Chapter Ten

The night was warm. A gentle breeze blew the scent of dust and flowers through the streets. Vines climbed crumbling walls and curled around shabby, wooden shutters. Grapes hung low beneath archways and cats leapt over the rooftops on night-time errands.

Voldemort looked around as Hyrne led the way through the maze of alleys. The city was filled with revellers who slipped past in robe and masks; Voldemort in his usual black and with a white mask, and the fairy in green and gold, passed unnoticed. Two more wandering figures in the masquerade.

'Why are we here?' Voldemort asked.

'Why not? This is the Carnival of Roses. It happens but once a decade and I have not attended for four hundred years. It was a most delightful night. The people sang; the finest wines were broached, and I, as a great dignitary, was treated to the choicest gifts the city could offer.'

They crossed a square where a fire-eater made the flames leap and dance. Sparks blossomed into flowers and dancers in black whirled like shadows between the spinning balls of fire. Around them the audience clapped in time to the rhythm of the guitarists.

'What about the plot against your life?' Voldemort asked. 'Should that not take precedence?'

'What of it? Look around you, my dear friend. Your kind have lives which flicker but briefly. Yet you dance with fire, you risk life, limb and health for one moment of joy. You are an example to us all. What would be the purpose in hoarding a life as some hoard gold? In the end life for life's sake is worthless,' Hyrne said. He clicked his fingers and tapped a passing reveller on the shoulder.

'You: what is life to you?'

The figure turned, revealing the silver mask of a fox. It swayed slightly. 'Wine, women, worthy works, all wake in me a lust for life. Life is lurid, lewd and as lordly a gift as ever man was graciously given.'

The figure spun on its heel and vanished into the crowd laughing. Voldemort stared after it for a moment. 'Are these people quite sane?' He asked slowly.

'As sane as you or I,' Hyrne said. 'Now you really must try the dish they serve here. It is delicious. Sadly, there was a gentleman who took to killing any exceptionally good chefs who knew how to make it, but since he also killed the exceptionally bad chefs the result was not as terrible as it might have been.'

'I am amazed that anyone dares make it at all.'

'Well, the gentleman's own death certainly helped it return to the culinary scene. The pigs must be left in a location where one creature or another may devour their soul. The soulless husks may then be marinated whilst still technically alive without the least resistance. It creates a most superb flavour,' the fairy smiled delightedly at Voldemort as he led him towards a crowd.

'I hate to ask, but are you certain these people are human? In my experience most humans would find such behaviour difficult to manage.'

'Oh indeed, they are humans. They are more accepting of true civilization than many of their kin though. They have come to appreciate the benefits that our race may bestow. In exchange for a few of their number we guide them. I say our race, dear Tom, for I have come to see you as a brother. Your sensibilities, your composure, and your skills are such that I cannot believe you came from entirely mortal stock. You have done me such services that soon I will find a way to begin to repay the debt I owe, I promise,' the fairy said, clasping Voldemort's gloved hand in his.

A familiar chill rippled over Voldemort's skin, despite the glove, but he ignored it. 'You do me a great honour, but I desire nothing, simply let me pursue my own path ...'

'That is impossible. If we are as brothers, then we are inseparable. Once the festival reaches its height at midnight we must embark upon an errand I have long considered.'

'Indeed?' Voldemort asked, slipping between capering revellers.

'Oh yes. You are right, someone is working against me. What was it you told me? The House of Altarnun had given information to a woman who seeks to destroy me. Tonight, I will show you what they must have discovered for her,' Hyrne promised, turning down a long set of steps towards the lower city.

Voldemort nodded, grateful for the mask which hid his expression. 'I would be most intrigued. I do apologise that I was not able to discover anything more from my investigations there.' He hesitated for a moment, considering his next move. 'There is worse though ... I had thought to spare you for the moment, at least until after these festivities. The party of travellers you sent me to attack last week carried news that the Brotherhood are gathering. There is an alliance forming against you, there are rumours than an enchantress is behind it.'

The fairy paused mid-stride. He snapped his fingers and their masks melted away He raised one perfect, curling eyebrow. 'An alliance?'

Voldemort nodded.

'Against me?'

Voldemort nodded again.

The fairy's face twisted and he began moving, walking faster than ever, almost running down the steps towards the water. 'That is the final straw. I have been tolerant. I have been moderate. Only those who raised their hands against me have been struck down. No more. I shall make an example, Tom. We shall set to work. First, we must perform the task I have in mind, then we shall discover where they are gathering ...'

'I believe Trewalder was mentioned. And then?'

