The Outland Gate
“You hear something, Dobb?” the thin, scruffy-faced man asked his companion. His eyes were surrounded by large black circles. Since the fires began, he had slept little. When the screaming started, he slept not at all.
“Other than the battle?” Dobber replied, gnashing his teeth on an empty pipe, not even bothering to look the other man’s way. “Not really. You’re imagining things, Pete. Who in the dead hell would want to come here?”
Four weeks ago, the pair of men had been commanded to man the Outland Gate. Rumor had it that the Outlands were swarming with the dead, but during their watch, they hadn’t seen a single being – living or dead. Because of the silence, they assumed everyone beyond the city avoided Lock Core because it was under siege, or they were already dead and infected.
Whatever the reason, both men were far more worried about what was happening in the city. People may have considered Pete slow, but even he knew the fires and the screams of the dying could mean only one thing – the Rift was opened, the full might of the Plague had returned to claim their world.
They hadn’t expected to stay on their post as long as they had, especially with no further contact with the rest of the city.
Rations were running low, as were their moods. The first to go was their tobacco, the second their brandy. As soon as those were gone, Dobber became grumpier than ever.
Empty jars and metal canisters were scattered around the tower, many of which emitted foul odors -- begging to be emptied. A bushel of half-rotting apples, a basket of figs and a quarter-dozen eggs, were all that remained of their food.
Dobber continued to gnaw on his pipe, sitting with his back to the Outlands. He only had eyes for the city, and rarely took away his gaze. His eyes were red and glossy, as if mesmerized by the burning Northern Tower.
Not for the first time, Pete questioned the logic of continuing to man their post. He knew Dobber felt the same, though he was itching to join the fighting at the Wall. All Pete really wanted was to find somewhere to hide. Considering it was well-known the Outlands were infested, the guard tower had seemed as good a place as any. That was to say, until he heard the muffled curses from down below.
Before the Outland Gate had fallen under their charge, refugees were allowed to enter the city. Though back then, there was a squadron of Death Guards stationed in their place. But still, even under the close scrutiny of the Death Guards, mistakes were made – the Plague found its way into the city, scattered outbreaks flared up. Entire neighborhoods were consumed before it was contained.
After that, the Outland Gate was closed to all.
The Death Guard doubled their forces, and turned away all who approached.
Then, the uprising occurred. It was discovered that the Keeper’s guards were infected – likely had been for some time. The Death Guard were forced to abandon their posts, moving quickly to hunt down LeCynic’s unholy creations and eradicate every last one of them.
At last count, five remained at large.
The Keeper’s soldiers were said to be demons, and killed many Death Guards before they succumbed. After the uprising, not only were the Death Guard’s ranks weakened, but a new threat was growing at the Rift, calling for every able-bodied soldier to be mobilized around the Black Door.
And now Pete knew why . . .
“There! I swear I heard something in the road,” Pete continued.
“Well, if you’re so sure, then take a look,” Dobber replied, disinterested with Pete’s fears and anything else that remotely related to his assignment. He took it as an insult to be sent to the edge of the city, when the war was being fought at its heart.
Pete, however, considered himself lucky. He was still unsure how he landed the position, nor did he wish to question such fortune. He did, however, have a strong suspicion as to how Dobber ended up there. Back at the barracks, he had heard rumors that Dobber got a little too close to the commander’s wife. For his own safety, Dobber was relocated as far as possible from the man, who was a hardened survivor of the first war of Lock Core.
“What if it’s the dead out there?” Pete asked.
“Then all the more reason to look. It’s our job, after all. But, if you ask me, all the dead are at the Black Door, where we should be.”
The curses from below became clearer, and fouler. Pete blushed beneath his scruffy beard, while Dobber’s sun-tanned complexion grew suddenly pale.
“Whoever it is, he doesn’t sound happy,” Pete said.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“You still think we should take a look?”
“May as well,” Dobber stated, with little conviction. “My ass has been getting tired from sitting here so long.”
Though not exactly the order he expected from his senior officer, Pete complied, and together they poked their heads up from the tower wall.
One look at the masked figures below, and both of them immediately ducked back down; Pete frantically trying to string an arrow to his bow.
“You there!” came a gruff call from the road.
“What do we do, Dobb?” Pete whispered, still wrestling with his bowstring. “Don’t we have to let them in?”
“I’ll handle it,” he replied, spitting out the tip of his pipe he had unwittingly bit off. He then shouted to the pair of Death Guards below. “Sorry, good sir. You’ll find no infected in this tower. I give you my word on that . . . as a gentleman.”
Pete did his best to mask his chagrin at the last part, but even so, he couldn’t keep his eyes from rolling back in his head.
“I don’t give a bloody damn about your honor, or if you’re infected or not,” the man below fumed. “If you don’t open that gate, I’ll split your skull either way.”
“Begging your pardon, but I don’t think I can do that . . . even for you. No one’s to enter the city, Keeper’s very own orders.”
