The Gates of Iron Read online

  The Gates of Iron

  Book Three of the Absent Gods

  David Debord

  Part 1- Through the Gates

  Chapter 1

  “This feels wrong.” His fine clothing and freshly-scrubbed skin seemed alien to Larris after spending so much time riding, sleeping out of doors, and bathing in streams. He smoothed the front of his silk doublet and sighed. Why had he ever envied his brother Lerryn’s place as the eldest and heir to the throne? Now that Lerryn had abdicated and Larris’ path to the throne was clear, he would have given anything to be out on the road again. Instead, he found himself in his private chamber in the royal palace, waiting for an audience with the king. Beams of light shone through the narrow windows, reflecting on the marble floor and shining on the tapestries that adorned the wall, yet to him it all felt drab and empty.

  He wanted to be with Shanis.

  His heart sank at the thought of the fiery girl he’d left behind. He could see her green eyes and soft, red hair as clearly as if she were standing there in front of him. She had hated him at first but, in time, he’d won her over. He smiled at the thought of any man completely winning such a strong-willed woman. In any case, their divergent destinies had taken them along different paths.

  Allyn poked his head into Larris’ bedchamber. “Are you ready?” His longtime friend was one of the few people in the world who felt no compunction at entering the prince’s chambers without first announcing himself. He paused, stared at Larris, and frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Not much. Just pining for fresh air and a little danger to keep me entertained.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like Lerryn. Not that I disagree, mind you. I’m already feeling claustrophobic.” Allyn made a face and ran a hand through his long blond hair. “Your father isn’t going to be pleased when you give him the news.”

  Larris heaved a sigh. “I suppose we should get on with it. The longer I wait, the angrier Father will grow. Then again, his ire has been simmering for months. Perhaps he’s reached his limit.” He opened his wardrobe and took out the worn leather bag in which he’d placed Lerryn’s letter of abdication. He looked inside and gasped. The letter was gone! Heart racing, he made a hasty search of the wardrobe bottom in case it had fallen out of the bag, but it was not there. What could have happened to it? Until Allyn arrived, no one else had entered his room.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Larris looked up, dizzy from surprise and confusion. “Lerryn’s letter is gone.” Upon publicly surrendering his place as the heir to the Galdoran throne, Lerryn had written out his abdication and sent it with Larris to give to their father, King Allar.

  “How?” Allyn rushed to his side, snatched the bag away, and peered down into it, as if his sharp eyes might see something Larris hadn’t. “Has the bag been out of your sight?”

  “No. I’ve kept it by my side the entire time.” That was mostly true, but it had, technically, been out of his sight for a few moments when he’d bathed. “Melina!” he shouted, striding out into his sitting room, where the woman who had cared for him since birth waited.

  “Yes, Highness?” Though Melina had seen nearly forty summers, no gray touched her hair and her eyes shone with youthful vigor. Right now, she looked and sounded puzzled, even concerned, but gave no sign of feeling any guilt.

  “There was a document inside my bag. What happened to it?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “A document, Highness?”

  “Yes. The only time I haven’t had my eyes on it was when Sarill scrubbed my hair because you said I had lice.” Larris couldn’t believe he was accusing a woman he regarded as a second mother. But who else could it be? He expected his words to wound her, but instead, they seemed to inflame her temper.

  “What exactly are you suggesting?” Melina put her hands on her hips and thrust out her chin. “You think I would steal this paper of yours, whatever it is? More than twenty summers I have served your family. I cared for you and your brother, and you accuse me of treachery? If His Highness’s opinion of my character has fallen so low, perhaps he wishes me to leave his service.”

  “If I may.” Allyn’s voice, usually dry with sarcasm, was soft and hesitant.

  “Of course you may,” Larris snapped. “When have the three of us stood on ceremony when we’re alone together?”

  “Evidently, things have changed. When did Highness ever accuse me of thievery?” Melina snapped.

