by K J Morgan
The warrior's corpse was still there, the skull staring upward, a braid of blonde hair twisting from the bone. She dropped down into the hole with it, dragging the grate overhead and ducking low.
Raising the detonator, she flipped open the switch-guard and pressed her finger to the button, shutting her eyes against the loss she couldn't bear.
"Seth," she whispered. "Thank you."
* * *
Seth heard her through a haze of bleak exhaustion, his strength failing even as her song reached him. They were the higher notes of a goddess, her emotion pure and clear. She was going to end it, destroy the Gate.
He braced himself for it, knowing that it might give him a moment before he slipped away, just the right moment. It was all that he wanted now.
He would never see Miranda again, never know her closeness, or have the life he had once yearned for with her. But her world might continue. It was the only gift he had left to give. He fell beneath another crushing blow, the Khagan's power now drawing completely from the Gate, from the infinite reality it channeled through its metal heart.
Be quick, he thought. Be quick.
* * *
Miranda felt the warping power of the Gate spreading across the desert outside, the playa slowly distorting in its grasp. She closed her eyes, her finger cinched up on the button. Conjuring the memory of Seth driving his RV, smiling at her with the sun at his back, she pressed the button.
* * *
The explosion in the Gate echoed into eternity, the screech and cry of its destruction ringing with the screams of the goddesses. There was a shift in the light, a blurring of power. The Khagan's soul glared to radiance, then disappeared, its strength leaving a luminous swirl behind.
Asmud roared. His soul grew dark in the haze, his form mutating into something twisted and painful.
Seth slipped back, reaching to find the handle of the dagger in his side. The Necromancer leapt forward, clawing at the air, desperate to destroy the object of his rage. Turning toward him, Seth shoved the blade into the monster's chest, releasing a dark spill of energy into the eternal sky. Asmud tumbled, his power released with a murderous cry. His outline grew dim and disappeared, leaving Seth to follow him into oblivion.
He drifted in the light, feeling his own energy slip away, surprised by the emotions that filtered toward him from above.
* * *
There was the sensation of being carried, the smoke acrid and cloying in her lungs, the sounds around her confusing. Miranda drew a breath of cold air, catching a glimpse of the night sky above her, its black field set with crystal stars.
She felt the sand rise underneath her and sensed the warmth of a human heartbeat nearby, comforting her as she slipped back into the embrace a dream.
* * *
The heartbeat changed rhythms, then abruptly paused, replaced by a cool stream of synthesizer music. Cigarette smoke drifted on the breeze. Laughter erupted from somewhere close. The sounds of people stirred all around her.
Miranda pressed her lips together, finding them cracked and covered in dust. Her body ached. A dull pain throbbed behind her eyes. She felt dazed, her senses swimming. She blinked awake, bringing a skewed view of the desert into focus before her, its pastel horizon appearing from under the stiff folds of a tarp.
I'm alive.
Pushing up from the sand, she brushed the canvas cover away and stared at her fingers. They were solid and real, human flesh paled by the light of an early dawn. "Alive," she whispered, glancing down at the tarp.
Tossing the rest of the fabric back, she found Seth lying in the sand next to her, his black hair caked with dust, his lashes brushed white. He was breathing, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm, his eyes closed…the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"Seth!" She leaned forward, anxious to put her hands on him. He felt warm under her fingers. Alive. She sat back and covered her face with her hands, tears welling in her eyes as she rocked with gratitude, unsure of exactly who or what she was thanking.
"Miranda?" his voice was rasping, uncertain.
She dropped her hands from her eyes to find him staring at her. "You got us out, restored us like this."
"No."
She wet her lips, tasting the desert on them. "Then who was it? How did we get here? What happened?"
"Stay here."
"What?"
He rose and pushed unsteadily to his feet, heading for the Byzantine tent nearby. Miranda swore under her breath, rising to follow.
