Beyond the Gate (The Golden Queen) (Volume 2) (10 page)
Read Beyond the Gate (The Golden Queen) (Volume 2) Online
Authors: David Farland
“I fear,” Gallen said, “that much has changed in eighteen thousand years. When you built this world, if I remember my history right, corporate wars raged between planets, but mankind has come far toward making peace with itself.”
The wight smiled wryly. “From your words, I guess that mankind has not managed to bring about perfect peace?”
“As long as men are free to do evil, and have the power to do so, there will be evil,” Gallen answered. “But the evils of today are perpetrated on a smaller scale than in the past.”
“In other words, you’ve cut the balls off the bigger predators. You’ve taken away their power.”
Gallen considered a moment. He’d seen how heavily modified the Tharrin were, and in a sense they were no longer even human. Yes, mankind had stripped their leaders of the capacity to do evil. “We’ve modified mankind to some extent. Most people do not have the same level of desire to do evil that your people had in your time.”
“Aye, we knew it would be done. It was such a seductive solution to the problem, that we knew others would not resist the temptation. You can place evil men in jail, or you can make the flesh a prison in itself where evil cannot enter. There’s not much difference. But you’re still restricting people’s freedom.”
So you created bars of ignorance
, Gallen thought,
and imprisoned them anyway
. “The point is,” Gallen said, “that the universe is not so dangerous now as it was in your day. Perhaps it is time for your children to join it.”
“Mark my words—” the wight said, suddenly angry, “if our feral children go into the universe, in two generations they’ll pose such a threat that none of your peaceful planets would want them!”
Gallen studied the wight, and realized that he had a point. Gallen had just seen the face of evil on his own world, and if highwaymen like the Flahertys were given power, they would take their criminal ways out into the larger galaxy. He envisioned pirating fleets and judges who had been purchased.
In the greater universe, others had chosen to reengineer their children, rid them of the desire to dominate and oppress others. On some worlds, he knew, huge police forces had been created to handle the problem. No matter how you looked at it, bars had been created, and Gallen’s ancestors had chosen to control their children by giving them an inheritance of ignorance. Perhaps they had been right to retreat from the future.
Yet Gallen and Maggie had both seen the larger universe, and they had grown from it. Gallen had come home only to find that there was nothing left for him here. He had few friends. And something inside him had changed. He’d outgrown this place, and he felt free to leave now.
He thought of the Tharrin woman, Ceravanne, whom Everynne had shown him on Tremonthin, and he was suddenly eager to be off.
Gallen sighed, looked at the wight. He was an older man who had graying hairs among his sideburns, someone who looked as if the heavy burdens of life had bent him low. “If the only other worlds out there were inhabited only by humans,” Gallen said, “then perhaps I would be content to admit that this world should stay as it is. But there is a race of beings called the dronon, and they will come here. Perhaps, someday, they will come to war against this world. If they do, your people will need to grow up, or they will be destroyed.”
The wight gave Gallen a calculating look. “We saw one of your dronon not two weeks ago, and wondered how it came to be. I’ll take this bit of news to Conclave. Perhaps we must reconsider how this world is run.” He stood up.
“And I,” Gallen said, rising, “will leave this world with all possible haste, without alerting anyone else here of the universe beyond.”
“Not just like that,” the wight said, shaking his head. “I’ll not let you go at your own pace. We’ll escort you, if you please. Just tell us where your ship is.”
Suddenly, there was an uproar in town. Gallen looked back down over the small seaport. Hundreds of glowing wights were striding through the edge of town, past the fires and tent cities. The townsfolk were terrified. The wights only came to town if a priest tied someone to a tree for breaking the laws found in the Tome. And a person taken for such an offense never returned.
“My mother lives down there,” Gallen sighed, realizing that the wight must have had a built-in transmitter. It must have called its companions. “I’ll go down to say good-bye.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” the wight said with just a hint of force. “You can’t stop me,” Gallen replied. “You wear the mantle of a Lord Protector,” the wight said. “If you would protect those people below, then you will leave now. It is against the law to wear such mantles on this world. You know that. And things have already gotten out of hand—what with off-worlders coming through the gates. But things aren’t too bad. For now, we will clean up the evidence of off-world intruders, and in a generation these shenanigans will all be forgotten, the stuff of legend. But if you go back to town and pollute those folks down there with more knowledge, we will be forced to eradicate them.”
Gallen studied the wight’s face. The old creature was not bluffing. Gallen pulled out the glowing mask of Fale, considered putting it back on his face, but decided against it, and then walked unmasked down through the apple grove in long easy strides.
