The Dragon Gate (The Dragon Gate Series Book 1)

by Randy Ellefson

  Matt figured little harm could come from giving their real names, since this man clearly knew he wasn’t Soliander. “Eric, Anna, and Ryan, all from Earth, too.”

  The man cocked an eyebrow, eyes boring into his. “Not Andier, Eriana, or that lumbering idiot Korrin?”

  “No. We’re not really them, just pretending to be.”

  The man seemed satisfied and thoughtful before returning attention to his captive. “Who sent you?”

  “Uh, Queen Lorella.”

  The figure scowled. “Not to this castle, to this world.”

  Matt wasn’t sure how to answer that. “We were summoned by Sonneri.”

  The man frowned and paused, rephrasing his question. “Did Andier, Eriana, or Korrin somehow arrange for you to arrive in their place during the next summoning?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know.” Matt noticed he didn’t ask about Soliander, and with a start the significance of their identical possessions registered, right down to the supposedly one of a kind staff each held. His eyes widened in excitement and fear, but he dared not ask the question, instead focusing on how he was going to get out of this. He couldn’t move his arms but wondered if his magic items might work. His eyes turned to the staff.

  “It is no use,” the figure said, seeing his gaze. “You cannot cast a spell. I have seen to that. Your magic devices will also not work.” Suddenly the figure paused, wide eyes on Matt’s staff. “You…you have a copy of the staff! This should not be.” Suspicious eyes turned on the techie, a glint of new menace appearing. “Well, no matter. You won’t live to use it. You will remain until I am done with you, and you will reveal what I want to know.”

  With that, the man put one hand on Matt’s forehead and spoke magic words he understood. “Be open and true, your mind laid bare, safe and secure, your secrets treasured, honored, and shared. Let all be revealed in the comfort of benevolence, kindness, and trust, for to free yourself of your fear is to free your heart’s woes. Be open to me, in all your beautiful glory.”

  Despite the soothing words, Matt resisted as the man probed his mind, control of his thoughts wrested away. As if his memories were television stations and this man held the remote, his thoughts leapt from one thing to another, randomly and without regard for Matt’s privacy. He flushed at being violated, embarrassing moments mixing with what anyone knew about him, secrets of no value to this man devoured as readily as their time on Honyn. Matt’s life flashed before his eyes, anger building as he sensed amusement and scorn about his life and identity from the man.

  He could still think for himself, it seemed, and in the back of his mind an idea lay hidden, his eyes on the identical staves. If he could control his staff, then in theory he could control the other one, too. Matt’s staff might have been disabled by the wizard, but the other one likely hadn’t been.

  In desperation, Matt focused his will on the figure’s staff, reaching out to it with all his might. At first it wouldn’t recognize him as if uncertain that two people could connect to it at once, but then Matt felt it react. So, too, did the figure, realizing Matt’s intent and surprised it was working, which Matt sensed due to their connection. But it was too late. With a burst of hope, Matt embraced the energy and spoke the word, “Enumisar.” Flames erupted from it to engulf the man and in an instant Matt fell free of his grasp and the spell binding him. Scorching heat washed over him as he turned and ran, screams of pain and rage mixing with the crackle and whoosh of fire behind him.

  Standing with a knife in each hand, the rogue looked around warily. He’d come through the door last and seen his friends in the room before him, but now they and the room itself were gone. The knives had come out when he realized he wasn’t alone. Across the room stood a tall woman in a silky, golden robe, voluptuous curves tempting his eyes away from her striking face. A vision of loveliness, she looked at him expectantly if not pleasantly, hands folded behind her back. The room stood otherwise empty of even an exit. All four walls, the ceiling, and the floor were solid, unless the way lay hidden. Searching might yield something, but he suspected the woman held the answer and stepped a little closer. They stared at each other silently and when she finally cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him, he spoke.

  “Greetings,” Eric said, deciding on diplomacy. “I don’t mean to be rude, and would love to stay and chat, but I need to get out of this room and back to where I was.”

