The Gatewreaver

It reeked of trouble.

Jana wrinkled her nose, scanning the dimly lit tavern. Smoke from cheap pipeweed hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sour stench of spilled ale and unwashed bodies. A motley crew of rough-looking characters hunched over their drinks, speaking in low murmurs that didn’t quite mask the undertone of desperation.

This was no place for a hunter. Especially not one who’d received a mysterious invitation scrawled on parchment that smelled faintly of lavender.

She fingered the worn leather of her bow, more for comfort than any real expectation of using it. The weight of her quiver against her back was reassuring, though. Old habits.

A grizzled bartender caught her eye, jerking his head towards a dark corner. Jana nodded, her footsteps light as she picked her way through the crowd.

The hooded figure hunched over a tankard didn’t look up as she approached. “You’re late,” a voice rasped, distinctly feminine despite its roughness.

Jana slid onto the bench opposite, keeping her movements casual. “Wasn’t sure I’d come at all,” she murmured. “Cryptic notes from strangers aren’t typically my idea of a good time.”

A dry chuckle. “And yet, here you are.”

The hood tilted back slightly, revealing a weathered face etched with more scars than Jana could count. One eye gleamed with intelligence; the other was milky white, bisected by a particularly nasty-looking scar.

“Maura the Blind,” Jana breathed, recognition dawning.

The woman’s good eye narrowed. “Not so blind as they say. But names have power, little hunter. Best not to bandy them about.”

Jana nodded, chastened. Everyone knew the stories of Maura, the infamous information broker. If even half the tales were true…

“Why me?” Jana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Maura’s scarred lips quirked into something resembling a smile. “Because you’re nobody. No connections, no power. Perfect for what needs doing.”

Jana bristled. “I’m not–”

“You are,” Maura cut her off. “But that’s not an insult, girl. It’s why you’re still breathing.”

A chill ran down Jana’s spine. She’d known this meeting was dangerous, but the casual menace in Maura’s tone drove the point home.

“What do you want?” Jana asked, proud that her voice didn’t waver.

Maura leaned forward, her good eye gleaming in the tavern’s dim light. “There’s a package. Needs retrieving. You’re going to get it for me.”

Jana’s brow furrowed. “I’m a hunter, not a thief.”

“Oh, you won’t be stealing anything,” Maura’s grin was sharp as a blade. “Consider it… salvage.”

Before Jana could question further, the tavern door burst open. A gust of wind extinguished half the candles, plunging the room into deeper shadow. In strode a figure that seemed to absorb what little light remained.

The Gatewreaver.

Jana’s breath caught in her throat. She’d only seen one once before, from a distance. Up close, the creature was even more terrifying. Ink-black robes writhed as if alive, revealing glimpses of chitinous armor beneath. Where a face should have been, there was only a swirling vortex of darkness.

The tavern fell deathly silent.

The Gatewreaver’s head swiveled, that featureless void seeming to take in every detail of the room. When it spoke, the words bypassed Jana’s ears entirely, materializing directly in her mind.

“The Thundral stirs. The way must be prepared.”

As abruptly as it had entered, the Gatewreaver turned and left. Conversation slowly resumed, but with a brittle edge of fear.

Jana turned back to Maura, questions bubbling up. But the information broker was already on her feet.

“Time’s short,” Maura muttered. “Meet me at the old lighthouse tomorrow at sunset. Don’t be late this time.”

With that, she melted into the crowd, leaving Jana alone with her racing thoughts.

The next day dawned gray and humid. Jana spent it in a fog of anxiety and anticipation, absently checking and rechecking her gear. As the sun began its descent, she set out for the lighthouse, bow in hand and quiver at her back.

The structure loomed against the darkening sky, a crumbling sentinel on the edge of a wind-swept cliff. Jana picked her way carefully up the overgrown path, senses on high alert.

“You came.” Maura’s voice drifted down from above. “Good. We’ve no time to waste.”

Jana climbed the spiral staircase, emerging onto a circular platform. Maura stood at the railing, gazing out at the churning sea.

“What’s this all about?” Jana demanded. “Gatereavers, Thundrals… I’m just a hunter. I’m not mixed up in any of that.”

Maura turned, fixing Jana with that penetrating stare. “You are now,” she said simply. “The wheels are in motion, little hunter. Best to pick a side before you’re crushed beneath them.”

Jana opened her mouth to argue, but Maura held up a hand. “Listen carefully. There’s a shipwreck, three miles down the coast. You’ll find a strongbox in the captain’s quarters. Bring it to me, unopened, and you’ll be well compensated.”

“That’s it?” Jana frowned. “Why don’t you get it yourself?”

