Manifestation: the Coming Dark/Chapter 11

The cold of the vortex did not end at its end. The world into which we had ventured was much colder than our own. It was also considerably damper. Overlaying this scent of mildew and cold earth was a smell of rot and decay. Sigarin's proclamation seemed to be holding true, for in the time immediately following our exit, we saw little living or undead. Yet the presence of decay suggested that there were dead somewhere. For dead to fall, there must have been life.

The place was eerie in many ways. In addition to the flooded swampland nature of the place, and the uncomfortable silence and lack of life, there was a stark familiarity about the landscape. Looking at the mountain range in which I stood, I could have little doubt that it paralleled that of K'eld Ner almost exactly. Yet it lacked the telltale signs of the great walled city. It lacked its lush tree line. While Sigarin had warned of the undead forest here, there was no forest at all, only stumps and mountainous swampland. Below, the water deepened, cutting off the area into many islands within a swampy sea. I could scare imagine, even as a Communicant of the Water Lord, what sort of elemental imbalance would lead to this. Were the temperature tropical, I would suspect glacial melting of causing the swamp-like flooding, a rapid destruction of the polar caps, but the temperature here was, if anything, a full ten degrees colder than it had been in K'eld Ner.

"This water is new," Sigarin said with a frown. "Its presence reflects continued elemental destabilization of this world. The'Galin's destruction here is almost completed."

Xander frowned. "This may be why he has chosen now to continue his assault on our world. If his recent abode is rapidly becoming inhospitable even for him."

"Perhaps," Sigarin said neutrally.

"Well, this world is certainly on its last legs," I offered. "Even if The'Galin does not have need of it, his servants apparently do... His timetable may be pushed forward simply because if this continues, he will not have an army with which to fight his war..."

"Don't be a fool," a voice said from behind. I reached for my sword in panic, realizing that I would never have time to draw it if attacked. Sigarin was quicker, and by the time I had turned to face the unknown visitor, he was holding his axe in an aggressive manner.

"Your lack of attentiveness could prove deadly elsewhere on this planet," he said. His build and ears seemed elven in nature, but his hair was a definite platinum gray and his eyes an unusual shade of green. The other distinctly unusual feature was his height. On average, elves were about a hand shorter than humans, but he was fully 6'4".

"Who are you and give me one good reason why I should not kill you now," Sigarin demanded. Even as he said this, I could see that Xander was preparing his own weapon; to my surprise, I found that I had managed to draw my sword as well.

"Your greeting is lacking in civility. I suppose I should expect that from dwarven races regardless of my locality. I am... a traveler, and you should not kill me because doing so would eliminate my aid, something that you would be very very foolish to do."

"With respect, Traveler" Xander said, "we have no idea who you are... or where your allegiance lies. For all we know, you are a servant of The'Galin."

"Worse," I said, looking him in the eye, "you could be the Uncreator yourself. We have never seen him face to face."

"Nor will you in this place, unless it is in one of his many borrowed forms," the man said, looking away from us in a show of being decidedly unconcerned. "Whatever else he is, The'Galin is a coward. He ultimately fears that which he cannot control. Because of this, he would never put his physical flesh at risk; not that it can die anyway, but it can suffer discomfort, and he has little comfort for it. Plus, he may ultimately fear that someone has found the means of his total annihilation, though such a means likely is quite nonexistent."

"You seem to know a lot about the Uncreator for someone who is not in his employ," Sigarin said. "I ask again: who are you and where are you from? Certainly not from this place; there is no living native life."

"And I tell you again, dwarf," the man said in growing irritation, "I am a traveler and where I come from is a far distant world, well outside the sphere of your pantheon's petty richardering."

"Begging your pardon, Traveler," I said. "If you have come from some far distant world, what interest can you possibly have in this one? What concern can you have for the dealings of our deities?"

"Ah, a reasonable and well thought question at last," he said with a smirk. "Its answer, however, is more complex than you can possibly appreciate. I have been to your own world also. In fact, I fought against the undead in Battleon. I also have been to your fair kingdom, Lord Governor. I know much of your politics. More, perhaps, than even you. More to the point, however, I know a great deal about both The'Galin and his servitors. It is what I know of him that causes me to have interest in your world and in this one."

