The Gate to Thomerion

by Daniel Heck

  “Let’s deal with the bear,” says Titania, “before it breaks free.”

  Who will enter the tunnel with the bear?

  Titania.

  Darlayne.

  Myself.

  “I realize how you feel about the ball,” you tell Titania in a placating tone, “and yet…”

  She crosses her arms and glares at you.

  “Yet. I stand my ground.”

  Titania drops her head. “Why am I not surprised?” she mumbles.

  You say nothing. Several moments pass.

  Suddenly, Titania shoves you hard in the chest. You stumble; the talisman around your neck rattles against your vestments as you regain your balance. “Chump. Wimp!” Titania shouts. “You earn my doubled respect and admiration by winning this contest, only to throw it away again? We are already too deep into this for me to change my mind about you, but be warned… I have needs. Perhaps more importantly, I have wants. I am not that unlike you, you know.”

  Shame wells within you, even as you harden your jaw.

  “I could have chosen to become a woman of the cloth,” she continues, “and what then? I needn’t even do that to know that the gods meant humans to be together, to love one another. And you defy them!”

  Silence.

  “You heard Stephano,” she says, “We leave on the morrow.”

  Frowning fiercely, she turns on a heel, and marches in the direction of her home, on the opposite side of town.

  “Sheesh,” you mumble, before turning your attention toward picking dirt out from underneath your fingernails.

  Write down the keyword HUNGER.

  She just doesn’t understand.

  You stand, and beckon for Titania to follow you to a quieter place. After you duck into an adjoining hall, she asks, “What is the matter?”

  “I overheard Stephano acting in conspiracy with a group evidently called the Arcanites.”

  Your love’s jaw drops. “Are you certain?”

  You nod. “I wanted to ask you what we should do.”

  Titania smiles, pauses and strokes your cheek affectionately. “You’re getting so much better at including me in your thought processes. This partnership is the real deal.”

  “I concur, but…”

  “Yes, yes… I shan’t get distracted. What are the specifics?”

  You share that the paladin seems to also be after the idol, although his arm is being twisted in the process, and that temptation to deal with him right here and now begins to preempt your wiser side. Cancelling this method of getting to the isles altogether would also of course be possible, but neither of you can think of an idea as to how to proceed from there. As you hang your head in uncertainty, Titania ponders.

  She says, “I would say we could confront him, except he’s practically bigger and stronger than both of us combined.”

  “Shall we play along, while exercising extreme caution?”

  A tense moment passes.

  Titania nods. “At least we know better than to let him push us around.”

  Having had the pressure of decision-making taken off your chest, you offer to lead Titania in one more romantic dance, a perfect cap to the evening. You say ‘good night’ to newfound friends, then head toward your home to retire together. Sleep comes quickly, and you dream of white expanse, surrounded by stillness and a sky’s worth of majestic constellations.

  Write down the keyword OVERHEAR.

  Nice move!

  No sense in making a half-hearted effort, you theorize.

  You raise your bow and nock your final arrow, as your bicep begins to twitch despite your will. Squinting, you follow the moving target’s path as it swings once, twice, more times, and uncertainty floods your mind. Your heart beats so hard that your chest might burst.

  “Twenty more seconds,” the barker shouts, “After which I shall have to declare a delay of game!”

  You draw, and concentrate some more. The seconds drag by, and you blink to dissipate the sweat drenching your brow.

  May the gods guide me…

  Finally, you fire. The drama stretches the moment.

  Thunk!

  Raucous cheers break out. It takes a moment to sink in, but there it is: the arrow sticks out of the bullseye at a clean perpendicular angle, for the maximum of ten points, plus one for extra difficulty.

  “Masterful!” shouts the barker, “And, as it turns out, the margin is too large to come back from. Bartleby is the victor!”

  Titania rushes toward you, squealing with glee, and pulls you into an embrace. You smile as the barker raises your arm high, making you an even bigger spectacle for the crowd. He hands you a leather sack; its considerable contents tinkle. The elven opponent offers to shake your hand. You take it and congratulate him on his finish.

  “Maybe,” you mumble toward your love, “this will work out just fine after all…” She grins and kisses you on the cheek.

  After many congratulations from strangers, the ruckus dies down. You and Titania stroll toward the weaponsmith’s, where you find Stephano. You tap his shoulder while counting coins.

  “You’re ready, I see! Shall we, then?” he admits, pulling himself away from an intense negotiation over a sword.

  Another step forward, you reflect, no matter how small…

  Another step forward...

  As much as Stephano’s idea sounds risky, you decide that the timing required for the alternative would be too tricky.

  “The distraction will be only be momentary,” Stephano says to Titania, “but when it sees through it, it’ll be angriest at the person trying to get what it’s guarding. You’ll have to be especially quick.”

  Titania nods.

  You argue, “This is insane,” as doubt floods you.

  “He brought us here,” Titania counters, “Can we give him the benefit of the doubt?”

