that it is safe to walk the path on the shore of the Lake of Burning Rock. But I know in the end that he will succeed, for the people love him and trust him and now, whether he likes it or not, they will name him their king.
We need a king. Once we leave the shores of the lake behind, we will be in Kairn Necros. Edmund maintains we will find there a land of friends. I believe, to my sorrow, we will find there the land of our enemies.
And here is where I have decided to end my account. I have only a few pages of the precious parchment left, and it seems fitting to me to close the journal here, with the death of one king of Kairn Telest and the crowning of a new one. I wish I could see ahead in time, see what the future holds for us, but not all the magical power of the ancients allowed them to look beyond the present moment.
Perhaps that is just as well. To know the future is to be forced to abandon hope. And hope is all that we have left.
Edmund will lead his people forth, but not, if I can persuade him, to Kairn Necros. Who knows? The next journal I keep may be called
The Journey Through Death's Gate.
—Baltazar, necromancer to the king
CHAPTER7
THE NEXUS
H APLO INSPECTED HIS SHIP, WALKED THE LENGTH AND breadth of the sleek, dragon-prowed vessel, studied masts and hull, wings and sails with a critical eye. The ship had survived three passages through Death's Gate, sustaining only minor damage, mostly inflicted by the tytans, the terrifying giants of Pryan.
“What do you think, boy?” Haplo said, reaching down and fondling the ears of a black, nondescript dog, who padded silently along beside him. “Think it's ready to go? Think
we're
ready to go?” He tugged playfully at one of the silky ears. The dog's plumy tail brushed from side to side, the intelligent eyes, that rarely left its master's face, brightened.
“These runes”—Haplo strode forward, laid his hand on a series of burns and carvings inscribed on the ship's hull— “will act to block out all energies, according to My Lord. Nothing, absolutely nothing should be able to penetrate. We'll be shielded and protected as a babe in its mother's womb. Safer,” Haplo added, his face darkening, “than any baby born in the Labyrinth.”
He ran his Angers over the spidery lines of the runes, reading in his mind their intricate language, searching for any flaw, any defect. His gaze shifted upward to the carved dragon's head. The fierce eyes stared eagerly forward, as if they could already see the end of their goal in sight.
“The magic protects us,” Haplo continued his one-sided conversation, the dog not being disposed to talk. “The magic surrounds us. This time I will not succumb. This time I will witness the journey through Death's Gate!”
The dog yawned, sat down, and scratched at an itch with such violence that he nearly tipped himself over. The Patryn glanced at the animal with some irritation. “A lot you care,” he muttered accusingly.
Hearing the note of rebuke in the loved voice, the dog cocked its head and appeared to try to enter into the spirit of the conversation. Unfortunately, the itch proved too great a distraction.
Snorting, Haplo clambered up the ship's side, walked over the top deck, giving it one final inspection.
The ship had been built by the elves of the air world of Arianus. Made to resemble the dragons that the elves could admire but never tame, the ship's prow was the dragon's head, its breast the bridge, its body the hull, its tail the rudder. Wings fashioned of the skin and scales of real dragons guided the vessel through the air currents of that wondrous realm. Slaves (generally human) and elven wizardry combined to keep the great ships afloat.
The ship had been a gift from a grateful elven captain to Haplo. The Patryn modified it to suit his needs, his own ship having been destroyed during his first journey through Death's Gate. The great dragonship no longer required a full crew to man it, or wizards to guide it,
We need a king. Once we leave the shores of the lake behind, we will be in Kairn Necros. Edmund maintains we will find there a land of friends. I believe, to my sorrow, we will find there the land of our enemies.
And here is where I have decided to end my account. I have only a few pages of the precious parchment left, and it seems fitting to me to close the journal here, with the death of one king of Kairn Telest and the crowning of a new one. I wish I could see ahead in time, see what the future holds for us, but not all the magical power of the ancients allowed them to look beyond the present moment.
Perhaps that is just as well. To know the future is to be forced to abandon hope. And hope is all that we have left.
Edmund will lead his people forth, but not, if I can persuade him, to Kairn Necros. Who knows? The next journal I keep may be called
The Journey Through Death's Gate.
—Baltazar, necromancer to the king
CHAPTER7
THE NEXUS
H APLO INSPECTED HIS SHIP, WALKED THE LENGTH AND breadth of the sleek, dragon-prowed vessel, studied masts and hull, wings and sails with a critical eye. The ship had survived three passages through Death's Gate, sustaining only minor damage, mostly inflicted by the tytans, the terrifying giants of Pryan.
“What do you think, boy?” Haplo said, reaching down and fondling the ears of a black, nondescript dog, who padded silently along beside him. “Think it's ready to go? Think
we're
ready to go?” He tugged playfully at one of the silky ears. The dog's plumy tail brushed from side to side, the intelligent eyes, that rarely left its master's face, brightened.
“These runes”—Haplo strode forward, laid his hand on a series of burns and carvings inscribed on the ship's hull— “will act to block out all energies, according to My Lord. Nothing, absolutely nothing should be able to penetrate. We'll be shielded and protected as a babe in its mother's womb. Safer,” Haplo added, his face darkening, “than any baby born in the Labyrinth.”
He ran his Angers over the spidery lines of the runes, reading in his mind their intricate language, searching for any flaw, any defect. His gaze shifted upward to the carved dragon's head. The fierce eyes stared eagerly forward, as if they could already see the end of their goal in sight.
“The magic protects us,” Haplo continued his one-sided conversation, the dog not being disposed to talk. “The magic surrounds us. This time I will not succumb. This time I will witness the journey through Death's Gate!”
The dog yawned, sat down, and scratched at an itch with such violence that he nearly tipped himself over. The Patryn glanced at the animal with some irritation. “A lot you care,” he muttered accusingly.
Hearing the note of rebuke in the loved voice, the dog cocked its head and appeared to try to enter into the spirit of the conversation. Unfortunately, the itch proved too great a distraction.
Snorting, Haplo clambered up the ship's side, walked over the top deck, giving it one final inspection.
The ship had been built by the elves of the air world of Arianus. Made to resemble the dragons that the elves could admire but never tame, the ship's prow was the dragon's head, its breast the bridge, its body the hull, its tail the rudder. Wings fashioned of the skin and scales of real dragons guided the vessel through the air currents of that wondrous realm. Slaves (generally human) and elven wizardry combined to keep the great ships afloat.
The ship had been a gift from a grateful elven captain to Haplo. The Patryn modified it to suit his needs, his own ship having been destroyed during his first journey through Death's Gate. The great dragonship no longer required a full crew to man it, or wizards to guide it,
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