The Gates of Golorath

by R. M Garino

  There was doubt in Darien’s scowl, and one of panic in Nessah’s.

  Ba’ril was shaking his head. “It’s not our crisis,” he said. “We’re not the ones throwing the others aside. You all are. You’re betraying us. Give this foolishness over, and we can get on with what we need to do.”

  A great sadness took over Gwen’s features. Her sin’del trembled, expressing the loss her words could not.

  “You have been a good friend, a worthy ally, and a true blade, Ba’ril,” Gwen said. She inclined her head toward him. “I will miss you, cousin.”

  “What the seven hells do you mean by that?” Ba’ril said. He closed the distance between the two groups.

  Gwen ignored his question. Under Gwen’s gaze Nessah paled and searched from side to side, as if for guidance. Gwen shook her head ever so slightly, not letting Nessah deflect her choice. “Choose.”

  Nessah flinched. “Please don’t do this,” she said.

  “I do nothing,” Gwen said. “I am simply asking you to state your desire. Ba’ril has chosen to disband the Pride. Do you stand with him?”

  “No I didn’t!” he said in protest.

  Nessah shifted her pleading stare from Gwen to Arielle, to Ba’ril, who stood stunned and fuming, and back again. She tried Denuelle, who glowered back her defiance, her chin held high. Darien was no help either, as he stared at the floor. Her gaze returned to Arielle, and her panic was clear.

  “Stop that!” Arielle said. “Stop looking to others to make your decision. This is yours, and yours alone. You want to be Elc’atar. This is a step on that path. No one can choose for you.”

  “Search your heart, Ness,” Denuelle said.

  Tears leaked down Nessah’s cheek.

  Darien moved away from the others. He cast a wry gaze at Ba’ril before shifting it to the ground.

  “I’m not good at this,” he said to the ground. “You are all my friends. I don’t like having to choose, but I see the point.” He studied Arielle for a moment. “I stand with you,” he said, with a grim finality. “We stand as a Pride. I may not like your partner, or his House – one of his Houses - whatever, but you’ve earned my love, and I give it gladly.”

  Darien bowed to Arielle, executed a smart turn, and went to stand beside Denuelle. As he passed, Arielle gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.

  The door to the infirmary opened, silencing the conversation. Bicca crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded them all.

  “Caradoc is awake,” he said. His sin’del was troubled as his attention settled on Arielle. “He’s asking for you.”

  “A moment please, Elc’atar,” Gwen said, bowing her head to him. “We will attend him momentarily.”

  “Be quick,” Bicca said. His face took on an inquisitive cast, as if wondering what they were about, but did not voice his thoughts. “The lad is all agitated. I’d rather he not hurt himself any more than he is.”

  Everyone retuned their attention to Nessah as the door closed. Her gaze, however, was fixed on Ba’ril. She gave him a small smile, drew a breath, and moved toward to Arielle.

  “We stay a Pride,” Nessah said. “I would not have graduated without you all, and I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”

  Arielle hugged her so tight some air escaped her bottom.

  “Let’s go see Doc,” Gwen said, waving her hand in front of her face. “We’ve left him waiting long enough.”

  “Don’t you mean wafting?” Darien said. He reached the door first, and held it aside. The others walked in holding their breath, side eying Nessah.

  Ba’ril moved with them, entering the infirmary by their side. Arielle sent an inquiring glance his way.

  “You are my Pride,” he said, though it was obvious the words pained him. “I can’t change how I feel, but I’m not giving over my Pride, either.”

  “I wouldn’t ask anything else of you, my friend,” Arielle said. She gave his arm a quick squeeze and planted a light kiss on his cheek as they moved from the foyer into their friend’s small room.

  Caradoc was sitting up in his cot facing the door. There was a fire in the hearth, casting a pleasant warmth through the room. Bicca had his palms extended inches above his patient’s head. Caradoc suffered the examination in silence. His energy field truly was agitated, shuddering in odd arcs and jumps.

  Bicca finished and stepped aside. “Keep it short,” he said as he pushed past them. “He still needs his rest.”

  They offered him half-hearted assurances, and crowded around the bed.

