“Then, if I were you, I wouldn’t be around when I woke up.” Haplo closed his eyes.
Alfred stared in amazement, then smiled gently. “I understand. Thank you, Haplo.”
The Patryn didn’t respond. His labored breathing grew even and easy. Lines of pain relaxed from his face. The dog, sighing, wriggled closer.
Death’s Gate opened, drew them slowly inside.
Alfred leaned back against the bulkheads. Consciousness was slipping away from him. He thought he heard, though it may have been a dream, Haplo’s sleepy voice.
“I never did find out about the prophecy. I don’t suppose it matters. No one will be left alive down there to fulfill it. Who believes in that crap anyway? Like you said, Sartan. If you believe in a prophecy, you have to believe in a higher power.”
Who believes? Alfred wondered.
CHAPTER 47
SAFE HARBOR, ABARRACH
THE LAZAR, angered at losing the dragonship, turned their wrath on the living who yet remained on Abarrach. Kleitus led the armies of the dead in an attack on the small band of refugees from Kairn Telest.
The living were led by Baltazar, who barely escaped with his life from the docks. Protected by Prince Edmund, the necromancer hastened back to his people, hiding in the Salfag Caverns. He brought them the terrible news that their own armies of dead had turned against them.
The people of Kairn Telest fled the coming of the dead, running out into the open plains of the land that was itself, dying. They fled without hope, however, for among their number were many sick and many children, who could not stand the forced pace. The cycles of their suffering and hardship were mercifully brief. The dead were hard on their heels and soon the last living beings on Abarrach were brought to bay. They had no choice but to turn and fight.
During this time, I walked among the lazar, pretending to be one with them, for I knew that my hour had not yet come. Prince Edmund remained by my side. Although I knew his grief for his people was acute, he, too, waited for his hour.
The people of Kairn Telest chose for their field of battle a level plain not far from the Pillar of Zembar. They gave some thought to trying to protect the children, the sick and infirm, the elderly. In the end, they decided that it mattered little. Against the dead, there could be only one outcome. Men and women, old and young gathered what weapons they could and prepared to fight. They formed their ranks into a single line—families together, friend beside friend. The fortunate ones would be those who died first and swiftest.
The dead ranged themselves in ranks in the field across from the living. Their army was huge, outnumbering the people of Kairn Telest almost a thousand to one. Kleitus and the lazar walked before them, the dynast exhorting the cadavers to bring the dead necromancers among the Kairn Telest to him for resurrection.
I knew what was in Kleitus’s mind, for I had attended his council meetings with the rest of his lazar. Once the Kairn Telest were destroyed, he planned to enter Death’s Gate and from there pass on to other worlds. His ultimate goal—to rule over a universe of dead.
The trumpets of the cadavers sounded, blowing thin, iron notes that echoed through the kairn. The army of dead prepared to advance. The living of Kairn Telest closed ranks, silently awaiting their fate.
Prince Edmund and I stood together on the front lines of battle. His phantasm turned to face me and I saw then that he had been given the knowledge for which he’d been waiting.
“Bid me farewell, brother.”
“Fare you well, my brother, on your long journey,” I said. “May you know peace at last.”
“I could wish the same for you,” he said.
“When my work is done,” I told him.
We walked together, side by side, and took our places among the foremost ranks of the dead. Kleitus watched us warily, suspiciously. He would have confronted us but the dead began to cheer, thinking that Edmund had himself come out to lead the battle against his own people.
Kleitus could do little against us. My strength and my power had grown during those last days, shining down on me like the sun I had never seen except in the visions of the Sartan from another world, the one who called himself Alfred. I knew its source. I knew the sacrifice I would have to make to use the power, and I was prepared.
Prince Edmund raised his hand, calling for silence. The dead obeyed, the cadavers ceased their hollow cries, the phantasms hushed their endless moaning.
“This cycle,” Prince Edmund shouted, “death comes to Abarrach!”
The dead raised their voices in a mighty shout. The writhing visage of Kleitus darkened.
“You mistake my meaning. Death will not come to the living,” Edmund’s voice rang out, “but to us, to the dead. Let go of your fear, as I let go of mine. Trust in this one.” He knelt down before me, looked up at me. “For he is the one of whom the prophecy spoke.”
