Beyond the Dark Gate

by R. V. Johnson

  But how? The barrier’s protection should have dissolved when he lost consciousness. Perhaps it had. Squatting, he touched it, finding it cool and hard. Then the physics of it struck him. The barrier had insulated the lava, cooling it underneath, causing it to harden.

  Awed by his luck, Darwin made his way carefully along the path, stepping beside Railee. As he gripped her elbow, she tried to pull away. “Come, we have to keep moving,” he said, losing patience.

  Railee’s head rose at the sound of his voice. Then she wrapped her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly. “I thought you left me.”

  Darwin patted her back awkwardly with three soft taps. “Come,” he repeated. “We waste precious time.”

  Releasing him abruptly, Railee accepted his help and stood, moving behind him as before.

  “There is a step up here, can you accomplish it?”

  Railee coughed before she spoke. “Please, let us go. I can do it.”

  Darwin said no more on the subject.

  They came to his footprints and the trough his body had created from the momentum of his slide. The now darkened phial lay on the smooth part of the barrier beyond it. Stooping, he picked it up. The Flow’s luminescence had bled away, but the glass appeared intact. Drawing upon the Flow, even for the micro amount required to re-light it, was beyond him for a while; he would not have the strength to sever the link. Putting it in his pocket, he worked by the dim light of the glowing lava on both sides, though even that was fading as they came to the end.

  “Have a care, there is a step down,” Darwin said.

  Railee said nothing, only moaning softly as she made the transition from cooling melted rock to dusty granite flooring, the scuff of her boots swallowed by distance and darkness ahead.

  Railee’s silence suited him. Concentrating on shuffling forward took all of his energy.

  How long they walked and what distance they traveled, Darwin had no concept. They stumbled through the dark, keeping the wall near at hand, their legs wooden.

  After some time, the last of Darwin’s energy and drive dissolved. Dropping to his knees, he fell onto three limbs, his left hand holding his torso from the stone. He panted as hard as an animal.

  A persistent ache in his back triggered an alarm in his mind, clearing away some of his exhaustion stupor.

  A weight rested on him.

  Time passed. Then Darwin became aware that Railee lay on him, her head weighing on his back below his shoulder blades. Fast asleep or unconscious, perhaps worse, it did not matter, the Red Rock woman could not remain there.

  Raising and lowering his right side took a few attempts, but her weight finally slid from him.

  Thudding to the floor, Railee made no sound.

  Rolling clumsily, Darwin ignored the pain of long unused muscles and put his back to the wall. Sitting, he drew his legs to him and slipped into a sleep that befitted a tomb.

  Darwin woke to the sound of his name. Or had he? His thoughts were sluggish.

  A voice called from out of the darkness. “Darwin?”

  The voice had the ring of familiarity. A small beacon of light caught his eye, growing brighter and larger.

  “Please respond, Master,” the voice called again, though with less volume as if despairing.

  The name of the light’s carrier came to Darwin in a rush. “Malkor, come here,” he shouted, struggling to stand.

  The light froze and then grew more luminous as it moved toward him. Before long, Darwin saw the light bobbing toward him. Malkor’s narrow disconnected head and face came into view, the torchlight casting his emaciated body in deep shadows.

  As his servant drew close, a fierce look of cunning twisted Malkor’s features and then vanished so fast Darwin dismissed it as an illusion of the flickering light. His manservant looked as passive as always.

  “Oh, Master, you cannot know how I begged to the Great Bane of Onan to find you. Every trap I disarmed coming here added to the fear I would discover your remains in it. Why have you not drank your water?” Malkor asked, tugging at his black robe.

  Malkor had his utmost attention. “You defeated the traps? Alone?” he croaked. Darwin nearly pushed Malkor’s hand away waiting for an answer. As the first few drops hit the back of his parched throat, he was glad he did not.

  Disappointingly, Malkor stoppered the flask. “You must ration the water if we are to survive. I only defeated some of them, Master, only the traps placed between us.”

