The King's Gate

by K T Munson

  The King’s Gate

  By K.T. Munson

  ISBN 978-1-7320589-6-5

  Copyright © K.T. Munson 2020

  1st Edition

  The right of K.T. Munson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the writer. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  Cover art by Asahi Art

  Copyedited by Tanya Egan Gibson

  Dedication

  For Harmony.

  Sometimes family are connected by blood and sometimes they are by bond.

  Other Books by K.T. Munson

  1001 Islands

  Frost Burn (Coauthored)

  North & South

  Unfathomable Chance

  Zendar: A Tale of Blood and Sand

  The Gate Trilogy

  The Gate Guardian’s Daughter (prequel)

  The Sixth Gate

  The Nowhere Gate

  Chapter 1: Divine Court

  Elisabeth clung to Ki’s empty clothes, hugging them to her chest as she rocked back and forth. Tears streamed down her face as she fought back the sob that threatened to bubble up. Her mind wouldn’t function, it was difficult to breathe, and her heart was breaking.

  I had to kill him, I had to. It had been the only right choice. Hadn’t it?

  Though she felt sick, she dredged up her strength from beneath her shock. She hugged the clothing even tighter until finally she could focus. Yes, she’d made an impulsive decision, but even as she fought her hysteria, she knew it had been the right one. Arawn couldn’t hurt her, but he could hurt Ki. So the best place for Ki was as far away from the Divine Court as she could get him.

  She took a deep breath and was halfway into a second one, her mind finally calming its pace, when the doors exploded inward. Wood splintered and scattered around her, and Arawn stepped into the bedroom. The King’s crown on his head had morphed into still-smoldering scorched wood. The tears dried in her eyes at the sight of him, replaced by anger. Everything, all of it, had been his fault. The Black King may have been evil and deranged, but Arawn had been the catalyst.

  “There you are,” he said with a twisted smile. “Where is the other one?” He raked the room with his gaze as though imagining where Ki could be hiding.

  “Why?” she asked, her grip tightening on the clothing in her hands. “Why did you do it?”

  “Do what?” Arawn barked.

  “You made Aryan into what he was, and then you facilitated his return.” All the pieces fit together now that she knew they were father and son. “I know it was you who placed those shards in each of us. Aryan the Black couldn’t have done it, but you could have.” She pressed a fist to her chest. The Black King might be gone, but a sliver of him remained in her—she could feel it there, the pulsing power that hummed to a different tune than her own.

  Understanding seemed to pass over his face. Then a slow sly smile. “Aryan is my son.”

  “He was your son,” Elisabeth corrected. “He is dead.”

  “You of all people should know what death is. No one is ever truly dead until they are completely gone from this world.” Arawn’s lips twisted into a smile.

  Instinctively, she cringed at his words. She stumbled to her feet and backed up, horror overtaking her. She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t let it be true.

  “No,” she said, steel in her voice.

  “Yes,” Arawn replied. “You are going to give me that shard, and I am going to use it to bring him back.”

  She fought down the bile in her throat.

  He smiled again. “Just as I did with my granddaughter.”

  At that last word, realization fell over her—Kerrigan. Kerrigan was the child of Aryan the Black, which made Arawn Kerrigan’s grandfather. It would break the poor girl’s heart.

  “Aryan possessed her body,” Elisabeth countered. “She was going to die.” Clearly remembering the way Aryan had used Kerrigan to gain purchase when he’s first returned from Croatoan

  “No. She would have retained her body if you hadn’t taken her soul. I had prepared an empty vessel here for my son to take after the ceremony was completed. Kerrigan was to become the warrior she was meant to be,” Arawn explained. The revelation floored Elisabeth, shaking her very belief that Arawn was as heartless as his son.

  Elisabeth eyed him warily. Despite her mistrust of him and her hatred, she knew he spoke the truth. Everything he had done had been for family. She had no doubt that Arawn had taken pains to keep his granddaughter safe just as he had his son.

