“No, though that never hurts,” he joked. “I just like it when a woman lets a man be a man and she can be a woman herself, instead of fighting it.”
“And what does accepting it mean? Being barefoot and pregnant?”
He scowled. “I never said that, and that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Not dressing like a man, and being feminine, for example. Being seen as a woman is not the bad thing some women make it out to be.”
Anna had to admit he had a point but decided to end the banter. She climbed under the grey, wool blankets and rolled away from him. “Well, you can change now and I promise not to look. That way I won’t see you as a man.”
With a chuckle, he asked, “Afraid you’ll enjoy it?”
She turned back and looked him in the eye. “Oh, I’m sure I would.”
“Turn around,” he ordered, smiling.
“As you command, my lord.”
In the morning, Eric stood on weak legs and knew it was going to be a long day. Soreness set in despite the stretching he’d done the day before and before bed. The others had watched in amusement, but today it would be his turn to laugh. He peered through the dirty window, seeing the sky lightening to one side. He’d risen near dawn without an alarm. Life without a timepiece seemed more relaxed as long as he didn’t have appointments or a schedule. In the castle, people had come to get them or wake them as needed, and he suspected Lorian would set their schedule from here onward, but he longed for a way to be certain of not oversleeping.
With Matt asleep, he tried to discreetly use the black, wrought-iron chamber pot, but the sound of a liquid stream hitting metal woke the techie, who rolled over and groaned.
“My legs hurt and I haven’t even stood up yet,” Matt complained, pulling sheets over his head.
“Maybe Anna can heal you,” Eric replied helpfully.
“She doesn’t believe in God, remember? How’s she going to heal anyone?”
Eric grunted and buttoned his leather pants, which he’d slept in, though he normally slept in the buff. Then again, he lived in a temperature controlled environment, not a heat-impaired wooden inn. The court had given them sleeping gowns, but they weren’t really appropriate for traveling and corny anyway.
“That’s a good point. I hadn’t thought of that.” He sat on the bed to pull on his leather boots. “I’ll leave so you can pee. I wonder what time checkout is.” Matt smiled at his reference to Earth hotels.
“Check the weather on the TV while you’re up, and please, please, please get me some coffee. I’m dying here.”
“I didn’t see a Starbucks,” started Eric, heading for the door.
“You’d be surprised,” Matt interjected. “They’re everywhere so Honyn has to have one somewhere.”
“I’ll be downstairs checking my email at the concierge desk.”
“We are the news,” Matt remarked, laughing.
Eric paused as the truth of it struck him. They were indeed. And when they failed, they were also going to be the news.
This was not going to end well.
In the Great Honyn Forest, a buck stepped quietly through the underbrush, picking its way so silently that any humans or elves wouldn’t have noticed had they been near. The estate of Arundell lay just yards away, but those inside paid no heed to natural things moving beyond the wall surrounding it, for it was enchanted to let wildlife pass through and onto the grounds. The wall reformed behind the buck as it entered the grounds and it glanced over its shoulder as if acknowledging the wall’s anomalous behavior.
As for the buck itself, it was of unusual coloring, being dark black with white streaks through its fur, with wicked antlers of ebony, and bold demeanor. It strode with a purposefulness uncommon in wildlife, even passing elderberry, greenbrier, holly, and other delights without a glance. Nearby white-tailed deer took one look at it and bolted, for something never before seen was not to be trusted. The buck spared them not a glance as it reached a clearing. In the distance, the rooftops of Arundell’s manor appeared. With a bound of energy, the buck headed straight for them.
A winding dirt road brought the champions to the crest of a hill overlooking the Great Honyn Forest, green treetops and pines stretching away, the craggy, snow-capped peaks of the dark Tarron Mountains on the horizon. The peaks’ distance made Ryan realize he had days before his trial truly began unless something happened on the way there. And it likely would, for Lorian confirmed that ogres, orcs, goblins and other fantasy creatures they’d heard about existed in the woods they now cantered into, on alert for trouble.
