The Gates of Golorath

by R. M Garino

  “I’ll behave,” Angus said. “As best I can.”

  She punched him in the arm in response and they continued on.

  A hush fell over the Third’s table as they approached. Angus slapped Hironata on the shoulder and motioned him to slide over. When the space was made, he motioned for Arielle to sit, and then slid onto the bench next to her.

  “So, what’s for dinner?” Angus said. He pulled a pair of plates from the pile, setting one before each of them.

  Thomlin watched them for a moment across the table before speaking, an incredulous smirk decorating his face. He shrugged his shoulders and passed over a platter. “The usual,” he said. “Lots of meat with no seasoning, and half-cooked vegetables. We got Mer’Chien in the kitchen tonight, so it promises to be awful.”

  “You’d think they’d change the menu for Conclave,” Enid said. She was ladling a healthy helping of mixed vegetables onto her plate.

  “Nope,” Hironata said. “They’re saving the good stuff for tomorrow when the important folk arrive. It’s home cooking for this lot.” He pointed at the Mala’kar table over his shoulder with a wooden spoon.

  “Really?” Demona said. “You reckon we’ll ever think fondly of this swill?”

  “I won’t,” Hironata said. “I don’t even like thinking about it now while I’m eating it.”

  “It is bad,” Ossian said.

  Angus passed the meat platter to Arielle. “See, they’re harmless. You’re accepted already.”

  “You haven’t introduced us yet,” she whispered to him as she took the platter.

  “No need to,” he said. “They already know who you are.”

  “You know, I never promised to behave myself.”

  “That sounds like a threat.”

  “It is.” Arielle flicked her hair over her shoulder to emphasis her point.

  “He’s no manners,” Thomlin said from across the table. “We’ll never be able to have him around polite company.”

  “You don’t keep polite company,” Angus said.

  “I hope you remember me from our stint on the Ledge,” Thomlin said, ignoring the comment. He pointed to the others on his side of the table. “This is Enid, Ossian, and Ti’vol. On your side are Hironata and Demona.”

  Everyone said hello, except for Ti’vol who hiccupped and hid her face in her mug.

  “Hi,” Arielle said. “Congratulations on your rise to first tier.” A general round of agreement and a toast or two followed her comment.

  “We have you to thank for that,” Demona said. “If this moonstruck oaf hadn’t tried to muscle his way through that crowd to get to you, we’d never have had the chance to smack down the Fifth.”

  “Well, I’m sure it would’ve happened eventually,” Arielle said. “He’d have done something just as stupid at one point or another.”

  “Hey,” Angus said, realizing she was siding with them.

  “Well, it’s true.” Arielle gave him her biggest smile, and squeezed his hand. “You attract trouble.”

  “That’s now your new name: Trouble,” he said, hunching his shoulders over his meal.

  The remainder of the dinner was filled with congenial banter and small talk, most of it designed to draw Arielle into the conversation. As the meal ended everyone cleared their spot at the table. Although it was a celebration, everyone was still expected to pull their weight and attend to their usual chores.

  “You’ve been good for him,” Enid said to Arielle as they lined up to deposit their utensils in the wash tubs.

  “How’s that?”

  “He’s more centered. Normally he’s all over the place. No focus. Now, he’s grounded.”

  “Thank you,” Arielle said. “That’s nice to hear.”

  “It goes without saying, of course, that if you hurt him I’ll cut off those pretty little ears of yours.”

  “That would be a shame. I’m rather attached to them.”

  Enid threw her dark brown hair over her shoulders and laughed. “Good answer,” she said. “You’ll fit right in around here.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Twelfth Squad

  “My turn,” Arielle said. She grabbed Angus’ arm and drew him away. “Say goodnight.” He shrugged as if helpless to resist, and allowed himself to be led away.

  “I like them,” she said. They strolled around the edge of the room arm in arm, taking their time before reaching their destination.

  “So do I,” Angus said. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. They’re normally a lot more scathing. You got lucky.”

