The Legend of the Gate Keeper Anthology: The Shadow, Land of Shadows, Siege of Night, Lost Empire, Reborn, The Trials of Ashbarn, End of Days

by Jeff Gunzel

  She screamed as he pushed forward, now completely inside her. Even above the sounds of her own screams, she could hear his laughter. Still gripping her wrists, Arkare pulled her close, his face only inches away from hers. “Look directly at me and nowhere else,” he growled. She closed her eyes and wailed with tears flowing down her cheeks. The giant lifted her wrists and slammed them back down with a thud. “Look at me,” he repeated.

  Glazing over, partially from shock, her eyes drifted over to the skull on the shelf. Its eyes danced with light from the candle within. A full set of perfect teeth spread out in a morbid smile. She could still hear Jayden’s laughing as the merciless pounding continued, a laughter she somehow connected with that skull. It was laughing at her, taking pleasure in her suffering. It hated her. She hated it back. The channeled hatred was all an illusion, and a small part of her still clinging to sanity still knew that. But her rage needed to be channeled somewhere, or her mind would implode.

  “Look at me,” Arkare repeated a third time. Her blue eyes rolled lazily away from the skull, and met his with a blank stare. Her body rocked back and forth, but her face was expressionless. Her eyes vacant, as if all emotion had left her body. She was no longer here. Her mind was a thousand miles away. “Jayden is rather gentle when compared to the others. I promise you, it won’t get any easier.” He smiled widely, fangs sparkling in the candlelight. “But rest assured, no matter how many take their turn in pleasuring you, my face will always be the one you remember. So in reality, it will always be me inside you.”

  The searing fire shooting up between her legs had become nothing but a dull throb. A distant pain that belonged to someone else. Drool fell from her chin and pooled on the table. Her body had been given up, but her mind was far away.

  * * *

  How long did it go on? Minutes...hours...days? Her eyes remained glazed over, her sandy blonde hair flared out in all directions as she sat still, staring at nothing.

  “Shall I go get Karis?” asked Jayden. He waved his hand in front of her eyes. Nothing. She was completely unresponsive. “Perhaps Brandon? He has no idea what he’s missing.”

  “No, not yet,” Arkare replied, a look of concern on his face. “There will be plenty of time for that. We have bigger issues that must be dealt with first. For now, let them keep looking for that bastard. The men don’t need any more distractions. You stay here and keep a close eye on her.”

  “Fine,” he replied, winking in her direction. “But where are you going?”

  “I haven’t heard from Verck or Zool in quite some time,” he answered, rubbing his chin in thought. “I had better find out what’s become of them.”

  Chapter 9

  “And you are sure of this?” asked Ninal, setting a blistering pace as he marched along. Like most military men, he seemed to have a way of moving deceptively fast without actually running.

  “Yes, General, I’m quite sure,” replied Yiph, somehow matching the pace. The small tracker moved well considering his short legs, and still showed no signs of fatigue. “Their tracks are still fresh. No older than three days would be my guess. We passed the town of Mydren a mile back, and there is not much else for miles on this road. I have no doubt they are heading to Corper.”

  “By the gods,” Ninal sighed. “Of all the places...” Behind him, the hounds barked wildly as their handlers stumbled along, trying to control the anxious dogs. They too had picked up the scent and were eager to run free. Even though the handlers were having difficulty keeping pace with Ninal and Yiph, it didn’t really matter now. Their skills were groomed for tracking, not combat, and probably wouldn’t be very useful where they were headed.

  “Sir, if I may speak freely?” said Yiph, eyes straight ahead as he marched. The general grunted, which Yiph assumed was as close to a yes as he would get. “Ninal...uh...General Rothsul, I cannot say for sure why they are headed for Corper. But the more I think about it, I doubt she could have been persuaded to go there. That is...well...without influence of some sort.”

  “Just say it, Yiph,” the general barked. “You think she’s been taken prisoner and is being forced against her will.”