Maura’s expression darkened. “Because I’m not the only one after it. And unlike you, I’m… known.”

A twig snapped in the undergrowth below. Both women tensed.

“Go,” Maura hissed. “Now. I’ll draw them off.”

Jana hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. She scrambled down the opposite side of the lighthouse, using roots and cracks in the stonework as handholds.

As she reached the bottom, she heard Maura’s voice ring out, clear and challenging: “Come then, you shadow-skulking cowards! Maura the Blind sees you plain!”

The clash of steel on steel echoed behind her as Jana ran, her feet finding purchase on the treacherous coastal path. The fading sunlight painted the clouds in shades of bruise-purple and blood-red.

She ran until her lungs burned, only slowing when the sounds of combat had long since faded. The coastline here was jagged, sharp rocks jutting from the restless sea.

And there – caught in a tangle of jagged stone – the splintered remains of a ship.

Jana picked her way down the cliff face, finding precarious footholds in the near-darkness. Salt spray stung her eyes as waves crashed around her.

The wreck creaked ominously as she clambered aboard. Jana moved carefully, testing each step before committing her weight. It wouldn’t do to fall through rotting timbers now.

She found the captain’s quarters easily enough, but the door was jammed. Jana threw her shoulder against it once, twice, three times before it gave way with a splintering crack.

The room beyond was a mess of waterlogged paper and shattered furniture. But there, gleaming dully in the last light of day: a iron-bound strongbox.

Jana hefted it, surprised by its weight. Whatever was inside, it was dense. She secured it to her back with a length of rope, not wanting to risk dropping it on the treacherous climb back up.

The return journey was slow and painstaking. Exhaustion tugged at her limbs, but Jana forced herself to focus on each movement. One slip could mean death on these rocks.

Finally, mercifully, she hauled herself back onto solid ground. Jana allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before setting off towards the lighthouse once more.

The sound of waves masked her approach. As she drew closer, Jana could make out two figures silhouetted against the starry sky. One was unmistakably Maura. The other…

Jana’s blood ran cold. Even in the darkness, there was no mistaking the writhing robes of a Gatewreaver.

She crouched low, inching forward to catch their words.

“–not what we agreed,” Maura was saying, her voice tight with anger.

The Gatewreaver’s response bypassed Jana’s ears once more, appearing fully-formed in her mind: “Agreements change. The Thundral awakens. We require… insurance.”

“And what of the girl?” Maura demanded.

A pause. Then: “A complication. One easily remedied.”

Jana’s fingers tightened on her bow. She knew, with a sickening certainty, that they were talking about her.

“No,” Maura’s voice was steel. “That wasn’t part of the deal. She’s innocent in this.”

A sound like the rush of wind through dead leaves. Jana realized with a start that the Gatewreaver was laughing.

“Innocent?” it mocked. “She ceased to be innocent the moment you involved her. Her fate is sealed.”

Maura’s hand went to the hilt of her sword. “I won’t let you–”

The Gatewreaver moved with impossible speed. One moment it stood motionless; the next, its hand was wrapped around Maura’s throat, lifting her off the ground.

“You forget your place, little broker,” it hissed. “You are a tool. Nothing more.”

Jana knew she should run. Every instinct screamed at her to flee, to put as much distance between herself and this nightmare as possible.

Instead, she nocked an arrow.

The bow creaked as she drew it back. The Gatewreaver’s head snapped towards her, that void of a face seeming to stare directly into her soul.

Jana loosed the arrow.

It struck true, burying itself in the creature’s shoulder. The Gatewreaver staggered back, dropping Maura. Its shriek of rage and pain lanced through Jana’s mind like a white-hot needle.

“Run!” Maura gasped, already on her feet and drawing her sword.

Jana didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and fled into the night, the strongbox a lead weight on her back. Behind her, the clash of steel on chitin rang out once more.

She ran until her legs gave out, collapsing in a thicket of gorse. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, ears straining for any sign of pursuit.

Nothing but the distant crash of waves and the whisper of wind through leaves.

Jana’s hand went to the strongbox, fingers tracing its cold iron bands. What had she gotten herself into? What could be so important that it was worth killing for?

More importantly: what was she going to do now?

The weight of the box seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. Jana knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that her life had irrevocably changed. There was no going back to being a simple hunter now.

She could open it. See for herself what all this madness was about.

Or she could find Maura – assuming the information broker had survived her encounter with the Gatewreaver. Demand answers.

Or she could run. Just keep running and never look back.

Dawn was breaking on the horizon, the first fingers of light reaching across the sky. Jana took a deep breath, made her decision, and stood.