“Did that burn, man?” Desmond’s voice was thick.
“There was a sting, but it’s gone now.”
Harper spoke, “Along with Faceless?”
Brogan nodded, his face pulling into a frown at that thought. “I don’t understand it, but I think that was what he planned all along.”
Anna shook her head. “I don’t claim to understand demons or gods, either. I just know they do things their own way.”
“Let’s get to shore. You have company waiting for you, Brogan McTyre.”
As Brogan moved toward the edge of the boat and prepared to walk across onto the land, he spotted the others waiting for him. Beron the slaver, Parrish the king, and the Marked Men. They were a small army and they claimed loyalty. He would take his chances.
The first foot he settled on the land around the Gateway rested on cold, damp rock. It felt good to stand on solid ground. Nothing about the waters was comforting to him. He was raised in mountains and spent most of his life on foot or on the back of a well-trained steed.
The air here was unsettlingly warm. All the way toward the island the cold had bitten deep, moving past furs and cloaks and biting at any bared flesh. Now, however, the furs and layers seemed stifling. Was that the armor? He had no idea but doubted it. As he looked around others showed signs of adjusting to the new temperature, and the Marked Men still wore cloaks, but were not as heavily protected from the elements.
Parrish looked his way and nodded. He returned the gesture. The man might well be a king, but he was not the king of Stennis Brae and there was no allegiance owed.
Beron offered a curt nod of his own. He was not happy to be standing so close to Brogan and he certainly wasn’t pleased to deal with the man who’d cheated him as an equal. Brogan understood. Were they on opposite sides of the dilemma he’d have felt the same way.
There was nothing to be done about it, and so Brogan ignored the man aside from nodding in return. He would watch him, but there were bigger problems in his world just now.
“So that’s the Gateway.” Harper spoke with grudging awe. The towering archway was the source of the warmth they felt. It spilled out in a constant, slow breeze, and as they stood beneath it, light began to come from the distorted air.
“What is that?” Brogan asked the question as he squinted a bit.
Anna shook her head. “Looks to be sunrise.”
“Sunrise? Here?”
“No, Brogan. Sunrise in the home of the gods.” She was not being bitter. She was simply surprised. “That warmth, that breeze, that light, they all come from a different place. They come from where the gods reside.”
Brogan spat upon the land. “How very nice for them.”
Parrish pointed. “We’ve company.”
Brogan looked and sighed. He’d seen the ship before. “That would be Hillar Darkraven and her people. They don’t agree with what I’m doing or what I’ve done.”
Parrish chuckled. “Neither do I. And yet, here I am.”
“Think you can make her see reason?”
“Unlikely, but I’m willing to try.” The man’s smile annoyed him. Most everything about Parrish annoyed him. Old grudges did not die easily.
Still, he nodded his thanks.
There wasn’t much to be done, but wait. He needed time to prepare himself for the fight, if truth be told. It was not a regular combat that he was headed for. There were gods involved. He planned to win, but that didn’t mean he expected an easy fight.
One of the Marked Men moved forward and spoke softly to Parrish. The king nodded and spoke back, frowning.
“Is there something wrong then?” The question came from Harper.
Parrish shook his head rather than responding. His face was no longer quite as amiable.
Beron scowled. He looked over at Brogan and studied the weapon in his hand, but said nothing. He then looked at Brogan’s companions and frowned more heavily. Likely he was noticing the lack of Faceless. Brogan chose not to enlighten him about anything. The layer of armor that ran close to his skin was snug enough to feel like it belonged right where it was. It felt completely natural against him and that part actually bothered him as much as what the armor had been made from.
Faceless was gone and would not be coming back. That should have bothered him much more than it did. He knew that, but could not change the fact.
“So what are your plans, Brogan McTyre?”
“Right now, I’m waiting on a ship. If they want trouble, they’ll have plenty.”
Parrish nodded his head, but did not look pleased. That fact bothered Brogan not at all.
“After that, I think I’ll have a meal and then perhaps go to war with the gods.”
Parrish stared at him without a word, but that annoying smirk of his had fallen a bit and that was a lovely thing.
“We can discuss any plans after the ship is handled.” Brogan had no desire to discuss anything with the man but if they were supposed to help him, he supposed it was inevitable.
They only waited a short time before the vessel turned and then dropped anchor. By the time they’d settled in on the narrow strip of land and started a few small campfires, the first boat was rowing over with several armed figures.
The waters around the boat rippled in ways that made no sense. Something was under the water and staying close, near as Brogan could tell.
The massive woman who’d fought him earlier was among the women on the boat. There were several, including a pale woman who could only be Grakhul. She stared at him with open hostility. He did not waste his time returning the glare; he had larger matters to attend to.
When they reached the land, one of the women, a muscular, short blonde, hopped out and into the shallows, pulling the boat along. Two of his own broke from the ranks and helped, though both kept wary eyes on the folks on board. It wasn’t hard to drag the boat close enough to let others ashore.
