This is an old, old fic that I never got around to translating, because of assorted stuff. It has all my usual problems and then some that I have grown out of over the years.
However, since recent conversations have resurrected my old interest in the Death Gate setting and what little DG fanfic exists is a) slash, b) shit or c) both, I decided to go ahead and post this.
Constructive criticism appreciated. Flames too (the winter is cold). Indifference accepted.
So without further addo:
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Chronicles of the Labyrinth I
Stone of the Covenant
Chapter 1 - Ghosts of nightmares past.
While the earth drank the blood of the slain chaodyn and some of his own, the young man used what little magic he had left to patch his wounds and those of the dog that had appeared from nowhere and saved his life. His body needed, demanded a healing trance, but he couldn't afford it. Not now. The threshold of the Last Gate stood perhaps five hundred steps away. Deliverance was at hand, flanked by the unscalable mountains that marked the outer boundaries of the Labyrinth.
Drowsy because of the loss of blood, he started walking towards the gate. Against all odds, he had earned his chance to leave the prison and even the Labyrinth respected some rules. Magic had created this hellish prison and spells granted it sentience. The magic of the Sartan, the mighty sorcerers who had shattered the ancient world to defeat the Patryn, their mortal enemies. And in their vicious self-righteousness, the destroyers of world had devised something worse than death for their humbled foes, a prison like no other that had ever existed.
Thus was born the Labyrinth. A correctional facility, the Sartan had said before leaving the Patryn to their fates. A place of harsh testing.
A slaughterhouse was more like it. A realm of madness and death that the Patryn had had to conquer inch by bloody inch, always kept teetering on the edge of disaster. But there was method to the madness, rules to the slaughter. The Labyrinth was cruel and took delight in the taking of life, but it always gave a chance. Just one, just enough to give its prisoners enough hope to keep struggling. But even that had been enough.
After a dozen generations of travel and suffering, the first of the Patryn had finally reached the Last Gate and now faced the last challenge of the Labyrinth. Most had fallen. But some like him had prevailed.
Little was known of what might await beyond. Rumour spoke of a land of safety ruled by the Powerful One, first of the Patryn who had escaped the prison and the only one who had dared to return to aid others... The man's train of thought was broken when a tree root that hadn't been there the moment before tripped him. He collapsed on his knees and found himself too weak to stand with the gate still a hundred steps away.
The dog that had advanced at his side in silence nuzzled his side and barked, as if urging him on. The man clenched his teeth and kept moving. He was still alive and even if he was too weak to walk, he could still crawl. And so he continued, driven by a single minded refusal to give up, and crossed the arch, dripping blood from his wounds and almost too weak to realize it.
Death awaited him in the other side, a tall, dark figure standing against the light that poured through the gate from the Land Beyond. Death approached and lifted the man with firm hands, ignoring the growling of the dog. Instead of cold oblivion, warmth flooded the man's body, strength returned to his limbs and clarity pierced the cloud of delirium that had fogged his mind. Instead of Death, an old Patryn held him, older than any he had ever met or even heard of.
"Be welcome, my son. I am Xar, lord of the Nexus. You have defeated it, won a great victory. This is the Land Beyond and here you shall find rest and safety," said the old man, his words laced with pride and the echoes of a power greater than any other. "Tell me, my son. What is your name?"
"I am Haplo," muttered the younger man, trying to understand the words of his elder. "Rest? Safety?"
"Yes, yes. Come, my son, and see your new home. Come with me."
With Xar's support, Haplo walked up a nearby hill and from the top he saw the Nexus. A green land of forests and meadows under a twilight sky. And in the center of it all stood something that Haplo recognized thanks to the oldest legends as a city, all graceful spires and towers made of marble and crystal. It was the first genuinely beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life and he knew that he could find peace here. For the first time in his life, he cried in joy.
"The Sartan made this land for us. Heaven after hell to soothe our fury and doom the few survivors to submissive decadence, my son," growled Xar with words full of hatred. "But I have a plan. If you obey me and never forget we shall have our revenge. The Sartan are our enemies. That is what we must never forget."
And suddenly Haplo found himself paralyzed and the land of the Nexus changed. The plants withered and died off. An army of Patryn, grim faced and heavily armed, marched through the wasteland. Hundreds, thousands, millions, all following the plans of the lord of the Nexus. All ready, all willing, all eager to transform the entire universe in a battlefield full of bleached bones and carrion eaters.
But the Patryn disappeared and blood flooded the Nexus, flowing out of the Last Gate. Only the shining city stood unchanged in the center of the horror, until a great horde formed by all the monsters of the Labyrinth destroyed its walls and turned its light into black smoke. And, as it burned, the Nexus turned into a graveyard in which the corpse of every Patryn that had ever lived were devoured by the vermin.
"You forgot," said Xar's hate-filled voice to his side. "I told you to remember, my son. But you forgot. Worse. You allied with a Sartan. You betrayed me. Betrayed us all. You let me die. You took from us the chance to rule the universe. And then you doomed us to an eternity of hell in the Labyrinth."
As he talked, Xar's body had turned into dust and his eyes had started glowing red like hellfire. A skeletal arm drew a rune and suddenly Haplo felt himself being burned to death. And even as he died, Haplo could not escape from the baleful gaze of the man who had been adoptive father, Lord and Master. As darkness claimed him, he heard the voice for the last time.
"Never forget, Haplo, that it is your fault, now and forever. Nothing you do, nothing you say shall ever change it."
And Haplo woke up, body covered in sweat and tense like a bowstring. He woke up Marit, his companion, when he stood up.
"Another nightmare? Xar again?"
Not trusting his voice, Haplo merely nodded.
"It has been four cycles now, curse it! I have told you, how our minds were connected back then. I felt how he understood it all, in the end. What you were fighting for. His mistakes. His shortcomings. He forgave you. Why can't you accept it?"
"I know it. I saw his corpse, remember? I never saw him so at peace while he lived. But the fact remains. I betrayed my Lord."
Marit frowned, unsure of what to do. They had discussed this topic on and off, ever since the nightmares started, some three cycles back. No magic healing, no traditional Patryn remedy, no Sartan medical treatment had worked. Joining the rescue parties had brought him a measure of serenity, but the guilt still haunted him no matter how much he risked to save others from the claws of the Labyrinth and bring them to the relative safety of the Nexus. Not even the sincere love he felt for their eight children, both the adopted and natural, and her was enough to exorcise the spectres that haunted him. As soon as he closed his eyes, the torture began anew.
