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Chapter Thirty

Beyond the Gate

Natalya Baston

Everything in this place reminded Natalya of the dead. From the dead ground to the blood-colored sky, to the flesh-eating ghouls, and now this forest. The bare trees were nature’s corpses, and this was their mass grave.

The dry, cracked trunks extended up into the sky, taller than anything she’d seen before. Their shadows cast in the red light had the appearance of clawed fingers reaching out to grab at the group of soldiers. It was a forbidding sight.

When they looked back in the direction of the mounds, the army of ghouls was still there, waiting.

Forward, then.

They walked for half a day in a direction that only Natalya could tell was southwest, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the ghouls as possible. Normally soldiers liked to complain about marching, but getting across this land as fast as possible was an idea that all of them could get behind. The monotony of the desert was replaced by the fear and paranoia of the dead forest. Silence followed their movements. No bird calls. No snapping twigs in the distance.

Either nothing was out there, or whatever lived among the graveyard of trees was silent enough to give nothing away.

They’d lost several soldiers, but surprisingly the mad scout, Eliv, had survived without so much as a scratch. He had the features of one of the southern Rolmani clans, so that made him kin. She’d been blessed by the huntress, but she didn’t know which of the Rolmani gods had claimed him. He must have held some kind of gift to end up drafted into the Tsar’s army. At one point she approached him, and asked in Rolmani, “Are you well, brother?” He’d not responded at all, and that made her wonder what manner of horrors a man had to see to lose his ability to communicate. Or worse, why was the man choosing not to.

A few hours later, Natalya stopped in a small, natural clearing, and looked back at Kristoph, who appeared utterly exhausted. Normally she would try to pick some place defensible, but everything here was so unrelentingly the same that was impossible. This land wasn’t natural. It was more like someone who had never been to the wilderness had been asked to draw it.

“This will do. We need to rest. Eat.” She knew none of the soldiers would feel much like eating, but otherwise they would lose their strength. And when they slept, it would be a restless, nightmare-filled one. But it was better than nothing.

Kristoph nodded. “Yes. A fine choice, Ms. Baston. We shall make camp here.”

The infantry were glad to stop. A few of them had received minor wounds during the battle and needed the chance to change the bandages. The fact that they had no serious injuries was a miracle, until the realization set in that was because everyone who had been latched onto by the ghouls hadn’t made it out at all.

The Wall had been bringing up the rear with their noisy machine, though it wasn’t nearly so loud here as she was used to. Illarion was still driving, and it was odd to see an Object move so quickly between trees without so much as tripping over a root.

Chankov looked around the clearing, nervous. “We finally have the fuel for a fire, but I don’t think we should start one.”

Not only was it too hot, Natalya worried that the spirits of this haunted place would take that as an insult.

Thankfully Kristoph said, “I agree. This forest may have saved us from the ghouls, but it feels like it’s watching us, laughing. Waiting for us to let our guard down. Ah. That is the sense of familiarity that has been plaguing me. I am reminded of the darker alleys in Cobetsnya. It is not a question of if something awaits us in the shadows, but what.”

Once Object 12 was safely in the middle of the clearing, Illarion dismounted. She was glad to see he was in one piece. Despite his attempts to hide his gifts, there could be no doubt after how he’d driven that armor today. She had been too busy leading them through the forest to get a head count, but thankfully it appeared that every member of the Wall had survived the fight. Igor Verik had their worst injury, having been raked by claws, but the little man seemed fine. Little being a relative term, because the smallest man on the Wall was still far larger than any of the infantry. She wanted to go talk to Illarion, but Chankov had the Wall service 12 before they saw to their own needs. Rest and food could wait. Keeping their Object working would likely make the difference between life and death.

The group was weary and splattered with monster filth, but Darus still made sure to post watch. He had his men attend their weapons while he personally checked on every wounded man’s bandages. He may have been inexperienced, but his men listened to him. Darus was turning out to be a fine officer. If they survived their trek through the Sisters’ Hell, Darus would either be rewarded with a prestigious post as a reward for his bravery and leadership, or he’d executed or banished for being too competent.

Once their duties were attended to, the soldiers could relax. Or as close to relaxation as one could get in Hell. Natalya got a can of beans from their supplies and sat down next to Illarion to eat. He gave her a weary nod, before going back to his rations.

Darus sat down across from them, his face drawn. “I’ve never . . . I’ve only ever seen one ghoul before, and that was at a distance. Even in the large battles where they come to take the dead, I’ve never heard of more than a handful showing up.”

Illarion spoke as he ate. “The only time I’ve ever seen them before was in the battle in the rain. We couldn’t see them all at once, but I doubt there were more than a dozen.” He shook his head again in disbelief. “There had to be thousands of them back there.”

