The Gateway (Harbinger of Doom Volume 1)

by Glenn Thater

  “Oh my. Oh dear,” cried Par Tanch. “We in the Order of the Arcane know of these fearsome cults as well. Going up against the followers of Bhaal or Mortach or Hecate is a serious thing. Going up against the cults of all three is tantamount to suicide. Their assassins have slaughtered many in their beds; still others have gone missing, never to be seen or heard from again. Perhaps we should reconsider this venture. Yes, perhaps we should go back to the Dor and get more men or better yet send for help from Lomion. Yes, clearly this is a job for the Lomerian army or the rangers of Doriath Hall. Clearly, this is much too dangerous for our small band. My delicate back just can’t take the stress and exertion and --”

  A wave of Gabriel’s hand cut Tanch off. “Have you forgotten the nature of this mission, wizard?! We’re here to help Lord Eotrus if we can, or to avenge his death if he has fallen. There’s no reconsidering, we will do this thing.”

  Tanch’s face reddened. “Of course, of course, we must press on and help Lord Eotrus,” he recanted.

  “Yes, we must,” said Claradon.

  “Please forgive me, I just meant to say that if there’s fighting to be done I might not be able to help because of my delicate back.” He put his arm behind his back and winced in pain to demonstrate his plight. “But we must press on. Indeed, indeed, we must, we must.”

  IX

  MISTER KNOW IT ALL

  After a time, having found nothing else of note within the circle, the men returned to the stone where they had placed the coins. Ob was already there, having completed his initial reconnaissance of the woods, and was examining the coins.

  “Gabe,” Ob called out, “we found tracks of Aradon’s patrol.”

  Claradon’s heart leapt to his throat at the gnome’s words. Perhaps, there was some hope. He was anxious but fearful to hear what his gruff friend had to report.

  “We found the patrol’s tracks leading in from the east,” from the direction of the Dor. “The tracks end at the rim of the circle, about fifty yards east of where we’re standing.”

  They hurried over to where Ob had indicated, to see what there was to see. “You see, these tracks,” said Ob. “They get cut off right at the rim of the circle. No evidence they stopped or turned about. Someone must’ve blotted out the tracks.”

  “Or some thing,” said Dolan.

  “Oh my, I’m feeling faint,” said Tanch. He leaned against Dolan for support.

  Theta squatted down near the rim and studied the soil for some time.

  “The number and age of the tracks makes them likely from Aradon’s patrol,” said Ob. “And here’s the clincher, these shoeprints here are from Aradon’s horse. It’s a distinctive shoe; no other horse in the Dor has it.”

  Claradon knelt down to examine the print. “So, father was here. Now there’s no doubt.”

  “The other patrols reported that the circle grew in size each night,” said Gabriel. “That means that when Aradon’s patrol was here, the circle was smaller. Since then, it must’ve grown and blotted out the tracks.”

  “But we still don’t know how and why it’s expanding,” said Claradon.

  “I found tracks from each of the other patrols too,” said Ob. “Their tracks also end at the edge of the circle. But I found tracks from them patrols leading away from the area, returning back toward the Dor, which makes sense, since they made it home. There’s no evidence of Aradon’s patrol ever leaving, though. I couldn’t find any tracks from his horses or his men leading away from the circle in any direction.”

  “But where could they have gone? How could they just vanish?”

  “Maybe they got blotted, same as the tracks,” said Dolan.

  Theta cuffed him lightly on the back of the neck.

  “Yow! Sorry boss.”

  “I don’t rightly know, boy,” said Ob. “I ain’t ever seen the like of it. Glimador is doing another sweep of the area, but I think we founded all that we’re going to find. There’s more to tell, though.”

  “We founded us a couple of black pillars a ways out over that way,” pointing off to the west. “They’re part of them ruins you talked of earlier, Gabe.”

  “I knew we had to be close to the fell place,” said Gabriel.

  “I remembers two pillars being about a quarter mile west from the old temple. Them pillars we founded are the same two pillars. I’m sure about it.”

  “I remember those pillars,” said Gabriel, “But that would put the main ruins –”

  “- Right smack in the middle of that damn circle of nothing,” said Ob.

