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

  Although severely shaken, the girl was now beginning to regain her wits. Woozy, she scrambled back to her feet, thrashing about trying to get free. The old woman roared, twisting her body and slamming the girl into the wall. Thrusting up on the girl’s chin, she drove the back of her head against the wall again and again. “Die, you psychotic little beast!”

  Reaching out to the woman’s throat, the girl began pushing back. “I guess we play now!” she hissed, that open-mouthed grin returning, eyes fully alert. Her face was a mangled mess and blood ran from the back of her head, yet she still had plenty of fight left. Feet sliding back, the old woman felt herself being overpowered, her grip on the girl’s chin slipping away. From the corner of her eye, she saw the empty cuff and chain swinging next to their heads.

  “You’ll never play again!” the old woman shrieked, grabbing for the chain. With a surge, she pushed the girl’s head back again, then looped the chain around her neck. One, two, three full loops before the old woman went limp, pulling down with all her body weight.

  The girl clawed at the chain cutting into her neck, gasping for air. The old woman bounced in place, using both their weight to tighten it even further. “I’ve endured hell to survive this living nightmare. Now it is you who shall die within these walls!”

  Face bloody, tongue hanging out, she gurgled one last time before her whole body quivered with a death rattle. After several minutes, the woman let go and both of them crumpled to the floor. She covered her face, sobbing softly to herself. No, I must hold myself together. There’s no time for this, I need to get out of here!

  She rolled the dead girl’s body, and felt around until she found a ring of keys. There were many, and any one of these might release the remaining cuff on her wrist. It would take some time to try them all. She considered just trying to slip free like she had the other one, when the door swung open. There stood a servant girl, dressed in white from head to toe. The girl’s stunned eyes went right to the bloody body, then rose slowly to the old woman. It was over. She had been caught red handed.

  Dropping the keys, the old woman slumped down to the floor and began to bawl. It had all been for nothing. She would surely be put to death in the most painful way they could think of. “What have you done?!” the servant gasped, cautiously approaching the scene. She walked up and snatched the key ring off the floor. The girl flipped through the keys, then reached up and grabbed the woman’s wrist. The cuff popped free with a click. Stunned, the woman glanced up at the girl.

  “I can get you out of here,” said the servant, voice cracking as tears filled her eyes. “But you must take me with you. Promise me you’ll take me with you!”

  The old woman nodded as the girl helped her up. “I promise to take you. Now quickly, lead the way.”

  Chapter 8

  Ilenaya Moki sat at the head of the table. Extremely large and oval shaped, the table was hand crafted from thick black and white marble slabs. Used exclusively for these meetings, more than two dozen could be seated comfortably.

  With her white mask covering half her face, she gazed about the room while paying little attention to her advisers. This sort of assembly was a rare occasion indeed. Normally she was the one who called for these meetings, but today she was the one who had been summoned—a bold and unusual gesture indeed.

  Dark lacquered plaques with gold engravings hung from the walls. Life-sized crystal statues chiseled in the likeness of ancient heroes stood in every corner like guardians. And even with additions of solid oak furniture scattered about, the room still seemed rather empty due to its sheer size. Conferences held here were a rare thing these days, and usually meant that serious affairs were being discussed—impending war, local uprisings, and other such detailed matters needing immediate attention.

  Servants clothed in red silk with light gold chains woven into their hair scrambled about, refilling gold and silver goblets with a strong tea they called gyrous. Only the rich could afford to indulge on the bold drink, yet here it was being served generously. Her advisors glared at the empress as she leaned back in her hardwood chair, eyeing the artistry as if only now noticing it for the first time.

  “Empress?” said the man to her left. With his large eyes and bushy white eyebrows flared upward, the portly man always looked irritated no matter what his mood. Although today he actually was. “Empress, please! We insist on having your full attention. This is a matter of grave importance.” Her wondering gaze lazily came full circle, landing squarely on the man. Although she looked more bored than threatening, he still shuddered under that emotionless stare.

  “So you say,” she hissed, revealing just a hint of her own mounting irritation. “I did not call this meeting, yet here I sit, the lone voice of reason amongst a gathering of superstitious cowards.” Insulted gasps and grumbling rippled around the table. “If you’re going to waste my time as well as your own, then please, hurry and speak your minds so I may return to more pressing matters.”

  “Superstitious cowards?” huffed another of her advisers, even daring to push his chair back from the table in a threatening manner. The large man with a thick bar mustache and his black hair slicked back glared boldly at the empress. “Whether you, or anyone sitting at this table believes in superstitions is totally irrelevant.”

  He swung his chair out, pointing off towards a stained glass window behind him. “What matters is what’s going on out there right now! The whole city is in complete disarray. Riots are breaking out in the streets. Local business owners are taking desperate measures to keep their shops from being burned to the ground. The people’s fear is breeding chaos! That, Empress...is very real!”

  He turned back, pointing that very same finger right at Ilenaya. “Yet you continue to turn a blind eye to these events. Did you not see what happened to the Mountain of Dreams? Well, superstitious or not, your people were witness to a display of extraordinary power that could have only been produced by the gods themselves! Your job is not to judge whether or not the Shantie Rhoe has been named, but to reassure the people that their empress is aware of what is happening. If we do not convince the people that everything is under control, then military action will become our only option. Is that what you want?”

