Gates of Heaven

by Pamita Rao

  Alaira smiled, memories of Elora forming in front of her. Alaira had grown up admiring Elora. She had a certain gait in her walk, a soothing tone in her voice. She was a paragon of perfection, a child everyone loved and respected. Alaira had tried over the years to be just like Elora, but she had been no match to her. Alaira’s voice was deeper, when Elora’s was softer, gentler. Alaira’s eyes were light, while Elora’s were deep, as if hiding a secret. Sometimes, Alaira would sneak into Elora’s chamber and steal her clothes, trying to look like her. Alaira’s eyes filled with tears at those memories. It all seemed so distant.

  After Elora left their home and married Creed, a lot changed. They moved from one village to the other, in search of food and shelter. The continuous moves made Mother sick, and they thought she would die until Inglan had given them a home to live in Nimah. Father, in return for his favor, helped Inglan on his farm.

  When they had finally started living a respectable life in Nimah, Mother was taken by her illness. On the outside, everyone saw them as a brave family, who survived the wrath of Creed, but Alaira knew the pain they were going through every day. She did not want to be brave anymore. All she wanted was for her family to live together, for Elora to come back to them, for Mother to come back from the dead. She wanted the kind of life she had in Taelk.

  “We will do anything for Elora, Father. She is our sister,” said Horace. Alaira knew that Horace had fewer memories than she did. Horace was very young when Elora got married, and they were barely together to enjoy sibling love. She wondered if they would ever be together again.

  “Your mother would have been proud to see what you have become,” Reddan said to Horace and Alaira. His eyes teared again, breaking Alaira’s heart.

  “Maybe I should try to be like mother,” said Horace, trying to lighten the mood. “I will then see visions of the future and make potions that heal the wounds of soldiers.”

  Alaira laughed through her tears. “If you become a healer, then we shall not be afraid of Creed anymore. You would kill thousands yourself with your potions.”

  “Maybe I will ask grandfather Oelk what my future holds for me,” said Horace.

  Reddan nodded. “He might be able to see your future, but no one knows where he is. Some say that after the battle of Taelk ended, he left through the gates of heaven to another world in search of peace and tranquility.”

  Alaira’s eyes opened wide. “I thought King Balthasar was the only one who had crossed the gates of heaven.”

  “Yes, Balthasar is the only one we know who left Myrth and came back without much harm, but he may not be the only one,” said her father, looking towards her. “For ages, men, women, and children have tried to cross the enchanted forests, and you know as well as I do that they have never come back. Have you ever wondered what happened to them?”

  “I always thought they were killed by enchanted creatures of the forests.” She had been haunted by images of how the enchanted creatures would tear into the flesh of those people and eat them alive. She would wake up sometimes as a child with such dreams and cry until her mother put her back to sleep.

  “Yes, that may be true. The Gods created enchantments around the forest to protect it from beings like us, but the enchanted forest was not always hidden. There was a time when the enchanted forest was visible to all. Many sages roamed those forests and lived along with the enchanted creatures, and all the other beings were allowed to come and go as they pleased. There were no kingdoms, not even kings. There was only one land. The land of Myrth, and these sages were the messengers of Gods who guided everyone who lived on these lands.”

  “What about the gates of heaven? Could people go through them too?”

  “Gods created a gate in every realm so that they could travel between them. Together they are known as the gates of heaven. I am certain the Gods never intended for anyone else to go through them. The gate here on Myrth has always been hidden. Only enlightened beings like your grandfather Oelk knew where it was, but then something happened—a small boy found the gate by mistake and went through it. When he came back, he had grown into a man and had powers not known to anyone on the planet. When he came back, he brought with him destruction. Creatures from other realms found a way to enter the gate and started destroying the lands.”

  Alaira knew this story. Mother had told her many times as a child. It was a famous story of a boy, going through the gate and coming back powerful. He brought back with him creatures who almost destroyed everything in the world of Myrth until the gods intervened and made the enchanted forests invisible to all. Since then, no one could leave or enter the gates without crossing the many layers of enchantments.

