The Forever Gate Ultimate Edition

by Isaac Hooke

  Ari frowned. "Don't you want payment?"

  Meredith swiveled back. "Oh yes, I almost forgot." She held out her hand and grinned, the gaps in her teeth giving her an oafish appearance. Behind her, Bethy rolled her eyes.

  Ari dug the money bag from the satchel and dropped it in Meredith's cupped palm.

  The old woman bobbed away happily.

  "Not going to count it?" Ari said.

  Meredith only smiled. "I can feel the weight of wealth, don't you be worrying."

  In truth, the bag contained ten thousand drachmae. More than enough to cover the cost of the Poultice. Even at ten thousand Ari considered it a bargain. She'd brought along two more bags, each containing the same amount, in case the bidding had gone even higher.

  She reached for the door, feeling for all the world like she'd just won some incredibly difficult battle. But it wasn't over yet. The hand-crossbow was still aimed at her, she knew.

  Ari opened the door.

  Seven gols clad in the armor of the Dhenn city guard stood outside.

  59

  Ari nearly slammed the door. Instead, she forced herself to remain calm. None of the gols had drawn their swords. Yet. She ran her gaze across them, calculating her chances of escape, taking into account the fact that she had no sword.

  They all had the sword-and-shield symbol stamped into their breastplates, but about half of the gols were slobbering. That increased her odds, a little bit.

  "Greetings, Nine," the leader-apparent said, a brick-jawed gol with hints of gray in its hair. Its mustache was grown and trimmed into long, thin points, as was the fashion of the men here. They couldn't be Jeremy's soldiers...

  Still, Ari remained silent, not understanding. Nine? And then she remembered. The symbol stamped into her chest designated her as a gol higher-up. But these gols couldn't see that symbol—her cloak covered it. She resisted the urge to look down. Obviously the gols had a way of picking her out regardless of that number. Probably some trick similar to how she was able to bring up the city map in her head.

  Ari had to choose her reply very carefully. She could feel the hand-crossbow trained on the back of her neck, and she knew that Meredith and her daughter would be hanging on every word.

  But before she could answer, the gol spoke again, perhaps interpreting her silence as disdain.

  "The good lad here—" The guard nodded at the youngest gol in the group. "Noticed you traveled Cutthroat Square unescorted, and unarmed. He gathered us up, he did, and we came as fast as we could to remedy that." Cutthroat Square. The nickname for Black Market.

  Ari released a gentle sigh. The gols would have noticed her relief, but even so, she kept her expression neutral. So they weren't Jeremy's after all.

  She inclined her head slightly, as though deigning to accept the offer, and she stepped through the door. When she turned back to close it, she saw, on the far side of the shop, that Meredith and her daughter looked relieved. Bethy still had the hand-crossbow aimed at Ari however.

  Ari quickly shut the door.

  She moved among the guards without a word and made off. The men formed a protective shield around her with their bodies, creating a circle roughly four paces in diameter. Enough room for each of them to draw and swing a sword without hitting her or each other, if it came to it.

  She descended the ramp and left behind the stalagmite that housed Watership Street. She and her escort emerged into the cavern and passers-by gave them a wide berth, allowing her to make good time to her next destination.

  The map brought her to a section of the city that was cut into the very rock of the mountain. It was kind of an overflow district, or shantytown, for those too poor to afford a room in the stalagmites of the city proper. Many of the dwellings seemed little more than alcoves with a door wedged in front and a slot for dumping chamber pots. A tiny ditch had been carved along either flank of the street, and was filled with fecal sludge. The place reeked of a special kind of sewage—the smell of eggs left to rot overlong, magnified tenfold by the confined space. There was supposed to be ice melt flowing along those ditches, sweeping them clean, and barring that, some sort of system of drafts to replenish the air and make sure no one choked to death, but as far as she could tell neither system was working. The empty streets said as much. One old man did hunch past, but he held a black cloth to his mouth and nose. He watched Ari and the soldiers warily.

