The Fatal Gate

by Ian Irvine

  “So what?” said Ifoli.

  “I don’t know, but it could be big.”

  “You owe me a favour,” said Sulien boldly, though she was quaking inside. “Teach me how to use my gift.”

  “I will,” said Shand. “The moment I’m cleared of being a traitor.”

  49

  WE CAN’T WAIT TWO MONTHS

  Karan, Llian and Sulien had been on a picnic down by the River Zur, but their peaceful afternoon was shattered the moment they returned.

  As they reached the front doors of the library, Lilis, who was standing outside, called, “There you are. Down to the war room, quick!”

  “What’s the matter?” said Llian.

  “Can’t talk about it here. Go!”

  They ran down to the war room and two wild-eyed guards ushered them inside. The door was closed and Yggur pointed at it, sealing it. Tallia, Malien, Yggur, Nadiril, Aviel and Janck were seated around the long table, watching Xarah, who was at the end, studying her scrying device.

  “Continue,” said Janck.

  Xarah’s device now resembled an astronomical armillary, having a number of brass rings that could be moved in three dimensions independently of each other. She edged several of the little crystal pointers along their rings, moved one ring to the vertical and another at right angles to it, then nudged a pointer this way, another that way. She was staring intently at the device, though Karan could not imagine what she expected to see.

  No one spoke. Beside Karan, Sulien was shivering. The crystal Xarah had just moved along the vertical hoop emitted a dark red flash. She exhaled in a great sigh and thrust the hoops out of alignment.

  “Well?” Janck said roughly.

  “In the past hour the flow from the summon stone has trebled,” said Xarah.

  “And?”

  “It appears—as far as I can tell—to be flowing out of the world to Cinnabar.”

  “To the Crimson Gate,” said Karan.

  “I assume so.”

  “Once the Merdrun reopen the gate,” said Malien, “their army will be able to move in minutes to any place on Santhenar, and bring the rest of their army here from Cinnabar. They’ll be able to attack Thurkad from inside its walls, or any other target they want.”

  “On Cinnabar they were invincible when attacking mighty fortresses from outside,” said Llian. “If they got into Thurkad, or Roros, or any other great city …”

  “How are we going to stop them?” said Malien. “We have to decide right now.”

  “We can’t let them complete the gate,” said Janck. “We’ve got to attack Gwine.”

  “How?” said Tallia. “The Merdrun number ten to twelve thousand there. To invade the island and attack any normal army that size, behind strong fortifications, we’d need an advantage of at least four to one—an army of fifty thousand, say. But the Merdrun are not a normal army. Each soldier is the equal of three or four or five normal fighters.”

  “In another month I’ll have an army of sixty thousand,” said Janck. “And a fleet to carry them.”

  “But it’s another month’s sailing to Gwine, assuming the winds are favourable and the winter storms allow it. We can’t wait two months, Commander, or even two weeks, or the Merdrun will be gone and the war lost.”

  Janck stood up suddenly. “There’s too many people here who don’t need to know. Out, everyone! Those who need to be here will be called within the hour.”

  Karan was heading towards the door when she realised Sulien was still sitting at the table, head in hands, staring at the polished surface. Karan touched her on the shoulder.

  Sulien did not move. Karan gave her a little shake. “It’s time to go.”

  Sulien’s head slumped forward. Now alarmed, Karan raised Sulien’s head and looked into her eyes. The pupils were dilated so widely that hardly any of the iris could be seen; her mouth was open, her jaw slack and her breath was hissing in and out.

  “Sulien, what’s the matter? Llian?”

  She heard him running back and the others speaking urgently among themselves. Sulien gave a great start and a choking gasp, then shoved herself away from the table with such force that her chair fell over backwards. Llian caught her and lifted her up.

  “The triplets,” whispered Sulien, her pupils slowly returning to normal. “I saw them drinking lives, dozens of lives.” She took another gasping breath; her eyes widened and flicked from side to side, then she howled, “The gate! The gate!”

