Heaven's Gate

by Toby Bennett

  “Because he foresees that a reality will exist or might exist. In this case, he knew that the book would be beneath the floorboards of the Hitching Post Inn and placed himself near by in order to retrieve the book. Further more, he knew that we would come for it, not as a certainty in every universe but a possibility that leads to the existence we now occupy along with Yorick. As far as I understand it and that is not to say that anyone knows all Yorick’s secrets, Yorick saw it all coming and placed himself where he wanted to be in the wide spectrum of possible outcomes. For us there were many things that could have happened between the marshes and Olstop or even over the whole course of our lives. For Yorick though there is no such thing as chance, whatever might happen in a thousand other existences, Yorick was always sure of finding us and the book in this. His gift of foresight, combined with his vampiric lifespan, allows him to effectively travel through time only appearing, where necessary, to shape the course of events to what he requires. Yorick has been known to wait lifetimes in order to be in the right place, in the right time and whether he is a prophet or merely engineering certain outcomes, nobody has ever been able to tell. One thing is certain, however, he is a master of manipulation and has an uncanny knack for survival.”

  “It’s all superstition again,” Aden protests, “there’s no way to know what Yorick knows before things happen, he’s just playing on your gullibility, like a fortune teller at a fair. How can you know that he even sees the future?”

  “He named you without having met you.”

  “Unless he brought me there, I never did find out who my real employer was.”

  “I don’t doubt that he did bring you to Olstop. Yorick will use methods varying from the mundane to macabre in order to manipulate events but let me assure you, if you see things in the long view, as vampires do, then there is no doubting the potency of Yorick’s talent; he has just been in the right place at the right time too often for it to be coincidence. No doubt his ability to foresee future possibilities is how he avoided the fall of the Citadel and numerous other threats. It is how he has always survived but it is also what makes him so dangerous.”

  “Why is he any more dangerous than any of the other Strigoi?”

  “Because he is even less human and harder to predict than the rest of them, Yorick is like someone who comes awake in a dream, he has no firm connection to whichever reality he finds himself in. Like most Strigoi, he has little sentiment for the living, regarding them as little more than pawns in a greater game. It’s hard to know whether his involvement will be to our benefit or detriment, because the only thing that is certain is that whatever Yorick does will be for his own ends and have an outcome that we cannot yet see.”

  “So why do you think that I should oblige him by going with you?” Aden asks, still unable, despite everything, to completely credit the wild tale the Pilgrim is telling.

  “One reason might be because you have already said you are heading west anyway and we will all be safer if we travel together, as we originally planned.”

  “Not exactly planning when there are bullets whizzing around you.”

  Nonetheless it would be the best course for all of us, personally the reason I want you to come with us is because Yorick has the book and apparently wants you along and until we can find a way of getting what we need from him, I have no wish to disappoint him. Looked at another way, it might even be impossible to meet him without you, since he will only appear somewhere where all the factors he wants are in place. In other words it may be up to us to ensure that this is the timeline in which you reach the ruins.”

  “I understand but nothing in what you have said is even tempting me to get involved in this nightmare.”

  “I could mention that I probably saved your life.”

  “Doesn’t mean that I’m keen to put it at risk again for you.”

  “How about silver then?” Sam asks, allowing some of the heavy coins still in his purse to fall on the table.

  “Maybe if I could still convince myself you were just mad but you’ve overplayed your hand I’m afraid; after last night I’ve got to assume that you are telling me something close to what you believe to be the truth. I don’t want to get involved with the undead, the Church or anyone else with a stake in this quest of yours, so if you will excuse me.” Aden gets painfully to his feet and starts walking determinedly towards the door of the cabin.

  “There is of course the most persuasive argument which I have saved for last.”

  “And what could that be?” The mutant asks, “perhaps you will appeal to my better nature or my spiritual convictions?”

  “No, your common sense.”

  “How’s that? You seem to have little of your own, why do you think I would listen to you?”

