Gates of the Dead

by James A. Moore

  “What are you becoming, Faceless?” Brogan asked the question without malice. He was simply surprised.

  The shape of the thing was different. Leaner, taller, and the skin that he thought resembled the rough bark of a tree was smoother now, as if that same bark had been sanded and oiled into a fine sheen.

  “I do not know what I am. I cannot know what I am becoming. I only know that I am not like you or the others around us, Brogan McTyre.” Despite all the changes, there was still no mouth to speak of. Faceless had hands that moved easily now, and his feet had developed toes. The rest of him was changing as well, looking more humanoid, though now the body was closer to gaunt. The top of the creature’s head had changed. There were hints of texture now, as if a sculptor had decided to test whether or not to add hair to a form that was mostly finished, and remained uncertain.

  Still there was little by way of a face: two holes where eyes might fit and an indication of a nose.

  “You keep changing. It is interesting to watch.”

  “You change as well. Your hair grows longer. You grow leaner.”

  He nodded. He had no reason to shave in the cold and all of them were leaner: there was food, but not as much as any would have liked.

  “Where do we go, Brogan? I do not know what I need to know if I am to help you.”

  “We travel to the north. There is a place where, if the stories are true, I can face the gods.”

  Faceless nodded as if that answered all of his questions. A surprising thought, as far as Brogan was concerned. All the notion did for him was to add more questions.

  “They are coming!”

  Brogan didn’t recognize the voice, but he called a response. “Who is coming?”

  “The Undying! Three that I can see.”

  Brogan looked to the skies, but saw nothing.

  Faceless shook his head and pointed with a finger that had not been fully formed and separate when they’d met. Where he pointed was the ground, not far away. The ice was still there and they were all cold, but somewhere along the way in their travels they had found land and not just frozen water. That was for the best when one considered what the Undying could do.

  They walked slowly, their feet settling in the growing snow and sinking a few inches with each tread. He could only assume the things were Undying. They were hooded and walked without concern for the cold.

  They moved for him unerringly and he stood and prepared himself, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword and the handle of his axe. He would not be taken by surprise.

  Faceless looked at the things and tilted his head for a moment.

  Anna looked on, her face growing more and more worried as they continued to advance.

  Finally, the creatures stopped moving, just at the edge of the warm glow from the fire. Their faces were lost in shadow, but he had seen enough of them to remember what they looked like with their vast mouths filled with teeth.

  “Have you come for a reason?” Brogan did not waste time guessing what the creatures might be inclined to do. So far, they had shown themselves to be arrogant and dangerous. He had not made any effort to become friends with the things and certainly had no plans to do so now.

  “The gods would see you dead, Brogan McTyre.”

  His hand gripped the axe harder. “Yes, you’ve made that clear enough.”

  “We have come to make you an offer. Give yourself to us and the rest of your people will be spared.”

  He laughed. “Spared? To do what? Try to live on this frozen waste until the food runs out and the cold kills them?”

  “The world is not dead yet. It can be spared. All you have to do is offer yourself to us and we can settle this.”

  Anna shook her head, surely meaning to say something, but one of the He-Kisshi looked her way and the entire form seemed to shiver with anger.

  Brogan stared hard at the thing until, after several seconds, it looked back his way. “I have no reason to trust that your word is a bond.”

  “You dare?” The one that had stared so hard at Anna Harkness spoke to him.

  Brogan almost laughed as he answered. “Truly? Have you not seen what I am willing to dare?”

  The first that had spoken called out, “Enough, Ohdra-Hun. We are not here to fight with anyone. We are to seek a peaceful end to this before it is too late.”

  Brogan shook his head. “I think not. I have come this far and I will not stop.”

  “That is foolish on your part. You cannot hope to survive.”

  The one called Ohdra-Hun also spoke. “You will die. You cannot face the gods.”

  “I already killed one of yours, and I’ve heard that’s impossible.” He made sure to smile as he spoke.

  Ohdra-Hun let out a hiss and stepped forward. The other two He-Kisshi called its name at the same time but it didn’t seem to care. “You stink of deception!”

  Brogan scoffed. “You come here with promises of peace that you never planned to keep. You come here with plans to kill me, and you say I stink of deception?” He was barely aware of the axe in his hand. Had he considered it carefully he still wouldn’t have understood exactly how it got there. Some instincts were simply stronger than others.

  Brogan shook his head. “You say you come in peace? Then leave the same way. If you try to attack, I’ll kill you as I did the other who crossed me.”

  Ohdra-Hun stepped forward again and this time its hand reached out to grab at Brogan.

  Brogan stepped back and caught the thing at the wrist. The skin was hot to the touch, dry and hard and lightly furred. He found the contact repugnant.

  The Undying moved forward and pushed into him, the strength of the thing unsettling and more than he expected. It lifted him easily from the ground. And Brogan kicked it firmly in the center of its chest and staggered it backward.

