Gates of the Dead

by James A. Moore

  Stanna had no idea where Beron’s head had fallen. She looked. He was an ally once and she wanted to see his ashes burned properly, but there was no sign of his head and she’d been watching as the blade cut through his neck. The man’s skull didn’t fall free and roll away, it simply vanished.

  There would be time to look later.

  Around her the people she’d hired stormed into the crowd and cut them down with haste. There were a lot of Beron’s followers and she needed them retreating. There would be no attacks tolerated. The outcasts would not be allowed to make a move against the city, not until Hillar said they could and that would never happen. Besides which, there were other armies she had to deal with.

  The fool who’d grabbed up Beron’s sword came for her, screaming and swinging wildly.

  Stanna stepped aside as he ran past where she’d been and then smashed the side of his head with the Bitch’s pommel. He fell hard and flopped to the ground, twitching. A dent in his skull told her he’d not be getting up any time soon.

  Temmi stalked past her. The younger woman carried a much smaller sword and short spear. She held them in the proper way and Stanna nodded her approval. Her young lover was learning well, though she also sported a few cuts to show where her enemies managed to cause her harm.

  A man charged from behind her, intent on bashing Temmi’s head in with a wooden post made into a weapon. As the girl was momentarily busy stabbing another fighter in the shoulder, Stanna took it upon herself to cut down the one who was trying to sneak in for the kill.

  Her sword nearly severed his head, and he dropped his weapon and flopped bonelessly into the rising waters.

  They were rising, too. The entire field of battle was on a slope, and the waters were coming down so fast that they were rapidly making their own stream. It wouldn’t be long before the current was strong enough to lift bodies.

  Even as she was considering how to break the spirit of her enemies, they started to retreat. Encouraged by the sight of their enemies running, her followers let out a bellow of their own and gave chase.

  Stanna did not strike anyone else. Instead she kept watch for possible sneak attacks but there were none.

  When she looked at the ground around her she frowned. Something was wrong.

  “Ah. How in the name of the gods?”

  Beron’s body was gone now, missing as surely as his head.

  The waters were not nearly strong enough.

  Stanna suppressed a shiver and looked around again, paying closer attention. In the closest alleyway, something white and very nearly hairy squatted in a narrow corner between two buildings. She squinted and tried to make out what it was, but the rains were too violent and the image was blurred.

  “Enough.”

  She shook her head and then swept the long hair out of her eyes. She’d cut the stuff down to the skin in most places and contemplated hacking away the rest of it to stop it impeding her view any longer.

  Interlude: The Sisters

  The soldiers in civilian attire milled around for a few moments and then followed Stanna’s call. There were two more armies at the very least, which would likely be trying to take the city. They all needed to be dealt with and soon.

  When they were gone and the bodies of the dead lay across the ground, spilling more of their cooling blood into the waters running toward the bay, Ariah’s child pushed her hand through the layers of silk that held her suspended against the brick walls of the alleyway.

  Her claws allowed easy purchase on the surface that held her and she carefully moved herself to the ground, stretching her limbs and shivering in the unexpected waters. She was cold. That would likely never change until Ariah remade the world in his image.

  She had started off as one of the Grakhul and then been altered into a nightmare of metal and withered flesh. She had been seeded, fertilized by the altered He-Kisshi, turned into a larva that looked remarkably like she had when she first appeared in the world, but that was done now. After gestating within her cocoon, the creature took on a final form that was green, glorious and freed of traditional flesh.

  She looked around her and saw with eyes that were entirely different than what she had known before. The effect was momentarily disorienting. The water ran over her feet, chilling, but not harmful.

  In the distance she heard a new sound, a deep, thrumming rattle that sang to her. One of her sisters was now awake. Before she could respond she heard another similar sound from a different location. They were all awakening.

  It was almost time.

  Ariah would be pleased.

  Interlude: The Blood Mother

  Theryn looked out at the continuous rain and scowled. All the wealth in the world changed nothing if they could not leave their new homes.

  Being of sound mind and substantial fortune, the Blood Mother of Hollum had managed to procure very fine rooms for her and her chosen when they rode to Torema. Had the rains stopped she’d have been content with that.

  The rains were not stopping and her seconds paced like a pack of starving mutts looking at a fresh roast just beyond their reach.

  Naza glanced her way and very nearly growled. “We cannot stay here.”

  Theryn looked at the heavy scar tissue that covered most of her lieutenant’s face and hands, and nodded. Naza was a deadly enemy to have and her skills were undeniable. She no longer wanted to be here.

  “We need a ship.”

  Choto snorted. “I already have one waiting, but it won’t wait forever. The city is doomed. We need to leave.”

  “There are guards on us. They expect us to leave.”

  Kemm peered out the window before answering. “So we pay them or we kill them, but either way there’s no longer a Torema in a few days and if it sinks, we sink with it.”

  Choto gestured to the four chests of gems they’d already procured. They had more wealth than they could ever use. They had no intention of getting rid of it, either. There were other lands and they needed to reach them. Wherever they went they could make their fortunes all over again if they needed to, but it was easier to start with a strong bargaining position than to reacquire it.

