Land of Shadows (The Legend of the Gate Keeper Book 1) (7 page)

The successful assault happened so fast that the last brother, who had now recovered from the kick to the nose, had no time to react. Jacob whirled around and pointed his staff at the last threat, who gripped his own weapon close to his body in a purely defensive fashion as he backed away slowly.

Jacob waved his free hand in an upward motion as he began to play the crowd. The mob cheered wildly as he arrogantly egged them on.

The final competitor just threw his staff on the ground and scrambled away under the ropes. As the mob cheered, Jacob did a slow victory lap around the ring, twirling his staff in the air. He loved the attention, and was not going to give this up easy.

Eric watched in amazement with a huge smile on his face.

Jacob was able to see his friend through the boisterous crowd, and flashed him a quick wink followed by and ear-to-ear grin. He had certainly made his point this day.

* * *

Later in the evening, the streets began to thin out a bit. Many of the folk who were just visitors tonight had eaten their fill and watched a competition they would all be talking about for years to come. Now it was time to go.

Mothers carrying sleeping children worn out from a full day of celebration loaded their precious bundles into their wagons. Husbands with their arms around their wives headed back to the harsh life they were able to forget about for one day. But for many, the night was not yet over. A final dance had been arranged more for the locals, but anyone who felt like dancing was invited.

There were a series of poles set up in the middle of the main street. They had been there the whole day, but now their true intent was revealed as colorful streamers were now being attached to the tops of each one. The reds, yellows and blues matched well with the streamers that were already hanging throughout the town, as well as the street lanterns whose shades had been tinted all different colors just for tonight. Musicians lined the streets and began playing a lively tune. The sounds of crumhorns, lutes and drums filled the air while the gentle breeze seemed to make the streamers dance on their own.

Eric and Jacob were the first two to each grab a streamer. That was initiative enough for all, because many immediately followed their lead. Once a hand had graced every ribbon, the whirling dance began. Blue over yellow, red over blue, girl over boy, boy over girl. The girls pranced in one direction while the boys skipped in the other. Over then under then over again, the streamers wove a beautiful striped pattern down the poles as the circle began to tighten. Closer and closer everyone got to each other, laughing as they all became embraced in a big hug, then reversed direction and did the same dance to unwind the poles once again. On and on it went as the celebration wound down.

The musicians were still playing softly late into the evening as couples danced slowly together in the streets, alone in their own private world and lost in each other’s eyes.

Eric and Jacob sat on a bench in silence, both feeling very peaceful and just taking in the atmosphere.

Then, suddenly, Jacob elbowed Eric in the ribs several times. “It looks like you have an admirer,” he said in a playful whisper.

Eric looked up and saw the girl he was referring to across the street. A long black robe with the hood pulled back revealed a very pretty face with long blonde hair and green eyes. Her full lips were a deep blood red, which was a stark contrast to her fair skin. She was staring a hole right through Eric as she smiled.

“Go,” Jacob said, trying to push him right off the bench.

“Oh, uh...yeah...sure,” he stammered as he awkwardly stood up. Eric tugged at his shirt nervously as he slowly crossed the street with his head down. As he got closer to her, he realized she had not taken her eyes off him once. “Uh...hi, uh,” he mumbled as he ground one foot repeatedly into the street, as if killing a bug, while his hands remained clasped behind his back.

“Hello, Eric Aethello,” she said with a huge grin as she tilted her head so far to the side it almost touched her shoulder.

“Uh...how did you—” Eric stuttered as his eyes bulged.

“All the girls know who the blacksmith of Bryer is,” she said as she rocked her whole body back and forth, pointing one shoulder forward, then the other, then back again in a playful nervous dance. Then she stood on the tips of her toes as she put her face close to his. “My name’s Aena. Will you dance with me?” she whispered in his ear.

The two of them stared at each other unblinking without saying a word for what seemed like minutes, then they walked out into the street and began to dance slowly. They held each other close and talked well into the morning hours. Of course, the musicians had left hours earlier, but that did not stop them from dancing. They were the last two off the street in the morning when she returned with Eric back to his home.

Chapter 5

Dragot walked across the smooth jet-black marble that covered every inch of his personalized tower of horrors. His walk was even slower than usual as he passed the flickering torches on the walls, which were replaced daily by the briggits.

The small creatures darted back and forth as they engaged in menial tasks. However, not even the slightest footsteps could ever be heard, as if they just floated along without ever touching the floor. It seemed no stranger than their faces were never seen under those brown hoods.

Dragot’s thoughts drifted as he gracefully stepped down the spiraling staircase. His large, yellow, catlike eyes darted about as his mind raced. His slow movements would seem to disagree with the speed of his thoughts as he continued to put one foot in front of the other, as if each subtle movement deserved to be rewarded with a brief rest.

