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  JUNGLE LEVIATHANS

  The giant approached, and now Paithan could see why it had seemed the jungle was moving. Its body was covered from head to toe with leaves and vines, its skin was the color and texture of tree bark. Even when the giant was extremely close, Paithan had difficulty separating it from its background. The bulbous head was bare and the crown and forehead, that were a whitish color and bald, stood out against the surroundings.

  Glancing around swiftly, the elf saw that there were twenty or thirty of the giants emerging from the jungle, gliding toward them, their movements graceful and perfectly, unnaturally silent.

  Paithan shrank back against the tree trunk. It was a hopeless gesture, there was obviously no escape. The heads, with their awful dark and empty holes, stared straight at them. The one nearest put his hands upon the edge of the fungus and jerked on it.

  The ledge trembled beneath Paithan’s feet. Another giant joined its fellow, large fingers grabbing, gripping. Paithan looked down at the huge hands with a terrible kind of fascination, saw that the fingers were stained red with dried blood.

  “CHARACTERS ARE FULLY DRAWN, COMPLEX INDIVIDUALS; AND IN WHAT IS ESSENTIALLY A TRAGIC TALE, THE AUTHORS ADD JUST ENOUGH HUMOR TO LET THE READER KNOW THEY’RE NOT TAKING THEMSELVES TOO SERIOUSLY.”

  —Booklist

  Bantam Spectra Books

  by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

  THE DARKSWORD SERIES

  Forging the Darksword

  Doom of the Darksword

  Triumph of the Darksword

  Legacy of the Darksword

  THE DEATH GATE CYCLE

  Dragon Wing

  Elven Star

  Fire Sea

  Serpent Mage

  The Hand of Chaos

  Into the Labyrinth

  The Seventh Gate

  and by Margaret Weis

  STAR OF THE GUARDIANS

  The Lost King

  ELVEN STAR

  A Bantam Spectra Book

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Bantam hardcover edition / November 1990

  Bantam rack edition / August 1991

  SPECTRA and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1990 by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 90-38337.

  Maps designed by GDS/Jeffrey L. Ward.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-48424-6

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

  v3.1_r1

  His banner over me

  was love.

  —Song of Solomon

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Map

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 - Equilan, Treetop Level

  Chapter 2 - Equilan, Treetop Level

  Chapter 3 - Griffith, Terncia, Thillia

  Chapter 4 - Equilan, Lake Enthial

  Chapter 5 - Equilan, Lake Enthial

  Chapter 6 - Equilan, Lake Enthial

  Chapter 7 - Treetops, Equilan

  Chapter 8 - The Nexus

  Chapter 9 - Cahndar to Estport, Equilan

  Chapter 10 - Varsport, Thillia

  Chapter 11 - House of Quindiniar, Equilan

  Chapter 12 - Griffith, Terncia, Thillia

  Chapter 13 - Somewhere Over Pryan

  Chapter 14 - Somewhere, Gunis

  Chapter 15 - The Dwarven Kingdom Thurn

  Chapter 16 - Somewhere Else, Gunis

  Chapter 17 - In the Shadows, Gunis

  Chapter 18 - Somewhere Above Pryan

  Chapter 19 - The Border, Thurn

  Chapter 20 - The Tunnels, Thurn

  Chapter 21 - Treetops, Equilan

  Chapter 22 - The Tunnels, Thurn to Thillia

  Chapter 23 - Griffith, Thillia

  Chapter 24 - Sorinth, Across Thillia

  Chapter 25 - Treetops, Equilan

  Chapter 26 - Varsport, Thillia

  Chapter 27 - Somewhere Above Equilan

  Chapter 28 - Treetops, Equilan

  Chapter 29 - Treetops, Equilan

  Chapter 30 - Treetops, Equilan

  Chapter 31 - Treetops, Equilan

  Chapter 32 - Dragon Star

  Chapter 33 - Dragon Star

  Chapter 34 - The Star

  Chapter 35 - Somewhere on Pryan

  Chapter 36 - Somewhere, Pryan

  Chapter 37 - Somewhere, Pryan

  Chapter 38 - The Citadel

  Chapter 39 - The Citadel

  Chapter 40 - Somewhere, Pryan

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  PROLOGUE

  “… WORLD DOMINATON WAS WITHIN OUR GRASP. OUR ANCIENT ENEMY, the Sartan, was powerless to prevent our ascendency. The knowledge that they would be forced to live under our rule was galling to them, bitter as wormwood. The Sartan determined to take drastic measures, committing an act of desperation almost impossible to conceive. Rather than permit us to take over the world, the Sartan destroyed it.

  “In its place, the Sartan created four new worlds, formed out of the elements of the old: Air, Fire, Stone, and Water. The peoples of the world who survived the holocaust were transported by the Sartan to live in these new worlds. We, their ancient enemy, were cast into a magical prison known as the Labyrinth.

  “According to their records that I discovered in the Nexus, the Sartan hoped that prison life would ‘rehabilitate’ us, that we would emerge from the Labyrinth chastened, our domineering and, what they term ‘cruel,’ natures softened. But something went wrong with their scheme. Our Sartan jailers, those who were to control the Labyrinth, disappeared. The Labyrinth itself took over, and turned from prison to executioner.

