The Dragon Gate (The Dragon Gate Series Book 1)

by Randy Ellefson

  By nightfall they once again gathered in Lorian’s private meeting room. Eric had finished reading the scroll Soliander had written and discovered no mention of how the Dragon Gate worked. There was probably good reason for that, but now their only hope lay in something being written on the gate itself. Otherwise they’d just have to wing it, and no one thought that would turn out well. Now he wanted more information on the Ellorians themselves.

  The rogue asked, “What can you tell us about Andier and the others? If people think I’m him, some info on him would be nice.”

  Seeing four curious faces turned toward him, Lorian responded, “Andier comes from the kingdom of Roir on another world. Less is known about him than the others, even Soliander, because it’s his desire to draw information from others, not reveal it about himself. Like all good men of his ilk, he knows that others’ ignorance of him is to his advantage. Not only do they not know what to expect from him, but it makes his reputation larger than life, and such things go a long way in negotiations. Having details of your personality and past known can only be used against you, and the champions certainly have their enemies.”

  “From thwarting people’s plans?” Anna asked.

  “Yes,” answered the elf. “For every group that sings songs of their deeds, there’s another that curses their names. Each of the champions had enemies even before they started working together.”

  Before the elf could continue, Matt wondered aloud, “When did they meet? Why did they join forces?”

  This time Morven answered. “Before that, each had done quests alone or with helpers who weren’t up to the task, such as Korrin needing a wizard but finding only someone so unskilled that they became a second danger as a result. As the Ellorians started encountering each other and learned they shared a passion for solving the problems of various kingdoms, each realized the others were the competent comrades they desired.”

  Anna asked, “How many quests did they go on? How long were they doing this?”

  “Several years, and hundreds of quests in that time.”

  “Wow. That doesn’t leave a lot of personal time.”

  “Yes it is,” agreed Rognir, puffing on a pipe that gave off a sweet scent. “This self-sacrifice is responsible for the respect in which they are held, and for the willingness of summoners to provide every comfort imaginable during their stay.”

  “What else can you tell me about Andier?” Eric asked, getting back on track. He noticed they spoke of the champions in the present tense, as if they still lived somewhere. Hopefully that was true, and it would be great if they showed up any time now to take over.

  Lorian turned back to him. “Little. He is deadly with knives, swords, the bow and arrow, and with his hands and feet, much the way you are from what I saw in your suite. His balance is superb, and he’s nearly as adept from horseback, even dragon-back. He can scale any wall, get beyond any trap, and solve any riddle. His ability to get others to unwittingly reveal information is legendary, and it’s said he often knows people better than they know themselves, and within minutes of meeting them. He is called the Silver-Tongued Rogue with good reason. He is also rather charming with the ladies, as you might imagine.”

  “Well,” Eric drawled, trying to make light of all that, “at least I have that last part taken care of.” He glanced at Anna, who laughed a little too hard about that.

  Morven added, “Andier is an only child and it is not known if any relatives live, though undoubtedly some do. He would not want anyone to know so threats to them cannot be used against him.”

  Eric nodded, thinking that being unaware of any living relatives was another thing he shared with Andier.

  Morven turned to Anna, his face lighting up as he spoke so that Eric wondered if he had a crush on the subject of his words. “The Lady Eriana of Coreth is unusual in her peacefulness, which shines from her. Her presence alone lifts spirits, and she seems on first glance to have never known anguish, for many people assume such tranquility could not possibly lie on the far side of tragedy. They have never known it to be so, have never seen someone be at such peace after catastrophe, but Eriana has known deep pain.

  “It is said she was shattered in her teenage years by a betrayal from someone close to her. It devastated her mind and spirit, causing great turmoil and leaving her desperate for kindness and care from others. Instead, she fell in with the wrong sort and received quite the opposite, making her confusion and anguish worse. It was in this darkness of the mind and soul that her power – and ultimately, her peace – were found. We do not know by what means she recovered herself, but the wisdom for which she became famous suggests deep introspection.

  “Some time after this, she sought to help a gravely wounded friend and found herself begging the gods for aid, which was granted with vigor. So touched was she by this answer that she devoted herself to helping others, and the power she has wielded as a devotee of the gods is quite unusual. Her new calling gave her the serenity for which she is now well revered.”

  “We call it self-actualization on Earth,” remarked Anna.

  Eric thought she looked displeased, almost disapproving. Did she think she couldn’t be that way herself? “How old was she?” he asked.

  “Each was in their mid to upper twenties when they disappeared,” answered Morven, “perhaps a few years older than each of you.”

  “However,” started Lorian, “their experiences gave them gravity beyond their years so that they appeared older. You seem young by comparison, especially to an elf.”

  “So everyone should expect us to look a decade older,” observed Eric.

  “Yes,” replied Lorian, “but few ever saw them for long. Casual encounters with you will leave most people fooled, and many will be too awestruck to question anything.”

  “That helps,” remarked Eric. He noticed they spoke about this as if he and the others were permanent replacements, which he didn’t like, but something else had his attention. “What can you tell us about Korrin?”

