The Shadow Realm

by James Galloway

  They had arrived.

  "According to Syllis, we must only touch the symbols," Dolanna told them gravely. "Each to his own order. Then the spell will be lowered and allow us to pass."

  With sure dignity, the four magicians moved just inside the tunnel's entrance. Dolanna put her hand on the image of the star, and its faint illumination turned brilliant. Phandebrass laid his hand on the image of the staff, and it too brightened. Camara Tal set her hand against the image ot he clasped hands, and that image also flared to brilliance.

  Without hesitation, Tarrin put his paw on the image of the flower. It flared as well, and then there was a shimmering in the air further down the tunnel as the magical barrier erupted into visibility. The sound of that magic became louder and louder as the barrier glowed more and more brightly, and then it changed from an angry red to a brilliant white-blue.

  And, to Tarrin's surprise, a disembodied voice called from the tunnel, from the barrier itself, speaking in stately cadence as it performed its task:

  The four become one, the four unite;

  Beyond this portal, beyond the night.

  Four join as one to unlock the door;

  But only one passes to enter the bore.

  Sorcery, Wizardry, Devotion, and Nature;

  Choose wisely which holds the power most sure.

  Four did begin, but one may walk past;

  To face this challenge, most dreadful, held last.

  Make your decision, choose and be timely;

  Choose which of you, and choose very wisely.

  Beyond, if sucessful, it carries a price.

  To gain what you seek, you must sacrifice.

  All that defines you, all you have been;

  That which defines you shall be taken.

  All that defines you, all you shall be;

  Success will cost you all of those three.

  Choose now between you, and choose anon;

  Choose now the Champion to challenge beyond.

  Choose with great caution, and choose with great care;

  For the one chosen will surrender all there.

  Make your decision, step forward most sure;

  Make your decision, the heart that beats pure.

  Make your decision, a choice without gaffe.

  Only one champion may lay hands on the staff.

  They were all silent for a very long moment, as the blue light of the visible barrier continued to pulsate and undulate over them.

  Only one could pass, and that one, the poem stated, had to be willing to sacrifice everything. To face death in the face, to die to further the goal.

  It's not something I would ask lightly, my sweet child. It will be a dangerous road, and its outcome is uncertain. There is a very good chance that you won't live to see the end of it. The Goddess said those words to him, so very long ago. Right before he agreed to be her champion.

  Is this what it meant? Was he to walk down that passage and die? And do it willingly? No! Not now. Not when he had so much to live for! Jesmind and Jasana, Kimmie and their unborn child, Mist's son Eron. The family he wanted, the life he wanted. They were within his grasp! Were they all nothing but fantasies, paper dreams meant to give him what little comfort they could before the end? Not now! He couldn't throw his life away, when he was so happy!

  Or would he be throwing it away? The poem said that only one could lay hands on the staff, and all through this mad quest, he'd been told over and over again that he was the chosen one. To lay paws on the staff, he'd have to survive to reach it. And that meant that he'd live, since he wouldn't be touching it until the guardian was eliminated.

  If that made any sense.

  There was little he could do. He had a duty to the Goddess. He made her a promise to find the Firestaff and take it, and he had to do it. She was depending on him. His children were depending on him, Jesmind and Kimmie and Mist were depending on him, his little mother was depending on him. They needed him to get the Firestaff. They needed him to protect their world, the world they would inherit. No matter what it cost him, what they needed of him mattered more to him than anything else in the world. He would kill to protect them, and he would die to protect them. They were everything to him.

  So what if he died? All that mattered was that the Firestaff could not be used. What happened to him...it just didn't matter.

  Duty is honor, and the price of that honor is blood. Honor and blood.

  And after all, the outcome wasn't set in stone. Nothing was.

  He'd better make his intention clear before Phandebrass had a wild notion to try to choose himself. Knowing him, he'd do it.

  Tarrin took his paw off the symbol, certain of his choice, and the light of the symbols and of the barrier itself changed from white-blue to an emerald green.

  The others looked at him, expressions of shock and fear and worry and anxiety, but they did not interfere. They all knew that if only one had to go, then it had to be Tarrin. He was the strongest magician of them all, and he had physical qualities that the rest of them lacked, qualities that would allow him to survive. He was the only choice.

  The poem said to step quickly and with certainty, so he did so, moving towards the barrier with long strides and suppressing his fear and uncertainty under a steely resolve. It had to be him. He had to do it. The others wouldn't be able to do it alone! He let the Cat come up a little into his mind, using its powerful instincts to live in the moment, to ignore the very real fear he felt at what he was doing, to be calm and strong and sure of himself. Closing his eyes just before he would make contact with it, Tarrin walked deliberately right into and through the barrier. He felt its power seep into him, through him, infuse him. But it did not hinder him. He felt himself pass through it, and when he did, he suddenly became aware of intense, lethal heat. The air in the passageway had to be hot enough to boil water, but the barrier blocked it from escaping. Tarrin sighed in relief. Had anyone but Dolanna or himself passed through, they would have died almost immediately. The air smelled heavily of sulfur and brimstone, assaulting his nose and burning it, and burning slightly at his eyes.

