Chapter 3 - Farewell of the Eldest.
The extraordinarily powerful, sometimes brilliant and quite definitely stark raving mad Sartan, who sometimes proclaimed himself the ultimate power in existence and sometimes identified himself as a young mensch girl from some place in the old world called Kansas, advanced slowly, unhurried, while humming a song that felt faintly familiar to Haplo. Something from Pryan, perhaps? The slight annoyance in the dragon's human face refreshed his memory. Yes, from Pryan. An elven tavern song that Zifnab had feigned to use back in the day to control the dragon.
That had been some frankly masterful acting, particularly from the dragon who had alternated the roles of ridiculously devoted manservant and brutal, bloodthirsty predator. Zifnab must have had an easier time of it, seeing that he had only needed to portray himself as a foolish madman.
All the same, the old Sartan and his dragon friend had managed to deceive a whole lot of mensch and one Patryn who had been quite obsessed with avoiding his ancient foes at the time, only to discover that his arrival had been foretold by one of them, and a crazy one, to boot.
A crazy Sartan who had then further shown himself to suffer from a singularly driven and lucid form of madness by turning Haplo into his unwitting puppet. For all that it was not the time or the place for it, Haplo had to struggle to contain a chuckle, as the old man stopped in front of them and regarded them with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"What's up, folks?" asked the old man while looking around. "Looks like a party, but it seems you are waiting for someone. Guest of honor late? That's always annoying. So... who is it? Palpatine? Cannot be, he just left. He has a Death Star in the oven, I think. Doctor No? Didn't thik so... Oh! I KNOW! You are waiting for the Wizard of Oz!"
The Sartan started giggling, hysterically.
"They are waiting for a great and powerful wizard, sir, so I fear that I must ask you to hurry. The wizard should be arriving soon to give a speech and you must have said your goodbyes by then," interrupted the shape-shifted Pryan dragon with a clear no nonsense tone.
"All right, Toto. Don't be a spoilsport. If there is gonna be a wizard coming, we are gonna have quite enough spoilsports here. Those darn wizards. Always grumpy, always giving orders. I TOLD Saruman that all work and no play were going to drive him mad, but..."
The dragon coughed softly a couple of times and Zifnab stopped his rambling with a sigh, before looking Haplo straight in the eye.
"No laughing, Tinman. This is not funny. This is Serious Business. Toto tells me that we are making History today and that the people who live in the future might find it offensive if they discover that we laughed at important times. Which I think means that the future is going to be full of idiots, but that's not important.
"I am starting to think that you are not waiting for the Wizard of Oz. Some other wizard, perhaps? It doesn't matter. Look, you wanted to get to Emerald City to ask for a good and noble heart? No need. Turns out that you just needed a little push in the right direction. Don't torture yourself. You made mistakes early on, but in the end you did good. Don't let bad dreams haunt you, my young friend. Regret is not for heroes such as you. Don't worry about Xar, either. I am pretty sure that he understood your why in the end. If you want I can give him your regards. Should be seeing him shortly."
And a suddenly dry mouthed Haplo found himself being hugged by a madman for a long, awkward moment.
"For you, young lady, I've little to say. Help this boy. He postures a lot, but in the end he is going to need a lot of love to stop being a lone one. Find him something to keep his head and hands busy. Don't let him plan chaodyn extermination or any of that. Seriously, don't. No talking with Alfred all night about the purpose of life, either. If he tries to do that, make him clean the house with no magic. With eight kids that should keep him plenty busy. And if he still insists, don't worry. I'll send Murdock and B.A. Just one more thing, my dear. Would you mind terribly telling your children tales about Zifnab the Mad? I'd rather be something besides a footnote in some boring encyclopedia that no one will ever read."
Without a word and a hint of tears in her eyes, Marit nodded.
"As for you, my smart and clumsy Scarecrow. What can I tell you that you haven't told yourself? Gotta warn you, however, that the Cowardly Lion is going to be upset. Courage was for him, not for you. You wanted a brain, though it seems that you needed the courage more than the brain, so... Never mind. I'll talk with the lion and I'll tell him that there has been a mix up in the airport or something."
And after shaking Alfred's hand, the old man and his dragon made their way amidst deepest silence towards the dais, where the High One still stood next to the shining Covenant Stone, waiting. Their march stopped, however, when the silence of the Hall was broken by a snarled shout of "traitor" and most heads turned towards the Chelestrans and the individual standing in their center.