"And I betrayed you. And he betrayed us both. We were all a little mad in those final days. But it had to be done or the serpents would have won and, in the end, things didn't go as badly as they could," she said, rising from the bed and hugging him. Softly, she whispered to his ear. "I will not let you break the first vow of our marriage. My life for your life, remember? I don't know how much time life might grant us, but however much or little it is we must use it well. Not all is pain. Not all is regret. Not all is hate. Not even in the Labyrinth. We have more than earned our slice of happiness. Come join me, husband."
And Marit took Haplo back to the bed and almost against his will, they reformed the greater circle of their dual self and in a joyous celebration of heat, lust and mutual completeness, they howled their passion to the uncaring universe. They fell asleep much later with the fading glow of their heart-runes as the only sign of the intimacy they had experienced. Haplo didn't experience any more nightmares for the rest of that night.
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"I think that the rascals are starting to believe that you don't send them over to my place so that uncle Alfred can tell them tales of Arianus," commented Alfred Montbank the next day, in manner of greeting, when they met in the park behind the couple's residence. The Sartan had his characteristic gentle smile and was feeding bread to a small flock of sparrows that had somehow come to the Nexus with the Chelestran Sartan.
"Why do you say that?"
"Charo asked me if quote you were making another baby unquote. For the record, she says that she wants another sister. Can't you teach your kids some sense of propiety?"
Haplo was a bit taken aback. Son of a couple of Patryn runners who had raised him, which was unusual even for Patryn standards, he had learned the 'facts of life' early on, but he could accept that what he had known might not be the best for his children. If nothing else, he would try to spare them the literal rod. He had learned the runes under threat of pain, because that had been necessity, but that was not the case anymore. Nevertheless, hearing a Sartan -even Alfred- criticize the way he was raising his children...
"Never mind that, you two," cut Marit. "It won't be long now. We should get going."
Both men nodded and together they went towards the center of the city. There stood a gleaming tower of silver and crystal, identical to the building that had served as Xar's palace before the serpents destroyed it, which had been rebuilt and rebaptized with the new name of Hall of the Covenant.
Chronicles of the Labyrinth: Stone of Covenant (Death Gate)
Moderator: LadyTevar
Re: Chronicles of the Labyrinth: Stone of Covenant (Death Ga
Chapter 2 - Pact under the light.
Vasu finished his speech and sat down in his high backed chair. Along with most of those in the hall, Haplo clapped. Briefly. In truth, a yawn had been struggling to escape out of his mouth for the last few minutes. The speech, for all that it had been relevant enough in content, had been monotonous at the beginning and downright tedious by the end. Vasu was a good mage, a better man and a genuinely great leader, but as the last few months had shown a good orator he was not. For all that Patryn preferred curt commands over flowery dialogue, it was odd that the people of Abri had picked one so ungifted as their headman.
Of course, the Abrians were a quaint lot, so maybe that was all there was to it.
As the clapping died down, Baltazar rose and advanced towards the front of the dais. In the last four cycles spent in the Nexus, the former necromancer hadn't lost one bit of his uncanny ability to intimidate through pure force of presence. Silence spread as his gaze swept through the crowd.
"Vasu's words have been wise and good. I shall do nothing to correct them. I will only reassert here and now the ideas that have lead us all to this moment, the proclamation of this covenant, this pact that has made two ancient enemies join their destinies until the day in which no light shall shine upon the worlds and the Endtime comes.
"What has gathered us today has been the wish (or rather the urgent need) to create a home for both Sartan and Patryn.
"There are some among us that feel neither the wish, nor the need. I will once again ask these individuals to keep a key fact in mind: we are trapped in the Labyrinth, for all time. We need each other if we are to survive this magic hell we made in our arrogance," he said looking straight at the closed ranks of a group of Chelestran Sartan arranged around Ramu, making some among them mutter angrily.
"A home, I say. We Sartan destroyed an universe to create another one more suited to our tastes, where we would be able to play the game of gods. And with THAT we only caused pain, suffering and left ourselves teetering at the edge of the abyss. You Patryns had the same kind of ambition and we took all from you. We put you in a world where our hidden anger and secret hatred resulted in suffering greater than our own.
"If there is a lesson our descendants must learn from this day is that we are no gods. We never were and we probably never will be. Yes, we have power that seem worthy of divinity. Might to destroy worlds, to create stars, to bring health or illness, to free or enslave... But not even our combined power is absolute. If it were... Well, everything would be much simpler and we would not be in our current situation. In the end, even we live in a world made for us, rather than one of our design. There are powers greater than our own. We must understand this, learn of our limits and hope that by acknowledging our limitations today, we may one day grow enough to leave them behind. Because it is quite clear by now that we aren't everything that we can become.
"A good friend, well known to many of you, has created a sentence that fits well here. In closing the gate of our prison, we have opened many windows. We claimed to be gods and only with the closure of Death's Gate has this burden been lifted from our shoulders, a burden much too heavy for the souls of false, flawed gods like we are.
"And it isn't just us that are free now. Who knows what we will find if we ever find a way to return to the Sundered Realms? Humans, dwarves, elves... they will stand or fall on their own merits, now. Who knows? Maybe if we ever meet them again, we'll find that those "lesser" beings, those mensch as we have called them for aeons, have become our peers. Perhaps something even greater, beyond our imagination and understanding. They no longer have to deal with false deities holding their hand. Their path is genuinely theirs finally. And ours is ours.
"The transformative effects of time that we sought to lock with a glorious, unchanging present are unstoppable now. Now, there will be a tomorrow. It might be better, it might be worse. But it will certainly be different and to a great extent it is up to us to decide.
"To finish, a wise man of the Ancient World, dead long before the Great Disaster, said once that it is fortunate that no one can ever cross twice the same river. We tried to freeze it with our runes, but the river has kept advancing with the slow, steady speed of a glacier. It is time to accept change and let the river resume its flow. The current will sweep us away and we don't know where the waters will take us. But if we try to remain where we are, frozen by thirty generations of hatred, the glacier will crush us and when we are gone it will thaw. It is time for change. It is the hour of lasting peace."
Considerably more enthusiastic clapping and even some ovations went with the Sartan leader as he returned to his seat, but some booing as well, from the group that Baltazar had reprimanded so bluntly. Alfred turned his face in the direction of the Chelestrans, then looked down with a sigh. A tear rolled down his cheek.
Haplo was about to say some words to try to improve his mood, when silence filled the hall. All eyes converged in the great bronze gates, which had started opening silently to let through two individuals. One was a woman dressed in black, white haired, yet young in face and figure. The other entered looking like a young human monk, but by the time it was near the dais it had taken the shape of a lady of the elven courts, richly dressed and inhumanly beautiful. There was little in common between both, except for the tangible aura of power they exuded and the glow of their eyes, golden for the woman in black and red for the shifting thing.
