Into the Labyrinth

47

Xar found the city of Abri by the beacon fire. Burning on the top of the mountain, above the smoke and mists, above the shimmer of the magic protecting the city, the beacon fire shone bright, and Xar made directly for it. He had taken his ship into the ruins of the Vortex; there are advantages to traveling in a ship with Sartan runes, although it had been an uncomfortable journey for the Patryn. Leaving Pryan, he had not had time to reconstruct the sigla on the outside of the ship. He had been cautious about altering those on the inside. He knew he might very well need all his strength for whatever he faced in the Labyrinth.

Although not easily impressed, Xar had been appalled by the numbers of enemy forces attacking the city. Arriving at the outset of the battle, he had watched from a safe location, high in the mountains, near the beacon fire and its flame. Xar warmed himself by the fire as he watched the armies of chaos attack his people.

He was not surprised to see the dragon-snakes. He had admitted to himself that Sang-drax would betray him.

The Seventh Gate. It all had to do with the Seventh Gate.

“You know that if I find it, I will control you,” he told the dragon-snakes whose gray, slime-covered bodies were launching their assault on the city walls. “The day Kleitus told me of the Seventh Gate—that was the day when you began to fear me. That was when you became my enemy.”

It didn’t matter to Xar that Haplo had warned him of the dragon-snakes’ treachery all along. Nothing mattered for Xar now except the Seventh Gate. It loomed large in his vision, blotting out everything else.

His task now was to find Haplo among the thousands of Patryns battling the foe. Xar was not unduly worried. Knowing men and women as he did, he was fairly certain that wherever he found Marit—and that would be easy, since they were joined—he would find Haplo. Xar’s only concern was that the meddlesome Sartan, Alfred, might interfere.

The battle was taking a long time. The Patryns defended themselves well; Xar felt a swelling of pride in his heart. His people. And once he found the Seventh Gate, he would raise them to glory. But he was fast losing patience. Time wasted here was time that could be used to find that very gate. He placed his hand on the sigil, was about to summon Marit, about to go down and search for Haplo himself, when he saw the city gate open, saw the small band of heroes come forth to drive away the dragon-snakes.

And of course—Xar knew without bothering to look—Haplo would be among them. His last battle with Sang-drax had ended in a draw; each had given and taken wounds that would not heal. Haplo would not miss this opportunity to finish off his enemy, despite the odds against him.

“Of course you won’t,” Xar said, observing the duel with interest and approval. “You are my son.”

The lord waited until the battle was ended and Sang-drax destroyed; and then Xar called on the rune-magic to lift him up and carry him down to the bloody ground below.

Marit’s first reaction, on seeing Xar, was one of vast relief. Here was the strong father who would—once again—defend, protect, and succor his children.

“My Lord, you have come to aid us!”

Haplo tried to sit up, but he was extremely weak and in pain. Blood soaked his shirt front, had even stained the leather vest he wore over it. He felt the jagged edges of broken bones grind together; any movement at all was sheer agony.

Marit helped him, lending him her strength, her support. She looked up to find Xar’s eyes dark on her, but she was too battle-dazed, too elated by his presence to notice the shadow he cast over them.

“My Lord.” Haplo’s voice was weak. Xar had to kneel beside him to hear him.

“We can hold our own here. The gravest threat, the greatest danger is at the Final Gate. The dragon-snakes plan to seal it shut. We...” He choked, coughed.

“We will be trapped in this prison house, Lord,” Marit continued urgently.

“Its evil will grow; the dragon-snakes will see to that. The Labyrinth will become a death chamber, without hope, for there will be no way to escape.”

“You are the only one of us who can reach the Final Gate in time, Lord,” Haplo said, every word costing him obvious pain. “You are the only one who can stop them.”

He sank back into Marit’s arms. Her face was near his, her anxiety and concern for him obvious. The three paid no heed to the battle raging around them; Xar’s magic enclosed them in a cocoon of safety and silence, protected them from death and the turmoil of war.

