The Gates of Golorath

by R. M Garino

  Arielle punched the mattress and bolted to her feet. Pacing back and forth in the small cell she clenched and unclenched her fists. “I don’t want him to see reason!” she said on her fifth turn. “I don’t want to speak to him at all! I don’t want to see him! I thought I made that clear. I told him to leave me alone and move on with his life. How much clearer do I need to be?”

  “Well . . .” Gwen said as she sat against the rock wall. She watched Arielle pace, moving her head to follow her, her smile never leaving her lips. “I told you a letter was a bad idea. I’m surprised he waited so long. I expected him to catch us on the march. At the very least I expected to see him a few hours after we arrived.”

  Arielle slashed the air, dismissing the comment. She continued to march the length of the small cell—ten steps exactly—spun and resumed toward the door.

  “Listen, we should be glad he waited as long as he did,” Gwen said. “Logan would have lost his mind with all the gossip flying around about you the first week.”

  “Good,” Arielle said. “I hope he hears all about my ‘little light show.’ Maybe that will get the point across to him.”

  “Be careful what you wish for. You know his temper, and how rash he is when upset.”

  “I am so far beyond caring what will or will not upset your brother,” Arielle said. “He can grow up and learn to live with it like the rest of us. I am done tip-toeing around in an attempt to save his feelings.”

  Arielle stopped beside the writing desk below the window and pointed at the reader. “He said he’ll be here to accept my pledge to your House. Can you believe his arrogance? He acts as if we are promised and all but united. He expects me to kneel before him and present my blade? To swear fidelity to him and his House?”

  She was yelling now, giving voice to the hostility that was welling up inside her. She pointed out the window to the field where the pledging ceremonies would take place.

  “Everywhere I go I hear his name. It feels like everyone is watching me, helping Logan look after his property! It’s bad enough everyone is watching to see what Sui Rhen’val’s granddaughter will do, and judging me for it. Watching to report back to the Field Marshal about what his precious daughter, the princess, is up to. But this, this is too much.”

  “I get the same thing,” Gwen said with a shrug. “Every move I make actually is reported back to Logan, and even worse, to Mother. Try being the only daughter of the lovely Endeara. Logan is such a dick for a reason; namely, our parents.”

  “How do you handle it?” Arielle said. “I can’t take the constant scrutiny.”

  Gwen’s smile deepened. “I make sure that what they hear is worth the trouble of sending the report. I don’t see the point of being watched if I’m not doing anything interesting.”

  “You mean infuriating.”

  “It infuriates them,” Gwen said, “not me. I know I’ll never make my mother proud; that’s Logan’s job. I learned a long time ago that it’s an impossible task, so I don’t even try. I do exactly what I want, and I do not give a damn what they say or do in return. You need to do the same.”

  “I do,” Arielle said, “and I get patted on the head and told, ‘That’s nice, dear. Don’t forget Logan’s watching.’ Everyone knows better than I do. No one can seem to understand that I want nothing to do with him.”

  “You know why he’s treating you like this, right?”

  “I don’t care why,” Arielle said. “I want it to stop.”

  “He let you in,” Gwen said, all playfulness gone from her tone. “That’s not an easy thing for him to do. You’ve caught a glimpse behind his mask, and you didn’t run away. He’s accepted you as one of his own now, and that’s the problem.”

  “There’s an easy solution, actually. He just needs to leave me alone.”

  “He’s never been one to quit or let something go. He is well known for holding a grudge and making sure the offender pays.”

  Gwen poked at Arielle’s arm. “He’s earned his reputation, and everyone knows not to touch his things.”

  Arielle placed her fists against the sides of her head, giving her friend a glare to show what she thought of the joke. “I am not his property. I’m not some extension of your brother who’s incapable of making a decision without him.”

