The Legend of the Gate Keeper Anthology: The Shadow, Land of Shadows, Siege of Night, Lost Empire, Reborn, The Trials of Ashbarn, End of Days

by Jeff Gunzel

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  Zhou hunched over his plate, stuffing his face greedily with three chicken legs, four potatoes, a large serving of noodles, and two bowls of rice. He slammed down his tin mug, tea still dripping from the side of his mouth, then continued to gorge as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Morita sat quietly across from him, her arms folded across her chest. Her portions were less than half of his, yet she hadn’t touched a bite. “Come on, eat,” he said, with tiny chunks flying from his mouth with each word. “Your food will get cold.” He looked up from his plate. “And then I suppose we will have to warm it up.” She glared at him in disgust, which only forced him to laugh and wink, before ripping another bite of meat off the bone. “Well, if you’re going to just sit there doing nothing, you might as well go feed that woman. It’s been at least a couple of days, and I’m sure she’ll be ready to eat by now.

  The intense hate that burned in Morita’s eyes could have set a forest ablaze. She started to stand, but stumbled as her knees wobbled. She hunched back over the table, grimacing as the white-hot pain between her legs shot through her entire body. She would quickly heal, of course, almost certainly by nightfall, but the whole ordeal had been so savage. Morita growled when Zhou laughed even harder; the sight of his sister in this condition made him feel powerful. “Better get going. She won’t wait all night.”

  It took all Morita’s willpower not to scream. No, don’t give him the satisfaction. She could still hear him laughing when she left the room, doing her best to walk upright until she was safely down the hall. I’ll kill that bastard. Once confident she was alone, the proud woman doubled over, resting her hands on her knees. After letting out a deep breath, she righted herself and limped onward. I’ll gouge out his eyes. Down a shiny silver hallway she went, her once graceful movements now replaced by the hobbling of an old woman. I’ll gut him while he sleeps.

  She eyed one of the many clear spheres as she passed by. The small ball of blue light bounced around slowly, drifting with not a care in the world. Morita did a double take, now staring as if seeing it for the first time. With a sharp backhand, she shattered the globe as shards of glass scattered across the hall. The little ball of light bounced once off the wall, then floated softly to the floor. A moment passed, then it began to float back up again.

  She snatched it out of the air and squeezed, her fingers trembling with effort, but when she opened them, it simply started floating again. Furious, she snatched it once more, squeezing with all her might until her shaking hands began to turn numb. Finally giving up, she threw it against the wall as hard as she could. It bounced lightly, then continued to float on down the hall. She had long known the creature were made of spirit energy and she wouldn’t be able to hurt it that way, but she didn’t care. Morita just needed to unleash her aggression somehow. I wish he were dead.

  A dirt-smudged face briefly peeked around the corner to see what the commotion was, but after seeing Morita, the girl quickly pulled back. “That’s alright, dear, don’t be afraid. Please, come over here,” Morita said. Her suddenly calm voice sounded like a blissful song of peace. The young girl peeked back around cautiously, unsure of what to do, now wishing she had never looked in the first place. She dragged her feet with every step, slow and meek with her head down low, not daring to meet Morita’s eyes. “I’m so clumsy, I’m afraid,” said Morita. “Would you be a dear and clean this up?” She spread her hand out across the shards of glass.

  The filthy girl got down on all fours. She cupped her trembling hand, then began moving shards of glass into nice, neat piles. Her trembling only increased when she spared a glace toward Morita’s impatiently tapping foot. “That’s a good girl,” said Morita softly. “You’ll do just fine.” With a twist and a crack, the poor girl was now facing her own back, eyes still wide open with the efficient kill.

  Morita snatched a handful of black hair and began to drag the carcass down the hall. The dead girl slid along her backside as her twisted head kept looking straight down. If that prisoner needs to be fed, then she will receive a special treat. Through the hall and down a flight of stone steps she marched, adrenaline now overriding her soreness. At the bottom of the steps was a wide stone chamber, lit with caged black iron torches barely able to hold their sickly, dull flames. Tiny bits of liquid fire dripped from them, sizzling when they touched the stone floor. Rusty, barred prisons lined each side of the room, but nearly all were empty. All but one, that is...

