The Gate to Thomerion

by Daniel Heck

  Which route do you take toward Noblehorn?

  We spend an extra half-day by taking the established path through Whitetail.

  We cut through the forest, crossing the Lotherion River as we go.

  If you have made a promise to an imp earlier in the story, you have an additional decision to make.

  If you have never met an imp on this path, proceed as planned.

  At your proposal of sending Titania into the rightmost chamber, she leans to one side, shoves her fist into her hip and glares at you.

  “What?” you say.

  “You would send me to face a ferocious bear?”

  “You’re a perfectly capable woman. Soothe it with your gentle touch.”

  She arches an eyebrow.

  “If anyone knows the power of your touch, it would be me.”

  “I may be brave,” Titania counters, “But I’m not stupid.”

  You frown. “So you won’t even try?”

  Several moments of silence pass, during which you each stare daggers into the other.

  Finally, she turns aside and stares at the wall, her arms crossed.

  “Fine,” you grumble, “But we’re going to have a talk about this later.”

  Write down the keyword NEGATE.

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

  Myself (to get out of the doghouse).

  Darlayne.

  “I’d think it best to confront this problem at its source,” you state, “so let’s go find the Arcanites within their compound.”

  “It not that big,” Galumnuk shares, “Is tucked between two cliffs east of Bladepass.”

  You spend an hour more formulating a travel strategy, but soon, fatigue takes over, and you wrap yourself in a thin blanket—Titania was offered the only spare cot, so you graciously accept sleeping on the floor—with at least a modicum of confidence that something can be accomplished here.

  If these people are powerful enough to summon a god, you nevertheless fear, what atrocities would they perform upon interlopers such as ourselves?

  As dawn breaks, you stretch, wring out a tough knot in your hip and shake the other two until they wake. Galumnuk mumbles an orcish curse, evidently used to being able to sleep in. Titania, on the other hand, beams a vibrant smile. The light from the only window accentuates her cheekbones and the deep blue in her eyes.

  She giggles. “You’re staring at me…” she says to you.

  You realize you were, and feel your face flush. Humble, you brush the back of your head and glance aside.

  “Let’s get moving while we still can,” you assert.

  After your party gathers its belongings and leaves the tavern, the orcblood takes the lead. His determined tromping gathers the attention of a throng of onlookers as you head toward the stables. Soon enough, the two of you ride at a moderate gait, as Galumnuk keeps pace on foot. The trail is in good condition this morn, neither messy nor exceedingly dry, since the weather has been normal for this time of year.

  At first, time passes in silence. You are merely a league or so out of town, however, when the orcblood suggests, “We stop in capital on way. Friend have something I want to show you. Might come in handy.”

  You arch an eyebrow, and glance at Titania. She shrugs, but appears intrigued.

  The morning passes uneventfully, and as the sun climbs to its apex, you direct the group to break for a meal and brief rest. You sit on a large tree stump, and your love joins you; Galumnuk stands many yards away, munches on an apple and traces patterns in moss with a stick.

  “You know, it’s just as well,” Titania comments.

  You tilt your head in confusion. “What is?”

  “That we didn’t find Katalina.”

  You chuckle. “You did get the better end of that bargain.”

  “That’s not what I mean, precisely.”

  You gesture for her to explain further.

  “If we find ourselves going back to what we already know, whom we’ve already met, every time… what kind of journey is that? After all, the god of the sun, your deity, your devotion,”—she playfully pokes you in the chest—"teaches us to value life in all its forms, to discover new ways of thinking.”

  You nod, intrigued. “What gets you thinking this way? This philosophically?”

  Titania reflects further, and replies, “Many things. Galumnuk. Being back in my former haunt. But most of all, this sense that we don’t yet know what’s going on. That feeling used to scare me.”

  “And now?”

  She pauses, for many long seconds. A sly look sneaks onto her face. “It’s exciting.”

  You smile and gaze into her eyes. You reach to hold her around the waist, and inch closer, until your waists touch. She turns toward you, then leans on your shoulder. The intimacy becomes more and more tangible, intensifying….

  “You two ready yet?”

  The rumbling voice startles you. Your pulse quickens, and you glance up to see the orcblood approaching. He tosses the finished apple core into a culvert, where it comes to rest against an anthill.

  Titania brushes leaves off her blouse and stands. You struggle to summon patience even as she smiles at Galumnuk, then at you once more. “Yes,” she says with cheer. “Yes, I think we are.”

  You travel until you see the gates of Whitetail up ahead. The foot traffic thickens here: all sorts of townsfolk come and go, some packed into wooden wagons like sardines, while others carry children or supplies on their shoulders or in big wicker baskets. Most pay you no heed, and the guards let you through with a salute.

  “Come,” Galumnuk says, “This way.”

  You follow the orcblood down and around a few streets to a small wooden hut, where a female orcblood with long fangs greets you, shaking each of your hands in turn. At Galumnuk’s cue, she shows you a strange cube, only about two inches square, inscribed with mystical runes on all but one of its sides.