  She realized that it didn't really matter if there was air in the cave or not. The denizens of the Inside didn't breathe. Or even need food for that matter. It was only the realism of the illusion that made them inhale. And eat.

  She led the guard retinue to a small area near the end of the street, a darkened little corner of cave set apart from the troubles and confusions of humanity. If you didn't want to attract any notice, this was the perfect spot to live. Ari might have chosen it herself if she'd based the New Users in this city.

  She instructed the gols to watch the door in a half circle behind her, and her escort promptly obeyed. When each of them had swiveled to face the street, she knocked on the wooden door, hardly able to concentrate for the anxiety she felt.

  The door opened.

  "Hello, mother," Ari said.

  60

  Ari didn't recognize Cora at all.

  The hunched, small woman before her was nothing like the proud matriarch she remembered from eight years ago when Ari came to rediscover the mother who'd been erased from her mind. Crow's feet stamped each eye. Or rather, crow's legs—those wrinkles were deep, extending far into her temples. Her forehead was an angry sea of ridges. Her cheeks sagged, and the skin around her eyes was swollen as if she cried permanently. Her nose had been broken since Ari last saw her, because the smooth bridge she remembered had been replaced by a bumpy knot. Robbed in the street, probably.

  Cora glanced at the gol escorts outside, then lowered her eyes and retreated into the murk of the alcove without a word.

  Ari followed her in and shut the door, careful not to step on the bowl of potpourri that masked the smell of the sewage outside. A single candle lit the alcove. A mandolin lay against one wall, with a dirty mattress and a chamberpot beside it. A small table, a cupboard, and a stash of carrots and potatoes completed the scene.

  Ari lowered her satchel to the floor, hardly able to believe that her mother was living in such conditions. Well, at least the air seemed a little warmer in here, and her breath no longer misted.

  Cora fetched a stew pot from the cupboard, filled it with water from a bladder, and set it over a small metallic pad near the table. When the pot touched it, the pad immediately reddened with heat. Cora began cutting carrots and tossed the pieces into the pot.

  "Never seen one of those before," Ari said, nodding toward the heat pad. Small talk seemed like the easiest way to get started.

  Cora glanced at her and smiled. "It's a bit of magic, it is. We all get one for free. Like the potpourri. Part of the Dhenn resident program, see?"

  "You're sounding more and more like Hoodwink every time I meet you," Ari said.

  Cora's faced darkened, and she returned her attention to the cooking pot. "Wish I could offer you more, but all I got is soup. Carrot and potato. But you'll like it. Promise."

  "Ma, I didn't come here for soup," Ari said.

  But Cora seemed adamant. "My daughter comes to me house, I'm going to feed her."

  Ari sighed, then sat crossed-legged beside the small table and watched her mother prepare the soup. "It won't matter, you know. Besides the fact I'm a gol now."

  Cora looked up, the horror obvious on her face. "What?"

  Ari pursed her lips. No, Cora probably wouldn't be able to handle the truth. "Just kidding, ma."

  "I could almost believe it," Cora said. "Your face. So young. So smooth. But those eyes don't match. Haunted. Old."

  Ari smiled. She didn't know what to say to that.

  "So how are you anyway? Married now I hope?" Cora was apparently one of those people who judged a woman by whether or not she
'd pledged her life to a man, in sickness and in health.

  Ari pressed her lips together. "No ma, I'm not married."

  "Why not? It would bring me a smile, knowing I got me some grandkids somewhere. Besides, a man would do you good."

  "Why aren't you with Hoodwink then?"

  The smile left her mother's face and Cora busied herself cutting. "You should be married. It's a bad bad thing to be a woman of your age and still spinning threads. You've waited too long. Any longer and you'll wait yourself right out of the marketplace."

  "If marriage is so good, how come every time I mention Hoodwink you ignore me or change the subject?"

  Cora chose the ignore option once again. "I know a few able men, about your age. There's the son of the tailor, up the street. A fine lad. And Billee, the dyer's son. Though you might prefer Graff, the smith's boy. Face like a beat-up pail, but strong arms. You always had a liking for boys with strong arms."