They were the High One, leader among the golden dragons, and the Royal One, undisputed ruler of the dragon snakes. They were the closest thing in existence to incarnations of good and evil, and each carried a polished orb the size of a human head, white marble and black crystal respectively. With the silence that their presence had caused still unbroken, they climbed the dais without hesitation. Vasu and Baltazar welcomed them with silent bows, which the High One returned. The dragon-snake merely sneered.
"We have been summoned to be witness to a pact of covenant," said the golden dragon leader.
"It is the agreed time," agreed the Royal One, before smiling a wicked grin. "First, however, we must hear the terms if the pact is to be valid."
The High One grimaced, but accepted the point with a nod and turned to address the gathered mortals.
"We come as representatives of our kinds, to witness a covenant and see ancient foes swear brotherhood. These stones we carry will soon join as one and be fused by our combined power, so that a visible symbol of this covenant will remain as long as there is life of any kind in this universe, even if both your peoples are consumed by the evil unleashed that governs this world."
"But this will be so only as long as you remain true to the pact," interrupted the Royal One with obvious delight in his voice. "Should the covenant be betrayed, the orb will crumble into dust and nothing will ever be able to repair it. Afterwards, any agreement, any alliance, any pact will fail and eventually the last of you will be able to reflect on your foolishness as he slides down my gullet."
"Abstain from childish taunts, creature. This is a sacred time."
For a moment, the Royal One regarded his counterpart with hatred and a clash appeared imminent, but the creature calmed itself down with visible effort.
"Let this foolishness begin, then."
Following a ritual that Zifnab had previously described in great detail, both released the orbs they carried at the same time. The stones floated towards each other and, upon making contact, fused into a single grey sphere that remained still in midair, halfway between the Pryan dragon and the Chelestran dragon-snake. Vasu and Baltazar approached at the same time and, according to the instructions received, touched the grey orb in opposing sides.
Grey broke, replaced by swirling lights and absolute darkness, as the magic of both leaders and it the shared history of Patryn and Sartan reacted with the power of the stone to determine under which symbol the new covenant would be born.
In the end, the orb became white.
The Royal One growled, his eyes started glowing more intensely and the shadows darkened in the entire Hall, but before anything could be done the Stone of the Covenant released one single wave of white light that broke the shadows and launched the dragon-snake leader out of the dais. The dragon woman regarded him calmly as the dragon-snake rose in a rage, apparently eager to try again.
"That was unwise. They are not yours. This is no place for you, now. Go. We will meet again in battle soon enough."
"So we will, cousin. So we will. But I will see you destroyed for this. I will see them destroyed. And I will see that stone broken."
"You would see all things destroyed, consumed by chaos. That is your nature and can do nothing to escape it. Begone from this place, you craven coward!"
And with the command of the dragon leader, there was another wave of light and the Royal One disappeared with a scream of rage.
The departure of the Royal One removed the aura of dread caused by the creature's presence and some, who had collapsed when the thing had flared its fury and power, tried to savage their dignity by rising and discretely wiping away their tears, while the High One with the help of some assistants carried Baltazar and Vasu away from the glowing orb, both visibly dazed by the experience.
Apparently untroubled by the state of the magicians, the dragon in female shape turned to address the crowd.
"It is done. Sartan and Patryn from all the worlds are from now on a single people. The gap is closed, the wound healed. Never before has there been a covenant holier than this and it is unlikely that there will ever be.
Remember this light in the dark days to come and rejoice. Let it be your beacon, your goal, a destiny that you can earn yourselves with your every action. Many among you may doubt this, but today is a day of joy and celebration, peace and love. A day for everything that makes my kind strong. Find your strength in love, rather than hatred towards your enemies and you'll overcome the Labyrinth itself."
Haplo, still somewhat out of it by the strange confrontation, found himself clapping. Shortly, the entire Hall thundered with the sound of applause, even the recalcitrant Chelestran Sartan, but the speaker demanded silence and continued talking.
"There are those who deserve this far more than I. Today is also a day for one who has long labored to unify the divided branches of his people. One who has succeeded in a hard task and earned his rest. Will you come now, friend and master?"
Sartan and Patryn turned towards the still open gates. Two more figures had appeared there and one of them, who resembled a beaten up beggar, answered with a chipper tone.
"Of course, Aunt Em. But I have to say goodbye to the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. And the Good Witch of the North, and the Winged Monkeys, and some others. Come with me, Toto!"
With a sigh born more of tradition than true exasperation, the other figure (taller, better dressed) nodded and entered the Hall. Zifnab and 'his' dragon started talking towards Alfred, Haplo and Marit.
Vasu finished his speech and sat down in his high backed chair. Along with most of those in the hall, Haplo clapped. Briefly. In truth, a yawn had been struggling to escape out of his mouth for the last few minutes. The speech, for all that it had been relevant enough in content, had been monotonous at the beginning and downright tedious by the end. Vasu was a good mage, a better man and a genuinely great leader, but as the last few months had shown a good orator he was not. For all that Patryn preferred curt commands over flowery dialogue, it was odd that the people of Abri had picked one so ungifted as their headman.
Of course, the Abrians were a quaint lot, so maybe that was all there was to it.
As the clapping died down, Baltazar rose and advanced towards the front of the dais. In the last four cycles spent in the Nexus, the former necromancer hadn't lost one bit of his uncanny ability to intimidate through pure force of presence. Silence spread as his gaze swept through the crowd.
"Vasu's words have been wise and good. I shall do nothing to correct them. I will only reassert here and now the ideas that have lead us all to this moment, the proclamation of this covenant, this pact that has made two ancient enemies join their destinies until the day in which no light shall shine upon the worlds and the Endtime comes.
"What has gathered us today has been the wish (or rather the urgent need) to create a home for both Sartan and Patryn.
"There are some among us that feel neither the wish, nor the need. I will once again ask these individuals to keep a key fact in mind: we are trapped in the Labyrinth, for all time. We need each other if we are to survive this magic hell we made in our arrogance," he said looking straight at the closed ranks of a group of Chelestran Sartan arranged around Ramu, making some among them mutter angrily.
"A home, I say. We Sartan destroyed an universe to create another one more suited to our tastes, where we would be able to play the game of gods. And with THAT we only caused pain, suffering and left ourselves teetering at the edge of the abyss. You Patryns had the same kind of ambition and we took all from you. We put you in a world where our hidden anger and secret hatred resulted in suffering greater than our own.
"If there is a lesson our descendants must learn from this day is that we are no gods. We never were and we probably never will be. Yes, we have power that seem worthy of divinity. Might to destroy worlds, to create stars, to bring health or illness, to free or enslave... But not even our combined power is absolute. If it were... Well, everything would be much simpler and we would not be in our current situation. In the end, even we live in a world made for us, rather than one of our design. There are powers greater than our own. We must understand this, learn of our limits and hope that by acknowledging our limitations today, we may one day grow enough to leave them behind. Because it is quite clear by now that we aren't everything that we can become.