The others couldn’t see as far as she could. They had no idea how many more mounds there had been, a line of them stretching to the north and south. If all those other mounds held as many ghouls as the ones they’d crossed, the combined armies of Kolakolvia, Almacia, and everyone else would probably fall to them. During their march, she had seen the occasional ghoul tracks, but they’d always been one or two, and the tracks often vanished as suddenly as they began. She assumed that meant the creatures could enter Novimir whenever they wanted, without needing a blood storm or a cairn. Which made sense, since she’d seen them crawl out of the ground often enough to feed on corpses. She’d never dreamed there would be so many of the damned things here.

After a brief silence, Natalya said, “I’m sorry about your men, Darus.”

His smile was sad. “They knew the risks. But thank you. I’m not particularly religious, but . . . but I hope their souls, or whatever part of the dead goes on into the next life . . . well, I hope being here doesn’t stop my soldiers from moving on.”

“This world and ours are linked.” Natalya waved a hand at the sky. “Just like I can tell where the stars, sun, and moon should be, I think the souls of the departed will find their way to move on. They will be fine, Darus.”

Darus smiled again, and lowered his head in a small bow of thanks at her.

Natalya thought back to the fight. It was a blur now, but she’d nearly died. She’d been knocked down. A ghoul had jumped onto her back, but one of the infantrymen had pulled it off her. She’d gotten up and gone back to the fight, but a moment later, she’d seen the soldier die with a ghoul’s mouth buried in his neck.

“Who was the red-haired soldier?” She asked. “He saved my life.”

“That was Oleg Rostoyev. If he’d been a little bulkier, I think he may have been drafted into the Wall.” Darus laughed at a memory. Wistfully, as though he was thankful to have experienced it. “Oleg was always hungry. Always. Complained about it constantly. When we weren’t in the trench, he’d barter physical labor for extra rations. He was a good man.”

“And the others?” Natalya asked, wanting Darus to remember them as they were before their violent deaths.

“Bartosh Zalavich and Yacob Lastic. Did you know those two hated each other? They were always at each other’s throats accusing the other of stealing their food. The accused would deny it, of course. Turns out they were both telling the truth. You know who was stealing all their food?”

Illarion chuckled. “Oleg?”

“Poor hungry Oleg.” Darus’ smile faded. “Good men. I’m glad they died fighting. If their time was up, better to go out in a righteous fight doing something good than rotting away or getting gassed in a trench.”

“I was in my Object during the gas attack. Were you in the trenches when it hit?”

Darus shook his head. “My platoon had been sent over the top, but we were on the far south end of the 303 where it angles southeast, so we caught it late. We were fighting the Almacians when we saw the cloud bearing down on us. Nobody warned us it was coming.”

Chankov sat down next to the group but didn’t interrupt. Over his shoulder, Kristoph sat eating his rations, but Natalya knew he was listening. Everyone was. Even Eliv.

“The Almacs were . . . I don’t know . . . crazed? None of them were stopping to actually fight. They were shooting and running, but mainly just running. We didn’t understand why at first . . . I tackled one, and he didn’t even try to kill me. No really. He just wanted to get away. I stabbed him a couple times. Instead of grabbing his wounds like you would expect, he looked over his shoulder. That was when I noticed the cloud. Then I heard more screams, but these . . . they . . . I’ve never heard anything like it. Hope I never do again.”

“Their soldiers were running from their own poison,” Natalya said.

“That’s what we realized later, but right then we didn’t run. I mean, it was just gas. We’ve been gassed before. You breathe through a wet cloth, it stings your eyes, and you move on. But then we saw what it was doing. People were just . . . dissolving.” He shuddered. “At that point we stopped fighting and helped everyone get out of its path. Didn’t matter if they were ours or theirs. No one should die like that. How did we not know? How could they surprise us that way? We’re supposed to have spies warning us—”

He cut off abruptly, looking toward Kristoph. Because a regular soldier should never question the competence of his superiors. Kristoph didn’t so much as look up from his meal.

“You’re right,” Natalya said. “You should have known it was coming.” Every face in the camp turned toward her. Natalya knew she shouldn’t have said anything, but some of these men had just died to save her life. They deserved the truth. “I saw that gas months ago, when the Almacians were testing it on animals. I ran straight back to Cobetsnya and reported it.”

Darus seemed astounded. “Why wouldn’t they do anything?”

She knew she should have stopped there or made up a lie. She needed Kristoph alive to write his damned letter to get her parents out of the gulag, but the harshness of this place made her too tired to lie. To hell with Kristoph. Natalya nodded toward the Oprichnik, “I told him.”

Now all eyes were on Kristoph.

“You knew?” Chankov demanded. “Who did you pass the information onto?”

Kristoph gave Chankov a look like he was an obnoxious fly buzzing around his food while he was trying to eat. “It was reported through proper official channels. That is all you need to know, Sotnik.”

