by Stuart Jaffe
“Stay here,” she said. “And get him down.”
Malja leaned her head into the hall. Abrazkia stood at the top of the stairs, her orange and black hair and stark white face seemed brighter against her dark do-kha. She wore no other clothing as if she anticipated needing a full range of motion with her do-kha. That didn’t bode well.
“You all alone here? I haven’t seen any servants or anything.”
Abrazkia’s lips curled up. “I sent all my staff home. I didn’t want them in the way. But you have nothing to fear. No ambush is awaiting you.”
“But you’ve been waiting, right?” Malja stepped into the hall.
“Indeed. You left so suddenly. We never got a chance to really talk. And when you consider that Gate rarely have the opportunity to spend time with each other, well, I was sad to see you leave.”
“You’ve got Harskill. You could talk with him all you want.”
“That would not be a pleasant or interesting conversation. He and I have a long history, and it’s at a rather ugly point right now. But don’t judge me by him. In fact, don’t judge anything by him. He’s a liar and filled with malicious intent.”
“So, I should trust you?”
Abrazkia turned and took two steps down. “You should hold judgment until you possess all the relevant information. Come with me, now. We should talk. I have things to say, and I imagine after all these years, you have many questions. Learn first, then judge.”
Before following Abrazkia downstairs, Malja made sure Tommy knew to finish with Harskill. She could tell by the look on his face that he did not approve of her decision, but he would not stand in her way. Harskill’s eyes narrowed on her as if to say, “Go kill that scum for doing this to me.” Well, Malja assumed it was something like that. Probably included far worse language but the idea would be the same.
As she climbed downstairs, her pulse quickened. Maybe this only looked as bad as it felt. After all, Abrazkia had been alone most of her life. All Gate had. Isolation could do funny things with a person’s mind. Perhaps she truly meant only to talk with Malja and nothing more.
Yet Malja’s skin tingled and all she could think was that she had entered a trap within a trap.
Chapter 13
Abrazkia moved as if seducing all around her — even the walls. She trailed her fingertips along the old wood, and the knots practically shivered. Though Malja never cared about carnal pleasures other than to fix a hormonal need once in a while, she did notice a single ping of jealousy at Abrazkia’s do-kha. It synchronized its motions to hers so that it never once looked wrinkled or even folded — a perfect fit no matter what shape Abrazkia’s movements took on. Until that moment, Malja had no idea that much control over a do-kha existed.
Abrazkia led the way to a metal door with three riveted bands crossing horizontally. “You are a remarkable woman, and you’ve proven yourself to be an excellent warrior. But there’s much more you can be. No matter the circumstances of your upbringing, you are Gate. That brings with it access and strength and power far beyond what you’ve seen or experienced.”
She shoved open the door and entered. Malja followed. Her eyes never stopped searching for an attack. Until she saw the room.
Her heart skipped — a room stark white like Abrazkia’s painted face. Sleek tubes lined the ceiling edges like a bizarre molding, except this molding provided all the room’s lighting. Eight small domes sat evenly spaced on the floor like smooth turtle shells. The room reminded Malja of what her homeworld had been like before the Devastation. She half-expected to find a window looking across a gleaming city as the room floated overhead.
Abrazkia presented the room with a flourish of her hands. “This is my command console. Here is where I accept the burden, the responsibility, of being Gate.”
With her foot, she tapped one of the domes and an image formed in the air above. Though it looked like a near-perfect painting, this painting moved. The image depicted a street — no, the street. The one Malja had rescued the Artisoll from. A drunk teetered along weaving into the middle before teetering back toward the sidewalk.
“Is this happening outside?” Malja asked.
Abrazkia nodded like a teacher proud of her student. “See that? You prove once again that Gate is your blood. Though you’ve never seen a surveillance system like this before, you instantly understand. To answer your question — yes, this is a view directly outside my home. I have numerous key locations all over this world that I can tap into from this room. I also have access to mobile cameras which will bring me images from any place else I need to observe.”
She tapped two more domes and other images formed in the air — soldiers sleeping in one of the northern camps and children playing in a schoolyard during a bright afternoon on the other side of the planet. As Malja watched, mesmerized by the images, Abrazkia walked to another dome. She paused as if contemplating whether or not to show this next bit of magic, but Malja saw the moment for what it was — dramatic flair meant to intimidate or strike doubt. Neither would be the case. As amazed at these sights as Malja felt, she had experienced many incredible things in her life. Her mind adapted quickly, and already she thought about the important questions — Why was Abrazkia showing off all these technologies? And did any of this harm Malja or her objective?
Abrazkia tapped the dome and a new image appeared. This one spewed out a column of words as well as a map. Numbers scrolled along beneath the column.
“This is the most important creation we Gate have ever devised. More important than the do-kha. This room is a massive achievement that harnesses all the magic within and shapes it into a useful, functioning, thinking machine.”
Malja tried to hide the skepticism from her face. “This entire room is a machine that thinks?”
“It is a melding of magic and machine, and though it can think, it cannot decide. It only obeys my commands. But with it, I control this world’s future. From here, I can access endless data on every living being. I can locate anyone. I can aid them or destroy them. I can reshape this world or let it fall to ruin. But I do not, I cannot, abuse these abilities. For I am Gate. I must do all I can to protect this world from unlocking the destructive powers which we had the misfortune of discovering long ago.”