"A good friend, well known to many of you, has created a sentence that fits well here. In closing the gate of our prison, we have opened many windows. We claimed to be gods and only with the closure of Death's Gate has this burden been lifted from our shoulders, a burden much too heavy for the souls of false, flawed gods like we are.
"And it isn't just us that are free now. Who knows what we will find if we ever find a way to return to the Sundered Realms? Humans, dwarves, elves... they will stand or fall on their own merits, now. Who knows? Maybe if we ever meet them again, we'll find that those "lesser" beings, those mensch as we have called them for aeons, have become our peers. Perhaps something even greater, beyond our imagination and understanding. They no longer have to deal with false deities holding their hand. Their path is genuinely theirs finally. And ours is ours.
"The transformative effects of time that we sought to lock with a glorious, unchanging present are unstoppable now. Now, there will be a tomorrow. It might be better, it might be worse. But it will certainly be different and to a great extent it is up to us to decide.
"To finish, a wise man of the Ancient World, dead long before the Great Disaster, said once that it is fortunate that no one can ever cross twice the same river. We tried to freeze it with our runes, but the river has kept advancing with the slow, steady speed of a glacier. It is time to accept change and let the river resume its flow. The current will sweep us away and we don't know where the waters will take us. But if we try to remain where we are, frozen by thirty generations of hatred, the glacier will crush us and when we are gone it will thaw. It is time for change. It is the hour of lasting peace."
Considerably more enthusiastic clapping and even some ovations went with the Sartan leader as he returned to his seat, but some booing as well, from the group that Baltazar had reprimanded so bluntly. Alfred turned his face in the direction of the Chelestrans, then looked down with a sigh. A tear rolled down his cheek.
Haplo was about to say some words to try to improve his mood, when silence filled the hall. All eyes converged in the great bronze gates, which had started opening silently to let through two individuals. One was a woman dressed in black, white haired, yet young in face and figure. The other entered looking like a young human monk, but by the time it was near the dais it had taken the shape of a lady of the elven courts, richly dressed and inhumanly beautiful. There was little in common between both, except for the tangible aura of power they exuded and the glow of their eyes, golden for the woman in black and red for the shifting thing.
They were the High One, leader among the golden dragons, and the Royal One, undisputed ruler of the dragon snakes. They were the closest thing in existence to incarnations of good and evil, and each carried a polished orb the size of a human head, white marble and black crystal respectively. With the silence that their presence had caused still unbroken, they climbed the dais without hesitation. Vasu and Baltazar welcomed them with silent bows, which the High One returned. The dragon-snake merely sneered.
"We have been summoned to be witness to a pact of covenant," said the golden dragon leader.
"It is the agreed time," agreed the Royal One, before smiling a wicked grin. "First, however, we must hear the terms if the pact is to be valid."
The High One grimaced, but accepted the point with a nod and turned to address the gathered mortals.
"We come as representatives of our kinds, to witness a covenant and see ancient foes swear brotherhood. These stones we carry will soon join as one and be fused by our combined power, so that a visible symbol of this covenant will remain as long as there is life of any kind in this universe, even if both your peoples are consumed by the evil unleashed that governs this world."
"But this will be so only as long as you remain true to the pact," interrupted the Royal One with obvious delight in his voice. "Should the covenant be betrayed, the orb will crumble into dust and nothing will ever be able to repair it. Afterwards, any agreement, any alliance, any pact will fail and eventually the last of you will be able to reflect on your foolishness as he slides down my gullet."
"Abstain from childish taunts, creature. This is a sacred time."
For a moment, the Royal One regarded his counterpart with hatred and a clash appeared imminent, but the creature calmed itself down with visible effort.
"Let this foolishness begin, then."
Following a ritual that Zifnab had previously described in great detail, both released the orbs they carried at the same time. The stones floated towards each other and, upon making contact, fused into a single grey sphere that remained still in midair, halfway between the Pryan dragon and the Chelestran dragon-snake. Vasu and Baltazar approached at the same time and, according to the instructions received, touched the grey orb in opposing sides.
Grey broke, replaced by swirling lights and absolute darkness, as the magic of both leaders and it the shared history of Patryn and Sartan reacted with the power of the stone to determine under which symbol the new covenant would be born.
In the end, the orb became white.
The Royal One growled, his eyes started glowing more intensely and the shadows darkened in the entire Hall, but before anything could be done the Stone of the Covenant released one single wave of white light that broke the shadows and launched the dragon-snake leader out of the dais. The dragon woman regarded him calmly as the dragon-snake rose in a rage, apparently eager to try again.
"That was unwise. They are not yours. This is no place for you, now. Go. We will meet again in battle soon enough."
"So we will, cousin. So we will. But I will see you destroyed for this. I will see them destroyed. And I will see that stone broken."
"You would see all things destroyed, consumed by chaos. That is your nature and can do nothing to escape it. Begone from this place, you craven coward!"
And with the command of the dragon leader, there was another wave of light and the Royal One disappeared with a scream of rage.
The departure of the Royal One removed the aura of dread caused by the creature's presence and some, who had collapsed when the thing had flared its fury and power, tried to savage their dignity by rising and discretely wiping away their tears, while the High One with the help of some assistants carried Baltazar and Vasu away from the glowing orb, both visibly dazed by the experience.
Apparently untroubled by the state of the magicians, the dragon in female shape turned to address the crowd.
"It is done. Sartan and Patryn from all the worlds are from now on a single people. The gap is closed, the wound healed. Never before has there been a covenant holier than this and it is unlikely that there will ever be.
Remember this light in the dark days to come and rejoice. Let it be your beacon, your goal, a destiny that you can earn yourselves with your every action. Many among you may doubt this, but today is a day of joy and celebration, peace and love. A day for everything that makes my kind strong. Find your strength in love, rather than hatred towards your enemies and you'll overcome the Labyrinth itself."
Haplo, still somewhat out of it by the strange confrontation, found himself clapping. Shortly, the entire Hall thundered with the sound of applause, even the recalcitrant Chelestran Sartan, but the speaker demanded silence and continued talking.
"There are those who deserve this far more than I. Today is also a day for one who has long labored to unify the divided branches of his people. One who has succeeded in a hard task and earned his rest. Will you come now, friend and master?"
Sartan and Patryn turned towards the still open gates. Two more figures had appeared there and one of them, who resembled a beaten up beggar, answered with a chipper tone.