  Janck, Yggur and Malien pushed through the throng. “What about it?” said Janck.

  “Saw its shadow,” said Sulien. “Red as blood.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Malien shoved him aside, took Sulien’s hand and said gently, “How did you see all this, Sulien?”

  “It was … a seeing.”

  “Was the shadow of the gate on Cinnabar? Was it the great Crimson Gate Karan saw there?”

  “It was like the Crimson Gate, but it was in a hot place, not a cold one.”

  “On Gwine?”

  “I … think so.”

  “But a shadow, you said. Not solid stone. Not real.”

  “I could see right through it,” said Sulien.

  “Was it getting more solid?”

  “Not really.”

  “That’s something,” Malien said to the others. “So it’s not forming quickly. It could take days.”

  “It’d better,” Janck said grimly. “What else does she know?”

  “What can you can tell us about the triplets?” said Malien.

  Sulien squirmed. “They’re much worse than before, and stronger. I don’t want to think about them; I’m scared they’ll get me.”

  “Do you know why they’re worse?”

  “Yes,” said Sulien.

  “Why, damn it?” said Janck.

  “Leave her alone!” said Karan, shoving him aside. She took Sulien’s hands, then said quietly, “Is there anything you can tell us about them? Any tiny little thing you noticed?”

  “They’re worse because they’re taking power from the summon stone, and it’s really foul now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s making them worse … and they’re making it worse.”

  Yggur leaned across and said quietly to Janck, “We can’t let them open the gate.”

  “In another week and a half—”

  “We can’t wait! This is an emergency, Janck. We’ve got to strike now, ready or not.”

  PART THREE

  BATTLE

  50

  I’M BEING SENT TO GWINE?

  “Well?” said Janck coldly, the moment the guards escorted Llian into the oppressive subterranean chamber known as the Tomb. Janck, who was even more paranoid about secrecy than before, had moved his war room there immediately after the last meeting. The guards went out and closed the door.

  “You’ve had Rulke’s papers for days,” Janck went on. “What have you discovered?”

  Llian sat down at the other end of the twenty-foot-long table. He had no idea what was being planned, when or where. Everyone was doing sixteen-hour days and no one was allowed to talk about their work.

  “I’ve translated the most important papers and scanned the rest. The Histories of the Charon in the void are … incredible. Someone will make a Great Tale out of them one day.”

  “I couldn’t give a damn about tales,” snarled Janck. “What does he say about the Merdrun’s weaknesses?”

  “Nothing.”

  Janck’s voice rose. “But the Charon fought a civil war with the Merdrun right across the void. Rulke must know their weaknesses.”

  “They come from the same stock,” Llian pointed out. “And the Charon were surrounded by far more numerous enemies: the Aachim, Faellem and us. Maybe Rulke removed anything that could have been used against his own people.”

  “You’ve got nothing for me,” Janck said disgustedly. “This has been an utter waste of time.”

  Llian, who had a chronicler’s thick skin, did not react. “
There was one intriguing thing though.”

  Janck brightened. “Go on.”

  “While Rulke was imprisoned in the Nightland he designed a virtual construct that could fly and create portals from one place to another.”

  “And after he escaped he built it,” growled Janck. “Everyone knows that. So what?”

  “Rulke talks about using his virtual construct to move forwards in time—and he may even have done so.”

  “Bloody nonsense,” Janck said coldly. “Get back to work. You’ve got half a day to find the Merdrun’s weaknesses—Forget I said that.”

  “You never mentioned it,” said Llian, rising.

  But he could not stop thinking about it as he returned to the locked room where Rulke’s Histories were stored. Why only half a day?

  As he turned the key, Aviel limped up, walking oddly. “Hello,” said Llian.

  “Can I talk to you?” she said softly. “In private.”

  “Come in.”

  She followed him into the little room and he closed the door. “What is it?”

