There was a snap of bone, a piercing pain, and then… nothing. Nanoc had DIED TRYING. Had he lived in a different universe, this might have been the end of his tale. In the universe of Above and Below, however, a mortal’s death was only part of their journey like an unpleasant but unavoidable bump in the road. So it was that when Nanoc’s body dropped to the ground, his spirit remained standing as a pale red ghost.

  “Damn,” Nanoc said, annoyed, which was a fairly common reaction among the newly deceased. “So… now what?”

  Everything moved too quickly around him – the vampire disappeared, the ghouls came and went as blurs. The manor disappeared gradually, like the backdrop of a play being withdrawn, revealing the bare stage itself. Nanoc’s body began to float upwards, up through the roof of the manor, up through the sky. Nanoc closed his eyes tightly as the world dropped away and he ascended to the lowest of the seven levels of heaven Above.

  “Wait!” Nanoc shouted. “No! I hate flying! Can’t we go downward instead?”

  He kept his eyes closed until his feet touched down on something solid and, a few moments later, someone shoved him gently in the back. Only then, with ground beneath him did he dare open an eye.

  “Sand?” he said, amazed. “And… and emptiness. I’m cold, so cold.”

  Nanoc stood on an endless plain of black sand. The sky above was night, filled with bright constellations no mortal would recognize. The plains were still, without wind, without the stirring of bird or beast, without even the chirp of a locust. These were the lands of Death, sixth born of the first generation of gods, the god of endings, the god of soothing darkness and closing eyes, and - because everyone needs a hobby – the god of fishing. The lands were beautiful but empty, for Death has a minimalist style.

  Too minimalist, some thought. Death’s older sister, Life, fifth born of the first generation of gods, was always trying to convince him to add a little color to his lands. Life was the most active and imaginative of all her family and she considered every empty space to be a blank canvas on which she would experiment, creating a bewildering array of creatures and mortals until there was simply no room for more. Death, by comparison, was lazy. This explains why there are an infinite number of ways to live but, in the final count, only a few dozen ways of dying.

  “I’m know this place,” Nanoc said, frowning. “Yet I have never been here before. How can this be?”

  All mortals knew the lands of Death. An enchantment on the land caused them to feel the knowledge in their very souls – Death considered this to be a lot easier than having to explain it each time by talking to the souls.

  On a hill near Nanoc stood the Court of Death. This was a simple sphere, because the traditional seven walls seemed far too much work, and it was white, because color seemed even more effort. Death had, however, lit the temple with floating silver balls, which sent light spilling out into the desert, a lure for any passing mortal soul.

  Nanoc felt a gentle shove in his back and turned to see the spirit of a dwarf, bearded, black, and translucent. The spirit bowed and smiled apologetically.

  “Welcome to the Court of Death,” the spirit said, not unkindly adding, “I have to ask you to follow the path and get in line for judgment.”

  “Get in… line?” Nanoc asked.

  The spirit gestured towards the hill where a line of spirits, a thousand spirits, were waiting patiently at the gates of the Court. Humans and elves, orcs and gnomes, dwarves and sentient rocks, goblins and giants, tree-things and molemen, blobs of intelligent goo, and a dozen other mortal races were floating patiently, waiting for judgment.

  Nanoc sighed.

  Of course. Order ruled Above as he did Below, and the lines in heaven were long, straight, and quiet. And slow. A mortal could wait in line for many years before entering even the Court of Death for judgment.

  “It’s actually not that bad,” the spirit of the dwarf said defensively. “You shouldn’t have to wait more than a year or two. Three at the most. Well… maybe four, but definitely not more than seven. Yes, it’s not so bad this millenia.”

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  Nanoc stared at the long line.

  “Nah,” he said. “I’m not doing that.”

  “You have to,” the spirit said in surprise. “You have to wait in line. That’s what lines are for.”

  But Nanoc was a barbarian and his class did not wait in line.

  He walked right past the line towards the temple gates. There were a few protests from the waiting spirits as he passed them, but most assumed that he was there on official business and not for judgment. It was only at the doors to the temple itself that he was stopped by one of Death’s servants, the spirit of a lizardling. The lizardling held up a hand to challenge Nanoc, but the gnome had a plan.