“How do you feel about staying in Hell permanently, Commissar?” one of the Wall muttered under his breath.

The monstrous bodyguard turned slightly toward that perceived threat, but Kristoph sighed and held up one hand. “Stay, Vasily. I am afraid our poor comrade has been shaken by recent events and is not thinking rationally.”

“I think we’re going to need an explanation, Kristoph,” Illarion said, his voice was calm. Dangerous. Natalya had never heard him speak in that tone before.

“Except I am not in the business of explaining myself to anyone. Why would I begin now?”

“Because I don’t think even your supernatural bodyguard could stop all of us,” the same soldier who’d made the previous threat said.

“Easy, Lourens,” Chankov said.

Eliv laughed, hysteria at its edges.

“Blaming me accomplishes little, comrades,” Kristoph said with mock earnestness. “After all, we are all in this together.”

Suddenly, Lourens stood, snatched up a rifle, and pointed it at Kristoph’s head. “Talk, damn you!”

“Vasily, deal with him.” Except nothing happened as Kristoph said that. Natalya had seen how lightning quick Cursed could be, yet Vasily just stood there motionless while his charge was threatened. Kristoph looked more annoyed that his monster wasn’t jumping to his defense, than the fact there was a rifle aimed at his face. Kristoph sighed. “So that is the measure of the situation, then. I suppose I should not be surprised . . . ”

“Strelet Pavlovich, put that weapon down!” Chankov shouted. “That’s an order.”

“He knew about the gas, sir!” Lourens’ hands were shaking so badly that the bayonet mounted on the end of the rifle was rattling. “Who else knew? Who else didn’t warn us? Who else left us to die? Who left her to die?”

Most of the soldiers were too stunned to react. A couple had grabbed their weapons, but they didn’t know where to point them. Illarion started to stand but Natalya grabbed his arm. There was nothing he could do but get himself in more trouble. The Kolaks hated the Oprichniks, but they’d also been conditioned to fear them. If one policeman got murdered in a village, the whole village would be burned. If a soldier hurt one, his whole unit might get executed as traitors.

Chankov slowly walked toward Lourens, hands open in front of him. “Don’t do this.”

“Pavlovich, is it? If you lower that gun, I will dismiss this outburst as a manifestation of combat fatigue brought about by the stress of our current environment.” Kristoph’s voice was utterly cold and factual. “However, if you do not, then I will have to assume that you are willfully threatening the life of one of the Tsar’s chosen servants while demanding that I give up state secrets. Such bold acts of treason rarely end well for the perpetrators.”

The man from the Wall had his finger on the trigger and was clearly furious enough to shoot. Natalya was torn. Part of her would have loved to see Kristoph’s brains fertilizing the forest, but she also needed him alive to write that letter to get her parents freed from the gulag.

“Lourens, use your head, man,” Illarion pleaded. “This isn’t going to bring her back.”

“Svetlana didn’t have to suffocate in a metal coffin!”

“Listen to your comrade, and use your head,” Kristoph said as he looked toward his useless bodyguard. “Ask yourself who is above me. There is only one man I report to.”

“The Chancellor,” Lourens snarled.

“I speak no names, but if that is the conclusion you draw, who am I to stop you? Pretend, for a moment, your conclusion is correct. Perhaps then you would wonder why the Chancellor would keep such a threat secret? Look around you.” Kristoph spread his hands wide. “This is why. If you set aside emotion, you may begin to understand the true enormity of the situation we all find ourselves in.”

“What?” Darus asked, confused.

Illarion said, “I see. Sufficient death makes a doorway. This is all just an experiment to him.”

“Is the Chancellor really that evil?” a soldier asked, genuinely curious.

Kristoph laughed. “If you believe I am a heartless bastard and murderer, you would be right. Every terrible thing you imagine I am guilty of, I am, and far worse. And if you think Illarion Glazkov there is one of the last good men in the empire, I would be inclined to agree. The contrast between Glazkov and I is great. The contrast in evil between the Chancellor and myself is even greater. Why do you think he sent me for this mission? Why do you think my nearly indestructible bodyguard doesn’t step in front of the bullet meant for me? If Nicodemus Firsch wanted the only other agent who knew about the gas threat silenced, this mission is an easy way to do it without having any awkward questions about my demise.”

Natalya noticed that as Kristoph was speaking, Vasily’s blindfolded eyes were fixed upon him.

“I think you oversell your being a victim a bit,” Chankov said, stopping just out of bayonet’s reach of Lourens.

“If anything, I undersell it.”

“So the Chancellor just let us be slaughtered by the thousands on a whim?” Lourens demanded.