  “You won’t be so lucky. My squad is sort of . . . unhappy about what we’re doing.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, for starters, Ba’ril is sort of jealous,” she said with a wince. “And he tends to have a typical Fel’Mekrin mindset.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “The rest are upset about your visits. They don’t like that you’re able to sneak in the way you do. They just don’t know you yet. All they have is your reputation to judge you on.”

  “Ouch,” he said. “I’m in trouble.”

  “Yes, you are,” a voice behind them said. The authority it carried made them freeze, hesitant to turn around.

  Arielle’s sin’del swelled with joy as she recognized the voice. Turning, she sprung, throwing her arms around her brother. A woman stood next to him, her silver hair announcing the familial connection.

  “How now, Shortberry?” Shane said. He returned her hug, lifting her off the floor.

  “Hello, my dear,” the woman said, hugging Arielle as well.

  “Aunt Cyril! You’re here! I thought you were on sabbatical from the Gates this year.”

  “Of course,” Cyril said. “I’m Mala’kar. We do not miss Conclave, even when tending to other tasks.“

  “And Deryn?”

  “Your cousin’s pregnancy continues apace, and she’s as comfortable as we can make her, poor dear. I’ll tell her you were asking.”

  “So, you don’t come over and say hello?” Shane said. “We have to hunt you down?”

  “Oh, Shane,” Arielle said. “We were going to come over in just a bit.”

  “We?”

  Arielle blushed, realizing that she hadn’t introduced Angus to her brother or aunt. Pulling away, she drew Angus closer.

  “Shane, Aunt Cyril, this is Angus Kal’Parev. Angus, this is my brother, Shane, Mala’kar. And my aunt Cyril, Mala’kar and Resident for House Rhen’val here at the Gates. She is on sabbatical tending to her daughter’s pregnancy.”

  “A pleasure,” Cyril said, dipping her head. Angus bowed to her in return, his right fist pressed against his left palm, greeting her as a Magi would. Arielle stored away the question for later.

  Shane stuck out his hand in greeting, a stern mask rearranging his face. Angus bowed his head as a sign of respect.

  “Mala’kar Rhen’val,” Angus said, his voice formal, “it is an honor to meet you.”

  “Is it?” Shane said. He held tight to Angus, pulling him closer and staring intently into his eyes.

  Angus met his gaze, although his sin’del showed his discomfort. “Is this the ‘big brother intimidation’ thing?”

  “Is it working?” Shane said.

  “Yes,” Angus said. “It’s definitely working.”

  “Good.” Shane released Angus. “It’s good to see you again, Angus. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, Mala’kar,” Angus said. “It has. I trust you have been well.”

  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Angus said.

  Shane laughed and clapped Angus’ back. “I doubt that. You’re exactly the way the Magi described you. I guess I should be worried.”

  “The Magi?” Angus said.

  “Shane has been stationed at Reven Marthal for the past four years,” Arielle said, her voice was thick with pride.

  “They speak very highly of you,” Cyril said. “Especially Gavin and Connor. They were sorry t
o see you leave.”

  Angus’ grimaced in embarrassment.

  “I intend filling my little sister in on all the stories they related to me,” Shane said.

  “I can add a few of my own, I believe,” Cyril said.

  “That should be interesting,” Arielle said as Angus groaned. “But later. I promise.”

  Shane gave Arielle another hug. “I’ll hold you to it,” he said and he and Cyril walked away.

  “He likes you,” Arielle said, watching her brother.

  “How can you tell?”

  “He was smiling, stupid. So was Cyril. If they didn’t like you, there’d be no doubt in your mind.”

  “They didn’t hit me, at least” Angus said. “Mala’kar seem to like to do that to me.”

  “Most people do,” Arielle said. She took his arm again and continued their circuit. “It’s part of your charm.”

  As he took his seat at the Twelfth’s table, Angus received blank stares from all but Ba’ril, who was glaring and hostile toward him. Even Gwen, who was by nature the most gregarious of the group, refused him even the most basic courtesies. Darien all but threw the pitcher of cream at him when Angus asked him to pass it.

