The Sixth Gate

by K T Munson

  “Who are you?” Elisabeth demanded. She deserved at least that much. “What have you done with Kerrigan?”

  Silence followed, and she could feel Jinq shifting behind her. Duke and Nathan were watching closely, their razor sharp tails primed for attack. The people around the edge remained unmoving. The man didn’t answer. As the silence continued, she crossed her arms.

  “What are you doing with these people?” Jinq demanded behind her. “What have you done with Kerrigan?”

  The villagers’ swaying back and forth along the threshold was distracting, but he was dangerous. He was the type of being that would light the world on fire just to see it burn. Whatever he had planned, she refused to be a part of it.

  “He tried,” Elisabeth called out, breaking the second stretch of silence. “Ki tried to kill me, but I have no sins on my soul.”

  “You cannot deny your instincts forever,” he called out as though he fully intended to wait her out, but he glanced over his shoulder. Something told her he was not being entirely honest. Whatever plan he had, she wasn’t going to wait around for it to happen. She reached back and wrapped her fingers around Jinq’s wrist as she touched Duke’s back.

  When she normally would have phased them out into their spirit forms, the Keeper remained. Ripping her fingers off him as though he were a hot coal, she gasped at her burned hand. She let go of Duke as she gripped her wrist and saw the seared red skin.

  Then the reality sunk in. “I can’t take you,” she whispered.

  “Stop her!” the man in black yelled.

  “Go.” Jinq nodded.

  With tears in her eyes, she whispered, “I have not abandoned you.”

  Elisabeth touched the backs of the Netherhounds an instant before she felt herself drift into the spirit realm. More men in dark robes appeared as the villagers charged. Twelve men joined the first with robes of black and hearts as dark as death. As she sank into the spirit lines, she focused on Jinq, who faced the mob.

  Could he not see their evil? she wondered as the darkness of the place washed over her. Although she intended to return, she still had to leave Jinq there while she fled. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see what became of him.

  Chapter 51: Ashlad

  Malthael threw the book across the room and watched as it rattled the bookcase. He nearly howled from frustration and considered burning the entire collection simply to satisfy himself. These were dark thoughts, old thoughts. He had not been so ruthless or hateful in some time. Yet here he stood, about ready to burn everything.

  The door to the gate slid open, and Milo poked his head in. “What?” Malthael growled.

  “It is the Lady Emera,” Milo replied with worry on his face. “She has pressing news and requests you urgently.”

  That made Malthael pause. Emera was never one for urgency. The woman was as stiff as a corpse; he had never even caught a whiff of agitation in her voice. In the decade he had worked with her, he had observed little range of emotion in her beyond compliancy. The fact that she had stressed the urgency of the matter made Malthael push his anger aside.

  He started toward the door, and Milo held it open. The lesser demon waited for Malthael to pass before pulling the door closed behind him. They hurried down the stairs into the great green marbled room. The open gate revealed a pacing Emera on the other side in Lyreane.

  Malthael raised his eyebrows as he stepped off the bottom step and into the main room. Emera had never been one to pace. The fact that she was doing so now made the bottom of his stomach squirm with worry. When she saw him, Emera stopped marching across the gate’s opening. She had a look of fury on her face of which he hadn’t thought her capable.

  “Do you realize what you have done?” she asked, her words biting. Her hands were animated. He half expected her to walk through the gate and slap him.

  “Emera,” he replied patiently, “you need to explain.”

  “He was of the Forbidden!” she replied, and for the first time he saw the fear under her anger.

  “Who?” Malthael asked, still confused.

  “The man you sent through,” she replied, pointing at him. “When he crossed the barrier, the temple sealed itself and a skull appeared on the door.”

  “A black skull?” Malthael asked, feeling his stomach fall to his toes.

  “Yes,” Emera confirmed. “It is them, Malthael.”

  “They were killed off,” Malthael reminded her. “King Nauberon took care of that and ensured that they would never rise again. I was there. I saw them fall to the Wild Hunt.”