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“I am,” he said firmly.
I began reciting the chant, the words I had first heard spoken by the Sartan, Alfred. Blessed be the One who sent him to us.
Prince Edmund’s body stiffened, jerked, as if it felt again the spear plunge into its chest. The face contorted with both the physical pain and the mental, the knowledge of failure, the brief and bitter struggle life makes leaving the body, the world.
My heart was filled with pity, but I continued the chant. The body slumped down to the ground at my feet.
Kleitus, realizing what was happening, tried to stop me. He and the other lazar raged around me, but they were nothing more to me than the hot wind blowing from the sea of fire.
The dead spoke no word, only watched.
The living murmured and clasped hands, wondering if we offered hope or a deepening of their despair.
The corpse lay still and silent, the dreadful magical strings that animated it were severed. The phantasm of Edmund, his spirit, grew stronger and more clearly defined. For a brief instant he appeared to me and to his people as he had been in life—young, handsome, proud, compassionate.
His last look went to his people, to the living and the dead, and then he vanished, as the morning mists burn away in sunshine.
A battle was fought that day, but not between the living and the dead. It was fought between myself and the dead and Kleitus and the other lazar. When it was ended, the lazar had been beaten, their dread power reduced. They fled, plotting to increase their strength and continue the fight. Some of the dead joined them, fearful of giving up what they know, fearful of the unknown. But many more of the dead came to me afterward and begged me to release them.
Following the battle, the living of Kairn Telest made their way across the Fire Sea and entered the tragic city of Necropolis, joined there those few who had managed to survive the slaughter. Baltazar is their leader. The first law he passed was to prohibit the practice of necromancy. His first decree was that the bodies of the victims of the dead’s vengeance be committed with reverence to the Fire Sea.
The lazar have disappeared, but their threat hangs like the dreary clouds of laze over the living of Necropolis. The city’s gates are shut, the rat holes have been bricked up, the walls are heavily guarded. Baltazar is of the opinion that the lazar are searching for the means to enter Death’s Gate and may perhaps have done so.
I think it quite likely that Kleitus does seek a way through Death’s Gate, but I do not believe he has found the means to enter. He remains in this world, all the lazar remain in this world. I hear their voices, sometimes, during the sleepless hours of the long nights. I hear their cries of hatred and agony and torment. It is their hatred that binds them to this world, their hatred of me in particular, for they know that, in me, the prophecy has been fulfilled.
The torment we lazar endure is indescribable. The soul longs for freedom, yet cannot detach itself from the body. The body longs to give up its heavy burden, but is terrified to part from the soul. We cannot sleep, we cannot find rest. No food can give us sustenance, no drink can ease our terrible
thirst. The body aches with fatigue, the restless spirit forces that body to constantly roam the world.
I walk the streets of Necropolis, streets that were once crowded but are now pitifully empty. I walk the deserted halls of the palace and listen to the echoes of my own footfalls. I walk the fields of Old Province, desolate and abandoned. I walk the fields of New Province and watch the living toil in place of the dead. I walk the shores of the shrinking Fire Sea. When the pain of my existence becomes too much to bear, I return again to the Chamber of the Blessed to find strength.
My suffering is my penance, my sacrifice. My beloved Jera walks with the lazar, out there, somewhere. Her hatred for me is sharp, keen, but only because her hatred must wage constant battle against her deeper love. When the time for waiting is ended, when my work is accomplished, I will take my beloved in my arms again and together we will find the peace now denied us. I keep that dream in my heart, the only dream allowed these sleepless eyes. It is my comfort, my hope. My love and the knowledge of my duty sustain me in my waiting. The time of the prophecy is not now, but soon.
“He will bring life to the dead, hope to the living, and for him the Gate will open.”[15]
Epilogue
My Lord,
You may remove Abarrach completely from your calculations. I found evidence to indicate that the Sartan and the mensch did once inhabit that hunk of worthless, molten rock. The climate undoubtedly proved too harsh for even their powerful magic to sustain them. They apparently tried to contact the other worlds, but their attempts ended in failure. Their cities have now become their tombs.
Abarrach is a dead world.
