Thomas Harlan - The Gate of fire

"Told by whom?" Arad reached down and touched the girl's shoulder. She rose up, slim as a reed, and nestled against the hard muscle of his body. "Who rules this place?"

The girl looked up, her eyes bright in adoration. Her breath tickled his chest. "The lord of all the world, master. This is his an-na-ki, his heaven upon the earth. You are the most blessed of his servants, dwelling among us in this garden."

Arad looked around, seeing only the pleasant walls of the tent. "What is outside?" His voice trembled, feeling strange fear at the thought that something unknown might lurk beyond the saffron and ultramarine walls. "I must see."

"No, my lord… is it not better to lie here with me, to have every pleasure to your hand?"

Arad turned and stepped out of the tent, though the delicate fingers of the black-haired girl trailed along his arm. Outside, he found himself on the top of a hill of green grass that swept down to a lake of cerulean blue. Orchards heavy with fruit rose from rich soil all around. Below, at the verge of the lake, maidens sported in the water, their tan bodies silhouetted against the warm waters. Above, a sky of pale blue-white covered the world, spotted with fleecy clouds and a warm, forgiving sun.

Arad felt the heat of that sun on his face and turned away, looking behind him. Twin mountains rose up in the distance, capped with snow. Storm clouds swirled over one, while the other stood in sunlight. A fragrant breeze caressed his face. He frowned, for a strong memory rose out of the depths of his thought, breaching like leviathan in the sea of his consciousness.

"I do not belong here," he said aloud, his hand going to his face again. "These are not the Offering Fields! Where are the guides and the judges?"

The sun flickered and grew dim. The maidens sporting in the waters looked up and then fled, crying out in dismay. Arad looked around in apprehension, seeing the rich orchards and fields of wheat shimmer and fade away. Darkness flooded into the world, and a dim, flickering glow emerged where the bright sun had once stood.

"There are no judges here," came a voice, strong and powerful and filled with great amusement. "There is only I, the Lord of the World."

Arad turned, and a dreadful chill touched his heart. Out of the darkness a figure came, tall and lean, with a narrow head and a sweeping mane of ebon hair. Robes of night fell from the figure's shoulders, and a shirt of blood red silk glittered like scales on his chest. Pale yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light.

"I know you," Arad said, forcing sound from a throat constricted by the memory of horrible and endless pain. "We struggled on the Plain of Towers-I cast out your creature, the dhole that you had summoned from the black abyss."

"Yes," Lord Dahak said, canting his head like a hunting wolf, a sly smile on his face. "But you failed, and the city was thrown down in ruin."

Arad staggered, remembering horrors and the wailing of tens of thousands.

"I broke the memory of the city," whispered the figure in the pooling darkness, "but I did not forget you, O my beloved pet. You I brought forth in state, though your body was torn and cold."

Arad remembered, and shuddered at the defilement of his body. He looked down, seeing smooth flesh and strong muscle where only corruption and worms and the bitter taste of embalming salts had been.

"Now you are strong again, your body restored by the breath of the keeper-of-the-dead. Your mind is almost whole; soon the healing will be complete and you will know all that you knew before, comprehend all that has transpired. Your skills will return."

"This pleases you?" Arad's voice was thick with contempt. "I will only raise power against you. I will strike you down and drive you from the world of men."

"Will you?" Dahak laughed, and stepped out of the shadow. Arad felt cold air eddy around him and realized that the beautiful garden had wholly vanished, leaving only a cold stone room with a bed of rushes and rough woolen blankets behind. "Serve me, O risen man. Show me the proper respect-the respect due your lord… No. Your King."

Arad opened his mouth, a furious retort on his lips, but found himself instead kneeling before the dark figure. Unbidden, though his mind raged against it, his forehead pressed against the rough stone of the floor in the "little" proskynesis. His mouth, though his will strove to silence it, issued words.

"Yes, dread lord. As you command, so I obey."

"Good," Dahak said, laughing, a chill sound reminiscent of children drowning under thick ice. "Rise up, noble Arad"-and in his singsong voice was a great laughter at some joke known only to the sorcerer-"rise up and come with me. There are things to be done."

In his mind, Arad struggled to command his arms and legs, but they followed the sorcerer eagerly.

– |C'hu-lo leaned against a wall of worked stone, idly looking out a tall, thin window. The window was tall-over five feet-set high on the peak of the mountain, and looked out over ramparts of black stone and walls of obsidian. From what he could see, a pitch of almost three hundred feet yawned under the sill, and there was neither a bar nor shutters to close it off. Far below, he could make out-for his eyesight was better than that of most men-the smokes and fumes that rose from the floor of the valley. The sight of that valley had troubled him as they had ridden up the long stone road from the Iron Gate. It was thick with buildings-storehouses, barns, foundries, tanning sheds, workshops-and all the appurtenances of a great city. The valley had been filled with people; men with spades and picks; soldiers marching in file, carrying long spears; women with heavy bundles-all coming and going.

He hooked a thumb into his belt, checking to see that the knife secreted within was still there. He and his men had submitted to a great indignity when they had yielded up their curved swords and bows upon entering the mountain. But no T'u-chueh would go anywhere-even under guest-oath-without some kind of blade. Another, a flat-headed stabbing knife, was still in his boot. This hidden place intrigued him as little had done in years. There was a power here, a strong power. He smoothed his long mustache and turned away from the window. A fire burned in the wall grate, and there was wine and freshly killed meat on the table. He did not touch them. Instead, he smiled and carefully examined the walls and furniture.

His time in the court of the Celestial Emperor had not been wasted. He had learned a great deal there, under the unsuspecting tutelage of the ministers of the Jade Court. His fingertips found a crack in the wall counterclockwise from the door, and he rubbed them together. A little grit came away.

A door in use, he thought to himself. He turned, alert, brushing the grit away on the side of the table.

The door swung open, and a naked man entered. C'hu-lo raised an eyebrow and smiled at the sight. It was not warm in the room. The man was dark brown, with long straight black hair and a noble profile. The man turned and stood against the wall. Another figured entered, and C'hu-lo snarled involuntarily, seeing something out of legend enter the waking world. An old prayer to the god of storms flashed through his mind, preparing his soul for immediate death.

"Ah," the figure of a man said, this thing with the eyes of a serpent and the cold aura of the corpse-feeders. "Lord C'hu-lo, once the yabghu of the western T'u-chueh-those called the Hephthalite Huns by the Persian scribes at the court of the King of Kings. Welcome."

C'hu-lo inclined his head, as was proper when greeting the king of another nation. The cold thing waved a hand to the chair set before the grate.

"Please, sit with me so that we may talk. I am Dahak, the master of this valley."

Curiosity and great fear warred in C'hu-lo's heart, but the thing-for he knew without any doubt that this was no man, though it wore a man's shape-seemed polite and to understand the business of guest-hearth and hospitality. The steppe-lord moved carefully to the leftmost chair and sat, turning it so that he might see both doors. Lord Dahak sat as well, folding one leg under the other with easy grace. The naked man remained standing against the wall.