WAR TACTICS: GATEKEEPERS 2
By Theo Hodges
Chapter 1 – Priests of Burden
New Years Day, 1955 J.E. (Jewel Era)
Location - Open Arms, Hoyoriktuk
Dawn’s glow
“Tim, we have to go,” Jil said, her tone blending reluctance with concern.
As leader of her father the High Priest’s mission to win the Leveling Jewel, she spoke for her friends and the large group gathered at Squire Castle’s torch glowing entrance. The inner courtyard buzzed with restless voices of those eager to complete the last leg of their failed journey. Depending on the monsters and where they might rejoin their ships waiting in pirate waters, it could be weeks before they reached home. Despite the blessings Tim could give them for their journey, some might perish before reaching Childockia’s shore.
Such was their duty, in victory as in defeat.
In last night’s marathon planning session, Dryfu laid out the rules of the Hunt, which named the day after to be New Year’s Day, and the start on the clock to register your Census count by month’s end.
As the founder of his new nation, Open Arms, Tim was required to remain within the territory he claimed when he won the Leveling Jewel, until such time as a President within the Vignyia Census Organization could stamp his country as approved. Their session explored possible loopholes to let Jil stay, but in the end, only twelve remained, mostly Krows, Tim’s wraiths and Roz.
Winning the Leveling Jewel put a target on his back anyway, like a spotlight in the sky. Deciding to establish a sovereign nation on foreign soil despite most of your friends having to leave left Tim… a bit peckish.
Dryfu flew up and flicked Tim in the nose. Would you focus? Say goodbye and let’s get to work.
He was so exhausted, the sleep he got might have put him father back in time. Sorry, I was—
Say goodbye to your girlfriend and don’t mess it up. I’ll distract the others, so they don’t notice.
His eight-inch terror with flapping green wings had grown on him over the past few days. Still prickly, but more like an older brother than the snob he was before.
I can still hear you.
Good.
“Be quiet everybody. Our fair priest would like to say ta-ta to his fair maiden,” Dryfu stage whispered as he flew off.
Tim wasn't nervous about Jil. He was concerned that people tried their chances breaking the rule to return for registration, and Dryfu assured him many would try so they could attack him right away.
Their city on a hill was brighter than the white yellow sun climbing the eastern sky. That way led him to Padstoligan and fivel friends, but not yet.
First, he had to figure out how to protect his new home. Sure, his Protection spell was cast, but it didn’t cover them from all threats. It was more like wearing pants in a glass factory; it isn’t gonna protect him from everything, but if he must start somewhere...
Having underground access to the river and many tunnels beneath the castle was both a curse and a blessing. The train track width tunnels were blocked off at the borders and or have damage from the Hunt so no trains were running through his routes, but that first started when Murphy was sent here. He’d have to clear out and lay new tracks, which would take time and money he didn’t have. The blessing would be when he did, if his goal for both aura and physical realm tracks were successfully built, Squire’s Castle could join local and international markets, forming allies and building for war. Long term, he kept that as a priority.
In the short term, the smaller tunnels used by some merchants and mainly the Cartel, threatened him with constant precautions such as guards below ground and Fivel to help lay traps on any routes outside their comfortable control.
Isolation and unfamiliar terrain meant many ways the enemy could hide, biding their time while his Danger Sense combed the labyrinth knowing many seedy sorts traveled that way every day. Anyone could reroute attacks through a seemingly endless onslaught until his spell wore away or he was forced to surrender.
Transportation rings provided another of the blessings to their location. A small band of wraith warriors could travel through the rings without being traced—though that path held enough downsides to put it on the backburner until he could afford bags they could use to transport corporeal items. His Aura Armor crafting might be faster and cheaper, but with his fatigue, he could barely stretch his hands.
Jil held all those concerns in a graceful patience, her gaze on the verge of excitement. He’d miss her cautious optimism and encouragement. “The Whisper sees all. Treat your people well, and your body easy. We’ll return with a parade of helpers and our Nivelador, I’m sure of it. My father can’t say no to his oldest.”
Tim couldn’t deny her either with charm like that. Why is she playing me right now?
Nothing from chatterbox, for once.
“I’ll miss you,” Tim said, finally.
She nodded with a light smile, showcasing without words how she understood he’d packed all those concerns into three words that placed her on top.
