The Sixth Gate

by K T Munson

  “That is so sad,” Kerrigan said, reaching out and stroking Mara’s hind leg. “I do not know what I would do without Cav.” Her owl cooed and rubbed against Kerrigan’s face.

  The elephant glanced back as she put her trunk to her mouth again before returning to finish the jar. Jinq could see Kerrigan studying Mara with furrowed eyebrows. Kerrigan may have been attacked because of what her mother did, but she still had compassion. It had not turned her bitter, a good sign. Jinq would need more than just a warrior and helper; he’d need a secondary investigator.

  “Fortunately, it happens rarely,” he informed her. “It is hard to find purpose without a partner, so Mara stays busy helping others. That is why it is easier for the bonded to die together; once a bond is made, it cannot be unmade.”

  Kerrigan’s owl made a sad little noise, likely reflecting her spirit partner’s emotions. It was part of the bond, the ability to sense their partner’s emotions. Jinq’s panther, Hibrius, turned to look at her and her little owl. The owl made a funny little noise before trying to crawl up on top of her head.

  “Hey!” Kerrigan called as the little owl began making noises. “Cav, stop!”

  “Hibrius,” Jinq said, shaking his head, but carefully kept his lips straight as the owl continued making noises.

  “What are they doing?” Kerrigan asked as she finally got hold of Cav and held him with both hands. He was all feathers, and he looked annoyed. The bird made another noise at the panther before the feline responded in kind. He roared just loud enough to quiet the little bird and stop a few people in the area. It had been some time since Hibrius had allowed himself to get into a pissing match.

  “They are establishing who the dominant party is,” Jinq explained as Mara finished her intake and started to turn toward the gate.

  “Oh,” Kerrigan said, looking down at her little bird in surprise, “but why?”

  “They are male,” he replied with a small shrug. “Dominance is important to them.”

  Kerrigan seemed to contemplate that before nodding. She whispered something to Cav, who squeaked at her before she set him back on her shoulder. The owl quieted down but he continued to stare at Hibrius with the same wide-eyed, perturbed expression of agitation. They walked through the gate and down through the great city, where the lush plants grew tall and blocked out the hot sun. Here in the heart of the south, people and their spirit animals of every kind moved through their day. When they left the city, they would have to travel to the northern tip of their domain before entering the sandy wasteland that divided the north and the south. Spots of lush paradise existed in the desert, and one of them was their destination: a little village on the upper outskirts called Himota. Jinq only hoped he could discover what was happening there and stop it from continuing.

  Chapter 9: Ashlad

  Ki stood at the gate and looked at the great house set far back from the outer wall. The gate was made of decorative black wrought iron, massive and effective at keeping him out. The stone wall was two feet thick and towered over him. A gate and high fortification wouldn’t normally be a problem for him, but this place had another defense system. There was magical protection around the entire property, keeping her safely far away from him. He glanced at the keyhole and frowned.

  Frustrated, he slipped into the dark corner where the metal gate met stone. A few people passed him on the thoroughfare, but Ki was well hidden in the shadows and went unnoticed. Not even the oil street lamps could penetrate the darkness around him. It wasn’t long before the two spirit creatures guarding the girl appeared. Ki frowned again and watched them check the perimeter. An Ashladian man with a bowl-shaped hat walked by, talking so loudly with a woman that it caught the attention of the two beasts. For a moment, Ki thought he, too, would be discovered. After a moment of trepidation, though, they vanished.

  Relaxing against the wall, he remembered her blue eyes. Her hair was a faded blond, and she had a regal face. It was easy to say she was nice to look at, perhaps even beautiful by this world’s standard. Yet it had been her eyes that had thrown him. Every man and woman he had killed had been evil and had needed saving. They all had darkness in their hearts and had committed enough sins for his Sin Eater to take their souls. Despite his having seen her face among the others, though, this woman had an unexpected air of innocence about her.