  “Don’t take it out on me,” Gwen said, holding up her palms. “I never chose him as my brother, and I’m not responsible for the way he is. He’s older than me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Arielle wrapped her arms around her middle and directed her glare into the corner. “They think we’re at the top of the leader boards because of our connections: because of your mother, my parents and grandfather, and because of Logan,” Arielle said after a moment.

  Gwen’s hissing intake of breath sounded as if she were burned.

  “You’re Endeara’s only daughter and Logan’s sister. I’m the granddaughter of the Commandant, and the daughter of the Field Marshals. Add to that the belief that I’m Logan’s ‘girlfriend,’ and everyone believes the Blademasters go easy on us girls, afraid of the payback if they don’t.”

  “Who?”

  “I overheard two Le’Manons talking in the mess,” Arielle said, watching her friend from the corner of her eye. “I challenged them to face me and see if what they heard was true. They declined because they don’t want to piss off Logan or the Field Marshals. They walked away laughing!”

  Gwen hopped off the bed and grabbed Arielle’s elbow. “Names?”

  “Nole and Padric.”

  Gwen gave an absent nod. “Le’Manon will be heading back to barracks by this time.” She studied Arielle, assessing her, reading the ferocity and frustration in her. “Come,” she said, drawing her friend toward the door. She picked up Arielle’s sword belt and passed it to her. “You’ll do yourself damage stalking about like this. Let us instead do some damage to those who deserve it.”

  Arielle felt the telepathic call Gwen sent to the Twelfth, summoning the Pride to assemble as they exited the cell. With a smile, she belted her swords around her waist.

  “Let’s go,” Gwen said. “Time to show them our sharp, pointy dicks.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Racing the Sun

  Running pyramids was one of the more insidious punishments the Areth’kon had devised. It was a routine purported to build endurance, strength, teamwork, solid character, and an ability to follow orders. In reality, it was a way to abuse a squad and push them to their limit.

  Two pyramids of white stones lay to either side of the fabled Gates that dominated the complex. Two additional piles of black stones stood at the isolated mountain outpost of Gallow’s Peak. The objective of the task was to transfer the rocks from the Gates to the outpost, and from the outpost to the Gates, creating a pyramid with the rocks at each location. A set of completed pyramids at each location constituted one pass.

  Time, of course, was a serious constraint. They had to reach the Gates, unload the cargo and still arrive on time for their first class. If they didn’t, they’d be forced to carry the loaded packs throughout the class.

  Word always seemed to spread when a squad was running pyramids, and instructors were known to not only monitor the progress, but to meet a squad at the base of the trail with a sudden shift of curriculum. Working the pyramids always entailed a tremendous amount of running. Four times the Third made the trip up the mountain trails, and each time an instructor was waiting for them as they returned. Cavan decided that running in place was a good way to memorize sections of Phaedrus’ text; Cavallo added squats to the study of mathematics; Matias had them take their packs on and off throughout the archery drills; Ian just had them run tour around the complex instead of unarmed combat drills.

  Halfway through the third pass, Ti’vol collapsed from exhaustion. She had to be dragged up the final leg.

  The Third now descended the mountain trail for the final time at a full, loping run as the sun slipped from the sky. Their packs were full, almost seventy pou
nds of rocks resting upon their hips and shoulders. The discomfort of being porcupined was a constant irritation that chewed at the edges of their awareness. Some stumbled, landing face down in the dirt. They were hauled to their feet by their companions. Ti’vol lay in a litter slung between Hironata and Ossian. Thomlin took point, followed by Enid and Demona. Angus took the rear of the group to ensure that no one fell behind. All of them were exhausted, but they pushed on.

  Their fourth and final pass was coming to a close, and their ordeal was about to end. Hironata lost his footing, landed on his knee and spilled Ti’vol out of the litter. Angus grabbed his friend under the arms and hauled him to his feet. Letting his energy stretch out before him, he focused on Hironata’s dislocated knee and manipulated the joint back into place, repairing the damage. Enid and Demona had repositioned Ti’vol by the time he was finished, and Demona had picked up Hironata’s end.

