Beyond The Gate - Book 2 of the Golden Queen Series

by David Farland

  He walked up ahead, taking point, and looked at each cross street, then waved them along. Maggie had felt secure for weeks, but her guardians' behavior unnerved her. For the next four kilometers, they found themselves under such guard, and when they reached the hotel, no less than a dozen such men could be seen loafing at the street comers, watching from roofs.

  When they got to their room, Gallen took off his cold winter cloak and hung it in the closet. "It sounds as if we're hotter on this world than we'd anticipated," Gallen said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  He went and looked out the window, to the lights burning in the buildings, the snow falling, and Orick went and stood looking out with him.

  "Eight days. Eight days from today is Christmas day here on this world, you know," Orick said. "I figured it up on their calendar."

  "No one here will be celebrating it," Gallen said. "There are no Catholics here."

  "I will be celebrating it," Orick muttered.

  "We all will," Maggie said. "That is the day that Tallea is reborn . . . if we're lucky."

  "Ah, that would be grand," Gallen said. "But don't get your hopes up."

  And so, that following week they spent some time searching for gifts for one another in the shops of the City of Life. The shops carried no fantastic goods, like the near-magical items one might find on Fale. Instead, there were only good woolen coats dyed with bright colors, shoes that would last. Fine cheeses from all comers of the world.

  On Christmas eve, in the kitchens at the inn, Maggie cooked a ham and made rolls and Christmas pies all filled with red cherries and topped with white sugared cream. It was a huge feast, fit for a bear, and by the end of it, Orick's snout was plastered with jam and cream.

  Early on Christmas day, they exchanged gifts. Gallen got fine new scabbards for his knives from Orick, and Maggie and Gallen had scrounged together to find Orick a handsome new leather-covered copy of the Bible, for Orick had been obliged, in his haste to escape Tihrglas, to leave his Bible at home.

  "Where did you get this?" Orick exclaimed, and Gallen said, "I told you that there were no Catholics on this world. I didn't say that it completely lacked Christians."

  "But Ceravanne had never heard of them," Orick said. "How is it she never heard of them?"

  "We found the Bible at the spaceport," Maggie finally said, unwilling to keep the bear in suspense. "Travelers from many far worlds come through there. One of them had sold it to a man who trades in . . . curiosities."

  Orick and Gallen then gave Maggie their gifts-a light perfume of exotic flavor, and a green silk nightgown. Both of them were fine, indeed. When they were done, Orick asked, "All right, Maggie, don't keep us hanging at your elbow. What did you get for Gallen?"

  "Oh, nothing much," she said honestly. "It's a small gift."

  She presented him with a little package' wrapped in bright red paper with a white bow.

  He opened it. Inside was a pair of booties and a receiving blanket. Orick looked up, his eyes wide with surprise.

  "I got sick on the ocean, all right," Maggie said, "but I never did really stop feeling queasy. I checked with the doctors here. It will be a boy."

  Gallen grinned, and looked away wistfully. "No blood kin left," he whispered, "so you'll make your own."

  "I will," Maggie said, "with your help. And I'll have a dozen of them if I want."

  Gallen grabbed her and kissed her roughly, and Orick smiled and left them alone.

  It was a pleasant day, with cold suns rising up through the clouds, and a sky filled with streams of light. Later that day, Orick sat Gallen and Maggie down and read to them from his new Bible about the birth of Jesus in ancient Jerusalem, with King Herod seeking the lives of infants, and angels announcing the birth of the King of Heaven.

  That afternoon, there came an insistent pounding at the door. Maggie answered it, and one of the guards stood outside. "You'll want to be leaving the city tonight," he said softly. "The dronon are back."

  "We can't leave yet," Maggie begged. "We're waiting for a friend to get out of the rebirthing vats."

  "I checked on it," the guard said. "They're taking her out early. Her body will be a little younger than she wanted, but they're downloading her memories now."

  “We can be there right away,” Maggie said. She didn’t need to tell Gallen and Orick the news. Both of them were already racing around the spacious room, grabbing clothes to pack.

  This will have to be a hasty farewell, Maggie realized, and she fretted for Tallea, a young girl who would be traveling alone through the winter, heading south.