  “I’m here for the surprise audit,” Nanoc said before the lizardling could speak.

  “I… what?”

  “The surprise audit. I’ll need to see your paperwork,” Nanoc explained impatiently.

  “But I hadn’t heard—”

  “Of course not.”

  “But you’re a—”

  “I’m a gnome clerk,” Nanoc snapped. “Who else would they send to carry out an audit?”

  This made a lot of sense: gnomes were notorious for their love of paperwork. They were also famous for doing what they were told.

  “What is your name?” Nanoc demanded of the lizardling. “I will make a complaint to your manager!”

  The lizardling hesitated.

  “Toag?” she suggested unconvincingly. “Yeah, Toag Epacs, that’s my name. For sure.”

  Outwardly Nanoc was grumpy and annoyed, but inside he was impressed. He had no doubt that Toag was one of the lizardling’s fellow spirits whom she had just thrown to the wolves. That was quick thinking. Nanoc wanted to smile, but instead he shook his head as if disappointed and pushed his way into the court.

  He entered a small, dark room with a single chair set in front of a judge’s bench. There were several windows in the room, but the only door was a heavyset black portal at the back which didn’t look like it had ever been opened. It was in rooms like this that every mortal would eventually be judged. Not by Death himself, who naturally made any and every excuse to avoid the work that was his purpose, but by one of the many mortal spirits who served him as judges.

  Nanoc’s judge had been an elf when she was alive and had kept much the same shape, although now she was considerably more see-through than before.

  “Take a seat,” she said from her bench.

  She was staring at the ceiling as if its infinite black depths were the most interesting thing in the world. Nanoc had been expecting condemnation or mockery, or maybe a little anger. Instead, he was faced with a display of indifference even greater than that of a teenager being lectured by their mother.

  “Sit,” she repeated.

  Nanoc did not sit. The judge did not care. She drew a parchment from a pocket and let it float above her. She had still not looked at Nanoc.

  “Please state your name and the god which you follow,” the judge said with the tired disinterest of someone who had asked that question a hundred times a day for millennia.

  “Why?”

  “What? So that I know what to call you, of course,” the judge said, annoyed.

  “No,” Nanoc said. “What does it matter which god or goddess I follow?”

  “Well, if you lived according to the scriptures of your god, they may deign to send a delegate to speak on your behalf,” the spirit said, then added “But they probably won’t.”

  Most of the gods lost interest in their followers once they died. Occasionally they would recruit one of the more dedicated souls to serve them in some capacity, but mostly they left the dead to find their own way.

  (Chaos had been the exception. She had always come down to the courts herself to speak on behalf of her followers. On occasion, when the courts were busy, this had meant splitting herself into a thousand pieces to make sure that some version of her soul would be there to argue and cajole with the judges of the dead to ensure they were given the most generous judgment so that they could start their next lives well. The other gods and goddesses had rolled their eyes as Chaos’s antics in the courts, but her mortal followers had loved her for it).

  “And which member of the pantheon did you say you followed?” the spirit judge asked, staring at her form.

  “None.”

  The judge paused as if wondering if this was an alias for one of the many gods – and there were so many gods that it was possible – before realizing the truth.

  “You’re an agnostic?” she asked, her indifference breaking slightly. “We don’t get many of those up here.”

  “I’m an antagonistic,” Nanoc corrected her. “I believe the gods make me angry.”

  “What? That’s not— But you’re a gnome! Your people always believe what they’re told.”

  "Not me.”

  The judge searched for the forms in front of her for several minutes before shaking her head.

  “There isn’t a box for this,” she muttered. “Damn these stupid forms. I’ll need to go and check something."

  She floated out one of the windows, calling out, “Wait right there!”

  For most gnomes – for most mortals – such an instruction would have been enough. Who dares defy the very judge who decides what your soul is worth? Not many. Yet Nanoc did not wait where he was he was told to. Instead he walked to the back of the room, opening the black door and slipping into Death’s inner sanctum.

  Where he found Death sleeping.