About four hours after sunset, night fog thickened across the ground like a mat of crawling ghosts. Soon the young man and the cat sat on an island in a sea of mist, broken only by an occasional crumbled spire or rampart. The muted lights of the inhabited portion of town flickered across this ethereal landscape, watching from the southwest.
The moon climbed to zenith and bathed U’Sumi’s elevation in its golden glow. He could see nothing beneath the mists where his father and wife-to-be slept. This troubled him, so he got up and made a soft descent down the broken stairs to check on them.
His father slept by the packs, while T’Qinna had curled herself into a corner of the decaying wall, near Shell-head. Satisfied that no danger approached, U’Sumi returned to the platform and Taanyx. Not sleepy, he decided to let his father rest on a bit when the hour for second watch arrived.
He did not know how much time had passed since returning to the cat before he noticed that the frogs and crickets had gone silent. Only after Taanyx rose toward the stairs, tail thrashing, did U’Sumi realize the change.
He stood and peered off through the mists.
Southeast, a cluster of pale green lights bobbed like ghoulish sprites in the fog-shrouded ruins. A moaning dirge drifted closer through the ancient stones. High pitched cries, possibly from an old woman or some kind of tormented animal, echoed off the broken walls, interrupting the dirge.
U’Sumi rushed to the head of the stairs and tried to get a distinct view of the green lights, but could see little more. Their distance suggested his people were in no immediate danger, though the noises disturbed him. The shrieks sounded like the noise the children in his dream had made as they fell into the flaming chasms.
Taanyx yowled and began to pace back and forth. Suddenly U’Sumi heard Shell-head bellow, scuffling violently, and pulling his stake free. The sphinx leaped from the platform into the engulfing fog. U’Sumi drew T’Qinna’s dagger and followed down the steps at a run.
When he reached bottom, he found their camp quickly ransacked—almost too quickly to be possible. Taanyx let out a long wail and bolted eastward into the mist, while shell-head cowered by the wall.
His father and T’Qinna were gone.
U’Sumi mounted the unicorn and tore off after the sphinx as fast as the terrain allowed. He quickly found himself utterly lost in the fog. The cat, in her single-minded fury to reach T’Qinna, had left him.
The green lights were no longer visible at ground level. The soil, rocky in most places, did not leave good imprint of either man or beast. Forced to dismount often in order to track, U’Sumi managed to discover a scuffle here and a print there under the moonlit fog. The moaning chant and regular shrieks grew louder, drawing him in.
After some time picking through the wastelands in the general direction of the dirge, U’Sumi noticed that the intermittent cries had ceased. A few minutes later, he also realized the chant no longer drew any closer. Soon it became all he could do to follow fast enough to keep the noise at the same volume. He saw again the ghostly lanterns flicker up ahead.
The holders of the green lights were on the move, scurrying back to whatever tomb from which they had emerged. He remounted Shell-head, hoping that the arch of the unicorn’s back could give him the added elevation he needed to get a fix on the retreating lights.
The evening mists thinned as the chase climbed gradually to where some of the moon glow could get through. The ghost-lights flickered, then vanished in the distance, ahead and off to his right. U’Sumi locked his eyes in that direction, allowing himself a moment to absorb the contours of the nearby crumbled buildings. He identified several landmarks, and yanked Shell-head to a trot, keeping his eyes fixed on a short spire jutting like a skeletal finger just to the right of where the lights had dissolved.
Then he stumbled on the moonlit altar.
The worn stone slab sat in a rectangular clearing that may have once been a meeting hall of some kind. Its foundations still well—defined, the walls stood only on one side. Human and animal bones littered the place, cracked remnants from the wurm feasts of decades. The exposed body of a pre’tween boy much younger than Khumi lay on the cold table, his chest carved open, his heart removed. Glassy lifeless eyes stared up at the hazy stars. Buzzing flies were already finding the wound, and smaller carrion wurms scuffled in the vicinity. They seemed to know where and when to feed.
