Angels at the Gate

by T. K. Thorne

  “That is for you to judge,” Mika says. As always, he is the calm in the storm’s heart. The hands that cup the lightning.

  “Well then, what did your gods show you?”

  “I will tell you, according to our bargain, but I ask your word these others with me are free to leave.”

  A ridge appears in the muscles of Raph’s shoulders. He is not happy with the decision to leave his brother.

  Nor am I. We cannot leave him here.

  Samsu-iluna frowns.

  “The word of Babylonia’s king,” Mika insists, “is known to be good from here to the sea, but I have not heard it from his mouth, only from those who serve him.” Mika glances at Tabni.

  The king nods, the tension easing a bit from his countenance. “Very well. My word is that all those with you, including your brother may leave. In fact, I will send escort with them to Mari.”

  “And the silver?” Mika asks.

  A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Mika would make a good trader.

  Samsu-iluna snorted. “And five bracelets of silver.”

  “Each,” Mika insists.

  Now the king is smiling. “Each.”

  “And I am to be released after a year with the same and the chest with its contents.”

  Despite the fog of my thoughts, I realize the king has been astute enough to keep the dreaming stone with the dreamer.

  “You are not one to let a detail slip beneath the water,” the king says. “I give my word on it, here before my Council.”

  Mika raises his hands, palms upward, as if to the heavens’ witness. “This then is what the gods showed me.”

  Silence fills the room, a silence that quivers like a harp string after the last sound has faded.

  “There will be trouble from the south—”

  My fists clench, my mind assaulted with vague images.

  “—and the north.”

  From what I have heard in the king’s halls and the streets, this is not news, but the court leans forward in anticipation. My belly roils. What did Mika have me drink?

  From a great distance, I hear Mika’s voice continue. “But a mighty army will descend upon the land from the mountains.”

  Samsu-iluna moves to the edge of his elaborately carved chair. “From which mountains?”

  Mika pauses, meeting the king’s intense stare. “They attack with the rising sun in their enemies’ eyes.”

  “From the east then,” the kings says, falling back in his chair as though released from a bow strung for a very long time.

  Mika nods. “They come with horses.”

  Exhaling a deep breath the king shouts, “The Kassites!” He turns to Tabni. “Priestess, you saw true.”

  She does not appear happy in her rightness.

  I, too, do not care what name he gives his enemies or which of the visions of terror will descend first on this land. Dreams accompanied the poison Mika gave me, but I can make no auguries from the jumble. Behind my closed eyes, the images still crawl over one another like bees on the comb. Where is my own self in this hive that is my mind?

  My legs become air beneath me. The floor leaps toward my face, the king’s floor of rounded stones, fitted together precisely in nested arcs, pleasing to the eye.

  I feel nothing when it strikes me.

  I AWAKE ON the road. My head throbs as if wrung and beaten on rocks to wash. For a while, it is clean of thought, dazzled with pain and the perfect blueness of sky that fills my senses. Only slowly do my losses rise in my mind with the stealth of an overflowing bank—my father, Mika, a future that is mine.

  I am back on the path my oath made for me. If I live to fulfill it.

  When I can endure the pain, I turn my head to find I am lying in the bed of a wagon and must sit up to see over the edge. When I do, I promptly vomit over the side. What Mika had me drink has not killed me, but a part of me wishes it had. I want to lie back, but I grasp the wagon’s edges to remain sitting and see where I am.

  A gray donkey pulls my wagon. I recognize Raph’s muscled back ahead leading a smaller black donkey, my Philot. An armed man I do not know walks behind, and two to either side. Chiram leads a camel laden with packs. My head spins again, but I do not lie back until I see Nami. Her bright eyes have caught mine, and her feathered tail sweeps the air. She jumps into the wagon and shoves her nose into my face. Her tongue gives my face and neck the cleaning I’m sure they need, and her teeth gently grasp my chin to assure me of her love.

  The ache of my losses eased, I fall back into oblivion, not as deep as before, but a hazy place where reality merges with dream.

