The Sixth Gate Read online

  “Home,” Ki commanded. “Take us home.”

  The Kemshi turned and rushed through the forest back towards the cliffs and the sea. The sound of crashing waves grew closer, and his fists curled in the Kemshi’s fur. This part always worried him, the passing. When they reached the cliff, Ki held his breath and they plunged over the side, falling for a few seconds as the water rushed up to greet them.

  Chapter 3: Hystera

  “Our shadows have given us no sign,” an elder pointed out from the high council of the southern tribe.

  The domed hut in which they were meeting had been crafted from large boughs forming the great hall. It looked like someone had taken a bowl and flipped it on its head. All the council members from the various animal clans of the south were gathered for the first time in nearly a year. Jinq Rekis’s panther, Hibrius, lay at his sandaled feet, reminding Jinq he had at least one ally in the room.

  “Yet these deaths continue,” Jinq reminded them. His wrinkled face held the patience of a thousand lifetimes.

  Much like souls, the shadows of some of their people could wander the world on another plane of existence. They were incorporeal, like spirits, but without a consciousness of their own. When the shadows rejoined with their host, they could bring back memories of their time away, stored like imprints upon their form. Jinq Rekis had sent his shadow out, but it had returned with nothing. That worried him more than if it had come back with something. There were very few things powerful enough to hide from a Keeper’s shadow, and something that powerful did not bode well for his people.

  “You are our tribe’s Keeper,” the elder from the Panther Clan said to Jinq, leaning forward, which highlighted the spots along his hairline. “You cannot go if there is a danger. It is not your purpose.”

  All people of Hystera had distinctive dots around their hairline, small and many, like a cheetah’s. Jinq stared at the marks along the elder’s hairline. They were faded with age, much like his own. Jinq glanced around at these old people and their ancient ways, a bunch of wrinkly fleabags who had forgotten their original purpose. They had been created to protect their people, but many members of the house clans had become selfish. Jinq was not an elder. He was the Southern Tribe’s Keeper. He belonged to none of the animal clans and all of them. He was sacred and was their connection to the planet Hystera. There were only ever four keepers upon the planet at any time, usually two in the north and two in the south. Jinq’s counterpart, Yira, was twenty years older than him and bedridden, so the duty had fallen to him.

  Every species type had an elder, but birds and cats were never ones to agree. Birds tormented the felines as they flew, while the cats waited and hunted. Being of the feline clan meant that he disliked most of the bird clans on principle, but he had to remind himself to remain neutral. Jinq could see an old windbag to his right, Hindi of the Crow Clan, nodding his head in agreement with the elder’s statement. Hindi was his greatest opponent.

  Despite their reluctance to agree with him, Jinq knew he would be able to argue his case. Of the four Keepers, he was the youngest at only fifty-three winters. Soon Yira would pass on and her initiate would be the youngest, but that had not happened yet. He would be the best suited to take this journey to investigate the deaths on their north border.

  “My knowledge will be vital to discovering what has happened,” Jinq reminded them as he stroked his gray beard. “Already there are fifteen reported deaths. How many more must there be before I am given leave to go?”

  Hindi turned to one of the other men and whispered something. The two came away nodding, and Jinq grimaced. There had always been a strong link between the Crow Clan and the Snake Clan. Crows were the harbingers of death, and snakes were the symbol of rebirth. It was no surprise they felt a kinship, but there was nothing to be trusted about a creature that slithered.

  “We should send someone else,” Mortiki of the Snake Clan offered. “Someone closer. We have heard of an unexpected death in the north, but reports are still coming in. These are dangerous times.”

  Jinq had expected this. “I’ll take an assistant.”

  “You shall go, but take a young member of one of warrior groups to act as an assistant,” Hindi conceded. He had a cunning matched only by his sharp and cruel ego. “I have someone in mind.”

  Jinq sat quietly as he considered his options. Regrettably, most of his clan was aligned with other feline clans. If he selected one of them, Hindi would say they already had a feline and another would offer no additional protection. He would have to think of a way around this to ensure that one of Hindi’s cronies didn’t come along.