  A sickly looking gray dog skittered past her leg as she dragged her sack of meat over to the set of bars. She peeked inside with a smile. A gaunt woman with long white hair hung limply, chained to the wall by her wrists. “Are you still alive?” cackled Morita.

  The old woman slowly raised her head, peeking through a curtain of thin, greasy hair. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I still draw breath,” she said in a raspy voice before turning her head and spitting on the soot-covered stone floor. Although just beyond her middle years, the neglected woman looked to be much older. “Has the day finally arrived when you’re going to remedy that?”

  “I wouldn’t be so eager to face death if I were you,” said Morita, shaking the lifeless head of her most recent victim. “This one died quickly because her body serves a purpose, but you, on the other hand...” she smiled wickedly. Her impossibly long, forked tongue crept out of her mouth like a snake’s, then generously wet her lips before slithering back in. “You will die slowly...painfully. I will make it my personal project, a challenge, if you will, to keep you alive throughout the entire ordeal. But fear not, that day is not today. Today is the day I might actually feed you. How long has it been now? A week...two? Oh yes, I forget, time means nothing down here.”

  The skinny dog came trotting over and began licking the trickle of blood oozing from the dead girl’s mouth. “Well, look here, it seems someone is hungry.” Not unlike the woman, the starving dog, allowed to roam around the stone chamber, was only fed periodically—just enough to keep it alive. Removing a small knife from between her breasts, Morita used it to slice a piece of flesh from the dead girl’s thigh, then threw it at the dog’s front paws. It whined and wagged its tail excitedly while chewing the tough, wet strip. “There now, you see? It’s nice and fresh.”

  The old woman’s cheeks puffed out as belching noises escaped from her throat. No longer able to contain it, a thick white liquid oozed from her mouth, before she was able to spit out the rest. Due to hunger and extreme dehydration, her stomach thankfully had very little to offer. “You sick monster,” she mumbled weakly, wiping away the excess with the back of her hand.

  The flowing chains made a clicking sound as she moved. They were designed to give constant tension, although she could move about the cell by resisting that tension, and pulling them out from the wall. However, in her weakened state, it was best to just stay pressed up against the wall, allowing her arms to hang freely.

  Morita shaved off another piece of flesh and threw it toward the hungry dog, who then abandoned its now juiceless, leathery piece, and began gnawing on the other. “I will just leave this here for you.” She dragged the girl’s body into the cage. “No one has ever died of hunger with food within reach, so you can talk all you want about how you would never, ever, but we both know what will happen once I leave this room.” She placed the knife back between her breasts. “Just so you don’t get any ideas of taking the easy way out.”

  The old woman began to sob as the barred door slid shut. She couldn’t deny the truth of Morita’s words. “What evil have I brought into this world?” she cried out.

  After what Morita had been through today, she couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of satisfaction. She whispered as she walked back up the steps, “Enjoy your meal, Mother.”

  Chapter 7

  The adventurers sat silently by themselves, each awaiting final instructions. Oil lanterns cast their dancing shadows around the dark room. Eric sat hunched over on a stool, rubbing his temples in small circles. He never once spoke of his conversation with
Kelus, and no one asked about it. Some things were better left unsaid.

  Jade crept up on Eric from behind, then slowly wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself flat against his back. When he didn’t so much as stir, she whispered in his ear, “You know I love you,” before deciding to leave him be. She didn’t take his putting her off personally. The poor man carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and nothing she did could ever change that or ease his burden. It hurt her so badly to see him like this.

  Athel remained as withdrawn as ever, hunched over in the same corner with her face buried in her hands. Save for the occasional glance toward Jacob, who seemed nowhere near as subdued as the others, she was completely withdrawn, lost in her own world.

