Into the Labyrinth

23

“Marit! Wife! Hear me! Answer me!” Xar sent out his command in silence and it returned to him in silence.

No response.

Frustrated, he repeated her name several times, then ceased. She must be unconscious... or dead—the only two circumstances in which a Patryn would refuse to answer such a summons.

Xar pondered what to do. His ship was already in Pryan; he’d been attempting to guide Marit to the landing site when she had vanished. He considered changing course—Marit’s last frantic message to him had been from Chelestra. But at length he decided to continue to the citadel. Chelestra was a world made up of magic-nullifying water, water that would weaken his power. It was not a world Xar had much interest in visiting. He would go to Chelestra after he had discovered the Seventh Gate.

The Seventh Gate.

It had become an obsession with Xar. From the Seventh Gate, the Sartan had cast the Patryns into prison. From the Seventh Gate—Xar determined—he would free them.

In the Seventh Gate, Samah had sundered the world, created new worlds out of the old. In the Seventh Gate, Xar would forge his own new world—and it would be all his.

This was the true reason for his journey to Pryan.

The ostensible reason—the reason he gave his people (and Sang-drax)—was to gain ascendancy over the tytans and incorporate them into his army. The real goal was to discover the location of the Seventh Gate.

Xar was certain it must be in the citadel. He made the deduction based on two facts: (one) Haplo had been to the citadel on Pryan and, according to both Kleitus and Samah, Haplo knew the location of the Seventh Gate; (two) as Sang-drax had said, if the Sartan had something they wanted to protect, what better guards than the tytans?

Following Haplo’s coordinates, which would lead to the citadel, the Lord of the Nexus, accompanied by Sang-drax and a small force of about twenty Patryns, eventually reached Pryan. The citadel itself was easy to find. An intensely bright light, made up of bands of brilliant color, beamed from it, acting as a guiding beacon.

Privately Xar was astonished at the massive size of Pryan. Nothing Haplo had written had prepared his lord for what he found. Xar was forced to revise his plans, forced to think that maybe conquering this enormous world with its four ever-shining suns was going to be impossible—even with the help of the tytans. But not impossible if he were master of the Seventh Gate.

“The citadel, My Lord,” announced one of his people.

“Bring the ship down inside the walls,” Xar commanded. He could see a perfect landing site—a large, open area just inside the walls, probably a marketplace. He waited impatiently for the ship to set down. But the ship couldn’t land. It couldn’t even get close to the site. When it came level with the walls of the citadel, the ship seemed to hit an invisible barrier, bumping into it gently, not damaged, but unable to fly through. The Patryns tried again and again, to no avail.

“It must be Sartan magic, Lord,” said Sang-drax.

“Of course it’s Sartan magic!” Xar repeated, irritated. “What did you expect to be guarding a Sartan city?”

He hadn’t expected it, though, and that was what made him angry. Haplo had entered the citadel. How? The Sartan magic was strong. Xar couldn’t unravel it; he couldn’t find the beginning of the rune-structure. Such a feat was possible, but it might take him years.

Xar reread Haplo’s report, hoping for a clue.

The city is built up off the jungle floor, rising from behind an enormous wall, rising taller than the tallest trees. A towering, pillared crystal spire balances on a dome formed of marble arches that stand in the city’s center. The top of the spire must be one of the highest points in this world. It is from this center spire that the light beams most brightly.

But in Haplo’s case, the light had been white—or so Xar recalled. Not this dazzling array of colors. What had caused the light to alter its aspect? And most important, how was he going to get inside to find out? Xar read on. The center spire is framed by four other spires, duplicates of the first; they stand on the platform holding the dome. On a level beneath that stand eight more identical spires. Gigantic marble steppes rise from behind these spires. And finally, at each end of the guard walls stands another pillar. There are four such pillars, placed at the cardinal direction points. A path leads up the mountain straight to a large metal door formed in a hexagon and inscribed with Sartan runes—the city’s gate. The gate is sealed shut.