As he passed the china shop, he looked into its windows and thought,
I shall never see this place again
. And as he passed the quay with its little boats pulled up onto the pebbled beach, he inhaled the sea air. He moved like a wraith through the streets, and all ahead of him, people stepped aside, and the wights drifted in behind him.
He stopped at his own home, and his mother stood outside the door of the little pine house-tree, looking more haggard and world-weary than he’d ever seen her. He hugged her briefly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be back,” he whispered into her ear as he stooped to hug her, and she reached up and managed to hug him around the ribs.
“Where will you go?” she demanded in a tone of disbelief.
“To another world, to dance with the fairy folk and fight demons.” She squeezed him tight. “Be good,” was all she managed to say between sobs. Gallen reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin purse, gave it to her. “The money, wedding gifts, the inn—they’re all yours,” he said.
Then he went into the house, retrieved his sword, daggers, and the incendiary rifle he’d brought home from his previous trip. Maggie had already gone to fetch her own things.
When Gallen got out of the house, Sheriff Sully came out of the crowd, and growled in a bitter voice. “You-you made me kill a man,” he said, rubbing his hands on his shirt as if they’d been soiled.
“Not I,” Gallen said. “I told you only to do with Mason Flaherty ‘what you will.’ You came here with murder on your mind, and murder is what you’ve accomplished.”
Gallen pushed him away, and some of Sully’s own men grabbed him, placed him under arrest.
Orick rushed to Gallen’s side. “I’m with you, Gallen!” the bear called in his deep voice, and a young female bear padded along beside him. Gallen was glad to finally meet Grits.
Maggie Flynn was calling, “Out of my way! Get out of my way!” and Gallen could see her trying to break through the crowd over by the inn. Within moments she came huffing through the crowd with nothing but a small valise in her hand.
Her uncle Thomas nearly skipped at her side, and he came bustling up with his own bag in one hand, his lute over his shoulder, smiling. “‘Tis good that I didn’t even have time to unpack!” he told Gallen. Then he bowed to Gallen’s mother and handed her his purse. “Everything that I own is now yours, good woman. Spend the money in good health.”
Some wights had moved in behind the crowd. They’d gotten into the stables across the street from the inn, and they pulled out the bodies of the dead Vanquisher and Everynne’s defender, then carried them toward the sea.
Father Brian pushed his way through the crowd, a look of profound fear on his face as he studied the wights who’d gathered behind Gallen. He looked as if he would speak, but he managed to say only, “God be with you, Gallen. I don’t know what’s happening here.”
“Perhaps it’s best if you never know. Look in on my mother from time to time, will you?”
Together, the little band began moving through town, and the townspeople parted to let them pass. Some of them shouted out, “God be with you, Gallen, Maggie,” and “Go with God!” Their voices were high and troubled, like the voices of small birds that call querulously in the night.
It was obvious that the townspeople did not understand what was happening, but they were afraid. Only witches and sorcerers and those who knew too much were ever taken by wights, and they never returned.
Gallen looked about the town with a profound sense of loss, feeling as if someone had died. He wondered at his own numbness, at his sense of mourning, and knew that it was because everyone he had ever known, everyone he had loved and trusted and played with and hated, all of these people with their odd quirks and petty vices would be dead to him now.
And thus it was that he walked stiffly out of town, an army of wights dogging his step, a few loyal friends beside him. None of the townsfolk followed, for most of them feared that Gallen and his friends were going to their deaths, and none wished to share their fate. Gallen took out his glow globe and squeezed it, let it light his footsteps as they made their way into the forest.
Thomas stopped at the edge of the wood and whispered, “I want to give them one last song, Gallen.” He sang thunderously, yet sweetly,
“Many roads I’ve traveled down,
And many more I’ll follow,
Past lonely woods, and shadowed fens,
And fields too long a-fallow.
But when night breathes on the land,
“When fear makes my walk unstately,
I’ll remember you, my friends,
And good times we’ve shared lately.”
When he finished, Thomas waved good-bye, and the whole town shouted farewell.
“That was kind of you, Thomas,” Maggie said as they walked, “to send them away with a song. It eased their hearts.”
“Ah, well,” Thomas said, “being as it costs me nothing, a song always makes a fine parting gift.” After an hour they reached a secluded glen at the foot of a mountain. Lichens hung thick on the trees, and the leaf mold was heavy.
There, sheltered under the dark pines, lay Geata na Chruinne, an ancient arch of dark stone with dancing animals and glyphs carved into its side. The forest was alive with the blue and green lights of wights, circling the small group.
