Dark Calling

by Darren Shan

  choosing, but we distracted them.

  “We also searched for pieces in our universe,” Raz goes on. “We had no wish to reassemble the Kah-Gash, but we hoped to capture the pieces and hold them from the Demonata forever. We learned to influence the pieces, but only as the Demonata did. We can keep them in place awhile, but eventually they slip free.”

  “Is that the same when the demons capture them?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why worry?” I shrug. “If they can’t hold on to a piece forever, they can’t collect them all, can they?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Raz says. “Sometimes all three pieces exist in a universe at the same time, as they do now. When I say we can’t hold on to a piece for long, I mean tens of thousands of years. That’s more than enough time for the Demonata to unite the parts. All they need is a lucky break.

  “So we continued to fight,” Raz says wearily. “Every time they captured a piece, we set it free. It could have gone on like that until the end of time, except there were casualties. Some of us always died when we raided. A few here, a few there. When you add them up over millions, then billions of years…” He shudders.

  “We’re not afraid of death,” Raz says. “But we couldn’t continue that way indefinitely, because—”

  “— you can’t have children,” I interrupt, beating him to the punch.

  “Correct.” He smiles sadly. “At some point we would become extinct. Then the demons would be free to track down the pieces of the Kah-Gash and restore the original universe, only this time it would be exclusively theirs.

  “We couldn’t accept such a fate, so we did something we were never meant to. We played god and interfered with the creatures of the new universe. We’ve been paying for that mistake ever since. And the universe has been paying for it too.”

  Raz turns his face away and says with shame, “We’re the reason the Demonata can cross from their universe to ours.” He brushes a hand across his cheeks, and though I can’t be certain, I think the Old Creature is wiping away guilty tears.

  WORLD OF THE DEAD

  WE return to the room with the garden and Raz constructs a new window. We travel for a long time through the sub-universe of lights, finally emerging on top of a stone slab. The walls of this chamber are dotted with holes and windows, through which I can see thousands of tombs and monuments, encircling us like silent, frozen sentries.

  Raz slips through one of the larger holes and I follow, gazing solemnly at the ranks of graves. Even though the tombs differ in style and size to those on Earth, there’s no doubt that this is a graveyard. It has the feel of death.

  “This place is massive,” I whisper, goosebumps rising.

  “It is a cemetery world,” Raz says.

  “You mean everybody’s dead?” I gulp. “Was it a war?”

  “There was never life on this planet,” Raz says. “But there are populated planets nearby, and advanced beings move freely between them. For centuries they have been bringing their dead here, laying them to rest on a world of their own.”

  A world of the dead. My goosebumps spread. I’m not easily spooked, but this is creeping me out big time.

  “By shaping the minds of this universe’s creatures, we hoped to cheat destiny,” Raz says softly, returning to the lecture. “We knew we would die before the universe ended. We thought if we spread intelligence, the beings we created might carry on the fight.

  “There are now millions of races with the power of thought. Many are more advanced than your people. But intelligence was never intended for this universe. The earliest creatures showed no signs of evolving and developing souls.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I stop him.

  “Every intelligent being has a soul,” Raz says. “Animals don’t. A soul forms when a creature thinks for the first time, when it reasons and makes plans. It is a fascinating process. In some species it happens in every member at the same moment. In most, one of them makes a mental leap, then bears young and they pass it on, intelligence spreading like a disease.

  “We cultivated the disease. It was much harder than we imagined, but once we made the breakthrough, we quickly mastered the arts of education, then split into small groups and set off for the far reaches of the universe, sowing intelligence everywhere we went.

  “We had no right to disturb the natural balance,” Raz sighs. “But you are a child of our meddling. Would you rather exist as a mindless beast, running wild, no understanding of the past or plans for the future?”

  “No,” I answer after a short pause.

  “Nor do most others. They have the choice. We can’t force a species to evolve. Some fight it and return to their simpler ways. But most rise to the challenges we set. Life is easier for animals, but so much richer for those with the ability to love and hate, fight and make peace, dream and hope.”

  Raz falls silent as we walk among the tombs and headstones. After a while I come to a small, unimpressive tomb. I almost walk past, but Raz coughs softly and points towards the upper-right corner.

  A tiny chessboard has been carved into it. As my eyes narrow, Raz points to the left corner, where another board has been carved. Then he nods at a tomb four rows over. A large, intricate board has been painted over the center of this one, the name of the deceased worked in among the black and white squares.

  “The Boards are key to the process,” Raz says. “We created them out of material drawn from the Crux. Modeling them after the Kah-Gash, we created mini-universes of sixty-four zones. Once a species evolves to a certain point, we isolate their souls and take them into a Board, so that they can develop at an accelerated rate. We also teach them about the origins of the universe, the Kah-Gash and the Demonata, the need to reach for the stars, to fight for the future of the universe.”

  “How come I don’t know all that?” I ask.

