The King's Gate

by K T Munson

  “I do not wish to harm you,” Elisabeth called out, her voice sounding stronger than she felt.

  She sensed their wall of seething anger as though it was her own. Her eyes were drawn to one of the spirits near the front, a young woman with long pale hair around her ashen face. She floated, and her beautiful but tattered dress seemed to shift in an unfelt breeze. Behind their fury was sadness, deep and bitter, from having been abandoned. There came a sinister giggle and Elisabeth saw a flash of light to her right. Without thinking, Elisabeth reached out.

  Her fingers curled around something’s wrist, and it froze. Looking up, she could see the spirit as it was reaching for her face—through her shield. Something within Elisabeth murmured a soft reply, and the spirit quieted. It cowered in front of her as Elisabeth felt its sorrow and pain.

  Elisabeth knew its story as though it had been her own. “You have suffered so much,” Elisabeth whispered. “Let your hatred and bitterness go. Forgive so that you can be free.”

  It fought against her, but she was resolute in wanting it to understand. It tried to move away, but as long as she held tight it couldn’t flee. It vibrated in her grip. Slowly its entire structure began to break down. It tipped its head back and let out a terrible screech.

  Another of The Fallen slammed into her, and she cried out as ice seared in her veins. The feeling was unlike anything she’d ever experienced—far worse than the spirit that had tried to possess her over a year before. She nearly fell to her knees, but she endured, as she always did.

  “I will free you!” Elisabeth gritted her teeth.

  Instead of trying to flee, at her words it stopped. With an unhinged jaw it shrieked and pitched forward into her. Elisabeth jerked back in surprise, her arms held up in defense before her back bowed at the sudden intrusion. Shouts of sinister encouragement erupted around her as Elisabeth stumbled back, her focus on her chest, where the spirit had entered. Instead of pain, she felt the spirit’s powers fuse within her.

  Tears in her eyes, she saw a life flash before her eyes. A woman burned for being different—for loving another woman. She had not thought of the book or the demon in a long time. It was before Ki and Nanette. She had not realized the woman from the book had lived so long ago. When the spirit had tried to possess her, it was the first time she’d experienced the expanse of her abilities. Reaching out miles upon miles to A.J—her first real triumph. The mortal who had become a demon had been loved by this spirit in another lifetime.

  A tear slid down her cheek. “She forgave you for leaving her.” The words were barely a whisper.

  With a sigh, the spirit slid out of her to stand before her. The other Fallen circled around them. No longer was she ashen and her aura menacing. Instead there was a softness to her as the room quieted.

  “You tried to help her,” the woman said, and Elisabeth felt only contentment from her now.

  “I did. I would have done more if I knew what I know now. I believe she was freed,” Elisabeth replied, still experiencing the effects of her memories. “I hope she is waiting for you.”

  “I will go to her,” the woman glanced over her shoulder, “but first I will delay them so that you can escape.”

  Elisabeth’s eyes were drawn to the horde that was in a perfect circle around her and the spirit. “I cannot free them?”

  “No.” They all took a step forward in unison, and Elisabeth involuntarily gasped. “They cannot recognize that you are their savior, and you do not have the time to convince them.”

  Elisabeth gasped in pain as their resentment enveloped her. “There is always time,” she said, the words barely a whisper.

  When they rushed forward, hands raised, mouths ajar, Elisabeth threw her head back and let her newfound power free. What had once been dank stone became bleached of color, and their malicious battle cry turned to one of surprise as she weakened them. They collapsed at the edge of her splayed power, flickering in and out but not broken.

  “Run!” the spirit called, pointing towards a door. “Go to the gate!”

  The rest shifted back as Elisabeth shuddered with power, her body on fire with possibility as she dashed through them. They swept in behind her in a howling mass, intent on attacking her. When she opened the door the spirit had indicated, one swept through her and she fell to her knees in the hallway. The floor became white, as did the wood of the door behind her. She could hear them calling to her on the other side.

