"Skylands: The Third Gate" ch.10 (NaNoWriMo 2015)

Story by Sylvan on SoFurry

, , , , , , , , ,


Hammer and tongs beat with the rhythm of pain from within Kelmore's skull. He tried to scream but he couldn't breathe. Forge-like, the heat inside his brain blazed white-hot as if someone were trying to forge it into a weapon. Colors exploded before his vision and he fell to his knees. The sharp pain of bone hitting rock was nothing compared to the agony in his skull. He curled his body forward and felt himself tumble down over several stone steps until he came to rest against a rough, unyielding surface. His tongue felt like it was splitting and his throat swelled, raw and ugly, not letting out any sound nor any breath: in. Every noise was a dagger in his ears and every sight a kaleidoscope of blades shredding his consciousness. Even with eyes closed the dull red through his lids seared its way into his mind's eye. Darkness pulled at him. Relentlessly, it grabbed at his mind and, in his pain, he yearned to follow it.But he couldn't.He knew he shouldn't.The clanging of steel against stone rang through his mind and suffocated him almost to death. Despite his wish to avoid the lure of painless sleep, he pushed past it. He focused all his will to give his lungs air.It was, perhaps, the tiniest of breaths--he couldn't be certain--but it spurred his mind to push back against the pain. He felt sand in his mouth, felt his parched throat, and demanded that he inhale again. Within, the sounds and reverberations redoubled their efforts.Again, he forced a sliver of dry air into his

lungs.Again, he felt the pounding increase.But as the pounding increased it was as if a roaring wind he hadn't noticed before, lessened. He felt moisture bead down his face; drip from his nose and down his cheeks. He smelled copper and tasted it, too. The world spun but no longer stabbed him in the eyes.The only thing still screaming at him was the wind.Only it wasn't wind.It was a voice:  raised in fury against the hammering.He didn't know it and yet it felt so familiar:  as if it had been with him for a while. But the hammer and forge:  those had been with him longer. And, here, the force of Neiro was fighting back. The derros, the holy shard--so infinitely small a fragment of the divine servant of the gods--had never asked her permission to inhabit Kelmore. It had never sought his leave and, instead, pushed him in direction after direction seeking to further its goals without a concern for Kelmore's well-being.At least that was how he'd seen it for over a decade.But now that force was fighting.Neiro was fighting to pushing something out; something he'd not been aware was there but had been speaking to him with the non-verbal language he had confused for the derros' guidance. The pain rose from the battlefield, within.Kelmore cried out, sobbed, in pain. Then, eyes clenched tight, tried to take refuge in the only thing that ever made sense.He began walking through his numbers.Sums; equations and arithmetic always made sense. The world was built upon them and he had mastered their language. He imagined columns of numbers:  spreadsheets from his old employers and tax forms he'd hated filling-out at the time but had had burned into his memory.And as he ran the numbers, the hammering increased and the wind screamed in defiance.Finally, with a pain that felt like his head must have burst, the wind howled one last time and, with a word of furious denial, faded into the pain.The hammering stopped and, again, he was alone.Alone with the pain.He opened his eyes slowly and looked up at the night sky awash with blurry, red stars. He blinked and they did not get any clearer. He put fingers to his nostrils and found them still bleeding. Likewise, from his tear ducts and ears, blood had flowed. His body was wracked and exhausted, but he had won.Whatever had been within him, was gone.Neiro had seen to that.For the first time, in absolute sincerity, he prayed to the derros and gave thanks. He wasn't certain what had transpired but he owed his freedom to that tiny sliver of deity, lodged within him.Slowly, he drew himself up to a sitting position. He propped himself up against a large boulder lying, cracked and weather-worn, against the side of the stairs down which he had travelled. Wind whipped past him:  dry and leech-like in its desire for moisture. He ignored it and focussed on his breathing. How long, he wasn't sure, but eventually the only remnant of the battle within him was the throbbing in his skull.Around him were the mountains--the other side of them--rising up in cliffs through which the stairs had descended. The stars were similar but the air was different. It felt warmer but thinner. Wherever the stair of light had led it was in a different part of Talvali than Kellendar and Dorath.He lay there for a long time, the red tint in his vision not resolving itself.He hoped, prayed, that he could get to his feet eventually.Then, he heard it:  the footsteps on sand and stone.Turning his head back up from the way he came, he saw them:  first Yar and Kaia, then Adam and Eris, and finally Irri. The five of them had their weapons drawn and descended the ancient, skull-carved steps towards him. His sister looked as white as a sheet when she saw him. She rushed forward, anger fighting on her face with fear. Both seemed to decide that punching him in the shoulder was the right course of action."Damn you; damn you, Kel: what were you thinking?"He couldn't answer right away and, soon, the rest of his employees were around him."Nothing," he said. "I was thinking of ... nothing." He grimaced, trying to make sense of it. In the distance, wind moaned over stone and, for a second, he thought he heard it call his name. A chill went through him in contrast to the heat of the pain. He looked into his sister's eyes. "There's something here; something that's been pulling me for a long, long time, I think."This brought the others up short and each of them looked around, nervously.Beyond them, at the top of the stair, was nothing. There was no stair of light.No way back.All but Irri were battered and bruised; Yar and Eris suffered the most serious injuries. As far as could be told each had fractures in their upper bodies where the stone skeletons had struck. Yar held his head to one side, favoring what appeared to be a fractured collar bone. Adam cradled his left arm in his right. Eris was showing signs of heavy bruising beneath dried blood crusted to her forehead along a tapering gash.His head pounded but whatever had been there was gone, now."Something pulling you?" Eris asked.Kelmore nodded. "Indeed. And what I was attributing to Neiro guiding me seems as if it wasn't. Only when I arrived, though, did my divine patron fight it off." He smiled weakly and put a hand to his temple. "I'm a bit worse for it; horrible pain. But I'm free." He glanced at Irri. "Are you sure your idea to decipher those runes was your own?"The feline-bodied raven bristled:  her feathers standing up against the back of her neck. "I resent that.""But is it true?" Kelmore asked. He accepted his sister's hand and got to his feet. "I

