The King's Gate

by K T Munson

  Her expression didn’t change. “It will be done.”

  Before she could go, Ethandirill said, “Actually, I have one more message for you to deliver.”

  Chapter 12: Oran

  Ki crept along the edge of the forest. Malthael and Elisabeth were exceedingly clever about tracking. They had extracted Weaver blood from its eyeball, the one place that it didn’t congeal with acid, to track other beings from the Netherworld on the planets. Then Elisabeth had bound the blood to the map—being of both the planets and the Netherworld, she was uniquely qualified to do so. When he unfurled the map, there were green dots to show him the way.

  He rolled up the map and put it in its weatherproof holder. He began to climb the nearest tree, having seen from the map that it wouldn’t be long now. Blood magic was the easiest type to do, particularly for tracking. Planet dwellers couldn’t use such magic, which is why The Shadow Clan had always worked in groups. Memories of his family working together to cast spells flashed through his mind. The Netherworld, however, didn’t follow the same rules as the planets. The laws of the world were simple, yet complex—even time moved differently there.

  Hoisting himself into a different junction in the tree’s branches at the top of the trunk, Ki put his hands on his daggers and prepared to wait for as long as necessary. He returned to memories of himself as a boy. Ki could cast runes and some spells because he was many souls in one body. The collection of energy allowed him to do what it had taken many men to perform. As a child, he had been forced to push his body and skills to the limit. Where Elisabeth had reviled her gift, Ki had embraced his.

  In all honesty, though he was on Oran to keep people safe, it was also to feel close to Elisabeth by doing as she had done. At first he had wanted to push her out of his mind and focus on the task at hand, but he should have known better. She’d enchanted him but now he was bewitched by her. Elisabeth had become a force of nature; she was no longer the scared girl hiding from her powers and her destiny. She faced it all full on now, and so would Ki. Her strength gave him strength. True, he had a sordid past, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t redeem himself; couldn’t earn the right to be with her.

  Inspecting the blossoming trees, he wondered briefly how life would have been different if they had never met, but then forced himself to stop. Ki didn’t like to dwell on what he would have become if Elisabeth hadn’t opened his eyes. To distract himself from the thought, he began taking his pack off and lightening his load; it would be easier to fight without the distractions.

  Fog started to billow out of the ground, seeping through cracks that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. It hadn’t taken long for the creature to show. Ki focused, eyes alert as the fog grew and wafted against the tree’s roots. It wasn’t long before they were completely obscured from view, meaning the monsters would come out to play.

  His fingers griped the hilts of his daggers. His best ones had been left in the Netherworld upon his most recent death, but he kept spares where he rejuvenated. Tense, Ki studied the haze as it drifted against the tree trunk, building every second. It wafted against his feet before he saw movement.

  The shadow drifted across the edge of the field. A Nightmare. Ki’s eyes narrowed as the creature tested the edge of the murky boundary. It hadn’t noticed him yet. He released his hold on the daggers; they would do no good against a Nightmare until it left its compressed form. Ki instead reached slowly into the folds of his tunic.

  He extracted a small bell, like something a small domesticated animal would wear. He cautiously reached his hand out across the tree’s branches and let the bell slip from his grasp. It whistled quietly through the air as it fell. When it struck the ground, the Nightmare rapidly snaked across the clearing toward it.

  Ki’s hands went to his daggers, ready and waiting. The moment the Nightmare rushed over the dropped bell, it shuddered. Ki leaned forward, ready for the moment it would fully appear. It didn’t take long for it to start to blob out. Inky blackness flowed into a shape, like water bubbling up out of the ground. Six mortal like arms stretched up as the creature surfaced from its flat form. Its lower body was tentacles, like a sea creature, and it wore shadowy armor on its upper half.