He continued to contemplate how much he hated humans. Their smell, the way they walked, talked, breathed...
loved
! Their very existence was insulting, and he planned to do something about that. The irony was not lost on him, however. He was fully aware that he was half human—the half that he loathed. He embraced every part of his very being that was his demon half, the durable half that had allowed him nearly eternal life; the half that didn’t have the weaknesses of love or compassion, that did not serve as a roadblock to the real joys of existence: power, dominance, and complete and total control. Not the power you achieved because you climbed some sort of invisible moral ladder, thus earning the respect and confidence of your peers, people who in turn would follow you because they believed you were a natural commander. Oh, no...power was there to be taken. Leaders were not made...they were born.

He marched all the way down the steps to the lower level of the tower, through a large metal door and then yet another made of thick oak, until he found what he was seeking. Entering the enormous room, moans and groaning could be heard echoing off the stone walls.

The room was the shape of a giant cylinder, with prison-like cages all along the circumference embedded into the stone, each containing thin, naked humans ambling around mindlessly. Looking up, using the light of the many lit torches spaced around the room’s walls, one could see that there were many floors to this circular room. Each floor contained at least twenty cells, and it continued upward as far as the eye can see.

The room completely defied physics, given the limited size of the tower, but this was no ordinary tower. Dragot’s plans had been centuries in the making, and the mysterious tower had been designed with the capability to aid in those plans. The human he had killed earlier was a fresh capture, brought to the tower mere months earlier by one of his many spies placed around Tarmerria. Those were his favorites to play with. They were cultured and actually believed their existence had meaning. They would beg for their lives. Some would even offer bribes in the heat of the moment, trying to extend their lives by mere minutes, even offering family members as compensation the more desperate they became. The very idea that a human could offer him something he didn’t already have or couldn’t easily get amused him, but that’s why they were his favorites. They had survival instincts and would cling to any hope, no matter how implausible, right up until the end. Their deaths were far more entertaining than those of the domesticated cattle walled up in these cages.

For years, human specimens had been brought back to the black crystal tower for experimentation. These were used to find out just what mental and physical limits were wired into the inferior beings. It turned out the flesh bags were more resilient than Dragot had first thought. Their minds were strong and determined as long as they had some form of hope. This was key. Give one of these lesser beings a reason to live, no matter how trivial that reason was, and they would continue to amaze with their survival spirit.

One experiment he used often was to chain one hand and one foot to a stone wall. He would then give them a dull blade and make his usual deal: “Cut yourself free before I count to ten and you may leave. If I reach ten and you are not free, I will kill you here and now.” The second part of the promise was all too real.

Of course, Dragot would never actually free one of the maggots. This was the equivalent of making a deal with a bug crawling on a tree. But that was never the point. The experiments were to see their psychological limits. Of course they were never able to cut off both limbs in time, and some part of them must have known he would not let them go even if they did. But this is what made the results so fascinating. They always tried...
always
! Without fail. They cut away as fast as they could, screaming through the pain but never stopping. The key was to make them feel as though they had a chance.

Dragot had to admit, the results were unbelievable. Even more astounding were their physical limits. Of course these experiments were brutal, but they were necessary in order to understand his enemy. It turned out humans did not need anywhere near the total amount of nutrition to survive as he was led to believe. The scouting reports had their gluttonous eating habits as being much higher that what was actually required. One could go days without water and weeks without food, although these numbers were greatly accelerated as conditions became more extreme.

Yet, pure physical punishment was the most primal of all the experiments used to determine the limits of their bodies. These results were...
fascinating
. If puncture wounds were placed throughout the body but vital organs were avoided, the subject could still live for many days as long as they were not allowed to bleed to death.

Dragot learned that human bodies could take incredible amounts of punishment as long as those few vital areas were avoided. They would eventually die of shock, but that took days. These experiments had been conducted years and years ago, and on the rare occasion he dabbled in the science now, it was purely for entertainment. The knowledge had already been documented, hence it was decided they would make excellent soldiers—once all the free will had been extracted from them, of course. That was the real reason for the domestic stock now kept in the cells. They were fed every day and kept in relatively good health, all things considered.

These tame humans were several generations removed from the originals captured hundreds of years earlier. Like any farm animal, they were bred and born into a world of complete domestication. Women were kept in a breeding room, where their only job was quite simple. The majority of the men stayed in the cells. The important thing was they had very little spirit left. This was key if they were to be useful.

As Dragot continued through the dark room, thin arms reached out to him as he passed by the ground-level cells. The sickly sweet smell of unwashed bodies hung heavy in the air. As the moaning continued, he could not help but think about how different these humans were to any involved in a real society. They were so simple and primal. Not even the use of language or any real forms of communication were used, even though they were the exact same race. This was an unintended outcome to an experiment that was nothing more than an accident. If you take an animal away from its habitat at birth and raise the beast with no outside influence, it still retains at least
some
of the animal instincts it was born with. A tiger is still a tiger, and could never be fully trusted not to hurt anyone, but it seems human instincts are nonexistent. They are completely shaped by their environment. That is, they react and adapt to the only reality they know.
The perfect pets
!