  THE NEXT TIME I wake, Chiram is wiping my head with a wet cloth. Not gently.

  I grab his brawny wrist. “That hurts!”

  “Good. Means you are alive.”

  Gritting my teeth, I sit up, determine to aim his way should my belly heave again. But it does not, the first time in my life I have been disappointed not to be sick. “Where are we?”

  “North of Babylon, beside the Euphrates.”

  Plowing a path through the river’s dancing sparkles, a round boat passes by. Its hull is made of stretched hides sealed with pitch. Boats travel only with southbound current, so that orients me. We are traveling north. I note we have left the rich soil of the flatlands in exchange for a more rocky terrain, which gives me an idea of the distance we have traveled … and how long I have lain in a stupor.

  “What has happened?”

  He shrugs. “Mika babbled on to the king about a war and letting us go. You were out cold as a corpse. We set out the same night with this … escort.” He spits out the last word.

  I rub my forehead and feel a tender bump where I assume it connected with the king’s floor. Anger churns in my belly. Mika wanted us gone from his sight as soon as possible.

  The guard at the forefront raises his hand, signaling a stop. To camp for the night, I presume. At that moment Raph joins us, leaning over the wagon. “Is he all right?”

  “She,” I correct. I want to ball up a fist and hit him. “How can you just leave your brother?” I croak. “He crossed a desert for you!”

  Raph flinches as though I truly did strike him. He stands, and I realize he is going to walk away.

  Grabbing Chiram’s shoulder for support, I haul myself to my feet. “Wait. Do not walk away from me as you walked away from Mika.”

  With a grim face, Raph turns back. “Say then what you will.”

  “I will.” I take a deep breath but, for a moment, cannot think. My head pounds, and my mouth tastes like sand.

  Chiram clears his throat. “You were about to gnaw his ass.”

  “Thank you.” This must be the first time those words have found their way from my mouth to Chiram’s ears.

  With a deep breath, I turn back to Raph. “Why?”

  His deep blue eyes meet mine, but my heart does not stutter. Anger has given a blade’s edge to my focus. I do not know why I thought I loved him. I was a foolish child struck by his beauty and charm.

  “Mika,” he says flatly, “wanted us to be safe.”

  “So you let him stay in danger? Do you understand what is going to happen there?” Mika had seen the future or perhaps only told a future we could all see. Regardless, war was coming to Babylonia.

  Raph’s face is without expression, the hard resolve of a warrior set to kill whoever stands in his path.

  “Why?” I repeat, aware I am demanding an answer of one of my god’s angels, but I would demand it of El himself … if he would speak to anyone other than Abram.

  For long moments, Raph stands silent before me, and then he glances over his shoulder, checking the location of our guards. “Adira, you do not understand.”

  “Then explain it,” I demand, crossing my arms, “or I will go to these men and tell them we must return.” I lean closer to him. “I saw the future too, Raph. I ascended to heaven with Mika. They will want to know what I have seen.” It is somewhat a lie, or a twisting of truth, but I am desperate.
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br />   A deep crimson suffuses Raph’s face. “I swore to keep you safe and out of Babylon.”

  “Then you must tell me.”

  “I cannot.”

  I shrug. “Then you leave me no choice. I do not trust Samsu-iluna.”

  Chiram grunts. “On that we agree.”

  I start toward the nearest Babylonian soldier, but Raph snatches my arm, spinning me toward him. Nami watches this with anxious eyes. Chiram scratches his filthy beard.

  “All right,” Raph says in a harsh whisper. “I will tell you, but only you.”

  I nod.

  Chiram spits.

  Raph leads me away from the river. Water carries the sound of voices. We head toward the far side of a hill, passing a shallow cave. One of the soldiers watches us. I see calculation on his face and straighten my spine. That is something I have learned in my short time of being a woman. You are always watched, and there is always conjecture churning behind the eyes of those watching. My days of living carefree are done. Now, I must watch my watchers. This is why women have husbands—to protect them, to keep them safe from such men. This is why my father made me swear to go to Sarai and put myself under her care. If she cannot find me a husband, she will at least take me in as family.

