‘Why here?’ asked Nakor, fixing Guide with a narrow gaze. ‘Why not on Midkemia before we destroyed an entire city and the best part of a race?’
Guide cocked his head for a second as if considering. ‘I do not know.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, ‘Rider.’
‘What rider?’ asked Miranda.
‘Rider. She was sent by the One to warn you.’ He pointed at Pug. ‘But she was … prevented.’ His face became a mask of confusion. He stood up. ‘Come. We must hurry. Time grows short.’
‘How much farther?’ asked Magnus.
‘Why the sudden hurry?’ asked Miranda.
‘I can only know what I am to know.’ Guide now looked completely confused. ‘Your questions will … be answered as it is … as the One …’ Frustration overcame him and he almost shouted, ‘I do not know why these things are so! I am only a means of …’ He continued in an almost alien voice, ‘I am only a means of expression, an interpreter if you will, of a higher mind which must carefully choose how to touch you without harm. Your lack of belief in the form your minds chose … it is wearing on me. Come, I will take you to someone who may be better able to answer these and other questions.’
They trudged along and Pug said, ‘When we pulled Macros back from his attempted ascension into godhood, I remember him describing his experience as seeing all of vast creation through the knothole of a fence, and as we pulled him back his perspective shifted and he saw less and less.’
‘Yes?’ asked Miranda.
‘He later explained that the other aspect of the experience was that the closer he got to that fence, the less of his “self” remained; as he ascended to godhood, identity faded as consciousness expanded.’
Guide said, ‘Yes. The One could simply impart knowledge, but it would overwhelm you. For you to know, but to be squatting on the side of a hill, unable to move because your mind was damaged, that would serve no one.’
‘That’s hard to deny!’ said Nakor.
They moved as best they could over the broken terrain and at times found themselves facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles, for they were moving down a miles-long slope that wended its way through once-undersea mountains. Yet Guide always seemed to find a way, even if it was treacherous.
Finally they crested a rise and he pointed. ‘There!’
In the distance they could see a vast table of land, surrounded by deep trenches. Pug said, ‘Those crevasses are vast. Can you fashion us a bridge that far?’
Before Guide could answer, Magnus said, ‘I think I can get us there.’
Miranda looked at him. ‘Are you certain? I found the short excursion I attempted very painful.’
‘I’ve been attuning myself as best I’m able to the energy states here …’ Magnus paused and they both knew he had almost called her ‘Mother’, and a smile was exchanged. ‘I doubt it will be pain-free, but I think I can manage this one attempt without incapacitating myself. As I can see our destination, much of the risk is abated.’
Pug and Miranda glanced at one another, then at Nakor, who nodded. ‘It’s been a long time since I tried to forbid you a risk,’ said Pug. He took Magnus’s hand as Miranda and Nakor joined hands, and Nakor grabbed Magnus’s arm. Pug gripped Guide’s arm with his free hand and found it unexpectedly cold.
Suddenly they were standing on a plateau miles from where they had been a moment before. Pug looked at his son and saw Magnus’s expression was pained, and perspiration was beading on his forehead. His pale complexion was drained of what little colour he normally possessed. He shook his head slightly and said, ‘I’ll be fine in a moment. If we have to do it again, I can adjust. This is not the easiest adjustment I’ve made, but it’s not the most difficult either.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said Nakor, then he pointed past Guide. ‘Who’s that?’
Guide didn’t look, but said, ‘That is Pepan the Thrice-cursed.’ Then he vanished without a word.
The being left before them was as alien a creature as any of them had met, and in demonic form Nakor and Miranda had met many. He, if gender could be determined, was as miserable-looking a creature as any had seen. His head was three times the size of a normal man’s, but the body was slender and seemed barely able to hold it up. A bulbous stomach protruded so far that only the lower portions of spindly legs where it sat could be seen, and the arms were almost withered.
His face was long, from an almost hairless pate to a long, broad jaw, and a nose covered in pustules and scabs was at its centre. Rheumy eyes of pale blue surrounded by jaundiced yellow shed a constant stream of tears and heavy lips generated a constant flow of froth and bubbles.
Miranda said softly, ‘I’ve seen worse.’
Nakor said, ‘I’m older than you. No you haven’t.’
The creature seemed unaware of them until Pug ventured closer. ‘You are Pepan?’
‘That’s what Guide said,’ snapped the creature angrily. ‘Do you see anyone else here?’
Nakor pressed forward, his insatiable curiosity pushing aside other considerations. ‘Tell us why you are called the Thrice-cursed.’
‘Listen and be wiser for it, mortal!’ shouted the creature. ‘In this world once was I a man among men, a king among kings, a being of power and wealth, wisdom and beauty. Did I sit upon thrones and did subjects tremble at my beauty? Yes! Did I possess all that any man might desire? Yes!’
Pug saw Miranda about to interrupt and slightly shook his head to indicate he wanted to hear this tale: perhaps there was knowledge to be gained here.
‘In my arrogance I did conspire to elevate myself beyond the wealth and power I had, to rise to the heavens and seek a place among the gods.’
Nakor grinned, and nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘In my vanity, I did create engines of destruction unmatched in the history of my people. Nations I conquered to gather mighty armies around me: those who were vanquished served or died.
‘Then in the tenth age of my reign, I came here to the Tent of Heaven, and led my hordes up the Path of the Gods, to the top of the tallest mountain on this world!’
Nakor glanced around, for they were on what had once been an undersea plateau. ‘I see no mountain, Pepan.’
‘Washed away by the ocean, for no sooner had I approached the Gates of Heaven to demand my due as the newest of the gods, they picked up the entire mountain and thousands of my soldiers fell screaming to their deaths. Then, for my vanity, the gods cursed me by washing away all knowledge of me, sweeping my people into the sea with me, while I was chained to that very mountain. I listened to their screams of terror and pleas for mercy, until there was only silence.
‘Then I knew the price of vanity, perhaps the worst of all sins, for alone I waited, eons passing as the waters wore away the very rocks to which I was chained. The sea became my home and I abided.
‘Above, time passed; I had but scant knowledge of it, only suggestions carried to me on fickle tides. A strange scrap of fabric, unlike any I had beheld, drifted close and I seized it. I wondered who had woven it and what manner of creature now walked in the world above me. I treasured that fabric until the salt of the water had faded it and the very fabric wore away.
‘Once a ship passed directly above, blocking out the faint light of the sun as it passed. I wondered who voyaged upon it, from whence they came and where they were bound.
‘As the mountain wore away, sections sheared off and I was carried deeper into the depths, until no light reached me from above.’
Miranda said, ‘That is far more than three curses; that’s