Hours later, only a tree blazed with a head of two pointed ears indicated they’d entered elven lands, no enormous trees with a city built high into them in sight, for only Noria stood this way. Ryan’s desire to quickly get home to Daniel muted his hopes to visit later if they survived this quest; a bad dream about his brother had upset him.
As night approached, they stopped in the trail, Lorian turning to one side and speaking a strange word while flashing an amulet. The tall grass parted and low hanging branches lifted up and back to reveal a wrought-iron gate with the elven word “Arundell” carved in gold above it. The gates swung inward, and the elf rode his horse through, the others following. Ryan glanced behind to see the gates closing, foliage returning to position.
They entered a wide clearing with deer grazing, a herd of elk drinking from a pond farther off, and elves playing various war games on the lawn. Covering hundreds of acres, the property had a river, archery range, riding trails, its own farm and winery, plus separate buildings for staff, guests, and the manor house. The latter stood atop a hill, a garden twice its size surrounding it and threatening to consume it entirely, gazebos, trellises, and walking trails amidst natural spring fountains and fish-filled pools. Trees that seemed to stand behind the house from a distance were actually inside and poking through the roof.
Stopping by the stables, Lorian remarked, “I know you’re weary of riding, but you three could benefit from instruction while here, preferably tonight.” He indicated all but Ryan as elven stable boys took the horses away, house servants grabbing the saddle packs. Another elf tried to take Matt’s staff until the techie waved him off. Then the elf went for the bag of spell books, and for a moment Matt let him before Eric caught his eye and shook his head.
Anna winced as she dismounted. “Can we start lessons tomorrow?”
Lorian looked amused. “Yes, but Andier should not wait. If there’s to be fighting from horseback, you must be ready.”
Eric’s eyebrows rose as he and Anna followed the elf inside. “Is there expected to be any?”
“No, but you must be prepared for the unexpected.”
“He sounds like a boy scout,” observed Ryan to Matt, patting his horse farewell as they followed.
The wizard nodded. “He’s probably light years ahead of any boy scout.”
Ryan had been a decent scout but not taken it seriously, since practical application for all of it was hard to come by, but that was different now. “Maybe I can learn tracking from the elves or something,” he said.
“Maybe you should,” Matt began. “Eric, too, just in case something happens. We’re completely dependent on them to get there and back. I mean, what if all the elves are killed?”
Ryan hadn’t thought of that. How would they get back from Castle Darlonon? “I’ll mention it to him,” he answered, having a worse thought. What if all of us are killed?
Before dinner, they moved into separate but adjoining bedrooms with the softest pillows, comforters, and sheets Anna had ever known. After the attack in the castle and with so many people around, she had never felt comfortable there. Something about this elven estate was beyond peaceful, and she drifted off.
In the meantime, Eric suffered through some basic horsemanship lessons from Morven, focusing on forward propulsion and direction control. The fine balance he’d honed via martial arts paid off as he kept a good seat and co
ntrol with his hands. Still, any experienced rider could see the mistakes, from moving his hands too much to poor leg position. Every time he focused on one thing at Morven’s reminder, something else went wrong. As he got off, Morven suggested continuous lessons during the quest and the rogue quietly muttered to himself as he walked away.
Wearing the finery given to them by Queen Lorella, they were greeted by a surprise when they gathered for dinner. Before leaving Olliana, Lorian had sent for a dwarven friend to meet them here. Rognir of Vodavi not only lived in the dwarven community in the nearby Tarron Mountains, but knew the land around Castle Darlonon and had been inside. The dwarves had built it for Kingdom Alunia long ago, so he’d learned its layout and secrets the last time the champions came.
Rognir made an impression despite being just four feet tall. His bulbous nose was the most obvious feature of his rough-hewn face, which was so covered in bushy black eyebrows, a mustache, and a waist-long beard that his gray-as-stone eyes were almost invisible. The pointed steel helmet tucked under one arm had mashed his hair down more on his face, if that was possible. He wore a stained, grayish blue tunic over a chain mail shirt and stiff trousers that were tucked into hard leather boots, which had seen better days. They were covered in dirt, grass, and leaves, as if he’d walked through everything without discrimination.
