The Gate, page 3
“And what will you report?”
“That the trouble was nothing more than rabble mouthing off and that I dispatched the bastards in full view of the townsfolk so they would see what happens when talk of revolt makes its way to the King.” She added that last bit with a hint of disgust. Most people were like sheep, and her patience with them was as thin as a cobweb.
“What took you so long? You were gone nearly three months,” Bent prodded.
Amarynn glowered at him. They had been over this multiple times.
“I didn’t think it through. People know me, and that makes quiet observation impossible. No one would ever speak ill of the King in my presence, so I had no choice but to pretend I was deserting as Essik did before me. I’m an old enough Traveler that the Madness is possible. The three idiots I killed shared secrets about me. I sent word to you to come with men, and while I waited for your arrival, I couldn’t help myself. I removed them… publicly. Then we left, simple as that.” Amarynn made a dramatic face. “We left a small contingency there to ensure there are no more upstarts. End of story.”
The old Blademaster nodded. “That will do.” He stole a glance back to Aron, who trailed them by a small distance.
The journey continued through the hills and pastures for the better part of the afternoon. As the sun began its descent into the west, they crested a rise, and there before them lay the sprawling and magnificent view of Calliway, the capital city of Karth.
The walls glowed like gold in the late afternoon sun. The city itself was perched along the Arnell River, a vast, gently flowing ribbon of green and blue that wound down the Dark Mountains on its way to the sea, a hundred miles to the south. Spires and towers of stone rose above the walls, and along the approaching road, green fields and farmsteads dotted the countryside. Calliway was positioned in the most strategically defensible location possible in this region of the continent.
From his seat in Calliway, King Lasten controlled the river and access to the only mountain pass. The climate was ideal, the farmlands rich, and on the surface, the people were content. Only a hundred miles from the sea, he held a formidable fort in the port city of Banmorrow. This extended his reach to control the trade that came from across the sea. He was an intelligent ruler, but a ruthless one as well. His thirst for power and control was insatiable, and the Travelers were evidence of his ambition.
And his fear.
Twice, Karth had been invaded, and twice, Karth was nearly lost. Forty-five years ago, when Lasten was just a boy, raiders from the sea had swarmed their coastlines and nearly decimated Karth’s armies. Had it not been for Karth’s possession of a water mage and their alliance with the island nation of Vhaleese, they would have lost everything — they nearly did when the war took more men than could be replaced in a generation.
The most recent invasion, at the very beginning of Lasten’s reign, came from the mountains to the north, the region known as the Stone Reaches. Very little was known about the Reaches except that it was vast and lay beyond the towering Stone Giants mountain range. Its raiders were wild and fierce, some on horseback while others rode grey bears larger than the most massive bull. It was then Lasten realized he needed something bigger and stronger if he were to keep his Kingdom from ruin.
An idea formed as Lasten observed the youngest boys brought by their parents for sale to the Legion. Most cried, but the angry boys interested him most. They walked away from their fathers without a second glance, eager to find a place for themselves in a world that didn’t want them. They proved to be the most loyal and hardest working of all the young conscripts.
His thought was simple.
Reach into worlds unknown and bring back bodies, forms to shape and mold into elite warriors, beings with no loyalties or ties to anyone but him. He tasked Regealth with finding a way, but the cost was high. The King’s own sister, Dyaneth, a sky mage of considerable strength, was lost in the creation of the Gate. Without her, Regealth was unsure if their construct would even work, but Lasten’s bloodline were sky magic sources and Regealth could draw the necessary power from any of them, though Lasten insisted he be the sole source.
In the beginning, no one realized Travelers were impossible to kill. All that was evident was the loss of all memory and faculty — “A clean slate!” the King proclaimed eagerly. The first Traveler, a behemoth named Essik, took months to tame and never fully bonded to the Legion. He deserted six years after his creation.
Though Amarynn was not the first Traveler, she was the first female, and it cost Regealth’s strength dearly, more than the others. He had attempted Traveler creation by different means, and the King was furious with the aging mage for wasting his energies. It had taken longer than a full year for Regealth to recharge, garner enough magical power to reach through the Gate again, and bring another back with him. Like the legendary offspring of mythical dragons, Lasten referred to the fledgling recruits as his dragon eggs. His new warriors arrived as far apart and took just as long to acclimate to their roles as a dragon’s young did to hatch; Amarynn’s arrival took a more significant toll than usual on Regealth.
He even risked the King’s wrath some ten years ago and brought another female, just to see if she yielded the same effect as Amarynn, but she had not. Though stealthy, with an affinity for assassinations and poisons, Ehrinell was just another Traveler, no different from those who came before her.
Amarynn surveyed the tops of Calliway’s elegantly-constructed gate towers, watching the guards scramble as she and the men with her came into view.
Aron reined his horse between her and Bent.
“I will see you at the barracks,” he said, nodding toward the city. “I’ll ride ahead and announce our arrival to the King’s Guard.”
Bent nodded, “Aye.”