  Holding the man’s gaze, Ilenaya forced a grin, half her lips curling upward behind her white mask. Despite her calm demeanor, her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, the heavy breathing of a person who was fighting to keep herself in control. She pushed her chair back and rose to her feet, then began to circle the table with long, graceful strides.

  “Eblin, my good man,” she said calmly, addressing the last speaker. “I am perfectly aware of what transpired at the Mountain of Dreams, and I assure you it was nothing more than a clever ruse to trick the people into believing in the impossible.” She rounded his back, lightly brushing her fingertips across his neck and up the sides of his face. “A clever ploy of black magic used to deceive imbeciles,” she whispered in his ear, then lightly kissed his cheek. The hard coolness of her mask made him shiver.

  She gave him a subtle push, then continued circling the table. All eyes stayed down, staring at the polished marble tabletop as their own reflections gazed back up at them, the growing tension taking a toll.

  “My good subjects,” she continued, eyes on the ceiling while waving her hands as she talked. “What would you have me do under such precarious circumstances? Whatever dark forces that devised this illusion want nothing more than the Crimson Empire to act out foolishly. They hope that we acknowledge this trickery as something real, in turn further scaring our people. Well, I will not be made a fool of! Use your heads, gentlemen. The correct course of action here should be obvious to all. This dark deception shall pass, and all will be forgotten in time. Cooler heads shall prevail.”

  “So that is your answer?” said another advisor, a short man with white hair, most of which he seemed to have lost. The old man smoothed a hand back across his balding head and sighed, loud enough for all to hear. “An extraord
inary show of lightning defaces the Mountain of Dreams, randomly carving it down into one of the most spectacular pieces of art the world has ever seen, and you want us to believe this is all some kind of illusion? Shall I assemble a scouting party to go and investigate?”

  Ilenaya did not look pleased at the outburst, crossing her arms over her chest, sneering at the little man with fire in her eyes. Ignoring her glare, he continued on, “We didn’t summon our empress here so you could insult our intelligence with deflective statements of denial. It’s been made clear you want us all to look the other way.” He stood from his chair and gave a deep bow. “But it will not happen this day, Empress. Decisions will be made to neutralize the growing fear within the empire...with or without your approval.”

  She broke her gaze away from the man, looking around as others began to voice similar statements. Calmly, she pointed towards the open door. As if by her will alone, it slammed shut. All heads turned at once, mouths suddenly closed. Silence. The room itself seemed to darken by some unseen force...

  “Yes, Keno,” said the Empress, addressing the small man as she turned her glare on him once again. “Decisions will...and have been, made. I’m sorry that my team of loyal fools is oblivious to what is truly going on in our world. Although I feel pity for you simpletons, I simply can’t be burdened by your constant fear of things you don’t understand.”

  Once again she motioned towards the closed door. Black, oily smoke sifted in from underneath, then hovered in the air, boiling and rolling like an angry storm. “I tried to spare you this fate, but you insisted on pushing me,” she said, moving towards the misty creature. “Please understand, I’ve sacrificed far too much to let you all ruin my plans. It seems to me that my yes men have finally decided to grow spines...at exactly the wrong time.”

  The bubbling smoke passed right through her as she approached the door. Soundlessly, it streaked towards the table behind her. Reaching for the doorknob, she heard several screams from behind. In a spray of red, blood dotted her arm, speckling the door and part of the wall. She grinned, then opened the door and left.

  Shrieks of terror and howls of pain echoed through the hall as she walked. They were nothing but a mild distraction, already an afterthought as she put distance between herself and the meeting room. Those men—her once trusted advisors—had brought this fate on themselves. At this stage, risks of any sort were totally unacceptable. Risks...needed to be removed.

  After a short time she could no longer hear the screams. Slog was ruthlessly efficient at what he did and not much time was needed. Sure enough, the boiling cloud caught up with her, floating up to her side and awaiting further instruction. The shapeless black smoke rolled about, rapidly shifting between forms. One at a time she saw the men’s faces he had just killed. She saw expressions of pain and agony, a final ghostly glimpse of their last moments before taking their final breaths.

  After a time the shifting faces faded, withdrawing themselves back into the creature’s misty body. The empress couldn’t help but grin; knowing the job was done helped put her mind at ease. A strategy was already in motion here and it couldn’t be undone. She didn’t dare take any chances at this stage.

  “Slog,” she said, rubbing her hand along his smoky body. Sinking in, it felt dry inside him like powdery sand. When her hand exited up high—about where a face should have been—it was dusted in black soot and felt prickly down to her wrist. “I promise, your committed loyalty will not go unrewarded. Soon, my influence will extend far beyond the borders of the Crimson Empire, and even beyond Shangti. And when it does, I’ll need you by my side.”

  She glanced back towards the meeting area. “Those bodies must be removed before anyone finds them. You know what to do.” The smoky creature’s body fluttered, sending waves rolling about in different directions.

