Gates of the Dead

by James A. Moore

  Behind them the sounds of combat began.

  Tully looked over her shoulder and saw the horsemen from Giddenland charging down the slope, rain waters splashing at the hooves of their horses and banners hanging limply in the torrential rains.

  She knew the plans, of course. The notion was to hit from the east and drive the invaders to the west. They couldn’t hope to defeat those numbers, but if they could move them west, then the Giddenlanders would take care of the Hollumites left to their own devices on the other side of Torema.

  No. There was no reason to stay. It had all been said before. Torema was doomed. The only wise choice was to flee into the ocean and the only way to do that was to get on a ship.

  The war was a lovely distraction. It let those with the right connections or money reach the ships first. Currently Tully had the right connections. She counted her blessings and moved away from the battle.

  A voice in her mind said she was a coward. She ignored that voice as best she could.

  Brogan

  The winds railed against the ship and the waves lifted and settled around it, but the vessel was well-built and despite all of that, Brogan was comfortable for the moment.

  There were discussions. They were inevitable. All things considered, he was surprised by how many of his companions had made it to Torema in the first place, especially when one considered how many wanted them dead. Perhaps it was a sign that the gods did not control everything as much as he believed. Perhaps it was mere dumb luck. He could not decide.

  Anna was not pleased. Nor would he have expected her to be happy. Her Desmond was among the missing and there was simply no way to know if he were alive or dead. Despite her many abilities she could not simply cast a spell to see if he were among the living – there might be Galeans who could find out for her, but that was not one of her skills – and any attempt to locate him would simply point at where he was, not whether or not he still lived. That helped not at all, as they were on the move and there would be no time to go back to find him.

  Some things took precedence, no matter how much they might wish otherwise.

  First they had to finish this impossible war with the gods and then they could go looking for loved ones. That fact stood true, but was not well-liked by anyone.

  Brogan thought of all of these things as he ate the food offered him. There was little that was fresh, but at least the captain of the ship had some fruit that hadn’t rotted away.

  “So, where to then? Where do we go from here?” Anna pointed to the city in the distance. “We do not need to be there.”

  “No.” Brogan shook his head. “We do not. We need to go north.”

  “North is where the worst of this is.” She looked his way, frowning.

  Harper spoke up. “North is where the Gateway is.”

  “The Gateway?”

  “The Gateway to the gods. It’s a very large stone arch in the waters. We’ve seen it. It exists and according to what I learned as a child it is a doorway to the realm of the gods.”

  “So you plan on facing the gods?” The expression on her face said she knew it was a foolish question.

  “I do.” Brogan set down the fruit and reached for the cup of water next to his plate. “There’s no choice in the matter. I have to end this.”

  “Is there no way for others to join you?” That came from Harper again.

  “You can join me, but I don’t know as it will do any good.” He shrugged. “I’m supposed to be able to touch the gods now, but I don’t think it’s a trick I can share.”

  If anyone disagreed with him, they kept their mouths shut.

  “I have to go north. That does not mean the rest of you do.” He gestured with his free hand. “There are lands to the south. Some islands to the east of the Kaer-ru, as I understand it. They might keep you safe from the gods, at least for a time.”

  Before the conversation could go any further, Captain Odobo and his first mate knocked at the door to the cabin and opened it without asking.

  Odobo smiled and bobbed his head nervously. Several men with swords, together with some ‘thing’, looked his way in response. Mostly he fixed his gaze on Faceless.

  “I beg pardon. I do not mean to interfere, but the weather grows worse and I need to know where we are going.”

  Brogan looked around. He’d assumed the man already knew. “North. Up along the shoreline and north.”

  “The weather is bad there. The seas are violent.”

  “And yet that is where we need to go. If you are not up to the task, we can try to find another to captain the ship.” Brogan was not in the mood to debate anything at all with the man. He had places to go and little time to discuss the matter with anyone.

  “I do not know if the ship can survive.”

  “She seems seaworthy to me.” Though he’d have admitted to knowing very little.

  Harper interjected, “Do your best, captain. But if he says north is the direction then that is where we must go.”

  Odobo looked around and nodded, before his gaze once again found Faceless and stayed there.

  “As you wish. I fear there will be little we can do by way of supplies.”

  “There are fish in the sea. We will not starve,” Anna spoke up. “There are ways to purify water and I know a few of them. We will not die of thirst.”

  Odobo nodded again. “The waves from the north are greater than most would expect. I have recently been north of here and it is only through the grace of the gods that we survived.”

  Brogan felt his jaw clench.

  Jahda, the tall man who’d joined them in the mountains, one of the Louron and, if he’d heard properly, the closest thing the Kaer-ru had to a king, spoke softly. “Do you know who I am, Captain Odobo?”

  The man looked his way and slowly nodded, his smile faltering.

  “We have reasons to go north. You have been tasked with getting us there safely. Do you believe you can do this?”

  Odobo hesitated for a moment and finally nodded his head. “I can take you there. I merely warn that there are dangers.”