'Kill them. Kill them all,' Hyrne said flatly. He had come to a stop. They were looking out over the dark waters of the lake. On the distant shore lights danced like fireflies. The lamps which hung along the waterfront were reflected in the water, gleaming gold blurs swimming just below the surface.

'Well that's certainly proactive. I imagine that you would only be hindered by my presence. I am sure that your talents will be more than a match for them,' Voldemort said smoothly.

Hyrne looked at him, eyes shining in the lamp light, 'We shall not be alone. If they have summoned their allies, then I shall summon mine. Men's nightmares shall walk under the sun. First though ...'

He turned to the city and raised his hands as if he were about to conduct the prelude to an opera. The air tensed as if the city were drawing in its breath. Somewhere in city the first of the clocks began to chime midnight, long, eerie notes sounding in the night. The rest of the clock towers began to strike, from the smallest to the greatest. As the last chime died away a wind whistled through the streets and the masked figures froze.

Absolute silence fell. There was a slow creaking as from every crack and crevice thorny, green shoots sprang. Leaves burst into life with soft sighs. Buds pushed their way from the briars and split open. The scent of roses filled the air.

'The smell of magic and miracles,' the fairy whispered, 'come Tom.' With that he stepped up onto the parapet and dropped out of sight.

Voldemort peered over the edge. The dark water rippled around a pale boat. He shuddered and cast a few charms before stepping up onto the wall and slowly letting himself float downwards. The wood shivered as he landed and began to move out across the lake. Hyrne sat in the prow, his hand trailed through the water.

'So, what is our objective?' Voldemort asked as the sounds of music and laughter faded away.

'Let me tell you a story. Some four thousand years ago, it may have been closer to ten, but such things are unimportant, I met Death, the Last Friend as some know him. I was arrogant, sure in my own remarkable abilities. Death is not common amongst my species, we ... we do not always understand him. I was, for the only time in my life, rude.

'He laughed at me, once I had finished making a fool of myself. It was horrible. Then he made a promise, a prophecy if you will. The details are not important, but it is coming to pass.

'When first the prophecy was made I took the essence of my life and I sealed it away. I put it under ward and watch, in the place we are travelling towards. Ah, forgive me, I will return to the tale in a moment.'

Hyrne stood and raised a hand. He ran it through the air. The lights of the city and the stars disappeared. Water splashed in small waves against wet rocks and the side of the boat. The air was damp and stale.

'Neither speak nor create any light. I must guide us by memory here. Any light or sound you made would be twisted to purposes which were not your own.' He fell silent for a moment and the only sound was that of small waves lapping against the planks of the boat. 'Where was I? Ah yes, my treasure. I sealed it away, for he had promised that only when I had been betrayed, only when the secret of its location was stolen that I would need to act. Only then that I should prepare myself to battle for my life.

'I have, of course, done my best to mollify him over the millennia. You may have seen him ride with us from time to time, and he visits once in a while. The plans of Death though are not so easily overthrown. There will come a day, I am sure, when you must dance his dance, you will discover he has planned every step. If he has nothing else, he has time. Now, I believe we are here.'

The boat crunched on gravel and ground to a halt. A hand grasped Voldemort's and pulled him to his feet. He could smell salt water and pebbles shifted under his boots as he stepped out.

'Now I think we may have light, and you may speak,' Hyrne said. There was a tap and a green glow slowly filled the cave. There was no boat, no pebbles, nor any water. The floor was unblemished white sand stretching out in every direction. Voldemort slowly turned in a circle. They might as well have been in a moonless desert.

'Death himself is after you?' Voldemort asked, filing the information. 'You believe there is a way to defeat him?'

'There are mortal legends of how a man may play chess with Death. Stories of how one may cheat the Devil out of his due. Those are allegorical, yet they have a point to them. Death is a game we play every day. If one plays a game frequently enough one loses eventually. The point, however, is to continue winning for as long as possible,' Hyrne said, striding out across the sands, leaving a trail of footprints in the perfect sand.

'You must have a plan though.'

'Why? I may plan against living beings, there is no plan one may make against Death. I will crush the threat these mortals pose; I shall remove the object of their plans, that is my plan. They think that I will continue as I have done. For millennia I have hidden away the greater part of my power, relying upon its safety. They will imagine I will continue to do so. They will be wrong,' the fairy said.

Grass began to cover the sand and the rocky walls of the cave melted away. The white pin pricks of stars dotted the sky. They were beside a dark ocean. Pine trees and dunes ran before them. They walked swiftly across between the trees and up a dusty track towards a long, low barrow.

'Is this it?' Voldemort asked.

'Yes, this is the place. Do you feel that?'

'No. What is it?'