would have sworn there was no way to interfere with the bond between a derros and its host. But here we are."Irri shook her head and clacked her beak. "It is an old method; a very old method. Scribes who cannot channel magic, themselves, learn how to translate using all manner of artificial devices.""But you used your blood," Adam pointed out."I'm a whimsy! It was what I was made for!" She stormed up to Kelmore as the rest looked shocked at her uncharacteristic outburst. "I have my secrets, same as anyone. But my mind is my own!""How would you know?"The soft question came from Eris. She put a hand on Irri's shoulder. The whimsy looked hurt and recoiled. "How ... how could you?" she rasped."I'm not questioning you or your loyalty," Eris continued. "But is there a way to determine that you are not under some sort of spell?"The corners of the whimsy's mouth turned down at the base of her beak. It was the closest she could come to approximating a

frown. "I cannot cast spells," she repeated. "That would have been too ... dangerous. I understand them--can read and parse them as well as any great arcanist--but casting them... No person constructs a whimsy without making sure they cannot easily rebel.""So you cannot cast a spell to reveal enchantments," Eris finished for her."But I can," Adam said.Kelmore looked at him and nodded. "Will you, then?"Adam took a step towards Irri but paused, glancing at Eris. After a heartbeat, he said, "Only if Irri consents. We have to trust each other at some point; beyond our contracts to work together, we have to make certain assumptions about being on the same team if we're going to succeed or get out of here." He nodded up the stairs. "Anyone else notice no stair of light to get us back?""I noticed," Yar spat. "But why does the whimsy get a choice? Just reveal any enchantments and let's be done with it!""She has a soul," Eris said. "And, frankly, where we're from a person is supposed to be presumed innocent until proven otherwise.""Nice sentiment," Kaia said. "I could make a killing there."Kelmore looked from his sister to the two newcomers. "Wait. Adam has a point. We do need to trust one another." He looked down at Irri and bowed. "And forgive me. Where I'm from whimsies are seldom more than tools. I should have shown you greater respect."Irri nodded, eyes still narrowed. "But you still can't trust me," she said. "None of you can." She looked at Eris and her expression melted. "And it would be lovely if we lived in your homeland; it truly would. It sounds splendid! But we're potentially under some form of enchantment and, well, I may not even be aware that my own mind is compromised." She nodded to Adam. "Cast your spell."The incantation was a simple one and required only a few handfuls of dust with an open flame. The words were in a tongue none of them recognized but when he was done Adam nodded. "She's clean. Enchantments to cloud or influence emotions or the mind are uncommon but not unknown. Many spellswords learn how to detect and remove them.""Good," Eris said. "Now do me.""You?""Me. I've been aching for adventure since the beginning. Who's to say that's not this 'external force' manipulating me?" She chewed the edge of her muzzle, idly. "You and Yar never wanted to come," she reminded them. "But the rest of us..."He nodded. Once more, he cast the spell. Once more, he nodded. "She's free of any magical influence." He glanced at

