The Gates of Golorath

by R. M Garino

  “Looks like the new princess is playing with her dinner,” Thomlin said as he watched the female to Arielle’s right with the long dark hair. “We got another Logan, folks.”

  Demona glanced at Angus, who tracked Arielle as she moved to her left, assisting her companions. She stepped back, the better to appraise him. She noted the churning elements within his energy field, and the way it strained outward. She returned her attention to the fight. Demona’s breath caught. Arielle dropped low, her silver hair fanning out behind her as she hamstrung Narsis, the Ninth’s resident giant. She was focused on the battle, her attention razor sharp, yet she strained outward as well, extending her awareness toward Angus.

  Across the field, the two sin’dels reached out for each other. There could be no doubt.

  Demona touched Angus’ shoulder, drawing a part of his awareness.

  “Let me introduce you,” Demona said.

  “No need,” he said. “We know each other. From before I left. She’ll remember me.”

  “From what we hear, cousin,” Thomlin said, still watching the match, “she does more than ‘remember’ you.”

  “Aye,” Hironata said. “Apparently, she lit up this very field the night she arrived and laid eyes on ye.”

  “She wasn’t alone,” Ossian said, stepping over to the small group.

  “Our man here was sending out lights just as brilliantly,” Enid finished for him.

  “Everyone’s still talking about it,” Ti’vol said, coming to stand on Angus’ other side. “Mostly behind her back, though. She has a bit of a temper. Not really your type, I think.”

  Demona reached behind him and poked Ti’vol on the shoulder, hard enough to push her to the side. “Not now,” she said in a half whisper. Angus could sense Ti’vol response, but he could not hear what she said.

  “Yeah, but our Angus was on display for all the world to see,” Enid said with a throaty laugh.

  “Maybe,” Hironata said, “but she was so busy staring at ye that she dinna hear the ‘left face’ when Trenton called it. Spent a cold first night on the Ledge, isn’t that right, Thomlin?”

  Thomlin chuckled. “Sending up enough fireworks to light up the night at the end of every turn o’ the circuit,” he said. “Thought I was you when I introduced myself. Her disappointment was amusing really.”

  “Wait, what?” Angus said, focusing on his cousin. “You spoke to her?”

  “Of course I did,” Thomlin said. “Had to be courteous.”

  “What did she say?” Angus said, unable to keep his excitement from his voice.

  Thomlin did not answer at first. He pursed his lips, as if thinking. “Not much, I’m afraid.” He shook his head. “Too much ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ to make out much else. She did say ‘harder,’ and ‘faster’ a lot though.”

  Angus’ eyes narrowed as his cousin spoke. As Thomlin finished, Angus lashed out with his knuckles, swinging for Thomlin’s groin. Thomlin tried to keep his distance, but fell short, and the tips of Angus’ fingers connected.

  “Relax, cousin,” Thomlin said with a gasp, as he bent to contain the pain of the glancing blow. “She had a long, sleepless night on the Ledge. Spent most of it on her back, of course. Except when she wanted to get on top.”

  Angus lunged for him, and Thomlin stumbled away.

  “You’re missing this!” Demona called, preventing Angus from chasing Thomlin.

  Angus ignored their jabs, half hearing their chatter as he found Arielle again. His entire being refocused on her. She’d moved on to a new adversary with the woman she had just assisted at her side. By the time the opponent’s blade bit into her thigh, he found himself at the edge of the crowd, with both Thomlin and Hironata pulling on his arms to stop him. He was breathing heavily, clenching his fists. He tried to shrug them off, but they only tightened their grip.

  “Ger off,” Angus said, pulling his arms free. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You say that now,” Thomlin said, adding more weight to Angus’ arm, “but you just dragged us across the bloody field.”

  “Your mind’s not exactly in control now, brother.” Hironata said.

  It took two more attempts, and many more assurances not to intervene, before they released him. Demona slid her arm around his, interlocking their elbows. He shot her a glare, to which she smiled in return. “It’s always nicer to watch with company,” she said.

  Shaking his head, Angus returned his attention to the match.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  All Life is

  Precious to Us

  The ring of steel meeting steel shouted out its aggression into the night.

