Gates of the Dead

by James A. Moore

  Daivem had heard of the Marked Men, but was not certain she had ever seen one before. The whole of the group seemed made of the infamous soldiers. They bore markings on their flesh, some barely seen because of cover, but others with the stained flesh covering large portions of their faces and necks.

  They came on warhorses, and they rode hard and fast, their weapons drawn.

  As one the humans scattered. No one with even the sense of a fool wanted to get crushed under the war beasts. Archers spread out and lined the area, still riding their horses and men with lances charged forward, lowering the great, wooden poles and charging straight for the Undying.

  Daivem saw Brogan McTyre from the corner of her eye and saw the smile that bloomed on his face. It was as savage an expression as would be expected on a feral dog.

  The creatures were surely too arrogant for their own good. Most of them stood their ground as if shocked that anything would consider attacking them, even when they were engaged in a battle already. Three of the things rose into the air, clearly wise enough to know when an army was attacking. The rest stayed in place. The ones that flew into the air were struck by dozens of arrows, the shafts quivering in ruined flesh and blood sluicing away from the wounds.

  Most crashed to the ground and immediately climbed back to their feet. One of them ripped the arrows from its flesh and shrieked its outrage into the air, only to get impaled by a lance and then trampled by the horse and rider sporting the weapon.

  The Marked Men were fearsome in battle, every claim about their abilities being proven in Daivem’s eyes. Alone they would have been formidable, but together they were coordinated and following orders. Archers did their part, lancers struck true and as the Undying fell still more soldiers came forth, cutting, stabbing, and hacking until the bodies were broken on the ground, and cut into separate parts.

  Daivem could see the creatures trying to rebuild themselves, but the Marked Men prevented it. They kept the pieces separated and carved the hides from the beasts, peeling them away like the rind off rotten fruit. The thick hides were then kept separated, often by soldiers who drove iron spikes through the flesh and pinned it to the ground.

  There were ten He-Kisshi. There were hundreds of soldiers. The work was grisly and grim and the Marked Men were determined. In reality it was the work of minutes but it seemed much longer. The hands of the Undying were impaled to the ground. The legs were handled the same way. The heavy, bloated torsos were opened and more spikes pinned the remains in place. The head of each of the creatures was pressed down so that the wide, deadly mouths were crammed into the soil and then they, too, were impaled with long iron spikes that were hammered into the rough earth. The wings were cut away and they were fixed in place as well.

  When it was finished, the Marked Men moved away from the bodies and stood guard around them. Their horses, well-trained she had no doubt, were glad to be away from the bloodied trophies.

  Daivem watched on as one of the Marked Men rode closer to Jahda and then bowed formally with a smirk on his long face.

  “Jahda. It is good to see you again, my friend.”

  Jahda looked back and nodded. “I have to say I have never been happier to see you, King Parrish.”

  “My lord, Theragyn said to meet you here. He said you would have need of us, and so here we are.”

  “I think, perhaps, it is Brogan McTyre who has need of you. He is the Godslayer, not I.”

  Parrish looked toward Brogan without much searching. The lack of light was no longer a problem as the soldiers began to build bonfires from supplies they’d brought with them. The winds continued to howl, but slowed when Darwa once more worked her sorceries. She might not be able to change the weather – and for all Daivem knew she could – but she at least curbed the worst of its raging appetite for destruction.

  Brogan McTyre and King Parrish eyed each other for a long moment even as the king rode his horse closer.

  Brogan stared, hands still holding his bloodied axe and sword, as the man approached. When the king climbed down from his horse, Brogan finally set his weapons in their respective places on his belt.

  “You killed a god?” Parrish eyed him carefully.

  “I had help.” Returning the measuring stare Brogan said, “I remember you. From when you tried to kill me and all the other defenders in Stennis Brae.”

  “Different times.”

  “Aye. The world wasn’t ending.”

  “I talked with your king about that, you know. He made me see the reasons for what you did. I’d have likely done the same.”

  “A surprising number would have. My only regret is that I did not save them.”

  “No regrets about starting this?”

  McTyre smiled. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t steal an entire family away.”

  Parrish smiled back, and Daivem knew they were testing each other’s mettle with words. “Still, the world has been changed by you.”

  “If you wish to have your say with steel then have it, but I’ve no desire to debate with you regarding my actions. My family was my world. I would have done the same a hundred times in order to save them and the rest of the world be damned.”

  Parrish’s smile faltered. “The gods made me sacrifice my boy in order to save my country.”

  “Do you love the gods so much?”

  Parrish spat and sneered at the notion.

  “Then you made the wrong decision.”

  “You’ve no place speaking to me like that.” Parrish took a small step forward. “I’m a king.”

  “I think you’re a fair way from your throne.” McTyre gave not an inch. She would have been surprised if he had. She’d never met a Godslayer before but expected they were made of strong stuff.

  Jahda stepped between them, his body a barrier between weapons. He should have been terrified, but he was calm, or at least he managed a good facade.

  “That is enough. There will be no fights among us. We have common enemies that should be taken care of before we indulge in petty conflicts.”

