The Gate of Fang and Thorn

by R. M Garino

  “I hate to break up the reunion.” Garrett indicated the corridor behind him. “But Obsidian will see the three of you now.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Obsidian

  A towering figure waited for them in the map room. The soul lights reflected off his dark shaven scalp, and he watched them enter with calm, patient eyes. His sin’del was enormous and opaque. Hundreds of si’ru darted about, passed from layer to layer as if unable to decide where to settle.

  He spread his arms in welcome. A placid smile warmed his features.

  Brigit stood behind him, along with five other Lethen’al.

  The moisture left Logan’s mouth, and he felt very small in their presence.

  “May I introduce Obsidian,” Brigit said. “One of the E’ine, the First Keeper, and leader of the Lost Guard.”

  Logan and Cormac dropped to a knee, one fist pressed against their hearts.

  Angus did not bow.

  “Another feckin’ E’ine,” he said, as if to himself. The Lost Guard in the room drew insulted gasps.

  “Welcome, Logan and Cormac of House Fel’Mekrin,” the E’ine said. His voice was deep and resonate. “Welcome, Angus of House Tu’renthien, Keeper of the Temple of Mourning. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I am glad you could join us.”

  Logan and Cormac stood and proceeded to the proffered chairs. Angus remained where he was.

  “You can still show some respect for your betters,” Cormac hissed. "Even if you are Keeper."

  “There is no need.” Obsidian made a placating gesture. “He may stand if he wishes.”

  Obsidian claimed a chair opposite them and waited for his guests to sit before he took his seat. He laid his hands on his knees and regarded them.

  “I have been informed of your valor at the gate, and I am told it was inspiring,” he said to Logan and Cormac. “The way you held position, guarding the rear and enabling your comrades to escape. It filled me with hope. Such is the marking of true Elc’atar Guards. Prince El’Cain would be proud. Sui Rhen’val would be proud. Your training honors their memory.”

  Logan cocked his head to the side, but then bowed in his chair. Cormac followed a moment later.

  “Please,” Obsidian said. “You honor yourselves further holding to the old customs, but they are unnecessary here. Speak as you would. What troubles you, Logan?”

  “Thank you for your kind words, Elder,” Logan said. "How were you informed of our actions? Brigit said the Lost Guard was sidetracked with the intruder."

  "An astute question," Obsidian said. "But, the two are not mutually exclusive. You will forgive me, I trust, if I do not reveal all of my secrets."

  Logan saluted, not wanting to offer insult.

  “And you, Angus,” Obsidian said. “You crafted a path through the Chora by yourself and entered the Sur from the Quain. No small feat that. You have lived up to the mantle you wear. Well done.”

  Angus remained silent.

  “Forgive him, Elder,” Logan said. “He has always spurned the rules of convention. I am sure he means no disrespect.”

  “I mean every disrespect, Fel’Mekrin,” Angus said. His sin’del was awash with a purple anger just held in check. “I have nothing to say to the likes of him.”

  “I am not Gamesh,” Obsidian said. “Nor do I sanction or approve his methods. While it is true I once attempted to mentor him, he chose a different path.”

  “You can deny your involvement as much as you like.” Angus folded his arms across his chest. “Your kind has much to answer to.”

  Obsidian inclined his head, accepting the critique.

  “Indeed we do,” he said. “I more than most.” He indicated their surroundings with a wave. “This is my penance.”

  “I do not understand, Elder,” Logan said. He needed to steer the conversation to a less antagonistic track.

  Obsidian offered him a sad smile.

  “I was the original Keeper of the Temple of Mourning,” he said. “I settled before most of the E’ine, and helped them return to sanity after the Time of Madness. I helped my people give birth to the Lethen’al, and led them through to the Quain. I held the post during the Apostate’s war, and much to my shame, I did little to oppose him, choosing instead to hide behind the shields in Sa’Doran. I watched my people suffer and die of starvation, hoping the threat would pass. When at last it became obvious that it would not, I assisted a clandestine group of Magi to reclaim the Patresilen.

