by Jay Swanson
Ardin found Rain shortly after and pulled her aside. He was surprised at how easily she agreed to his plan. Her brother wouldn't listen to anyone else, she admitted. She gave Shill her orders, that he was to follow Cid to the camp and rejoin their forces. He didn't look too happy at the idea of leaving her side, but he was in no condition to ride at any real pace. They left a quarter of their strength buried outside the little village temple. A dark place made even darker by the passing of the night before.
Ardin and Rain took two horses each and left before the others had even finished packing their gear, making due west as Rain lead the way. They angled north slightly from time to time. She told him there was a highway they would eventually connect with that way. It would take them to her home.
The first day was spent riding through the ashen wastes of the Truan Empire. It went too slowly for Ardin.
“How far do we have to go?” He asked her as they reined in for the night in an outcropping of boulders. There had been no sign of enemies the whole day, but they didn't want to take any chances.
“A hundred leagues or so,” she said as she took the saddle off her mare.
“How far is a league?”
“We traveled about ten today.”
“Ten leagues?” He almost exploded. “We... how... this will take forever!”
“We can't very well fly, can we?”
Ardin wanted to take that as a challenge, but he calmed himself as he groomed his own horses and fed them. He was happy to have Gella back. The fire he sensed in her brought him a sense of peace, of kinship.
“Do we even have enough supplies to make it that far?” He asked as they sat down to a meal of stale bread and dried meat. “I didn't see much in the way of foraging for us, or for them.” He gestured with his thumb at the horses. They were already rooting around in the dead ground for any sign of grass.
“It will be tight,” she admitted. “I'm more worried about water.”
They did come across a spring the following day, however. And though most of the water they found was spoiled by ash, they would get lucky often enough to continue on. How a countryside could burn so thoroughly made little sense to Ardin. It made him wonder what horrors the Demon unleashed to accomplish it.
The farther west they traveled, the more alone they felt. The great expanse had been abandoned by every living creature. They came to a winding river that she said had once been a boundary between two warring kingdoms. They walked down a gentle slope among the bare poles that had once been trees. At the water's edge sat a solitary statue, covered in differing shades of ashen gray. A woman in mourning, veil covering her eyes, and the wings of a swan sprouting out of her back and relaxing gently behind her. It settled a weight on Ardin's heart to see it. The ash made him think of Levanton, the statue of his mother. He wasn't the only person in this world to lose everything to the flame.
Rain wondered aloud where her enemies had gone, but each passing day left her a little less cautious until finally they rode openly where they wished. When they made it to what she called the high road, they kept an even better pace. But it was still too slow for Ardin.
At night he hardly slept. The knowledge that time was running out weighed on him. The stars brought little consolation, regardless of how bright and clear they burned here. The darkness was consuming. The only light he ever dared show was that in the crystal on the chain that hung around his neck. He took it out from time to time, rolling its delicate silver framework in his fingers, watching the little purple light float inside. He wondered if Alisia was watching him now. Wished she could be there to help.
“What is that thing?” Rain asked one night after they had made camp to sleep.
“I thought you were asleep.” He put the Uriquim back under his light armor, shifting as he leaned against his pack.
“I've been sleeping about as much as you have.”
“That's kind of a creepy admission,” he joked. He picked up a block of wood from his gear with a thought, he had taken to carving them at night to settle himself down. “You know, most people wouldn't admit they watch others sleep so openly.”
“It comes with being high-born I suppose. I don't tend to worry what others think of me.”
“You don't?” He could barely make out her figure as she lay a few feet off in the darkness. “I would imagine being daughter to a king would lead you to pay that much more heed.”
“You would think so.” She rolled onto her back to look at the stars. “And in some ways it does. My father always warned us to behave.” She put on as deep and manly a voice as she could manage. “'The realm is no place for childish antics. To act is to be perceived, and to be perceived – whether accurate or no – is as truth to those perceiving.' He had a lot of things like that to say.”
“He sounds wise,” Ardin said as he rotated the block in the air. “Though kind of girly.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.” She laughed to think of her father. “He was a great man. We only wish we still had him with us. When he walked the streets of Islenda, people cheered. They always did. 'It's because I give them justice,' he told me once. 'A king must be stable, straight, and true. Some will hate him for it, but only for their own failings.'
“I think it was more than that, though. He was kind. He was very regal, but he was always kind. He treated each person he came across with the same level of deference as he would someone of import. I think there was scarcely a soul in the West that wouldn't have gladly died for my father.”
“I wish I could have met him.” Ardin meant it too. He couldn't believe he was walking into the midst of such an immense world. It made him feel all shades of insignificant. He flicked the block of wood to the side and slid onto his back.
“He would have liked to meet you too, I'm sure.” She sounded quiet, strange. “I'm glad you've come. It changes everything.”
“I just hope it changes enough,” he said to the stars. “I don't even know what I'm supposed to do when I get to the Gates. I don't even know what the Gates are.”