  Jacob had clearly been involved in some kind of confrontation; that much was clear. With the fresh cut on his cheek telling a tale, he had also come back covered with sweat, his hair frayed and matted to his head. He wouldn’t stop pacing, nor could he stop his hands from shaking. Something big had definitely happened. With an entire village wanting their heads on sticks, the possibilities of hostile encounters were high, but he kept his story to himself.

  The four of them had been through so much already, a lifetime’s worth of adventures that bonded them tightly. Now here they were, best friends feeling like perfect strangers, all within the course of a single day. Although nothing could ever permanently wreck their friendship, they all just needed a little time to sort things out.

  They looked up when the door snapped opened. Nima and Amoshi entered, each wearing brightly colored garments and flashy jewelry. Nima’s long, green dress with yellow lace at the neck and base, tightly hugged her slim figure. Her large pearl necklace hung low, drawing the eyes to a rather generous amount of exposed bosom. Long earrings with gold chain allowed the oversized green emeralds to dance on top of her bare shoulders each time she moved. The dark paint lining her eyes made them look alluring and bold, an attractive complement to the light rose color diffused across her cheeks.

  Covered from head to toe in ceremonial armor, Amoshi’s garment was no less elaborate, if not as colorful as Nima’s. From the Kabuto helmet fanning down across his broad shoulders, to the Haidate plate strapped tightly across his thighs, each piece was gleaming white. Rather light and polished to a shiny finish, it was clear this flimsy, ornamental set was never meant for battle. He wore snug black leather gloves that ran clear up to his elbows, and wooden geta sandals. All his hair was greased upward, forming a tall, spiky line of hair, with the tips of each spike painted white. Instead of his usual black eyepatch, the one he wore now was white, with a silver mesh at its center. They were all beginning to wonder if he might still have vision in that eye, due to each patch having some sort of opening at its center.

  Amoshi glanced back over his shoulder, then snapped his fingers. Three guards carrying brown leather bags trotted into the room, and one other carried only a single item. The cylinder-shaped package was heavily wrapped in wet rags, and that particular soldier looked very nervous handling it. He threw it to the floor and backed away quickly, as if the package were full of vipers. The others placed their bags off to the side.

  “These are all the items we were able to salvage from the wreck,” said Amoshi. “For whatever reason, Kelus insists you to attend in your most natural state. That includes wearing all weapons and personal items that belong to you. Clothing has been provided, but remember: You are outsiders here; you will wear simple tunics, unlike the rest of us. You had no bond to the ones who perished, and quite frankly, many blame you for their demise.” He pointed down to the wrapped item none of the soldiers wanted to go near. “We’re not exactly sure what kind of trap or black magic was placed on that item, but one of our men almost had his face burned off because of it.” He shook his head, not knowing what to make of it. “We will be waiting outside to escort you all.” His voice softened. “Please, hurry and get ready. Our orders are to keep you safe, so we must also prepare.” He and the other men left the room, leaving only Nima.

  She watched as the group began to rummage through the bags. “It would take weeks for me to try and explain an entire culture to you all. To separate proper etiquette from what might be considered unforgivably rude. We don’t have weeks, we have minutes, so this is my advice to all of you: Keep your eyes low and your mouths shut. There are many here who adamantly hold you responsible for all this, and believe me, they will voice their opinions. When this happens, you will hold your tongues no matter what, then we will escort you all back here when it is over.” Without waiting to answer any questions, she turned and disappeared through the door.

  Eric reached down and began unwrapping the package. Just as he suspected, there lay Spark, his jeweled sword that refused to be touched by another. He hoisted it up in the air, giving it a slight rotation left, then right. Its double-edged blade appeared to alternate from orange to red as he shifted it in the dull light. The jewels encrusted throughout the crossbar flashed from red to green, then back again. He let out a sigh of relief as he fingered the hilt of his deadly weapon. Even after owning it for just a short period of time, it was hard to imagine himself without it.

