Beyond the Dark Gate

by R. V. Johnson

  Matching his pace as he moved past the ancient carven behemoth, Railee strode in companionable silence beside him, comfortable at his right side as they passed a row of two-story columns.

  As they entered a tall doorway the workers had broken through with the aid of the Flow—traces of which he could feel resonating—he glanced sidelong at the warrior woman. Her longsword sat as a single entity with her right hip, a mark of her familiarity with the weapon. More than that, the sword accented her shapely hips. For now, he was happy to have her on his journey. Perhaps he would send for her tonight, or even better, take her as soon as he had the artifact.

  Striding by the dim light from sparse wall sconces of flickering torchlight, they moved along a straight and level hallway. The torches sent shadows racing toward them and then springing away as their booted feet scuffed the reddish-brown limestone making up the flooring. Dust from a past age billowed, disturbed only a bell ago by the brief passage of workers lighting the torches. Darwin was not pleased. “From now on, Malkor, no one shall traverse this hall without your direct supervision.”

  “As you command,” Malkor said. He spoke over his shoulder without breaking his odd stride. His shuffling gait of dragging his mangled foot a half step behind did not slow him so much now that he had learned how to force his body to work around the handicap.

  “Have you great fear of thievery?” Railee asked, her voice deadened by an obstruction. “As of yet, I see nothing of value.”

  They had reached the wall and intersection, the very one Malkor had come for him for. Darwin regarded the carvings lit by three wall sconces, one to each side and one above, which reflected light downward from a large disc of white rock fixed in the tan limestone ceiling. “Not thieves, such daring is easily and quickly dealt with, but workers. They are difficult to come by. This tomb, for it is one, may have ancient guardians whose power is unknown. Of a certainty, it will contain safeguards. Your sword shall need all the quickness and precision you have within you before we are through.”

  Railee’s step softened, her well-formed upper torso swiveling to both sides as she searched each hallway leading off into the darkness. No light illumed either one.

  Wisely, Malkor had sent the workers away as soon as they had reported the ancient writings. As described, the picture glyphs were there. They sent a thrill into the pit of Darwin’s stomach. Carved with an expert’s skill and a sculptor’s eye, Kai, power of the sun, Neferet, beautiful, and Akhu, divine soul, looked down upon him, the paint as colorful as if daubed yesterday. The power of the sun and divine soul especially excited him. The great artifact he had studied and had many scour Astura for fit the description. Might it possibly be inside?

  The white disc above the painted carvings caught his focus. The fact that the Ancient Ones had expended considerable effort to hang such a large piece of heavy stone, likely marble, inside a ceiling of large, brown-blocked limestone made it significant. Devoid of markings, the disc hung starkly white, shimmering with a faint translucent orange brilliance brought on by the torchlight.

  Railee drew close, her gaze matching his. “What is it? What purpose would it serve there?”

  Such questions spoke aloud next to his wondering thoughts raised alarms, though he knew not why. He glanced around, trying to look everywhere at once.

  Gripping the rightmost torch base, Malkor smiled at him, his long face grotesque, made more so by the flickering shadows underneath it. “Perhaps better light may illuminate the answer, Master,” he said, lifting the torch from the sconce.

  “Leave it!” Darwin screamed as the torch came free.

  An audible click preceded the thunderous sound of stone scraping against stone. Darwin dove to the side and collided violently with Railee, his momentum carrying her from her feet as light vanished.

  He landed on something firm but softer than stone. Railee. As he bounced from atop her, she grunted with pain, the breath whooshing from her lungs.

  The hard stone floor banged into Darwin’s side painfully. Gasping for breath, he rolled onto his back and stared at blackness absolute. Stale dust coated his throat and filled his lungs causing a hard cough. Panic rose within him as his breaths came in shorter gasps. Breathe slower, calm yourself. You do not want to die in the dark inside this blasted tomb, you great fool, he thought, adding an inner sneer of disdain at his cowardice.