Sartan rune-magic would open the gate, but I refused to use the magic of our enemies. I entered by going through the marble wall, using an ordinary solvent rune-structure.

That is the difference, then, Xar reasoned. Haplo had entered by going through the walls. The Sartan magic must extend above the walls, like an invisible dome, to keep out flying enemies such as dragons. The magic of the wall itself was either weaker to begin with or had been weakened over time.

“Land the ship in the jungle,” Xar ordered. “As near the citadel as possible.” His crew brought the ship down in a clearing they found some distance outside the walls of the citadel. The huge warship was one of the steam-powered dragon ships used by the Sartan on Abarrach to sail the molten seas. It was completely refitted to suit the Patryns, and it drifted down easily among the treetops, sank into a vast bed of moss.

Shafts of the striated, multicolored light filtered through the thick foliage that surrounded them, slid over the ship, shifting around it in an ever changing pattern.

“My Lord!” One of the Patryns pointed out the porthole. A gigantic being stood near the ship, so near that had they been standing on the prow, they could have reached put and touched it. The being was shaped like a man, but its skin was the color and the texture of the jungle, so that it blended perfectly with the trees—one reason they had nearly landed on top of it and had not seen it until now. Its huge head had no eyes, but it appeared to be staring fixedly at something. It stood motionless, almost as if it were in a trance.

“A tytan!” Xar was vastly interested. He could see more of them, now that he looked for them. Six or so were around his ship.

He recalled Haplo’s report:

Creatures thirty feet tall. Skin that blends in with its background, making them difficult to see. No eyes; they’re blind, but they have other senses that more than make up for their lack of sight. They are obsessed with one thing: the citadels. They ask questions about the citadels of everyone they meet, and when these questions aren’t answered satisfactorily (and no one has yet discovered what a satisfactory answer is) the creatures fly into a murderous rage, killing any living being near them. Created by the Sartan to oversee the mensch (and possibly for some other purpose having to do with the light) they use a crude form of Sartan magic....

These creatures very nearly destroyed me. They came close to destroying my ship. They are powerful, and I see no way of controlling them.

“You saw no way of controlling them,” Xar remarked. “But then, Haplo, my son, you are not me.

“Nothing could withstand a fighting force of these creatures!” he added with satisfaction to Sang-drax. “They don’t look all that dangerous. They’re certainly not bothering us.”

The dragon-snake appeared nervous, however. “True, Lord Xar. I think it likely that they are under some type of spell. If you are going to the citadel, you should go now. Before whatever spell they are under wears off.”

“Nonsense, I can deal with them,” Xar replied with scorn. “What is the matter with you?”

“I sense a presence of great evil,” Sang-drax said in a low voice. “A malevolent force—”

“Not these mindless entities, surely,” Xar interrupted with a glance at the tytans.

“No. It is intelligent, cunning.” Sang-drax was silent a moment, then said softly, “I think we may have fallen into a trap, Lord of the Nexus.”

“You were the one who advised me to come,” Xar reminded the dragon-snake.

“But it was not I who put the idea into your head, Lord,” Sang-drax returned, his single red eye hooded.

Xar was displeased. “First you badger me to come here, now you’re warning me to leave. If you continue talking out of both sides of your mouth, my friend, you’ll choke!”

“I am only concerned about my lord’s safety—”

“And not your own precious skin, eh? Well, come on, if you’re going with me. Or will you stay here, hiding from the ‘evil’ force?”

Sang-drax made no response, but he also made no move to leave the ship. Xar opened the hatch, descended the ship’s gangplank to the floor of the jungle. He cast a swift glance around, eyed the tytans warily. The monsters paid him no attention. He might have been a bug at their feet. Their heads were turned in the direction of the citadel. The rainbow light bathed the creatures in radiance.

And it was then he heard the humming sound. “Who is making that irritating noise?” the lord demanded.