  Two thoughts occurred to Darwin, which gave him a burst of excitement. “How have you perceived the precise way to defuse the Ancients’ cleverness? How would you even know where they were hidden?”

  Malkor’s jaw rose, a smug smile tugging at his thin cracked lips. “Trapped with little else to occupy my thoughts, I switched to my new ability, accessing the data streaming at a high rate into my mind. This time, I hit upon the secret to dealing with such a heavy flow. Instead of trying to interrupt the stream, believing it would cease or slow someday, though I know now it never will, I allowed it full into my mind. The data shall stream uninterrupted into my mind until I terminate, as even now, Naa’thon must have a constant—”

  Darwin could not stop himself from interrupting, nor did he desire to. “If you do not halt it, how do you read it?”

  “I have come to that, if Master will allow me to finish.”

  Darwin waved for him to go on, not entirely ignoring the slight of his servant’s words. He would address them after they escaped the tomb.

  “The key to the data is simple. One has only to request the information, where it is rerouted through my mind but not interrupted. Once I made the discovery, I requested information on the designing and constructing of this tomb. The builders are in here with me, so is everything they ever did in their long or short lives.”

  Darwin felt invigorated by the water and the news, not solely from the knowledge of having his suspicion confirmed. Acquiring what he came for was a very real possibility “An excellent revelation my old friend, let us continue to the artifact.”

  Malkor smiled and turned, offering a shoulder of support, which Darwin accepted. The light from his torch revealed Railee lying in the fetal position on the floor. “What of this one? Should I check for the possibility of healing?”

  Darwin did not hesitate to reply. “Save your strength. One or both of us may require your energy before this is through.”

  Without another word, Malkor headed back the way he had come.

  Darwin did not glance behind at the crumpled dark shape of his former lover.

  SERIOUS FLAW

  The ruby gateway dropped Crystalyn on the peak of a beige mountain—not quite red or brown. A heated wind loaded with warm sand picked at her eyes and tugged at the straps of her daypack. Crystalyn closed her lids to mere slits. Though difficult to see through, it was better than scorching her corneas.

  Holding her hand outstretched in front of her for some small protection, Crystalyn moved a safe distance along the dune’s ridge from the drop point. Having the gateway plop the others in her space with her still in it was a danger they were all aware of.

  Crystalyn didn’t relish the thought of merging with Atoi, Lore Rayna, or—Great Father forbid—Hastel. Broth, she could probably live with should such an accident occur, if she lived through it. In ways hard to imagine, she’d already merged with her link mate.

  The sand pummeled her painfully from all sides. Crystalyn turned her back to the worst of it, letting her pack block some.

  A thought slipped into her mind. She may have to expend strength casting her absorption symbol for relief if the others tarried much longer, but it proved not the case.

  Lore Rayna materialized and rushed to her side, and then Broth, Atoi, and finally Hastel came through the gate. The grizzled warrior growled something unintelligible—probably a curse—cupped a hand over his one good eye, and then made his way carefully over to them.

  Turning his back to the wi
nd, Hastel moved down the leeward side. “Follow me, we have to get off this ridge,” he shouted.

  When they staggered below the ridge, the wind gave way to searing heat. Crystalyn almost wished for the wind to return, perhaps a cool breeze, even just a bit of shade under a tree with a blue pool of cold water to languish in.

  What am I doing? Crystalyn wondered. They’d just begun their desert trek and already she daydreamed of shade and water.

  Ahead, Hastel paused. Pulling the canvas with the map drawn on it from the kell satchel hanging at his waist, he unrolled it and gazed at it, glancing about from time to time.

  “Well?” Crystalyn asked. Standing and baking in the heat wasn’t good for them. Physical exertion at least got them progress toward the destination as they sweated the precious moisture from their bodies. Already her perspiration evaporated on her skin, an early sign of heat stroke.

  Hastel looked up, gazing around again. “With no landmarks to go by—one dune looks the same as the next—it’s hard to know for certain, but I think I’ve got a direction for the Valley of Forgotten Kings.” Rolling the canvas tight, he pointed a direction to the right of the source of heat for the planet.