  Caradoc reached out to Arielle, who hesitated. He was not wearing his gloves.

  “Please,” Caradoc said. Even his voice quivered with a burning excitement. “I can take it when I know it’s coming. I need to know.”

  Arielle hesitated. She did not want to cause him any pain, or induce another fit. Aside from incurring Bicca’s wrath, the prohibition against touching him was so ingrained in her that it was not easily pushed aside. He was ready for the contact and almost imperceptibly braced himself.

  “I didn’t want to believe it,” Caradoc said when he let Arielle draw back. His sin’del was no longer a chaotic flurry, but rather pulsed with an intense, determined rhythm. “I didn’t think such a thing was even possible. But it is, and it’s wonderful. Thank you.”

  “What’s possible?” Nessah said from the other side of the bed.

  In answer, Caradoc extended his hand. “Here,” he said, “let me show you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Boots in the Blood

  “This is how you die,” Brodhi said. His hands were behind his back, and he strolled in front of the Twelfth. He stopped, pursing his lips as he considered them. His perusal rolled over each of them, pausing for the briefest of moments as he searched their faces.

  “Ba’ril,” he said, mistakenly pointing at Darien. Both Darien and Ba’ril stepped up, and Brodhi waved Darien back into line.

  “So, Ba’ril,” Brodhi said, as if he were in no way embarrassed by his mistake. He moved to stand before the graduate, an easy smirk on his face. “Work with me here a moment. Let’s say you’re in Ra’haren Wash, far to the west. You’re alone, and separated from your company. Steep canyon walls, labyrinthine twists and turns. You hear a triple cough echoing behind you, like a child with the croup. The path you are on ends in a sheer wall, but there’s a turnabout a half a mile back on your left. What do you do?”

  Ba’ril thought the problem through, tapping his fingers as he contemplated the issue.

  “Can you be more specific with the details, sir?” Ba’ril said with a shake of his head. “I’m not sure I have enough information to solve the problem.”

  Brodhi shrugged, agreeing to the request. “The walls are red.”

  Ba’ril sent a questioning glance to his squad.

  “Ba’ril,” Brodhi said. “I asked you, not them. What is your course of action?”

  Ba’ril’s sin’del showed that he thought this particular exercise a waste of time. “I turn around and go back to the turnabout.” He winced as if the answer itself were particularly painful.

  “Sorry, lad.” Brodhi shook his head in mock disappointment. “You’re dead. Next? Who else would like to try? You, my dear?”

  He pointed at Denuelle and frowned in concentration.

  “How am I dead?” Ba’ril said. “There was no information in the problem to draw an appropriate response. This is—”

  Brodhi’s eyebrows were raised and expectant. “This is what?” he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “A stupid lesson? A waste of your time, perhaps? An insult to your House and station?”

  Ba’ril tried to deny it, but Brodhi held up a finger, stopping him.

  “You are right,” Brodhi said. “This is a waste of my time. This is a stupid lesson, and you are an insult to your House and your station. Not everything is cut and dried, Ba’ril. You don’t always have all the information you need to make a decision. Sometimes, you come across something you’ve never encountere
d before. Nevertheless, your ignorance does not need to be the death of you.”

  Brodhi dropped his finger, placed his hand behind his back, and resumed his pacing.

  “Rhen’val,” Brodhi said. “Please repeat the problem for our lackluster graduate so he can determine the essential bit of information he missed.”

  “Sir,” Arielle said, snapping to attention as her name was called. “You are in Ra’haren Wash, far to the west. You are alone, and separated from your company. Steep canyon walls, labyrinthine twists and turns. You hear a triple cough echoing behind you, like a child with the croup. The path you are on ends in a sheer wall, but there is a turnabout a half a mile back on your left. What do you do? The walls are red, sir.”

  “Well done, Rhen’val,” Brodhi said, weighing her up as she spoke.

  I don’t know about you, Nessah sent, but I’m kinda uncomfortable with a Kal’Parev instructor.

  Arielle sent along a shrug, and felt Gwen and Denuelle do the same.

  It’s not the House, Nessah said, they’re not so bad.