"But of course, Ramu!" said Zifnab, in a tired and angry voice very much at odds with the one he had used moments earlier. "Didn't you listen, boy? You speak of treason at your great peril here and, frankly, you sadden me if you cannot let go of your petty hatred even in this place. Your father understood in the end and, bad as it was, the great evils he committed were done out of something akin to altruism, even if it was warped beyond recognition. But you... you only want to lash out against those you think that have wronged you with no thought for justice, only revenge."
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare speak of my father, betrayer! You who opposed the Sundering, you who opposed the possibility of an ordered, balanced universe. You who opposed the imprisonment of our foes as fair punishment for your crimes. You who abandoned by father to die in the dungeons of Abarrach. You who lied to me and made us come here, so that we could be used as pawns in this pawn that those things you call allies fight against the snakes. You who-"
The voice of the powerful Sartan died suddenly, when Zifnab pointed a finger in his direction. Some of the other Chelestran Sartans murmured angrily, but the old madman's thunderous expression kept their protests low.
"That's quite enough, Ramu. I will not let you start a row here, and I am in no mood to deal with temper tantrums. So you can hold your peace and see one of your fondest wishes come true, or you can be expelled from this place. I would rather you pick the former, but the later is very much an option if you prefer. Either way, let these be my last words to you: I pity you. And Samah would be disappointed."
And without paying further mind to the former Sartan leader, Zifnab resumed his advance towards the dais. However, instead of climbing the steps up, he suddenly started looking to one side and then the other, alarm obvious in his face.
"I've lost it. Have to find it. Cannot do it," he mumbled before falling to knees.
"You have your hat on your head, sir. As for the red slippers, Dorothy lost them going back home from the land of Oz. But that does not matter, because you must be Zifnab now. Just once more unto the breach, old friend. Just once more and all will be over," said his dragon companion, putting a hand on the old wizard's shoulder.
Hearing the dragon, Zifnab breathed deeply and rose, but for a long moment didn't turn to face his friend. When he did, madness was gone entirely from his face and dread had replaced it. He tried to speak, but words seemed to have a hard time leaving his throat.
"I am afraid. Just like I was afraid during..."
"I know, friend. You all fear death, but you -more than anyone else- know this to be a false shadow, a baseless terror. In part thanks to you, there is something better waiting for you beyond time and space. During the Sundering you made a wish and two were granted, when I promised you that you would never be alone. If you wish, I'll go down this road with you, too."
Zifnab's face turned from a mask of sheer anguish to one of righteous indignation.
"No! That won't do at all, you stupid lizard!" roared the old man, shaking his friend at the same time. "I can take the last step on my own. I can. It just isn't easy. Anyway, enough dillydallying. Let's end this."
Then, Zifnab climbed the stairs, two at a time, and after saluting the High One with a nod turned to face the audience. When he spoke, his voice was firm, full of energy and with not the faintest sign of the weakness that seemed to have assaulted him moments earlier or the strange references that often filled his discourse.
"Greetings, my children. I am here to say you goodbye. This is my last step. My last words this side of death and for this reason I ask you to pay attention, please. Later, you may spit when you hear my names or worship my memory, I won't care either way. But in these last moments and considering all I have gone through to reach this moment, I demand a bit of respect.
"I have just remembered that I am the oldest being in existence. Oldest even than the venerated ones among us. They and their evil counterparts were first born out of the terrible, terrible mistake we call the Sundering, but I am the oldest among the surviving Sartan who lived before that. Thus, I am older in years and richer in life than any other, because where the others have survived through magic sleep, I have lived and suffered for every day of those endless centuries. Baltazar just spoke of burdens too heavy for mortals and if you think yours was bad, I can assure you that mine was worse. I hope that you will make good use of my sacrifice.
"Since there are some Patryn who don't know my whole story, just like some of the Abarrach Sartan and Chelestran young ones whose elders have kept their past from them, I will explain some of it. You know me as Zifnab, but the runic name under which I was born was that of Darlum, the Walker. I lived in the ancient world and was one of the Council of Seven. I was the only one to openly oppose Samah's scheme, while our great leader used the fear of my peers to get them to approve the Sundering of the Worlds. That day he said that we are like drops of seawater that by moving together can form tides, currents and waves. In spite of my opposition, Samah didn't dare to send me to the Labyrinth along with the Sartan he had called heretics and the defeated Patryns. The capture of the Patryn and our own purges had cost us a great deal, both in blood and magic power. The Council of Seven was afraid of the possibility of failure, even with all the magic power they had already concentrated in the Seventh Gate. I was removed from Council, but my power was great and Samah was not allowed to send me to the Labyrinth.
