Gates of the Dead

by James A. Moore

“Only one we’ve seen in days!”

  “We shouldn’t even see a fucking boat, Bump. The ocean isn’t supposed to be here.”

  “Perspective, lad. It’s all perspective. We see a boat. That boat sees us. I can tell because it’s changing course.”

  “Like as not we’re to be someone’s food at this point.”

  Bump laughed and slapped Desmond’s arm. He was also good enough to catch Desmond when he nearly fell off the rocks and into the waters below.

  “Try not to be so depressing. You’re beginning to sound like Harper.”

  The boat came closer, and at a good clip. The winds helped it along as it changed course to skim along the shoreline, and finally Desmond allowed himself to hope.

  And when he saw the woman maneuvering the craft he even managed a smile, though it split half the remaining sores on his face.

  “Darwa! What are you doing out here?”

  The old woman huffed and shook her head. “Looking for you, you damned fool. Your wife would never forgive me if I didn’t bring you along.”

  “You’ve seen my Anna?” His heart hammered in his chest, desperate for news.

  “I have not! But I know where she is heading. You and your fool friend can come down here, I’m not going up there for you.”

  He very nearly sent them both over the side in his haste to reach the boat and the old Galean who had taught his wife half of the sorceries that she knew.

  Bump yelped a few times but did his best to keep up, and in a few minutes they were swimming through shallows to reach the boat.

  It was larger than he’d first thought, or at least it seemed that way as they climbed aboard, Bump first and then Desmond.

  Both of them were soaking wet and shivering.

  Darwa was an older woman, but she was also in surprisingly good shape if her strength was any indication. She hauled Bump aboard and then Desmond, and her grip was like iron.

  “There we go.” She was wearing a thick fur coat and looked impossibly warm.

  She said something, he had no idea what, as the words hurt his ears, but a moment later a stiff warm breeze was blowing past him and filling the single masted sail of the small boat, launching them toward the north at a speed that scared Desmond senseless for a moment. He relaxed when the warmth penetrated the cold that had become his world.

  “I cannot thank you enough, Darwa.” He dared a second smile. The witch woman knew things and among them was the fact that his Anna was still alive.

  She grunted and then reached into a heavy bag. What she pulled out was more than should have fit. She started with heavy fur cloaks, and followed with dried meats and a skin of wine. They were silent and grateful for a while as they chewed the hard meat and sipped at the wine, which was sweet and helped warm them further.

  Darwa spoke as they ate. “We head to the north and we have a long way to go. I can keep the worst of the storms away, but there are many threats ahead of us.”

  Bump asked, “What sort of threats?”

  Darwa gestured at the sky and then the sea. “The gods are angry and they are scared. They will find anything they can to aid them in stopping Brogan McTyre and all of his friends and that includes both of you. They want you dead.”

  Bump opened his mouth and then closed it.

  She said, “So why don’t they just kill you?”

  He nodded and took another bite of dried meat.

  “Galea wrote that in order to protect themselves the gods placed themselves in a different realm, a place where the people and things here cannot touch them easily. That place is hidden away in dangerous waters, and it is hard to find and harder to enter. The Undying and the Grakhul are here to make sure that the will of the gods is done without them ever having to enter this world or allow others to enter theirs.”

  “Are they that afraid?”

  Darwa squinted at him and Desmond thought he saw a smile on her face. “I do not know the answer to that. They might just as easily be lazy, but whatever their reasons, they hid themselves away and made surrogates to do their bidding.”

  Bump nodded his head. He eyed the woman with what looked like actual longing. Desmond said nothing. The woman was not a beauty but neither was she a wretch. He could have pointed out that she was, according to her own words, much older than she looked, but he opted not to speak of the matter at all. It was not his place.

  “Darwa, do you know my wife’s fate?”

  “Do you mean to ask if Anna is alive? She is.” The woman nodded her head and then swept back her brown hair when it fell in her face. “Alive and unharmed, though I expect she has been changed by what she’s seen.”

  Desmond frowned at that, ready to ask another question. Instead of giving him the time she pointed to the monolithic corpses nearby.

  His frown deepened but he said nothing.

  Around them something moved in the dark waters and they saw lights, faint at first but coming closer. Darwa hissed her irritation and then made gestures in the air. Their boat stopped moving and the winds settled.

  The lights came closer still, taking forms that strained his eyes with their illumination and their design both.

  “Stay still, you fools.” Darwa was glaring at Bump as she spoke.

  For a few minutes they remained as quiet and still as they could while the forms moved around the area and then slowly spiraled away into different parts of the vast ocean. Finally, Darwa nodded and once again made gestures. A moment later the wind picked up and the boat surged toward the north, shifting around the impossibly massive dead things in the water.

  “They don’t smell.” Bump was staring at the massive skeleton and the thing pinned under it. Despite his attempts, Desmond could not quite comprehend what it was. It had scales, and fins and teeth, and what might be an eye stared up at the clouds. The parts did not add up for him.

  “They will, but it will be long after you’ve died. Gods don’t rot easily.” Darwa said the words in an offhand manner and Bump frowned, considering them very carefully.