  “You have an undeveloped brain,” Raz says, then raises his hands as I bristle. “I mean humans in general. You have not evolved to the point where you can make sense of all that we taught you. Every species is the same. It takes time to work your way through the mysteries of life.” Raz grimaces. “Humans will never complete that journey. The Demonata will cut short their growth. Universal understanding is not to be yours.”

  I blink and look away, stomach tightening. I spot something far overhead. I think it’s a falling star, but as I focus I realize it’s a spaceship. Unlike the floating city, this looks more like the rockets I’ve seen in movies and on the covers of science-fiction books.

  “A glorified hearse,” Raz says.

  We watch in silence until the ship settles out of sight beyond the ranks of tombs. “Can we go and see the burial?” I ask.

  “No,” Raz says. “I have something else to show you.”

  He leads me through a maze until we come to a black, round stone. Its edges are as smooth as a polished gem’s. It’s set in a small pit, circled by a number of large tombs. Candles burn around the edges of the pit, but they’re not normal candles—the wick doesn’t burn down and the flames never flicker in the soft wind.

  There’s a magical buzz coming from the stone. My fingers curl inwards and my nostrils widen. Magic floods my pores.

  “It’s another lodestone,” I note.

  “Yes,” Raz says. “Beranabus thought the stones were of our making but they are actually the remains of planets from the original universe. Most were reduced to dust, but fragments of some survived and drifted through space, sometimes burying themselves in the fabric of freshly forming worlds.

  “The stones were charged with the magic of the original universe. We used them to travel swiftly from one planet to another. They acted as universal markers, guiding us, allowing us to cross vast expanses of space swiftly. Unfortunately the lodestones could be used to serve the forces of evil as well.” Raz laughs bitterly. “We never guessed that the species we assisted might prove as vicious as the demons we hoped they would fight.”

  “Mages used lodestones to open
windows to the Demonata universe,” I groan.

  “We assumed this universe’s creatures would care primarily for their own,” Raz says. “But many craved power. Each world produced individuals with magical talent. Most used their power to do good, but some became tyrants. They crushed their enemies and ruled with a monstrous authority.”

  “You could have stopped them,” I growl.

  “And replaced them?” Raz asks wryly. “Established our favorites as rulers? No. We were determined to guide, not rule. We looked on with despair as the rotten few caused misery for millions. But we never intervened. Every species must be free to make their mistakes, enjoy their triumphs, lament their catastrophes. That is our fundamental belief.”

  Raz sighs again. “The windows were bad enough, but then some used more powerful lodestones to create tunnels and entire civilizations fell. We realized more would follow, that the Demonata would cross in greater numbers and spread. We thought about shutting the project down.” He chuckles humorlessly.

  “Why didn’t you?” I frown.

  Raz shakes his head. “You don’t realize what that would have entailed. We had visited millions of worlds. There were billions of intelligent beings scattered through the universe. We’d have had to—”

  “— kill them all,” I finish hoarsely.

  Raz nods. “That was not an option, so we dismissed it. Besides, the demons could not ruin every world or kill every living being. It was physically impossible. The Demonata might destroy much, but not all. Life would continue, even when we were gone.

  “That changed sixteen hundred years ago.” Raz’s features darken. “We had pressed on with the program. All looked positive. But then, on your world, an insignificant, unremarkable girl altered everything. She turned the laws of life on their head, and introduced a new player to the game, one who could guarantee victory for the Demonata.”

  I gulp. “You’re talking about Bec, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Raz says angrily.

  “And the new player?” I ask.

  He stares at me heavily, then says, “Death.”

  THE REAPER UNLEASHED

  WHAT are you talking about?” I mutter. “According to Art, death always existed, even in the original universe.”

  “As a force,” Raz says. “Death was like time or gravity. It was simply a thing that happened. Bec changed that. First she stole a piece of the Kah-Gash from Lord Loss. Then—”

  “From Lord Loss?” I interrupt, startled. “Art said the pieces never turned up in demons who were alive before the Big Bang.”

  “They don’t,” Raz says.

  “Then Lord Loss isn’t one of the major demons?” I whisper. The demon master is by far the most powerful foe I’ve ever faced. If there are others even stronger than he…

  “There are many greater than he is,” Raz says gloomily, “but he has a unique power. The piece of the Kah-Gash nestled within him for thousands of years. That’s why he alone of the masters is able to cross freely between universes.

  “When Bec unconsciously stole Lord Loss’s piece of the Kah-Gash, it was cause for wonder—that had never happened before. But then she did something even more incredible. When Lord Loss killed her, her soul remained.

  “Death has always meant the end. When a body dies, the soul moves on, maybe to another realm, maybe to be reincarnated, maybe to nothingness—we can only guess. But no soul ever cheated death.”

  “Bec was just a ghost,” I mutter. “Ghosts are nothing new.”

  “Ghosts are shadows of the living,” Raz says. “They’re after-images of people, like the temporary glow a light leaves when it’s quenched. Bec was different. She was fully conscious, memories intact, a complete spirit.”

