The Twisted Gate

by Matt Glicksman

  Mashira cupped her hands around her mouth. "Holy prism! Let's get it up!"

  As she took her place near the middle of the group, the Prima heard her orders being passed down the line. She lifted her arms with her palms facing north. A wall of light gleamed as the distant tremors began.

  "Do you really think this can stop his purge?" Sundancer whispered.

  "It should. The farther away we are, the weaker it'll be."

  There was a collective gasp from the fighters as the demon lord's purge materialized in the distance. Spikes shot up from the ground near the rectory and rose higher than the city walls. They burst through in random directions, chaotically colliding with one another. They were like incredibly long needles crisscrossing to form a dense mesh of mangled metal. The spikes drew closer as the spell radiated out from its source.

  The battlefield was strewn with the bodies of priests, paladins, and watchers who had fallen during the fight. Sadness struck the Prima as she realized the purge would wipe out the dead bodies, not allowing the friends and families of the fallen to properly mourn their losses. And with no remains, anyone missing after tonight would be considered lost in combat.

  "Look! There's someone out there!"

  "It's Archdon Westan. He's not going to make it."

  The answer was depressing, but true. The purge was nearing the plaza and swiftly gaining on the priest.

  Mashira dropped her hands. "No. No, we're not losing anyone else tonight."

  "Your Luminescence, no," Sundancer said. "I can't—"

  The Prima wasn't sticking around to hear the rest. She crossed the holy barrier and raced toward the doomed archdon. The margin for error was razor thin, but she believed she could reach him. The purge entered the square, and the rising needles moved at an incredible pace toward the opposite side. As she closed the gap to Archdon Westan, Mashira concentrated on the blessing she needed to cast. The events of the night had taxed her energy, and any misstep now would cost her her life. The purge was nearly upon them as they met near the twisted gate.

  "Westan, bubble, now!" Mashira shouted.

  Both priests extended their arms to the sides and created a hemisphere of holy light. The energy poured freely from her body. This was not the time to ration her power. As the spikes assaulted their tiny haven, Razza Merona and Sundancer slipped into the bubble. Advisor Razza joined in supporting the spell, while the bloodseeker was poised to attack any intrusion.

  The ground trembled as the purge passed around them. The Prima adjusted her footing to keep her balance. The dome vibrated and loud thuds reverberated within as the needles sought to break through. A couple of stray spikes succeeded as the purge weakened the barrier. One narrowly missed Sundancer, while another caught Razza Merona in the side. The advisor pressed her hands over the wound as she dropped to the ground. The blood trickled over Razza's fingers, and Mashira resisted the urge to help. The holy spell had to remain intact until the quaking ended.

  The tremors lessened and finally ceased. Mashira scurried over to heal her advisor. Westan joined her side, and the holy bubble dissipated.

  "I'm all right." Razza insisted. "It's just a scratch."

  "Nonsense," the Prima shot back. "Stay still."

  "Yes, this is more than a scratch," Westan said. "This will help with the pain, but you'll need to get proper healing once we're out of here."

  Sundancer said something, but Mashira wasn't listening. As she finished the healing spell, the Prima stood and faced the bloodseeker. "What?"

  "Well, we're trapped. What do we do now? Wait?"

  Mashira inspected the metal spikes. "No. No, we can't wait. The second part will start any moment."

  "The second part?"

  "Yeah," Westan answered. "We might be fangled."

  "Not helping," the Prima muttered, despite the truth behind Westan's comment.

  "What second part?" the bloodseeker repeated.

  The sound of thunder rolled in the distance, and Mashira recalled the purge during the Assault on Light's Haven. From the safety of the city walls, she had watched as a dense jungle of metal surrounded the demon lord. There was little hope for anything caught within it. But it was what followed that was truly devastating. A cleansing fire, which must have burned hotter than the sun, had devoured everything in its path.

  Mashira wrung her hands together. "Think. Think. We need to get out now. The flame travels faster than the spikes."