  Ki leaped down, unsheathed his daggers, and buried them into the creature’s back. It threw its horned head back and screamed. Ki shook his head, trying to push away the shrill sound, and his grip nearly slipped. Before the creature could recover, Ki stabbed one of the daggers into its skull. The sound died off abruptly as the creature’s body melted away. Ki landed in the pile of black goop, daggers in hand. It clung to his shoes like tar.

  There, in the center of all the muck, was the bell. It lay in the grass encircled by the tar of the creature’s essence. Ki leaned over and picked up the bell, admiring it. The crown of it had a carved tooth attached to the metal. Children’s teeth worked like a charm on the Nightmares—nothing combated them like a child’s dreams, which were stored in their lost teeth. They had to be lost teeth—they couldn’t be stolen, though Ki didn’t know why. He returned it to his breast pocket and grimaced as he yanked his feet free of the tar.

  The fog was already dispensing as he began walking back toward the tree. Suddenly his hair stood on end. He felt the presence of a demon a moment before something went whistling over his head. Ducking, he rolled away and came up on his feet, facing his opponent with his daggers ready.

  The demon laughed and he struck the ground with the butt of his spear. “You are faster than you look.”

  “What do you want?” Ki asked, his daggers still poised.

  The demon seemed more amused than scared by the daggers. “I am here to offer my assistance.”

  “At what cost?” Ki asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “I owe a debt. Lionel was my responsibility, and I could never free him.” Ki eyed him in confusion at the demon’s words. “Your Spiritwalker did that. On her first visit to the Netherworld no less.” Memories of the demon and the inn surfaced; so much time had passed since then. “I owe her, and I shall help her to clear my debt.” He bowed politely. “Where she is trapped none of you can go, but I can get you in.”

  Though there were very few things demons felt passionately about, they liked deals that were in their favor, and they hated being in someone’s debt. If anyone wanted anything from a demon, the best way to get it was by making a deal. Ki continued to evaluate him. His hair was a glaring red and his skin a pale gray. He had six black-gray horns that crowned his head. He wore sturdy metal and leather armor. He was a higher demon and the emblem on his chest, a phoenix, marked him as a Demon Hunter.

  “I thought Demon Hunters hunted and killed demons made by men.” Given that the demon’s first move had been to try to take his head off, Ki was still not ready to lower his daggers.

  The demon scowled. “There is so much you don’t understand. Even the Shadow Clan had many things they were blind to. We can’t kill the demons made from mortals. We hunt them down and try to free them. They disrupt the balance.”

  “Swear on your name that you speak true,” Ki demanded—the ultimate test of a demon’s honesty.

  He didn’t even bat an eye. “I, Katallan, swear that I speak true.” His voice was steady and sure.

  All of the hair on Ki’s arm stood on end. Katallan was a well-known name. Even those who knew little had heard of Katallan and his master Ishtar. Ki’s gaze immediately went to his eyepatch; he had heard that he used the death-stare ability in his second eye to hunt demons. He’d assumed, until now, that Katallan killed them.

  Ki had avoided high-ranking demons and their like that served members of the Divine Court for a reason. They were complicated, powerful, and as silver-tongued as their masters. Ki’s eyes narrowed. Even now with the words spoken, Ki distrusted them.

  “Very well,” Ki said. “There are other creatures to track. If you prove useful, I’ll take you to see Malthael. He will decide.”

  Katallan’s lips curled into a slow smile. “The Mad Dog? It has been
some time since I have thought of Malthael.”

  “You know him?” Ki blurted out.

  “When he was called the Golden Demon, I knew him by association. He was a kind of hunter for Marduk, and we hunters know of each other,” Katallan replied cryptically. “I had heard he was at the center of this chaos.”

  Frowning, Ki crossed his arms. “He is Elisabeth’s adoptive father. If you mean him harm, you will in turn harm her.”

  Katallan tipped his head once. “On my name, I speak true.”

  “Very well, hunter,” Ki said, reaching for the map. “Let’s hunt.”