  Deciding on his next course of action, he hurried to the abandoned building he used to get to Ashlad, an old theatre house with a long spiraling staircase at the entrance and a stage. He walked down the aisle between the old crimson chairs, the building empty except for faded memories and the lingering smell of musk. The stage door at the back had the chalk still on it. The runes always lasted about five hours before fading.

  Placing his hand on the door, he thought of a place in the Netherworld. He concentrated until the chalk glowed and his destination sat on the other side. Unlike the gates, this method of travel could only connect him to the Netherworld or take him from the Nether to one of the planets, but that required the right place. In the Netherworld it needed to be a sanctuary, but on the planets it needed to be a place of historical importance. He glanced around at the empty theatre, wondering what great stories had once been told in the now-hollow place. At least a century of stories must have existed there for a bridge to the Netherworld to have been created. Ki stepped out onto the charred ground. Behind him in a ruined building drenched in the red light of the Netherworld, Weavers chattered. Ki was too close to them and their territory. Red dust was unsettled with every step he made toward the black lake. Beyond the black lake was a great hill that had steps leading up to a keyhole-shaped building.

  The mounds of slime and moss-covered stones were arranged in a spiral with waterfalls spewing black liquid into a pond with a low roar. Tall columns the size of a three-story house rose up around him in a circle. He stared only long enough to get his bearing before making his way around the structure. Shorter pillars swung away from the pond and up to the house like progressively taller stepping stones.

  Ki took each step with care. This was the home of the Keymaster, Riku, an infamous high demon. Unlike his brethren, who were indentured servants to a master, Riku was a loner who had only one love: making keys. It was said that he was so obsessed with his craft that even his weapons were shaped like them. If anyone could help him find a key to breach the protected house, it was Riku.

  Walking up to the house was treacherous, as the stone steps were slick with the same gunk as the mounds surrounding the place. The rest of the footholds had a strange grey moss growing on them that looked eerie in the red light. He knocked on the door and waited. After a moment it opened, and Ki, with a hand on the hilt of one blade, stepped inside.

  Riku sat behind a desk in long black robes that were not ideal for hand-to-hand combat. He had deeply tan skin and long black hair pulled back into a loose braid. His eyes were turned up slightly, just like the small horns coming out of his head. His horns were black and so dark they seemed to pull in the light around them. His tail swished, and although Ki couldn’t see them, he knew Riku had wings on his back.

  “A lost mouse,” he said, standing. Riku towered over Ki by more than two feet. “What do you want?”

  “A key,” he answered. “I need a key to a specific gate in Ashlad.”

  “Ashlad?” Riku said, moving toward him. “What gate in Ashlad?”

  “The Guardian of the Gate’s residence,” Ki answered.

  Riku stopped. His eyes narrowed as he muttered. “Malthael.”

  “You know the Guardian?” Ki asked, surprised. Most demons didn’t bother with mortals—even if this one had once been a demon himself.

  “He’s a former demon with a debt to pay,” Riku said, tapping his long poisonous nails on the countertop. “I have that key, but the barrier stops demons from leaving once they have entered.”

  “I am not a demon,” Ki said. “And what debt does he owe?”

  Riku seemed to regard him a moment. “He borrowed a key on
ce and never paid the due,” the demon said as his nails curled the black paint off the desktop. “The key should have, therefore, been forfeited, but it was never returned to me.”

  “If you give me a key, I’ll retrieve what is yours,” he offered, hoping the demon would accept.

  “What need do you have of such a key?” Riku asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “My mission is my own,” he responded truthfully. It was better not to tell a demon your plans, as information was frequently traded with the living for a cost.

  Riku regarded him for a moment with his head tipped to the side before he opened a cabinet and took out a key. He also pulled out a piece of parchment. Ki tried not to cringe; in the Netherworld, paper was made from all kinds of skin—from animal, to planet dweller, to demon.

  “Your deal is struck,” the demon said with a half-smile. “Find the key and return them both when your mission is complete.”

