CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Death's Pass

They had made camp where they had stopped in the night. No one had gotten much sleep in Uutresk, and Hank wanted them alert when they reached Death's Pass. Bobby had not slept. And sleep didn't come easily for anyone else with Uni's death still fresh on their minds. Like himself, the ones who did sleep likely felt a certain guilt for doing so. Sheila had done her best with her little brother, but Bobby was so full of grief. Presto had managed to conjure up a few toys that Bobby could hardly look at. Even Eric had tried to get through to him. Then Sheila had slept with her arm around him through the night as he lay awake.

Hank was thankful that everyone � including Donnova, who was bruising on the right side of her mouth � seemed willing to put last night's incident by the pond behind them. At least for now.

Hank now rode close to Bobby and Sheila. Bobby held to Sheila's back on their horse. His eyes were open, but there was no life in them. They were all worried about Bobby. He wouldn't eat; he couldn't sleep; and he had hardly spoken since leaving Uutresk. The only time he had spoken was to ask Donnova how Uni had looked � if she appeared to have suffered much. Donnova answered simply that death was a release from all mortal pain. Hank couldn't tell if that had helped Bobby or not.

Of course, no one could feel Uni's death the way Bobby did. They had always understood that the little unicorn was more than a pet to him. She had been more than a pet to them all, but to Bobby, she was truly special. She was more than his friend, and he understood her when the others didn't. She was someone for him to protect, which, Hank thought, perhaps gave Bobby a sense of purpose that made him feel less of a child among them. Now that was gone. He knew Uni's death would be with Bobby for the rest of his life.

Hank also knew that Bobby understood that they had to keep moving. He felt that the longer this journey lasted, the more at risk they were. Though he hadn't made an appearance so far, he felt sure Venger had to be looking for them. And with the blazing, chaotic scene they left behind at the sanctuary, he was anxious to get to Realm's Edge, find the Empyreal Tower, and rescue Venger's prisoner before Venger caught up with them.

With the mountains in view, he no longer needed the map Dungeon Master had given him. Still, he had given it one last look before they'd started out this morning. Death's Pass was a passageway that cut straight through the base of the largest mountain of the vast range that extended from a faraway chasm on one side, to a boiling sea far on the other. He wondered whether the pass was some kind of natural formation or a man-made one. Maybe dragon-made . . . maybe something else. He had wondered about its name, too. After hearing what Oldbano had said about no one making it back from Realm's Edge, he hoped it wasn't that aptly named. He wondered what dangers awaited them.

For now, though, it was pleasantly sunny and breezy, the horses were cooperative, and Donnova was mercifully quiet. No one seemed to be in a talkative mood as they closed the distance to the mountains.

He thought back to the map. On it, there had been a dot directly in front of the pass with no indication as to what it represented. Maybe it was nothing. They really didn't need an obstacle to overcome when they got there. He was sure none of them were in a mood to fight or to solve any puzzle or riddle. He'd ignored the dot before � an accidental drop of ink, perhaps � but the closer they got to the pass, the more it troubled him. More and more, he wondered what it might be.

For another hour they rode, and now he did see something, like a rock, immediately before the aperture. He kept his eyes on it as they approached. Soon he could see there was a distinct shape to it. Closer. It was a statue. Closer. Recognition. His heart beat faster.

"No way!" Presto suddenly shouted. "Do you guys see what I see?"

"It's� It's The Thinker!" said Diana.

They all voiced their surprise and excitedly picked up their pace to reach the familiar sculpture. Soon, they were dismounting and gathering closer to it.

"This really is the way home! It's gotta be!" Presto said.

Hank allowed himself to smile and to share in the hope that this was indeed a sort of sign that they would soon be home. Finally home. To see this famous statue that so many people on Earth recognized. . . . He almost laughed. He almost cried.

But then Donnova said, "On my world, we call this 'The Dweller'."

Hank twisted around to look at her. This had gotten everyone's attention. "You've seen this before?" Hank asked, that feeling of hope quickly and inexplicably slipping away.