  Breathing heavily, she looked up. A glowing spirit floated before her. It was a child no older than Troy. His eyes were oddly large for his head, and little horns grew from his brow. She stood, supporting herself by leaning on the wall, disoriented by the influx of power and the brutality of his attack. He giggled when she was fully on her feet, knowing that more spirits would eventually bypass the door behind her.

  He cocked his head to the side. “I want you to play with me.”

  When he rushed toward her, she threw her back against the wall as she dodged his attack, and he crashed against the pallid wood of the door. Something about areas that she’d voided of life seemed to negatively affect them, like the door. Either that or her abilities were stronger than she thought. Unwilling to stay for his recovery, she turned and bolted.

  The hallway turned into another narrow corridor. With only one way to go, Elisabeth turned the corner, the edge of her tattered dress nearly tripping her in her haste to get away. The cackling, manic laughter ricocheted off the walls behind her, dogging her every step. Turn after turn, hallway after hallway, she felt trapped in an unending singular directional maze until she came to a door.

  She burst through it and stopped on the threshold. Arawn stood before a glowing gate, looking surprised. Heart hammering in her chest, Elisabeth fought the urge to flee. Her eyes darted around the room and her mouth went dry. Trees grew up the walls and behind the glowing gate. Unlike the rotting and derelict rooms behind her, this room was perfectly preserved. Its ornate stone unblemished and its bookshelves full of ancient tomes. Arawn turned to her as Elisabeth tightened her own into fists.

  “How?” he asked.

  She ignored his question. “You must stop this foolishness, Arawn. It is over.”

  “You are wrong. It is just beginning. You may have outwitted The Fallen, but not my Nightmares.” Arawn lifted a hand, and ravens burst through the gate around him. “This room is no longer protected, and the Fallen will pour through the gate and into Morhaven.”

  “Stop!” Elisabeth called forth a shield and bolted toward him.

  He turned away from her and stepped into the gate as the Nightmares in the form of birds rushed across her barrier, weakening it. When Elisabeth arrived at the gate, she paused. Behind her, the ravens had spun around the room and had landed in one of the trees. A moment later The Fallen stepped through the walls and into the room. If they went into Morhaven, all would be lost. She had to stop them.

  Her energy sword burned pink, melding with the slow glow of the gate. The Fallen waited at the edge as the birds squawked at her with an odd gurgling sound, as though calling to her from underwater. Her eyes swept through their ranks, as she tried to assess their next move.

  “Join me,” Elisabeth said. “Finish a battle and be freed, or die by my hand.”

  After a moment, the Nightmares shifted on their perches and jumped into flight. They swept toward her in a wave of inky blackness and ebony feathers. Bracing herself, Elisabeth prepared to face them alone.

  Chapter 54: Tym Resh

  Troy watched as Ethandirill stood before the gate. Made from turquoise, it reminded him of the beautiful waters of the world. It was the second gate and, in his opinion, the most breathtaking. He stared at the dial as though it could reach out and bite him. He remembered what he had felt all those years ago, remembered his sudden realization that they were not alone in the universe and that more planets existed, though only a select few would know the truth.

  He glanced at Maris and was thankful for his guard who had become a friend. He was
thankful, too, for Meredith, even if she was rigid. The thought of their companionship through the years made Malthael’s passing hurt that much more—of all the Guardian’s Troy had been closest to him. It made him think of Ruhan. They had not connected with him in some time, and he worried what his fate might be. They had lost Guardian’s before but the gates were rarely without one for long. Malthael had been chosen within hours, when Elisabeth was just a young girl. Apparently Ethandirill had been selected within seconds.

  “I just have to touch it?” Ethandirill asked for the second time. He rubbed the back of his bald head.

  “Yes,” Troy confirmed.

  Troy looked to Nanette, who had remained silent. There was worry on her face, and Troy understood. He hadn’t known Elisabeth well or for every long, but she was worthy of their anxiety. Ki was the only one who seemed unaffected, and Troy suspected it was because of his unfailing belief in her. Elisabeth had been so sure he was alive that she’d gone to the ends of the world for him. If she put them on a path, Ki would be the one to follow it through completely.

