek, open that door!”
Ralan Bek reached out and took a huge handle in his left hand, his right holding his sword as he prepared to visit mayhem on whoever waited on the other side.
Pug could hear the sound of metal bars screaming as they bent in protest, yet the fasteners that had locked them out now broke free beneath Bek’s powerful pull as easily as if they had not been there, and with far less protest than had any siege device or engine been used. Pug wasn’t sure that his magic could have accomplished the task so easily.
A dozen men in Talnoy armor waited on the other side of the door: as one they launched themselves at Bek. Two died before they could take a full step; and a third as his second foot touched the ground.
Now, Valko and the other Deathknights of the White attacked.
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Pug turned around and around, trying to ascertain where the next attack might come from. The chaos at the door blocked his view for a moment, as he dodged through the carnage while Bek slaughtered everyone in front of him, and Valko’s men surged on either side, streaming into the room, their battle cries ringing off the vaulted stone ceiling.
Pug knew here he would encounter the most powerful of the Dark One’s Deathpriests, for they would be ready to defend the TeKarana. The throne room was vast, a long oval with a door at one end through which they had just entered, a dozen massive stone pillars rising on either side, and down at the far end, a mass of waiting men.
As Pug and Magnus hurried forward, they saw the Deathpriests who were gathered at the far end of the room, surrounding a powerful-looking figure arrayed in orange armor: the TeKarana.
And between the TeKarana and the attackers stood a veritable army of defenders. Pug said to Magnus, “We don’t have time for this.”
Magnus said, “I understand,” and rose into the air, above the battle.
As with everything else in this dark and twisted world, the TeKarana’s personal quarters were vast. He sat upon a throne on a circular dais situated on twelve concentric rings of stone, rising from the center of the floor. Like every other room in the palace, the walls were bare of anything resembling human art, but here they sported trophies: the skeletal remains of hundreds of warriors, each still wearing their armor; a mute testimony to the power of the ruler of the Twelve Worlds.
Beyond the throne lay the entrance into the TeKarana’s personal quarters, where terrified Lessers and women of the harem dressed in seductive raiment peered through the door. Seeing Magnus rise into the air, many of these turned and fled.
If the sight of a Lesser flying caused any of the combatants to hesitate, they paid for that pause with their lives. Magnus sent lances of searing energy that burned everything they touched save the stones of the floor and wall. Flames erupted from the clothing and flesh of any Deathpriest too slow in erecting a protective barrier from the soaring magician.
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Magnus had a mystical protective barrier in place, when the Deathpriests unleashed a wave of magic. Noxious-smelling tendrils reached out from their hands, long flowing ribbons of death spreading throughout the room. The Deathpriests were indis-criminate, killing defenders as well as attackers, for they knew that the defenders were not going to save the TeKarana, but that killing everyone else in the room until reinforcements arrived would.
Pug lashed out with a blinding silver-white flash that withered each tendril as it extended across the room and the Deathpriests shook as if in pain, some crying out as their spells were sundered, then turned their attention to the two magicians. Those able to respond sent forward a swirling cloud of black motes, as much like a swarm of flies as anything else Pug could put a name to, and he erected his own shield before Magnus and himself.
While Pug defended, his son unleashed another withering attack on the Deathpriests and two more fell screaming as they erupted into flames.
Bek cut his way through the defenders like a farmer scything through wheat and the Deathknights of the White behind him spread out to engage the Talnoy. Valko moved to stand on Bek’s left, ready to leap forward and confront the TeKarana.
Pug and Magnus together were more than enough of a match for the Deathknights and father and son worked in concert like two beings with the same mind. Magnus seemed to know without being told when he needed to defend against the Deathknights, and Pug’s counterattacks quickly left them dead or dis-abled. Quickly, all magic threats in the room were blunted.
Within minutes only a handful of bloodied defenders stood protecting the TeKarana, a tall, massively built warrior, of the same stature as Ralan Bek. He held a sword almost identical to the one Bek carried, save that it was decorated with precious metals along the blade and with gems on the hilt.
“Your corpse will receive a position of honor above my throne!” he shouted at Bek, as he rose from his throne, descending the steps to the floor opposite the hulking young warrior.
Pointing at Bek in challenge, he shouted, “Never has any warrior challenged me within my own demesne!”
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Pug used his arts to pick up the last two Deathpriests and fling them across the room, ending their magical threat. He saw Magnus return to stand on the stone floor, untouched, though he like everyone else in the room was smeared and spattered with orange blood.