Hyrne hesitated, 'Nothing, just the wind in the trees. For a moment I believed they were warning me that an enemy was here. No matter, this shall be finished shortly.'

They came to a halt before the barrow. It was covered in earth and long grasses. He stooped, scooped up a handful of sandy soil and blew over it. The dust rose from his palm and a wind blew over the mound. The grasses withered and dried before breaking apart. The wind carved tunnels through the earth until the stones of the barrow were bare. Hyrne's hand trembled slightly as he lowered it. A dark doorway waited for them

'I have not been here in a long time,' the fairy said softly. 'The magic recognises me, but it has grown wild. Dangerous. Be prepared.'

The stones shivered and became a set of steps that led down into the low hill. Bending his head Voldemort followed the fairy into the barrow mound. Darkness closed around them again. He flicked his wand to summon light; nothing happened. He could hear Hyrne's footsteps moving ahead and he followed them. It was a minute or two before he began to hear it: another set of footsteps from just behind him.

He took a deep breath and hurried after Hyrne. He could feel the rough stone walls of the passage on either side and he turned to slip through a gap. Something scuttled overhead and his fingers wrapped tighter around his wand. What had Hyrne meant when he said that the magic had grown wild? Was there something here in the dark beside him?

He glanced around but only pitch blackness surrounded him, there was nothing to see by, even a night vision charm would have been useless. He ran through possible spell for a moment, striding after the fairy's confident footsteps and raised his wand to cast a heat-vision charm. A hand grabbed his wrist before he could cast.

'No,' whispered Hyrne. 'it desires that you should look upon it. That would not be wise. As it is it is no more than sound.'

Voldemort lowered his wand slowly. What if this is a trap though? What if he is aware I have been withholding information, driving him to reveal his weakness? He thought as he waited listening for Hyrne's footsteps. In the silence the fairy must still be standing right beside him.

Then Hyrne's voice echoed up through the passage, 'Tom? Where are you? We must be swift.'

Voldemort took a step forwards and stopped. How had the fairy moved so far in silence? What had spoken to him a moment ago? The fairy, or something else? He reached out, seeking for any sign that the fairy was beside him. He felt the rock of the walls and then an opening in the passage. The path forked.

Voices called simultaneously from either passage urging him onwards. He hesitated, turning from one to the other. Then, self-consciously, he shrugged and took the left-hand path. A minute later he found Hyrne in a pool of torchlight studying a rocky wall.

'Ah, Tom, what kept you?'

Voldemort glanced over his shoulder, back down the corridor, at the darkness. 'Oh, nothing much. I was dawdling. Tell me, what would have happened if I had taken the right-hand path?'

Hyrne turned towards him for a moment, raising an eyebrow. 'There is only one path. Now be a good fellow and come over here. See if you can spot a halved circle inside a triangle, it should be here somewhere. Avoid touching anything.'

The wall was, Voldemort realised, covered in scratches and dusty brown marks, all of which were in the shape of a triangle surrounding a circle divided by a line. 'I can see nothing else.'

'Death does like his little jokes. I'm sure I put it here somewhere, you'll know it when you see it.'

'Jokes?'

'The symbol is his. He tends to put it on his possessions. In a fit of pique, I put it on this gate. It would seem that over the millennia a few people have managed to get this far. I would wager that as they died He dipped his finger in their blood or used their bones to mark the wall. Childish really, but what can one expect?'

It took them hours before they found the sign. A small patch of the wall bare of the marks which covered the rest of it. An inversion of the signs scrawled in dying men's blood. The fairy sighed in satisfaction and brushed his fingers against it. The wall slid open with a low rumble, opening onto a pit around which a stair wound downwards. Voldemort took a step forwards, but the fairy held him back.

'No, I must go down alone,' Hyrne took a breath, staring down into the pit. He held out a hand and a line drew itself around Voldemort in the dust on the floor. 'This must be done alone. You would be at too great a risk there. Wait, and do not trust the shadows. Do not leave the circle. You will know me when I return.'

The fairy braced himself and started down the spiralling stairs. Voldemort looked after him until he was swallowed by the darkness. He sat down to wait, propping his back against the wall. Time ticked by, seconds, then minutes. Ten minutes passed. Thirty. There was no sound, no movement.

'Come, it is done,' Hyrne's voice said from the pit as he came into sight. He held out his hand to Voldemort, waiting for him to take it.

Voldemort stood and took step forwards before stopping. 'Come into the circle.'

'Do not be foolish Tom,' a look of displeasure flashed over the fairy's face. 'We do not have time for this.'

