Samples from books that we have published under the Eartherean Press imprint.
This is another in a series from the first book in the 4-book series The Doom-Quest of Ara-Karn: The Former King.
© 1981 by A. Adam Corby
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License. The license is included as an appendix to this work.
The Gates of Gerso
MASSIVE AND ANCIENT, the Gates of the Gerso flung themselves across the narrow Pass forbiddingly, like a part of the mountains themselves. Indeed, from the end of the Pass, the Gates could not be distinguished from the mountain walls.
Two score hundred paces down from the pine-mantled hills, the mountains abruptly lost all vegetation, sweeping steeply up against the sky: grim, gray, forbidding, vast. They narrowed as well, coming so close together that at their closest point a man might throw a stone from mountain to mountain. And here, thousands of feet below the ice-capped peaks, down in the womb of the vertical cleft of stone, the walls of Gerso had been built.
They had been built of gigantic gray blocks of stone, hewn as if by giants out of the unyielding bowels of these very mountains. Block upon enormous block had been fitted, so snugly that not even the thief’s-fingers of water could slip between them to crumble and to crack them. So that now, generation upon generation upon generation after the walls had been built, they stood as upright, sheer, and pristine as on the sunlight of their first Summer.
And of all the fortresses, keeps, and citadels of all the round world, none was deemed so impregnable as the Gerso, save perhaps only one, which sat in the very bosom of the distant Empire with no enemies near: the Black Citadel of Elna itself, on the rocky crags above Tarendahardil. Only that could have been deemed more secure than the Gerso. And it was because of the reputation of the hardness of these walls that those of the lush green lowlands beyond thought themselves safe from those they had condemned and imprisoned in the rocky wilderness of the far North so very long ago. And it was because of the reputation of the hardness of these walls that the civilized peoples felt so secure, and had put away their swords and put on fat instead, to slumber their lives away.
And Gerso, too, felt herself secure. And though she posted guards to walk those ancient, crackless walls, there were too few of them, and those not adequately trained. In all obedience to the traditions of their long-voyaged ancestors they walked the peaks of those walls. And their feet fell in the ancient, selfsame spots on the stone worn smooth by the passage of countless feet, all of them also upon the selfsame duty. They walked, changed guards, called out their time-honored calls; watched the traders come and go, saw ponies burdened with worked goods go forth and those laden with bandar pelts return; chatted among themselves, threw carved dice on bets when their commanders weren’t around to see. And when their watch was over, they hung up their armor on the ancient stone pegs in the armory, went down the winding, hollowed steps leading to the cityside, and led peaceful lives with their wives and happy fat children. And though all who passed below them commanded their momentary attention, their eyes were more often turned to the shining domes and red stone palaces of the city within than upon the sandy narrow plain without, which formed the floor of the Pass.
Below the guards, built into the body of the walls, were the Gates themselves. Of these there were two sets: the larger gates were of stone, which none living had ever seen open: these were for the passage of great armies into the wilds of the far North, to harass the barbarians and keep them forever few and fearing. Such had been Elna’s intention; but it was long centuries since any armies had passed those gates. They were too cumbersome, too difficult to close once opened, for the passage of individual merchants, when trade began between North and South. So the second, smaller gates had been fashioned, at great expense, by the side of the older stone ones. These new gates were of brass, and were just the size to allow a few men and their horses to pass through for the purposes of trade.
The guard had but recently been changed, so that most of the guardsmen were still within the barracks room or the armory, when the sound reached the gates.
The guards came out onto the worn ruts upon the summit of the walls and looked above them. It happened often enough that rocks rolled down the steep slopes above them, though that season had passed. Yet the guards saw no rocks falling. And the sound had come not from above but below.
It came from the pine-mantled bills beyond the Pass, and it came from the sand- and gravel-washed floor of the Pass. Then the guards smiled and nodded their heads; now that the sound grew louder, they knew it well. It was the sound of some merchants on their ponies with their bundled metal wares clanking along behind them. Then the guards frowned and looked one another in the eye. It was too early in the year for any merchants to be setting forth, and these sounds were from the northern side.
The guards leaned forward, casting forth their glances to the end of the Pass. The sounds of the riders, rising louder and more distinct, were echoed and re-echoed off the sheer hard walls of the cliffs; yet the men themselves could scarcely be made out as yet. The guards upon the walls cast some bets as to how many would be in the party and what their business was. Shortly thereafter the coins changed hands, and one of the men smiled broadly, having won both bets, for the band was of four men above a score, and they wore the garb of barbarians. The victorious gambler leaned over the parapet, unfurled his cloak, and waved it at the men below, as if to thank them for his luck. Something gleamed off the barbarians, but what it was could not be made out. The man with the cloak made a bet as to what it might be.