The air around the arch was cold, and Gallen fumbled through his pack until he found the gate key. He picked it up, realized that he didn’t even know how to use it. He handed it to Maggie, asking, “Show me how to work this thing.”
She thought a minute, punched in a sequence of numbers on the key, and suddenly the arch shimmered. A pale lavender light shone beneath it. Maggie handed the key back to Gallen and took her uncle Thomas’s hand. “Come on. This way,” she said.
They walked through together first, followed by Orick.
The small female bear stood and watched Orick go, apparently too afraid to follow. She had not voiced a word since they’d left town. Gallen bent and whispered into her ear. “There are marvelous worlds beyond the gate, but if you come, it is doubtful that you will ever return to this place. “ He could see the confusion in her eyes.
“Tell Orick good-bye for me,” she said, then she licked Gallen’s face.
He sighed deeply, patted her head, then walked to the gate. She gave a short growl, lunged toward him just as he stepped into the cold light, and he realized that she had come too late, for she couldn’t enter behind the key-bearer. Then he felt the familiar sensation of winds blowing, as if he were a leaf borne by turbulent storms between worlds.
* * *
Chapter 9
Orick stepped through the opal wind between the worlds and found himself in a clearing surrounded by a lush forest, thick with undergrowth. A cool dawn breeze whispered through the trees. Overhead in a sky full of lavender, twin suns rose above the forest, weaving shadows in the woods, while white birds swirled among the trees calling out in creaking voices.
Thomas was staring up with mouth open, and Orick remembered his own sense of awe upon first visiting Fale. “‘Tis a sight to behold,” Maggie whispered. And Thomas nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.
Orick looked behind him and suddenly a glowing white form appeared, like a mist streaming through the jungle, then Gallen strode into view, his face rigid and worn. The gate could not be seen from this side.
Orick waited, hoping that his bear friend Grits would come through, but the female had stayed behind. Orick gave a little bawl, and weaved his head back and forth as he tried to catch a scent of her.
“I’m sorry, Orick,” Maggie said softly, coming to his side. She knelt by him, touched his brow. “She seemed so nice. And you’ve been looking for love so long. I had hoped she would come.”
“That’s all right,” Orick grumbled. Maggie seemed so distraught that he wanted to calm her. “I couldn’t hope for any better from a she-bear. I left her alone with those sheriffs. How could I have hoped she would be more true to me?”
“She wanted to come, Orick,” Gallen said. “But she was afraid. Don’t blame yourself.”
Maggie scratched behind his ears, and Orick licked her hand in gratitude.
Thomas stared about at the skyline. His lute case was strung over his shoulders, and he held to the strap with both hands, a gesture that showed his insecurity. Tall creepers climbed some of the trees, and a few orange birds began chattering loudly as they fed on berries.
Gallen knelt on a clump of grass, pulled out his map of worlds—a thin piece of film that showed a three-dimensional representation of Fale with tiny red gates displayed at various points. “We’re not far from a gate to Tremonthin,” he said, a tone of relief in his voice. “It’s about two thousand kilometers. We’ll need to go into town, hire a vehicle.”
“What is a kilometer?” Thomas asked.
“Just a stupid way to measure things,” Orick grumbled.
“It’s a little less than half a mile,” Gallen said.
“Do you think it’s safe to go into town?” Maggie asked. She had put down her pack—for they’d just walked with them for an hour—and she was looking to Gallen.
Gallen shrugged. “I’ll not lie. It has been only a week in this time-line since you and I defeated the Lord of the Swarm. The dronon should have abandoned their military installations here or Fale, but that doesn’t mean that we’re safe.”
“Well, now, you’re the optimist today,” Orick said.
Gallen hung his head, downcast. Maggie knelt next to him, touched his knee. Orick looked into Gallen’s pale blue eyes, and for a moment he felt as if he were looking into the eyes of a stranger, there was so much pain behind them.
“See here, lad—” Orick told Gallen, “just because you’ve got kicked off your own home world, you don’t have to wilt. Things can’t be worse than last time we were here.”
Gallen smiled up at him. “Aye, you’re right, Orick. But we must take care. We have enemies here—men who were evil before the dronon ever set hand to corrupt them. Lord Karthenor and men of his ilk may hold power, for all we know.”
“Och, well, if he does,” Orick said, “I’ll bite his butt so hard he’ll never want to sit on a toilet again!”
Yet Orick’s playful threats could not brighten the mood. Karthenor had been a powerful servant to the dronon rulers, perhaps powerful enough to wrest control even after the dronon retreated.