  “That you may do,” she replied in a vibrant, alto voice.

  “How?”

  In response she simply smiled. He got the impression that she was amused by the possibility that he thought it would be that easy. He paused to get his bearings. Since rooms normally didn’t behave this way, he had to assume this was Soliander’s doing and not something the former inhabitants had left behind. Then again, assumptions were never good, especially now. He needed to know who and what she was and why she was here. Then he could figure out how to get out of here.

  “Are you real?”

  She paused. “Yes.”

  He looked at her shrewdly, knowing the hesitation meant something. It had been a bad question. She could be a real illusion.

  “Are you a being of flesh and blood?”

  “No.”

  So she was real but not physical. He realized these questions weren’t really getting him anywhere and changed subjects. “Did Soliander summon you?”

  She smirked. “No.”

  Again her demeanor tipped him off that she wasn’t entirely honest because that hadn’t been a good question either. Technically the wizard was nowhere to be found and yet the spell had still gone off. In a way, Eric had caused her to be here. “Is Soliander responsible for you being summoned to this room when I entered it?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded, satisfied. This could take a while if he wasn’t specific. He wondered if there was a limit on the number of questions he could ask, or a time limit, like many of the computer games he’d played. How was he supposed to know? He could ask, but she hadn’t been forthcoming and only given yes or no answers. Still, Soliander must have meant this as a test, not an execution or imprisonment, so there had to be rules and it wasn’t sportsmanlike to prevent him from knowing them. She hadn’t answered his general question on how to get out, however, so he thought long and hard before opening his mouth again.

  “What are the limitations imposed upon our interaction?”

  She beamed as if pleased at the leap in his logic. “You may ask ten questions.”

  His eyes widened. How many had he already asked? Five or six, at least.

  Seeing his reaction, she winked knowingly. “You have four left.”

  What? Shit. If he’d known that he wouldn’t have asked half of them. Maybe he should be grateful he found out now. He wanted to ask what happened after that but of course that would waste a question. He muttered, “After that I guess I’ll be stuck here.”

  A glint of steel appeared in her eyes as her arms slid out from behind her back, a short sword gleaming in each hand. A shiver ran over him. She might have looked like a woman, but she was clearly something more deadly – if that were possible – and her motion suggested great skill and willingness, both of which he lacked. He was no match with the sword, and he suspected a knife or two wouldn’t take her out before she – or it – reached him. He had to say something to get out of this, but it could have been anything. Asking a question probably wasn’t going to do it. That would just allow him to figure out what to say. He knew what he wanted to know but thought about how to phrase it for several minutes before finally asking.

  “How can I convince you to let me gain my freedom from this room?”

  “You must prove your freedom is wise.”

  Finally, he thought, a real clue. Okay, so why is my freedom wise? I’m here to reset the gate, but this spell predates the gate being open again, so that can’t be it. The spell was created by Soliander, probably to stop people from reaching the gate, but not himself, of course. So I could say I just
want to leave and maybe it would let me go, but if I was Soliander, I wouldn’t fall for a lie because I could just try to get in some other way.

  The rogue stopped there, biting his lip. He wondered who Soliander would let reach the gate but drew a blank, since only the other champions were likely, but maybe that was it. The only people who could be trusted were those who’d been involved from the start, and they were probably the only ones Soliander thought would try to reach the gate with good intentions. That had to be it. Now Eric might be pretending to be Andier, but that wasn’t enough. Maybe he had to prove he was one of the other three. It warranted a question.

  “If I can prove I am Andier, Korrin, or Eriana, will you let me escape?”

  “Yes.”

  Eric sighed in relief. He had two questions left and felt close now. There were only two ways he could think of to prove it. Either he had an item of Andier’s he could show, and he should have everything with him, or he had to know something only they would know. He hoped for the former and thought about what he wore. None of the items were that unique, aside from being well made, but then he remembered the short sword and Ryan’s observation that both of their swords might have been made of soclarin ore. His eyes lit up. That was something only the Ellorians had. He slowly pulled out the sword and held it up for her to see.

