by G. R. Lyons
Graeden nodded and sat still while his mother came over and hugged him, repeating her husband's assertions. She patted him on the cheek and stepped back, leveling a look at him.
“You know you need to go tell your grandfather,” she said. “He won't be happy that you're going there. You know how he feels about that place.”
Graeden glanced up at a clock and shook his head. “I may not have time to drive out there.”
“Well, in this case, Graeden, you need to make time,” his mother insisted, going back to the stove to finish her breakfast preparations. “If you go to Tanas without telling him–”
“Alright, alright.” He held up a hand and sighed. “I'll go right now.”
Chapter 7
GRAEDEN DROVE as fast as he safely could to get out to the Gateway, hoping he'd be back in the city in time for everything else he needed to get done. Pulling up in front of the garage, he shut off the car and jumped out, racing up the steps to the front porch and pounding on the door.
“Granddad?” he called. “It's Graeden. Are you in there?”
He heard no response, and knocked again. After waiting several seconds, he tried the door and found it unlocked. He let himself in and wandered through the house, not seeing any sign of his grandfather anywhere.
Graeden reached the back of the house and stepped out onto the back porch, and found Benash Rothbur slumped over in a chair.
“Gods, no, not now,” Graeden whispered to himself, rushing to his grandfather's side. “Granddad? Granddad!” He pressed his fingers to the old man's throat, sighing with relief when he felt a pulse there. Graeden grabbed him by the shoulders and gently shook him awake.
“Hmmm? What?” Benash groaned, blinking as he straightened. “Graeden!” He rubbed his eyes and sat up, setting aside a book that lay open on his lap. “Well, this is a surprise.”
Graeden resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and moved out of the way while his grandfather slowly pushed himself out of the chair.
“Look who's here!”
Graeden glanced around, wondering what Benash was talking about, and noticed his grandfather looking at something over his shoulder. Graeden turned around but didn't see anyone else there.
“I don't know,” Benash said to the air behind him. “He didn't tell me he was coming.”
“Who are you talking to?” Graeden asked.
“Vorena,” his grandfather said, giving him a look. “You ought to know that by now.”
Graeden sighed and rolled his eyes. “Granddad, you're seeing things. There's no ghost there.”
“Of course there is.”
“Well, I can't see her,” Graeden muttered impatiently.
“You are part Tanasian,” his grandfather reminded him.
“Only a quarter.”
“Well, that's enough. Enough to see her, if you tried.”
“I don't need to be seeing ghosts right now!” Graeden shouted. His grandfather flinched and stepped back, and Graeden sighed. “Look, I'm sorry. I just…I came out here to tell you that I'm going on a trip for a few months. That's all.”
He turned on his heel and headed toward the house, but his grandfather caught up with him. “Wait, Grae, don't go yet. Is everything alright?”
Graeden stopped, put his hands on his hips, and turned around, looking down at his shoes.
“I'm going to Tanas,” he murmured.
His grandfather was silent for so long that Graeden finally looked up and saw Benash staring at him, eyes wide with horror.
“No,” Benash whispered. “Grae, please. Please don't go there. Why would you go there?”
“Because they asked for doctors, for help–”
“Let others go,” his grandfather insisted.
Graeden shook his head. “You don't understand. I need…I need a change. I need to get away. I need some time to–”
He stopped and turned away, clenching his jaw as he tried to find the nerve to say the words.
“Graeden.”
He looked back at his grandfather, and saw fear and sadness in the old man's eyes.
“Graeden, please don't do this. Don't go to that place.”
“I have to,” Graeden whispered. “I need some time, and this opportunity presented itself…I just need to get away.”
His grandfather stared at him for a long while, old eyes boring into his, searching for Graeden knew not what. Gods, Graeden hoped the old man couldn't read his mind. It was a possibility he'd long contemplated but never actually tested, and he didn't want to start now. Finally, Benash sighed and held up a hand, telling him to wait.
Benash went inside the house and returned a minute later, walking right up to Graeden and pressing a gun into his hand.
“What's this?” Graeden gasped, taking a step back.
His grandfather grabbed him by the shoulders and looked intensely at him.
“You listen to me,” Benash said. “The Elders are liars and thieves. Don't believe a word they say, do you understand? Just stepping through that Gate downtown puts your life at risk.”
“Granddad–”
“No! Listen!” Benash shook him. “If they want to, they can keep you there, torture you, kill you. If you don't meet their expectations, they'll simply have you executed. You must be very, very careful. Alright?”
Graeden stared at him, wondering at his grandfather's fear, and nodded.
“Alright, good,” Benash said with a sigh. “Now, I want you to go through this Gate here, just for a few minutes, and try to get your bearings. This will put you on a mountainside, just above a clearing. The clearing should give you a good view of the surrounding area. Study it, quickly, and come back here. The Gate you'll be going through downtown will put you some fifty-odd miles south of where this one goes. If anything happens over there, and you can't get back through the Gate in Vhais, you can find this one and come back to us. Come home.”
Graeden glanced from Benash to the Gate and back, then down at the gun in his hand.