  Jade turned the bags over and began rummaging through the mundane items. It seemed the villagers really had gathered anything they could find, whether or not the item held any value. Broken oil lamps, rusted silverware, and other worthless trinkets lay scattered about. Clearly they assumed it best to just collect everything, then let these foreigners pan through it.

  After a time, she sighed dejectedly, then leaned against the wall. “I can’t find it, it’s not here,” she whispered as her eyes began to moisten. Unconsciously, she began rubbing her ring finger. That lost ring was the only way for her to communicate with Berkeni. Is it at the bottom of the sea? Now I’ll never be able to—

  “What’s not there? What are you talking about?” Jacob asked. He knew his staff was long gone, and didn’t expect to find much else that belonged to him.

  “Nothing,” Jade muttered, picking up her loaded wrist holsters. Nima had put those in a separate bag, and now it seemed she would finally be able to wear them once again.

  “Is everyone ready?” Eric asked, sheathing Spark at his side. “Come on, let’s go, on your best behavior.” He eyed Jacob for a lingering moment before going on. “These folks have lost more in a day than most do in a lifetime. Try to imagine yourselves in their place. No matter how they react to our presence, you will accept their judgment and ridicule unquestioningly. Any sort of retaliation, verbal or otherwise, will not be tolerated. If things start to get out of hand, just step aside and let me handle it. Have I made myself clear?” His eyes circled the room, taking in each one of his companions at a time.

  They exited the building only to find even more soldiers standing in a line. Their attire was very much the same as the others, except their usual green capes were now replaced with white. Nima and Amoshi stood out in front, each holding a thick black candle with red swirls. The tiny flames bent sideways in the light breeze, flickering hard while constantly threatening to wink out.

  The men kept looking nervously over their shoulders at the families walking by, each member holding a similar black and red candle. Most glared at the four foreigners with hatred before moving along on their way. Eric couldn’t help but notice how many groups seemed to consist of a mother, one or more children, yet no father. Death follows me like a shadow, yet others pay the price. Despite his pain, no emotion touched his face. “Lead the way,” he said.

  The soldiers circled them from the back and sides, leaving only the front of the formation exposed. There, Nima and Amoshi took the lead. On they marched down the street, the men’s white capes swishing and rolling with each step.

  After a few twists and turns down unfamiliar paths, they ended up on a wide-open stretch of road. Up ahead they could see a series of torches lined along a long, raised platform. Tiny flames seemed to appear out of nowhere as many people turned at once, each holding lit can
dles. They eyed the approach of the foreigners as angry mumblings began to filter through the large crowd, a symphony of hate fluttering along like wind rustling through dry leaves.

  A small stone came hurtling from the crowd, bouncing harmlessly off one of the men’s shoulder pads. The well-disciplined soldier never broke formation or even flinched, just marched on as if nothing had happened. Jacob clenched his fists, leaning forward as if to rush the assailant, but a strong hand quickly gripped his shoulder from behind. Even if he could have broken free from the iron grip, Eric’s icy glare was more than enough to keep him still.

  Kelus hastily stepped up on the platform, obviously in a hurry to get this underway—anything to help distract from the presence of the foreigners. With flaming torches on all sides, long, dark shadows danced around his body. In direct contrast to the sea of white spread out before him, he wore a dark black kimono with sturdy wooden shoes. His bald head and face were covered in white paint with black outlines, giving him the rather disturbing likeness of a clothed skeleton. Many others in the crowd had painted their faces in similar fashion, making the gathering look like a meeting of the dead.

  The large group was rather reserved now; in fact, they were deathly quiet. Kelus’s gaze swept over the crowd, taking in their solemn faces. Some began to cry, cutting into the silence with sniffles and muffled coughs.

  “My brothers, my sisters,” his voice rang out like a bell. “It warms my heart to see all of you standing before me, here to witness a gathering based on love and compassion. This is our opportunity to say a final goodbye to those who fell during our darkest hour. To those who lost their lives protecting their freedom, their way of life, and the ones they hold dear.”