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

  * * *

  The twin gateways hung silently in the air, shimmering golden rips in time defying the laws of physics; defying nature herself. In a burst of golden sparks, the killers rushed back into the world of the living. Their swords crossed in a blinding flash, casting a spray of green and white sparks into the air. “So you think the world is your playground, every form of life inferior and disposable?” Eric growled as their blades engaged, crackling against each other with energy. An endless flow of white sparks drifted down, landing around their feet.

  “Don’t you see?” his nemesis said, voice straining with effort, pressing back hard with his black blade. “They are inferior, every one of them. They weren’t meant to survive, and neither were you.” They disengaged briefly in a flash of light, then drove forward again, blades clashing about in an extraordinary light show. White ash and black smoke filled the air as their blades crashed over and over. Eric effortlessly flowed from one form to the next, making the advanced transitions look like a simple dance of steel.

  Raging Mountain

  Quiet Storm

  Flowing River

  Although wide-eyed at the precise assault, the madman fended off the blades master’s strikes with his own dazzling swordsmanship. The two crossed swords again, breathing hard, each looking the other in the eye.

  The killer pushed off, sending Eric stumbling backward, then held out his hand and spread his fingers. A golden pit opened beneath Eric’s feet. In an instant, he fell into the ground as it swallowed him whole, then snapped shut with a pop. “If you are so eager to protect them, then feel free to join them,” the madman cackled, waving his sword in a wide loop above his head, leaving a trail of white ash in the air. The large, snowy flakes fluttered down, harmlessly spreading along the ground.

  He turned away, a toothy grin splitting his face. “A field mouse would have proved to be a bigger threat. Now nothing can sto—” his smile melted away. “No, it can’t be,” he muttered, slowly turning back.

  A shimmering golden line slashed across the air, right in front of him. He backed away as it snapped open. Eric calmly stepped through, his eyes twinkling with golden light as he gripped his flaming sword. “Is that the best you can do?” he whispered, light beaming from his mouth with every word.

  “Impossible,” the twisted madman muttered. “I’ll crush you the same as all the others. A god has no equal.”

  “Is that how you see the world, madman?” said Eric, stalking forward with murder in his eyes. “You choose to take the lives of the innocent just because you can. Well, some things have nothing to do with choice. I’m not going to kill you just because you deserve it. I’m going to kill you because the world is better off without you. It’s a service to mankind, nothing more.” The mad killer backed away, terror in his eyes. “I never claimed to be a god’s equal,” Eric said softly as golden light shimmered across his black markings, crackling energy riding down his arms and across his chest. “I could never be...because the gods fear me.”

  Eric rushed in, his angry blade whirling about with savage intent. The madman was clearly a blades master in his own rights, blocking each strike is a spray of ash. Their swords clashed over and over, the beings throwing all their strength behind each blow. Green and white sparks flared out with each mighty collision. Eric, pressing hard now, was trying to finish with pure savagery.

  A shimmering gateway opened between them, separating the warriors for a moment. Eric, not even bothering to use his sword, punched straight through it, shattering it in a burst of golden light. “Do you think this is how they felt?” he boomed, punching through the next when it appeared before him. The twisted killer was now doing anything he could to slow Eric down, forming gateways right in his path. “The sheer panic of knowing these are your final moments in this world?” Eric punched through another, dragging his sword along like a stick. The blades master felt so confident now, so dominant over this being, that the powerful sword meant nothing now. It was just a tool to help speed up the job.

  The madman fell to his back, then inched away on his backside. He reached out, forming a doorway to his left, only to watch it shatter right before him. He formed another to his right, then watched it vaporize in a bloom of yellow sparks. “No, no,” he shrieked, covering his head, not daring to look up.

