The Twisted Gate

by Matt Glicksman

  On his way to the archdon's office, Millan passed many Nolka squires until he found Tyro. "Any word from Don Skully?"

  The squire frowned. "Sorry, Don Millan."

  The priest pressed on to the office of Archdon Feranis, the head priest in Nolka. As he traversed the halls, he couldn't help but notice how much larger the Nolka rectory was than the one in Nesinu. However, it was no match for the Sanctuary, the massive rectory in Light's Haven that even rivaled the royal castle. The wood floor beneath his feet gave out a hollow sound, and a creaking board greeted him every few steps. When the Nesinu priest finally reached the office of the head archdon, he gave a quick knock.

  "Yes?" An elderly man opened the door. "Ah, Don Millan, won't you come in?"

  "Thank you, Your Grace."

  Feranis was dressed in his rank's standard black robe and white scarf. In terms of age, he was about a decade younger than Skully, but even so, the years were much kinder to the Nolka archdon. For one, Feranis still had all his hair. He offered Millan a seat before taking his place behind the desk. "How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?"

  "Yes, I did, thank you. It was very kind of you to take us all in."

  "Please, please, it was the least I could do. Tell me. Do you have any idea why Don Skully ordered the evacuation?"

  Millan cast his eyes to the side. "No, I'm afraid not. He just said it would be safer for us all to leave. It was supposed to be a precaution. During the trip, though, one of the watchers told me a boy in the village spoke with him right before he called for the evacuation."

  "Yes, I was told the same. Do you happen to know what was said?"

  "No, Your Grace."

  Feranis placed his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers. "Well, don't worry about it. I'll speak to the boy myself."

  "I take it Don Skully didn't arrive in Nolka last night?"

  "Not that I'm aware of. That is to say, I haven't received any such notification from the watchers. I'll have to speak with them to be sure. They'll know who's come in and out of the city."

  Millan perked up. "If you don't mind, I can go speak with them right now."

  "Very well. You'll find their post near the city fountain. Do you know where that is?"

  "Yes, I believe so. I've been here once before. I think I remember the way."

  The archdon reclined in his chair. "Speak with Captain Lufira. You can tell her I sent you. Please let me know what you find out."

  "Of course. Thank you." Millan hopped up and bowed before exiting the archdon's office. The Nesinu priest retraced his steps and headed toward the entrance of the rectory.

  As he joined the citizens on the bustling street, he observed the sun's position in the sky. The day had started a few hours ago. Skully would have to be in Nolka by now unless something went wrong. Millan walked briskly as peddlers and pedestrians offered courteous bows to the priest. His title was clear by his robe and scarf. Normally, he would take his time and admire all the different people and shops, but he was on a mission.

  Millan did his best to remember the way to the city fountain, but it had been three years since he had been to Nolka. Soon, he was confronted by an unexpected split in the street. The young priest reviewed each path silently, too shy to ask for directions, before pressing forward blindly. Minutes later, he ended up down an abandoned alley where he finally admitted to being lost. Millan noticed a man in beggar's clothing seated on the ground. The young priest cautiously approached the lonely man from behind. He was about to crouch beside him when he heard the poor man whimpering. Millan reevaluated his decision and quietly took a step back, hoping the destitute man wouldn't detect him. But, guilt suddenly overcame him. As a Candelux priest, he had basic healing knowledge, and if the man was injured, Millan could help him.

  The young priest took a deep breath and closed the gap once again. "Excuse me. Are you hurt? Do you need some help?"

  The poor man whipped his head around. The beggar's face was deeply creased, and his droopy eyes accented his frown.

  "My name is Don Millan. Do you need help?"

  "Priests won't listen. They're blind."

  Millan was stunned by the response. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  The beggar covered his face with his hands. "I lost him. No one believes me. No one will help me."

  "Who did you lose? What's his name?"

