Skull Gate

by Robin W Bailey

  The captain seized his hilt with both hands, gripped it until his knuckles were white and the bone showed through. “There can be no going home!” he cried desperately. “Not while you have my queen!” He sliced the air twice, sunlight rippling along his blade, then leaped for the nearest foe.

  Frost brought her sword around.

  Gel moved, caught him by the neck before his feet touched the earth. Bone snapped. The demon looked up at Frost, holding the dangling corpse in one hand. A trace of a grin stretched his hideous lips. “Thee owes me thy life,” he said.

  “You flatter yourself,” she answered coldly, disturbed by his cruelty and his insult. She'd been in no danger from the captain's clumsy attack.

  The demon shrugged, dropped the lifeless hulk, and turned to glare at the remains of the terror-stricken patrol.

  “Go home!” Onokratos repeated. There was no captain to halt them this time. Three men, still mounted, spurred for the ridge where they'd first appeared. The rest ran or limped after them on foot.

  Tras Sur'tian turned back to the wagon. “Thank you for your mercy,” he said to Onokratos.

  The wizard nodded and sat down with a sigh. “They were your people. You would have fought them, I know, for the sake of your queen. But you would not have felt good about it.” He scratched his beardless chin. “It was better my way."

  Tras Sur'tian pursed his lips thoughtfully. “We should bury them,” he said. “As men, they deserve that."

  “There isn't time,” Onokratos said reasonably. “Some of their comrades will return when their fear lessens. They'll do that work. I've learned that much of Korkyran honor."

  “I think we need a drink,” Frost said, reaching into the wagon for the water-skins. They all drank, even Gel. Frost noted that with some concern. Thirst was a human weakness; before, the demon had refused all food or drink.

  They decided to abandon the road for fear of another chance encounter. They set off cross-country toward the waning sun. In the early evening they entered yet another woodland. The going was rough for the wagon and they made slow progress. A little way farther they found a clearing and decided to make camp. The first stars winked in the gathering gloom, barely visible through the leaves.

  Frost helped Tras Sur'tian water the horses from a small pool. “Am I wrong,” she said softly as they trudged back to camp, “or have you made a friend?"

  “Onokratos? A friend?” He wrinkled his nose in a curious way. “I wouldn't call him that. But we have talked along the way.” He looked thoughtful. For a while he didn't say anything; then he spoke again. “He's not so different from us, really.” A wry smile flickered over his mouth. “He's got your temper. But he loves his daughter. He'll do anything to help her.” He stopped and looked her straight in the eye. “Just as you and I will do anything to save Aki.” He shook his head and resumed walking. “No, we're not so different at all."

  She considered that, not sure she liked what it implied. The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her. She didn't like Onokratos. She didn't trust him. If they were so similar, what did that say about her?

  She peered upward at the sky, full of a vague dissatisfaction. The leaves rustled in a gentle breeze. Through a gap in the branches, a swift flash of color caught her attention. “You know, that's odd,” she muttered. “I saw a shooting star last night, too."

  Tras Sur'tian followed her gaze, but the star was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Another night on the hard ground. No matter how she tossed and turned, Frost couldn't get comfortable. Her muscles ached from the chill; her joints complained. She longed to curl up next to Kimon but feared her restlessness would wake him. She envied his every snore. The others slept as soundly as he, but try as she might sleep eluded her.

  A scuffle in the darkness made her sit up. Her hand closed on the hilt of her sword, which lay sheathed at the edge of her blanket. The ashes of the campfire glowed dull red. Gel squatted near the remains and regarded her through the pale wisps of smoke that curled up from the last embers.

  His whisper drifted across the space. “We're much alike, thee and me."

  “I'm tired of hearing that,” she answered, reclining again. “Go to sleep."

  “I do not sleep."

  She ignored him, shutting her eyes and reaching once more for much desired slumber.

  But the demon's sibilant whisper reached into her mind. “What sees thee in that pathetic human male?"

  With an uneasy start she realized he spoke of Kimon. Slowly, she sat up and glowered. “None of your business,” she hissed. “Leave him alone.” He said nothing and she lay back down, inwardly fuming. Fatigue made her irritable. If only she could sleep.

