The King's Gate

by K T Munson

  “You should thank me, brother,” Nauberon said, his eyes accusing. “You soul should have passed on, leaving your body without a host. Now you can live and be with your little mortal.”

  Ethandirill spun around and pointed at Nauberon. “Don’t you speak about her.”

  “You always were the illogical one. Emotional and easy to push,” Nauberon responded. “I don’t know why I ever bothered to make you my heir. You are unsuited.”

  “Then why did you?” Ethandirill yelled.

  “Because you are my brother!” Nauberon yelled, his normally icy exterior cracking. When he continued his voice was level again, but Ethandirill could see the myriad of emotions in his eyes. “You saved me from our father, and when I protected you from a fate worse than death, all I asked was for you to stand beside me. Instead you denied me, refused what I offered.”

  Ethandirill had rarely seen his brother lose his composure. He watched him, stunned, an idea took hold. All this time he’d thought Nauberon had cursed him because he’d refused to be the heir and to punish him for taking their father’s life. But now he wondered.

  “Why did you curse me?”

  Nauberon laughed bitterly. “I thought you’d come around faster. I wanted you to choose me over your pride. Instead you abandoned me to rule the Divine Court alone. Though now I am strong and capable, I was not prepared to reign when our father died. The strongest of the Divine Court and their higher demons threatened to tear me down and take the throne. I had to stand against them alone.”

  For the first time in all his years, Ethandirill considered the possibility that his brother was a product of his position. The darkness that he saw within Nauberon and the torture he had inflicted were all to make Ethandirill see reason the only way Nauberon knew.

  They may have been brothers, but they’d been born decades apart to different mothers. They had not played together as children because Nauberon had already been a man. The loyalty that Ethandirill felt toward Nauberon had come later.

  Their father had been already losing his mind when Ethandirill was a boy. He had followed after Nauberon like a lost puppy. Though Nauberon had never been caring, he’d been patient and attentive. By mortal standards he had been a young man when their father had finally gone too far, but he had been more like his mother—a half demon. Demons were known for their tempers and bloodlust, though he had only inherited the former. So when their father had tried to kill Nauberon, Ethandirill had driven the one weapon that was their weakness into his back without a moment’s hesitation. When the Divine Court had called for retribution for Ethandirill’s act, claiming he was a product of his birth, Nauberon had not listened. Ethandirill had thought himself free under his brother’s rule, only to be further restricted. The memory of his father’s dying face flashed in his mind, but he pushed it aside.

  Feeling nostalgic, Ethandirill asked, “Do you remember the first time we were carried by an elemental through the Dusky Woods?”

  Nauberon nodded. “Your mother was angry that we’d reappropriated it.”

  “Do you remember what you said to me?” Ethandirill asked.

  “I remember talking about father,” he replied.

  “You told me that if you ever became that crazy, I should kill you. That losing one’s mind was worse than death.” The memory was crystal clear. “You made me promise. Instead, I killed him to protect you and avenge my mother. I knew you would make a good king, a better king. You never struggled with father’s death, but I did. I went into the Netherland out of spite, yes, but I also was running away from what I had done.”

  Nauberon’s eyes widened slightly at Ethandirill. Ethandirill had known the truth behind his actions, had always known, but he’d never said it aloud. Instead he’d hid and lived in solitude. Better to be alone than to lose again. Now there was Nanette. He had wanted to keep away, but he had been drawn to her. At first he’d thought she was some trick, but it didn’t take him long to realize that meeting her had been a simple matter of fate. He was meant to know and love her, for which he was grateful. Just as he was appreciative of Elisabeth’s friendship.

  “It seems only in death are we honest,” Nauberon told him. “It is time you went back. Your body will not last long without its soul.”

  “I can’t just leave you here.” Ethandirill shook his head.

  “You must,” Nauberon replied. “I have frozen this place within my mind, turned everything to stone including myself. So long as I remain, you will find a way to bring me back. Ishtar will help you.”