  Rik did not speak. He dared not. He was barely allowed to live. Having betrayed his Blood Mother for the benefit of his true love, he was in a dangerous position, especially since the girl he loved above all else was Tully, who was currently wanted by Theryn for her treacherous behavior in the past.

  Tully claimed she had never betrayed Theryn and Theryn was inclined to believe her, but her actions spoke of a different situation. If she was innocent of stealing from the Blood Mother, she should have stayed in Hollum and proven her innocence.

  Whatever the case, Theryn was not completely willing to forgive either of them yet. They needed to be reminded that loyalty was rewarded and foolishness was punished.

  Theryn looked around the suite of rooms they now lived in. It was enough for ten. She was not satisfied. She had spent her entire life building her own army, the union of thieves in Hollum, and at the end there was nothing left of it but a scattering of the finest thieves and cutthroats in the world.

  And that union would be moving on.

  “Why are we discussing anything? The money is ours. Go kill them and let us be about the business of getting to your ship, Kemm.”

  Her lieutenants smiled, even Rik. A moment later she was alone in the room and listening to the rain fall in sheets outside her very lovely prison cell. She rose gracefully and headed for the window.

  “They’ll not have all of the fun.”

  Because of who she was, because of what she did and because, somewhere out there in the city, Tully had the ear of important people, there were thirty guards around the building. Some were in plain sight and others pretended to be doing other things. Directly below them there were four men who played at cards and genuinely never seemed to sleep.

  The windows opened to let in the cooling breezes from the ocean, though just
now those very winds seemed a bit too chill.

  Theryn crouched on the sill for a moment and carefully set her hook into the wooden frame, making sure it was properly secured before she used the silk line to drop down toward the window below.

  It was open, as she knew it would be. The men in that room sat together playing cards and speaking softly. Like as not they’d heard at least a few of the words coming from the room above, were trying to make sense of the Hollum dialect. It would have been easier for them if they were members of the Union of Thieves and could understand the coded phrases that had been used in the conversation. Suspicion did nothing to make their case.

  There were actually six men. Four of them played cards. Two were asleep on narrow cots. The one facing the window stared at her with wide eyes as she descended her nearly transparent rope.

  “What in the hundred hells?” He was fast, she gave him that. The man pushed back his seat and was standing before her feet touched the open windowsill.

  She was faster. The dagger slipped from between her fingers and streaked through the air, flawlessly driving into his left eye.

  The guard fell back, a scream stuck on his lips. Her second throwing knife sliced the ear of the man on the left, but he was moving too quickly and the damage was minimal. He hissed and continued to rise, his hand grabbing the club he’d rested against the table.

  Amazing how many people felt a club was a poor weapon, but Theryn knew better. She’d taken more than one blow from them over the years and had suffered a broken wrist defending herself from one in the distant past.

  Because she knew better than to underestimate the danger the club presented, she moved fast and drove the business end of one of her blades into the wielder’s throat.

  By that time the other two men had managed to get out of their seats, though one of them was still fighting to draw his own dagger from the sheath at his waist. The same blade she’d killed his friend with drove through his temple even as he finally got his weapon free.

  The last of the conscious men let out a battle cry that nearly shook the walls. The blade of her free hand smashed across the bridge of his nose and broke it. He backed up, blinking furiously as the blood started spilling from both nostrils. While he was busy trying to recover his senses, she stabbed him in the neck three times and then stepped back before he could hit the table and then the wooden floor.

  Thunder shattered the momentary silence.

  The two men rolled from their cots, ready for combat. Even if they had been sleeping, they were very obviously seasoned fighters. Both took proper stances and one of them slid sideways, moving to bar her from escaping the way she came in.

  There was no consideration of trying to talk her way out of the situation. Theryn was not called the Blood Mother because of her skills in raising children.

  The man to her left, trying to block the window, was nervous; he could see the dead around her and knew exactly how quickly she had taken them out.

  The man to her right nodded, to himself, she assumed, and reached for the whip on his belt. Not a perfect weapon for close quarters, but it would do the job if he could strike first.

  Theryn slid across the floor, using one foot to propel her and raising the other higher, kicking at the man’s head.

  He reached for her leg, prepared to block, and while he was thus distracted, she threw the dagger at his face.

  The blade punched through his cheek and clacked audibly against his teeth.

  He let out a loud yelp and reached for the pain in his face, dropping his whip and his dagger alike, which was when she drove her fingers into his eyes and temporarily blinded him.

  Her hands grabbed at his ears and hauled him forward. He moved with her, the sudden pain making him momentarily docile, and she used him as a shield between her and the man blocking the window.

  It was a well-timed ploy as the guard had been coming for her and now was forced to hesitate. She could see him considering which was more important, stopping her or avoiding the death of his partner.

  The man in her hands thrashed, pushing against her, and she slipped away, letting him flail.

  He was a perfect distraction.

