Beyond the Dark Gate

by R. V. Johnson

  “I bet you did,” Lord Tsan said pleasantly. “The lush tavern matron enjoys younger men.” Then his voice hardened. “Search him well; he admits he is an outlander.”

  The woman released him. Removing her gauntlets, she handed them to Lord Tsan. Quickly, with no regard to any part of him, the woman riffled through his robe. She pulled it open when she got to his suit. “What is this, Lord General?” she asked stepping to the side for Lord Tsan to view.

  “What Dark Using is this? Use extreme care, Rinn. Check him well. Though he wears the gray robes, underneath is armor infused like I have not seen. This one is a User of some power or he has high connections. Search there, something bulges,” Lord Tsan commanded, pointing at Trenton’s front pocket.

  With her long and slender fingers, the woman deftly fished the crimson orb from his right leg pocket. Trenton groaned, though he tried not to. Crystalyn had only returned it to him the day before.

  The woman soldier dropped the orb in General Tsan’s left gauntleted hand he had outstretched, emitting a soft plink.

  Cupping his fingers around it, General Tsan moved the orb close to his helm, leaning over it. “So this artifact is precious to you, I can see why, it… has something about it. The Dark Lady will want to know of this. Bring him,” General Tsan commanded.

  “Wait—” Trenton started to say.

  “Silence!” General Tsan shouted. The sharp horns of his helm came close as the big man leaned down. “Speak without permission again, and I shall take an eye. Do you understand this?” he asked softly.

  Trenton nodded.

  General Tsan turned and strode away without another word.

  Roughly, the two soldiers, Deit Sa and Rinn, marched him to the center of the wide hallway, leaving the gateway, the only escape in sight, behind.

  They followed General Tsan’s broad back to an intersection with three branches where massive pillars shouldered the gray rock ceiling three stories above though every path appeared carved from a mountain of rock.

  The lord general selected the left branch and strode toward a watering hole or fountain that groups of armored and robed people clustered around. The general turned right before Trenton could get a good look. Ahead, another stretch of hallway, this one with pillars lining both sides of a soft red rug they soon trod upon.

  Trenton mulled over his situation, working on a course of action. General Tsan had taken the crimson crystal orb from him, but the man hadn’t found the ion laser cutter grafted to his finger. Flesh-colored with nail and prints, fashioned to look like his digit, it extended his finger slightly longer than the rest, though they hadn’t noticed. Nor had they taken his climate suit from him.

  Though his situation was dire, it could still get worse. He tried not to think about it as he looked for a way out. Though their grip slackened somewhat, the two soldiers did not fully release him. Escape seemed hopeless.

  The hallway pillars changed, becoming ornate and amethyst in color. Carved men and women in armor or robes engaged in some activity, mostly battle from the look of it. Two rows of the magnificent pillars led toward a wide half-circle set of beautiful cobalt granite stairs. A set of golden doors, as high as the hallway, reflected sunlight from a square hole bored through the ceiling. Two guards holding long spears with the tips pointing toward the sun vent blocked the doors with their persons. Two others stood on each side with crossbows readied.

  Lord General Tsan climbed the steps and halted before the guards. “Move aside,” he commanded.

  The guard on the left frowned, his open-faced helm sliding forward on his brow when he did. He pushed it back into place with his free hand. “The lady of the Citadel has met with you prior to this, Lord General Tsan,” he said. “Everyone gets only one greeting from the esteemed Lady of Darkness, you know this.”

  “I have acquired an item she will wish to view with her cold green eyes, as wondrous as they are,” Lord General Tsan said.

  The general’s voice changed, becoming softer, less brash when he spoke of the lady. Trenton wondered if he could exploit Tsan’s apparent attachment in some way—perhaps parlay his release in exchange for silence. Likely, he was the only one who could hear the tonal differences in the big man’s voice. His training with PallTech back on Terra had ensured he noticed.

  “I shall send a runner to notify the protector, that is the best I can do,” the soldier on the left said.

