Road's End (The Narrow Gate Book 4)

by Janean Worth

  “Good, good,” the man said. “I enjoy having my companions read to me. My eyesight is not what it once was, you see.”

  Kara could see it, when she looked him in the eye. His eyes had begun to form a white haze over the distended pupil. In the flickering, feeble light, it was only visible because his pupils were so large in the darkened room.

  “I would be happy to read to you,” she said, glad that she’d given the correct answers to his questions.

  “Do you have any medical skills?” he asked.

  Kara frowned. Medical skills?

  “I studied to be a Gatherer in GateWide, so I have some knowledge of helpful herbs and medicinal plants. I know that wounds must be cleaned, so they do not fester, and that those suffering from a catching illness should be kept separate and consume fluids. But I am no healer.”

  The man was quiet for a while, as if contemplating whether it was worthwhile to keep her, or if another choice of companion would be better.

  Finally, he clapped his hands together, the gesture more feeble than the robust motion Kara was sure he had intended, and directed his attention to the Fidgets.

  “She may stay as my companion. Thank you. This pleases me. You will need to hunt elsewhere for our supper.”

  Our supper? Revulsion seized Kara. The man ate other people, like the Fidgets did? If she had not been an acceptable companion, he would have eaten her flesh? Kara barely kept from gagging at just the thought of it.

  “You needn’t look like that, my new companion. They cook my food for me. I am not an animal. I do not eat raw meat.”

  Kara noticed that he hadn’t said that he didn’t eat human meat. She shuddered again, turning her face away so that he could not see her expression. She would try hard not to offend him. He seemed to be the only thing standing between her and a horrifying death at the hands of the Fidgets.

  As the Fidgets muttered and withdrew, the man gestured with one pale hand.

  “Come closer, Companion.”

  Kara sidled a bit closer, then winced when the movement forced a jolt of agony through her head. She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to force back the pain.

  “Ahhh, you are injured, yes?”

  “Yes,” Kara whispered. “But not badly. I hit my head.”

  “Quite hard, yes?”

  Kara resisted the urge to nod, knowing it would only bring more pain, and opened her eyes. “Yes, very hard.”

  “Take the candle and cross the room. Beside my bed, in the small trunk, there is a pouch of dried willow bark. You will make us both a tea from it. It will ease my pain as well as yours.”

  Kara didn’t argue. She would need to have her wits about her if she wanted to escape, and easing her pain would help with that.

  “Don’t wander far, Companion. My guards will not like it if you do.”

  Kara clenched her hand around the small glass holding the candle, attempting to hold back her fear. She must remain calm. She needed to find a way out, and soon. She could not stay there, not with the danger that hung over GateWide, not with the Strays alone with Otto at the sanctuary, not without knowing where Mathew was and whether he was safe.

  She took in a deep breath and released it as she slowly shuffled across the room, trying to keep her footsteps even and not jostle her throbbing head too much. She feared slipping into unconsciousness again. The Custodian might very well decide that she was useless if she did, and she very much needed to be useful and survive.

  The Strays and the other citizens of GateWide needed her to be alive. Mathew needed her to be alive. Who would look for him if not she? Who else knew he was alone in the tunnels, possibly injured somewhere alone in the dark?

  If not she, or Mathew, then who would warn the people of GateWide of their impending doom? Who would tell them of the Sovereign’s plans to destroy their home and, other than the Narrow Gate, the only known settlement left in the world?

  Kara sighed. There was no one else to do it. She must survive.

  “Don’t dawdle, Companion. I have much for you to do,” the Custodian said, his mellifluous voice floating throughout the darkness, a hard threat encased in its softness.

  She did not need an explanation. She knew if she did not perform his tasks well and quickly, she would soon meet her end there in the darkness under the abandoned city. And it would not be a pleasant death.

  Chapter Twenty

  As the sky deepened with the shadowy tones of dusk, the group of Strays left Otto at the city’s edge and ventured near the outlying edge of the Old Forest, and Merrilee had her first moment of uncertainty.

  “Why are we leaving when it is so close to nightfall?” she asked Gemma yet again, knowing that the girl had already answered the question, but needing to hear the comforting answer again.

  “I told you, some of my people have made a safe and secure camp quite near here. We will join up with them before it gets dark. In the morning, we will journey toward the settlement. It will take two days to reach if we go quickly, and by starting the journey now, we will get there faster,” Gemma replied calmly, her face a mask of composure as they plodded away from Otto.

  Merrilee turned to look over her shoulder at the metal giant, waving goodbye.

  Otto returned the gesture, as did the group of Strays that stood at his side. Many had changed their minds on the way to the city’s edge and had chosen to stay with Otto instead.

  Gemma had seemed very irritated by this, but the girl had lost none of her pleasantness, and had instead cheerfully stated that they could all come back for the others later, after they’d visited her settlement.

  Merrilee and the others continuing on the journey to see the settlement were mounted; those they left behind were not. Otto had insisted that they take the horses from the stables to make their journey faster. He had even sent along extra mounts when the other Strays had declined to accompany them, so that they could return quickly and bring others from the settlement to visit him. He had said that he wanted to tell these new people of the Book if they did not know it.