  “Your concern is noted, Captain Odobo.” Jahda moved closer. “Just the same, we must go north.”

  The first mate looked ready to ask a question, but Odobo silenced him with a glance.

  “If we must go north, then we shall go north. I think it best if we make landfall one last time for supplies, just the same.” Odobo spoke firmly, but with deference.

  “If we must, then we must, but it will have to be a very quick journey. We have a great distance to travel.” Harper spoke calmly, but Brogan knew better, the man was annoyed at the very least.

  “I merely think it best that we have full supplies.”

  “You were supposed to have stocked those already.” Harper’s expression was civil, but barely.

  “We can go without, I suppose.” Odobo did not sound pleased, and something about that tone bothered Brogan more than he’d have expected. It was a simple thing, really, to read most people, but the captain was not open. He did not share his words easily and his face was masked, even when he was smiling.

  “No.” Brogan stood up. “Perhaps it would be better to head to Kaer-ru. The supplies are likely better and there isn’t so much risk of being attacked.”

  “Attacked?” Odobo’s voice was loud, possibly louder than he meant it to be. He looked at Brogan with hard eyes. “What do you suggest?”

  “People have grown desperate in Torema. The situation is dire. The people there might well try to overrun a ship in an effort to get away.”

  The expression on the captain’s face was enough. It was relief and something else.

  Still the man nodded. “Yes. The Kaer-ru would make more sense. Of course.” He nodded his head several more times and smiled broadly. “I shall make the arrangements then.”

  Jahda spoke, and this time his voice carried an edge. “Make certain that you work quickly with the arrangements. Time is no l
onger our friend.”

  “As you say, Jahda.” Odobo smiled and moved for the deck. His first mate followed him like a shadow.

  When they were out of the room Jahda spoke softly again, barely above a whisper, but just loud enough to be heard by those close by. “I do not trust that man.”

  Harper nodded. “Nor I, but he was the best I could find. When we get to Kaer-ru I might seek another captain.”

  Jahda crossed his arms and lowered his head, a brooding expression shadowing the broad features that seemed better suited to smiling. “You should have him go to Louron. The docks there have several captains I would trust.”

  “Louron it shall be.” Harper nodded a second time and headed for the deck. “I’ll pass that on.”

  “Tell him the supplies can come from my personal stores. There will be no need of bartering. I shall gladly offer up whatever is needed.”

  Harper nodded again and moved faster. In a moment he was gone.

  Anna watched him go, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It was not an angry expression as one might suppose, but a thoughtful one. Brogan had seen it several times in recent days and had come to know the difference.

  Five feet away from him Faceless moved and headed up the flight of stairs, toward the deck above them. What his reasons were, was anyone’s guess.

  All of them watched the strange creature move and waited until he was gone before anyone spoke.

  It was the Galean, Roskell Turn, who said it first. “I do not trust that creature.”

  “Why is that?” Brogan studied the well-dressed stranger.

  “I cannot read its face. It has no face to read. How can I ever know what it is thinking?”

  Brogan nodded. Anna mirrored the gesture.

  So far the creature had done no harm, it could even be argued that the thing had been beneficial, but there was no way to know something that had no face and almost never spoke.

  The ship shuddered in the impact of a wave that struck the side instead of being cut by the prow. To the last they were staggered by the impact, and Brogan scowled.

  “If we truly have to add supplies, we need to be swift about it. The seas aren’t likely to get calmer.”

  No one had an answer to that at first, but finally Jahda spoke again. He said, “We should check the ship’s stores.”

  Brogan nodded his head again. “I’ve no idea how much a ship should have for supplies, but I know roughly what we’ll need for this journey.” He hoped that wasn’t a lie. The only true measure he had was how long a wagon ride would last, heading that far north and how much would be needed to feed those who rode with it.

  Horses, less than pleased to be on a ship in a turbulent sea, took half of the storage space. The rest was dry goods and barrels of water.

  “Why are there horses in the storage area?” Brogan asked that question as soon as he found the rest of his crew, most of whom were currently trying their luck at resting in the rough waters. A few of the lads looked positively green.

  Laram looked at him and shrugged as he rose from his cot. “Harper thought it a shame to leave trained horses behind; besides, we have no way of knowing what we will encounter once we get where we’re going.”

  Next to him on the cot, the Scryer he’d fallen for lay in a very nearly fetal position. Her eyes were closed and her skin was even paler than usual, covered by a patina of sweat.

  “Is she sick then?”

  “Something happened with one of the gods. Whatever it is she won’t say, but it’s left her in this shape.”

  Brogan nodded, knowing full well that one of the gods was dead, slain in an effort to get to him and Anna before they could find a way to access the mind of Walthanadurn. It had been a matter of moments to decide if they would die or they would live and, in the end, a dead god buried in a mountain had decided they should live.

  “Will she be all right?”

  “She says the gods are screaming. It’s all she can hear most times. They are enraged.”

  “The gods are angry. That’s not a new thing.”

  Laram nodded, never taking his eyes off Brogan. “Do you think we’ll survive this?”

  “Who can say? All we can do is try.”