  The thing recovered quickly and came forward again, furious, hissing.

  Brogan brought his axe around and caught it cleanly in the chest, opening the flesh and splitting the breast. Ohdra-Hun swept both of its arms around, the claws bared and ready to rend flesh. Brogan stepped back, dodged the attack. He had battled the things before but had allowed himself to forget how resilient they were.

  “Enough!” Both he and the Undying were thrown aside. Brogan rolled, scurried to catch himself before he was blown too far, and managed to get to his feet with an effort. Ohdra-Hun rose from the ground with a roar that shook the hairs on Brogan’s head and echoed off every surface. It turned toward the other two of its kind, but stopped itself from attacking them.

  The other two spoke in unison, “You would offend the gods with your anger, Ohdra-Hun?” The Undying settled itself, head lowered in a mockery of shame.

  “This is your one chance to save your friends, Brogan McTyre.” It was the first of them that had spoken. “The gods are not often forgiving.”

  Brogan shook his head. “Neither am I. My family was killed. There’s nothing more to say.”

  Ohdra-Hun seemed to swell as it took in a deep breath, but rather than saying or doing anything, the creature simply stood its ground.

  “My family was taken. They were not returned. I don’t care what the gods offer. They’ve offended me and I’ll see them dead.”

  “Then you are a fool. We leave you now. When we return it will be to kill you.”

  There was nothing to say. He couldn’t have thought up a proper response to that on his best days, and those were long gone in his opinion.

  The He-Kisshi stepped away, turning one after the other. Ohdra-Hun’s wings fluttered enough to show the chest wound it had received that was already half-healed. Brogan did not have that advantage.

  They walked away, unmolested by any of the remaining people. Brogan considered attacking and decided against it. They came under conditions of truce and they left the same way. The only exception was Ohdra-Hun and it had already been reprimanded by the others of its kind.

  Harper came closer, his bo
w held casually in one hand. The odds were better than good that he’d been waiting to wound or kill the things had the situation gotten any worse.

  “So what was that then?”

  “A lie. I could have surrendered and all of you would be free.”

  Harper nodded. “That’s certainly a lie. They’ll kill me under any circumstance. I’m a traitor to their way of thinking.”

  Brogan looked away from his friend. He could find no answer to the comment that would take away the sting of what he’d already asked of Harper and what the man had done for him in an effort to save his family. There simply was no proper response.

  Harper slapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve discussed that already. I’d not have done anything differently, Brogan, so stop thinking on it.”

  Brogan nodded and said nothing else.

  But he thought. He thought about his dead family and the people who had died since he’d started his mad war against the gods.

  He wouldn’t stop. He had no choices left if he wanted to save anyone. He believed that with all of his being. The gods lied. Their servants lied. There was nothing else to it.

  How many had died?

  How many more would die?

  Brogan’s teeth clenched and his fists followed suit.

  For a moment he’d almost allowed himself the luxury of guilt.

  There would be none of that.

  Faceless looked his way, and Brogan noticed but did not care. His anger roared to life again inside of him, a furnace that had, for a moment, almost been extinguished. He had not started this; the gods had, or perhaps demons had used him to start a war. In the end he did not care. The path was laid out and someone, somewhere, had decided that his family had to die. He would punish that someone. He would kill that someone if he could, regardless of where that individual stood or lived.

  “You are angry.” Faceless spoke to him without guile.

  “I am very angry.”

  “Why?”

  Brogan shook his head and then bared his teeth in a smile. “Because all that I loved was taken from me, and the reasons do not make sense.”

  “Is that why you want to kill the gods?”

  “No.” He looked at Faceless and stared into the pits where eyes should be. There was something there now. Not just light but something more. “And also yes. I want revenge for what happened. I also want to make sure it never happens again.”

  “How could it happen again?”

  “Faceless, the gods have been around for no one really knows how long. They have always demanded sacrifices. They have never granted anything in return. If you hear the oldest legends, there are tales that the gods have punished people many times for not obeying them. Whole cities, entire kingdoms, destroyed because someone dared say ‘no.’”

  Brogan looked away for a moment to find the words and finally looked back. “They’ve killed countless people just to punish a few. And they’re doing it again now. I defied them. I tried to save my family from sacrifice and I failed. You understand that? I failed and still they punish the world.”

  He moved, because standing still no longer made any sense to him. “My family died and I suppose I went a little mad. I decided to pay them back in kind. They took all I had and I tried to take all that they had. I killed… I killed a great many men. And I dragged off all the followers of the gods that I could find to sell as slaves.

  “I still don’t feel bad about that. I suppose I should, but I do not. The people I took, they killed my family. They declared war on me the second they took my family from me. And I accepted the challenge. The people around me, they’re here because they have no choice. They might even believe the way that I do, that the gods have to be stopped, but mostly they have no choice. They can help me stop the gods or they can die as surely as the land around us is dying or dead.”

