The Gate of fire ooe-2

by Thomas Harlan

  I must call my power, he realized dimly. Events had moved so fast…

  A figure rushed forward out of the shadows, a long red braid gleaming in the firelight. A long stabbing sword was bare in her hand. The Prince looked up, taking an eternity to raise his head. A face swam forward out of the firelight, a strong oval with burning gray eyes, silhouetted by flame and smoke. A woman in armor, her mouth in a grim line, and the sharp point of an Indian-steel blade arrowing for him. Maxian tried to raise a hand in defense, but it was too late.

  The sword slipped sideways through his ribs, transfixing his heart. The Prince stared, his eyes wide in surprise and recognition. She was close-he could feel her breath on his face-and she jerked the sword from his chest with a little grunt. It came away black and wet. The woman's hand moved and Maxian felt his throat constrict, crushed by powerful fingers. He could barely feel his body, there was only an encompassing, numbing cold. He saw the blade rise, shedding blood in a fine spray, for a slashing cut.

  – |Khiron spun and leapt in one motion. Its powerful legs flung it into the air, over the head of a startled soldier, missing the spear that stabbed at it. Firelight gleamed on its flesh and it struck the ground running. The thicket of arrows that jutted from back and side and thigh did not slow it. The homunculus did not feel pain, only hunger and the driving fear of dissolution. Before it, two men turned to meet it, their blades glittering in the flame-shot air. They were armored, too, with heavy iron plates covering their chests and stout helmets of steel. Khiron did not care; all it knew was that its master was just beyond, on the verge of final death.

  Heedless of the sword blades hacking for its joints, Khiron bulled into the two men, crashing into one with its ruined shoulder. The man grunted and was thrown back sprawling on the turf. The other hacked deeply into the other arm, but Khiron spun inside the man's reach and smashed its head into the face of the man's helmet. Bony ancient skull rang on metal and the soldier crumpled to the ground. Khiron rushed through the opening.

  – |Thyatis leapt aside, reversing the stroke that would have cut the Prince's head from his body, and slashed the longsword across the face of the horror that lunged at her out of the night. The fire-pots continued to burn brightly, and the flames licking up from them had caught among the trees and undergrowth at the sides of the grotto. Smoke billowed up from the damp grass and wood. More of her men were rushing forward, though the archers had stopped firing once things had reached close quarters. The tip of the water-steel blade slashed across the creature's nose, tearing through cartilage and bone. The vaguely reptilian head jerked aside, but the ruin and wound did not seem to slow it. Thyatis dropped into a crouch, finding her footing, and circled.

  In the ruddy glare, the naked body of the thing seemed a disaster, torn with arrows and covered with ragged wounds. One arm flopped at its side, though the other was still outstretched, diamond-bright talons winking in the air. The thing scuttled to one side like a crab and Thyatis gave ground, though that meant it was now between her and the Prince. Her ears roared with the blood-fire and she felt very light, almost floating on the grass.

  Thyatis attacked, feinting at the thing's eyes, then weaved aside as its claw lashed through the air where she had been. She tumbled aside and it barely snatched a leg away as she tried to drive the sword into one of its kneecaps. It spun, slashing with a taloned foot and she had to block, feeling the strength of it slam into her shoulder. Her arm went numb at the blow, but the blood-fire roared up and everything disappeared into a tunnel of swirling gray, focussed on the grinning charnel face of the thing.

  Nikos staggered up, levering himself upright with a gloved hand. With a gasp, he tore the helmet from his head. Half of it was caved in by the creature's blow, and blood slicked his face and blinded him in one eye. The world seemed unsteady, but he managed to gain his feet. Men were shouting at him and he looked around just in time.

  Thyatis and the creature were a blur of limbs and blades, surging back and forth across the grassy field. As he watched, she sprang into the air, going into a sharp side-kick that clipped the thing's head with the iron-shod toe of her boot. It fell away into a roll and then came up again, lashing out with its remaining good arm. The woman, her braids flying behind her head, slid the blow with a forearm, then countered with an elbow strike to the creature's chest.