They walked under the DJ stage. Music still thumped from the speakers beside it, a handful of dancers circling each other in the dust. Most of the camp now sat in ruins, its tents destroyed or half-collapsed, its glittering trees overturned, the arena covered in sleeping revelers and litter.
A man in a bear suit snored at the foot of the steps leading to the Gate. Seth stepped around him and climbed the short flight of stairs, slipping into the darkness of the tent. She hesitated, not wanting to face the old horrors or risk finding new ones. She'd seen enough, bled enough.
Clenching her teeth, she pushed back the tent flap and followed, bracing herself for whatever or whomever she might find.
There was no one there. The Gate loomed in the murk, damaged and silent. No songs threaded from its walls. No soft glow lit its corridors.
She frowned, thinking of all the souls that had helped her, all of the Rathvam voices that had guided her, even when it meant handing her the tools to destroy their own existence. Where were they now?
She could hear Seth's footsteps on the metal and she followed the noise, walking through the entrance and down the closest corridor. The markings still appeared on the metal around her, but there was no resonance, no life in them.
An open section of floor grating appeared before her and she paused, hearing Seth mulling in the chambers below. Grimacing, she crouched down and lowered herself into the hole. She slid awkwardly along its length, no longer able to control her movement or alter the physical laws it obeyed.
The destroyed chamber appeared at the end of the passage and she spilled into it, tumbling to land at Seth's feet. She swore under her breath and felt his strong hands pull her up, the warmth of his body as he steadied her.
"Pete—"
"I got him out while you were dueling with the Khagan. He'll recover."
"And the Khagan?"
"Got us out."
She blinked, looking down at the place where the Khagan's body had been. The grate above it had twisted, its metal ripped apart and distorted by the blast. The shadowed space beneath it was empty, offering no trace of the skeleton that had once stared up from its depths.
She struggled for an explanation.
"All three of us were restored," Seth offered. "And he is serving a different kind of sentence now."
"Meaning…"
"I've been replaced."
She stared at him. "Replaced? You mean like fired?"
"It's not a punishment. It's a reward."
"For saving the world?"
"Something like that."
"But—she cut her gaze to empty crypt. "You're the Master of the Gate, right? I didn't think you could be replaced."
"I wasn't the first."
"What do you mean you weren't the 'first'?"
"How much do you want to know?"
"None of it," she snapped. "I don't want to know anything more, just tell me that this part is real."
"It's real."
"And we can just walk away."
"On the condition that we never look back."
"What?"
He granted her a tired smile. "I'm retiring to Sedona. Wanna come?"
She smiled in spite of herself, catching his brevity as if it were a lifeline. "Yeah, I think I do."
"Good," he said, sliding his black Stetson over his hair.
"You found your hat."
"What did you think I came back in here for?"
"Right."
"C'mon," he said, offering his ha
nd.
They climbed out of the passage, walking steadily through the silent corridors until they reached the bridge and the tent beyond it. Seth brushed back the flap and led her into the orange glare of daybreak.
The playa stretched out before them, its surreal canvas brushed with music and movement, things built and destroyed, cherished and wasted, the great social experiment finding form and purpose that not even its participants understood.
From the haze of rich sunlight, Sheriff vehicles began to appear along the road, heading swiftly for the Gate.
"Time to go," Seth remarked.
"You're sure? Just go and be normal? That's a lot of power to give up."
"Won't miss it," he said darkly. "Besides, I've still got a goddess to take care of, don't I?"
Clasping her fingers, he raised them to his lips, leading her gently away from the shadowy wreckage behind them.
Morgan Karpiel
K.J. Morgan is the pen name for Morgan Karpiel, an RWA Golden Heart Finalist (2005, 2009 & 2010) and the recipient of the prestigious Maggie Award of Excellence in Fiction. She is the author of light romantic erotica and science fiction. She also welcomes you to visit her on Facebook at K.J. Morgan
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
About the Author
The Burn
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four