The Dragon Gate (The Dragon Gate Series Book 1)

by Randy Ellefson

  THE DRAGON GATE

  The Dragon Gate Series

  Volume 1

  by Randy Ellefson

  Copyright © 2020 Randy Ellefson / Evermore Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means; electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any semblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Map of Kingdom Alunia

  Free Book

  Prologue – The Lone Survivor

  Chapter 1 – RenFest

  Chapter 2 – The Pendant

  Chapter 3 – The Quest

  Chapter 4 – Fresh Wounds

  Chapter 5 – A Conscience Riddled

  Chapter 6 – Lorian

  Chapter 7 – Wizardry

  Chapter 8 – Affinity

  Chapter 9 – Arundell

  Chapter 10 – Aspirations

  Chapter 11 – The Ellorian Champions

  Chapter 12 – Unrest in the Forest

  Chapter 13 – A Ruin Alive

  Chapter 14 – Confrontation

  Chapter 15 – Destiny Seized

  Chapter 17 – Resolutions

  Chapter 17 – Resolutions

  Chapter 18 – End Game

  Chapter 19 – Firestorm

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Randy Ellefson Books

  Randy Ellefson Music

  Map of Kingdom Alunia

  Map of Kingdom Alunia, on the world of Honyn

  View a larger, full color map online at http://fiction.randyellefson.com/dragon-gate-series/the-dragon-gate/

  Free Book

  Anyone who joins my fiction newsletter mailing list receives a free eBook of The Ever Fiend (Talon Stormbringer), a chance to join my ARC Team, see bonuses, get early looks at covers, and more:: http://www.fiction.randyellefson.com/newsletter.

  Prologue – The Lone Survivor

  Lucion stared unseeing into the campfire. His ears strained to hear past the rustling treetops and creaking boles of the dark forest. Gusts of wind tore through the woods as if searching for him, the noise drowning out the chatter of his four companions. If anything else was moving out there, his group would never know it. The coming storm didn’t concern him, but the ogre footprints did. They looked a week old and likely meant no trouble, and he was certain enough of this to have lit the fire and slapped deer meat over it, but the value of alertness wasn’t lost on him. His own prey lay chopped in pieces before him.

  The hunter’s gaze shifted to the ruins of Castle Darlonon perched among the looming mountain peaks overhead. For a moment, he thought lights twinkled in some of the windows. A cautious glance at Rogin showed his brother hadn’t noticed the lights, which was just as well. Rogin had told enough stories about people going up there and never coming back that no one believed much of anything he said anymore. Just minutes earlier he’d sworn a dragon had appeared in the night sky, but of course that was impossible. As Lucion turned the deer haunch over, Rogin walked off into the woods to relieve himself and the darkness swallowed him. As if to celebrate, the woods groaned loudly, and the wind howled through the treetops. Lucion shivered.

  “It smells so good here,” said a woman’s voice, and the men turned in surprise, seeing an elegant woman breathing in deeply through a pert nose, her full bosom straining against the red silk of an evening gown. Golden hair framed a heart-shaped face and tumbled past her petite waist. She stood at the clearing’s edge, her radiance making the shadowy woods seem all the more dark. Her green eyes boldly danced from one man to the next, appraising them. Captivated by her allure, they hardly noticed she could not have been more out of place so many miles from any settlement.

  “I haven’t smelled such fine meat in so many years,” she purred, eyeing Lucion. He could’ve been the most handsome man alive for the way she gazed at him.

  Mesmerized by her attention, he pleasantly replied, “It is only fresh deer, my lady, not even seasoned, but you’re welcome to your share of it and all that we have.”

  Her bright eyes locked onto his as if the others didn’t exist. He wished that were so, for he wanted her all to himself and trembled as she came nearer. Fine words had never been his to command and he stood at a loss, adoring eyes saying more than words ever could. As she stopped before him, her feminine scent washed over him. He smiled like a schoolboy.

  In the silence, she kindly asked, “Why so quiet? Dragon got your tongue?”

  Not noticing the subject had come up again, he stammered, “Uh, n-no, my lady. Dragons, well, they uh, they don’t show themselves around here no more.”

  Eyebrows arched in surprise, she asked, “Is that so?”

  “Yes, my lady. They were banished by the Ellorian Champions some years ago, to another world. The Dragon Gate up there in the castle keeps them away. You’ll be safe here, that I can promise you.” And he meant every word, for his heart would burst if anything happened to her. He didn’t mention that the champions had disappeared without a trace some years ago and that if the dragons ever got loose, no one would be able to send them back. The planet would be destroyed. There was no sense in worrying her.

  Seeming amused by his assurance, she asked, “So then you haven’t seen a dragon recently? Tonight, for example?”

  Startled, he wondered how she could have known and replied, “Oh no, nothing like that. Uh, Rogin here did think he saw something in the sky earlier, but it was nothing.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away long enough to look for his brother. It was good that this was so, for he might have noticed Rogin was still missing and alerted her to this.

  “What did he think he saw?” The seductress slowly ran a finger down his chest. The long, bright red nail was sharp enough to cut through his shirt and draw blood he didn’t notice.