  “At least he isn’t a coward!” Lillian says, disapprovingly, “we helped you back at the inn but you run at the first sign of trouble.”

  “You may want one more for your little quest, ‘your ladyship’ but it’s been nothing but trouble since I met you both, so don’t call me a coward just for showing some commonsense!”

  “That’s not how it is Lillian,” Sam says gently, “no one would be comfortable having seen what Aden saw last night and as he says, he has hardly known either of us in better times.”

  “I’m still here, so are you, we are hardly much closer and we’ve both seen worse.”

  “And both of us know that we are too deeply involved to simply walk away from this, Aden is too, he just hasn’t realized it yet.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “No I don’t think you do, hasn’t it occurred to you, yet, that Tenichi read your name in that note from Yorick.”

  “He read a name in the note, that doesn’t mean he knows who I am.”

  “It’s a start, and with Church and vampires looking for you how long do you think you will last?”

  “Longer than if I stick with you.” Aden shoots back but there is obvious doubt in his assertion.

  “Really? I am sure they are tracking us even now, it’s only a matter of time before they pick up the trail one way or another. Will they just let someone split from our company and walk away into the wilderness, without finding out who he was and how he might be involved?”

  “I could make it! I’ve taken care of myself for a long time.”

  “Wounded and away from your regular haunts? You know what they will be sending after you at night.”

  “Damn you! I won’t be trapped.”

  “I’m not trying to trap you! If anyone has done that it’s Yorick, without me you could simply be a corpse lying outside the Hitching Post.”

  “Fair enough but don’t expect me to return the favour. I’ll be leaving just as soon as we hit the desert.”

  “That remains to be seen. I am sure that Yorick will do his best to ensure that you join us in Silversnow if you are some how integral to his plans.”

  “And if I’m important to him then I’m important to you, at least until you get your precious book! Well be warned, Pilgrim, no one makes me go where I do not wish to.” Sam shakes his head sadly,

  “I have only lived two life times, Aden but already I can see that much of life is inevitable, Yorick will not give you a choice, if he can help it.”

  “There is always a choice,” Aden answers stubbornly, “he couldn’t stop me leaving now! It’s you who’s trying to do that.”

  “Yet you are not leaving now, are you? Don’t misunderstand me, Aden I am glad that you have chosen to see reason but I think that you are going to have to understand that there are forces greater than our own wills at work in the world; both God and his devil work in mysterious ways. There is no need to argue this further, though, just know that you are welcome to travel with us and in great danger if you do not.”

  “Speaking of which shouldn’t we be moving on?” Lillian asks, “I mean if they are still tracking us I’m surprised they haven’t caught up already.”

  “I spent some of the morning hours
covering our tracks where we went off the road, but you are right we do have little time. Now that we are agreed on our course, at least for the present, I suggest we travel up river until we can find passage on a boat, that will be harder to track. Once we reach the line we will have to proceed on horseback again, Aden is too noticeable to risk entering Brigton or even Lode.”

  “You think they’ll really keep tracking us as far as that?” Aden asks.

  “And beyond! Whether you want to believe it or not, Aden you are now involved in the oldest quest that has ever existed in the Bowl. My instincts tell me that, with so many people seeking a resolution, the Gate will soon be found. Until it is, no one who the principle players in this game think might know something, is safe.”

  It takes the rest of the day for them to come across a slow moving river barge and another half hour of hard bartering to buy passage for themselves and the two horses. Despite his misgivings about remaining with his two companions, Aden is grateful to be on the boat before the sun goes down. All through their journey he had cast painful, furtive glances back, seeking signs of pursuit and been relieved each time to find nothing amiss. All through the day he had been regaining the confidence that made him one of the best gun fighters west of Silver Springs but as darkness falls again, he cannot help but remember the flashing eyes of the vampires which had attacked them. Of course, by then, he has the comfort of the slow roll of the barge and the memory of a tale his father told him as a child that held that no vampire could cross running water. Taking comfort in his father’s tales he does not bother to look back and so does not see the thin figure standing on the distant river bank; the red fires of sunset playing over the bleached bone of its face and sparking an unholy light in the recesses of its empty skull. Rusted bells grate as the watcher tilts his head to better hear a distant whisper on the night air.