  Morven set down his wine glass and looked at Ryan as he replied. “He received training as a knight from an early age and seems to excel with every weapon he touches. He even fights well with things that aren’t intended to be weapons. His strength is impressive, and he’s been known to shatter an opponent’s sword or shield with a single-handed blow. The title Dragon Slayer is well-earned and initially caused his great reputation, for he was trained in killing them with both the lance and sword. You’ll find that his armor there is fire-proof, to a degree.”

  “To a degree?” Ryan asked skeptically. He started to laugh. “What does that mean? I’ll only get second degree burns?”

  “It means you’ll feel no effects from dragon fire the first few blasts within a short time,” answered Morven. “Then the protection lessens until it has a chance to restore itself, which usually takes a day from what I remember. The magic is strong. It should be, as Soliander cast the spell.”

  “That was rather sporting of him,” said Matt. “Do you know what magic items we all have?”

  Morven replied. “Maybe not all, but many, yes.” He went on to say that Soliander created various things for them. One was called the Trinity Ring, for it could heal someone three times before being spent, and all but Eriana wore one. Korrin bore another ring called the Dispersion Ring, which allowed the hand wearing it to pass through magical barriers and generally be unaffected by magic up to the shoulder. For Andier, another ring made his hand do more damage and act like a magical weapon, since some creatures could only be struck by one and he often fought with hand and foot. Lorian didn’t know all their items, however, and remarked that all of them lost their power in certain areas where magic didn’t work at all.

  “What about Soliander?” Matt asked. “What can you tell us about him?”

  This time Rognir replied. “For all Andier’s silence about his life and wants, Soliander is the most mysterious of the four, not because the details of his life aren’t known, but because they are. It
is he who has had enough brushes with darkness to make some question his allegiance to matters of peaceful living, quietly of course.

  “It has long been known that those of a dark disposition attain power more readily, due to the absence of a conscience to impede their progress. If their aspirations go awry and cause a death, for example, it is of no consequence to them, and while Soliander is not this way, he has always desired great power, and with good reason once the quests began in earnest. The champions are summoned to fight truly fearsome foes of often great magical power, and it is Soliander’s own might that often defeats these opponents. Imagine needing to be the most powerful wizard on not only one world, but across many. As a result, he sometimes takes great chances with his soul, dancing a fine line between the light and darkness to achieve his goal.”

  “That said,” interjected Lorian, “he is a good man, but one greatly preoccupied with other matters and not given to idle conversation. His reputation for being uninterested in social matters, to the point of rudeness, is well known.” Looking at Matt, he remarked, “You are far more approachable so that some will be surprised by this, but you should expect to find yourself standing alone at social events. Soliander is a most intimidating man.”

  Matt nodded, and Eric remembered his account of Raith at the banquet and how nervous the young wizard had seemed. No one else had spoken to him all night.

  “You had best turn in early tonight,” advised Lorian, rising, “for the quest begins tomorrow and you will need your strength and energy in the days ahead.”

  The arch wizard Sonneri frowned at the black orb before him. A wizard of his power didn’t fail to make such simple scrying devices work, so he knew it wasn’t him. Something had happened, and while it stood to reason that the spy might be in an area of Lorian’s estate where contact couldn’t happen, he had a bad feeling that wasn’t it. If Soliander had caught on, Sonneri didn’t relish the ensuing discussion.

  “Stupid bird,” he muttered, throwing a black cloth over the orb and turning away. Queen Lorella expected a report on their progress to Castle Darlonon, and while he could still provide one, it would be the last. She had been rather demanding the last few weeks, which was unlike her, but she was under great stress after all. It affected all of them, but he’d noticed that no relief had come to the queen with the champions’ arrival, which was odd. The last time they’d been here, the situation had been astronomically worse and the task far harder, so Lorella should’ve been as giddy as a girl. Not so. Wondering about that, Sonneri left the tower for her meeting rooms, something nagging at the back of his mind.

  Chapter 12 – Unrest in the Forest

  The quest began in earnest the next morning as they departed Arundell in the company of Lorian, Morven, Rognir, and a dozen elves. They traveled light, with little more than grey, woolen bedrolls and long bows tied to battle-ready horses, the leather saddle packs easily carrying what little supplies they needed. The dirt trails offered few challenges, allowing them to ride side-by-side and talk idly, but everyone kept quiet. The apprehensive mood of the group made Ryan wonder if he’d cast a pall over them. His long face matched his melancholy heart, since he’d believed for days he wouldn’t be going and yet here he sat. Since he agreed with Lorian’s reasoning, there was no sense thinking about it, but it weighed on him anyway and he rode in resigned silence.

  The quest wasn’t anything like stories made them seem. He realized all those fantasy role-playing games were true foolishness and that there was nothing romantic about this. It hadn’t seemed that way on arrival and when leaving Olliana amidst cheering crowds, but those people had no clue about death. Maybe it was always that way when people went to war. People who didn’t do the fighting often had romantic visions of it while those doing the killing and watching friends die were scarred for life.