  “Tell me, how does it feel?” Eric hissed, throwing his sword to the side as it skidded along the ground. He reached down, lifting the trembling man by a handful of hair. With a sudden twisting thrust, the madman tried to bury his blade in Eric’s gut, but the warrior grabbed it with his bare hand and squeezed. With a sizzling sound, it bent like melting butter, then snapped in half with a blinding red flash. He threw the smoldering piece off to the side, his hand showing no damage at all. “No matter, I don’t care how you feel. I promise you, this won’t be quick,” he said softly, still holding the man by his hair. “I plan to spend days making you pay for what you’ve—”

  Two remaining cats leapt at Eric’s back. He dropped the man and turned in one smooth motion, catching each one in mid-flight by the throat. Their snapping and growling quickly turned to whining rasps as he calmly squeezed, blood running down both his arms. He threw their limp bodies, making them smack against the ground like wet towels. He turned back only to see a golden doorway snap shut, his prey now gone to who knows where.

  “Coward,” he growled, eyes still glowing a soft golden light. “Crawl back into the hell you came from. Even the darkness won’t be able to protect you from me. Sooner or later...I’ll find you.”

  * * *

  Athel dropped to her knees next to Jacob’s body. Her shaking hand slid along his chest, stopping at the open wound. His insides lay spread along the ground. She looked to the sky and screamed, a long, sorrowful wail that echoed through the forest.

  “Why did you follow me?” she shrieked, beating on his chest as his lifeless face rolled back and forth in the grass. “This is all my fault. I left so this very thing wouldn’t happen. I was willing to live alone for the rest of my life, just to keep you safe. Now look at what’s—”

  She fell back across his chest, sobbing and wailing. The spirits have shown that your powers will directly affect your friend’s life. She peeked up as the distant memory fluttered through her mind with the exact words Wara had said to her. “My powers will directly affect him,” she muttered out loud, wiping tears from her eyes.

  At that moment, a strange instinct began to take hold in an illogical thought she never would have acted on otherwise, but with nothing to lose... She bit deep into her own wrist, causing it to bleed profusely. Tipping up Jacob’s head, she pressed his lips to the wound, forcing the blood down his throat.

  She growled, looking over her shoulder, still holding Jacob’s head to her wrist. Even though the beast moved silently, it still couldn’t fool her sensitive ears. Black and grey fur covered the beast’s muscular body. Its head looked like that of a jackal, with large ears that stood straight up. “You again,” she hissed, her eyes darting all around as movement seemed to come from all directions at once. One by one, others crept through the vegetation, slinking out into the open. Some snarled, walking on two legs, while others crept along on all fours, displaying some caution.

  I told you before, you don’t belong in the world of men. The series of cryptic snarls in her head somehow formed a logical thought. You will never live up to your full potential unless you come with us. With tears flowing down her cheek, she looked down to Jacob. The flesh was mending itself together right before her eyes. Make a choice. You know you don’t belong here anymore. You know the mortal could never love you. He is better off without you.

  She got to her feet, and looked the beast in the eye. “I’ve made my choice.” She looked back to Jacob one last time, and silently mouthed “I’m sorry.” The beasts slowly melted back into the forest like silent assassins. Athel went with them, never looking back a single time.

  * * *

  Jacob sat up with a gasp, grabbing at his
chest. He looked around in a panic, trying to remember what had happened. Did I dream that? What a nightmare. He got to his feet and looked down to his bloodsoaked shirt, but a quick inspection proved he was not hurt. He tore off the useless rag and threw it to the ground as the horrible memories began to seep back. Zhou attacking and mortally wounding him. Zhou attacking...Athel? Oh, no.

  He looked around, peering into the darkness. “Athel? Athel, where are you? Please, answer me.”

  * * *

  Kelus turned away from the black cauldron as Wara lowered her hands, the shocking images fading into blackness. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, looking up at one of the simplistic artworks hanging on the wall. “There can be no doubt, you saw that for yourself,” she said.

  He shook his head in silent agreement. I can’t believe the Shantie Rhoe has washed up on my shore.

  “Then it is settled? He will begin the trials?” she said, impatiently tapping a finger on the floor.