  I shrug. “She’s part of the Kah-Gash. She used her power to stay, just as Lord Loss used it to cross universes. What’s the big deal?”

  “Death was an absolute,” Raz snaps. “The Kah-Gash had no control over it. All beings had to answer death’s summons. Until Bec.”

  The rocket we saw touch down rises with a roar that shakes the tombs around me. I think the structures are going to shatter, but as the rocket parts the clouds and powers away from the planet, they settle down again.

  “We don’t know how Bec cheated death,” Raz says softly. “We’re not sure if she chose to remain, or if the Kah-Gash kept her, aware of the side effects.”

  “What side effects?”

  Raz is silent a moment. Then he moves away from the lodestone, through the tombs, back to the chamber. As I follow, he speaks.

  “Death was a force, but when Bec defied it, that force developed a mind. It became aware of itself, the universes, its role. And unfortunately it reacted with anger.”

  “This is madness,” I grumble. “Death’s not a person. It can’t react.”

  “It can now,” Raz disagrees. “It constructed a body. Prior to Bec, beings died and souls passed on. But the new Death has the power to harness souls. It can deny them passage to whatever lies beyond. It built a huge, shadowy body out of—”

  “The Shadow!” I cry, coming to a standstill, eyes widening with horror.

  I’m trembling. It all makes horrible sense now. Beranabus was right—the Shadow is the greatest threat we’ve ever faced. Only it’s far worse than he imagined. You can’t cheat death and you can’t hide from it.

  “Precisely,” Raz sighs. “Since death claims all things, Death knows where all things are. The body of Death can only thrive in an area of magic, so it resides in the demon universe. But its reach extends to all worlds. It can guide the Demonata to wherever there is life.”

  “But why is it working for them?” I moan.

  Raz makes a humming noise. “This is speculation, but we believe the Demonata and Death share a common goal—the restoration of the Kah-Gash. If they achieve it, the lifeforms of this universe will cease to exist. The Demonata will return to their immortal ways. The Old Creatures will drift along sadly. And Death’s task will be vastly lessened.”

  “What task?” I frown.

  “The harvesting of souls. Death’s job is far harder now than it was before the Big Bang—so many souls to process. It seems to think the job is too hard, and is working to—as you humans would aptly put it—lighten its workload.”

  “We have to stop it,” I gasp. “We have to find the Shadow and destroy it. If Death has a body, it can be attacked. If we kill it, maybe its mind will unravel.”

  “We do not think it is possible to kill Death,” Raz murmurs. “It will simply put another body together. There will never be a shortage of souls.”

  “The Kah-Gash,” I snap. “We can use that.”

  Raz makes a face. “The Kah-Gash never had power over death. Also, as I said, it might have worked through Bec to grant Death consciousness in the first place. The Kah-Gash has changed. In the past, the pieces cut random paths through the universes. But since Bec defied death, the other parts have worked their way to your planet. They both cropped up there shortly after she died. We could do nothing about Bec’s piece—she was beyond our grasp—but we directed the other pair into forms of our choosing and sent them far away.

  “They escaped and returned to Earth, in Grubitsch Grady and you.”

  “You think the Kah-Gash wants to reunite?” I frown.

  “It looks that way. Perhaps the Kah-Gash wishes to fight Death, to preserve the universes. Or maybe it too yearns for a return to simpler ways, and is using Death to achieve its goal. We don’t know. We can only fear.”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out,” I grunt. “We have to go back. I’ll join with Bec and Grubbs, try to control the Kah-Gash, and hope for the best. There’s no other way, is there?”

  “Actually,” Raz coughs, “there is. But you’re not going to like it…”

  NOAH MK II

  WHEN we cross to the next world, I find myself on a large, circular, metallic platform. It’s covered by a domed glass roof. There are banks of sophisticated-looking computers running along
the sides.

  “Not so sophisticated really,” Raz murmurs. “This was designed as a viewing station by one of the lesser species. We could have arranged a more advanced craft, but they like to do things themselves. Look down.”

  I nudge to the edge, not sure what to expect. As I approach, panels of glass slide back and a telescope revolves into place before me.

  A world like Earth lies a few miles below. There are massive buildings, wide roads, parks, and ponds. Some of the buildings have glass roofs or are open-topped. I can see all sorts of creatures moving around inside them, a bewildering variety of animals, birds, lizards, and more, many defying description.

  “It looks like a zoo,” I remark.

  “It is,” Raz says. “But all of them have souls and are here of their own choice. They know of the Demonata and the threat this universe faces, and have pledged themselves to our cause.”

  The air hums with magic. As I cast my gaze around, I spot lodestones dotted everywhere, of all shapes and sizes.

  “It’s an ark,” Raz says. “You know the biblical story of the ark, how Noah took in a pair of every species and spared them from the flood.”

  “Was that real?” I ask.