  Jack rode at Merrilee’s other side, opposite Gemma. He had reluctantly agreed to come along with her on the journey, but he made it known that he did not trust Gemma. He had made a point since leaving the sanctuary to travel close at Merrilee’s side, but stay as far away from Gemma as possible. Every once in a while, he threw Gemma a look that made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he did not like her.

  Though Merrilee disagreed, believing that they could trust Gemma, she was glad that Jack had come along. As usual, his presence made her feel safe.

  When Gemma had mentioned another settlement upon their first meeting, a burst of surprise had flared inside Merrilee’s heart, followed by just a hint of happiness. And when the girl had suggested that they all go there and see this place for themselves, Merrilee had felt the excitement of adventure sneak through the strange, cold wall around her emotions.

  She’d latched on to the idea as if it were a lifeline, holding tight to the blossom of feeling inside her. After so long without even a hint of happiness or excitement, she did not want to let the feeling go. She cherished it, clutching it to herself almost desperately.

  She knew that she had nearly bullied the others into coming with her, and she knew also that many of them were unsure that it was “the right thing to do,” but they’d agreed to go nevertheless. Merrilee had had a hard time not rolling her eyes when they’d mentioned the “right thing.” These words were Kara’s mantra, and Merrilee wanted nothing to remind her of Kara now that the girl was gone from the sanctuary and Merrilee’s life.

  “How far is it to their camp?” Merrilee asked, trying to discard the flare of doubt that nibbled at her excitement.

  “Not far at all,” Gemma said. “How far will Otto venture into the Old Forest?”

  “Oh, he will not follow. There where he stands is as far as he will go,” Merrilee said. “I wish he could come with us, too, but he cannot. His creator designed him that way.”

 
; Gemma frowned, as if saddened by this news. She nodded. “If he cannot come, we will just have to hurry back to him, won’t we?”

  Merrilee nodded, thinking how nice it was that Gemma seemed to be as ready for a new adventure as she was. Out of the ten others who had agreed to accompany them, only she and Gemma seemed truly excited about the trip.

  Gemma pulled a small object out of her pocket and pressed the side of it until a red light came on and began to blink slowly. Merrilee studied the object. It was small, about the size of a pecan, and shiny like the shard of disk that she kept in her own pocket.

  “What is that?” she asked, gesturing to it. “Isn’t Old Tech illegal in your settlement?”

  “Old Tech? You mean things like this?” She held up the small device.

  When Merrilee nodded, she smiled.

  “No, things like this are not illegal in my village, though we do not really have laws so much as rules and guidelines, and the instruction of the Elders. Things like this are rare in our settlement, and usually only I seek them out. I don’t really know what it is. It is just a pretty thing that I found in some ruins I was exploring.”

  Gemma rubbed the thing one more time, and Merrilee thought that the girl looked suddenly, inexplicably sad. But Gemma quickly found a smile again and stuffed the object in her pocket.

  “You can look at it later, if you want. When we reach camp.”

  “May I see it now?” asked a hushed voice.

  Merrilee glanced over to Gemma’s other side, and saw that Hertha, the only former servant who had chosen to accompany them, was riding abreast of Gemma’s horse.

  Merrilee wondered at this, because Hertha was usually quiet and reserved, rarely speaking to anyone and always moving around furtively as if trying not to be seen.

  Merrilee knew about the need for furtive stealth, so she had never thought much about Hertha’s creeping about, but it was odd that the woman had suddenly found the courage to speak to Gemma, a girl she’d never met before.

  And, now that she thought about it, it was even odder still that the woman had wanted to accompany them. In fact, she had been one of the first to volunteer to go to the new settlement.

  “Sure,” Gemma said, easily retrieving the object from her pocket and handing it over to Hertha. “Don’t drop it, though. It is small, and it may not be worth anything, but I would hate to lose it since it is so pretty.”

  Hertha gave Gemma an unsettling grin, and Gemma quickly looked away, a strange, almost fearful expression upon her face.

  Hertha laughed. “Oh, I won’t drop it. I know how important it must be to you, though it has no real value.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was whisper quiet in the dark space. The only sounds were the soft, labored breathing of the old man upon the throne‑like chair and the sound of Kara’s voice as she droned on an on as she read aloud to him.

  She paused a moment in her reading to take a drink out of an odd flask that the Custodian had ordered brought to her. The Fidgets had obeyed without question, and Kara discovered that the flask was filled with nothing more than fresh, cool water.

  She was grateful for it, because she’d been reading aloud for hours and hours and her throat had begun to become dry. She paused frequently for sips of the cool beverage.

  As of yet, the Fidgets had brought them no food, and she found herself grateful for that as well. She was unsure of how the Fidgets, and the Custodian, would respond when she refused to eat. And she knew that she could not force herself to try, knowing as she did what the Fidgets preferred to dine on.

  “May I light another candle, please?” she asked quietly.

  “You already have three burning, is that not enough light to read by? We are not accustomed to so much light. They prefer darkness.”