“Such a man does not have whims. The Chancellor does nothing without great calculation. If he saw a chance to win the war with Almacia once and for all, and open the path to conquer his old homeland, of course he would take it. Major bloodshed now, or perhaps apocalyptic bloodshed in the near future. Which would you choose? If you were in his shoes, and you had the opportunity to seize all your goals, would you have thrown it all away and warned everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Typical,” Kristoph scoffed.

“What does the Chancellor think he’s going to get from this place to make it worth it?” Chankov asked, obviously trying to use a calm tone to keep Lourens from getting their whole unit condemned as traitors.

“I assume what every great man wants. Power. His means for attaining said power still elude me, however. He knows far more about this world than we do. I would love to know what he wants with it.”

“To stop him?”

Kristoph snorted. “I merely speak in hypotheticals. I am not the one brazenly committing treason in front of witnesses. By the way, I may have failed to mention before, but if Strelet Pavlovich murders me, you all will be unable to ever return home.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chankov asked.

“Do you suppose we can just find the stone gateway and stroll out? You may hate me, and you may harbor . . . I believe we shall say ‘concerns’ . . . for the Chancellor’s motivations. But perhaps you could afford us with a little credit? You have to know how to bring a gateway to life, and among this motley crew I happen to be the only one who knows how. Without me, you will be stuck here forever.”

“What about him?” Lourens jerked his head toward Eliv. “He made it back.”

“Do you wish to tell them, Eliv? Or should I?” Kristoph made a big show of looking at the mad scout, but the man seemed as uncommunicative as ever. “Me, then. Very well. According to the Chancellor’s research, each gate is different. Eliv escaped through a different one, which, sadly for you, is several weeks journey back on the other side of the ghoul line.”

“Figures,” Chankov said. “Alright, Lourens. I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life eating dust and fighting ghouls. I want to go home, so come on, kid, give me the rifle.”

“He’s lying!” Lourens cried.

“Maybe. But I can’t risk everyone else’s life to find out.”

Except Lourens shook his head, determined, as he tightened his grip on the rifle. “No. This is for Svetlana.”

Natalya fully expected Kristoph’s skull to pop, except Chankov was extremely quick for his size, and he managed to strike the bayonet and shove it aside just as Lourens yanked the trigger. The bullet smashed into the dirt.

Chankov roared as he cut his palm on the blade, but then his other fist came around in a mighty blow that caught Lourens in the temple and knocked him senseless. Several other soldiers immediately jumped on Lourens’ unconscious form.

Kristoph calmly looked at the new hole in the ground next to his knee. “Thank you for dealing with that insubordinate, Sotnik Chankov. Rest assured, I will be sure to put in a glowing recommendation about you in my report . . . now if you would please carry out the remainder of your duty and kill the traitor.”

“The hell we will,” Chankov held up his bleeding hand and pointed it at the trencher who had just drawn his knife. The soldier took one look at the furious Chankov and hurried and sheathed it. “I need every man I can get to keep that Object running, and so do you if you expect to make it out of here alive.”

“Well then, this is a surprise coming from you, Sotnik. Perhaps my recommendation will not be that glowing after all. But very well. He is in your custody, and therefore is your responsibility. Doubtless he will face a tribunal once we return to the empire. In the meantime, see to it he causes no more trouble.”

“All I know,” Chankov spat, “is I want to stop the Almacians from gassing more of us to death. All this other stuff about magic, and power, and here . . . that’s all above my pay grade. You’re an ass, Kristoph—no better than a common commissar—but if even half of what you say about the Chancellor is true, then I don’t want to play the game on his terms.”

“I appreciate your support,” Kristoph said. Natalya noticed the slightest flinch when Chankov had compared him to a commissar.

“The Dead Sister can strangle you for all I care. I’m not supporting shit. And I won’t shed a tear when a ghoul sticks its tongue through your eye to eat your brain. In fact, I may just ask it if it needs a little salt to make you more palatable. There is no lesser evil between you and the Chancellor. Evil is evil. Your organization got a lot of people killed. A lot of my friends. The only reason I’m not getting in Object 12 and splitting you and your monster in half right now is because in the off chance you’re telling the truth, and we complete this mission, then we might potentially save a few of my friends down the road. But give me a minute. I might change my mind.”

As Illarion and the other members of the Wall finished restraining their comrade, Natalya noted that the altercation had made the already low mood of the group even worse. Kristoph simply went back to his supper. He saw her watching him eat.

“We are a long way from the Golden Swan, are we not, Ms. Baston? Do you now wish you had sampled the duck there?”

Natalya turned her back on him and tried to get some rest.

Eliv looked to be asleep, but every so often he would chuckle. Something was very wrong with the scout. He had survived in this world for months, and obviously didn’t want to be back here—another victim of the Chancellor neatly getting rid of anyone who was a potential threat. And yet Eliv stayed with them, even though he probably could have snuck off at any time.

Natalya stared at the sky, wishing she could see the stars and hoping she could divine a hopeful outcome in them.



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