  Lucion hesitated for fear of causing concern, but then she leaned closer and breathed him in long and deep, clearly enjoying his scent. Aroused, he confessed helpfully, “A dragon.”

  As if expecting that, she smiled in satisfaction, her green eyes finally leaving his to look over the others. They stood as mesmerized as Lucion, who felt as though a pleasant heat had ceased bathing his face. The sudden coldness startled him. His devotion faded long enough that he wondered aloud, “Who are you?”

  Her gaze returned to his playfully. “Someone who doesn’t like witnesses,” she purred.

  Before he had a chance to understand what she meant, his head flew from his neck, a bemused smile still on his face. It was still rolling across the ground when she went for the nearest man, who stared stupidly at the long, gleaming nails dripping with Lucion’s blood. She raked open his belly, shoving a hand inside to pull out organs that she bit into with delight, dark blood spurting across her face. As he collapsed beside the fire, the others fumbled for weapons and the woman spoke a strange word.

  Her appearance morphed and grew as they watched in awe, golden scales reflecting the firelight as two enormous, leathery wings blotted out the dark sky. A sinuous neck lifted her giant head into the night, two baleful eyes glaring down on them with lust. Four thick legs and feet ending in talons supported a huge golden body that no normal weapon could pierce. She took her time, snapping up the next man in her fanged mouth and cracking him in half. She hadn’t tasted such warm blood in years a
nd relished it like wine. The last man turned for the woods, but her barbed tail snaked out to impale him where he stood, holding him aloft. The dragon chewed slowly as if savoring every morsel, her forked tongue licking her lips as she gulped them down.

  Her jaws weren’t the only ones agape, for out in the bushes knelt a staring Rogin, horror riveting him to the spot. As he watched, the golden dragon lifted into the night air with a powerful leap and thrusts of leathery wings, scattering embers across the clearing. Then she sucked in a great breath and blasted fire down on the evidence, setting the forest ablaze so that Rogin crept away on his hands and knees, his back awash in heat. With a snap of her wings, the dragon turned and soared away to Castle Darlonon, where she rose into the sky and then plunged down inside to disappear.

  And Rogin ran. He ran as far down the road toward Olliana as his legs would carry him, finally collapsing before a startled farmer, tales of dragons, fire, and death pouring from his mouth. At first no one believed him, but soon lights appeared in the ruined castle at night and ogres trolled the woods, chased from the peaks by mercenaries at Darlonon. Just the one dragon had been seen, but the others couldn’t be far behind now that the Dragon Gate stood open. Someone had to close it, but only the long-missing champions could.

  Chapter 1 – RenFest

  With thundering hooves, the golden knight’s steed charged, lance aimed left toward the tilt separating him from his quarry. A dummy on a pole held forth a small metal ring for him to pluck free, and with a clink it slid down the shaft as the crowd politely cheered. He lifted the prize aloft, cantering around the stadium to a smattering of clapping. He wasn’t what they really wanted and he knew it, cheers turning to jeers in his mind. As more knights thundered in and the crowd roared for the main event, he left the small arena, unable to watch the other knights charge each other. But he heard the battle screams, the cracks of lances shattering on plate armor, the clatter of plate armor as men crashed to the ground.

  Sighing, he dismounted and pulled off the blue-plumed helmet, his feathered blond hair hiding the ear buds that were wirelessly tethered to the smartphone tucked inside his armor. Any signs of modern technology were strictly forbidden at the Maryland Renaissance Festival, or “RenFest,” as the locals called it. It ruined the illusion of the time period. Like all performers, he was supposed to show bewilderment when guests pulled out a camera. It was as if the whole faire, population included, had been transplanted from Medieval times and was unaware it wasn’t somewhere in England around the 1500s.

  Ryan led the white gelding to the stables, feigning smiles at young, busty women trying to get his attention, their pushed-up bosoms tempting his blue eyes. Being tall, handsome, and muscular readily attracted women, even without the costume, and pretending to be a hero got him more attention. If they knew the truth about him, they’d look the other way.

  As he pulled the saddle off, a familiar figure arrived beside him. Eric Foster stood dressed for his role as a jester at RenFest, wearing a parti-colored jumpsuit of red and blue, a matching three-pronged hat, and pointed shoes, all with bells. He looked ridiculous and had to be almost as uncomfortable as Ryan in the brutal August heat.

  “How’d the joust go?” Eric asked, taking off the hat to wipe sweat from soaked, black hair. “When are you gonna move on to the real thing?”

  “When I’m ready.”

  “Why aren’t you ready now? You’re better than the others at that ring thing you just did. I’d think that makes it easier to hit bigger targets like them.”

  “Can’t argue that.”

  After an awkward pause, Eric asked, “Worried about getting hurt?”

  Ryan opened his mouth to say no but realized it was close enough to the truth. “Sort of. People getting hurt comes with the territory.”

  Taking a sip of water, Eric observed, “You always seem to avoid contact sports. I’m still surprised you weren’t on the football team in school. It’s not that big a deal, you know. I get hit every day. You get used to it.”