  Hipasha of the Owl Clan leaned into the firelight and lit the end of a very long pipe. Jinq’s eyes narrowed as she puffed the embers on the end to life. Her short hair was perfectly straight and cut to her chin. When she leaned forward, wisps of her hair deepened the lines on her face. With a smile, he decided to beat Hindi at his own game by choosing the most neutral of their members from a clan known to be so honorable that they could not be bought and so wise that they kept mostly to themselves. They were not the strongest, but Jinq would get someone he could perhaps trust and rely on.

  “I would not want to play favorites,” Jinq said, and Hindi’s eyes grew wide. “A child of the Owl Clan will serve on this mission as an aid.”

  Hipasha of the Owl Clan had remained mostly obscured in the shadows even as she had lit her pipe, but she bent forward at the mention of her name. Her eyes were sharp as she met his with an unwavering wisdom. Age had given this woman a quiet and solemn demeanor. Most of the Clans viewed men and women equally, but it was rare a woman took interest in making decisions amongst the clans. There were many more female scholars and soldiers than female clan leaders.

  “My goddaughter has recently completed her training in the warrior’s ring,” Hipasha said in an even voice. “She shall accompany you.”

  “An honorable choice,” Jinq answered carefully, though he wondered what use a child of not yet sixteen could be to him. “Her name?” he asked.

  Hipasha smiled, her black inked lips curled back in the firelight while the rest of her face was in the shadows. She answered with a single word as smoke from the pipe coiled around her: “Kerrigan.”

  Chapter 4: Lyreane

  Ki emerged from a lake not far from the mountain he had called home for most of his life. He shook his head and let the water bead down his face. Pushing his black hair back, he glanced around, enjoying the familiar sight of the purple-tinted trees and soft yellow leaves that shimmered in the fading light. Though he didn’t know the exact time, from the setting sun he knew night was quickly approaching.

  Across-world travel was possible for his Kemshi; it was the tiger’s gift. Water was a conduit through which the tiger traversed, and he could bring Ki with him. Ki had traveled across Lyreane in a mere moment. This was the reason Ki had chosen to take the tiger along when he’d left on his yearlong mission. The tiger provided convenient travel.

  Ki hopped off the feline’s back as it swam to shore. His tiger was an excellent swimmer and, of the four breeds of tigers, the Wata was the kind best adapted for riding. When the lake became shallow, he stood and pulled his coat off to let the sun’s rays hit him in the fading evening. He was lucky it was fall now, the trees only just starting to shed their leaves. Were it winter, he could have frozen to death. His home was northern enough on the continent of Artium that winters were harsh—and even worse on the mountain he called home.

  Ki walked out of the water, the Kemshi beside him, dripping the whole way. When the tiger shook the droplets from his great hide, Ki put a hand up to avoid the spray. “Hey now!” he cried out.

  The tiger gave him an amused glance. Ki shook his head as they made their way toward their destination. He could all but hear the tiger explaining that given that Ki was already wet, a little more wouldn’t matter. Tigers were such prideful and arrogant beings, but Ki had to admit there was cause for their egotistical behavior. They were fast, de
adly, and clever—a dangerous combination,

  When they approached a clearing, Ki slowed and skirted around the edge of it, looking toward the forgotten village that had once been their home. Though there was nothing left of it above ground, Ki always imagined how it had once been. He imagined wooden homes with smoke billowing from stone fireplaces and thatched roofs. Whatever had been there had long since been reclaimed by nature. Only the well remained.

  A group of wanderers, with their covered wagons and rough attires, were setting up camp. Ki watched them for a spell, shivering slightly from the cold, as the final fingers of daylight faded. He wondered if they knew about the death and destruction that had happened here. Did they know that blood was soaked deep into the soil and that the bodies and bones of his people were under their feet?

