tiled floor of the observation room. Someone was knocking on the door, and as the voice called out again, he recognized it.
Gowen.
"Galen! Can you hear me?"
Fa was dead. Soom was destroyed. Elizar and Razeel had likely acquired the spell of destruction. And he hadn't killed himself. But then, he had known that he wouldn't, hadn't he. If he truly wanted to kill himself, he knew the spell that would do it, that would end everything.
He realized, in a moment of perfect clarity, that it was the only solution. It would be the logical last step in the process he had begun when he'd entered the hiding place: withdrawing from the universe, building up the walls, drawing them closer and closer around him. Even sealed away, he continued to spread his chaos and death. To stop the destruction, once and for all, he must draw the process to its inevitable conclusion. Crush himself in the fist of his own will.
He gained a measure of peace from the thought. He need not hurt again. He need not spend the next hundred years walking in circles. Gowen continued to knock.
The door was sealed to all but Galen and the Circle. Still Galen burned to reach out, to kill Elizar and Razeel. Though the tech's energy had subsided somewhat, its agitating undercurrent drove endlessly through him.
He began a mind-focusing exercise. A smear of blood revealed where his arm had lain. He wiped at it with his black coat until it was barely visible.
"Galen!"
He must accomplish one more task, stop his mistake from causing any further harm. Then it would be over, at last.
"Galen!"
"Just a..."
His voice was hoarse, barely audible. He cleared his throat.
"A moment."
Gowen stopped knocking.
Galen grabbed on to the chair with red, raw hands, worked his way to standing. Dark spots danced before his eyes. He steadied himself, took a few calming breaths. Although he'd had the presence of mind not to scour his head, any moderately close inspection would reveal what he had done.
He found he had received a message – the Circle, calling for his report. He was late. Gowen had come after him. He thought of opening the door, of dismissing Blaylock's former student with a few quick words. But he couldn't face Gowen, couldn't face anyone yet. He called out.
"I must finish an observation. Tell the Circle I will be with them shortly."
For a moment there was no reply. Then Gowen said, "I'll tell them, and Galen heard him walk away. He had to collect himself. He had to convince the Circle of his plan. And he had to tell Elric that the home he loved, the home that had once been a part of him, had been destroyed.
"I have sent Gowen to fetch him," Blaylock said.
Elric nodded, anxious that Galen had not reported to the Circle at the scheduled time. It was unlike him. Perhaps, in their meeting this morning, Elric had pushed him too far.
"Let us move on to the consideration of elections," Blaylock said.
"Elric, you wanted to speak in favor."
"Yes."
He straightened, trying to ignore the incessant throbbing that echoed through him. Its source was the cavity of darkness in his skull, an emptiness where once had resided the connection to his place of power, and to Soom. That emptiness pushed outward, a tumor of desolation, pressing at the backs of his eyes, his forehead. The pain worsened with each passing day, leaving him indisposed for hours at a time, unable to rise or even to move.
He concealed his weakness as much as he could, to retain his influence within the Circle and inspire confidence in the mages, but the signs were becoming ever more apparent. When he'd destroyed his place, with the great growth of chrysalis at its heart, he'd sensed that the loss would, eventually, kill him. That time was coming close.
His body was failing. He was thankful they no longer stood when making formal arguments. Blaylock, who had stood whenever he spoke before the Circle, had made no objection when Herazade suggested they make their meetings more informal. Elric knew that he,
Gowen.
"Galen! Can you hear me?"
Fa was dead. Soom was destroyed. Elizar and Razeel had likely acquired the spell of destruction. And he hadn't killed himself. But then, he had known that he wouldn't, hadn't he. If he truly wanted to kill himself, he knew the spell that would do it, that would end everything.
He realized, in a moment of perfect clarity, that it was the only solution. It would be the logical last step in the process he had begun when he'd entered the hiding place: withdrawing from the universe, building up the walls, drawing them closer and closer around him. Even sealed away, he continued to spread his chaos and death. To stop the destruction, once and for all, he must draw the process to its inevitable conclusion. Crush himself in the fist of his own will.
He gained a measure of peace from the thought. He need not hurt again. He need not spend the next hundred years walking in circles. Gowen continued to knock.
The door was sealed to all but Galen and the Circle. Still Galen burned to reach out, to kill Elizar and Razeel. Though the tech's energy had subsided somewhat, its agitating undercurrent drove endlessly through him.
He began a mind-focusing exercise. A smear of blood revealed where his arm had lain. He wiped at it with his black coat until it was barely visible.
"Galen!"
He must accomplish one more task, stop his mistake from causing any further harm. Then it would be over, at last.
"Galen!"
"Just a..."
His voice was hoarse, barely audible. He cleared his throat.
"A moment."
Gowen stopped knocking.
Galen grabbed on to the chair with red, raw hands, worked his way to standing. Dark spots danced before his eyes. He steadied himself, took a few calming breaths. Although he'd had the presence of mind not to scour his head, any moderately close inspection would reveal what he had done.
He found he had received a message – the Circle, calling for his report. He was late. Gowen had come after him. He thought of opening the door, of dismissing Blaylock's former student with a few quick words. But he couldn't face Gowen, couldn't face anyone yet. He called out.
"I must finish an observation. Tell the Circle I will be with them shortly."
For a moment there was no reply. Then Gowen said, "I'll tell them, and Galen heard him walk away. He had to collect himself. He had to convince the Circle of his plan. And he had to tell Elric that the home he loved, the home that had once been a part of him, had been destroyed.
"I have sent Gowen to fetch him," Blaylock said.
Elric nodded, anxious that Galen had not reported to the Circle at the scheduled time. It was unlike him. Perhaps, in their meeting this morning, Elric had pushed him too far.
"Let us move on to the consideration of elections," Blaylock said.
"Elric, you wanted to speak in favor."
"Yes."
He straightened, trying to ignore the incessant throbbing that echoed through him. Its source was the cavity of darkness in his skull, an emptiness where once had resided the connection to his place of power, and to Soom. That emptiness pushed outward, a tumor of desolation, pressing at the backs of his eyes, his forehead. The pain worsened with each passing day, leaving him indisposed for hours at a time, unable to rise or even to move.
He concealed his weakness as much as he could, to retain his influence within the Circle and inspire confidence in the mages, but the signs were becoming ever more apparent. When he'd destroyed his place, with the great growth of chrysalis at its heart, he'd sensed that the loss would, eventually, kill him. That time was coming close.
His body was failing. He was thankful they no longer stood when making formal arguments. Blaylock, who had stood whenever he spoke before the Circle, had made no objection when Herazade suggested they make their meetings more informal. Elric knew that he,
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