  “Oh, stop with the Highness bit already.” Larris slumped into a nearby chair and gazed at the two of them. “What is it, Allyn?”

  “Can you say for certain that the paper was still in your bag when we entered the palace? The streets are packed with refugees and they were all trying to touch you. Someone might have slipped a hand into your bag, hoping to find food, and grabbed the first thing his fingers closed upon.”

  Larris gave a thoughtful nod. They hadn’t made it far into the city before someone had recognized him. His escort had done its best to keep the wave of commoners at bay, but some had indeed managed to lay hands on him.

  “People are desperate,” Allyn continued. “Anyone could have done it.”

  “You’re right.” He turned to Melina. “I’m sorry. The situation is complicated. Right now, I can’t give you the explanation you deserve, but I hope once you know the reason for my distress, you will forgive me.” He held out his hand.

  Melina tensed, and then her stony expression melted into a warm smile. “That won’t do.” She stepped forward and wrapped him in her gentle embrace. “Of course I forgive you, child.” She gave him a tight squeeze and then stepped away. “But don’t do it again.” She wagged a finger at him. “I haven’t forgotten how to administer the rod.”

  “Of course not.” He rose from the chair and straightened his doublet. “I suppose it’s time to give Father the good news.”

  “Your Royal Majesty, I present His Highness, Larris Van Altman, Second Prince of Galdora!” At the herald’s words, a buzz of conversation rose, but quickly faded as Larris strode into the throne room.

  Like wheat bending in the wind, the courtiers bowed as he passed through the beams of colored light that streamed through tall, stained glass windows. The more reticent of the attendees peered around the marble columns that lined the hall, but some were so bold as to leer at him, making no attempt to hide their curiosity or amusement. Everyone had apparently heard the story of the return of the prodigal prince.

  He kept his head high and his eyes focused on his father, King Allar Van Altman, who stared at him with a serene expression Larris knew to be a façade. Larris and Allyn had left the palace under a cloud of secrecy, telling no one where they had gone or why, and had been gone for months. If he knew Father, the king was at this very moment debating whether or not to send for the headsman.

  Larris reached the foot of the dais, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head. He waited. King Allar was clearly dragging this out in order to shame his wayward son. Larris felt his cheeks heat. Embarrassing him in front of the entire court might be justifiable, but it would make things more difficult in the long run.

  Finally, the king relented. “You may rise.”

  Larris stood, taking in his father’s disapproving stare and his mother’s beaming smile. Beloved by Galdorans, Queen Arissa was a plump, motherly woman with a kind heart and a ready smile.

  “Father, I am pleased to see you looking well.” That was a lie. He was not at all pleased to see his father, at least, not under these circumstances, and King Allar did not look well. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, and a sickly yellowish tinge marred his face. Larris grimaced. Allar was not a young man, but neither was he in his dotage. Had the king taken ill?

  For his part, A
llar offered no courtesies in return. “You disappeared. Ran away like a child and abandoned your duties here. I would never have expected it from a son of mine.”

  Duties? Larris had been given no responsibilities aside from than keeping his head low and never stepping out of his brother’s long shadow. This, however, was no time to argue.

  “One so irresponsible is not fit to wear a crown,” Allar continued. “For this reason, you shall enter the priesthood. The temple has reserved a place for you.”

  Icy shock froze Larris to the core. He was scarcely aware of the low murmur of conversation all around him at this surprising turn of events. The priesthood? It could not be! He was now the heir to the throne. Even if he wasn’t, he would never take the vows. He would leave again, and return to Shanis, and for good this time.

  “Unless.” Allar paused, “you can offer a valid reason for your prolonged absence.”

  Larris breathed a sigh of relief, opened his mouth to speak, and then hesitated. He would, of course, tell his father the entire story, but not here in front of the court.

  “With respect, I request a private audience with Your Majesty.”

  Whispers rose again at his words. Most were too soft for him to hear, but a few of those in attendance, those either bold or foolish, didn’t bother to keep their voices down.

  “What is he hiding?”

