The Way of the Soul

by Stuart Jaffe

  A loud crack rippled across the sky.

  “That’s got to be Fawbry’s guns. I’m responsible for those deaths, too. He wouldn’t be there fighting and killing if he didn’t believe in me. Neither would Tommy. Maybe even you, for that matter. So, am I right for doing this? After all, I’m sure Harskill believes much of what he says. Sure, he wants the power, but he really thinks he can force peace upon the worlds by ruling them all. And he really is in love with me.”

  The Library continued its pulsing glow even as the flashes of battle sparked around it. The longer Malja rode, the greater the intensity of the light-show playing out on the horizon. The brighter the sky became, the darker Malja’s thoughts grew.

  “There is no answer, is there? We pretend we can figure it out or get a peek at the answers, but Life simply is. It’s like an ocean. It’s there, an endless, immovable foe that cares nothing about people or even the fish inside it. The ocean simply is. Maybe that’s why I can never stop feeling the need to fight on. If there is no real answer, no clear Right or Wrong, then what else can I do but fight against those who fight against me and my friends? Make a dent in that ocean — in Life. Crap, maybe I’m just trying to make myself believe that. See what happens when I have too much time to think? That’s the real reason I’m always caught up in these big battles. They keep my mind busy.”

  She chuckled and kicked the horse a little faster.

  As Malja had guessed, she arrived at the Library at dawn. A young monk ran up to her, took one look at Owl, and ran back. Moments later, five monks helped ease Owl off the horse and carried him away. Well before they lowered him to the ground, one of the monks had begun working on Owl’s wounds.

  Malja dismounted and patted the horse’s flank. Though hot and sweating, the horse had not complained the entire trip. When she handed the horse over to the nearest monk, one that looked in need of a job, she told him to make sure the animal got the best care. “Brother Owl would be dead if not for this horse.”

  With Owl and the horse taken care of, she needed to find out the state of the battle. She walked by the Library platform to check on Tommy. He appeared to have stayed floating in the same spot all night long. His shirt had been removed, and one monk doused Tommy with water, but if the water cooled him, he made no indication. Brother Ica saw her and hurried over.

  “This must stop soon,” he said, panting while he dabbed at his head. “You can see the intensity of the Library’s magic is growing, and Tommy weakens each time the Library shoots out more of its energy. Fawbry’s guns have eased up things, he’s dispersed all those magicians, but it’s not enough.”

  Malja brushed aside Brother Ica as she climbed the marble platform. Standing next to Tommy, she leaned in close and said, “If you can hold on, then do it. Daylight has come. One way or another, this is all about to end.”

  She waited. Tommy made no reaction, no acknowledgment that he had heard. She kissed his cheek and marched straight toward the bridge.

  The monks had lined up on the edge of the gorge with an extra concentration at the choke point leading to the bridge. Further back, Fawbry’s armored division — the three vehicles he had brought from the Order — rumbled low like growling beasts.

  A monk with a deep scar on his cheek approached. Malja recognized him from training — Brother Rakure. “Report,” she said.

  “We’re holding strong. Twice during the night, we had to fight off attempts to cross the bridge, but they appeared to be poorly organized and in small groups. We may not be all that skilled, but we had little trouble picking them apart at that choke point. We’ve had to stop our rifle attacks because the enemy moved back from the edge and are now out of range. Plus, we’re running low on ammunition. Our big guns can still hit them, but we’ve killed off so many that targeting is becoming more difficult. They aren’t as clumped together as before. I also wanted to make sure the men got plenty of rest since we fully expect a big push against us later today.”

  “I’m impressed. I can see why Fawbry put you in charge.”

  “Thank you. Also, there was a short quake a few hours ago. We thought that perhaps the enemy had put together some big guns of their own, but nothing more happened.”

  “That’s odd. Any damage?”

  “Nothing we could find.”

  “Okay. Good work.”

  “If I may, when you and General Fawbry go over our next move, I’d like to participate.”

  “Careful, Brother Rakure. Ambition isn’t really in the monk way of doing things.”