Kelmore's sister. "As is she."Kaia blinked. "Wait, you peered into my soul, too?"He shrugged. "And Yar's. It seemed prudent and, frankly--""What about yourself," Kelmore asked.Adam nodded. "Already done.""Says you," Kaia muttered."True," Adam said. "But unless anyone else here is trained in detecting enchantments, there's no way to confirm that. We're back to the discussion of trust.""I trust him," Kelmore said. "As I now trust you all.""So where do we go now?" Yar asked.Kelmore looked down the long winding stair as it wove its way down and around high ridges of obscuring hills. There was no way to tell what was below."We descend to the third gate," he said, and started leading the others, slowly, downhill.Unlike the stair between the first and second gate, this one both rose and fell. The hills and cliffs on this side were much rougher than those in Dorath. The stairs would often reach a broad gully before climbing up a rise and, then, proceed down. They also twisted considerably more in a serpentine fashion. It was warmer, here, and night seemed just to have begun. Clouds were sparse and thin; they could see the stars through their gossamer curtain. The fourth moon, Shotef, shone golden in the sky beyond them. On either side, nearly bare trees framed their path. Some were scraggly pines while others were sparsely leaved in their fall colors. The sky lightened as they travelled, though, and soon Mashauruteff, the sun, rose before them. They had been climbing again but, ahead, seemed to be the last of the tall ridges.The group rounded it, following the skull-carved stairs, and stopped. Ahead was the third gate.Beyond it, filling a vast valley amidst cracked stone and centuries of dust and sand, stood an ancient, empty city.On the far side, more mountains rose on-high, completely surrounding its vastness. The sun rose directly in front of them; confusing since, in Dorath, they had been facing westward. In its light, they could see it was nearly ten miles from north to south and about a third of that from east to west. The third gate stood tall and unblemished about a quarter mile ahead of and below them. Beyond it were narrow roads, some in even grids and others following arcs and natural curves in what must have been the underlying natural contours of the valley floor.Some buildings were six or seven stories high with colonnades and arches supporting connecting bridges. Others had flat roofs only a short jump from another across a deep, shadowed alley or road. About half the roofs were peaked with the remainder either flat or domed. Walls were covered with funerary plaques and a wide variety of oscillum and hanging markers made of granite, sandstone, or pumice. The overall colors were washed-out and dry but still held the echo of ancient vibrancy. A few sections had fallen to encroachments of plant life with some large trees having cracked and grown into the buildings, here and there. Throughout, the architecture seemed to flow from the third gate onwards, evolving as it went, showing distinct styles seemingly built throughout the ages.Vines, just barely visible at this, covered the gate. They climbed along a wall that encircled the entire city. There did not seem to be any other egress:  only the single gate in the middle of the western wall provided any entrance or exit."The Eilekarra necropolis," Kelmore breathed. "There can be no doubt:  we've found fabled, Lost Alamar."They stood for a long time, their injuries forgotten, as they took in the site.A warm wind rose, moaning between the mausoleums and facades. Open windows and arched entryways gave shape to the wind as clouds of dust rose in the streets.Kelmore felt a chill despite the unseasonal warmth. In the wind he heard it:  the echo of the voice Neiro had driven from him. It was mournful and haunting.And it sounded angry.