A very bad sign.
“Who are you talking to?” she murmured.
“Never mind,” Alfred said quietly. “Come along . . .”
Marit’s eyes opened wide. For an instant, strength suffused her body, hope eased her suffering. “Haplo! You’re talking to Haplo! How is that possible?”
“We shared consciousness once. In Death’s Gate. Our minds exchanged bodies ... At least”—Alfred sighed—“that’s the only explanation I can think of.”
Marit was silent long moments; then she said in a low voice, “We could go to the Seventh Gate now. While my lord is still imprisoned by your magic.”
Alfred hesitated. And, as the thought came into his mind, the sigla on the wall suddenly flared to life, lit up a corridor previously dark. So dark, they had never, before now, suspected its existence.
“That’s it,” Marit said, awed. “That’s the way . . .”
Alfred gulped, excited, tempted . . . afraid.
But then, when in his life hadn’t he been afraid?
“Don’t go!” Haplo warned. “I don’t like this. Xar must have unraveled your spell by now.”
Alfred blenched. “Do you know where he is? Can you see him?”
“What I see, I see through the dog’s eyes. So long as the mutt’s with you, I’m with you, for all the good that’s likely to do any of us. Forget the Seventh Gate. Get off of Abarrach while you still have a chance.”
“Alfred, please!” Marit begged. She pushed away from him, tried to stand on her own. “Look, I’m well enough—”
The dog barked sharply, leapt to its feet.
Alfred’s heart lurched.
“I don’t . . . Haplo’s right. Xar is searching for us. We’ve got to leave Abarrach! We’ll take the dog with us,” Alfred said to Marit, who was glaring at him, the glow of the runes bright in her feverish eyes. “We’ll go someplace where we can rest and you can heal yourself. Then we’ll come back. I promise—”
Marit shoved him out of her way, prepared to go around him, over him, through him, if necessary. “If you won’t take me to the Seventh Gate, I’ll find—”
Her words were cut off. A spasm shook her body. She clutched at her throat, fighting to breathe. Doubling over, she fell to her hands and knees.
“Marit!” Alfred gathered her into his arms. “You have to save yourself before you can save Haplo.”
“Very well,” she whispered, half choked. “But . . . we’re coming back for him.”
“I promise,” Alfred said, no doubt at all remaining in him. “We’ll go to the ship.”
The sigla lighting the way to the Seventh Gate flickered and died.
Alfred began to sing the runes, softly, sonorously. Sparkling, shimmering runes enveloped him, Marit, and the dog. He continued to sing the runes, the runes that would stretch forth into the possibility that they were safely on board the ship . . .
And within a heartbeat, Alfred and Marit and the dog were standing on the deck.
And there, waiting for them, was Lord Xar.
16
Alfred blinked, stared. Marit clutched at him, nearly falling.
Xar ignored them both. He reached out his hand to grab the dog, which was standing stiff-legged, teeth bared, growling.
“Dragon!” said Haplo.
Dragon!
Alfred grasped at the possibility, at the spell. He sprang high into the air, his body twisting and dancing with the magic. And suddenly Alfred was no longer on the ship but flying high above it. Xar was not a threatening figure standing next to the Sartan, but a small insignificant one far below, staring up at him.
Marit clung groggily to Alfred’s back. She had been hanging on to his coat when the spell transformed him and apparently the magic had taken her with him. But the dog was still down on the deck, dashing back and forth, gazing up at Alfred and barking.
“Give up, Sartan!” Xar called. “You’re trapped. You cannot leave Abarrach.”
“You can leave, Alfred!” Haplo said to him. “You are stronger than he is! Attack him! Take back the ship!”
“But I might hurt the dog . . .” Alfred wavered.
Xar now had hold of the animal, hanging on to it by the scruff of its neck. “You might well be able to take back your ship from me, Sartan. But what will you do then? Leave without your friend? The dog cannot pass through Death’s Gate.”
The dog cannot pass through Death’s Gate.
“Is that true, Haplo?” Alfred demanded. He answered his own question, realizing that Haplo wouldn’t. “It is, isn’t it. I knew something about that suggestion of yours wasn’t right. The dog can’t go through Death’s Gate! Not without you!”
Haplo did not respond.
The dragon circled, unhappy, irresolute. Down below, the dog, caught in Xar’s grasp, watched them and whined.
“You won’t leave your friend here alone to die, Alfred,” Xar shouted. “You can’t. Love breaks the heart, doesn’t it, Sartan . . .”
The dragon wavered. Its wings dipped. Alfred prepared to surrender.
“No!” Haplo shouted.
The dog twisted in Xar’s grasp, snapped viciously at him. Its slashing teeth tore through the sleeve of the lord’s black robes. Xar let loose, backed up a step from the slavering animal.
The dog leapt from the deck, landed on the dock. It raced off, running as fast as it could run, heading for the abandoned town of Safe Harbor.
The dragon swooped down, flew protectively above the dog until it had disappeared into the shadows of the crumbling buildings. Creeping into an empty house, the dog waited, panting, to see if it was pursued.
It wasn’t.
The Lord of the Nexus could have stopped the dog.
He could have killed it with a single spoken sigil. But he let the animal go. He had accomplished his purpose. Alfred would never leave Abarrach now. And, sooner or later, he would lead Xar to the Seventh Gate.
Love breaks the heart.
Smiling, pleased with himself, Xar left the ship, returned to his library to consider what to do next. As he went, he rubbed the sigil on his forehead.
Barely conscious, clinging to the dragon’s back, Marit moaned.
The dragon circled above the abandoned town of Safe Harbor, waiting to see what Xar would do. Alfred was prepared for anything except the lord’s sudden departure.
When Xar disappeared, Alfred waited and watched, thinking it might be a trick. Or perhaps the lord had gone to fetch reinforcements.
Nothing happened. No one came.
“Alfred,” Marit said weakly. “You better land. I ... don’t think I can hang on much longer.”
“Take her to Salfag Caverns,” Haplo suggested. “They’re up ahead, not far. The dog knows the way.”
The dog emerged from hiding, dashed out into the middle of the empty street. Gazing up at Alfred, the animal barked once, then trotted off down the road.
The dragon flew after the dog, veering sharply over Safe Harbor, followed a road up the coastline of the Fire Sea until the road itself disappeared. The dog began to pick its way among gigantic boulders, jutting out from the shoreline. Recognizing the place as near the entrance to Salfag Caverns, the dragon spiraled downward, seeking a suitable landing site.
As he did so, as he flew closer to the ground, Alfred thought he detected movement—a shadow detaching itself from a jumble of rocks and dead trees and hurrying away, losing itself in more shadows. He stared hard at the site, could see nothing. Finding a clear spot among a jumble of boulders, the dragon settled to the ground.
Marit slid from the dragon’s back, slumped down among the rocks, and did not move. Alfred changed back to his usual form, bent over her anxiously.
Her healing powers had kept her from dying, but not much beyond. The poison still coursed through her veins. She was burning with fever and struggled to draw every breath. She seemed to be in pain. She lifted her hand to her forehead, pressed on it.
Alfred brushed back her hair. He saw the sigil—Xar’s sigil—glowing with an eerie light. Alfred understood, sighed deeply.