Voldemort tilted his head looking at the fairy. 'Who tailored your suit? It's an abomination, that shade simply does not suit you.'

'What does it matter? If you do not come with me now I shall leave you here in the dark.'

'I think not. Whatever you are you are not Hyrne. Do you think me a child to be persuaded by such paltry tricks?' Voldemort scoffed.

The fairy looked at him for a moment and chuckled. Its features melted away leaving a tall, handsome man with fair, aquiline features and dark hair. 'Thomas, my son, it has been a long time.'

Voldemort laughed, 'A dead man? One I killed? What am I supposed to do, panic? Or try to kill him again. Please, surely you can do better than this.'

'Oh Thomas. Your feelings are so raw, so delicate. A gentleman should always be in command of himself, but you are struggling are you not?' The figure shook its head in disappointment.

'You died in fear with terror covering your features. Your shade cannot preach to me. Be gone,' Voldemort said turning away from his father's image.

'I loved him, Tom, but I loved you more. You know that, don't you?' A woman's voice asked nervously.

'Now what would I see if I turned now? I never saw my mother you see. I do wonder what shape you'll have taken. As beautiful as I presumed she must have been when I was small, or as ugly as everyone told me she was? It hardly matters, whichever it is, it will be a lie. Do you even have a plan to tempt me from the circle?'

There was a sob. 'Please Tom, this isn't a plan they brought me here. They brought me back. They say you can help me; you could save me. The things they do to me ... I can't stand it Tom ... please!'

'I think not. You are trying to push the wrong buttons. I would not cast the smallest charm to save my mother's life. She did nothing for me,' he sneered, closing his eyes.

'Please Tom, I don't have long. I know you're a great wizard, the greatest. They are scared of you. If you just come to me you could save me,' the woman's voice pleaded.

He sat down, refusing to reply, keeping his eyes closed. There were shuffling steps at the edge of the circle. Someone whimpered and then a long scream split the air before it died away into nothing. Voldemort kept his eyes shut, listening to the sound of his breathing. Voices called to him. Enemies threatened him. Victims pleaded with him. Even Dumbledore lectured him. He ignored them all.

One voice cut through the rest. 'Hello Tom, is this what you've sunk to then? A servant to something which isn't even human?'

'You are not Harry. I have seen you change, and I am hardly going to believe that you've roped the boy into this,' Voldemort snarled, eyes snapping open.

Not-Harry stepped forwards crouching down to look at Voldemort. 'Oh, we know. The thing is, we also know all about the boy. You're going to lead him to his death if you aren't careful.'

'Hardly. I have not seen him in a year. I sincerely doubt that my little bit of revenge is going to harm him in the slightest. Why should I care even if it does?'

'Ah, but you would care, wouldn't you? That's your secret. You don't want him hurt. Shall we show you what it could look like?' Not-Harry reached up and pinched his cheek hard between thumb and forefinger. He pulled slowly, ripping the skin away from his cheek. Blood poured down over the torn flesh. 'Oh, would you look at that. How clumsy of me.'

'I have killed and tortured hundreds if not thousands. Do you imagine a little blood and gore is going to disturb me?'

'Not particularly, if it weren't for the fact that everything I do to this body will happen to the boy ... unless you stop me.'

Voldemort's hand twitched. 'No. It will not. You would use such power upon me, if you possessed it. There is no link you could forge to him. Give up your pretence. You are wasting your time.'

Not-Harry straightened up and looked at him. The colour bled from his skin and eyes, the wound healed. His clothes became black robes. His face became hollow and gaunt. The skin stretched like dried parchment as he smiled grimly, 'Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.'

'You are not Death,' Voldemort said, turning his face away.

'Is that so?' The figure stretched out its hand and a wind blew through the cavern. Dust filled in the line of the circle. The torch guttered and went out. A voice spoke into Voldemort's ear. 'Riddle me this, what is taking him so long? His death has been waiting for millennia, how will you know if his time has come? When will you realise that you must try to escape?'

'Oh dear, oh dear. Now that just isn't the way Death operates is it? Remember I have met him. You have been scraping the surface of my mind. Look into its depths,' Voldemort said. He stood up and lowered his defences.

There was silence in the darkness. He felt a tentative touch upon his mind. Then there was a hiss and the presence withdrew hurriedly. The torch flickered back into life. The circle was untouched. Twenty minutes later, when Hyrne returned Voldemort was drawing patterns in the dust with his fingertip and humming.

'Ah, you are back. You have it then?' Voldemort asked.

'Oh yes,' Hyrne held up a small box made from yellowed fingernails. 'When we are far away from here I shall open it and I shall reward you. All was well with you?'