“The portal magic.”
“What would Life become — here or anywhere — if all had access to this kind of power? Chaos and violence. Every universe you can travel to would be the same. If allowed to slip between universes, the horrors people continually create would become the ruin of all living beings, destroying world after world, universe after universe, until all that remains would be struggle and darkness. Imagine if wherever you traveled, you found the barren wastes that you grew up in.”
“You Gate — why do you always see the worst in everyone? Not every world is bent on destroying itself.”
“How many worlds have you seen? A dozen? Not even that many?”
“I’ve seen enough.”
“Then you should already know the answer. But you don’t. More proof that you need a proper education. Allow me to begin that process for you.”
The left sleeve of Abrazkia’s do-kha stretched to the floor and connected with one of the domes. The lighting dimmed and the previous running domes shut off. A new image appeared — this one encompassing the entire ceiling. As Abrazkia spoke, pictures of planets and stars and galaxies, which Malja had only read about in torn apart books, swirled above.
“Language can fail us when we try to understand the nature of what our ancestors discovered with these portals. The concept of a portal suggests a passageway from one location to another — a tunnel or a door or a hole in a wall — some type of opening that we go through to leave one place and arrive at another. Because we think of it this way, we make the mistake of assuming that we have actually traveled in distance. Especially when we add words like world or universe.”
All the dazzling images zoomed in together to form a single spinning sphere. Abrazkia continued, “B
ut what many Gate have learned is that there are no parallel universes. Here language got it right the first time. Universe implies one. Singular. And that is the truth. There is only one universe and only one world upon which you have traveled.”
“No,” Malja said. “I’ve been on many worlds. You want me to believe that I can get in a boat and travel back to Corlin? No. Where I come from, the world had been ripped apart by the Devastation. I see no evidence of that here. Or in Carsite. Or any of the other worlds I’ve seen.”
“But they are all of the same universe. Corlin is Carsite is Reo-Koll is any number of worlds you can think of and many you can’t. That’s why the situations you encounter are so violent. Corlin is violent. So is Carsite. So is Reo-Koll. So are they all. It is why you can speak with so many peoples and why magic connects all these worlds. Think of each world like the layers of your arm — skin, muscles, bones. All part of the same universe — you — and all part of the same arm, but each different and unique. All the layers exist unaware of the other, and to travel between layers requires some sort of passageway through — a portal.” Abrazkia brought the lights back on and cleared the air of all the images. “Had you been raised as Gate, you would understand this already. It may be difficult but —”
“Not difficult at all.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve met many people like you before. The dressing is always different but the meat is the same. On my world, on Carsite, on Reo-Koll or any number of worlds you can think of and many you can’t — there always seems to be people who think it’s their job or their right to impose their will over others.”
Abrazkia bristled. “You make my point for me. Had you a proper education, you would never dream of speaking to me like this.”
“I’ve only met two Gate so far, and I don’t care to meet any more. So, my proper education will not be happening.”
“We Gate serve. We are not some rabble trying to rule over others.”
“I agree. You’re not rabble. But you do want to rule. Harskill is blunter about it, and he certainly takes it further than you do. He wants to be a god. That doesn’t change how I see you, though. You and all Gate, I guess, want to stop all the rest of the worlds from gaining what you already have.”
Abrazkia’s voice rose and her fingers clenched tight. “We protect them. Our world is gone. Destroyed by portal magic. Yours, too. Your Devastation would never have happened had a Gate stopped the magicians in your world from playing with things they did not comprehend.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard this story before.” Malja tried to be casual in her movements as if debating these points and nothing more. All the time, however, she maneuvered towards the back corner — not normally a good tactic, but here she thought it would be ideal. Nothing could surprise her from behind, and she had a straight shot for the door while giving herself plenty of space to attack with Viper if needed.
“If we did not guard these secrets, all of the universe — every permutation of the world — would be obliterated. Your Devastation would be nothing when compared to all worlds together.”
“Yet here we are. Gate created the do-kha. Gate found a way to use portal magic without shredding apart the universe’s worlds. And Tommy, the young man with me, he has created portals that hold together fine. Even on Corlin, I met an entire group of people who used the music of guitars to wield magic strong enough for portals to exist safely. It can be done.”
Abrazkia’s white makeup blistered as her anger heated her face. “If we were to allow such a thing, imagine all these worlds with the ability to jump in and out of each other. Those who really are as you described, those seeking to impose their will over others, they will turn entire worlds into war zones. Nothing will be safe. Peace will no longer exist anywhere. Our way maintains sanity in the universe. Our way leads to peace.”
“Is that why you sent assassins to Carsite? Kill the Artisoll and destroy the sole bearer of magic in Reo-Koll?”
“Had you not interfered in the first place, I might not have had to do such a thing. I don’t object to magic in this world. I only wanted to see the power shift to a better place. The elder Queen had begun to think she deserved more from her magic than merely taking care of this world.”
