World Gate: A Kethem Novel

by Dave Dickie

  The elf was indeed in a dire state. His ragged, shallow breaths matched the sickly yellow sheen of sweat and blood now streaming across his face from the wound in his head. “Hantlin,” Daesal said quietly, “you know the healing arts?” Hantlin wasn’t dressed as a priest of any particular order she was aware of, but he had the look, that vague spirituality they all had when they were communing with their god.

  Hantlin’s face was grave over the light in his palm. “I do, Daesal.”

  “Then tend to him. Do what you can. Let us know if we can help.” Hantlin nodded once and settled next to the elf, though all could see that his task might well be hopeless.

  Daesal turned back to the group as it moved away from the elf, giving Hantlin space to work. They looked at one another, again uncertain.

  “Well,” came a voice from their midst, “that was fun!” The speaker was Grimalkin, the little thief, who alone among them seemed almost happy to be in a collapsed, dark cave. There was dead silence for a moment, then Gyeong started to laugh, followed by Stegar, shaking his head, and then the Ibisi Nhi Nyjha, who for some reason doubled over and laughed harder than them all. Even Daesal, despite her surprise over the use of humor at such a moment, could not keep a straight face and a small, close-lipped smile came unbidden to her face.

  “I am glad you think our situation so humorous, little thief.” To her bemusement, this comment only egged the others on to greater guffaws.

  “Come now, Daesal,” Stegar looked at her from worn yet kindly smiling eyes, “surely the relief of simply being alive after twenty minutes filled with dire wolves, shadow beasts, a dragon and a cave-in must make you happy.”

  “Happy?” Daesal’s face scrunched thoughtfully. Happy was a warm fire, a good book and a steaming mug of brewed Kethem sanash. ”Not happy per se. Pleased.”

  “Pleased?!” Nhi Nyjha howled, “you say PLEASED, lady? Grimalkin,” he suddenly struck the thief on the back, “I am pleased to be alive, yes?”

  “I am pleased too, Nyjha!” Grimalkin turned to the Stangri warrior. “Hey Gyeong!” Grimalkin slapped Gyeong on the back, having to reach up as he did it to reach the Stangri’s high shoulder. “You pleased to be alive?”

  At another time Gyeong would have broken Grimalkin’s arm for the affront of being touching unasked, but he picked up the game and smiled broadly. “Well pleased,” he intoned, his voice echoing off the cave walls. “Stegar,” he boomed, “you too are pleased?” Gyeong gave Stegar such a jovial hard whack on his shoulder that Stegar went flying forward into a laughing, collapsed heap at Daesal’s feet.

  Stegar looked up at her, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “You see what you started?”

  Daesal did not see at all, but prudently did not put voice to her confusion lest she cause more strange behavior in this odd group. She shook her head slightly, glad nonetheless that the tension was broken whatever the reason, laughter healing nerves frayed from their fight and flight. “I am pleased,” was all she said, her smile widening slightly.

  After that, the group rested amiably and talked as they waited for word on Beldaer's condition, the hushed tones of Hantlin’s incantations occasionally drifting over to them. It wasn’t long, though, before Daesal roused them. “While we wait,” she said, “we should discuss where to go.”

  “Go?” Nyjha said absently, looking up from the patterns he had been drawing in the sand. He scuffed them away with the heel of his palm. “We are stuck in a cave. Where is there to go?”

  “Many places,” Daesal said briskly as she stood up and turned to face the lake, pointing as she went. “I do not see any other exits, but this cavern is large and there is much to explore. We’re at the tip of a long lake. Over there,” she pointed straight to her left, “is a cliff, and beyond what looks like another cave, as large as this one. I do not know what is down there but from the part I can see, it looks empty. That way,” she pointed diagonally to her left, ”is a river, several hundred feet long, with clear water running along it, unlike this murky lake. In fact,” she peered carefully, “there’s perhaps an old path leading to the river water’s edge a ways down, and wooden beams – what are they called, pylons? – rising up from the water. We could probably cross the river there, and beyond I see a faint bluish light. I cannot tell what that is, but it does not look natural.”