“Just in case,” his grandfather said, pointing at the gun. “There's likely no one on the other side, but I want you prepared.” He paused, gazing at the Gate, and murmured, “Probably no one over there even remembers this one exists.”
“What?” Graeden asked, watching Benash step closer to the Gate and reach out a hand to touch the frame. “I thought you said the rebels were always coming through here.”
Benash shook his head. “I've not seen any new refugees in years. Not since before you were born. I don't know if they've been killed or captured, or perhaps everyone that could come through has come through, and there's no one left to remember.”
He stroked the frame with his hand, then stepped back with a sigh.
“Go on,” he said. “If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming after you.”
Graeden looked down at the gun again, keeping his finger entirely away from the trigger and holding the weapon out to his side, and took a deep breath, walking slowly toward the Gate. He put out his free hand, trying to feel the surface as he approached, then held his breath and stepped through.
He ran right into a stifling barrier, flailing as he pushed it aside and spun around, only to find it was just a thick cloth that was tucked around the Gate to hide it. Graeden caught his breath and turned in a slow circle, taking in the forest that surrounded him.
Putting his back to the Gate, he saw the clearing, up ahead through the trees, and walked slowly toward it, starting at every chirp of a bird or rustle of a leaf. He reached the edge of the clearing and peeked out, not seeing anything but a slight mound in the grass.
Graeden stepped forward, keeping the gun firmly in hand, and looked out over the valley below, slowly studying everything in view. To his left was a hint of a city, and from there he followed the line of a river that ran to the south, flowing past another city directly ahead of him, and continuing on into the distance to his right.
Surveying the land closer to the base of the mountain on which he stood, he saw a small
clearing down below, with a dark hole in a hillside there. Graeden shivered, wondering if that was the prison his grandfather had always hinted at in stories of his youth.
When he thought he'd seen enough, he turned and hurried back under the cover of the trees, adjusting the cloth over the Gate so that it would be hidden once he left. Ducking around behind the thick material, he stepped back through the Gate and saw his grandfather lurch to a stop in the midst of rapid pacing and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Was anyone there?” Benash asked.
Graeden shook his head and handed back the gun. “I saw the river, and a town directly below, as well as one to the north. Couldn't see much to the south.”
His grandfather nodded. “The river is called the Pascatin. It runs almost the full length of the Isle. If anything happens in Vhais, you can follow the river north until you reach Sonekha—that's the town at the base of the mountain—and then up to the Gate from there. Graeden, please…” Benash grabbed him by the shoulders and bent down so they were eye to eye. “Please, be very careful over there.”
“I'm sure everything will be fine, Granddad.” He gently pulled away and took a step back. “I really should go. I have…I have a lot to do…before I leave.”
Benash followed him over to his car. “I'll come in to town to see you off.”
Graeden nodded his thanks and got in his car, letting it carry him back to the city on autopilot. He shook his head, thinking of his grandfather's worry, and pushed that worry aside. Nothing he was going toward could possibly be as troubling as what he was trying to leave behind.
* * *
WHEN GRAEDEN got back home, he found Iora sitting on the floor in the hallway outside his apartment door.
“Locked me out, I see,” she said by way of greeting. “Seems my permissions have been erased.”
Without a word, Graeden stepped toward the door and heard it unlock, then held it open while Iora joined him inside.
“How've you been, Grae?” she asked as he shut the door. “You're not returning my calls.”
“I've got a lot on my mind,” he said, heading toward the closet in the washroom. He found his suitcases and hauled them out, knocking over a tall, thin box as he did so. Graeden stared at the box, holding his breath, then roughly shoved it as far back into the corner as it would go, the white of the box disappearing against the white paint on the walls. Taking a deep breath, Graeden picked up his suitcases and carried them out to the bedroom, dropping them open on the bed.
“Going somewhere?”
“Tanas,” he called over his shoulder, heading back into the closet and grabbing a random pile of clothes.
“What the hells for?”
Graeden shrugged and went back for more clothes.
“Well, don't expect me to just sit around waiting for you to get back,” Iora said, sitting down on the end of the bed and leaning back on her elbows.
“I wouldn't,” Graeden muttered, digging through the clothes scattered over the bed and trying to decide what to take.
“So, we're done, then?” she asked, no emotion to her voice whatsoever.
Graeden threw down a pair of jeans and leveled a look at her. He sighed and put his hands on his hips. “I don't know, Iora. I don't know anything right now.”
Iora shrugged and stood, turning around to face him as she pulled her blouse up over her head and came toward him.
“Not now,” he said, stepping out of the way.
“Really? I doubt that.”
She came toward him again, and Graeden put out his hands, backing up a few steps.
“I mean it, Iora.”
“Fuck, Grae, what in the hells has gotten into you?”
Graeden didn't answer, turning back to his packing.
“Fine, whatever,” Iora spat, yanking her shirt back on and heading for the door.
“Iora, wait.”
She stopped with her hand on the door handle and looked back at him with her eyebrows raised.
“I need to ask you a rude question.”
“Well, there's nothing new.”
