THE JOURNEY THROUGH DEATH’S GATE IS A TERRIBLE ONE——A FRIGHTening collision of contradictions slamming into the consciousness with such force that the mind blacks out. Haplo had once attempted to remain conscious during the journey [1]; he still shuddered when he recalled that frightful experience. Unable to find refuge in oblivion, his mind had jumped into another body, the nearest body—that of Alfred. He and the Sartan had exchanged consciousness, relived each other’s most profound life experiences.
Each had learned something about the other then; neither could quite view the other the same as before. Haplo knew what it was like to believe yourself to be the last member of your race, alone in a world of strangers. Alfred knew what it was like to be a prisoner in the Labyrinth.
“I guess Alfred knows firsthand now,” Haplo said, settling down beside the dog, prepared to sleep as he always did now before entering Death’s Gate. “Poor bastard. I doubt if he’s still alive. He and the woman he took with him. What was her name? Orla? Yes, that was it. Orla.”
The dog whimpered at the mention of Alfred’s name, laid its head in Haplo’s lap. He scratched the dog’s jowls. “I guess the best to hope for Alfred would be a quick death.”
The dog sighed and gazed out the window with sad, hope-
1 Fire Sea. vol. 3 of The Death Gate Cycle.
fill eyes, as if expecting to see Alfred bumble his way back on board any moment.
Guided by the rune-magic, the ship left behind the waters of Chelestra, entered the huge pocket of air that surrounded Death’s Gate. Haplo roused himself from musings that weren’t offering either help or consolation, checked to make certain that the magic was working as it should, keeping his ship protected, holding it together, propelling it forward.
He was astounded to notice, however, that his magic was doing remarkably little. The sigla were inscribed on the inside of the ship, not the outside, as he’d always done before, but that should not make a difference. If anything, the runes should be working harder to compensate. The cabin should be lit with a bright blue and red light, but the interior was only suffused with a pleasant glow that had a faint purplish tinge.
Haplo fought down a brief moment of panicked doubt, carefully went over every rune structure inscribed on the interior of the small submersible. He found no flaw and he wouldn’t, he knew, because he’d gone over it twice previously.
He hurried over to the window in the steerage, stared out. He could see Death’s Gate, a tiny hole that looked much too small for a ship of any size larger than a …
He blinked, rubbed his eyes.
Death’s Gate had changed. Haplo couldn’t think why, couldn’t understand for a moment. Then he had the answer.
Death’s Gate was open.
It had not occurred to him that opening the Gate would make any difference. But it must, of course. The Sartan who designed the Gate in the beginning would have provided themselves with quick, easy access to the other three worlds. It was logical, and Haplo berated himself for being thickheaded, for not having thought of this before. He could probably have saved himself time and worry.
Or could he?
He frowned, considering. Entering Death’s Gate might be easier, but what would he do once he was inside? How was it controlled? Would his magic even work? Or would his ship come apart at the seams?
“You’ll have your answer soon enough,” he told himself. “You can’t very well go back.”
He controlled an urge to pace nervously about the small cabin, focused his attention on Death’s Gate.
The hole that had previously appeared too small for a gnat to pass through now loomed large. No longer dark and forbidding, the entrance was filled with light and color. Haplo couldn’t be certain, but he thought he caught glimpses of the other worlds. Quick impressions slid into his mind and then out, moving too rapidly for him to focus on any in particular, like images seen in a dream.
The steamy jungles of Pryan, the molten-rock rivers of Abarrach, the floating islands of Arianus passed swiftly before his eyes. He saw, too, the soft shimmering twilight of the Nexus. This faded and from it emerged the stark and terrifying wasteland of the Labyrinth. Then, very briefly—gone so fast that he wondered if he’d truly seen it—he caught a glimpse of another place, a strange place he didn’t recognize, a place of such peace and beauty mat his heart constricted with pain when the vision vanished.