At the Gates of Darkness

  “Because he’s not signaling an attack. Come with me,” said Gulamendis as he crouched and hurried along just below the circling rocks that shielded them from sight.

  They scurried along, keeping out of sight as best they could, then when they were closer than Laromendis felt comfortable with, Gulamendis said, “Look, brother!”

  They peered at the assembled demons and saw the Demon King signal the attack again. “What—?” Then Laromendis closed his eyes. “I’m a fool. It’s a conjuration.”

  “A very good illusion, from what I can tell. Anyone else, even you, dear brother, who can’t sense demons, isn’t going to get close enough to see that this is all a trick of lights and magic.”

  “But why?”

  “We can ponder that later,” said Gulamendis. “We need to find a way home, or at least somewhere away from here. Those demons came from somewhere else, and why they were lured here to be slaughtered by their own kind is a matter for another time; right now we need to see if there’s a gate of some sort down that side of the mountain.”

  He hurried, unconcerned about being seen by the illusions nearby, and Laromendis followed. The fatigue of days of privation were offset by the excitement of possibly finding a safe route off this desert planet, and they moved as beings possessed.

  As they moved below the illusions, they found a wide trail, and realized it was freshly trampled by thousands of feet. “Well, now we know the attacking army is real,” said Laromendis.

  “Demons can’t be fooled that long,” said his brother. “I thought you’d have discovered that when they started ignoring your conjurations and started attacking us.”

  “I thought perhaps in a melee, with blood and screaming demons on all sides, they might not have the facility to judge if there was enough demon stench in the air,” said the Conjurer as they descended quickly down the trail, almost running.

  “Point taken,” conceded his brother. “Still, you’re the Conjurer. Could you create the illusion of an army on that scale?”

  “No,” said Laromendis, his breath beginning to come hard. “No one could. It would take a dozen as good as me, I think. And then it wouldn’t endure long. That’s a great deal of magic being used. To achieve it for a long period at this level, it would take a hundred better than me.”

  “Well, let’s hope whoever’s behind this monstrous betrayal is too occupied with whatever he’s doing up there—or whatever they’re doing up there—to notice the two of us slipping away.”

  Suddenly the hair on their arms stood up and both slid to a halt, dust rising from their sliding feet.

  “What’s that?” asked Gulamendis.

  “A barrier…” Laromendis reached out and drew his hand back. “It doesn’t hurt, but it’s not particularly pleasant, either.”

  “What is it?”

  Pushing with his fingers, Laromendis said, “I think it’s…” He stepped forward.

  And vanished from his brother’s sight.

  “Laro!” shouted the Demon Master.

  Abruptly a hand reached out of the air and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him forward.

  “Where are we?” asked Gulamendis.

  Wherever it was, it wasn’t the desert world upon which they had stood only a moment before.

  They stood in an empty marshaling yard, in a massive black stone fortress. Walls thirty feet high rose up on all sides of an open area two hundred yards across, by a hundred deep. Above them rose a keep unlike anything they had seen. If the castle created by the Black Sorcerer had been designed to warn away passing ships, sight of this fortress would have scared the sailors to death.

  The sky above was a canopy of black clouds, so thick it was impossible to tell the time of day, or night. They were lit from below by an angry red light from a series of volcanoes that surrounded this place. Lightning exploded across the sky in the distance, and moments later was followed by peals of thunder that could be felt.

  “Where are we?” repeated Gulamendis.

  His brother grabbed his arm and pulled him into the relative shelter of a shadow where a tower rose up to form a corner with the wall behind them. In the distance a large figure walked out of the entrance of the vast fortress that rose up across the yard, and even though it was three hundred feet distant, they could see it for what it was—a massive battle demon, perhaps a dozen feet tall. It moved with purpose, but rather than attacking them, it moved at an oblique angle to their position, seemingly intent upon some business. Like those they had seen on the world from which they had fled, this one wore armor and carried a massive two-handed sword strapped across its back.

  “Is this the demon realm?” asked Laromendis.

  “It can’t be,” answered his brother.

  “Why not?”

  “Because if it was the Fifth Circle, we would be almost certainly dead by now. Everything we know about the Fifth Circle says we would die within minutes if we weren’t protected by strong magic.”

  “Kosridi,” said Laromendis.

  “Yes,” said his brother, referring to the tales they had learned about the human magician Pug and his allies traveling to the Second Circle. “On the other hand,” said Laromendis, “who is to say the laws within the Fifth Circle are the same.”

  “I’ll argue theory later,” said Gulamendis. “Despite what we just saw, I’m not getting very much…”

  “I can’t sense any demons.”

  “Another illusion.”

  Gulamendis slapped the wall of stone behind him and felt the palm of his hand sting. “What do you think?”

  Laromendis closed his eyes for a moment, touched the wall, then said, “If it’s a conjured fortress, whoever did it has the powers of a god.”

  “Let’s see if we can find a place to hide while we decide what to do next,” said Gulamendis.

  Setting off along the base of the wall, staying as deep in the shadows as they could, the two elves who stood seven feet in height tried to make themselves as small and inconspicuous as possible.