“They're the last bastion to the Catacombs. The Cathedral of the nameless mountain. The Tomb of the Relequim. Whatever you want to call it, the Gates are the doors that separate the Demon from our world.”
“I thought it was a mountain.”
“It is a mountain. An enormous mountain. The Magi carved the very roots out, so that it would be totally isolated from the rest of the world. It is connected by a solitary bridge, one that spans nearly a mile over the chasm.”
“So the mountain... is floating?”
“Yes.” She rolled back on her side to look at him. “I've only seen it once, but it was magnificent. The bridge runs from Ilthuln to the Cathedral. It's a magnificent building that comes straight out of the side of the mountain. The Magi never did anything halfheartedly, that is for certain.”
“Tell me about the guardians. They're the people living in Ilthuln?”
“They aren't the guardians,” she laughed. “The people living in Ilthuln are guardians of a sort, but their sole purpose is to deny access to the bridge itself. They constructed a fortress over the pass that leads to the village, and have built a lifestyle around its protection. No, the guardians you've heard of guard the Gates.”
“They guard it night and day?”
“Certainly. There are nine of them, and they're designed to stop any sort of would-be intruder.”
“Designed? That's a strange way to talk about someone.”
“They're statues, Ardin. Not like any men you've ever met, certainly.”
Ardin rolled to his side, incredulous at the story. “You want me to believe that the fate of the Demon's tomb lies in the hands of statues?”
“They come to life, Ardin. Each in turn. They're designed to stop anyone from approaching. First of all men, then the once-men. Then the Shadow and the Magi. Finally the half-Shade, the half-Mage, and the Brethren.”
“That's only seven,” he had counted on his fingers as she listed them off.
“There are three Brethren, Ardin. All of those creatures have it in them to undo the Gates, and so all of them must be prevented from entering.”
“Even the Brethren? Why?”
“They were humble enough to admit they should not be trusted in this. If no other race were to be given confidence, then neither should they. They are noble creatures, your Brethren. You're lucky to have them.”
“Sounds a lot more stupid than noble,” he scoffed.
“Not really,” she said calmly. “They would never have any reason to let the Demon loose. So why not add more guardians to the mix? It makes sense in a way, and they are far better than what our Greater Being became...”
“So you can take me to them?” He asked. “You can get me into Ilthuln?”
“I can try. They may not let you in.”
“Isn't your brother their king? Can't he order them to let me in?”
“On such things no king has authority to give any such order. The men of Ilthuln are their own rulers, though they swear allegiance to us, yes. They were given authority over the pass, and thus have full responsibility as well. It is entirely up to them who they let through and who they deny.”
“Next you're going to tell me that their leader has gone mad and will no longer let anyone in.”
Rain didn't laugh. She stayed silent as she rolled on her back.
“Oh God,” he said as he propped himself up on his elbow. “Really?”
“Get some sleep, Ardin. This journey may be easy, but for us, it's only the first of many.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
ANDERS KEATON WAS ALREADY SWEATING IN SPITE OF THE WINTER CHILL. It was hot inside the bloodstained green uniform that he wore over his own armor, but having a loaded gun aimed at his head drew more beads across his brow. He had known this was coming. Somehow he had let himself believe it would not.
“Rogers,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “What are you doing?”
“You know well enough, sir.” He edged forward so that the barrel of the gun pressed into Keaton's temple. “We were supposed to complete our mission, and you were to die a hero. It looks like we won't be getting the first half done, so it's best we get on with the second.”
“Think about what you're doing for a second, Rogers.” The men around him looked confused, but none moved to help him. He was on his own. “What good will it do if I die here? Those things over there, whatever they are, they're going to kill us all if they aren't stopped.”
“Seeing as they're on this side of the fight, I say let 'em.”
“They'll do a lot more damage than that, Rogers. They'll kill ours too, assuming they haven't already!”
“We'll get to it, then. But I have my orders, and I mean to see them through first and foremost.”
The shot resounded dully among the low rolling hills north of Liscentia. The ground was more dirt than sand here, but it drank Rogers' blood as thirstily.
The man they called Slim kept his rifle high, ready to put down any opposition that presented itself. “Anyone else have orders they need carried out? I'll carry 'em out right now for you if you do.”
“You...” Keaton took another step back, hands still in the air. “You just killed one of your own!”
“Pick up his gun sir,” Slim wasn't budging. “Do it!”
Keaton obeyed, picking up the sidearm that had only been moments away from ending his life. Slim took that as his opportunity to strip the mask from his nose and mouth and slide the darkened visor from his eyes.
“Sykes?” Keaton couldn't believe his eyes.
“They wanted me to witness your glorious death, to come back and tell about it, but that didn't seem quite glorious enough.” Captain Brendyn Sykes grinned at the major. “Sorry if the method was a bit sloppy there, sir. I wasn't sure who I was gonna have to plug in the end. Besides, I don't know if a man threatening to kill your superior officer is truly 'one of your own' when you come down to it.”