“So, Gallen, you’ve taken my money and led me astray, have you?” Thomas said. “I thought you said this was a decent sort of place, where folks live forever?”
“I also said there were great dangers here,” Gallen reminded him. “Some folks here do live a mighty long time, but you still have to take care.…”
“Ah, don’t listen to him,” Orick said. “It’s good enough for the likes of us. You’ll never taste better food, and they pass it out free to strangers as a courtesy. Why, it’s so easy to grow here, that they esteem food as nothing. That’s why they give it away.”
“Really?” Thomas asked, his face showing that he doubted Orick’s every word. Now, some bears have a reputation for stretching the truth, but Orick had never been that kind of bear, so Thomas’s raised brows got Orick riled.
“It is indeed the truth!” Orick said. “And I’ll you something else: there’s wonders here that a pudding-head like you couldn’t imagine—”
“Tell me about them as we walk, then.” Thomas laughed, and with that laugh, Orick looked up. It seemed to him that Thomas was somehow a younger man, less weathered and worn than he had been just hours before, and Orick began to tell Thomas of the things he’d seen on his last trip here.
Maggie donned her own mantle and the cinnamon-colored robes of a technician. In moments they were off, striding through the forest. Gray lizards skittered from their feet, and as they marched, Orick used his keen nose to follow the trail they’d blazed on their journey here two weeks earlier.
Orick told Thomas of the wonders he would behold here of Fale—of starships and men who wore wings, of teaching machines and ancient merchants who lived for ten thousand years, of machines that let one speak with the dead or breathe underwater, and of horrifying weapons that could burn worlds to ashes. He described the armies of insect-like dronon that had infested the place and boasted of the heroic efforts of common people who sought to end their tyranny. He told how Gallen had defeated the dronon Lords of the Swarm in single combat, when even the brilliant Lord Protector Veriasse had failed the challenge, and Orick minimized his own part in all these affairs. For a long while he described the Tharrin woman Everynne, who now reigned as Maggie’s regent, as far as the dronon were concerned, over the ten thousand worlds.
From time to time, Orick would pause along the path to eat a slug or a large wood snail. In two hours he had just begun to fill in the details of what Thomas should know when the group reached a small cliff that looked out over Toohkansay, a sprawling purplish-green city grown from a coral-like plant. It stretched like beach foam across the hills, spanning a wide river. They climbed down the cliff and walked to the city along a ruby road, past rich farms. Hovercars and magcars sped past them, much to the wonder and dismay of Thomas.
And when they reached the outskirts of the city, little had changed. They could still smell the sweet fragrance of foods from a roadside cantina, music swelled from the city walls, and within the shadows under the city gates they could discern human-looking inhabitants from various stock (the impish Woodari with their large eyes, tall bald men out of Bonab who wore nothing but tattoos), along with gold serving droids that still reminded Orick of men in armor.
Several Lords of Fale sat together at one table in the shade of the cupola outside the inn. They wore the multicolored robes of merchants, with masks of palest lavender.
Thomas stopped and surveyed the scene, his mouth gaping in wonder, as if he’d just reached the gates of heaven and feared that Saint Peter would come out and wrestle him for the right to enter.
And as the group approached the archway that led into the cantina, one woman looked up from her table and gasped, “Gallen? Maggie? Orick?”
Orick had never seen the woman before, of that he was certain, but immediately the diners at all the tables turned to stare. Here and there among the crowd, people shouted, “It’s them!”
“They’ve returned!”
“Welcome!”
And suddenly a human tide surged from the inn, people shouting, hugging them, giving thanks. A Lord of Ethics, wearing her purple robes of office, rushed to Maggie and fell at her knees, kissing them and then kissing Orick’s paw, thanking them all for their part in ending the long siege by the dronon.
As the cry went up, a clamor issued from the city, and soon there were hundreds upon hundreds of people shouting the good news, their voices swelling and blending together in a roar.
When Gallen had first defeated the dronon’s Golden Queen and her escort, he’d received accolades from the ambassadors of ten dozen worlds, but Orick had never witnessed anything like this, not this overwhelming, spontaneous outpouring of gratitude.
Someone picked Gallen up on his shoulders, and for one moment Orick saw his golden hair limned in the morning light. Orick suddenly envied the man—a hero on ten thousand worlds—while Orick didn’t even know if he’d won the title of Primal Bear of Obhiann and Morgan counties. Only two days before, Orick had been reading the parable of the talents in the Bible, and he wondered if he himself was progressing as God would have him. So often, Orick was content to be—well, just Orick. And somehow that didn’t seem enough. He silently vowed to do better.
