Gates of the Dead

by James A. Moore

Unwynn settled against the small of her back as if it had always been there.

  She walked, heading along the rocky shoreline until she found a path leading inland. The skies remained dark, but occasionally a flash of light showed those clouds gathering in intensity. They swirled and rushed and the lightning continued to hammer the sky, beating it into a frenzy of activity.

  There. The small town where she and her friends had stolen horses, stolen weapons and started their trek across the land proper was to her right. All was dark.

  She made her way to the town, frowning. There should have been something, someone, but there was nothing.

  For half an hour she examined the buildings. They were devoid of life, but not of people. The half-decayed remains lay scattered about. Most had been done in with violence and it took her a while to realize that the very people in the town had committed the murderous acts. She didn’t have to wonder why. They made it clear. It was women and children who were slaughtered. They were, mostly, killed in their sleep with a single stroke of a blade across the throat.

  Murdered. Possibly to spare them the end of the world and the long death that starvation would have caused. Or murdered because the few men who were not similarly killed were offering them as a sacrifice, for all she knew.

  In any event, the town was dead. The rest of his people joined the man who’d died at her hands, and the air was oppressive with regret or the ghosts of the dead.

  “I do not believe in ghosts.” She told herself that simple lie and hoped it would warm her. It did not.

  Myridia found nothing of value. No food, no water, no clothes that she wanted. After a while she turned back to the waters and headed on her way.

  Within minutes of leaving the spot the skies broke open in a cascade of lightning that shook the earth and showed clearly the great funnel cloud that descended on the small town. It took seconds for the winds to shred the buildings and cast the remains of man and beast alike into the air and out of sight.

  The storm continued to rage, to blast the surface of the land clean and she nodded her head, feeling her lips tighten into a harsh line.

  It was likely an act of the gods. The Hahluritiedes wanted a clean palette to draw a new world upon and so they erased all that had been before. There was no doubt in her mind that the storms would grow even worse as they reached areas where there had been people or there still were struggling survivors.

  To the south then. That was her decision. She would travel south and swim past this damned land in the hopes that she might find other, better places beyond the scope of anything she had ever seen in her life. And if she failed, so be it, but she would try just the same and if she came across survivors, people who still lived and struggled, she would advise them to do the same.

  The waters were cold, but not so harsh that she feared freezing to death. Swimming helped, of course.

  Above her the lightning still played in the clouds, the waves still slammed themselves toward whatever shoreline they could find and occasionally a boat or ship passed by as she continued her trek. There were not many, but there were a few.

  Myridia was alone as she had never been before. Her people were gone. Her gods had abandoned her. Still, she did not cry. She moved, losing herself in the waters and in the course of events.

  Brogan

  The rain was replaced by ice. Brogan pulled his clothes closer to his body and huffed warm breaths across his hands. The fires were dwindling. There wasn’t enough to keep them burning. The only good news was that Anna still managed to find food for everyone. He pondered how that was possible, but decided it best not to consider the contents of her bag too carefully.

  Jahda helped and so did the remaining crew of the dead ship. They were adept at fishing, even in the cold, it seemed, and so there was fresh meat. He would always prefer beef or mutton to the supplies he was given, but Brogan was grateful for the food.

  The weather aside, he did not like waiting. Two attempts at reaching the actual shoreline had failed and the men who had made the attempts were now close to the largest remaining fire and doing their best to dry off completely.

  Never let it be said that Brogan was a complete fool. He learned from their examples. He turned to Jahda at one point and asked, “Is it true that you and your people can walk across water?”

  Jahda shook his head. “We have ways of traveling, but they do not allow me to move a dozen people over water without getting wet. We have to wait.”

  Brogan nodded and then shrugged. Patience was not what he preferred but he could accept the need from time to time.

  “I have never waited for a boat before. I usually just walked to the docks and paid for service.”

  Jahda looked out at the sea. “That is a bit more challenging these days.”

  Brogan nodded.

  “No docks. But Roskell has assured me our ride will be here soon and I have no reason to doubt him.”

  “Same here.” Brogan turned his attention to Jahda. “You have both come to my aid and I thank you for that.”

  “There is little by way of choice, my friend. We allow the world to burn or we help control the fires.” There was no judgment in the comment, merely a statement. Brogan found himself oddly grateful for that fact.

  “There has never been a choice for me. If a man took my family I would have fought to get them back. A king? The same. A god? The same. Anyone who thinks there was a choice was not present when I found out.”

  “I have heard the stories of what happened and what you did in response. Tell me, how do you justify selling the Grakhul into slavery?”

  Brogan actually laughed. “I don’t. I had two choices. I could kill them all or I could sell them. What mattered to me was that they never do to another family what they did to mine. I felt slavery was a mercy.”

  Jahda stared at him for a long moment and nodded.

  “Judge me as you will. I’ll call it madness and grief. I didn’t want any more blood on my hands. I did not want to kill innocents. The women and children had done nothing to me, but I was not going to leave them where they were, the better to sacrifice others.”