  Brother Rakure blushed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Searching the many faces up and down the line, Malja asked, “Where is General Fawbry?”

  “I haven’t seen him for quite a while. He left me in charge and went away. I assumed he wanted to check on the Library and possibly get some rest.”

  Malja nodded. “I’m sure he’s off dozing somewhere. I’ll go find him. You keep things running as well as you have.”

  Brother Rakure snapped to attention and went back to his men. Malja turned back to the Library but froze. Fawbry could do plenty of stupid things, but she had trouble imagining him abandoning his army so that he could rest. Not without giving clear instructions to Brother Rakure about where he could be found. Besides, with the regular blasts from the Library and the guns, he’d never have fallen asleep. Even if he had somehow managed to close his eyes, her return would have prompted somebody to wake him, so that he could report in.

  “Malja!” The voice echoed down the gorge and quieted everyone around.

  “Crap,” she said, turning back toward the bridge.

  Harskill stood at the other side. One of his crazy followers, Bell Wake, stood next to him. She held a short sword in one hand. Her other hand gripped the shoulder of a kneeling man. No need for Malja’s spyglass. She had no doubt the man would be Fawbry.

  “Guns down,” Malja ordered. It took a little time, but once they understood the situation, the monks all lowered their weapons.

  Without giving anyone time to argue, Malja walked onto the bridge. Brother Rakure attempted to follow, but a sharp glare from Malja stopped him. She went on by herself, keeping her focus on Harskill.

  For his part, Harskill stood firm with a triumphant smile on his face. Malja pictured Viper cutting that smile clean off.

  “Let him go,” she said, when she reached the halfway point. She continued walking, the swaying of the bridge no better this day than before.

  “Why should I do that when keeping him has ceased the bloodshed and brought you over here?”

  “Because if you don’t, the bloodshed will continue. And in case you’ve lost your sense of things, the bloodshed is primarily yours. You’ve lost. My army has reduced you by at least half. We’ve both been in enough battles to know that you can’t win now. So, let Fawbry go. No need to kill one more.”

  Harskill looked as happy as ever. “Lost? Why? Because you’ve wasted hours killing these worthless fools? Because you’ve squandered your precious arsenal and have exhausted your magicians? How can I consider this a moment of defeat?”

  The more Harskill spoke, the more worried Malja became. Outwardly, she maintained her sturdy, surefooted manner. Inside, however, she knew something was off. What could Harskill have that she had missed?

  “If you’re so convinced that you still might win this, then why take a hostage? That’s an act of desperation.”

  “You still have plenty to learn. Not everything has to be so clear. ‘An act of desperation?’ Well, in some cases, yes, it could be. In this case, though, stealing Fawbry was more an act of ambition on the part of Bell Wake. She portaled over and snatched him while nobody watched. Then she presented him to me hoping that I’d be happy and reward her well. Right, Bell?”

  Bell Wake licked her lips. “Exactly.” She tightened her grip on Fawbry, causing him to cry out in pain.

  Harskill waved her down. “That’s enough.” To Malja, he added, “She gets a bit enthusiastic.”

 
; “She’s going to get very dead, if she harms him again,” Malja said. A thought struck her. That quake Brother Rakure had reported — that was when Bell Wake had portaled over. Brother Ica was right — opening portals close to the Library could cause serious problems.

  “Once again, my dear, you are showing your ignorance of the way things operate. I have no interest in harming your friend. In fact, after all this time we’ve spent bumping into each other, I’ve grown a little fond of him. But regardless of how I see him, the only reason he’ll stay alive is that I want a peaceful resolution to this battle. Consider his safety my gesture of goodwill.”

  Malja reached the end of the bridge. Harskill, Bell, and Fawbry stood well out of range, as did the remainder of his army who gathered behind them. Off to the right, Reon watched with her blades ready to strike.

  “If you don’t plan to kill him, then let him return.”

  “I can’t do that yet. As you’ve pointed out, I’m not on the winning side. Not yet. Once I beat you, I’ll make sure he gets back to you.”

