THE KING BEYOND THE GATE by David A. Gemmell

A long silvered mirror, framed in mahogany, was fixed to the far wall, opposite the desk. Scaler advanced towards it, drawing himself up to his full height and pulling back his shoulders. The black face-mask, dark tunic and leggings gave him a forbidding look. He drew his dagger and dropped into a warrior’s crouch. The effect was chilling.

Perfect, he told his reflection. I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley! Replacing the dagger, he moved to the study door and carefully lifted the iron latch, easing the door open.

Beyond was a narrow stone corridor and four doors – two on the left and two on the right. Scaler padded across to the furthest room on the left and slowly lifted the latch. The door opened without a sound and he moved inside, hugging the wall. The room was warm, though the log fire in the grate was burning low, a dull red glow illuminating the curtains around the large bed. Scaler moved forward to the bed, pausing to look down on fat Silius and his equally fat mistress. He lay on his stomach, she on her back; both were snoring.

Why am I creeping about? he asked himself. I could have come in here beating a drum. He stifled a chuckle, found the jewel box in its hidden niche below the window, opened it and poured the contents into a black canvas pouch tied to his belt. At full value they would keep him in luxury for five years. Sold, as they must be, to a shady dealer in the southern quarter, they would keep him for barely three months or six if he didn’t gamble. He thought of not gambling but it was inconceivable. Three months, he decided.

Re-tying his pouch, he backed out into the corridor and turned . . .

Only to come face to face with a servant, a tall, gaunt figure in a woollen nightshirt.

The man screamed and fled.

Scaler screamed and fled, hurtling down a circular stairway and cannoning into two sentries. Both men tumbled back, shouting as they fell. Scaler hit the floor in a tumbler’s roll, came to his feet and sprinted left, the sentries close behind. Another set of steps appeared on his right and he took them three at a time, his long legs carrying him at a terrifying speed.

Twice he nearly lost his footing before reaching the next level. Before him was an iron gate – locked, but the key hung from a wooden peg. The stench from beyond the gate brought him to his senses and fear cut through his panic.

The Joinings’ pit!

Behind him he could hear the sentries pounding down the stairs. He lifted the key, opened the gate and stepped inside, locking it behind him. Then he advanced into the darkness, praying to the Seniles to let him live for a few more of their jests.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the corridor he saw several openings on either side; within, sleeping on straw, were the Joinings of Silius.

He moved on towards the gate at the far end, pulling off his mask as he did so.

He was almost there when the pounding began behind him and the muffled shouts of the sentries pierced the silence. A Joining stumbled from its lair, blood-red eyes fastening on Scaler; it was close to seven feet tall, with huge shoulders and heavily-muscled arms covered with black fur. Its face was elongated, sharp fangs lining its maw. The pounding grew loader and Scaler took a deep breath.

‘Go and see what the noise is about,’ he told the beast.

‘Who you?’ it hissed, the words mangled by the lolling tongue.

‘Don’t just stand there – go and see what they want,’ ordered Scaler sharply.

The beast brushed past him and other Joinings came into the corridor and followed it, ignoring Scaler. He ran to the gate and slipped the key in the lock. As it turned and the gate swung open, a sudden bellowing roar blasted in the confines of the corridor. Scaler twisted round to see the Joinings running towards him, howling ferociously. With shaking fingers he dragged free the key and leapt through the opening, pulling the gate shut behind him and swiftly locking it.