  Dead silence reigned at her words. Even Hantlin had stopped what he was doing and was looking at her, open-mouthed.

  “And what’s on the right side of the lake?” Grimalkin asked carefully, his eyes alight with interest.

  Daesal sighed. She had hoped no one would ask. That side of the lake distracted her, gnawed at her, felt different to her somehow and she wasn’t sure she wanted to go there at all, ever, while at the same time she desperately wanted to, now. “Over there,” she said carefully, down the lake edge to her right “is … something dangling, broken, burnt from the cave roof where it is lowest. It looks like smoldering branches, or twigs, which make little sense because I see no such things growing in here nor anything that would set them alight.” She stopped, recollecting herself, and looked at the group.

  A pebble rolled into the water with a small plip, dislodged by Hantlin as he shifted to peer at her more even intently. In fact, they all were looking at her like she herself had sprouted dragon wings.

  “So,” Grimalkin said. “You can see in the dark, can you?”

  Chapter Nine

  Hantlin was hovering over the limp form of the elf. He was wearing Padan’s hat and had his staff, both recovered from the rubble around what had been the entrance to the cave. Grim had looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Hantlin had shrugged. “We did not bring much with us into the cave. We should conserve what we can.”

  “I suppose we could always use it for firewood,” said Grim. Hantlin was not so sure. He’d seen Padan with a long handled hammer during the fight with the wolves, one that was conspicuously absent afterwards. And priests of every religious order had their little secrets.

  Nhi Nyjha said, “While the healer deals with the elf, we should search this place. We need a way out. Maybe the pylons lead to an exit. Or the other cave may have a path out.”

  “Yes,” Stegar interjected. “We shouldn’t delay any longer. But first, we should make sure we’re alone in here. Grim, can you scout out that area Daesal saw to the right with the smoldering stuff?”

  Grim instinctively tensed at being ordered to do something, and he turned to the large Kethem and locked eyes with him. Grim was just about to say something smart back to him, when he realized he had not been ordered, but simply asked in a voice to which command came naturally. “Aye,” he said, “I can.” The light from Hantlin’s spell would be dim at that distance, but Grim’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dark. It would be enough.

  Grim pulled his cloak over his shoulders and the hood over his head. Moments later, he was in the shadows along the rock wall heading toward the area that Daesal had seen. She was clearly a Holder, a highborn Holder. Was probably a Silver Ring. Even during this march, it was hard to miss silk instead of cotton, boots that looked custom and very comfortable. Perhaps this dark-vision was a spell or religious artifact bought with her family’s wealth? But for what? They could not have been expecting her to end up in a dark cave, whereas he could use such an ability as part of his everyday line of work.

  While he was careful to make as little sound as possible, it became clear that he didn’t need to worry; the area was clear… though perhaps only recently. The webbing could not have been smouldering for long, and someone must have set it alight in the first place. Once he convinced himself there weren’t traps to worry about, he returned to the others.

  “It’s clear,” he reported to Stegar. Just as he felt good about his scouting, he caught Daesal looking at him. She tried to look away quickly, but not before he recognized the expression on her face: I could have told you that from here. Just then, he realized he envied her skill.

  The others came forward to check
out the scene as well, though Daesal hung back. The ground was covered with the dust and debris throughout the cave, but there were cleared spots, as if something had been placed and then quickly removed. Grim glanced at Nhi Nyjha, but the Ibisi just shrugged. “There are marks here,” Grim called out. “Looks like something heavy might have been resting here, but I could not tell you what it was or why it was moved.”

  The debris Daesal had seen was a form of webbing, black, made from cotton strands, with leaves, twigs and other things mixed in to make it blend into the background where it hadn’t burned through in a few places. It was hard to see until they were almost on top of it. Yet it was clear that the burns were relatively recent because there was still a few embers and the scent of burning cotton in the air. There was also a division in the netting, almost like you would see in an actor’s curtain to allow someone to pass through.

  Tentatively, Nhi Nyjha passed through the curtain, scanning the ground carefully while Grim watched. Finally, Nhi Nyjha said, “Prints here, not human. Not animal. Nothing I have seen in these lands. Hooves.”