Aron urged his horse forward into a trot, and then he was off, galloping toward the gates. In minutes, Amarynn could hear the distant bugle of a watchman alerting the city of their approach. She stole a glance at Bent. The aging Legion man’s brow was furrowed just enough to let her know he was concerned. Her stomach twisted a bit. While she cared little for most people, Bent held a unique place in her heart. She silently vowed to do whatever it took to make sure he had nothing to worry over.
The gates of Calliway loomed just beyond a grove of trees as they rounded a bend in the road. The riders slowed to a walk as the great gates swung open to allow them entry. As Amarynn passed through, the soaring grey stone towers of the Keep and the savory smells of the market washed over her. Calliway was home, whether she admitted it or not, and she could not deny the respite she felt as they wound through the streets. The Legion barracks sat just outside the palace walls. She and Bent guided their horses past the foot soldiers’ quarters to the heart of the Legion, the great hall that housed the Blademasters and the immortal and legendary Travelers of Karth.
Chapter 4
How long until we are summoned?”
Amarynn tore off another piece of bread and dunked it in her gravy. She scanned the hall while Bent considered her question. Her gaze settled on a group of men at the other end of the long hall. They were a mix of Legion and Travelers, soldiers she’d served with for many years. Four of them shouted and howled with laughter as the fifth man downed a tankard of ale in one long gulp. He slammed the heavy cup onto the table and lifted his head, his brooding stare locking with Amarynn’s. The corner of his lip curled in a sinister grin.
“Rynn, lass!” Bent snapped his fingers in front of her, breaking her thought.
“You didn’t tell me Matteus was in Calliway,” she whispered.
Bent followed her gaze.
“Rynn, leave it alone,” he warned.
She slowed her breathing, fixing her ire on the grizzled man at the end of the long table. He smiled openly at her; the lack of sincerity was evident. His face was marred. Firelight rippled across an abundance of knotty scars, and his oily, black hair hung over his ears in unkempt strands.
“Amarynn!”
She reluctantly broke her stare and picked at her food, taking long breaths to steady her shaking hands. Her foot bounced against the floor in a quick, agitated rhythm.
“Would it have made any difference if I’d told you?”
Amarynn looked past Bent, focusing on the men at the other end of the room. She always felt disdain from the other Travelers, but never as venomous as they were in the past two years. She had always known she was different from the others, but she could never put her finger on why.
From the moment she had appeared on the stone floor of Regealth’s aethertorium, Amarynn was raw and wild. Where the other Travelers were docile and confused at first, her anger and singular focus on destruction was a surprise. Regealth chose to call her Amarynn, an old Vhaleesian word meaning ‘shining star,’ to honor the unique circumstances that surrounded her crossing. At first, she had lived up to her name. She learned quickly, embracing the Legion and her role as a warrior without question. Her skill with weapons was uncanny, and her complete absence of fear in battle singled her out as the biggest threat the Legion could offer an enemy on the battlefield.
But despite being the most feared and revered of all the immortal Travelers, King Lasten had always excluded her. She received no invitations to galas and no inclusion in war councils. She lived simply and did what she did best. She killed, and she did it better than anyone. One by one, each member of the Legion elite distanced themselves from her growing anger. It had all come to a head one dark winter night.
She dropped her eyes to the table. Images of the last time she set foot in the practice yard played out in her mind, her memories clear.
A blade in each hand, she was destroying yet another unfortunate sparring dummy in the practice yard when they struck. Her arms were grabbed, pinned behind her back, while her blades clattered to the ground. She felt arms encircling her, squeezing so hard she lost her breath. They were like a vise, crushing her. She wasn’t afraid for her life — death was not possible — but the pain of recovery was nearly unbearable, should she sustain what would be a death blow to any mortal man. She could smell the rank sourness of Matteus’ breath as he leaned in close to her ear. “Bitch. You are nothing special. We’re tired of hearing your name.”
When the dagger was drawn across her neck, her body hovered near unachievable death, her blood spilling onto the cold and frozen ground. Hours passed before she was discovered.
Bent found her and took her back to his quarters. He enlisted the help of the precious few Travelers left that could still be trusted. He stayed with her as she fought her way back to the life she hated.
The old Blademaster knew what she would do.
Bent had told her stories about the other Traveler who left. Essik was in such a state of disarray, Bent said; he most likely went mad wherever he ended up. There were stories about a wild giant that haunted the Dark Mountains, howling and tormenting the folk who dwelled high up in the ranges.
Still, she was done. Why fight for a Legion that hated her? She already hated herself; she needed no help with that.
She recovered, as all Travelers do, but the moment she could walk and fend for herself, she left — slipped away in the middle of the night. She crept past Bent as he slept and left his room’s warmth and safety. As she slid through the night towards the stables, every sound and shadow made her jump. Amarynn still remembered the shame she felt for fearing the darkness. Thank the gods for Dax. He was one of the only beings she truly trusted. She recalled the relief that came with his warm breath on her trembling hands as she slid the bridle over his head. He carried her away on his back with such surety and strength. She almost wept for the comfort he gave her as they made their way into the night, away from Calliway and the Legion, away from the pain, and into the unknown.
