The Sixth Gate

by K T Munson

  Clara shook and her breath shuddered in and out of her chest as blood snaked down from her many injuries. When she tried to stand, she barely found her feet. Taking an unsteady step forward as the sun lit the edge of the valley and the fog began to dissipate, she squinted through fog. Slowly, people around her became more visible, but she did not see the man who had rescued her.

  She searched desperately in the vague hope of seeing him or being able to thank him, but he was nowhere to be found. She recognized the entryway of the inn in front of her. Movement caught her eyes and Clara licked her lips nervously as she moved forward to see more. As she stared at the ground, a blood drop fell from above and splattered against the stone.

  Frozen in place, Clara slowly looked up. Someone screamed, and it took her a moment to realize it was her. The man who had saved her from the flock of birds was impaled on the antlers mounted above the inn’s entrance.

  Chapter 14: Ashlad

  Elisabeth paced nervously as Malthael watched her with his tail flicking back and forth in time to her steps. He was slumped back with his fingers supporting the side of his head and his demon sword across his knees. She had put on a dark blue robe that made her cerulean eyes glow and her golden hair shine. He took in her elegant face and couldn’t believe he’d almost lost her. Malthael redirected his anger—unhappy that he’d missed the opportunity to slaughter the assassin at least once.

  “Multiple souls?” Elisabeth stopped to ask.

  “Enough that Arawn, Lord of the Hunt, wasn’t called to handle the matter,” Malthael confirmed with a heavy sigh. “As satisfying as it might have been, my sword would have only released a soul.”

  “That explains why I couldn’t pull his soul from his body when I tried,” Elisabeth said, still pacing as she spoke. Because he heard the strain in her voice, Malthael didn’t point out that she shouldn’t have even tried. “However, it doesn’t explain why his sword turned to dust.”

  “Ash,” Malthael corrected.

  “That’s right,” Elisabeth agreed, and then stopped to stare at him. “How did you know that?”

  “He used a sin-eating sword,” Malthael said, letting his hand slide across the flat side of his blade. “When those touch an innocent, they turn to ash because killing innocents is not their function.”

  “Then why is he hunting me at all?” she asked, pacing again, wearing the rugs down. “What could he possibly gain?”

  “I don’t know,” he responded, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. “But as long as you remain innocent, he cannot hurt you.”

  “Can’t he just use another method?” Elisabeth asked pointedly.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, averting his eyes. “Zod said he was using the Nether to kill sinners. You can’t collect souls of sinners unless you have a Sin Eater. He may search for another way to harvest your soul, but the Sin Eater is the only way I know of.”

  “Zod was here?” Elisabeth asked, clearly upset. “Why didn’t you tell me that he was your source of this information?”

  “I do not want you entangled with the Det Mor Clan,” Malthael responded. “Their assistance always comes at a price.”

  “What price did you pay?” Elisabeth demanded.

  “I saved King Nauberon Det Mor’s life. So long as he is king, he shall owe me,” Malthael informed her. “All I have asked him for in return is a lifetime of information.”

  “All my years here, and you still have secrets about your demonic life,” she said, looking crestfallen. “What else do you keep from me?”

  “I have lived 903 years,” Malthael countered, leaning forward. “Secrets are not a necessity. These truths are simply many untold stories of a past life.”

  Malthael truly was not one to keep secrets from Elisabeth. There was only one truth he had kept from her; the rest he had just not bothered to tell. Nearly a millennium of being an unrepentant demon meant many dark stories he did not wish his daughter to hear. It didn’t matter that she was older and had seen the darkness of the world for herself. Malthael would not break his silence now.

  Elisabeth gave him a furrowed look. “Why was Zod interested in my assassin?”

  “His housing of multiple spirits places the Chaos out of balance. No mortal should be able to live that many lives; he is an anomaly. Before it was of little concern, but now that he is traveling the Nether and killing, the Det Mor Clan will not abide his continued existence. I imagine his actions have thrown our five planets further off kilter, and they will want to fix it before it affects the Netherworld as well,” he explained before standing. “I must see to the gate.”