  In a matter of minutes, they were hurrying through the dark streets. A chill wind had picked up, and it blew frozen snow through the air. Clouds were moving in from the south, a horrendous dark storm.

  They reached the great halls, which were closed for the night, just as the snow began to fall. One of the judges had come out to meet them. He was appropriately dressed in a long gray cloak and a sagging peaked hat with a broad brim.

  "There you are!" he called as he saw them running up the broad stone steps from the street. "Your friend is reborn, and she awaits you!"

  He waved up toward a darkened doorway, and Maggie saw movement behind the thick glass. The door opened a crack, and something hairy moved in the darkness.

  Maggie had expected to see a young woman covered with the soft reddish-brown fur of the Roamers, as she remembered them from previous lives. But this creature was more heavily furred than she'd imagined, and its pelt was far darker.

  Tallea lowered to all fours, and Maggie heard Orick gulp in astonishment.

  "She's a bear!" Gallen said.

  "Yes," the judge said. "When we read her memories, we found that at the last moments of her life, she had a change of heart. So we made her the body she desired."

  The young black bear was small, and appeared to be only about a year old. She walked down the steps carefully, as if unsure of herself.

  But when she was within twenty meters, she suddenly hunkered down and ran toward them at great speed, hit Orick full tilt and knocked the bigger bear over on his side. He grunted, and she jumped up on him playfully, and bit his ear. "Orick! Orick!" she shouted. "Being a bear is great! Why, you're strong as an ox and all dressed in leather!"

  "Well, I've never minded it," Orick grunted, not quite sure what to think.

  Tallea hugged his neck, wrapping her paws around him, and licked his face. He licked her back shyly, and Tallea growled in his ear, her voice husky with desire. "Ah, Orick, you and I will have a grand time. That is, if you'll have me?"

  The little she-bear looked up at him with big brown eyes, and Orick glanced at Maggie and Gallen imploringly, as if they would tell him what to say.

  "Do it," Maggie said.

  "She's not like the she-bears on your world," the judge told Orick. "She loves you as fiercely as any Caldurian can, and she will stay by your side always."

  Orick got up on all fours, then very gently, very passionately; licked the young she-bear's muzzle with his long tongue, softly at first, then more fiercely, and Maggie found herself vaguely disturbed at how sensual a bear's tongue could be.

  And after the bears exchanged long, sweet kisses, the guard came through the dark and stood at the foot of the steps. "The dronon are coming," he urged. "We must hurry away."

  "Where are we going?" Tallea asked.

  "I don't know," Orick said, though Maggie was sure that Gallen had told him the name of the world. But for the moment, that information seemed to be driven from his mind. Orick just stared at the young she-bear.

  "To new worlds, and safety, I hope," Gallen said, and he took Maggie's hand. They hurried down the broad steps and into the streets.

  The new falling snow swirled around them in the darkness, and covered their tracks. Within moments, no one would ever have guessed that they had passed along that road.

  Copyright © by Dave Farland, 2011

  Lord of the Seventh Swarm, Book 3 of the Golden Queen Series: Chapter 1 />
  When Thomas Flynn deserted his niece in her hour of need, he did it with the best intentions. Oh, he knew Maggie would damn him for the deed and curse him till the day he died—and beyond. But he'd won the contempt of better people. So he deserted her.

  The truth was that, though Gallen and Maggie determined to run off to Tremonthin to fight the Inhuman, Thomas knew he shouldn't go. He felt a deep warning in his heart—"It's a hero they want, someone to brandish a sword, not a minstrel with an overlarge gut and gaudy attire." Some folks might ascribe such misgivings to cowardice, but Thomas held with certain sects of priests who would called it "inspiration." You should always listen to that inner voice, they'd say, and this time Thomas agreed.

  He'd never been one to face danger. A good pair of legs and a keen eye for the nearest thicket could extricate a man from most situations. So when Gallen told Thomas that he had to come to Tremonthin with him and Maggie, Thomas's first inclination, and last, was to run.

  As he packed his bags, he wondered if he was doing right. He didn't understand life here on Fale. He'd seen wondrous things-men flying on mechanical wings, doors that let you walk from one world to another. But this world held dangers as great as its wonders.