  He sighed before turning to face her. “What choice do we have?” His voice sounded tired, old. I can’t believe this is real. “Let the Trials of Ashbarn begin.”

  The Trials of

  Ashbarn

  Chapter 1

  The dark figures stood around the circular room, backs pressed against the cold stone, hoods hung low to hide their faces. Not one looked to the man across from him, and certainly none were willing to expose their face or give a name. Men in brown cloaks with white silk belts all stood facing the floor and standing in complete silence. The drumming of heavy rain against the walls seemed to rattle the structure. The steady thumping was a welcome sound, just enough background noise to help ease the uneasy tension filling the room.

  The occasional muffled cough or a throat clearing sounded like thunder against the quiet calm, causing each man to flinch in a nervous twitch, as if breaking the silence were somehow punishable. Even the torch flame danced silently, dripping the occasional bit of liquid fire, which sizzled out against the cold stone floor.

  The nameless men waited patiently. Even though the tension was nearly enough to drive one mad, the shared task at hand was even more difficult to bear. Each of these men, sent in secret from different corners of the world, would be forced to combine their efforts this night. There was nothing to talk about, no reason to introduce themselves, or brag about why they in particular were chosen to represent their anonymous factions. None of that mattered now, and it was much too late for any of them to back out.

  The crack of thunder sounded as the thick door swung open sharply. The men all turned at once, peering into the poorly lit corridor. A short, thin man with thinning hair emerged from the darkness. His brown cloak and white silk belt matched the others. Cradling an infant in one arm, he looked around thoughtfully, running his fingers down a long, stringy beard. Nodding to himself, he looked down to the child wrapped in a blue wool blanket, sucking three fingers on one hand.

  In a scratchy, high-pitched voice, he said, “Gentlemen, the time is now and we can wait no longer. There will be no glory or recognition for what I ask of you this day. The history books will never speak your efforts, yet here you are anyway.” The ten anonymous men began to mutter and grumble, more to themselves than to each other. “You stand before me now, prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for a world that will never remember any of you.” He began bouncing the infant lightly in his arms. The innocent boy looked up, his glistening brown eyes reflecting light from the torch’s flame. “That’s how it is, you know,” he whispered, eyes still on the infant. “For every king and queen who flaunts their lands and riches—spoils of war they’ve stolen without ever setting foot on a battle field,” he shook his head sadly, “there are thousands of young men and women rotting in unmarked graves. Their lives were given without hesitation or regret so their leaders, who will never even remember their names, can add more to their legacy. I’m sorry, little one, I’m afraid you will be forced to learn this lesson sooner than most.” He looked up to the men once more. “So it is to be a hero. No one will remember you, yet the world is doomed without your help.”

  A dark figure moved to the small man’s back. So swift and silent, no one even noticed it enter the room. The assassin was slight of build, and wrapped from head to toe in black clothing, with only green eyes exposed through a slit in the mask. He leaned in and began whispering to the back of the little man’s head.

  The little man stopped bouncing the infant and sighed. He turned pale, all the blood appearing to leave his face. “So they’ve found us already.” Shaking away the fear, he steeled his voice. “We have not even begun, yet have already run out of time. Follow me, quickly.” Holding the child close to his chest, he turned back through the doorway and marched briskly down the torchlit hall.

  The mysterious man in black motioned for the others to follow. Once they funneled through the doorway, he took up the rear, stalking backward with his hands resting on two short swords, each nestled in black leather sheaths. He loosened them with quick tug, breaking the thin wire securing the hilts. A few exposed inches of sharp steel glistened in the torchlight. Eyes darting about, the assassin even looked to be suspicious of the wall, glaring at each brick as he passed.

  The small man led the group up a stone stairwell. They moved silently; the subdued steps of soft leather shoes on hard stone were no match for the rain driving against the rickety old tower. Water leaked through large cracks in the walls. It ran down the crumbling gray stone, then trickled down the steps. It did little to slow the people as they splashed on up the winding stairwell. With no rail on the side, a single misstep could send them tumbling to the floor below. However, this minor detail was the least of their concerns.