  After a time, his coughs and racing heart slowed to an occasional splutter and quickening thumps. He lived.

  Darwin sat up and fished inside his robes, quelling a second bout of rising anxiety. Finally, his hand closed upon the flask of oil. Detecting no leakage, relief flooded him along with added appreciation for the thick cloth of his robes. The Flow required a vessel, something to contain its powerful, precarious nature. Removing it from the protective pocket, he drew upon the Flow, trickling a sliver from the source, delivering as small an increment as he could muster into the phial.

  Radiant light burst from the phial of oil. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned away, giving his vision time to clear.

  Railee moaned.

  Darwin’s eyelids sprang open. The Red Rock warrior woman lay on her back beside him, blood pooling from a wound on the back of her head. With reluctance, he transferred the phial to his crippled left hand, his grip far weaker than he liked, but he had little choice. He needed her strength to retrieve the spear. Fingering her thick golden hair with his good hand, he found the gash superficial though bleeding profusely as head wounds tended to do.

  Railee moaned louder.

  The fall had knocked her unconscious, but she was regaining it. Darwin worked at untying the shroudin from her neck for a short time, and then gave up. The knot was too tight. Worried about the amount of blood soaking her neck, he let it go and pushed her hair through the cloth ring, working it over her hair until it was high enough to pry over the bridge of her nose at her eyes. He coughed with the effort.

  Satisfied he had helped curtail the bleeding, at least for a time, he stood and transferred the phial back into his right hand. Later, he might attempt a healing even though his ability was limited, unlike Malkor’s exceptional skill, provided his strength proved sufficient to merit such an attempt.

  Raising his arm, he waved the light slowly back and forth in a half-circle. The disc of heavy white marble stood ominous and large, blocking the way from floor to one-story ceiling. The massive, nearly luminescent, rock vanished somewhere above, rising into the chute from where it came.

  The stone hewn taller than the carved roof gave him a sense of awe for its precise construction, but moving to one side had strengthened the feeling. At its narrowest point, a hand’s width of space opened to darkness beyond. Whoever had designed the trap had left room for the transference of air, little else. Death would come slowly from the absence of a vital liquid, a fluid grossly understated and severely taken for granted at times, the most precious commodity in the desert, water.

  The small leather flask in his robe pocket had become as important as the phial in his hand. Strict rationing would now be required, though the thought of its coolness flowing down his dusty throat made his mouth moisten. He could drink a river.

  An abrupt coughing drifted from the darkness coming from beyond the left side of the disc. Darwin slipped his arm into the gap to the shoulder, squeezing his face next to the wall. Only darkness lurked beyond his light. “Malkor?” he shouted, though he feared it was only a worker.

  Malkor’s high-pitched voice floated from the darkness, the incredulous tone of his voice unmistakable. “Master! You’re alive!”

  “Alive, yes, though trapped as you. Listen carefully, we have to keep going deeper within and find the artifact; it is our one hope. With it, I do not believe even stone can block the way. Do you hear?”

  “I hear, Master, and I shall obey. What am I to look for? You have not yet spoken of what we seek.”

  “You shall know when your eyes befall it. Do you have light or a vessel to contain a Flo
w sliver as I taught you?”

  Malkor’s nasal voice grew higher and thinner. “I have some light, the torch that created this catastrophe, Master, though I am not worthy of your help, of finding a way out. You would be wise to leave me here to die.”

  “Perhaps, but your dying will not find the artifact. Go. Search every room; find a way to map every weapon you find. Work your way to the final resting chamber. I shall rejoin you there. Whatever you do, do NOT touch any of it. I cannot yet reach you to save you.”

  “As you command, Master,” Malkor, his nasal voice now normal, replied, the volume getting smaller at the end as he moved away.

  “There is one other thing you must know,” Darwin said, raising his voice.

  “Yes, Master?” Malkor said, his voice gaining volume as he came back. “What is it?”

  “Stay alert, there will be… obstacles, some as deadly as this one.”

  “I understand,” Malkor replied. “I shall not fail a second time.”