  “Whoops,” Angus said, using a linen napkin to blot the spillage from his shirtfront. “Clumsy me.”

  Arielle could tell he was fighting to keep his anger in check, but his patience was running thin. For her part, she was trying to keep her composure, but she was mortified by their behavior, and knew that tears were glistening in her eyes. They were her Pride, her friends. She could not let them comport themselves this way. They were better than this, and she knew it. She just had to try a little harder.

  “Angus’ Third was telling me about a tradition they have for the first night,” Arielle said. “You wouldn’t believe—”

  “We don’t care about some ass-backward scrub tradition,” Ba’ril said. The little chatter that had filled the table ceased.

  “Excuse me?” Angus pushed his plate away.

  Ba’ril did not acknowledge he had spoken.

  Arielle could tell how insulted he was by how tight his sin’del clung to him. She placed her hand over both of his.

  “You look like your cousin, Logan,” Angus said. He pulled away and folded his fists on the table in front of him. “He taught a few of my classes in Reven Marthal. The guy is unbelievably talented. No one could so much as touch him when he had a sword. I never knew anyone could be that good. Even the Mala’kar were impressed with him.”

  That got their attention. His praise of Logan, generally idolized by them all, had begun to thaw the frigidity of their reception. Ba’ril was at least agreeing, and thereby acknowledging that Angus had spoken, although his glare had yet to leave his face.

  “I hear you’re just as good,” Angus said to Gwen. She offered him a blank stare in exchange for his courtesy, keeping aloof from the attempt at conversation. “It must be tough to follow that act, though.”

  “You wouldn’t know,” Darien said. “I can’t think of a single noteworthy Kal’Parev.”

  His comment received general approval, and Ba’ril went so far as to clap him on the shoulder. Gwen smiled for the first time since they’d sat down. Angus’ sin’del shifted a slight degree, and Arielle knew her squad’s hubris was getting the better of him.

  “Thanks, guys,” she said, not bothering to hide how upset she was with them as she rose from her bench. “We should be going. I promised Shane we’d stop by.”

  Angus grabbed her elbow to guide her back to her seat. “Hold on. I just remembered a funny story about Logan. It was just before he left with his Elc’atar on tour. You all want to hear it?”

  They exchanged a look, the question evident in their faces. Gwen gauged the squad’s interest level, her attention settling on Arielle last of all. Arielle gave a brief signal that she thought this was a bad idea. Gwen grinned, and seemed to relish her discomfort.

  “We’d love to hear your story about my brother,” she purred, her eyes never leaving Arielle. Such was the punishment for stepping too far out of line, Arielle read from her friend’s actions.

  “So,” Angus said, conspiring with them all. For their part, they moved closer. “I told you he taught some of our classes. This was while we were still in Reven Marthal, before he started his extended tour. Well, he was the hardest task master we ever had. He would start every lesson with a challenge. He’d tell us that if one of us could land a hit, just one hit on him while sparring, he’d give us the day off to use as we would. Very tempting, I know, and yes, we fell for it, almost every time. None of us could even touch him. But, if we didn’t take him up on it, he was twice as hard on us. So, after getting our heads kicked in on a daily basis, we weren’t really heartbroken to see him leave. But we wanted one last try. It didn’t sit well with us that we’d never landed a single hit. So, the morning he was to leave, my squad and I gathered at the parade field to see him off. On a lark, I called him out, you know, for old time’s sake. He, of course, ignored me. So, I asked him if he was afraid.”

  The Twelfth started in surprise. Darien whistled, and Nessah’s mouth hung open.

  “Yeah,” Angus said, “he didn’t take it well either. He asks his Elc’atar, and tells him to make it quick. Logan walks over to me. He doesn’t say anything, just walks over. I drop into my stance, waiting for the strike, but he doesn’t draw. I’m thinking, wow, this was a mistake. You know, my mouth sometimes gets me in trouble. So anyway, Logan just keeps walking. I don’t want to be the first to draw, but damn it, the guy was just walking toward me. So I wait. He gets into striking distance, and goes for his sword. I was ready and waiting for it, I mean, my hand was already on the hilt, but he drew first.”

