Dark Calling (12 page)

“This only became clear to us over the long course of time. In the beginning we didn’t know how many pieces there were, what
function they played, where they’d gone. We were not even sure that parts of the Kah-Gash still existed.

“The Demonata knew no more than we did, but threw themselves into the search. Their desperate plan was to find the parts of
the Kah-Gash, reassemble them, and restore the original universe. It’s a plan they haven’t wavered from.

“For a time we saw no threat. We thought it was a fool’s quest. But then the parts began to reappear. They had the ability
to turn up anywhere, in a comet, a rock, a tree, an animal, even one of the new demons. The pieces never merged with any of
the Old Creatures or original demons, but all other forms were fair game. They caused no harm, existing in harmony with their
hosts, but their reemergence filled us with panic.”

Raz shivers, then continues. “The Demonata pursued the pieces with a mad passion. When they finally found one, they experimented,
seeking ways to harness its power. They found they could influence its destination when it moved from one form to another,
ensuring it stayed within their grasp.

“The demons searched hard for the other pieces. They couldn’t cross from their universe to ours, but they didn’t need to.
The parts of the Kah-Gash passed freely between universes. The Demonata could wait, even though it might take billions of
years.”

We come to another elevator and ride it down to a random lower level. I find a park, full of strangely shaped trees and bushes.
I dodge between them as Raz speaks.

“We couldn’t let them reunite the Kah-Gash,” Raz says. “We felt responsible for this universe’s new life-forms. They were
simple creatures, but they had a right to exist. So we counter plotted. Although the demons couldn’t cross universes, we had
the power to enter theirs. We launched a raiding party. After a brief battle, we freed the piece of the Kah-Gash and fled.
The Demonata couldn’t follow. All they could do was keep searching and waiting.

“That’s how things continued over millions of years,” Raz says as if talking about the passing of a couple of weeks. “The
Demonata imprisoned pieces of the Kah-Gash. We crossed, fought, and freed them.”

“Are you stronger than the demons?” I ask.

“No,” Raz says. “But we only needed to destroy the form in which a piece was stuck. When that happened, it shot free. If the
demons had been able to focus, they could have directed it into another form of their choosing, but we distracted them.

“We also searched for pieces in our universe,” Raz goes on. “We had no wish to reassemble the Kah-Gash, but we hoped to capture
the pieces and hold them from the Demonata forever. We learned to influence the pieces, but only as the Demonata did. We can
keep them in place awhile, but eventually they slip free.”

“Is that the same when the demons capture them?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Then why worry?” I shrug. “If they can’t hold on to a piece forever, they can’t collect them all, can they?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Raz says. “Sometimes all three pieces exist in a universe at the same time, as they do now. When I say
we can’t hold on to a piece for long, I mean tens of thousands of years. That’s more than enough time for the Demonata to
unite the parts. All they need is a lucky break.

“So we continued to fight,” Raz says wearily. “Every time they captured a piece, we set it free. It could have gone on like
that until the end of time, except there were casualties. Some of us always died when we raided. A few here, a few there.
When you add them up over millions, then billions of years…” He shudders.

“We’re not afraid of death,” Raz says. “But we couldn’t continue that way indefinitely, because—”

“— you can’t have children,” I interrupt, beating him to the punch.

“Correct.” He smiles sadly. “At some point we would become extinct. Then the demons would be free to track down the pieces
of the Kah-Gash and restore the original universe, only this time it would be exclusively theirs.

“We couldn’t accept such a fate, so we did something we were never meant to. We played god and interfered with the creatures
of the new universe. We’ve been paying for that mistake ever since. And the universe has been paying for it too.”

Raz turns his face away and says with shame, “We’re the reason the Demonata can cross from their universe to ours.” He brushes
a hand across his cheeks, and though I can’t be certain, I think the Old Creature is wiping away guilty tears.

W
E
return to the room with the garden and Raz constructs a new window. We travel for a long time through the sub-universe of
lights, finally emerging on top of a stone slab. The walls of this chamber are dotted with holes and windows, through which
I can see thousands of tombs and monuments, encircling us like silent, frozen sentries.

Raz slips through one of the larger holes and I follow, gazing solemnly at the ranks of graves. Even though the tombs differ
in style and size to those on Earth, there’s no doubt that this is a graveyard. It has the feel of death.

“This place is massive,” I whisper, goosebumps rising.

“It is a cemetery world,” Raz says.

“You mean everybody’s dead?” I gulp. “Was it a war?”

“There was never life on this planet,” Raz says. “But there are populated planets nearby, and advanced beings move freely
between them. For centuries they have been bringing their dead here, laying them to rest on a world of their own.”

A world of the dead. My goosebumps spread. I’m not easily spooked, but this is creeping me out big time.

“By shaping the minds of this universe’s creatures, we hoped to cheat destiny,” Raz says softly, returning to the lecture.
“We knew we would die before the universe ended. We thought if we spread intelligence, the beings we created might carry on
the fight.

“There are now millions of races with the power of thought. Many are more advanced than your people. But intelligence was
never intended for this universe. The earliest creatures showed no signs of evolving and developing souls.”

“What do you mean by that?” I stop him.