  “He’s too ashamed to face the court.”

  “Foolish boy.”

  Larris’ cheeks still burned, but he held the king’s gaze.

  “What could you possibly have to tell me that cannot be said in front of our loyal subjects?” Allar made a sweeping gesture that took in all the gathered courtiers, and Larris could not miss the slight tremor in the king’s hand. Something was very wrong with his father. “Perhaps you ran away on some urgent matter of state of which I remain blissfully unaware?” Titters of laughter rang through the hall.

  Larris cleared his throat. “That is precisely the situation.” The laughter died. “I humbly apologize to you, my mother, and all the people of Galdora for the secrecy that surrounded my departure and for my prolonged absence. I do not expect to be forgiven, but I hope in time to regain your and their trust. I ask again, with respect, that I be granted a private audience before I offer my explanation.”

  Allar considered this for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Court is ended for today.

  Grumbling, the courtiers made their way out, obviously displeased at missing out on seeing the prince brought low. A few cast baleful glances in his direction. Finally, the throne room stood empty, save the royals and the King’s Guard. Queen Arissa rushed down to wrap him in a tight embrace.

  Larris looked over his mother’s head at his father, who remained ensconced upon his throne. To Larris’ surprise, a solitary tear slid down his father’s cheek and into his silver-flecked beard.

  “We thought you were dead.” Arissa’s trembling whisper pierced Larris’ heart. He had anticipated their anger, but not their hurt.

  “I am truly sorry. I promise you, I had good reason.”

  He gently pulled away from Arissa and they all retired to a side chamber and sat down in overstuffed chairs. A serving woman brought mulled wine and bowed her way out, not quite managing to hide her look of curiosity.

  When they were finally alone, Larris began his story. He told them of Lerryn’s plan to find the Silver Serpent and use its power to defeat Karin; of his own distrust of Xaver, Lerryn’s recently-deceased vizier; his worry about Lerryn’s love of strong drink; and his decision to take Allyn and go in search of the Silver Serpent himself.

  “The Silver Serpent?” Allar scoffed. “How could both of my sons be taken in by such a fable?”

  “We found it.”

  Allar choked on his wine and required a moment to recover. “You...found it?” he rasped, his watering eyes wide with shock.

  “Our companion did. She’s a Galsburan named Shanis Malan.”

  “Galsbur? Wait a moment.” Allar held up his hand. “You are telling me that the Silver Serpent is real and is now in the hands of a village girl? A commoner?”

  A sudden urge to defend Shanis reared up inside of him. “She is hardly common. She is of royal Lothan stock, the sole living descendant of Badla, in fact, and is right now in the process of uniting the clans.”

  This time, Allar dropped his goblet, spilling blood red wine all over the lush, Diyonan rug. “Are you trying to kill me, boy? How many shocks can a man take?” He rose unsteadily, wobbled to the window, and looked up at the clear blue sky. “We are at war with Kyrin, Karst is fomenting rebellion in the south, an unknown force invades from the west, the Lothan clans are putting aside their war, and you permit the most fearsome weapon in memory to slip through your hands.”

  “I had no choice. Please hear me out.” Larris recounted the rest of his tale, describing how the prophecy, despite his and Lerryn’s best efforts, had been fulfilled in its own way. “No one can touch the sword but Shanis and therefore only she may control its power. She is the one destined to bear it,” he finished.

  Allar looked tireder than Larris had ever seen him. He returned slowly to his chair and sat down. “Do you have any other bad news?” He managed a weary smile.

  His heart was in his throat. How would his parents receive this next bit of information? “Lerryn has abdicated.”

  Allar stiffened. His lips moved, but he made no sound.

  “No!” Arissa gasped.

  “He says Shanis used the power of the Silver Serpent to cure him of his need to drink. Now that his faculties are no longer muddled, he believes he is worthy only to lead soldiers, not a kingdom.” Larris shifted uncomfortably. He had entertained the same thoughts about his brother many times. “He sent me and a few companions here and took his men west to meet the invaders.”