  Her cheeks went a delicate shade of pink, then she said, “Wait a minute.” She turned away, fumbled with her skirts, then turned back and laid the black sword in its copper sheath on the table.

  “What’s that for?” said Llian.

  “Can you give it to Wilm?”

  He gaped at her. “He’s a prisoner. On Gwine.”

  “Yes.”

  It hit him like a punch in the mouth. “I’m being sent to Gwine?” She did not reply, though he could read it in her eyes. “How do you know?”

  “I … overheard something,” said Aviel. “Llian, I’ve got to help him. Will you give him the sword? It saved me from Lumillal, and it’s the only thing that can save Wilm now.” Her eyes were dripping. “Please.”

  “I’ll do everything I can.”

  After she left he sat at the table stroking the embossed sheath. This was it. He, who was useless with weapons of any kind, was being sent to war. To his death.

  “Why would they send you?” said Karan when, in defiance of the edict on secrecy, he told her later that night.

  “I keep asking myself the same question.”

  “You’ve got to say no.”

  “None of us has a choice any more.”

  It was a grim night, probably their last together, and neither of them slept well. Whenever he woke Karan was lying rigidly beside him, staring at the dark ceiling. He finally got to sleep around four in the morning, but again had the unpleasant experience of being woken by Yggur an hour before dawn.

  “Get up,” said Yggur.

  “What the hell for?” said Karan.

  “We’re under sealed orders,” Yggur said unhelpfully.

  Everyone had been ordered to pack days ago, though no one had been told why. Was Janck sending Llian to punish him? It was the only explanation that made any sense.

  In a desperate silence he dressed, gathered his gear and strapped on the black sword. Karan rose, her hair a wild tangle across her shoulders, clung desperately to him for a minute, then shoved him away.

  “I hate goodbyes,” she said. “Especially …” She threw herself at him and hugged him again. “Just go!”

  The thought was unbearable. Would he ever see her again? Or Sulien? Llian stood there gazing at his precious daughter, asleep on her bed shelf. What would become of her if Janck’s plan failed?

  Karan put her arms around him from behind. “You’re going for her,” she said quietly. “Whatever you have to face, no matter how bad it is, you’re doing it because it’s the only way to save her. And when my time comes, whatever they ask of me, I’ll do the same. It’s why we keep going, Llian.”

  It helped. “Thank you.”

  She pulled free. He kissed Sulien, who stirred uneasily in her sleep, and followed Yggur out and up. The roof lay in darkness, though starlight showed it crowded with dozens of sky ships. He counted fifteen sleek Aachim craft, most of which had only arrived recently, plus many boxy vessels, much larger than the ones he had seen before, made in the shipyards of Sith.

  Llian followed Yggur to a marshalling point where their names were taken and they were ordered to one of the huge sky ships on the western side of the roof. Their names were checked again and they were ordered aboard.

  “What’s this all about?” said Llian to the bearded thickset fellow at the foot of the ladder.

  “No questions!”

  Llian clambered in, staying behind Yggur so he could whisper to him when no one was listening, “Can you tell me?”

  “I know no more than you.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’m here solely because of my flying ability. No non-Aachim has more experience than me. Or a greater ability to channel the power needed to make a sky ship fly.”

  “But you know where we’re going?”

  “I will when I open my sealed orders.”

  “Don’t suppose you could leave them lying around where I could have a peek?”

  Yggur gave him a cold stare. “You and I are not friends, Llian, nor are we ever likely to be.”

  True enough. Llian looked around. The boxy interior, lit faintly by glowing strips along the roof, was spartan. There were no fitted cupboards, just racks of gear covered by nets, and only one seat, for the pilot.

  “Are we supposed to sit on the floor?” said Llian.

  “By stripping out unnecessary weight, the craft can carry another six men. There are loops fixed to the floor. Put your legs through that one.” Yggur pointed to a loop next to his seat.

  Llian did so. The floor was hard, cold and uncomfortable. “How long do we have to put up with this?”

