Gates of Heaven

by Pamita Rao

  A man and a woman together without marriage would not be seen well in their village. Even though Freddic had asked her hand in marriage many times, Alaira had refused due to her association with Creed. She wanted Freddic to be free of any responsibility towards her family, and yet, here he was, with her, aiding in her escape, with the fear of death and capture looming over their heads.

  Neelahaim yawned as he finished his last bite, and Freddic walked over to pick him up. “I will put him to sleep. You must rest as well. Thiran is lending us his horses tonight. If we leave early, we can reach Groigad tomorrow before midday.”

  Alaira retreated to a place that had been prepared for her sleep and curled on the bedding, pulling sheets above her. That night, she tossed and turned on the silken sheets, sleep evading her, thoughts of travelling through the gate scaring her. She worried about where the gate would lead them and how different the other world would be from their own. Would the new world be safe for them, or would it be more dangerous than their own? Were they making a mistake?

  The fear of losing her family, along with the fear of the unknown lands beyond their realm, troubled her through the night, but soon she found herself drifting off to sleep, worries still etched in her mind.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Horace and Klink – The Griesmal

  The market square was bustling with trade, as it had every day for years. Horace, Klink, and the other boys hid behind vegetable carts, observing the guards of the castle take turns leaving their positions; every time a guard had to leave his position at the castle gate, five more guards would come up to him, a formal exchange would happen, and the next guard would take his position. Not far from them, a small stream of water flowed from an opening and made its way to the market, merging with rotten vegetables and fruits that fell from the vendors’ carts.

  A slave girl shielded her face with a veil and approached them silently. “I heard ye had something for me,” she said.

  Horace looked around to see if anyone was observing them. He removed a few coins from his pocket and handed it to her. “We have to rescue a prisoner and cannot go through the palace gates. The village boys”—he said, pointing to the boys who had followed him from Nimah—“say that you know of a different route inside the palace.”

  A jingle sounded as she slid the coins into her pouch and bent forward to whisper in Horace’s ear. “I know of the prisoner you speak. I must warn you, sire. The poor man bled so much, I wonder if he is still alive.”

  “We are willing to risk our lives. Please, will you show us the way?”

  The woman smiled. “I have worked in this castle since I was a young girl. I know every wall, every chamber, even the prisons,” she said. “I will tell you more if ye give me more coins.”

  Horace dug into his pocket again and removed a few more coins, which he threw into her outstretched hand. She placed them eagerly into her pouch and smiled again.

  “Ye are very kind, sire,” she said. “The Griesmal is surrounded by guards night and day, and ye cannot enter the Griesmal with ease, but there is an underground entrance that ye may use to escape.”

  “Where is it?” asked Horace.

  “I will show you to the entrance, sire, but I will not follow you after that.”

  Horace nodded. He only needed her until they found entrance, and after that, he and the other boys could proceed themselves. The slave girl called a few women from the streets, and they whispered to one another. The women retreated to their carts, and a while later, a few vegetable vendors began to move towards the gates of the north tower.

  “Hey!” shouted a guard. “You have been given positions. You cannot come this close to the gate,” he said.

  The women continued to push their carts forward, and one said, “But, sire, we have no space. Those meat vendors at the back”—she pointed behind her—“have taken all the space you gave them, and some of their meat is rotting! We have to move our carts away from them as the smell is unbearable, sire.” The women scrunched their faces, as if indeed the stench of rotten meat was too much to bear. One of the guards left his post.

  “Let me see who is creating this nuisance. Do not let them near the gates,” he said to the other guard.

  As the guard walked away, one of the women left her cart and approached the other guard. She batted her eyelash and twirled her plats. The guard was immediately distracted by her and approached her with a smile on his face. His eyes travelled the length of her body. “What is your name, young maiden?”

  The woman giggled. “My name is Lorna. What is yours?” she asked.

  “Higgs. Where do you live, beautiful maiden?”

  The woman smiled at him and shrugged. “I live where you want me to live.”

  The guard was so mesmerized with her that he did not see the slave girl bring Horace and Klink forward and lead them on the path to the water stream. She pointed at the opening in the ground. “This is sewer water, sire. Sometimes it overflows; that is why you see water trickling into the market square. But now, the water has receded, and ye can enter without fear of drowning.”

  Horace frowned. “You want us to go through the underground sewer?”

  The slave girl smiled. “I thought ye were brave, sire. Ye afraid of a little water?”

  He crouched near the opening and peeked. Water flowed underneath with a gushing sound. The sewer was not too deep, and the stone walls had holes that they could use to climb down.

  Horace entered first. He placed his foot into one of the holes in the wall, testing if it could hold his weight.

  “This is where I leave ye, sire. Walk opposite to water flow and you will reach inside the Griesmal.” The slave girl then took a step back. “When ye are done, come back to this place, and I will make certain the vendors will distract the guards again.” She then walked away from them. Klink stared at her until she was gone and then looked towards the two other boys who scrambled into the sewer behind Horace.

  “My clothes will smell like someone’s backside!” said Klink as he followed them.