  “I saw the mark upon the wall with my own eyes,” she countered. “They have had fifty years while we were unaware. You know exactly what they would try to do. Who they will try to bring back.”

  “The boy is not fifty years old,” he reminded her. “King Nauberon checked with The Fates. No daughters or mothers remained alive.”

  “We know he had thousands of souls of his people within him,” Emera countered as Milo shifted his feet. “He could have aged slowly.”

  “Just as Elsa does,” he said absentmindedly. She might look only twenty or so, but Elisabeth was nearly thirty in plant-dweller years. Between the proximity to the gate and the fact that she had Soul Collector blood in her veins, her life would likely be extended. Perhaps Ki had gotten his life prolonged even further; it was not outside the realm of possibility.

  “We have to find them,” Emera replied, and he heard the steel in her voice. “The Shadow Clan cannot be allowed to continue. They must be destroyed before they figure out how to bring him back.”

  Malthael didn’t even want to think the name and could understand Emera’s resistance to speaking it aloud. His mind began to work out all the angles. Ki was killing with a Sin Eater, gathering the souls of sinners. Malthael realized, however, that they were specific sinners—demonic half-breeds, to be exact. Half-breeds of Soul Collectors specifically that had been damned all those years ago by King Nauberon. Most didn’t know what Soul Collectors were, but Malthael did, and it filled him with fear.

  “By the Nether!” he whispered, his voice filling with emotion as he looked up at her. “It is already happening.”

  “What do you mean?” she demanded before she gave a startled cry.

  Pain filled him as the edge of a blade entered his back and pierced his spine. He fell forward, the blade still in his back. He gasped as he turned his head to see Milo standing above him with an expression of hatred. The lesser demon cast off his mortal face, and beneath the green of his skin betrayed what he was.

  “Malthael!” Emera said and stepped toward the portal.

  “Close”—Malthael gasped the words as the blade burned—“the gate.”

  As Milo looked up and hissed, Emera did as he asked with one final regretful look. The gate went solid and the lesser demon’s fists hit the stone. He beat against them once before turning back to Malthael. Malthael could feel that it was no normal blade in his back. This one was meant to hurt demons specifically.

  “All this time?” he asked as Milo walked over, giving him a look of pity. Malthael wanted to strangle him, but he needed information.

  “No,” Milo replied before kneeling down just out of reach. Not that it mattered. Malthael couldn’t move, and with every breath the blade went deeper.

  “When?” he demanded.

  “Our Elisabeth was meant for greater things than hiding,” he replied, and Malthael could see the love on his face. “She should rule the planets and the Netherworld.”

  “Rule?” Malthael demanded and remembered the look in his daughter’s eye when she’d returned, remembered Elsariel.

  “Yes,” Milo responded as though he were superior. “Though I doubt your puny mind can understand her potential. She has Darienith the Betrayer’s blood, the strongest of the Soul Collectors. He tried all those years ago to kill his offspring for fear of this day. Now it has come, and she is everything they hoped she would be. Soon she will have everything she deserves.”

  �
��Why now?” Malthael asked as the corners of his vision turned black.

  “They have everything they need now.” Milo leaned forward and whispered, “They found the sixth gate.”

  Malthael’s eyes went wide as Milo stood and strolled away, clearly done with him. He grunted and tried to reach for the blade, but his arms refused to cooperate. He lay there like a fish out of water. His useless limbs failed to respond as Milo ascended the stairs. He knew Milo wouldn’t hurt her at least—Elisabeth mattered more to the lesser demon than anything else. Although his loyalty was twisted, Elisabeth would not be stabbed in the back.

  Malthael knew exactly what was stuck in his back. It was an old cursed blade for immobilizing demons. Thrust into the spine, it kept the demon from healing or moving. It had been made by the Black Council, a group of elders who had once served the Black King. When he fell, all the creatures of Morhaven had fallen upon the world of men in order to finish the Shadow Clan and their ties to the World Eater. A Wild Hunt to end a war.