  You purse your lips in irritation, but acquiesce.

  Stephano draws a mace you hadn’t even seen underneath his cloak. You retrieve your sun talisman, although it is so cold to the touch that you’re not sure that you could properly channel magical energy through it. You feel your confidence wane, and a knot forms in your stomach.

  We must press forward, you insist to yourself. Preventing the gate from opening depends on it.

  The two of you proceed back toward the archway, while Titania lags many yards behind. You charge the yeti, shouting at the top of your lungs.

  It grunts, then grumbles irritably, standing to meet the challenge. Its tremendous feet pound large craters into the dirt with every step. At its full height, even the mightiest swing of a weapon would only reach its sternum.

  You meet it in the middle of the tunnel, and barely avoid its attempt at a crushing bear hug. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Titania dash past, toward the nook where the idol sits.

  Stephano strikes forth, bashing the creature in its calf. It roars in pain, then turns and unleashes a wild kick at the paladin, which misses. You sense that the big guy is just too slow, and that this might turn out easier than you thought at first.

  You aim your talisman and focus for a moment. An energy blast thinner than a quill barely scorches the yeti, irritating it further.

  “I have it!”

  Titania waves the idol piece in the air, then breaks into a frantic sprint toward the archway.

  To your astonishment, Stephano breaks away from the melee and extends his booted leg in front of your love, who trips and somersaults through the ice, landing on her face. In the moment in which she tries to recover, the paladin callously pilfers the idol piece straight from her hand. Blood trickles into her mouth from a tremendous gash in her cheek.

  Stephano now stands near the chamber’s entrance, holding the idol part aloft. You are helpless to interfere, as the yeti has caught you between itself and a corner of the chamber, and there are no other exits.

  “Wait! What are you doing?” you shout.

  “Fools!” he replies, “May the Arcanites win the day!” With that, t
he paladin rushes out the exit, just as the yeti swings its fist toward your face in a reckless roundhouse. You dodge, barely in time, and the creature, balancing on one foot, reels forward from the momentum. You use the opening to dart along the wall edge.

  You pause to help Titania up. When you both run to the hallway, Stephano is nowhere to be seen. You spend what seem like hours trying to find your way out of the castle, but in your panic, you correct several wrong turns, wasting additional time.

  Then, from behind the nearest wall, the now-familiar whump of wingbeats and a primal screech reach your ears. Over several seconds, the rhythmic pattern fades in volume, until you hear nothing at all.

  Titania’s jaw drops, even as she catches her breath. “The bastard left us here!”

  You throw your hands up in defeat. The next chance to get off the island may not come for months. Cheer up, you tell yourself. One could subsist for a while on yeti meat… if one tried.

  Go back to the previous choice, or start again.

  “See if you can help the goblins,” you suggest to Darlayne, “to finish whatever it is they’re attempting.”

  The tracker nods and steps through the middle pathway. The creatures flood the space around her ankles, occasionally yelping something indistinguishable, but so far, seem cooperative.

  She thrusts her fists into her sides and frowns at them.

  “Dumb little buggers…”

  Titania frowns. “Would you like it if someone called you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the tracker replies with a huff, “What does matter is that we get through here. To heck with the rest of you!”

  Completely ignoring the goblins despite their grabby hands and annoying chittering, Darlayne gathers the puzzle pieces in her arms and starts shoving them in random orientations within the hole. More than once, she comes close to fitting them all in, only to find that the last one doesn’t. With a yell, she spreads them out on the floor again, only to have to steal one back from an insistent goblin. She runs back and forth within the chamber just to keep everything organized.

  You and Titania, feeling your patience wear thin, have long since sat down with your backs against the stone passage. You’re soon so bored that sleep begs to conquer your body.

  “They must know something you don’t,” you grumble.

  Darlayne screams and throws a block, which ricochets off a wall and hits her in the head. Her shoulders sag in defeat, and she exits the chamber entirely, rubbing her bruised temple.

  Who will attempt the middle chamber instead, if he or she hasn’t already?

  Myself.

  Titania.

  With both halves of the idol in your pack, you rise early the following morn with blazing intent: to take advantage of what you learned from Stephano. You meet up with Titania by the town square. The streets contain few passersby, and the wind howls, imparting a chill. With a squeeze of your love’s hand, the two of you press onward, due north.

  You stop short of obvious view of those in the castle watchtowers. Judging by flashes of activity seen through the ramparts, dozens of men and women scuttle about inside. Instead of wearing royal colors, most sport red and black, with malignant expressions on their faces. At one point, you think you see one large being force a familiar human into a chair, then slap him across the face as another captor ties him up. They strip the captive’s head of a round object that may be the royal crown.

  King Wyver…

  “There’s too many of them for us to be able to help…” Titania says, sounding defeated.

  “But, the more distraction from where we need to go…”

  “… the better chance that we’ll succeed.”