  “Of course,” Elisabeth said as her shoulders relaxed. “How do I know he won’t return?”

  “Even if he did, his Sin Eater is useless. There is nothing he can do until you take an unwilling soul,” Malthael said bluntly. “For now, you should rest and we shall begin again in the morning.”

  She nodded with her hands on her hips and her face suddenly thin with exhaustion. Her hair was a mess of soft curls, and for a moment he saw her mother. Malthael remembered Serena as though it was yesterday. It had been easier to tell Elisabeth that her mother had died at her father’s hands than to explain the whole story.

  “Good night,” Elisabeth said, pulling the robe closer around her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Sleep well,” he said, heading toward the door with the thick jagged blade over his shoulder.

  He walked out into the hallway. As he started to close the door, he paused a moment and looked back at Elisabeth. She was looking toward the window. It was not surprising that Elisabeth found the prospect of someone she couldn’t hurt interesting. All her life she’d had to be careful with her emotions, lest she hurt someone by accident. She’d had to keep everyone who wasn’t enough of a demon at arm’s length.

  The door closed, and he walked down the hall. Trotting down the stairs, he turned at the tapestry-filled hallway and walked into the study. It was as always: an eternally burning fire in the hearth, and walls of books interrupted only by occasional vases and stone statues. He pushed aside the tapestry of the fairies of Verten and pulled one of the lamps down, releasing the large stone slab. He pulled on the lamp one more time before walking through the opening to make sure the door closed behind him. The light vanished for a moment before the eerie blue of the mushrooms on the ceiling filled his vision.

  He walked down a long hall, his legs taking great strides as he kept the sword over his shoulder. He could have placed it back in with a ritual, but the gate was easier—an advantage of being the gate’s guardian. The steps were darker in the great cavern-like basement. The eerie glow of the mushrooms didn’t reach this far. When the cavern opened up, the shadows swallowed him.

  The gate wasn’t like an entrance into a home. There wasn’t any wrought metal or squeaky hinges; it was a slab of stone. He turned the dial in the right of the green block. The stone rippled like it was made of liquid, and a mirror appeared. At least it looked like a mirror inside a stone exterior. Even Malthael marveled at its size, large enough to pass three people abreast through who were less than ten feet tall. It was a doorway that existed on every planet and allowed entry into the Netherworld.

  The reflective substance showed his black-gold skin as he approached. Malthael thought of his home in the Netherworld, where the sword had been hidden in a rock in the garden. A statue held it, and after more than three decades it had never been found, despite being hidden in plain sight. He closed his eyes and concentrated. When the image of it was firm in his mind, he thrust the sword into the gate and it passed though as easily as if he were reaching into a pond. When he pulled his arm free, the sword remained behind in the stone hands of Balor—his former master.

  Malthael reached for the starred dial. Only the guardian could see it for what it was; otherwise it was impossible to find. Though most everyone assumed that Malthael had chosen to become the Gate’s Guardian, it would have been more accurate to say that the gate had chosen him.
He had been drawn to it, and he had gone willingly to the inescapable pull. He had seen the inscription and the dial that opened the gate when others could not.

  Every night, Malthael came to turn the dial, as was his duty as a guardian. As of yet, nothing had happened. No message, no guardian waiting, and no requests for passage from the Netherworld. Yet every night he came, and he would continue to do so until his time as the guardian had passed, or he died. He put his hand on the dial and turned from the Nether to Lyreane, and he was not surprised that nobody was there. Beyond their yearly call to council, he rarely saw any of his guardian counterparts.

  He turned again, next to Oran, and then to Hystera, and still there was zilch. He turned one last time to Tym Resh and nearly jumped out of his skin when a woman with a heart-shaped face appeared in the gateway’s reflection. She looked up, startled. Her dark purple curls shimmered almost black in the reflection, and she looked exactly as she had when he had seen her last—wearing maroon robes and a stern expression.