  “The tombs await at the rising sun,” Atoi intoned in her otherworld voice.

  Crystalyn glanced sharply at her little companion though her expression was as impassive as usual. No surprise there. “Are you certain?” She waited only briefly for a reply that wouldn’t come. “Do we follow Craight’s map or a child?” she asked her companions next.

  “I have no knowledge of this land. Such a place is unsuited for my kind.”

  Lore Rayna hugged herself. The dress fared badly; some of the leaves had darkened to a sickly brown, rent with tiny holes or rips from the whipping sand, revealing white skin. “I do not care as long as we get there soon.

  Hastel stowed the map in the satchel. “The child is more than that, she is the Dark Child. This map is rudimentary at best. As soon as we find Atoi’s right, I’m going to mark which direction is north or any other, something the cartographer failed to note.”

  A quick glance away from the sun indicated east wasn’t back to the dune’s ridge, which she appreciated. Nevertheless, they would have to travel perpendicular with another large windblown pile of brown sand, eventually having to move over the top of it. There was no help for it. “Let’s go then. Atoi, take the lead. Find the tomb with obvious activity as quick as you can. We can’t have Lore Rayna wandering around naked in this bloody heat. Broth is struggling with it too.”

  Atoi dashed past Hastel. Crystalyn followed. Going with the dune, they trudged slightly downward for what seemed a mile, but in reality, only half that put them at the bottom. For every step taken, two were required in order to stay at the height the little girl set in the loose sand. Finally, they reached the bottom. There was no shade, yet it felt noticeably cooler.

  Crossing a narrow furrow cut with the windy sword of time, Atoi started up the side of the higher dune.

  “Hold!” Crystalyn called, studying the sandy furrow. The channel grew slightly wider and deeper before vanishing around a bend. “Let’s follow this to where it changes direction; it looks like it may go the right way.”

  Atoi changed course without comment, the path swallowing her from view after a few quick strides.

  Rounding the bend soon after her companion, Crystalyn was pleasantly surprised to find that it not only headed the right way, but the channel widened and deepened, sloping downward as it went.

  Farther down it, the sand gave way to a two-toned rock. Pale tan like the sand and a light red texture layer traveled along the channel in a near straight line. The air grew noticeably cooler with each downward step. Before long, they slipped into the divine coolness of shade.

  “Though one is grateful for shelter from the nourishing, but overbearing, rays of the south, one wonders what purpose this odd path in the desert has,” Lore Rayna said from behind.

  Broth bounded past. “The Valen speaks truly, Do’brieni. I shall scout the path beyond the Ancient One.”

  Ahead, the passage curved slightly eastward. The light red layer at the bottom widened, growing darker as the rock above rose higher. Vertical lines scarred the layers at regular intervals from top to bottom. Crystalyn trailed a finger on them as she walked. “These marks have the smooth feel of chisel marks cut long ago. Perhaps we’ve stumbled upon an ancient waterway designed to bring water to a cistern.”

  “Aye, I do believe you have the right of it,” Hastel agreed.

  Lore Rayna’s deep voice carried easily to her, though she had entered the waterway last. “Which would indicate—”

  “Our chosen path will lead us down to the Valley of the Forgotten Kings,” Hastel finished.

  “Please refrain from doing that in the future, little warrior man,” Lore Rayna said.

  Though he strode a few paces back, Hastel’s raspy voice sounded close. “Doing what, oh large woman warrior of the great Valen people?” Grossly exaggerated, the tone of his voice strove for innocence.

  “You play at a dangerous game little warrior man,” Lore Rayna growled.

  Crystalyn halted. “Would the two of you quiet down, please? We’ve come to ruin someone’s unknown, but undoubtedly evil, aspirations, remember? At least, I think we have. Who knows what our little Dark Child guide has in mind for us.”

  “You are correct as usual Sarra’esiah, please accept assurance it—” Lore Rayna began.

  “Shall not happen again,” Hastel finished.

  Though low in volume, Lore Rayna’s growl reverberated down the channel.