  “Countless numbers of our people have died in that fearsome place. Entire generations have been wiped out, destroyed. But, before it died, each generation sent its children forward, each succeeding generation drew nearer and nearer to freedom. At last, through my extraordinary powers of magic, I was able to defeat the Labyrinth, the first to escape its toils. I passed through the Last Gate and emerged into this world, known as the Nexus. Here, I discovered what had been done to us by the Sartan. More importantly, I discovered the existence of four new worlds and the connections between the worlds. I discovered Death’s Gate.

  “I returned to the Labyrinth—I return frequently—and used my magic to fight and stabilize parts of it, providing safe havens for the rest of my people still struggling to free themselves from their bonds. Those who have succeeded come to the Nexus and work for me, building up the city, making ready for the day when, once again, we will take our rightful place as rulers of the universe. To this end, I am sending explorers through the Death’s Gate into each of the four worlds.”1

  “… I chose Haplo from the large number of people in my service for several reasons: his coolheadedness, his quick thinking, his ability to speak fluently the various languages, and his skill in magic. Haplo proved himself in his first journey to the Air World of Arianus. Not only did he do what he could to disrupt the world and
plunge it into a devastating war, he also provided me with much valuable information, as well as a young disciple—a remarkable child known as Bane.

  “I am quite pleased with Haplo and his accomplishments. If I keep a sharp eye on him, it is because he has an unfortunate tendency to be an independent thinker. I say nothing to him; this trait is invaluable to me at the moment. In fact, I do not believe that he himself is even aware of his flaw. He imagines himself to be dedicated to me. He would sacrifice his life for me without hesitation. But it is one thing to offer up one’s life, it is another to offer up one’s soul.

  “Reuniting the four worlds, defeating the Sartan—these will be sweet victories. But how much sweeter will be the sight of Haplo and those like him kneeling before me, acknowledging me, in their hearts and in their minds, their absolute lord and master.”2

  Haplo, my dear son.

  I hope I may term you thus. You are as dear to me as the children I have fathered. Perhaps that is because I feel that I played a role in your birth—or rebirth. Certainly I plucked you from the jaws of death and gave you back your life. And, after all, what does a natural father do to get himself a son except spend a few pleasurable moments with a woman?

  I had hoped to be able to speed you on your journey to Pryan, Realm of Fire. Unfortunately, I received word from the watchers that the magical field is crumbling somewhere near the four hundred and sixty-third gate. The Labyrinth has unleashed a swarm of flesh-devouring ants that have killed several hundreds of our people. I must go in and do battle and will, therefore, be absent when you leave. Needless to say, I wish you were at my side as you have been through countless other fights, but your mission is urgent, and I will not take you from your duties.

  My instructions to you are similar to those you received setting off for Arianus. You will, of course, keep your magical powers hidden from the populace. As in Arianus, we must keep our return to the world secret. If the Sartan discover me before I am ready to proceed with my plans, they would move heaven and earth (as they did once before) to stop me.

  Remember, Haplo, that you are an observer. If possible, take no direct action to alter events in the world, act through indirect means only. When I enter these worlds myself, I do not want to face accusations that my agents committed atrocities in my name. You did an excellent job in Arianus, my son, and I mention this precaution only as a reminder.

  About Pryan, the World of Fire, we know little except that its area is purportedly vast. The model left behind by the Sartan pictures a gigantic ball of stone surrounding a core of fire, similar to the ancient world but far, far larger. It is the size that puzzles me. Why did the Sartan feel the need to make this planet so incredibly immense? Something else I do not quite understand and that is—where is its sun? These are among the many questions you will endeavor to answer.

  Because of the enormous amount of land space on Pryan, I can only assume that its population must tend to be scattered about in small groups, isolated from each other. I base this on knowledge of the estimated number of people the Sartan transported to Pryan. Even with an unprecedented population explosion, the elves, humans, and dwarves could never have expanded to cover such a large land mass. A disciple to draw the people together, such as you brought me from Arianus, will be of no use to me under such circumstances.

  You are being sent to Pryan primarily as investigator. Learn all you can about this world and its inhabitants. And, as in Arianus, search diligently for some sign of the Sartan. Although you did not (with one exception) discover them living in the World of Air, it is possible that they may have fled that world and sought exile on Pryan.

  Be careful, Haplo, be circumspect. Do nothing to draw attention to yourself. I embrace you in my heart. I look forward to embracing you in my arms on your safe and successful return. Your lord and father.3

  l The Lord of the Nexus, History of the Patryns Following the Destruction of the World.

  2 Excerpt from the private diaries of the Lord of the Nexus.

  3 Haplo, Pryan, World of Fire, vol. 2 of Death Gate Journals.

  CHAPTER 1

  EQUILAN,

  TREETOP LEVEL

  CALANDRA QUINDINIAR SAT AT THE HUGE POLISHED SCROLL DESK ADDING up the last month’s earnings. Her white fingers darted rapidly over the abacus, sliding the beads up and down, muttering the figures aloud to herself as she wrote them in the old leather-bound ledger. Her handwriting was much like herself: thin, upright, precise, and easy to read.