Graeden rolled his eyes. “I need to know if you're still on your pills.”
Iora snorted a laugh. “Of course I am.”
“I'm serious, Iora. The last thing I need when I get back is any more drama, like finding out I'm going to be a father a–”
“Grae, please. We talked about this, remember? I want nothing to do with kids. I mean, come on. This body, all bloated and pregnant? Please.”
With that, she turned on her heel and threw open the door. Graeden waited until the door shut and locked itself, closing her out of his life, before he let out the breath he was holding.
“Done,” he muttered to himself. “Yes, we are most definitely done.”
* * *
WITH ONLY two days to prepare for his departure, Graeden hardly slept at all, running from one task to another. He notified all of his patients, turned over those currently in the hospital to one of his colleagues, set up automatic payments for his recurring expenses, temporarily canceled the cleaning service and food delivery, and made doubly sure his personal accounts and files were secure and couldn't be accessed in his absence. Praying that he hadn't forgotten anything, Graeden took up his luggage, locked his apartment, and joined Jase, Leni, and Quinn on a short walk over to Divinity Square.
The Square was crowded with spectators who had turned out to see the Tanasian Gate unchained, something that no currently-living person had ever seen. Graeden and his colleagues squeezed through the crowd and stood before the Gate while the heavy links were taken down and set aside, waiting to be put back up when the doctors returned.
“You all be careful over there,” Mr. Bokin said, shaking their hands in turn. “Gods be with you.”
Graeden found his family in the crowd and waved to them while the others did the same, then stood back while Jase went through first. Leni followed a moment later, then Quinn went through, and Graeden stepped up to the Gate, a suitcase in either hand, and hesitated.
He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the encouraging smiles on his parents' faces, and the worry in his grandfather's eyes. Graeden tried to smile back, then scanned the crowd one last time.
Several feet away, his eyes stopped on Mrs. Newar's face, and he offered her a smile when he noticed the video camera in her hand. Graeden took a deep breath, turned to face the Gate, and stepped through.
The sunny Square vanished, and he found himself in the midst of an enormous, chilly, echoing, marble chamber, his colleagues standing before him with their hands in the air.
Graeden looked up and found a gun pointed straight at his head.
Chapter 8
GRAEDEN DROPPED his luggage, swallowed hard, and glanced around, slowly putting his hands up while everyone waited silently. Several armed men spread out around him and his fellow doctors, blocking escape in any direction, including back through the Gate.
“Is that all of them, then?” a raspy voice asked.
Graeden looked up and saw seven old men in tattered red robes approach from behind the officers.
“Looks to be so, my lord,” one officer said over his shoulder.
“Very well,” one of the old men said. “Lower your weapons.”
The officers complied and stepped back, and Graeden dropped his arms to his sides with a sigh of relief.
“Search them,” another of the old men ordered.
Graeden held very still while the officers shouldered their weapons and patted them down from head to toe, then dug through their luggage, confiscating Leni's pistol and Jase's pocket knife. They scrutinized every item of clothing, handling them like poisonous objects.
“What in the gods' names is this?” one officer asked, flipping over Quinn's tablet several times and weighing it in his hand.
“It's a computer,” Quinn answered, and the officers and Elders all gave him puzzled looks. “A substitute for pen and paper.”
“Take it,” one of the Elders ordered.
“Hey, you can't–”
An officer raised his gun at Quinn, and everyone fell silent.
“Our people do not have such devices, so neither shall you while you're here,” one of the Elders said. “Take it away.”
When the Elders were satisfied, Graeden and the others righted the mess the officers had made of their clothes, and took up their luggage again.
“I am Chairman Elder Lacnoshi,” one of the old men said, looking at the doctors in turn. “What are your names?”
Jase stuck out his hand and said, “Jase Ker.”
“Jasker,” the Elder repeated and turned to the next.
“No, Jase Ker. Two words. First name Jase, last name Ker.”
The Elder turned back to Jase and narrowed his eyes. “We have no family names here, Doctor.”
Graeden saw Jase raise an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything. The others introduced themselves just by their first names, and no one else tried offering a handshake since the Elder had entirely ignored it with Jase.
“Very well,” the Elder said, and waved at a young man in a light grey uniform. “If you'll please follow Zevic here, he'll show you to your living quarters, and then take you to the hospital where you'll be working.”
The Elders strode away without another word, and the officers arranged themselves between the visitors and the Gate, standing at attention with their guns ready. Graeden made a mental note to offer his grandfather an enormous apology, then gathered up his things, joining his fellows as they followed Zevic across the chamber and out the front door.
Graeden blinked against the sunslight as they stepped outside, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Just a few minutes earlier, he'd been a free man standing in the middle of Divinity Square, and now he was thousands of miles away, for all he knew, feeling like nothing more than a slave under the watchful eye of his master.
He walked down the cracked and crumbling steps that fronted the capitol building and hurried to keep up with their guide, feeling unnerved by the idea that the Elders were watching them leave. Zevic led them down poorly paved streets and past squat, unadorned, matching structures, leaving Graeden feeling lost and confused by the very sameness of everything around him.