  “What did the gods demand?”

  “They demanded my life. They wanted me and my friends to sacrifice ourselves, or they wanted others to sacrifice us, mostly as a form of apology, I guess.”

  “And you did not want this?”

  Brogan laughed. “No, lad. I most certainly did not. Even if I did want it, they’d only do it again. I was just told that the gods, or possibly the demons, probably chose me. They took my family to force my hand.” He spat. “I am only a piece on a gameboard for them.”

  Faceless shook his head. “Then you will fight them because of this?”

  “No. I’ll kill them for this. I’ll make sure that they never do this to another. That is my mercy. That is my kindness. I will stop them or I will die trying.”

  “Even if everyone with you has to die?”

  Just that quickly the anger cooled a bit. Not enough to extinguish it, but enough to make Brogan consider the consequences of his actions.

  “I’ve no choice now. The gods have called for war and I have answered. If you or the others want to leave, I understand, but I must finish what I started. There is no choice in this for me.”

  Faceless nodded and stood so still that he nearly appeared a statue. After several moments he finally spoke. “I think I am here to help you, Brogan.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I am drawn to you. Because there is a voice in my head that I hear without my ears, that says I must stay with you and protect you.”

  “Truly?”

  Faceless nodded.

  “Then I suppose I shall accept that help, my friend.” He said nothing more than that, but he found himself wondering exactly what, or who, had sent the creature to join him.

  Brogan looked toward the Galean and wondered if the man might have an answer to that question. Now was not the time to ask, but possibly soon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Gathering Storm

  Myridia

  Myridia slept as best she could and though the cold did not bother her, she shivered.

  There were things that mortals were not meant to know. First was that their gods lied. Second was that their gods did not care. Those thoughts weighed heavily on her. She had spent her entire life in devotion and service to the gods. She had studied their history and learned all that she could of the world, the better to please them.

  And, ultimately, she had to believe that she had failed the gods.

  “Oh, Lyraal…” She longed for her friend.

  Because she could not be a part of her old world any longer, the world that the gods had destroyed, she swam to the south. Her plan was to go until she found another land, or until she was struck down by the gods for her insolence. She swam deep below the surface, the best to avoid being seen by the He-Kisshi, who would surely want her dead on behalf of the gods.

  The waters to the north looked no different, but they were colder now. The gods had killed the last of her tribe. She and hers had been ordered to sacrifice themselves to the Hahluritiedes, the shapers of the world, according to Dowru-Thist, who had no reason to lie unless the gods told it to. The lies made her ache and made her angry.

  There could only be one reason for awakening the things that she could think of. The world would be re-formed. Likely all that lived in the world would be erased and there was nothing she could do about that.

  The water around her was as dark as pitch. She sang softly and listened to the echoes to better find her way.

  There was little to run across. The ocean was deep here, and even as low as she was, the bottom was farther away still.

  Perhaps the gods only intended to rebuild what had already been destroyed. She could not know. They had no reason to tell her. She was, after all, little more than food.

  Bitterness ran through her, and Myridia scowled.

  Rather than dwell on the betrayal, she swam as hard as she could, ignoring the pull of the sword strapped to her back and the drag of the current that very nearly seemed to call her back to the north.

  The gods had betrayed her. That was all there was to it.

  The light
she saw coming from the south was enough of a warning. Myridia watched on and stopped moving, making herself as still as possible to avoid being noticed in the perpetual night of the deep sea.

  The glow was bioluminescence. The skin of the creature gave off a faint silvery light that she would likely have never seen under most circumstances, but in the nearly perfect darkness their skin was like a beacon.

  Were they her people? No, but she could sense that they had been once upon a time. Their faces were different, far more bestial. The lips were gone, replaced by brutal rows of sharp teeth. The claws on the webbed hands and feet were too long, too thick and at least as deadly as the razored teeth.

  They were not Grakhul, but they were. There was enough left to let her know that they were females and that they had once been her people. Now they moved through the waters seeking she knew not what, and every sense she had told her they were deadly and would kill her.

  She was not a coward. She was merely not ready to die. She was not ready to die for uncaring gods.

  Myridia waited until the stream of glowing figures had moved past her, and then she headed south again, her anger growing to overwhelm her sorrow.

  Her people were dead because the gods had commanded it. She was alive because she defied the gods.

  How then could the gods be right if their actions destroyed everything she had ever cared about?

  Distant lights in the sky above the deep waters eventually caught Myridia’s attention. She swam to the surface mostly because she needed a distraction from her thoughts.

  The clouds swirled and coalesced to her right, above the land mass that she and her sisters had moved past when they were heading for the Sessanoh. Not far away, she thought she could see the remains of the small town where she had captured her sword.

  Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, but Myridia swam for the shoreline and then climbed out of the waters, feeling the steady flow of briny liquids dripping down her back from the covered blade.