“I’m Stanna.” The redhead looked at him and then looked askance at Beron. “Didn’t I kill you?”
Beron fairly growled, “I’m harder to kill than you think.”
If she was worried about the slaver, she hid it well.
“Hillar Darkraven is dead. I’ve commandeered her ship and those of us I discussed matters with agreed it’s better to side with you than against you. We’re here to offer you aid.”
“You want to help?” He spoke the words slowly and tried to savor them. The last thing Brogan had expected was assistance and yet here was a second small army willing to side with him against the gods.
Not that it would matter. They wouldn’t be going with him.
The redhead laughed. “We don’t want to help. There’s no choice, you fool. You’ve killed a part of the world. If we want to live on what’s left, we have to do something about it.”
Brogan felt himself smile. “At least you’re honest about it.” He sighed and stretched. “I intend to eat first. Then I’ll see about killing the gods.”
The pale woman looked his way and continued her glares.
When he grew tired of them he pointed at her. “I know what I did to your people. I know what you did to mine. You want to kill me? Best do it now. I’ll be busy later.” He stared hard at her, eyes unflinching, his arms close to the weapons he carried.
“When this is over,” she replied. “When you have finished your war on the gods, if you are alive then, we can discuss whether or not you need to keep breathing.”
“What is your name?”
“Myridia.”
“When this is over then, I will meet you on the field of battle. You might need to wait in line as I expect several of these people would like me dead. But just now I’m needed.”
Without another word he moved toward the closest fire, ignoring the glare spilling out from the home of the gods.
Within ten minutes he was eating his final meal and preparing himself for whatever might lay ahead. He ate cheese. He ate bread. He drank water an
d considered wine before deciding against it. His stomach was having enough trouble with the meal already and he wouldn’t invite worse disasters if he could avoid it.
Those were already planned for the day.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Through the Gateway
Stanna
“Well, this is madness.” Temmi was scowling as she looked at the gathered soldiers eating food. Mostly she was scowling at Brogan McTyre.
“Madness? More than anything else we’ve seen?” Tully spoke. She was watching, too, half-expecting any of the vast number of people to charge at them and start swinging blades. It was that sort of tension.
Stanna reached into her bag and pulled out four dried figs. Hunger was starting to get to her and she wanted her head level.
“You’re talking about them eating?” she asked through the mouth of fruit she was chewing into.
“Gods, you’re doing it too!” Temmi actually glared at her.
“Don’t be a fool. Your body needs food to stay strong. Your mind needs sleep, your body needs food. You’re wise about it, you handle both before you fight.”
“My body needs to piss,” Temmi responded. “Always does right before I know it’s coming, or during if someone surprises me.”
Stanna nodded. “Yeah. I can see it. I’ve had more than one time I needed to empty myself during a fight. Damned uncomfortable, but not a priority.”
She looked at the gathered masses. Marked Men she had seen but never fought. Beron? Well, he was dead. She’d cut his blasted head off and here he was alive again. That meant sorcery of some sort. She’d not trust him. That he’d been trying to kill her had put a strain on their relationship in any event.
“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Temmi’s voice was an angry buzz.
“Are you going on about how insane everyone is to be eating?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then I’m not listening. I would kill for some mutton. Or a good steak.”
Myridia was staring out into the waters, horrified. “They were my people once.”
Stanna look at the other woman. “And now they aren’t.” The pale woman looked her way and seemed genuinely offended. “Listen. First thing that happened when this war started was the world started ending. I feel for you. I know you are in pain, but hear this and hear it clearly. The whole land where I was raised and where I’ve lived my entire life is ruined. It’s either under water, burned away, or destroyed by those giants that the gods sent out to clean away everything.”
Stanna paused to take a sip of ale from her skin while the woman stared at her.
“We’ve all lost everything. It’s a war and we’re stuck in it. We’ve chosen sides and we’re readying for the final fight. We’re fighting gods and whatever they might have hidden away from us. That’s it. We’re likely all dead by this time tomorrow, so you may as well stop looking at the worst of it and prepare to draw as much blood as you can before you die.”
Tully nodded her agreement and Temmi looked like she wanted to fight about it but couldn’t find a good argument. Myridia nodded.
“I mean the ones in the water. They used to be my kind. Now I don’t know what they are.”
Stanna shrugged. “Ugly. They’re damned ugly. And I wouldn’t trust them if I were you. Like as not if they are serving Marked Men or Beron, they are tainted.”
“Tainted?”
“By demons.”
“Demons hate the gods?”
“Of course.”
“Then they are allies.”
Stanna laughed and slapped at her thigh. “That’s a good notion. Hadn’t thought of that.”
Tully dug into one of her pockets and pulled out dried beef. Stanna stared at the hard lump like it was the finest thing she’d ever seen and Tully grunted, broke it in half and threw part of it her way.
