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“Could I please have my staff back?” Jan said. “If you’re sane once again, that is?”
Pabl handed the staff to Jan. “Did I hurt you?”
“A little,” he said, placing his hand against his chest. “I’ll have a bruise.”
“I’m sorry.” Pabl looked around. He was startled to find Celagri behind him, dagger drawn.
She gave him a smile, but did not sheath her dagger. “You attacked Jan —”
“I understand,” Pabl said. “But I think I’m free of Sangolin’s influence for the moment.” His memory was coming back to him. They had camped at the south edge of the jungle and had been preparing to cross the narrow strip of desert to the volcano where they would begin the search for Sangolin. He must have wandered out of camp. “How far have I come?”
“Our camp is over a mile north of here, up near those trees.”
Jan pointed toward the edge of the jungle. “Luckily, you aren’t very hard to track.”
“We should get back,” Pabl said.
“Yes.”
They walked back in the early light of dawn, traveling along the trail of trampled grass that Pabl had made on his way out. Jan walked next to Pabl, but Celagri walked behind.
It would take some time to regain her trust, Pabl knew. And he didn’t blame her; he didn’t know if he could trust himself.
But with the thread tied to the statuette, he felt stronger, more able to resist Sangolin, as though he had Ganwetrammus and Garen and the brotherhood on his side, anchoring him.
They arrived at camp — backpacks and blankets lay at haphazard angles around the remnants of last night’s fire.
“Where’s Chaiel?” Pabl asked.
“Don’t know,” Jan said. “He was here when we left. Said he’d watch the camp ‘til we came back.”
Celagri circled the fire. “His pack and weapons are gone,”
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she said.
Pabl looked around for sign of him, but he was nowhere. A second trail of trampled grass led out of the path in the same direction that Pabl had gone. “He went south,” Pabl said. “He must have passed around us when we were fighting.”
“What does that mean?” Jan asked.
“It means,” Pabl said, dread pooling in his gut like animal grease. “Chaiel has succumbed to Sangolin.”
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Twenty-Five
Reid tried to leave Sangolin again a few days later.
He got half way up the path out of the hollow when he felt the call. His thoughts of Ganwetrammus vanished instantly, and he went to his sweet Sangolin. He went gladly. And the anticipation of the merge was as precious as ever; the yielding to the collective mind as pleasurable as always.
Yet, when Sangolin released him from the union, he made his way back to his cave, feeling empty and alone. He wanted more. He wanted to remember himself. He wanted to know his liferock and his brotherhood.
Ganwetrammus held the answers.
Reid made more plans to leave. He tried again, but again Sangolin called to him, and no matter how strong was his desire for answers, he could not resist the call. And when he merged with the mottled flesh in the dark cavern, he wondered why he had ever considered leaving. How could he have contemplated an existence without Sangolin? It was incon-ceivable.
Later, as he sat and stared out at the sea of fire, doubts and 180
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questions crept back into head. The pain from Ganwetrammus arced through his body like lightning, and he thought about leaving again. This cycle continued for longer than Reid could remember.
Until the stranger arrived.
He was tall with loose burlap trousers, and a broad chest painted with swirls of indigo and green. He bore a huge sword on a finely crafted metal belt and carried a brown cloth backpack. His strides were long and purposeful as he made his way down the narrow, steep trail into the hollow.
Reid moved up to get a closer look at the stranger, waiting at the floor of the hollow as the new one took the final steps down the trail. Reid knew that the stranger had been drawn by Sangolin as many strays had been drawn in the past. Sangolin was still hungry for fresh obsidimen spirits to feast upon.
The stranger seemed eerily familiar, with russet skin like Reid’s, and black eyes. He stared around him, looking not at, but through Reid and the other obsidimen who gathered to watch him merge with Sangolin. Reid thought he recognized him. But how can I know him? I’ve never seen him before, have I? Reid couldn’t remember. More questions to be answered.
Vecrix came to greet the stranger. The old, deformed obsidiman escorted the newcomer through the crowd and into the Sangolin cave. Pangs of sadness penetrated into Reid’s bones as he watched the two of them disappear into the maw of the cavern below the rock fall.
Why do I care so much, Reid thought. Why can’t I just feel nothing?
And a few minutes later, Vecrix returned to the clearing.
He walked up to Reid in his awkward, limping fashion. “The new one is from your brotherhood. Now you shouldn’t feel so alone here anymore.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Chaiel is his common name,” Vecrix said. “I don’t know This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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his true obsidiman name.” Vecrix gave a lopsided shrug. “It doesn’t matter; he will soon lose that to Sangolin anyway.”
“I don’t remember knowing him,” Reid said, but he felt a heavy weight drag on his shoulders. What is my true obsidiman name? he wondered.
“It’s for the best,” Vecrix said. The muscles of his face tried to smile, but managed only a crooked grin. “Once Sangolin has been transformed completely into a liferock, we will all get new obsidiman names.”