Bek saw the TeKarana’s challenge, and swept aside those remaining guards between himself and the ruler of the Twelve Worlds.
He was unrelenting, coming straight at the TeKarana. Valko and the remaining Deathknights of the White finished off the remnants of the TeKarana’s Talnoy guards on the flanks, and as Bek lashed out and the clash of swords rang out through the hall, all eyes turned to the struggle. Two terrible figures of power now battled.
Pug raised a hand to add his magic to the attack on the TeKarana, but Martuch reached out and yanked him by the shoulder. “No! You must not interfere!”
Pug saw that none of the other Deathknights, including Valko, were rushing forward to help but instead were all watching with rapt attention as the two titanic figures battled. Each blow was answered and the sound of it was as if a mad god of blacksmiths worked steel on a massive anvil.
For minutes Bek and the TeKarana struck back and forth, evenly matched, as each blow was received and answered, each thrust met with a block or riposte, and no injury was given or taken.
For what seemed a long time to Pug, the room was silent except for the sound of the two combatants, as metal rang upon metal and grunts of exertion punctuated gasping intakes of breath.
Then the balance shifted. Bek was in rapture as he fought, each strike seeming to empower him and make him stronger, while by contrast the TeKarana’s breath became more labored and he began to slow. The first sign of the inevitable was a strike to the TeKarana’s upper left arm as Bek’s sword cut through his orange armor as if it were paper.
“Impossible!” said Hirea.
“No,” said Nakor, quietly. “Watch and you will see something remarkable.”
Valko stood beside Pug, holding his sword, and Pug could see the conflict in the young Dasati lord’s face. Pug realized that Valko had assumed that he was the prophesied one, the warrior 3 3 1
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destined to destroy the TeKarana and prepare the way for the Godkiller, not this human warrior in the guise of a Dasati.
Now the TeKarana swung wildly and overextended himself, and Bek leveled him with a backhanded blow, the metal-clad gauntlet of his left hand striking him squarely on the side of the head. The TeKarana’s helm went flying and this was the first time that any who were not of his inner circle had seen his face since he gained the throne.
He looked . . . ordinary. His build was massive and powerful, but there was nothing in the face of the Ruler of the Twelve Worlds that spoke of any special quality. His expression was dazed from the blow to his head, his nose ran orange blood, and he blinked furiously, as if trying to will his vision into focus as he held himself up on all fours, defenseless. Bek took one step forward and kicked the Dasati full in the face, sending broken teeth and more blood flying to splatter the floor.
The TeKarana was stunned, but not incapacitated: he rolled away from danger, then came to his feet with a belt knife in his hand. He made a menacing feint with it and reached for his sword with his free hand, and Bek swung down hard, causing sparks to fly when his blade struck the stone. The TeKarana barely withdrew his hand in time.
“It’s over,” said Martuch.
“Not yet,” said Nakor.
Bek laughed, and it was a harsh, chilling sound that filled those listening with the madness of battle. Even Pug felt the desire to grab a weapon and join the struggle, as alien a feeling as he had ever experienced. He looked at Magnus and saw that his son felt the same way. He nodded to him once and both magicians incanted a quick spell which freed their minds of intruding thoughts and emotions.
Bek stepped back, indicating to the TeKarana that he could pick up his sword. This small measure of fair play was a gesture so alien to the Dasati that it took a few seconds for comprehension to dawn on the TeKarana. But once he saw he was not being taunted, he reached out with surprising speed and picked up his blade. He kept it moving in a looping circle and suddenly swung it down toward Bek’s head. Bek blocked it easily, holding his 3 3 2
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long sword in one hand, then struck the TeKarana hard on the point of the jaw with his free hand. The battered warrior’s knees went wobbly but he held tightly to his sword. His legs trembled and he began to fall to his knees, but Bek reached out with his left hand, seizing the TeKarana’s right wrist, and prevented his collapse. Bek crushed the TeKarana’s wrist and the sword fell from fingers gone suddenly limp. Slowly Bek let him down, until he knelt, defenseless, before the large warrior.
Bek released his hold and the defeated warrior fell backward, his right hand useless. The pain had made his eyes go vacant for an instant. Instead of stepping forward and killing the TeKarana, Bek turned his back, and walked toward Valko.
The TeKarana shook his head, regaining his wits. He looked at the retreating back of the huge warrior, frowned, then reached down to retrieve his weapon with his uninjured hand. Gripping his sword tightly, he struggled to his feet, his target the exposed back and neck of his opponent.