  “So the cult must’ve been using that old temple for some unholy rite of blackest magery,” said Claradon. “But that still doesn’t explain what happened to the temple ruins, or what this strange circle is about. Stone temples, even ruined ones don’t just disappear into thin air. Even masters of the arcane arts cannot easily accomplish such feats, I think.”

  “Perhaps their magic went awry, and the temple was somehow destroyed,” said Tanch.

  “Could the circle of coins be used to conjure up something, wizard?” said Theta. “Something from another world; something from the very Courts of Chaos themselves?”

  “Perhaps, perhaps, but I cannot be sure,” said Tanch. “Powerful chaos sorcerers have been known to possess the skills required to summon fiends from the beyond to do their bidding. But this circle, it’s so vast, so enormous - far larger than you’d need for calling up some fiend or familiar. It must have some other purpose.”

  “Maybe they were conjuring something really big,” said Dolan. He glanced sidelong at Theta, preparing to duck.

  “I shudder to think of what such a thing could be,” said Tanch. “No, I’m quite sure that their magic must have gone awry and caused the destruction of the temple and the formation of the circle.”

  “What if they were trying to conjure up one of them chaos fellas you told of Brother Claradon?” said Dolan as he edged farther from his master.

  “It’s hard to imagine such a thing being possible. Even if it were, the cultists would have to be mad to even attempt such a thing.”

  “Nevertheless, the circle is here,” said Theta.

  “Respectfully, sir, I don’t think such a thing is possible,” said Par Tanch. “You see, despite the colorful myths, these Chaos Lords aren’t really men at all, they’re more akin to forces of nature. The scholarly texts imply that they’re beings of energy and thought, not mortal flesh. They couldn’t really walk our world. No, the circle must be here for some other purpose.”

  “I wonder,” said Claradon, “if perhaps they could change their form, taking on a form akin to a mortal body, becoming some type of avatar. Perhaps, in such a guise they could enter Midgaard, through some mystical portal or gateway.”

  “Such a theory would reconcile the ancient texts with the folk stories we’ve all heard, but”—

  “Those are nothing but fairy stories, told to scare children,” said Ob. “There’s no truth to them. These chaos bozos are nothing but figments.”

  “Let’s pray that’s the case,” said Par Tanch. “For if a Chaos Lord did cross over to Midgaard, the entire world would be at utmost peril. Such a fiend would rampage across the land, leaving nothing but death and destruction in its wake. No mortal man, be he arch-wizard or knight champion could defeat such a beast.”

  “I would defeat it,” said Theta in an even tone, almost but not quite under his breath.

  “Bah!” spouted Ob. “You pompous tin can.”

  Theta glared at the gnome, but did not respond.

  “Did you find anything else, Ob?” said Claradon.

  “Yep, we did. We founded some other tracks outside the circle. Wagon tracks, and horse spoor they was. The wagon was a big one, heavily laden with something or other, cause it sunk deep into the sod. Eight to ten horses rode with the wagon. All the tracks head south.”

  “Toward Lomion,” said Tanch.

  “Whoever they were, they’d set a camp out there by them two big pillars. But the signs point
to them having left three or four days ago.”

  “So they would’ve been gone long before father’s patrol arrived,” said Claradon.

  “That’s right. So whoever they were they weren’t the ones that fought with the patrol,” said Ob. “I checked the tracks; the horses’ shoes didn’t have no markings, so they didn’t belong to any of the noble houses, the temples, or the guilds. So we don’t know who they are.”

  “We should question them, if nothing else,” said Tanch.

  “Hell, we should track the bastards down and bust their heads, cause for sure, they know something.”

  “If need be, we can head after them on the morrow,” said Gabriel.

  “Even then we may catch them,” said Ob. “They won’t be making much time pulling a big wagon through this wild. They must be dumb as rocks to take a wagon in here. Nobody like that could’ve outsmarted Aradon.”

  “Maybe them folks with the wagon needed some stones, so they hauled the ruins away,” said Dolan. Theta grinned despite himself.