U’Sumi yanked the reins and continued toward the spire. The ancient unicorn galloped wildly through the night, almost toppling over unseen blocks under his maddened goads. After each turn in the labyrinth, the spire that had promised to grow nearer seemed instead to maintain an elusive distance. Finally, when he turned the panting quasi-dragon right, the frustrated yowls of Taanyx guided him in a straight line to the base of a rocky slab. Here the labyrinth ended at the bottom of a bluff extending northward into the ruins from the foothills of the megalith mound.
T’Qinna’s sphinx paced before a vault of polished stone sealed with a heavy bronze door. A multitude of footprints continued underground into whatever hidden chamber lay behind this metal barrier.
U’Sumi dismounted and tried to push the slab inward. It would not budge. No evidence of hinge or handle existed on any side , and the sandy soil showed no drag mark to indicate that the door had opened outward. A geared or counter-weighted mechanism must have pulled it up or sideways.
He pounded on the metal and shouted until his rage exhausted itself into tears as desolate as the surrounding rubble.
Taanyx nuzzled him back to a semi-composed state, as the first fires of dawn shimmered above the eastern mountains. After long consideration, U’Sumi decided—based on their experience with yesterday’s shepherd—that he would find no sympathy in the inhabited part of town. Any help would have to come from the acolytes who still kept the Gates.
He prayed hard as he rose to begin his trek up the hill. Yet he held little hope that the keepers still respected the order of their fathers.
Had they not reared Psydonu’s mother?
THE PALADIN’S ODYSSEY | 367
Those men bore me away to the east, and placed me at the sun’s gates, where the sun goes forth according to the regulation of the seasons and the circuit of the months of the whole year, and the number of the hours day and night. And I saw six gates open, each gate having sixty-one stadia (marked spans) and a quarter of one stadium, and I measured them truly, and understood their size to be so much, through which the sun goes forth, and goes to the west, and is made even, and rises throughout all the months, and turns back again from the six gates according to the succession of the seasons; thus the period of the whole year is finished after the returns of the four seasons. And again those men led me away to the western parts, and showed me six great gates open corresponding to the eastern gates, opposite to where the sun sets…
—2 Enoch 13:1-14:1a (Slavonic Manuscript)
THE PALADIN’S ODYSSEY | 367
12
Gates
U’
Sumi dismounted from the unicorn before the Gates of the Setting Sun just after dawn. A huge statue of a winged serpent dominated the pavement between the gigantic six-pillared Sun Gates and the pyramid. Such an idol could not possibly have been a part of the original architecture, and did nothing to reassure A’Nu-Ahki’s son about the loyalties of the keepers.
Klyeto of Psydonis came from here, after all, according to both T’Qinna’s explanation and the scrolls U’Sumi had read at Thulae. The literature he remembered said little about the shrine or its keepers, except that Psydonu had ordered the place restored and its caretakers paid on stipend because their ancestors had hailed from the “Holy East,” being related to the line of the Promised Seed. U’Sumi saw little evidence of the latter.
I must be crazy to look for help here! he fumed, as he entered the wide pavement before the colossal gate megaliths, which stood like giants ready to squash him. He crossed the flagstones only because his father had insisted that maybe some hope remained that a vers
ion of Q’Enukki’s message still survived here.
If so, then why would Klyeto have prostituted herself to a Watcher? U’Sumi wondered again if his father’s fever had affected his judgment after all. It didn’t make sense to come here, much less to seek help from people who were, at the very least, beholden to Psydonu for material support. A’Nu-Ahki had known all these things while still imprisoned at Thulae and at Temple City Epymetu, yet it hadn’t influenced his decisions at all.
It doesn’t make sense!
The huge topaz phoenix and amethyst upright crocodilian chalkydri sculptures guarded the main court, refracting the morning sunlight like heavenly seraf Watchers undiminished by time. The monument to Q’Enukki stood in its sunken patio on the east court, but the bas-reliefs on its walls differed from the description given in U’Sumi history scrolls.
A pair of acolytes approached from beyond the sunken patio to meet him. They were unarmed, and seemed unconcerned by his presence. When they drew within about fifty paces, they hailed him with hands raised in respect. U’Sumi bowed to them in response.