  The thing shuddered, but was not rocked back. It twisted like a snake and caught Thyatis in the chest with its shattered arm, swinging it like a club. The woman, caught out of balance, was flung back to bounce off of one of the boulders. The sound of her impact rang like a wagonload of kettles dropped in the street.

  "Fire!" screamed Nikos in panic, seeing the horror lurch forward toward his commander. He scuttled back, groping for a weapon on the ground. "Fire now!"

  The homunculus turned, grinning, its shattered face lit by the flames. It hissed, a long dry sound, and rushed at Nikos like a lion. The Illyrian threw himself aside, feeling heavy and slow in the armor. There was a grunting sound behind him, the smacking sound of meat and steel and then a gelid pop. Nikos rolled up, wiping blood from his eye. His scalp cut was bleeding freely.

  The creature stood frozen, pierced by a long heavy spear. Karhmi and Efraim had run forward at the same moment that Nikos had jumped aside. Between them they held a long pike, a sarissa, and when the homunculus leapt for the Illyrian, they caught it on the foot-long tip like a gar-pike on a hook. A bladder had been lashed to the crossbars of the weapon and the fluid inside, black and sticky, splashed over the creature's chest and arms.

  "Fire!" shrieked Nikos and he backpedaled. The two soldiers dodged away as well, dropping the pike. The bowmen hiding atop the boulders had been waiting, fire-arrows at the ready. Now the air hissed with bowshot and flaming streaks of light flashed toward the creature. It moved abruptly, tearing the spear from its side, and sprang back, sending droplets of the black liquid flying in all directions. Arrows, burning with pitch, thudded into the ground where it had been. One struck at the edge of the broad arc of splashed liquid and there was a sudden guttural roar and blue-white flame leapt up from the turf.

  Nikos ran sideways, one hand up to shade his eyes. The phlogiston splashed on the ground was burning furiously, filling the grotto with the sound of its combustion. He had lost sight of the creature, which was death in such a tight space as this. Bitter white smoke boiled up, obscuring everyone's vision.

  Thyatis shook off the concussion and rolled up, feeling giddy. A bright lancet of pain crawled across her side, telling her that at least one rib had broken on the boulder's unyielding surface. She had lost the sword somewhere, but she still had at least one long knife. It was already in her hand, snatched from her sheath without conscious thought. Her men were shouting in alarm, but she ignored that for the moment. She darted to the right, toward where the Prince had lain against the tree. The homunculus was a deadly threat, but the Prince was the mission.

  – |Maxian's eyes fluttered open, seeing a blinding white light. A sharp acrid smell assaulted his nostrils. He was tremendously cold. Blood bubbled from his lips, spilling down his chin.

  What is this? The Prince's mind shuddered with waves of pain. Is this the ferryman? Where is the black river?

  With an enormous effort, the Prince tried to raise a hand. He could not. He was too weak.

  A silhouette suddenly came into focus against the actinic glare. It moved and sharpened into focus. It was the woman, her hair in disarray, soot smudged along one high cheekbone. There was steel in her hand, a long knife with a wicked edge. Her gray eyes bored into his, filled with intense determination. Her free hand grasped his hair, bending his head sharply back.

  Maxian tried to speak, but blood clogged his throat and there was only a ghastly bubbling sound. The cold edge of the knife pressed against his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the woman was wearing a brooch or pendant that bound her hair back. It had fallen to one side, and it gleamed brightly in the shuddering light. On it, incised in the bronze
surface, was the sigil of an eye flanked by curved wings.

  The Imperial Office of Barbarians. The thought forced its way through the roaring pain. My brother. Galen. Aurelian. The Emperor.

  Maxian's heart seemed to stop. Awareness flooded him. The well-equipped soldiers. The forbidden chemicals. The speed and ferocity of the attack. A vision of his brother's face swam into view, Galen's dark eyes hooded, face drawn and fatigued, that one lock of hair lying across his forehead. Metal sawed into the flesh of his throat.

  You would kill me? Maxian felt his heart crush under the weight of that betrayal. The vision turned, staring at him across the leagues. The nervous bright eyes were grim and filled with pain. You would order my death?

  This thing must be done, said the vision. The State must endure.

  Then Maxian's heart did break.