  Turning around, Darwin found Railee sitting. The warrior woman leaned forward, her hands cradling her head.

  Going to her, Darwin bent, and holding the light close, he inspected the wound. The bleeding had slowed to an occasional drip along the bottom of his makeshift bandage.

  “Great pain throbs in my head, nausea weakens my stomach, and I have no vision. Am I dying?” Railee whispered.

  “You should live,” Darwin said with a calmness he did not feel. He could not shake an urgent sense to keep moving, to continue the search for the Spear. He hoped his warning would be enough to keep Malkor’s hands from it should he find it first, though the thought failed to inspire faith it would happen so. As bejeweled and shimmering as the old drawing and scrolls depicted the artifact to be, his servant would likely pick it up upon sight. “Your blindness is temporary. I covered your eyes to stabilize a nasty head wound.”

  Railee felt at the cloth covering her head.

  “Leave your shroudin in place until the wound closes over. Until then, find my shattered arm, hold onto it, and let me guide you. We have to discover a way out before losing breathable air,” Darwin said, lying only partially. He had no way of knowing when the workers would believe them dead and reseal the opening.

  He braced himself as Railee gripped his rigid arm and climbed to her feet. He had to take more of her weight than he expected, nearly collapsing to the floor with her a couple of times. Once standing, she clutched his arm tightly.

  When he stepped forward, her knees buckled. Only the rigidity of his arm kept Railee from falling, though it was a near thing and caused the red haze of pain to speckle his vision, stealing his breath.

  Gripping him tight, she shook with weakness. The blood loss from the wound must be worse than he believed. He did not want to leave her, but he had to get moving. The artifact resided somewhere in this tomb; it had to be here, perhaps close. He would come back for her… if the way out led back to her. He opened his mouth, the lie on his lips about going for help, when her grip on his arm loosened.

  Straightening to her full height, Railee stood as tall as he was. “I am weak but able to walk if you allow a slower pace at the beginning,” she said, her voice steady.

  Even with her hair matted with blood and blinded by her shroudin, she was still beautiful. Even better, her strength appeared to be returning. She may yet serve him well.

  Though he set a fair pace, Railee matched his stride with only an occasional falter as they moved along a narrow hallway for close to a bell. No side door or intersection appeared beyond the dust-speckled light of the phial. He found it convenient to have her blindfolded and dependent on him, controlling her every move with a simple tug of his arm.

  He did not stop to admire carved and painted picture glyphs staggered on each side of the hallway when they came to them. He cared little for the pyramid-shaped buildings and bizarre clothing of the inhabitants, some few he recognized. None yet had the three markings pertaining to the artifact.

  The frescoes marched on and on, leading the way along the hallway he despaired of having no end. Railee’s sudden stop swung him around by his crippled arm, bumping their hips together painfully.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked in a whisper.

  Darwin was annoyed. He had heard nothing beyond the thud of their boots for nearly a bell. “What is it?” he asked, not bothering to keep the impatience from the tone of his voice.

  “A soft click, now there is a crackling sound, and it is getting louder.”

  Now that she had mentioned it, Darwin did hear a slight crackle, as if small bursts of lightning plunged into water with a last hiss. Out of caution, he drew upon the Flow and installed a physical barrier around the both of them. Looking up, he scrutinized his dome only to have his stomach muscles tighten. Circular, plate-sized stones dropped from the ceiling in two rows of six, followed by a red oozing liquid.

  “What’s happening? Why is it suddenly so hot?” Railee asked, the tone of her voice raising his fear.

  Molten rock poured on his dome from four of the twelve holes, forcing him to add Flow to himself. He filled the vessel of his body, raising the level of the Flow within him to close to what he could safely handle—closer than he had ever attempted. Darwin poured it all into the dome though it would leave him spent.

  His protection would not hold long against such a powerful natural substance. The lava slowed, flowing away from them and pooling in several spots about the floor. Slackening to a dribble, it cooled quickly, hardening to a soft shell on the stone below.