  “Well...yes,” he replied, now seeming a little hesitant to continue. “It does seem that way to me. But that’s not quite where I’m going with this. For a time there, it seemed as if the Lady Drine had disappeared, and was most likely dead. Although we can’t be sure she isn’t in any danger, by these fresh tracks we can conclude she is probably still alive.”

  “Get to your point, Yiph,” the general growled. “You have a habit of using too many words to say too little.”

  “Oh, my apologies,” said Yiph, wishing he had never spoken up in the first place. But it was too late for that, now. “I just thought this news was rather good. Um...considering the dire speculations only a few days ago. I just thought you might be a little more...upbeat. We may yet find her. Unharmed, hopefully. And I for one am excited about that possibility. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Ninal didn’t reply.

  They marched on in silence for a time. Even moving at this speed, Yiph could read the subtle prints better than any tracker alive. He couldn’t help but notice a distracting disparity between the two sets. The man’s were spaced evenly at a normal pace, but the girl’s, not so much. Yiph found the herky-jerky spacing between her prints to be very revealing. The stop and go of someone who was being pushed along every now and then. The occasional stumbling of a person who was reluctant to keep moving. He shrugged away the newly discovered evidence. It wouldn’t change anything, so there was no reason to bring it up. Besides, Ninal seemed to be too preoccupied to be bothered with any new information.

  “Of course I do,” said Ninal, interrupting Yiph’s thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. What’s that?” Yiph asked, not sure what Ninal was referring to.

  “I agree with what you said. Knowing that Anna Drine is most likely alive brings me more relief than you can possibly imagine. But I’m not talking about political implications, having my rank stripped or even the possibility of war with Athsmin. My thoughts on the situation are much more personal than that.” A pang of guilt struck Yiph when he realized the general was continuing their earlier conversation. Ninal had only been taking his time, trying to decide how best to answer such a sensitive topic. Yiph listened intently.

  “I was in charge of Lady Drine’s safety,” Ninal continued. “Her security was my responsibility, and mine alone. Yet somehow I grew complacent in my duties, and it might have cost a young girl her life. It’s already cost the lives of several good men.”

  “Sir,” Yiph answered breathlessly. “You couldn’t possibly have known what was going to happen. That ambush was planned and executed to perfection. Those soldiers weren’t ready for—”

  “But they should have been prepared, and now their blood is on my hands!” Ninal interrupted. Yiph drew in on himself, not sure how to answer the outburst—a rise of emotion so rarely seen by the always-in-control general. Ninal took a deep breath, then softened his voice. “I assumed the blood pack didn’t have the stones to attack a caravan guarded by Taron’s soldiers, so I didn’t plan ahead. I could have sent a decoy wagon a mile or two in front of the caravan. I could have doubled, or even tripled the guard. We are not at war and certainly could have spared the additional men. I just assumed...”

  Ninal sighed, then threw his hands up in the air. “That’s what happens when you get old, Yiph. You begin to assume far more often than you should. ‘Good enough’ becomes a daily habit that’s hard to break. Well, this time it wasn’t good enough, and now I must atone for my lack in judgment.”

  Yiph stopped marching, turned, and boldly stepped in front of the general, hands on his hips. “I am no soldier, nor have I ever desired to be one,” he said, a fire in his eyes that looked strange on the spindly man. “I’m not strong, and I can’t use a sword to save my own life. I’ve lived this long by using the one gift I have. I see things for what they are. Whether that’s a faded p
rint, or the man standing right in front of my face. Whether he is dangerous and untrustworthy, or noble and kind, I can tell within seconds.”

  Yiph placed his hand on the general’s shoulder. “You, sir, are by far the most noble and righteous officer Taron has ever known. The city trusts you explicitly, as do I.” He placed his other hand on the general’s remaining shoulder and gave him a friendly shake. “We’re going to find her, sir, and I expect you to trust me on this. It appears that she has found a way to hold on, so we must do the same.”