  Theryn’s next attack was not a knife, but a thin needle. The weighted tip stuck in the neck of the man near the window and he hissed at the sudden pain.

  And then he died. The poison was expensive, but it was useful.

  By the time he’d hit the ground, Theryn had her arm around the neck of the last man and was choking the life from him. He could not breathe and her arm was positioned to cut off the blood flow to his head. He struggled for a few seconds and then collapsed. She lowered him to the ground and kept her grip. The sounds of his neck bones breaking were like a lover’s song for her.

  She checked the apartment one last time and then left through the doorway, moving into the hall and then down the stairs to street level. By the time she walked outside the rest of her crew was with her. There were no words. They moved back up the stairs and gathered their belongings.

  The ship was waiting. The rains were falling harder, and as far as she could tell the world was ending.

  Until it did, she would fight and kill to keep what was hers.

  And if she happened across Tully before then, she’d peel the flesh from the foolish girl.

  Chapter Five

  War

  Tully

  Tully stared at the long ranks of horsemen and decided she could find better things to do with her time. Most of her friends were within arm’s reach but she found that didn’t matter much. She started to back up and felt Stanna’s hand on her shoulder.

  “None of that. Just wait right where you are.”

  Tully looked at the larger woman. “They’ve horses.”

  Stanna nodded her head. “Aye.”

  “And armor.”

  Another nod. “Oh, yes.”

  “And there are a lot of them. A damn sight more than I expected.”

  “There always are.”

  “So why am I supposed to stay here?”

  “Because we have to direct them the right way.”

  “And where is that?”

  “West of town.”

  “And how are we going to do that?” Tully frowned. Seemed she knew all the answers a few minutes earlier, but watching the numbers of soldiers increase, all rational thought tried hard to escape her.

  They had not yet started their charge into the city, but the armies of King Opar were impressive even from a distance. They stood at the northern edge of the valley that swept down to Torema. The slope was gentle enough but rains were washing down in a constant torrent and Tully wondered how the horses would fare.

  In the long run, she figured it didn’t matter much. The horses could fall down and their sheer weight would crush the city.

  “How many do you suppose there are, Stanna?”

  “Ten thousand or so.”

  Temmi, ever the optimist, replied, “More like seventeen thousand or so. Plus there are probably supply wagons. Not that they’d have much left to them after all that traveling. I expect they’ll be ready to plunder.”

  The storms cut loose with a barrage of lightning and a nearly constant drum roll of thunder to follow the light show. The rains, already heavy, grew worse.

  Tully shook hair from her face. “Why don’t we just go find that ship you were talking about and get away from this place?”

  Stanna looked at the growing tide of soldiers looming over the city and frowned. The angle wasn’t perfect, but they could all tell that the soldiers ran as far as the eye could see. They were waiting for something, and all the runner had told Stanna was that there were more soldiers still coming.

  Stanna tilted her head and closed her eyes for a moment, then she nodded. “Right. We’re leaving. Head for the docks.”

  Tully turned her head so fast she felt a hot flare of pain in her neck from a muscle protesting. “Really?”

&nbs
p; “Really. There’s nothing here to fight for. We’re leaving town.”

  Temmi frowned. “What about your word to Hillar Darkraven?”

  “I fought one war today. Don’t want to do a second. Or a third.” Stanna shrugged her massive shoulders. “And like as not, Hillar is taking this time to prepare her ships for leaving.”

  Before Temmi could respond, and judging by her expression she was ready for a long argument, horns sounded in the distance. The sound was repeated in several locations to the north of the city and the armies of Giddenland moved forward with frightening efficiency.

  There was nothing of the scattered remnants they’d fought earlier. These soldiers were armed, armored, and well-trained.

  Temmi looked to Stanna and nodded. “Right. Let’s be off then.”

  Stanna looked to one of her lieutenants. Tully recognized him. Rhinen, of the dark hair and the blue eyes. He had a nice smile half-hidden under a thick, mutton chop mustache. Stanna said nothing, but made several gestures with her hands.

  Rhinen nodded, then looked to Tully and smiled, before calling his people to arms. All around them the ex-slavers and the citizens of Torema moved as a unified front, sliding around Stanna and her closest companions.

  Stanna turned her horse toward Torema and started to ride. Tully and Temmi followed, but Tully kept looking over her shoulder, frowning as the forces moved to meet the enemy.

  “Are they not retreating?” She had to yell to make herself heard as the army that had gathered behind them surged toward the invaders.

  Stanna shrugged. “This is their home.”

  “What about us then?”

  Stanna skewered her with a hard glance. “Did you not say you wanted to leave?”

  “Well, yes, but–”

  “Then we leave. Before this gets worse – and it will only get worse.”

  “What about Rhinen?”

  Stanna shook her head and frowned. “He will live and retreat, or he will die. I cannot say.”

  Tully turned her head several times. Then she shook the thoughts away and frowned. She was starting to think like Niall Leraby and that was a mistake. It was time to look out for herself; that, if nothing else, she had learned from the Blood Mother. The rest would have to sort itself.