'Very uneventful, thank you.'

Hyrne stepped into the circle. With a snap of his fingers they were gone. The darkness closed in once more.

Three Days Later

Voldemort looked around the chamber. Even by the standards of Lament it was macabre. Seven bodies hung from pillars around the room. Three women and four men suspended from hooks driven into the base of their skulls. The room reeked of the sweet smell of decay and rot. Hyrne was waiting for him in the centre, holding the box they had taken from the barrow.

'Tom, so glad you could join me. I thought you ought to witness the moment when I reclaim my power, and then we shall see to your reward,' the fairy said, smiling at him. Then with a swift motion he snapped the box in half, caught a silver egg as it tumbled from it and popped it into his mouth.

For a moment nothing happened, then Hyrne crumpled to the ground, fingers curving like claws as his head snapped backwards. A howling filled the chamber and Voldemort raised his hand to protect his face as antlers sprouted from Hyrne's brow. They branched outwards in bony spikes like a strange crown. His skin rippled, and downy green fur sprang from his skin. He rolled his head from side to side and heaved himself to his feet, running a long, purple tongue over his sharp, white teeth.

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. His appearance returned to normal, though he wore a thin circlet of bone upon his brown now, from which branched delicate, interlacing spines. Voldemort watched him warily, his fingers curling around his wand as the fairy adjusted. Then the moment passed and Hyrne's eyes locked onto him. There was a wild, green light in them now and his fingers danced through the air of their own volition.

'Well now, this is most ... exhilarating. Let us begin,' Hyrne said, spinning in a circle. 'First, one for sorrow.' He lunged across the room, moving in a blur till he stood in front of an old woman.

'Tragic death, she poisoned herself, too tired to go on.,' the fairy remarked as he plunged his hand into her chest, ripping free the heart. 'Catch!' He tossed the bloody pulp to Voldemort. 'Now put it on the floor, just there. Excellent.

'Two, for joy,' he almost sang as he pulled the eyes from the corpse of a boy who could have been no older than nine or ten. 'Slaughtered as he slept just because it made his mother laugh.'

Voldemort caught the eyes, quickly putting them down as Hyrne leapt across to the next body; a young man. 'Three for a girl. This poor lad decided to fight over a mate, so short-sighted. Anyway, his loss is our gain.' He wrenched open the corpse's mouth and pulling a knife from a pocket of his coat cut out the tongue.

'Wha ...' Voldemort began.

'Shush, be quiet, I want this to be a surprise. Now four for a boy, so that's you.' The fairy stroked the side of a young woman's face. Her skin was purpled and blue at the lips. He pulled out a handful of hairs. 'Perfect. Poisoned on her wedding day by her own sister. Someone ought to write a play about it!

'Five for silver.' The hands of a man with the brand of a thief were thrown towards Voldemort. 'Six for gold. This poor little chit was killed for her fortune; can you believe that? How pathetically small minded. Still killing them before they can be a threat is a good idea. Not that it did the murderer much good. As we have taken her teeth I felt a fair price would be his head. He really had no time to enjoy his wealth, or his secret, which gives us our last.'

Hyrne spun to a stop looking up at the last body which, unlike the others was still alive. It was an old man, blood dribbled from the side of his mouth and he was wheezing with the effort of lifting himself to breath. Instead of a hook driven in to the brain there were silver barbs buried in his arms and hands, keeping him suspended as he struggled to breath.

'Seven for a secret never to be told,' the fairy said as he reached up and plunged his hands into the man's chest as if it were water. The man thrashed weakly and then Hyrne pulled his hands free, holding the dripping remains of the man's lungs. 'Well you cannot tell a secret if you cannot breathe.'

He strode towards Voldemort, trailing blood across the room. He dropped the lungs and bent down, drawing symbols around the grisly pile of body parts with one finger, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. At last arcane sigils surrounded them and he stood up. 'Now, dear Tom, we are going to war. Therefore, let me offer you the finest weapon you could ever wield. If the legends are true you may never be defeated whilst you carry it. It has been taken many times by murder or by stealth, but in this case I will open the way for you. All you need do is reach through and take it.'

The air in between them shimmered and parted. There was another place beyond. Tall pine trees surrounded a white tomb, worn smooth by winds and rain. The ruins of a castle loomed in the distance. As Voldemort watched the tomb opened, the stone sliding backwards. There was nothing but dust inside and a dark wand. He reached forwards unbidden and his fingers closed around it. In his mind he could feel its song. Thunder rumbled in the clouds above.

The portal closed, and he was back inside the chamber. Hyrne watched him, eyes gleaming. 'Now we go to war!'