  So far, Thomas hadn't met the Dronon monsters. His kin on Tihrglas thought them to be demons. But Thomas knew better. He understood why the Dronon sought to conquer mankind. Folks here had more food than they could eat, comfortable homes, the promise of lives extended for thousands of years. Thomas understood why the Dronon would want to seize these things.

  But he couldn't understand why some humans sympathized with the Dronon. As he slipped from his room, Thomas considered the rose they'd found outside Maggie's room a few hours ago—a delicate thing, lustrous as pearl until the petals on it began spinning like a pinwheel, slicing open the Lord Mayor of Toohkansay. An odd trap that Maggie's enemies had left for her.

  'Tis a strange and dangerous world, Thomas told himself as he slipped down the city's darkened corridors. I don't know what dangers to watch for, much less how to fight them. If I go with Gallen to Tremonthin, I'll be a burden. I can't hobble so far and fast as I used to.

  He imagined how Maggie would curse him when she found that he'd run out. She'd say he only thought of himself, that he was a mercenary. Well, damn her for her judgments. At fifty years of age, Thomas knew that "Few vices will destroy a man quicker than the craving to own all virtues."

  I'm doing what's best—not just best for me, best for Maggie and Gallen, Thomas told himself. He met some guards in the corridor who had been posted to protect him.

  One tall, wiry man who cradled a rifle, asked Thomas, "Would you like an escort?"

  Thomas said, "No, I'm just after a stroll in the moonlight, and a little fooling about on the mandolin." Thomas patted his instrument cases as if they were lovers, then passed down the corridor, dimly lit with fixtures that shone from the ceiling like jewels. He'd left his mandolin in his room and filled the case with spare clothes. He'd kept his lute for sentimental reasons, but neither instrument was valuable. His mantle—the headpiece he wore that held knowledge of all things musical—told him that far better instruments could easily be purchased.

  On his way out of Toohkansay, Thomas stopped at the cantina, which had emptied at this time of night of everyone but the golden serving droids who scampered about, preparing the morning meal. Since the food was both free and excellent, Thomas took enough for several days—bread and cheese, wine, ham, chicken, and fruit. Then Thomas ambled outside and stood in the open, staring over the river.

  The night was warm; the stars in the sky burned with unnatural brightness. Maggie had said it was because they were so close here. Thomas didn't quite understand such talk. Something about the galactic center. Out on the edge of the river, bullfrogs croaked from the rushes, competing with soft music that played from speakers beside him.

  It truly was a lovely night, a great night for travel, but Thomas would not walk. Gallen and Orick were excellent trackers, so Thomas cast his eyes about, searching for a vehicle of some sort, or an animal to ride.

  At the docks, just beneath the cantina, lay some small boats shaped like white swans, with wings spread wide.

  Thomas carried his bags to the docks, stepped into the nearest boat, then looked for the ties that held it to the dock. He couldn't see any, and he attributed that failing to the poor light. The shadows made it painfully dark.

  By accident, Thomas pushed his hand against the dock; the boat drifted a few feet into the depths.

  He cast his eyes about for oars; found none.

  So he sat in the boat, fuming. No oars, he thought. No damned oars. Nothing to row with but his mandolin case. True, I could use my lute, it would make a better oar, but I dare not min it.

  He considered just drifting the river, but as the boat drew away from the dock, it just sat, as stationary as if it wallowed on the beach.

  "Damn," he cursed, "how am I supposed to go anywhere?" The head of the swan boat turned; its dark eyes blinked, startling Thomas. He leapt back, tripping over his seat.

  "Where would you like to go?" the swan asked. "I'll take you."

  Thomas didn't know what to answer. He stammered, "Downstream." The swan boat moved. Thomas felt its legs kick, paddling, as if it were a living creature.

  Thomas rested on the cushioned seats and watched the stars bum overhead. The boat moved slowly. It was a pleasure craft. Thomas found himself fighting tiredness as the boat carried him away.

  He roused a little when distant sirens wailed back at the city; he'd gone far downriver. He'd never before heard a siren, did not know that it warned of a Dronon invasion. He simply wondered why someone played such loud squawking horns at night; he closed his eyes and slept.