  The wind rose loud through the leaves. The chirping insects seemed to roar. Her blanket rustled with every movement of her restive body.

  “He has no bulk.” Gel's whisper came again. “I could snap him like a dry twig."

  She bolted upright, all thought of discomfort cast off. Her blade sighed from the sheath. She leveled the point in the demon's direction. The steel reflected the dying coal's ruddy sheen. “Can you die, demon?” The words scraped through her teeth.

  His face became a patchwork of shadows and umber highlights as he leaned closer to the fire-bed. “Not in the sense thee means, woman."

  “In any sense,” she pressed.

  Gel shrugged. “I do not know. It may be possible."

  Her voice came out a tense rasp. “I'll make it possible,” she warned. “If you ever harm Kimon, I swear I will. If I must make a pact with all the gods of darkness. If I must pledge my soul to Gath!"

  She saw his grin, his fanged teeth tinged orange from the coal-light. “That is what I like most about thee!” he answered gleefully. “Thee are full of fire and spirit."

  Tras Sur'tian stirred, a black lump beneath his cloak and blanket, but he did not awaken.

  “You're going to rouse everyone,” she hissed. “If you don't sleep, at least let them!"

  She sheathed her sword, fatigue quenching her temper. “Remember what I've sworn,” she whispered to Gel. Then she stretched out, determined this time to sleep.

  But she heard footsteps. Gel's huge form loomed over her, blotting out the leaves and stars. He seized her arm, hauled her effortlessly to her feet. “Thee will not choose the human over me."

  She opened her mouth to call for help, but his other hand clamped it shut. Her sword lay on the ground out of reach. Demonfang was her only hope.

  Yet before she could draw the weapon, Gel's gaze locked with hers. A cold fire grew in the black depths of his pupils, filled his eyes, consumed his face. She tried uselessly to scream. The unnatural fire swelled, engulfing them both in a raging embrace.

  Suddenly, she was airborne. The earth dropped away with dizzying speed. The tops of trees churned in the wake of their passage. A trail of flames streamed behind, lit the landscape, spawned bizarre shadows that raced in all directions.

  She was transformed. All sense of body was gone. Yet she was not alone. She felt the demon's mind close to her own. Gel exulted in his power!

  A hill rose ahead, its summit capped with a small grove of trees. They flew toward it, losing none of their fantastic speed. She cried out, fearing they would crash, but at the last possible instant, momentum ceased. They drifted down, a blazing fireball, not even scorching the grass. She felt solid ground beneath her feet. The flames vanished.

  Gel leered, his face close to hers. “Do not resist me."

  She slammed her fist against his chin. The shock tingled up her arm. Her knuckles felt broken; they throbbed with pain.

  His grin widened. Lust shone in his eyes. “I cannot be harmed by the likes of thee,” he boasted. His hand touched her shoulder.

  She caught his wrist, twisted. The demon made a startled squawk as he tumbled over her shoulder. She grabbed for Demonfang's hilt but didn't draw the blade. “You can be hurt by the likes of this!” she threatened.

  He stood slowly, seeming
to grow from the soil as she watched. Ebon skin rippled over flexing muscle that gleamed with sweat-sheen. Limbs lengthened and his chest swelled as an evil laugh rumbled low in his throat. He challenged: “Can I?"

  She hesitated. Gel could control the dagger's hunger. She backed away from him, fear eating its way into her heart.

  “I will be good to thee.” Starlight glinted on his nakedness. His sex protruded hugely from his thighs. He gestured invitingly. “Come, the grass is soft."

  “No!” she managed. “I won't!"

  “Thee will."

  A mighty wind rose from nowhere and pushed her stumbling forward. She threw up a hand to protect her eyes from her own hair as it lashed her face. Though she resisted, the gale forced her toward the demon. Something caught her toe; she tripped, fell to the ground. Her fingers dug deep into the grass and earth, seeking purchase.

  “Thee will!"

  The words rang in her head, not a voice anymore, but a compelling sensation that screamed inside her skull. She fought with all her strength to shut out his commands, but the demon advanced on her, his reaching arms blocking out the starlight, closing around her as they transformed again, became the wings of a giant raven. He swept her up, lifted her into the sky.

