Chapter 32: A World Apart

She sat cross-legged, her back hunched down, huddled into the shadows of one of the rocky outcroppings. The sky was overcast – it seemed to always be overcast – which made the shadows darker and her hiding place more complete. Air moved around her, but she couldn’t call it a breeze. What little wind there was around her moaned rather than whistled. As usual, it was just hot air moving through stifling air. In it, she could smell the acrid odor of dust and dirt.

The slight cavern was high up the jagged wall, about twelve feet above the coarse, black sand of the ground. She had climbed the wall in plain sight, yet no one had seen her – no one ever saw her. At least, not when she didn’t want them to see her. It was a peculiarity she’d acknowledged long ago and come to rely on. She wasn’t sure why but if she were quiet – and she could be silent as a mouse – she could go unnoticed for as long as she willed it. It had bothered her when she’d first discovered the ability, but she’d long ago quit questioning it.

She watched her brother some thirty or forty yards away, standing before the gate proudly, his shoulders thrust back, arms straight at his sides, with his face set in a scowl and his clear, golden eyes prowling the area. His face was long and lean, with a thin chin under thin lips. Even his nose was thin, rising up to his wide, alert eyes.

Her brother was thin but muscular, the definition of his arms and legs hidden behind the unbending silvery metal armor of the priesthood, but she knew him well. He was her constant companion and possibly her best friend. Actually, probably her only friend.

Her brother’s companion, slightly taller and broader, but in the same alert position, stood about a sixty yards away, off on his left. There were only two guards now. Her history lessons told her there used to be more guards guarding the Gate. In the early years there were as many as four score, but now, with eons of inactivity, there were only two.

The Council of Five Tongues was calling for the abolishment of the Guard altogether. They called it a waste of resources, but their intent was obviously to denigrate and devalue the Priesthood’s power. They wished to replace the Guard with the Council’s Sentinels, who were far more numerous, if not as well-trained. The Council decried the need for two armed forces when there had been no official armed combat since they’d arrived on this world.

The Priesthood, of course, was in opposition. They argued the lack of past armed conflict didn’t preclude the possibility of it in the future. They also argued, rightfully, the Gate was their gift and, as such, was their responsibility. Further, the Guard came from within their ranks, provided for by the Priesthood and as such was beyond the Council’s influence. The arguments were heated, and everyone wondered not at the lack of armed conflict – for, unofficially, the Guards and Sentinels fought often, especially in distant hamlets and villages – but that the two had not yet gone to war.

Most thought the Senate acted as a buffer between the two but, with the Senate’s inability to come to any decision in recent times, the idea was quickly falling out of favor. The Senate, of course, refused to decide between the Sentinels or the Guards.

Her government lessons were filled with cases of just such inaction, at least lately. Theoretically, the three chambers of government stood for the different parts of the Dagowyn – the Council represented their bodies, the Priesthood their spirit and the Senate their voices – but it had devolved from such lofty goals ages ago. Change required two of the three government branches to agree – but it had been a long time since it had happened. The Council and Priesthood always seemed to be at loggerheads, each fighting for their own trappings of power while the Senate seemed happy to sit by the wayside and watch them fight.

She sighed and stared at the Gate itself, absently running her right hand through her light, nearly white hair and tucking it gently behind her ear.

The sheer, natural, rock wall upon which she sat was largely mirrored about 60 feet away. Both walls were made from a black, volcanic rock which was hard and sharp, with numerous voids depressed within its expanse. The wall itself appeared solid but closer inspection of the outcroppings – small handholds and varying-sized natural shelves – showed they were filled with small holes of differing sizes. It was hard to believe the natural wall itself wasn’t largely hollowed out in similar fashion. The Nature lessons she’d had years ago indicated the holes were formed by gaseous bubbles when the rock was still lava – but that had been millennia ago. The volcano which towered over the Gate Path had been dormant if not extinct for all of her people’s history here.

The two rock walls meandered down the hill with a coarse, pebbly, black-sand path between them, but it was here, in the Gate Court, where they met. They met in a tall arch, the Gate Arch, which soared nearly eighty feet high. The arch was filled with a crystalline energy structure which, at first glance, seemed to resemble a giant jewel, uncounted facets reflecting the dark, red sky. After a few moments of watching, though, it became clear the structure wasn’t a jewel. The facets, which could be as small as a fingernail or as large as a person, moved in random directions, growing and shrinking as they shifted. Superstition claimed a person would go mad if they watched the Gate long enough, but she had watched the shifting mass for hours over untold days and she still felt she had her sanity.