My Lord will, I’m certain, understand why I do not make my report to him in person. An emergency has arisen that calls me away. On my return from Abarrach, I learned that the Sartan I discovered living on Arianus, the one who calls himself Alfred, has entered Death’s Gate. Evidence indicates that he has gone to Chelestra, the fourth world the Sartan created, the world of water. I am following him there.
I remain your loyal and devoted son.[16]
HAPLO
Haplo, my loyal and devoted son, YOU ARE A LIAR.[17]
About the e-Book
(MAR 2003) proofed, corrected, and formatted by Bibliophile from an anonymously scanned plain text. Doubtful, undecipherable, or missing text is enclosed in brackets: […].
* * *
[1] The Lord of the Nexus underestimated the magical forces that control Death’s Gate and failed to provide Haplo with suitable protection for the journey. The Patryn crash-landed and was rescued by the Geg Limbeck (see Dragon Wing, vol. 1 of The Death Gate Cycle).
[2] Haplo characteristically makes no further mention of what he considers to be his failure on Pryan, but it may relate to the fact that he was very nearly killed by giants whose magic proved far stronger than the Patryn’s (see Elven Star, vol. 2 of The Death Gate Cycle).
[3] Haplo, Abarrach, World of Stone, vol. 4 of Death Gate journals. Baltazar, Remembrances of My Homeland, a journal chronicling the last [years] of Kairn Telest kept by the necromancer to the king.
[4] A word used by both Sartan and Patryns to refer to the “lesser” races: humans, elves, dwarves.
[5] Sartan have two names, private and public. As Alfred told Haplo previously in the story, a Sartan’s private name can give those who know it power over them. A Sartan’s private name, therefore, would be revealed only to those he or she loved and trusted.
[6] A reference to a move in the game of rune-bone in which an opponent is stripped clean of all his runes. The game of rune-bone is vaguely similar in nature to a game known anciently (pre-Sundering) as mah-jongg.
[7] Kairn is a Sartan word meaning “cavern,” a variation on the dwarven word cairn, which means “pile of stones.” It is interesting to note that the Sartan had no word of their own for cavern prior to their removal to Abarrach and were forced, apparently, to borrow a word from the dwarves.
[8] Fought during the rebellion of the people of Thebis, who refused to pay one-third of their crops in taxes to the dynast. The rebellion failed and almost certainly led to the downfall of a once-great city-state. Fair-minded historians point out that although this tax burden does seem excessive, the people of Thebis thought nothing of charging the dynast and the people of Necropolis a fee of fifty bales of kairn grass per use of the Pillar of Thebis, which supplied much-needed water to the city of Necropolis.
[9] A diminutive clay model of the dynast himself set within its own miniature duplicate of the palace. As originally designed, the dynast doll was attuned magically to the dynast and portrayed the current time by its position within its play palace. Thus when the doll went to bed, the hour was the dynast’s sleeping hour. When the doll sat down to dinner, it was the dynast’s dining hour. When the magic on Abarrach grew weaker, the dolls began to keep less-than-perfect time.
[10] Refer to Magic in the Sundered Realms, Excerpt from a Sartan’s Musings, Vol. 1.
[11] Most probably a descendant of the pig, which was brought by the Sartan to this world following the Sundering. A large portion of the diet of the Sartan on Abarrach consists of meat, vegetables being extremely scarce, and the torb is their primary source. Torb graze on kairn grass and are raised in the New Provinces and brought to market in Necropolis.
[12] The hour following the dynast’s gaming hour when His Majesty orders the light of the gas lamps to be dimmed. During the dynast’s slumber hours, the gas lamps are turned off completely.
[13] From the proper name, Lazarus. Originally, in ancient times, the word was used to refer to a person with a loathsome disease, such as leprosy, considered to be living death. In more modern times, following the Sundering, Sartan practicing the forbidden art of necromancy used the word to refer to those who were brought back from the dead too quickly.
[14] Missing footnote.
[15] A Collection of the Writings of Jonathan the Lazar, compiled by Baltazar, ruler of Necropolis, Abarrach.
[16] Haplo’s report on the world of Abarrach, from the files of the Lord of the Nexus.
[17] Scrawled on the margin of the report.
Death Gate Cycle 3 - Fire Sea Page 40