"Of course, Aunt Em. But I have to say goodbye to the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. And the Good Witch of the North, and the Winged Monkeys, and some others. Come with me, Toto!"
With a sigh born more of tradition than true exasperation, the other figure (taller, better dressed) nodded and entered the Hall. Zifnab and 'his' dragon started talking towards Alfred, Haplo and Marit.
Re: Chronicles of the Labyrinth: Stone of Covenant (Death Ga
Chapter 3 - Farewell of the Eldest.
The extraordinarily powerful, sometimes brilliant and quite definitely stark raving mad Sartan, who sometimes proclaimed himself the ultimate power in existence and sometimes identified himself as a young mensch girl from some place in the old world called Kansas, advanced slowly, unhurried, while humming a song that felt faintly familiar to Haplo. Something from Pryan, perhaps? The slight annoyance in the dragon's human face refreshed his memory. Yes, from Pryan. An elven tavern song that Zifnab had feigned to use back in the day to control the dragon.
That had been some frankly masterful acting, particularly from the dragon who had alternated the roles of ridiculously devoted manservant and brutal, bloodthirsty predator. Zifnab must have had an easier time of it, seeing that he had only needed to portray himself as a foolish madman.
All the same, the old Sartan and his dragon friend had managed to deceive a whole lot of mensch and one Patryn who had been quite obsessed with avoiding his ancient foes at the time, only to discover that his arrival had been foretold by one of them, and a crazy one, to boot.
A crazy Sartan who had then further shown himself to suffer from a singularly driven and lucid form of madness by turning Haplo into his unwitting puppet. For all that it was not the time or the place for it, Haplo had to struggle to contain a chuckle, as the old man stopped in front of them and regarded them with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"What's up, folks?" asked the old man while looking around. "Looks like a party, but it seems you are waiting for someone. Guest of honor late? That's always annoying. So... who is it? Palpatine? Cannot be, he just left. He has a Death Star in the oven, I think. Doctor No? Didn't thik so... Oh! I KNOW! You are waiting for the Wizard of Oz!"
The Sartan started giggling, hysterically.
"They are waiting for a great and powerful wizard, sir, so I fear that I must ask you to hurry. The wizard should be arriving soon to give a speech and you must have said your goodbyes by then," interrupted the shape-shifted Pryan dragon with a clear no nonsense tone.
"All right, Toto. Don't be a spoilsport. If there is gonna be a wizard coming, we are gonna have quite enough spoilsports here. Those darn wizards. Always grumpy, always giving orders. I TOLD Saruman that all work and no play were going to drive him mad, but..."
The dragon coughed softly a couple of times and Zifnab stopped his rambling with a sigh, before looking Haplo straight in the eye.
"No laughing, Tinman. This is not funny. This is Serious Business. Toto tells me that we are making History today and that the people who live in the future might find it offensive if they discover that we laughed at important times. Which I think means that the future is going to be full of idiots, but that's not important.
"I am starting to think that you are not waiting for the Wizard of Oz. Some other wizard, perhaps? It doesn't matter. Look, you wanted to get to Emerald City to ask for a good and noble heart? No need. Turns out that you just needed a little push in the right direction. Don't torture yourself. You made mistakes early on, but in the end you did good. Don't let bad dreams haunt you, my young friend. Regret is not for heroes such as you. Don't worry about Xar, either. I am pretty sure that he understood your why in the end. If you want I can give him your regards. Should be seeing him shortly."
And a suddenly dry mouthed Haplo found himself being hugged by a madman for a long, awkward moment.
"For you, young lady, I've little to say. Help this boy. He postures a lot, but in the end he is going to need a lot of love to stop being a lone one. Find him something to keep his head and hands busy. Don't let him plan chaodyn extermination or any of that. Seriously, don't. No talking with Alfred all night about the purpose of life, either. If he tries to do that, make him clean the house with no magic. With eight kids that should keep him plenty busy. And if he still insists, don't worry. I'll send Murdock and B.A. Just one more thing, my dear. Would you mind terribly telling your children tales about Zifnab the Mad? I'd rather be something besides a footnote in some boring encyclopedia that no one will ever read."
Without a word and a hint of tears in her eyes, Marit nodded.
"As for you, my smart and clumsy Scarecrow. What can I tell you that you haven't told yourself? Gotta warn you, however, that the Cowardly Lion is going to be upset. Courage was for him, not for you. You wanted a brain, though it seems that you needed the courage more than the brain, so... Never mind. I'll talk with the lion and I'll tell him that there has been a mix up in the airport or something."
And after shaking Alfred's hand, the old man and his dragon made their way amidst deepest silence towards the dais, where the High One still stood next to the shining Covenant Stone, waiting. Their march stopped, however, when the silence of the Hall was broken by a snarled shout of "traitor" and most heads turned towards the Chelestrans and the individual standing in their center.
"But of course, Ramu!" said Zifnab, in a tired and angry voice very much at odds with the one he had used moments earlier. "Didn't you listen, boy? You speak of treason at your great peril here and, frankly, you sadden me if you cannot let go of your petty hatred even in this place. Your father understood in the end and, bad as it was, the great evils he committed were done out of something akin to altruism, even if it was warped beyond recognition. But you... you only want to lash out against those you think that have wronged you with no thought for justice, only revenge."
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare speak of my father, betrayer! You who opposed the Sundering, you who opposed the possibility of an ordered, balanced universe. You who opposed the imprisonment of our foes as fair punishment for your crimes. You who abandoned by father to die in the dungeons of Abarrach. You who lied to me and made us come here, so that we could be used as pawns in this pawn that those things you call allies fight against the snakes. You who-"
The voice of the powerful Sartan died suddenly, when Zifnab pointed a finger in his direction. Some of the other Chelestran Sartans murmured angrily, but the old madman's thunderous expression kept their protests low.
"That's quite enough, Ramu. I will not let you start a row here, and I am in no mood to deal with temper tantrums. So you can hold your peace and see one of your fondest wishes come true, or you can be expelled from this place. I would rather you pick the former, but the later is very much an option if you prefer. Either way, let these be my last words to you: I pity you. And Samah would be disappointed."
And without paying further mind to the former Sartan leader, Zifnab resumed his advance towards the dais. However, instead of climbing the steps up, he suddenly started looking to one side and then the other, alarm obvious in his face.
"I've lost it. Have to find it. Cannot do it," he mumbled before falling to knees.
"You have your hat on your head, sir. As for the red slippers, Dorothy lost them going back home from the land of Oz. But that does not matter, because you must be Zifnab now. Just once more unto the breach, old friend. Just once more and all will be over," said his dragon companion, putting a hand on the old wizard's shoulder.