  Talons raked away her garments; cold air stung her flesh. The world spun below. With a despairing cry she saw her belt fall, taking her last weapon. Feathers, not flesh, pressed against her body. One pair of massive pinions beat the night. Another pair effortlessly cradled her weight. Her fists pummeled ineffectually against the bird-thing that bore her.

  Something pressed against her loins, radiating heat.

  “I'll kill you!” she shrieked. “I swear!” She screamed again, searing pain ripping through her, then she bit her lip until blood ran down her cheek.

  The demon began to move inside her.

  When he was finished, Gel spiraled lazily down to the hill where their flight had begun. He deposited her gently on the soft grass. She lay limply, burning with shame and anger, letting the stars revolve maddeningly above, praying for the fire in her belly to subside. She rolled agonizingly to her side in time to see Gel's raven-shape disappear. In his human guise the demon took a step and suddenly faltered.

  “How's it feel?” An incoherent half laugh gurgled in her throat. “Soon, your power will be gone forever.” She curled her fingers into a weak fist. “Then you'll be mine!"

  “My power will live on,” the demon answered. “Already my seed begins to grow in your body."

  She shook her head, ran a hand over her abdomen. “No!” Fear took hold of her again; she smashed her stomach with her fist in a vain attempt to destroy whatever might be there. “No!"

  His clawed hands clutched at the sky. He shouted to the heavens, “I was a commander in hell's legions! In all the ranks of demons, none surpassed my power. Not one! But Orchos ruled! Curse his name! His word was law, and I could never be more than a servant to his will, a slave to be ordered like any other insignificant creature.

  “So, when Onokratos summoned me, I saw my way to freedom. I rebelled, and convinced the stupid human to make a new pact with me and break his bond with night's master. If I could not rule in hell, then I could rule this feeble world. It is no more than chaff among the jewels of the cosmos, yet it would be mine!

  “However, my ignorance betrayed me, and I am undone! Corrupted by exposure to the human maggots! Who would have thought it possible? My magic wanes. Soon, I will be little more than a human myself."

  His attention returned to her. No longer did he rage at the uncaring sky. His gaze burned with fervor. “But I will not lose all! Thee shall bear a child, spawn of demon and mortal. It shall have my magic. And because it is also of thy flesh, it shall not be corrupted. It shall grow and mature, and someday it will rule what I cannot!"

  She rose shakily to her feet, clutching her belly. “I won't let that happen!” she shouted defiantly.

  The demon trembled in his weakness, but his voice answered with strength. “It has already started. Can thee feel it? It grows within thee."

  She advanced on him, at last empty of all fear, full of a terrible hatred. “I will stop it!” she swore. “If I have to kill it!"

  “Thee will not.” His dark countenance glared at her. “For two years my seed will ferment in thy body. When that time is past, thee will feel only love for something that is part of thee."

  “Never!” She spied a large rock in the grass, bent, and lifted it. She heaved it over her head with both hands, strained, and flung it with all her strength at the demon.

  Gel pointed one finger. The huge missile stopped, hung motionless in the air. “I was the most powerful demon of them all,” he boasted. The rock exploded in a white, powdery shower. She fell back, shielding her eyes. His taunting voice echoed in her ears. “I cannot be harmed by the likes of thee."

  In the far distance a strange trumpeting sounded. Gel looked around, startled. Frost cupped her ear, uncertain of what she thought she heard.

  “You're weakening,” she observed, regaining his attention. “It shows in your eyes, in the way you hold yourself, the way you suck for breath."

  The unearthly sound came again, nearer. The demon stared suspiciously over his shoulder. Frost hid an inward surge of hope behind a sneering visage. She knew that sound; she had not imagined it. Perhaps there was vengeance after all!

  “I'll never bear your monster.” She poured all her rage into words. “You're still a slave! And you'll serve me well at Skull Gate, or you'll never win your freedom from Onokratos.” Scorn twisted her features as she mocked him. “You thought you could rule humans? Fool, you'll serve us, instead!"