  She gasped. “You’re the puppet master behind Hipasha.”

  Arawn shrugged. “A means to an end.”

  “She will never forgive you,” Elisabeth said. “You are the cause of all her misery.” Hipasha’s betrayal had cut Kerrigan deeply.

  “She is a warrior,” Arawn replied, his chest inflated with pride. “She has never surrendered to her baser fears. She is my blood and has my strength.” He reached toward her. “Now give me the shard.”

  “No,” Elisabeth said, clenching Ki’s cloak to her chest. She shifted away from him.

  Arawn shook his head. “I thought you might say that.”

  Suddenly shadows curled their way into the doorway. Long fingers reached into the room, pulled themselves toward her. Nightmares, in their shadow form.

  For a moment, Elisabeth froze. But then she remembered. “Ethandirill was clear,” she said with a glare. “You cannot harm me. Not with your hand or with any hand you command.”

  Arawn laughed, which made Elisabeth’s blood run cold. Her eyes flicked between Arawn and the creatures as they slowly slid themselves along the ceiling, getting closer every second to where she stood. Fear clenched her heart, but she drove the feeling down.

  “I’m not going to hurt you to get what I want,” Arawn replied. “True, I had thought to torture the abomination for whom you have such affection, but I have other ways.”

  Elisabeth retreated slightly as the creatures drew closer. In one fluid motion, she secured Ki’s cloak around her neck to free up her hands. She clenched her dagger tightly. She had no intention of going down without a fight, but it wouldn’t be an easy one. Though Nightmares were loners that didn’t instinctively cooperate, under the King’s command they could be ordered to work as one.

  As she took another step back, she felt something begin to wrap around her ankle. She jerked her leg back and saw a Nightmare’s tentacle reach for her again. Elisabeth hurled a ball of her blue energy at it and it faltered, but seconds later a second one dropped down from the ceiling and wrapped itself around her. Panic filled her as it tried to pin her arms to her sides. Jerking an arm free, she tried to form a shield as she sliced at it with her dagger, her powers creating blue sparks along the blade, but a new shadow was upon her and then another. She flailed and tried a frantic sweeping arch but she was low on life force. Despite her wild attempt she managed to stumble towards the door. She was nearly free when two more took hold of her legs. Arawn stepped forward and threw a thin chain toward her. Elisabeth tried to move out of its way, but the creatures held her in place. The chain wrapped around her and then tightened with every breath she took.

  Elisabeth recognized it instantly, the same chain Ki had used on her demonic half, Elsariel, when it had first surfaced. The Nightmares slithered over her clothes and in her hair until she felt smothered by them.
She cringed as one oozed across her neck. She screamed—partly from fear and partly out of frustration—as the shadows tightened around her. With her arms still pinned to her sides, they lifted her, wrapping all of her in their shadowy bodies except for her face.

  “So stubborn.” Arawn replied. “Just like your mother.”

  Elisabeth’s growing revulsion faltered at his words. “What did you say?”

  “I was there at the order of King Nauberon when Darienith went to claim your mother’s life,” he said. “I was there when the Mad Dog broke his horns, became mortal, and saved you. I was there when he abandoned your mother so that you might live.”

  “He didn’t abandon her,” Elisabeth countered before she could stop herself. Her jaw was locked to keep herself from crying as she spoke, the words barely a whisper. Her mother had always been a weak spot for her.

  “He did. He left the mortal to her fate,” Arawn said with a twisted smile, his white teeth a stark contrast to his black skin.

  Elisabeth fought against her restrains but the creatures just slithered and tightened their hold like snakes. “You’re lying.”

  “Sadly, I am not, but soon you will understand.” Arawn took her chin in his rough hand and she felt like a child. “Soon you will see the truth for yourself. The inner sanctum will reveal all, and when you break, you will be begging me to take the shard from you.”

