Gathering of the Chosen (25 page)

“And you think you can stop the assassin
on your own, after it almost killed you?” said Braim. “I'm not
convinced that there's much you can do to stop it even if it's
here, frankly.”

“I agree with Braim,” said Tashir. “While
it is possible that this sudden turn of events is due to the
actions of that assassin from yesterday, it would be wiser to stay
here until Alira is able to get the viewer bubbles working
again.”

Carmaz listened to Braim and Tashir, but
he didn't agree with a single word that they said. He stood up
again and said, “I'm going down there, whether you want me to or
not.”

With that, Carmaz climbed over the back of
his seat and then ran down the steps leading to the door below.
Saia followed, much to Carmaz's surprise, but he was glad that he
had his best friend at his side anyway.

The two of them reached the exit quickly
enough, but when Carmaz laid one hand on the doorknob to grab it,
he had to yank his hand back. The knob had felt like it was on
fire, even though there was no visible clues to hint at its
heat.

“Carmaz, Saia,” said Alira behind them,
causing Carmaz and Saia to turn to see her glaring at them from
behind her glasses. “Where do you two think you're going? I did not
give either of you permission to leave.”

“We know, Judge, but we think that the
sudden and unexplained disappearance of the viewer bubbles is the
responsibility of the assassin who tried to kill us yesterday,”
Carmaz said. “So we were going to go down to the Stadium floor to
check on Raya and the others to confirm that the assassin isn't
down there.”

Alira rolled her eyes. “What a silly
excuse. Of course they are fine. I would know if they weren't.”

“But how?” said Carmaz. “If no one can see
them right now, then how could you possibly know that they are
fine?”

“Because I am the Judge and I know all
that goes on within the Stadium,” said Alira. She pointed at their
now-vacant seats next to Braim at the back row. “Now return to your
seats. I am perfectly capable of figuring out this issue on my own,
without your unasked for help.”

Carmaz wanted to continue arguing, but it
now seemed utterly pointless, as Alira was clearly not going to let
him or Saia go, no matter how persuasive their arguments might be.
Still, he couldn't help but worry about Raya and the others anyway,
so he wracked his brain for any possible argument he could use to
convince Alira to let him and Saia go.

“I just want to help them, that's all,”
said Carmaz, even though he was aware that this wasn't much of an
argument at all.

“I know, Carmaz, but the fact of the
matter is, you are in no position to help anyone at the moment,
especially if that mysterious assassin from yesterday is here,”
said Alira. “Now return to your seats or I will send you back to
your apartment where you cannot view the events of the
Tournament.”

Carmaz's shoulders slumped. He wished that
he was a mage, because then he might have been able to use magic to
get out of here, but now it was pretty clear that he would just
have to wait here and hope for the best.

So Carmaz nodded, albeit grudgingly, and
was about to go climbing up the stairs back to his seat when the
floor subtly shook under his feet.

The tremor was so subtle that Carmaz at
first thought that it might have been his imagination at work,
making him feel things that weren't there. Then the floor shook
again. Still not hard enough to scare him, but enough that he was
now certain that it was as real as anything and that he was not
imagining it.

The other godlings must have felt it as
well, because they were all looking around in fear, while Alira
said, “Remain calm, everyone. I do not know what may be causing
these tremors, but—”

She did not get to finish her sentence,
because without warning, a portal popped into existence behind
Braim. Braim looked over his shoulder just in time to see two large
hands appear out of nowhere, grab his shoulders, and drag him
directly into the portal before anyone else could react.

A second later, the portal closed, but the
tremors didn't stop. If anything, they grew even worse, making
Carmaz wonder if the entire Stadium was going to fall apart on top
of them.

But Carmaz had little time to think about
it, because soon a loud, shrieking noise assaulted his hearing,
forcing him to his knees as he fell to the floor. Saia fell as
well, while the other godlings slammed their hands over their ears
to protect their hearing. Alira was shouting something, but it was
impossible to tell what she was shouting because of the loud
shrieking that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Then Carmaz saw a crack in the floor, one
that he hadn't noticed before. And it was grower wider.

***

O
ne moment, Braim was just sitting
in his seat in the Stadium's box, watching Carmaz arguing with
Alira to let him and Saia go down to check on Raya and the other
Hollech Bracket challengers. The next, he found himself sprawled on
the ground in a place he was too disoriented at first to
understand.

Scrambling to his feet, his head aching
from the disorientation, Braim looked around at his surroundings.
He was standing in what appeared to be the ancient stone hallways
of a castle, but having never visited a castle of any sort before,
Braim had no idea which castle this might have been. The air
smelled ancient, but it also smelled of blood, which made him
shudder. That, and it was cold. Not as cold as the Great Berg, but
a lot colder than the Stadium had been.

Where the heck am I?
Braim thought,
looking around, hoping that he would see something that might jog
his memory or clue him in to where he had ended up.
How did I
get here? Who took me here?

That was another issue. Braim did not see
anyone else in here with him. The hallway was as silent as
midnight. In fact, the hallway looked as though it had not been
visited in years. There was a fine layer of dust on the floor and
walls. Even so, Braim thought he felt someone watching him, even
though there was nowhere that anyone could watch him from in the
hallway without his knowledge.

It didn't help that the darkness in the
back of Braim's mind was creeping up on him again. It almost
overwhelmed him this time, but he forced it back in order to focus
on his current situation. He had to, because he had a feeling that
whoever had taken him here was not going to treat him kindly.

“Alira?” Braim said, though he didn't
raise his voice very loudly because he didn't want to attract the
attention of anyone he didn't want seeing him. “Carmaz? Saia? Raya?
Tashir? Yoji? Malya?”

No answer from anyone. Braim looked over
his shoulder, but didn't see anyone or anything down that way,
either.

