At the Gates of Darkness

by Raymond E. Feist

  Necromancy and demons were not usually involved together. Demons took too much delight in devouring anything living to leave something around long enough for a necromancer to use his arts on the recently dead. As demons devoured whatever they killed as a matter of course, that didn’t leave much for the dark magician to work with.

  Still, from her studies Sandreena knew there was a great deal of energy, albeit black and evil, in the dark arts, necromancy most of all. If someone was harnessing death magic to control demons—She left the thought unfinished; she really did not know what it meant, and wished again for five minutes to talk to Amirantha, then she’d strangle him.

  She became aggravated with herself as much as she was with the Warlock. Of all the times to start thinking about that bastard!

  The wind began to shift and then started falling off. Sandreena knew the desert wind in these hot tablelands was unpredictable. But in the relative lull, free from the worst of the stinging sand and blistering dryness, they would better be able to see trouble coming.

  She motioned for the others to fall in and started down the trail. The wind came in gusts and swirls, but now she could see her way down. The path was roughly the equivalent of the one she had followed up to the fortress from Durban—it was ancient, eroded by wind and the occasional flash flood, and rarely used. Yet there were moments when the wind died she could see signs that this road had been recently used. A large number of horses and wagons had come this way, and by the look of it, heading down into the valley, not out of it. Silently she wondered who was behind this and what were they playing at.

  Durban was a pest hole on the Bitter Sea, and the Governor profited hugely from looking the other way as smugglers moved contraband into or out of the Empire. It was a fact of Imperial Keshian life, and no matter how many times the Empire sought to reform that office, the reality of greed, opportunity, and distance from the capital melding in that miserable city asserted itself. Still, even by Durban standards, a lot of wagons and men had been coming this way for a while.

  Sandreena estimated at least a hundred dead left to rot up at the ancient fortress, perhaps more, and that much movement across the desert should have caused notice. Whoever was behind this thing they were investigating had managed to keep the Imperial guards from noticing, which meant the Governor or someone highly placed in his service was looking the other way intentionally, either due to bribery or fear…or both.

  As they descended down the winding trail, following long switchbacks that took them slowly down the mountain, the wind died. As they turned from one trail to the next switchback, it was as if a curtain of blowing sand and dust was pulled aside.

  “What is that?” demanded Farson.

  “What, indeed?” said Sandreena as Jaliel moved forward and halted.

  “Good Goddess!” He exclaimed.

  “That” was a massive structure being erected in the distant heart of the valley. The outline was vaguely like that of a massive fortification of some type, forming a nearly perfect circle around something. It was apparently a circle, but from this distance detail was lost. Four towers were rising, one further along in construction than the others, and it was clear they would arch over and touch the center of this…whatever it was.

  Farson said, “I’m not an engineer, though my da built siege engines for the King, so I’ve seen a bit. Those towers”—he pointed—“can’t…well, they can’t do that, arch over and touch.”

  Softly Sandreena said, “I won’t mention it to them.”

  “To whom?” asked Jaliel.

  “Whoever’s building that monstrosity.”

  “I suddenly feel like we should be seeking cover,” said Farson.

  Glancing around, Sandreena said, “I will be happy to oblige as soon as you show me some.”

  They stood on an exposed mountainside. If there were sentries on the wall of that distant construction, the three on the trail were still too distant to be noticed, but if there were sentries at the bottom of this long trail down, or anywhere nearer, they were not visible should anyone look in their direction.

  Sandreena pointed to a depression down about a dozen yards below the trail. “That’s a stream bed when there are rains, if I haven’t missed my guess,” she said. She turned off the switchback and carefully led her horse down the loose rocks and scrub, looking at each step for treacherous footing. When she reached the indicated gully, it quickly deepened. Reaching the bottom, she halted. “We leave the horses here and tonight we get as close as we can to investigate.”

  “Leave the horses, Sergeant?” asked Farson.

  “The thing about switchback trails is there is no cover and those below can just sit there and start shooting arrows at you like swinging targets in the marshaling yard.” She glanced upward. “We have three trails above and five or six below.” She looked at the two Knights. “Farson, I want you to lead the horses back up to the top.” She pointed to a notch directly above where they crouched. “Wait up there. Untack them, clean them, water them, and wait until sundown. Then tack them up again and be ready to ride at a moment’s notice.” She sensed he was about to object, but cut off anything he might say. “You have the most critical duty. If we are not back in a day’s time, by sunrise tomorrow, you assume we are dead. You must get back to Durban and take the fastest route to Krondor, by ship if you can, or trade the three horses in for fresh mounts and then get to the Temple.”

  She realized there was only one man at the Temple who was on that list. “Brother Willoby, in Father-Bishop Creegan’s office. Find him and tell him what we’ve found. He’ll know what to do.”

  Brother Farson said, “What have we found, Sergeant?” He pointed in the general direction of the distant construction. “I don’t even know if I can describe what we’re seeing, let alone divine its purpose.”

  “It is an invasion point,” said Sandreena. “Can’t you feel them?”