  Ki held the key up. The neck was shaped like a screaming woman, and Ki recognized it as a skeleton key. Glancing down at the skin-parchment, he examined the drawing of the other key he was to look for. It had multiple spokes leading to the center, which held a single, perfect white gem. Riku rolled out a small parchment and held up a fountain pen. “Do we have a deal?” he asked with a sickeningly charming grin.

  “How do I find the other key?” Ki asked.

  “The screaming lady will lead the way,” Riku responded, tipping the top of the pen toward him. “My keys are drawn to each other when in a certain proximity.”

  Ki tucked both items away before taking the fountain pen. He signed a simple “K” before handing the pen back. With a sweep of Riku’s hand, the pen and parchment vanished. Deals could only be struck on the skin of the damned. Riku’s wolfish smile remained as Ki nodded and left.

  When the door closed behind him and he was standing in the red light again, he reached into his pocket. The screaming woman seemed awfully familiar. He held it up to the light until her mouth was filled with the red gleam. He was one step closer to finishing his list of forty-two, to saving them all.

  Chapter 10: Ashlad

  Elisabeth absentmindedly pushed her dinner around her plate. She had been on house arrest since the attempt on her life. Malthael had sent out feelers into the Netherworld in hopes of discovering who her pursuer was and what he wanted. She finally set down her fork and brought her hands up, and clasping one on top of the other while she thought. Milo had contacted them and was well, but she worried they would not always be so lucky. She had never taken a life. Only twice in her life had she pulled a soul from a body, and she’d put them right back in before any permanent damage had been done.

  The first time had been when she was child. She’d been betrayed by a boy she’d thought was a friend, which had awoken her ability. Thankfully, Malthael had helped her replace the soul before the boy died. The second time, when she was teenager, had been an accident. Elisabeth worried it would happen again, though, if her assassin came for her. She feared her papa was right—that the man would not stop until he completed his mission or he died. She leaned her face against her hands as she thought about it. Would she actually be able to do it? Could she take a life to save her own?

  “Are you that worried?” Malthael’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. He walked across the room and took the chair at the great table to her right.

  “Being unsure of the future makes one worry.”

  “When you get that look on your face, you remind me of your mother,” Malthael said with a half-smile. “She often worried for your future. Remember that Serena had the fortitude to stand eye to eye with a demon and demand your right to live.”

  “At the expense of her own life,” Elisabeth reminded him.

  “Yes, her kind was not meant to give birth to something from the Netherworld,” Malthael admitted. He frequently spoke truth with no regard for emotions. He opened the paper to begin reading in the news section, ending the discussion.

  She had known the truth for quite some time. Malthael had not kept any detail from her, from her father’s false name, Darien Shields, to her parents’ one night together, which had resulted in her conception. Elisabeth had been named after Serena’s sister, Lizbeth, who had died in an accident when they were children. Malthael didn’t know what kind of accident, and Elisabeth had always wondered what her life would be would be like if her aunt had lived. Elisabeth knew everything that Malthael knew about her birth parents, yet sometimes she wished she didn’t know. That way she could pretend her father had loved her mother and that they had shared a special moment together.

  With a sigh, she pulled herself from her thoughts and stood. Malthael looked up from his paper. His all-knowing eyes told her he understand exactly what she was thinking. She glanced at the front of the page and saw a strange disappearance of bees had begun on their largest continent, Mauven.

  “I’m tired,” she said, coming around to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m going to bed.”

  He took her wrist. “Nathan and Duke have found nothing but will continue to protect you while you sleep.”

  “I know,” she responded before kissing him on the forehead. “Goodnight.”

  Making her way from the dining room down the long hall, she walked up the second set of stairs to the sleeping area. At the far back of the house was her bedroom, where the sun came in and warmed it in the morning. The room was done entirely in deep purple fabrics and green upholstered furniture. The walls were a soft cream. The adjoining bathroom was teal with a beautiful painting of a ship in a storm on one wall.

