by Jeff Gunzel
Prophecies, he scoffed to himself as his flesh bubbled and seared as it had for too many years to count. What do the insects know of such matters? So what if this prophesized mutant has really come to be? The towering being closed his large purple eyes and tilted his head back. Rows of black and silver teeth twisted upward in something that resembled a smile. Capturing this freakish being would be his greatest triumph, a trophy to play with day and night. He would become a toy that Krytoes would make sure to keep sane even as he made him scream for countless centuries, to be sure the pleasure registered properly. His twisted smile only deepened as the pleasurable thought burned into his mind. I’ll have you soon enough...Gate Keeper.
Chapter 1
“Taxes must be raised, my Queen. The upgrades alone will cost…I understand the roads don’t really need to be repaired, but you see…the new guardsmen’s uniforms would make Tarmerria the envy of…surely you wish Taron to set an example for excellence…I’m certain the good people will be more than understanding…only the finest tapestries arriving all the way from Athsmin…an extra coin here and there is nothing when compared to the comfort of their… Queen—my lady, are you listening to me?”
The plump man leaned forward in the handcrafted chair, exposing the white and blue patterns embroidered across its plush backing. Wiping his thick, stumpy finger across his bald head, he flashed a puzzled look toward the Queen. Ilirra’s bright green eyes were wide open, but she appeared to be looking right through him. His questioning expression altered little as he sank back into the thick, soft chair. He waited a moment longer, nervously fingering the large silver buttons sewn down his bright red vest before speaking again. Tilting his head questioningly, he weakly muttered, “My Queen, have you heard anything I’ve said? All these necessities will not pay for themselves. You simply must raise the people’s taxes.”
Ilirra’s eyes snapped back into focus, her distant glare landing on the soft man who suddenly found himself wishing her attention had remained elsewhere. He began to tug at his vest once more while using the back of his other hand to wipe the sweat beading from his forehead. The pudgy man wanted to look away as her piercing green eyes drove through him like razor-sharp daggers, but he simply couldn’t. The uncomfortable silence seemed to linger hours as she held his passive gaze.
“So this is the brilliant financial strategy my trusted advisers now lay before me?” she growled, mercifully breaking the silence.
“But my lady, the numbers simply don’t add up any other w—”
“Numbers!” Before the man could blink, silverware and fine porcelain plates flew through the air as Ilirra exploded to her feet, flipping over the solid wooden table as if it were made of dry grass. The thick blue pitcher shattered against the wall, leaving its red contents to run like thin lines of blood. “So the people of Taron are to be further exploited, simply to accommodate the growing greed of a corrupt government.”
The startled man fell over in his chair, but managed to get back to his feet. “But–but, my lady,” he stammered, backing away with his open hands raised. “These subjects were talked about for several hours before we came to our...reluctant decision. All the other advisors were in agreement as well. The final verdict came through a series of carefully calcu—”
“Nothing has been made final until I say. You answer to me and no one else,” she hissed while stalking the groveling man as he retreated backward. Her dark blue silk dress swished with each graceful, yet powerful stride. Her fiery red hair was uncharacteristically tattered, flaring out in thin strands from her single thick braid, adding to the crazed look in the Queen’s eyes. She pointed her finger as if it were a dagger aimed directly at his heart. “So you think to try and deceive me as well as take advantage of the people.”
“No! No, my lady, that was never my inten—”
“Interrupt me again and we shall see how well you fair in the games.” The man swallowed hard before a tiny whimper escaped from his lips. “Tell me, Hubert, am I to believe your percentage of the proposed new taxes had nothing to do with this decision?” The man only answered with another hard swallow, coupled with a look that bordered on panic. “And by laying out this excessive budget that looks to only benefit the Queen, doing nothing to aid the public, the certain backlash that follows will fall squarely on my shoulders, leaving the rest of you leeches untarnished in the eyes of the people. Not to mention, your coin purses just a little bit fatter.”
“My lady,” he whispered in a voice so weak it could hardly be heard, “I will inform the others that Her Highness humbly rejects the proposed tax increases. A thousand apologies. I shall take my leave at once.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously as the enraged queen quickly approached him, closing the gap between them to only a few inches. His flabby cheeks shook as he closed his eyes, turning his head and bracing for the certain blow that was to come, but never did. He dared to open one eye, still gripping both sides of his vest in sweaty clenched fists. Although a few inches shorter, she seemed to loom over him, like a hawk staring down at a field mouse. “You will take your leave when I dismiss you.” A tight-lipped smile flashed across her face. “And who says I’ve rejected anything?”
“But…but I thought you said—”
She turned away, drifting back across the thick red and green carpet with all the grace of a deadly assassin. Still facing away from the man, Ilirra leaned heavily against the thick golden pillar that joined itself to the deep-red ceiling. “Tell me, Hubert, do you ever worry that you won’t have enough coin to cover the month’s expenses?” Predictably, there came no reply to such a silly question. “To live as well as you do, for as long as you have, is more than most families would dare dream. Entire generations will come and go with not a single family member ever experiencing such comfort, while they pour their hearts and souls into the trade that has been passed down to them. They have no foolish dreams of becoming rich and living in the palace one day, such as the comfortable life that was handed to you. If such fortune was actually earned by hard work and commitment, you and your colleagues would be cleaning the stalls. Yet they still hope to honor the spirits of their father’s father by continuing to perfect the trades that represent who they are, the trade built on the sweat and tears of ancestors whose memories still live on in spirit.”