  Air struggled to fill his lungs as he tried to blink the blackness from the edges of his vision. He knew the blade wasn’t supposed to kill him, but he was no longer a full-fledged demon. Without his horns, he was at a severe disadvantage, and the blade affected him in worse ways. If the blade was removed, he might be able to heal, but with every passing second, his chances faded.

  With a heavy sigh, he flung his arm down, feeling it slap against his hip. With every fiber of his being, he summoned the strength to reach into his pocket. His fingers protested, not wanting to work properly, as he struggled to get his hand inside it. He struggled not to lose consciousness. He needed to reach the talisman and warn Elsa. His daughter might not have to worry about Milo, but if they brought back the Black King, no one would be safe. He very much doubted Elisabeth would consent to be his Queen, and then he would kill her. Malthael needed to hurry.

  He glanced down as his hand, no longer obeying his commands, slumped to the ground. He looked at his other hand, but it, too, refused to respond. He fought to stay awake. He thought he heard Elisabeth’s voice, but an instant later his eyelids slipped closed and he relaxed into a blissful nothingness.

  Chapter 52: Lyreane

  Ki sat cross-legged on the floor of the abandoned sanctuary. He could tell the elders had not been there since he had gone with Elisabeth into the Netherworld. Although it had been only two days in the Nether, it had been nearly thrice that time on the planets. Yet the ash in the hearths was as cold as winter, and the food was beginning to rot from neglect.

  Frowning, he poked at the fire and tried to decide on his next move. Ashley sat behind him curled up around his back, the tiger taking in the warmth of the fire as well. He had devoured a slightly old and cured bit of ham and seemed sated. Apparently, he had been here wandering around hunting on his own since the elders had left. Shifting the blanket around his shoulders, Ki let his thoughts wander.

  The person who had started this journey was not the same person who sat in the cold temple. Part of this transformation was owed to him being away from the influence of the council, and the other part had been Elisabeth. It was impossible for him to deny that she had a hand in it. Malthael had also influenced him in opening up his eyes to making his own choices. Ki was starting to do just that.

  He couldn’t and wouldn’t kill Elisabeth, not after what she had become to him. At first he had thought he admired her. But then he’d seen Ethandirill and Nanette together and had recognized a deeper, more intimate, bond growing between them. Now when he looked at Elisabeth he could see nothing but what they had in common. Yet remembering the look of disgust when he touched her, he knew that these feelings were obviously his alone.

  Whatever she was to him, he could not expect her to return these strange new emotions, yet he struggled with the idea that he could just let her go. He still wanted to protect her and preserve her innocence against the evil of the world. But he was as much the evil in the world as anything else. He did not know what he would do if he had to choose between Elisabeth and the twelve men who had raised him.

  Love was a weakness to the elders, and it had not been permitted. When he had fallen and scraped his knee, it had not been seen to with tenderness; it had been a tool for training himself against pain. When he was sick they made him work thrice as hard to make his body stronger. He had not recognized that the love and loyalty he felt was one sided. They had sheltered him, taught him, and been his companions since birth. He’d known no other life, and yet as he sat there in the cold, damp place, he didn’t feel at home—not like he would have months ago. Now, this place felt hollow. He had seen the world, seen the way Malthael had rocked his crying daughter, and he knew that something was missing from his life.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard hushed voices. He stood, and the blanket fell away from him. He wore little beneath it but his pants, and the chill of the temple swept in against his bare skin. His Kemshi lifted its massive head and his little ears became alert. Ki bent over and pulled his undershirt over his head as he walked barefoot across the cool stone.

  The voices grew louder as he walked toward their archive. He had never been one for books, but he could remember listening to Elder Ha talk about their past—the wrongs of the people who had fought against the Shadow Clan and what the Black Council would have to gain by getting their revenge.

  “It is over here,” he heard Elder Ha say as he pressed his back against the wall.