  The trumpeting split her ears, drowning her mouthings. Gel whirled about and stared wide-eyed down the hill. A loud crashing in the underbrush punctuated the staccato drumming of charging hoofbeats.

  “What is that?” he shouted, uncertainty tinting his question.

  She threw back her head and laughed, a hysterical sound. “Does the darkness hamper your vision, now?” she exulted. “How like a human! Every heartbeat, every breath you draw makes you weaker. Are you weak enough to hurt, demon? Are you weak enough to die?” She ran at him.

  The force of his blow smashed her to the ground. Lights exploded behind her eyes, and the air rushed from her lungs. She willed herself to rise, but muscles would not respond. Gel stood over her, fists doubled in fury.

  “Thee dares too much, female!” He seized a handful of her hair, dragged her to her feet, ignoring her screams. “Thee shall not speak so—"

  He did not finish. Once more that trumpeting cry shivered the air. She hit the earth hard as Gel dropped her. She lay limp, trying to make her eyes focus.

  The demon turned, slack-jawed as a fiery-eyed Ashur charged to the summit. Barely in time, Gel leaped aside to avoid the lowered ebony horn that sought his heart. Dirt and grass flew from hooves as the unicorn stopped his rush and turned.

  Frost rolled to her side, her body shrieking with pain from the effort. One side of her face felt numb where Gel had hit her. “Kill him!” she urged the beast, but the words came out a bloody, frothy bubble. “Kill him!"

  Gel crouched to meet the unicorn's next charge, but his face betrayed his fear. Suddenly, he straightened. The man-shape dissolved. Four immense black pinions spread, blocking out stars. Familiar red eyes shone with evil and hatred. The raven-thing answered Ashur's trumpeting with a raucous, ugly cawing. Then, it took to the sky and was quickly lost from sight.

  Frost struggled to her feet, shouting curses after the demon, but the world spun crazily around her, and she fell. Pain and humiliation and anger overcame her senses.

  Ashur's soft, wet tongue licked her to wakefulness. Her eyelids peeled slowly back. It was still night. The stars twinkled icily in the heavens, mocking her with their mute serenity.

  After a while, she tried to sit up. Nausea was her reward. The grass felt cool, damp with dew beneath her bare skin. She was only vaguely aware of the cold. Every bone
, every joint and muscle cried with its own silent voice. She lay back down, awake, but unable or unwilling to move, hoping the stillness of the world might soothe her hurt.

  Ashur nickered in sympathy. The unicorn paced worried circles, encouraging her to rise. Something else succeeded where he could not.

  Another shooting star blazed a path across the firmament and disappeared below the western horizon.

  Realization crawled through the fog that filled her head. “I know you,” she muttered with growing coherence. “I know who and what you are. Are you waiting for me?” She half expected an answer, but none came. Languidly, she eased onto her side, then to her knees. Ashur stopped his pacing and came close. She grabbed a handful of the creature's long, tangled mane and pulled herself to her feet. For long, painful moments she just leaned on the unicorn, fighting down sickness until she found strength to climb astride him. She bit her lip until the trembling that seized her subsided. Then she looked at the point on the horizon where the shooting star had fallen. “I'm coming,” she promised.

  Ashur carried her down the hill, through the woods, going where he would. She made no attempt to guide him. She had no idea where she was or how she would find camp and her friends. The unicorn had found her as he always did when she needed him. Let him find the way back. She rode, slouched forward, sliding in and out of consciousness, insensitive to the branches and brambles that scratched her naked flesh.

  Yet as she rode, her heart began to harden. A good thing Ashur hadn't killed Gel, she reflected. She still required him at Skull Gate. She didn't wonder if the demon was already back at camp. Onokratos had only to speak his name and he was constrained by pact to answer the summons. She grinned bitterly to herself. Gel wasn't free, yet. He was still a slave to the humans he detested.

  The rose of morning was blossoming through the leafy foliage when she arrived in camp. Onokratos saw her first and called to the others. Tras Sur'tian and Kimon rushed to meet her. The strain showed on their faces, told they'd been awake long enough to miss her and feared the worst.