When they reached the first floor again, Edge and the Maximus brothers began searching the walls and floors. Snooky got out and sniffed around, looking for ways downward to the lower level Glamgorthea had spoken of.
The skull floated close to Dartan as they waited. “Thank you for your help. The troll might have smashed me in his rage.”
The warrior shook his head. “Broldek may be big and stinky, but he’s really very level-headed. At best I think he was trying to intimidate you.”
The skull teetered in midair, nodding.
Dartan took a breath to speak. He paused, then said “Bree.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember anything about death? I mean, I know you can’t recall much about your life… but… ”
“Oh.” The skull floated in the air silently for a moment. “I do. I remember death. You’ve been dead before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m resurrected before long, always. I’ve never died and stayed dead. What’s it like?”
Bree spoke quietly. “Cold. Cold and empty.”
This surprised Dartan. “What?”
“There’s just the grave and you. You’re barely aware you exist, but you do know that you’re cold, alone, and you’ll never again see any of the people you ever cared about. Just cold, wet gravedirt, moss, and a kind of half-dreaming despair.”
“You were a cleric of Ehlonna. Why would a god allow its servants to rot in their graves? It doesn’t make sense. There’s a heaven for people like you.”
“No. There’s no heaven. Gods don’t care… I learned that after I died. When you’re of no more use to the god, the god throws you aside like the husk you are.”
Dartan’s jaw clenched tightly. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s true. Gods use mortals for their faith, to gain power. When you get to the other side, all you find you’ve ever prayed for were empty promises… because who can hold gods accountable?”
Shaking his head, Dartan said “No, that can’t be right… my wife…”
“Is dead. Pelor used her and then she died. She lies in her grave now, only knowing that you aren’t there, and that she is very, very cold. I’m sorry Dartan.”
“What about Myramus and Menerous? They’re proof that Pelor loves his followers. They’d been dead for quite some time.”
“What are they proof of? They look and talk like your old friends, certainly, but do you know that they are? Can you PROVE they’re who they say they are, if Pelor wants you to believe they’re the brothers Maximus?” Dartan sat silently, thinking. Bree went on. “Gods don’t care. One way or the other you’re going to spend an eternity only in the Oerth, only in despair, ever.“
Dartan got up and walked away, facing the wall where the others could not see. He felt his eyes stinging and his throat closing up. Don’t cry, you old fool, he told himself. You knew this all along. Since Heironeous abandoned you, you’ve known you had no one to count on but yourself. The universe is empty while the gods eat us like apples, throwing the cores away when they’re done. He felt sick. He leaned on the wall and breathed. Bree could be lying. It might not even be Bree. It certainly sounded like her, though… and it confirmed for him what Dartan had privately believed for years. Gods are bastards.
He took out the letter he’d been given. Myramus had said it was from his wife. He opened it with shaking hands and read again.
Dearest Husband
My beloved. I miss you so. Even here in the rays of the sun, in Pelor’s blessing, I feel sadness in that we are not together. I do not yet have your arms to hold me again, and even in the thrall of bliss, it makes me feel incomplete. The only thing I could ask for in heaven is you… because this is not heaven without you.
It will never be heaven unless you come here. It is for this reason that I am sending this letter down to you with Myramus. I see you, every day, choking on anger… feeling only pain and rage. You needn’t feel this way about my death. I died for the Shining One. I knew what I was getting into. You felt betrayed that Pelor had let me die, and you shut him out. You’re dooming yourself, my husband. Your anger for losing me will cost you an eternity with me in the end. You must let go of your feelings and give yourself to Pelor’s grace. It is the only way we can be together. Without faith, you will die and your soul will wink out like a candle. Open your heart to Pelor, however, and your soul will shine like the sun itself. You will feel His love, and when you die, we will be complete. Nova and Blaze will join us when it is their time and we will be a family again. Please, it is the only way.
You will play an important part in the coming war. You may not survive it. I beg you. If you ever loved me, swear yourself to Pelor and let his hand guide you.
In the name of the Shining One
I remain your devoted and loving wife
~Arlen
“Dartan, are you deaf?”
Dartan looked up, blinking. “What?”
Kizzlorn sighed. “I said we’ve found the way down. Come on.”
“Yes. Of course.” He refolded the letter and placed it inside his pack. The letter had been a beaming thing of hope only moments before, but now doubt clouded his heart. He didn’t know why he was believing Bree. The talking skull of a long-dead childhood friend is nothing to take the word of… yet it had told him what he had held to be true for a long time. He felt his arms and legs grow heavy with sorrow. He felt like sitting down and giving up. What was the point of carrying on? His armor clung to him like so much dead weight. No, he thought. This cannot be. If there’s even the most remote chance that this will bring me to my wife when I die, I must take it. I must. Dartan breathed deeply and prayed to Pelor. I believe, he thought. I believe in you and let you into my soul. Please show me my wife was right. I am a tired old man who has been wrong about most things. I only want to be with her. Pelor, take me as your servant and fill me with your light.
He paused at the top of the trapdoor, looking down on his friends who were descending the ladder beneath him, ignorant of his problems. He waited. Nothing. There was no change. He didn’t feel light and love flow into him. He cursed himself for a fool and stifled the sob he felt building in his chest. Dartan put a foot upon the top rung and began climbing down the ladder. Bree was right, the Godless thought. I knew it.
He climbed down, stone-faced, suffocating the urge to weep. Weeping was for weaker men. He was Dartan, and he’d only confirmed what he’d known all along.
MORE TO COME…