  When he woke, the boat was still heading downstream. Thomas judged he'd gone far enough. He planned to wait three days until Gallen had left the planet, hide in some thicket.

  Strange trees with long drooping stems and dark trunks lined the river. Thomas watched till a wide tributary opened between trees, then told the swan to go in. The swan swam up a small river for a mile, then Thomas set camp and ate a heavy breakfast, drank half a bottle of wine.

  The next two days came warm and sunny, the nights pleasant; Thomas felt at peace. After the first day, when Gallen didn't catch him, Thomas suspected his nephew and niece had left Fale. By the third day he felt certain of it.

  On that day he'd have taken the swan back to Toohkansay, but instead, while exploring the shoreline, he found a trail by the river, a graveled walk. There, he sat on the banks and played his lute. There he met the Lady Wimisonne, a woman past her prime who enjoyed Thomas's company so much that he found himself sharing her bed for the next month.

  From her he learned of the invasion, of the Dronon's search for Gallen and Maggie. During days "The Lady" worked in town. To keep Thomas entertained, she showed him how to run the holo.

  From it, Thomas learned more about the Dronon than he'd ever wanted to know: On the first night of the invasion, while Thomas floated lazily down the river, a human Lord Protector had challenged the Lords of the Seventh Swarm to a ceremony called "Right of Charn," in which the man fought the Dronon in an effort to turn them back from the planet.

  It was then that mankind got its first glimpse of the Lords of the Seventh Swarm—the Golden Queen Cintkin and her Lord Escort Kintiniklintit.

  The Lords terrified Thomas. He understood why his kin back home had thought them demons, had mistaken a Dronon Vanquisher for Satan, "Lord of the Flies." Though Thomas had seen a dead Dronon, he'd never watched a live one, a Lord Vanquisher, move. He hadn't imagined the way it would bounce on its hind legs, with a rhythmic grace. He hadn't imagined the power of the beast. Kintiniklintit looked like some horrific wasp or mantis—with his pee-colored wings and huge battle arms held out dangerously. He seemed enormous.

  Though his size was attributed to a natural mutation, holovid commentators speculated that Kintiniklintit was a product of eugenics,
that human engineers had gifted him beyond other Vanquishers. He'd been sired by the Lords of the Sixth Swarm, who had conquered mankind. That meant that humans could have boosted this young prince.

  But there was other evidence of an unholy alliance. The Lords of the Seventh Swarm seemed to have embraced human technology more than anyone would have thought possible: They were traveling through the world gates, technology forbidden to all but the Tharrin and their representatives.

  Until he learned all this, Thomas hadn't recognized just how dangerous the Dronon were. Until he saw Kintiniklintit in battle, he had no idea why Gallen fled from the Dronon.

  The Lord Protector who challenged the Kintiniklintit was a huge man, a full head taller than Gallen O'Day. The fellow had enough muscle on him, he could have auctioned it off to blacksmiths.

  Even more fascinating to Thomas was that a woman stood beside the Lord Protector. In order to make the ceremony complete, the man had to risk not only his life, but the life of his wife. Thomas wondered at the woman's nerve. My Maggie has done that, he reminded himself.

  The holovision didn't show the Lord Protector's battle against Kintiniklintit. Witnesses said it was too gruesome to display. The beginning of the battle was unspectacular—photos showed the Lord Escort clocking record wingspeeds, computer graphics projected his mass to be one-third larger than any other Vanquisher ever encountered. The holos showed the Dronon flying toward the human Lord Protector, an enormous man all in black, who leapt and kicked as Kintiniklintit approached. Then the screens blanked, denying Thomas a view of the poor man's fate.

  It was said that in one blow, Kintiniklintit slashed the Lord Protector with a heavy, serrated battle arm, slicing him into ragged halves. Kintiniklintit spared the man's wife. That was something, Thomas considered.

  Despite the images on the holo, as Thomas stayed with Lady Wimisonne, she filled his nights with such diversion he did not worry much about rumors of Dronon searches.

  Even when the Dronon left the planet Fale, Thomas remained with "The Lady" for a few days.