Sol nodded. ‘Because I am glad that you are here. And that means I am glad that you are dead.’
‘Then do not think of it in those terms. Consider that together we have a greater chance of saving both our peoples.’
‘That I can do.’
The dead crowded the corridor, which was no wider or higher than fifteen feet at any point thus far. All of Balaia’s returned dead were thronging along it, most in a desperate hurry to reach Ulandeneth. The Raven and Auum’s Tai were behind the mass by some distance now and moving with growing unease.
Sol was finding the physical laws that bound the corridor very disconcerting. The corridor itself was like walking over a huge sponge. The floor had little tension to it. It was the same if you pressed a wall. But there was no imperative to walk as such; with an effort of will it was entirely possible to float above the floor and in whatever attitude you chose, and move with no apparent motive force.
Hirad had been keen to demonstrate his skills in the area until Sol had worked out that he could also, with another effort of will, give him a thump in what had once been his gut. And it still hurt, which was completely bizarre.
‘You know what really rankles with me?’ Sol said. ‘It’s that even though I’m dead, I’ve still got things to learn. Worse than that, things Hirad already knows, which is a first.’
He didn’t look at any of the others because to do so made him feel intensely sad. He had come to terms with the fact that each of them was represented by what was in effect a silhouette picked out in varying shades of bright grey. But what he couldn’t get over was that, though outlines were recognisable, when any of them turned to him, all he could see was a blank canvas where a face ought to be.
‘But this is not true death,’ said Auum.
‘How do you work that out?’
‘Until all physical manifestations are cast aside and the soul rests in eternal bliss, death cannot have truly occurred.’
‘Yet we cannot go back.’
‘No, Sol, we cannot, but there is a place between life and death, and this is it,’ said Ilkar. ‘We all came back down something not dissimilar when the Garonin ripped open our resting place.’
‘You’re telling me you were genuinely alive back on Balaia in those alternative bodies.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Ilkar. ‘How else would you describe it?’
‘Possession,’ said Sol. ‘To us, you were you all right but walking dead nonetheless.’
‘Charming,’ said Sirendor.
They moved in silence for a while. Sol watched the mass of the dead moving further and further ahead of them. They had become an amorphous bright blob. Sol wished he had some reference to work out how far they were ahead. All he could come up with was: out of easy reach to feel in his soul comfortably.
‘There’s so many things I’m not getting about all this,’ said Sol.
‘And that surprises you, does it?’ asked Sirendor. ‘I mean, you are dead. Lots to take in and all that.’
‘Just ignore him and tell me what’s bothering you,’ said Ilkar.
‘Well, for starters, why is there distance here? I thought all travel was instantaneous between dimensions and that being dead was a seamless transition.’
‘Can’t believe everything you read.’
‘Shut up, Hirad. I’ve thought about this one, and it’s easy really. We aren’t travelling between dimensions. We’re outside anything we know, both when we were cast out of our rest and right now. Ulandeneth is a place that exists beyond our sphere of comprehension. Sorry, that sounds lame, doesn’t it, but it’s all I can come up with.’
‘It’ll do, Ilkar, thanks. But given I accept that, then what are all the other dead doing here? We’re here because we’re hoping to find new lands beyond Ulandeneth, though God knows how that’ll manifest itself. Where do they think they’re going?’
‘You forget that the reason any of us came back was ultimately to get all the living to leave, admittedly knowing that at least one of you had to lay down his life to open the first door,’ said Ilkar. ‘And now it is open and the path to salvation is ahead. I know there is no end at the moment but you must understand that the pull of this corridor is incredibly strong for a returned dead soul. Far too strong to resist if you are clinging on to a possessed body. It is what we want. The relief from pain alone makes it worth the risk.’
‘What risk?’ asked Sol.
‘That this goes nowhere but oblivion,’ said Thraun.
‘Right. Well, leaving that aside for now, can someone tell me why we aren’t travelling at greater speed? Presumably, we can go as fast as we can will ourselves. This is a snail’s pace, is it not? And we are anticipating trouble. How in all the hells do we repel it?’
Ilkar didn’t get the chance to respond. Hirad’s silhouette flashed a deep gold rimmed with warm red.
‘Company,’ said Hirad.
Sol tensed.
‘Who?’ asked Sirendor.
‘Take a look.’
Hirad’s silhouette arm gestured at the translucent walls of the passageway. Sol stared into the maelstrom without. Grey-, white-and gold-flecked brown. A chaos of light and dark, swirling and racing. He shuddered to think of the forces at play out there, beyond the flimsy barrier.
For a while he saw nothing but the void. A ghostly wing, there and gone. The merest glimpse of a long, sinuous neck. A trailing tail, lost in the roiling space. And then there, flying by their sides, beneath them and above them, Kaan dragons. Dozens, a hundred maybe, cruising the walls of the passage, spiralling around it, enclosing it in a solid wall of dragon scale.
‘We are come,’ rumbled Sha-Kaan, his voice reverberating along the corridor.
Ahead Sol heard screams and saw the mass of the dead pack even more tightly together and increase their speed. He tasted their fear as if it were his own.
‘We will not harm you. We have come to protect you.’
Sha-Kaan’s voice stilled the panic as surely as day follows night. Now, Sol heard chatter and cheers and he felt a surge of relief that suffused his entire being. It felt wonderful, and reminiscent of a life long past.
‘Oh yes, forgot to mention that. Emotionally, you’ll find we are all very close indeed,’ said Ilkar.
‘Thanks for the warning, but this one I think I can handle. The Soul Tank gave the same sense of togetherness to the Protectors.’
‘The Garonin are close,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Already, we have fought them out here. They are attracted to the mass of mana within, just as I am attracted by the touch of your mind, Hirad.’
‘Good to feel you too, Great Kaan.’
‘Let us make sure this ends well. The Garonin will try to breach the corridor. We will do what we can. But you must also be ready.’
‘What can we do?’ asked Sol.
‘You will know.’
Multiple flares of light erupted outside a little way further along the corridor. Sol heard dragons roaring. Sha-Kaan beat his wings and was gone. The walls wobbled under a collision. Above their heads Sol saw a Garonin soldier bounce and roll, his body a mass of flame. A dragon’s jaws came down on him, ending his pain.
‘It begins,’ pulsed Sha-Kaan. ‘Fight hard.’
Hirad was already pulling at Sol’s arm.
‘We need to catch up with the rest,’ he said.
‘What will we do?’
‘Come on, it’s where the fight will play out.’
The Raven quintet and Auum’s Tai soared away down the corridor. Sol forced himself to believe it could be done, and with every passing moment he found it easier to follow them. He shook off Hirad’s arm.
‘I’m all right,’ he said.
He was certain Hirad was smiling. Seeing his face would have brought great comfort. The thousands of dead were moving as fast as their combined mass would allow. The corridor bulged as they pressed on. Outside, there were flashes like a cloud shot through with lightning. He heard solid thuds and saw the crowd swaying right, a shoal of fish trying to dodge a predator.