She slid up and kissed him on the cheek. The softness could have whispered through a cloud. Since he’d seen her at the brainstorm session last night, she’d bathed and put on her travel gear, including a cathich fur helmet for Leader’s Sight and matching brown and green sleeves and leggings enchanted with Scatter, Cover and Serpent’s Crawl. The cathich teeth jutting down shown white to better see her stunning yellow blue eyes.
The rich scent of Olahi and Kolsim born from the sweetest breeze meant she’d received his gift of a new bottle, expense be damned. The smile on her face promised it was worth it. She had a long trip south.
“You’re—”
“In enough trouble,” she said and spared a glance at Thron and Roz, the former growing red in the cheeks as he held back laughter. “Anything you say can and will be used by them on our long ride back.”
Khempal’s Currencist class went gangbusters on the aura monsters they slaughtered. Part of her bounty went into the carriages lined up like box cars in the cramped courtyard. Tim was going to have so much crap to clean up when they left. Most of those things plopping out of those mighty steeds weighed more than Dryfu, so he wasn’t getting any help there.
Flipping right, Priest. It’ll do you some good anyway, remind you of your filthy rags so you don’t get high and noble on us—anymore than usual.
“I understand,” Tim told them both. To Jil, he smiled with what he hoped was a touch of how she’d blessed him. The thought was so close to how he’d witnessed Rachel, it scared him to push back. Too close up. Where it’s familiar and cannot be exposed to fresh wounds. There were too many scars from her and Lia’s passing.
Jil picked up on every bit of his reaction. Her hand gently squeezed his wrist. “I may not fully understand that like you do, but I do get it. I’m… I didn’t mean any pressure with that.” She grazed a finger across her lips. “My father doesn’t need to hear of any more than that.”
She had a large item on her plate for going back home. He didn’t want to tick off the High Priest any more than he probably already had by deciding to pitch camp here instead of bringing the Leveling Jewel back to Childockia. The financial impact was enough to ask Jil for as many Jason Bournes as she could recruit while she was back home. “Sure. Give His Holiness my best.”
She gave him a look like wouldn’t it be nice if I could turn part of your ear into broccoli, just for a day or two to teach you about making jokes.
I’m sure that’s exactly what she was thinking. Spot on.
Did you bring me breakfast? I’m almost delirious with hunger.
Get your own Romeo.
Now you’re showing off. Ever since Tim opened up to the group about being from Earth—not that many were surprised—they’d had plenty of laughs quoting as many plays and books as they could. Dryfu wiped the floor with them. He was smart no matter how small his br—
Please finish. I would love an excuse to slip you drugs and push you down a River.
That’s discomfortingly specific. Especially since he could hear the river and distant waterfall.
Jil’s look shifted from playful to perturbed. “Are you two talking again? I’m leaving in two seconds.” She didn’t sound as upset as her words, but there was still some frustration. Having a familiar was a bit of a social stigma for being aloof and having too many inside jokes with your familiar, but how would they like to be a gatewalker, hunted for your flesh and forced to survive in a strange world.
Now that he’d survived that hunt and won, he was only being hunted even more. Ha! “I’m sorry. He was just making fun of me, and I wasn’t having it.”
“Always blame the familiar!” Dryfu called out from his perch overlooking the barbecue. The cook turned a slab of ribs. Juices sizzled. Delicious smoke wafted into the stykiller’s face, putting him in instant bliss.
“One last thing,” Tim said, biting the bullet on this plan. He equipped the sealed invitation and aurthecary he made from Murphy drool and handed them to Jil.”
“What’s this?” she asked with a tip of the scroll.
“An invitation to the High Lord and High Priest to explore and train in my new enclave. It’ll be like the Wild West for their aura skills. I offered three months—”
Jil scoffed playfully. “That’ll never happen. The kingdom would, well it might do pretty well without the interference and showmanship. Or it could crumble.”
“I don’t think we’d let that happen.”
“We? You’re sweet.”
“And confident you could handle both roles, but also that I would keep that concern as an utmost priority.”
Jil nodded as the idea grew on her. “What do you have planned for them in the enclave?”
“Hur’s Encyclopedia is anything but ordinary. So with that and free reign to evolve the enclave however we want. S’Trace’s brother gave me a journal of his studies in enclaves hunting the vahkel. I have plans, but I want to wait for them before I start laying the foundation. With Khempal’s help, we’re going to blow the doors off the grand opening. Aura users will flock here, and we can start growing our allies. The XP from managing a city will go into my Aura Track plans.”
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Jil gave him another kiss on the cheek. “I love it. See you soon.” She waved with the scroll and hat in hand. Beauty on the breeze, lost between his fingers. He held it in his mind as clearly as possible.