  The poor man separated his fingers and dragged his dirty hands down until they rested under his chin. "My friend. My friend. He was in a big empty field. Hurt, I think. I went for help and…and…" The man's dark-brown eyes drifted to the side, and he froze like a statue.

  "And? What happened?"

  A tear rolled down his face. "I…I can't remember. I don't know where he is."

  "Where who is?"

  The beggar sniffled and wiped his cheek. His face tensed, and his lips moved as they tried to sound out the name.

  "Erynion!" he finally shouted.

  Millan twitched, startled by the sudden outburst.

  The beggar grinned and revealed what remained of his teeth, but the smile disappeared. "Erynion. And I'm sure he needs my help."

  "And your name?"

  "I had a name once. My parents gave it to me, but it's long been forgotten. People call me Dulo."

  Millan placed his hands on his hips. "Well, Dulo, I will help you find your friend. What do you think of that?"

  The beggar's eyes widened. "Honest?"

  "That's right. I'm headed to the watcher office to ask about a friend of mine, and I'll ask about yours as well. Would you be so kind as to point me toward the center of town?"

  The destitute man sprang to his feet. "Oh, thank you, thank you! I've never met a priest as kind as you. You must be new. No one ever pays me any attention. But, of course, I'll direct you. The fountain is my favorite place. I'm not allowed in it, but sometimes when the watchers aren't looking…" He scouted the area and stifled a giggle. "I jump in anyway."

  Upon receiving directions from the beggar, the Nesinu priest thanked him. As he resumed his journey, Millan thought about the poor man and found it odd that this civilian in need had not been helped. If his friend was truly in danger, then someone should be able to help locate him. Millan walked into the town square and marveled at the beauty of the fountain. It was still being built when he had visited a few years ago. He and Don Skully had passed through on the way to Light's Haven. The angel statue was made of gleaming white rock and spit gracefully into the pool below it.

  "Don!" someone hollered from near the fountain. A middle-aged man wearing a brown scarf was waving at him. Millan looked around, not sure if there was another priest nearby.

  "Don Millan," the squire said again as he jogged toward the Nesinu priest. "I'm Gheron. Archdon Feranis thought you might need some help, so he sent me to assist you."

  "Oh, how nice. It's a pleasure to meet you, Gheron."

  "And you as well. Were you able to speak with Captain Lufira?"

  Millan scratched the back of his head. "Uh, no, I'm afraid I got a little lost and ended up on some backstreet."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. If you'd like to follow me, it's right this way."

  "Thank you."

  As the pair crossed the square, Millan decided to delve into the issue of the beggar. "Gheron, may I ask you something? Have you heard of a man by the name of Dulo?"

  "I have. He's a beggar. Everyone knows about him. Why do you ask?"

  "I ran into him on my…detour. How about a man by the name of Erynion?"

  "I don't believe so. Another beggar?"

  "I don't know. Dulo claimed his friend, Erynion, was in trouble but couldn't seem to remember where he was. He also said no one would believe him."

  The squire snickered. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but Dulo is special. A bit of a Dardan fool, and I don't mean that in a cruel way. I'm just speaking the truth. A few horses short of a full stable, if you catch my meaning. He's been in Nolka for some time now. Fifteen years maybe? I remember
I was just a teenager when he showed up. He's always been known for fabricating people, events, places. Folks around here have learned to just ignore his claims. But, the watchers keep an eye on him and the other disturbances around the city. Maybe they'll be able to tell you more."

  ✽✽✽

  A little girl screamed, "Help me, please!"

  He jolted awake. The brilliant rays of sunlight beat down on the clearing where he lay alone and forced him to shield his eye with his hand. Images from the night before flashed through his mind mixed with the strange dreams of his slumber. As he tried to piece the fragments together, his thought process was broken by the sight of his hand, covered in blood. It wasn't the blood that shocked him, but rather the fact that it wasn't a claw anymore. He sat up, held his two hands beside each other, and wiggled his fingers. They were identical. They were human.