  “This is made of soclarin ore,” he began, “as only they would….” He didn’t finish the statement, for the woman leapt at him with swords slicing through the air, a frenzy of slashing motion. Startled, the rogue barely had time to launch one knife, which she casually caught on a blade and flung aside. Then she was on him like a whirlwind of steel and he knew he was going to die. Their swords met only once before a blade slashed his arm, another his chest, and finally both plunged to the hilt into his belly. In agony, he bent forward over her fists, her sinister eyes looking into his with contempt. She then shoved him back and off the twin blades. He fell on his back, his abdomen a bloody mess.

  It occurred to him too late that Soliander had described the ore in the scroll so anyone could have known about it, and that it was the worst thing he could’ve said. After all, that’s probably why someone had opened the gate and Soliander certainly didn’t want the ore falling into the wrong hands. Feeling like a fool, he looked up at his killer without blame as she straddled him with both swords raised above her head, ready to finish him. He suddenly remembered the Trinity Ring and that Soliander had made it and Eric knew the voice commands – something only the champions knew.

  “Oonurarki,” he choked out, and the woman vanished as the ring’s strongest spell healed him. He sat up, finding himself in the room he’d seen before stepping through the door. An illusion, he observed without surprise, noting his injuries had been real enough.

  Taking stock, he rose and decided not to open the door he’d come through yet. It had obviously triggered a trap and once had been enough. Maybe the others were dealing with something, too, and so he moved off to one side to wait. Not long after, a distraught Anna ran through another door, covered in blood. Seeing him, she buried her face in his shoulder before he knew it.

  Momentarily speechless, he finally asked, “Are you hurt?” Her head shook. “Then whose blood? Matt?” Again she shook her head. “Ryan?” She nodded and he put her at arm’s length. “Where?” He started for the door.

  “No!” Anna said, grabbing him again. “No, it’s too late.”

  “What? What do you…?” He trailed off, her distress answering the question.

  Lone, steel-shod footsteps sounded from a hallway to one side and he moved to guard her, pulling out two throwing knives. A figure in golden armor stepped into sight, bloodied sword in one hand and a lance in the other. Blood covered much of the knight, who gave no indication of being in pain as he flashed a relieved smile.

  “Ryan!” Eric let out a sigh of relief. Anna’s head snapped up and her mouth fell open. The big man came forward, eyes looking for the wizard.

  “Where’s Matt?” he asked, putting away the sword. Anna suddenly rushed into his arms.

  “I don’t know about you,” started the rogue, glancing around warily, “but I just dealt with an illusion that dumped me here when it was done. I think Anna did, too. She saw you die, I think.”

  “Oh,” said Ryan, turning serious. “Well, I’m fine, Anna,” he said to her, putting a hand on her awkwardly. “It’s okay. I mean I did get hurt but I was able to heal myself with the ring.”

  She nodded and pulled herself together to step back. “So maybe you dealt with an illusion, too,” she suggested, wiping tears from her face.

  “Maybe,” he agreed. They heard feet running toward them from another hallway and Matt ran into view, looking terrified.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” Matt yelled, looking back.

  “What’s the matter?” Ryan asked.

  “There’s a powerful wizard not far behind me. He’s pissed!” He stopped to catch his breath. “I set him on fire.”

  “That would do it.” Eric smirked.

  The knight shrugged. “It’s probably an illusion. We all just experienced one, separately, it seems. Yours is probably over just like the rest of ours.”

  A scream of rage sounded from behind Matt. “Did that sound like an illusion?”

  “Actually, no,” Ryan admitted. He looked at Eric. “Do you think we’d experience each other’s illusions? We didn’t before.”

  Eric took Anna’s arm and started for a door across from the one that triggered everything. “Let’s not find out.”