  The soldier standing in front of the right-hand door stirred. “The lady knows all. Allow Lord General Tsan to pass,” the woman said, her blue eyes dull. Her pallor was ashen, as if she had strayed too long from the sun.

  The soldier woman’s blonde hair was cropped short in a provocative style, and Trenton tried to catch her eye with his own, but she stared only forward.

  “What about the general’s two soldiers and the gray robe?” the male soldier asked the woman.

  Staring at something or nothing along the hall, the woman failed to respond.

  “They are part of this and have to go through, you bloody imbecile!” General Tsan snarled.

  The soldier’s brown eyes glared with stark hatred for a heartbeat. “Have a care, General. Not all in the Citadel are intimidated by you. The Dark Lady has my loyalty,” the soldier said. He stepped to the side, refusing to look at them.

  Lord General Tsan shouldered the golden door open without another word.

  Deit Sa released Trenton’s shoulder and took the lead.

  Rinn pushed Trenton stumbling forward through the door, staying right behind him.

  Inside, robed and armored men and women stood in a line along one wall in a great room. The huge vaulted ceiling housed statues on either side reminiscent of those below who barely reached their pedestalled feet.

  Trenton did not glance at the people who waited; he had eyes only for the person sitting on the high-backed gilded throne. As they strode closer, he was surprised, but happy, to note the lady on the throne was barely a woman, perhaps twenty, twenty-one, seasons.

  Dressed in a nearly sheer, low-cut black dress, the girl-woman spoke to a large warrior, bigger than general Tsan. His despair over his predicament lessened. The girl-woman’s beautiful locks of auburn hair cascaded to her shoulders as she slowly turned his way.

  His chances at convincing her of his dire need to return home ascended. Perhaps, with a little flattering, he could get her to agree to discuss how the gates worked and fill him in on what he needed for a return trip to Terra.

  One glance of her cold green eyes destroyed the notion.

  TAKE IT AWAY

  The One Mind slowed the images rotating around the general, focusing on the dark one, the timeline leading to the point of termination. Shuffling the image faster and faster, a shadow of the man appeared. Moving choppy at first, the image flowed into the fluidity of shadowed life. Background images followed, luminous and colored when compared against the shade of the man. The shade moved beyond a group of men wearing Citadel livery squeezed together by a slim black band wrapped around them, glowing darkly.

  Though Jade had seen her ability used in such a way several times before, the One Mind’s expert manipulation of it in a short amount of time horrified and fascinated her. The Over Mind, the alien hive intelligence, was growing too powerful, too fast. And, gathering all the Dark Citadel’s leaders in one place—this room of thrones—was a bold move. Though the Over Mind had most of its subverted stationed on both sides with bows and swords at the ready, the line shuffling to the dais was hostile for the most part.

  The scene continued. A shadowy weapon raised, the shade slipped toward a man in a dark robe… Darwin Darkwind! Clutching a shimmering black spear, Darwin gave a flick of his free hand. Lifted from the stone floor as if made of smoke, the dark figure of the general flew across a courtyard, vanishing from the scene.

  The images spun, revolving into the cyclone of the aura surrounding the man in dark plate armor.

  A slender hand, her hand, came into view, palm
facing forward. “Hold!” she heard herself say. “Protector, record this. General Bowman is now commander of the Dark Gate. How many regiments are stationed there?”

  Her dad glanced at a ledger he held. “Six full regiments and one-third of a seventh,” he replied.

  By the whim of the One Mind, Jade heard every word. “Leave him with one-half of a regiment. The rest go with you to prepare for the battle at Surbo,” the One Mind said.

  Smiling at the mention of his new position, General Bowman’s smile faded fast. “Is that wise, My Lady? We would not have enough men to open the Dark Gate and send out sorties while defending it.”

  “You will not be opening it,” her dad said, the tone of his voice cool. “You are dismissed, general. The next leader class may come forward!” he called to the line of people sprawling out from the great throne room.

  A woman in a red robe with the hood thrown back climbed the three wide stairs to the throne, and then she executed a bow as deep as a man would. Her luxurious hair created two silky black piles on the floor as she waited for acknowledgment.