  Ki stepped forward and patted Ethandirill’s shoulder. “Malthael would have been proud to have you succeed him.”

  Ethandirill nodded before reaching for the dial. Instantly, the green gem on it lit up. Ethandirill pulled the dial out, and the crank clicked as he twisted it to the green marker. After he pushed it back in, the gate opened. The water-like surface shimmered a vibrant green. Without further hesitation, Ethandirill reached back for Nanette. With a smile she clasped his hand, and they went through the gate together.

  Ki followed quickly behind with Troy and Maris right behind them. He was nearly to the gate when Meredith called out, “Troy.”

  “Yes?” he asked, turning back. Maris stopped as well, ever Troy’s protector.

  “If you or they need something, you know where to find me.”

  Troy knew that Meredith felt Malthael’s death as keenly as he did. She was the oldest gate guardian—she’d seen them all come and go. Of them, Malthael had been with her the longest, over twenty years. No doubt that it hurt her to say goodbye to another sister or brother of the gate.

  “When this is done, I believe we Gate Guardians must change our ways. We should be more united, more aware,” Tory told her.

  Tears glistened in her eyes, and Troy knew she understood what he was trying to say. “I agree. We have been isolated far too long.”

  Troy nodded before passing through the gate. On the other side, Ethandirill stood next to the stairs. Nanette and Ki were waiting patiently. Once he was through, Troy reached over and closed the gate. The brilliant light immediately faded. It took a moment for the glow of the mushrooms to cast enough light for them to see. It was much dimmer, but they would manage.

  “It feels empty,” Nanette whispered.

  Ki put an arm around her and she began to weep. Ethandirill reacted slowly, as though coming out of a dream, staring at Nanette for a moment as though he couldn’t understand what she was doing. Troy couldn’t blame him. The house felt wrong without Malthael, and neither the Netherhounds nor Elisabeth were there to make it seem less hollow.

  “I’ll go find Ashley,” Nanette whispered, sniffling. Ki patted her shoulder before she hurried around Ethandirill and up the stairs.

  Ethandirill swallowed hard. “What do we need to do?” he asked.

  “I shall take care of what we need here, but you should go with Troy to retrieve what we need in Hystera,” Ki said.

  “Very well,” Troy agreed. “You can explain everything once we are there. I’ll go through and get A.J.”

  Ethandirill nodded as he went back to the gate. He wavered only a moment before pulling the dial, and then the room was once more awash with the light. He turned to the correct dial made of sandstone. Maris strode quickly through the door, no doubt ready to return to his husband. Standing before the gateway, Troy studied Ethandirill’s grim expression.

  Troy tried to comfort him. “We will make sure that Malthael’s death was not in vain.”

  Chapter 55: The Divine Court

  As the false ravens swept toward Elisabeth, The Fallen snatched them out of the air. Elisabeth blinked and took a shocked step back as the angry souls consumed the Nightmares one by one. When the deed was done, they stood before her with their sullen eyes and sunken faces.

  One man moved forward among them and the rest stayed still. He was older and had a crown upon his brow, a circlet that matched his intense presence. She could sense that he had been a man of great power. Even in death, he commanded the rest.

  “It has been a long time since I have seen a daughter of two worlds.” The voice was tired but intrigued. “Even longer since I have seen one Blessed as you are.”

  Elisabeth involuntarily swallowed. “What do you want?”

  “We cannot deny what the false king is asking, but we can delay it.” At his words, The Fallen began fading back into the walls. “Now go.” The words seemed to echo around the room.

  Elisabeth stumbled backward through the gate and immediately turned, expecting to see Arawn. Instead, there was silence. A battle should be ensuing, yet she heard nothing. Stepping down from the platform, she strained to hear something—anything—and tried to identify the room.

  With sudden clarity she realized she was in a private study and the gate before her was the King’s gate. She rushed forward to locate the dial but couldn’t find one. Her fingers searched in vain and she worried that The Fallen could follow her through at any moment.

