Guardian of the Gate

by Michelle Zink

  It is not long before I see the clearing ahead, a faint curl of smoke drifting upward from the cooling campfire, our two tents side by side and not far from the horses tied to the trees near the edge of the campsite. I head for the larger tent, knowing it is mine and that Sonia and Luisa are probably sleeping soundly within the shelter of its thin walls. The threatening breathing is still there, but I do not think the creature will catch me. It is not the capture of my soul that has called me to the Plane this night.

  Not an imminent threat, but a warning.

  I drop into my body effortlessly, without the harsh surprise that accompanied my first travels, and awaken immediately. It takes me a while to settle the racing of my heart, but even then, I cannot sleep. I do not know whether it is my imagination or simply a result of my return from the Plane, but I believe I hear things moving about the trees outside the tent. A rustling, a shifting, a careful stepping over the leafy forest floor.

  I look at Sonia and Luisa, still sleeping peacefully, and think I must be going mad.

  8

  When I emerge from the tent the next morning, sleepy-eyed and groggy, it is to a murky haze that blankets every inch of the campsite. The air is heavy with mist, and it is impossible to see more than a foot away. The horses can be heard whinnying and my friends can be heard speaking to one another, but it all comes as if beneath a thick layer of wool. I feel very alone, though I know the others are not as far away as they sound.

  We manage a hasty breakfast and begin breaking camp. Having helped Edmund pack the food and cooking supplies, I head to the tent to help Sonia and Luisa with the blankets. When I get there, Luisa is stuffing articles of clothing into the satchel lying on the ground.

  She looks up as I approach. “We will be lucky to see one another in this fog, to say nothing of finding our way through the forest.”

  I hear an undercurrent of tension in her words, though her face remains impassive.

  “We can only hope it doesn’t rain.” I refuse to ponder the unpleasantness of crossing the forest through not only heavy fog but torrential rain. “Where is Sonia?”

  Luisa waves her hand in the direction of the woods without looking up from the satchel. “Attending to personal matters.”

  “I thought we agreed to accompany one another when we had to leave the camp.”

  “I offered to go with her, even insisted, but she said she had an excellent sense of direction and would return well before we departed.” She pauses, and her next words are spoken with sarcasm under her breath. “Though I imagine if you had offered she would have accepted without hesitation.”

  I tip my head. “Whatever do you mean?”

  She continues packing with fervor, avoiding my eyes. “I mean you and Sonia have been together for months while I have been stuck in New York with the ninnies at Wycliffe.”

  Jealousy is evident in her voice, and my heart softens. I drop next to her on the ground, touching her arm. “Luisa.”

  She continues as if she doesn’t hear me. “It’s natural that you and she should become close.”

  “Luisa.” This time my voice is more forceful, and she stops her constant motion, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry you could not be here with Sonia and me. We would have liked nothing more. Things are never the same without you. But you must know that eight months apart could not change the friendship we share. The friendship we all share. Nothing could ever change that.”

  She looks at me in silence a moment before leaning in to embrace me. “I’m sorry, Lia. I’m being foolish, aren’t I? I suppose I’ve let this worry me far too long.”

  I feel a moment’s sadness for all that Luisa has missed. She is right. While Sonia and I have been in London unsupervised, riding horses and attending events with those of the Society, she has been trapped amid the same intolerance and small-minded thinking I once longed to escape.

  I pull back and smile at her. “Now, let me help you pack.”

  She favors me with a brilliant smile, the kind that is all Luisa, and hands me some of the things lying on the ground.

  With both of us at work, packing the tent and its contents goes quickly. And still, Sonia has not returned. A seed of worry takes root in my stomach, and I vow to go looking for her if she is not back by the time the horses are ready to leave. While we wait, Luisa and I carry the tents and packs to Edmund. We give him everything except my bow and knapsack. These I plan to keep with me every day until we arrive safely at Altus.

  He straps everything else to the animals and has just loaded the last of the packs onto Sonia’s horse when she finally stumbles through the trees at the edge of the campsite.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to be so late!” She brushes leaves and twigs from her hair and breeches. “I suppose my navigational skills are not what I imagined! Have you been waiting long?”

  I lift myself onto the back of my horse, stifling a wave of irritation. “Not long, though I do think we should stick together while in the wood, don’t you?”

  Sonia nods. “Of course. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you worry.” She makes her way to her horse.

  Luisa is already atop her mount. She says nothing, whether out of annoyance or the impatience to embark, I do not know.

  We follow Edmund out of the clearing that was our first campsite. No one speaks for a long while. The mist is suffocating. I feel nearly claustrophobic as it wraps its arms around us, and I have to stuff down occasional moments of panic. Moments when I feel as if I am being swallowed whole by something oppressive and all-encompassing.

  My mind is oddly blank. I do not think about Alice. I do not even think about Edmund’s confirmation that James and Alice have become friendly. I think of nothing except the backs of those who ride in front of me and my effort not to lose them in the fog.