  "Ma, I don't need you to play matchmaker. And our tastes in men are obviously different. A smith's son? Seriously?"

  "Bah." Cora tossed the carrot in, stem and all, and fetched another to chop.

  "I'll think about it," Ari said. No use deepening the rift between them. "There's something I have to do first. But I'll come back and you can set me up with as many of these boys as you like. I can't promise I'll fall for any of them though."

  Cora grinned. "Well! Now that's the spirit. A little bit of my old Ari come back to me. I knew you were still inside there somewhere."

  Ari ignored the disturbingly casual reference to her revisioning. "Ma, can I ask you something? Why are you punishing yourself by living here?"

  Cora's smile was thin, and fleeting. "Moved here to get away from the snow, I did. It's funny, but I guess I thought the cold would be gone with it. But it's frigid as ever. More-so, even." Cora pulled her cloak tight. She finished with the carrot, then grabbed a potato and started peeling it. "So what brings you to the grand City of Darkness? You need my help? Are you in trouble? Surely you didn't come just to visit?"

  "Maybe I did. Maybe I finally wanted to make peace with my ma before too late."

  Cora blinked a few times, then her gaze steadied. "We're at peace already, far as I'm concerning. No matter what you've done. No matter what you've become. You're still a User?"

  Ari almost said yes. "No. I left them a long time ago." She was glad now that she hadn't brought a sword, and that she wore a fake bronze bitch.

  "Good." Cora gave her a warm smile. "I knew you wouldn't be associating with those bad people anymore. I knew you were smarter than that. Better." Her eyes became distant. "I still remember when you were just a girl of seventeen. Come back from your first User execution. You were so bright-eyed back then. But after that day, a bit of the twinkle had gone from your eyes."

  Ari frowned. "I don't remember."

  A shadow passed over her mother's face. "No. You wouldn't, would you?" She tossed the potato in the pot and began peeling another. "You hounded me about the Users that day. Who are they? What do they stand for? Why do we have to wear collars? Got me so worried that I yelled at you and sent you to your room. I thought that would be the end of it. But you began bringing home strange propaganda, and stranger friends. We were convinced you were going to join the Users, we were. And we did what we did because we thought we were saving you. Imagine my shock and surprise when I found out you'd gone and become a User anyway, despite it all."

  Ari was confused. "What do you mean, you did what you did because you thought you were saving me?"

  But Cora didn't hear. She was lost in memory. "I still remember the day Jeremy came. You used the electricity for the first time, that day. We hadn't collared you before then, because we hadn't seen the signs. You'd kept them a secret. Kept your power from the world. But you erupted when Jeremy came. Nearly messed-up him and your father real good with the lightning. Maybe it would have been for the best if you had. We tried to buy you back a month after. Too late by then. Too late."

  Cora slumped, and her head came dangerously close to the boiling water in the pot. But ma didn't seem to notice.

  Ari wasn't sure why Cora was telling her all this, nor that she wanted to hear any more of it.

  "Ma, this is a great little talk we're having, but you're right, I actually came here for a reason. I want to tell you something." Ari bit her lip. Would she be able to go through with this? Sharing her deepest thoughts and emotions could be so hard sometimes. She'd built up shields to protect herself, but sometimes those shields needed to come crashing down if she wanted to get through to those she cared about the most. "I wish I'd never been revised, all those years ago. I wish I'd never been taken away from you. But it's not your fault. And it's certainly not Hoodwink's. I want you to stop blaming him and yourself. Especially yourself. I want you to live again. Return to humanity, ma. Go back to Uncle Briar's house. Don't punish yourself by living in this shithole. You deserve better, ma. You always did. You can still be the singer you dreamed of. It's never too late."

  Cora straightened and grabbed another potato. She began peeling it, though her hands were shaking visibly. Cora suddenly raised the knife and stabbed it into the heart of the potato she held. She withdrew the knife and stabbed again.

  "Ma stop it!" Ari rose. "You'll cut yourself!"