  To Arielle’s right Nole stood against Gwen, their swords flicking out in a flurry of strikes. Nole parried Gwen’s sword and spun on the balls of his feet, sweeping his blade before him in an attempt to strike at her flank. Gwen spun also, meeting his thrust and turning it aside. In circles they danced, their swords silver glimmers in the moonlight as they pushed and tested each other’s defenses. The soft soles of their boots rasped against the hard-packed dirt, taking short, controlled steps. Nole fought with the bravado of fierce determination, switching tactics with every other attack. Gwen, in contrast, was relaxed and at ease, adjusting to his every change as soon as it was made.

  Just beyond Gwen, Caradoc disarmed Ceri and sent her sprawling to the dirt. Further still, Darien crossed blades with Brianna, his face calm and distant.

  Turning to her left, Arielle saw Ba’ril trap Sinead’s blade and slam his shoulder into her chest. A quick glance beyond showed Denuelle holding her own against Leah, the woman who had moved first, each oblivious to the world around them.

  Racing toward Ba’ril and Sinead, Arielle’s movement drew his opponent’s notice for a fraction of a heartbeat. A sweeping arc of Ba’ril’s arms freed his blade, reclaiming the soldier’s attention. Arielle moved behind her and into what was technically considered Le’Manon territory for the contest. Aware that she was being flanked, Sinead tried to keep Arielle in her sight. The split awareness allowed Ba’ril to slip in close and strike two blows in quick succession that drove the graduate to her knees.

  Sweeping the field to the right showed Arielle that Darien was down, while Caradoc engaged Brianna and Ba’ril moved in to assist. Gwen still circled with Nole, a small smirk playing on the corners of her mouth as she met him blow for blow, never once pressing her attack. To the left, Denuelle placed a foot wrong and lost her balance for a thrust. Leah took full advantage of the mistake, moved in close, and flipped Denuelle over her shoulder. Arielle and Nessah moved in tandem, hitting the woman from two sides. Nessah’s sword was short and double-edged, but she used her shield to compensate for the lack of distance and get within the enemy’s defenses. Arielle’s dual swords, in contrast, worked in concert as often as they were independent of each other. The gold-haired woman fared well facing three opponents. Striking out at Arielle exposed her flank to Nessah, who, protected by her shield, rushed in and threw her weight against her. Arielle parried the attack, but Nessah’s movement caused her second sword to swing high and she missed her mark. Leah spun with the impact and moved around Nessah to charge Arielle once again. This time, Arielle scored a biting slash across Leah’s shoulder, who paid the wound no notice, and swung her sword with a two-handed form.

  Feet moved, sword tips lashed out, edges flashed in the firelight. The resounding song of steel on steel continued unabated. Leah slipped beneath Arielle’s defense and slashed across the top of her thigh. A belated parry and thrust of Arielle’s twinned blades gave Leah a vicious slash across her cheek in return, laying the side of her face open just below her eye. Nessah took advantage of the blow, and slammed the blade of her sword into Leah’s sternum. Leah’s weapons fell, and she gripped Nessah as the blade entered her. Her weight pushed Nessah several steps as her momentum carried her forward. Nessah’s stepped back as she realized what she’d done.

  She had dealt a killing blow.

  Arielle stood st
unned as the blade blossomed from Leah’s back. Panic flared in Nessah’s sin’del, and her gaze jumped from the woman’s face to Arielle’s, seeking help. Arielle’s heart pounded a single beat, and then another. Dropping her swords, Arielle took Leah by the shoulders, easing the woman against her. Leah’s gasps came in quick, rapid bursts as she fought to breathe around the metal that pierced her.

  Hush, Arielle telepathically urged Leah as she stretched out her sin’del toward her. She could feel the pain radiating through her, and Arielle allowed some of it to wash over herself. Staunching the blood was the hard part, but she settled to it. More important, was keeping her sin’del whole. Already, it had begun to contract, pulling into the spirit ball that would be released upon death. Elements attempted to break off from the main, and Arielle fought to contain the stray bits of si’ru. She could hold her at the cusp, keep her together, but she did not know enough to heal her of her wound. She would need a Mala’kar for that. Be still, she told Leah. We won’t let you pass.

