Nakor said, ‘No, it’s more than that.’
Magnus also approached. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It can’t just be one local god, no matter if he’s this world’s version of the Nameless – a Greater God – disrupting the balance. We know what happened when the Nameless One tried to take dominance during the early part of the Chaos Wars on Midkemia: the surviving Greater and Lesser Gods put aside their differences and combined to banish him to somewhere safe until order and balance could be restored. That didn’t happen here. The Dark God overwhelmed the combined might of hundreds of other Dasati gods. But how?’
Macros said, ‘Not hundreds. Thousands. We don’t know how. The history of that era is lost.’
Pug nodded. ‘Logic tells us that the Dark God could not have done it alone. He must have had allies.’
‘Who?’ asked Magnus. ‘And what happened to them?’
‘Perhaps he turned on them at a crucial moment, until he alone remained,’ offered Macros.
‘No,’ said Nakor, again softly, as if afraid to be overheard. ‘Too many things would have had to fall into place for him. It’s too unlikely.’ He offered a rueful smile.
Pug nodded in agreement. He weighed his words carefully, then looked at Macros. ‘What do you know of the next realm?’
‘The third plane of existence?’
Pug nodded.
‘Nothing, really.’
‘The fourth?’ asked Pug.
‘Again, nothing.’
‘The fifth?’
Macros sighed. ‘I had a few very painful but highly memorable moments in the fifth plane. When you closed the rift to the demon realm behind me, I was left in the clutches of Maarg, the Demon King. I unleashed every bit of power I possessed, stunning him for the briefest instant, and he released his hold on me. I fell to what I take it was a stone floor, in some sort of demonic palace. Merely touching it caused me great pain. I had only a few impressions, then I lost consciousness. I expect Maarg killed me moments later, for the next thing I knew I was in front of Lims-Kragma, listening to a litany of…’ He faltered.
‘What?’ asked Pug.
‘Until this moment, I had no memory of… the time between my death and my childhood here.’ He paused. ‘In fact, I had no memory of a childhood, really. Impressions of a mother and being in hiding, and a difficult journey to…’ He looked from face to face. ‘I really didn’t live that life. My memories are… someone else’s.’
Nakor nodded. ‘Somehow Lims-Kragma put you in another’s body’
‘How many years has it been since I died, Pug?’
‘About forty.’
‘I’ve been here, or at least I remember being here, thirty-three or so Midkemian years.’
‘What happened to the rest?’ asked Magnus.
Macros let out a slow breath. ‘It’s a mystery.’
Nakor said, ‘Not really. What is your earliest memory, of you being you, Macros, not the Dasati you thought you were?’
‘Eleven years ago, after a summer rite, I was walking home and became overcome with dizziness. I ducked out of sight, afraid that someone might seem me weakened…’ He shook his head. ‘Before that, I was a Lesser, a minor fabricator of clothing.’
‘A tailor,’ said Magnus.
‘Yes,’ said Macros.
‘But in only eleven years you have fashioned a planets-wide resistance to the Dark God, and have won over thousands of followers,’ said Pug.
Macros closed his eyes. ‘The White has been around a lot longer than me…’
‘Who was the Gardener before you?’ asked Magnus.
Macros appeared confused, uncertain. ‘I… don’t know.’ His shoulders rounded as he slumped down, looking troubled. ‘I awoke under a stone wall, not unlike those you see around here. I had a massive headache and I stumbled back to the hovel where I… where this body lived.’ He looked Nakor in the eyes. ‘I was not reborn, was I?’
Nakor slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know, but I think not. I think somehow the gods of our home world took your mind and put it in another body. I think that’s why you’re sick.’
‘Dying,’ corrected Macros.
‘Who was the Gardener before you?’ repeated Magnus.
Now Macros looked genuinely disturbed. ‘I don’t know,’ he said again. ‘I don’t know who would know,’ he added quietly.
‘No one here is likely to know. Perhaps Martuch, Hirea, or Narueen, or they might know…’
‘What?’ asked Pug.
‘The Bloodwitch Sisters. If anyone knows, it is they.’
Nakor stood, as if ready to depart. ‘Then we must ask them.’
Pug said, ‘Yes.’
Macros said, ‘But we should…’