  Once it stopped dripping, Darwin allowed his dome to dissolve. Heat hotter than the Shimmering Sands assaulted him, evaporating the sweat from his brow. “Listen carefully, we cannot stay here longer. Get behind me, and hold onto my waist. And stop moving when I do. Immediately. Do you understand?”

  Railee trembled. “I may swoon at any time, my stomach churns with pain. Something is wrong,” she said, swaying slightly.

  “Stay focused or we die,” Darwin hissed, swallowing a scathing retort that arose from her mention of weakness. Stressing her further would worsen the situation. One misstep from either of them and he would be hard-pressed to stop from falling in molten lava. He could remove her arm and go on, but his instinct nagged he would need her to survive more of the Ancients’ vast cunning.

  Railee’s grip on his arm tightened, surprising him. Her lips pulled into a grimace. “My balance is off, I must remove the shroudin,” she said putting her free hand at the back of her head.

  “Leave it,” Darwin said quickly. “As hot as it is, I fear the wound will tear open easily.

  Railee dropped her hands to her side. “Yes, it would. The cloth is thick with dried blood, removing it now would cause it to bleed.”

  “We must go now or die, woman. Can you do it?”

  Feeling about his neck for his shoulder, Railee moved behind him and put both her hands at his waist. “Go,” she said, her voice a croak.

  Moving around a slow-moving peninsula of smoldering rock, Darwin chose his route carefully, keeping his charge in mind. Though he shied from the heaviest steam, his lungs burned, and he hacked.

  Railee, too, coughed, gasping for air behind him as they progressed to the opposite wall where the lava flow thinned the most. Even so, at the narrowest portion, they would have to jump. Wide glowing red cracks surrounded square and rectangular chunks of cooler volcanic rock like weathered roof thatching peeling upward or mud flaking at the bottom of an evaporating pond.

  Though it was a stretch, he would make it across. Perhaps. Expending so much of the Flow on the dome had left him physically drained, worse than he had imagined. Darwin wanted to sit with his head in his lap, replenish the strength dwindling from his legs, and clear the lethargic fog growing in his mind. Again, he gauged the distance. Rest would come on the other side of the lava flow, if he made it. The jump was going to be close.

  Behind him, Railee coughed, shifting the weight of her grip to hi
s left side. “The air we breathe is so hot and I am not sweating, my skin is clammy. A bad sign for me, perhaps I am beset with dehydration. How far do we have yet to go?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  Darwin doubted the woman would make the jump in her condition. Though she weighed less than he, Railee was too big for him to toss safely.

  He had his life to consider.

  Firmly, he removed her hands from his waist. “Wait for my call, then walk forward, do not deviate right or left.”

  “Where do you go?”

  Darwin kept his voice placid. “Do as I say if you want to live.” Gathering his failing strength, he leapt.

  In the air, he knew his trajectory and momentum were not enough to carry him beyond the molten stream. Desperate, he drew upon the Flow, installing a thin barrier of the black frothing energy on top of the red glowing lava.

  Pain cascaded inside his head. He fought to sever the link to the Flow as his feet touched the thin membrane of the barrier near center. When his feet sank, his knees buckled. Darwin fell, sliding on his stomach and forearm. Blackness overran his consciousness.

  CRUMPLED FORM

  Darwin woke to a faint red glow and a thumper of a headache, which he shunted aside. Ignoring pain was second nature to him now, something he had trained himself for seasons ago. Pushing away from the polished stone beneath him, he struggled to stand and comprehend why he yet lived.

  Oddly, his barrier remained below him, glistening as smooth as glass.

  Railee sat huddled where he’d left her, her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her knees.

  Comprehension came to him. Rotating in a slow circle confirmed his suspicion. He had not cleared the lava with his foolish leap, nor would he ever without boosting the jump with the Flow. His heat-stroked brain had not thought of that. However, his Using of the Flow had saved him. Darwin stood on the thin ribbon of his physical barrier.