  “We know this story, Father,” she said. “What does it have to do with Neelahaim?”

  Her father paused and took a deep breath. “These enchantments created by Gods can sense one’s intentions. If your heart is pure, then the gate may allow you to pass.”

  Alaira’s forehead creased. “Why are you telling us this, Father?”

  Reddan chose his next words carefully. “I want you to use Neelahaim’s powers and leave Myrth forever.”

  A hush fell over the room; for a moment, it was as if there were three statues sitting at the table. Alaira and Horace stared at Reddan as if they had seen a ghost. After what felt like eternity, Alaira rose to her feet and shouted.

  “We will do no such thing! This is our land and we will live here in pride. We will find a way to defeat Creed and take over this land that once belonged to us.”

  Father stood up to meet Alaira eye to eye and held her shoulders. “Child, you do not understand. Creed will not rest until he finds his child. Neelahaim’s powers are what Creed needs to fulfil his wishes, and then he will kill him, take his powers, and go through those gate to cause destruction and havoc. If you, however, leave with Neelahaim, then Creed cannot follow you through the gate and will be forced to live in Myrth forever.”

  Alaira felt like she could not breathe. The thought of leaving Myrth troubled her. It was her land and they were her people. Father only said it out of love for them, but was this possible? Could they indeed leave Myrth and travel through the gate to other realms?

  “But Father,” she said. “You told us that the gates of heaven choose who can go through them. How will Horace and I pass through the gate on Myrth if it is only in Neelahaim’s destiny to go through it?”

  “We already know through the vision Drahim had that Neelahaim will go through the gate, but if you travel as his guardians and your only intention is to protect Neelahaim, then the gate may allow you both to pass through it, as your intentions will be pure. This is a risk we will have to take, as we do not know what lies on the other side of the gate, and sending Neelahaim alone may be dangerous.”

  Alaira looked at Horace, who was staring outside the window at the sun rising from behind Nimah hills, deep in thought. The thought of leaving their realm Myrth was bothering him as well, and she could feel his pain. Just like her, he had lived all his life in Nimah. He had friends like Klink, whom one only meets once in a lifetime. He grew up in this home, which had many memories of Mother, and even though he never told anyone, Alaira knew how much he missed her.

  She turned to Reddan. “What if it only allows Neelahaim to pass through it and stops Horace and me?”

  “Then you will accept it as a play of destiny and pray that the enchanted forest spares your life so that you may return home. If Neelahaim travels through the gate on his own, then the Gods above will give him strength to survive in the other realm.”

  “And what if we die?” asked Horace.

  Reddan had a vacant look in his eye as he said the next words. “I am willing to risk your lives for the greater good.”

  No one said anything for a while. The enormity of Reddan’s decision hung in the room like a powerful stench. “It is too dangerous for the three of you to stay here anymore,” said Reddan, breaking the silence. “Someone must have seen you, and Creed’s army will already be
on the hunt to find you. They will come to Nimah first, as the guards will remember the seal on Freddic’s carriages.”

  “We can protect him here, Father. We have Freddic and the villagers on our side. We have prepared a trick for the soldiers, and they will never find Neelahaim. We can stay here, fight Creed’s guards, and will take Myrth back from him.”

  “Your tricks will not work if our realm, Myrth, is destroyed,” said Father, pleading with Horace to understand. “Creed will destroy everything that stands in his way of finding Neelahaim. If he finds Neelahaim and gains any more power, he will kill us all. There will be nothing left to save. You must listen to me and take Neelahaim away with you. The enchanted forests will let you pass if your intentions are pure.”