  “Who?” asked Jaliel, his dark brown eyebrows knitted in concentration or worry.

  “Demons,” said Sandreena. “The place below is crawling with them if my skin is any indication.”

  Farson said, “Sergeant, I feel a little…on edge, but…I just don’t feel it.”

  “Me, neither,” agreed Jaliel.

  Sandreena studied them both for a moment, then turned her attention back to the task at hand. “You have your orders,” she said to Farson, and he nodded. Slowly he turned the animals around and she knew he didn’t relish the idea of leading three horses back up that trail. She watched closely for any sign they might have been observed, while the returning Knight-Adamant tied her horse’s reins to the saddle ring of Jaliel’s, then that mount’s reins to his own. “See you tomorrow, Sergeant; Jaliel,” he said as he led the three horses back up the shallow gully and started the tedious climb back to the top of the ridge.

  “Now what?” asked Jaliel quietly.

  “We wait,” she answered, looking at the sky. “Best if we rest. You try to sleep. I’ll stand watch.”

  The more experienced of the two Knights she had recruited nodded, not needing further urging. It might only be morning and they might have a long day ahead to wait out, but years living in the wilderness had taught him to take rest when it was offered.

  Left to her own thoughts, Sandreena crawled up so she could rest her arm on a big boulder, then her chin on her arm and study the distant construction. Flickers of movement gave tantalizing hints of something going on, but she could make out no useful detail. She would have to be content to wait until darkness fell—a good nine hours or more away—and then creep down for a closer look. She offered a prayer to the Goddess, for them to remain undiscovered, because she had no illusions of making it back to the top of that long switchback being chased while they were on foot. Being undiscovered was their only hope.

  So she settled in and prayed, and waited for the sun to crawl across the sky, and she tried very hard to drive thoughts of Amirantha from her mind every time he intruded into her thinking.

 
Night came slowly, but after the sun set, they began moving carefully down the side of the mountain. The frustrating thing for Sandreena was that even as she got closer, she could make out less detail because of the failing light. Little Moon was the only one rising this early in the evening, and the smallest of Midkemia’s three moons provided scant illumination. Middle Moon wouldn’t be seen until just before dawn and Large Moon wouldn’t rise until after dawn. Still, as they needed stealth, she would just as soon deal with having to get closer than trying to approach on a Three Moons Bright night.

  Sandreena noticed that a small tower, barely two stories tall, had been erected near the base of the trail. Had they continued down earlier in the day, they no doubt would have been spotted by any sentry on duty. Sandreena used hand gestures, barely visible, to inform Jaliel they were going to circle even farther away from the trail.

  The gulley down which they crept emptied out in a basin a hundred yards across, before running into a dry riverbed that moved around the base of the hills. A fairly large river must have flowed through here in ages past, though Sandreena found it hard to imagine this land lush with ample enough rain to fill a brook, let alone a river. Yet the evidence of erosion was under her feet, and currently hiding her from view as she and her companion crawled up the southern edge of the basin, to get a closer look at what was being fashioned in this once abandoned place.

  Both Knights were battle tested and ready for any trouble, but both knew this was a reconnaissance, not elective combat. Something this massive, in a place this removed from any civilized authority, could only be the work of forces inimical to those authorities, and that made it a matter of concern for the Temple as well. And the stench of demon was so strong here Sandreena knew these were urgent concerns.

  She rose up and studied the walls. Lights had been erected, large flaming braziers hung from chains attached to tripods evenly spaced along the battlement, for that was what this place was—a fortress. But one unlike any Sandreena had ever encountered or heard of.

  “What is this place?” whispered Jaliel.

  “No place good,” answered Sandreena. “We need to split up. I want you to go that way.” She pointed toward the southernmost end of the basin and moved her hand to indicate he should make his way along a line that paralleled the walls. The entire structure appeared to be circular, though she would need to get closer in better light to be certain. The curve of the wall before her suggested it, a massive circle of stone with a gigantic gate in the middle, with towers being erected.

  She gripped him by the arm and whispered, “Go until midnight, then return here. If I’m not here, make your way to the top as best you can. If Farson has left for Durban, make your way to the Oasis at La-amat-atal, and wait for a caravan to get you safely to civilization. If you get there before he leaves, tell him what you see, and go with him to Krondor.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” he replied. “You?”

  “I’m going to circle in the other direction, and I’m going to do my damnedest to be at the top of the trail before Farson leaves with my horse.”

  He chuckled and said, “Goddess be with you, sister.”

  “And with you, my brother,” she replied.

  He set off at once, moving surprisingly quietly for a man with armor and a shield strapped to his back. Sandreena waited a moment, not wanting too much movement in this area, and when he was gone from her sight, she set off up the side of the basin and onto the flat above. She crouched, though it was no easy feat with her shield on her back and her sword clutched in her right hand. She found a small stand of scrub brush between the lip of the basin and the watchtower. She prayed to the Goddess that whoever was stationed up there was watching for movement along the road and not for anyone coming up behind.