  “My compatriot, Gideon, was a Keeper as well, but he opposed my actions. He wished to return to Heaven by any means necessary. To further his ambitions, he sided with the Apostate. We fought, and I was instrumental in his death. But, not before he passed his mantle on to another; The King’s councilor, Gamesh. Ending my brother destroyed me. I had no will to fight any longer. But the Apostate pressed the assault against the Lethen'al, seeking to capture their si’ru in his great Soul Chambers. El'Cain and his guard died defending the pass, and the Lethen’al made it safely to the Patresilen. I entered later, and I too passed my mantle to another; the granddaughter of the Tu’renthien King, Thenaria.

  “She did what I could not. She confronted the Apostate. She shattered his Soul Chambers, and drove him from the Quain, banishing him to the Sur. The cost to her, to all of our kind, was terrible. I was unable to live with myself and what I failed to do. It was my responsibility to safeguard creation, for such is the charge of the Keepers. Instead, I let fear guide my decisions.

  “Unfortunately, I am E’ine, and we are immortal. Left alone, we will live forever, and I did not have the will to take my own life. Eventually, I left the Quain. I sought my death in the Sur. I wanted an end that was worthy of my former title. I wanted to redeem myself washed in the blood of my enemies. I did not prove easy to kill. I wandered the Sur, found my way here, and created the sanctum.

  “I then saved a lost Lethen’al, pounding on the stone doorway of the gate. Her name was Asha,” Obsidian continued, “and she was part of the first cohort to enter here. As you both did, she held the rear guard to ensure her company’s safe passage home.”

  A female stepped forward.

  “Obsidian saved me from the shrulks. He brought me here and gave me a new life,” Asha said. She saluted Logan and Cormac with her free hand. “It is my honor to find kindred spirits within you both.”

  “We noticed where the shrulks gathered,” Obsidian said once Logan and Cormac returned the salutes, “and we took it upon ourselves to end them. When she told me the new tradition among the Areth'kon of entering this place, we watched the paths through the Sur. Others fell by the wayside, either en route, or at the Gate and we offered them sanctuary.”

  “Most wanted to go home,” Asha said, a pained expression on her face, “myself included.”

  “But we discovered that once the gate has shut,” Obsidian said, “there is no way back.”

  He paused, letting his words sink in.

  The announcement struck a chord in Logan. He thought about those he loved - Arielle, Gwen, Mother. He imagined his life without ever seeing them again. He glanced behind him, at Kal’Parev. He noted the grim expression, the bruised sin’del and scarred face, and wondered what events shaped him. In his future time, was Arielle safe, was she happy? While the thought of the Lost Guard appealed to him, Arielle’s future caused him worry.

  “I would like to offer you both a choice,” Obsidian said, his words drawing their attention back. “But unfortunately, I cannot. There is no way back to the lives you knew. The Gate of Fang and Thorn closed, and you were on the wrong side. You may not be Elc’atar, but I would like to welcome you to the Lost Guard, should you choose to join us.”

  Logan and Cormac were silent, each absorbing the news. He gave Cormac his word. He promised he would find him a way home. But the task was impossible. Was this so bad? He was offered a chance to devote his life to something greater than himself. Why then was he conflicted? It was more than just the broken promise to his friend.

  "
You lie," Angus said to Obsidian. The Lost Guard hissed at him again. One drew a foot of steel from his scabbard before Obsidian held up a finger.

  "What is wrong with you?" Logan jumped from his seat to face Angus. "Have you no shame?"

  Angus ignored him and pushed on.

  "You've warded them against their will and denied them their freedom." Angus turned his attention to the room. "He's been keeping you here, fighting his war, feeding you this shrulk shit so that he feels less lonely. Those glyphs tattooed on your arms don't just keep you hidden from the Lo'ademn. They keep you from passing through the gate and going home."

  He focused on Obsidian, who sat silent and still. Angus' jaw was set and the tension accentuated the scars that adorned his face. The Lost Guard looked stricken. Logan looked back at the E'ine.