“How may the Keepers of the Western Gates be of service, friend?” asked one of the robed caretakers.
U’Sumi said, “I need to speak with your Chief Elder. Marauders abducted my friends in the ruins below and only I escaped. I beg assistance as a son of the very Q’Enukki who built this place. I am U’Sumi, son of A’Nu-Ahki, who is son of Muhet’Usalaq, the firstborn of the Great Seer. I have the ear of Muhet’Usalaq himself, Q’Enukki’s Appointed.”
The acolytes glanced at each other. “Follow us to our Zaqen.”
The pair of caretakers led U’Sumi and Taanyx—who refused to leave the young man’s side—across the pavement, behind the central stepped pyramid. There, a series of cliff-dwellings extended up the steep slopes into a boxed canyon, housing the small religious community.
An elder of sorts greeted them at the mouth of the largest dwelling.
“This is our Zaqen, Iskui,” one of the acolytes said, extending hands to both U’Sumi and his Zaqen. “My Father, this is U’Sumi, son of A’Nu-Ahki, son of the Seer Q’Enukki, who built our sacred shrine. He comes from the Sacred East—the land of our fathers.”
U’Sumi wondered why the acolyte had felt the need to add in his introduction the obvious mention that the Sacred East had been the land of their fathers, but then dismissed it as a redundant formality.
Iskui appeared considerably younger than U’Sumi’s father did, perhaps by as much as half A’Nu-Ahki’s age. U’Sumi found this curious, since construction of the megaliths had occurred during the second century of Q’Enukki’s life, and children born to that generation would only now be approaching the age of Muhet’Usalaq or of Lumekki at the youngest. The entire western coastlands showed signs of having once supported a population at least thrice that of the present.
It only now occurred to U’Sumi that nobody he had seen since reaching the west coast could be more than two hundred years old. There were a few parts of the world, still newly colonized, where this might be expected. The former Far West Colonies of Seti and the Gates of the Setting Sun were not among them.
“Greetings, young friend.” The Zaqen smiled with broad white teeth made brighter by the deep reddish-brown of his complexion. “We have heard by oracle that a traveler from the east has visited the Giant Psydonu in the Far North and confirmed him as the Monster Killer. Are you that traveler?”
U’Sumi bowed and replied, “Caretaker, I wish that my visit were one of simple pilgrimage, but I can assure you that I have not confirmed the claims of Psydonu. Neither has my father, who is Q’Enukki’s heir with the Seer’s gift. We come on a matter of even greater urgency, but evil befell my father and my bride-to-be, just as we came upon the threshold of this monument.” He went on to relate the events of the previous evening.
The Zaqen took in U’Sumi’s story with polite nods and punctuated hums, almost in regular manufactured precision. These signs of attentiveness never quite reached his eyes, however.
“Hmmm, yes. Hmm, I see.” The Caretaker nodded as U’Sumi finished his account. For several seconds Iskui looked away from his visitor. After what seemed a long time, he answered, “I cannot give you much hope of seeing your people again. Strange things happen in the ruins below—the, ah, town does not really support the work we do up here. I often think there are, shall we say, ‘forces’ moving in that community that would rather see the good work of E’Yahavah El-N’Lil stop.”
“Is there nothing you can do?”
Iskui shrugged. “Pray. Beyond that, there is a company of soldiers about a day’s ride south of here, on the opposite side of the bay.”
“I don’t think we have that much time.”
“I see.” The Caretaker seemed to weigh carefully what he said next. “The town people often whisper fearfully about the acolytes of E’Yahavah’s Shadow. The members of this evil cult stalk the ruins at night and sleep in the lonely hill caves during the day. Stories tell of how they worship the Shadow cast by the Great God’s glory. Not that the town’s folk are trustworthy. They sometimes work the slave trade. Slaver ships put in here often. If not for such things, we might enjoy a wealth of honest pilgrims to the Gates of the Setting Sun. It is a shame, really.”