  Leah nodded her acquiescence with quick, short jerks of her head.

  From behind them, the echo of metal striking metal filled the air. Arielle whipped her head about as she cradled Leah against her, easing her down as she dropped to her knees. There, behind them, near the center of the arena Gwen still danced with Nole. The dome, Arielle realized, would stand as long as a single combatant from a side stood.

  Gwen! Arielle shouted as she turned back to Leah. Through the telepathic sending, she let the urgency fill her mental voice. Stop playing with him! Drop him! Now!

  The clashing metal ceased, only to be replaced by a dull thud, and then a larger one. The vault Kolsch had imposed over the combat field flared as the required last combatant fell, and dissipated as Nole hit the floor. From outside the magical construct came the muffled cheers of the spectators, rising in volume as the dome fell away. A resounding cheer rolled across the participants, rising in pitch as the crowds realized the match was over and the Twelfth had taken the field.

  And then a wave of silence.

  It rippled out from the nexus of the crowd. Those who were closest to the duelists fell victim to it first, and it spread outward from there, stilling all shouts of victory or moans of despair. The stunned crowd watched as Mala’kar rushed into the arena, and Arielle was pushed to the side.

  Trenton, Hammer, Kolsch, and Theta rushed to assist with fallen cadet in Arielle’s arms. The rest of House Le’Manon flooded in through the torches, but kept a respectful distance as the Master of the Gates worked.

  “Come child,” Theta, the Master of Quarters said as she took Arielle by the elbow, urging her to stand. “You have done admirable work. We can take it from here. Go. Celebrate with your friends. You fought well tonight.”

  Arielle allowed herself to be drawn away, unable to look away from Leah. She was lying prone. Kolsch knelt astride her head and touched her temples. His sin’del melted into Leah’s, adding his strength, his very life force, to bolster hers. Trenton knelt beside her, speaking in a tone so soft that Arielle could not hear the words, just the steady rumble of bass his voice produced. Hammer knelt on the other side of her, gripping the hilt of the sword that still jutted from her middle. Trenton finished speaking, and dipped his head once. Hammer pulled back against the hilt, lifting it straight up using his knees as much as his arms and shoulders. Leah gasped as the blade was unsheathed from her middle, and Hammer stood with the gore-soaked weapon. Trenton placed his folded hands over the wound and a gentle, golden glow suffused him and spread to Leah. Hammer watched his comrade for a moment, his brow tight with the tension. By degrees, his face softened. Arielle watched, fascinated, the way Trenton separated the flows and directed the different facets to different areas.

  Once she saw Leah stabilize, Arielle bent to retrieve her swords. Pain flared in her thigh as the slash, forgotten in the immediacy of the moment, reasserted itself into her consciousness. Forcing the pain to the side, at least for the moment, she sheathed her swords with a smoothness that bore testament to long years of practice. The applause of the spectators increased as she did so.

  She saw Hammer leave his colleagues and extend the hilt of the weapon to Nessah. She studied the bloodied sword, and shied away from it.

  “Take it,” Hammer said to her. “It is truly yours now. It is bonded to you in ways, and on levels too numerous to mention. You have earned your sword.”

  Nessah did not respond, but continued to stare at the weapon.

  Hammer stepped closer and cupped her shoulder. “It was a clean blow, delivered in the heat of combat, and none can fault you for it,” he said, making no attempt to conceal the approval in his gruff voice. “You have a warrior’s heart and instincts, Nessah, and you bring honor to your House. Tonight, you have learned a tremendous lesson: you understand that not all victories are worthy of celebration. Now, take your weapon.”

  Tears shimmered and cut tracks through the dust on Nessah’s face. Hammer urged her on with his silent stare. With a tentative gesture, she grasped the sword’s pommel. He stepped away, returning to the fallen graduates, and Arielle put her arm around Nessah’s shoulders, pulling her close. Nessah tilted her head, and laid her forehead against Arielle’s.

  We’re Areth’kon, Ness, Arielle sent. This is what we do.

