The Road to Hell (Hell's Gate Book 3)

by David Weber

  “Peace, Gadrial.” Jasak leaned across and touched her wrist very gently. “I hate the shakira caste system almost as much as you do, and not because of what they’ve done to me. My family’s always sided with the garthans, and you know it, so don’t think I don’t have your back on this one. After the way they mauled you at Mythal Falls Academy, you’ve got every right to feel that way, and I’m ready to stand in line to help you! But don’t let your hate for what they are turn you into something you don’t want to be.”

  Rage transmuted into sudden tears and she bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing shut her eyes. “It’s just…I have to see Halathyn’s widow…tell her what happened, out there…and that’s raked up all the old agony, again.”

  Jasak abandoned his seat and joined Gadrial in hers, and she turned toward him, resting her head against his shoulder. Shaylar recognized the tenderness in his expression and wondered if he, himself, had realized, yet, how deeply he loved Gadrial Kelbryan. While he held Gadrial close, Jasak spoke very softly, telling them what had happened to her as a student, the prejudice, the accusation of cheating, Halathyn’s defense of her, the whole sordid story.

  “Did I come reasonably close?” he asked finally, looking down at her as he finished at last, and she nodded.

  “Very,” she whispered. Her eyelashes were wet. “Oh, Jasak, it still hurts so desperately.…”

  He actually kissed her hair. She sniffled and sighed, then scrubbed her face with the back of one hand and sat up, again. She met Shaylar’s distressed gaze.

  “I don’t blame you for his loss, Shaylar. Truly, I don’t. It wasn’t your fault that Halathyn…”

  Her lips trembled as memory burned in her eyes, and she bit the lower one again, making herself pause and draw a deep breath.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she continued once more after a moment, her voice more ragged than she would have liked. “But Halathyn was the finest man I’ve ever known, the most gifted theoretical magister I’ve ever met, and the only Mythalan shakira who deserved courtesy and respect. As for the rest of them…”

  Her eyes went hard as granite. “I detest Mythal and all the magic-using Mythalans in it! And thanks to what Halathyn built in New Arcana, we don’t need the Mythalan shakira to understand the multiple universes or theoretical magic.”

  “What Halathyn started and what you built,” Jasak said mildly. When she looked uncomfortable, he chucked her chin, very gently. “Those are Halathyn’s words as much as mine. He was deeply proud of you, Gadrial. With good reason.”

  Her eyes went wet again.

  Jasak fished out a handkerchief and handed it over, then looked back at the two Sharonans.

  “Now, then, getting back to our original conversation,” he said more briskly, “Gadrial’s made several very valid points. Not the least of which is that compared with Ransar, we Andarans are little more than barbarians with clubs in our hands.”

  Gadrial chuckled, wetly—but it was a chuckle, nonetheless. “Well, yes, but you’re such adorable barbarians, it’s easy to overlook your shortcomings.” She leaned up to give him a swift kiss, an endearment that reflected the increasingly intimate relationship Jathmar and Shaylar had watched blossom over the course of their long journey.

  Jasak’s face scalded. Even his ears turned red.

  Shaylar had to admit that he did look awfully adorable, sitting there in his uniform, flushed with embarrassment and looking like a man who couldn’t make up his mind whether to bolt for the nearest exit or grab Gadrial by the shoulders and show her just how well barbarians could kiss their women.

  He settled for clearing his throat and bending over his map again.

  “Where were we?” he muttered. “Oh, yes. Explaining Garth Showma to you. Arcana’s first portal opened here, in the Grand Duchy of Tharkan, an imperial territory of the Kingdom of Elath.”