  Angus paused a moment, staring down at the table, as if reliving the scene. The Twelfth were held rapt by his recital. Gwen, however, had sat back frowning as she listened.

  “But here’s the thing.” Angus paused, letting the tension build. “His sword never left the sheath. It came halfway out, and then stopped, as if stuck. It was stuck. He couldn’t get it out. He was pulling and pulling, but it wouldn’t come out. It seemed as if someone snuck into his barracks the night before and put a warding on the scabbard while he was sleeping. He’s clairvoyant, everyone knows that, so whoever did it had to have wiped away the impressions before they left, otherwise, he would have known as soon as he’d touched it. You should have seen his face when Thomlin, my cousin, tapped him on the shoulder with the tip of his sword to get his attention. From what I hear, his tour didn’t start all that well. His mentor was pretty pissed at him.”

  They exchanged troubled glances as Angus finished, the mystery of Logan’s only defeat solved. Ba’ril stood, pushing back his bench in his haste, followed in quick succession by Darien and Denuelle. Angus stood as well, offering Arielle his arm.

  “Now we can leave,” he said to her. Returning his attention to the Twelfth, he gave a half bow. “It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance.”

  With a sharp word from Gwen, they did not follow as Angus and Arielle left the table.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Walk with Me

  “I don’t know who I’m angrier at,” Arielle said as they resumed their tour around the mess, “them or you.”

  “They deserved it,” Angus said. He was angry at himself for letting them get to him, as he did not want their petty attitudes to ruin the night. The problem was, he admitted to himself, that he wanted them to accept him. It was important for them to do so. They were Arielle’s Pride, and their approval would determine how easy her life was in their company. Besides, he’d need their assistance to see her, especially given the administration’s apparent intent to see them separated. But they had it coming for being such dicks.

  “You could’ve held your temper and left when I suggested,” Arielle said. He could see how livid she was, though she tried her best to hide it. Her sin’del was shot through with crimson spikes. And beneath that a layer of cerulean bl
ue. Where the two met existed a fine purple demarcation line. She was not only angry; she was hurt as well. He could almost feel her emotions, a slight twisting within his own chest that beat a counterpoint to his own.

  Angus stopped walking. Her hold on his arm drew her to a halt as well.

  “I’m supposed to just accept their abuse? I tried that for well over an hour, and it got me nowhere. Abuse begets abuse.”

  “And now it’ll be harder to win them over,” she said, crossing her arms and resuming their stroll. “Had we just left, they would eventually have come around of their own accord. They’re my friends, and they want me to be happy. Now, however, they’re the ones who’ve been slighted, not you. Now their pride is wounded, and you’re to blame, and by extension, me as well.”

  “So then I’ll slug it out with Ba’ril. We’ll air our differences in true Areth’kon fashion and be done with it.”

  “Ba’ril is not the one you need to win over.” Arielle’s tone conveyed that he was being thick and not seeing the obvious. Ba’ril was the most vociferous. But that was not where the real power lay. Angus glanced back at the Twelfth’s table. They were all deep in animated conversation, and Angus knew very well what topic they discussed. Gwendolyn, however, sat quiet and disassociated from the exchange.

  “I see what you mean,” Angus said. “It’d be like Thomlin not accepting you.”

  “She’s my oldest friend.”

  When he raised an eyebrow at her she gave a rueful laugh and nudged him with her elbow. “Aside from you,” she said. “She hasn’t said two words to me about all of this. And she’s the first to dig when she thinks there’s a boy involved.”

  “I thought you said she was okay regarding your break with her brother.”

  “She is. That’s not the issue. Nor is it the fact that you’re Kal’Parev. There’s more to it than that.”

  “So what climbed up her skirt?”

  Arielle punched him in the arm. “Watch your mouth!”