  Anna spoke up, “We’ll survive. We have no choice. If we fail the world ends. All of us die.”

  Laram looked her way and nodded. His eyes explained how much he grieved for her loss.

  Brogan looked away – he had enough grief of his own. He had enough of pain and loss and misery. He preferred, especially now, to focus on anger. Grief would slow him down, but anger, properly held in check, would feed him and offer its own cold comfort.

  Rather than face any more of the grief offered to Anna, he shook his head and moved toward the upper deck.

  Enough.

  Enough of sorrow.

  The air was cold and bit at him, and he welcomed it. Better a hard, wet, chilled breeze than the stillness of the caves.

  The sound of steel clashing against steel was one he was very familiar with and Brogan turned his eyes toward the noise even as he finished climbing to the deck’s damp surface. His hand reached for the axe without conscious thought and he watched on as Harper knocked a man’s blade aside with his longer sword and shoved the poor bastard back against one of the ship’s masts.

  True to form Harper’s second, shorter blade lashed out and ended the man before he could defend himself.

  The mutineers were not waiting in a line, however, and even as the blood flowed from Harper’s latest victim three more men were doing their best to rush him.

  Faceless grabbed one of them and hurled him over the side of the ship as if he weighed nothing. The man let out a yelp and a moment later hit the hard surface of the water at an awkward angle.

  That was all the time that Brogan took for looking. Near as he could tell it was the whole crew of the ship that was attacking. Many of them stood aside, waiting to reach for Harper.

  Rather than consider whether or not he might be in the wrong, Brogan strode forward and buried the blade of his axe in the neck and shoulder blade of the closest crew member. His foot kicked out and the blade came free, dripping meat and crimson fluids.

  The second man in line had time to look his way before Brogan used the haft of the axe to shatter his face. Step, turn, strike and retreat, and the third fell.

  Captain Odobo was the one who came for him next, all pretense of docile personality washed away, replaced with a hard stare, a scowl and a long blade that was just shy of being a proper sword. The man was good with it, too. His thrust would have gutted Brogan had he been a second slower in stepping back.

  Swords were elegant weapons. Those that were well-made were good at deflection, thrusting, slicing and stabbing. Sadly the knife in Odobo’s hands was close enough to prove that point. Brogan went on the defensive, parrying and blocking as best he could, while the captain tried to either gut him or carve away a few fingers.

  Brogan ducked a hard thrust and moved in before the man could pull back the blade. His hand caught the sword arm’s sleeve and held tight even as his axe swept in sideways and slapped the captain across his face with a hard steel surface.

  Odobo grunted and tried to pull back, but Brogan held tight and shifted his axe enough to allow a proper cut at the bastard.

  The blade caught the captain in the face and opened a wound from his chin up to his eye, narrowly missing taking the organ out in the process.

  Odobo screamed but did not stop fighting. His free arm caught Brogan’s tartan and pulled it tight as the man fell backward.

  A moment later Brogan lay on the deck trying hard to understand how he got there.

  Odobo would have had him if not for Faceless. The bastard came in hard and fast, his now freed sword aimed at Brogan’s chest, and Brogan had long enough to acknowledge that he was as good as dead. Then the powerful strike was halted in mid-stroke as Faceless caught the sword arm and yanked Odobo backward with enough f
orce to send the bastard flying.

  He saw the look of shock on the captain’s face, and then Odobo crashed into the railing. His body shattered wood and likely a few bones. The impact stopped him, but did not spill the bastard into the water.

  Brogan got to his feet, nodded his thanks, and then went after the man with a vengeance. Odobo was getting to his feet when Brogan ran into him, knocking him sprawling across the deck. The axe came down hard and cut off Odobo’s sword hand. He could have killed the man but he wanted answers.

  Odobo shrieked and looked down at his ruined limb, eyes wide and unbelieving.

  Brogan kicked him in the side of his head and watched him lying there, dazed and bleeding.

  By that point Harper was cutting the throat of the first mate. Surely the largest saving grace was that Harper was dressed for cold weather, as there were several new holes in his cloak and a few cuts running the length of his heavy shirt, but surprisingly little blood flowing from any of those holes.

  Faceless stomped down on the head of a crewmember with astonishing results. Enough blood exploded from the remains to have the rest of the crew surrendering in an instant, all of them staring at Faceless with expressions of absolute dread. The wooden deck was broken where Faceless had planted his foot, and within moments Jahda came up the steps and stopped in his tracks, staring at the bodies and the blood and then, finally, at Faceless.

  Jahda said, “I was coming up to let you know that we have plenty of supplies. I don’t think we need to head for Kaer-ru.” He looked away from Faceless and stared at Brogan. “What has happened?”

  Harper answered, “Captain Odobo decided that we could not be allowed to go north as we are harboring people whom the gods would see dead.”

  Brogan nodded, his questions answered that easily, and looked down at the unconscious man.

  His hands caught the captain under each armpit and he looked to Harper. “Help me cast him overboard.”

  Harper nodded and moved toward the captain’s sprawled legs.