Seeing their stares, Rognir scowled hard enough to split stone and gruffly barked, “Have you no manners? What are you staring at? Have you never seen a dwarf before?”
Matt was the first to recover. “Uh, actually, no.”
“There are no dwarves on their home world,” Lorian informed him, “or elves for that matter.”
“What?” The dwarf was outraged, eyes afire. “No dwarves? Don’t tell me it’s all humans!”
“All humans,” Ryan confirmed. “Not a bearded, short-tempered, hairy dwarf to be found.”
“Short-tempered!” Rognir snapped, turning on the big man. “I’ll show you short tempered.” He reached over one shoulder as if for a weapon that wasn’t there. Realizing this, he squared his shoulders and advanced all the same. “I don’t need more than a fist to teach you a lesson anyway!”
Ryan remarked, “Careful, my knees can’t take too much.”
The dwarf sputtered as if struggling to think of a reply. Finally, he burst forth with a hearty laugh and slapped Ryan’s arm. “Let’s get some ale first, then we’ll fight. My aim is better drunk.” He turned toward the dining hall and headed off.
Ryan flashed a smile at the others. “I like him.”
Eric nodded. So did he. Maybe having someone for Ryan to banter with would keep the knight from any dark moods, which seemed to come and go, a fact that struck him for how peculiar it was. Ryan had always had a sunny disposition, though Eric had noticed that there had always been something troubling behind it, though he could never figure it out. The sadness always surrounded Daniel, which wasn’t surprising, but he got the impression there was more to it. But now Ryan clearly felt the weight of something on him, likely the man he’d accidentally killed. Eric wanted to talk to him about it but wasn’t sure where to begin and had settled for just keeping an eye on the big guy, whose tendency to keep troubles to himself was more apparent now than ever. But maybe that wouldn’t work, given their circumstances. They needed each other.
The group continued to a richly carved hall with a large oak tree growing out of one side. The sloping glass ceiling let fading daylight stream down while they feasted on wild boar, pheasant, fruits, spiced vegetables, steaming bread, spiced ale, and a rather strong elven wine. Rognir encouraged Ryan’s drinking a little too much considering the quest before them, to Eric’s unspoken disapproval. He exchanged a look with Anna, sensing she agreed. But they weren’t going anywhere tomorrow and would instead focus on skill development and planning.
Rognir had been filled in on their imposter status, since he’d also known the true Ellorian Champions and wouldn’t have been fooled. Lorian permitted no talk of this until after dinner, when they moved to a more private chamber, the doors locked. Eric surmised that even though elves were generally trustworthy and of good nature, the truth was a secret from the household staff. The oak-paneled room offered more privacy as they gathered around a long oak table with rounded corners and matching, high backed chairs with green cushions.
Getting right down to business, Lorian tried to bring the dwarf up to speed by remarking, “My understanding from Soliander and the scroll is that there is no way to free the dragons from the inside, so someone on Honyn had to do it.”
“Who would do that, and why?” Anna asked, sipping her glass.
Rognir’s grey eyes fell on her. “A better question is who could do that. The spells Soliander wove around the device were strong, and he was one of the most powerful wizards on any world. To dispel them and reach the gate would require equal skill, such as wielded by only three men on Honyn.”
“Who?” Ryan interrupted, lifting his drink.
“Rohr of Marillon, Dieranon of Kianna, and Sonneri of Olliana,” the dwarf replied.
Ryan’s goblet stopped halfway to his mouth. “The queen’s wizard?”
“Yes,” answered Lorian. “Given the speed of the attacks on you after your arrival, he seems a likely suspect, for the others would not have learned of your arrival for days.”
“But why would he summon us to stop the dragons if he’s the one who freed them?” Ryan asked.
“Because they never meant the summons to work,” Eric reminded him.
