Keith Baker
The Gates of Night

CHAPTER 1

Laraek ixen korth,” the dwarf whispered, tracing his fingers along the edge of the metal disk. Runes etched into the steel burned with blue fire. The light faded, and as it did, the disk became blurry and indistinct, almost invisible against the stone floor. The dwarf took two careful steps back, slipping down the hall. He glanced up at Daine and gave a curt nod. If the disk were triggered, it would collapse the tunnel, which appeared to be the only entrance into this mysterious outpost.

Daine didn’t relish the thought of being trapped below, but the odds of surviving the night had never been good. Whatever this facility was, it posed a clear threat to the people of Cyre. Daine intended to cripple the base. If he and his soldiers could complete this mission and escape, all the better. If not, collapsing the entrance would have to do. At least it would buy Daine’s messenger time to warn the garrison at Casalon.

“It was a good plan, I’ll give you that.”

The sudden sound was a shock. No guards were in sight, but silence was clearly called for. Daine turned and glared at Jode.

“I ordered you to scout ahead,” Daine whispered.

Jode shook his head. “Daine, it’s time to wake up.”

And with those words, memory returned-visions of another battle.

A kalashtar woman wreathed in shadows …

Lei stretched across a stone dais, surrounded by pieces of glowing crystal …

Betrayal …

And a rushing, hissing voice, demanding a vial of blue liquid …

Daine lowered his sword until the point was level with the halfling’s heart. “Who are you? Lakashtai? Or Tashana?”

“You know who I am.”

Cold fury gripped Daine’s heart. “Enough! I’ve had enough of your games.”

“I know what you’ve been through,” Jode said. “I can imagine how hard this is for you. But it’s over now. Let me show you.”

Jode held out his hand, but Daine felt only anger. He was still piecing it together, but it was clear that Lakashtai had been manipulating him for weeks. Possibly months. She’d used his feelings for Lei against him, and now this. Daine slapped the halfling’s hand aside with the flat of his sword.

The little man winced but held his ground. “Not exactly the joyous reunion I had hoped for.” A drop of blood blossomed on one finger, and he sighed. “Daine, you know the truth, even if you don’t want to see it. I need you to trust me. One more time.”

Daine studied his old friend’s eyes, searching for any signs of deception. More memories flashed through his mind.

Jode on the streets of Metrol, surrounded by tattooed men …

The halfling’s body, lying in a charnel pit beneath Sharn …

Cursing himself, Daine reached out and took the halfling’s hand.

For a moment Daine was blinded, overwhelmed by sensations. The world seemed to collapse, his vision rising up from the base to look out over Keldan Ridge. He could see every detail with crystal clarity. He knew the position of every shattered warforged, of every Cyran corpse. And he knew it was a dream. He could sense the boundaries of the battlefield, how it faded away just beyond the range of sight, a silver bubble, floating in darkness.

The darkness was alive, and it saw him.

Terror flowed through Daine. He couldn’t even see the spirit that lurked in the shadows, but he could feel it-a cold giant reaching out to crush his tiny dreamscape. He felt icy tendrils clutch at his heart. But he could feel something else. A source of light and warmth. A force adding its strength to his.

Jode.

Daine felt his friend’s laughter flow through him, along with a flow of memories.

Flying through the air astride a huge, birdlike reptile, a barren plain stretched out beneath him …

Daine and Jode’s first meeting in Metrol, now seen from Jode’s eyes …

And a ghastly purple face, with a ring of writhing tentacles reaching toward him. The mind flayer beneath Sharn, the last thing Jode had seen while alive …

There was no longer any doubt in Daine’s mind. This was Jode, and the frigid darkness shattered against the two united minds.

Then he was back in the tunnel, staring at the face of his friend. Behind him, Krazhal and Kesht stood frozen. With his newfound senses, Daine could sense that they were empty, fragments drawn from his memory-as was the hall itself. But Jode …

Daine forgot about the darkness, about Lakashtai, about any of it. His sword slipped from his fingers as he moved forward and grabbed Jode around his shoulders, lifting him into the air.