Drops of sweat ran down the side of the pudgy man’s face. Even though the queen was facing the other way, he could feel her accusing eyes judging him. He wanted nothing more than to leave the throne room and return to his quarters, longed to sink deep into his plush chair while eating fresh mutton with vegetables, or take a nice, long nap in his oversized bed—to indulge in the daily luxuries he had always known. “My lady, I beg of you—”
The words died in his throat when she whirled about, now looking him directly in the eye. “As I’ve already told you, I have not rejected your proposed tax increase. In fact...I embrace it.” Her smile widened as Hubert’s flabby chin dropped to his chest. “The people and I accept your most gracious offer. You, as well as my other trusted advisors, will have your taxes raised by twenty-five percent.” She continued to speak right over his shocked gasp. “The same increase will also be applied to all income taken in from the games. Although I cannot stop the tournaments from taking place, I can now be assured the senseless bloodshed will come at a steep price. The additional revenue will be used as leverage against the peoples’ current taxes, and the credit will be extended to all.” Her eyes remained cold yet amused as she stared through the poor man who wished he had never even left his bed this morning. “I expect the documents written by nightfall, and I will sign them into law at daybreak.” Her eyes narrowed once more as the last remaining hint of amusement melted away. She hissed like a snake, “Now be gone from my sight.” The final word had barely left her mouth before he spun on his heels and bolted toward the door.
Ilirra closed her eyes and tipped her head back before rubbing small circles around her temples. She sighed, knowing the confrontation had
ended the only way it could. She would not be pressured by anyone to go against her heart, no matter what sort of tension it might create between her and the other advisors. True, she would now have to curb the inevitable backlash. There would certainly be strong resistance even though the order came directly from the Queen, but this sort of legal posturing was nothing new, nor was this minor inconvenience the true source of her frustration.
She was hardly even aware of the two servants who had scampered into the throne room and were now righting the overturned table. They knew better than to ask any questions as they picked up broken shards and wiped down the red-stained wall. This was not the first time they had been asked to provide an extra table for one of the Queen’s typical business meetings, nor was it the first time those meetings had ended less than cordially. Ilirra passed them by without so much as a glance, never even noticing them drop the half-raised table before bowing multiple times.
With a heart as heavy as stone and the brief confrontation all but forgotten, she wandered out into the hallway. She glided across the red carpet while passing the thick stained-glass windows shimmering with green, blue and yellow. They were partially hidden by dark red curtains tied back with golden ropes with white fringe. Drifting down the wide stairway fit for twenty soldiers to walk side by side, her mind raced with more pressing issues—concerns of a far more personal nature that easily took precedence over such petty squabbling.
* * *
Berkeni peered into his white pearl, straining hard while focusing all his effort on the task at hand. Milky-white swirls filled the tiny globe. His forehead crinkled with strain as beads of sweat dotted his face and moistened his thin, gray beard. Save for the faint bluish glow illuminating his deep-set eyes and the occasional twitch from his fingertips pressing against the small sphere, the thin man appeared to be as lifeless as a statue. The white swirls continued to roll about, forming misty abstract images that seemed to shift constantly.
Hours went by as he scried, searching the impossibly large area for even the slightest signs of Eric and his companions. It was a hopeless task at which he continued to slave away at day after day, from the time he awoke until he collapsed across the table well into the night, a thankless duty he tirelessly tackled without ever second-guessing the fruitless results. He continued on in what had quickly become an obsessive daily routine, when the simple act of a gentle hand resting on his thin shoulder pulled him from his trance.
“You won’t be any good to anyone if you’re dead,” came Addel’s sad but concerned voice from behind him. “You need to rest, or at least eat something. Believe me, no one questions your dedication, but even you must be wary of surpassing your body’s limits.”
One by one his fingers slipped from the pearl, each thumping quietly against the table’s surface. The faint glow began to fade from his eyes. Milky swirls of white mist rolled about the globe for a few seconds longer, before finally thinning into nothing. With Berkeni’s eyes now clear and focused, he silently gazed about the room as if he didn’t recognize where he was, even though the scenery had not changed in years. The dark blue walls and thin brown hammock looked no different this day than on any other. A thin metal rack stood pressed up against the east wall, each shelf filled with glass jars of clear liquid, along with one or two small creatures floating about. Some looked like rodents, while others more closely resembled reptiles.
At last his wandering gaze fell on the old woman, whose once grayish skin seemed to have taken on some color as of late. With her wild white hair tied back neatly, and wearing the long green dress given to her by the Queen, Addel looked quite noble these days. A black and gold eyepatch with silver trim completed her fine attire. She forced a smile as best as she could, trying to show support for her good friend, but it faded quickly under the weight of Berkeni’s hard stare.