  As darkness rose above the horizon and he was certain the campfires of the wanderers could not reach far enough to give him away, he continued toward the mountain to the hidden passageway. As he hurried across the clearing, he heard a branch snap to his right. He turned to see a wide-eyed young girl with her hair separated by ribbons over each shoulder staring at him. When she saw the Kemshi, her mouth fell open. Tigers were not native to Lyreane.

  He put a finger to his lips, hoping the fear of what the massive beast could do as well as the sight of a stranger dressed all in black would earn her silence. She nodded her head. When he reached the other side of the clearing, he glanced back and found that she was still watching him. Even if she told her family, they would likely not believe her.

  Ki turned and hurried toward the entrance of his home. Though the noises of the nomads faded into the quiet forest, they still seemed too close for his liking. He reached into a damp pocket within his robes and pulled out a coin, pressing it into the side of the mountain. Rock shuddered, and he stepped back as a slab of stone swung toward him and the small entrance appeared.

  The Kemshi entered first, bounding up the steps until the darkness swallowed him whole. When Ki pulled the coin out of the slot, the door started to close. He slipped in as the door slammed shut on the outside world.

  He was home.

  Ki hurried up the stairs. The Kemshi was waiting at the top. In the light of the lantern hanging from the ceiling, Ki could see his impatience. Their yearlong quest had not been easy, and he wanted to be cleaned properly. Despite himself, Ki craved companionship as surely as a proper bath with soap. Though he wished he could speak to the spirit animal, he hadn’t the ability.

  He stepped into the atrium, where a circle of hunchbacked old men waited. The Kemshi sat, his hunter eyes trained on them all, though with familiarity rather than ill intent. The men were solemn, apprehensive, as he reached to the sack on his hip.

  “Welcome home, my son,” said the youngest of them, one of the few who still stood tall and proud. He was named only Ra.

  “I come home successful,” Ki said, dropping to one knee and holding up the waterproof sack. “All tasks are completed.”

  “Then it is time,” Ra whispered, taking the sack. “Rise and come bathe in the blood moon, so that your quest can be revealed.”

  Ki was full of anticipation. Decades of training and his year-long journey had led to this moment. He followed through the entrance and down a long pathway to a second atrium whose circumference was filled with more doors. This unusual set up was their strongest defense. Intruders would have to know which set of doors to take before finding their home. If they choose wrongly, they would be led into traps or left to starve within the belly of the mountain.

  They finally entered rocky area where a circle was cut out of the ceiling of their home. The moon cast upon them a reddish light. Ki shrugged off his heavy leather coat. It pooled at his feet as he continued to undress under the harvest moon. Around him, his family each held one item from his trials, from a bloody handkerchief to an ornate coin.

  When he pulled his shirt off and it dropped to the ground, each of his elders reached up—only Ra was the same height as him—to touch the infinity mark on his back as they walked by for good luck. He undid the sash that held up his pants and left them discarded. He took careful steps toward the center of the circle, his feet cold against the unforgiving rock and the chill of the evening. The edge of the blood moon cast a shadow on the far edge of the runic circle on the floor. He went to the middle and waited for the moon’s light to fill the circumference. The Black Council began chanting while the moonlight crept along the floor. The sound filled him as the moon approached, a shadow of the sun, the stealer of light.

  Ki put his fingers out as the edge of the moonlight reached him. The strange red glow made his fingers look as though they were drenched in blood. He watched as it crept along his hand and up his arm. It wasn’t long before he was completely washed in the light. In that moment, the tributes were raised, an old spell was recited around him, and the spirits within him awoke.

  He gasped in astonishment as a vision passed over him—faces he had never seen before flashing before his eyes. It was like flipping through still images in a book. The chanting fell to the background as his arms went out. He fell forward on his knees, his breathing ragged, as he braced his arm against the ground.

  After a moment, the visions passed and he heard shuffling of clothing as the light from the blood moon touched the edge of their robes. Lo’s voice emerged from the background noise of their chants. “What did you see?”

