Shards of the Gods

Chapter 8: The Valley of the Gate

The journey east took three days.

Nyai Kemuning had packed him a waterskin, dried bread, a handdrawn map, and a tattered cloak lined with lead thread to muffle the tracking bells. "Do not take off that cloak, even when you sleep," she warned him. "And do not stop in the open for more than an hour."

Reksa obeyed. He walked all day among giant bones, hiding in the crevices of rib cages at night, learning something new with every step. First: how to steady his hands. Whenever the golden veins began to glow, he would picture still water, just as Wiratma had taught him, and the heat would slowly die down. Second: how to tune out Sarnika.

"You walk like someone about to fall," the cold voice whispered on the second day.

"You weren't invited to speak."

"I live in your head. Everything in here is an invitation." A brief pause. "Besides, you really do walk like you're about to fall."

"Sarnika," Wiratma chided.

"I'm only helping."

Reksa decided that having two voices in his head was just as exhausting as having two neighbors arguing through the wall.

On the second night, he hid inside the hollow of a giant rib, chewing on dried bread that was as hard as stone. Outside, the sky over the Carrion Lands was pitch black and starless, as always. He had long known that the sky here was never starry, but only tonight did he wonder why.

"Wiratma. Why is the sky here always empty?"

"Because the Skyless Night never truly ended," Wiratma answered after a long silence. "Once, the sky was guarded. There were eight Gates holding up the sky, and each had a Guardian. I was the Guardian of the East. When the Gates fell one by one, the sky cracked with them."

"Eight gods held up the sky?"

"Not held up. Guarded. There is a big difference, but you wouldn't understand if I explained it now." He sighed, sounding strange since he had no lungs. "All I remember is this: we were not warring gods, Reksa. We were waiting gods. The war came from outside the Gates."

"Or from within," Sarnika murmured bitterly.

"From within?"

"Ask him," Sarnika said, and Reksa knew she meant himself. "Once you remember."

Reksa stared into the darkness outside the crevice, his bread still halfeaten in his hand, suddenly no longer feeling hungry. He thought of Bagas, who might now be sitting in a stone cell with that same calm face, telling no one anything.

That night, for the first time since Kerak was ransacked, he slept without dreaming.

On the afternoon of the third day, the terrain began to change. The giant bones grew scarcer, replaced by a vast expanse of slick black stone, cracked like dry skin. The wind stopped blowing, and the sounds that usually accompanied the Carrion Lands faded away. No birds, no insects. Even the sulfurous stench that usually stung his nose vanished, as if the place were holding its breath.

Reksa climbed a ridge and stopped.

Below him lay a vast, bowlshaped valley, and at the far end loomed two colossal stone doors, each a hundred times the height of a man. They were halfburied in the earth. Intricate carvings covered their surface, mostly cracked and overgrown with moss. In the center of each door, something glowed dimly: three golden points in a row, like three halfclosed eyes.

"The Eastern Gate," Wiratma said. His voice was quieter than usual. "That is my home."

"It's so quiet here."

"Because no one dares approach." He paused. "And because its wardens are still at work."

"Wardens?"

"I am the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Reksa. After I fell, my duty did not die with me. It merely... settled."

Reksa swallowed hard. He made his way down the slope with cautious steps, and each footprint sounded too loud in the silent valley. The closer he got, the more apparent the gate's immense scale became, and the smaller he felt.

Along the slope, he began to find things that shouldn't be there: broken spears thrust into the ground, shattered shields overgrown with moss, and in between them, pieces of rusted armor still in the shape of human bodies, as if their wearers had simply evaporated. Thousands of soldiers had apparently tried to pass this gate, and not a single one had ever left.

"Don't look at them," Wiratma said softly. "Just look ahead."

Reksa complied, though the back of his neck felt cold.

When he reached the valley floor, the air around him grew colder still.

"Stop," Sarnika whispered suddenly. Her tone was sharp. "They are coming."

"Who?"

"Left! Now!"

Reksa threw himself to the side. Something slammed into the ground where he had just stood with a sound that made the stone beneath his feet tremble. He rolled, scrambled to his feet, and looked.

Armored figures emerged from a black mist creeping out of the cracks in the ground. There were no faces behind their helms, only a shifting, dark void. Spears of solidified mist were leveled at him. There were eight, ten, and the number kept growing.

"Shadows of the Gate," Wiratma said quickly. "The remnants of my final command: repel anyone who approaches."

"Can't you tell them to stop?!"

"I am only a tiny shard! They cannot hear me!"