  *

  “My own Chief Pardoner nearly killed by that scum!” General Leedon rails. Across the room from him Nathaniel Tenichi holds a pale hand to his bandaged neck… there was no need to feign pain or weariness, not after the seventh ritual of purification, Nathaniel was seriously pondering ways of taking the holy water out of the ceremonies; he might have survived Captain Blake’s attack but there was a distinct possibility of catching a serious chill, now that he had been so enthusiastically doused in the blessings of the Church. Not to mention how much he disliked being subjected to that kind of religious jiggery pokery, even though his lord Kalip had long ago opened his eyes to the truth, some stubborn remnant of superstition from his childhood kept expecting the water to steam as it touched his flesh. Of course, it never did and by now, he mused, he would probably be grateful for the warmth.

  “I thank you for your concern, General but the important part of that statement, is ‘nearly’. I am recovering better than could have been expected, thanks to the ministrations of my brothers.”

  Better than expected indeed Rugan thinks to himself bitterly but he says nothing, sensing that the General is about to continue his rant.

  “And you say that Captain Blake, an ex-Crusader, was responsible for this? He killed fourteen men and attempted to draw your blood in some cannibalistic ritual? How could he manage that alone?”

  “I told you, sir, he was not alone, Lady Carter was with him, so I assume we can add abduction to that list of crimes.”

  “You’re sure she was there under duress?”

  “I couldn’t be sure of anything, with that madman hacking his way through my men, but the girl looked fearful and subdued to me. It is possible I am wrong but…”

  “No, you are right, she is just a spoilt child, she could not be behind this atrocity. Were you able to ascertain if they had my book as well?”

  “As I said things happened very fast and it is hard to be sure of anything,” the Pardoner answers, his body quaking with an involuntary shiver. “I believe that I registered recognition in Captain Blake’s eyes when I mentioned the book but that was just before he attacked me.”

  “So one man has done all this? It beggars belief, the thought that a Crusader could turn to such things! Even from you I would not have believed that one man could kill so many but I saw him lead the charge at the Citadel. Is he truly alone though or is Rugan right?” The General murmurs

  “Rugan may be right in saying that he was acting on behalf of others. Remember that, while he was alone in the building, there was the mutant fighting in the streets, a most unholy creature by the account of the survivours, though I did not seee it myself.”

  “Even so two men, caused all this carnage and managed to escape with my fiancé and my book? You are sure he has not been turned by the Strigoi?”

  “How could he have stood in the sunlit street if he were one of them? I admit that his strength was unnatural but it could not be granted by the night stalkers, under those circumstances the only thing I can think is that he must be an agent for some other evil. Perhaps we have spent too much time chasing the blood suckers while the cults, heretics and mutants grew to fill the vacuum left by the destruction of the Citadel.”

  Damn the Pilgrim, Father Rugan thinks to himself, he was worse than useless as an agent. He hadn’t even managed to finish off the Chief Pardoner! Just kill a lot of his men and now the crafty Inquisitor was seeking to use the attack to refocus the Crusades attention away from his master’s. The only use Blake was supposed to have had was to kill the Strigoi and their agents, while keeping the girl out of their hands, of course. It was maddening that the Pilgrim had had the Inquisitor in his hands, even under his teeth and Tenichi had some how survived, worse survived and gained the support of the General, who was oblivious to the danger the man truly represented. Rugan knows he cannot risk too much in trying to keep the General from following the Chief Pardoner’s line of thought, it is vital that the General not turn his attention to the various tribes and scattered cults of the deeper desert but even more vital that he, Father Rugan, confessor to the new Lord of Island City, not be seen as defending them, he would have to damn Blake for what he was.