  “I do not judge you, Brogan. I seek to understand you.”

  “Ask your questions and I will answer them.” He shrugged. “That I owe you at the least.”

  “What will you do if you manage to stop the gods?”

  “I do not know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I only know I don’t want the gods taking anyone else.”

  Jahda nodded.

  They stayed silent for a while as the winds continued their ominous howling and the frozen rain rattled and danced across everything. Jahda pulled his hood closer, and shivered in the cold.

  “How does this end, Brogan?”

  “With me dead and the gods dead. If I’m lucky.”

  “Do you wish to die?” The man from Louron frowned.

  “No. But I can’t see any other ending for this. If I survive long enough to kill the gods, I don’t expect there will be anyone celebrating my continued life.”

  “You might be surprised. I know many people have had family taken from them over the years. Not many are fond of the coin for a life idea. Most would rather have kept their family.”

  “That sounds like a truth, but I expect most would rather still have a home.”

  “There is that,” Jahda sighed. “You have heard Roskell Turn say that this was all inevitable.”

  “I don’t care,” Brogan shrugged. “As I have said already, I’d have done the same regardless of who took my family from me. If that makes me wrong, then I am wrong and nothing will change that.”

  Jahda nodded. “I do not think you are wrong.” He leaned in close. “I also do not think that your friend without a face is as innocent as he would like you to think.”

  Brogan looked toward Faceless. He and Anna spoke and others listened. The creature was staring at another of the small blazes around which the group had gathered in fragments
. His face had some form, true, but in comparison to the others he was nearly featureless. Anna said something that made the creature laugh and it was joined by several others.

  Brogan said, “The Undying will come for us.”

  “Yes. They have already said as much. That does not change my beliefs about your friend.” Jahda spoke softly but firmly.

  “I know. And I’ll listen to your caution, but for the moment he is one of the only things I’ve ever seen that could hurt one of the monstrous creatures and they are still many and we are still a small gathering.”

  “We have no choice but to fight if they show themselves, but we are not as powerless as you might think.”

  “I never said powerless.” Brogan looked at the man and shook his head. “I said we are few. If they come in force, it’s possible that they will take us. You saw what they did to the ship. If they have a chance to strike us the same way, we might not have any choice in this.”

  Jahda frowned and looked off into the distance. “Someone is coming.”

  Brogan turned and looked in the same direction and then rubbed at his eyes. “I see nothing.”

  “Look more closely.” Jahda’s long finger pointed at the very thing that made Brogan rub his eyes. There was an odd flickering in the distance. Not a light source so much as a distortion of what little light existed. On very hot days he had seen similar pools of reflection on the ground, false images that looked like mirrors or water, and disappeared as one got closer.

  “What is that?”

  “That is someone walking the Shimmering Path.”

  “The what?”

  “It means one of my people is coming closer.”

  In seconds a shape appeared, neither close by, nor very far away. The figure was buried in a heavy, hooded cloak and if he had not been warned he might have suspected a He-Kisshi of trying to sneak closer. The shape seemed almost to have three legs but Brogan reasoned out a walking staff of some sort. No. Shorter.

  Jahda stood up and crossed his muscular arms. Brogan stood, too, and rested his hand on the haft of his axe. It had been a long while since he’d moved around without being ready to grab a weapon.

  The woman who walked their way was young and dark-skinned and had features that were as alien to his world as could be. She had very broad lips and her hair looked like Jahda’s, only longer and more unkempt. Whereas his braids were organized and meticulous, hers were an explosion filled with afterthoughts in comparison.

  She stopped in front of the leader of the Kaer-ru and stared up at him, one eye half-squinted shut as she examined the man. His hands moved to his hips and he smiled down at her, as he might smile at a mischievous child.

  When she spoke, Brogan understood not a single word, and when Jahda responded the same remained true. Their noises were a singsong of gibberish, but it was a pleasant chaos.

  Both looked his way and the woman’s dark eyes scanned over him from head to toe. Her facial expression was still half a smile but the other part was a hard scrutiny hidden beneath the pleasant expression.

  “You are the man who wars with the gods?” Brogan listened to her voice, considered the expression on her face and then nodded.

  She nodded back and actually smiled. “You do not look insane.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” He shrugged.

  “I am told that you will need help. I am here to offer my assistance.” She stepped closer. She was tall for a woman, and substantially taller than Roskell Turn. “I am not sure what I can do, but I have been told to work with Jahda, and he in turn says I should work with you.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I help the dead.”

  Brogan stared for a while, trying to read if she was jesting. “I am not dead. Not yet.”

  “I would be surprised if you were. Most corpses are not so active.”

  He thought about the towering skeleton of Walthanadurn. “You might be surprised.”

  Jahda laughed out loud and a moment later Brogan and the girl were both smiling.

  “Daivem Murdrow, this is Brogan McTyre. Brogan wants to kill the gods. Daivem wants to help the dead. She has brought a great number of them with her.”