  Shaylar peered at the map and frowned. The Grand Duchy was located smack in the center of what would have been the Ternathian Empire, on Sharona, and that puzzled her, since the kingdom that controlled the Grand Duchy was located on Arcana’s analog to New Farnal. Elath was all the way across the North Vandor Ocean, sandwiched between the southern region where Jasak’s father owned an earldom and a barony and the northern sweep of land that corresponded to Jathmar’s birthplace. It seemed an…odd arrangement. On Sharona, Ternathia and Farnalia had colonized and controlled, at least at first, the two connected continents of New Ternathia and New Farnal. On Arcana, the political control had run in the other direction, eastward across the North Vandor instead of westward.

  “Elath was desperate to hold onto the portal, so they asked their Andaran neighbors for help. Which was immediately forthcoming, of course, since even an army that’s managed to acquire a state,” Jasak continued, eyes glinting as they met Gadrial’s, “could see the value of controlling that portal.”

  Gadrial refused the bait. She merely gave him a charming smile and waited for him to go one and he grinned.

  “At any rate, everybody could see the value of that portal, which meant no one wanted anyone else to control it. Particularly not Ransar and Mythal, not to mention Lokan and Yanko,” he added, touching in succession landmasses that corresponded to Arpathia/Uromathia, Ricathia, New Ternathia, and New Farnal.

  “The upshot was a very nasty, intense war that lasted about five years. It fueled a truly appalling arms race as both sides developed more and more powerful battle spells. Some were literally powerful enough to wipe out whole cities. Those spells were banned, after the war came to a negotiated end.

  “That war brought us right to the brink of Sharskha,” he said very quietly. Jathmar and Shaylar looked perplexed, and he grimaced. “Sorry. It’s from one of Andara’s oldest myths—a final battle between the forces of light and the forces of darkness which ends only in the entire world’s death.”

  Perplexity was replaced by something else, something with an edge of disbelief, perhaps. Or the look of someone who recognized hyperbole when he heard it. Jasak saw it and laughed harshly.

  “I’m not exaggerating,” he told them. “Some of the spells they came up with were so destructive they could have wiped out entire cities. One of them was used by the losing side in a major battle and effectively annihilated every man in both armies—over a hundred and ten thousand men gone, like that!” he snapped his fingers, eyes bleak. “And the researchers weren’t stopping there. They were still coming up with worse ones when the war finally ended! Thank all the gods they were banned under the terms of the final peace treaty.”

  Shaylar and Jathmar exchanged horrified glances, appalled by that simple, dreadful recitation. Spells that could destroy entire cities? Would the army that had acquired a state pull those banned spells out of mothballs and use them against Sharonian cities?

  “At any rate,” Jasak continued, unaware of their sudden fear, “the same treaty created a new world government—the Union of Arcana—which took control of Tharkan, where the portal was located. And that’s how the city of Portalis was born. The Arcanan side of the city is the capital of the Union of Arcana. The New Arcanan side of the city is the capital of both New Arcana and houses the Union’s Commandery, where the Union’s Army, Navy and Air Force are headquartered. It’s also where the Union’s officers are trained and where enlisted men are given basic training.

  “The land for a radius of seventy miles from the New Arcanan side of the portal was originally given to old Sherstan Olderhan, the first Duke of Garth Showma, as his personal desmesne during the war, as one inducement to back up Elath’s bid to keep control of the portal. The rest of the Duchy was added later, under the peace treaties, once the Union took over the portal. The new government had to reach a negotiated settlement with Sherstan, as well as Elath, and the truth is, they came out much better with Elath.”

  Gadrial made a rude sound and Jasak’s lips twitched.

  “Sherstan was tenacious and he wielded enough military power to come out of that negotiation very well pla
ced.” He conceded. “He kept most of the original land grant ceded him by Elath, the Duchy of Garth Showma was created and placed under his direct, hereditary rule, and he ended up named Governor of New Arcana, as well. At the time the entire planet amounted to a howling wilderness, so it probably seemed like a reasonable bargain to the Union’s negotiators. Of course, things have changed a bit over the last couple of centuries.