  The One Mind kept the woman doubled over for several long moments as Jade’s vision gave a cursory glance about the great room. The row of people waiting to meet the Dark lady of the Citadel stretched beyond the massive angry statues of Dark Users and dark-armored soldiers that lined the cavernous walls. “You may rise, Correlda,” the One Mind finally said.

  Correlda failed to keep the surprise from her smooth face. She smiled, satisfaction alighting her dark eyes. “Fortune is with you my lady for you have knowledge of me. I shall be of great service to you.”

  “There is awareness of your loyalties from some that follow you. You may approach,” Jade heard herself say in her most pleasant tone.

  Correlda stepped near, her mouth working, and failing, to maintain a solemn composure. “I must say, I am ecstatic that a woman, even one of your youth, controls the Citadel. Selecting me for my experience shows wisdom beyond your seasons. How may I serve you?”

  Jade’s arm reached toward the woman; an action that was painful to view without her brain giving the command or having the smallest feedback flow into her mind that her muscles obeyed. “You shall start by kissing my ring,” the One Mind said.

  Correlda’s smile was beautiful as she bent. “You will find I am a great one to have in your retinue, My Dark Lady,” she purred, pursing her mouth for a light touch.

  The One Mind shifted Jade’s hand at the last moment, and Correlda’s dark-shaded lips landed upon her knuckles, missing the ring altogether. The woman froze. A torrent of fruitful manipulations and murders, both hired and performed by Correlda, blew past Jade’s protective bubble, latent memories of past deeds and experiences.

  The woman had led a deceitful life; plotting to kill Lord Charn for a large part of it. At one time the woman had been a friend to Jade’s mom, Sureen, part of an elite team known as The Watch, until joining with the Dark Citadel. Jade found it hard to feel bad for her even though she was now one of the controlled.

  With slow movements, unnatural and awkward to look at, Correlda straightened, her facial features slack.

  “Gather your followers at the Oracle one bell from now,” the One Mind, the Dark lady of the Citadel said. The One Mind had promoted the name in the early stages of claiming the fortress.

  Correlda staggered away, her movements stiff.

  A male voice spoke from within the line. “That crone is getting old or in heat again.”

  A chorus of male and female laughter ensued, dying quickly when Correlda staggered past without looking at them.

  Her dad took a step forward. “The next in line may come forth,” he said, his voice carrying to those at the forefront, quelling all conversations.

  With the soft chink of chain mail, a soldier climbed the dais, looking too young to fight, let alone lead. Though his face was a little broad, Jade thought him handsome, and close to her seasons.

  Before the sandy-haired soldier could bow, the One Mind spoke. “Stay where you are,” Jade’s voice commanded.

  The soldier stopped moving.

  The One Mind slowed the cyclone raging around the man. The three images slowed, and again the thing inhabiting her selected the darker image, shuffling through it as one would a deck of graphical cards. The shade of the soldier swung his long sword at something indiscernible, as the background bled into clarity. A gray fog permeated the air so dark, swaths of it had turned black, giving all things a faded hue.

  Slobbering and grotesque, the thing the soldier fought beside a foul algae shoreline was something horrible, nearly too frightening to look at. At some point, it may have begun its existence as an isopod. Now, it strode forth on four legs as squirming tentacles dripped something foul on its belly. A shell on the creature’s putrid back had the color and texture of putrescent flesh, the same stuff as the scale spikes at the tentacle ends.

  At first, the shade of the soldier did well by countering each jabbing tentacle, but his movements quickly grew slower, less frequent. Soon, a spiky tentacle, then two, impaled the shade; a third sent the sword tumbling from his hand. The One Mind let the image go; it twisted, the colors elongating and elastic as it picked up speed, blurring back into its rotation.

  Jade was stunned. She knew the area from the holographic of it and her dad’s stories of when he grew up there. The soldier fought on her world, on Terra, in the polluted air of Low Realm.

