“Now you are beginning to understand. The harder you struggle, the stronger we grow.”
What about Xar? Haplo wondered. You pledged to serve him. Is that, too, a trick... ?
“We will serve your lord.” The serpent king was sincere, earnest. Haplo scowled. He had forgotten they could read his thoughts.
“We serve Xar with enthusiasm,” the serpent king continued. “We are with him on Abarrach, in the guise of Patryns, of course. We are assisting him to learn the secret of necromancy. We will join his army when he launches his attack, aid him in his war, fight his battles, do willingly whatever he asks of us. And after that...”
“You’ll destroy him.”
“We will be forced to, I’m afraid. Xar wants unity, peace. Achieved through tyranny and fear, of course. We’d gain some sustenance from that but, all in all, a starvation diet”
“And the Sartan?”
“Oh, we don’t play favorites. We’re working with them, as well. Samah was inordinately pleased with himself when several ‘Sartan’ answered his call, came to ‘their dear brothers’ from out of Death’s Gate. He has gone to Abarrach, but, in his absence, the newby arrived ‘Sartan’ are urging their fellow Sartan to declare war upon the mensch.
“And, soon, even the peaceful mensch of Chelestra will fall to quarreling among themselves. Or should I say... ourselves.”
Haplo’s head sagged, heavy as rock. His arms were stones, his feet boulders. He found himself lying on the table.
Sang-drax grabbed Haplo by the hair, jerked his head up, forced him to look at the serpent, whose form now became hideous. The creature loomed large, its body swelling and expanding. And then the body started to break apart. Arms, legs, hands detached themselves from the torso, floated away. The head dwindled in size until all Haplo could see were two slit, red eyes.
“You will sleep,” said a voice in Haplo’s mind. “And when you wake, wake to health, fully restored. And you will remember. Remember clearly all I have said, all I have yet to say. We find ourselves in danger, here, on Arianus. There exists an unfortunate trend toward peace. The Tribus empire, weak and corrupt within, is fighting a two-front war, one which we do not think they can win. If Tribus is overthrown, the elves and their human allies will negotiate a treaty with the dwarves. This cannot be allowed.
“Nor would your lord want this to happen, Haplo.” The red eyes flamed with laughter. “That will be your dilemma. An agonizing one. Help these mensch and you thwart the will of your lord. Help your lord and you help us. Help us and you destroy your lord. Destroy your lord and you destroy your people.” Darkness, soothing and welcome, blotted out the sight of the red eyes. But he still heard the laughing voice.
“Think about it, Patryn. Meanwhile, we’ll grow fat on your fear.” Peering inside the room full of mensch, Limbeck could see Haplo clearly—they’d dropped him on the floor, just inside the door. The Patryn, looking around, appeared to be as astounded as the dwarf, to see this unique gathering. Haplo didn’t seem to be at all pleased, however. In fact, as near as Limbeck could tell, Haplo looked as terrified as Limbeck felt.
A human, dressed as a common laborer, came forward. He and Haplo began to converse in a language that Limbeck didn’t understand, but which sounded harsh and angry and chilled him with dark and frightening sensations. At one point, however, everyone in the room laughed and commented and seemed extremely happy, agreeing to something that had been said.
At that point. Limbeck understood some of the conversation, for the dwarves spoke in dwarven and the elves in elven and the humans, presumably, since Limbeck didn’t speak their language, spoke human. None of this cheered Haplo, however, who appeared more tense and desperate than before, if that were possible. He looked, to Limbeck, like a man about to meet a terrible end. An elf took hold of Haplo by the hair, jerked the Patryn’s head up, forcing him to look at the human. Limbeck watched wide-eyed, having no idea what was going on, but certain—somehow—that Haplo was going to die.