  “Anyway, in return for its concessions to Sherstan, the Union received everything within a twenty-mile radius of the portal, on the New Arcanan side. The seated duke owns the next fifty miles in every direction, which forms the demesne of Garth Showma. A fairly large chunk of that land’s rented—technically sub-enfeoffed—to the city and the Union’s Commandery, though. The city of Portalis expanded across the entire twenty-mile swath of land controlled by the Union pretty quickly, and the Dukes of Garth Showma wanted to see the Union prosper, so they were inclined to be reasonable. For certain values of ‘reasonable,’ at least.

  “Early on there was a lot of bluster about convincing the King of Elath to change the terms of enfeoffment to give the entire original demesne to the Union, instead of just the inner twenty-miles. But old Sherstan was a stubborn fellow, and since the territory of the duchy and its demesne were a part of the Union’s founding treaty, the King of Elath—who happened to be his first cousin, did I mention that?—had no interest in bowing to outside pressures. Besides, Sherstan had no desire to be too greedy. Not only did he want to see the Union prosper, he also recognized that being too unreasonable might just convince his cousin the king to go along with the folks doing all of the blustering. So he made a counter offer.

  “That’s how the Union ended up renting part of the ducal estate, instead. My ancestors have kept the rents very low, but the Union needed a large parcel and the rents were assessed per acre, on a sliding scale to reflect changing land values over time. Over the two centuries since that agreement was signed, those rents have provided my family with a very comfortable income.”

  “Comfortable?” Gadrial echoed. “Sweet Rahil, Jasak, your father’s the richest man on New Arcana! Maybe the richest back on Arcana Prime too.”

  “No, not on Arcana,” Jasak corrected her promptly. “There are at least half a dozen Mythalan shakira caste lords that outstrip his total portfolio, some by a considerable margin. But on the whole,” he agreed, “we’ve done well for ourselves. And I’ll admit we periodically bless Great-Great-Great-Something-or-Other-Grandfather Sherstan’s stiff-necked Andaran stubbornness. Otherwise, we’d have blue blood, a lot of beach sand in Andara, and not much else.”

  Gadrial leaned back in her seat, chuckling. “It’s impossible to remain exasperated with you, Jasak. If I were in your shoes, I’d bless him, too.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” he replied mildly. “Now, then, back to our discussion…” He met Jathmar’s gaze. “You and Shaylar will be staying with my family, permanently. You’ll move with us whenever we shift residences, whether it’s moving into the townhouse in Portalis for the social season or traveling through the portal and crossing the original Ocean of Storms on Arcana Prime, to spend part of the winter at the Earldom of Yar Khom or the Barony of Sarkhala.”

  “I thought we were required to live with you, Jasak. You don’t have your own house?” Jathmar asked, surprised, and Jasak shrugged.

  “I keep an apartment in Portalis, but I don’t use it all that often. Both the ducal palace and the town house are large enough, my parents and I can live in the same house and still maintain our privacy. The palace has four wings, all connected to the central tower, and each wing has about eighty rooms.”

  Shaylar’s mouth fell open. “Mother Marthea!” One wing of that house was larger than the King of Shurkhal’s entire palace!

  “That’s where we’ll stay, at any rate, and I think you’ll like it better than the town house. The portion of the estate not rented to the Commandery’s been left largely pristine, still covered in heavy mature growth forest. That’s where I learned my basic woodcraft as a boy.”

  “That’s something else we share, then,” Jathmar murmured. “I learned mine in the Kylie Forest, which corresponds almost exactly to your demesne. It’s a major national park, set aside for public use. I very nearly lived in that forest, as a boy.”

  The two men looked at one another with a shared smile, and Shaylar’s heart warmed as she saw it. She and Gadrial had become close friends, during their journey, but Jasak and Jathmar had remained at a distance from one another, for reasons she understood only too well. Her husband had lost his closest friends in the savagery of Toppled Timber—friends he would never be able to replace, given their status as permanent prisoners in their captors’ society—and he bitterly missed the easy camaraderie of the explorer’s lifestyle.