  The other knights returned shortly, confirming that no tracks of Lord Eotrus’s party led away from the circle of desolation. The patrol had not left there, at least not by any normal means. There was nothing else for the expedition to do, save to await the coming of the unnatural fog and to see what it brought with it. The men moved to set a camp in the wood, not far from where they had dug up the golden coins.

  “Mr. Claradon,” said Dolan, “you should try and eat a bit more than just bread. It’s still a few hours until we expect the fog; you need to keep up your strength.”

  “I can barely manage the bread. I chew it and chew it, but without the water it won’t go down.”

  “Nerves is normal, boy,” said Ob as he chewed on a piece of jerky. “I’m worried about your father too, but we need to be at our best when we face whatever’s to come.”

  “I know. You’re right. I’m afraid if I eat more, I’ll just end up spewing it back up.”

  “Spew at them chaos fellas,” said Dolan. “That’ll teach them.”

  Claradon and Ob both let out a chuckle.

  “Claradon, me boy, I’ve known your father all his life, and his father afore him. He’s as tough as nails, and a right fine swordsman. He’ll be all right, I’m sure. We just have to believe that. That’s all we can do for now.”

  Claradon nodded slightly in response as he stared over toward the edge of the circle.

  “What’re you looking at?” Ob turned around to see. Gabriel and Theta were standing watch together at the rim.

  “I was just wondering what they’re talking about,” said Claradon. “Lord Theta doesn’t seem to say much, but has much to say. Dolan, is he always like that?”

  “Mostly,” said Dolan, as he pulled some carefully packaged salted pork from his pack. “They say he’s an enigma. I don’t rightly know what that means, but they don’t say it to his face, so it must be something bad.”

  “There’s worse things to be, I expect,” said Ob, as he too fixed his gaze on Theta. “That’s quite a suit of armor your boss has, sonny,” said Ob. “Why, it’s as fancy and shiny as the ceremonial armor of ole King Tenzivel hisself.”

  “It should be. I keep it well polished and bang out all the dents. There always seems to be more dents.”

  “Hmm. It sure is mighty pretty, but I’m a wondering if it can stand up to cold hard steel, or beasties’ claws. Myself, I wouldn’t wear no fairy armor like that in any case. No offense.”

  “None taken. But I wouldn’t say that to Lord Angle, if I were you,” he said, finishing off a piece of pork. “If you think his armor’s fancy, you should see his castle – what with the weapon and trophy collections, the paintings, and all those fancy wines.”

  “Has his own castle does he?” said Ob. “He must be some important fella over there cross the sea where youse hail from.”

  “That he is. He’s a brave hero,” said Dolan matter-of-factly.

  “You don’t say?” said Claradon.

  “Now sonny, just what has that fella done that makes him a hero?” said Ob.

  “He’s the kind that slays dragons, giants, monsters and such. Saved the world several times since I’ve been with him. They say he even fought the old gods way back in olden days, but I wasn’t around then.”

  “Ho, ho. I see you’re a teller of tales Dolan me boy,” said Ob, chuckling. “Killing dragons, fighting gods, ho ho. I’d bet them’s some goodly yarns to pass a cold night on the trail.”

  Dolan furrowed his brow and shook his head as he stared at another piece of jerky.

  “He seems a man of courage and strength,” said Claradon.

  “He’s stronger than any man I’ve ever seen,” said Dolan. “Why there was that time--”

  “Bah,” said Ob. “Me boy Gabriel there,” gesturing toward him, “smashes beasties afore breakfast. He be a true hero, not some fancy dressed dandy wearing a tin can and having a pole up his behind. He got his reputation on the battlefield, not in some children’s tales.”

  “That’s true enough,” said Claradon, as he looked toward Dolan. “More than twenty years ago, Sir Gabriel single-handedly slew a fire wyrm that was plaguing the villages of the Kronar Mountains. Later, he served as the Preceptor of the Order of the Knights of Tyr for several years before taking up service with my father. Many consider him the finest swordsman and Weapons Master in all Lomion. He –“

  “And the only ones what don’t think Gabe’s the best is dumb or dead or both,” said Ob. “And as for strong, just look at him,” he said, pointing toward Gabriel, “He could squash that mister foreign fancy pants like a bug.”