Hearing the dragon, Zifnab breathed deeply and rose, but for a long moment didn't turn to face his friend. When he did, madness was gone entirely from his face and dread had replaced it. He tried to speak, but words seemed to have a hard time leaving his throat.
"I am afraid. Just like I was afraid during..."
"I know, friend. You all fear death, but you -more than anyone else- know this to be a false shadow, a baseless terror. In part thanks to you, there is something better waiting for you beyond time and space. During the Sundering you made a wish and two were granted, when I promised you that you would never be alone. If you wish, I'll go down this road with you, too."
Zifnab's face turned from a mask of sheer anguish to one of righteous indignation.
"No! That won't do at all, you stupid lizard!" roared the old man, shaking his friend at the same time. "I can take the last step on my own. I can. It just isn't easy. Anyway, enough dillydallying. Let's end this."
Then, Zifnab climbed the stairs, two at a time, and after saluting the High One with a nod turned to face the audience. When he spoke, his voice was firm, full of energy and with not the faintest sign of the weakness that seemed to have assaulted him moments earlier or the strange references that often filled his discourse.
"Greetings, my children. I am here to say you goodbye. This is my last step. My last words this side of death and for this reason I ask you to pay attention, please. Later, you may spit when you hear my names or worship my memory, I won't care either way. But in these last moments and considering all I have gone through to reach this moment, I demand a bit of respect.
"I have just remembered that I am the oldest being in existence. Oldest even than the venerated ones among us. They and their evil counterparts were first born out of the terrible, terrible mistake we call the Sundering, but I am the oldest among the surviving Sartan who lived before that. Thus, I am older in years and richer in life than any other, because where the others have survived through magic sleep, I have lived and suffered for every day of those endless centuries. Baltazar just spoke of burdens too heavy for mortals and if you think yours was bad, I can assure you that mine was worse. I hope that you will make good use of my sacrifice.
"Since there are some Patryn who don't know my whole story, just like some of the Abarrach Sartan and Chelestran young ones whose elders have kept their past from them, I will explain some of it. You know me as Zifnab, but the runic name under which I was born was that of Darlum, the Walker. I lived in the ancient world and was one of the Council of Seven. I was the only one to openly oppose Samah's scheme, while our great leader used the fear of my peers to get them to approve the Sundering of the Worlds. That day he said that we are like drops of seawater that by moving together can form tides, currents and waves. In spite of my opposition, Samah didn't dare to send me to the Labyrinth along with the Sartan he had called heretics and the defeated Patryns. The capture of the Patryn and our own purges had cost us a great deal, both in blood and magic power. The Council of Seven was afraid of the possibility of failure, even with all the magic power they had already concentrated in the Seventh Gate. I was removed from Council, but my power was great and Samah was not allowed to send me to the Labyrinth.
"I think that not even my colleagues in their hour of greatest terror would have gone ahead with their plan if they had truly known the consequences, instead of focusing on the Sundering as an abstract problem. But they could not or would not realize their mistake and went ahead with the Sundering. All the drops moved at the same time. And a tidal wave was the result.
"I had just escaped from the Sartan headquarters in the old world, an ancient city of great beauty and proud history called Rome, when the Sundering started. Alas, there was no escaping the power released through the Seventh Gate. I saw the mensch whom I had wanted to help die by the millions. The ground trembled and belched fire, the sky turned black... There are two words in ancient languages that describe what the Sundering was: Apocalypse, the end of all, and Armageddon, the last battle. As my fellows destroyed the old world, my magic protected me, to an extent. In the end, I was the last living thing upon the dying world.
"In the midst of the most absolute solitude that anyone has ever faced, I had some time to reflect upon the shared past of Sartan and Patryn. Both groups had common ancestors, even if our magic, our languages and our very appeareance had altered with the centuries. This was something of a public secret, known but not accepted. At the most, the Sartan claimed Patryn to be degenerate, inbred Sartan who had turned to evil. As destruction advanced and the death cries of millions of innocents faded into nothingness, I swore that if I escaped the hell in which Earth had been transformed, I would not rest until Patryn and Sartan became one nation once again, in order to prevent a repeat of the Sundering.
"Frankly, I thought that I swore in vain. Back then not even I believed in the possibility of powers greater than the rune magic, but I was mistaken. The very essences of Good and Evil gained the ability to materialize during the Sundering and those whom we now call Pryan dragons found me. They granted me the opportunity to make my wish come true. I was granted power, above and beyond anything ever wielded by any of our people and immortality to ensure that my task would be completed. They also granted me madness, which allowed me to survive without facing the full horror of what I witnessed during the Sundering.
"While the destruction of the old world ended and the creation of the Sundered Realms started, I was taken to the Vortex, which I soon abandoned for the Labyrinth. Thanks to my newly gained power I was able to cross it in just a few years, along with the dragon who has since been my friend and companion.
"Soon, I realized that the Labyrinth showed alarming signs of being out of control, although back then it still wasn't the kind of evil it has become over the generations. I reached the Nexus long before the other prisoners of the maze world and after a short stay during which I wrote certain books that I hoped would assuage the wrath of the Patryn, by explaining the greatness and purity of purpose of the Sartan pllan, I left this world behind. I soon realized the problem: the embodiments of Evil had followed Samah to beautiful Chelestra and the Council of Seven, after getting rid of the Seventh Gate, hadn't dared to risk them spreading to the other worlds. Although they identified the problem correctly, the treatment they proposed was a disaster. Instead of fighting the grievous failures of the Sundered Realms by pooling efforts, Samah weakened the Sartan even further by isolating them in fragmented worlds where they had to fight for their very survival, using desperate and even mad efforts, such as the development of necromancy in Abarrach and the creation of the Tytans in Pryan.
"As for the rest... that you know. Samah managed to freeze, in every sense, the snake dragons in the oceans of Chelestra, so me and my allies waited for our time in Pryan, while the condition of the Sundered Realms worsened and the Labyrinth degenerated, until Xar appeared. Death's Gate, the intended gateway between the worlds, came dangerously close to honoring its name by remaining closed for so long. Xar, by sending his agent to scout the Sundered Realms, started the chain of events that has taken us to this present and me achieving my goal. Thanks, Haplo.
"And... that was it. Hope it wasn't too bad. I probably should count myself lucky, since there aren't that many men who get to say their own panegyric. I recommend it. Gives a lot of food for thought... And I shall be leaving now. Time to give back what I was granted. So good-bye. Adiós. Sayonara."
And without any more words, Zifnab saluted the High One with a bow, shook hands with his dragon friend and waved goodbye to the gathered Sartan and Patryn, berfore touching the Covenant Stone. His whole body glowed, briefly, and the glow increased that of the stone. In that moment, he took a couple steps back.