  As a Voice, Shaylar had always been connected back to life in Sharona through the Voice network. Some of the team had craved that connection and routinely wanted updates on the settled universes they’d left behind, but Jathmar had never been like that. As intimately connected as their marriage bond made them, Jathmar could have relived news updates as vividly as if he were a Voice himself. Instead he’d reveled in the experience of the new universes and the time tracking through pristine worlds with their team. The Union of Arcana and Jasak Olderhan had taken that away from him. Their lives and the lifestyle they’d loved were gone for good.

  But here in New Arcana, Jasak’s family had preserved a piece of Jathmar’s home forest, kept it nearly as pristine as in a brand new universe, and Shaylar watched the two men lean in to discuss childhood woodsmanship and identical landmarks in very different universes with a glint of hope.

  If Jasak and Jathmar could somehow learn to trust one another enough to become friends—genuine friends—Shaylar would be grateful for the rest of her life.

  She sighed and sat back in her seat. After the intense stress of capture and the unending strain of imprisonment, it would be wonderful to stop traveling, to settle down in one place, a private home, no matter how large that home might be. She ached to crawl into a bed, knowing she’d actually sleep in it more than once or twice. And it would be a major blessing to never again sprawl wearily in a succession of military forts, slider cars, ships, or dragon saddles.

  It had been so long since she’d lived in a real house, rather than a tent or the temporary accommodations they’d used on this long journey, that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like. And if that house was to be their prison, there would at least be a beautiful forest to walk through. If, she bit her lip, they were allowed to walk through it.

  Or, for that matter, if it was safe for them to walk through it. She’d noticed how carefully Jasak didn’t speak about the reasons Hundred Forhaylin and his men had joined them in New Ransar. She didn’t think he’d have been so reticent if he hadn’t wanted to shield her and Jathmar from still more bad news, and they’d seen more than enough hostility out of all too many of the Arcanans with whom they’d come in contact on their journey from Hell’s Gate.

  Jathmar caught a glimmer of her feeling and slid an arm around her. She leaned against him, much as Gadrial had leaned against Jasak, and drew great comfort from the warmth and the aura of protectiveness that wrapped around her. But even that was a source of sorrow. It continued to be more and more difficult for them to “read” one another, despite the marriage bond. They still hadn’t spoken to Gadrial or Jasak about it, and nothing had changed their reasons for that. If something was weakening their Talents—and it was getting even worse; even the range of Jathmar’s Mapping Talent had been drastically reduced and continued to dwindle almost daily—that was potentially deadly military intelligence. They couldn’t let anyone know, not even Jasak and Gadrial, but the steady erosion distressed them both, and the fact that they couldn’t explain it—to themselves, much less to anyone else—only added uncertainty to the distress. And there was already more than enough of both those things in their lives, without adding more to the load.

  At le
ast Jasak had done what he could to reduce their worry about the end of this journey. And much as she suspected she wouldn’t have liked all the reasons Duke Garth Showma had sent Hundred Forhaylin to escort them, she was also profoundly grateful for his presence for at least one reason. Like Jasak, the duke appeared determined to minimize the temptation of the Arcanan high command—the “Commandery,” Jasak called it—to break its own custody rules and seize Jathmar and Shaylar. That could have happened at any of the weary progression of military dragonfields and forts through which they’d passed, out of sight of any civilian agency or witnesses, and the temptation to do just that must have grown steadily greater as the ominous official silence from the war front stretched longer. That was the real reason, she knew, Jasak had used commercial sliders rather than using military transport ever since they passed through the universe of Pegasus, two universes before even New Ransar.

  Shaylar had begun to truly believe how wealthy and powerful the Olderhan family was as she watched Jasak chartering private slider cars—not just tickets, entire sliders—in his father’s name…and had seen the alacrity with which everyone from station masters to concierges to maître d’s scurried to do his bidding. That belief had been an indescribable relief as it seeped into her bones, and Hundred Forhaylin was further proof of the power of the family whose sense of honor had become her and her husband’s only protection.