  He carefully touched his face. There was a cloth wrapped around his head. His fingers traced the scars that ran down his right cheek. He undid the buttons of his shirt and cautiously exposed his chest to the daylight. The wounds had healed, but the scarring was unsightly. He suddenly remembered the little light needles sticking out of his chest, but the memory only lasted a moment.

  Differentiating between what had happened the previous night and what he had dreamt was no simple task as both events were hazy at best. The village, the old man, and the little girl blended together. He remembered his hand around the old man's throat. Perhaps that was why the girl was screaming. Or maybe she met a similar fate. The thought sickened him as he looked at his stained fingers. Out of all of it, though, he clearly recalled the suffering he had endured. But, now there wasn't even the faintest tingle. Sensing he had a companion from the previous night, he searched the immediate area, but there was no one. He sat in the middle of a large expanse. The earth was blackened and lifeless, except for a small circle of dirt with patches of grass beneath him.

  None of it made sense. He got up and looked around, hoping to find something he recognized, but it was all empty. The village was gone. He felt alone. His friend had apparently abandoned him. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but he wasn't able to conjure up a name or even a face. However, there was a voice.

  You should know the Brotherhood can help you fulfill your purpose.

  The words revealed a blurred outline of his companion in his mind. And though the speaker was clearly different, his words mimicked the unexplained whispers to kill the king and seek out the Brotherhood.

  What a mighty presence he must have…the Devil.

  The one-sided conversation was coming back in pieces. Opening his left eye, he observed his surroundings again.

  I also got you this, for your eye. It's this way…south.

  South. He squatted and touched the black ground. The soot clung to his fingertips, and he rubbed them together to remove the dirt. He used the sun to determine his bearing and headed south. As he trudged across the black desert, the warmth radiated from the earth. At the edge of the charred soil, he found it particularly odd how the trees beyond the black field were so lush and green. They were untouched and stood in stark contrast to the empty wasteland he was about to leave behind. He discovered a road that divided the forest. It appeared to head in the direction he needed to go, and so he followed it.

  Chapter 5

  Reunited

  Gheron and Millan exited the watcher headquarters. In the short time they had spent inside, the city had grown busier.

  "So, Don Millan, would you like me to accompany you to see Watcher Hyron?"

  "No, thank you, Gheron. I can take it from here."

  "As you wish, Don. I hope you find your friend."

  "Thank you. So do I."

  The two parted ways, Gheron toward the rectory and Millan in the opposite direction. The Nesinu priest had been given detailed directions to the home of the lead watcher of the night shift. Typically, this was information not available to the public, but a member of Candelux could hardly be regarded as an average citizen. Since the appearance of demons centuries ago, the priests rapidly grew to be the most influential guild in the kingdom. And because of that, the leader of Candelux has always been the top advisor to the royals. Some citizens believed the priest guild was more powerful than the monarchy and used its position for its own benefit, but most dismissed these notions as conspiracy theories. Millan joined Candelux to make the kingdom safer and to help others, and so he fell within the thinking of the majority.

  Millan quickened his pace as fast as his flowing brown robes would allow. The people who passed closest offered him a courteous nod. Outside the home, he surveyed the exterior briefly to ensure it matched the description he had been given. As he rapped his knuckles on the door, Millan heard frantic movement inside. The locks slid out of place, and the entrance opened just a crack.

  A young woman peered out. "Yes?"

  "I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if Watcher Hyron lives here."

  The woman scrutinized his clothing. "Well, you look like a priest, but I don't recognize you."

  "Of course, how impolite of me. My name is Don Millan. I'm from Nesinu. We evacuated the town last night, and a friend of mine, a fellow priest, Don Skully, stayed behind, planning to rejoin us later. I was wondering if Watcher Hyron knew if he came through late last night."

  "Of course. I apologize, Don Millan. Come in." The woman opened the door. "Perhaps you don't have such problems in your small town, but in the city, some will use the brown robe for deception. And with Hyron asleep, I must be cautious who I allow in. My name is Fiela."