  McTyre threw that grin of his and walked away, not bothering with any more discussions. Not for the first time, she suspected the man might be mad. To be fair, most people who sought to fight gods very likely were.

  Stanna

  The Scryers had all gone mad. Darkraven had hoped they’d get better, but they only worsened.

  Stanna, now in command of the ship and the people on it, grew tired of their screams and had them cast over the side into the dark waters. No one argued. If the truth be known, they were all just as tired of the sounds of the seers’ screams and scared of what they meant.

  Temmi sat with her in the captain’s cabin and the two of them ate a meal together. Both Tully and Temmi had joined her when she offered them space. There was no denying that there was safety in numbers. Stanna did not believe there was a person on the ship that could beat her in a fair fight. She also didn’t expect there were many who would be obligated to be fair about any situation as the end of the world loomed closer.

  Just an hour ago they’d seen a giant treading across the land. There had been a few cloud shapes in the past that had certainly seemed as if they might belong to giants, but this was different, they could see the thing. It was not human in shape. It was different enough that looking at it for too long made the eyes hurt and the mind want to scream.

  As it walked along the ground the world around it changed. All hints of vegetation vanished and the land grew oddly level. The winds coming from the shore offered a stench of ashes and rot. The air was ripe with decay and worse.

  The land was changed by the passing of the thing and Stanna felt a knot of fear in her guts the like of which she had never experienced before. Was it a god? She did not know and did not want to consider the possibility too carefully.

  “Shame about the Scryers.” Temmi spoke casually and Stanna looked her way. When Temmi used that tone of voice it sometimes meant she wanted to pick at verbal wounds u
ntil they bled. Stanna was not in the mood.

  “Get it out of your system.” Stanna didn’t quite growl, but it was close.

  Temmi shrugged. “Be nice if they could have told us what that thing was or where we are going.”

  Stanna shrugged. “I don’t know, and don’t care, as long as it leaves us be. And we are going north.”

  Temmi looked disappointed. She was in the mood for an argument. Stanna was not. There were a hundred things she had to take care of constantly, one of the reasons she always preferred to be near the top of the command chain and not at the very pinnacle. Now there was no choice and the crew was grumbling a great deal. She’d heave a few over the sides if she had to, but for now the loss of the maddened seemed to have reminded folks that she was in charge.

  “There’s another one.” Tully had been so silent that Stanna forgot about the woman. She was looking out the porthole and staring at the distant land, where there wasn’t much to see. The clouds were too heavy and even the lightning didn’t offer much illumination.

  Only now that wasn’t true.

  Stanna grunted and stood up, moving across the cabin to the same spot as Tully. The small blonde moved aside, letting her see the world beyond their ship.

  There was a figure and it was possibly even larger than the last. It moved slowly, each stride seeming to take too long, but that was only because they could only see the legs of the thing, the rest was hidden in the clouds. Could she have guessed a size? No. There was nothing to compare it with. All she could safely say was that it was too large to make any sense in the grander scheme of things.

  Light ran through the thing like lightning through the clouds. Flashes of different colors rippled through heavy flesh and moved on, even as the thing continued to stride.

  A small flash of color caught her attention and Stanna looked to the left, close to the edge of the ship, where something pale moved over a wave, heading straight towards them.

  She did not speak to anyone, but instead grabbed the Bitch and left the cabin, heading for the upper deck.

  There was a light rain falling and it was cold enough to make her regret not grabbing her cloak first. Saramond had been warm. Her homelands had been cold. There was a reason she chose to live in Saramond.

  In the waters, riding along the waves, she saw a strange creature. It was white-skinned and looked like a blend of fish and woman.

  “What are you supposed to be?” she called to the thing and pointed the Bitch’s scabbard at it to make sure it knew she was speaking directly to it.

  “Grakhul.” It spoke after some consideration, but she suspected the words were truth.

  “Are you drowning?”

  “No. I came to warn against going north.”

  “What is to the north?”

  “More of those things. The Hahluritiedes.”

  “What do they do?” Stanna looked at the thing moving across the land again and frowned.

  “Remake the world. They serve the gods.”

  Stanna stared for a moment and then pointed to the creature in the waters.

  “So come aboard, Grakhul. I would hear more about these things.”

  She looked around for a rope with which to help the creature climb aboard but needn’t have wasted her time. It went under the water and then came up like an arrow loosed from a bow. It had to scrabble for a moment but the creature made the deck of the boat and settled itself on naked feet.

  The transformation was not subtle. In a few moments the thing went from fish woman to pale woman. Strapped to its back was a massive sword, on the scale of the Bitch, and the fish-beast stood shivering on the old wooden planks.

  “Come with me. We’ll find you a warm place and you can tell me what you know.” She let the woman go first and offered directions as needed. The sword the Grakhul carried was not one she wanted at her back until she knew the woman better.

  It didn’t take long to reach her quarters and both Tully and Temmi stared long and hard at the pale, naked woman. The difference was that Tully looked at the woman as if she might be daft, and Temmi let out a squeal of happiness and ran toward her without hesitation.