Then again, her books of medicine often said the insane weren’t aware of their malady. It was certainly something to think about.

A common argument for the Council concerned the Guard being redundant. After all, the Priesthood claimed the Gate Path was guarded by their most puissant spells. Spells which would be harmful, if not deadly, to anyone foolish or stupid enough to set them off. The Council argument was if the Path were covered in charms, glyphs and conjurations so vile they would leave nothing of the person travelling over them, why were the Guard needed?

It was an argument the Priesthood had danced around for generations now.

To those authorized to walk the Path, currently only the Guards and Priests and their ‘guests’, the Priesthood had issued a charm. Her brother, as all the guards, wore it proudly above his armor or clothing – a delicate necklace of braided white metal upon which was inscribed the glyph of god. The Priesthood wore it similarly, displayed proudly over their robes. Only the charm allowed the Gate guards to perform their sacred duty. Only the charm allowed them to cross the various Gate barriers.

She had no charm. She could cross the barriers anyway. She never even noticed any resistance. As a matter of fact, the first time she’d walked the Gate Path, she hadn’t even known about the barriers. Her brother had almost fallen down, dead, when she’d walked up to him while he was on duty. He explained the enchantments, marveling she had made it through alive.

She’d never even felt any resistance. The second time she’d done it, he’d wanted to take her to the priests, to show them what she could do – but she talked him out of it. His argument was if she could do it, who knew how many others could.

She had to talk him out of it every time she came to see him. She used two arguments. First, she was only a lowly woman. Even if every other woman were immune to the Priesthoods spells, he was a man and could easily overcome mere women, no matter how many.

Second, she was his sister. If he told the Priests, they would take her away and he’d never see her again. At best they would kill her so no one else found their secret and at worst they’d keep her and experiment on her in an effort to find out why she was immune to their conjurations. It may lead to stronger, better defenses – but it would certainly lead to her death.

Her first argument swayed him but the second clinched his silence every time. For all he was a man and she only a lowly woman, Daorba dearly loved his sister.

She knew she should stop. She knew the more she walked the Path, the more likely she was to get caught.

Then again, she trusted her ability to go unseen. She trusted her ability to cross the Gate Path wards without harm. She even trusted her brother.

She didn’t trust the Priests. She didn’t trust the Council. She knew better than to trust the Senate.

“You left early this morning,” she said to her brother. As usual, he’d not seen her approach – but then, she hadn’t wanted him to see her approach. She enjoyed startling him.

“Argo!” Daorba swore. He looked around quickly but the other guard, Garbuk, had begun his patrol of the Gate Path a few minutes before. “You must stop this, Ves! If you’re caught...”

“I won’t be,” Vestra assured him, her mouth set into a firm smirk. “I watched Gar pass the first bend before I made my way to you.”

“What if a Priest came by?” he asked. His heart was still beating hard, but it was quickly calming. He was a Warrior, after all. His eyes, though, remained filled with worry for his younger sister.

“The Priests never come here,” she scoffed. “Why would they? For all their talk of god re-opening the way to the great Vylun, they’re too busy sparring with the Council to actually do anything.”

“You know nothing, itra,” he murmured, using a term of endearment for his sister. “The Priests say the day when god re-opens the Gate and leads us to our rightful home is near.”

“Cor,” she swore in derision, her hand cutting down and away. Her brother looked at her angrily, but she ignored him. Women weren’t allowed to swear and, in front of their parents, she wouldn’t or she’d be beaten severely. She felt safe with Daorba, though.

Besides, she really, really liked tweaking her older brother.

She kicked absently at one of the stones on the ground. “They just say that to try to gain the upper hand with the Council. Or maybe they’re trying to scare the Senate into line. I wouldn’t believe anything those speknae say.”

Her brother grabbed her arm and pulled her close. His face was open and earnest and his brows were arched. She thought, at first, he was finally going to chide her for her use of swear words, but there was no anger in his golden eyes.

“Believe it,” he said with quiet urgency. “I’ve – I’ve seen things.”

He swallowed and his eyes lost focus. “Terrible things. Wonderful things.”

He returned his attention to her. “We’re – we’re more than what you know. The tales ... the tales are true!”

She glanced down at her arm, trying to shy away from the intensity of her brother’s gaze. Finally, though, her eyes had to return to his own. She flinched when she did. His eyes still held the same focus ... but within, she could see his worry for her. Behind that worry, however, was something darker and hidden.