  “Those are gods?”

  Darwa nodded.

  “Then what were those things in the water?”

  “The God with a Thousand Names has children. Those were a few of them. They seek anyone connected with the man who killed their mother.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Brogan McTyre.”

  Desmond could think of nothing to say. Neither could Bump. They moved silently through the dark waters, often staring at the dead impossibilities resting to their north and, eventually, west.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Conflict

  Brogan

  “Are we going to walk to the Gateway?” From anyone else the question would have been frustrating at the very least, but it came from Faceless, who very likely had no idea where they were going or how far it meant traveling.

  Brogan nodded his head. “I don’t know that we have any other choice. The horses are dead. Frozen solid inside the ship.” So were a few crewmembers. Laram had made it above decks but three others had died in the attempt to get away from the He-Kisshi and their damnable abilities.

  Jadha had moved through the entire ship looking for survivors and found none. When the man returned from the ship his face was grim and his normally cheerful demeanor was somber. Whatever had happened inside the ship was something he would not speak of. It was also something that disturbed him deeply.

  The group was as bundled as they could be and once again Anna and the other Galean – it took him a moment to remember the man’s name – Roskell Turn, had done something to keep them, if not warm, at least not frozen. Their breaths barely even showed as steam when they exhaled.

  “Ship!” It was one of the remaining crewmembers that called out and pointed to the south. At first Brogan saw nothing in the darkness but the shape made itself clear soon enough.

  It was a ship, and larger by far than the ruin they had been forced to abandon. There was a name
on the side, but the shadows and darkness hid that away as well as any colors the ship might have been flying.

  As they watched the ship came closer and the skilled crew slowed it, turning the sails into the wind until the vessel came to a rough halt.

  Faceless stared at the ship with no expression, though there was little in the way of features to offer any. Anna stared as well, and most of the crew. Brogan looked along the deck to see if he could find any faces. Finally one showed itself.

  He had met the woman before, but at the moment her face filled him with dread. His actions had caused massive damage to the world around him and the loss of her city was likely the sort of thing that Hillar Darkraven would not forgive easily.

  It would be a shame to have to kill the lady. She had always been friendly enough when they met.

  The crewmember that had spotted the ship called out in his language and someone from the other ship called out in response. Within moments there were boats being lowered into the slush-filled waters.

  Brogan walked over to Jahda and spoke softly. “Do you know Darkraven?”

  “We know each other.”

  “Are you friends?”

  “We are not.” He looked at the boats coming toward them and shrugged. “Neither are we enemies. We respect each other’s position.”

  “Let’s hope that continues.”

  Jahda looked his way and nodded. “It will.”

  “Yes?”

  “Of course. Even if she is pursuing you, and I suspect she is, when this is all done she will need a place to stay and the Kaer-ru are the closest lands that will support her shipload of people.”

  Brogan nodded his head and sighed. “In the meantime, I expect we should all be prepared to fight.” He needn’t have wasted his breath. A quick scout of his surroundings showed that all of the people with him were checking their weapons. Several of the men, Harper among them, had already prepared their bows and were eyeing the approaching boats with wariness.

  The boats did not take long to reach them. All seven of them.

  There were more people on those boats than there were survivors from the ship. It was not a comforting thought at all.

  They came ashore en masse and approached the same way, led by Darkraven and the largest woman Brogan had ever seen. Darkraven was not angry in expression. The other one was.

  “Which of you is Brogan McTyre?” Darkraven’s voice was smooth and calm.

  “That would be me.” Brogan took one step forward.

  Darkraven looked and slowly nodded, recognition showing itself. “You have made powerful enemies.”

  “That I have. I’ve killed a few of them, too.”

  “That he has.” Jahda spoke calmly.

  Darkraven nodded and even managed a very small smile for the man. “It’s good to see you are alive. I had doubts after all that has happened.”

  Jahda returned the facial expression and did little else. “You are very far from home, Hillar.”

  Her smile grew larger. “The world is my home. What choice do I have?” Her eyes looked toward Brogan. “Someone sank my city.”

  “I assure you it wasn’t me.” Brogan forced a smile of his own, knowing full and well that it was not pleasant.

  “You are Brogan McTyre. You started a war with the gods.” Hillar spoke as calmly as ever. The longer she uttered words, the less he trusted her.

  “Not at all.” He took two steps forward and the lads moved forward with him. “They started the fight. They took my family. I am returning the favor.”

  “You would kill the gods?” The woman laughed at him.

  “I already killed one. Check with your Scryer.”

  “I can’t. She’s gone mad.”

  “And do you suppose that might be for a reason?”

  “Enough of this!” The large woman walked forward and stepped past Hillar Darkraven. “Come with us so we can surrender you to the gods!”

  “And where are you going to take me?” Brogan kept his smile and tightened his grip on the axe. The woman was heavy with muscle and well-scarred. She did not act like a courtesan. She moved like a warrior.

  “Wherever the gods decide.” She moved closer still and stopped only when she realized that Harper was tracking her motions. He was easily in range to hit her and well out of the range of her massive sword.