  Horace reached the last step and looked down. There was very little distance left between his feet and the ground so he let go of his hold on the wall and jumped. The splash of water from his foot spattered on the sides of tunnel walls. The two village boys and Klink followed him and jumped to the ground. A strong stench of sewage hit their nostrils, and Klink and the village boys held their nose in disgust.

  “We have to hurry,” said Horace as they trudged forward against the force of water that moved against them. Darkness engulfed them, as sunrays could not reach the depths of the tunnel, and a chill seeped through their hands from the rough walls as they held the stones for support.

  “How much longer?” asked Klink after waddling for a while.

  “We follow this path until we reach some kind of opening, or a source of water. All this water has to come from somewhere,” Horace said. He knew that the others were worried about what they would find on the other sides of these walls. It was well known that the Griesmal had hundreds of guards, but Horace thought nothing of it.

  Inglan was like family to him. He had protected them and given them land to live on when they had nowhere to go. He had fed him and Alaira when they were children, and Freddic was like a brother to him. He would never allow anything to happen to Inglan; he respected him as he would his own father.

  His thoughts then drifted to Elora. How would she react to him? Would she even remember her little brother? He had been only a child when she was imprisoned, and they had never met again. He had promised Father and Alaira that he would bring her back safe, and that was what he would do. He would keep his word.

  As they plodded their way through the water, a dim light appeared in front of them. It came from within another tunnel, where the sound of water gushing was louder and stronger.

  Horace stopped the other boys and listened intently. “I think we are close to the source of water.” He entered the tunnel, followed by the other boys. In fron
t of them, not far away, was an opening in the wall from where water fell into a pool below before flowing towards them. A dim light filtered through that opening, almost bright enough to illuminate the tunnel.

  “Please don’t tell me we have to crawl through that!” asked Klink in horror. The opening was big enough for them, but they would have to crawl.

  “It is our only way,” said Horace, splashing through the puddle until he reached the wall where the opening hung above. There were several other openings, but Horace chose the one in front of him.

  “Let’s try this one,” he said. He jumped and grabbed the edge of the wall, swinging himself up. “Coming?” he asked before pushing himself into the hole and crawling inside.

  The walls around this opening were snug, and the water levels were lower than he had expected. His knee scraped against the rough surface of the tunnel, and his elbow ached as he crawled towards the light. He could hear the other boys following him and smiled at himself. For all his complaints, Klink always followed him wherever he went. Horace felt blessed that he had someone like Klink in his life.

  Soon the tunnel ended, and Horace could smell fresh air. He knew they had reached the Griesmal as the light brightened and the opening became wider.

  “We are here,” he whispered to the others as he pushed himself out of the opening and entered into a wide hall. Klink released a sigh of relief as he took in a breath of fresh air. He dusted off debris from his shirt hurriedly and scrunched his nose.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked.

  Horace wondered the same thing. The entire place was eerily quiet, as if it were deserted. “I don’t know,” he said, taking a few steps forward. Something was not right. No prison was this quiet unless it had been abandoned.

  As they advanced, a strange smell of rotting flesh wafted through the air. The deeper they went, stronger the smell became.

  “It is as if a rat died!” said Klink.

  Horace covered his nose as the smell became unbearable. He came to a stop near a cell. “It is not a rat that is dead,” he said, pointing to what he saw. They all stood in shock at the sight; bones from a man’s body protruded outward, his torso torn in half and left open to rats that feasted on what remained of his flesh. The only parts of his body that were still in place were his eyes, which were wide open and stared back at them.

  Though the forehead was filled with creases and wrinkles, Horace would recognize those eyes anywhere. “Oh no, Inglan!” he whispered. Horace could not believe his eyes. The half-eaten man in front of him was Inglan. Before he could do anything, a rat climbed up Inglan’s ears and stood on top of his nose. It bent forward and dug into his eyeball, pulling it out and nibbling on it.

  The two village boys sucked in their breath in shock and bent their heads to their knees, letting the contents of their stomach leave their body. Klink raised his arm to cover his eyes, and Horace stared in horror as the eyeball rolled across the ground and stopped at his feet.

  Horace dared to look around. The prisoners is every cell lay chained to the walls, with rodents feasting on their torn flesh.

  “What happened in here?” asked Klink.

  Horace shook his head, too distressed to speak. He may not know what happened to these prisoners, but he did know of one thing. The eyes of dead men were usually not left open in their culture, but here, each prisoner’s eyes were wide open, as if in shock, and there was only one reason he could think of: they were eaten alive by something, and that something could still be among them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Elora - Tireol palace

  Elora’s heart raced as she raised her hand and extended it slowly towards the wooden door of her chamber. As soon she touched the door, an invisible force pushed her across the room, and Elora found herself sprawled on the floor. She pushed herself up and ran towards the door again, but this time, it burnt her skin, and she immediately had to pull away from the door. She dipped her burning hand into a glass bowl filled with water to ease the pain. There has to be a way to break the spell, thought Elora.