  Ethandirill didn’t know what was more surprising, his brother’s faith in him or his certainty that Ishtar would help him. The first was likely well founded. To a Det Morian, family was everything, and despite the events that had transpired, he had always intended to save his brother. Elisabeth had come first because she was in more immediate danger and she because she was the only thing powerful enough to bring Arawn down. If they worked together, Arawn would not survive their next battle. Asking for Ishtar’s help, though, Ethandirill would do only as a last resort.

  Ethandirill held out a hand. With a smile, Nauberon grasped his arm, and Ethandirill did the same. They shook twice, in an understanding, before Ethandirill started to fade. As he did, he promised, “I will save you.”

  Chapter 28: Lyreane

  The sound of water dripping woke Kerrigan from her sleep. She struggled to open her eyes. She turned slowly to one side, her eyes coming to rest on Selene. They’d been short on beds and had to share. She inspected Selene’s sleeping face. Her hair was fraying from a braid. Her lips were parted slightly. Kerrigan couldn’t help but stare. She didn’t understand the feelings she had for Selene—they were different from what she felt for Nanette and Elisabeth.

  Nanette was a friend, and Elisabeth had become like an older sister. Lifting her head slightly, she could see them sleeping on the other bed. Kerrigan was thankful that Elisabeth was no longer trying to run. During her brief moment of consciousness, Selene had told her all about Elisabeth’s strange behavior. Kerrigan could understand what trauma did to a person, though no better than most of the people in the room.

  Suddenly, she heard someone call her name. She stood slowly and made her way through the cottage, as though moving through a fog. There was a blanket on the couch but no Ki. Ethandirill still hadn’t woken up and was resting in the only other bed in the house. The moonlight cast through the windows washed the world in an eerie glow, causing everything to seem muted but alive.

  “Come, granddaughter,” a deep baritone voice called, and although she didn’t want to, she felt compelled.

  It reminded her of being drawn into the darkness on Hystera—she was caught in a strong current and fighting it did nothing. Kerrigan let the door stay open as she left. Dazed, she followed the sound. Gooseflesh covered her arms at the chill in the air, and she felt the cold frost covered grass under her feet, reminding her that Lyreane was so much colder than Hystera.

  When she saw him, she thought he was a shadow. His great form and mass of antlers waited at the forest’s edge at some unknown barrier. Kerrigan stopped and gasped, but not at him. Beyond him the landscape was in ruins. This was the Netherworld, Kerrigan was sure. It was such a stark contrast to the place where she stood.

  “Come, granddaughter. Let us talk,” Arawn said, drawing her attention back to him.

  Kerrigan crossed her arms in defiance. “What do you want?”

  He chuckled, which caught her off-guard. “You get that spirit from your grandmother.” His eyes seemed to sparkle at the memory. “She rarely budged once she set her mind to a task or settled on an opinion.”

  “Do not think you can speak like you are my family,” Kerrigan said angrily. “You are evil.”

  “And they are your family?” Arawn asked, gesturing toward the cottage. “They who asked you to bind yourself to this place forever.”

  Kerrigan’s faced burned at the insinuation. “Families make sacrifices for each other. I chose to save Elisabeth. I
chose to stay here.”

  “Then you can understand why I have done what I’ve done,” Arawn said, his voice filled with passion. “They took him from me and abandoned him on a planet full of bigots. He should have died, but a homeless woman took pity and raised him until she succumbed to an illness. I had to watch, powerless to help him, as my Aryan was raised on an ugly mortal world. The orcs were especially cruel because they knew what he was, sensed it. They enslaved him, made him work in the mines until his abilities finally came through. Do you want to know how his powers surfaced?”

  All of the information rung true to her, but all she wanted to do was deny their validity. She crossed and uncrossed her arms. She nodded because she didn’t trust her words.

  “They killed his friend.” Kerrigan sucked in a surprised breath. “She was a weak little thing but kind to him. He loved her in his own way, protected her, but one day he failed. She died at the edge of a pickaxe and was discarded like trash. Aryan lost it, his powers exploding from rage and devastation. I felt his agony and I had to watch, helpless to comfort him.”