  "Get out," Cora said. "Get out. Get out!" She tossed the potato, knife and all, into the boiling water. "You don't get it do you? You don't get it at all. I wanted Jeremy to take you. He paid me. Paid me and Hoodwink both." She was cackling now. "We let him have you! We made money off you! We're not your mother and father! How could we be, after doing something like that? Get out! GET OUT!"

  The words hardly registered. Ari was too stunned. Mother had accepted money ten years ago to give her up? Jeremy had paid Cora and Hoodwink so that he could take Ari and shape her into his personal bitch?

  Ari found her satchel and staggered backward to the door. None of this made sense. None of it. No. It wasn't possible. Hoodwink would never do that to her. Ma was just trying to drive a wedge between them.

  No. No. No!

  This is why she built up shields. This is why she never let anyone get close. They always hurt you, those closest to you. Always.

  She fumbled with the door knob and wrenched the door open, nearly ripping it from its hinges.

  The seven guards lay in various pieces on the cave floor. Above them towered the four-armed Direwalker she'd encountered at Jeremy's mansion.

  There was a wild grin on its face.

  61

  Ari stared dumbly at the Direwalker. The symbol of a curved tooth, dripping blood, was stamped into its chest, and its long black coat was swept back so that all its hands were revealed.

  Fourarms lifted one of those hands and everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

  The hand inched toward her forehead. Light glinted from a shiny, metallic disk in the palm.

  Ari gaped at the hand, and the disk, too shocked to respond. Closer and closer the disk came. In a moment the shiny object would touch her.

  It was her mother who saved her.

  A blur shot past on Ari's left—the pot hurtling by, boiling water sloshing over the rim as the handle pinwheeled. The pot collided with the gol's face and dumped the scalding contents all over it. The lip of the pot managed to snag on its head, and covered the Direwalker's eyes like a cap pulled too low. A lucky shot.

  It was enough.

  Ari snapped back to the present. She ducked beneath that swinging palm and its disk. She bounded onto Fourarms while the Direwalker was still off balance and blinded, but it was like leaping into a concrete pillar.

  Those four arms started to enwrap her—

  She squirmed downward, dodging that crushing grip.

  She scooped a sword from one of the fallen guards and plunged the blade into the Direwalker's chest. But the tip skidded and sparked as though she'd struck rock. The vibration passed up the sword into her arm and jolted her teeth.

  Fourarms
ripped the pot free. The boiling water had no apparent effect. Its face hadn't even reddened. The Direwalker opened its mouth in a sickening grin, its long fangs bared, and it came at her.

  Ari sidestepped, bashing the hilt of the sword into the back of its neck with everything she had. Again her arms hurt as if she'd struck stone, but the blow helped—the Direwalker took two unnecessary steps to recover its balance.

  Ari seized the opportunity to run.

  She glanced back down the cave, and saw the Direwalker pursuing her on all six limbs like some kind of giant centipede.

  It was gaining on her.

  The cave widened ahead, and branched three ways. She took the rightmost branch, following the city map in her head.

  The scuttle of those pursuing claws reflected from the cave walls so that the sound seemed to come at her from all sides, and she couldn't gauge the distance by hearing alone. She kept glancing back, feeling for all the world that the thing would be on her in moments.

  She rounded a bend and nearly ran into three gol guards on patrol.

  "Help!" she shouted as she tore past.

  She glanced askance. Fourarms hadn't slowed. Its mouth was open, its fangs anticipating the kill. Behind it, the three guards gave chase. Though they were fast, they weren't fast enough. Four paces separated them from the Direwalker. Not close enough to save her life.

  Ahead, the floor seemed darker somehow...

  She realized too late what it was—a smooth patch of black ice.

  She slipped and fell the instant she touched that ice. Momentum carried her forward. She heard frantic clawing as the Direwalker struggled to stay upright, then the floor shook as it crashed onto the ice behind her. The two slid onward, separated only by a pace.

  The passageway opened out into a smallish cavern. Stalagmites raced past. Passageways branched off to the left and right.

  The floor fell away—

  She wrapped her arms around a stalagmite right on the edge of the drop, and momentum swung her one-eighty degrees around it.