  A horn blew, its musical blast echoed through the forest. Ninal turned, gazing off into the distance. It trumpeted once again, closer this time. “You’re damn right we’re going to find her,” he growled. A light seemed to go on in his eyes, the same fiery glare that had once been lost.

  A cloud of dust rose up like a storm from beyond the hill. The sound of clapping hooves thundered through the forest, sending birds into flight. Even from this distance they could see the long streaming banners, bright green with a single golden star flapping in the wind. Ardo rode with them, his hand gripping the reins of Ninal’s stallion as it galloped beside him. He pumped his fist in the air, prompting cheers from the soldiers riding alongside him. Shields, swords, and various other weapons were fastened to the massive warhorses.

  “By the gods, what sort of miracle is this?” said Yiph, his mouth gaping open in disbelief.

  “This is no miracle, Yiph,” said the general, raising his hand in their direction. “The boy delivered my letter, and the city has responded. May the gods smile upon our enemies and show them mercy on this day. For by nightfall, the fires of hell shall rain upon them.”

  * * *

  Azek’s eyes flashed open and he sat up with a jolt. Why was he laying here unconscious? Exhaustion? A side effect of that poisonous fog? He got back to his feet, those nightmarish images flooding back into his memory. Part of him hoped all this had been a bad dream, but here he was, still in this dank corridor.

  The swampy mist appeared to be gone. All that stood were solid stone walls, and no lingering signs that there were ever any vines or mud. Of course he knew how impossible all of this was, but how could he have possibly imagined that? Even now, he could still feel the flittering legs scrambling across the inside of his throat. He shook away the thought and got back to his feet. He wasn’t going to find a way out of this morbid place by sitting here.

  He stepped carefully, not knowing when a trap might spring, yet maintained a modest pace. Azek kept his swords ready, using them to probe the walls while he walked. It was a constant reminder of what not to touch. Everything looked the same no matter which way he turned.

  Getting fed up with these endless passages, he struck the wall with his blade, leaving a long, white scratch, then proceeded to the next crossing and turned right. Purposely, he continued to turn right with each new crossing, assuming he would find the scratch again. But several right turns later, there was none to be found. Only undisturbed stone that looked to have never been touched. Yet another impossibility he would have to deal with.

  It makes no damn difference which direction I go. This cursed place is determined to keep me here! He turned to head back the way he came, then froze in place. His skin prickled at the sight of hooded figures lining both sides of the hall, each facing towards the walls. Holding his breath, he took a careful, silent step backward, then turned to slip down his original path, but a single step was all he took. Those same cloaked figures lined these walls as well. He never heard a sound, never saw the slightest flicker of movement from the corner of his eye, yet there they were. He was cornered.

  They each seemed preoccupied, not noticing him as of yet. Their hunched shoulders jerked up and down in unison, as if they were panting like dogs. After the last encounter, Azek was determined not to disturb these things, whatever they were. For all he knew these things were blind and simple, the way they paid no attention to him, but he had no intention of finding out for sure.

  Sneaking carefully, he rounded the back of the first one, its shoulders bouncing with rapid breaths. It let out a moaning pant with each quick breath, but seemed to pay no attention to Azek. The assassin kept moving sideways, trying to make his movements discreet and sound minimal. He worked to control his own breathing, keeping each breath slow and shallow.

  He turned again and began to slide past the next one. This one too seemed oblivious to his presence. Like the others, it moaned in quick bursts, its shoulders hopping up and down in herky-jerky fits. Almost clear of it, Azek got ahead of himself and began focusing on the next one. When he started his turn, his sword brushed against the creature’s leg. Its shoulders stopped moving and the moaning ceased. As if sharing a single mind, all the others stopped panting as well. The dark corridor went silent and still.

  Azek’s own panicked breaths came in short bursts. He gripped his blades, trying to ready himself for the possible consequence of his mistake. His next move was sure to be critical to his survival. Should he go ahead and concede that he’d been noticed, and strike now to gain a quick advantage? Or should he remain still and hope they slipped back into whatever trance had held them up until this point? Were they even hostile to begin with? He couldn’t be certain that everything in this dark place was out to kill him, although that had certainly held true so far.