Dragot laughed to himself as he continued on to the huge wooden door on the other side of the chamber. No one was ever allowed to enter here. If a briggit were ever caught even looking into this room, his suffering would be unimaginable.

This chamber remained sacred, and was for Dragot’s eyes only. The room was in the shape of an octagon. The flat sides of the wall retained that shape until they reached the ceiling, which curled up into a dome. The center of the dome had a large green sphere hanging on a thick golden line. The floor was consistent to the rest of the tower, with shiny black marble that always appeared as though it had just been polished. There were lines of gold trim starting at each corner of the octagon that followed up the sides of the walls and met at the green sphere. The walls themselves were deep red. Dark blood appeared to be running down the sides of the walls constantly in a never-ending supply. A dim, distant light appeared to be moving around behind the walls, making one side appear almost black and the other a light red. Then the mysterious light would move behind the other wall and give the reverse effect, as if the room appeared to be living.

Dragot waited a moment, considering his options. Even he didn’t care much for this. He had served the predominant demon Krytoes faithfully for centuries, but even though he was entrapped in another dimension and could not physically touch anything in this world, Dragot was truly in awe of the powerful entity, and liked keeping their contact...minimal. The mere sight of his image could send the bravest warrior fleeing in pure terror.

If the prophesies held true, the stars would soon be aligned in the “power phase,” and during that time Krytoes would be free to enter the realm of man. There was no doubt the planets were shifting towards this alignment, and it might be complete within a few years. But there was more than that written on the ancient scrolls pertaining to mankind’s fate... A mortal...a deity—something in-between—is to be born into the world of man. A supernatural being that defies all the laws of nature, the man-child will possess the power to freely move through other dimensions foreign to his own, to tear holes in the very fabric of time, to open and, more importantly, to close the gates to other worlds that man was never meant to lay eyes on.

The Gate Keeper lived now, and had to be found soon. Dragot took a deep breath before beginning the chants. “
Orogi mi koomda dosetta oomeora ploomepa
,” came the rhythmic articulation. He continued for several minutes, chanting away with his hands held towards the sky as his whole upper body began to sweep in wide circles while his feet remained firmly anchored to the floor.

The green sphere began to glow dimly as the walls began to ooze faster, with an occasional bubble rising up only to recede back into the wall a moment later. The sphere began to glow brighter as a thin gray mist began to fill the room—light at first, like a spring-morning fog, then it became thicker and darker.

Contorted faces began taking shape as the fog swirled around the room—faces of a nonhuman nature frozen in a silent scream, with jaws wide open in apparent agony, yet silent in their suffering.

Small amounts of static here and there quickly turned into lightning bolts striking the floor, coming directly from the green sphere and lighting up the room with every jolt. One, two, five, followed by a storm of bolts shooting from the floor to the ceiling and back again, illuminating the room in a series of blinding flashes. Then came sudden darkness. The total silence and pitch-blackness lasted for several minutes before two thin lines of red light appeared to hover in the air horizontally as a low, rhythmic hum began to fill the room. They hovered for only a few seconds before opening to reveal dark purple eyes with no pupil that could be seen, each individually the size of a man. The eyes fixed right on Dragot.

He shivered a bit before proceeding on in his usual calm voice. “The Gate Keeper has come of age, oh Great One. His presence can now be sensed. The time is now. I need your assistance, Mighty Lord. Aid me so I can crush your enemies and I...er...you can take your rightful place as a god in the world of man.”

The purple eyes stayed fixed on Dragot for a minute longer, then slow, rumbling laughter as deep as distant thunder began to shake the room. Louder and louder it came as the eyes turned back into lines of red light before disappearing completely.

The room was pitch-black once again with no sound at all. Minutes passed, feeling like hours. Dragot began to feel a bit foolish, asking for aid like that.

Then, suddenly, a small blue sphere no bigger than a man’s fist appeared, hovering in the darkness. It gave off minimal light, which was swallowed up in the pitch black. It began to grow and expand, giving off more light as it continued to enlarge. Then it stopped growing and just hovered there. The silence was deafening.

In a rush, black creatures with leathery wings and yellow eyes came flooding from the portal. One after another crawled through, flapping around on the floor as still more kept coming. They looked exactly like bats, but each had wings on their backs and was the size of a man. They all had four independent arms aside from their legs, and rounded ears that looked far too large for their heads. Some even held weapons, which showed the dexterity and strength they possessed in those all-too-human-like hands. If not for the claws, the hands themselves were identical to a man’s. Long, thin tails had tiny hooks at the end which could barely be made out unless you looked very close.

“Yes!” Dragot screamed. “Yes...go, find him...find the man-child and bring him to me,” he bellowed as he pointed towards the exit on the other side of the cylindrical room.

The humans cowered in the corners of their cells, wailing and moaning at the supernatural sight.

Like a black plague, the demons all fluttered through the tower and out the windows. Out into the desert night they flew, chirping like a plague of insects.