  – |Thyatis saw the man's eyes flutter closed and felt his pulse stagger and stop under her hand. She drew back the knife, hesitating for a moment. A shriek from behind her made her spin and drop into a crouch. The creature had suddenly bolted out of the shadows of a boulder and had ripped the throat from one of the soldiers. The men had moved out into the open ground, their spears at the ready, but no one had expected the thing to spring from atop one of the smaller boulders. The other men converged on the thing, and the air filled with burning arrows again. Thyatis ran forward, shying away from the pool of burning phlogiston.

  Khiron wrenched the man's head from his neck and blood sprayed out, blinding the first man that rushed at it. Heedless of the arrows that filled the air, the homunculus leapt past the spear and punched two stiffened fingers tipped with hardened bone into the blinded soldiers' eye sockets. There was a wet spattering sound and red gore slimed its fingers. The man fell without a sound. Another spear jabbed in from the side, but Khiron weaved away from it.

  Thyatis, running up to the edge of the fray, ground her teeth. Fighting the thing one on one would do nothing! She opened her mouth to shout a command, but there was a swinging motion at the edge of her vision and she ducked instinctively.

  Nikos overhanded a branch, torn from one of the burning trees, into the creature's back as it was wrenching a long spear from a legionnaire's hands. The oak leaves, wreathed in their own sputtering flame, struck the back of the homunculus and the phlogiston that had clung like black oil to the rippling muscle and flesh and sinew flashed alight. Khiron leapt straight up, howling in despair, and then burst into flame like a flower opening to the sun with impossible speed. The legionnaires scattered.

  Khiron slammed back down to earth, a frenzy of thrashing limbs, rolling frantically and clawing at the earth. The phlogiston crackled and hissed, burning furiously. It wailed in a high-pitched voice like a baby frying in its own fat. The ancient flesh, held together only by will and sorcery, burned with an amazingly hot blue flame. The creature staggered up, wreathed in a corona of almost invisible fire. Nikos fell back, holding his hand up to shield his face from the intense heat. The thing took a step, but its flesh and muscle were already dissolving into a burning jelly.

  Thyatis fell back, too, turning her head away from the gruesome sight. She had unfinished business. She sprinted back toward the Prince.

  – |Maxian's heart stuttered and stopped and then, as the last flicker of thought curdled down into a black abyss, something bright and burning like the sun rose up. Hate flared in the man's heart, and something enormous was shrieking at him, demanding release. The fragile last tendril of will stabbed out into the cold darkness and found power waiting for it: colossal untapped power that had been restrained for centuries, building and building in strength, deep under the earth.

  Gods, raged Maxian, my brother kills me? My family treats me as a mad dog?

  The crumbling lattice of his thought and will flared to life, stitching itself into a feeble semblance of its full shape. His body was destroyed, ruined, slashed and cut, pierced. Flames lapped at his feet, burning through his boots. But in the earth below him, a brilliant green flood of power surged up, slipping through cracks and crevices in the binding that had lain upon it for so long. The Prince, lying near death at the summit of the mountain, reached out, spending the last of his own rage to touch the heart of the volcano.

  – |Thyatis staggered, nearly losing her footing. The ground rumbled from a massive shock. The green turf had lifted up, sending her toppling and then slammed down again. All around her, the air was filled with a great creaking sound and then the rattle of falling rock and the grinding of boulders sliding into new positions. A despairing scream echoed across the grotto. One of the archers had been thrown from his perch and a seventy-ton boulder had shifted, grinding him into paste against one of its brethren. The woman gingerly got to her feet, keeping her hands low to the ground.

  She looked up and saw the Prince and a snarl cut her features.

  – |Life flooded him, rushing through his limbs like a mountain freshet in full spate. Broken bone, torn muscle and sinew, shattered organs rippled with virulent power. His torso convulsed and the arrows spit from his flesh. Ragged edges of the entry wounds turned pink, drinking up clotted blood, and then crawled back together. Internal organs knit themselves anew. Awareness poured into his darkened mind, banishing phantoms of pain. He stood, whole, feeling light and almost giddy with the escape from death. He saw the woman with the knife, running full tilt at him, the blade shining in her fist. The Prince smiled, taking joy from the movement and play of his muscles, now restored to full vigor. He raised a hand and blue fire spun out in a tight ring before him.