  “When did you finally meet him?” Kerrigan asked.

  “He suffered more abuse after that,” he said, like he hadn’t heard her. “They wanted to break him, but I sent him messages. He was my son, and I used every trick, every deal, to help him. He would speak to me sometimes, knowing that I was watching. The first time I saw him was when he turned the Soul Collectors against King Nauberon more than fifty years ago. I stood as his enemy and I helped defeat him, but I swore that day I would have my revenge against the Det Mor Clan.” His face twisted in pain at the memories.

  She whispered the next question. “Then how was I made?”

  “Your mother was special. She should have become a Keeper, but instead she and her sister fell in love with the idea of Aryan the Black, World Eater. The Shadow Clan and I helped your mother cross planes of existence and time to bear you so that you could bring Aryan back and we could be a family.”

  “He killed me,” Kerrigan said through clenched teeth, “and my mother is dead.”

  “You mother died because as a mortal without a mantle of Keeper she crossed space and time. It drove her mad, but she knew the risks and went anyway,” Arawn said, though he appeared almost apologetic. “My son didn’t kill you. Your souls were to share the same body until he could carry them both to the Netherworld, where I had a new body waiting for him. You lost your body because Elisabeth extracted your soul. She killed you.”

  “No,” Kerrigan corrected. She started to breathe erratically. “She saved me.”

  Arawn’s expression softened, as least as much as a completely pitch-black face could. “I am sure that Elisabeth thought that, but family is everything to me. You would have been fine. I promise you by my name and by my title as Lord of the Hunt.”

  A tear spilled out and slid down her cheek. She shook her head. She couldn’t believe it—wouldn’t believe it. Her grandfather and father had been evil; she had been so sure of it all this time. They had killed her. They and her aunt were betrayers. None of this could be true.

  “No,” Kerrigan snapped, backing away.

  Arawn reached out as though he wanted to comfort her, but the protective barrier kept him out. “Granddaughter, let me through.”

  Kerrigan shook her head, continuing to retreat. “You’re trying to trick me so I’ll let you through and you can hurt my friends.”

  “Arawn,” a feminine voice whispered, “my old friend.”

  Startled, Kerrigan jumped to the side. Serena stood next to her. Instantly, Arawn’s face was on guard. “Serena?” There was a gentleness in his voice despite his surprise.

  “You promised Darienith. Did you keep your vow?” Serene asked. Kerrigan looked from one of them to the other. She hardly felt the cold grass under her feet.

  For a moment, Arawn seemed conflicted. He took a step back from the barrier. “How is this possible? You died.”

  “Did you keep your promise?” she asked again, this time her voice sharper. Her image began to hum with energy.

  Arawn’s jaw churned as he ground his teeth. His entire focus was on Serena. His eyes narrowed. He turned away at the question and Kerrigan recognized shame. Kerrigan was confused by Serena’s question, but whatever it was her grandfather knew he was in the wrong.

  “What promise?” Kerrigan finally whispered.

  They both looked at her as though they had forgotten she was there. “Do not listen to her,” Arawn said quickly. “She died. Darienith consumed her soul. And I don’t know anything about a promise.”

  Kerrigan opened her eyes with a gasp. Elisabeth’s face was over her, and she was shaking Kerrigan by the shoulders. Blinking, Kerrigan pushed Elisabeth back in surprise, a cold sweat slick on her skin. Selene and Nanette were sitting up, wide-eyed.

  “Where did you go?” Elisabeth demanded.

  “What?” Kerrigan asked, glancing around, trying to get her bearings.

  “I felt your spirit,” Elisabeth said. Her eyes were full of concern, and for a moment she seemed like her old self. “It wasn’t here, but it was, but it wasn’t. I thought something had happened.”

  Kerrigan shook her head, trying to grasp at what was real. She couldn’t marry up what she had seen, first with Serena and then with Arawn. They had felt so real, and Kerrigan was convinced they were, but then how was she sitting in her bed?

  “I don’t know,” Kerrigan said, but something in the back of her mind was putting the pieces together.