"And so it all comes to an end and a part of me will remain with you, forever," he said with labored breathing, before smiling a wicked grin and adding. "I lo... love it when a plan... comes together."
And with these words, the old man breathed his last and collapsed, dead before his body hit the floor.
The extraordinarily powerful, sometimes brilliant and quite definitely stark raving mad Sartan, who sometimes proclaimed himself the ultimate power in existence and sometimes identified himself as a young mensch girl from some place in the old world called Kansas, advanced slowly, unhurried, while humming a song that felt faintly familiar to Haplo. Something from Pryan, perhaps? The slight annoyance in the dragon's human face refreshed his memory. Yes, from Pryan. An elven tavern song that Zifnab had feigned to use back in the day to control the dragon.
That had been some frankly masterful acting, particularly from the dragon who had alternated the roles of ridiculously devoted manservant and brutal, bloodthirsty predator. Zifnab must have had an easier time of it, seeing that he had only needed to portray himself as a foolish madman.
All the same, the old Sartan and his dragon friend had managed to deceive a whole lot of mensch and one Patryn who had been quite obsessed with avoiding his ancient foes at the time, only to discover that his arrival had been foretold by one of them, and a crazy one, to boot.
A crazy Sartan who had then further shown himself to suffer from a singularly driven and lucid form of madness by turning Haplo into his unwitting puppet. For all that it was not the time or the place for it, Haplo had to struggle to contain a chuckle, as the old man stopped in front of them and regarded them with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"What's up, folks?" asked the old man while looking around. "Looks like a party, but it seems you are waiting for someone. Guest of honor late? That's always annoying. So... who is it? Palpatine? Cannot be, he just left. He has a Death Star in the oven, I think. Doctor No? Didn't thik so... Oh! I KNOW! You are waiting for the Wizard of Oz!"
The Sartan started giggling, hysterically.
"They are waiting for a great and powerful wizard, sir, so I fear that I must ask you to hurry. The wizard should be arriving soon to give a speech and you must have said your goodbyes by then," interrupted the shape-shifted Pryan dragon with a clear no nonsense tone.
"All right, Toto. Don't be a spoilsport. If there is gonna be a wizard coming, we are gonna have quite enough spoilsports here. Those darn wizards. Always grumpy, always giving orders. I TOLD Saruman that all work and no play were going to drive him mad, but..."
The dragon coughed softly a couple of times and Zifnab stopped his rambling with a sigh, before looking Haplo straight in the eye.
"No laughing, Tinman. This is not funny. This is Serious Business. Toto tells me that we are making History today and that the people who live in the future might find it offensive if they discover that we laughed at important times. Which I think means that the future is going to be full of idiots, but that's not important.
"I am starting to think that you are not waiting for the Wizard of Oz. Some other wizard, perhaps? It doesn't matter. Look, you wanted to get to Emerald City to ask for a good and noble heart? No need. Turns out that you just needed a little push in the right direction. Don't torture yourself. You made mistakes early on, but in the end you did good. Don't let bad dreams haunt you, my young friend. Regret is not for heroes such as you. Don't worry about Xar, either. I am pretty sure that he understood your why in the end. If you want I can give him your regards. Should be seeing him shortly."
And a suddenly dry mouthed Haplo found himself being hugged by a madman for a long, awkward moment.
"For you, young lady, I've little to say. Help this boy. He postures a lot, but in the end he is going to need a lot of love to stop being a lone one. Find him something to keep his head and hands busy. Don't let him plan chaodyn extermination or any of that. Seriously, don't. No talking with Alfred all night about the purpose of life, either. If he tries to do that, make him clean the house with no magic. With eight kids that should keep him plenty busy. And if he still insists, don't worry. I'll send Murdock and B.A. Just one more thing, my dear. Would you mind terribly telling your children tales about Zifnab the Mad? I'd rather be something besides a footnote in some boring encyclopedia that no one will ever read."
Without a word and a hint of tears in her eyes, Marit nodded.
"As for you, my smart and clumsy Scarecrow. What can I tell you that you haven't told yourself? Gotta warn you, however, that the Cowardly Lion is going to be upset. Courage was for him, not for you. You wanted a brain, though it seems that you needed the courage more than the brain, so... Never mind. I'll talk with the lion and I'll tell him that there has been a mix up in the airport or something."
And after shaking Alfred's hand, the old man and his dragon made their way amidst deepest silence towards the dais, where the High One still stood next to the shining Covenant Stone, waiting. Their march stopped, however, when the silence of the Hall was broken by a snarled shout of "traitor" and most heads turned towards the Chelestrans and the individual standing in their center.
"But of course, Ramu!" said Zifnab, in a tired and angry voice very much at odds with the one he had used moments earlier. "Didn't you listen, boy? You speak of treason at your great peril here and, frankly, you sadden me if you cannot let go of your petty hatred even in this place. Your father understood in the end and, bad as it was, the great evils he committed were done out of something akin to altruism, even if it was warped beyond recognition. But you... you only want to lash out against those you think that have wronged you with no thought for justice, only revenge."
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare speak of my father, betrayer! You who opposed the Sundering, you who opposed the possibility of an ordered, balanced universe. You who opposed the imprisonment of our foes as fair punishment for your crimes. You who abandoned by father to die in the dungeons of Abarrach. You who lied to me and made us come here, so that we could be used as pawns in this pawn that those things you call allies fight against the snakes. You who-"
The voice of the powerful Sartan died suddenly, when Zifnab pointed a finger in his direction. Some of the other Chelestran Sartans murmured angrily, but the old madman's thunderous expression kept their protests low.
"That's quite enough, Ramu. I will not let you start a row here, and I am in no mood to deal with temper tantrums. So you can hold your peace and see one of your fondest wishes come true, or you can be expelled from this place. I would rather you pick the former, but the later is very much an option if you prefer. Either way, let these be my last words to you: I pity you. And Samah would be disappointed."
And without paying further mind to the former Sartan leader, Zifnab resumed his advance towards the dais. However, instead of climbing the steps up, he suddenly started looking to one side and then the other, alarm obvious in his face.
"I've lost it. Have to find it. Cannot do it," he mumbled before falling to knees.
"You have your hat on your head, sir. As for the red slippers, Dorothy lost them going back home from the land of Oz. But that does not matter, because you must be Zifnab now. Just once more unto the breach, old friend. Just once more and all will be over," said his dragon companion, putting a hand on the old wizard's shoulder.
Hearing the dragon, Zifnab breathed deeply and rose, but for a long moment didn't turn to face his friend. When he did, madness was gone entirely from his face and dread had replaced it. He tried to speak, but words seemed to have a hard time leaving his throat.
"I am afraid. Just like I was afraid during..."