Reid looked at the disfigured obsidiman in front of him.
“Do you really believe Sangolin can be made into a true liferock?”
“Don’t you?”
Reid turned away and walked toward the end of the hollow. Toward the cliffs. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve always believed that if we had enough obsidimen, we could fashion a brotherhood, we could create a bond through Sangolin and blood magic. You convinced me. But now . . . now I’m not sure.
I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
Vecrix hobbled alongside Reid, struggling to keep pace.
“Well, cast aside your doubts, my brother. For I have nearly completed the spell which will transform Sangolin, our sweet Sangolin, into a liferock forever. When enough obsidimen merge with Sangolin, I will be able to weave parts of their souls into the pattern of Sangolin and imbue the whole with the life-forces of each brother. It will be a glorious day; the in-extricable union of each of our souls, our blood and our flesh sacrificed to create the new spirit of Sangolin.”
Reid did not look at Vecrix. He stared at the cliff edge approaching. He is insane, Reid realized suddenly. Completely insane. Why did I not see this earlier?
Reid turned on Vecrix, grabbing him by the shoulders.
“How can you believe that Sangolin can become a liferock?
Liferocks can’t be created. It is magically impossible. Life-This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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rocks are living entities, spirits of elemental earth and astral energy. You might create something with your insane magic, but it will not be a liferock, and it will condemn us all to mil-lennia of slavery to that . . . that thing.”
Vecrix shook himself free of Reid’s grip. “Obviously, you don’t understand the power
of blood magic. With Sangolin’s help, I have accomplished feats of magical prowess you can’t conceive of. I thought you might help, since you used to be quite adept at illusory powers. But I see I was wrong.”
Vecrix turned awkwardly away from Reid and walked a few steps before turning back. “Sangolin and I will succeed, you know. With or without your help. Sangolin will become a true liferock. And we don’t need your magic. All we need from you is your body and spirit. In fact we only need five or ten more obsidimen before we have enough to proceed.”
Vecrix winked with his bad eye, the dead flap of his eye lid coming down over the polished chunk of amber he sometimes kept in the empty socket. “Don’t try to leave again,” he said.
“Face it; you’re as dependent upon Sangolin as the rest of us. As addicted as the new one, from your brotherhood. Attempting to escape is a futile gesture; Sangolin won’t allow any of us to leave.” Vecrix turned and walked back into the cavern, leaving Reid alone with a bone-numbing chill coursing through his body despite the heat radiating from the lava ocean behind him.
He is right, Reid thought. I can never leave. I have tried countless times, and I always fail.
A wave of sadness passed over him, forcing him to his knees on the hard smooth stone. He wished for the days before he had felt the pain from Ganwetrammus, before he awoke to realize that he was a zombie, walking through time like an automaton.
He wished for a reprieve from the pain.
It came to him a minute later. The sadness washed away This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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like grime from his body; the pain vanished as he heard Sangolin’s beckoning. He rose to his feet and took the familiar steps towards his love; his sweet release. Nothing could be better; no moment more perfect than right now.
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Twenty-Six
Pabl crouched behind an outcropping of rock and looked down into the clearing below. The image of the hollow resonated in his mind as he looked. The smoking cone of the volcano rose into the sky on his right, belching out soot and gurgling up a firefall of lava which flowed over the cliffs into the molten sea far below. It was similar to what he remembered from his dreams and visions of it, but different as well.
The flat space of the clearing below was surrounded on three sides by mountains. Mist drifted from away to the left, wafting up over the edge of the cliff ahead in tattered clouds.
High above, the noon sun shone hot and bright, only partially obscured by the drifts of steam. And as the mist crossed the blood-colored stone, passing through the rays of sunshine, fractured rainbows danced and fluttered in the tiny droplets which hung in the air.
“It’s hot here,” Jan said from where he hid on Pabl’s left. “Is this the place?”
“Yes,” Pabl replied, but he did not elaborate, for he was cap-tured by what he saw: obsidimen of various sizes and skin 185
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tones danced around a giant fire in the center of the wide hollow. All were naked except for red body paint, applied in irreg-ular stripes over their skin. There must be thirty or more, he thought. And they’re cooking meat!
A large, horned animal had been skinned and spitted, and one of the obsidiman turned it slowly over the huge fire. Even from so far away, the stench of burning flesh turned Pabl’s stomach. The meat looked to be burned to a black carbon, though Pabl had a hard time seeing all the details from this distance.
Drums beat deep and resonant, the sound throbbing through the stone and into Pabl’s bones. The drums called to him with their bass voices. Beckoning him to join the dance.
The undulating, rolling motion of the dance was unlike any obsidiman ritual or celebration Pabl had ever seen. It was a disjointed collage of expression, each obsidiman isolated from the others, held together only by the steady beat of the drums. The sight made Pabl uneasy.