  "The flame?" Sundancer twirled her weapon in her hand. "I guess this is pretty useless then."

  "That's it!" The Prima needed something holy and sharp to cut through the metal jungle. A blessing by itself would require too much energy, but using a blade as a conduit for her spell might be the perfect solution.

  "Quickly, give me your sickle!" Mashira snatched the weapon before the bloodseeker had a chance to respond. "Westan, whatever you have left, give it to me!"

  The archdon held his hands over Mashira as she focused her energy into Sundancer's blade. The wave of fire grew louder. As soon as the sickle glimmered a soft yellow, Mashira swung the blade ferociously at the mesh of needles. A wave of light sliced through the spikes with each swing of the blade. When she finished, several severed pieces of metal fell to the ground and revealed a narrow escape tunnel.

  The Prima returned the sickle to the bloodseeker and placed Razza Merona's arm over her shoulder. "Let's go!"

  Sundancer led the way down the thin corridor and cut down any stray pieces that interfered with their escape. Mashira held on to Razza to be sure she kept up, while Westan brought up the rear. Past her bodyguard, the Prima noticed the priests at the end of the tunnel.

  "Run! Come on! You can do it! Hurry!"

  The rumble of the cleansing flame bore down on them and drowned out the words of encouragement. Mashira mustered whatever strength she had left as she dragged Razza along. The fatigue was overwhelming and her body was past its limit, but Mashira pressed on. This was life or death.

  Sundancer exited the tunnel and stepped to the side. Mashira and Razza were nearly out when a powerful shove from behind sent them tumbling out of the metal jungle. The Prima collapsed on the ground. The fatigue overcame her, and she made no attempt to open her eyes. This moment of rest was well earned. They had made it to safety.

  But, the moment was short-lived. Her eyes shot open as people yelled, "Put him out! Put him out!"

  Mashira lifted herself to her knees. Archdon Westan was motionless and facedown in the dirt. His robe was ablaze, and several priests patted his back to extinguish the fire. Archdon Vikard rushed in with glowing hands.

  Razza Merona groaned as she sat beside the Prima. Her bloodied hand covered her partially healed wound.

  A priest scurried toward them. "Your Luminescence, I can heal her."

  "It's nothing, really," Razza insisted.

  "Go with him," Mashira demanded.

  The advisor complied, and the priest healer helped her up. Mashira observed the final moments of the demon lord's spell. The wall of fire, which incinerated half of the city, receded from the barrier of light. Thank the angels they had evacuated the area for the cleansing ritual. The flames danced about, climbing over one another before evaporating into thin air. The prism blessing that spanned the plaza faded away. And when the last embers were snuffed out, there was nothing left but scorched earth and the terrifying memory of it all.

  In the darkness, sporadic camps of fire illuminated small areas, but they quickly died out, leaving only smoke. Mashira thought back to earlier when they had found the demon lord on the shores of Lake Ivorus. If only she had killed him then and there, this might have all been avoided. But now, where the majestic tree once stood, there was only emptiness. If one good thing had come from the purge, it was that the twisted gate had been destroyed as well.

  "Your Luminescence." Advisor Deidok interrupted her internal lament. "Should we pursue the demon lord?"

  After the Assault on Light's Haven sixteen years ago, when the iymed had all retreated,
the scouts reported finding the body of the unconscious demon lord. With Ayristark by her side, Mashira had journeyed across the barren field to the small circle of grass where the beast slept. She had already cleansed the Zaidon earlier in the day, and the demon lord would be next. Back then, there were no demons left to contend with, and certainly no giant wolves. This time was different. Survival was their priority. The pitch-black of the night seemed to offer her no hope when some movement caught her eye. The spring was pushing water back to the Surface.

  "No," she finally answered. "Our job right now is to protect the rest of the city and heal the wounded."

  "Perhaps a word to the fighters," Deidok suggested. "Let them know it's over."

  With Sundancer's help, Mashira created a makeshift platform. She climbed up and cleared her throat. "May I have your attention, please."