  Ignoring the tickling strands of spiderweb clinging to his face, the small man stopped at the top of the steps. A single caged torch on the gray stone wall dimly lit the hall. He glanced at the dusty old table with a single drawer. There sat a white, three-pronged candle. It looked like it had not been used for some time, judging by the thick black cobwebs attached to its silver base. He turned left, heading straight into the darkness. Still close behind, the others followed the man through an open doorway and into a large chamber.

  Spread across wooden planks and makeshift shelves, thick white and red candles flickered all around the room, casting shadows across the gray carpet. At the front of the chamber stood a tall, black stand supporting a wicker basket. Inside was a small white pillow and folded blanket. He hurried up to the podium and gently placed the infant inside the basket. The dark-eyed boy cooed and gurgled, nestling into the soft pillow. “Come now. We must hurry,” the man said, motioning the others to come closer. The robed figures circled the infant. One at a time they reluctantly pulled back their hoods, eyeing one another suspiciously.

  Their ethnic contrasts were nearly shocking, ranging from light-colored skin to dark; large, blue eyes to squinty brown. Some had straight blond hair, while others had thick, dark, heavy curls. These men were as different as water and fire, yet here they were, united together for a single purpose...

  “How can you be sure he is the one?” grunted a dark-skinned man, pointing down to the infant. “What if you are wrong and the child’s body rejects the process?”

  “I agree,” said a tall man with a square jaw and chiseled features. With his long blond hair and wide shoulders, the man looked more like a warrior than a prophet. “Even once this is over, we will all be hunted to the end of our days. Each of us has given up our life for a greater cause. How can we be assured our efforts were not in vain?” Several of the men shook their heads in agreement, while others just lowered their eyes to the floor.

  The muffled grunts of angry voices could now be heard outside, enraged shouts giving away their location. The first man spoke again, “You hear that? It’s likely none of us is going to see the light of day again, and you still haven’t answered this man’s question.” The shouts outside began to grow in intensity. “Answer me, Berkeni!”

  The dark-skinned man
gasped and his eyes bulged with fright. He puffed out his chest, his head tilting straight back. With the unmistakable feel of cold steel pressed against his spine, the humbled man found himself staring at the ceiling. He felt the assassin’s other hand wiggle its way underneath his chin.

  “Leave him be,” said Berkeni, turning away while making a dismissive gesture. “He’s only saying what everyone here is thinking.” He glanced back towards the hall with a sad look on his face. The loud cracks of axe blades biting into the door below echoed through the hallway. “Every precious second you can buy us could be the difference between the world we know...and no world at all. Now go.”

  The dark-skinned man blew out a long breath when the sword point eased away from his spine, but when he looked back, no one was there. Like a shadow, the assassin had silently slipped from the room without a trace.

  “The moment is now, gentlemen,” said Berkeni, motioning for them to gather around. “I understand your doubts and fears, but you must trust me now. I wouldn’t have summoned you here unless I was sure. Nor would your factions have sent you unless there could be no doubt.” He glanced down at the little boy. Admiration, fear, and sadness all burned within his eyes. “Our fate lies on the shoulders of this innocent child.” He rolled his eyes upward, towards a large window in the ceiling. Jagged lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating the room for an instant. “Eric is the chosen one; cursed with the fate of the world.”

  With faces carved from stone and fresh resolve in their eyes, the men circled around the child. Heralded mystics from different corners of the world were all united in a single purpose. Together, they raised their hands to the sky. Berkeni moved back towards the wall. He reached down and ripped back the carpet, revealing three loose stones in the floor. He wiggled them free, then retrieved a large book from the hidden chamber.

  Berkeni hurried back and slammed down the thick, leather-backed tome. Thumbing through the worn, yellowed pages, the skilled spellcaster soon found the passage he was seeking. “My friend will try and buy us as much time as possible,” he said, voice calm and focused. “Join me, my brothers. A new world begins today.”