  By the time we break for lunch, I have become used to the long stretches of quiet. We move about, settling into scattered positions near a small stream as we fill our canteens with fresh water and chew bread that is already becoming stale. But we do it all in silence. And in the end, it is no matter, for there is nothing to see or speak of anyway.

  Edmund feeds and waters the horses while Sonia, Luisa, and I enjoy the break from riding. Sonia lies on her back amid the grass near the stream, and Luisa, eyes closed and her face serene, leans against the trunk of a tree. I watch them both, feeling as if I am looking for something — something other than the missing pages.

  But I do not have long to dwell on my feelings. Edmund soon gives the signal that it is time to get moving, and move we do, mounting our horses and making our way deeper into the forest.

  “Lia? Do you think Luisa is all right?”

  We have finally retired after a long day of riding, and Sonia’s voice drifts to me from her side of the tent. Luisa is still sitting by the campfire — or she was when Sonia and I decided to go to bed.

  I think back to the conversation Luisa and I had in the tent that morning and am not entirely certain she would like me to repeat her earlier jealousy. “Why do you ask?”

  Sonia’s brow furrows as she tries to find the right words. “It seems she has something on her mind. Don’t you sense it?”

  Hesitating, I try to think of a way to honor Luisa’s confidence. “Perhaps, but we are on horseback all day long, and it is ever so hard to carry on a conversation while riding, especially in this infernal fog. Also…”

  “Yes?” she prods.

  “Well, you and I have been together for a year now, Sonia. Don’t you think it possible that Luisa feels a bit left out?”

  She chews her lower lip. I recognize the gesture as one she employs when pondering a question of significance and choosing her reply carefully. “I suppose, but I wonder if it isn’t something more.”

  “Such as?”

  Sonia looks at the ceiling of the tent before turning her eyes to me in the darkness of the tent. “You don’t think… well…”

  “What? What is it?”

  She sighs heavily. “I was just thinking about
how Virginia once said the Souls would stop at nothing to get to you, to cause dissension among us.”

  She does not have to finish. I know what she means to imply. “Sonia.” I say her name to give me time. “I know the Souls are out there. I do. But we cannot make anything of a distraction we all feel traveling through this gray and misty wood.”

  Her eyes find mine across the tent.

  “All right?” I say again.

  She nods. “All right, Lia.”

  Some time later, long after Sonia has gone quiet, Luisa returns to the tent. She moves about quietly, easing into her blankets without a sound. It would be simple to ask the questions brought to mind by Sonia’s worry, and yet I say nothing. I do not want to give credence to Sonia’s fear by voicing it aloud.

  “We’ll be making the changeover today.” Edmund makes the declaration calmly from atop his horse as we depart the campsite.

  “What changeover would that be?” Luisa asks.

  Edmund stares into the mist, still as heavy as the woolen cloak about my shoulders. “The changeover to the world between ours and the Otherworlds. The world in which Altus lies.”

  I nod as if I understand precisely what he means. I do not, but that is not to say I dismiss his words, for I have felt change in the wind as well. I felt it as we journeyed on horseback deeper and deeper into the forest. I felt it as I awoke from my fitful slumber, still hearing the eerie, many-footed creatures as they stalked our tent in my dream. And I feel it as Edmund leads the way once again into the dense foliage of the forest.

  The day wears on, and Sonia makes nervous conversation while Luisa remains mostly silent. Edmund finally locates a place to break for lunch and refill our canteens. As has become our habit, Edmund takes care of the horses while I pull food from the packs for an easy meal. We are eating in companionable silence when I hear it. No. That is not quite right. I think I hear it, but it is more a feeling, a whispered intuition that something is coming. At first, I think it is my imagination.

  But then I look around.

  Edmund, still as a statue, gazes into the trees with single-minded concentration. Even Sonia and Luisa are silent, eyes turned in the same direction.

  I watch them and know that they, too, sense the creatures moving toward us through the forest. And this time, it is not a dream.

  9

  “Get up, mount your horses, and follow me. Do it now.” Edmund speaks the words slowly through nearly clenched lips. “And do not stop for any reason until I say the word.”

  He is on his horse in an instant, his eyes remaining on the woods behind us as we follow suit. We are significantly slower and louder than Edmund in preparing to ride, though I have never thought of myself as particularly ponderous or loud.

  When we are ready, Edmund turns his horse in the direction we have been traveling and takes off like a shot, without a word to his horse. Our own horses jump forward without prodding, a kind of secret communication telling them that time is of the essence even though none of us gives so much as a command.

  We race through the forest at lightning speed. I have no idea which direction we travel or if we are still on course for Altus, but Edmund does not hesitate as he leads us through the forest. It is difficult to say if it is because he is certain we are heading in the right direction or if it is because he so fears the thing stalking us that he no longer cares if we run astray.

  We travel so quickly through the forest that I am forced to hunch low over Sargent’s neck, and still, twigs catch in my hair and branches claw at my skin. I feel it all with a sort of detached observation. I know I am racing through the forest with only a bow and my mother’s dagger for protection. Likely I am running for my life. But somehow I cannot feel the fear I know must be lurking somewhere beneath my skin.