  “This,” Galumnuk says, “Is primitive teleporter. Concentrate really hard, it take you up to a few yards in any direction, through any other thing.”

  You arch an eyebrow. Titania notes, “That could be quite useful in the right circumstances.” The friend gently places the cube in your palm, as your love continues, “We really appreciate your bringing us here, Galumnuk.”

  The orcblood smiles.

  Wary of experimental magic effects, you ask, “What happens if you lose concentration, or can’t tell it quite where to take the holder?”

  Galumnuk says, “Could send you to wrong place, like over cliff, or inside of stone wall.”

  All your smiles disappear.

  “Well,” you comment, “We’d better save it for when it’s absolutely necessary, then.” The others nod in agreement, as you carefully stash the item in your belt pouch.

  With that, you head toward the southern city gates and exit town.

  Intrepidly we travel...

  Time is of the essence, you think, even if our horses will have a hard go of it.

  After some more discussion, your party agrees to cut through the northern forests to reach Noblehorn as quickly as possible. Galumnuk sets out two stiff-looking cots with basic blankets. You sleep fitfully that night, as the knowledge that something much bigger than Fedwick once again brews behind the scenes roils your spirit. Memories from six years ago play themselves over and over in your dreams.

  You wake with a knot in your neck, which you wring out as you stretch. Blinking, you look about. You’re alone.

  A tense moment ensues.

  “Titania?”

  You exit the room, and scan the hall, then the rest of the tavern. You step toward the entryway and peer across the half-door.

  “Titania, my love?”

  A familiar face pops into view, startling you.

  “Come on!” she says, “We were wondering when you would wake. Preparations are complete.”

  You hold your chest as your heartbeat calms. “Don’t do that to me, if you please,” you as
k, even as you smirk.

  She strokes your shoulder, then pats you on the cheek. “Going soft on me, are you?”

  “Never,” you counter, with a clearing of the throat.

  You think to stop by the stable to get a horse for your new ally, but Galumnuk asserts that his stride is large enough for him to keep up on foot. After a quick double-check of supplies, you depart from the southeastern city gates at a rapid clip.

  As a cloud bank gathers overhead, its gray tufts strangely contrasting with its bright, wispy topside, little occurs to you to say to your companions. You let your mind wander, first toward your dwarven friend from six years ago—he must have retreated to his oddly-chimneyed stone hut for a more permanent retirement long ago—then toward the future of your church: recruitment in general was hurt when a few congregation members accused the bishop of pocketing more this his fair share of tithes. You’re deep within formulation of a counterstrategy when you realize that Galumnuk and Titania converse with fervor.

  “So when cousin pull down little brother’s britches,” the orcblood says with a chuckle, “Brother whack him on head with reed, until momma hold her head in hand, and breathe heavy, she say, ‘In all this land…. In all this land…’

  Titania giggles, reaches down and pats Galumnuk on the head. You think you see a hint of red tint the orcblood’s tough facial hide.

  “You tell such relatable stories,” she commends, “I never knew much about the orcblood culture, but what I thought I knew was certainly not like this.”

  You arch an eyebrow.

  “What do you think, Bartleby?” Titania asks, glancing over her shoulder at you. “Would you be able to stand having little ones about?”

  You grin, noting her mischievous tone. “Are you proposing something?”

  “I’m proposing… that we whack each other with reeds.”

  Galumnuk blushes even more deeply, but smiles.

  You snicker. “That… shall have to be arranged. In due time.”

  Flirtatious though it may be, your conversation soon fades, as your energies turn to penetrating the gangly forests. Hours pass, yet you do not stop to rest. The evening stretches onward, as owls emerge and the shadows of gigantic branches grow long. Few clearings present themselves as you travel. At one point, a vine catches along a rear leg of Titania’s horse, and it panics, nearly tossing its rider to the ground. Your love holds the reins fast, digging her heels in. Reacting quickly, Galumnuk holds the horse about the sternum as you dismount and help free it.

  “Perhaps this was unwise,” you say.

  Titania counters, “It is a little early to give up now.”

  “Where we be?” Galumnuk says, scratching his head.

  You are about to answer when a metallic voice rings, “You are in our territory.”

  All three of you whirl about. The statement seemed to come from nowhere, but you soon notice that a globe of white light floats a few yards to the east, independent of any lamp or artificial apparatus. It bobs up and down in a repetitive pattern; you recognize this creature as a will-o’ wisp, something you’d seen or heard of before only in legend.

  Random sparks buzz and crackle around its perimeter. You sense hostility.

  What do you do?

  I ask for help finding a way out of this place.

  I try to destroy the creature instead.

  “Galumnuk,” you whisper, “Go talk to them. This might not be your strong suit, but it’s our best chance…”

  The orcblood scratches his head but expresses his understanding: “Will do my best…“

  He abruptly stands, moving into full view of the guards. One shouts, “Halt! What is your business here?” The other squints, seeming wary.

  Within a moment, however, the two start to snicker. The younger jabs the elder with an elbow, while pointing at the orcblood. Galumnuk grunts, “What so funny?”