“You think I care whether or not any of you questions my dedication?” he hissed in a rare display of hostility. He rose to his feet slowly, his anger-filled eyes never leaving Addel for a moment, before slamming both fists hard against the table. “You think I sit here day and night searching for those kids only to seek approval for my efforts?”
“No, nobody thinks—”
“That’s correct,” he interrupted sharply. “Nobody thinks...or wants to think about the current situation, it seems. Now that those poor kids are out of our sight, all must be right with the world. They will somehow find a way to do the impossible all by themselves, or perhaps they won’t. We’ve already done our part, so now it’s up to someone else to step up and give aid to the most important man alive. Of course, even that will only happen when we find it most convenient. I seem to be the only one around here who—”
A sudden blast of electrical energy surged through his body. The swift jolt stunned the small man, forcing him back down into his seat. “You stubborn old fool,” growled Addel, still gripping his shoulder. “You think I or anyone else here wouldn’t give up everything to see them succeed in this impossible quest, or, by the gods, just to know they are safe? Both Morcel and Azek have been pushing the men to their limits day and night. Poor Ilirra is doing her best to hold this city together by her fingertips, even though she is torn and dying inside. And all the while I continue to monitor these potential entry points in Shangti. There are hundreds, you know, and they shift positions constantly. When the time comes, I will need to identify which one will allow Krytoes entry into our world, giving the Gate Keeper as well as our armies enough time to position themselves for what will probably be our last stand. We are all in this together, so don’t sit there and act like you’re the only one—”
Addel stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing the line she had just crossed. Although she had only used enough energy to stun him, it was technically an attack on the Queen’s right-hand man, and was punishable by death, but even that was not what stopped her rant. It was the sad look on her friend’s face that shattered her heart.
He gazed up at her with shame in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Addel,” he said as he shook away the cobwebs still clouding his head. The little man was not angry. In fact, he was grateful that someone was actually not afraid to point out when he was acting the fool. Most in the palace would never show such assertiveness given his high standing, but Addel was nothing like the others. She had more than earned his respect in such matters, as well the Queen’s trust, and could voice her opinion whenever she saw fit. “I don’t know what got into me. I’m aware that everyone is doing all that they—”
“Not another word out of you,” whispered Addel as she rubbed her hand down his bony chest. He remained seated while she stood at his back, hands on his shoulders. “You may be an old fool sometimes, but you’re my old fool. Of course they need you, but so do others as well. I was being serious when I told you you’re no good to anyone if you are dead. I know you want to mend the world all by yourself, and I fear you’ll attempt to do so if someone doesn’t watch over you.”
The old man sighed lightly as the wisdom of her words sunk in. Although he would stop at nothing to aid the Gate Keeper and his friends, there was only so much he could do before dangerously pushing the limits of his body.
“I dared to dream of a day when this curse of mine could serve a higher purpose,” she said, “a day when I was no longer ashamed of being born different from everyone else. A day when...I no longer prayed death would find me sooner rather than later.” Addel tipped her head and smiled at her own morbid statement, completely at peace that those dark days were long past. “There is no longer any doubt as to what my calling is. I’ve sworn my life to this quest and will see it to the end, as have you. And I swear I will do everything in my power to protect you.” She smoothed her thin fingers across the top of his head before leaning down close to his ear, “even if I need to protect you from yourself.” She embraced the thin man in a gentle hug.
Both looked up as the door slowly creaked open. There stood Ilirra in her long, flowing dark blue dress, her commanding presence filling the r
oom before ever speaking. She scanned the room, eyes moving from shelf to jar, hammock to wall, apparently taking deep interest in the same mundane items that had been there as long as anyone could remember. Berkeni allowed the stalling tactic to play on, wishing the welcome silence would go on forever, hoping to buy a few more precious seconds before hearing the same painful question for the hundredth time.
After a time, a slight nod indicated her thorough inspection of nothing had come to an end. Ilirra’s bright green eyes drifted back toward Berkeni. His gaze held hers for a second or two before settling on Her Majesty’s feet. As each day passed by, he was finding it harder and harder to meet her eyes when they spoke. Her face seemed a cool mask of calm and serenity to anyone else, but she never once fooled the wise man who always saw right through her facade. He could feel the pain and suffering that would drive any other woman to the brink of madness.
“Your Majesty,” said Addel, stepping forward. She gave a deep bow before standing up straight with her hands clasped behind her back, all movements she could not have done prior to Berkeni’s help as well as the Queen’s fine doctors. Her body was not perfect, but far from the broken one she had been accustomed to for years.
Ilirra gave a respectful nod of recognition before looking back to Berkeni, who still kept his eyes low. “Have you been able to find out any—” she cleared her throat sharply, never dropping her eyes or looking away. “I want a full report immediately. Tell me all you’ve learned.”
The single, low-burning lantern flickering on the table provided just enough light to cast living shadows, which danced across the room as if many people were scattered about. Yet only three occupied the room, and the somber atmosphere made it seem like even fewer. The thin man looked older than usual as weary eyes finally rose to meet hers. “I’ve nothing to report,” he whispered in a tired voice. “I still have no indication of their whereabouts or even if they are still ali—” he swallowed hard and looked to his glass jars, as if something more important had just caught his attention.
