by Darren Shan
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.
“It doesn’t matter,” he waves the question away. “Our ark is real, and we have to deal with far worse than a flood. This is why you’re here, why we’ve shown you all that you’ve seen and revealed so much.”
“I don’t get it. You want me to live here?”
Raz laughs. “We’d have brought you here directly if that was the case, telling you only as much as you needed to know, as we did with the others. There are already humans on this ark. Your people are not among the more advanced, but we brought some here anyway, for you.”
“I’m still lost,” I mutter.
“We want you to be the new Noah,” Raz says. “We want you to protect these creatures and guide them, evading the Demonata and Death, always remaining one step ahead of those who would destroy them. We want you to save the universe.”
It sounds ridiculous. I’m tempted to laugh. Except I know Raz isn’t joking.
“How?” I whisper.
“We’ve planted scores of lodestones across this planet,” Raz says. “Enough to last an eternity. This is a world of never-ending magical energy. We designed it to be a haven, a warship, a nursery. Food will always be abundant. Species will never struggle with infertility. Magicians will be born to every generation.”
“You’re going to make a last stand here?” I frown. “This is a fortress?”
“No fortress could stand against our enemies,” Raz says. “If this world was a thousand times more powerful than it is, it still wouldn’t hold long against a mass demon attack. The Demonata don’t know about the ark yet, but they’ll discover it eventually and come. When they arrive, it must not be here.”
“Huh?” I gape.
“We will ensure they never open a tunnel to this world, by guarding each stone zealously. With no direct route of attack, Death will lead them to nearby planets and they’ll launch armies from there. When that happens… when the net is closing and the end looks certain… it will be your time.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I scowl. “Hold up a STOP sign?”
“You will open a window and slip away to another part of the universe,” Raz says. “And you’ll take the planet with you.”
He says it so simply that at first I nod as if it’s no big thing. Then it hits me and I turn from the edge of the platform and stare incredulously.
“Take the planet with me?” I repeat stupidly.
“When you’ve opened windows before, others have been able to slip through. This will be similar, only you’ll have to open a bigger window.”
“You’re insane!” I yelp. “I’ve never opened a window more then seven or eight feet tall.”
“That’s because you never needed a larger window,” Raz says calmly. “You can do far more than you’ve demanded of yourself. With our guidance you’ll learn to open a larger window and curve it, so it surrounds the world. That way, rather than propel the world through the window, it can close around the planet.”
I stare at Raz wordlessly. I don’t know what to think.
“Think of victory,” Raz growls. “Think of life. Think of the demons you’ll defy, the doom you’ll spare everyone here.”
“It’s impossible…”
“No,” Raz insists. “It can work. That’s no guarantee that it will—there might be obstacles ahead that we can’t predict—but we believe in the plan.”
My mind’s whirling. “But when I die, my piece of the Kah-Gash will link up with the others. You’ve already said you can’t control it.”
Raz clears his throat. “That brings us to the part you’re not going to like. As you say, we won’t be able to harness your piece of the Kah-Gash when you die, so we need to find a way around that. Kernel, what would you think if we asked you to make the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of the universe?”
“You want me to kill myself?” I ask with surprising ca
lmness.
“No.” Raz leans forward, eyes sparkling. “We want you to live forever!”
A WARNING
We spend the night wandering the ark, sharing food and drink with some of the many creatures aboard. They don’t know who I am or the special task Raz has asked of me. They think I’m just another face in the crowd.
I’m surprised, as I talk with the sometimes multilimbed, multiheaded, multicolored aliens, by how alike we are. Not in looks, clothes, or customs. But they have the same concepts of good and evil. Family is important to them. Most are religious. They have dreams and hopes for the future.
“Are all civilizations like this?” I ask Raz as we stroll beneath trees full of bat-like beings. A few are playing a game on a chessboard.
“No,” Raz says. “We chose from the more compassionate species. They have a fighting spirit—we need warriors—but they can control their tempers. This world has to last an eternity. We cannot tolerate internal conflict.”
“It might happen anyway,” I note, watching a couple of bats chase each other through the branches, squealing happily. “People change, so I guess this group does too. You can’t know what they’ll be like in a million years. Groups might splinter. War could erupt.”
“Perhaps.” Raz sighs. “We’ll use magic to preserve the balance as best we can. Evolution will be curbed, so there’ll be no physical changes, but we can’t take all possibilities into consideration. We’ll plan as far ahead as possible. After that… as you would say, it’s in the hands of the gods.”
I still haven’t reached a decision. I’m weighing up all that the universe stands to gain against all that I will personally lose.
They want me to become a living tunnel between universes. Sometimes a mage becomes part of a tunnel, and lives as long as the tunnel remains open. They don’t age or die. If I agree to this, I’ll live until the end of time. Death won’t be able to claim me. I can keep moving the ark around, protecting this small pocket of survivors while all others are tracked down by the Demonata and slaughtered.