“Have a safe trip,” Tim said, and then a couple more corny things no one needs to suffer through who wasn’t there live. By the time they’d turned around and gone their separate ways, he was washed with relief. Like a teen again. Jittery and tumble tongued. He made a fist pumping forward like steaming a sad trombone.
Onto breakfast, he thought and inhaled another scrumdiddlyumptious breath of barbecued ribs and salted potato pancakes—Roz’s specialty.
Thankfully he was staying. As a secondary citizen of Childockia by way of them purchasing his indentured servitude from the Hai Trade Company, whom he joined to escape persecution in the northern isles, he was able to send a telegram and expedited paperwork transferring his citizenship to Open Arms—thank you Khempal and her battlefield loot skill—making him one of the dangerous dozen who chose to stay and defend the fort.
You’re not the only one. As soon as I’m done here, I’m going to study.
Tim appreciated Dryfu’s enthusiasm to help. Hur’s Encyclopedia wasn’t the only book on Aeu’s shelf that could help with his many classes and the local environment, political and otherwise.
That’s not what I meant. Familiars don’t count.
Boy don’t you ruin my smoke sauna.
You know what I mean.
Please, like I want to be part of your dirty dozen anyway. Like children sometimes.
Says the guy quoting Ace Ventura late into the night.
Gary thought he was better than me and I got sick of it.
Tim’s playfully competitive rivalry with the low-level squire added comic relief to their late night. You think I have problems? Gary is staying and I think that’s great. So what if his feet stink and he’s not really good at anything but playing Movie and Song Quotes with Chris and skipping rocks.
Level 8 Squire isn’t terrible.
It wasn’t. But it wasn’t great either, not until the Nivelador arrived so they could have their first leveling. Until then the XP was vital for the future but not helpful in the present.
He on the other hand was a different story. He still hadn’t unpacked all that he’d gained with the victory.
We can talk on the way. While we have a few days before the next big wave, we are going to work on an idea I thought of to combine your Replenish with Protection and sew it using Ward to bury it underground outside the walls and on the other side of the river.
That sounds great. Thank you. I take back everything I thought about you, except maybe enough with the Ventura, he thought, dragging the Ventura out with that low ragged voice the actor from Better Call Saul used to sound like a mobster.
I’ve got range even without you or Gary giving me material.
A bird with yellow wings and a beautiful teal with white underbelly flew in and dropped an enchanted scroll tied with a red ribbon into Khempal’s palm. She whistled a dainty little tune and the bird flew into the house she’d built for them in the corner on the edge of the courtyard.
Since their victory last night, she’d sent five letters at Tim’s request on the wings of these goldfinch-styled birds. This was the first to return.
“Who’s it from?” Tim asked.
Khempal was currently one of the dirty dozen staying. She said she spent hard-earned favors with the Pillar’s Council to get a trade visa. Her level 15 Trade Infrastructure skill was already at work designing road construction to better facilitate the upcoming boom in business at Squire’s Castle. Then after that built, they could start the Aura Tracks.
“From the Fivel.”
Good, though he also hoped to get a response from the County roads administrator. They had to sign off on construction outside the foundation of the castle.
“How are they?” He asked.
Concern drew lines in Khempal’s forehead. She finished reading and handed it to Tim.
Leifman Tim! Congratulations on your victory. We’re thrilled you’re still around. Do you have any extra hands to protect our Padstoligan burg? I hate to ask because I know you’re vulnerable right now, but the Artisans know that, too and scouts have picked up five on their way. Word is they plan to use our skulls for their rogue leveling this year, then turn our littlests into a farm for more.
Again, we’re sorry to ask. If you can spare any help, please do so immediately. We expect them to invade within the day.
Yours in haste,
Commander Oke
“Within the day,” Tim repeated aloud. If he left, half the strength of his Protection spell would be wasted. This certainly felt like a trick to force him from the castle so someone else could come and steal the jewel.
After the Hunt, the jewel cannot be used outside of the victor nation, but if someone conquers the victor and recovers the jewel, they can assign their own Nivelador to grant levels within the defeated nation’s territory.
In the nearly two thousand years since the jewel was granted, twenty-eight times the jewel victor lost their sovereign state to invaders. Three times the invaded country struck a deal to get land, but in all cases that Country was assimilated into the invader.
In short, setting up his own nation was a huge risk because an invader could get in and steal the jewel, and if they can hold their position inside the castle, they’d take over leveling powers for the year.
