by Jak Koke
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night.
He took the last steps two and three at a jump, running past the curtained verandah and into the temple. He made his way to the left wall, scanning the engravings of the brotherhood’s history, searching for the story of Jibn’s Horror and Garen’s sacrifice — the liferock’s memory of the last performance of the Ritual of Protection.
The engravings converged where Jibn’s life thread combined with Garen’s and Tylon Giv’s and all the others of the brotherhood who had returned to the liferock for the Long Dreaming. Garen and Tylon were the Elders then. The world was a verdant, beautiful place brimming with health and life.
The Horrors were just starting to arrive, to scavenge and destroy with abandon.
Gvint ran his fingers along the fine etchings, preparing to merge into the memory. The stone surface was smooth here, worn down by the many brothers who had relived these events. His breathing slowed as he calmed himself and began the merge. His fingers melted slowly into the wall. Although he had experienced this memory many times and he had imagined himself dancing the ritual as Garen and Tylon had danced it, he wanted to relive it once more. He needed to make sure that no mistakes were made. They would only have one chance to try the ritual.
He hoped it would be enough.
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Thirty-Four
The lifeless body of Reid Quo lay on the floor of the cave. Pabl knelt beside it, wiping the water from his eyes. It was time to prepare a sling to carry the body.
Reid’s spirit had fled, and it would find its way back to the liferock, but his body was Pabl’s burden. It would have to be carried back to Tepuis Garen and placed on the Deathstone to rejoin the rock. Pabl accepted this task with determination even though it would lengthen his journey home; he would expect no less from any of his brothers.
Celagri stepped forward. “Pabl, can we get out of this creepy place soon? It gives me chills.”
“Yes, of course. Right after I make a sling for Reid’s body.”
“You’re actually going to carry him all the way back to Tepuis Garen?”
“Rejoining the liferock after death is a sacred rite among my people,” Pabl said.
Celagri sighed. “Of course it is, I should have known.”
“I gave him my promise, and I intend to keep it.” Pabl looked over at Jan, then back at Celagri. “We will leave as soon as I’ve finished.”
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“Today I hope,” Celagri said.
“Yes,” Pabl said. “It should only take me a few hours. I will carry Reid’s body, and you two will have to split the contents of my backpack between you.”
Jan groaned.
“For once I agree with the dwarf,” Celagri said.
Jan helped Pabl fashion a carrier of sorts for Reid’s body.
They planned to use parts of the pallet and pieces of the curtains, crudely sewing it together with bits of hemp that Jan carried with him to patch his robes. Pabl doubted that it would be strong enough to last the entire trip, but it didn’t have to. When they reached the plains, they would search for the Dinganni or a merchant caravan where Pabl could trade some gems for a wagon.
As Pabl cut the black curtains into wide strips, fragments of Reid’s memory came into his head. Jumbled images and disjointed scenes flashed around him.
Pabl blinked, his awareness snapping back into the cave.
Red glow from the Scarlet Sea lighting the dark rock around him. What, by Mynbruje, is happening?
He smelled burning gargoyle flesh and the cool elemental breeze which flowed over Sangolin’s core. Then he flashed into the body of a young Reid Quo, wearing the ceremonial robes of Tepuis Garen, standing amid a huge crowd of obsidimen.
They had come from across Barsaive to form a Gathering. It was the unification of five, maybe six brotherhoods on the eve of the Scourge. It was a sublime event, Reid’s most successful.
Pabl blinked again, pressing his eyelids closed. He staggered.
Jan handed him a length of hemp. “Pabl, are you okay?”
“I am experiencing Reid’s memories,” he said. “Maybe its a result of merging with him.”
In the Gathering, Reid and the others Dreamed of a universe without evil, conceived of a resistance to these coming This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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Horrors and of the rewarding work afterwards to reestablish nature. The memories flashed at random, overtaking Pabl’s mind as they came faster and faster, accelerating to a blur.
The army of dwarfs interrupted their Gathering, the Horrors attacked and Vecrix sealed them inside, creating the kernel of what would become Sangolin. Over the years, the decades, the centuries, Reid felt his mind diffuse into their combined being. And the others invaded him, slowly and inexorably, until he had no concept of an existence separate from Sangolin.
Pabl experienced Reid’s endless days wandering through hot mist, enthralled by the ever-calling Sangolin. He watched, through the haze of distance and detachment, events prior to Sangolin’s creation. He flirted with the discipline of troubadour, taught in Parlainth by Hagnit Ye. He smelled the stagnation of Othellium, the once magnificent quartz temple over-grown with jungle, threatened by the roots of thick vines. He saw the extreme sadness in Ohin Yeenar’s expression as his brotherhood marched away from him. All these events came rapid-fire from the recesses of Pabl’s mind, flashing into his consciousness.
Then he felt the mergings with Sangolin. A thousand mergings pulsed through him, compressed into one. His heart pumped faster each time as he approached the mottled rock.
His skin burned with expectation as he plunged his hands into the forgiving flesh of Sangolin. Pleasure, pure and exquisite. Perfect ecstasy taking over his mind, his soul, in a flash.