  “How?” Elisabeth whispered to herself in frustration. “How do you control it?”

  Her fingers searched across the golden archway, careful not to go back through it. She groaned with frustration when it occurred to her that the King controlled everything with his crown, so why should his gate be any different? Facing the truth and the slow ticking of time passing, Elisabeth returned her attention to the room. Its eerie silence stretched out around her.

  Where were Nauberon and Ishtar?

  Elisabeth’s gaze flashed back and forth between the two doors. Caught between two choices, Elisabeth hesitated. Time was running out but she had no idea where her allies were, and she could not stop The Fallen without them. She rushed toward the inner door and opened it cautiously.

  The inner throne room was empty. The last time she had been here, Aryan had fallen, and she’d become Arawn’s prisoner. Proof positive there were consequences for actions taken—a balance in the universe for deeds done. A monster had died, and another one had taken his place. She hurried to the next door and opened it to an impossibly dark room.

  The inky blackness seemed to shift there. She was certain from her previous visits that it should have been a massive hall, but it felt impossibly small. Then she caught a glimmer. She walked through the doorway, her breathing the only sound in the room. With each step, she felt a menacing presence grow around her.

  Her eyes suddenly registered King Nauberon’s face surrounded my darkness, eyes closed in pain, and Elisabeth realized her mistake. The ground moved toward her and she called a shield to protect her. The force of the Nightmare’s attack brought her to her knees and nearly broke her shield. She cried out as the venom from a Weaver crashed against her shield, sizzling as the acid connected with the floor.

  Blindly she lashed out, carving a deadly slice through enemies and stone alike. Images flashed before her eyes as the call of sleep twisted around her. They were weakening her, and Elisabeth realized she had to escape them. One Nightmare was difficult enough, but she suddenly felt the hum of hundreds. She was nearly to the door when something large slammed against her. With a quiet defeat, her shield broke.

  Memories of her imprisonment melded with the horror of her having caused Malthael’s death. She felt herself falling into them, tumbling deeper and deeper into a place of constant horror and fear. Floating among a sea of pain and blackness, she felt failure grip her. Once more she had not been enough.

  All her doubts and faults were whispered in her
ear like a mantra. She was never good enough and not worth loving. Her father had not trusted her, and her friends had abandoned her. She was alone, just like a no-good demon half-breed should be.

  At those words, her eyes snapped open to the dark room. Elisabeth loved what she was and wouldn’t change her birthright. She’d fought long and hard to accept herself, and nothing would stray her from that path. There came a resounding screech as black became white and Elisabeth felt their power within her. Elisabeth jerked an arm free, the brittle body of the dead Nightmare crumbling as she freed herself. The others fled.

  Half crashing to the floor Elisabeth knelt before them as the other Nightmares slipped through an open door. King Nauberon was on one knee, his head in one hand as he shook it. No doubt Nauberon had his own demons. Elisabeth smiled at the thought—she loved her demons.

  “Well done, Elsariel,” Ishtar managed, unsteady on her feet as she moved toward Nauberon. “My love.” The King didn’t protest as Ishtar helped him stand.

  “I am shocked that he would desecrate the halls of Morhaven thusly,” he said. “Never before have the creatures of the Netherworld done something like this within these hallowed walls.” His face became hardened stone. “He must be stopped.”

  “The Fallen are coming,” Elisabeth told him, her gaze drawn back toward the King’s Gate. “Arawn has commanded that they destroy this place.”

  “I need my crown.” King Nauberon’s jaw was tight. “I, of the Det Mor Blood, do challenge the King of Morhaven for the right to the crown and throne. By immortal blood of the founding six, Arawn, King of Morhaven, heed my call.” He then spoke words in a language Elisabeth did not know. She did not like the strained expression on Ishtar’s face.

  “You risk everything,” Ishtar warned.

  “I risk nothing.” King Nauberon shed his outer coat and a sword of crackling light appeared in his hand. A second spear appeared, its tip blazing hot, as though made of molten iron.