  Throughout the day, Angus had healed every member, and most of them more than once. After each healing, his breath burned in his lungs, and his vision swam.

  They needed to finish, and they needed to finish on time. The Third was desperate for some success. Anything. Just need to hold together a little while longer, Angus told himself, hitching his pack further up onto his shoulders. They were almost done.

  Brodhi was waiting for them at the bottom of the trail. His face wore its usual frowning mask, and his sin’del was pulled close against his skin to hide his thoughts and emotions. He watched them stumble onto the field and fall into an exhausted jog toward the Gates.

  Enid arrived first, fell to her knees and slung the pack from her back. Resting for a moment, she lowered her head in an attempt to catch her breath. Thomlin was right behind her.

  Hurry up, Hironata sent. He was shooting glances behind him as he ran, watching the line of sunlight as it crept toward the edge of the field. He sent the image with his words.

  Brodhi watched the sun as much as them. A crowd had formed at the far end of the field, a ring of unlit torches marking off a defined area. More than a few pointing figures watched their shambling run. The sounds of laughter floated from the crowd, punctuated by jeers and loud whoops.

  The sunlight fled, chased by the ominous shadow of the Gates. If the shade touched the far end of the field before they finished their final pyramid, they would fail. They needed no further humiliation, especially in front of such a large crowd. Angus hoped Arielle was not watching. Without further urging, they threw themselves into their work. Even slight, fragile Ti’vol was helping ferry from hand to hand.

  Quicker, Thomlin urged. Push through it. Push through it!

  Every set of eyes spared a glance at the retreating sunlight, and at Brodhi watching.

  “Last pile,” Demona called as she moved to another array of rocks. The line shifted with her to accommodate the new position.

  “Almost out of time,” Thomlin shouted. “Move people. Move! Move!”

  Demona began the transfer and they passed it along to each squad member in turn until Enid placed them in one complete layer. She fitted the stones one strata at a time, building the pyramid.

  Angus felt as if his arms were going to fall off. His legs and back were aglow with the ache of the day, and he was beginning to cramp. The pine needles pinched at his skin, and his coating of hard dirt devolved into mud as his sweat sluiced through it. Stopping was not an option. Slowing down impossible. They had to move faster. They had to finish on time.

  Opening himself to his companions, he let his sin’del spread out to encompass them. Drawing as deep a breath as his ravaged lungs could handle, he sought the energy buried beneath him, to the very roots of the mountains themselves. He felt the slow, sluggish energy rise into him, and through him, into everyone else. Their movements became a little quicker, and their pace fell into a steady rhythm.

  “Last one!” Demona called.

  The final stone passed along the line, and Thomlin delivered it to Enid. She placed it upon the apex, and shouted, “Done!”

  They jumped to their feet in a stumbling lurch, shouting their victory. They grabbed each other in celebratory embraces. Thomlin chanced a glance at Brodhi, his habitual smile once more shining. Brodhi stood, arms crossed against his chest, watching the line of the sun, seeming to ignore them.

  Thomlin cursed. “Form up!” he shouted. “Attention!”

  They scrambled, falling into place beside the small pyramid they’d erected. Angus grabbed Ti’vol by the shoulder, and hauled her into a tighter formation with the rest of them. Thomlin assessed them and snapped to attention, just as Brodhi called, “Time!”

  He faced the Third without expression, then floated toward them with his hands behind his back. Stopping in front of Thomlin, he bent to the side to examine their work. Brodhi proceeded down the line, examining each graduate in turn. Everyone stared straight ahead and kept themselves in formation. The Elc’atar walked to the pyramid for a closer examination. His expression was unreadable as he stood front of Thomlin.