Now the riders had come into the shadow of the Gates. One of them, so small he seemed no more than a mouse to be trod upon, rode out ahead of the others, came up to the gates of brass, and lifted up his tiny sword. Holding it by the blade, he reached forward and pounded with the pommel upon the costly brass three times.
The sound of that pounding produced a distant, hollow tolling, which reached up to the ears of the guardsmen on the summit of the crackless walls. And such were the angles of those precipitous cliffs that the sound of the knocking echoed off the walls and the sides of the mountains and filled the entire vale of the Pass, sounding like the tolling of a tremendous, unceasing bell of mourning of the dead. The captain of the guard cursed jocularly and buckled on his head his official brass helmet, which he rarely wore because it had not been made quite large enough. And he went down the winding hollow stairs to the Pass side and opened one of the brass doors. He looked out over the armed barbarians with a squinting eye.
Now, barbarians came betimes through these gates, usually to buy their pleasure in the fleshpots of the city. Yet those were only wretched fellows dressed in ragged pelts and soiled worn tunics, and never in numbers greater than ten. The sight of that score of grim, avid warriors in their shining mail the captain liked not at all.
‘Let us through,’ said the barbarian who had pounded upon the gates with his sword.
‘Who are you?’ countered the captain. He was a big fellow with a large belly and a round face fit more for smiling. But he was not one to be cowed – not even by such an armed warrior on horseback leading other such.
‘I am Ara-Karn.’
Though the man had spoken calmly, the walls of the cliffs caught up his words, hurling them back and forth, until the winds brought them up to the summit of the walls and back down again, louder than before. ‘What do you want?’ asked the captain.
‘For you to open the larger gates of stone and let my men pass.’
The captain looked upon those chests of iron and leather and bronze with a dubious eye. ‘So you can go thieving in the alleyways of our city?’ he asked. ‘Not likely.’
‘Kill him,’ ordered Ara-Karn.
The captain suddenly took alarm at this and tried to slam the door shut in their faces. But Gundoen lifted his great bow and shot an arrow right through the soft bronze armor, and the captain fell dead.
‘Kill them all!’ cried Ara-Karn, raising his weirdly echoing voice against those crackless walls. ‘Death to all Southrons!’
He plunged through the open brass door, his pony trampling the captain’s corpse. Gundoen and the other picked men quickly followed him. And what remained of the captain, after those ponies had cantered past, was not a pleasant thing to see.
The guards atop the broad walls knew that something was amiss. They shouted down their questions. In return the warriors below who had remained outside the gate lifted high their bows. The guardsmen laughed to see the toylike men below, milling angrily about; they knew no such ragged bandits would ever pierce their Gates.
The darting arrows flew high. Some fell short, rattling harmlessly off the stone below; and others flew too high and soared over the walls altogether, falling down into the city streets beyond. But the rest swept over the walls, wounding several of the guardsmen. The rest of them fell back in consternation as two of the wounded men fell over the edge of the wall. Their bodies plummeted like thunder to the earth. The nearby ponies reared, neighing in terror, but from the savage throats rose a shout of triumph.
The guards were suddenly afraid as they had never been before; their fear was like that of the barbarians when the eclipse of Goddess had come. They fled their posts in terror and scrambled down the winding steps that led to the cityside. The more stouthearted of them went down the steps to the barracks rooms within the huge walls. They went down to defend the brass doors and the ancient mechanisms that controlled the gates of stone.
They found only death and destruction before them, and savages with smoking blades who shouted at the sight of them and leapt up the steps to the attack.
Before that onslaught the guards fell back. They had not been adequately trained, and their training had been long ago, and they none of them had ever killed a man, and their bronze armor was suited more to look pretty in the sun than stop iron blades. And against them went warriors with the hardness of wolves, bearing the scars of a score of deadly combats. And it was not long before the last of the stouthearted of the guardsmen lay weltering in gore upon the hollowed stone steps.
The other guards ran out of the brass doors of the city-side. They had to gain help, inform the Governor-General. The savages who had attacked the gates had been only two dozen in number, but the guards in their fear did not think of that. The undreamt of had come to pass. The old prophecies rose in their minds that the barbarians would rise again. Twenty-four became a hundred in their minds; the piny hills beyond the Pass seemed to have been crawling with innumerable savage foes. Some ran to the quarters of the city watch to rouse the men there; others ran for the towers, there to mount the winding stairs and swing hammers against the bells to alert the city; still others ran for the palace of the Governor-General.