The Patryn’s eyes fluttered, closed. His head sagged, he sank back into the arms of the elf. Limbeck’s heart, which had struggled up from his feet, now lodged firmly in his throat. He was certain that Haplo was dead. The elf stretched the Patryn out on the floor. The human looked down at him, shook his head, and laughed. Haplo’s head turned, he sighed. He was, Limbeck saw, asleep.
Limbeck was so relieved that his spectacles steamed up. He took them off and wiped them with a shaking hand.
“Some of you Tribus elves, help me carry him,” ordered the elf who had brought Haplo down here. Once again, he was speaking the elven language, not the strange language that Limbeck couldn’t understand. “I’ve got to get him back up to that Factree place, before the others grow suspicious.” Several elves—at least Limbeck supposed they were elves; it was difficult to tell, because they were wearing some type of clothing that made them look more like the walls of the tunnels than elves—gathered around the slumbering Haplo. They lifted him by his legs and shoulders, carried him easily, as though he weighed no more than a child, and started for the door.
Limbeck ducked hastily back down the tunnel, watched as the elves bore Haplo off in the opposite direction.
It occurred to Limbeck that, once again, he was going to be left alone down here, with no idea how to get out. He must either follow them or...
“Perhaps I could ask one of the dwarves.”
He turned to look into the room and almost dropped his spectacles. Hurriedly, he wrapped the earpieces around his ears, stared hard through the lenses of thick glass, not believing what he was seeing.
The room, which had been filled with light and laughter and humans and elves and dwarves, was empty.
Limbeck sucked in a deep breath, let it out with a shivering sigh. His curiosity overwhelmed him. He was about to slip into the room and investigate when it struck him that the elves—his way out—were rapidly leaving him behind. Shaking his side whiskers over the strange and inexplicable things he’d seen, Limbeck trotted down the halfway, following the strangely dressed elves. The eerie red glow of their eyes lit the passages brightly, showed their way. How they could tell one tunnel from another, one arched entry from an exit, was beyond Limbeck. They moved at a rapid pace, never pausing, never taking a wrong turn, never forced to back up or start over.
“What are your plans, Sang-drax?” asked one. “Clever name, by the way.”
“You like it? I thought it appropriate,” said the elf who had brought Haplo down here. “I must see to it that the human child, Bane, and the Patryn, here, are taken to the emperor. The child has a plan in mind that should foment chaos in the human kingdom far more effectively than anything we could do ourselves. You will, I trust, pass the word along to those near the emperor and urge his cooperation?”
“He’ll cooperate, if the Unseen[29] advise it.”
“I am amazed that you managed to join such an elite and powerful unit so quickly. My congratulations.”
One of the oddly dressed elves shrugged. “It was quite simple, really. Nowhere else on Arianus does there exist a group whose means and methods coincide so well with our own. With the exception of an unfortunate tendency to revere elven law and order and to perpetrate their deeds in the name of such, the Unseen Guard are perfect for us.”
“A pity we cannot penetrate the ranks of the Kenkari[30] as easily.”
“I begin to think that will be impossible, Sang-drax. As I explained to the Royal One this evening, prior to your arrival, the Kenkari are spiritual in nature, and therefore extraordinarily sensitive to us. We have concluded that they do not pose a threat, however. Their only interest is in the spirits of the dead, whose power feeds the empire. Their main object in life consists of guarding these captive souls.”
29
An elite unit of soldiers created by the emperor, ostensibly to search out and destroy rebel elves. The Unseen—so called because of their mysterious ability to make themselves very nearly invisible—have gained enormous power—even before the infiltration by the evil serpents.
30
One of the seven original clans of elves brought by the Sartan to Arianus after the Sundering. All elven clans had wizards among them, but the Kenkari were more powerful in magic than most and, through strict policies of intermarriage, they were able, over many generations, to enhance their magical powers. Consequently, the Kenkari are much in demand by other elven clans. Though they have no lands of their own, they are greatly revered in the elven nation, live as “guests” among the various royal families. Their main duties, however, lie with the Keeping of the Souls.