David Farland - Beyond the Gate

“No,” the Bock said. “We wish no harm, to you or anyone else.”

“But is it safe for us to be alone here?” Maggie asked.

“No one disturbs the temple grounds by daylight,” the Bock said. “I have been here for weeks, and only the priests come into this field. But people like you would best seek shelter at night.” The Bock took Gallen’s hand and led him off up the hill and into the trees.

Maggie and Orick waited in the little hollow until one hour passed, then two. Heavy clouds rolled in. Still, Gallen did not return with the Bock.

Near sunset it began to rain, a light warm drizzle. Minute by minute, Maggie began to worry that perhaps the Bock was not as harmless as he seemed, that perhaps he had set some kind of a trap. He’d said he would be back before dark.

As darkness drew on, a huge gonging rang out, and the cries of street vendors in the village over the hill went silent just as the rain stopped. The thick gray clouds created a false darkness. It seemed somehow spooky the way the vendors all stopped crying out so suddenly.

Whenever Maggie mentioned the time, Orick had encouraging words to say. “Gallen will be back shortly. He won’t get lost. Nothing bad has happened.” But at last, Orick admitted, “I don’t know what Gallen’s thinking, but he should be back by now!”

“Shall we search the city?” Maggie asked. “You can probably track Gallen by scent.”

Orick nodded uncertainly, began sniffing. Maggie bundled up Gallen’s packs, wrapping them all in his robe. They climbed over the hill, to the back of the temple, walked around it, and looked out over a large bay filled with sailing ships. Tall, elegant stone buildings surrounded the bay, and the nearer hills were filled with homes made of fine wood. Twin suns had just set golden in the distance. The air carried the smoke of evening fires and the tempting odor of food cooking, heavy with the scent of ginger and curry. Night was coming quickly.

Overhead, the clouds were whipping away, and ragged patches of evening sky came into view, showing a small scattering of stars.

“Don’t worry,” Orick said softly. “I’m sure I’ll find Gallen soon.”

Maggie shook her head violently. “Don’t give me that. Something’s wrong. Gallen wouldn’t just leave.”

“Perhaps that Bock creature has him jumping through hoops somewhere,” Orick said.

“I don’t understand Gallen sometimes,” Maggie said as if to herself, “running off unarmed with some strange … thing , on a world he’s never set foot on.”

“Och, he’s a young man,” Orick said. “You have to let them act the part of fools-you couldn’t stop them anyway.”

A wind was blowing in off the sea, carrying an evening chill. Orick stood just beside Maggie, close enough so that she could feel his body heat. She trembled slightly, stroked his back.

Down the street several blocks, a man turned a corner, walking toward them, but when he noticed them, he immediately turned back, ducking behind a house.

Orick licked his lips, raised his nose in the air to taste the scent. Maggie started forward, but Orick stopped her. “Wait a minute, darling,” he whispered. “You had better strap on one of Gallen’s swords and a dagger. I’ve got a cold feeling that an unarmed person wouldn’t last long on these streets at night.”

Maggie reached into the bag, pulled out Gallen’s vibro-blade, felt it begin to activate as it registered her body heat on the handle. She strapped on a knife belt for good measure.

“What should we do?” Maggie asked.

“I’d feel more comfortable in a nice crowded building,” Orick said. “This is a port. Surely there’s a hostel down at seaside.”

“I’ve decided to stay out of off-world inns,” Maggie whispered. “Every time I go in one, I get into a hell of a lot of trouble.”

“Well, a young girl traveling with a vicious bear to protect her, what kind of trouble could she get into?” Orick reasoned, and he led the way, heading through the broad streets toward the sea.

After a half mile, they entered the business district, where four-story buildings lined the street, each with its own elaborate columned portico. The doors were all locked. By the docks they found an inn where they could see inside broad windows. A cheery fire was set in a large hearth, and the inn was so crowded that many of the patrons stood around drinking and laughing, unable to sit down at a table to eat. Maggie took the door handle and began shaking it, trying to get in, but the door was locked. She rapped it with the butt of her dagger, and a man with a thin face came to the window beside the door, shaking his head, shouting,

“Too dark! Go away!”

“Let us in!” Orick called, but the innkeep turned away. Maggie could tell when a man acted out of fear and when he could not be pushed. She didn’t bother rapping at the door again.

Maggie wandered out into the middle of the street, looking both ways. It seemed safer out there, where no one could creep up on them unawares. It was getting quite dark now, and moths banged softly against some of the more well-lighted windows. A mosquito buzzed at Maggie’s neck, and she slapped it.

“Which way do we go?” Maggie asked. “North or south?” Orick stood sniffing. “Back over the hill,” Orick said. “I can’t taste Gallen’s scent at all. Maybe they’ll come back for us.”

But if Gallen were here on the streets, Maggie figured that she’d spot him half a mile away, and it seemed likely that he’d be coming down the street to find her. Maggie turned up the north road, and Orick followed. A bat swooped in front of them, dipping twice for mosquitoes. Maggie welcomed its presence, figuring that for every mosquito it ate, there was one less mosquito to dine upon her.

Just as the bat swooped in front of them a third time, something enormous fluttered over Maggie’s head-something large enough so that its wingspan could have been no less than fifteen feet. Orick bowled Maggie forward, and as she fell she saw the creature grab the little bat out of the sky with a quick snatching motion of one wing.

Then the dark creature flapped up the road where Maggie and Orick had been heading and landed atop the portico of a building.

Maggie blinked. The creature had the wings of a bat, and a bat’s catlike ears. It looked for all the world like a bat itself, except for its milky golden eyes. It sat on the portico, staring at Maggie and Orick, and gingerly began feeding on the bat it had caught.

Maggie got up off the muddy road, dusted off her hands, then slowly advanced. The creature sniffed the air as she approached. “Niccce night,” it whispered as they neared. “The sstarsss glimmer like firesss in the bowl of heaven.” It glanced up. “And the moonsss cassst their golden light on the earth.”

Something about the way the creature spoke bothered Maggie. There was a threat behind its words, and she felt as if she should answer. The creature tore a wing from the bat, stuffed it in its mouth and began crunching the tiny bones.

Maggie looked up at the sky. There were no moons shining, and she guessed at the coded message the bat-thing had given her. It had said the word “golden,” and immediately it brought to mind the golden color of the dronon’s hive queen that Gallen had killed a couple of weeks before. She stammered, “Yet their light is not so great as that cast by our Golden Queen.”

The creature on the portico looked at her long, stopped tearing apart its prey. Instead, it took the remainder of the body, stuffed it in its mouth, and swallowed the bat in one gulp.

“My brother and sissster, how goesss your hunt tonight?” the creature asked.

“The streets are empty, as you see. We’ve found no one,” Maggie said, praying that she answered correctly. Maggie felt tense to the breaking point. If this creature chose to attack them, there would be no way to escape it. Not with all the doors in town locked against them. She’d have to fight, and she was no great hand with a sword.