“Who are these acolytes?” U’Sumi asked, thinking that maybe they seduced Klyeto and not the caretakers. Maybe Psydonu only cares for the Sun Gates because he thinks it’s expected of the Monster Killer. A sickening spiral churned in his gut, as he noticed here none of the fabulous technology he had seen at Thulae, Psydonis, and Epymetu’s Temple City. Could I have jumped to the wrong conclusion? Maybe Pahp was right to come here. The Caretaker despises the evils of both town and the ruins. It explains the Shepherd’s strange reaction to us.
Iskui hesitated, as if he dreaded to speak much about the cult in the ruins. “They desecrate what we consecrate.”
“Dragon worshipers?”
The Caretaker gave a fatherly grin. “A quaint way to put it, though not altogether accurate; still, I suppose they could be understood that way.”
“I don’t care to understand them! What I want to know is whether or not you have any armed men who will join me in a rescue strike?”
Iskui held up his hands to calm his guest. “We of the Light do not believe in taking up arms…”
“We have acolytes in the ‘Holy East.’ They have no qualms about using the sword at need!”
“I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”
U’Sumi grunted his disgust and turned to leave.
The Zaqen called, “Wait!”
“What is it?”
Iskui spoke haltingly. “While we are forbidden to take up arms, there are times when it is necessary for the Light to stand up to the Darkness—to maintain balance—when too much is tipped toward the Shadow. Now may be such a time. Let me give you some things to aid your quest.”
He motioned U’Sumi to follow him into a cliff-dwelling and brought him into the shadows of a small chamber. There he opened an ancient wooden chest, and produced a steel sword with a red-gold orichalcum-embossed hilt decorated in finely carved phoenixes on either side of the pommel. Its scabbard was of red leather, with gold filigree images of stylized dragonry etched in the Middle Setiim style. Attached by a buttoned strap, came a bow with a quiver of silver-tipped arrows and an ancient rectangular bronze cartouche key amulet hanging by a gold chain.
“The key may open the portal through which your people were taken. Long ago, our ancestors used the caverns as a treasure horde. This cartouche once matched the locks on several of the old doors below. Our fathers abandoned those places long before the cult came, but mayhap the vipers found entrance to them somehow. Look for its slot on the left side.”
“Thanks,” U’Sumi said, as he followed his benefactor back outside.
Iskui said, “One more thing, my young friend. The sword once belonged to Fasturi son of Seti, father of our order—before he renounced all violence. Its name is Phoenix Fir
e. I feel impelled to give it to you, along with the bow, for your defense. Keep them well. If the forces are indeed out of balance, and you manage to secure your father, please implore him to return here with you so that we may hear his message from his own lips.”
The Caretaker’s glassy stare went through the colossal Sun Gates to the depths of the Great Outer Ocean beyond, like some homesick creature of the deeps. “It is long centuries since a seer of Q’Enukki’s line has graced us with divine words. His son, Iyuqan lived among us for awhile, before he went south to prophesy to the Everaddi and Kemvors, but that was before my time. My father’s father was a child when last we heard from the sons of Heaven’s Scribe. Your visit honors us.”
“Thank you. If I may ask, where are your fathers? You are young to hold a zaqen’s staff.”
Iskui nodded with the toothy grin of a well-fed rodent. “They are on pilgrimage and have left me as Caretaker. Go now to rescue your people. May the glory of E’Yahavah A’Nu go with you.”
T
he cartouche key slid into its slot, over the polygon inside the lock. U’Sumi twisted the amulet and stepped back to watch the counter-weighted portal slide to one side. He left Shell-head tethered to a tent stake amid the ruins, but Taanyx followed him into the blackness.
The tunnel bent in serpentine corkscrews, leaving the afternoon gold of the outside world behind. Not far from where the outer light disappeared, the same greenish glow of the previous night flickered from around further turns. The dim echo of the sea reached U’Sumi’s ears, as he imagined himself trapped in some giant conch shell. He proceeded until he reached a wall-mounted torch that burned with an emerald flame. Several unlit units stood in slots nearby, their elements wrapped in some kind of oiled seaweed that burned green from the high iodine content in the algae.
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