I must have it, Pabl thought.
“Pabl, are you okay?”
I know now why he couldn’t leave this place.
Then came the memories of emergence . . . the hollowed-out feeling, empty and alone as Sangolin spat up his flesh and rejected his pleas for merging again. Wandering back to his cave with the longing — the ever-present longing — digging a This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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hole in his gut. He ate meat, the sickly sweet taste nearly gag-ging him at first. But he was desperate to fill the hole inside him, even though the food did nothing to help. Then finally, when the longing had almost gone, Sangolin called for him again.
And again, until the cycles blended into the weeks, into months. Years and decades. He had no concept of the passage of time.
“Pabl, come on, I’m doing all the work here. Pabl?”
The final weeks of Reid’s life held a semblance of chrono-logical sequence. The pain from Ganwetrammus and his call to join and become Elder had awakened something in him.
The slow realization that something was wrong with his existence, the memories coming in jumbles, the escape attempts, remembering Vecrix’s plan to make Sangolin into a liferock, Chaiel’s arrival, and Pabl’s explanation about the emergency with Ganwetrammus.
Reid’s refusal to return to his liferock had been extremely painful for him. But he couldn’t leave his Sangolin, his life would mean nothing without his sweet Sangolin. When he had tried to escape with Pabl the one last time, he had expected Sangolin to call. And he knew that if that happened, Pabl would have to kill him to save Ganwetrammus. He had accepted it because there was no alternative; he did not want to participate in the destruction of another liferock, his liferock.
Pabl blinked hard once more, and looked up into Jan’s rugged face. His friend was on guard now.
The dwarf smiled behind
his red beard, shaggy from long travel. “You okay?”
“How long have I been . . .?” Pabl asked.
“Not long, my friend. Shall we finish this?” He held the sling up to show Pabl.
“In a minute,” Pabl said. “I’m hungry. Is there anything to This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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eat?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have much left,” Jan said. “Except ork-made horse jerky and hard dry biscuits.”
“You must be joking.”
“Actually, yes.” Jan smiled. “Here.” The dwarf handed Pabl a chunk of goat cheese and loaf of bread. “This is all that’s left of what the Dinganni gave us.”
Pabl ate ravenously, trying to push all thoughts of Reid’s fragmented life out of his mind. But one thing kept returning to the forefront — Sangolin. When we merged, Pabl thought, his addiction could have been passed to me along with his memories.
It was late night before the sling was sturdy enough to hold Reid’s bulk. Celagri returned from where she had hidden among the flickering shadows, watching the other obsidimen in the hollow. The deep echoes of the drums had long since died away, and only the faint hissing crackle of the Scarlet Sea could be heard.
“Their revelry’s over.” Celagri said. “Everyone is sleeping.
We can leave when you’re ready.”
Pabl nodded, then hoisted Reid’s body onto his back. The rough cloth scratched against his bare back, cutting into his shoulders as he lifted. He put his hands under Reid’s legs to help support the bulk, but even so, the fabric groaned under the dead brother’s weight.
“Ready,” Jan said, lifting his gear over his shoulder.
They walked in silence, following Celagri’s lead, making their way along the cliff, then back into the hollow. The fire had died to embers, and sated obsidimen lay sleeping, scattered like discarded puppets.
Pabl, Jan and Celagri moved as quietly as they could across the clearing toward the trail that led up the mountainside and out. Pabl watched the trail get closer and closer with each step, and he listened for telltale sounds which betrayed This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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movement of any of the obsidimen.
They passed in front of the opening into the rockfall which led to Sangolin. Pabl felt a twinge of regret as they passed. I will never know what it is like to merge with Sangolin.
“Leaving us so soon?” A familiar voice came from a shadow inside the tunnel: Chaiel Ro.
Pabl was glad to hear it. They had been caught. Now he might get to merge with Sangolin after all. Focus! Pabl forced that thought from his mind.
Chaiel stepped out of the shadow of the tunnel and into the red glow. His body painting had changed; gone were his swirls of purple and orange, replaced by haphazard stripes of deep red.
“Chaiel,” Pabl said. “Come with us. Come back to your true liferock.”
“It’s too late for all of that,” Chaiel said. “I am here now. I am here.” Apparently, no more explanation was necessary.
“I will come back for you,” Pabl said.
“We can’t let you leave,” said another voice from farther down the tunnel. It was a voice like churning gravel. “The energy-wasters are free to go, but you must stay.”
The obsidiman stepped past Chaiel into the dim red light of the night, “It was pointless to have killed our lovely Reid.
Still, no matter; you will take his place.”
Pabl retreated a step, preparing to run. He took one more step before his muscles seized up. He was frozen in place, unable to make his feet move.
Even in the half-light, the obsidiman was hideous. Bent over in an impossible hunch, his skin was the color of dirty white marble, cracked and damaged beyond repair. His left eye was missing, and in its place was an ill-formed chunk of amber, glowing palely.