  “How long do I have to put up with your whining?”

  Soldiers climbed aboard and trooped up to the back. Llian counted forty of them. An officer followed, a massive fellow with a square head, a severe deficit of neck and boots like rectangular slabs. In a surprisingly high and nervous voice he directed his troops to put their packs behind the cargo nets and sit down.

  “Anything you say, Cubo,” sang out a soldier up the back.

  “Who said that?” he cried.

  No one answered. “The name is Cubbers,” he said coldly. “Captain Cubbers.” When he sat down on the bare floor the whole cabin shook.

  A thin, nervous man entered. “Healer Lukey,” he said almost inaudibly. Hingis clambered in, nodded to Llian and sat behind him, looking serene. He had wanted to go to war for ages; he wanted to die and would soon get his wish.

  Last of all to board was a young Faellem male. Llian stared at him; he had not seen a Faellem in a dozen years. He was small, slender and golden-skinned, like most of his people, and very handsome. He nodded to Yggur and Llian, then took the last loop, beside Hingis.

  When everyone was aboard and the hatch had been closed, Yggur extinguished the lighted strips along the ceiling, took off smoothly and turned west.

  “If there are spies about,” said Llian, “the moment they see all these sky ships take off they’ll guess what we’re up to.”

  “Who said everyone is taking off at the same time?” said Yggur. “Or heading in the same direction?”

  He opened a sealed envelope, holding the contents in his lap while he read using a glimmer from a fingertip, then tore the slip of paper to pieces and put them in his mouth. Yggur flew into cloud then turned, watching a small compass strapped to his wrist. He kept turning until Llian was completely disoriented, then straightened up and headed on, the great rotors going ticker-tick.

  “Can we have some light?” said Llian, getting out his journal.

  “No.”

  It was going to be a very long flight.

  51

  DON’T MENTION THAT TRAITOR’S NAME

  “Where’s Daddy gone?” said Sulien in the morning.

  “I don’t know,” said Karan. “And if I did, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you.”

  “Stupid secrets! I’m going to find out.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, darling.”

  Two agonising days passed without a scrap of news, then in the following afternoon Karan was ordered to the Tomb. The usual people were there: Nadiril, Malien, Tallia, Janck and Xarah, plus Hublees and two men she had not seen before.

  The first was a big, grizzled old officer, Juto Clept. A dip halfway down his broad nose looked as if it had been hacked out with a blade, and a scar ran from his left cheek to his ear, which had been split in two horizontally. His bare arms were deeply tanned, heavily scarred and sparsely covered in coarse yellow hairs. The other man was small and slender, with short black hair and a shark-belly complexion, as if he never went outside in daytime. His arms were hairless.

  “The attack is on,” said Janck. “Twenty-eight sky ships left two and a half days ago, heading in all directions, though most went to a secret location on the north coast. There, twelve hundred troops and thirty officers embarked in the dead of night and flew north—to Gwine.”

  “And you sent Llian with them,” said Karan. “Why would you send him to war?”

  Janck gave her a very cold look. “The Merdrun share many characteristics with the Charon, and Llian knows more about the Charon than anyone alive.”

  “Except Shand.”

  Janck went an unhealthy shade of purple. “Never mention that traitor’s name!” He controlled himself with great difficulty. “Llian’s advice, if he succeeds in finding the enemy’s secret weakness, could prove crucial—since you and Sulien have signally failed in this endeavour.”

  When Karan did not reply, he went on. “But once there, Llian will have to fight like everyone else. There’s no room for baggage on this mission.”

  Fight and die. An image flashed into her mind: Llian lying in the bloody mud of a sweltering tropical battlefield, dying, flies swarming—She choked down a scream.

  Janck was still talking “ … and our troops include ninety Aachim and fifty-five Faellem.”

  “I didn’t know any Faellem had come,” Nadiril said interestedly.

  “They only arrived three days ago.”

  “Good. The Merdrun will see that all three human species on Santh are united against them.”