He motioned to a Patryn who stood on the ship’s upper deck, ready to run and do whatever his lord might require of him. “Find out where that strange humming sound is coming from and put a stop to it.”

The Patryn left swiftly. “My Lord,” he reported on his return, “everyone in the ship can hear it, but no one has any idea what is causing it. The sound does not appear to be coming from the ship itself. If you notice, Lord, it seems to be louder out here than inside.”

True, Xar admitted. The sound was louder out here. He cocked his head. It appeared to be coming from the direction of the citadel.

“There are words in that sound,” said Xar, listening intently.

“It’s as if it were speaking to someone, Lord,” the Patryn offered.

“Speaking!” Xar repeated to himself. “Yes, but what is it saying? And to whom?”

He listened closely and carefully; he could distinguish alterations of pitch and tone that might indicate words being formed. He could almost make out what they were, but never quite. And that, he concluded, was what was so irritating about the sound. All the more reason, then, to reach the citadel. He stepped onto the moss, started walking in the direction of the citadel. He was not worried about finding a clear path. His magic would cut a swath through the thickest tangle of undergrowth. He kept his eyes on the tytans, however, moving cautiously, prepared to defend himself.

The tytans paid no attention to him. Their sightless heads faced in one direction—the citadel.

Xar had ventured only a short distance away from his ship when Sang-drax suddenly appeared at his side.

“If the citadel is now working, it could mean that Sartan are inside, operating it,” Sang-drax warned.

“Haplo reported the citadel uninhabited—”

“Haplo is a traitor and liar!” the dragon-snake hissed. Xar saw no reason to respond to that. Keeping his attention fixed on the tytans, he ventured farther and farther away from his ship. None of the monsters appeared to take the slightest interest in him.

“More likely, the light has something to do with the starting up of the Kicksey-winsey,” Xar returned coldly.

“Or both,” Sang-drax rejoined. “Or worse,” he added beneath his breath. Xar flicked him a glance. “Then I will find out. Thank you for your concern. You may now return to the ship.”

“I have decided to go with you, Lord.”

“Indeed? And what of this ‘evil force’ that so terrified you before?”

“I wasn’t terrified,” Sang-drax replied sullenly. “I respect it, as you would be wise to do, Lord of the Nexus, for it is your enemy as much as mine. I have been asked to investigate it.”

“By whom? I did not give any such command.”

“My brethren, Lord. If that meets with your approval?” Xar detected a note of sarcasm in the snaky voice, disliked the implication.

“There is no greater enemy than the Sartan, no more powerful force than theirs—and ours—in the universe. You will do well to remember that. You and your brethren.”

“Yes, Lord,” Sang-drax said humbly enough, apparently chastened. “I meant no insult. I have found out that the Kicksey-winsey has been started on Arianus. My brethren have asked me to see if there might be some connection.” Xar didn’t see how there could be—or why there should be. He gave the matter no more thought, left the clearing, and entered the jungle. His magic caused the tree branches to lift to allow him passage. The tangled vines slithered apart to give him clearance. He looked back at his people, lined up on the deck, ready to come to his defense if necessary. He indicated with a wave of his hand that he was going on. They were to remain with the ship, guard it, keep it safe.

Xar rounded the bole of a tree and suddenly came face to shinbone with one of the tytans. The creature gave a grunt, began to move. The Lord of the Nexus instantly prepared to defend himself. But the tytan had not sensed him, apparently. It was taking a slow and halting step forward.

Xar, staring up at the creature, saw on its sightless face an expression of happiness.

And then he could distinguish the words of the humming.

Return... return to...

And just when he thought he was going to be able to sort out the rest, the humming stopped. The rainbow light went out. And although Pryan’s four suns continued to shine in the sky, the jungle seemed vastly darker by contrast. The tytan shifted its head. The eyeless face turned toward Xar. The tytan no longer looked happy.