  “Finally, Malthael,” she said, relieved.

  “Meridith,” he said, surprised.

  She closed the paper file she’d been writing in. “I have been waiting for another guardian all night.”

  “Why?” he asked, a little unsettled.

  “We had an attack in Tym Resh, in a small village called Loveday,” she informed him.

  “How does that concern the Gate Guardians?” Malthael asked, though something about her tone worried him.

  “It was no ordinary attack.” Her face darkened. “They were shrikes.”

  Malthael fought down a smile. “A bird attack?”

  “These were no ordinary shrikes,” Meridith retorted harshly. “We found one and identified it. According to our findings, it came from the Netherworld.”

  Chapter 15: Hystera

  “Something is wrong here,” the man sitting across from Jinq said.

  “Why haven’t you all left?” Jinq asked, glancing around at their disheartened faces.

  They glanced at each other as a common thought seemed to pass between them. Jinq waited, his hand firmly planted on Hibrius’s back. He would not risk letting him go for the time being.

  “Our spirit animals are gone,” a woman finally said.

  “What do you mean gone?” he demanded as he studied her taut face.

  “Overnight, they just started to vanish,” the first man answered with a defeated shrug.

  Jinq’s hold on his spirit companion tightened, and his fear of breaking the connection grew. Whatever was happening here was worse than he had originally guessed. Jinq looked at their faces and saw only despair. They couldn’t leave without dying. Some of them had tried, but every day they stayed seemed to lead them closer to suicide.

  “Then the deaths started,” the woman whispered. The lines on her old face strained with misery.

  “Can you tell me anything about those?” he asked, putting his spare hand on his knee.

  “Always families.” The answer came from an old man hugging a shaman’s staff. “They always go together to their deaths.”

  “Have you tried anything to deter these events?” Jinq asked

  “We tried everything,” the man said, sounding almost outraged, the first sign of emotion Jinq had seen beyond depression. “Catching them, locking them in, tying everyone up, and even putting family members in other places. Nothing works. They all end up at that tree, and they all end up dead.”

  “They always find a way around,” the woman said hysterically.

  “Calm yourself, Ester,” the man commanded. Though his voice was firm, it lacked any confidence. “Your fits are not helpful.”

  She breathed in and out harshly, her breath catching. Jinq glanced between them, trying to assess the situation before considering their words. These were dark times indeed, and there was more at work in this little village than they knew. Jinq could feel their planet crying out.

  “I need to return to my companions and tell them what I have learned here,” Jinq said, standing, careful to keep Hibrius in hand.

  “Even the Keeper is leaving us,” the old man stated as he abruptly stood and ducked out of the large tent.

  “I apologize,” the man said, glancing after the elder, “Platos has not been the same since this began. He lost his daughter and grandchildren when their family killed themselves.”

  “It is understandable.” Jinq put a hand up. “Do not worry, I will be camped in the plains just beyond your tree line. Tell Platos he is welcome to come to the tree line of Himota and see our tents for himself. We have no intention of leaving here without answers.”

  “Thank you.” He managed a strained smile. He stood as Ester’s breathing finally slowed.

  Jinq nodded before walking from the tent and into the fading light. He strolled along the path and passed by many dejected faces. Their shoulders were hunched, their heads hung to watch their feet. None of them moved with any sort of confidence or hope. These were a hopeless people, waiting only for their time to die.

  He followed the path until he reached the edge of the tree line. He turned south and followed it until he could see Mara. His small party sat watching the tree line with the tent set up behind them at the point where the gloom stopped. He would have them move it back a little further, just in case.

  Kerrigan turned and waved when they were closer. He could see an unmistakable relief in her eyes, and he had to admit he felt relieved as well. This place had sapped his strength, and he felt exhausted from such a short visit. Kerrigan seemed on edge as she waited, with Cav asleep on her head and Mara’s trunk draped over her shoulder.