  Chapter 13: Morhaven

  The anguish in her soul was palpable. She screamed and clasped her hands over her ears. The blank dead eyes of Kerrigan, Nanette, and Malthael accosted her sanity. The weapon she had used to kill them clattered to the ground, splattering across the blood. The tangy, metallic scent of blood hung heavy in air, clawing at the back of her throat. Lying beside their bodies, Jinq choked on his own blood, a trail of which led from the hole in his abdomen to her sword. She had become aware just as she stabbed him. The old man’s face had contorted in pain, and then her eyes had gone to the crumpled bodies on the floor.

  The Black King had won in this version, having convinced her to go dark. As her heart broke, she heard footsteps behind her. This was the seventh time he had put her into a future where Elsariel had given into her darker urges. It was hard to hold on to her rationality.

  She looked behind her and saw Ki. His face twisted in confusion. “What have you done?”

  “It isn’t real!” Elisabeth yelled, her voice cracking with a sob. Shaking her head, she gripped her arms in her hands.

  “They are dead,” he said. “They are all dead.” She retreated away from the accusation in his eyes. As she backed away, she could feel the weight of the blood that soaked the hem of her skirts.

  “Kill me.” She hugged herself, hysteria threating to overtake her. “It isn’t real,” she muttered, trying to cling to reason. “I can’t look at them.” She squeezed her eyes shut as she leaned over her bent knees. Fighting off the urge to give into Arawn’s demands, she focused on her breathing. Their deaths filled her with anguish, the sight of their vacant eyes killing her—and it was her fault.

  “Elisabeth?” Ki’s voice brought her back and she opened her eyes.

  He crouched before her, a pleading expression on his face. He was searching for some shred of recognition that she was still there, hope evident in his eyes. As she opened her mouth to reassure him and maybe find a momentary reprieve in his arms, blood sprayed across her face.

  She wiped away the blood and tried to understand what had happened. Ki’s body fell to the side and his head rolled a good distance away before coming to rest. His hollow eyes joined those of the others as a deafening scream assaulted her mind. It was so painful that she didn’t utter a sound.

  Her gaze went back to the attacker as she tried to remember to breathe. Aryan the Black’s lips curled into a cruel and satisfied smile. He strode over to her and yanked her to her feet. She couldn’t find the will to fight him as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “Elsariel,” he purred and pressed his lips to hers.

  Elisabeth felt her legs give out as she collapsed in his arms. Suddenly, they disappeared and the rest of the room faded away. She crumpled to the ground. Sobbing in the middle of the dark room, Elisabeth could still see their lifeless faces on the back of her eyelids. Exhaustion crippled her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept, but it felt like days ago. Every time sleep claimed her, she would be forced into another nightmare. She feared sleep now.

  “You can end this.” Arawn’s voice said, almost too softly. “Just give me the shard.”

  Elisabeth’s arms shook as she pushed her upper body into an upright position. A shaft of light shown down on her as she glared into the darkness, trying to remain defiant when all she wanted to do was rest. He stepped into the soft light, his black skin looking smooth and his face well rested. All that mattered, though, was that her sanity was intact—for now.

  “You’ll never have it,” she whispered, her throat was so parched that she couldn’t manage anything louder. They gave her only enough food to keep her alive and were painfully sparing with the water.

  “You grow weaker every day in body and spirit. No one is coming for you.” Arawn’s expression was aloof.

  Lifting her head slowly, she let her eyes bore into him. She would never give in. Saving her strength, she didn’t answer him. He would not break her. He would do whatever he pleased, perhaps ruin her mind, but even in insanity, even lost to her demonic half, she would not bend to his will. That is what she wanted her hardened expression to assure him.

  “We shall see. You have survived eight scenarios, but there are hundreds more of them where you went dark. Where there was blood of those you claim to love on your hands. You will give me what I seek, and then I shall have my son again.” He didn’t sound as sure as he had the first time, though. To Elisabeth he sounded angry.