  – |Thyatis was smashed to the ground again, crying out as her broken ribs ground against one another. Her armor had stopped the brunt of the flare but now it popped and sizzled with tremendous heat. She rolled over, groaning, seeing the knife sticking from the ground a dozen feet away. The breastplate of her cuirass was glowing like an ember and she could feel her flesh crisping in the heat. Frantically, she tugged at the straps that held it closed, feeling the burning sensation spread across her chest.

  At the edge of her vision, the Prince walked forward, his steps light on the ground, almost floating. He raised his hand again and ultraviolet lightning snapped and cracked from his palm. Out of her field of view, a man shrieked briefly and there was the roll of thunder. The Prince was glowing slightly, surrounded by a corona of shuddering indigo fire. Men, heedless of imminent death, rushed forward. Arrows filled the air around the Prince.

  Thyatis managed to get the straps on her left side undone and prised the breastplate away with trembling fingers. Underneath it, her felt jacket was smoking and tiny flames were licking along the cloth. Gasping at the pain, she tore it off and threw it aside. Beneath that her linen tunic was soaked with sweat and steaming. Luckily, the perspiration trapped in the layers of her clothing had kept the fire from her skin.

  – |Nikos dodged in low, a spatha bare in his hand. The glowing man had swiveled as he advanced and the flare of that black coruscating lightning flooded the air. One of the archers, still hanging onto his perch on a tipped boulder, exploded in a red spray as the bolt licked across him. Behind the dead man, trees bloomed into flame and joined their brothers in the conflagration raging around the circumference of the grotto.

  The Illyrian leapt into the Prince, hacking sideways with all the strength in his broad shoulders and powerful back. The keen edge of the spatha bit through the corona of fire and then, with a greasy sliding sensation, into the neck of the Prince. Then it stopped, jarring against the man's spine. Nikos dropped down, wrenching the blade away. The Prince turned, his eyes burning with carnelian flame. The Illyrian gaped, seeing the mortal wound gel and the skin rush closed like water over a stone striking the surface of a lake. The Prince smiled and there was nothing human in his face. Arrows slapped through the air, striking the indigo corona and shattering as if they had struck a wall of tempered steel.

  – |Maxian let the tiniest fragment of the roaring, shrieking power that flooded into him from the heart of the mountain fly forth f
rom his fingertips. The essence ignited in the air, unfolding into a ravening burst of flame that caught the swordsman half-turned to dodge aside. The molten air enveloped the man for a brief instant, then seemed to sink into his flesh and armor. Fractions of a second later, the body incandesced into a blue-white pyre and then ash exploded in all directions, filling the air with a haze of dust.

  – |"No!" Thyatis halted in her headlong rush, seeing Nikos die. Efraim and Kahrmi rushed in on the other side of the Prince, their faces masks of death, their legs pumping as they sprinted across the grass. Thyatis was unable to move, seeing her beloved friend shatter in the wind and drift downward in a rain of gray particles. Her limbs seemed made of lead, impossible to move.

  – |Maxian grinned, feeling the joy of the mountain flood his thought. Two more of the soldiers were attacking, pitiful weapons of iron and wood raised against him. He clenched his right fist, sending thought and will into the earth. The ground underneath the two men erupted in rushing orange-red flame and they shrieked in torment as they fell, burning fiercely at his feet.

  The Prince bent, feeling the life of the first man rush through his fingers as the flames consumed him. There was a tingling feeling as the breath of life fluttered past and the Prince stood, staring at his hand. Tongues of fire danced on his fingertips, mirroring the strength that was now his. They made beautiful patterns.

  – |Blinking back tears, Thyatis cast about on the grass for a weapon. A wall of flame roared around the fringe of the grotto now, closing off all avenues of escape. It was as bright as day, though the air was thin and very hot. She gasped for breath. Movement was difficult, for the trembling in the ground had increased, shaking the turf like a bowl of gelatin. Her fingers touched the hilt of a fallen sword and curled around it. With an effort, for the mountain suddenly heaved like a wet dog shaking water from its back, she got up on her knees.

  At least Anagathios will live, she thought with black humor. And the Duchess will get her wagons back…