"I think that not even my colleagues in their hour of greatest terror would have gone ahead with their plan if they had truly known the consequences, instead of focusing on the Sundering as an abstract problem. But they could not or would not realize their mistake and went ahead with the Sundering. All the drops moved at the same time. And a tidal wave was the result.
"I had just escaped from the Sartan headquarters in the old world, an ancient city of great beauty and proud history called Rome, when the Sundering started. Alas, there was no escaping the power released through the Seventh Gate. I saw the mensch whom I had wanted to help die by the millions. The ground trembled and belched fire, the sky turned black... There are two words in ancient languages that describe what the Sundering was: Apocalypse, the end of all, and Armageddon, the last battle. As my fellows destroyed the old world, my magic protected me, to an extent. In the end, I was the last living thing upon the dying world.
"In the midst of the most absolute solitude that anyone has ever faced, I had some time to reflect upon the shared past of Sartan and Patryn. Both groups had common ancestors, even if our magic, our languages and our very appeareance had altered with the centuries. This was something of a public secret, known but not accepted. At the most, the Sartan claimed Patryn to be degenerate, inbred Sartan who had turned to evil. As destruction advanced and the death cries of millions of innocents faded into nothingness, I swore that if I escaped the hell in which Earth had been transformed, I would not rest until Patryn and Sartan became one nation once again, in order to prevent a repeat of the Sundering.
"Frankly, I thought that I swore in vain. Back then not even I believed in the possibility of powers greater than the rune magic, but I was mistaken. The very essences of Good and Evil gained the ability to materialize during the Sundering and those whom we now call Pryan dragons found me. They granted me the opportunity to make my wish come true. I was granted power, above and beyond anything ever wielded by any of our people and immortality to ensure that my task would be completed. They also granted me madness, which allowed me to survive without facing the full horror of what I witnessed during the Sundering.
"While the destruction of the old world ended and the creation of the Sundered Realms started, I was taken to the Vortex, which I soon abandoned for the Labyrinth. Thanks to my newly gained power I was able to cross it in just a few years, along with the dragon who has since been my friend and companion.
"Soon, I realized that the Labyrinth showed alarming signs of being out of control, although back then it still wasn't the kind of evil it has become over the generations. I reached the Nexus long before the other prisoners of the maze world and after a short stay during which I wrote certain books that I hoped would assuage the wrath of the Patryn, by explaining the greatness and purity of purpose of the Sartan pllan, I left this world behind. I soon realized the problem: the embodiments of Evil had followed Samah to beautiful Chelestra and the Council of Seven, after getting rid of the Seventh Gate, hadn't dared to risk them spreading to the other worlds. Although they identified the problem correctly, the treatment they proposed was a disaster. Instead of fighting the grievous failures of the Sundered Realms by pooling efforts, Samah weakened the Sartan even further by isolating them in fragmented worlds where they had to fight for their very survival, using desperate and even mad efforts, such as the development of necromancy in Abarrach and the creation of the Tytans in Pryan.
"As for the rest... that you know. Samah managed to freeze, in every sense, the snake dragons in the oceans of Chelestra, so me and my allies waited for our time in Pryan, while the condition of the Sundered Realms worsened and the Labyrinth degenerated, until Xar appeared. Death's Gate, the intended gateway between the worlds, came dangerously close to honoring its name by remaining closed for so long. Xar, by sending his agent to scout the Sundered Realms, started the chain of events that has taken us to this present and me achieving my goal. Thanks, Haplo.
"And... that was it. Hope it wasn't too bad. I probably should count myself lucky, since there aren't that many men who get to say their own panegyric. I recommend it. Gives a lot of food for thought... And I shall be leaving now. Time to give back what I was granted. So good-bye. Adiós. Sayonara."
And without any more words, Zifnab saluted the High One with a bow, shook hands with his dragon friend and waved goodbye to the gathered Sartan and Patryn, berfore touching the Covenant Stone. His whole body glowed, briefly, and the glow increased that of the stone. In that moment, he took a couple steps back.
"And so it all comes to an end and a part of me will remain with you, forever," he said with labored breathing, before smiling a wicked grin and adding. "I lo... love it when a plan... comes together."
And with these words, the old man breathed his last and collapsed, dead before his body hit the floor.