  “I think this is your power,” Elisabeth said, her hold on Kerrigan’s shoulder loosening. “We know you are not like me, half Soul Collector, but we know you are a quarter of something.”

  “Is she going to be all right?” Selene asked, searching Elisabeth’s face for reassurance.

  Touched by her concern, Kerrigan reached out for Selene’s hand. Selene’s eyes slipped over and Kerrigan was surprised at how much emotion she found there. A newfound understanding seemed to pass between them, that their bond was deeper then friendship, before Kerrigan turned back to Elisabeth.

  Huffing out a sigh, Elisabeth sat down on the bed, taking Kerrigan’s other hand. “I think you can project your spirit, detach most of it from your physical form and quite literally spirit walk,” Elisabeth said. Spirit walk? Kerrigan was thankful that she was holding her hand. “I always thought it was weird that some planets called me a Spiritwalker. I can see spirits and I can travel places, with help, that other people can’t. I can do a lot that mortals can’t, but I am not able to leave my body. I’m wondering if the term started because of Aryan. Everyone, including me, thought he was a half-breed Soul Collector. Now that we know that he isn’t and that he is Arawn’s son, I’m wondering if this is what they do. Arawn is the Lord of the Hunt, who can bring about the Wild Hunt. His abilities must be much different from that of a Soul Collector, which means that yours are, too.”

  “I saw him,” Kerrigan whispered, averting her eyes.

  “What?” Nanette screeched. Elisabeth froze, her face a mask of terror, and Kerrigan felt the instant tremble of her hand.

  “Where?” Elisabeth said.

  Kerrigan turned her head away, unable to meet Elisabeth’s gaze. “That’s where I was. He can’t get in here, but he wanted me to let him in.” Kerrigan swallowed. “He told me about Aryan before he became the Black King.”

  “He could have been a good man,” Elisabeth whispered. Kerrigan was instantly baffled by her statement—it was the last thing she expected Elisabeth to say. “Do not think that your father was all evil. I saw a different world where he was not broken, not insane. There is no such thing as all evil. After everything that I’ve seen, I know nothing is that simple.”

  “Are you well?” Kerrigan asked, tightening her hold on Elisabeth’s hand.

  Elisabeth’s smile faltered, but she recovered. “I will be.”

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Kerrigan said, tears pricking her eyes.

  For the first time in a long ti
me, she felt safe and wanted. When Nanette sat on the bed and put her hand over Kerrigan’s blanket-covered ankle, she felt a gut-wrenching sob escape. All of the fear and pain tumbled out of her as Elisabeth embraced her. Finally, she had come to terms with who and what she was. She knew that Elisabeth understood what that was like, knew what it was to hate a part of yourself and be unwilling to accept what was true. It would take some time for Kerrigan to be all right, but for now she could acknowledge her other side. It didn’t matter if what Arawn had said was true, that Elisabeth had accidently severed the connection and had killed her in a way, because the only person in all the worlds who understood exactly what it was like to have powers, dark powers, was Elisabeth. Kerrigan fell asleep in Elisabeth’s arms knowing that everything was going to be all right.

  Chapter 29: Hystera

  Malthael stood before the gate, waiting. Meredith was late. Matters were even more troubling when considering Ruhan was half the size of the gate. Whatever ill fate was breaking the connection of Oran from the other planets was taking its toll—already they feared using it, and soon he would have to close it. He asked about Nanette before returning to work on paperwork while they waited. Every once in a while, Malthael could hear the shuffling of paper, which assured him that Ruhan was still there. Emora was characteristically quiet and serene. The longer time stretched out, the more Malthael worried. Meredith was never late.

  His mind wandered to Troy, who still rested somewhere between life and death. Whatever had happened, it was clear to Malthael that it hadn’t been easy for Troy’s body to take. He was better now at least, conscious and mostly responsive. Sometimes he would have memory lapses and forget things they had already told him, but Malthael was thankful for any improvement. If the need to stay in contact with the other Gate Guardians wasn’t so vital he would be with Troy now. He was thankful to still be Hystera and thus remained in close proximity to the boy.