  Arielle sent along her glee. No, they’re not.

  You don’t like how they conduct a lesson, Denuelle said. They leave things out, and the answer is never an absolute right or wrong. You’re just like Ba’ril.

  Nessah brightened at the suggestion, and then dimmed just as quick.

  Too many shades of meaning, Gwen sent, ignoring the display.

  I kinda like it, Denuelle sent. With a Fel’Mekrin, or Mer’Chien instructor, you’re either right, or you’re wrong.

  And you and your squad are celebrated, or rebuked accordingly, Gwen sent. What’s wrong with that?

  Nothing, Denuelle sent. I just like having a little wiggle room to think things through.

  What is it with you and wiggling?

  “Where did you go wrong, Ba’ril?” Brodhi said.

  “How am I wrong?” Ba’ril said. “The situation makes no sense. I’m dead because you say I am. Great! There is no answer.”

  Brodhi held up his finger again and waved it side to side in mocking chastisement. “Your lack of understanding regarding the nature of the threat still does not negate the threat.”

  “Sir,” Denuelle said, and waited for him to acknowledge she’d spoken.

  Brodhi took a few steps toward her. “Yes, Denuelle?”

  “Sir,” she said, “The cough is a threat. Even though we do not know the nature of the cough, moving toward it is fatal. An infection, perhaps?”

  “Correct on both points.” Brodhi raised his finger in approval. “Score for the Twelfth. You can think.”

  “How am I supposed to fight an infection?” Ba’ril said. He’d never liked giving anything less than a stellar performance. Nessah’s sin’del bent toward him in sympathy.

  “Not that type of infection,” Brodhi said.

  A hesitant spring sun streamed down on them in the small canyon. From their vantage point they could see the daily life of the Gates continuing unabated, but the noise carried from the complex above was muted here. Brodhi walked over to the edge of the large pit that dominated the canyon and jumped up onto the raised ledge that ran around its fifty-yard circumference, protecting against an accidental fall. The sides were sheer and smooth, as if the hole were burned into the earth twelve feet deep.

  Brodhi addressed them after examining the opening. “This is a minor breach,” he said. “Its purpose is to train you to fight our ancient enemy: the shrulk. What you face today is an advancement test. The objective is simple: you have to kill a shrulk. You can try up to five times. If you fail, you will never be allowed to pledge. And yes, each of you is going in today.”

  He paused to let his words sink in.

  “They were bred to hunt you. Your presence in the Pit will send it into a fury and it will do its best to kill you. What are the two major forms a shrulk attack takes?”

  “They like to attack from above,” Gwen said. “This allows them to bring their rear claws into play.”

  “Good. What else?”

  “They come in low against the ground,” Caradoc said. “They try to hamstring, or bite for the crotch and stomach.”

  “Exactly. How do we defend against them?”

  “Do not allow them behind you,” Denuelle said.

  “A shrulk’s bones are hollow, and therefore easily broken,” Arielle said. “The shield can be used to repulse an attack, but also to smash against the shrulk.”

  “Very good,” Brodhi said, his voice tinged with admiration. “You may all survive today. Oh, one more thing. Expect to get hurt. Any questions?”

  No one responded.

  “Do I have a volunteer?”

  Every member stepped up. Brodhi chuckled as he spread his attention between them.

  “We’re eager,” he said, his grin broadening. “That’s good. Not an ounce of hesitation. Today, you will learn the virtue of caution, and the danger of a cough. Darien, right? Step to the edge.”

  Darien jumped up next to Brodhi. He cast a cursory glance into the abyss below.

  “Darien?” Brodhi rolled his hand. “It might be wise to draw your weapon now.”

  He slid his shield into position with a shrug of his shoulder, and drew his sword. Brodhi waved everyone else to the fore.

  His attention never left Darien. “Do not hesitate, lad. Kill it as quickly as you can. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “This has been calibrated to your signatures, so don’t worry. The shrulk will hurt you, but you’ll wake up in the infirmary.”

  “You mean like with a caster?”

  “Exactly. I’m glad to see you’ve been keeping up with your studies.”