"Yes. There's one on my world just like it," she answered blandly.

"But how could it be on both worlds? I mean, on all three worlds!" Diana said.

No one seemed to have an answer for that.

"There was that place like Stonehenge. Remember?" Sheila said.

"And the Crystal of Chronos was on top of what looked like an Aztec pyramid!" Presto added.

"But what does it mean?" asked Diana.

What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? Parallels, Hank told himself. That's all they were, right? He had always made himself simply accept them and pushed the questions from his mind. Why ask what could never, or would never, be answered?

"I think . . . that the answers are as varied as the minds of those who dwell upon them, and each worthy of contemplation."

Hank turned around and froze upon hearing the dulcet voice.

The Thinker's head had lifted from where it had rested on his hand. He was looking at them! He then stood, stepping off and away from where he had sat on his platform of rock. He had to be at least ten feet tall. And he was nude. Hank had forgotten that The Thinker was a nude work. Thankfully, he hadn't been thinking about anything stimulating.

"Who are you?" Hank asked.

"The Thinker," said the standing sculpture, with a spreading of his palms.

"But to me, you are The Dweller," said Donnova, coming forward to stand even with Hank.

The living statue looked at her, his expression one of infinite patience and understanding, and said, "I am that, too, and I am known also on other worlds by other names."

"Why are you here?" asked Hank. By now, his hope was utterly gone.

"To serve the Balance," he answered, stating it plainly.

Hank remembered Venger's telling him that he had restored the Balance after Demodragon was destroyed. He thought he'd understood what it meant, but was now no longer sure. He wished he wasn't the type to assume so much.

"Death's Pass is cursed by The Force of Evil's own hand," he continued. "It would take more powerful magic than any of you should ever hope to possess in order to successfully traverse it. Venger meant for all who dare venture beyond this boundary to die."

Hopelessness. Anger. Why did Dungeon Master always leave out such details? What was his game? And why did he play it with them? What had any of them done to deserve this? He wanted to shout to the sky for Dungeon Master to come and answer for this, for everything!

"But it need not be so," The Thinker went on. "I offer a chance. A way may be made. Death is the key. One of you must choose to willingly die so that all may pass untouched by Venger's curse."

A chorus of protests erupted behind Hank. He would have joined in if he had been able to speak through the shock of this unexpected pronouncement. Even if one of them did offer himself as a sacrifice, how could he allow it? How could he live with it? He was their leader. Did that mean he should be the one to offer his own death? He would not ask it of any of them, and he could not choose among them.

Donnova entered his mind as a good choice of sacrifice, but he ended that thought. He felt bad for its having even crossed his mind for an instant. But it was instructive. He realized that if he didn't act quickly, they could end up fighting over who it would be. They could kill each other in an argument over which should die! He didn't like to think them capable of it, but he knew how quickly things could unravel under pressure. Or under threat of death.

He turned around and looked at them. He saw that Donnova hadn't joined in to voice her contempt. Instead, she had positioned herself to keep all within view and was looking warily into his eyes, as though fighting to read his thoughts, or urging him to come to the conclusion she'd likely already reached. Her hands were at her sides, but looked ready to draw her sword in an instant. He knew that she saw what could happen here, and he knew he couldn't let it begin.

"Hey! All of you! Quiet!" Not only did they not stop, but they were now all at once trying to plead their cases to him. Among the fracas, he heard Donnova's name, Dungeon Master's, Uni's, and even his own.

He was about to draw back on his bow and aim right over their heads when he thought he heard Eric say something that he couldn't have said. But then everyone quickly quieted down. They'd heard it, too. All were now staring at Eric with shocked faces.

"What did you say, Eric?" Diana said, tremulously.

Eric looked at the ground. "I said� I said, 'I'll do it.'"

And then all fell into shameful silence. Hank understood. He was guilty, too. Someone had to die, and here was a volunteer. Talking their volunteer out of doing something that had to be done for the good of the rest seemed foolish on one hand, and the right thing to do on the other. But. . . .