  She had been trying for the past few years to break through the door, but Creed’s spells would not allow her to leave. When Creed had learned of Elora’s betrayal, he’d ordered her death by hanging her in front of all of Tireol. He wanted to set an example, to instill fear in the people of Tireol, but Drahim stopped Creed and reasoned with him to allow her to live.

  Why did try to protect me? Elora had always seen Drahim as evil, but he had always conducted himself with the utmost respect towards her. He had stopped Creed by reminding him of his duties towards a Queen. Elora was a beloved queen, and even the aristocrats would dislike killing her. Her death could lead to disorder, and Creed did not want his own men to go against him. He required their trust and willingness to work for him.

  Creed was upset at Drahim’s suggestions, but he agreed and imprisoned Elora in her chamber, sealing the door with a spell that only he could break. Slaves were allowed to enter and leave her chamber, but the spell burnt Elora whenever she tried to leave. She wished he had taken her life that day, as it would have been better than living a lonely life, away from her child, as a prisoner in her own chamber.

  Her heart ached to hold Neelahaim once more in her arms. Would he remember me? A tear escaped her eye as she thought of everything she had missed from his life, watching him grow, listening to him laugh, holding him while he cried, feeding him and singing him to sleep. She had accepted her fate for years to protect her family, but when a slave had broken news of her family’s arrangement to escape from Nimah, Elora knew she had to prepare for her escape. Finally, destiny was reuniting her with her son and her family, and she would stop at nothing to reach them.

  Elora picked up a glass bowl and threw it at the door in anger. The bowl hit the surface of the door and shattered to pieces as it fell to the floor. She had broken every bowl, every vessel in anger and tried for the last few years to escape, but nothing seemed to work. Her only hope had been a tiny window, the size of a hole, which Creed had not thought to enchant. You can barely fit through the hole, and even if you do, where will she go? he had said before leaving her chamber.

  When Elora had been imprisoned initially, she had tried several times to go through the window, but her body could not push through the tight frame. Creed had been right. Even if she succeeded, how would she reach the ground? She shook her head. The tower was very far from the ground and was made of smooth stone. Even if she tried, she would not reach the ground safely.

  She approached her window again and peeked below. From her view, everything below looked small, people like little ants running around. If she jumped, she would surely die the moment she hit the ground.

  Elora tried to think of something that would help her escape, but nothing came to mind. The only person she knew who was capable of finding a way out of a chamber surrounded with spells was Alaira, and she wished for once that she had her sister’s skills for trickery. Elora may have been the strongest and bravest in their family, but Alaira possessed abilities of the mind like none other she had seen. Elora admired her sister and wished she had spent more time with Alaira, learning such skills.

  Her heart ached to be with her siblings. Horace had been a child and Alaira a young girl when Elora married Creed. Although she never saw them again, she always wished for their wellbeing and safety. Not a day went by when she had not thought of her family and all that she had lost. She could not go back to the past, but she would make amends and care for her family after they were reunited. She knew Horace was in the castle looking for her, and she could not wait to see her brother. How would he look now? He would be a handsome young man, of that I am certain! How many hearts he would have broken, thought Elora, her heart swelling with pride. She imagined him being a younger version of Father, the same smile, the same nose but with the soft and kind eyes of their mother.

  A knock sounded on the door, breaking Elora from her thoughts. It must be Horace. she thought, a smile forming on her
lips. The door creaked open, and Elora frowned.

  “What brings you to my chamber, Kiu?” asked Elora to the man with large ears who wobbled into her chamber.

  “We have come to rescue you, my queen. We shall leave Tireol tonight and travel back to Taelk.”

  “I cannot leave with you. I await my brother, who will rescue me from this palace and reunite me with my family. I cannot leave with you.”

  Kiu raised his eyebrows, as if realizing something. “My queen!” he said in shock. “You do not know!”

  “What do I not know?”

  “The entire village of Nimah,” Kiu stuttered. “It was all burned, my queen! No one survived”

  Elora could not believe her ears. This was a lie. “How dare you lie to me?”

  “No, my queen. I tell the truth. King Creed sent soldiers to Nimah village, and they killed your father.”

  Elora held her hands to her chest. “No!” she cried.

  “They burnt the entire village, my queen. I thought you knew. That is why we came to rescue you. The King intends to kill you tonight, along with the rest of your family.”

  “Where is my child? Do you know if he lives?” she screamed.

  Kiu bent his head in shame. “We do not know, my queen. Some say your sister, Alaira, escaped with the child before the king’s soldiers attacked Nimah village, but we are not certain. He intends to kill you as well, my queen!” said Kiu. “We beg you come with us, my queen. We will protect you till our last breaths.”

  Elora felt like she was in a daze. How could that have happened? Alaira must have found a way to escape, she thought to herself. She had to believe her son was alive, that she would see him again. Tears formed in her eyes at the thought of Father, old and weak as he was, fighting until his last breath. She could imagine the soldiers surrounding him while he wielded his sword at each one until the end. Rage took over pain as she vowed to end Creed’s life.