“I know, I know,” Jode said with a grin. “It’s the miracle of me.”

“How is this possible?”

“You think I know? Out of the two of us, who’s been dead?”

“But you said you knew what I’d been through-”

Jode grinned. “And you’ve never known me to embellish the truth? After I was caught by Teral, everything sort of … fades. Every now and then I’d catch glimpses of the three of you or hear you talking to me. Occasionally your dreams-this place-would flash into view, and I could see the creature you were fighting, but I couldn’t reach you. Then everything changed. I was here, and I could feel your thoughts.”

Daine set the halfling down. “And how did you know what would happen when we touched?”

“It’s a dream. Sometimes you just know things in dreams.”

A chill ran down Daine’s spine, the force watching in the darkness. He could still feel it out there, watching, probing his defenses. But even though they were no longer touching, he could still feel Jode’s strength. He wasn’t alone anymore. And whatever force had been fighting him before, it couldn’t overcome them both.

“So tell me what I’ve missed!” Jode said. “I can see … an ocean voyage? A wall of fire? I want details. And how are Lei and Pierce?”

Lei! In the chaos of the dream, Daine had almost forgotten the battle he’d left behind. “There’s no time. They’re both in terrible danger. If this is a dream, we need to wake up. Now.”

Jode shrugged. “It’s your dream. That’s your job.”

Daine closed his eyes, then opened them quickly.

Nothing.

“Dorn’s teeth!” he swore, smashing his fist against the wall. Pain and numbness lanced across his nerves, but his surroundings never wavered. Helpless anger burned in Daine’s heart. He glanced back down the tunnel, searching for the concealed blast disk.

“I wouldn’t,” Jode said, responding to Daine’s unspoken thought. “I don’t know what death would do to us, but if Lei’s really in trouble, do you think that’s the first thing you should try?”

“What else can I do?”

“Be calm,” Jode said. “Remember this is a dream. Your dream. Close your eyes and take my hand.”

Fighting against his raging emotions, Daine blew out his breath and reached out for the halfling’s hand.

Wake up.

And he did.


Daine, Harmattan said, his voice a thunderous hiss, metal grinding in a great wind that seemed to come from all directions. It’s been a long time.

Harmattan stood in the room’s sole entrance. At first glance, he seemed a massive man in a flowing cloak-easily nine feet tall, with muscles to rival an ogre’s. Metal glittered across his body, as if he were covered in chainmail. Even his cloak seemed forged from metal links. Dark mist shrouded his head. Points of red light hinted at eyes within the shadow.

Pierce had seen Harmattan in action and knew that his appearance was deceiving. Harmattan was not wearing chainmail, and he was no man. As Pierce looked at Harmattan again, new thoughts flowed into his mind-

A web of magical force binds the metal fragments together. This energy is concentrated in Harmattan’s head. The rest of his body is thus both malleable and expendable. A sufficient burst of abjurative energy could temporarily dispel the force holding his body together. However, this web is extremely powerful, and such an effort would be unlikely to succeed.

As an afterthought-

Your previous encounter suggests that Harmattan was once a warforged soldier and only discovered his full power after his original body was destroyed.

These seemed to be Pierce’s own thoughts, a natural stream of consciousness in response to Harmattan’s arrival. They weren’t. Another force was sharing Pierce’s body-an ancient intelligence named Shira that had been imprisoned for tens of thousands of years. Pierce wished to know much about the entity that called itself Shira, but this was not the time for questions. Daine had his blades drawn and strode toward Harmattan. Pierce had seen the strange warforged scour flesh from bone in a blur of razor-sharp shards, and he knew that Harmattan wouldn’t hesitate to kill a human.

Pierce lunged forward, his flail spinning in a low arc. He had little experience with shame, but he felt a pang of guilt as he pulled back, dragging his surprised opponent to the ground.

