The Shattered Gates by Ginn Hale Page B

over before she could even realize it. That was the only kindness he could offer Laurie.
    He couldn’t be so good to Bill or John. Particularly not John. But he promised himself that he wouldn’t make either of them suffer for long. He would be quick. He had accepted it. It was all he could do.
    But now more yellow stones glinted from beneath the leaf litter.
     Kahlil turned a small shard of polished yellow marble over in his hands, then dropped it back down to the forest floor, where it landed next to a brown candy wrapper. Pieces of the gateway were scattered across miles of the forest. An entire half of the arc had erupted from the mountain rock like new teeth bursting through a barren jawbone. The term “damaged” didn’t begin to describe what had happened.
    “Damaged” implied some hope of repair. This was utter destruction, and he understood what it meant. It had been the same reason that his sword, the key to the gateway, had been splintered. The priests weren’t taking any chances should he fail to destroy the Rifter. They hadn’t just locked the door behind him; they had eradicated its very existence.
    But that didn’t explain this. Kahlil crouched down and continued to stare at the stone in front of him. The circle of moons he could understand. They were the symbols of his order. The words written around them were archaic but familiar. Like words to a nursery rhyme, he recalled them as reflex, without trying: “Behold the doors of the God’s Kingdom. Behold the Gates of Divinity and Desolation. The Kingdom of the Night. The Palace of the Day.” The prayer went on and on, just as he would have expected.
    But this keyhole made no sense. It wasn’t even the right shape. It wasn’t in the right place. It simply shouldn’t have been there.
    The dog sat down next to him. She lifted her head, following the flight of a bird. She looked intent, and for a moment, it was hard to imagine that she wasn’t a just a dog. Then she glanced back down to the stone.
    “The Rifter had his-self a key an’ he made his-self a keyhole,” she said. “Opened it right up an’ gone through.”
    “This is bad.” Kahlil scowled at the keyhole.
    “For them on the other side.” The dog yawned. She seemed oddly content with the situation.
    “The Rifter has crossed through to Basawar,” Kahlil said, just to make sure that she did understand. “He’ll destroy it.”
    “Tears it in two, that’s what the Rifter do.” She nodded her cream-colored head.
    “We can’t stop him or warn anyone because they’ve crushed the gateway,” Kahlil added. “And even if I could cross, I couldn’t kill him because I don’t have the deathlock key. He does.”
    “So them thats locked you away, gots themselves hell to pay.” She stood up and took a deep breath of the rich air. “I wants to chase me a fluff-n’-flicker, little tree-beastie.”
    “It’s called a squirrel.” Kahlil looked down at her. “Doesn’t this bother you?”
    She shook her head and then leaned her soft muzzle against Kahlil’s leg.
    “When theys cut the meat from me,” she whispered, “when theys pierced me with knives an’ tied me in they red ribbons— then I screamed. I cried likes the whole world died. Not now. Now I tastes wind full of sweet bird meat. I runs where I likes, an’ I pisses on a tree. An’ thems that would can’t do a thing to me. They brought they bad end. They got they Rifter revived.” Closing her eyes, she let out a deep animal sigh. Kahlil could feel her entire body relax against him. “Not a thing you can do abouts it now. We both free now.”
    He shut his eyes and sat still, a patch of sun slowly warming his back. He could hear animals, birds he supposed, making noises in the trees. The air, as always, tasted as strong and rich and exotic as a dream.
    He did not belong to this world, a world that was too good for him. He was not like the bones. He had not already given everything up for his own home. He had no right