  One by one, the fighters faced her. In the light of the street lanterns, she saw the blood, dirt, and fatigue on their faces. For most of them, this was their first real battle, and the trauma of its memory would stay with them forever. They looked to her for guidance, for inspiration.

  "You should all be very proud of yourselves," the Prima said. "I know when you look across that field of darkness, you find half of Royal Oak torn and burned from the Surface. When you look out there, no longer can you see the mighty tree that symbolized the foundation for our kingdom. But I tell you this now. If you're looking out there to determine who has won tonight, you will not find the answer. No, my friends, look to yourselves. Look at the tens of thousands of people you've saved, citizens kept safe from any harm. Tonight, we faced the power of a demon lord. We saw the myth of the Denhauli come to life. We endured the full force of the iymed army. Look to yourselves with pride for we fought them back and survived!

  "A city can be rebuilt. A tree can be replanted. What matters in this moment, and what will always matter, is life. We have taken an oath to protect the innocent. We have sworn to defend our fellow humans from the evil that infects our lands. And tonight, we have upheld that promise!

  "And while we've returned many demons to the traitorous Verago, some are still lurking in the shadows. The battle is over for now as they retreat to tend to their wounds, but our duties are not complete. We must stay strong and keep everyone safe through the remainder of the night. We'll start by creating a barrier across the open end of the city. Find anything you can. We need to build some semblance of a wall to keep those fiends out!"

  Sundancer helped Mashira down from her stage, and before long, vendor carts, crates, barrels, and random pieces of wood and stone were set along the exposed edge of the city. Exhausted, the Prima searched for a place to rest and noticed Archdon Scarit sitting alone. "How are you feeling?"

  Scarit sniffled as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Fine, Your Luminescence."

  Mashira plopped down beside him. "Is something the matter?"

  The head archdon covered his face. "She's gone, isn't she? Omana?"

  "It seems so. Omana and Millan were the last two out there when the purge went off. If they don't turn up by morning, we have to assume they were killed in the attack."

  "She was my right hand, indulging the wishes of a stubborn and selfish old man. I trusted her judgment on everything. She made all the decisions. She was the real head archdon. I need her to run this city. I can't do it alone."

  Mashira consoled Scarit as he whimpered uncontrollably. There were arduous times ahead for Royal Oak, but she remained optimistic.

  ✽✽✽

  Sprawled out on the ground, Erynion was delirious and exhausted. He couldn't move, even if he wanted to. His body begged for sleep, but his mind clung to the last bits of energy to stay awake. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. This was the reason he wanted to be killed. Despite his use of dark energy, he couldn't escape his inevitable fate. Erynion had succumbed to the agony. Learning his identity hadn't helped in this regard, but rather, seemed to make it worse.

  The silver lining was at least he knew who he was: Prince Altheus, royalty, the onetime future king. Married to the most beautiful woman, he had a young daughter whom he had named after his late sister. And lastly, he had a younger brother for whom he had cared for deeply, that is, until recent events. But all that was different now. Now, he was Erynion, the demon lord.

  Erynion breathed heavily as he gazed into the starry night sky. He recalled only bits and pieces from the purge. The agony had lasted longer than usual. Maybe it was because he'd learned his identity, or maybe it was because of the archdon who had tried to break through his dome. The demon lord clenched his jaw as his mind conjured up the face of Archdon Omana. The same priest who restrained him earlier, and then cut off two of his fingers during the battle. Once the purge started, though, the agony rapidly receded. First came the metal spikes, then the raging fire. The corner of his mouth pushed up into a crooked smile. The purge must've swallowed Omana up.

  Erynion noticed a large shadowy blur backlit with a red glow approaching him. The demon lord closed his eyes to blink, but they stayed shut until he heard someone speak.

  He's out. Let's get him moved. The voice was gruff and definitely male. But two things struck the demon lord as odd. The first was that the words weren't demon speak. Whoever this was sounded human. But even more disturbing is that he didn't hear the voice with his ears. It was in his head.