  “It’s not me I’m really worried about,” the big man confessed, wincing as someone un-horsed a knight in the stadium. He realized his answer wasn’t entirely true. He’d seen his brother paralyzed for life and the idea chilled him. To be dependent on others for so much was a helplessness he couldn’t imagine. It gnawed at him every time he tended to his brother since the day of the accident so long ago.

  “I guess that’s better than being a wimp,” Eric remarked lightly, “but if you really want to do something, you shouldn’t let that hold you back. Accidents happen.”

  Ryan frowned. “Yeah, but we don’t have to invite them. I should just forget it and accept I’m never gonna do it.”

  “How’s that going to make you feel better?”

  “It’s not, but it’s better than the alternative.”

  “Which is?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Ryan led the horse into a stall and latched the door. As they exited the stables for the faire grounds, he realized that Eric would never understand, not when he did martial arts every day as an instructor. Ryan didn’t know how he could stand it, but Eric proudly admitted getting beat up all the time as a kid until learning karate. Ryan had little experience with violence, but all of it was bad. He’d never been struck by anyone except the one time he stupidly wondered aloud what a real punch felt like only to have Eric show him. He smirked at the memory.

  As they strolled along, Eric deftly picked the pocket of a father of two, then returned the wallet to the surprised man as people chuckled nervously. Ryan watched with mixed feelings. His friend had never given him a reason to distrust him, but Eric had spent years on the streets after his parents abandoned him. Eric’s last foster parents had turned him around, but it was a hard life for a rich kid like Ryan to imagine, sneaking into places, stealing things, and spending time in jail.

  They stopped at the knife throwing contest, where Eric mocked a teenage boy’s inaccuracy until the booth worker took his cue and reacted.

  “Think you can do better, Fool?” the man asked, handing Eric the knives. Ryan stood back, having seen the pair reenact this every weekend for a month. He knew what was coming and tried to play his role, feigning surprise by the skill the jester was about to demonstrate.

  Eric said, “I have more experience dodging these than throwing them!” He casually tossed one at the tree stump target and hit the bull’s eye. Acting startled, he did it again, then switched hands with the same result as people applauded. Again and again he struck the target, even tossing knives over one shoulder, under a raised leg, and blindfolded, though his accuracy dropped.

  Finally, Eric turned on the booth worker amidst the cheering. “Is this some kind of trick? They all hit the target. I want my money back.”

  “You never paid.”

  “Oh. Right. Well then, I, uh, guess I had better be going.” He turned.

  “Hey! Get back here!” The booth worker called as Eric ran away. Turning to Ryan, he demanded, “Sir knight! Do something!”

  Unsheathing his sword with a grand gesture, Ryan turned and called after Eric, pretending to give chase. He pushed his way through the crowd, watching Eric disappear but knowing where he was probably going.

  Eric heard Ryan’s voice fading and stopped running. The big guy would find him soon enough. He walked by the Market Stage, the Boar’s Head Tavern, and the strong man pole where Ryan sometimes slammed the mallet down so hard that the bell at the top not only rang but practically flew off. He ignored the shops selling trinkets, his eyes fixed on a fortune teller to one side. She had long blonde hair and hazel eyes in a face that turned heads, and his pulse raced on making eye contact and seeing Anna Lynn Sumner grin at him. He stood in line for his turn with her, and when the last kid was gone, Eric flopped down across the scarf covered table from her, bells jingling.

  “You know I have to read your palm while you’re here,” she said in greeting.

  “Of course,” he said, handing it over. “So, what
can you see?”

  “A bunch of bruises,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You need to take better care of them.”

  “It’s kind of hard in my line of work,” he replied, “but that’s not what I mean. Tell me my future, oh Mistress of the Heavens.”

  Chuckling, she said, “You know I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”

  “Then why are you giving palm readings all day?”

  “Because the kids believe it and it’s fun to see them dream.”

  Feigning exaggerated sadness, he asked, “Don’t you dream anymore, poor Anna?”

  “Of the supernatural that doesn’t exist? Hardly. I outgrew that sort of thing.”

  “Don’t let Ryan hear you say that, or he’ll call you a ‘godless one’ again.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I know. He’s funny with that. Religious people and their desire to save the world. How can we stand to live among them?”

  He smiled, for they’d talked about their mutual atheism before and tried not to bring it up before Ryan too much. The big guy was reasonable unless someone questioned the existence of God, but at least he didn’t go around quoting Scriptures. Few people could stomach that, least of all Anna. They knew she saw plenty of fallout from religious beliefs at the hospital where she worked as a medical resident. She sometimes complained that some people avoided real care in favor of some superstitious belief or other nonsense. Either that or they took matters into their own hands with some harmful treatment and made it worse. That reminded him of something.

  “Are you ready for tonight?” Eric asked, turning a little more serious.

  She pursed her lips. “I guess. If convincing him doesn’t work, then we’ll all just go without him.”

  Between her gaze going over his shoulder and the clinking of plate armor getting louder, he knew that the man they spoke of was approaching. “Still meeting at your place about it?”

  “Yeah. Remind Matt. He’s the key to it.”