  They stood tense and ready, eager to try their skills against the enemy.

  “Well then,” Brodhi said, “We might as well—”

  “Hold, Elc’atar!” called a voice behind them.

  Brodhi started at the intrusion, as did the seven graduates. Kolsch had entered the canyon, and the Third trailed behind him. Their training uniforms were dirty and torn, and several wore dark, livid bruises on their faces. Angus stood near the back of the group, his face a glower beneath an eye that was starting to swell shut. Kolsch held Ti’vol, the little, sickly member of the Third, by the upper arm and all but dragged her behind him. Her green eyes were wide with dread as she struggled against his grip.

  “Your session’s been rescheduled,” Kolsch said, waving his dismissal. “I need the Pit.”

  “Sir,” Brodhi said, voicing his concern as he jumped down from the edge. He scanned the squad from his House. “It’s been calibrated for the Twelfth. It will take an hour at least to recalibrate it for the Third.”

  “Did I ask for it to be recalibrated?” Kolsch said as he pulled Ti’vol behind him and pushed past the Twelfth. Arielle shot an expression of concern with Gwen, and with Angus.

  What the feck did he do to them? Gwen sent to Arielle. Look at Thomlin.

  “Sir,” Brodhi said. He placed himself between Kolsch and the Pit. “I must protest. Putting a graduate in without it being calibra—”

  “Stand down!” Kolsch tried to push past him. “This one’s stillborn. She should never have left the Vaults, much less taken residence at the Gates. I intend to rectify that little oversight.”

  “I cannot allow you to do this, sir!”

  Kolsch stopped a pace from the ledge, and swiveled his head toward Brodhi, who had not moved. The Mala’kar managed not to sway, but only just.

  “You’re dismissed!”

  “Sir, I must protest this treatment of a member of my House—”

  “She’s not pledged, so she’s not a member of your House. You’ve got nothing to protest,” Kolsch said.

  “The Third is a Kal’Parev squad, sir,” Brodhi said. He stood at parade rest between Kolsch and the Pit, adamant and firm. “That puts her under my protection. I cannot allow—”

  “Stand down.”

  “—you to treat a member of my House in such a fashion. The Pit
needs—”

  “Stand down!”

  “—to be recalibrated before she can enter.”

  “I said stand down!” Kolsch screamed his order and spittle into Brodhi’s face.

  “I cannot obey that order, sir!” Brodhi said, his shoulders squared, his head held high.

  Kolsch’s sin’del snapped out and battered Brodhi to the side. The Elc’atar struck the ground and rolled with the impact, flipping over his shoulder to regain his feet. Kolsch struck out again, and Brodhi was thrown face down to the ground. Despite his struggles, he was unable to raise himself with Kolsch’s sin’del pressing down on him.

  “Your objections have been noted and . . . and overruled,” Kolsch said. “You’ll report to the Ledge this evening for discipline. Until then, shut the feck up!”

  Kolsch resumed his walk, pulling a now struggling Ti’vol behind him.

  He’s drunk! Arielle sent to Gwen and Angus. What do we do? We can’t let this happen.

  What can we do? Gwen said. Drunk or not, he’s Mala’kar.

  Angus was silent, and from the rage and trepidation she could feel warring within him, she could tell he was not silent by choice. As Arielle cast a glance at him, she could see a tendril of Kolsch’s sin’del intersecting Angus’. The other members of his squad each possessed a similar affliction.

  Kolsch threw Ti’vol into the Pit with little more than a flick of his wrist. Her sudden scream of terror was cut short as she hit the bottom. A rumble of stone filled the air, followed by three coughing calls, just as Brodhi had described. At a glare from the Elc’atar, Denuelle slipped away from the group and headed out of the canyon.

  “Gather round, gather round” Kolsch said, indicating the scene below them. “Behold the fate of the stillborn. Rhen’val, by me!”

  The Third pushed against the wall to see below. Arielle, however, did not move. Kolsch ground his teeth as he regarded her.

  “I said, by me!” He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her against him. He pointed into the Pit with his other hand. “This is what it means to be in charge, sweet cheeks. Sending those under your charge to their deaths.”