  The light of the barrier vanished. Tarrin turned to look and saw all his friends, his sisters, their mouths moving but no sound coming from them. The barrier stopped sound as well as heat, he realized. --I can't hear you,-- he told Allia in the hand code of the Selani. --The magic wall is blocking sound.--

  --Be careful, my brother!-- Allia said with her urgency showing in her hands, her expression.

  --Tell the others to be careful, and to get away from the opening. It's hot enough on this side to kill you in a matter of seconds. If the barrier comes down, the heat will wash over you and kill you.--

  --We'll move away as soon as you start down the tunnel. Be careful!--

  --I'll try. Wait for me, sister. Pray for me.--

  --May the winds ever blow at your back, and may the Holy Mother guide your steps through the holy land,-- she told him, one of the most solemn and intimate of Selani farewells. He looked into her eyes and saw her love in them, as well as in Keritanima's and Dolanna's. He saw the solemn worry in Camara Tal's eyes, the look of grim pride in Azakar's, and the look of slight disappointment in Phandebrass' that he hadn't thought to choose himself first. Binter and Sisska nodded to him gravely, a recognition of his impending challenge. For Vendari, that was a wish for good luck.

  --I'll be back in a while. Save me a spot at the table,-- he said with nonchalance in his movements and a forced smile on his lips. But they could see the intense concentration in his eyes.

  Go, Dolanna's mouth said, he could make it out. She pointed down the tunnel, behind him. Go. Then she put her hand on her amulet and did something he never thought he'd see her do.

  She curtsied to him.

  Had it not been such a serious situation, he would have laughed. But he understood it for what it was, a salute to him, and a reminder of who and what he was.

  He was sui'kun. He was a being with magical powers among the strongest of any
on the planet. Whatever was down that passage, it had better be ready for a serious fight. Because Tarrin wasn't about to lay down and die for it. If it was going to protect the Firestaff, then Tarrin swore it was going to have to work like mad to earn its daily wage this day.

  Tarrin nodded to her, his expression one of complete seriousness, all fear and anxiety melting away. If he had to go alone, then so be it. If he had to sacrifice, then so be it. One way or another, he was coming back down this passage with the Firestaff.

  And woe be to anything that tried to stand in his way.

  Tarrin turned his back to his friends and moved with careful deliberate slowness down the hellishly hot passage, towards the dimmest of faint lights far down the tunnel. Towards his date with the legendary guardian of the Firestaff, towards his date with his destiny.

  Moving towards the end of it.

  Chapter 19

  The tunnel was very long, very dark, and was roughly circular in shape. It descended down into the heart of the volcano, and every step that Tarrin took brought him down deeper into the depths of the place, where the air became hotter and hotter, and the smell of sulfur, smoke, fire, and brimstone burned more and more at his nose and eyes. The stone beneath the pads on his feet grew warmer and warmer, but there was very little sound in the tunnel but the sound of his own breathing. At the end of the tunnel there was a very faint, wavering red light, barely visible it was so far away. Tarrin reasoned that the tunnel had to be more than a longspan in length.

  There was more and more fear now. Every step down into the heart of the volcano took him further and further away from the surface, and the alien environment of the tunnel unnerved him. The bolstering he had felt at Dolanna's gesture had faded, and every step down deeper into the volcano was one more step away from his friends, away from their support. He was alone now, beyond their aid, beyond their reassurance. Whatever lay waiting for him at the end of the tunnel, he would have to face it, conquer it, alone.

  Alone. He was alone. The sense of the Goddess was still distant, blocked by the Ward. Always before, she had been there for him, with him, watching over him. She wasn't there now. It was almost like being a child again, knowing he was in trouble and not having mother there to save him. Not even she could help him here, help him now. It was a situation of the most desolate loneliness he had ever experienced, and that alien feeling caused him fear. Fear itself was not a strange emotion, but this unnatural need to have others near annoyed and confused the Cat, and felt them extraneous.

  He was depending on the Cat now. Its mentality would serve him well by making him ready for anything, living in the moment, his every sense awake and alert. It caused him to creep slowly along the tunnel, for there was no need to rush. Not here, not now. When facing an unknown, it was best to learn as much about it as possible before committing to a course of action. Even the Cat understood this, adhered to this, and it caused him to pick his way very carefully, like a cat stalking prey, moving with a slow sureness that made no sound and caused no sudden movements that may catch the eye.

  Glancing back, he saw that the light at the opening of the tunnel was no longer visible. The tunnel had curved slightly a while back, hiding the opening from him now. Perhaps it was best that he couldn't see the opening, couldn't dwell on it. He couldn't go back. Not now. Too much was depending on this. No matter what happened, no matter what he ended up facing at the end of that tunnel, only one thought raced through his mind.

  I must not fail.

  Failure was not an option. If Tarrin couldn't defeat the Guardian, then he doubted that any of the others could either. And they would try. If he didn't come back within a reasonable amount of time, they were going to try. And they would come down here, one by one, and die. He couldn't allow that. It was a masked blessing to him that he had to come alone, because it meant that none of the others were going to be in any danger. None of the others could get killed. But if he failed, they were going to come, and they would probably die.