But just as suddenly, Orick too was lifted by strong hands, and he and Gallen and Maggie and Thomas were carried upon human shoulders into the city.
Orick bawled out for the people to let him go, for it was rather precarious for a fat bear to be carried by humans, but to his delight, they ignored his pleas.
Orick looked forward, and Gallen smiled, pleased but embarrassed by this show of affection, and Orick felt glad for him. Gallen had been cast off from his own world, but it appeared now that he’d won back more than he’d lost.
Maggie, for her part, looked resplendent, a huge grin on her face that you couldn’t clean off with lye soap. And Thomas shouted to Orick in glee, “Some welcome, eh, Orick?”
They entered the city of Toohkansay with great fanfare and were treated to feasts. And that night, painters decorated the sky with incandescent clouds of plasma in Gallen’s and Maggie’s honor. A band of twelve people from various worlds played beautiful instruments that could sing as sweetly as birds or cut a man to the heart, and Thomas took up his lute and played and sang with them, astonishing the people of Toohkansay with his prowess. Upon hearing a ballad that Thomas had composed, a Master Musician honored Thomas by giving him his own mantle, as “just recompense” for the performance. As soon as Thomas had placed the silver mantle upon his head, his eyes began to water as he learned the music of the universe.
Shortly afterward, Thomas was forced to ask Gallen to take him to his rooms for the night, for he needed seclusion.
“I think it’s time for all of us to make a night of it,” Gallen said. The mayor of Toohkansay himself offered to escort them to an inn that had the finest rooms in the city, and when they reached the door, he asked Gallen if there was anything he needed for the night.
Gallen said, “I need access to an ansible. I must talk with Lady Everynne.”
“Even with an ansible, it takes several hours to send messages so far,” the mayor said. He was a tall, bald man whose skin shone as if it were oiled. “Is there a question you have, so that we can ask a response?”
“She set me a task. Tell her that I would like more direction. I’ll want to review her response in private.”
“As you wish,” the mayor said, then he departed.
Gallen and Maggie took one room as man and wife, and they went in.
Orick and Thomas were each given separate rooms across a wide hallway, and they stood for a moment. Thomas closed his eyes and whispered, “Ah, Orick, have you heard the fine music here?” And Orick knew that Thomas was listening through his mantle.
“I’ve heard some,” Orick said.
Thomas shook his head, as if words could not convey what he wanted to say. “I can hear the music of ten thousand worlds, composed over the past thirty-eight thousand years … All of my life has been so … cramped, so stilted.” Hot tears were flowing from his eyes, and Thomas was weeping bitterly. “How could I have been so blind? There is so much to explore!”
“How do you mean?”
“We’re babes, Orick! On Tihrglas, I thought I was at the end of my life. But I’ll need an eternity to perfect my skills as a musician, and another to compose my songs!”
Orick looked up at Thomas, at the gray streaks in his hair, and he could see that the aging man was at the beginning of his own incredible adventure. At this very moment, Thomas had his foot stuck in the door of heaven, and he was set to put his shoulder to that door and force it open.
“Well, then,” Orick said, for lack of anything better to say, “it’s good night to you.” Orick went into his own room, and he sat and thought. Thomas, right now, Orick was sure, was in his room getting his head crammed full of knowledge, probably weeping his eyes out for joy. Gallen was hailed as the hero of ten thousand worlds and was most likely frolicking with the woman he loved most in life.
And Orick, well, Orick tried to sleep on a soft bed, but found it to be too odd. It was large enough, but it hadn’t been made to hold a bear, and he sank so low into it that he kept having a spooky feeling that he might drown. So instead he lay on the floor beneath an open window, watching the galaxies pinwheeling overhead, and skyships streaking through the night like meteors. He wondered if he would ever find happiness.
When Orick had been a cub, his mother once told him a tale. She’d said that the hummingbird was the sweetest-tasting of all fowl, for it alone of all birds fed upon the nectar of flowers. She’d said that the sweetest honey tasted bland in comparison.
And so Orick had taken to hiding in a thicket of summer lilies, leaping up after hummingbirds whenever he heard the trill of their wings. But no matter how well he hid, or how quickly he leapt, the hummingbirds would always lift themselves just out of his reach.
Orick drifted asleep, dreaming of jumping, jumping, leaping impossibly high to catch honey-scented hummingbirds, which he held gingerly in his teeth, savoring them.
He heard a chiming noise as Gallen’s door opened across the hall, and Orick got up groggily, stepped out into the dark arching corridors of the inn, where gems in the ceiling lit the dim way.
Gallen was standing in the corridor, fully dressed in the black of a Lord Protector.