  Elisabeth started to untie the bow at her throat as she closed the door. She unbuttoned her waistcoat before shrugged it off and setting it on the back of her settee. She undid the buttons down the front of her dress and the fasteners at her hip. Pulling herself free of her thick skirts, she let them slide off her hips and pool on the floor, leaving only her white petticoats. She began pulling at the ribbons to dress for bed. When she turned, she gasped. A sword was leveled at her throat.

  The man still wore a mask over his nose and mouth, and she raised her hands slowly. Fear clenched her gut and locked her limbs in place. She feared death as much as losing control and killing him. Instead of possibly condemning her soul, she needed to concentrate and summon Nathan and Duke again.

  “Stay back,” she said, her hands shaking.

  She tilted her head as the blade pressed against her throat. To her shock, the metal suddenly dissolved into dust. Carefully reaching over, she pinched the substance between her fingers and realized it was in fact ash. Her attacker was just as surprised as she was.

  “What are you?” he asked, his voice was deep and accented. He dropped the sword’s hilt and took a step towards her.

  She stepped back and held up a hand to stop him. She shook her head. “Please, stay back,” she pleaded.

  He reached out and rested his fingertips on her hand without hesitation. She gasped, expecting the worst to happen, but nothing did. Bewildered, she let her other half out and tried to collect his soul. Yet again naught came of her efforts.

  “What are you?” she asked, mirroring his question.

  Chapter 11: Hystera

  The great plains of Hystera stretched out before them like a sea of dancing short blond hair. Miles of long dry grass, as far as the eye could see, spread out toward the Dunes of Hinar—the great divider of the north and the south. Hibrius and Cav had soon gotten over their mutual dislike in order to hide from the sun. They both remained in the shadow of Mara, Cav sleeping on Hibrius’s back. Sometime Hibrius would even walk directly under her great mass for even more protection from the heat. In the evening a great tent was set up that was large enough to shield Mara, and all the party members slept in a single space to conserve heat, since night was colder the further they ventured toward the desert. Once they reached the desert, all the heat that existed during the day would be lost in the evening to the open sky. Jinq was relieved they didn’t have to go much further north, w
here the dry plains ended and the sand began.

  Kerrigan had turned out to be a curious but reserved girl. Although Jinq had to admit he did appreciate having someone along to help with the campsite, he was pleased to find she seemed to enjoy the silence as much as he did. The conversations they’d had so far had been short, and they’d been few and far between. Kerrigan didn’t seem comfortable talking about herself, and he doubted she’d like to hear the stories of an old man. Thus, the nights were mostly filled with the sounds of the insects of the grasslands and the crackling of a fire.

  Jinq raised his head, which was covered by a wrap to protect it from the sun, and squinted against the horizon. He could just make out the fringes of green in the distance. It had been a long walk, but two weeks of constant moving had resulted in their making good time. Jinq knew time was of the essence and was thankful for Mara, who had been invaluable to their mission. Soon they would discover the cause of the rash of suicides in his village.

  “There is our destination.” Jinq shielded his eyes and pointed.

  Kerrigan gazed across the sea of faded yellow grass and turned to him with muted excitement. “How far would you say that is away?”

  “A few more hours and we will be at our destination,” Jinq answered, and a general sigh seemed to take place among his companions at their journey nearly being done. He realized he’d set a grueling pace despite the summer heat and had to stifle an amused smile.

  Cav woke up from his nap and ruffled his feathers as he looked around. When nothing seemed to happen and no reason presented itself for him to be on alert, he settled back down to riding upon Hibrius’s back. They continued on with their deliberate steps—heavy and dragging.

  As they drew closer to the splash of color among the beige landscape, something felt wrong. It felt like a ripple of dread being sent out, and with every step they were getting closer to its source. Hystera was infected, and this was the wound. Normally there was a peacefulness, a harmony, on their planet, but something was disrupting its perfect melody. Jinq felt his old bones grow heavy, but he did his best to ignore it as they grew closer. He could feel the strange shift in the symphony of the world become stronger with every step—he knew that Hystera was plagued, but he did not yet know the disease. Beneath his feet, Hystera seemed to beg him to stop, and it nearly brought him to his knees.