  The Nightmares clasped around her like birds, inky black ravens, and carried her through the Divine Court. She felt like she was falling and being caught, over and over again. When they burst through a set of doors and deposited her in the blackness within her stomach was in knots. When they left, she fell to her knees and wondered what fate awaited her.

  Chapter 2: Ashlad

  Malthael couldn’t stop staring at her. Selene’s resemblance to Elisabeth was undeniable. Her nose was more petite, and her ears were not as elegant as Serena’s or Elisabeth’s, but the differences stopped there. She was about as tall as Serena had been. At a quick glance, Malthael could have mistaken her for Elisabeth’s mother.

  Selene and Kerrigan chatted softly as Nanette led them to the way out of the Netherworld. Malthael brought up the rear, making sure nothing snuck up on them. When he wasn’t keeping an eye on their tails, he kept stealing sideways glances at Selene. Was she the genuine article? He nodded to himself. She had to be.

  “There it is!” Nanette called.

  Malthael looked in the direction in which she was pointing. He could make out the green amongst all of the rust colors. The cottage was situated just beyond the massive ruin of Malthael’s former home—when he’d been the Golden Demon and not the Mad Dog. Malthael curled his fingers around the watch Ethandirill had given him. Though the gate connection to the Netherworld normally only worked from the planetary side, the watch should allow them to pass through the gate and back into their home in Ashlad.

  Kerrigan stopped and glanced back, not for the first time. Her worried gaze was focused on Morhaven. The massive protective dome shielded much of the greenery and the fortress within, but it was still a sliver of beauty among the vast rusty landscape of the Netherworld. Malthael dared not give in to the temptation of looking back, certain he would return for Elisabeth despite his promise to see the mortals to safety. When Kerrigan locked eyes with him an understanding of their mutual concern over his adoptive daughter passed between them silently. Kerrigan was every bit the warrior, ready to return and face more powerful enemies for a friend. If only the girl knew the treachery of the Divine Court like Malthael did, she would demand they return at once. Kerrigan smiled softly, the edges of her eyes pinched with sadness. Hurrying to catch up with Nanette, who was standing on at the top of a hill of rubble, which had once been a building.

  At the far edge of the hill was a partially intact wall that dropped down at a steep angle to a sheer drop. They stopped to rest for a moment as Malthael searched for a way around. He eyed the rust colored rocks that were covered with ash that had fallen not long before they had arrived. The Netherworld had always been a wasteland, a desolate place and now more than ever he realized it was no longer his home. Though the thought was surreal, it was true.

  “We can drop down here,” Malthael told them as he crouched to estimate the length of the drop.

  His eyes shifted to Selene who was standing behind Kerrigan. Her focused gaze gave nothing away until it was drawn past him, back over her shoulder to the place where his heart of hearts faced darkness without him. It was only when he heard Selene gasp and saw her mouth open in a silent “o” that he stood to gaze back at Morhaven.

  The light of Morhaven—the top of the orb was all they could see from where they stood—had dimmed. It pulsed once, flooding the air with light, and then an inky blackness exploded from the top. Malthael whirled around, nearly stumbling over the side in his rush to get to a higher part of the hill He had to see more. He had to know what was happening.

  Morhaven had gone dark. Nightmares swirled around the outside of the shield that protected Morhaven. Some were destroyed in an explosion of shadows, but the rest continued to twist around the barrier in an endless rotation—partially obscuring the light in a black mist.

  “What is happening?” Kerrigan asked joining him.

  Malthael swallowed as he tore his gaze away to look at each of them in turn. Nanette’s face was pale—like him, there was someone she loved beyond the barrier. The tension was palpable.

  “The Black King must have defeated King Nauberon,” Malthael said.

  “What about Elisabeth?” Nanette asked, tears in her eyes. “Ki? Ethandirill?” Her voice caught on the last name.

  “I don’t know.” The words physically pained him. “We need to return to Ashlad so I can find out.”