  “This may not be the demon realm,” said Laromendis, “but the air is choking.”

  “All that smoke and ash in the air,” whispered his brother.

  “Who builds something like this in a place like this?”

  “I have no idea,” replied Gulamendis. “Over there.” He pointed to a small building that appeared to have been constructed after the wall. It appeared to be a simple wooden structure, a shed or storage room.

  They crept along. There didn’t appear to be anyone at hand since they spied the one demon crossing the marshaling yard, but they had no idea who might be observing them from any one of the hundred or so windows in the keep above. It reared high overhead, at least a dozen stories, a massive malignant black presence against the evil red-and-grey sky above.

  “Fliers!” said Gulamendis, pointing above the top of the keep.

  In the sky a dozen black specks appeared against the red glow and then vanished, only to reappear a moment later, growing larger. “They’re coming this way,” said the Conjurer.

  “Let’s see what’s in here,” said Gulamendis, opening the unlatched door.

  Inside the hut sat sacks and boxes, arranged in a roughly organized fashion. When the door was closed, they were plunged into darkness.

  The building was a rough construction, and there were cracks between the boards. The brothers peered through them and suddenly large winged demons descended into view, landing in the marshaling yard and assuming a rough formation, two lines of six each.

  “They are waiting for something,” said Gulamendis.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do we do now?” asked Laromendis.

  “Well, as going anywhere is out of the question for the moment, I suggest we just sit here quietly and watch.”

  Thinking of nothing else to say, Laromendis fell silent.

  Hours passed with nothing of significance occurring in the courtyard, and after a while the sun rose high enough t
o give faint illumination; like others of their race, the two elves were able to see in light that would challenge a cat.

  “What have we here?” said Laromendis, almost absently, pulling down a sack from a large shelf on the back wall. The bag fell open and red round fruit fell out. “Apples!” he said.

  Gulamendis didn’t hesitate, but grabbed up one of the orbs and bit deeply. It was not the freshest he had ever eaten, but the dry cool storage had preserved most of the fruit’s flavors and his stomach almost heaved from the unexpected treat.

  “What’s in the other bags?” asked his brother as he bit down into his second apple. He began a haphazard examination, opening bags, using his heavy knife to pry off the tops of boxes, and as he went, the brothers both began to wonder.

  The boxes and bags contained provisions and clothing. The clothing was human-sized, too big for dwarves, too small for the Taredhel, and certainly not of a fashion for the other elven tribes.

  “What is this?” wondered Gulamendis.

  “I don’t know, but have some of this,” said his brother, tossing him a hunk of dried meat.

  Gulamendis bit greedily into the jerky and began chewing. “What is this place?”

  “You know more about demons than anyone I know; what do you think?”

  “Demons eat everything when they see it. They suck life from the living, and then go after whatever’s left.” He made an encompassing gesture and added, “They don’t store fruit, or dry meat. This is not demon food.”

  “Then who does it belong to?”

  “Let’s get some rest and eat and then we shall go and find out,” suggested Gulamendis.

  Laromendis said, “I don’t have any better idea. Eat, then let us rest, and if no one disturbs our repose, we’ll venture out after dark and discover what we can.”

  “As you said, I don’t have a better idea.”

  They sat and began eating.

  The day passed slowly. Twice they held themselves ready to fight as a company of demons marched by, but no one seemed to show much interest in this unexpected pantry. The two conjectures they had arrived at to explain this storage shed were that the original builders of this monstrous fortress were mortals, not demons, and the place had been overrun by the Demon Legion, or that the demons had it built for reasons yet unclear. Given the size and look of the place, the latter seemed a more reasonable conjecture.

  The sky darkened and again the massive fortress fell quiet, and finally Gulamendis said, “We need to explore.”

  “Why?” said his brother, already knowing the answer. “Very well,” he conceded before Gulamendis could voice his argument. “I know, we can’t stay here forever, even if there’s enough food for it.”

  His brother smiled and nodded, pointing over his shoulder in the general direction of the fortress. “If there’s any way out of here, off this world to one that will lead us back to Home, it is in there.”

  “These are the times I wish we’d spent less time learning magic and more times learning how to sneak about unseen, like our forest cousins.”

  “It’s a difficult choice,” said Gulamendis. “We can skulk about, or you can enchant us to look like something else, but then we’d reek of magic to anyone sensitive to that.”

  “What’s you’re best guess, Demon Master?”

  “With this bunch, I have no idea,” he admitted. “They don’t act like any demons I have ever encountered…” He fell silent a moment, then said, “Neither those camped in the valley nor those attacking remotely resembled the monsters we faced on Andcardia.

  “It’s as if we’ve encountered an entirely new breed of demon.”

  “What of their look?” Laromendis asked.

  Gulamendis shrugged. “Before all this, I thought myself familiar with demons, but I have seen more creatures new to me in the last few days than I have my entire previous life. Demons tend to a type, battle demons are large and powerful, but they can look like bulls or lizards or bulls and lizards, or lions or…” He shrugged. “Fliers tend to be small, but we’ve seen some very large nasty ones I’ve never encountered until we were on Hub. I’ve even seen demons in magician’s robes.” He sighed. “I wish that human Warlock was around to talk with; he knew a great deal, as did his friends Pug and Magnus.”