  Grim looked confused. “Hooves? A goat perhaps?”

  Nhi Nyjha shook his head no. “It walks on two legs. Where it was not on rock or sand, things are burnt. I can still feel heat coming from the places where it stood. Boss, can you see what is up ahead?”

  “Daesal. Call me Daesal.” Daesal approached the debris-strewn area, and despite her initial reluctance now walked sturdily forward. But as she reached the edge of the clearing, she cried out, jumping back and bringing her hands up to her face. Grim couldn’t judge whether it was surprise or terror expressed by the usually reserved woman. Her hands touched various parts of her face as if checking for wounds, and Grim could have sworn that he saw flecks of skin along her cheekbones sizzling away to reveal shiny black patches underneath. Then it was just Daesal, looking overwrought but otherwise normal. Grim blinked and wondered if he had just imagined it. Then he saw Stegar staring at Daesal. The two men glanced at each other. Grim just shrugged. He had no idea what he had just seen. Stegar came to her side. “Are you okay?”

  “Don’t touch me. I’m okay. It’s…” she paused a bit as if struggling for an explanation. “It is a powerful allergy that I have, but it will pass. Please don’t worry. I will be fine.”

  “Shall we have Hantlin look at you?”

  “No, no. He should save his strength for true emergencies. Thank you, though. I am coming, Nyjha,” Daesal called out, and moved on.

  Grim watch Daesal passed through the netting and join Nyjha. Grim and Stegar exchanged glances again, then followed with Gyeong directly behind them. Daesal studied what to Grim’s eyes was nothing but darkness. She said, “The river flows from underground. I can see that there is no passage this way to the right. We’ll have to go the other way.”

  Stegar strained but could not make out anything that wasn’t within the glow of Hantlin’s light spell. “Does the river feed the lake?”

  “Not directly,” said Daesal. “And the lake is murky, the river is clear. If they are connected, it is underground and indirect.”

  Gyeong walked to the edge of the large pool of stagnant water. Leaning over, he tried to see any sign of a bottom. Daesal called, “Do be careful, Gyeong,”

  "Do you read minds, magic user?" Gyeong responded. Gyeong stayed a moment longer, then picking up a sizable rock that rested near his feet, tossed it far into the water. The resulting splash rang across the cavern as the ripples slid across the surface in calm waves. "I doubt very much that you knew what I planned to do." He laughed for only a moment before his eyes narrowed. The water had a second movement to it, one that did not match the ripples of the stone. As if something had just broken the surface and then sunk itself back into the depths, something large.

  Gyeong leapt back. "There is something in there!" He warned the others.

  “I worry about crossing the river,” said Nyjha with a frown. “I do not swim, and I do not know what creatures may live in this cave. If there is something in the lake, there might be some in the running water as well.”

  Grim looked at his companions and said, “I say we grab some of that netting stuff, make safety lines, and go down the cliff to the lower cave.” Stegar remained silent, apparently willing to lead in battle but nothing else. Gyeong was watching the underground lake with dark intensity, hand on his sword. Nyjha stood a little apart from the rest of them, passive, waiting for orders. Slowly, all eyes turned to Daesal.

  She finally nodded. “Down the cliffs it is. Let us be about it,” she said.

  Chapter Ten

  Allergy? A powerful allergy? THAT was the best she could come up with? But habit, ingrained through years of making glib excuses for freakish things, had kicked in and the first deflection that came to her fool mouth rolled off her tongue before she had a chance to think. And she had already made one mistake when she described the cavern to the group, completely forgetting in the brief moment of unexpected camaraderie that they did not have her darkseeing ability. One of the most basic things she had long ago learned to hide, and she instantly forgot simply because these almost-strangers had included her in their laughing game. “By Hasamelis, Daesal,” she admonished herself, ”you’ll deserve the ward signs and shunning if you can’t be more clever than that.”