  The thought strengthened his resolve to escape unharmed, for he had no intention of watching his friends die or spending any more of his life mourning those close to him – whether his actions contributed to it or not. And maybe that was the heart of the matter. He would fight to save himself and his friends, and that was about all. Never mind the quest. It was only important because they couldn’t go home until it was done. He wasn’t a hero and didn’t want to be one now that he understood what it took.

  Along the way, he decided to make sure they could find their way back if something happened to the elves or Rognir. When Lorian offered to teach him and Eric scouting tricks, he accepted, learning how to tell a footprint’s age and subtle signs of passage, whether it be crushed grass, overturned leaves, disturbed branches, or the more obvious overturned stones and broken limbs. Deer, elk, rabbit, and elven prints lay on every trail, but eventually they came upon a print they hadn’t seen before.

  “What does that belong to?” Ryan asked, surprised by the print’s size. Longer and wider than his by half, the single set of tracks lay half in the grass and half out. Even he could tell the creator wore two mismatched boots.

  Lorian’s eyes moved from one print to the next. “Nothing we have to worry about now,” the elf answered, rising. He made a gesture to the other elves, who cast wary glances about their path. “I hadn’t expected to see this so far from the mountains, but the marks are a week old.”

  “Okay, but what is it?” the knight persisted as the elf remounted. So many fantasy creatures were coming to life on Honyn that the footprints’ size and spacing suggested names like giant, ogre, and troll. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting anything like that.

  “Let us ride.” Lorian took the lead again and the others followed as the knight stood there frowning. It wasn’t like the elf to be tightlipped, and he and Eric exchanged a look.

  Anna took the opportunity to reposition herself away from Rognir, who had pressured her to choose a god to call on when the time came. The dwarf was a priest and her three friends each wore a ring with three healing spells, so they’d be fine and not need her to pretend. She’d find a way to be helpful when the action started, stopping short of any violence. Despite the run of films and TV shows with women kicking butt, she didn’t have delusions of spinning kicks and the like. She’d leave that to Eric. Staying alert would be enough for now.

  She pulled up beside Matt, who rode with his nose buried in a spell book. He’d long ago let the reins drop, prompting Morven to take them and lead the horse. The breadth of available spells amazed him into reading about all of them instead of focusing on a select few to learn. He’d expected restrictions on what he could learn, such as some spells reading like gibberish until he was powerful enough, but he understood all of it and began testing himself, reciting the words without looking at them, trying to get them right.

  The first night, they’d camped in the elven forest, feeling vulnerable as darkness descended. They’d been attacked in a fortified, armed castle and in Lorian’s estate, so being in the open seemed absurd even with the elves standing guard. Ryan lay awake for a long time, ears straining for any weird sounds, of which there were plenty in the alien forest. Most he recognized as bird calls or night insects, and while the howl of a wolf sounded familiar, a deeper growl far off caught his ear. Two elves exchanged a look and the knight lay back heavily. It was going to be a long night. His only consolation was the belief, however uninformed, that whatever made those big footprints would make enough noise to give him some warning if it showed up here. He’d never slept in armor before but felt more comfortable in it despite it being uncomfortable.

  As the second day passed, the forest-covered mountains loomed larger through the treetops, the ground rising and falling as they entered the foothills. Tomorrow would see them at the castle, meaning one last day before seeing a dragon in person. Ryan had to admit the idea still excited him if he ignored everything else, but toward noon that became impossible. The big footprints had reappeared. This time the guides’ unmistakable reaction prompted him to urge his horse up to Lorian.

  “What is it?” Ryan asked. The elf rose from examining the tracks
, one hand discreetly loosening his sword.

  “Ogres,” he replied, swinging into the saddle. “Three of them. One walks with a limp.” He looked the knight in the eye. “The tracks were made yesterday.”

  Shit, Ryan swore to himself. Remembering the other footprints being older, he asked, “Did we catch up to them?”

  Loran shook his head. “None of the prints match the other set exactly. Given the unrest in the Tarron Mountains from the Dragon Cult’s activities, and those like Cirion trying to reach Castle Darlonon, and Olliana trying to stop them, the ogres have likely come down to the woods for sport and will not be returning soon.” He indicated the prints and remarked, “These travel parallel to the mountains, not toward them or even away like the ones yesterday.”

  “So there’s a good chance these three are still around here?” Ryan noticed the other elves quietly checking their weapons.

  Lorian didn’t answer, instead remarking, “We’re a few hours from the elven outpost where we’ll stay tonight. They can advise us on how things fare.”

  That surprised the knight. “Would the ogres have easily gotten by the outpost to reach here? Wouldn’t the elves have stopped them?”

  Lorian’s knowing green eyes met his before the elf moved on. Ryan frowned, aware of the elves repositioning themselves to surround and protect them. If the ogres had made it by the elves, what would they find ahead? He didn’t know how big a deal ogres were, but an elven guard station being overrun didn’t seem like a minor event. Curiosity about the number of elves there and its fortifications ate away at him. They only had twelve with them.