  I pull my thoughts from this, because I must be resolute with Raph. If he senses weakness, he will leap upon it.

  Behind the hill, I confront him. “Tell me why we left Mika behind. The truth.”

  “You know the truth, or part of it. Mika too does not trust Samsu-iluna, and he wishes us to be safe from him.”

  “The fingers of Babylonia are long,” I say. “They reached us even in the Vale.”

  “That is why I must leave you.”

  “Leave?” I thought I did not love him, but my belly tightens. “Why? Where?”

  “I go north. To return to my people.”

  My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why would Samsu-iluna be a threat to you?”

  Raph shrugs. “I am Mika’s brother. If the king has me in his possession, he can force Mika to stay with him.”

  “Then why let us go?”

  “He is a king. He gave his word before his Council. He would lose all credibility if he did not honor his word.”

  A tiny twitch below his right eye gives him away.

  “There is more.” I do not say it as a question.

  Annoyed, he brushes a hand across his mouth. He and Mika have the same sensitive mouth, I realize, and for a moment, I am snatched into Mika’s arms, tasting his lips, feeling him inside me, and a jolt of fire races down my belly. The memory is almost as powerful as the experience.

  “Adira?” Raph reaches out his hand. His voice is now full of concern. “Are you well? Do you need to sit?”

  I swallow. “I am fine.”

  “You looked unsteady again.”

  “I am well,” I say stubbornly. “You were telling me the true reason you agreed to abandon Mika in Samsu-iluna’s hands and will abandon me to Chiram and these men.”

  Raph’s gaze drops. “I must.”

  “Tell me then. You owe me that.”

  He lifts his eyes to mine. “I have the dreaming stone.”

  “What? How is that possible?” But even as the words left my mouth, I remember Mika’s conditions to the priestess: “Only my brother will touch the box.”

  Raph glances over his shoulder, though our position behind the hill not only hides us from view, but from any eavesdropper. “After the ascension, I substituted another stone in its place in the box,” he says in a low voice.

  “But what if Mika needs to see another future?”

  Raph keeps my gaze. “It is more important the stone return safely to our people. We have been its guardians for as many turns of the seasons as the stars in the sky.”

  I stare at him.

  “That is why I must leave you, Adira. I do not wish to. I did not want to leave Mika, but my first duty is to return the stone.”

  “Why did you bring it to start with?” I practically hiss at him. “Why not leave it where it was safe?”

  “We came searching for something more valuable than the stone itself, and Mika thought we might need it to guide our path.”

  “What is more valuable than a stone that can crack open the portals of the future?”

  “Lost knowledge.”

  Then I remember Mika has already told me this. “Have you then found this knowledge?”

  “No. But to lose the stone as well—we cannot allow that to happen.”

  There is nothing left to say. Raph is telling me his truth. His thoughts are plainly written in his eyes and his stance. He is far easier to read than Mika.

  We return to the camp. The sun is hidden now below the horizon, and a chill settles in place of the day’s heat. Chiram has a fire made and cooks a stew with meat from a gazelle one of the men brought down. It smells wonderful and sweeps me back to the days of traveling with our caravan. My heart aches that those times will never be again. My father will never call me into his tent to chastise me for some mischief or praise me for some deed well done.

  I squat beside Chiram, my longing for childhood overcoming my distaste for him. “Is it ready?”

  “No.”

  The fire crackles.

  “What are you going to do when we return?” I ask, surprised I am even interested, but Chiram is the only remaining connection with my father.

  He tastes the broth and adds a pinch of something before answering. His gaze finds the camel that has folded her legs beneath her and surveys us with a regal calmness. “I am thinking I now have enough for a caravan of my own.”

  I nod. The silver he has is enough to fund this.

  He picks at his front tooth with a dirty fingernail. “These creatures are not utilized to their capacity.”