  "But we haven't been marked." Cormac grabbed Logan's sleeve. "We can still get through the gate."

  "Is this true?" Logan said to Angus, and then regarded Obsidian. "Is this true?"

  "What would you have me say Tu'renthien?" Obsidian said.

  “I came intending to seal the Bore,” Angus said. “I don't feckin' care what you say, or what they decide. I just thought they should know the truth about you. Exposing your fraud has been a highlight of the trip.”

  To Logan, he said, “Do as you will.”

  He left the chamber without another word.

  “There is another way back,” Logan said. “There is another way, other than the gate?”

  Obsidian watched him, his gaze betrayed nothing. He leaned back in his chair and drew a deep breath.

  “There is,” he said. The Blades in the room burst out in a chorus of accusations and questions. Obsidian raised his voice. “But it is not a path we can take.”

  “Why not?” Cormac said. “If it will get us home, why can we not take it?”

  Obsidian’s gaze grew sad.

  “Because,” he said, “you would need to walk beneath the eyes of the Lo’ademn. None survive that path.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Node

  The Lo’ademn.

  Logan’s breath caught. Those who were known to the Lethen’al were bound for all time, trapped by the Magi. Were there others? If there were, it made sense that they existed in the Sur.

  "You lied to us!" Brigit stepped around Obsidian's chair, her sin'del a thunderhead. The other four Lost Guard joined her.

  Obsidian stood and fixed them all with a stern glare.

  "Enough!" he shouted. The Blades stepped back in their silence. "We will discuss matters momentarily. This is a matter for the Lost Guard, and the Lost Guard alone."

  He turned his attention to Logan and Cormac.

  "Will you join us?" He fixed them with a stern gaze. "Decide. Now."

  "I will not join you." Cormac stepped forward. "If there is a way for me to return, to my family, to my Pride, to my House, I have to take it."

  "Very well," Obsidian said. "Logan? What say you?"

  "As I told Brigit before," he said. "I cannot stay."

  "Very well," Obsidian turned from them. "Garrett will show you the path you must take."

  Logan and Cormac saluted and exited the room.

  "Keep your head down," Logan said to Cormac in a whisper. He held his friend's elbow, and hurried him alone. "Our time is limited here. We need to get the information we need and get out."

  Cormac nodded his agreement.

  They found Garrett hunched over the maps, with Angus by his side, bent over the charts spread across the stone table.

  “The Lo’ademn are bound,” Cormac said. "How do we walk the path beneath their eyes?"

  Garrett regarded them and shrugged.

  “They are,” he said. “And they are not. But I can show you that route. I guess you decided not to stay?”

  “More riddles?” Logan said. “If you do not know the answer than just admit it. Talking in circles is infuriating.”

  “It is no riddle,” Garrett said. “It is the way of things. You just don't understand them.”

  Logan drew a breath to reclaim his calm. Losing his temper at this time did not serve his purpose.

  “Please,” he said. “Just show us the route.”

  “I thought you left, Keeper?” Cormac said, a note of distain in his voice.

  “The display your cohort returned was incomplete.” Angus did not look up from his examination, and though his sin’del still roiled with an array of emotions, his voice remained calm. The distant sound of raised voices drifted from Obsidian's council chamber. “It appears to be a problem with their maps, however.”

  “What's all the commotion?” Garrett said. He craned his neck in an attempt to see down the corridor. “Why are they yelling?”

  Angus caught Logan's eye and shook his head. He pointed to the northern sections. As Logan noted on his earlier scan, it was an area obscured by a dense fog. The rendition was so lifelike that it seemed to move and shift in an imaginary breeze.

  “The Lo’ademn dens,” Logan said. His statement caught Garrett's attention, and pulled him back to the conversation.

  “Correct.” Garrett refocused and pointed at the various points of light on the map. “This is precisely the route you asked to see. Here are the locked locations of the Lo’ademn. The areas around them are under their influence.”