  When he vanished, she sagged. Her body no longer had the power to hold her up. She fell onto her back and lay there, her arm across her stomach and her blond hair on her face

  An involuntary tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. She was surprised her body would even muster that with the lack of water. Focusing on her breathing, she closed her eyes. She didn’t sleep. Instead, she imagined what Ki had gone through. He had been willing to sacrifice himself. Then he had survived for months separated from his body and trapped with Aryan the Black’s incorporeal form on a primitive world. She didn’t know what he had suffered but knew it could not have been pleasant. He would come for her and until then she could endure as he had.

  A hand seemed to caress her face, and a gentle surge of power returned. Blinking, she rolled on her side, questioning what was real. Desperate, his face filled her inner eye as she tried to rest her tired body without sleeping. Elisabeth clung to his memory like a drowning woman. Recalling how he smiled and what his voice sounded like kept her going. But it became harder every time. Knowing that when sleep finally won out she would be thrust into another nightmare, Elisabeth forced the thoughts of the inevitable aside to envision the faces of those she cared about, thinking their names in her mind like a mantra. Her father, her friends, Ki—they kept her grounded. But with every good memory, Arawn was giving her bad ones. Soon she feared there would be none left; nothing to cling to. Then, Elisabeth knew, she would truly be lost.

  Chapter 14: Lyreane

  Selene tried to focus. She gripped Kerrigan’s hand so tightly that she was sure she was breaking her hand. Any moment now Nanette was going to walk her parents around the corner and into the room in which she was staying. The building belonged to Gate Guardian’s Emera’s family; she had offered it for their reunion at Malthael’s request. Selene would have to remember to thank her after, it seemed she was in debt to not one but two Gate Guardians. Jittery she glanced around at its spacious interior trying to remind herself that no matter what happened, Kerrigan was with her.

  Despite having known him such a short time, Selene liked the reformed demon. He seemed more mortal to her than most of the actual mortals she knew. That assessment, in fact, applied to most of the non-mortals she knew. Kerrigan was three-fourths mortal, but one-fourth something else. Nanette was somehow bound to the Netherworld. Her cousin was, of course, half Soul Collector. No one in her life was as mortal as she was, and yet she felt comfortable with them—not like the outcast she had always been.

  Movement in a hallway caught her eye. An older woman with dark brown hair and a few gray streaks stepped into the room. Selene thought she was familiar, although worn, and the man with her had to support her weight. When they saw her, they froze. Selene forgot to breathe.

  “Mama?” she asked. The memory of her mother had long faded but seeing her again reminded her. Her gaze shifted to the man. “Papa?”

  The woman burst into tears. She pus
hed her husband away and rushed toward Selene. Releasing Kerrigan’s hand, Selene threw her arms around her mother. They melted to the floor as tears streamed freely down Selene’s cheeks. Soon her father joined them, wrapping the two women in his arms.

  Nanette and Kerrigan must have slipped from the room to give them privacy because when she was finally able to control her emotions again, they were gone. Her mother kept wiping away Selene’s tears and saying “my daughter” over and over again.

  “It’s me.” Selene reassured them. “I’m here.”

  “I prayed every day.” Her mother sobbed. “I couldn’t bear to think what was happening to you.”

  That caused a chill to run up her arms, stopping her cold. She folded those terrible memories up and she shoved them into a trunk in her head, locking it tight. Selene didn’t want to think about those things—not yet.

  “Then the King announced you were missing and offered money for your return,” her father said, his arm wrapped around his wife’s shoulders.

  Her mother sniffled. “We didn’t know if you were dead or finally escaped. Nanette says you have been with them. What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Selene said, her hand wrapped around her mother’s wrist as she continued to smooth her blond hair. “I’m free and safe. That is all that matters now.”

  “You’ve grown to look so much like my sister,” her mother said softly, her thumb rubbing across Selene’s cheek. “I wish Serena could have been here to meet you.”

  Selene realized that her parents really didn’t know about Elisabeth. Straightening, she sobered instantly, tears drying in her eyes. “There is some news I need to share with you.”