  Later that night, lying on her bed, Alaira thought about Father’s words. They had taken Neelahaim away from the castle, but what father said was true: Creed’s men would come looking for him, and what would they do then? They could hide him for a few days, maybe a few years, but he was a child. Over the years, he would grow and want to play or even visit the markets. How long could they keep him hidden inside the house, and how would they stop the guards from knowing who he truly was? Could they keep him hidden forever?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Search

  A loud screeching cry erupted in the house, and Alaira opened her eyes to the strong rays of the sun filtering through the curtains of her room, illuminating her face. For a moment, she could not place the cry. Who was crying this early in the morning? Was it in an injured animal? She pushed her bedcover aside and walked out of her bedchamber. The cry seemed to grow louder with every step she took towards the hallway.

  Reddan cradled Neelahaim in his arm and swung him from side to side in an effort to quiet him. “He takes after his mother, doesn’t he?”

  Alaira moved to his side and peeked at Neelahaim. He wrinkled his forehead, closed his eyes tightly, and curled his hands into a fist, as if ready to hit the one who woke him from his sleep.

  “I wish he would stop crying!” said Horace, entering the hall; his hair was rumpled, as he had just been woken up by the screech as well. “He was so quiet and peaceful yesterday.”

  “Yesterday, he was under the effect of your mother’s potion. It wore off this morning,” whispered Father.

  The sharp, ear-piercing cry grew louder, and Horace held his hands to his ears. “Can we not give him some more of the potion?”

  “No!” shouted Alaira and Reddan in unison.

  “Is he in pain, Father?” she asked in concern. The way he was screaming, he would wake every villager in Nimah.

  “Children cry a lot more when they are newborn. It will take him a while to realize he is safe with us. After all, he does not have his mother to soothe him now.”

  Horace snickered. “Perhaps it is Alaira who makes him cry.”

  Before Alaira could respond with a remark of her own, the door creaked open and Freddic walked in.

  Horace waved him in. “Look, my nephew is awake!” Freddic looked between Reddan, Horace, and Alaira, his face devoid of emotion.

  “What happened?” asked Alaira.

  “The king’s soldiers are searching for the child. They have sent an entire army to Nimah, and they will reach here by midday.”

  Alaira and Horace looked towards one another and nodded. They were already prepared for the soldiers to arrive at Nimah, and Alaira hoped that the trick would work on them. “Then we must hurry.” She stretched her hand towards Reddan and lifted Neelahaim into her arms. “Gather the villagers,” she said to Horace.

  Horace nodded and left through the open doorway. Freddic turned to Alaira as Horace left. “Ready?” he asked, holding the door open for her.

  Reddan shook his head in confusion. “Where are you taking Neelahaim? Are you not supposed to prepare your swords? The soldiers cannot be stopped without a fight.”

  “Do not worry, Father. We shall not require the use of swords. We will win this fight with trickery.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “We are going to create a diversion,” she said, reaching the door.

  “Where will you hide Neelahaim?”

  Alaira glanced at Reddan as she stepped outside. “Everywhere,” she said, turning and leaving her home with Freddic.

  ***

  Alaira paced the hall of her house as the sun ascended above their heads. Midday was upon them, and the soldiers would arrive at Nimah any moment. Suddenly, a great rumble arose as horses galloped into their village, with a trail of dust heralding the arrival of the soldiers.

  Alaira watched as soldiers halted near her house. They wore velvet robes that hung loose around their knees. The fingers that curled around their swords were adorned with rubies that sparkled in the sun. Their swords had the crest of the king.

  They dismounted their stallions, glancing at the rows of houses in front of them. Alaira’s gaze settled on a white stallion that was bigger than the other stallions and looked stronger. A glint of silver shone from his forehead. The soldier who dismounted the stallion had stubble on his chin and a scar on his face. He wore a metallic vest, but unlike the other soldiers, he had several badges on it. Alaira assumed that they indicated his service in various battles with Creed. He motioned for the soldiers to check other houses while he marched towards Alaira’s house along with two of his henchmen.