Stanna smiled and then popped the piece into her mouth. Enough spit and it would be palatable.
“So what are we going to do?” Temmi’s voice was small.
“We’re going to remember what the gods have done and go do our best to kill them.”
“Don’t you have to have a special weapon for that?”
“Don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. So far the Bitch has cut everything I’ve used her on.” She shrugged.
“Why aren’t you afraid, Stanna?”
“Nothing I can do about being scared, except forget the fear is there. I have other matters to attend to and fear gets nothing done.”
Beron came toward them.
Without missing a beat, Stanna lifted the Bitch from the ground near her and drew her from her sheath. “Beron.”
“Stanna.”
“You wanted to discuss matters?”
“I have been given protection by my new lord, Ariah. He has a fondness for good warriors and I could arrange a similar pact for you if you are interested.” He eyed the Bitch warily, which was wise.
Stanna chewed on her dried beef for a moment while she considered his words.
“What’s the price then?”
“Loyalty.”
“That’s hardly a price at all.”
“Well, there might be sacrifices.”
“Isn’t that what started this whole mess?”
Beron frowned at her, lost.
“Sacrifices, Beron. Giving gods a meal instead of making them work for it.”
Temmi laughed. Tully snorted. Myridia was not amused.
“I’ve no need to call another being master. Never have, never will.”
Beron shook his head and moved away, seemingly disgusted.
“I’d watch that one,” Tully said.
Stanna shrugged. “He was never very trustworthy. He’s also nowhere near as good as he thinks he is at fighting.”
A few of the other ex-slavers were close enough to hear that. Rhinen laughed out loud and looked her way.
Stanna smiled back and kept chewing on her bit of dried beef. It was almost time to die and she wanted to remember her last meal fondly.
Parrish
Parrish looked at his soldiers and wondered how many of them would be alive soon. They had been made better by Theragyn, but the gods had their own ways and they were going to another world. Each and every one of the Marked Men had been to another world. He knew that, he understood it even if the notion sometimes made him want to panic. They had been remade by Theragyn and that only happened in the demon’s domain. His new god had explained that to him, but this was different. They were going to a place where Theragyn could not go. He was a powerful being but he was limited by the very beings they were attempting to fight.
Demiro, one of his best, moved closer. “We are ready, sir. The soldiers have been fed, the horses are rubbed down and calmed.” The horses, well-trained as they were, had followed orders through the entire course of events. They did not, however, seem to like walking between worlds. Or demons, for that matter. It was an effort to get them to remain calm. The men had their orders and did their work. Their horses were important, and frankly they were harder to train properly than men were.
“We follow the orders of Brogan McTyre. When he leaves we all leave. Tell everyone to be ready.”
Demiro nodded and moved back to speak to the rest of the leaders. There would be no time for playing foolish games. They were going to war, a proper war, for the first time in years.
Not all the training in the world was going to guarantee success.
Parrish closed his eyes and concentrated on Theragyn. The voice was still there, the presence was still there, but it was soft and distant. Still, he was eased by the thought that his new god was ready.
“I go soon to serve you, my lord.”
“Your life will be a song of glory, Parrish. You will rule over all the lands when we are finished.” The voice soothed him.
The tension left his body and his mind cleared. Theragyn always had that effect on him.
“They’ll fall, my lord. I’ll see to it.”
There was no response, but a wave of euphoria moved through him.
It was time. He saw Brogan McTyre stand up and head for the Gateway. The rest of his people rose as well.
One of them, a woman with mouse brown hair and a thin build, reached out her hand and spoke words at the base of the vast stone archway, and the lightning that had been caressing the sky since they reached the area – though, he noted, not causing thunder – ceased.
It was time.
He had never been so scared in his entire life. He had, after all, abandoned the very gods they were likely going to meet.
Harper
Harper looked around at the people moving in close to the portal leading to the home of the gods, and sighed. There were too many of them and if even one decided to end this madness before it could be finished, he didn’t know for certain that he could stop them.
Harper was not as trusting as some. It might well be that every person in the entire area was telling the truth, that each and every one of them was here solely to help Brogan achieve his quest. However, it might also be, just as easily, that any of them planned betrayal. To that end he’d already asked the archers to remain ready.
Brogan was not trusting. He was just cocky. He’d fought a god and won, which would likely add to anyone’s confidence.
For that reason, Harper was going to fight for the both of them.
He’d had a long while to consider whether or not his prayers might have caused any sort of troubles for Brogan and his family. The question of whether or not his jealous desire to have a life more like Brogan’s could have made the gods choose the man’s entire family to sacrifice had twisted his guts for most of the time he’d spent walking this planet after the gods decided to end it. If he let it, the thought would eat at his brain as surely as the giants walking the planet ate the land. In the end he would likely never truly know. He also decided that the answer was no. The gods had never answered a prayer of his in the past. They’d just taken as they saw fit.
Gates of the Dead Page 26