“Correct,” agreed Morven, chiming in.
Rognir added, “You were attacked within hours, so whoever ordered it had to arrange it quickly, and know where you were staying. If it was not Sonneri, then it is possibly conspiracy from within the court, maybe someone secretly in league with the Dragon Cult.”
“Great,” muttered the knight, frowning, “we can’t even trust those who brought us here. Maybe we should just tell everyone the truth.”
Lorian shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t do any good. Whoever wants the champions dead would extend that to you now.”
“Why?” Eric asked, not liking it.
“For any number of reasons, including an assumption you know their whereabouts. You have inherited their identities and now their enemies.”
Great, the rogue thought. It had seemed a simple thing to play along until they knew what to say or do, but it was getting increasingly out of control. How many enemies did the real champions have after disrupting the world domination plans of countless evil bad guys on one world after another? Powerful people had powerful enemies.
As if thinking the same thing, Anna remarked faintly, “I hope we’ve inherited their friends, too.”
Rognir winked at her. “You certainly have, my dear. You certainly have.”
“You know,” started Matt, “whoever stole the original scroll knows about this soclarin ore and has a motive to open the gate, to get the ore, so they can make strong magic items from it.”
Ryan asked, “Yeah, but how would they open the gate unless they already have something made from soclarin?”
“Maybe they stole something of Soliander’s first,” the wizard answered. “You know, maybe someone stole the scroll, learned of the ore, stole something of Soliander’s to access the gate, got past the spells at the castle, then opened the gate, and then went inside to get more ore.”
“You might be on to something,” Eric admitted. “Then again, if they can steal Soliander’s stuff, why do they need to go through all the trouble to get to the raw ore when they’ve got his stash?”
“That’s a good question,” Matt admitted, frowning. “Maybe they wanted to make different items than what Soliander created.”
Eric turned to Lorian. “Are all of these wizards able to travel between worlds? Maybe they went to Soliander’s, uh, tower, or something, and tried to get in.”
The elf nodded slowly. “Yes, they can.”
“Sonneri had access to the scroll,” observ
ed Eric, “but no reason to steal it. He could’ve read it and just put it back, so in a way it suggests it wasn’t him.”
A brief silence followed before Anna observed, “Or that both he and another wizard know about it, so it could be either of them. He also could’ve arranged to have it stolen so he wouldn’t be suspected.”
“Very cunning,” admitted Rognir, puffing on his pipe, “but not unreasonable.”
Eric nodded but remarked, “We should focus on the most obvious explanation as being the likely one.”
“The Dragon Cult was suspected in the theft,” Lorian remarked, “since the scroll contains details on the gate and might presumably aid in opening it but does not.”
“How many people knew about the scroll?” Eric asked. “That narrows the suspect list.”
Morven replied, “We have no way of knowing.”
“What about the other two wizards?” the rogue asked. “Have they been mysteriously absent or showing signs of powerful magic items that can’t be explained?”
Lorian answered, “Not that we know of.”
Frustrated, Ryan drained his goblet and said, “Okay, so we know the dragons are out but didn’t release themselves, and there’s one at Castle Darlonon. Has there been any word of some wizard walking around there? He’d be the one who did it.”
Rognir cocked an eyebrow. “No, but we only know of Nir’lion because she was spotted flying. If the perpetrator is there, he has not revealed himself. It is possible that a wizard of great power is lying in wait for our arrival.”
The four friends exchanged alarmed looks.
“Doesn’t anyone have any good news?” Ryan asked in exasperation.
Lorian advised, “A complement of elves will take this quest with you, some quite well-versed in magic, and all skilled warriors. We also have a trained dragon slayer with us. You may not be the champions Olliana expected, but together we will fulfill this quest.”
Eric wasn’t so sure but was glad for the help. Otherwise they’d never see Earth again or return to their lives. All of this was far beyond intrusive, their lives put on hold in the meantime. It reminded him of something.
The Dragon Gate (The Dragon Gate Series Book 1) Page 10