“The Keeper!” the man below fumed. “Your Keeper’s a rotting son-of-a-bitch. Literally! He’s god-damn infected. To the dead with his orders.”
“I think he means LeCynic,” Pete whispered to Dobber.
“Right . . .” he replied. “They must not know”
“May LeCynic rot in hell,” Dobber cursed down to the pair. “And all his creations. We take our orders from the good lady Katerina now. In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war brewing in the city, and a plague as well. We have enough to deal with in the city without letting in the Outland infection.”
“Besides,” Pete chimed in, poking his head up for another look. “You’d be a fool to want in. Beyond this door, there’s nothing but death.”
“A fool?”
The man’s hand whitened as it constricted on the sword handle. His brown eyes filled with pulsating red veins.
Pete ducked back down, his arrow finally notched and ready.
“Let me in the gate, boy, and I’ll show you who’s a fool.”
A gentle whisper interrupted the tirade of cursing, then a sweet and soft voice spoke, “We just came from Shattered Rock, and have seen more death than you could possibly imagine. We faced the Keeper’s undead army and have survived. It’s true, we know nothing of the City’s plight, only what has befallen the Outlands. Please, let us inside. We need to tell our tale to our leader. And as members of the Death Guard, we need to join the fight for this city.”
“There is only the two of them . . . And after all, they are Death Guards.” Dobber pondered. The man always had a soft spot for women, and the sweet voice from below seemed to easily melt his reserve. “And really, what harm can they do? Other than to themselves?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Pete replied, not sure he was. The woman seemed to be a reasonable sort, but he was certain the man was going to cut him down at the first chance he could get.
“Keep your arrow on them,” Dobber said, sensing his fears. “Just in case.”
Fortunately, beyond the insults directed at their mothers, the pair of Death Guards left them alone – the female one even ignored Dobber’s best attempts at seduction. They didn’t even bother to check them for infection before dashing off into the city, where their black robes and masks soon vanished amidst the darkened streets.
Afterwards, it was relatively quiet in the tower. The fires died down in the distant sky, and the screams as well. Only the occasional moan reached their ears, but whether it was from the living or the dead, they couldn’t tell. From their position, there was little they could do either way.
Further orders never came . . . so in the meantime they continued to man their posts. The pile of apples dwindled, while the putrid smell emanating from the jars increased. Taking advantage of the respite, Pete was even able to catch up on some sleep.
Then, half sleeping during his watch, Pete once more heard something from the Outlands . . . a rhythmic pounding from the roadway below.
He nudged Dobber, motioning to the Outlands.
He took a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes, then, ever so slowly, they raised their heads over the wall . . .
. . . just as before, they immediately crouched back down.
“What do we do about them?” Pete nervously asked, not even bothering to notch an arrow this time.
“No Outland admittance . . . what the dead! Open the damn gate or I’ll smash it open,” came the thunderous voice from the road. “. . . then I’ll topple that pile of twigs and you along with it.”
“We let them in, of course,” Dobber replied. “Didn’t you see the size of him . . . and his weapon?”
Pete scampered down the tower to obey, operating the winch before the giant could make good on his threat. As soon as the door opened a crack, a meaty hand took hold of it, thrusting it open the rest of the way. Pete flew to the ground as the winch spun wildly out of control. Laying on the ground, he felt the earth shake as the massive being lumbered in. It paused to scowl down at him, gripping its gigantic war-pick tightly. Scars covered his hairy face and arms, a leather vest covered his chest.
Pete was certain he was about to be squashed by the fearsome giant, when a hooded man stepped forward; his eyes empty pits on his head. Behind him, a throng of ragged children piled into the city.
“Who is the current Keeper? What has befallen the city?” the man with the dead eyes asked, somehow able to gaze directly at Pete’s location, though obviously blind.
He felt even more frightened under his eye-less gaze than he did under the giant’s, and felt compelled to reply.
Before they left for the city, Pete told the man what he knew – which was very little. The Boulder Dwarf looked angrier than ever at his words, while the blind, old man simply looked defeated. Taking the children with them, they followed the same path as the pair of Death Guards . . .
. . . Roughly a day later, they didn’t even bother to stop the other party that arrived at their gate. The one-armed boy seemed ready to kill them with his glare. The gaunt elf lord appeared to be death itself. And the girl with the pouty lips . . .
They were embarrassed to admit it afterwards, but she disarmed them with little more than a smile.
∞
. . . Much later, another being approached the gate to Lock Core. But by the time he crawled his way to the wall of logs, the gate was already burning. And the tower was a pile of ash . . . a pair of skeletons mixed within.
The being lacked the strength to crawl over the debris, so it rested among the ashes instead. As the being was about to make peace with death, a miracle occurred . . . a globe of blue energy covered the entire city and beyond . . . it passed over him, caressing his emaciated body with gentle licks of flame.
The bald-headed elf rose to his feet, then entered the city through the Outland Gate.