“This fight cannot be won with a sword, Captain.” Pierce said. “Others need you. Do not throw away your life.”

Daine glared up from the floor, fury burning in his eyes. A vibration ran through Harmattan’s metal form-the rustling that served him as laughter-and Pierce saw drops of blood scatter to the ground. While he regretted having struck his friend, Pierce knew that it could easily have been Daine’s blood on the floor.

If you think you can win my trust so easily, you are mistaken, little brother, Harmattan said.

“Indeed.” It was a soft, feminine voice, all too familiar.

Warforged. The analysis came unbidden to Pierce’s mind. An unusual design, sacrificing durability for speed. Mithral plating with stealth glamer; improved visual acuity, allowing optimal accuracy even in conditions of darkness. Embedded …

The mystical analysis continued, but it was drowned out by Pierce’s own thoughts as the newcomer came into view. Slender, graceful, her mithral plates coated with deep blue enamel. Blades of dark metal extended from her forearms.

Indigo.

Pierce had felt a touch of guilt when he pulled Daine to the ground. Now it was a hammer, slamming against his spirit. He remembered the joy he’d felt fighting alongside her-mere moments before he tried to bury her and Harmattan by collapsing an unstable tunnel.

Indigo stood beside Harmattan, blocking any escape. Her face was a mask of blue metal, but Pierce could hear the anger in her words. “You made your choice, Pierce. You chose your masters. Now you will die with them.”

Shame rose again, but Pierce countered it with the memory of Harmattan ordering his minions to torture Lei. Pierce had indeed made his choice. Whatever bond he felt for Indigo, he had his own family to protect.

“You did not come this far to threaten me,” Pierce said, helping Daine to his feet.

You are irrelevant, Harmattan said. Despite Indigo’s wishes, I think I shall let you live. Our family is small enough as it is. But you have already served your purpose. Your passage gave us entry. And as for why we are here … it seems I was mistaken, after all. Destiny is a strange thing.

“What do you want?” Daine growled.

I came here in search of one thing alone. I knew that it was waiting for me in this ancient place, so I assumed it to be a relic of the distant past. But the one I serve leads me down paths I never considered. I want the vial.

Vial? This meant nothing to Pierce. “What are you talking about?”

He knows, Harmattan said, looking at Daine. A vial filled with blue liquid, glowing slightly, with a familiar seal stamped on the top. His cloak spread out around him, and at this distance it was easy to see it clearly-a rippling plane of metal shards. One thought, and this mass of razors would tear through them. I have no desire to damage it, and I would rather let my brother live. But you will all die if we battle. Give me the vial, little fleshling, and I may even spare you and sister Lei.

“Daine?” None of this made sense. But Pierce knew his captain. Daine was deep in thought. Clearly he knew what Harmattan was talking about.

Daine reached into his pouch and produced a tiny bottle-a sliver of crystal, pulsing with blue light. “Is this it?”

Yes.

“You came all the way to Xen’drik, you cut off Lei’s finger, for this?”

Yes. Surrender it.

“No,” Daine said, wrenching the stopper from the vial.

Harmattan hissed, and Indigo leaped forward in a blur of dark steel. Pierce was already in motion. A human might have been holding his breath or praying for a peaceful resolution, but Pierce had neither breath nor faith. While Daine was considering Harmattan’s offer, Pierce was calculating Indigo’s likely path of attack. He rammed into her, and she staggered back.

Indigo’s gaze remained on Daine. “No! You must not!”

Pierce followed her gaze. Daine raised the vial and drank the liquid. Pierce leaped out of the path of Indigo’s counterattack, half his attention still on Daine.

Daine collapsed.

NO! Harmattan’s voice filled the chamber, a howl as terrible as any storm. This cannot be!

Pierce took a step back and stood over Daine. He could not defeat Harmattan. He knew that. But if he were to die, he would die with his captain.