Looks like I really am all on my own
here,
Braim thought. He shivered at the thought.
Not
good.

Braim considered trying to teleport back,
but then rejected the idea. For one, he wasn't a good teleporter.
Sure, he could teleport short distances with no problem, but long
distances (and he had a feeling that he was a
very
long
distance from World's End) required more skill and magic than he
was able to use.

For another, Braim had no idea exactly
where he was in relation to World's End or how far he had
teleported. And even if he did, that would require teleporting
through solid rock, a feat that was technically possible, but only
if you were a powerful mage with a lot of practice and experience
in teleporting.

The truth of the matter was, Braim was
neither (and based on what Jenur had told him, he had never been a
very good teleporter even before his death). That meant he had to
find out where he was and how he got here on his own, as well as
find out how to get back to World's End without help from the
others.

Unfortunately, Braim wasn't sure whether
to walk forward or backwards. There were no doors along the walls
of the hallway in which he found himself, but he did see that both
ends of the hall curved to the right. What lay beyond those curves,
Braim didn't know.

Nor did he
want
to know, but the
fact was that Braim had to go
some
where and he couldn't
figure out how to get home just by standing around doing nothing.
He would have to venture forth and deal with whatever lay
ahead.

Holding his wand tightly in his hand,
Braim decided to go forward, mostly on a whim more than anything.
He took a deep breath and began walking, keeping his eyes and ears
open for any possible traps, even though all of the evidence so far
suggested that Braim was quite alone in this place.

As Braim walked, his footsteps loud due to
the silence in the hall, he found that this place reminded him of
North Academy's graveyard for some reason. He wasn't sure why. All
he knew was that he felt a great sense of dread here, not helped by
the darkness tugging at the back of his mind, the darkness that was
trying to overwhelm him. It almost made him sick, but he ignored it
because he could not afford to get sick at the moment.

Turning the corner, Braim saw a large,
open doorway standing not far from him. Beyond it was a room, but
it was hard to tell what was in that room because it was rather
dark. Braim didn't want to enter that room at all, but he had
nowhere else to go, so he steeled himself for whatever lay beyond
the open doorway and entered the room.

As soon as Braim stepped beyond the
doorway, the room's door slammed shut behind him. The sudden
closing of the door made him jump and look over his shoulder, but
now the door looked like it had fused with the wall, because he
didn't see any hinges or doorknobs or knockers or anything else to
indicate that a door had been there at all.

That's not a good sign,
Braim
thought.

Without warning, lights running along the
top of the room glowed, dim white lights that offered Braim enough
light by which to see the room itself.

In the center of the room was a depressed
stone pit, in which lay what appeared to be a coffin, oddly enough,
though it was currently closed, so Braim couldn't see what was in
it. At the back of the room were five thrones of varying heights,
though they were currently vacant of whoever might have normally
occupied them. But Braim did see carvings on the backs of each
throne that resembled the gods that had already passed: One for
Skimif, one for Hollech, one for the Spider Goddess, and so on.

And when Braim looked at the coffin in the
center more closely, he realized that it had an engraving of
himself on it.

That's not a good sign, either,
Braim thought.

That was when Braim heard something moving
behind him. Without thinking, he leaped forward. And just in the
nick of time, because four swords flew through the spot where he
had been standing, swords that would have completely cut him up if
he hadn't moved.

Landing on the floor, Braim turned around
to see his worst nightmare: The assassin, who seemed to have
recovered from its wounds from the night before, because it was no
longer bleeding. It raised all four of its arms, glaring at him
from behind its mask, its swords glowing in its hands.

“Hey, what are
you
doing here?”
said Braim, holding up his wand. “I thought you got tired of losing
and quit. Guess you're a persistent little sucker, aren't you?”

“She's persistent only because I do not
allow her to give up,” came a voice behind Braim that he had never
heard before, but which sounded like the creaking of an old coffin
lid as it was opened.

Braim didn't like taking his eyes off the
assassin, but he looked over his shoulder at who had spoken. He was
surprised to see an elderly-looking man standing on the other side
of the depression, but he wasn't just elderly-looking. He looked
like a reanimated corpse. Thin, practically nonexistent hair; gray
skin that was eaten away in some places; and no eyeballs at all.
The man leaned on a dirt-covered shovel while wearing the pure
white robes of a priest.

But it was the power radiating from the
man that caught Braim's attention. The man was no simple human. In
fact, Braim was pretty sure that this man wasn't even human at all.
He gave off an aura of power far stronger than any mage could even
hope to aspire to, so powerful that Braim felt like an ant under
his gaze.

“And you are?” said Braim.

“I am surprised that you don't recognize
me,” said the man. He gestured at his face. “I would think, seeing
that you came back from the dead, that you would know who I am,
especially considering how you were once one of my followers. But I
see that death and resurrection must have robbed you of your
memories of me.”

Braim looked back at the assassin, but to
his surprise, the assassin was nowhere to be seen. Braim looked
around the room, rotating on the spot, but the assassin seemed to
have vanished into thin air.

Braim then looked back at the old man.
“Are you a god?”

“Yes,” said the old man, nodding. “One of
the oldest, in fact. And one of the least popular among mortals,
chiefly for the domain which I rule over. Can you guess which one
that is?”

Braim considered the god's appearance,
then nodded and said, “Let me guess: You're Diog, the God of the
Grave, right?”

Diog smiled, showing that he was missing a
good portion of his teeth and what few teeth remained were rotting
and cracked. “Correct. I am the god that necromancers pledge their
lives to when they choose to take up that discipline. It is I who
rule over the dead and their graves, who decides upon the rules for
burying the dead. And it is a job I hold with great
distinction.”

“I thought that the Ghostly God dealt with
the dead,” said Braim.