  With trouble coming from behind, they didn’t wonder what lay behind the door as they jerked it open and stepped through, but only an ascending stairway greeted them. The others started up as Ryan bolted the door behind him. It wasn’t until he saw them standing at the top and not moving that alarm bells went off in his head. He crept up quietly, hoping to get a peek without letting himself be seen by whatever had arrested their attention, but all thoughts of that vanished when a tremendous roar shook the walls. It was deafening and shocking in its massiveness and could only mean one thing.

  As he watched, a sinuous golden neck rose high into the air, pulling an enormous head with it. Two gigantic, baleful eyes swept over his friends and then picked him out from down below them, not missing a thing as its prey arrived. Ryan heard a slow rushing of air he didn’t understand until the dragon opened its fanged mouth and the sound reversed, accompanied by a huge spout of searing flames racing toward them.

  “They did not follow?” Lorian asked, worried. He, the dwarf, and the other, remaining eight elves stood on a landing halfway down to the dungeon. The guards could still be heard laughing and joking below, unaware of the impending attack, but now the rescue of Cirion’s mercenaries might have to wait. The absence of the champions didn’t bode well. Lorian cursed himself for letting them come last. Something must have happened.

  “We’d better check on them,” Rognir muttered, starting toward the stair with a muted clatter of metal.

  “No,” started Lorian, fearing the dwarf would be heard. “I’ll go. Continue on to Cirion. You should still outnumber whoever’s down here.”

  The dwarf frowned. “This fellow isn’t nearly as important.”

  “Yes, but the wizard can help us. The cult likely didn’t expect prisoners and probably only diverted a few guards for this. Nine of you likely outnumbers them and one more won’t make a difference.”

  “You underestimate yourself.”

  Lorian nodded thanks and hefted his sword as he cautiously retraced his steps. No fighting had been heard, which suggested the four had taken to hiding. While only Andier had skill in the role he played, Lorian doubted the group would give in easily. They’d shown a willingness to defend themselves at least.

  Atop the stairs, he saw and heard nothing, their last known location empty. The far door seemed the most likely place they’d have gone, so he opened it, peered in, but saw no signs of them in a room with several doors and corridors. He pursed hi
s lips, considering. They’d probably gone that way, but there were too many options to investigate. They could be quite far removed from here by now. Perhaps he had better look anyway.

  He took one step in when a scream split the air. It came not from below where he expected fighting but off to one side and behind. He shut the door and returned to the hall, seeing no one but hearing rushed footsteps and a staff thumping on the floor, moving away, so he followed. At the first corner, he caught the scent of burned flesh and saw a figure in smoldering black robes moving away. Assuming it was Matt, he hurried after to help the wounded wizard, but the figure’s aggressive gait was quite unlike the techie’s, so he slowed in suspicion.

  Around corners and down stairways, he discreetly followed the figure until suspecting he knew how to intercept it. The dust had been disturbed along the route, so any traps had likely been cleared. He descended stairs into the darkness, no torches burning along the way, and ducked behind a marble statue at the bottom, in a dark room adorned with pillars. Across the room, a dim light grew brighter and footsteps louder along with the thumping staff as the figure stalked into the room from a hallway. Despite the face being turned away, Lorian stared in recognition, questions swirling as he followed, wondering what to do or say. Something wasn’t right.

  Always waiting until the figure vanished around a corner, Lorian followed quietly until hearing magic words. He peered around it to see the robed figure standing before an ornate golden frame covered in dust, shimmering rays of light pouring from it to cast dancing shadows around the room. The figure took one step toward the portal and Lorian stepped out into the room.

  “Soliander!”

  The figure turned with such fierceness that the elf knew something was coming. He dove behind the wall as a blast of lightning scorched the hall and blew stones all over him, a dust cloud obscuring the air, a deafening rumbling all around. When it stopped, he couldn’t hear anything and worried the figure would be standing above him when he turned, but it was not. A gash on one leg made it hard to stand, and on peering around the corner that, he felt no surprise that all signs of the wizard were gone.