The palace was not far from the Gates. The guards scrambled through the courtyard, looking like wild men. Angrily the house-guards demanded of them their business.
‘The Governor-General!’ croaked the guards. ‘The Porekan! Let us through!’
‘Imbeciles!’ shouted the major-domo, twirling his mustache. ‘Are you toddlers with wet linens? Away, you cannot see the Porekan now. Don’t you know he has a dinner party in progress?’
§
EVEN THEN, at the far side of the palace on the cool, pillared terrace overlooking the city, several gentlemen and ladies reclined on cushions around a low table made of the finest, purest marble.
‘More wine, good Telran?’
‘Most honored Porekan, as superb as your wine is, I fear I must refuse. I feel as though I have had just the right amount, and any more would spoil the effect, as it were.’
The Governor-General of Gerso waved the serving maid back to her place of readiness. Zaristin, the Porekan Del-bar’s wife, offered the observation that the dinner party had been a fine one.
‘Ah! most esteemed lady, I fear such a word could hardly hope to do it justice,’ said Burdelna Tovis, languidly waving his hand through the air in a gesture of supreme pleasure. ‘And for that, believe me, you have gained my most implacable animosity.’
‘You surprise me, Burdelna,’ said the Porekanin. ‘Explain yourself, please.’
‘Why, for this reason: that now I will be more wretched than ever in three weeks’ time, when I must sit in the dirt in a hovel that would make a pig abattoir smell like arintha by comparison.’
‘You men are ever complaining of your trips amongst the savages,’ said Usaris, who was Telran Welsar’s mistress. ‘Yet if you abhor them so much, why do you not send some of your assistants in your place?’
‘Don’t even speak of assistants,’ groaned Burdelna. ‘Those who know enough to do the job well will steal one deaf, dumb, and blind and use the proceeds to start their own houses; the rest will lose one’s goods on the way out, but bargain pelts not good enough to line a public latrine – your pardon, Porekanin – and end by professing only consternation when one chokes upon one’s words and threatens to give them the beating they deserve!’
At this apt description by the Tovis, several of the merchants present broke into sympathetic and appreciative laughter. Usaris, with all the delicate, calculated grace of a beautiful stylish woman who knows to exactness her every effect upon her male watchers, rose to her feet and glided over to the railing of the balcony. The Governor-General’s palace was set high up in the city, nearby the Gates; and from this balcony, which faced south, almost the whole of the city could be seen. The red roofs fell away and outward, filling the expanding plain of the Gerso. Far away, the undulating verdant pastures of the lowlands could be seen. Usaris sighed, thrilled to her marrow at the beauty of the sight. Telran Welsar had no such view as this.
She turned and regarded the Governor-General with a more professional eye. He, drawing another breath upon the water pipe, happened to catch that look. There was a silent moment, questions and messages exchanged, and a tentative agreement. Usaris turned again over the railing, displaying her best side to the Porekan’s apparently disinterested gaze.
The Governor-General, well satisfied with himself and the authoritative figure of manhood he must present, drew in another lungful of herb and held it in his lungs until just after the pleasure had begun to transform itself into an exquisite ache.
‘Well, but I think there are reasons beyond those,’ offered Zaristin. ‘Else why should men of such wealth continue to subject themselves to a yearly trek of such toil and misery? And I have heard it said some of these barbarian women can be quite pretty, in an earthy, crude sort of way.’
‘You would not say so, reverend lady,’ said Burdelna Tovis, ‘if you could but see them squatting down in the fields, legs of a color with the mud, hands like leather gloves, and hair crawling with – yet I need go no further, surely, in distressing the ladies present with even more unappetizing pictures, accurate though they may be. Suffice it to say, dear lady, that in their artlessness and filth they do not even deserve the name of woman, especially when compared to such studied loveliness as yours.’
The Porekanin, who was then somewhat beyond the threshold of middle age and had begun to put on weight, blushed gratefully and lowered her eyes in a most lovely way; and Burdelna sipped at his silver wine cup smugly. The Governor-General would regret that he had granted those two licenses-of-trade to Telran Welsar’s house.
‘Zelatar Bonvis, I believe, has already begun to assemble his goods,’ said Leilerick Pasch.
‘Tut, he always sets out early,’ said the Welsar. ‘Old habits are hard to break, they say, in old beasts.’