  She led the group back around the lake to the cliff, walking past the netting and waiting while the Ibisi and Grim cut away portions of the barrier to turn into makeshift rappelling gear. She had no idea what or who had made it or why it had felt like her skin was burning off when she first entered the area. Nyjha told her about the prints he had found. Bipedal and hooved did not match any of the humanoid species around the Lanotalis sea, and there were no others with the intelligence to build the blind. She suddenly wanted to go back to see the tracks, wanted to run screaming over the cliff ahead of them, wanted to fold herself into the warm cocoon and --

  “Stop! Stop it!” she sternly thought. They stopped for a few minutes to check on Hantlin, but he was completely focused on the elf. To Daesal’s eye, the elf looked no better or worse, but he was still breathing, and where there was life there was hope.

  They continued along the rocky floor. This close, she was sure there was a cleared path, a place where the rubble had been moved aside, but it was covered in dust that had not been disturbed in a long time. Centuries, perhaps. When the reached the cliff leading down to the second cave, she silently stepped back from the group as they peered over the cliff edge. They turned to her.

  “There’s nothing moving down there,” she said. Grim and Nyjha nodded, and Stegar and Gyeong took up belaying positions. She watch Grimalkin and the Nyjha in their descent to the bottom, then receded into the shadows to think and collect herself. She forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly, raising still-unsteady fingers to her cheeks. Small, smooth patches whorled over and around her cheekbones in fluid arcs she could feel, even if they no longer were black patches visible to the others. She shuddered as she recalled the shock and searing pain, the dark world around her suddenly flamed into brilliantly hued contrast and the humans surrounding her glowing in swathes of hot color. The nimbus had quickly faded along with the black spots but she felt that these marks, whatever they were, would be back. At least the others seemed to have accepted her improbable explanation – allergies! -- at face value, clearly much more worried about finding a way out of the cave than figuring out why Daesal had suddenly sprouted a wealth of shiny black splotches on her face.

  She breathed deeply in and out, in and out, and let words of calming flow through her. “Do what you can, let be what you cannot do,” she silently repeated. After several minutes, steady now, she quietly rejoined Stegar and Gyeong as they called questions to Nyjha and Grimalkin below.

  “Looks like a battle happened here. Nothing but skeletons left!” called up Grim, “Humans and trolls. It’s a little hard to see without a light spell down here,” which made sense. Hantlin’s light spell from the top of the cliff
would be less than candle light down there. Daesal nodded to herself. A battle here between humans and trolls also made sense. Historical records had deteriorated rapidly after the fall, but from what she remembered, this had been no-man's land when the humans of Tawhiem and trolls had been at war five centuries ago. The mountain passes had been called the Paths of Blood because of the number of humans and trolls that had died in countless small battles, skirmishes that had given neither side a compelling advantage.

  “Belay me,” said Daesal to Stegar, “I’m going down.”

  Stegar frowned. “We have only two ropes. If something happens, we can’t pull all three of you up at the same time.”

  Daesal shook her head. “There’s nothing moving down there. Whatever happened, it happened a long time ago.” Stegar didn’t look convinced, but finally he nodded and called to the two below, “Daesal is coming down.” Stegar pulled up one of the ropes. He secured it around her waist carefully and, wrapping it around a boulder so he could let out small amounts of rope at a time, nodded to indicate she should go over the edge.

  Daesal frowned. There was a metal ring on a short post sticking out of the ground near the edge of the cliff. She pointed to it. “Would that not be more appropriate for belaying?”

  Stegar said “I’m not sure how it is attached. I don’t trust it.”

  Daesal walked over. The metal of the ring and post were corroded from age, but looked sound. She examined the post. There was no gap, no seam where it met the rock, as if the post and rock had just merged together. And perhaps it had. There were spells that did that kind of thing back in Kethem. She tugged at it. It seemed solid enough. She glanced at Stegar.

  “Sticking with the boulder,” he said.

  She gave him a small smile. “As you wish.”

  The trip down was only a minute or two, the cliff no more that forty feet tall. On the way down, she passed a human-sized rib cage pinned to the wall with two large shafts through it, too large to be arrows, too small to be arbalest bolts. Then she was standing with the little thief and the Ibisi. Small droplets of water rained down on her, moisture condensing from the mist that spread from the base of the nearby waterfall.