  All at once, the cloaked figures began to moan once again. Their shoulders moved up and down, slowly at first, then their bouncy movements and rapid breathing returned. Still not convinced of his safety, the warrior remained motionless. A bead of sweat ran from his temple and inched down to his chin. He swallowed hard, his own face inches away from one of these beings. He gave it a full two minutes before deciding the danger had passed.

  The assassin moved on, his every movement still slow and precise, careful not to make the same mistake a second time. Once clear of them, he found himself tempted to take off running. The urge to put as much distance between him and them as possible proved to be a huge temptation. But he didn’t run. He had to be smarter than that. Who knew what sort of stimulation they responded to, and so far moving slowly was working pretty well.

  Once he felt they were now a safe distance away, he turned to face another crossing. But before he could choose a direction, the ground began to rumble again. The shaking was so fierce, he dropped to one knee and pressed both hands to the floor. Anchoring himself was imperative. Stumbling into one of these deadly walls would surely spell his doom.

  Right in front of his face, another stone wall rose up from the floor. It grinded upward, scraping the other two walls as black dust sifted down from the corners. It cut him off from the crossing, leaving him trapped like a rat. Once the ground steadied, he was able to rise and turn. He saw exactly what he expected to see.

  Those cloaked beings were all drifting towards him, each of their movements identical to the others’. Their movements were so perfect, so precise, it seemed as though only one might be real and the others were just a product of surrounding mirrors. There came a heavy crunching sound each time they stepped, but only with the right foot, not the left. But that made no sense; the terrain was no different from one side to the other. Azek braced, swords gripped in sweaty palms. In a single eerie movement, their bony arms all reached up to draw back their hoods. The ghostly sight almost made Azek drop his swords.

  Round, hairless heads with white faces that looked to be made of porcelain stared back through eyeless black sockets. Two tiny slits at the center of each pale face represented some mockery of a nose. Their mouths were far too large, and disproportionate for their faces, each displaying oversized teeth with a squared lower jaw. At the same time, all their lower jaws sank downward in a slow, unnatural stretch. It was like watching a snake unhinge his jaw to eat a meal far bigger than itself. The jaws surged back up with a grinding crack—a shattering sound that hinted at the impossible force of these bites. By all rights their teeth should have shattered from the impact.

  Marching slowly, they repeated the
solid bite with every other step. They moved with a clumsy sway that made them seem like wind-up soldiers, more like animated puppets than living beings. Everything about them was unnatural, and synthetic.

  Azek took his stance as they approached, one knee down with his blades crossed and ready. When the first was in range, he exploded like a coiled snake. His first blade streaked through the top of the thing’s head, leaving a clean slice from temple to eye. His second blade struck low, biting deep into the soft flesh of its leg and severing the bone. The top of its head slid off to the side, exposing a hollowed head filled with writhing worms. Unable to support any weight, the nearly severed leg folded sideways and the creature toppled over. Maggots and worms spilled out from the open stump in a gush of clear liquid.

  But even being incapacitated and posing no immediate threat, the creature was not yet dead. It reached up in a feeble fashion, thin, bony fingers extended and trembling. With only part of its face remaining, its jaw snapped in a defiant crunch, proving it still had some fight left. Azek couldn’t believe the thing’s bite was still in tune with the others, yet alone that it still lived at all. He stomped down on the severed portion of head. The skull crushed easily enough, spraying more worms, scattering them across the floor and wall.

  Luckily, these creatures seemed slow and cumbersome. As of yet, he hadn’t been swarmed while taking down the first. They ambled forward sluggishly, swaying back and forth with arms extended and jaws cracking in rhythm. Having some idea what he was up against, the time was now. The assassin exploded into a series of combinations, sending limbs and heads scattering across the floor. More often than not, a mostly intact head hitting the ground would burst into a spray of insects. Centipedes, spiders and red beetles scampered about in confusion.