  Taking a quick drink from her water flask, Crystalyn shifted the wide leather carrying strap, getting it to ride on her shirt instead of her bare neck where the sand underneath rubbed her raw. Grateful for the shade, and invigorated a little from the splash of water in her system, she followed the gentle downward slope around a slight bend and then another.

  After rounding a third bend, Crystalyn found the warden sitting on his haunches beside Atoi at the edge of a gigantic stone spillway. “We have arrived, Do’brieni,” Broth sent as she strode over to him. The white stone channel sloped steeply into a wide valley strewn with large constructs of brownish red limestone half-buried in sand. The same rocks she’d seen in the vision on the hill above the Great Plains. At least, they looked similar from this high up.

  Far below where Crystalyn stood, a town of plain two-person tents mingled with multi-roomed gaudy-colored cabin pavilions. Timber hoists and retaining walls withheld a mountain of sand from reclaiming a partial excavation of a grand structure guarded thousands of seasons by a massive statute having the head of a man and the body of a beast.

  “Guess we know where we go next,” Crystalyn said as Hastel and Lore Rayna joined those on the ledge.

  “Aye,” Hastel said quietly. The warrior’s one blue eye moved with constant motion from side to side, gathering the details transpiring below quickly. “Two-thirds of those tents are mercantile design; even the cook stove areas will have shaded awnings. The rest are the functional nomadic shelters of desert dwellers, lightweight and sturdy. The nomadic peoples are warriors.”

  Crystalyn held back a sigh. “I thought as much. Yet we have little choice but to stroll through the front door since it’s the only one uncovered.”

  “Aye,” Hastel repeated.

  Lore Rayna leaned forward. “How shall we get to the bottom of the channel?”

  Crystalyn followed the big woman’s gaze. They all did.

  In its time of use, the waterway had flowed gently along the constructed passage and then raced down the steep spillway only to slow once more at the bottom as it leveled out.

  Going back wasn’t an option Crystalyn wanted to consider. They’d have to backtrack at least two miles before the channel became shallow enough to climb out from and then another two back to the valley rim under the scorching heat.

  From there, who knew how long it wo
uld take to find a safe pathway to the bottom. “Good question, Lore Rayna. Ideas, anyone?” she asked.

  Atoi stared at the left side. “The stone is cracked and pitted at the edges where little moisture insulated it from the sun. One may have handholds enough to make the descent.”

  Crystalyn’s initial excitement waned as she studied the route the little girl proposed. “Only if you have Lore Rayna’s reach. Some of the handholds are quite far apart. Even then, she’d have to revert to her roots part of the way. No pun intended, my large friend.”

  Lore Rayna smiled, briefly.

  “Besides, Broth couldn’t do it. He’s not made that way. Next idea.”

  “I shall return to the dune, follow the rim, and rejoin you at the bottom should you decide to attempt this path. However, I am against such an attempt.”

  “No, my Do’brieni. We stay together.”

  “I could carry the warden in flor’e’form, perhaps all of you at once, except then I have limited mobility, and I cannot hold the form for long, a half bell at best.”

  Hastel had turned away from the spillway. “How long of a reach do you have in that form?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Seven, perhaps eight, meters if I push my strength.”

  Giving a nod, he tilted his head back, looking up. “I thought as much. Therefore, that leaves you, Mistress Crystalyn. Please tell me you have a symbol in your arsenal capable of loosening that rock up there and getting it down here, intact.”

  Gazing up, Crystalyn found the rock he spoke of with little trouble, though rock was a misnomer—slab fit better. A huge chunk of limestone had broken from the main cliff wall where it lay overhanging the channel. A jagged crack gaped with darkness below it.

  Crystalyn opened her mouth intending to say her symbols didn’t function in the way he wanted, but then she closed it. The blackness within the crack drew her attention.

  Perhaps, if it’s deep enough, I might have something. Providing I get a feel for the right symbol. “Everyone come with me. We have to be well clear,” she said aloud, moving up the channel’s slight slope.