  Erynion's eyes shot open to find the black wolf looming over him.

  What's this? A priest? This one's tone was gentle and pleasant. But like her companion, her words were not demonic, and her voice was not heard by ear.

  Best to kill him and be done with it, the gruff voice said.

  Erynion's head rolled to the side, and in the glow of the red wolf's fur, he spotted a brown robe covered in chains. The young priest had a fresh scar—three claw marks—on his right cheek that reminded the demon lord of his own self-inflicted wound. With a final effort before the sleep took him, Erynion managed to murmur, "No, I need him alive."

  Chapter 32

  The Arrangement

  Millan awoke on the floor of the forest. He winced as the pain in his ribs forced him into a seated position. The rustling of metal gave him pause. He attempted to reach for the sore spot on his side, but he was bound hand and foot. The restraints were too tight to wriggle free. With no one around, he rested his head on the tree behind him. Overhead, the birds darted back and forth, chirping at one another. As he watched their antics, he tried to reflect on the events of the previous night.

  He had been trapped inside the demon's spell with Erynion. With its hideous metal teeth, the purge devoured the city. While Erynion expelled all his energy, Millan dipped into his pocket to fish out Don Skully's star. Mashira's warning echoed clearly in his head. He had promised not to use it. If he tried to slay Erynion with the blessing, he might die. But what choice did he have? He had no other weapon, he couldn't escape with the purge in effect, and the demons would return to reclaim their demon lord once it was over. He thought about Nesinu and the loss of his beloved mentor, and before long, Millan had made his decision.

  Beyond that, his memory was hazy. As Millan sat in the forest, two startling questions came to mind. Where am I? How did I get here? The birds that flitted about had made him feel somewhat at ease, but he lost sight of them. Their distant chirps faded to complete silence.

  "Kjjevazi uh kul evlev."

  Millan's heart sank. It only made sense he was held prisoner by demons, but he knew exactly which demon this was. The iymed was missing his jester hat, but the rest of his ensemble was unmistakable. A white cloth hung partially from his pocket, and he played with a dagger in his left hand.

  "Did you have a good sleep, Don Millan?"

  "Not particularly. So, you remember me then?"

  The demon sauntered toward him. "I don't think I'll ever forget you."

  "Did they stop teaching manners in the Depths?" Millan asked.

  "What?"

  "No introduction? After all, you know my name. Aren't
you going to tell me yours?"

  "Flinch," he said begrudgingly.

  "Flinch? I'm assuming that's not your real name, but I suppose it'll do. So, Flinch, what am I doing here?"

  "Good question." The iymed smirked. "If it were up to me, you wouldn't even have your hands."

  Millan gulped. "Well, then thank the angels it's not up to you."

  "Clever priest. Clever, clever, but dead as ever. You'll be mine soon."

  "Holding a grudge? If I remember correctly, it was you who attacked me."

  Flinch shrugged. "Well, to be fair, we were only trying to kill you. Not mutilate you and drag you back for interrogation."

  "Oh, well, I guess that's better. Look, I was just defending myself."

  "Yeah, yeah. That's the excuse all you humans use. Why can't you just accept your fate and join us? Then, this war would be over."

  "Accept our fate? Join you? Uh, we're winning this war."

  "Hmm." Flinch pretended to be pensive. "I suppose you're right. Getting half your city obliterated sounds like winning to me. Besides, whether it's now or in fifty years, you'll join us once you die. At least most people will."

  "Not if we destroy the Amulet. Then, there will finally be peace."

  "Is that what they teach you? Your people had the chance to destroy the Amulet long ago."

  Millan couldn't believe the audacity of this demon, throwing the validity of the priest's history lessons into question. What tall tale was this jester about to weave? "What are you talking about?"

  "It's funny. You believe your path is righteous because you use holy energy. So you're good, and we're evil. But if it wasn't for the evil, greed, and selfishness of humans, this war would've ended centuries ago."

  "Ha! Lies and treachery. I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from a corrupt soul."