  You recall from your days as a royal chaplain a secret passage, of which few among even the king’s closest companions are aware. Starting near the courtyard, it winds all the way around the building, and involves tricky turns and the possibility of not knowing what you’ll see until you get there. There’s even a path of rocks near the marshes, by which you can cross the moat.

  While pondering this, a squawk rings out from just over your shoulder. There, Stephano’s gryphon stands, an expectant look in its regal eyes. It nuzzles your shoulder with its beak.

  “It looks like it has a new master,” Titania says, smiling.

  Which route to the cannons do you attempt?

  We take the secret passage on foot.

  We fly onto the roof via gryphon.

  One more act after yours puts a merciful punctuation mark on the whole ordeal. You stick around long enough to hear via the coordinators’ announce that you earned absolute last place. Your heart sinks as the chances of earning enough money to hire Stephano appear to dim.

  “It’s okay,” Titania consoles, seeing your morose expression, “We tried the best we could.”

  “There has to be some other way.”

  You investigate the other two possible contests, but learn that all three occurred at around the same time. Selling possessions strikes you as a last-ditch possibility, but as you ask around, no one seems interested in your clerical robes or supplies. The only possession worth much, your magical talisman carved in the shape of a sun, is irreplaceable and serves as your primary line of defense.

  Finally, searching for other folk willing to travel to the frozen isles proves equally fruitless. While you could sit around for days envisioning the destruction to come at the hands of Thomerion, your only consolation comes at the thought of how if you can’t get at the idol parts, it must be equally hard for those with evil intent to do the same.

  Or must it?

  Go back to the previous choice, or start again.

  “Hrmm…”

  Titania ponders for a moment before entering.

  “What would you say is the ‘talent’ I’d need to apply?”

  “You’re a public speaker,” you reply. “Perhaps words hold the key.”

  Titania giggles. “I’m just supposed to ask it to get out of the way and hope it hears me?”

  You cross your arms. “I’m serious.”

  “All right,” she admits, “but where would I begin?”

  “The vestige is dwarven. A former associate of mine would often refer to their holy verses, called the Impactium, for guidance.”

  “Well, we don’t have a copy of those around…”

  You exhale. “Then just say whatever you know in Dwarven.”

  Frowning, she turns, surveys the statue once more and, with some effort, recites:

  “Adoniris Mech’ai Jerumna! Zo Freelach Paro Neim!”

  May The Creator Live Forever! We Proclaim His Strength!

  The verse’s lack of originality notwithstanding, at least she got the enunciation correct. It takes some effort to pull your mind back into the current situation. Your group waits for several moments. Nothing happens, to the statue or anybody else.

  Titania admits, “We either don’t have enough information, or we picked the wrong person.”

  You nod. “Let’s try again…”

  Who will try the statue tunnel next, if he or she hasn’t already?

  Darlayne.

  Myself.

  The instant you step through the archway, a faint wave of energy washes over you, as if whispering that you’re supposed to be here. You think the statue’s gaze shifts; specifically, it looks straight at the sun talisman hanging around your neck. You shake your head in disbelief. The dwarf’s face even relaxes a small bit, appearing more hopeful.

  “Let our talents shine, eh?” you muse as you approach the statue. “For one, it looks like you took a bad blow at some time or another.” You gently place a hand upon its arm. The limestone’s chipped, aged texture nearly scratches your fingers, but at the same time feels cool and comforting.

  You pause. It all makes more sense now.

  “Let’s see what we can do for that wound,” you say, “although I make no guarantees that my magic works perfectly on stone.”

  You position your palm an inch above the dama
ged section of arm and grip your talisman with your other hand. You close your eyes and chant an ancient prayer. White light begins to channel itself from the talisman and into the statue. You repeat the prayer once, and then a second time. The limestone slowly molds itself into a new shape, of what surely would be smooth muscle and sinewy scar tissue.

  The statue smiles, stands straight as a pole and salutes you.

  “Thank you, good sir,” it rumbles.

  After leaving the tunnel, you note that the square above the leftmost archway now glows with a soft white light.

  “Well done,” Titania marvels.

  If all three tunnels are lit, proceed further into the labyrinth.

  Otherwise, return to the main chamber and pick an unexplored option.

  Upon sensing your persistence, Titania tilts her head and ponders. “Diplomacy certainly would be less dangerous,” she admits. “Perhaps we should try to find this envoy.”

  “When and where is the meeting going to occur, to your knowledge?” you ask of the orcblood.

  “At armory in Noblehorn, in two evenings. As crow flies, if we depart early in morn, should find him just in time.”

  “There’s only one complication,” Titania says.

  You nod, remembering. “No direct path exists between Sungaze and Noblehorn,” you state, “as the trailblazers in the early days of Ambrosinia deemed it good enough to travel through Whitetail first.”

  Galumnuk scratches his head. “Is longer that way, but easy. Who knows what we find in deep forest?”