  Above her head whirled four plumes made of swans’ feathers, keeping the air moving. Despite the suffocating midcycle heat outside, the interior of the house was cool. It stood on the highest elevation in the city and so obtained the breeze that otherwise was often lost in the jungle vegetation.

  The house was the largest in the city, next to the royal palace. (Lenthan Quindiniar had the money to build his house larger than the royal palace, but he was a modest elf and knew his place.) The rooms were spacious and airy with high ceilings and numerous windows and the magical system of flutterfans, at least one in every room. The living rooms were on the second floor and were open and beautifully furnished. Drawn shades darkened and cooled them during bright hours of the cycle. During stormtime, the shades were raised to catch the refreshing, rain-drenched breezes.

  Calandra’s younger brother, Paithan, sat in a rocking chair near the desk. He rocked lazily back and forth, a palm fan in his hand, and watched the rotation of the swans’ wings above his sister’s head. Several other fans were visible to him from the study—the fan in the living room and beyond that the fan in the dining area. He watched them all waft through the air and between the rhythmic flutter of the wings and the clicking of the beads of the abacus and the gentle creaking of his chair, he fell into an almost hypnotic trance.

  A violent explosion that shook the three-level house jolted Paithan upright.

  “Damn,” he said, looking irritably at a fine sifting of plaster1 that was falling from the ceiling into his iced drink.

  His sister snorted and said nothing. She had paused to blow plaster off the page of the ledger, but did not miss a figure. A wail of terror could be heard, coming from the level down below.

  “That’ll be the new scullery maid,” said Paithan, rising to his feet. “I better go and comfort her, tell her it’s only father—”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” snapped Calandra, neither raising her head nor ceasing to write. “You’ll sit right there and wait until I’m finished so that we can go over your next trip norinth. It’s little enough you do to earn your keep, idling about with your noble friends, doing Orn knows what. Besides, the new girl’s a human and an ugly one at that.”

  Calandra returned to her addition and subtraction. Paithan subsided good-naturedly back into his chair.

  I might have known, he reflected, that if Calandra’d hire a human at all the girl’d be some little pig-faced wretch. That’s sisterly love for you. Ah, well, I’ll be on the road soon and then what dear Cal doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

  Paithan rocked, his sister muttered, the fans whirred contentedly.

  The elves revere life and so magically endow it on nearly all their creations. The feathers were under the illusion that they were still attached to the swan. Paithan, watching them, thought that this might be a good analogy for their entire family. They were all under the illusion that they were still attached to something, perhaps even each other.

  His peaceful reverie was interrupted by the appearance of a charred, singed, and disheveled man, who bounded into the room, rubbing his hands.

  “That was a good one, don’t you think?” he said.

  The man was short, for an elf, and had obviously once been robustly plump. The flesh had begun to sag lately; the skin had turned sallow and slightly puffy. Though it could not be told beneath the soot, the gray hair standing up around a large bald spot on his head revealed that he was in his middle years. Other than his graying hair, it might have been difficult to guess the elf’s age be
cause his face was smooth and unwrinkled—too smooth. His eyes were bright—too bright. He rubbed his hands and looked anxiously from daughter to son.

  “That was a good one, wasn’t it?” he repeated.

  “Sure, Guvnor,” said Paithan in good-humored agreement. “Nearly knocked me over backward.”

  Lenthan Quindiniar smiled jerkily.

  “Calandra?” he persisted.

  “You’ve sent the kitchen help into hysterics and put new cracks in the ceiling, if that’s what you mean, Father,” retorted Calandra, snapping the beads together viciously.

  “You’ve made a mistake!” squeaked the abacus suddenly.

  Calandra glared at it, but the abacus held firm. “Fourteen thousand six hundred eighty-five add twenty-seven is not fourteen thousand six hundred twelve. It’s fourteen thousand seven hundred twelve. You’ve neglected to carry the one.”

  “I’m surprised I can still reckon at all! See what you’ve done, Father?” Calandra demanded.

  Lenthan appeared rather downcast for a moment, but he cheered up almost immediately.

  “It won’t be long now,” he said, rubbing his hands. “That last one lifted the rocket above my head. I think I’m close to discovering the proper mixture. I’ll be in the laboratory, my dears, if anyone needs me.”

  “That’s likely!” muttered Calandra.

  “Oh, ease up on the guvnor,” said Paithan, watching with some amusement as the elf wound his way vaguely around the assortment of fine furnishings to disappear through a door at the back of the dining area. “Would you rather have him the way he was after Mother died?”

  “I’d rather have him sane, if that’s what you mean, but I suppose that’s too much to ask! Between Thea’s gallivanting and Papa’s idiocy, we’re the laughing stock of the city.”

  “Don’t worry, Sister dear. The people may snigger but, with you scooping up the money of the Lords of Thillia, they do so behind their hands. Besides, if the guvnor was sane he’d be back in the business.”