‘I am surprised to hear you say so, Telran,’ offered Rathimin Coracano. ‘Especially when it was you, I believe, who was soundly cursing Zelatar for gaining an unfair advantage when his house won the perpetual right to be the first bandar traders licensed each year.’ Rathimin said this sweetly, with an air of innocence; whereat Telran Welsar scowled. The Rathimin had taken over her father’s house three years ago and had since built it up to a position of great influence – one of the five wealthiest houses in Gerso. She had a way of using her virginal, lovely face and manner that had been the deception and downfall of more than one male trading adversary. This Telran had learned to his own dismay two years ago, when he had taken pity on the poor girl, so lost in the thickets of the merchants’ ways, and had ended being taken for some seven thousand golden Elnics’ worth. Now he knew better her ways: and thought he could detect in her innocent remarks concerning Zelatar Bonvis a slight, secret air of pleasure. He wondered if the rumors were true that she and Zelatar had formed an alliance to take away his, Telran Welsar’s, pre-eminence among the merchant houses of the North. He had had several confirmed reports of Mergo Donato paying secret visits to the Rathimin’s palace.
He noticed that Usaris had taken her place at the table again, somewhat closer to the Governor-General. Let her play her games, Telran thought – he had more important concerns to occupy him now. Usaris’ expenses were growing out of hand anyway. The Porekan would doubtless find her a luxury he could ill afford; and if he could be made to feel some twinge of guilt for having taken her away from Telran, perhaps he would be more disposed to grant the extra license Telran had requested.
‘Well, certainly so shrewd a judge of men as yourself, Rathimin, with such a memory, must be ceded to,’ Telran remarked with an equable air. ‘And I must admit that, when it seemed Zelatar Bonvis would by that unfair right gain first choice of all the pelts, I was not a little distressed at it. Several I know called it favoritism and even hinted that the turning face of some golden Elnas had had not a little to do with it. Of course, I disagreed with them. There are few governments in the North with such spotless histories as our Porekanstar. Yet, when Zelatar chooses to set out so early as this, when the savages have not yet even begun preparations for their Hunt, I cannot but feel relief, and, I may confess it, not a little concern for the state of my good friend and competitor’s mental judgment. I am certain that one with such accurate sources of information as yours, dear Rathimin, can hardly be unaware that last season Zelatar lost over three thousand Elnics on his expedition. Poor man, he seems bent upon repeating his error this season.’
Telran leaned back upon the pillows, calm in the satisfaction of his last remarks. Rathimin’s face had let slip she had not known the extent of Zelatar’s losses. Let her have the taste of that dissolving on her tongue, and see what she has to say to Mergo Donato next time!
‘You don’t mean it!’ Leilerick Pasch exclaimed. ‘Did he really lose three thousand?’
‘Sadly I must confirm it,’ Burdelna Tovis said gravely. ‘All the more sadly, since my wife’s father had invested some ten thousand in Zelatar’s house. Well, but I cannot say I did not warn him – nay, entreat him even – from so rash a course.’ Burdelna did not seem so grave now.
‘And what of these other tales of the savages?’ asked Usaris of the Porekan. ‘Is it true they have a new – what do you call him – now?’
‘Warlord, my dear; and yes, that has been confirmed.’ The Governor-General laid aside the pipe and summoned one of the slaves with what he hoped was a demanding gesture. ‘Yet you need have no concern over that; in many ways I am glad to see Gen-Karn replaced. I had some disturbing reports concerning him. He seems to have been a bad one altogether.’
‘Is there such a thing as a good one?’ asked the Porekanin.
‘Certainly, madam,’ said Burdelna Tovis, ‘when he has been properly trained.’
The laughter did not further the air of dangerous gravity the Governor-General had wished to preserve. In a dignified (if somewhat pompous) manner he spoke across the laughter, saying, ‘It had reached me, that Gen-Karn’s ambition was to unite the tribes under his rule and make an assault on the Gates.’
‘How terrible!’ breathed Usaris, looking up at the Porekan from the depths of her lake-blue eyes.
‘Never fear it,’ the Governor-General said courageously. ‘My men would hold against them.’
‘Zelatar Bonvis believes that the old prophecy may soon be realized in a dozen or score’s space of years,’ said Leilerick Pasch. ‘Their numbers have been growing at an alarming rate. He believes the barbarians will rise.’
‘All the greater cause we should fear for poor Zelatar’s reason,’ said Telran Welsar, shaking his head.
‘Yet it was ever taught me, that a wise man considers all possible events, that he might thereby be prepared to deal with them,’ Rathimin Coracano said.