  Alaira moved away from the window of her house and waited. A loud knock sounded on her door.

  “Open the door! We have come to search your house upon the order of the king!”

  Alaira ran and opened the door, raising her brows innocently, as if she had not known of their arrival. She smiled at the three soldiers who stood in front of her door with a sermon from the king.

  “How may we be of service, sire?” asked Alaira, moving away as the soldiers pushed their way into her home.

  “I am Walahal, the head soldier. We are here to search your house for Prince Neelahaim.”

  “The prince is not in our home,” she said.

  “Then you will not mind us searching your home,” said Walahal as he guided his soldiers inside the house and pointed in various directions to start the search. The soldiers scattered in search of an infant, while Alaira took her seat on the kitchen chair.

  Hearing the commotion, Reddan stepped into the hall. “What is happening?” he asked in concern as the soldiers opened each cupboard and upturned every piece of furniture to search for the child.

  Walahal moved towards Reddan, challenging him. “We are searching for the prince upon the orders of the king. If you have not taken him, then we will let you live.”

  Alaira peered at Reddan and shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to stay quiet.

  Reddan turned to Walahal. “Absolutely not, sire. We have nothing to hide.”

  As soon as he said those words, a cry erupted from a room. Everyone went still. Alaira leapt up from her chair, but a soldier caught her while Reddan rushed towards the door, covering it with his body.

  “There is a child in here!” shouted Walahal to his soldiers.

  “No, please, you cannot take him,” cried Reddan.

  The soldiers burst through the door where Horace held Neelahaim to his chest, shielding him from the soldiers.

  “Give the child to me,” ordered Walahal. He turned towards Alaira and pinned her with a stare. “You lied to me. You said you did not have the prince.”

  “He is not the prince,” said Alaira. Soldiers surrounded Horace, and Walahal pushed past Reddan, who was trying to stop him from reaching Neelahaim. He pried Neelahaim away from Horace while the soldiers held his arms.

  “Don’t take him! I beg you, don’t take him,” screamed Reddan, but Walahal carried Neelahaim outside to see him clearly in the bright sunlight.

  Two village boys who had gathered outside their homes came running towards Reddan to be on his side. The soldiers who held Alaira and Horace pushed them outside just in time to see Walahal draw a pendant from his po
uch.

  “This pendant was sent by the dark sage, Drahim. He has enchanted it with the king’s blood, and it will shine when it touches his heir. If what you say is truth, and this child is not the prince, then you have nothing to worry about, as the pendant shall remain colorless. However, if he is the prince, then the pendant will glow as soon as it touches him.” He hung the pendant over Neelahaim’s body and lowered it slowly onto him. “If you know something, tell me now when you have the chance, and I will be kind to you and pierce your heart with my sword. Your death will be quick and less painful. However, if I find that you lied to me, then I will take you to the king, where you will wish for the death that I had offered.”

  Alaira’s heart thumped loudly in her chest as Walahal’s message became clear. Her palms grew sweaty and her voice shook. “We have nothing to hide,” she said. “That child is not the prince.”

  Walahal touched the pendant to Neelahaim’s forehead and waited. Neelahaim cried out with a loud screech, and the pendant began to shine. As his cry intensified, the glow brightened like the sun.

  “We have the prince!” Walahal roared in triumph.

  Soldiers tightened their hold on Alaira and Horace, while Walahal strode towards them. Walahal held Alaira’s hair in his tight grasp and turned her toward him.

  Reddan ran to Walahal and held his legs. “No! Please do not punish her, sire. This is my family. She is my daughter,” he begged, but Walahal pushed Reddan away from him. Reddan fell on the ground, dust covering one half of his face, but he scampered towards Walahal and clasped his legs once again.

  “Please, sire, I beg of you. She has done no wrong. That child is not the prince,” he cried.

  Walahal gripped Alaira’s neck and pulled; her eyes widened, and she struggled to get his hand off her throat as her feet left the ground.