“Every intelligent being has a soul,” Raz says. “Animals don’t. A soul forms when a creature thinks for the first time, when
it reasons and makes plans. It is a fascinating process. In some species it happens in every member at the same moment. In
most, one of them makes a mental leap, then bears young and they pass it on, intelligence spreading like a disease.

“We cultivated the
disease.
It was much harder than we imagined, but once we made the breakthrough, we quickly mastered the arts of education, then split
into small groups and set off for the far reaches of the universe, sowing intelligence everywhere we went.

“We had no right to disturb the natural balance,” Raz sighs. “But
you
are a child of our meddling. Would you rather exist as a mindless beast, running wild, no understanding of the past or plans
for the future?”

“No,” I answer after a short pause.

“Nor do most others. They
have
the choice. We can’t force a species to evolve. Some fight it and return to their simpler ways. But most rise to the challenges
we set. Life is easier for animals, but so much richer for those with the ability to love and hate, fight and make peace,
dream and hope.”

Raz falls silent as we walk among the tombs and headstones. After a while I come to a small, unimpressive tomb. I almost walk
past, but Raz coughs softly and points towards the upper-right corner.

A tiny chessboard has been carved into it. As my eyes narrow, Raz points to the left corner, where another board has been
carved. Then he nods at a tomb four rows over. A large, intricate board has been painted over the center of this one, the
name of the deceased worked in among the black and white squares.

“The Boards are key to the process,” Raz says. “We created them out of material drawn from the Crux. Modeling them after the
Kah-Gash, we created mini-universes of sixty-four zones. Once a species evolves to a certain point, we isolate their souls
and take them into a Board, so that they can develop at an accelerated rate. We also teach them about the origins of the universe,
the Kah-Gash and the Demonata, the need to reach for the stars, to fight for the future of the universe.”

“How come I don’t know all that?” I ask.

“You have an undeveloped brain,” Raz says, then raises his hands as I bristle. “I mean humans in general. You have not evolved
to the point where you can make sense of all that we taught you. Every species is the same. It takes time to work your way
through the mysteries of life.” Raz grimaces. “Humans will never complete that journey. The Demonata will cut short their
growth. Universal understanding is not to be yours.”

I blink and look away, stomach tightening. I spot something far overhead. I think it’s a falling star, but as I focus I realize
it’s a spaceship. Unlike the floating city, this looks more like the rockets I’ve seen in movies and on the covers of science-fiction
books.

“A glorified hearse,” Raz says.

We watch in silence until the ship settles out of sight
beyond the ranks of tombs. “Can we go and see the burial?” I ask.

“No,” Raz says. “I have something else to show you.”

He leads me through a maze until we come to a black, round stone. Its edges are as smooth as a polished gem’s. It’s set in
a small pit, circled by a number of large tombs. Candles burn around the edges of the pit, but they’re not normal candles—the
wick doesn’t burn down and the flames never flicker in the soft wind.

There’s a magical buzz coming from the stone. My fingers curl inwards and my nostrils widen. Magic floods my pores.

“It’s another lodestone,” I note.

“Yes,” Raz says. “Beranabus thought the stones were of our making but they are actually the remains of planets from the original
universe. Most were reduced to dust, but fragments of some survived and drifted through space, sometimes burying themselves
in the fabric of freshly forming worlds.

“The stones were charged with the magic of the original universe. We used them to travel swiftly from one planet to another.
They acted as universal markers, guiding us, allowing us to cross vast expanses of space swiftly. Unfortunately the lodestones
could be used to serve the forces of evil as well.” Raz laughs bitterly. “We never guessed that the species we assisted might
prove as vicious as the demons we hoped they would fight.”

“Mages used lodestones to open windows to the Demonata universe,” I groan.

“We assumed this universe’s creatures would care primarily for their own,” Raz says. “But many craved power. Each world produced
individuals with magical talent. Most used their power to do good, but some became tyrants. They crushed their enemies and
ruled with a monstrous authority.”

“You could have stopped them,” I growl.

“And replaced them?” Raz asks wryly. “Established our favorites as rulers? No. We were determined to guide, not rule. We looked
on with despair as the rotten few caused misery for millions. But we never intervened. Every species must be free to make
their mistakes, enjoy their triumphs, lament their catastrophes. That is our fundamental belief.”

Raz sighs again. “The windows were bad enough, but then some used more powerful lodestones to create tunnels and entire civilizations
fell. We realized more would follow, that the Demonata would cross in greater numbers and spread. We thought about shutting
the project down.” He chuckles humorlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” I frown.

Raz shakes his head. “You don’t realize what that would have entailed. We had visited millions of worlds. There were billions
of intelligent beings scattered through the universe. We’d have had to—”

“— kill them all,” I finish hoarsely.

Raz nods. “That was not an option, so we dismissed it. Besides, the demons could not ruin
every
world or kill
every
living being. It was physically impossible. The Demonata might destroy much, but not all. Life would continue, even when
we were gone.

“That changed sixteen hundred years ago.” Raz’s features darken. “We had pressed on with the program. All looked positive.
But then, on your world, an insignificant, unremarkable girl altered everything. She turned the laws of life on their head,
and introduced a new player to the game, one who could guarantee victory for the Demonata.”

I gulp. “You’re talking about Bec, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Raz says angrily.

“And the new player?” I ask.

He stares at me heavily, then says,
“Death.”