  “What happened?” Kerrigan asked the moment he was close enough to hear her.

  “A family died,” Jinq answered. “Something dark is happening here. I need my mirror.”

  “I’ll get it!” she said and took off toward the tent.

  Cav screeched and fell backwards off her head. Mara made an unhappy noise before backing away from the village and its gloom. Jinq gave it one last glance before making his way into the tent. When he entered, Mara lay down on her end and seemed to consider herself safe. Yet Jinq worried that none of them were.

  Kerrigan carefully unwrapped a large circular mirror with intricate designs and markings on the wide frame. The markings allowed them to talk across long distances. Although mirrors were rare in Hystera, and meant a lifetime of bad luck if broken, they were the best means of communication.

  He walked up to the mirror and put his thumb on a blank space. He waited patiently as the runes on the frame began to glow softly, powered by his life force. It wasn’t long until the mirror stopped reflecting his face and started reflecting another’s.

  “Elder Rekis,” the young boy on the other side said, “it has been some time.”

  “It has, Guardian,” Jinq agreed. “Though I wish this time was with good news.”

  “You found something in Himota,” the young boy said, leaning forward. “What is it?”

  “I need a Seer,” Jinq responded without answering his question. “There is something wrong with the land. I can feel it, but I cannot see it.”

  His face went dark. “Our Seers were killed.”

  Jinq frowned deeply in utter bafflement that all three of them could be dead. “How did they die?”

  “Badly.”

  Jinq sighed, knowing the Guardian would say no more. “What about in the north?” He was hoping, but he knew the boy was thorough.

  “Their two are dead as well,” the young gate guardian responded with a frown. “Something is killing them.”

  “What about the other worlds?” he asked.

  The boy nodded as he leaned forward. “The demon’s girl, if she has somehow survived this, perhaps can be of use. I shall speak to Malthael at once.”

  “I need her,” Jinq said, glancing over his shoulder toward the village before looking back to Troy. “And I need her soon.”

  Chapter 16: Ashlad

  Ki had found the woman with
the kind eyes yet had discovered that she was beyond his ability. Perched on her room’s inner window ledge, he tried to understand what had happened. His visions had been clear; this woman must die. With the boy safely tucked away, only the woman had been left and he would have completed his mission. Yet her soul was pure, and he could not harm her with his Sin Eater.

  He would need to acquire another one; Ra had been clear that it was necessary for him to use a Soulfire weapon to save them. His visions had been clear that sin united the forty-two and that this was how he would fulfill his role as the savior of his people. Yet looking at her now as she peacefully slept, he wondered about—though didn’t doubt—his mission. This woman would die by his blade. It was only a matter of time.

  His few contacts in the Nether had given him some of the information he needed. She wasn’t just a mortal; she was a half-breed. Apparently her father had been a Soul Collector and granted her a tumultuous existence. He could understand what it was like to be alone. He had his elders, yes, but they were not like him. Had their circumstances been different, he would have liked to know who she was and how she seemed unwilling to harm others. He was waiting here until he was sure the hounds were gone. He could do nothing with the girl tonight and she would be difficult to overcome, but he still needed to get that key.

  He pushed the already cracked window the rest of the way open and carefully stepped inside. The key had worked wonders to allow him through the gate and beyond the magical wards. He pushed the window back to its original state and then crept along the room, glancing back only when she let out a sigh and rolled over. Her arm flopped back, and a cluster of loose shorter hair got free from her clip.

  Instead of stopping, he continued into the house. He closed the door completely and moved down the stairs. He knew somewhere was the gate that led to the other worlds, but it posed little concern to him. Many came here for that, but not Ki. He held up the key Riku had given him and turned it slowly in a circle. When the screaming woman’s eyes opened, he started walking. Her eyes opened whenever he was going the right way and closed when he was not. It led him down a hall filled with tapestries that all seemed to be watching him.