  “Useless monster,” he chides, “You don’t even know to stay away once your limited capabilities were no longer needed.”

  “Hey, boss!” the other shouts through a gap in the door, “Come see who decided to show his ugly face again. Your precious bodyguard.”

  Galumnuk frowns. “I… want to see if you need help again.”

  The guards erupt in outright laughter. “So big, yet so weak.”

  “So you say.”

  “What is going on out here?”

  A gnome with a crooked gait and even crookeder brows ambles out from the compound, his eyes shifting with suspicion. He approaches and extends a hand. The guards immediately quiet.

  “Well, well… of course we can use help. Just because you deserted us doesn’t mean we can’t prove your allegiance to be true.” The gnome’s tone seems disingenuous, but you have little faith that your ally would interpret it correctly. Powerlessness bubbles up from within.

  “Come,” the boss invites. “Let me see better how time and distance have treated you.” Galumnuk hesitates, but steps to within a few inches of the gnome’s face. The leader slowly presses a thumb into a crease within the orcblood’s forehead…

  Suddenly, a look of complete rage compresses your ally’s face into a twisted ball of red, and his muscles pulse into spasmic action. He draws his battleaxe and pounds his way straight to where you hide.

  You’ve heard of this kind of frenzy charm before, but never seen it used. You would slow down and look into Galumnuk’s eyes to try to counter the magic, if by the time you gathered your wits, he hadn’t already gripped you by your neck and hoisted you into the sky with a single leathery mitt. Titania attacks the elf leader to try to break the mental connection, but only gets one swipe at him; the supporting guards cast a windwall spell, and unfettered gusts of air knock her out cold.

  Unable to breathe and quickly losing consciousness, you croak, “Galumnuk… we helped you at the tavern… remember?

  Go back to the previous choice, or start again.

  It is the moral duty of my church and my code!

  “Let’s go back and help them,” you command.

  Titania nods and draws her dagger. You wield your talisman. You push hard against the soft sands to get back in time, even as it feels like the dunes mire you against your very willpower. By the time you reach the encampment once more, you see that a nomad or two have been wounded, but a greater number of the bearded men have fallen or begun to back away.

  A spindly attacker whips around the corner of a tent, sees you and incants some mystical words. Fire gathers around his fingertips, and in another instant would spray a conical flare toward you, but you are too quick. You use a stunning technique; a flash of benign energy pulses from your talisman, blinding the man. Exploiting his broken concentration, you bear-hug him around the waist, toss him to the ground and pin him by the neck with your free hand.

  “Why do you attack this place?” you shout.

  “I shall…. never… betray the Arcanites!” he croaks.

  The man averts his gaze over your shoulder. Without letting go, you turn, and see that a dark-skinned underdwarf approaches. It wields a bloody morningstar, and seems intent on using it.

  You tuck your body inward, roll several yards away from the bearded man and quickly regain your footing. “I need help over here!”

  Titania appears busy in her own way, on the opposite side of the encampment. She dodges a blowdart volley and swipes at a haggard female attacker, landing a deep cut. The woman screams but holds her ground. If anything, she appears even more deeply riled.

  Quickly enough, the nomads themselves notice your plight, and flock around the underdwarf. As it rears back, six gnoll bodies dogpile onto it, savagely biting its limbs and cracking it over the skull with their staves. It collapses under the combined weight.

  Pack mentality…

  “Retreat!” the largest enemy shouts. The remaining attackers break away, and at first you think to pursue them, but as they run into the desert expanse, you see that they arrived via gryphon. They quickly mount and fly away.

  You asses
s the situation. Several enemies lay dead, and only the underdwarf requires tying up. As you reunite with Titania, she shows you a deep, purple wound on her leg. You cast a minor healing spell upon it, and the bruising fades. She sighs with relief. Stepping from ally to ally in turn, you tend to the nomads’ wounds as well, even as it takes an unusually long time to get to them all.

  Titania inquires of the leader as she wraps its arm in loose gauze, “Don’t you have clerics among you, as a wandering people? Surely you could use a spiritual leader, let alone the greater magical capability.”

  It needs several tries to get its meaning across, but eventually mimes that they are atheistic, and have been living in peace and isolation for long enough that the need had never occurred to them.

  You try interrogating the dark dwarf, but it’s in bad enough shape that it can barely string two words together. It seems, however, that you can move forward with your mission in general, your heart and spirit lighter for having fought alongside new allies.

  You reach home considerably later and, with a watch in place to help ensure your safety and that of the idol, allow yourself to drift into a badly needed night of rest.

  If you have both halves of the idol, proceed with your plan.

  If you still need the other half, prepare to visit the northern isles.

  You hold your hands up and say, “We wish no harm, and will leave this place, if you could point us to where we should rejoin the path.”

  Titania jabs you in the side with her elbow. “We’re not so lost as to need to give up on our original plan,” she mumbles.

  You mumble back, as the will-o’ wisp inches closer, “You are aware of how I can channel divine energy through my talisman? Their abilities are similar, except that their destructive power makes mine look like that of a mere campfire cinder.”