“I can go,” Roz said. “Not that I want to leave you before the warlords arrive.”
Neither did Tim. He was their strongest warrior, continually impressing Tim with his willingness to help the less fortunate with his bow work and defensive prowess. Without him, Dale and Murphy would be at greater risk.
He knew this was a chance, but His wind chime was also their best long-distance weapon. It might be what the Fivel needed to hit the artisans and their Crimoan archer buddies before they got too close.
They’d saved a burg a few weeks ago, but that had only had one artisan at the helm, and him at a lower level. With five oncoming, it would be more than the whole dirty dozen could handle.
Since Tim couldn’t go, their number two had to go. It just felt like a suicide mission, and he didn’t know yet how to navigate around that outcome. “Dale and Crebin, I’m going to craft some Warded stones to leave like breadcrumbs behind you as you take the tunnels south. I want you to catch up to S’Trace and ask for help from the Krows. Our fears were right and, in less time, than we thought.”
They were on their way to Brecievancia to register and gift the President with some of the loot from the vahkel’s young ones. Their aura-producing system would become a wellspring of wealth, for shipping, manufacturing, and what Tim proposed for the start of an Aura Track connecting their southern coast to the North through the peninsula border of Childockia and Wachamia and then on to Squire’s Castle with a branch East for Padstoligan. If he evolved his Enclave skill high enough, he might be able to recreate the port system of the world in Enclave Gates to redirect to his allies in Childockia, HTC, and those he’d reached out to through Khempal’s messenger birds.
This was his largest and most ambitious infrastructure project, so the cost of diverting and delaying their mission would hurt, but not as much as losing friends because of business.
S’Trace had said only President Wolyan could be trusted with this proposal and bounty. As soon as word got out that S’Trace’s brother survived, their party would be a target for the president’s enemies. Getting that for themselves would push the final puzzle piece in his coup into place. They needed Wolyan to be the one in charge of making this aura track work. He’d pulled off miracles in redesigning their economy from a shamble’s seaside country to the leading economy of the Outer Rim.
Tim didn’t go to business school, so he’d have to lean on Wolyan’s expertise and Khempal to realize his dream for a train that can travel from this realm into the enclave and back. He dreamt of it last night and couldn’t stop imagining the possibilities.
You have no idea how hard that would be. More likely to come out like a serial killer with how many passengers could die for any number of reasons.
Quit being so cheerful. I haven’t had my tea.
I know we have plenty of work to do, Tim continued. I won’t jump in until we’re ready.
Right, just like you do with pretty much everything else.
Exactly!
Tim’s thoughts shifted to Khempal’s role. She was busy with the wider net of their transportation issues. This was a farming and logging area, with long outdated roads that would be demolished by the traffic to come, eventually forcing a break in service that would become exponentially harmful to their growth.
Every nation thinks a year is a long time until the clock starts. Then it’s a whirlwind of hope to avoid mistakes and taking gambles because now’s the time. Make hay and all that.
“Alright, Dryfu and I are going to sow some extra protection on that side of the river and then expand into the farmland fanning out on this side. If I can get more wraiths and free the fallen, they can be an instant boon to our numbers. I’ll send them for Padstoligan until I hear they don’t need anymore.”
“They’re going to need a lot more than that,” a familiar voice said from behind Tim. Aged and two tinkles short of clean drawers, and with a tone to spread the cheer.
Tim recalled the voice a split second before he saw the hooded gatekeeper who’d been their welcome wagon to this realm of Vignyia. “Sylvester the Cat, how’d ya do?” Tim raised an Open Arms to slap hands with his dude. “I’ve been hoping we’d see each other again. I have questions–”
Sylve accepted the slap but held on. “First, I must show you something.”
“Okay?”
His grip pinched a nerve in Tim’s knuckle. A sharp pain splashed Tim into a vision of splendor in an air tunnel full of brilliant motes of rainbow light. Seasickness threatened to double Tim over. The tunnel spit him out to a running stop that ended in Tim biffing it in a slide of mud. Once his eyes were clear, he took in the large barn in the middle of nowhere.
Dark and creepy painted the forest in a horizon of shifting shadow.
Sylve hopped out of the wormhole with Superman farts flowing from his robe before gracefully landing in the matted grass. Tim used to like the guy. Now?
The smile on his face said he caught the difference and was glad to be in his shoes.
“What’s the deal?” Tim asked, rebellious against the fear that whatever pack of animals hooting like monkeys in the shadows might spring into action at his outburst.