  Kara glanced around the space, quickly, so the Custodian’s feeble eyes would miss the gesture. Only one Fidget remained in the space with them, and it kept casting anxious stares at the three burning candles that Kara had placed strategically around the room. Kara had known that fire made them nervous, but she would never have guessed that such a tiny flicker of flame would drive them from the room so completely. It seemed that the last one only remained because he must.

  “Just one more candle would make it easier. My eyes grow tired from the strain, and I do not want to mistake my words while I read to you,” she said, adopting an ingratiating tone, hoping that it would please him and help him let down his guard.

  So far, in the seemingly endless hours that she had been his captive, she had completed each task he set before her with no objection, performing each to the best of her ability, hoping to lull him into thinking that she would be the perfect companion. And he had seemed to be impressed. He had commented several times on how much nicer it was to be able to speak to someone who understood complete sentences.

  She had made his willow bark tea, which she’d been allowed to drink as well, and then she had crushed up various dried herbs under his instruction and made a paste of them with water, which he then instructed her to apply to thin pads of cloth. He then placed the herbal pads over his knees, under his fine garments, telling her that the paste would help with the aching. Next, he’d asked her to go through the books in one of his trunks and pick one to read to him.

  Since then, she’d asked every so often for another candle, and placed them throughout the room so that she could see the space. Just one more, placed near the side of the room, would allow her to see the far edge. She suspected that she’d find the platform edge and a rail‑lined channel there, because what she could see of the room looked almost identical to the one that the Fidgets had found her in.

  “Those books . . . in the other room like this one. They’re yours, aren’t they?” she asked, suddenly realizing that they must be, and seizing upon the opportunity to have some type of conversation with him.

  “Yes,” the old man answered. “Do you like them?”

  “Oh, yes. There were so many to read, too,” she answered honestly.

  “Don’t covet what is mine, Companion,” he said, his tone harsh and brittle with greed, a dangerous thread of malice revealed in his words.

  In the corner of the room, the last remaining Fidget guard turned at the man’s tone and hissed at Kara, baring its crooked yellow teeth at her.

  Kara shuddered.

  “Of course I do not covet what is yours.”

  “You had books of your own, then?” he asked.

  “Well, no, I didn’t. But I read them in GateWide.”

  “If you have no books of your own, then you will covet mine. Just like the devices you took from our cache.”

  Kara bit her lip. He was sounding very angry, and the Fidget was eyeing her with feral intensity.

  “I didn’t know they were yours when I took them,” she said quietly, meekly.

  “Tell me, did any of them work?”

  “Yes, one of them did,” she admitted, her heart beginning to pound at the dangerous bent that the conversation had taken.

  “I want it back!” the Custodian bellowed, suddenly filled with shocking vitriol. His words echoed around the chamber, flung back at her from every corner.

  At the sound, the Fidget leapt across the room, its stubby legs churning quickly. It was at her side in a moment. It grabbed her arm, claws digging in deep and leaned forward to hiss in her face.

  Looking into its beady eyes, where she saw only death and pain, she vowed not to ask another question. Not one. As it was, she had probably just lost her chance to light another candle, or worse, had just increased her chances of becoming supper.

  She held her breath, blocking out the Fidget’s fetid, musty scent, and turned her face away.

  “That is good,” the Custodian said calmly, his voice once more soft. “They respond to submission.”

  Kara didn’t even dare to blink. Her arm throbbed under the claws of the beast, but she said nothing.

  “Release her,” the Custodian told the animal.

 
; It did so. Immediately.

  Kara bit her lip and remained quite still, wondering why these creatures listened to this feeble old man. What hold did he have over them?

  “I could have told him to kill you, and he would have done so eagerly. You know this?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He paused, the silence in the room as deafening as his shout had been. Kara did not dare look at him.

  “You may have your candle.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured quietly, trying very hard to appear nonthreatening and subservient.

  “Thank you . . . what?”

  Kara was puzzled. She didn’t know what he meant, but she wasn’t going to ask. Not when her previous attempt at conversation had gone so wrong.

  “Master . . .” the Fidget muttered into the pregnant pause, now back in his corner, still staring at her with malice and hunger. “Master . . .”

  “That’s right,” the Custodian said, his face forming that horrible rictus of a smile once more. “That’s right. Master.”

  He wanted her to call him Master? Kara was horrified, but she didn’t dare challenge him. Not yet.

  He was no less mad than the Sovereign, and no better, either. He wielded the Fidgets like the Sovereign wielded his Old Tech. They were both weapons to keep others in line, to subjugate them. To cause pain and suffering.

  She carefully sidled away from his chair and took a candle from his trunk, ignoring the throbbing in her arm. Lighting the new candle from the burning wick of another, she slowly walked to the edge of the room and placed the candle on the far side of the platform near the channel that she’d known would be there.

  “Thank you, Master,” Kara finally repeated numbly.

  As she turned back to return to the Custodian’s side, three Fidgets rushed out of the darkness and clambered up onto the platform, startling her so much that she couldn’t contain a yelp of surprise.

  The Fidgets ignored her, hurried over the to the Custodian’s chair, then began to gibber in a rushed pattern of their strange vocalizations and hisses. They fidgeted from foot to foot as they jabbered, clacking together the claws on their hands in an almost nervous fashion.