  “Stanna, isn’t it?” Harper spoke casually but there was nothing about his stance that reflected the same tone. His eyes were locked on the woman and his half-smile, the one so many women found attractive, was locked in place.

  She was unimpressed.

  “You escaped me in Torema. You’ll not escape out here.”

  Faceless moved. It was a fast thing, unexpectedly and terrifyingly swift. The giant figure turned on his heels and ran to the right, reaching into the darkness and grabbing at something. A man screamed and was lifted high into the air. Faceless held him aloft for a moment and then slammed the shape into the ground. From several yards away Brogan heard the sound of bones breaking.

  Several of the boat people started talking at once and Darkraven looked on, studying Faceless as if seeing him for the very first time.

  “Why is it attacking?” The woman seemed surprised, but not overly so.

  “Ask him.”

  Faceless threw the man toward Brogan with unsettling ease. He hit the ice and slid bonelessly. Definitely dead. “He planned to attack. He was carrying blades and had them in his hand.” Faceless held a small collection of throwing knives out for Brogan to see.

  “There you have it. He was protecting us.”

  Darkraven’s smile dropped a few notches. “I did not order anyone to take lives.”

  “Then perhaps you should see who else believes they are in command of your people.”

  “There are many people who want you dead.”

  “She’s got you there, Brogan.”

  “You’re not helping, Harper.”

  The big woman, Stanna, spoke up. “Come with us, let’s just have done with this before it gets any worse.”

  “We’ve an agenda. It does not involve surrendering to anyone.” Brogan spoke as clearly as he could. “Go home. We’ll be along when we’ve finished what needs doing.”

  “No home to go to,” Darkraven shrugged. “That’s part of the problem as I recall.”

  “Find a new home. If you are here for me and mine, you’ll fail.”

  “We have you outnumbered.”

  Jahda spoke up. “Leave here, Hillar. He’s under my protection.”

  “You would defy the gods, Jahda?”

  “The gods have gone mad. I will see this finished one way or the other.”

  “Torema is gone!” Her calm demeanor cracked for a moment.

  “And killing him will do nothing to bring it back. Move on. Go to Kaer-ru. There is land aplenty and we can sort this out later. For now, however, we have things we need to settle to the north.”

  The arrow came from a great distance and at such speed that Brogan barely saw it. He called out to Jahda and the man had enough time to start turning before the point of the missile took him in his chest. The ice was slick and the impact was heavy and Jahda fell to the ground with a grunt.

  Harper cursed, changed his target, drew and loosed. The darkness was not complete, but Brogan saw no one.

  “Enough of this!” His voice boomed across the ice. “Back to your damned ship or I’ll see all of you bleed.”

  Darkraven made a gesture and her people attacked.

  They came from different directions. Apparently there were many more of them than Brogan had initially believed and they were intent on taking him and his.

  Faceless stepped closer to him and protected his right side. Faceless, who now had nostrils that were clearly defined on a nose that was more than a lump. Also, his brow was more clearly noticeable. The changes were subtle, but they were there. Laram, who barely looked at Brogan these days, who certainly did not s
peak to him, took his left and Harper stayed where he was, along with the other archers, doing their best to end anyone else who stayed in the distance.

  Once the fighting started, they were just shapes. If he did not recognize a face, Brogan defended and attacked as if the enemy was before him.

  Not that long ago in the grander scheme of things, Anna Harkness had made a pack of dogs disappear. Now she made them come back, and as Brogan watched the animals charged into the midst of his enemies, scattering several of them as they attacked.

  Hounds growled and bit. Men and women alike screamed as the animals appeared, startled or torn into by their teeth. Brogan did not know or care how Anna managed her sorceries at that moment, but he was decidedly grateful for them.

  He took advantage of the situation, wading into the fight. The axe was heavy and it was deadly. He used the weight to knock aside the first sword coming for him and then spun his entire body around to cleave into the attacking man’s face. There was little more than a gasp of pain before the man was dead.

  They came in a wave despite the dogs. Worse, not all of them were fighters. Some of them were cutthroats and that was a different sort of matter altogether. The warriors were direct. Cutthroats tended to sneak in where they could.

  To prove his point a woman with a severely scarred face appeared on his left and, before he could warn his friend, Laram had a dagger shoved through his neck. He staggered back, his hands moving to stop the sudden, violent flow of blood that jetted from the wound.

  Laram, who had always been a good lad and always been dependable in any situation, died in seconds, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping as he tried to breathe.

  He hoped if there was a place where the dead gathered that the poor bastard would find his Mearhan again.

  Brogan turned to the woman and swept his axe toward her, but she backed away before he could make contact, and in the darkness of the cold night she vanished amidst the crush of people and animals.

  One of the dogs let out a yelp of pain that ended abruptly. So did one of the people screaming obscenities.

  The fighting blurred. There were people crushing themselves into the combat and others backing away, wounded and bleeding or simply too scared to continue on. That was the thing about fighting – some were made for it and others were not.