Thomas Harlan - The Gate of fire

– |Krista felt the heat flare from the Prince's body, but ignored it, throwing herself into his arms. He burned and the indigo corona was hotter than a forge, igniting her clothing. She screamed, her eyes blinded by the leaping fire, but she could still feel his thick hair under her hands. Krista flexed her left forearm and felt the cool bronze ring on her thumb take the tension of the spring.

– |Maxian cried out in dismay, seeing the flames lapping around Krista. The girl was gritting her teeth in pain. He put forth his power to enclose her in a shield of protection. There was a snapping sound close by his ear and then a shocking pain greater than he had ever experienced burst in the side of his skull. He fell back, letting the wash of flame flare up around Krista, catching in her hair. Trembling fingers touched the side of his head. Cold iron met his fingertips, jutting from his ear. Blackness rushed up around him, cutting off all sight and sound and sensation.

– |Thyatis crawled across the dying grass, her head low. Smoke billowed only a dozen feet above her and the heat beat at her like a fist. There was very little air left to breathe. The mountain, at least, had suddenly gone still and quiet. One arc of the grotto remained free of flames, flanked on either side by towering boulders. Something crouched there in the darkness, but it was free of the burning woods. When the turf steadied, she risked rising up and scurried across the ground toward the rocks.

There was something between the smoking trees, a great shape of iron curled up like a snake in its winter den. Thyatis skidded to a halt, staring in awe at the enormous round golden eyes that suddenly opened before her. The lids slid back, rasping metal on metal, and orbs of gold stared out. The thing was enormous and now it moved, iron scales sliding with a brittle rasp over iron scales. Thyatis fell down, stunned at this sight upon sights. Black wings unfolded, massive and articulated like those of a bat. Forearms as thick as temple columns moved and flexed, supporting its weight. The Engine rose from its slumber and moved forward into the open space of the grotto.

Thyatis scrambled aside, barely avoiding being crushed by a giant taloned paw. The thing was a hundred pedes long if it was an uncia, with a reticulated snaky tail and massive rear legs like those of a lion. As it moved, there was the ratcheting of gears and wheels and a door opened in its belly. Wings drifted by overhead, touching the walls of the grotto. Trees, nearly consumed by the wild-fire, cracked and shattered at the touch. The hot air rushing up caught under the pinions and the whole Engine shuddered, lifting a little. The Roman woman ran underneath it, seeing a hatch lever down.

With a heave, she leapt up and grabbed the edge and swung herself onto the ramp as it descended.

By all accounts, she thought, rolling up into the cargo hold, this thing can fly us away from here!

– |Maxian staggered, feeling poison flood into his skull like a black river. The Oath had come against him, all disguised in the face of love, and now it clawed at his mind and body. Even the power of the mountain seemed faint and weak beside the concentrated venom that hissed like acid inside his head. The Prince felt memories of joy and love and pain and hate flee, consumed by the damage to his mind.

Enough! There was power enough and more at his command. Was not his the will that could mend the shattered body, restore the dead to life, bring fruit from barren soil? He opened his thought to the full power of the mountain and let all restraint flee. I will live!

– |In darkness, crowned with a haze of smoke, the mountain trembled. Far down the cone, on slopes covered with woodlots, pasture, and vineyards, the earth shifted and trembled. Stone grated on stone, and in every farmyard the animals were bawling with terror. Men woke from troubled sleep and stared out into the night. But there was nothing to see save some dim lights on the height.

Clouds had gathered, thick and dark, around the periphery of the mountain. Yellow lightning flickered and rumbled in them, but they formed a swirling broad ring a dozen miles out. No rain fell from them, but in the streets of Cumae and Herculaneum, late-night revelers marked the oppression in the air and the feeling of tension. Some, suddenly nervous, went home in haste. It did not feel safe to be out.

– |The iron spike oozed from the side of Maxian's head, making a popping sound as it came free. The Prince was on his knees, thrown down by the incessant shaking in the earth. He stared at the bloody bit of metal with his one working eye. The other shimmered with cerulean waves of power as the optic nerve was rebuilt and the eyelid regrew an atom at a time. His lips contorted in something like a laugh-he knew this thing. Once he had touched it with his own power, making it a puissant weapon. With a jerk, he threw it aside and rose up, floating above the quivering ground.

Krista, her body burned beyond recognition, lay at his feet, twisted into a curl. The Prince gulped, his mouth twisting into a grimace. Come my love, he whispered to his thought. The corpse rose up, shedding ash and burned cloth. Conveyed by his will, it floated before him into the maw of the Engine, which had lowered itself to receive its master.

The fury of the mountain was about to find release and Maxian, mindful of his own existence, put forth his strength to form a sphere of ward around himself and the Engine. Flying, his cloak fluttering behind him, he soared up and into the cargo hold of the iron drake. The forest that had ringed the grotto was almost burned out, leaving only smoldering patches. Smoke and fumes still rose up, however, and steam jetted from cracks yawning in the ground.

Above the summit of the mountain, a haze was billowing up, climbing into the clear night sky.

Maxian settled onto the honeycombed decking of the Engine and laid Krista's corpse on a crate of books lashed to the metal floor. Numbly, he lashed the body to the crate with leather straps. His mind whirled with thoughts and it seemed that his hands and the charred skull of the young woman were very far away. Only the trembling in the air and the mounting pressure from the mountain could catch his attention.

"Away," he whispered to the Engine that enclosed him. "Take us away."

Outside, iron wings extended, bolts and cogs whining with the strain, and then the Engine kicked off from the ground and soared up into the night sky. In the hold, Maxian gripped one of the wall struts with a white-knuckled hand. The steed born from the forge climbed steeply, sending unsecured crates and boxes sliding across the metal decking. In a moment, wind rushing under its wings, it burst free of the haze collecting above the summit of the mountain and flashed east into the clear air.

The Palatine Hill, Rome

An ewer of wine rattled sharply, then danced across the edge of the tabletop and tipped clattering to the floor. Galen leapt up at the unexpected sound and then swayed drunkenly. Anastasia, still holding Aurelian's arm, felt the room jump and the rattle and crash of toppling vases and statuary was obscenely loud. Plaster dust cascaded from the ceiling in a white mist. The Emperor fell backward, striking the dining couch, and fell over onto the floor. Distantly, the Duchess could hear shouts of fear and the clanging of alarm bells. The floor steadied, though there was still a queasy feeling in the air.

"An earth tremor?" Galen grasped the edge of the couch and pulled himself up. "I've never heard of such a thing in Rome!" Plaster dust settled on his brown hair.

Aurelian stood as well, his bearded face streaked with tears. "What do we do?"

"A doorway or arch," said Anastasia, striding to the heavy archway that led out onto the balcony overlooking the Forum. "It is safest there."