Eric removed his shield from his arm and presented it to Presto. "Here, Presto, you hold on to that. Of all of us, I think you need it most." He gave his best friend a genuine smile. Presto just stood, staring at him, open-mouthed.

No one was saying anything against it. This was happening too fast, being accepted too quickly. And something else wasn't right. Eric wasn't shaming everyone for not trying to talk him out of it. He wasn't being indignant at their silence and what it meant.

"Eric, you can't be serious," Sheila said. He ignored her and began walking through them toward the Pass, toward death.

Diana hurried in front of him. "OK, Eric, you got us. Good one. Now, come on and�"

"I love you, too, Diana," Eric told her.

Diana froze in stunned silence. They looked into each others' eyes for a moment, and then she watched as Eric started again away from them. Two heartbeats later, she went after him. She grabbed his arm, and in one smooth motion, Eric turned and their lips met. They stood there, kissing, wrapped in each others' arms like long-time lovers.

Hank couldn't believe his eyes, and he also couldn't believe he'd never realized their true feelings for each other. But it made a lot of sense, suddenly. Then why was Eric still going through with this! He had something to live for! They released each other � more like Eric released her. He had to remove her hands from him, but he did so tenderly. And then Diana was looking at Hank, as though begging him to stop Eric.

It was that look that decided him. He couldn't let this happen. He went and grabbed Eric himself. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I know what I'm doing. And I know what you're doing, and it's appreciated. You're a good leader, Hank. Take care of that bunch, will ya?"

"Stop it, Eric! No one's gonna die. There has to be another way."

"There's not, Hank, you heard him."

Hank turned to The Thinker, feeling more and more like he should be rallying them against the living statue, but knowing it would be wrong. The Thinker shook his head. "He is right. There is no other way."

"Well, that's not good enough! No one's dying for this! The deal's off!" He looked back the way they came, toward the sky. "Do you hear me, Dungeon Master? You can forget it! It's over! We're�!"

"Hank, stop it! I'm gonna do this, and all of you can get through and finally go home."

"Eric, you don't have to do this!"

"Yes, I do!"

Hank looked around, searching for an answer, his mind spinning. He was their leader, and the oldest male among them. "I'll do it. I'll go. It should be me."

"No, Hank, you don't understand! It has to be me! It has to! Don't try to stop me. I'm doing this!"

"Why, Eric? Why does it have to be you?" He grabbed his shoulders and roughly shook him. "Tell me! Tell me why!" He felt tears coming, but he didn't care.

"Don't cry for me, Hank," he said, speaking so that only Hank could hear. And with a nod toward their friends, he added, "And don't let them cry for me, either."

Hank stared at him for a moment, willing him to answer his question, but he didn't. Eric's mind seemed made up. There was nothing else to do, nothing else to say. He made himself let go, slowly, and as soon as he did, Eric went on.

Hank watched him pause before The Thinker, who gestured toward the darkened entrance to Death's Pass. "Enter," he said. Eric turned back for one last look at them. The Thinker held up his right hand to him. "Die well, brave Cavalier." And so, Eric turned and entered, quickly fading from view.

For a moment, Hank couldn't move. Only when he heard the sounds of weeping did he turn. Diana was crying in Presto's arms, Sheila in Donnova's. Bobby stood alone, no little unicorn to comfort him, staring at the opening within the mountain with wide eyes and open mouth. Hank went to him.

"He really did it, Hank," said Bobby, looking more like the child he was than ever.

"I know." Hank couldn't think of anything else to say to that. Words escaped him.

"Why?" The innocence in Bobby's young voice pulled at his heart, brought the tears down his own face.

He knelt to the child's level. "I don't know, Bobby. We never will. But he did this for us, and we must never forget what he did today."

Bobby suddenly grabbed Hank in a tight hug and sobbed. "I want Uni," he said, his little voice muffled against Hank's tunic. "I want Mom."

Hank closed his eyes and held tightly to him. Damn you, Dungeon Master. . . . Damn you.