  Jade’s vision swung to where her dad came into view. “This one remains with The Gap project. Keep him in leadership,” she heard herself say.

  Her dad bowed his head slightly. Then he motioned to one of the soldiers stationed at the rear, a middle-seasoned fit woman she didn’t know by name. “Take him to The Gap’s guard regiment, give him a full regiment, and outline the duties with the understanding he is to not speak of it except at strategy meetings with other commanders.”

  The woman nodded to her father, bowed to the One Mind, and then regarded the young soldier with stern blue eyes. “Follow me,” she said.

  The One Mind watched the sandy-haired soldier leave. Jade feared for him. The Gap of Thundering Darkness, the place of the project, confined a beast that frightened her as much as the One Mind did.

  *****

  Garn grew weary of the pomp sliding glibly past the lips of some of the Dark lords. Their transparent attempts to curry favor from the Dark lady of the Citadel, his daughter, Jade, were tiresome. The line had ceased to stretch beyond the golden throne room doors. He’d had to stand and listen to every word for the longer parts of several days.

  Garn hated having to stand beside his daughter doing the bidding of the thing controlling her with no way to do a blasted thing about it. The helplessness of the situation made him want to lash out at every obsequious lord or lady that climbed the steps of the three thrones.

  Some of them even attempted to climb together, which came against his explicit order. In those cases, he’d had to separate the offending parties, forcing one to step back to the head of the line. In one case, he’d had to draw his sword before the toady scurried away. Garn had then sent him to the rear as punishment.

  Perhaps the alien monster controlling Jade was growing impatient or weary. More often than not, his daughter raised a palm, halting the person before they came within range of its evil touch.

  The thing was devious. Somehow, it had discovered how to select the leaders of the Citadel from the others, reserving its foul ability for them. With the deviousness came a high intelligence and some comprehension of human instincts. The monster inside his daughter had known allowing him to live with his mental capacities intact would keep Jade in check.

  Not only that, Garn had a feeling it knew overtaking the Dark Citadel would be easier with him in command. Most of the Citadel’s authorities were familiar with him as the Alchemist’s most trusted protector. Their ruse that the hooded one had appointed her as the lady of the Citadel until his return had worked better
than expected.

  At the back of the immense room, several people moved to one side at once. Then the entire line shifted left, a quickly growing wave of bodies rolling Garn’s way.

  Lord General Tsan, a particularly cruel man, though a well-rounded fighter and Dark User, strode the throne hall. For reasons known only to it, the thing inside his daughter had left the man intact. Behind the general, two soldiers under his command escorted an unknown man wearing the neutral color of a gray robe.

  His daughter turned to him. “Tsan has something to show, peruse it. Decide if you can make use of it.”

  With a quick flick of his hand, Garn signaled Captain Lanniss. One of several Garn had specifically requested to be left intact, which the creature controlling his daughter had granted without question. Even so, many leaders wore the blank-eyed stare of the mindless. Lanniss, a good soldier, halted the next person waiting.

  Garn watched the group approach, focusing on the man in the gray robe. Smaller than the general in stature, he only got flashes of the man early into his adulthood seasons, just enough to spark his interest. The man wore something besides normal clothing under his robe.

  General Tsan strode to the top stair and executed a small bow. “My Lady, I have found a great artifact for you to use as you see fit.” Holding up his gauntleted fist, he opened it. A crystal orb gleamed with a dark red hue.

  Garn stepped closer. Something black flickered inside.

  Jade shrank back into the seat of the throne. “Take it away, I do not desire it. I do not want it,” she said quickly.

  Lord General Tsan closed his fist on the orb, dropping his hand to his side. “What would my lady wish for me to do with it?” he asked, the tone of his voice soft.

  Jade, his daughter, the host, looked away. “I do not care, take it away.”

  General Tsan regarded her for a long moment. When she did not return his gaze, he spoke softly once more. “And what shall I do with the prisoner, My Lady?” he asked.

  Garn interrupted. “Lock him and the artifact within the military confinement at the Dark Gate courtyard,” he commanded.