  I know, Nessah sent, her chaotic emotions tumbling along the sending. It was a clean strike. It was solid. I felt it . . . I got carried away.

  Arielle felt the pause and touched Nessah’s cheek.

  Nessah watched her from beneath her brow, and Arielle could feel the apprehension radiating from her. In response, Arielle offered her a sympathetic smile.

  I liked it, Nessah admitted. I gutted her, and all I thought was that it was a solid strike. I was proud. I was strong. And for that moment, I really, really liked it.

  Arielle placed her hands on either side of Nessah’s face. You, she sent, will make one hell of a fecking Elc’atar.

  Nessah’s sin’del filled with pride and gratitude, and she lowered her head. Arielle applied a slight pressure to her shoulders, and drew her away from the fallen graduate and toward the gathered members of House Fel’Mekrin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Message Received

  Trapping Demona’s arm with his elbow, Angus pushed into the crowd. Demona tried to resist at first, but gave in when it became clear he intended to drag her along with him. The crowd had grown quiet as they moved.

  “Alright,” Demona said, wiggling her arm free. “I get the point. Go ahead and have fun.”

  Angus flashed her a triumphant grin, but had not gone more than a handful of steps before she grabbed the back of his shirt.

  “Just remember, she’s promised to Logan. You know as well as I that he’s not someone to trifle with.”

  “Oh, I remember Logan. Pretty sure he remembers me and Thomlin too.” Angus’ eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. “’But it’s not Logan I intend to trifle with. And besides, he’s not here, is he?”

  Demona let him go with a shake of her head. “Fel’Mekrins look after each other’s interests almost as much as you Kal’Parev’s.”

  The conversation was pushed from his mind even before Demona had finished speaking. Arielle was closer now, ignoring the celebration that blossomed around her. Her sin’del contracted, and Angus watched as she drew upon the energies of the earth, drawing them into herself. She was healing herself! He marveled at the display. He whomped as she lifted her head. A heartbeat later, she responded in kind with a quick flash of silver light.

  Heads tracked the display, curious glances and nudging elbows, pointing at Arielle as well as at him. The onlookers were driven from his mind as he met Arielle’s gaze. He was drawn toward her, just as she was to him. Angus pushed Blades and graduates out of his way to close the distance.

  A group of figures stepped into his path, and resisted as he tried to move them. He continued on, heedless of their presence. It was not until one of them grabbed the front of his dirty shirt that
they caught his attention. All were dark of hair, with slim builds and a haughty smugness. After staring at the foreign hand, Angus chose to overlook it. If it came to blades, this fellow would lose the offending appendage as soon as Angus drew; a good grip on his clothing could not be permitted of an opponent. A part of his mind functioned as the Areth’kon had trained it: calculating distances, the positioning of body parts, and trajectories, always evaluating the best plan of action. And, of course, the most effective use of violence.

  There was another part of Angus’ mind, however, one taught and shaped by the Magi of Reven Marthal. Here, he stored all he knew of the world around him, and drew forth their names. This part did not examine the world through the lens of physical relationships. Instead, it read the energy signatures and interactions, seeking the truth behind the façade presented by the flesh. While the Areth’kon-trained intellect saw arrogant, confident youths, the Magi-trained intellect saw things from a different perspective: youths, yes, but the flows within and between them spoke of anything but true confidence.

  Laine was in the center. He was the obvious leader, but also unsure, compensating with bravado and aggressive posturing. To his right was Galton, a gentle spirit, one more suited to the fields and orchards of the Suixander, the growers, than to the Areth’kon. That gentleness, however, was all but subsumed by an outer sense of duty and obligation. The third youth to the left, Hyde, was the sycophant. The flow from him, even at the deepest levels, indicated that those around him dictated his actions, not his own volition. Kassidy, a female, stood behind Galton, her energy flows bending toward him. Sloane, Ailis, and Coreen held back, as if they did not want to be involved. Before him stood the Fifth of House Fel’Mekrin, and they were the current, and only holder of the first tier.

  Angus crossed his wrists, and assumed what the Magi called the empty stance, his mind devoid of expectations and predispositions.