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Burdelna dismissed it with a wave of his hand. ‘When the savages grow too numerous, they generally solve the problem themselves, by murdering one other. By my mind it is a very convenient arrangement; and, moreover, the price they will pay for arms doubles in times of feuds.’ Burdelna owned, in part or whole, four armories and had a right to feel smug about it. His profits for this past Winter, generally his slowest time, had been tenfold his every expectation. Thankfully, he had managed to keep that news secret, so that none of his competitors might know how far his fortunes had risen.
‘They have been most extraordinarily quiet this past Winter,’ remarked Zaristin. ‘Apparently their new leader is not so ambitious.’
‘In truth,’ offered Telran, ‘we have never had much cause to fear them. They are too fractious ever to support a united effort.’
‘All the more reason we should continue to offer them arms unrestrictedly,’ said Burdelna.
‘Yet if they did come – if they did, I say,’ said the Porekan heatedly and stoutly, ‘then we should have nothing to fear. My men should hold them!’
‘What courage and fortitude it must require to be a leader of men!’ Usaris sighed.
‘Tush, my dear, hardly so great as that,’ the Governor-General remarked with a sideways glance at his wife. ‘Friend Telran, at our earlier meeting it slipped my mind entirely – I have had a letter of my cousin, the mayor of Tezmon. Shall I summon one to read it?’
‘By all means,’ said Telran quickly, disturbed that the others should know he had met with the Governor-General. ‘And what is the state of trade out of Tezmon? My shippers have complained that this past Winter’s storms went on longer than they had any right to.’
‘You shall hear all,’ said the Porekan. ‘Festor, the letter. It lies on my desk. You will never guess what Armand has purchased,’ he went on, as the slave vanished into the interior of the palace. ‘A dancing-troupe! Yes, and that is not all; the girls of this troupe were trained by a master from Vapio itself!’
There were exclamations of surprise and envy at this, which pleased the Governor-General no little. Zaristin, his wife, nodded with the others. ‘And we have been considering asking Armand,’ she said, ‘that he send the troupe here to us on loan this summer.’
‘That would be the height of culture,’ said Burdelna Tovis. ‘You know, I usually spend my Winters at Tezmon, enjoying the sea instead of the bitter snows that are our fate here. Yet this year business held me here. How pleased Armand must be!’
‘Yes,’ sighed the Governor-General with a downward, lingering glance at Usaris’ long, golden-skinned leg where it emerged gleaming from the black pleated folds of her silken skirts. ‘We are really no better than the barbarians here, you know. Eh? What’s that?’
Firmly but most apologetically, the Porekan’s major-domo bowed at the threshold. ‘My most reverend master,’ he announced, ‘a man is here – one of the guardians of the Gate – with some frightening and most urgent news.’
‘Please allow me the privilege of deciding how urgent it may be,’ said the Governor-General. ‘And, as for that word frightening, how dare you use it? Can you not see the effect it has had upon my wife and these other ladies?’
‘Pardon, your worship; yet it really does demand immediate attention,’ said the major-domo, angrily twisting at his mustache.
‘Oh, very well,’ said the Governor-General, who despite himself grew nervous at this unaccustomed behavior on the part of his servant. He fixed his eye wrathfully upon the disheveled guard. ‘Well, fellow, what have you to say for yourself? Where is your captain – and what is your name?’
The poor guard, beside himself with the turmoil he had undergone, cast his eyes about upon the assembled merchants and their companions. If the attack meant what he feared, what should become of his city? If it did not mean what he feared, what should become of him beneath the Porekan’s rage? His eyes bulged, his throat worked, but at first nothing would come forth. His knees were quavering. ‘Your honor,’ he began, then choked in despair. ‘Ara-Karn!’ he wailed. ’Ara-Karn!’
Burdelna Tovis, Telran Welsar, and several others who had some inkling of what that name was opened their mouths and paled. Usaris and the Porekanin looked each other in the eye and colored. The Governor-General’s scowl deepened. His chest swelled and he began to speak, but what he might have said is no more than a matter for conjecture, for at that very instant the terrace, the palace, the entire city itself, it seemed, was rocked in an enormous, deafening crash. The walls reverberated and the ceiling plaster cracked, dividing faced painted figures; the water pipe and wine bottles shattered; the disheveled guard was thrown to the floor headlong and lay there like one dead. So was it like as if monstrous, malevolent God had chosen that instant to stamp His foot upon the city of Gerso, thereby to announce his momentous arrival.
For several moments all lay still. Their minds and ears were blank as walls of slate. The crash lingered on and on in their skulls. Slowly, it faded. And then, in the preternatural stillness that ensued, another sound was faintly heard. The ancient bronze bells were being hammered. Again and again they tolled in the quivering air. The city was under attack.