  “I doubt that,” said Dolan, narrowing his eyes at the crusty gnome.

  “Bah,” spouted Ob before taking a long swill from his wineskin. “I’d fancy a sample of them wines you mentioned though. I suppose if he likes a good bottle, he can’t be all bad.”

  “I thank the gods Sir Gabriel is with us in this,” said Claradon. “If he hadn’t returned from hunting, if we had to do this without him…” Claradon shook his head, and closed his eyes tightly for a moment. Then he tried to down a bite of the jerky.

  Though Gabriel had only served House Eotrus for the past ten years, he had made his mark on Claradon’s upbringing and his life. Of all the great men that Claradon knew, Gabriel was the one he yearned most to be like, the one whom he endeavored to model himself after. Where Aradon was his beloved father, Ob his closest friend, confidant, and lore master, Sir Gabriel was his hero. Where his father’s book learning and Ob’s vast experience about the realms had brought them great knowledge and wisdom, Gabriel far surpassed them. There seemed to be nothing he didn’t know, nowhere he hadn’t been. Where his father was a great swordsman with few peers in all the land, even his skills paled in comparison with Gabriel’s. Verily, Gabriel could best any five knights of the Dor at once in mock combat; such was his skill. When Sir Gabriel spoke to a group of men, even those that didn’t know him, he had no need to shout above them to gather their attention. The moment he uttered a word, all would become silent; everyone wanted to hear his words. Perhaps, it was due to the stories about him - his slaying of the fire wyrm, his defeat of the barrow-wight, his routing of the Lugron horde, or any of the myriad tales that abounded of him, or perhaps, it was merely his regal bearing and commanding presence. Why a man such as he, who had the strength, talent, and knowledge, to carve out an empire for himself would be content to serve as Weapons Master of a border fortress, Claradon could never fathom. When he asked him one day, Gabriel said that he had his reasons, but would speak no more about it.

  After a time, Ob grew curious, as gnomes are often wont to do. “Come on boy. Let’s go and see what them two is up to.” Ob, Dolan, and Claradon rose and joined the two knights at the rim. Theta and Gabriel looked over at the three as they approached, hesitating only a moment before continuing their conversation.

  “Dost thou sense it, my Lord?” said Gabriel.

  “I do,” said Theta, “I
thought ye might also.”

  “This be a truly unnatural place; and it’s more than just this strange magical circle. There was great evil here recently; it comes with the fog I suspect,” said Gabriel.

  “Ye are correct. When the baleful fog returns, creatures not of this world will return with it.”

  “Gabe and me have fought such creatures afore a time or two over the years,” said Ob. “Once over in the Dead Fens, another time in Southeast. I expect you have also, you being such a big hero and all,” said Ob.

  “I have, many times,” said Theta, peering down at the bellicose gnome.

  “But these others have not,” said Gabriel, gesturing toward the encampment. “They’re fine soldiers, but they’ve no idea what terrors await them here this eve.”

  “They will learn, or they will die. Such is the way of things,” said Theta.

  “A regular ray of sunshine, aren’t you Theta?” said Ob.

  “Put your teeth together, gnome, and open your ears,” said Theta. “This place – it is even more sinister than I think ye realize. It is becoming a gateway, a portal, to a place more horrific than any mortal can imagine - a place of incomprehensible evil, of mind shattering idiotic chaos, of pure insanity. Those who dwell there, beyond the pale, would make this place like that. This is what we must prevent. This is why we are here. We must seal this gateway, forever. This is our true quest.”

  Ob’s mouth dropped open at these words and he stared at Theta in disbelief. Gabriel merely stoically nodded his agreement. These ominous words so shocked Claradon he could say nothing.

  “What are you about, Theta?” said Ob. “Portal to another world? What madness is this? Listen young fella, I know you wouldn’t guess it from looking at me pretty face, but I’m three hundred and sixteen year old and have been from one side of this continent to the other more times than you’ve had birthday’s, and I’ve never seen nor heard tell of such a thing. Sure, there be some powerful wizards that can conjure up a strange beastie or two, but nothing more. Gateway to another world, bah.”