  “Was it witnessed?” Allar snapped.

  “It was witnessed by me and Allyn, my friend Hierm Van Derin and his wife, and the men of the White Fang.”

  Allar and Arissa exchanged unreadable glances. “I don’t suppose he put it in writing,” Allar sighed.

  “He did.” Larris’ mouth was suddenly so dry he felt he could scarcely move his tongue. He took a gulp of wine and swallowed hard. “But it was stolen.”

  Allar’s breath left him in a rush and he slumped forward and buried his face in his hands. When he finally composed himself, he could find no words. He sat, shaking his head.

  “I fear your father has endured enough surprises for one day.” Arissa picked up a bell and rang for the serving woman. “Send two guards to escort His Majesty to his chambers.” The young woman returned with the guards in short order, and they helped the king to his feet and escorted him out of the throne room. When they were gone, Arissa ordered the serving woman to send the royal physician to see to the king.

  “What is wrong with him?” Larris asked. “He is too young to be failing so fast.”

  Arissa looked twenty years older. She pursed her lips, the lines on her face clearer. “We don’t know. The strain of ruling is some of it. The situation in the kingdom is dire and having both of his sons vanish without a trace did not help matters.” She lowered her gaze for a moment and Larris’ heart fell along with it.

  “I am sorry. I won’t disappear again. I promise.”

  “I know you won’t.” Arissa gave his hand a squeeze. “We must sort out this situation with Lerryn. First, we need to find out if he is even alive.”

  “No word about the battle, then?”

  “No.” Her eyes took on a faraway cast. “I fear the worst. Your father sent messengers, but none have returned.”

  “Can we truly spare no forces for the conflict in the west?” Larris remembered what Tabars, captain of Lerryn’s elite force, had told them. All of Galdora’s armies were committed to the war with Kyrin, their enemy to the north. “Will no one come to our aid?”

  “We are stretched thin. Your uncle has offered to take soldiers west, but neither he nor your cousin can
lead men the way Lerryn can.”

  That was true. Orman Van Altman was a solid if uninspiring man, and his son, Carsus, was hewn from the same tree. Orman had his share of sticking swords into affronted nobles but was sorely lacking in experience on the battlefield. If Lerryn was alive, he was sorely needed.

  “I have to find Lerryn. I’ll go tonight.” He rose, but Arissa grabbed his wrist and held on tightly.

  “No. You mustn’t leave the city again. At least, not while the circumstances are so dire. We must appear strong.”

  He sighed. “I understand. In that case, I promise I will stay, but I will take steps to see to it that he is found.” Gently, he removed his mother’s hand from his wrist, kissed her on the forehead, and bade her see to Allar.

  He did not return directly to his chambers, but first visited the Chapel of the Seven. He was not religious, but right now, in the face of such a hopeless situation, he needed something to give him courage and strength. He lit a candle for each god and knelt before the altar, watching as the tapers melted away.

  When the last was a mere lump of wax, he rose on stiff legs and strode out to the stables, where he commandeered a horse. He could not honestly say he felt better, but at least he now had a plan.

  Chapter 2

  Hierm took a deep breath, grasped the iron knocker, and rapped twice on the heavy wooden door. Heart racing, he squeezed Rinala’s hand and listened to the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened a crack, and one blue eye peered out.

  “Hierm!” Laman, Hierm’s older brother, swung the door open and caught him up in a rough embrace. Hierm felt taken aback at his brother’s display of affection. The two had never really gotten along. “Mother,” Laman called back into the house, “it’s Hierm!” A cry of surprise sounded from somewhere inside, followed by the sound of running feet, and then Laman was shunted aside as Faun Van Derin wrapped her arms around him and began sobbing, her face pressed against his chest.

  “I cannot believe it,” she said. After a full minute of joyful tears, she finally stepped away and mopped her eyes with her sleeve. She reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. “It truly is you, flesh and blood. The gods have finally smiled upon us.”