Gates of the Dead

by James A. Moore

  Somewhere along the way Harper had released his bow, and drawn his swords. He danced in close and took Laram’s place, his face still locked in that vulpine grin of his. His hooked sword cast another man’s weapon to the side and the second blade whisked in and opened a wound in the same fellow’s throat. He blocked another attempted attack and grunted at the force of the blow.

  Not far away Stanna caught a man with her sword and then kicked his corpse free of the blade, her eyes locked on Brogan. She intended to take him down and he intended to remain on his feet.

  Faceless caught two of the attackers and lifted them in his hands, grunting as one of them struck his chest with an axe once, twice, and then a third time. Each blow left a scratch but nothing substantial. The man with the axe screamed and then let out a worse sound as Faceless crushed his captured arm into a bloody pulp. He threw the man into another one of their enemies and then concentrated on the other fighter in his grasp. Brogan sensed a certain grim glee that came from the creature.

  The dogs took several of the enemies down before archers ended them. Roskell Turn was doing something, muttering to himself and making gestures, but if those motions did anything at all, Brogan didn’t have time to study the situation.

  The sword blow from Stanna nearly knocked his axe away. The woman swept the sword around for a second attack and Brogan retreated, stunned by her sheer strength and savagery. She was a controlled force, and he felt each blow she sent his way as he deflected them. He grunted and moved back, and she came forward calmly, efficiently doing her best to remove his head from his shoulders.

  Harper was nearby but no longer mattered. Faceless was on the other side and he too ceased to be important. It was all he had to fight this woman and not lose. Stanna moved and he danced with her, keeping himself safe and trying to find a way in, past her nearly flawless defenses.

  Metal clanged on metal and Brogan reached for his short sword, only to change his mind as the massive blade she carried clashed against his axe with bruising force.

  The woman looked at him with a face carved from stone. There was no fury. There was no anger. There was just her unsettling level of skill and her strength.

  Brogan kicked her in the leg with all of his might. She wasn’t expecting it, or didn’t seem to be, and winced as the pain ran up her thigh. Never one to ignore an advantage, Brogan shoved himself into her while she was off balance and sent her stumbling.

  The woman caught herself at the same time he brought the axe around. She parried, but the blow was powerful indeed and the sword slipped out of her grip.

  There was no time to smile or jeer. She came for him, ignoring the lack of weapon, and hit him hard enough to take his feet from the ground.

  He hit the frozen surface and swept his leg at her ankles. A moment later they were locked together on the ice, doing their very best to beat the other to death.

  Tully

  The notion, near as she could tell, was for Darkraven’s forces to distract Brogan McTyre and his people while the Blood Mother took care of actually killing their mutual enemies. Theryn seemed perfectly content with that plan and set herself up with her elite followers. While the rest of the attackers were settling in boats, they’d scaled down the side of the ship that was hidden away and then made their way to land when everyone else was distracted. It might not have worked in many circumstances, but the perpetual night out on the sea helped.

  Tully knew what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to stay on the ship.

  She followed Theryn instead. Despite her best efforts, she had not been able to get any of the Blood Mother’s ilk alone. Had she, they’d surely have died. Either they were too aware of her presence on the ship, or they were simply damnably lucky.

  So it came to this. Temmi was moving with the rest of the fighters, but they’d decided somewhere along the way that Tully was too fragile to join in.

  The black clothes came in handy enough when she descended to the ice.

  She’d watched and waited and did nothing. Once again, the team of lieutenants was very good at what they did and they made it impossible for her to get close without being spotted, right up until the nightmare thing that stood with the enemy spotted Rik and grabbed him.

  Rik had been a friend. He’d even risked his life to help her escape from Hollum when Theryn was ready to peel the skin off her body.

  That didn’t stop the monster from breaking him like an egg.

  Kem fired an early shot and hit a tall, dark man in the chest. A second later an archer for the other side buried an arrow in his face for his efforts. He never even let out a sound, just fell back on the ice, dead.

  That was when the chaos started in earnest. The Darkraven gave out her call to kill everyone and the battle began properly.

  Tully stayed out of it. She had specific targets in mind.

  Naza, the scarred woman she had once called sister, was moving amongst the enemy like a mist, cutting and slashing when eyes were turned away from her, and then reappearing elsewhere.

  Tully had one advantage and that was simply that she knew where to look, and how to see the other woman. A small toss of her wrist and the blade planted itself deep in Naza’s hamstring. The woman let out a yelp of pain and tried to find the source of her sudden agonies. The man who’d killed Kem earlier with a single arrow shot had switched to using two swords instead. One of the weapons had a hooked end and caught Naza’s arm even as the other blade slipped in and filleted her guts.

  He was past in an instant and moving through the crowd with the same sort of grace and stealth. That left Theryn herself and Choto to consider.

  Choto let out a hoarse scream as the monster with the others caught her and bent her backwards until her spine snapped.

  Theryn’s knife buried itself in Tully’s hand when she was still trying to find the woman. The pain was massive, but no larger than what she’d been trained to withstand.