  “But you can’t —”

  The Library emitted a deep hum like a chorus praising a god.

  “Hear that?” Harskill said, his body opening up as if taking in the morning sun. “That’s your impending defeat.”

  Malja looked back at Tommy. His whole body vibrated, then shifted over several feet — simply blinked out of existence and reappeared instantly to his left. He vibrated again and shifted the same way to the right.

  Racing back across the bridge, her heart thundered in her chest. Tommy would never stop trying to help, but this was going to kill him.

  “Now you’ll understand the real power of Gate.” Harskill’s bellowing voice stopped her midway across. Not because of its depth or strength but because his conviction echoed around her. Whatever he planned, the moment had arrived.

  Malja glanced over her shoulder.

  It started small enough. A portal opened at Harskill’s side, and a do-kha clad woman stepped out. Another portal opened next to this woman, and another Gate stepped out.

  Then the sky opened up.

  Portal after portal cut holes in the sky. Gate after Gate dropped to the ground. The air crackled like bones snapping under immense weight.

  They filled in the spaces surrounding Harskill and his decimated army. They were the real army. And they kept coming. The sky had become a series of holes, each offering a glimpse to another world, each bringing armed Gate soldiers to fight.

  Harskill puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “Come over, Malja. These are your people. Gate. Your real family. Take a close look as they arrive. Your little monks have no hope of beating us. Come here. Join us. Return to the people you were stolen from.”

  Chapter 26

  Reon

  Awed silence overcame the army. Like all the gang members and gorgut and talisi and soldiers, Reon stared up at the sky, dazzled by the portals ripping open and dropping Gate. No fireworks display could ever match this sight.

  Lord Harskill continued his attempt to coax Malja to join him, but Reon could not keep her eyes from drifting upward. So many of them. Could they all be like Lord Harskill? Could they all be nearly gods?

  A commotion erupted off in the back of the army. One Gate had landed there, a tall brutish man, bald and scarred. His do-kha clung so tight to his skin that it outlined all the curves and ridges of his muscles. He walked forward, not slowing for those in his way. One soldier, shocked by the sight of this man, failed to clear out of the path fast enough.

  The Gate grabbed the man by the top of the head. The do-kha oozed over the soldier’s head and stopped at the neck. As the soldier clutched at his throat, suffocating in the do-kha’s grasp, the Gate twitched his arm muscles. The do-kha snapped into a flat form — crushing the soldier’s head with lightning speed. The Gate never broke his stride.

  Other Gate worked their way through the army, heading toward Lord Harskill. Any soldiers, gang members, or creatures that stood in the way were executed. Some Gate used their do-khas either as a straight-edged weapon or with the brutal creativity of the muscled-man. Others brandished weapons brought from other worlds — rapid fire guns, a weapon that shot bursts of glowing energy, one that streamed acid.

  Only fear kept the rest of the army in line. Instead of running away, they parted an unobstructed pathway for each Gate. That didn’t save everyone, though. Several Gate went out of their way to behead or dismember those standing aside.

  Anger and disgust mounted in Reon’s gut. The smell of death permeated the air. Many of the vicious warriors lost their overconfident glares. They watched the approaching Gate with trepidation and the knowledge that Death may be waiting — far closer than they had ever expected.

  She heard heavy breathing and felt warmth on the back of her neck. Then she sensed his large presence. When Reon turned around, she saw a man, a Gate, hunched over so that he could see her closely. He had to be nearly eight feet tall and wide enough to support that frame with sturdiness.

  Though her fighting instincts urged her to run, the rest of her body would not function. She did not scream in fright for her mind could not pull together the concept of fear. Everything shut down as this massive Gate puzzled over her. But he didn’t kill her.

  Why? she wondered. What did she have that separated her from the rest of the army? Her do-kha, of course. He saw the do-kha, knew it indicated Gate, but also knew that she was not Gate. He couldn’t decide whether or not she should die.

  As odd as this moment was for Reon, nothing could top the next instant. Bell Wake called out, “Leave her alone. She’s with us.” The eight-foot man made a face like a disappointed child and searched out a new victim.

