Tau

Cauthen

Nirgalen sniffed the air and scented the smoke before he saw the smouldering ruins of the Chapel of By-Imlor.  He still wore the robes of the Shardahn Priest, Taro Mahn.  It was close to dawn, but no-one stirred in Kimlar.  Puddles of water showed where the town's people had tried to put out the fire, but little remained of the chapel.

Nirgalen picked his way through the fallen, charred timbers and pulled aside some debris to reveal the trap door to the crypt.  The trap door was blackened and the rug that had covered it was gone, but it swung upwards, to reveal the steps below.  The Djara hoped that the Casimir Engine was safe and sound, yet, even as he descended the smooth stone steps he sensed that someone had come this way.

The iron gate to the inner crypt was open and the Casimir Engine gone.  Nirgalen sniffed the air and smelt Peytahn... and one particular Peytahn: Kurgan.  That was all he needed to know.  It was time to go.

Turning tail, Nirgalen sped to the steps.  He replaced the burnt trap door and headed out of town.  The Shardahn Priest, Taro Mahn, had served his purpose.  The wheel of fortune had turned again and for Nirgalen it was time to change.  Even as he walked on the trail back to the Tomb of Katchu-Pek, Nirgalen's mind was set on who he would become.  His scent was the first thing he worked on altering.  He knew his own scent to perfection and thought of the exact opposite.  What had smelt of Spring and freshness and all possibilities began to fade, began to fade and become old and worn, with a hint of death.  The smooth skin of his face wrinkled and became blemished.  His muscles withered and he began to shamble his way along, his back hunched.  His hair began to fall from his head and tufts of lank, grey hair began to form anew.  What had been full of strength and grace became frail and his scent spoke of an end soon to come.

Through the ruins Nirgalen made his way, slowly, but surely.  In the dark of the underground tunnels he knew where he was headed.  The room he sought had served him once before and now, as he shuffled slowly along, he thought to himself: 'belt and braces'.

The door to the room was locked, but Nirgalen's mind opened it with ease.  He slipped inside the room and relocked the door behind him.  In the centre of the room sat what he sought.  It was the last Casimir Engine that he knew of.  Fortunately there was little left for him to do.

Within his robes was a copy of all he knew about the workings of the virtual particle drive machine.  Working as quickly as his old hands would allow, he set the controls, then sat, tired, in the comfortable velvet seat.  It felt good to rest.  It was partly the change he had just made to his body, but he had felt old for a long time now.  Several life times of experiences and many changes weighed heavy on his soul.  As he pulled the lever of the Casimir Engine to set it in motion he closed his eyes and dozed off.

When his eyes flickered open he gazed up to see the beautiful constellations of stars that weren't stars, shining blue-white above him.  The cool, drip, drip of water into a cold pool of water and the scent of spice flooded back into Nirgalen's memories.  The caves of Chenga seemed to be where he always ended up, for one reason or another.

A ramshackle door, made of strips from old wooden crates, with rough metal hinges, stood before him.  Nirgalen hauled himself out of the Casimir Engine and walked to the door.

Without knocking or calling out, the door swung open.

'Hmmm, you don't look so well.'  In the doorway stood the figure of the Shardahn Priest, Cauthen.  'You look even older than me!'

'It's Kurgan, he's back on my trail.  I'm hoping this change will help throw him off.  I need to talk.'

'Come on in.'  Cauthen gestured with his hand and Nirgalen hobbled into the room.  Jars of glowing worms lit the interior of the room, even though both Nirgalen and Cauthen could see perfectly well in the dark.

Cauthn pointed to cushions laying on the floor.  'Can you get back up if you sit down?'  He smiled at Nirgalen.

'I guess we'll have to see.  Maybe you can give me a hand?'

Cauthen moved to support Nirgalen and lowered him to the cushions.  'At least the cushions are comfortable.  Tell me, Taro Mahn, or Nirgalen, or whoever you now are, what have you learned?'  Cauthen raised an eyebrow in question.

'It has all become a bit cryptic, and it's been eighty years of searching, but I will tell you what I know.  Tau is what links the spoke of a wheel to ever turning wheel.  The circle arises from Tau.  The wheel that turns and turns depends upon Tau.'

Cauthen nodded.  'Anything more?'

'The wheel is endless, yet the spokes are not, or don't seem to be.  Tau tends towards something finite, yet never reaches it.'

Again Cauthen nodded his head.  Nirgalen continued to speak.

'Tau tends towards the simple number 7... the mystical, magical number 7.  Yet, Tau never gets there... but that is the beauty of Tau.  The endless circle arises from something that can't even reach a finite number.'

'It is a paradox, but it is beginning to make some sense, at least.'  The simple words that Nirgalen had spoke began to send thought tumbling through Cauthen's mind.  'How does this change what you have to do?'  Cauthen broke from his thoughts and turned back to Nirgalen.

'I need to learn the power of the dark.  Can you teach me?'  A look of concern deepened Nirgalen's wrinkled features.

'You are Tau tom-Uray: the be all and end all.  You have learnt how to be, now you must learn how to become the end.'  As Cauthen spoke it was as if he was reciting a text, rather than his own words.  Nirgalen detected a note of doubt in Cauthen's usually assured tone.

'But, can you teach me?'  Nirgalen wondered whether this was where everything would become unravelled.

Cauthen simply nodded.  'Eat this.'  In his hand the Shardahn Priest held a small piece of unrefined spice.  'It will help you to see the darkness inside.'

Nirgalen took the white fungus and sniffed at it.  Instant euphoria flooded his senses.  With just a sniff his senses were driven into overdrive.  'You want me to eat all of this?'

'Yes.'  Cauthen just nodded.

Doubt filled Nirgalen's mind.  Raw spice could be lethal, even to him.  Yet, was that the point?  Was that the last lesson that Cauthen had for him?  Nirgalen felt tired.  He felt old.  Was this his time?  Was this what the darkness was?

'Eat'.  Cauthen gestured to the small piece of spice.

Opening the crevassed lips of the old man he had become, Nirgalen placed the narcotic into the dark cavern of his mouth.  A bitter, warning taste hit the back of his tongue, but the taste instantly shifted to sweet.  A perfume of delight rose from the back of his throat and filled his senses.  He closed his eyes.  All he could see with his mind's eye was bright white light.  Swirling, round and around... an endless wheel of white fire.

Faint, a voice whispered to him.  'What do you see at the heart of the light?'

Nirgalen's thoughts tried to focus on the centre of the swirling wheel of fire.  It began as a small pin prick of dark.  His thoughts fought to forget about the light.  He felt himself falling towards the deep, pure blackness and saw it grow and grow.

Around the perfect disc of darkness the white light broke into reds and blues, yellows and greens.  Nirgalen felt as if he was rushing towards the centre of the swirling wheel of light.  His heart beat faster and faster, hammering in his chest.  Blood pulsed, with more and more force, at his wrists, at his neck and through his head.

With a final rush the darkness drew him in.  He gasped one last breath of air, as his heart burst and his brain cut out.  All that was left was darkness.