Pabl strained against the spell which gripped him. But it was futile; he could move nothing.
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“Please, put down the body of our brother and come with me.”
Pabl’s arms went limp and Reid’s full weight came down on the makeshift sling, ripping it out at the seams. Reid’s body tore through the fabric and landed on the ground behind Pabl with a dead thud.
“Pabl, what are you doing?” Jan said.
Chaiel stepped up to meet Jan and Celagri, leaping over Reid’s fallen body. Pabl heard the swish of Chaiel’s huge sword as it was pulled from its sheath, but he could not turn to look.
“Stop!” came Celagri’s warning. “Let Pabl go, or I will kill you.”
For a brief instant, Pabl was free. He turned to see the elf brandishing one of her poison darts at Chaiel.
Vecrix waved his hand and the darts turned to dust. Celagri stared at her hands in disbelief as the obliterated weapons blew away in a gust of hot wind.
“Leave now,” Vecrix said, turning his hunched and deformed gaze upon Pabl.
Pabl jerked around like a marionette. His head stared forward. Pulled against his will, he walked towards the tunnel.
Part of him wanted to go. Part of him relished the possibility of merging with Sangolin. But this was nothing like the overwhelming desire of Sangolin’s sweet call. Now, all he felt was helplessness. Vecrix had taken control of his body.
He tried using magic as he jerked and lurched his way past Vecrix and into white studded darkness of Sangolin’s tunnel. His crushing will spell had no effect, his mind daggers bounced off like fists against a slab of iron, and he could not annul the magic which held him. Pabl was out of options; all his other spells required movement.
He felt his feet leave the ground as Jan’s levitate took hold, stopping Pabl’s forward motion even though his legs kept moving. As he floated helplessly in the air, two more obsidi-This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock
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men brushed past to join Chaiel and Vecrix. Then the levitate failed and Pabl hit the hard stone floor with a bone-jarring crack. He didn’t stop moving. Alone in the dark, his bones propelled him further into the cave.
“Pabl!” Jan yelled. “We won’t be able to hold them off long.”
“Get rid of those two,” Vecrix said.
Pabl heard Vecrix’s hobbling gait approach from behind.
And there was nothing he could do but watch himself move towards Sangolin. Will the merge be as sweet as Reid remembers it?
Vecrix came up next to Pabl and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, this will be painless.” He laughed, high and cackling. “After merging with Sangolin, you will never be the same again.”
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Thirty-Five
Gvint stood in the temple, his fingertips merged with the wall, the memory of the Ritual of Protection pulsing through his hands. He was Tylon Giv. He was Garen Dne, dancing the pattern of Ganwetrammus, corralling the Horror towards the Alqarat.
When the ritual was nearly complete, Garen dove into the rock while Tylon entered the temple and began the final stage, stepping concentric circles around the Alqarat.
The brotherhood had long since ceased its melodious song and moved deep inside Ganwetrammus, but Tylon heard the strong voices of his brothers in his head as he fought his exhaustion and pressed on. The tiles of the temple floor cracked open behind Tylon’s steps, a widening fissure which breathed smoke and fire.
Garen emerged from the Alqarat, aglow with seething lava as he stepped free of the rock. He stood on the cool tiles, reached into the molten tip and scooped out a double palmful of the liferock as Tylon continued the final steps of the dance, honing in on the spu
r of rock.
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from the cleansed, empowered part of the liferock’s pattern.
The Horror pressed into the only spot left for it to go, trying to fit its whole entity into the Alqarat.
Garen slathered molten rock on his chest and arms and gave Tylon a final look, the sadness in his eyes unfathomable. Then the Elder leaned over the Alqarat, pressing his lava-smeared chest onto the tip of rock. The stone hissed and sputtered as it enveloped him.
Garen accepted the Horror into his body. The thing had no choice but to possess him; it had nowhere else to go. Tylon’s dance forced it farther and farther into the Alqarat, forced its astral pattern to interlock with Garen’s. Tylon narrowed his circles until the cracks in the floor touched the center, the heat burning his heels. He finished his chant and merged through the floor of the temple just shy of the Alqarat.
Garen disengaged then, cleansing the Alqarat as he took the Horror with him. Tylon emerged slightly to see Garen staggering off, lava dripping from his body. Garen moved in jerks and starts as though he did not fully control his movements. He did not turn around; he did not look back. He simply walked through the rings of fire in the temple and outside, into the oncoming Scourge.
Tylon melted back into Ganwetrammus, retracting the Alqarat as he went. He pulled a thick sheath of lava over him, sealing himself and the brotherhood deep inside the liferock.
There they would hibernate in the Dreaming until the mana level dropped enough to force the Horrors back into the neth-erworlds.
Gvint sighed and pulled his hand from the temple wall.
Soon we will have to repeat the ritual, he thought. He brushed his hand lightly across the engravings which told of Garen Dne. We will begin the moment Jibn Sra has been inaugurated into the magics of being an Elder. I just hope Ganwetrammus has the strength to give him the powers and abilities he will This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock