The Gates of Golorath

by R. M Garino

  “No, definitely not.”

  “Don’t think you all can take us, is that it?”

  “Excuse me?” She could feel him taunting her, and what was worse, she could feel herself rising to the bait.

  “Admit it,” Angus said. “You’re scared we’ll win. You don’t want to lose to us.”

  “Lose to you in what?” Gwen said, as she and Caradoc sauntered over. Angus was smiling his most innocent and, therefore, most guilty grin. She turned her scowl on him.

  “A game,” Angus said, looking over Arielle’s head at her squad. “A hurlin’ match, to be specific. Your squad versus mine. Loser buys the beer.”

  Arielle’s friends exchanged speculative glances. She could feel their interest peaking. Darien, especially, gave the matter his full attention.

  “Where?” Ba’ril’s voice was thick with distrust.

  “Anywhere you’d like,” Angus said. “You choose the pitch. Public or private, your call.”

  A silence descended as they considered the proposition.

  “Rules?” Darien said, his voice sullen as usual.

  “Again,” Angus said, “your call. I offer the challenge, you set the terms.”

  “Agreed,” Gwen said. “We have a common free time tomorrow before Close. We’ll meet at the gallows. Three scores wins. No moves barred. No fouls. Do you agree?”

  “Most emphatically!” Angus said. He and Gwen shook, sealing the agreement.

  And then, before Arielle could reach out to stop him, Angus violated one of the Twelfth’s oldest prohibitions: he grabbed Caradoc’s hand.

  Caradoc was not wearing his omnipresent gloves, and the moment Angus’ skin touched his bare flesh, he went rigid and started to convulse. A chorus of shouts echoed through the mud flats, and several of the Twelfth moved in to break the contact. Denuelle caught Caradoc by the shoulders as he fell backward in jerking spasms, and eased him to the ground. Gwen and Arielle threw themselves between Angus and the rest of the squad as they shouted over one another condemning what he had done.

  “What the hell was that?” Angus said, holding up his hands in surrender. “What did I do?”

  “You touched him, you idiot!” Ba’ril screamed, pushing against Gwen. “No one touches him! Ever!”

  “Turn him on his side,” Denuelle told Nessah. “We need to clear his airway.”

  “You ass!” Darien roared. “He wasn’t wearing his gloves!”

  “Leave!” Gwen said. “Both of you. Now!”

  Arielle grabbed Angus, rushing him away from the scene. Thankfully, no one pursued them. Gwen’s barked command of “Stand down!” raced after them as they fled through the trees.

  “What the hell was that?” Angus said again when they judged they were far enough away. “I didn’t mean to kill the guy.”

  “You didn’t kill him,” Arielle said. She was furious with herself: for letting the situation get so out of control, again; for not warning Angus about the prohibition, although she was sure everyone at the Gates knew about it; for not moving quick enough to stop him; for the whole fecking affair! She drew a deep breath to still her emotions, and let go of Angus. The chaos of what he was feeling was not helping.

  “Caradoc is clairvoyant,” she said. “It’s extremely strong in him, almost crippling. The slightest touch of an object sets him off. He can’t control it. It totally shuts him down as he relives whatever memory he picked up from it.”

  “I knew that,” Angus said, and she could feel how abashed he was at the transgression. “Damn it, I knew that. I’m so sorry.”

  Arielle accepted the apology. “It’s worse with living things, Lethen’al especially,” she said, her anxiety rising to the surface. “Then, it’s not just an echo of an emotion, but the entire gambit that the individual is feeling. Picking up a spoon that has not been cleansed sends him into shock. What you did . . . I don’t know what that will do to him.”

  “We have to go back,” Angus said, starting to push past her. “We can help. We can—”

  “Definitely not,” Arielle said, as she grabbed for his arm. “I’m going back. You’re going to your duty assignment.”

  “You sure you should?”

  “They’re my Pride. I have to make sure Caradoc is taken care of. I’ll not be absent when he’s brought to the infirmary, regardless of how the rest react.”

  “There’s no way—”

  Arielle’s glare cut him off. She could feel his protective instincts kicking in, but she could not allow him to interfere. This was her business. His presence would only make the situation worse than it already was.

  “They are my Pride,” Arielle repeated. “I’ll be fine.”

  He searched her face, and she could feel his resolve firming to match hers.

  “I will be fine. Do not interfere.”

  Angus agreed, the movement of his head slow and measured.

  “Thank you,” she said. “And stay away for a time. I’ll come to you. It might be a while, but for now, just stay away.”

  His expression showed his embarrassment, and he remained silent, as if he did not trust himself to utter the words.

  Arielle jogged back to her friends, leaving Angus among the pine trees.

  They were just finishing the improvised litter when she returned, Ba’ril lashing the end of his shirt to a shaved pole. He jumped to his feet and started toward her, his face a picture of rage and his sin’del a swirl of ill intent. Arielle did not hesitate as he reached for her. His energies telegraphed his movement and intention, and she responded instantly. Stepping to the side, she grabbed hold of his wrist, twisted and braced against his elbow, dropping him to his knees with his arm stretched out behind him.

  “How is he?” Arielle said.

  “This is your fault—” Ba’ril said, but a slight twist of his wrist stopped any further comment.

  “We’ve one going to the infirmary,” she told Ba’ril, quiet enough so only he could hear. “I’ve no problem adding another to the list.”

  “He’s not responding,” Denuelle said. “I’ve never seen it this bad.”

  “Because no one’s ever been stupid enough to do that before,” Nessah said. “I thought everyone knew about his clairvoyance.” Her glare was spread between Caradoc’s prone form and Ba’ril’s incapacitated one. From the cast of her sin’del, Arielle was not sure which was riling her more.

  “Enough!” Gwen said. “Doc’s our priority. We get him to the infirmary. We can pitch a fit when that’s done. Arielle, let him go. We need everyone to get him there.”

  “Don’t make me regret not breaking your arm,” Arielle whispered as she released him. Ba’ril stood, all but snarling at her as he worked his arm in its socket to ease the pain. Pushing past her with more force than necessary, he returned to the knot he’d been tying.

  Working as a single unit, as they had trained to do, they completed the litter, and transferred Caradoc onto it. They covered the seven miles back to the complex without having to stop.

  They remained at the infirmary, even after Caradoc was admitted. Arielle paced outside before the doors, weighing her guilt, and bearing the resentful glares of her friends. The sun crested its arc, and descended toward the horizon, casting the world in hues of red and gold as the shadows stretched and lengthened. Spring had set in, but the nights still held a sharp chill.

  It was a generally accepted rule that a squad remained with its comrade until an assessment of condition was made. No one had moved from the doors as the sun marched across the sky.

  The long wait had only served to heighten Ba’ril’s ire. He slouched against the wall, his arms folded over his chest as he watched Arielle walk back and forth over the same stretch of ground, chewing on his irritation.

  “That’s enough, Ba’ril,” Denuelle said. “Get over it already. She didn’t break the rules, and she didn’t encourage Angus to do it either. Accidents happen.”

  “Why are you defending her?” Nessah said, rising from where she’d crouched near Ba’ri
l. She had adopted his mood as her own, and her face wore a scowl to match. “Angus would never have touched Caradoc if he wasn’t sniffing around her all the time. If it hadn’t happened today, it would have eventually.”

  “Mind your tongue,” Gwen said. She stood off to one side, facing the darkening shadows, and did not turn as she spoke.

  “No,” Arielle said, stepping closer to her friends. “Let her talk. Let both of them talk. We’ve danced around this long enough, and I think it is time to clear the air between us.”

  “I agree,” Denuelle said. “We’ve been nipping at each other’s flanks for weeks now, and it’s starting to show in our field work. Even the greenies are starting to notice. We keep this up, and it won’t be long before we’re knocked off our tier by some upstart scrubs fresh from the Vaults. I say we have it out, here and now.”

  “Fine,” Ba’ril said, pushing himself off of the wall with a shrug. “Let’s clear the air. Your behavior with that Kal’Parev is disgusting. It makes me sick seeing you debase yourself with him. You are mocking our House every time you sneak off, or when you sneak him into our barracks. Yeah, we know about that! It’s insulting. It’s treason.”

  Arielle forced away her resentment at his words. She had asked for his position. She had asked for all their positions, and now she had to hear them out.

  “Ba’ril’s an ass,” Gwen said to the night. “You’re a Rhen’val, and not a Fel’Mekrin. Who you date does not reflect on my House. Your performance on the field does.”

  “That’s a cold assessment,” Denuelle said. “That’s it, that’s all you’re concerned about? Her performance on the field?”

  Gwen moved her braid over her shoulder with a toss of her head. She regarded Denuelle a moment. She then bowed to her with one fist crossed over her chest.

  “I forget myself,” Gwen said to Denuelle. “Thank you for reminding me.”

  Denuelle returned the bow, crossing both wrists over her chest, as befitted the differences in their rank.

  “You’re my oldest friend,” Gwen said to Arielle. “I’m so very glad you’re happy. It seems like it has been forever since I’ve seen you like this. I used to think you would be happy with my brother, but you never were. Not like this. It took me a while to see it, but I finally did. If Angus has brought about this change in you, then he has my thanks, my respect, and my friendship.”

  “Mine too,” Denuelle said. “I’m thrilled to see you like this. You’re literally glowing most of the time. When you’re around, I can’t help but smile. It’s like your joy is contagious. The world is brighter somehow.”

  “It is,” Darien said, much to Arielle’s astonishment. “I for one applaud what the two of you are doing. It takes a set of iron balls to defy tradition like this, to stand against everyone, even your squad for what you want, and what you believe in. That doesn’t mean I like it, or him. I don’t. He is not my friend, and never will be.”

  He finished speaking with a curt slicing motion, as if to punctuate his words.

  Nessah became the center of attention. Her sin’del was tinged with confusion and anxiety as she followed the conversation. Her gaze moved between Arielle and Ba’ril, as if she did not know which side to support.

  “Well?” Gwen said when she grew tired of waiting. “What do you think? Out with it.”

  Nessah’s anxiety spiked.

  Ness, Arielle sent to her in silent communication. Talk to me. Just me.

  Nessah focused her attention on Arielle, giving her an expression of desperate pleading. Arielle watched her friend try to find the words, but she struggled more with herself than with which side she supported. Arielle shifted her focus, pity for her friend filling her heart. She sought the flows of life force as Trenton had been teaching her, not the broad displays, but rather the subtler currents that emanated from it, what Trenton called the flux. As she had suspected with Nessah, the flux bent toward Ba’ril. There was a poignant yearning about the flows that spoke of a hopeless infatuation. As Arielle grew more cognizant of how the energies bent, she doubted if even Nessah was fully aware of the extent of her feelings. Ba’ril, of course, was largely unaware of her feelings for him. Arielle frowned as she noticed the flux of his sin’del, which was bent toward her as straight as an arrow. He was, however, completely aware of his feelings. The motivation for his position became clear. He was jealous.

  I love you, Ba’ril, she sent to him. But not the way you want.

  He started in surprise at the unexpected comment, distress soon seeped across his sin’del as her meaning took hold.

  You know I can give you so much more than he can, Ba’ril said. She could see his longing, sharp and desperate in its completeness.

  No, you can’t. I have all I need.

  But I can make you happy.

  I already am, she sent. If you do love me, like you think you do, shouldn’t that be enough for you?

  He turned away without answering, his resentment warring with his dejection.

  Arielle returned her attention to Nessah, who watched the exchange with growing trepidation.

  Don’t be afraid, Ness. Arielle sent along a gentle reassurance. Say what you need to.

  Nessah drew a deep breath to steady herself.

  “I don’t begrudge you your happiness, Arielle, but I don’t think that what you’re doing is right.” Casting a quick glance at Ba’ril, Nessah squared her shoulders and continued. “End the relationship. For your own good, and for the good of the Pride.”