  “We should have stayed.” Nanette covered her horrified expression with her hands, but her eyes never left Morhaven. “I’ve left them all alone. They need us.”

  “Nanette,” Malthael said, reaching for her.

  Shaking her head, she put her arms against his chest to stop him. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought to keep Morhaven in view. Finally, she let him engulf her in his arms. In the short time he had known her, Nanette had become almost like a second daughter to him. His emotions hadn’t always been that of a mortal, but he understood her sudden hysteria. She sobbed, her fingers tightening on his clothes. She hit his chest once with her fist, trying again to push him away, but the attempt was halfhearted. He hadn’t realized until now how petite she was—her personality more than made up for her size.

  “Uh, Malthael?” Kerrigan said in a worried tone pointing towards Morhaven, “What is that?”

  Feeling tense he moved away from Nanette and looked back toward the dome. The moment his eyes saw the dark bodies flying out of the top of Morhaven, a coldness formed in the pit of his stomach.

  “Run!” he yelled as he heaved Nanette into his arms and jumped off the side of the rubble.

  “Mal—” she began, but the rest of his name was lost to a scream.

  He set her down and once he was sure she was steady he propelled her toward safety by her shoulders, barking out a command to run before he turned back to Kerrigan and Selene. Kerrigan jumped down into his arms and he set her down. Unlike Kerrigan, however, when Selene reached the edge of the sheer face of the rubble, she hesitated. Whether it was because of him or because of the drop he didn’t know, but in either case she was putting herself in harm’s way. He knew what was coming.

  “Selene!” Kerrigan called out. Malthael turned to her. He hadn’t realized that she hadn’t gone ahead.

  He took the watch from around his neck and thrust it at Kerrigan. “Open the gate.” She looked over her shoulder and back at him, vacillating. “Now!” he said.

  With a nod, Kerrigan bolted. Malthael turned back to Selene. Her eyes were wide with fear as she crouched by the edge.

  “You can trust me,” he said, his hands stretched out, ready to catch her.

  Her face contorted for a moment
as she searched beyond him—to Kerrigan, he assumed. Whatever she saw must have caused her to make up her mind because she dropped into his waiting arms. He caught her, cradling her against him to break the impact of the fall.

  Something shrieked in the distance.

  “Hold on,” he told her as he half slung her over his shoulder.

  The cold kiss of death was on his heels as he ran, but they made it to where Nanette and Kerrigan held open the gate. Malthael thrust Selene into Kerrigan’s arms after stepping inside. As he went to secure the latch, a shape in a black cloak drifted toward him and stopped at the edge of the boundary just outside the cottage’s fence. His gaze was met by eyes as red as two hot coals. The hair on Malthael’s arms stood on end. A Soul Collector.

  “You,” Malthael said. “You’re one of the dishonored, like Darienith.”

  “Said the mortal demon,” the gravelly voice replied. Behind him a wave of black capes joined, until he felt surrounded by a sea of Soul Collectors.

  “What do you want?” Malthael asked as more shapes appeared.

  “We cannot say, but the abomination will know.” The voices of forty-one Soul Collectors sounded as one.

  “Ki?” Nanette whispered, her hand touching Malthael’s arm.

  “I think it is time we returned to Ashlad. If Ki escaped, he will know what has happened,” Malthael said, doing his best to mask his surprise. He covered Nanette’s hand with his own. “Ki will have answers for us both.”

  Nanette nodded, her face set in a determined expression despite the trails that tears had left in the ash and dirt on her face. They turned as one and went across the lawn into the empty house that had once belonged to the last orc of Croatoan.

  Chapter 3: Divine Court

  Even through Ethandirill’s eyelids, the sunlight was too bright to ignore. He raised a hand against the intruding light that burst into the room and let his eyes slowly adjust to it. He looked around the simple room in which he’d awoken. It had a cottage-like feel to it, and he had no idea how he had gotten here. He rolled, with a groan, out of the bed, the covers fighting him slightly before relenting.