  Brodhi spared a glance for each of them once more, letting his gaze linger on Angus, and then on Thomlin. “Third,” Brodhi said, “well done.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Mushroom Hunt

  After Gwen’s initial briefing, the Twelfth fell silent. The jagged shadows of the mountain peaks resembled the teeth of a monster come to devour the day as they stretched across the parade field. The darkness gathered about the squad as each was collecting their thoughts and preparing for the impending confrontation. Ba’ril rolled his shoulders as he walked. Darien twisted his torso from side to side. Caradoc cracked his knuckles and joints. Nessah drew her blade and swung it in small circles and arcs around her. Denuelle drew the knives she wore at either side of her waist, spun them between her fingers, and re-sheathed them. Arielle and Gwen marched shoulder to shoulder as they crossed the parade field, feeding off the other’s passions. Already the soul lights were coming to life at strategic locations around the complex.

  It had taken Ba’ril less than a heartbeat to recall the squad Nole and Padric belonged to. He felt it as a source of honor to know where everyone belonged and their role and function.

  They stopped at the corner of the infirmary, and Gwen motioned them on, one by one at differing intervals. Any watchers would be drawn to patterns, not to random shadows streaking across the ground. Gwen tapped Arielle’s shoulder, and she dropped to the ground at the base of a slight rise.

  Le’Manon and Kal’Parev kept their barracks here, and they were now equidistant between them. Le’Manon was the larger House, and the stonework around its doorway was etched with designs and markings particular to that House. Each corner of the frame bore a rosette in the form of a spear, to symbolize the tactical arts they employed. Others said, however, that it was a lighted torch which depicted wisdom and knowledge.

  Arielle glanced toward the Kal’Parev doorway. The lintel was devoid of motif save for a flowing script she could not read from this distance.

  She returned her attention to the task ahead and caught the edge of Ba’ril’s glower, his jaw set in an angry line. Arielle saw Nessah turn to Ba’ril, alerted by the angry red hue of his sin’del. It did not take her long to deduce the cause, and she favored Arielle with a glare of her own. Arielle stuck her tongue out at both of them.

  Arielle directed her attention to the lay of the land before them. Guards stood to either side of the doorway, and a second set walked a circuit before them. At separate intervals, each stopped before the stoic pair to report the conditions of the night. That left a single sentinel scanning the night as the other three conferred.

  There are two scouts, five feet to either side of those at the entrance, Denuelle sent. They’re holding perfectly still against the rock. If you look closely, you can see the ripple created by their sin’del.

  They must be new, Ba’ril sent. Everyone knew that you could not see a well-trained scout.

  More luck to us, Darien sent.

  I see them clearly, Arielle s
ent.

  How? I can tell they are there, but only just. Denuelle sent.

  Family secret, she sent. She had no idea how she could tell where they were. She was not actually seeing them, not in the conventional sense. Rather, it was a sense of where they were, as if an ethereal afterimage was superimposed over the space they occupied. It was their life force she was seeing, as diffused as it was. She had practiced the technique with her grandfather and mother often as a child. On her trips around the Vaults they would play a game of who could count the most scouts hidden about the mountain temples.

  In the darkness, Arielle could feel Denuelle’s scowl though she could not see it.

  Fine, Denuelle sent. You can take them, then.

  Arielle gave a truncated salute in response.

  So how do we get in without being seen? Nessah sent. Their sight lines are clear, and they have no lights to blind their night vision.

  They’ll sound the alarm the moment we step out, Caradoc sent.

  We need to remove the sentries, Darien sent, but I don’t see a way to get behind them.

  Give me a moment, Gwen sent, unable to keep the note of exasperation from her voice.

  Arielle was silent during the exchange, for she too had been studying the layout. Le’Manon was nothing if not thorough with its defenses. She remembered her grandfather speaking on subject, from what was an age ago, before she had entered the Areth’kon. In war, he told a class of cadets while she watched from her spot at the back of the room, nothing is ever absolute. There is no plan, no defense that is perfect. Everything can be overcome. It is an obstacle, and as you know, obstacles exist to test our will, and our desire for victory. If a thing seems impregnable to you, then you are not looking hard enough, or with a wide enough field of vision. There is always a way through it, over it, or under it.