This was DESTINED! Harmattan roared. His cloak dissolved into a whirling sheath of steel, a storm reflecting his inner fury. This place. The vial. All has come to pass!

“If our destiny is to leave with the liquid,” Indigo said, her soft voice almost lost beneath Harmattan’s rage, “then let us reclaim it from his body.”

“No.” Pierce held his ground, and Shira’s thoughts converged with his own-

Harmattan is at a disadvantage here. He cannot unleash his full power without inflicting grievous injuries. If they seek to harvest Daine’s bodily fluids, they will need to act with precision. And he has been reluctant to kill you.

It was the only weapon that might prove effective against Harmattan.

“Brother,” he said, “this battle is over. Whatever that liquid was, it is lost to you. I will not allow you to perform this ghoul’s work. If you continue down this path, you will have to destroy me.”

Harmattan said nothing. The storm of steel surrounding him slowed, drifting back into the shape of the billowing cloak. When he spoke again his voice was calm.

If that is what it takes.

Indigo lunged at Pierce.

It wasn’t a battle but a dream. Pierce had spent hours contemplating her fighting style, considering her strengths and weaknesses, the tactics he’d seen her use. He knew exactly what she would do, and he was prepared for her.

But she was equally prepared for Pierce.

It was like fighting the wind. He tried to trip her, but she jumped over the blow. He had the advantage of reach, and he mirrored her motion. Blows that could split steel missed him by less than an inch. It was a deadly dance, yet Pierce had never felt so calm, so perfectly at peace. He didn’t need to think. He knew what to do.

He knew that Indigo felt the same way. In the first blows of the battle, anger had driven her. She’d struck with less care. Perhaps, if he’d been more ruthless, Pierce could have brought her down in those first moments. But now she was as calm as he. The battle became a tapestry of motion and strategy, and just being part of it … it was what they were made for. Pierce could continue for days, and he could think of nothing that would be more satisfying. Indigo was his world. Every sense focused on their dance.

And that was his mistake.

Pierce leaped back a step, narrowly avoiding a fierce double blow that could have decapitated him. He was beginning his counterstroke when he felt a crushing pressure around his arms and chest.

Harmattan.

The strange warforged couldn’t unleash his full might without shredding Daine, but even in his humanoid form his strength was astonishing. Pierce had been so focused on Indigo that he hadn’t seen Harmattan move behind him. Now he was bound by metal and magic. For all that Harmattan’s body comprised fragments of metal, the force that held them together was tougher than any steel. Harmattan’s arms flowed together around Pierce’s chest, creating an unbreakable band. Pierce’s flail was half-caught in the metal mass, the chain dangling beyond. Indigo swept forward. Her adamantine blades flashed, and the flail fell apart, steel chain split as easily as rope. She took another step forward, a blade leveled at his eyes.

This ends, brother.

When Harmattan spoke, Pierce could feel the vibration. He struggled against his bonds, but his strength was no match for Harmattan’s power.

“So it would appear.”

“Why?” Indigo said. Pierce could no longer hear any anger in her voice. Just disappointment. “Why did you turn on us?”

“I did not want to.”

“You destroyed Hydra. I could have died as well. And for what? These bags of flesh and blood? They will be dead in a handful of years, at best. We have eternity.”

Yes. Think, little brother. You have nothing in common with these creatures.

“I have memories. I have friendship. Can you say the same?” A thought occurred to him, as the spirit embedded in his chest passed along a piece of information.

“Is there nothing between us?” Indigo’s blade hadn’t wavered, the point an inch from his eyes.

Pierce searched for words. “In truth,” he said, “I do not know what I feel. But I know I must protect my family.”

We are your family, said Harmattan.

“Perhaps you are. But you are forgetting something.”

And what is that?

“Our sister.”

Indigo’s gaze flickered to the side-

Too late.

Harmattan shattered into a thousand pieces, and Pierce lunged.

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