  Theryn, the Blood Mother, earned her name in Hollum. She’d been a leader among the Union of Thieves and she’d specialized in assassins and cutthroats more than she did burglars. But she also understood the benefit of endurance and had taught all of her “children” to survive the harshest situations through pain management. It was one thing to run fast or climb walls, another to be perfectly still while crouching on one leg or holding onto a windowsill. Tully had learned the hard way the benefit of endurance, and that meant overcoming cramping muscles and extreme discomforts.

  All of which meant that Tully moved fast and pulled the small blade from her hand without blacking out or screaming.

  The Blood Mother was on her even as the blade came free.

  Theryn did not waste time with words, but instead hammered at Tully, driving her backward with a thin sword in one hand and a curved nightmare blade in the other. The curved piece was deceptive – it could reach farther than Tully wanted to think about. The other sword, while thin, was hard and sharp and would cut her open with ease if she were caught.

  Tongues of steel tried to taste her, and Tully retreated, having no other option. She could either get in too close for the weapons to cut her, and try her luck with the very dagger that had bloodied her hand, or she could back away and stay out of range. Neither was the easiest notion at the moment but until she could get a better grasp of her own weapons she didn’t see that she had much of a choice in the matter.

  Her foot slipped on something wet on the ice and Tully went down hard. She was, however, a fine student of the woman trying to kill her, and she rolled quickly out of the way as Theryn tried to slice her into gobbets.

  Sometimes friends are the most amazing things.

  She did not know where Temmi came from, only that the girl came at Theryn like a charging bull and sent the Blood Mother stumbling across the ice, pinwheeling her arms and trying desperately to keep her balance. Say what you will about ice, but it’s a sight harder to stand on than most ground. The Blood Mother slipped at last and crashed onto
her side. Temmi started toward her but Tully called out a warning and circled carefully.

  Throwing knives. The first one went into Theryn’s leg. She let out a grunt and rolled over, ignoring the curved blade and throwing a thin leaf of a blade in return. Tully watched it coming and moved out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blade aimed at her chest.

  While she was doing that, Temmi ran forward and kicked Theryn in the face. It was a solid blow, and the target of the kick smashed backward, her face bloodied.

  Temmi wobbled on the ice but kept her balance.

  Tully threw a blade and watched it skip off the leathers Theryn was wearing.

  Temmi did not have knives. She had a short sword. Theryn came up with a dagger in her hand and Temmi hacked down with her weapon of choice, cutting the woman’s bicep to the bone. All the training in the world means nothing to a muscle that’s been chopped away. Theryn’s hand dropped the blade. She looked up at Temmi with fury in her eyes.

  Temmi swept the sword the other way and cut half of Theryn’s face off. Nose and cheek and chin all blossomed blood and the woman fell back, screaming. Even in the near-darkness, Tully could see bone.

  Temmi did not take any chances. She brought her sword up again and chopped down, burying the blade in Theryn’s chest. Possibly the most lethal woman that Tully had ever seen was dead. It was not at her hands but she was all right with that. She had never wanted the woman’s life, only her freedom from the demands the woman made.

  Not far away Stanna let out a roar and slapped down a man almost as tall as she was. He hit the ground and rolled before getting back up.

  Even closer in, Hillar Darkraven was proving why she was worthy of leading a city of criminals. She was bloodied and battered but she was still fighting and her elbow drove into a man’s throat before she shoved a knife into his heart.

  The night skies screamed.

  The winds that had been steadily pushing at all of them suddenly drove down like a hammer blow and all around her the people who had been fighting found themselves hard-pressed to stay on their feet. Tully herself was thrown sideways and rolled across the frozen surface.

  It had to be the He-Kisshi. Tully’s heart seized at the thought. Ever since she and Niall Leraby had escaped the sacrificial death planned for them, the same undying beast had stalked them again and again. It had killed Niall and now it was coming back for her, ready to make her vanish as surely as it had stolen him away from them.

  All around her the fighting stopped.

  Only three figures were standing. First was the faceless thing that had killed at least three people she knew of. Next was a dark-haired woman covered in enough cloaks and skirts to hide away any real features aside from her face. And finally a short, dark man who looked around with a furious expression.

  “This is over!” The short man had a thick accent that she recognized as Galean. Not the He-Kisshi after all, but instead a sorcerer. She was relieved. There had been a time when she would have been terrified of the man and his possible skills, but in comparison to the Undying he was a minor threat. He could be killed if it came to that, the same could not be said for the hooded servants of the gods.

  “Go back to your ship and leave here.” The man’s voice was clear enough. “Do not make us punish you with your lives.”

  Hillar Darkraven looked at the man with a murderous glint in her eye. She did not like being told what to do and she surely did not like being thwarted. Tully didn’t have to know the woman better than she did to understand that fact about her.

  “You speak as if we have a choice in this matter.” Hillar’s voice was remarkably calm, despite her expression.

  “You do.” The man stared levelly at the ruler of the world’s largest dead city. “You can leave or I can kill all of you.”

  “You can’t kill all of us.”