  “If we get Home, let’s go visit,” suggested his brother, dryly, “but until we do, turn our attentions to the matter at hand; illusions or skulking?”

  “Skulk,” said Gulamendis. “Save your energies for other conjurations.”

  “Skulk it is,” said Laromendis, carefully opening the door.

  The marshaling yard to their left was empty and the shortest distance to the side of the massive keep was directly across from them. “If someone’s watching from one of those windows above, we will be seen,” said Laromendis softly.

  “It’s dark,” said his brother. “If we hurry—”

  Not waiting another moment, Laromendis dashed out of the large storage shed and his brother exited, pausing only to close the door behind, then set out after his brother at a full run. It was not a vast distance, less than fifty yards, but it felt like they were exposed to view on every side for the longest time.

  Hugging the keep wall, they paused, listening for any sounds of alarm. When none was forthcoming, Gulamendis said, “Now what?”

  “That way,” said his brother, pointing to the rear of the keep.

  “Why that way?”

  “Would you rather try to walk in the main entrance?”

  “Point taken,” conceded the Demon Master, and the two elves hunkered down and moved toward the rear of the keep.

  Reaching a tower, they moved around its base, until they were looking at a large rear yard, half the size of the marshaling yard. Laromendis whispered, “I see steps leading down to a basement door, and a broad flight of steps leading up beyond that.”

  “Down,” said Gulamendis. “Let’s sneak in through the basement.”

  “Have you wondered why there are no guards?”

  “I presume they’re all too busy obliterating other demons on wherever it was we were before we came through the portal to here.”

  “One can hope, but I still find it odd we only saw that one lone demon and those two small patrols,” Laromendis observed.

  “Count it a blessing and move on!” hissed his brother.

  They made a dash for the steps leading down and found themselves before two large doors. The latch was unsecured, and Laromendis gently pulled the nearest door open just enough to peer through. “It’s a long, dark stairway,” Laromendis whispered.

  “Is there anyone there?”

  “Not that I can see.” The Conjurer slipped through the door, his brother following.

  “This is the height of madness,” said the Demon Master.

  “If I push you back to the wall, do not move. I’m going to make us look like part of the stones.”

  As plans went, it didn’t seem a particularly brilliant one, but Gulamendis didn’t have a better one so he said nothing.

  They moved down a very long tunnel that took them deep into the basement of the keep. When it finally ended, in a large chamber, Gulamendis judged they were at least three stories below the surface. The chamber had four doors, the open one through which they had just stepped, two other open doorways with stairs leading up, and a barred, heavy wooden one across from them.

  “That one,” whispered Laromendis.

  His brother gave him a tiny push from behind signaling agreement and they quickly crossed the open room. The door had a small, barred window, and they peered through it. “It’s a dungeon!” said Gulamendis.

  Through the small window they could see a long hallway, with cells on the right with floor-to-ceiling bars. On the other side three large heavy wooden doors, like the one through which they peeked, were evenly spaced.

  In the barred cells they could see a dozen captives, humans, dwarves, and elves. The last were lesser kin to the Taredhel, being of similar stature to the two brothe
rs. “What is this?” whispered Laromendis.

  “Demons don’t take prisoners,” whispered Gulamendis back.

  “What now?”

  “I have no idea.”

  In a dungeon beneath an impossible keep, on a world unknown to them until the day before, created by beings also unknown to them, the two elven brothers stood motionless, crippled by having no idea of what they should do next.

  CHAPTER 10

  DEMON LORE

  Jim groaned.

  The festivities had lasted far too late for him to be welcoming the dawn, yet Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha had come into his room at first light, pulled aside the draperies, and insisted he awake.

  “Water,” Jim croaked.

  Amirantha picked up an earthen pitcher on the night table next to the huge bed Jim occupied and filled an earthen mug with water. He handed it to the noble who took it and drank. Then Magnus noticed a large lump moving in the bed next to Jim. Magnus poked his father with his elbow and pointed, and Amirantha followed the gesture.

  “Ah,” said Pug. “We will wait in the antechamber until you get composed.”

  “Thank you,” Jim said, his voice still gravelly from the previous night’s debauchery.

  Once outside they retired to a divan against the wall and sat. Pug said, “I should have thought of bringing a powder for this sort of thing.”

  “Which?” asked Magnus.

  Lowering his voice, Pug said, “Years ago, before I met your mother, I had occasionally indulged in a little too much wine. A healing priest from the Order of Killian had this powder that one mixes with water to banish the effects of too much drink the night before—very effective. And, it turned out, easy to make. No magic involved; just the right mix of herbs and tree bark—”

  The door opened and a very attractive young woman slipped out quietly. With a very slight smile she barely nodded at the three men and hurried across the room, to the hall door. She was dark of hair and eyes and wore the garb of a servant, though she was barefoot at the moment.

  “Wonder where she left her boots?” asked Amirantha. “Wonder if she remembers where she left her boots?” he amended as he laughed.