  "I understand. So Hyron lives here?"

  "Yes, he's my husband." Fiela led him into the living area. "But as I mentioned, he's asleep. You see, he doesn't get home until very early in the morning, just as the sun comes up. Can I offer you anything to eat? To drink?"

  "No, thank you. That's very kind. It's quite urgent that I speak with your husband, though, if it's not too much of an inconvenience."

  Fiela bit her lip. "Of course, I'll be right back."

  As she left the living area, Millan took a seat. He felt a little guilty for using his influence as a priest to get the result he was seeking. She was only gone for a few moments before she returned.

  "He'll be out shortly." Her smile appeared forced as she took her place across from the priest.

  In the ensuing silence, Millan placed his hands on his thighs. Moving each finger like the leg of a spider, his hands crept to his knees.

  "May I ask you something, Don?"

  "Why not?"

  "Why was Nesinu evacuated?"

  "That was the order of our head don, Don Skully. It was just a precaution."

  "A precaution for what, though?" Fiela asked

  "Well, we don't really know yet. We're still trying to figure that out. That's one of the reasons why I came here to speak with your husband."

  "Oh?"

  "You see, Don Skully stayed behind while the rest of the village evacuated. I just need to know if he made it to Nolka or not."

  "What's all this then?" came a raspy voice. The man was similar in height to Millan, but his build was more muscular. His jet-black hair was tousled from his brief sleep.

  Millan rose to his feet and cordially extended his hand. "You must be Watcher Hyron. My name is—"

  "Yeah, I know who the fangle you are." The man ignored the gesture and sat next to his wife. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms before running a hand through his hair.

  Millan quietly cleared his throat and retook his seat. "I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me."

  "When a priest from the glorious Candelux graces your home with his presence, you don't really have a choice, do you?"

  "Hyron!" Fiela scolded in a sharp whisper.

  The watcher rolled his eyes.

  "I'm very sorry for waking you," said Millan.

  "Mm-hmm. Let's get on with it then. What can I do for you?"

  "I'm looking for a friend of mine, another priest. H
e was supposed to follow us to Nolka. I was wondering if you saw him enter the city last night. He's an elderly man, bald, gray beard, brown robe, black—"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know what you fangling look like. And no, no priest came through the gates all night after you all arrived."

  Millan's heart sank. Something must have gone wrong. He'd have to return to the rectory and report his findings to Feranis.

  "Was that it?" Hyron asked. "May I go back to sleep now?"

  Millan sadly nodded. As the watcher got up to leave, the young priest remembered Dulo. "Wait! There is one more thing."

  Hyron motioned for Millan to continue.

  "Do you know a man called Dulo?"

  "Yeah, sure, the beggar. He's a lunatic."

  "Did you see him at all last night?"

  The watcher folded his arms across his chest. "Sure, so what? He comes and goes all the time. Sometimes he's gone for days. And he always comes back ranting about some friend that he's lost."

  "Erynion?"

  "Yeah, I think that was the name this morning. But I have to warn you, Don. The name's different every time. He goes out and meets travelers, hunters, salespeople. And then when his 'friends' part ways from him, he has a fangling fit and comes back saying he's lost them. People around here just stopped listening to him."

  "And he always goes out alone?"

  "Always goes out alone. Always comes back alone. You know, we have a running joke that he meets up with demons, but he's such a Dardan fool that they don't bother killing him." Hyron chuckled. "Some people think he's possessed."

  "I see." Millan pitied the poor man.

  "Look, Don, don't worry about him. He's harmless. If he gets too bothersome, sometimes we'll lock him up for a bit until he's calmed down."

  "I see," the young priest repeated. "Well, thank you for your time. I'm sorry that I woke you for nothing."

  Hyron's voice softened. "Don't worry about it. Look, I hope you find your priest friend."

  "Thank you. Sleep well."