Dark Calling by Darren Shan Page B

tall.”
    “That’s because you never needed a larger window,” Raz says calmly. “You can do far more than you’ve demanded of yourself.
     With our guidance you’ll learn to open a larger window and curve it, so it surrounds the world. That way, rather than propel
     the world through the window, it can close around the planet.”
    I stare at Raz wordlessly. I don’t know what to think.
    “Think of victory,” Raz growls. “Think of life. Think of the demons you’ll defy, the doom you’ll spare everyone here.”
    “It’s impossible…”
    “No,” Raz insists. “It
can
work. That’s no guarantee that it
will
—there might be obstacles ahead that we can’t predict—but we believe in the plan.”
    My mind’s whirling. “But when I die, my piece of the Kah-Gash will link up with the others. You’ve already said you can’t
     control it.”
    Raz clears his throat. “That brings us to the part you’re not going to like. As you say, we won’t be able to harness your
     piece of the Kah-Gash when you die, so we need to find a way around that. Kernel, what would you think if we asked you to
     make the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of the universe?”
    “You want me to kill myself?” I ask with surprising calmness.
    “No.” Raz leans forward, eyes sparkling. “We want you to live forever!”

A WARNING

    W E spend the night wandering the ark, sharing food and drink with some of the many creatures aboard. They don’t know who I am
     or the special task Raz has asked of me. They think I’m just another face in the crowd.
    I’m surprised, as I talk with the sometimes multilimbed, multiheaded, multicolored aliens, by how alike we are. Not in looks,
     clothes, or customs. But they have the same concepts of good and evil. Family is important to them. Most are religious. They
     have dreams and hopes for the future.
    “Are all civilizations like this?” I ask Raz as we stroll beneath trees full of bat-like beings. A few are playing a game
     on a chessboard.
    “No,” Raz says. “We chose from the more compassionate species. They have a fighting spirit—we need warriors—but they can control
     their tempers. This world has to last an eternity. We cannot tolerate internal conflict.”
    “It might happen anyway,” I note, watching a couple of bats chase each other through the branches, squealing happily. “People
     change, so I guess this group does too. You can’t know what they’ll be like in a million years. Groups might splinter. War
     could erupt.”
    “Perhaps.” Raz sighs. “We’ll use magic to preserve the balance as best we can. Evolution will be curbed, so there’ll be no
     physical changes, but we can’t take all possibilities into consideration. We’ll plan as far ahead as possible. After that…
     as you would say, it’s in the hands of the gods.”
    I still haven’t reached a decision. I’m weighing up all that the universe stands to gain against all that I will personally
     lose.
    They want me to become a living tunnel between universes. Sometimes a mage becomes part of a tunnel, and lives as long as
     the tunnel remains open. They don’t age or die. If I agree to this, I’ll live until the end of time. Death won’t be able to
     claim me. I can keep moving the ark around, protecting this small pocket of survivors while all others are tracked down by
     the Demonata and slaughtered.
    It’s not foolproof. My piece of the Kah-Gash might desert me when it realizes what I’m doing, or Death might find a way to
     trap the ark. But the Old Creatures think it will work.
If
I play along.
    In their position, I’d force the guy with the power to accept. I wouldn’t give him any say in the matter. I’d open a tunnel,
     make him part of it, and leave him with no option but to do what was necessary.
    But the Old Creatures believe I have the right to choose. It’s the creed they live by. They’ll guide their foster children
     in the right direction, but they won’t force us. Ever.