The fingers of Amarynn’s right hand closed over the knife that lay beside her plate. Bent recognized the danger immediately, but she was on her feet so fast that he had no time to stop her.
She strode to the end of the table, the ring of her footsteps over the stone floor audible in the suddenly-silent room. Matteus kept his arms crossed, making a show of nonchalance that infuriated her. There was a collective holding of breath as she slowed her pace and stopped in front of him. The two immortals stared at one another for several seconds before he pushed his chair back and stood. He was at least a foot taller than her five and a half feet. Amarynn held her ground, refusing to look up. Her nostrils flared, and her jaw clenched as she turned to cast her derision on his cronies around the table.
“Fine night for cowards,” she said quietly. The corner of her mouth tugged up in a half-smile.
None of them moved; they tried their best to look unbothered. Matteus rumbled, “Welcome back, Rynn.”
She waited a full minute before turning back to him. She heard Bent’s careful footsteps behind her.
“Matteus.”
He wrinkled his crooked nose, sniffing in distaste.
“Who was stupid enough to let you in the gates?”
“Who would be stupid enough to try and stop me?”
Matteus stepped up to her, toe-to-toe. Her eyes were level with his chest.
“I thought we made it clear you aren’t wanted here.”
She inhaled deeply, a slow sneer creeping onto her face. She let the knife in her left hand fall to the floor while her right hand darted to the dagger’s hilt strapped to her thigh. In less than a second, the blade was at Matteus’ throat. His mud-colored eyes widened slightly, then darkened.
“You don’t have the balls,” he taunted.
“I’ve no balls at all.” Her sneer turned to a smirk as her left hand swept up her belted dagger and pressed it firmly into Matteus’ groin. “I wonder if you do.” She pressed harder. “Oh! There they are. We’re immortal, so do you think they’d grow back if I cut them off?”
Another Traveler, Cam, jumped to his feet in Matteus’ defense. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Cam didn’t have a chance to draw his weapon before he found Bent’s leveled at his chest. “Are you willing to bet on that?” The others fidgeted uncomfortably.
An uneasy silence descended, and Cam took a slow step back. Bent lowered his sword. “I’d watch my back if I were you.”
Keeping the blade at Matteus’ throat, she watched Cam slink back into his chair. Matteus laughed. “Who should we be afraid of? A little thing like you?”
He purposefully pressed himself into the edge of Amarynn’s blade as if he’d gladly accept her challenge. The metal pressed into his skin, a thin line of blood beading along the blade’s edge. After a tense moment, he sat back down and laughed as he took another long pull from his tankard. He swallowed deeply, then cleared his throat, turning to spit at the hearth. “You are only deadly to mortals.”
“As are you,” She gestured to herself with a slight bow, then sheathed her daggers.
Matteus’ face darkened.
She studied him a moment longer as a slow rage roiled in her belly, threatening to overtake her. Matteus wanted her to lose control, to prove their disdain for her was not without merit. Her hands clenched into fists, but she turned on her heel and walked past Bent, who sheathed his sword with his eyes still locked on Cam. She let her hand fall to the hilt of her short sword. Hushed voices and the crackling of the hearth filled the heavy silence.
“Go on, now! Run away as you do.”
Her steps stilled. Matteus snickered as his men resumed a quiet chatter. Bent stood his ground at the ready, unsure of what Amarynn would do.
Without a word, Amarynn resumed her pace and continued, stalking past the tables and out the door.
Night was fully settled on the city when Amarynn left the hall. She was still seething from the exchange with Matteus. She needed to remember exactly why she had returned, why she had decided to insert herself back into what she had worked so hard to leave behind. There was only one person now who could convince her to stay, and she needed to see him.
She slipped into a slim passageway partially hidden in the shadows past the kitchens. A narrow staircase twisted and wound down through the walls of the castle. She took the steps quietly, making turn after turn without hesitation, on pure instinct. This passageway was purposefully tricky, hallways off shooting in all different directions, but this route had been for her use alone since she had been allowed to leave the castle some twenty years ago.
The landing at the bottom was small, the space dominated by a decrepit wooden door. She raised her hand to rap lightly but hesitated. If Bent had come for her, everything was about to change, and stepping foot into the room beyond the door would ensure it. Regealth had promised to try to find a way to undo what had been done to her, and a summons from him meant she would find out if her wish were possible or not. Either way, her heartbeat was just a bit faster than it was earlier.
Just as she resolved to knock, the door swung open just enough for a man with greying hair and a beard to step into view.
“You are earlier than I expected,” he chided.
“I just arr—”
He held his hand up, and she closed her mouth. Experience taught her that arguing with Regealth was a no-win situation. She slid through the partially open door and leaned back against it to push it closed. The room had not changed in twenty years. These were the mage’s chambers, not the study where he worked on matters of state. This was the room that led to the aethertorium, her birth chamber. A deep hearth glowed with dying embers opposite where she stood, illuminating two deeply padded chairs in front of it. She had spent hours sitting there listening and learning in the weeks after she had arrived.