  “Would you test me?” The small man stepped closer, but rather than being foolish enough to get within range he merely looked at her and watched as Hillar suddenly turned red-faced and began to cough and wheeze. She was not breathing, that was obvious. Her face reddened even more and she fell forward. Had she been standing, she would surely have hurt herself in the fall.

  One heartbeat, two, three, four and suddenly she was gasping. Her watery eyes rolled briefly and Hillar coughed again before taking in a deep breath.

  “I don’t have to kill all of you. Only a select few. The rest will take my words and hold them closely.”

  Hillar stood back up slowly, panting and resting her hands on her knees as she steadied herself.

  “Or I could have you killed.” She looked his way and slowly stood to her full height, which was not overly impressive.

  “We are done now.” The voice came from elsewhere and Tully shifted enough to see the speaker, the man Darkraven had called Jahda. He was bloodied but not dead.

  Hillar stared at him and he stared back. It was a silent fight, strictly mental, and Tully had seen that sort of combat countless times over the years.

  Hillar finally nodded. “We retreat!” She looked at Jahda and then at the man Stanna had been fighting. If that was Brogan McTyre, the man who had declared war on the gods, he was slightly smaller than she’d expected but looked the part of a crazed killer. “You’ve no ship. You’ve no way out of this frozen waste, and we’ll certainly not aid you.”

  The red-haired man spat red phlegm and smiled. He had a wolf’s smile: a promise of death and little else.

  “Go to the Kaer-ru. You’ll be safer there, Hillar.” Jahda spoke softly, his body not standing as tall as it had before. The arrow was gone from his chest and he held a press of fur against the wound.

  Hillar nodded and turned toward the boats. Tully started moving toward them as well, careful to avoid being seen. She would climb the side of the ship and be done with it. Temmi stared at her for a moment, her face a mask of unasked questions. Tully would have to explain. That was all there was to it. They were friends, and the girl was kind enough not to report her for her actions. That did not mean she wouldn’t expect answers.

  Stanna looked hard at the man she’d been fighting. He stared back with a matching expression.

  A decent number of people headed back to the boats, but almost the same number was left behind, dead or dying. It was the end of the world, and few seemed at all interested in burying the dead.

  Brogan

  They made a bonfire for the corpses. They weren’t savages and Laram had been a friend and very nearly a brother.

  Harper stared at the fires and asked, “Do you believe that death ends the journey? Or do they move on?”

  Brogan spat. “I’ve no care at this point. If there is a journey it’s different for the dead and the sacrificed. Mine were sacrificed. According to the old stories that means they are food in the bellies of the gods.” It was a lie, but only half a lie, really. He had hopes. But little belief left to him.

  “Yes, but Laram and that Mearhan girl. Maybe they’ll finally be together.”

  Brogan nodded his head. “We can hope. He deserved that at least.”

  “He was a good lad.”

  Brogan looked at his companion. “What’s gotten into you, Harper? When did you become sentimental?”

  “The world is likely ending, and even if we save it, it’s very changed from what it was. Most of the civilized places have been scrubbed away by the gods. I suppose I’m missing the world we knew.”

  Brogan nodded. They were silent for a while and then he said, “We need to be on our way. I can’t even say how far we have to travel. I just know we’ve no ship and a long way to swim.”

  “Hmm. Maybe the Galean can do something about that.”

  “Anna?”

  “No, the true Galean. I expect he has more power than he wants to show us.”

  “I can hardly force him.”

  “You can ask.” He pointed with his chin to where Jahda and the man were in discussion near a small fire. Not long before, th
e Galean had been helping the taller man with his arrow wound, cleaning and binding the spot. “Or you can wait for him to do it for you.”

  Brogan sighed. It would certainly be easier to let the man handle his work for him, but then that wasn’t going to get him where he needed to be any faster, especially if the king of the Kaer-ru didn’t ask the right questions.

  He walked toward them and both men looked his way.

  Roskell Turn said, “We need a way to get where we are going.”

  Brogan nodded. “That seems to be the challenge.”

  “I’ve been talking with another Galean. She is trying to reach us. It may be a day or two, but she had transportation for us.”

  “And what will we do in the meantime?” Brogan gestured around. “We are standing on ice and the land is not close enough that we can dare swim.”

  “No,” Turn agreed. “That would go poorly. But there are ways around this and I should be able to help at least that much.”

  “Why are you helping me, Roskell Turn?”

  “Is there a choice?” The man smiled. “We live or we die. In any event, the books of Galea tell tales of the gods that you have not seen. Among those tales are stories of how the gods come around and how they leave. They are always violent tales.” The man shrugged. “The signs are there, Brogan. The time has come for the gods to fight or fall. We are here to see this event but there’s nothing we can do to stop it from happening. The old gods and the new will fight as they have before.”

  Brogan shook his head. “No. The old gods will fall. I will kill them.”

  Roskell nodded his head. “That you will try, and possibly succeed, I do not doubt, but when the gods fall there will be others who want to take their places.”

  Brogan nodded his head. “Then I suppose I will kill them, too.”

  The expression on Roskell Turn’s face said clearly that he wasn’t sure if Brogan was jesting. He chose not to explain himself.