So many lost brothers. All gathered together, yet still separate. Still alone.
Pabl took a deep breath and turned away from the hollow.
He sat with his back against the warm rock, and looked at Jan and Celagri. Jan stood on Pabl’s left, peering around the outcropping of stone to get a good look at Sangolin. Celagri hid in the shadows of boulders; she had been aloof and distant since Pabl had nearly succumbed to Sangolin’s call and attacked Jan.
It was ironic because ever since he had tied a thread to the pattern of his Mynbruje pendant, Pabl’s hallucinations had been weak and insubstantial. Much easier to ignore than before.
On the same day he had attacked Jan, Pabl and the others had run into a tribe of nomadic humans called Dinganni. The tribe had approached them warily, but offered fresh food and This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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water after determining that Pabl and the others posed no threat. The Dinganni were sturdy and large for humans, with dark hair and keen brown eyes. They wore loose garments of tan cloth and finely worked leather.
Pabl had enjoyed the company of these humans; they lived by a strict code which Pabl understood instinctively. Mynbruje was strong in these people; they respected nature and each other. They were just, and honor flowed through their veins. Pabl had nearly forgotten about Sangolin for the two days that they had spent in the company of the Dinganni tribe.
He had been sad to leave them.
Jan had also enjoyed the time spent with the humans. At the campfire, Jan had told tales of their travels. He spun exaggerations of how Pabl had discovered the lost castle of Yon Fuiras, and told tales about how Celagri had saved them both from a company of bandits in the forests outside of Kratas. Jan relayed in embellished detail how Celagri had single-hand-edly seduced twelve of the dummies, persuading them that she would perform certain lewd acts in exchange for releasing Pabl and Jan.
Pabl had tried to contain his laughter during these stories, because although they were based on truth, they strayed too far to be believed. Celagri had merely sneaked into the bandits’ camp and cut the two of them loose. Still, the Dinganni seemed to relish Jan’s fictions, and it was largely to hear more that the human tribe had accompanied the three travelers across the narrow strip of desert to the edge of the mountains.
Only Celagri had seemed not to enjoy their time with the humans. She remained quiet, withdrawn except to provide reminders of their goal, of Pabl’s mission to find Reid Quo. She was worried that their encounter with the humans would delay them.
It had not slowed them down, however. The tribe had This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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made good time across the desert, and had left the three of them at the edge of the barren mountains, wishing them good fortune. It had only taken them one more day to reach Sangolin.
Now, Jan moved away from the outcropping of rock.
“There seems to be only one path down,” he said. “But I don’t see any one on it.”
“I will have to go down there and look for Reid Quo,” Pabl said.
“Do you expect us to stay here?”
Celagri stepped out of the shadows. “No,” she said. “We all go. Or none.”
Jan turned to look at her. “What if they’re unfriendly, my dear elf? Maybe you haven’t been paying attention; they’re big and outnumber us ten to one.”
“At least,” she said. “But why have we come this far if we intended to let Pabl face this place alone?”
Jan didn’t have a response.
Pabl spoke up. “I cannot ask you to come,” he said. “No matter the consequences, I must confront Sangolin alone.”
Jan brushed his beard nervously. “You’re not here to confront Sangolin. Nothing in my contract say
s anything about Sangolin.”
“Contract?” Pabl was puzzled.
“Look, all I’m saying is this: Reid Quo is why you’re here.
Just bring him out and we’re done. There’s no need to be doing any extra confronting, if you know what I mean.”
Pabl sighed. “I hope it will be that easy,” he said. “But if Reid is tied to this place like the Council said he was, he won’t leave easily. He may not remember Tepuis Garen at all.”
“What will we do then?” Celagri asked.
“I’ll try to help him remember,” Pabl said. “He must remember because I don’t think I can take him back by force.”
Jan sighed, but said nothing.
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Celagri frowned.
“Of course,” Pabl continued, “there is a slight chance that Chaiel has already found Reid and is just waiting for us to show up so we can begin the journey back to Tepuis Garen.”
“And it might snow over Death’s Sea tomorrow,” Jan said.
Pabl frowned. “I was just trying to be optimistic,” he said.
“I’d like to try and take Chaiel back with us. Reid Quo is the first priority, but I don’t want to leave without Chaiel.”
Celagri stared at Pabl. “I have no love for Chaiel,” she said, “but I don’t want to see him enslaved to this Sangolin. If we can get him out, we will.”
“Fine,” Jan said, rocking from foot to foot. “I’m getting a bit anxious. Let’s do something, anyway.”
“Before we go down there, I’m going to take a look with astral sight,” Pabl said. “I want to see what I’m up against.”
“Take your time.”
Pabl slowed his breathing to bring calm. Then he focused on shifting his senses to perceive the astral. Brilliant reds and shiny blacks bombarded him. A rank odor of festering sores stung his nose, and he heard a deep hum, low and resonant, coming from down in the hollow.