Bek stood motionless, then looked down at Valko and said,
“Kill him.”
The TeKarana raised his sword and just as the blade came fully upright, Valko stepped past Bek and ran his sword point into the TeKarana’s throat. With a wrenching twist that almost decapitated the Ruler of the Twelve Worlds, he yanked free his blade.
“What just happened?” asked Magnus.
Hirea said, “Bek just gave Valko an empire.”
Valko looked at those in the room, his expression indicating that he was just as confused as everyone else as to what had happened and why, but he understood the gravity of the moment.
He stopped, picked up the fallen TeKarana’s ornamental sword, and walked slowly to the throne.
Less than a minute later a company of Talnoy guards raced into the chamber to find hundreds of Deathknights of the White kneeling before the throne, upon which sat a young Dasati lord.
At his feet lay the prone body of the former TeKarana.
As the first Talnoy hesitated, Juwon, in the robes of a high priest of the Brotherhood of His Darkness, cried out, “Valko! TeKarana!”
Such was the Dasati way that the Talnoy instantly bent a 3 3 3
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knee in the presence of their new ruler. No question was asked, and no protest was sounded, for in the order of Dasati life he who kills his liege becomes ruler. Valko was now supreme ruler of the Twelve Worlds.
Pug softly asked Martuch, “How long will this last?”
The old Deathknight shrugged. “Who can say? If it is as you suggested, and the Dark One cares no more for this realm as he flees, then as long as Valko can keep his head on his shoulders.
Many will see him as a youth, ripe for killing, and many will die to keep him on that throne.” He indicated the general direction of the Dark Temple and said, “But if the Dark One needs a pet ruler on the throne, then it will last only for as long as the Dark One is busy. Once word reaches him that a rogue Deathknight has deposed his favorite, every Temple Deathknight in the Empire will be heading here to kill him. They will obey the Dark One’s Deathpriests before they obey the TeKarana. Even if we can defeat the Dark One, we may have a civil war; the only question is, will it be a long one or a short one.”
“Short one?” asked Pug.
“The only friendly Deathknights not at the Great Muster and invading the human world are those of us here. If the Dark One orders his forces to attack us, it’s a very short civil war.”
Pug reckoned there were roughly a thousand Deathknights, including the newly arrived Talnoy guards in the chamber.
“There are perhaps a few more palace guards scattered around who would bend a knee to Valko, but the Dark One still has perhaps twenty thousand Deathknights in the city and another five thousand at the Black Temple,” Martuch finished.
Magnus looked at Bek, who stood almost motionless, his expression rapt and distant, as if seeing something in the air. Then he turned to Nakor and said, “What has happened to him?”
“He’s come home,” said Nakor. The little gambler looked around the chamber as Deathknights of the White and the TeKarana’s Talnoy guard stood uneasily side by side, awaiting the first command from their new ruler. He then looked to where Valko sat, also looking uncertain, and said, “Valko’s young, but he will start a change here that may take centuries. Eventually 3 3 4
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these people will find their w
ay back to where they should have been had the Dark One not come to this realm.”
Pug said, “Nakor, you have knowledge we lack, obviously.
We shall soon face an army of Deathknights loyal to the Dark One and our forces are exhausted.” Pug looked his old friend in the eyes. “There have been times over the years when I knew you were holding back, not telling me everything, and I merely thought it was your way, but now, for the sake of all we’ve sacrificed and all we’ve hoped to gain, we need to know what you know.”
Nakor laughed. “That, Pug, is impossible. But you do deserve the truth.” To Magnus he said, “Can you take us to the Dark One?”
“Yes,” said Magnus. “I remember that overlook, where the TeKarana and his court watch the ceremonies.”
To Valko, Nakor said, “Ruler of the Twelve Worlds, my time here is almost at an end. You must endure and lead your people into a new era.” He pointed to Bek. “He will remain with you a while longer, but soon he must go about his own business.” Now he moved to stand before Bek. “Goodbye, Ralan Bek,” he said quietly.
“Goodbye, Nakor.”
“You know what you must do?”
“I do,” said the massive youngster. With a grin as wide as Nakor’s he said, “I finally know what it is I am supposed to know.” He looked down at his diminutive companion and asked,
“And you know what you must do?”
“Yes,” said Nakor. He reached up and standing on tiptoes he put his hand over Bek’s eyes. The young man stood motionless for a moment, then his head jerked back as if he had been struck and he stood blinking for a moment. Then he smiled. “Thank you, little human,” he said with obvious joy. He looked around.
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