  “Surely, though, the fact that he tried to drain your blood in that manner is indicative of the Strigoi?” Rugan says, smoothly affecting a slow and reasoned manner, as if he were simply weighing the facts rather than trying to cast them in any particular light. “While there are heretics and misguided cults that exist outside the Union, indeed only God knows what dwells outside the Union!” Rugan jokes, deliberately making light of the terrors that every Union man knows lurk just beyond the safety of the line in the chaos of the desert, “ I have always believed that their numbers and potency were exaggerated by the Strigoi in order to hide their own activities and sow fear. How, for instance, could more than a few people even stay alive out there? In summer there is not enough water to even sustain insect life. We must be careful here, gentlemen, we do not want to fall victim to yet another of out enemy’s deceptions and chase a Will ‘o the Wisp into the desert, do we? Besides our problem is here in the Union not on the fringes or in the wastes, the groups you mention have no strength or interest in our civilization, it is the Strigoi who wish to rule and manipulate us.”

  “Or is that what these new enemies want us to think? After all, the game could be played in reverse just as easily, we are so used to looking to the shadows for danger,” the Chief Pardoner says triumphantly, “but there is no telling who stole our Lord’s wife or the book and anyone can bite a neck.”

  “Fiancée,” Rugan reminds his adversary, “and as I have said, I have reason to think that Carter himself may have been behind the so called abduction, not only do I suspect that he has links with the Strigoi but I think he might very well be seeking the book for himself.”

  “You have no proof?”

  “No more than you have for your heretics from the desert, I simply ask myself what is more likely, who has more to gain from our General’s embarrassment than the richest of the barons, who cannot help but see the Church as a threat since he saw his neighbour’s territory taken?”
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  “Why then was he so agreeable to the match?” Nathaniel protests.

  “What better way to ensure that you ruin the General’s bid to legitimacy than to offer your own daughter, with the knowledge that you can snatch her back? Who knows what lies they are already concocting, to poison the other barons against the General?”

  “Carter’s loyalty is beyond question! He knows he has no need to fear. The Thatchers were only dispossessed because they lent their strength to the Strigoi.”

  “And wasn’t Carter a baron, at the time when their insidious machinations controlled the Union? Weren’t many? Did you not, my lord, even have to weed out your own brother?”

  “What is your point?”

  “The point I am making, Nathaniel, is why is Carter beyond question now? Along with his obvious political gain we cannot ignore the book! Why imagine that some group of desert fanatics were behind its disappearance when we know the book represents a knowledge that the Strigoi have sought to use since the very beginning? The girl goes at the same time as the book. No! More than that, the girl is somehow linked to this book, together they might even be the key to attaining the Gate to Heaven itself, can this be coincidence? Or the work of forces that have remained conveniently hidden until now? No! I have no direct proof but mark my words the book, which you failed to find, is headed north and there is a good chance that we will find it with Baron Carter himself.”

  That is if Blake does as he is told! If he refuses again then there is no choice but to treat him as enemy as well. No it was past that already, Rugan realizes as he looks around the room at the glowering General and the dark rimmed eyes of the disheveled Inquisitor, there were too many variables developing. If possible the girl should be allowed to live but Samuel Blake was just too unpredictable. Not a surprise really, the Pilgrim had predicted it from the first and Rugan himself was always aware of the limitations of relying on the living. Samuel Blake was coming to the end of his usefulness as a living man but there were ways to ensure that much of his deadly speed and ability could be kept, even revived, to continue serving Rugan after his death. Not that it was personal, of course, his frustration with Blake was petty and something he deliberately swept aside; he must not allow emotion to cloud his reason, his real enemies were the Strigoi and Rugan was prepared to bet his life that he was in the same room as one of their agents, in spite of the deluge of holy water that he had received.