  “I don’t see it,” Elder Il replied, clearly not amused.

  Ki peered around the corner at the two men. They had their backs to him, which was why their voices seemed muffled. They were looking through one of the bookshelves of scrolls, and he could see some of the scrolls scattered by their feet. He had never known Elder Ha to disregard a scroll like that; he cherished them and had cared for them as long as Ki could remember.

  “It must be here,” Elder Ha replied as he unrolled another one before dropping it by his feet.

  Elder Il unfurled one before looking up at his fellow council member. Ki could see the annoyance before he heard it. “We need it to extract the final shard.”

  “Ki could still come through,” Elder Ha replied hopefully, his wrinkles deep around his eyes. Ki was about to say something to them when he stopped. Something about that statement made him pause, and he continued to listen intently.

  “You heard what she said,” Elder Il snapped. “He couldn’t use the Sin Eater. She has denied her other side, and now we must extract it by another means.”

  “That isn’t his fault,” he countered, his voice pitched high.

  “There are two pieces missing,” Elder Il said as he dropped another scroll on the ground. “Where is the second one?”

  “I don’t know where the boy is,” Elder Ha admitted, and Ki’s eyebrows knitted. “He was probably similar to the woman and couldn’t be killed by the sword.”

  How could Elder Ha know about Ki’s vision of the boy? He hadn’t told any of them, and they hadn’t asked. He thought he alone knew of the forty-two, and yet Elder Ha knew about the boy. He pressed his back against the wall and closed his eyes a moment. What else were they keeping from him?

  “Ra believes we only need one more now that we have the vessel,” Elder Il responded, sounding excited. “I believe he may move forward with only the forty we have.”

  “Would it still work?” Elder Ha asked, sounding surprised.

  “We have waited long enough,” Elder Il said, seeming to dodge the question. “If we can find this scroll, we can locate the last one and strengthen his chances.”

  Ki heard another scroll hit the floor. “What if we have to draw it out?” Elder Ha asked.

  “We summon him into the vessel and have him draw it out,” Elder Il snapped, clearly losing patience.

  “And the woman?” Elder Ha asked, which made Ki stop breathing.

  “If she returns, we have him do the same,” Elder Il replied with a sigh.

  The two Elders had a
lways been at odds because of Elder Il’s short temper. Of the Elders, Il had always been Ki’s least favorite. The man was as loving as a coiled cobra, while at least Elder Ha used to slip him fruit on his birthday.

  “Aha!” Elder Ha yelled, and Ki stiffened at the sudden sound. “Found it!”

  “About time,” the other old man grumbled. “We should locate Ki while we are at it.”

  Ki slinked back toward the fire and the tiger. The tiger raised his head again, giving him a quizzical look as Ki tugged on his boots. They had always trained him to sleep with his boots on. He secured his knives in the boots and then quickly messed up his hair as though he had been sleeping and rumpled his clothing.

  “Who’s there?” Ki called and heard the two men still.

  “Ki?” Elder Ha said, and a moment later his face appeared in the doorway. “Ki!”

  “Ha!” Ki exclaimed with a smile, and when Il’s face appeared he added, “Il!”

  “Boy,” Elder Il replied soberly as Ki drew closer to them. “How long have you been here?”

  Ki smoothed his mused hair. “Less than a day,” Ki responded as Elder Ha patted him on the arm. “Where have you all been?”

  They exchanged glances before Elder Ha answered, “I believe it is about time we showed you.”

  “Showed me?” Ki asked, tilting his head to side as though he were confused, though everything was becoming clear to him. “Show me what?”

  “You’ll know when we show it to you,” Elder Il retorted as he turned and walked toward the back of the archives.

  Elder Ha gestured, and Ki followed them to a door in the back. It was engraved with specific markings that would take them to the same place over and over again without fading. Elder Il opened the door and didn’t hesitate to step through. Ki paused and glanced at the much shorter Elder Ha. He smiled and urged Ki forward, so Ki felt he needed to.