"You are talking around the issue," I said, growing slightly irritated myself. "What exactly about the Uncreator causes you to want to aid us?"

"The'Galin is a creature of fear. He has very nearly destroyed this world and more than two dozen others. A full hundred such worlds have just begun their advanced state of decline. The'Galin fears the world and all in it. He fears for his continuance and for his safety. Once he has reached his goal and destroyed all that Lorithia has created, do you think his fear will suddenly subside? Should he manage not to kill himself in the process, will he become happy? Lore is the world of his origins. It is the last remaining of Lorithia's creation that he has not established at least some foothold in. Where next does The'galin venture to act on his fear?"

"Supposing we accept that The'Galin is a threat not only in Lorithia's world, but in other realities as well, far removed from this one. You have already described your world as extraordinarily distant. If it took him so long to take apart one world in which he had a foothold, how can your world so far removed be endangered?"

"It may very well not be..." he said with a smirk. "Yet we have some reason to believe that he has made contact with forces that have a more vested interest in my own home. If these forces ally with him, he may choose to turn his attention my world next, if only to return the favor. Worse still, my world has successfully suppressed the forces of Uncreation, but there are those who still would worship or follow it. Should he arrive, though our worlds function in two very different ways, he may find a very large body of willing servants offering him power and support, without any effort whatsoever. Beyond all of this, I have yet another interest in Lore. Mainly that I am bored and its situation is unique. I have become somewhat of an expert on its history in my many travels to this world and its close copies."

"Indeed?" Xander said, seemingly intrigued but also unimpressed.

"Oh yes, Xander of Stone Deep. I know a very very great amount about your world, about its functioning, about its history, and about the action the Uncreator plans to take there. You might say I am Master of the Lore of Lore. So, Lord Governor, Shadow Knight, and esteemed Sigarin, ambassador to Deren from the Great Walled City of Alorin, will you now put away your weapons so we can talk? Or do you persist in your posturing?"

We stowed our weapons somewhat warily; clearly, the person could have done us harm had he intended already. Since he had not meant that, what he had to say bore hearing, even if it was entirely misinformation.

"In the first place," he said, seemingly satisfied that we were not pursuing our aggression, "your visit to this world will be without reward. Myr of Stone Deep was never brought here. He is even now being imprisoned on the far side of Derenian continent with a massing army of Brilhado and undead. A resilient fellow. Even under the influence of the Cold, he fights the unavoidable transformation, just as he fought subconsciously against Drakath's change even without knowing it was there. Yet in this, decidedly, he will find the Cold far more aggressive and quite impossible by any current means of being shoved aside."

"What is this Cold?" Xander asked. I noted that his expression had turned pale.

"The most virulent of the forms of undeath I have seen in recent memory, precisely because it is not immediate, but is a still rapid transformation of the flesh. An infectious contagion that spreads throughout the victim, slowly transforming him into a puppet. There is no redemption from the Cold. There is no good left in a person so transformed. What can be counted as benevolent comparatively is that by the time that it is completed, the soul is quite disconnected. All that remains of the host is the memory imprint. The Cold is also contagious. If any of the contagion manages to enter your body, you too will become a carrier and will find yourself fiercely loyal to your necromancer. That is, if you are not used as a vessel for something worse."

"I have never heard of such a power," Xander said. "My lord is the lord of shadows and undeath, and I have never heard of such a being in all of my years. The only thing remotely of its like is the power of the Dark Dragon. What Dark creature wields such a power?"

"It is a power of darkness to be sure," the traveler said, "but you speak wrongly if you assign it to a creature of Darkness. No indeed. There exist in this multiverse some balances and interelemental cooperation that serve good purpose, as is the case of friend dwarf's people. Then there exist the necromancers of which I speak. The necromancers you have seen in Lore are mere children compared to them. These are the Brilhado..."

I thought that he was trailing off for effect or to entertain arguments, but I noticed that his gaze was fixed on the summit of the mountain.

"You may wish to draw your weapons, my friends, even as Sigarin prepares for us the portal back to Lore. For in less then ten minutes, if we are still here, you will get to meet one of the Brilhado Necromancers yourself."