  Reon’s body returned to functioning. She gasped for air and her pulse rattled to the tips of her fingers. On shaky legs, she moved with the main pack of Gate, heading toward Lord Harskill.

  With his arms wide, he spoke loud and strong. Though he kept his eyes on Malja as she stood in the middle of the bridge, Reon knew his words were meant for them all.

  “Do you see now? Is it not clear? We Gate are the most powerful beings in all worlds, and we must take control. It is our responsibility, our duty. And it can be our joy. We can bring peace and prosperity, love and beauty, to everything, to everywhere. But before that can happen, we must be in control.”

  To Reon’s left, a Gate raised her arms and two new arms grew from her biceps. She pummeled a green-scaled reweg with three mighty fists while pinning its spiked tail to the ground with her fourth. The beast whimpered until it made no sound at all.

  “No King, no President, no ruler of any kind wants to be usurped. So, we must expect that on world after world we will meet opposition. But as you are about to see, nothing can stop us, if we work together. With our own world destroyed, we have become children of all worlds. Thus, all worlds belong to us. It is why we stand here. It is our purpose.”

  Numerous Gate waved their arms up high and lifted a boisterous cheer. The exultation was brief. The Gate returned to their slaughter of Lord Harskill’s placeholder army.

  “This is your last chance, Malja. Save your friends. Save those who follow you from Death. Lower yourself on bended knee, order your army to stand down, and allow us access to the Library. We will have it no matter what you do. So, there is no reason for the loss of all those lives.”

  Anguished screams from behind caught Reon’s attention. A giant gorgut had been cut down at the knees. It rolled on its back, grasping the stubs of its legs while a Gate with long, red hair stood over its head. Her do-kha radiated and glowed as it turned deep red like metal in a forge. Then she simply draped herself across the gorgut’s face. Though Reon turned away, she could smell the cooking skin and hear the pitiful shrieks.

  “I know what you see here looks barbaric. But understand that most every world we visit will require this type of inspiration. Let me prove it to you.” Lord Harskill inhaled deeply and yelled loud enough to be heard over all the commotion. R
eon thought perhaps his do-kha had amplified his voice. “Cease!”

  All Gate stopped their violence. They walked to the edge of the gorge and stood shoulder to shoulder — calm and relaxed.

  Lord Harskill pivoted so that he could see both Malja and his army. “To those of you still alive, line up behind your masters. Join us as we take the Library. Join us because we are your new gods.”

  The army of gang members and soldiers, creatures of intelligence and of instinct, all rushed forward in a stampede eager to please.

  Lord Harskill grinned as he cocked his head towards Malja. “You see? With a few horrendous acts, we now have obedience and peace. Once we have control of the Library, this entire world will be at rest, peace, and joy. Life for them will be near perfect.”

  Malja did not bend to her knee. If anything, she looked taller, bolder. “And you want to be their ruler.”

  “I am their ruler. You can join me.”

  Even from a distance, Malja’s expression could not be mistaken. Reon had seen icy glares before, many of them from her mother, but this one — a shudder crept down her back. Had she been the one on the bridge, Reon had no doubt that she would have taken Lord Harskill’s offer. At the least, she would have paused to consider it. But not Malja.

  She showed no interest, no hesitation. Even if Lord Harskill’s predictions of the coming battle were true — and Reon thought they were — Malja refused to bend to his will. Reon admired that depth of conviction.

  “I am sorry,” Lord Harskill said. “There is no more time. Prepare your men. We are coming.”

  Malja sprinted forward looking as if she wanted to tackle Lord Harskill. Her braided hair slapped her back and she huffed like a charging herd of toryacks. Reon had time to think that rather than be Lord Harskill’s Queen, Malja had opted for suicide. As if to confirm this thought, Malja hurdled over the flimsy railing, throwing herself into the dark chasm below.

  Shock jolted through Reon. She could not believe that Malja would give up so easily — especially after mounting her desperate defense. Bell Wake appeared to share the same thoughts, but she had come to a better conclusion.