  Arielle smiled at her. It was a sad turning of her lips, more for the hopeless situation the girl’s emotions had led her into than for anything else. Nessah’s sin’del bloomed with pride at Ba’ril’s nod of approval.

  “Do you really think it’s as easy as that?” Arielle said. Her voice was low, little more than a whisper, but a note in it caught their attention. “Do any of you really think I can, or will, just walk away?”

  “If you want to do what’s right for the Pride, then you will,” Ba’ril said, his voice thick as he spoke around his emotion. He waved her off, as if dismissing the entire situation.

  “When I was little,” Arielle said, hoping to make them understand, “very little, Angus and I both lived at the Vaults. We were five, and we were inseparable. He was taken from me then, and I will not allow it to happen again.”

  “Okay,” Ba’ril said, his bile winning out, “so he was a childhood sweetheart. We get it! It’s all very touching, but still not as important as the integrity of the Pride.”

  Arielle resisted the temptation to give in to her emotions over his obstinacy. “You’re not understanding me.” She didn’t want to say too much. Not while passions were still so raw. It was not their place to know, not when both families and the Matriarch herself had decreed it a secret. “We were separated by our parents. He was taken away to Reven Marthal, and I was devastated. We were too young, and our parents were afraid. We’re of one mind in this. We will not be separated again.”

  “He’s a Kal’Parev,” Darien said. “No wonder your parents were afraid. They’re a bad influence.”

  “He’s a Tu’renthien!” Arielle said, forfeiting any attempt to keep her composure with her shriek. “He’s the Matriarch’s grandson! This is not about his House!”

  “Then what’s it about?” Gwen said, touching Darien as if to let him know he was not the target of Arielle’s ire. Her words were as hesitant as her movements, indicating how disturbed she was by the display.

  Arielle clutched at the shreds of her dignity as she scrubbed the tears from her eyes. Would they believe her if she told them? Would they be able to keep it secret?

  “Our mothers are friends,” she said. “They have been since I was little. They knew what was happening. They were afraid . . . of the unity that was forming between us,”

  “Yeah,” Ba’ril said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You were close as kids, we get that.”

  “That’s not what she means, hush” Gwen said.

  Arielle
let go of her control and allowed her feelings to flood out. She silently thanked her friend for being so astute.

  “Then what in the seven hells does she mean?” Darien said, clearly uncomfortable.

  Arielle gave Gwen a vulnerable glance. Her friend moved closer, and encircled her in her arms.

  “You’re not serious!” Denuelle said, as she too caught on to Arielle’s meaning. “That’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s not. Not for us. It’s part of who we are. It just . . . happens.”

  “And it’s happening again now, isn’t it?” Gwen said.

  “Remember my light show first night?” she said. “That was when it started again.”

  Silence descended, as the revelation took hold. Gwen was staring at her, worry etched upon her face, no doubt examining the political implications of such a thing. Denuelle, however, wore an expression of expectant, childlike wonder. Nessah marveled at the revelation, while Darien’s scowl deepened. Ba’ril’s disposition seemed to have worsened with the news.

  “This is a part of who I am,” Arielle said. “This is what you must accept if you accept me. If you hold this against me, then you are not my Pride, and never will be.”

  “You can’t put yourself before the Pride!” Ba’ril said. “There is no place for selfishness. You have to give yourself to it completely, for life.”

  “That’s part of it,” Gwen said. “Each member looks after the good of the Pride, but the Pride looks after the good of each member as well. We stand together, and for each other. Arielle’s right. If we cannot accept her as she is, all that she is, Angus included, then we’re not her Pride, nor are we a Pride at all. We are just a squad of graduates.”

  “Which is it that you want?” Denuelle said, moving to stand next to Arielle and Gwen, taking Arielle’s other hand and facing the rest. “Are we a Pride, or a squad?”

  “This isn’t fair,” Nessah said, a note of whining in her voice. “Why do we have to choose? Caradoc’s not even awake.”

  “Logan told me that there comes a moment of crisis for every squad,” Gwen said. “If the members get past the crisis, then they become a Pride in the truest sense of the word. If they don’t, they fall apart, and go their separate ways. This . . . is our crisis.”