Malja slipped Viper loose and settled in, ready to fight. “I was right about you. All of you Gate. But you make the same mistake every despot I’ve toppled has made — you all think that the way to run things is to control everybody. You should trust people, instead. Give them the freedom to live how they want, and they’ll surprise you with how peaceful they can be.”
“Certainly. So peaceful. Until your neighbor decides he wants your land or your spouse or your child. Then you come crying to people like me, begging us to run things, as long as you don’t have to worry over any threat to your little, pathetic world.”
“Every word out of your mouth only convinces me more that all this nonsense of protection and redemption and such — it’s all nothing more than Gate justifying the suppression and enslavement of world upon world. Even if those worlds are unaware of it. You disgust me.”
Abrazkia’s eyes flared. Shrieking like an enraged oschi-bear, she rushed forward. She spread her arms open wide and never hesitated — even as Malja lifted Viper.
She swung at Malja, but her arms never made contact. Viper gave Malja far greater reach. The blade flashed between them and sparks flew off Abrazkia’s do-kha. Malja whipped Viper back across Abrazkia’s chest, but again sparks popped off the do-kha.
“Your silly weapon won’t hurt me at all. If you understood anything about Gate or your do-kha, you’d have realized what a stupid little girl you have been.”
Abrazkia backhanded Malja, lifting her off the ground before crashing down. Her vision blurred and colorful dots dazzled what little she did see. She tried to stand, but Abrazkia never gave her enough time.
As Malja’s vision cleared, she saw Abrazkia’s do-kha stretch out two tendrils from the waist. They snaked around Malja’s ankles and effortlessly tossed her across the room. She bounced off the wall and clunked her head on the hard floor.
“We Gate are the warning to all,” Abrazkia said. “Look at Harskill — a self-professed god. Do you honestly want all the worlds of the universe to have access to this ultimate magic when people like Harskill exist? I think not. Why else do you fight him? So, now that you’ve been properly reprimanded for your insulting behavior, let’s forget this. Come with me. We’ll have a midnight meal and I’ll explain to you how I wish to proceed with your education.”
Using the wall for balance, Malja planted her feet on the floor and forced her legs to hold firm. The room tilted now and then, but slowly, her equilibrium returned. Blood streamed down the side of her face, and her back had become an aching mass.
Glowering as she lowered her head, Malja breathed deeply several times. She concentrated on her do-kha, picturing what she wanted it to do, and praying to the Brother Gods she had never believed in that this would work.
The right sleeve of her do-kha slithered outward, covering her hand and continuing on until it reached the length of a short sword. Then it hardened like a blade. “I have no use for you,” Malja said.
Uttering a battle cry, she lunged forward. Abrazkia’s do-kha formed similar blades over both her hands. When they clashed, there was no metallic clang — merely the dull thuds of a fistfight. But Malja had no misconception — these do-kha blades were deadly.
Thrusts and cross-strikes were parried with ease. Both handled a blade well, and Abrazkia smirked throughout the fight. When Malja attempted an overhead axe-strike, Abrazkia crossed her blades and caught Malja’s arm in the middle.
Malja pressed harder but Abrazkia held her off. She eyed Abrazkia, hoping to intimidate her opponent with the animal fury blazing from her pupils. Instead, the chest of Abrazkia’s do-kha rippled.
Malja saw her mistake too late. She tried to pull back, but Abrazkia’s blades curved around Malja’s, keeping her locked in. Then a doze
n prongs shot forward from Abrazkia’s do-kha. They hit Malja in the chest and stomach like rapid tiny fists. Thirty or forty strikes in seconds. They pummeled the air from her lungs and deadened the nerves in her arms. She slumped forward, and Abrazkia stepped away so Malja would tumble into a heap.
“I should be sad,” Abrazkia said as she extended one blade to rest under Malja’s chin. “Killing any Gate is a considerable crime, and we have so few of us left that I would have loved to watch you blossom into our way of life.” She pressed the blade against Malja’s neck. “But you are a stubborn one, and with all I’ve shown you, if I couldn’t convince you to learn more from me, then I suppose you are lost to us. The magicians who raised you destroyed all that I could have worked with. In some way, I think your death will be a mercy.” With a gentle smile, she added, “Unless, perhaps, you’ve had a change of heart. Wouldn’t you enjoy learning how to do the things I’ve done to you?”
Malja sneered for an answer.
Abrazkia’s face chilled. “Very well.”
She pulled back her arm to thrust forward with full force when a black substance covered her head. Her do-kha snapped back to normal as she clawed at the substance. Though she yelled, her yells were muffled.
Through her dim vision, Malja noticed a long tendril stretching across the room — from the substance all the way to Harskill and his do-kha. He twitched his arm and Abrazkia was tossed into the wall. Then smashed into the ceiling, dropped to the floor, and back to the wall again.
He pulled his do-kha back. Abrazkia had been knocked unconscious. Tommy rushed in, looked over Malja, and administered a spell. Simultaneously, she felt her do-kha doing what it could to comfort and heal her.
“Thank you for the rescue,” Harskill said. “I hope saving your life is repayment enough.” Without another word, he opened a portal and stepped through.
“No,” Malja whispered, unable to get more sound out.