  Brogan looked around and frowned. There were no dead for him to see. He decided to simply let the problem go – if she could help, he would take the assistance. If she was crazy, well, he was the one who wanted to kill gods, and that said little for his possible sanity.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Plans Change

  Tully

  The ship moved through the half-frozen waters at a solid clip, and slowed only when they saw the lightning lighting the skies to the north.

  Tully stared at the lights and frowned. From what they were saying, the home of the gods lay in that direction and Brogan McTyre was planning to attack them. She had no idea where that sort of information came from and little desire to find out. The man wanted the gods dead. That was interesting.

  “What are you thinking?” Temmi stared at her and then used a very large knife to cut an apple in half. She cored the first half and without asking tossed it gently toward Tully. Tully caught it, nodded her thanks and bit into the sweet fruit in one motion.

  “That maybe this Brogan McTyre has the right idea.” She muttered the words through her bite of fruit.

  Temmi looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted feathers.

  “Hear me out. The Undying want me dead. They want you dead. The bastard that has pursued us has killed your family and our friend and has no intention of stopping – and he serves the gods. If the gods are dead, our problem is solved.”

  Temmi snorted laughter and chewed on her apple. As with Tully, the words were muttered through the food in her mouth. “That’s lovely, of course, but I don’t know as one man can kill the gods.”

  “I don’t either, but if he did, he’d be doing us a favor. That’s all I’m saying. Sooner or later the He-Kisshi will come for us and if they find us above decks I expect to die as quickly and badly as poor Niall did.”

  Temmi scowled. “We don’t know he’s dead.”

  “I felt him die in my soul, Temmi. I felt him die as surely as I felt my mother when she died.” Tully’s voice was soft. It was a lie, but it was the sort of lie few people could argue with. It wasn’t so uncommon to feel a loved one’s death. Tully had simply never had a loved one to die on her.

  Temmi nodded. “So what of it? Will you betray Stanna like you did the people from Hollum?”

  “That wasn’t a betrayal. I already told you that. It was living to see the next day. However dark that might be.”

  Temmi nodded and said nothing. If she had decided to report what she had seen, Tully had no doubt that she would already be dead. Stanna might well have forgiven her, but there was no hope that Darkraven would have been so understanding.

  “No. I’ll do nothing that would hurt Stanna or you. I’m just not sure how I should side when the gods want me dead. I was to be a sacrifice, I already told you that.”

  Temmi nodded and chewed at her apple before she answered. “I know. I know all of this and I agree. I never want to see the Undying again, myself. It might be I need to have a chat with Stanna about all of this.”

  Tully closed her eyes on the blizzard of fear that attacked her stomach at the notion. Stanna was a friend, yes, but she was also a slaver, and a mercenary and currently working for a woman who wanted to see Brogan McTyre dead for a hundred different reasons, not least of which was the loss of her city.

  “I’m not a fool, Tully. I’ll consider this carefully and if I bring it up I’ll do so quietly.”

  “I just… I just want peace, Temmi. I am so tired.” She sighed. “You’re the only friend I have left. I watched one of my best friends die the other day and the rest of the people I used to call friends were among those I helped kill in order to save myself.” She looked at Temmi and wiped at the tears threatening to burn her eyes. “I am so very fucking tired.�
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  Temmi moved closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. It was an attempt to comfort and Tully knew that. After a moment Temmi leaned in and gave her a proper hug and she hugged back, sniffing. Her muscles relaxed just enough to let her know how much tension rode through her and then she was pushing back from the contact. No one was allowed to get close in Hollum. The only ones that ever did were the ones that survived, and they were rarities, indeed.

  The bells came again. The Undying were in the air near the ship, or, worse, they were on the vessel and speaking.

  Temmi once again got a wide-eyed expression on her face that said she’d been caught. Tully understood exactly how she felt.

  Was it curiosity or something worse? Tully wasn’t sure she’d ever know, but she found herself moving up through the bowels of the ship and then upward, heading for the top deck and the captain’s quarters. There, if she was lucky, she might see the Undying and hear what it wanted.

  Hiding was her gift. She did it well.

  Tully crept carefully into the cabin, moving through the open doorway when everyone was looking at the He-Kisshi. She had seen enough of the beasts that she never wanted to see one again, and yet she, too, was nearly mesmerized by the beast. It should not have been so intimidating, especially when seen from behind. And yet there it was, a hunched, high-shouldered shape with a hood. It looked like it was wrapped in an old fur cloak that had long since gone to seed. It smelled of cinnamon and other rare spices and it looked slowly at Darkraven, Stanna, and several others that Tully did not know as well.

  “There are people among you who have offended the gods or their servants. I would have those people brought to me.” The voice was cold, bitter and very familiar.

  Stanna scoffed and shook her head. “There is no one on this boat that has offended the gods, but a few might have offended you in the past.”

  “I am a servant of the gods. I am the voice of the gods. My word is as law.”

  Tully shifted carefully, looking at the shape while doing her best to remain quiet. Was it the same one? Possibly. She could not say. For a brief time the flesh had seemed raw and new around the head that had been severed and had regrown, but if this was the same beast, that was no longer the case.