“I don't think I've ever been happier to have my ass saved, Captain.” Keaton looked at the rest of the squad facing them. “I'm not even going to ask how many of you knew about the plot to kill me. It doesn't matter. Even I knew about it.” That left a few shocked looks on the faces he could read. “Still, things have changed. Our friends are being overrun right now. Both sides are facing something I suspect none of you have ever had to fight.”
He lowered his gun, beckoning Sykes to do the same. The captain was reluctant to say the least. “The game has changed, men. You can kill me if you want, but it won't serve any purpose. Not if there's no Elandir left for it to embolden. We're on the verge of being overrun by a third party. Someone who's wanted this war more than any of our superiors.”
He couldn't tell if he was winning them over or just biding time. So he decided to find out. “If we put an end to this battle, we can help mankind refocus on the real enemy. All is forgiven. Or you can kill me here and go die for nothing. In any case, I'm getting back into the fight.”
And with that he walked over to the nearest truck. He stripped the green uniform off as he went, stepped into the cab, and started the engine. Sykes was in the seat next to him before he had the truck in gear. He heard the tailgate in the back open. The truck jostled a bit as the men climbed in, and then the heavy metal swung shut.
“Looks like you made some new friends,” Sykes smiled.
“Let's just hope they aren't of fickle persuasions.” Keaton shifted and sent dust spinning as he floored the accelerator. There wasn't much time.
The road back seemed much shorter than it had when they were escaping. In fact, they were back to the battle lines much sooner than Keaton was truly comfortable with. They stopped a hundred yards from the nearest struggle. Men on both sides of the battle were bunching together, firing at the black monsters as they scurried around over the sand. There were hundreds of them. The ground seemed to be teeming in black fur and yellow teeth. The Demon's force was unleashed in full, and the clusters of men were losing.
They could hold off the onslaught well enough for a while, but eventually the sheer volume of beasts would overwhelm them. All it took was for one or two to get into their midst unharmed, and the entire unit would dissolve in terror. Then they became easy pickings.
Keaton watched as two such groups were overrun in a matter of minutes. He put the truck back in reverse and made for a hill just another couple hundred yards behind them. Once on top of it he got out and hit the side of the truck three times to get his men out. Sykes was already coming around.
“Set up a perimeter ten yards out from the truck, most of your strength facing the fight.”
“Aye sir!” Sykes had his helmet and mask back on already.
“And get whoever our best shots are on top of the truck itself.”
“Aye sir!”
“Tallheart!” Keaton was already looking at the carnage below through his field glasses. The things were swarming over the entire battlefield. Both battle lines, the valley between, anywhere men had been fighting was writhing black.
“Sir.” Tallheart had an extra bag on his shoulder. Where that had come from, Keaton didn't even bother asking. He didn't really want to know what all they had planned for him, and questions would only lead to knowledge.
“I have two tasks for you.”
“Sir.”
“The first is setting traps around the perimeter, primarily facing the main fight. You have anything that can suffice?”
“I've got a couple of directional mines and tripwires, sir. Not many but it should do the trick.”
“Fine, set those up first.”
“Then?”
“I want you back up here. Scope out any dense gatherings of the things and launch whatever you have at them.”
“I like the sound of it, sir.”
“They haven't taken an interest in us yet, but that'll change things. Get your mines set up fast. Take anyone you need to help get it done.”
“Right sir.” Tallheart was off
in an instant, calling for two men to join him as he ran down to set up his mines.
“Sykes!”
“Sir?” Sykes' voice came from somewhere behind him.
“Your perimeter set?”
“Well it was, sir, until that bastard Tallheart took two of my men!”
Keaton laughed at that. “They'll be back, then I want you facing the fight.”
“That's where I'd be if I wasn't plugging holes over here, sir.”
“You remember how these things come, don't you?”
“Fast and ferocious.”
Keaton shuddered to remember it. “And they stink like hell.”
“If hell has a smell, sir, I'd imagine they've matched it. But on the bright side, at least there's not much grass to speak of. No sneaking up on us.”
“We don't have much in the way of ammo, let alone firepower. There are what, fifteen of us?”
“Fourteen, begging your pardon sir. I put one down if you'll remember.”
“Fourteen of us then. And not a chance in hell that anyone is coming to help us.” He was starting to wonder if they shouldn't have made a run for it. “So kill as many of the little bastards as you can before you die. And if you do die, don't do anything stupid that kills anyone else when you go.”
The men shouted in unison around him. It was a strange one-word chant. He'd never heard it before.
“All right then.” Keaton took up a position in the front towards the center of the line as Tallheart and his help came running back to them.
“All set, Major. Furry little frogs won't know what hit 'em.”
“You have anything that can reach them from here?”
“Do I?” Tallheart said with a hidden grin. He returned with two of the snub-nosed launchers and a long one that looked more like a big black tube. “I think I'll start with the rocket. Always more fun and I can get some ridiculous range.”
Tallheart dropped the gear on the ground save the tube. He pulled on the ends and it grew three times in length. He hoisted it on his shoulder. Caps on the ends flipped off automatically as he pulled a square box out in front of his eye.