His question landed and their peculiar activity continued without a pattern of direction. Float like a butterfly…
Sylve pointed at the barn doors. They rose fifteen feet high and splintered with age and weathering.
A yellow glow lit in a crossbar between doors.
“There are artisans trained purely for InterRealm wavelengths and tracking travelers,” Sylve said and unhinged the door. It creaked and whined on its hinges as he pulled it open. “If they want to follow us back here, I have plenty of friends waiting.”
White Heaven focused into blanket darkness and a cold landing like a bear coat enchanted in terror.
“If I’m gone when the Census rep arrives, we lose our sovereign nation status,” Tim said.
“We won’t be gone long.” Sylve stood before the shimmering white pool standing like a tri-fold magic mirror open for business. “A bounty for your head before the end of the month might tempt one to stay as long as possible. I admire your spirit.”
“Not just that.”
“Oke sent word, yes, we’re aware. We sent a company of mercenaries under cover as Census enforcers. I overheard the plan about Roz. I will send a message to the merc leader to keep an eye out for him and welcome him in when he arrives. He’ll be crucial to any chance they have.”
“Does this not have a path to their burg? If you give me a day, I can set up some protection,” Tim said, mustering as much false confidence into his voice—
“No. Your aura is sick. You need rest before the recovery time gets out of hand. Your items helped, but you can only shortchange time so much before all the money in the world won’t matter. The Eiyero in your system is toxic and takes time to cleanse.”
“Okay, so… is this like an enclave, where time slows?”
“Yes, but not any enclave.” Sylve extended his hand to the vertical puddle defying gravity to ripple out from his pointed finger. “I heard your plan last night for the Aura Tracks. This will help. You and your familiars are the only ones who can enter. The Order of Gatekeepers welcomes you to our home. You’re not going to have time to sleep on your side, and this will help. Come, I’ll show you.”
Tim stepped into the portal and its dismantling whoosh of power fizzling his form into molecules caught in a jet stream. The other side spit him out with the same impartiality, though this time he kept his feet up and measured his speed to land in the sunlit field. A droning hum from the portal pressed the tall grass flat in a perfect ten-foot radius.
Tim smiled in preparation of Sylve seeing him standing.
“Good,” the gatekeeper said and motioned Tim toward a fractured vision of a once beautiful city, now laid to waste from war and time.
“Ouch,” Tim said, taking in the bones and overgrowth of weeds retaking their land from the stone and mortar shell left behind.
“Your mind and training can flourish in the remnants of past gatekeepers and the story of their fall,” Sylve said. He handed Tim a watch with a chrome band and three dials emanating enchantments attuned to the magical hands on the face. A cut in window displayed a date and time in the corner. Sylve pointed at that. “Squire’s Castle time.”
He taught Tim how to set an alarm so he could keep track of his time between origin and enclave realms. “I recommend starting with Pilk’s hovel. Your Oil and Water path to power now goes through a priest of his ilk, so best you learn from his travels. A secret journal and its contents will be invaluable to your mission, not to mention negotiations with the two horned leadership in Childockia.”
“I do like to study and make friends.”
“Good, because there aren’t many gatekeepers left. The world is shifting to the end of an era.”
“Because the Jewel is dying?”
“Yes, but whether because of or along with, the two were foreseen together in Pilk’s visions. See, no one has been able to enter his chambers because of a Warding he placed. If you can enter, I’d love to see what you find inside.”
“Me too,” Tim said. “Mostly.”
The reality that he had accepted a priest’s calling hit him with the fear of God and wrath if he stepped off the path leading to Pilk’s hovel.
Built between two mighty trees set by an endless backdrop of brothers and cousins, Pilk’s hovel was hay and clay, with a stone chimney, a wooden wheel missing a chunk and now as much decoration as the dings and artistic undermanagement of the thatch roof and gaps of missing hay. Gaps between the planks of wood nailed into more of a fence than a proper door were rimmed in a yellow glow from inside. Tim wondered if part of the warding that kept this place unharmed was projecting this run of the mill, poor home built from the earth and imprinted by the one who depended on its shelter. Only someone seeking help would come here. Thieves wouldn’t consider anything inside of value, and anyone of power would see its vulnerability as evidence no prize lay inside for the taking.
Sylve disappeared.
“I’ll return to Open Arms in one week. Please be alive when I return. Better would be a succinct summary of what you found in Pilk’s Hovel.”
“Stay frosty, Sylve.”
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