  The pale woman looked at the approaching girl as if she’d lost her mind. Then she smiled and opened her arms.

  Temmi ran into them and hugged her, not the least bit worried about the fact that her co-hugger was naked.

  “I had thought you long lost to us.” The Grakhul whispered the words and held Temmi.

  Temmi held her back and talked into the woman’s pale hair. “I’d heard you were all dead.”

  “Almost all.”

  Stanna stared hard at the pale woman. She was a fish. Then she wasn’t. She had a sword but no clothes. Oh, yes, this one would be interesting.

  There wasn’t a great deal to eat left on the ship – the stores were now guarded at all times to avoid theft and the men who did the guarding were among her most trusted lieutenants – still, she sent Tully to fetch a plate of fruit and cheese from the stores and offered them to the woman after she’d settled in near the brazier and they’d found her a blanket to wrap herself in. The sword stayed where it was.

  Temmi called the woman “Myridia.” The name meant nothing to Stanna.

  Within an hour they’d caught up on all that was significant and Stanna was asking questions about the nature of the giants they’d seen. “They are rebuilding the world, but first they will erase it.”

  Stanna heard about the struggles of her people and how they had finally been offered up as food for the giants.

  “The gods have sent their faithful servants to their deaths?”

  Myridia nodded. “We have failed in our purpose.” She looked down at the ground. “First we were to prepare the sacrifices. Then we were supposed to prepare the Sessanoh for the new sacrifices. Then the gods decided we were to be the mates of others like us, but very different in mindset. We have always been the leaders of our people and they wanted us to submit to men we have never seen and be their mates without question. When I said no, they sent us to fight Brogan McTyre, and then, instead, they sent us to wake the Hahluritiedes. I only realized that it was a sacrifice of us all when I saw them waking and knew they would be hungry. If I had stayed I would have died along with my sisters.”

  She knew that look well enough. Had seen it on the faces of slavers a few times. There was a question in the woman’s mind about whether or not she had made the right choice.

  “So what do you think to do now?”

  “I hadn’t thought beyond getting away. I saw your ship and wanted to warn you off from what waits north of here.”

  Stanna nodded and looked toward the flames in the brazier. “We will be going north. Brogan McTyre wants to fight the gods. The Undying have attacked my friends many times. I don’t think we can run from them forever and sooner or later they will attack and win unless we have vanquished them.” Myridia looked ready to interject but Stanna held up a hand. “I know. They are Undying. The gods bring them back again and again. If the gods are gone, the Undying go with them.”

  “You cannot fight the gods. You cannot touch the gods. They are beyond contact.”

  Stanna smiled. “Brogan McTyre killed a god. He can touch them. We will help.”

  “He killed a god?”

  “That is the story I have heard. The news was so grave that it drove the Scryers mad.”

  “Do you have a Scryer on this ship?”

  “Not any longer.”

  “That is for the best. The He-Kisshi can use Scryers to find their targets.” Stanna smiled at that.

  “In any event, we go north. I cannot send the ship in the other direction and as you can see the land is not safe. The Halle–”

  “Hahluritiedes.”

  “Yes, those. They are changing the world and we cannot risk going ashore where they are.”

  Myridia nodded.

  “So we go north. We will fight with this madman and we will hope to w
in.”

  “You cannot fight the gods.” Myridia sounded adamant.

  It was Temmi who spoke up. “Truly? The fuckers killed my family. One, just one of the He-Kisshi killed my mother, my father and my brother because they stood between it and the woman who got your food. Tully ran. Others ran, Tully is still alive, and I am still alive because Stanna stood up for us and because we fought for ourselves.” Temmi did not yell, but she stared hard at the other woman, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “You broke away. You ran away. You defied them. What else will you do before you fight them?”

  “I–”

  Temmi brushed away whatever she was going to say. “My family served faithfully for generations. You used to sing to me when we visited. You used to play with me when we were both younger. I did nothing wrong, but my family died. You did nothing wrong and yours were sacrificed to feed these Hahluritiedes.” She jabbed a finger that tapped Myridia’s chest through her blanket. “You want to swim away, go and do it. I’m done with that. I’ve watched everything I ever knew in this world get ruined by the gods. I die fighting them, then at least I die for a cause. I won’t run to another land and have them change that, too.”

  Myridia grew silent and sullen. None of them spoke for a while until finally the pale woman said, “I will go with you.”

  Temmi nodded and leaned in closer to the small fire.

  The ship continued to rock slowly in the heavy waves. The winds continued to howl. In the distance giants moved and reshaped the world away from what Stanna had known her entire life.

  Without another word she rose and grabbed her oil, her whetstone, and a rag. The Bitch needed her edge sharpened. The fighting would begin again soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Palace of the Gods

  Harper

  Harper knew the way. He had traveled the path to the Grakhul no less than fifty times in his life and even without the stars he could see the Gateway and knew what lay there. Or at least he thought he did.

  They climbed once more into the boat and rode into the waters. The vessel was decent in size but certainly not large enough to hold Parrish and his army. The man seemed unworried. So did the massive slaver who had placed a bounty on their heads.