"I know, friend. You all fear death, but you -more than anyone else- know this to be a false shadow, a baseless terror. In part thanks to you, there is something better waiting for you beyond time and space. During the Sundering you made a wish and two were granted, when I promised you that you would never be alone. If you wish, I'll go down this road with you, too."
Zifnab's face turned from a mask of sheer anguish to one of righteous indignation.
"No! That won't do at all, you stupid lizard!" roared the old man, shaking his friend at the same time. "I can take the last step on my own. I can. It just isn't easy. Anyway, enough dillydallying. Let's end this."
Then, Zifnab climbed the stairs, two at a time, and after saluting the High One with a nod turned to face the audience. When he spoke, his voice was firm, full of energy and with not the faintest sign of the weakness that seemed to have assaulted him moments earlier or the strange references that often filled his discourse.
"Greetings, my children. I am here to say you goodbye. This is my last step. My last words this side of death and for this reason I ask you to pay attention, please. Later, you may spit when you hear my names or worship my memory, I won't care either way. But in these last moments and considering all I have gone through to reach this moment, I demand a bit of respect.
"I have just remembered that I am the oldest being in existence. Oldest even than the venerated ones among us. They and their evil counterparts were first born out of the terrible, terrible mistake we call the Sundering, but I am the oldest among the surviving Sartan who lived before that. Thus, I am older in years and richer in life than any other, because where the others have survived through magic sleep, I have lived and suffered for every day of those endless centuries. Baltazar just spoke of burdens too heavy for mortals and if you think yours was bad, I can assure you that mine was worse. I hope that you will make good use of my sacrifice.
"Since there are some Patryn who don't know my whole story, just like some of the Abarrach Sartan and Chelestran young ones whose elders have kept their past from them, I will explain some of it. You know me as Zifnab, but the runic name under which I was born was that of Darlum, the Walker. I lived in the ancient world and was one of the Council of Seven. I was the only one to openly oppose Samah's scheme, while our great leader used the fear of my peers to get them to approve the Sundering of the Worlds. That day he said that we are like drops of seawater that by moving together can form tides, currents and waves. In spite of my opposition, Samah didn't dare to send me to the Labyrinth along with the Sartan he had called heretics and the defeated Patryns. The capture of the Patryn and our own purges had cost us a great deal, both in blood and magic power. The Council of Seven was afraid of the possibility of failure, even with all the magic power they had already concentrated in the Seventh Gate. I was removed from Council, but my power was great and Samah was not allowed to send me to the Labyrinth.
"I think that not even my colleagues in their hour of greatest terror would have gone ahead with their plan if they had truly known the consequences, instead of focusing on the Sundering as an abstract problem. But they could not or would not realize their mistake and went ahead with the Sundering. All the drops moved at the same time. And a tidal wave was the result.
"I had just escaped from the Sartan headquarters in the old world, an ancient city of great beauty and proud history called Rome, when the Sundering started. Alas, there was no escaping the power released through the Seventh Gate. I saw the mensch whom I had wanted to help die by the millions. The ground trembled and belched fire, the sky turned black... There are two words in ancient languages that describe what the Sundering was: Apocalypse, the end of all, and Armageddon, the last battle. As my fellows destroyed the old world, my magic protected me, to an extent. In the end, I was the last living thing upon the dying world.
"In the midst of the most absolute solitude that anyone has ever faced, I had some time to reflect upon the shared past of Sartan and Patryn. Both groups had common ancestors, even if our magic, our languages and our very appeareance had altered with the centuries. This was something of a public secret, known but not accepted. At the most, the Sartan claimed Patryn to be degenerate, inbred Sartan who had turned to evil. As destruction advanced and the death cries of millions of innocents faded into nothingness, I swore that if I escaped the hell in which Earth had been transformed, I would not rest until Patryn and Sartan became one nation once again, in order to prevent a repeat of the Sundering.
"Frankly, I thought that I swore in vain. Back then not even I believed in the possibility of powers greater than the rune magic, but I was mistaken. The very essences of Good and Evil gained the ability to materialize during the Sundering and those whom we now call Pryan dragons found me. They granted me the opportunity to make my wish come true. I was granted power, above and beyond anything ever wielded by any of our people and immortality to ensure that my task would be completed. They also granted me madness, which allowed me to survive without facing the full horror of what I witnessed during the Sundering.
"While the destruction of the old world ended and the creation of the Sundered Realms started, I was taken to the Vortex, which I soon abandoned for the Labyrinth. Thanks to my newly gained power I was able to cross it in just a few years, along with the dragon who has since been my friend and companion.
"Soon, I realized that the Labyrinth showed alarming signs of being out of control, although back then it still wasn't the kind of evil it has become over the generations. I reached the Nexus long before the other prisoners of the maze world and after a short stay during which I wrote certain books that I hoped would assuage the wrath of the Patryn, by explaining the greatness and purity of purpose of the Sartan pllan, I left this world behind. I soon realized the problem: the embodiments of Evil had followed Samah to beautiful Chelestra and the Council of Seven, after getting rid of the Seventh Gate, hadn't dared to risk them spreading to the other worlds. Although they identified the problem correctly, the treatment they proposed was a disaster. Instead of fighting the grievous failures of the Sundered Realms by pooling efforts, Samah weakened the Sartan even further by isolating them in fragmented worlds where they had to fight for their very survival, using desperate and even mad efforts, such as the development of necromancy in Abarrach and the creation of the Tytans in Pryan.
"As for the rest... that you know. Samah managed to freeze, in every sense, the snake dragons in the oceans of Chelestra, so me and my allies waited for our time in Pryan, while the condition of the Sundered Realms worsened and the Labyrinth degenerated, until Xar appeared. Death's Gate, the intended gateway between the worlds, came dangerously close to honoring its name by remaining closed for so long. Xar, by sending his agent to scout the Sundered Realms, started the chain of events that has taken us to this present and me achieving my goal. Thanks, Haplo.
"And... that was it. Hope it wasn't too bad. I probably should count myself lucky, since there aren't that many men who get to say their own panegyric. I recommend it. Gives a lot of food for thought... And I shall be leaving now. Time to give back what I was granted. So good-bye. Adiós. Sayonara."
And without any more words, Zifnab saluted the High One with a bow, shook hands with his dragon friend and waved goodbye to the gathered Sartan and Patryn, berfore touching the Covenant Stone. His whole body glowed, briefly, and the glow increased that of the stone. In that moment, he took a couple steps back.
"And so it all comes to an end and a part of me will remain with you, forever," he said with labored breathing, before smiling a wicked grin and adding. "I lo... love it when a plan... comes together."
And with these words, the old man breathed his last and collapsed, dead before his body hit the floor.