  She reached down between her breasts and retrieved a tightly rolled parchment, bound with a red cord. “Also, I need you to give this to a soldier named Mashi Sewa. This man now commands the Crimson Empire military, and will replace Commander Hirao. This signed document ensures his position, and no one will have the authority to question this.”

  A smoky hand reached out, solidified, then snatched the thinly rolled parchment. “He has been aware of this promotion for many weeks now,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything when the time is right. Go now, and I’ll speak with you in the morning.” Slog fluttered once more then drifted off down the hall.

  After watching him go she glanced about, leery of unwanted attention, then continued down the hall. “It is the beginning of a new era,” she whispered to herself. “Soon, my authority will know no boundaries. The world shall kneel at my feet. Even the Shantie Rhoe...shall kneel at my feet.”

  Everything was falling into place perfectly, and it was hard not to get caught up in the excitement of it all. Ilenaya rushed down a second hall then down a long set of winding stairs. The staircase was wide, plenty of room for four people to walk side by side, but the rarely trafficked area was off limits to all but Slog and herself. Even if a war were to break out, no one would dare come down here to inform her. It was no secret that breaking this rule was punishable by death.

  At the bottom of the steps stood a large clay door. Old and rickety, it looked as if a strong sneeze might turn it into dust. At the front were two hand-shaped indentations carved into the clay, which she slipped her palms into. They tingled with warmth, and a light red glow emitted from underneath her hands.

  There came a clicking sound. Quiet as it was, it still echoed all the way back up the empty staircase. She started, glancing back over her shoulder one last time. Nothing to worry about. No one would dare follow me down here. With a light push, the door swung back with a high-pitched screech.

  The inside was like stepping into an alien world of living color. The walls breathed in and out, making a hushed hissing sound with each inflation. Dark red liquid pumped through them, each squishing surge of blood visible through the nearly transparent material. At the center of the room stood a jet-black crystal, held in place by a golden stand in the shape of several human hands. Nearly the size of a man, its light pulsed in time with the blood-pumping walls, a dark purple that seemed to radiate warmth throughout the room.

  The dark forces surrounding this place took hold of her instantly, consuming her, filling her mind with lust, greed, and an insatiable hunger for power. She reached up towards her neckline, then tore the fabric of her dress clear down the front. It slipped down to the floor, piling up around her ankles. A cool breeze enveloped her naked body, chilling the beaded sweat all over her skin.

  Drawn like a moth to light, she approached the pulsing crystal, its irresistible warming radiance pulling her in. The cool breeze dissipated, leaving behind a muggy feel in the humid room. Red light from the throbbing walls glistened off her damp skin. Her body grew hot, sweating profusely near the powerful crystal. It was nearly becoming unbearable.

  “Dark lord,” she rasped, stretching upward with her hands in the air. The crystal pulsed faster, shadowed light thumping like a heartbeat. “The humans scuttle about like insects, preparing themselves for a war they can’t possibly win. As the days count down before the darkness comes, they dare to look to that mortal for salvation. Some call him the Shantie Rhoe, others call him the Gate Keeper. But when I gaze upon this weakling, I see only a dead man who has yet to realize his inevitable fate.”

  Red mist seeped in through the walls as the room seemed to darken. Air rushed down from the ceiling, causing a deafening wind to swirl about. “My armies are ready for the end of days, dark lord!” she shouted over the roaring winds. “I am ready and willing to serve you. Ask and it shall be done.” Bolts of lightning streaked down from the ceiling, their energy instantly absorbed by the crystal on contact.

  She dropped down to her stomach, laying flat across the floor with her face down. “Have I not done all that you’ve asked and more? Have I not proven my undying loyalty to you? Tell me what more you want
and it shall be done!” Lightning streaked down in a torrent of blinding light, causing the crystal to glow brightly as it absorbed the assault of energy. One bolt, ten, twenty... the room was alive with furious power.

  Then darkness... Complete and utter calm wrapped in pitch-blackness. Ilenaya rose to her feet, drenched with cool sweat. The temperature seemed to drop again, but she resisted the urge to shiver as she hugged her naked body.

  Gradually, the red in the walls began to return, but the glow was faint this time, giving off only a modest illumination. Black mist circled her feet, winding around slowly like a boa ready to strike. “Yes,” she whispered softly, raising her hands up high as her feet spread apart. “I give myself to you, oh great lord. I implore you to enjoy the physical pleasures of the mortal world.”

  The black mist began to take shape, forming into multiple smoky hands that slithered across her sweaty body. Her skin prickled at the touch, leaving behind a cool, fresh feeling. She gasped as one crept up her inner thigh, caressing between her legs with an icy touch. There it lingered, rubbing her gently as other hands probed around her body, stroking every inch of her skin as she indulged in an unworldly caress no mortal flesh could ever simulate.

  Aggressively, the groping hands settled all over body, gripping her breasts as ghostly fingers pinched her nipples. Others firmly grasped around her legs, groin and shoulders. Suddenly, her body was lifted off the floor and hoisted into the air. Her breaths came in heavy heaves, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Warm fingers penetrated her with perfect, gentle precision. She moaned uncontrollably, throwing her head back into waiting hands, moisture running between her legs.