  She would turn occasionally and glance at the far wall of the fortress—how she thought of this alien structure—and try to discern some more detail as to who was on the wall and what they were doing, but it was still too far. She came to an outcropping of rocks and knelt behind it, slowly raising herself up to observe the guardhouse. She sat down hard, barely believing her eyes. An elf stood guard in the guardhouse, and from his apparent size, she judged him to be one of the newly arrived Star Elves.

  She sat down, her back to the rock, and felt completely confused. She sensed demon presence in huge numbers, yet an elf stood watch. Given their reputation for seeing in dim light, she counted herself and Jaliel fortunate to have made it down that gully undetected; certainly had they stayed on the switchbacks, even at night, the elf would have seen them a half mile away.

  Now she knew she had to get closer to this structure and see if she could make any sense of what was occurring there. She waited until she saw the elf turn his back fully, to watch the trail above, and she hurried across what seemed a vast open space, moving as silently as she could, until she found more rocks behind which to shelter. Holding her breath so she could hear any hint of alarm, she waited. Only the distant sounds of working coming from the fortress disturbed the silence of the desert night. Where was that wind when you needed it? she thought, then off she went, moving around the perimeter, seeking a place that would allow her to get closer to the construction.

  Sandreena crouched below some empty wagons, their traces empty and no sign of the mules or horses that pulled them. She doubted those inside stabled their draft animals; most likely they ate them. This had all the appearances of a one-way enterprise, with the destination before her. She felt as if she might scream from frustration, but fear and caution combined to keep her focused and silent. There were so many questions plaguing her, but all she could do was creep around in shadows and observe.

  A massive gate had been erected, but currently it was open, allowing for tantalizing glimpses of the inside. Her mind reeled at the image of dwarves, humans, elves, and even a troll, all laboring under the watchful eye of demons. They were using mortal beings as slave labor, by all appearances, something unimagined in the annals of all the demon lore she had been exposed to. Now more than ever she wished Amirantha was here, and not because he had broken her heart and she wanted to punish him; she needed him to make what sense he could of the tableau before her.

  A demon overseer hove into view, and he paused, staring in her direction for a moment. She felt her heart jump and she held her breath. She had never faced a demon as formidable in appearance as this one. He had the head of a deformed ape, with two upswept ears, a grotesque parody of an elf’s. He wore a massive chest piece with a human skull set in the middle like a heraldic device. The shoulders were covered with black steel spaulders that swept up and ended in gold-tipped points. His legs were covered in black armor. He wore a circlet of gold with another skull in the brow, and he carried a massive sword pulsing with an evil red light in his right hand.

  He seemed to sniff the air, then after a moment turned away and shouted something to one of the humans. The human bowed and hurried off.

  Atop the walls workers scrambled up wooden scaffolding to hoist large stones to raise the massive arching columns. Now that she was closer, Sandreena could see that these rising columns were being installed with great care and she could see their placement was being closely watched. Two men in robes watched and when the stones were in place, both began to incant. The sound of their words was lost, but the feeling that visited her as she watched the construction filled her with cold fear.

  Something gigantic, impossible to understand, and to no good purpose, was being fashioned here by demons, who were overseeing mortal workers and mages. None of this made the remotest sense to her, and she knew her cause would be better served for her to start back now, to make sure what little she had seen was reported to Father-Bishop Creegan. This report could not wait for a message, even by fast ship or swift rider, but rather she would presume a voyage to Sorcerer’s Island. Pug and his confederates had devices that would get her to Rillanon in days instead of weeks, and the island was far closer to Durban than Krondor, and a great deal closer than Rillanon
. Besides, she thought in passing, the last place she had seen Amirantha had been on that cursed island.

  Yet her curiosity tugged at her, for she didn’t think she had seen enough. Still what more could be gained?

  As she mused, she heard footsteps approaching from behind, and by the time she was turned, the dwarf warrior was charging her. There was something in his eyes that warned her there was no time to be spent on discussion. He carried a short sword and swung it with deadly intent.

  Sandreena managed to roll out of the way, come to her feet, slipping her shield off with a single motion and reversing it so she could slip her arm through the straps on the back, and had her sword up just in time to block the dwarf’s following strike.

  The shock that ran through her arm as she took that blow made her realize this was no mean swordsman she faced, but an experienced dwarven warrior who was offering no quarter. She had never faced one before, not even in a practice melee, and their fortitude and prowess were renowned. She knew she could not wear him down; he could fight until she collapsed from fatigue and then dance on her grave. She certainly could not overpower him, and she doubted she could disable him. Her only hope was a quick kill.

  Two strikes and the dwarf hesitated, and Sandreena saw his eyes were slightly unfocused. More, she was nearly overwhelmed by an unexpected realization. She had fought in more than a score of life-or-death battles, and three times those against men whom she was trying to subdue. She had experienced every type of male body stench, and a few females’, and thought nothing of it, but there was something here she had not anticipated: this dwarf stank like a demon.