  I hear the river before I see it. It is a sound I will never forget. When it is, at last, in plain sight, I am relieved that Edmund pulls tightly on the reins, bringing his horse, and our assemblage, to a quick stop at the edge of the water.

  He stares out over the river, and I bring my horse next to his, following his gaze.

  “What do you think, Edmund? Will we be able to cross it?” I ask.

  His chest rapidly rises and falls, the only indication of his exertion. “I think so.”

  “You think so?” My voice comes out louder and more shrill than I intend.

  He shrugs. “There is no guarantee, but I think we can manage it. It’s a pity, though.”

  His words are cryptic and make me feel that I have missed an important part of our conversation. “What’s a pity?”

  “That the river isn’t deeper.”

  I shake my head. “Yes, but if it were too deep, we might not be able to cross it.”

  “True enough.” He gathers the reins in his hand, preparing to urge his mount into the water. “But if we had trouble crossing it, so, too, might our pursuers. And if they are what I think they are, we should pray for the deepest body of water we can find.”

  Crossing the river is not as difficult as I fear. I do have a moment’s anxiety as we reach the deepest portion, the water nearly reaching my knees, but Sargent surges forward against the current with a minimum of trouble.

  I do not have time to speak further with Edmund about the thing giving chase through the woods. We travel nearly full speed for the rest of the day after crossing the river. There are no stops for food, water, or rest until the sun descends so far that it is difficult to see one another. It is clear that Edmund would like to continue, but no one asks whether we should keep going. The safety of our party must come first. It will do no good if one of us is injured along the way.

  We work together to prepare food, care for the horses, and set up the tents. For the first time, Sonia and Luisa help as well, and I wonder if they, too, feel their nerves wound tight with fear. I assist Edmund with supper, fill a bucket of water for the horses from the nearby stream, and feed them each a few apples. And all the while, I listen. All the while, my eyes stray to the trees surrounding our campsite. All the while, I wait for the creatures that chased us through the forest to burst into the clearing.

  Sonia and Luisa sit silently by the fire after dinner. Their new silence with each other makes me uneasy, but there are more important concerns at the forefront of my mind. I wander over to Edmund, who is brushing down one of the horses where it is tied to the trees.

  He nods as I approach and pick up an extra brush from the ground. I run it through the coarse gray fur of Sonia’s horse and try to order the many questions running through my mind. It is not difficult to choose the one at the forefront.

  “What is it, Edmund? The thing that follows us?”

  He doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t even look at me, and I am wondering whether he heard the question at all when he finally speaks, though not to answer my question. “I have not traveled these woods, have not been in this in-between world, in a very long time.”

  I stop brushing and tip my head at him. “Edmund. I would trust your suspicion over another’s certainty in a matter such as this one.”

  He nods slowly, lifting his eyes to mine. “All right, then. I believe we are being followed by the Hellhounds, Samael’s own demonic wolf pack.”

  I spend a moment trying to connect my knowledge of the mythological hellhounds with the possibility that they could be following us. “But… the Hellhounds aren’t real, Edmund.”

  “Even so,” he says, raising his eyebrows, “there are those who would deny the existence of alternate worlds, demonic souls, and shape-shifters as well.”

  He is right, of course. If the measure of reality is based only on things in which the rest of the world believes, there is no Samael, no Lost Souls, no prophecy. Yet we know them to be real. It only makes sense, then, to accept the reality in which we find ourselves, however far that reality may be from everyone else’s.

  “What do they want?” I ask.

  He places the brush gently on the ground before rising to stroke the horse’s
mane. “I can only guess that they want you. The Hellhounds are chosen disciples of Samael’s army. Disciples who have made their way here beyond past Sisters. Past Gates. Samael knows that with every step through this wood, we draw closer to Altus. And drawing closer to Altus means drawing closer to the missing pages of the book that may help close his door to our world for all of eternity.”

  His explanation doesn’t shock me as much as it should. It is not that I am unafraid, exactly, for even now I feel the blood race faster through my veins at the thought of meeting my death at the mercy of the Hellhounds. But I know that in order to get to the end of a thing, one must start at the beginning.

  “All right. So how do we escape the Hounds? How do we beat them?”

  He sighs. “I’ve never encountered them myself, but I have heard stories. I suppose that is all we have to go on.” He pauses before continuing. “They are bigger and stronger than any wolf in our world, you can be sure of that. Even so, they do occupy a living body, and that body is vulnerable to death just like any other. It takes more to kill one of the Hounds than it would take to kill something found in our world, but it can be done. The thing is…” He rubs the stubble that has sprouted on his cheeks in recent days. I hear it scratch the flat of his palm.

  “Yes? What is it?”

  “We don’t know how many of them there are. If they travel in a large pack, well… we only have one rifle. I’m a good enough shot, but I’d rather not bet on me against a whole pack of demon hounds. I’d prefer to bet on another weakness.”

  “What sort of weakness?”

  He looks around as if afraid to be overheard, though I cannot imagine who would be about other than those in our party. When he speaks, it is with a lowered voice. “I’ve heard it said that there is one thing in particular that gives the Hounds pause.”