  Resting back on his heels, Ki looked up at the moonlight as it shifted by him. “I saw what must be done.”

  “What is that, my son?” Ra asked, his back as rigid as their beliefs.

  The eyes of the men around him glittered with twisted enthusiasm. He hardly noticed them, though, as faces still danced behind his vision. They knew the words he would speak; why else would they have trained him to kill?

  “Souls,” he whispered before shifting his eyes over to Ra. “Forty-two tainted souls I must release.”

  Chapter 5: Tym Resh

  Commander Xavier Ode stood overlooking the children in his charge with heavily lidded eyes. In Xavier’s opinion, children always made the best warriors. Their kingdom may have been mostly conquered, but these children would become assassins who would give his king the victory they needed to keep their last foothold.

  One very skinny boy grappled with a larger one; his nose was bloodied, but he hardly seemed to notice. There was a fire in that one. Turning, Xavier walked down the stairs leisurely, but it was a measured pace. It was good for the children to see him, especially the boys.

  Many of them had been street rats, nothing more than homeless beggars and whores. Children with broken spirits died, but it was the tough ones that survived. The ones sparring now, who had survived harsh winters and hot summers, were the strongest.

  Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, he stood by a column while he continued to watch them. Blood spattered the floor, feet and hands were blistered, but their bellies were full.

  The young boy, the fiery one, was able to connect his elbow with the larger boy’s throat, causing the larger boy to gag and stumble back. Then he jumped up and slammed the bottoms of both of his feet into the big boy’s chest, forcing him from the ring and flat onto his back.

  Everyone turned to look at the fallen boy, but Xavier’s eyes stayed transfixed on the victor, who pushed himself up and turned to make sure the fight was truly finished. Standing with his fists tight at his sides, he looked down at the fallen, his jaw tight and his resolve sound.

  “Well done,” Trainer Tryden said with a proud smile. “Go clean up.”

  Xavier waved a gloved hand to the trainer, a man with long brown hair and a flat face. Trainer Tryden walked toward them, passing the other children, who were still training. Xavier watched the victor, whose walk was nimble and sure, until he was gone from the room.

  “Yes Commander?” Trainer Tryden asked. It occurred to Xavier that he didn’t remember Tryden’s first name.

  “They seem to be improving,” he said, glancin
g around. “Our eastern border is being pushed back. How much longer?”

  “They have only been trained for a year, mostly in swords and knives,” he said with an uncommitted shrug. “Their hand-to-hand combat is improving, but I’ll need more time.”

  “We are running out of it,” Xavier informed him. “Train the girls to carry knives in different places, and get them ready to be sold to whorehouses. They are to kill the generals that pay for their services and then return. Get the boys ready for a raid attack on the western border.”

  “The western border?” Trainer Tryden asked, surprised.

  “All of our defenses have moved to the east. They will not expect any attacks in the west,” Xavier said, slightly annoyed, as he fixed the gloves on his hands.

  Trainer Tryden nodded. “It will be done.”

  “See to it,” Xavier said, walking down the hall. Many of the children hit harder when he walked by. His presence gave them encouragement, as he was their greatest warrior. It was his blood that gave him power and his presence that won battles. Everyone knew that he was the reason their kingdom had its foothold.

  As Xavier rounded the corner, he barely caught sight of the flashing blade before it entered his throat. His hand went instinctively for his sword, but someone else’s hand pressed it back down. He tried to call out, but the blade prevented it. The only sound he could make was a disturbing gurgling sound as he fell to his knees. Blood dripped over his lips and splattered onto the ground as he pulled the dagger out of him. The blade clattered on the ground as he collapsed. His fingers groped his slick neck to stem the flow of blood as the edge of his world went black.

  Xavier cursed their enemies until he saw the dark hair and the black eyes. It was like looking at a demon. He tried to pull his gloves off to take his killer’s soul with him, but couldn’t. He watched in horror as his killer took care to precisely aim a second long thin blade into his chest. Xavier jerked at the sudden penetration of his heart, and then his body went still.