  “So the Apostate gave them areas of the Sur to control?” Cormac bent of the image to get a better look.

  “No,” Garrett said. “They are bound there, but their influence extends outward for a certain distance. The Apostate did not seal them there. The Lethen’al did.”

  “The Lo’ademn exist on both planes simultaneously.” Angus crossed his arms over his chest. “Their physical forms are bound on the Quain, or in the Patresilen, but that contains only a portion of their essence. The rest of them exist within the Sur. I didn't realize that they were limited here because of it.”

  “To a degree,” Garrett said. “They could extend their reach even here if they choose to. But it is taxing on them, and they do not do so lightly. Within the spheres of their influence, however, they have complete freedom of movement.”

  “That’s what we need to pass through?” Cormac said. “That’s what he meant by walking beneath the eye of the Lo’ademn?”

  Garrett nodded.

  “Not the path I would choose,” he said.

  “What can you tell me of this one here?” Angus pointed to one node in particular. “Thelas, I believe?”

  Logan squinted. He was curious as to how he knew which beacon belonged to which Lo’ademn. The fog around this particular light was dimmed, less pronounced than the others.

  “This is strange.” Garrett leaned in closer. He touched the node with a finger, and the view of the area expanded. “Hmmm. I wouldn't think this were possible.”

  “You would be surprised at what a Lo’ademn is capable of,” Angus said, though he did not lift his gaze from the table.

  Logan was tempted to ask him to elaborate, but he refrained. A hand on Cormac’s shoulder instructed him to do likewise. He was not about to play Kal’Parev’s game of riddle and innuendo.

  “You speak from experience?” Garrett hooked his thumbs behind his belt and cocked his head.

  “I know what I’m talking about.” Angus held his gaze. “You could say it’s the subject of my life’s work.”

  "Just say what you mean," Logan said.

  “A Lo’ademn is an Aesari that is transformed by anger and hate, to that point where it is all that defines them,” Angus said. “It darkens them, changes them, hardens them. There is nothing else to them anymore. What was once bright and beautiful grows cold and terrifying. Though they rationalize and coat their actions in seductive words, they bring pain and suffering to those who contend with them. I have made an extensive study of them, how the change comes, the stages it takes, and whether it can be reversed. I have sacrificed a great deal for my knowledge.”

  He pointed to the anomaly.

  “This was
not included in the display,” he said, “and it wasn’t on the maps when I was first shown them. It developed as I studied it.”

  Angus looked at Logan, a ripple of the previous altercation still present in his sin’del.

  “If I were trying to return," he said, "that is the route I would take.”

  “Then that is the path.” Logan hated to agree with anything Kal’Parev had to say, but the choice resonated within him. He wanted to oppose him on principle alone. But, there was something in his demeanor, a trace of nobility left in the wreckage of his personage that commanded trust. He was, after all, a Keeper of the Temple, and the Heir to the throne of the Tu’renthien Kings. “It feels right. I trust your assessment. We enter through Thelas’ domain, walking under his eyes.”

  “We have no information on what lies beyond the fog,” Garrett said. “An exit should exist there, in theory, but that will be up to you to confirm. I'll learn what I can of the terrain between fluctuations. You two should top off your supplies before you head out.”

  Garrett signaled to another Guard and instructed her to allow them to resupply.

  “First we had to return the display,” Cormac said. “Now this. We’re getting pretty good at impossible tasks.

  “That we are, brother,” Logan said.

  "I'll tend to the packs," Cormac said. "You get to know the route.”

  “Can we not persuade you to stay?” Garrett spread his hands. "Soldiers of your caliber would be a great addition to our numbers. I hate seeing you two throw your lives away when they can be used to serve such a noble cause. Piercing the fog is folly. It will bring only death.”

  “Do you foresee that?” Logan said. “Do you have the gift of prescience?”

  Garrett shook his head.

  “It is an educated guess,” he said. “None who have travelled that road have returned to us, nor as far as we can tell, have they succeeded in returning home."