  And that was only his friends. If he failed, someone else may get the Firestaff. And if they used it, then everyone he cared for would be in danger. His children, his two loves, Mist, Triana, Janette, his parents, his sisters, his friends. Everyone would be in danger, and it would all be his fault. He couldn't allow that, not under any circumstances.

  No, there was absolutely no room for error in this. This is what the Goddess had tasked him to do. This is why the Tower had him turned Were. This is what he had devoted his life to accomplishing. Everything that had been happening in the West for nearly ten years all boiled down to this place, this time, this event. The ki'zadun had planned for ten years to prevent this, but they failed. The Tower had searched for years to find him, so he could be there at that moment and do what he was doing now. The Goddess had gone far beyond what she afforded other mortals with him, being his friend, building his trust in her, being there for him and supporting him, just so he would obey her and take up the quest, so he could be where he was now, acting as her champion, striving to protect the world from being ravaged in the throes of a war between gods. The eyes of man and god both, if they could perceive them, would be fixed upon him at this moment, as he stepped out of the end of the tunnel and faced the final obstacle set in his path, the final challenge to overcome.

  This was the time. This was the place. There was no more need for planning or travelling, searching or solving puzzles. All that was said and done. Now it came down to one confrontation, and the result of it would probably alter the course of the future of the entire world.

  The light at the end of the tunnel grew brighter and brighter. It looked like firelight, and the heat was becoming stronger and stronger. It was already hot enough to boil water in the tunnel, and the heat was getting greater as he reasoned that he was getting closer to the source of the heat. There was no wind in the tunnel, as it was blocked by the barrier at the top, making it stale and thick with the smell of brimstone, sulfur, and smoke. That defeated his sense of smell, and it also burned at his eyes a little, forcing him to stop from time to time and wipe his eyes with the fur on the back of his paw. His eyes did slowly become accustomed to the acrid air, and as the opening of the tunnel loomed larger and larger before him, he found he could focus on it.

  He could hear sounds now. A bubbling sound, and a whooshing sound, and a hissing sound, like water on fire. He was about fifty spans from the end of the tunnel, and he could see that it opened onto a level area that blocked him from seeing anything of the chamber into which it opened. Tarrin dropped down to all fours and crept down the angled passageway with agonizing slowness, moving a single limb at a time, curiosity starting to seep into the relentless anxiety and fear that he'd been feeling as he walked down the tunnel. Going down headfirst let him see more and more of the landing as he got closer and closer. Twenty spans. Fifteen spans. He could see a landing of rock now, and more light. Ten spans. It was a wide landing, the rock irregular at the mouth of the tunnel. Five spans. The landing seemed to drop off, and he could make out red-illuminated rock behind it. He slowly crept down to where he could see out level, and he had to gape in amazement.

  The tunnel opened into a vast chamber in the heart of the volcano, nearly a longspan wide. The roof of the massive chamber was a dome of volcanic rock, the roof of which probably formed the cauldera at the top of the volcano on the outside. The light was from lava, and the landing to which the tunnel opened was nothing but a wide ledge on the edge of that lava lake, lava that had gouts of gas and flame erupt from it from time to time. There were glowing boulders of rock dispersed through the lava, the solid rock smoking and hissing as the heat of the lava sought to melt it. The lava formed a moat of sorts around an island in the center, roughly circular with irregular edges. The island's middle was gone, melted by lava from underneath, forming a ring of lava around a ring of island which enclosed a pool of lava, which had a single spire of rock jutting up from the middle of it, a hundred spans high.

  And there, at the top of tha
t spire of rock, protected by deadly lava, was the Firestaff.

  It looked to be hovering in midair just a span over the tip of the spire, and Tarrin was a little surprised. He had never really tried to imagine what it would look like, and if he had, he would have been disappointed. It was a piece of reddish wood, or at least something that looked like wood, like cedar or cherry or firesap. It looked remarkably nondescript. But at closer inspection, as he wiped his eyes again to clear the tears from them and peered at it, he saw a wispy tongue of flame licking at the top of the staff, dancing over the surface without seeming to consume the wood. If that was what it was. He also realized that it was emitting a soft white radiance about it, drawing his eye, which hadn't been apparent before with all the light cast by the glowing lava. Tarrin realized that the Firestaff was sitting directly in a very large Conduit, probably the main Conduit that fed this enclosed area of the Weave. The Conduit rose right out of the volcano, through the Firestaff, and then terminated into an explosion of strands just before it reached the roof of the chamber. Tarrin had never seen the end of a Conduit before. It was like a tree trunk that yielded itself to the many branches beyond it.

  Tarrin froze and looked around. He saw nothing that could be classified as a living thing in the chamber. No Giants, no Catoblepas, no Salamanders or Fire Elementals. No lava slugs--if they really existed, Tarrin felt that maybe Phandebrass was pulling his leg about that one--no nothing at all. Granted, it was a big chamber, but he could see almost all of it. And there was nothing there.