Xar’s gaze turned, his eyes searched far, far into the distance, until he could see the Final Gate from where they stood—which, with his magical power, was within the realm of possibility. His face grew drawn and grave, the brows came together, the eyes narrowed in anger. He was seeing, Marit guessed, the terrible battle being waged, the people of the Nexus leaving their peaceful homes to defend the only means of escape for their brethren caught inside. Was the battle already taking place? Or was Xar seeing the future?

His gaze came back, and the eyes were hard and cold and calculating. “The Final Gate will fall. But I will open it again. When I have found the Seventh Gate, then I will take my revenge.”

“Lord Xar, what do you mean?” Marit stared at him, not understanding. “Lord, do not worry about us. We will manage here. You must save our people.”

“I intend to do so, Wife,” Xar said curtly.

Marit flinched.

Haplo heard the word, felt the quiver run through the arms whose touch was so comforting, so welcome. He opened his eyes, looked up at her. Her face was streaked with blood—his own, her own, the dragon-snake’s. Her hair was disheveled, and now he could see, on her forehead, the mark, the entwined sigla—hers and Xar’s.

“Leave him to me, Wife,” Xar commanded.

Marit shook her head, crouched over Haplo protectively. Xar reached down, laid his hand on her shoulder. She cried out and slumped to the ground, her body limp, its rune-magic disrupted.

Xar turned to Haplo. “Don’t fight me, my son. Let go. Let go of the pain and the despair, the heartache of this life.”

The Lord of the Nexus slid his arms beneath Haplo’s broken body. Haplo made a feeble attempt to free himself. The dog dashed up, barked at Xar frantically.

“I know I cannot hurt the animal,” Xar said coldly. “But I can hurt her.” Marit, curled up, helpless, moaned and shook her head. The sigil on her forehead blazed like fire.

“Dog, stop,” Haplo whispered through ashen lips.

The dog, whining, not understanding but trained to obey, fell back. Xar lifted Haplo in his arms as easily and tenderly as if he were a small injured child.

“Rise, Wife,” he said to Marit. “When I am gone, you will need to defend yourself.”

The magic that held her paralyzed released her. Weak, Marit stood up. She took a step nearer Xar, nearer Haplo.

“Where are you taking him, Lord?” she asked, hope fighting a final struggle in her heart. “To the Nexus? The Final Gate?”

“No, Wife.” Xar’s voice was cold. “I return to Abarrach.” He looked with satisfaction on Haplo. “To the necromancy.”

“How can you let this evil happen to your people, Lord?” she cried in anger. Xar’s eyes flared. “They have suffered all their lives. What is one more day or two or three? When I come back in triumph, when the Seventh Gate is open, their suffering will end!”

It will be too late! The words were on her lips, but she looked into Xar’s eyes and dared not say them. Catching hold of Haplo’s hand, she pressed it against her own heart-rune. “I love you,” she said to him. His eyes opened. “Find Alfred!” He spoke without a voice, his lips moving, stained with his own blood. “Alfred can... stop them...”

“Yes, find the Sartan,” Xar sneered. “I am certain he will be more than happy to defend the prison his kind built.”

The lord spoke the runes; a sigil formed in the air. The flaring rune struck Marit, slashed across her forehead.

The pain seared through her as if he’d cut her with a knife. Blood flowed down over her eyes, blinding her. Gasping, dizzy with the agony and the shock, she fell to her knees.

“Xar! My Lord!” she cried wildly, wiping the blood from her eyes. Xar ignored her. Bearing Haplo in his arms, the lord walked calmly across the field of battle. A shield of magic surrounded them, protected them. Trotting along behind, unnoticed and forlorn, was the dog.

Marit sprang to her feet with some desperate notion of stopping them, attacking Xar from behind, rescuing Haplo, but at that moment a whirlwind of sigla spun about them—all three of them, including the dog—and all three were gone.