One of the shadows lunged. Reksa parried with a shard of bone he had picked up from the ground, and the bone shattered the moment the spear of mist touched it. He staggered back as a second spear lunged toward his chest.

"Right!" Sarnika screamed. "He's going to thrust to the right, not the center!"

Reksa veered to the right just as the spear tip pierced the spot where he had been standing. He gasped. "How did you know?"

"I am the Goddess of Whispers. I hear intent before the body moves." There was a reluctant note in her voice, as if admitting this wounded her pride. "Don't think I'm helping you. If you die, I die with you."

"I'll take any excuse."

"Lower left! A sweep!"

Reksa leapt. The mist swept through the empty air beneath him. He landed, and within seconds, he realized that with Sarnika's voice, he could read their movements one step ahead. But it wasn't enough. Ten shadows surrounded him, and every one that fell was replaced by two more.

"Reksa," Wiratma called out. "Listen to me. Touch the ground."

"What?"

"Touch the ground with your right hand. Picture it rising."

There was no time to ask questions. Reksa dropped to his knees, pressed his palm against the slick black stone, and pictured the ground rising like a wall.

The earth shook.

The stone floor around him surged upward, forming a chesthigh ring of wall that loomed just as the spears of mist struck it. The sound of the impact echoed through the valley. The wall trembled, but it held.

Reksa stared at his hand, his eyes wide. "Did I do that?"

"You did," Wiratma said, and for the first time, there was pride in his voice. "The Guardian's Touch. My power. You only need to ask for it properly."

"Don't get cocky just yet," Sarnika interrupted. "That wall will crack in ten breaths."

She was right. Fine cracks were already spiderwebbing across the stone surface. Reksa thought fast. If he just kept defending, he was only delaying the inevitable. He needed to end this.

"Wiratma. They exist because of your duty, right? If you speak to them..."

"I already told you, they don't..."

"Not through you. Through me." Reksa closed his eyes. "If this body of mine can use your power, maybe it can also answer your command."

He stood up, clearing all doubt from his mind, and stepped out of the ring of walls. The shadows lunged in unison.

Reksa raised his right hand and looked at them one by one.

"Stop."

His voice echoed strangely, layered, as if two people were speaking at once. The air around him vibrated. The golden veins on his arm flared bright, unchecked, and something ancient and colossal stirred deep within his body.

The shadows stopped.

One by one, they lowered their spears and knelt. None of them moved. The mist around them thinned and was slowly drawn back into the cracks in the ground, as if nothing had happened.

Reksa collapsed to his knees, panting heavily.

"Impossible," Wiratma whispered.

"I didn't do anything. I just..."

"They wouldn't listen to me. They haven't listened to anyone for a thousand years." Wiratma's voice trembled. "But they listened to you."

Sarnika made no comment. For once, she was silent.

Reksa stared at his hands. His skin trembled slightly, the golden veins flaring and fading repeatedly, like an erratic breath. Three days ago, he was still a scavenger whom anyone could beat. Now, ten unkillable figures knelt before him, and he had absolutely no idea why.

"Wiratma," he whispered. "What am I?"

There was no answer. Even Sarnika didn't chime in with a sarcastic remark. That silence, more than anything else that had happened that day, terrified Reksa the most.

He rose slowly and walked toward the colossal gate. The shadows parted to make way, bowing their faceless heads as he passed. He couldn't bring himself to look at them.

At the base of the gate, the three golden points pulsed brighter and brighter. Reksa reached out and touched the cold stone surface.

The stone didn't feel dead. Beneath his palm, he felt something beating slowly, like a giant heart that had been waiting a long time to be awakened.

The gate sighed.

A deep, ancient voice echoed from the depths of the stone, like thousands of voices speaking in unison.

Welcome back.

Reksa held his breath.

The One Who Closes.

The three shards slid from the door, floated, and slipped into his palm like birds returning to their nest. Heat surged through his body, then faded. For a moment, he felt as though he were standing in two places at once: in that silent valley, and somewhere much higher, where colossal gates stood tall and the sky was still full of stars. The vision was only a flash, then it vanished. He gasped, his knees shaking.

And in his head, Wiratma spoke in a voice he had never heard before: not nagging, not proud, not joking. Only the voice of someone who had just remembered something he should have never remembered.

"I remember now," he whispered. "That night. I was standing here. Someone came, wearing a black robe with a pattern of cracked circles."

Reksa froze.

"And I," Wiratma said, almost inaudibly, "I was the one who opened the gate for you."