Magician’s End Read Online Free Page A

rhythms of the sea.
    ‘Angry gods at last took note of my peace, and chose then to inflict the second of my curses. A day, a month, mere moments, I do not know how long passed, for time had become meaningless to one dwelling blind in the depths of the sea, but suddenly the waters receded and I was again in the light and air! Fire rained down from above, and majestic clouds of flame and ash tore across the heavens as war on a scale unimagined by mortals raged across the land. Engines of destruction vast beyond my imagining, making my proud fleet seem like mere toys, cruised the skies, delivering obliteration to all below.
    ‘Mortals in armour unlike any seen before hurried across broken lands with lances of red light and fire-belching engines on treads, destroying all before them.
    ‘Then hordes of demons appeared, sweeping mortals away as a scythe shears grain, and answering them was a host of angels, swords aflame, horns sounding notes so pure that I was reduced to weeping at the first note.
    ‘This world was torn asunder and oceans vanished as energies hotter than a star burned across the lands. And yet I abided.’
    He fell silent for a moment, and to the four travellers it was unclear if he was merely organizing his thoughts or experiencing some emotion at the memory of this unbelievable narrative.
    ‘So, in sum, my second curse was to watch any shred of a thing I might have loved destroyed in the war between gods and men.’ His voice softened. ‘A war I began. Ages passed and my third curse was made apparent.’
    ‘What is that?’ asked Nakor.
    ‘Upon this world remain scattered remnants of nations, which I gathered.’ He pointed to the assembled bits and scraps he had cobbled together to make a shelter. A bit of something served as a chair; there was also an ancient-looking table. Shreds of fabric had been woven together into a quilt. Pepan himself wore a simple breechclout that was revealed when he finally stood up.
    ‘For uncounted days I wandered, gathering what I could find, always to return here.’
    ‘Why here?’ asked Magnus. ‘There must be more hospitable places on this world.’
    ‘Not really,’ answered Pepan. ‘And this is where the gods left me. This is where I am to abide. I no longer rebel but I do question.’ Raising his eyes to the sky, he shouted, ‘I was a sinner, All Father! I admit my transgressions, All Mother! I sinned most of my days!’ His voice broke. ‘But not every day. I lived but a few score years, yet I have paid for my sins for an eternity.’ With a sob, he whispered, ‘Enough, please.’
    Just as Pug and the others were verging on sympathy for the abject creature, Pepan erupted in a howl of rage. ‘And my third curse, most hateful of all, making me the gatekeeper!’
    ‘Gatekeeper?’ asked Nakor.
    ‘See you then, mortal, that the ultimate jest piled upon me by the gods is that when those who wander this destroyed world, or who fall here from some other realm, when at last they find their way here, I am obliged to help them on their way. I cannot, even out of lonely spite, keep them here to mitigate my endless sorrow through pleasant discourse, nor may I exchange tales of lives spent in other realms, but rather I must endure solitude.
    ‘For upon your arrival, I began to feel pain, and with each passing minute the pain increases. It will not cease until I send you on your way, returning to my isolation. I may not end the suffering by my own hand or the hand of another,’ he sobbed. ‘Alone on this world I am immortal and indestructible.’
    ‘Why endure the pain?’ asked Magnus. ‘Why tell us your tale? Why not just hurry us along?’
    ‘The pain is a price worth paying to interrupt my loneliness,’ Pepan said, weeping openly. ‘Now it must end.’
    He waved his hands in precise pattern and a vortex appeared in the air. It was obviously an opening of some sort, but as they readied themselves to leap through it, Pepan held up his hand.