  “The camels?”

  He grunts.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do we use donkeys when camels can carry so much more, eat less, and can cross the desert itself?”

  I turn this thought over in my mind and cannot find an answer to dispute him. It is a good idea, but praise for him cannot make it past my lips. I try to remember one kind thing Chiram had ever said to me and must give it up without an answer.

  Nami returns from her exploring and presses against my side. I scratch behind her ears, and my fingers begin working out the mats. She shakes her head, but I tell her to be still, and she sighs in resignation and settles beside me.

  THAT NIGHT, I lie on my back, staring up at the stars, trying not to allow the memories that threaten to tear me apart. Will I ever look at the night sky again without remembering Mika’s touch? Will I never see him again?

  Beside me, Nami lifts her head and pricks her ears toward the rise where Raph and I had conversed. “What is it?” I ask, my imagination painting a lion behind the hill. She continues to stare, but does not seem agitated, as she would if a predator were lurking. And if she heard prey, she would be after it. After our time in the desert, she often brings small game to me for approval, though she prefers her meat cooked in Chiram’s pot.

  Something pricks my mind, and I realize none of the soldiers are in sight. They are supposed to guard us, so either they have abandoned that obligation, or they are all together discussing something … something they do not want our ears to hear.

  I glance to where Chiram snores loudly and Raph lies sprawled in sleep. I had not given much thought to our safety while I knew Raph was with us, but that has changed. He will leave us soon. His path of duty is clear. The stone’s safety comes ahead of his brother’s life or my safety. I believe he would place it without hesitation before his own life.

  Calling on the skills I have honed all my life, I rise and head toward the hill. Nami stays at my side. She knows we are hunting and also moves stealthily.

  As we approach, I hear voices from inside the cave and find a place where a boulder conceals us. Signaling Nami down, I hear a man saying, “It is not a plan I care for. Should Samsu-iluna hear
we killed them before we reached Mira, he will not be pleased. He swore their safe passage to that city.”

  “Who knows what will happen to them or their wealth in Mira?” a deeper voice replies. “My contact told me they carry silver—five rings each. Gifts from the king.”

  “What does the tall warrior keep wrapped in those blankets, is what I want to know.” This third voice I think belongs to the man with a wide, jagged scar over his right brow. “He walks beside it every day, never makes water out of sight of it. I would lay a wager it holds a great treasure.”

  “We will tell the king they tried to run, and we had to kill them.”

  A spit. “That is the stupidest thing I have heard coming from your mouth, Kuri, and there has been enough of such to fill a canal. What do you say when Samsu-iluna asks where his silver is?”

  “If you are so much our better, Puzir, how is it you forget the king will ask the same if we kill them after Mira? He will want his silver either way.”

  There is a moment of quiet.

  The voice I now have labeled Puzir says, “Then we cannot return if we wish the silver for ourselves. None of us has a wife. We can find a new place and live like kings ourselves.”

  “I have a wife,” Scar says.

  “Is she worth five bracelets of silver?”

  Silence.

  Laughter. “I thought thus. You can find another woman where we go—a better one with your share.”

  “And where would that be?”

  “A discussion we can have once the deed is done. Perhaps best for us to choose separate paths.”

  “When then?”

  “Night.”

  “This night?”

  Scar sounds eager. I shiver.

  “No, tomorrow. We have a long day’s trek, and I can plan it.”

  With a jolt, I realize I will be discovered when they finish their discussion. I wave my hand before Nami’s nose and then to my forehead to make sure I have her attention before making the signal for “quiet” and “follow,” hunting signals I learned when we lived with the nomads. She rises and trots beside me as I make my way back, my heart beating in my throat at what I have heard.

  Even as I slip under the blanket on my pallet, it thuds so hard, I fear the men will hear it and not wait to thrust their knives and still it. My thoughts scramble around until I rein them in. I cannot do anything to arouse the guard’s suspicions, but we cannot wait either.