by Dean Cadman
“Wait,” Lusam said, holding up his hand and cutting him off. “I’m sorry to keep repeating myself, but we don’t have time for this. When Ryuu first came inside, he said ‘Yes, you can.’. So he believes that you can leave this realm, doesn’t he?”
Arlo paused a moment before replying. “Yes. But I think he is wrong. And if he is, it will kill him.”
“I don’t understand. Can you come back with me, or not?” Lusam asked, starting to get a little annoyed by his cryptic answers.
Arlo sighed heavily and pointed to the chair that Lusam had knocked over earlier. After a moment it became obvious to Lusam that he wasn’t going to explain anything until he was sitting down, so with a slight huff, he retrieved the chair from the floor and sat down opposite him. He waited patiently for Arlo to begin, but he seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Eventually, though, he leaned forward in his chair and began. But instead of explaining himself, he started by asking another question.
“How long is it since The Great Rift was sealed by the Guardians and Aamon imprisoned within the Netherworld?”
“What?” Lusam replied, not even bothering to mask his growing annoyance.
Arlo ignored him and continued. “How many years have passed?”
“I don’t know,” Lusam replied, irritably. “Two thousand, give or take, I guess. But what’s that got to do with any of this?”
Arlo smiled at him. “Have you ever stopped to think how I’ve managed to survive for so long?” In truth, Lusam had thought about it, but had just assumed it was something to do with him being a Guardian. After all, he knew that Lord Zelroth had also been alive for almost as long, and he was nowhere near as powerful as Arlo. So if Lord Zelroth could extend his own life somehow, why not a Guardian?
When it became obvious that Arlo expected an answer from him, Lusam simply shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Because Guardians live longer?”
Arlo chuckled to himself. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Guardians do generally have a longer lifespan than a regular person, but I can assure you that it’s nowhere near two thousand years longer. At best we generally live for another sixty or seventy years at most.”
“So… you’ve found a way of extending your own life somehow. Good for you. But it doesn’t change the fact that we still need to leave this place and seal The Rift, before it’s too late.”
Arlo shook his head slowly and look of revulsion spread across his face. “No, Lusam, I have not. There is only one way to artificially extend a person’s life, and that is through the forced sacrifice of others. A most vile and despicable act, and one which no Guardian would ever choose to undertake, no matter what the circumstances. The reason why I have survived all this time, is also the reason why I cannot leave this place. And it’s also the reason why you should remain here and learn everything that you can before attempting to close The Rift again.”
“You’re not making any sense,” Lusam said, shaking his head and trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “How many times do I have to say it? We’re running out of time.”
Lusam watched as a wide grin spread across Arlo’s face, and he began to wonder if his father’s long isolation had actually affected his mind.
“No, we’re not,” Arlo replied, still grinning at him. “In fact, time is the one thing that we do have. You see, time passes very differently in this realm compared to our world outside. A day may pass here, but only minutes will pass in the real world. A week is but a few hours, and a month barely more than half a day. Don’t you see, Lusam? Not only do you have the time required to be able to read my Guardian book, you also have time to learn all that I can teach you. And it would be very foolish of you not to take that opportunity, son.”
Chapter Forty-Two
It made Lusam’s head hurt even thinking about it all. Initially, his first reaction had been one of relief and joy when he realised that very little time had actually passed back in his own world, and Neala had not been fretting for him for days after all. But as he thought about it more and more, he began to realise just how long it might be before he would see her again. What would likely be months for him, would be little more than a few days for Neala outside. So many things now occupied his mind, but one thing still remained at the forefront of his thoughts.
“I still don’t understand why you think you can’t eventually come back with me, even though Ryuu says you can,” Lusam said.
Arlo paused for a moment, as if listening for something off in the distance. Lusam guessed that he was checking to see if Ryuu was listening, but he couldn’t be certain.
“For the record, I actually agree with Ryuu. I do think that it might be possible to return with you, but the consequences would be significant and far-reaching whether we succeed or not, especially for Ryuu. You see, whilst we are in this realm we don’t age. But if we leave and return to our own world, the years will once again catch up with us. Ryuu believes that he can take all of those years on himself, and although dragons can live for an extremely long time, two thousand years is still an awfully long time, even for a relatively young dragon like Ryuu.”
“And what about you? How could you possibly survive that?” Lusam asked.
“It’s rather complicated, and not without its own risks. But put simply, I would have to place my consciousness within Ryuu’s mind, but not before stopping my own heart first. The Keeper’s Gate only directly affects living things, and at the point of travelling through it, my body would be no different from the saddle it was fastened to. Once Ryuu emerged through the other side of The Keeper’s Gate, he would trigger a magically imbued object designed to restart my heart, before returning my consciousness back to my own body. Or at least that’s the theory.”
“And what happens to you if Ryuu is wrong and he doesn’t survive the transition between worlds?” Lusam asked, confident that he already knew the answer to his own question.
“Then I guess I’ll finally get to retire, after all,” he replied with a wide grin. “But dying would be easy. The real problems will start if we actually succeed.”
Lusam frowned at him. “I don’t understand. Are you saying that you don’t think we can close The Rift anyway?”
“That we won’t know until we try. But there’s one thing for sure, we will only get one chance at it. Which is why it’s so important that you spend your time here wisely and learn as much as you can before we do try. Once we leave this realm and enter our own world, our presence there won’t go unnoticed for very long. Driden will soon detect Ryuu’s presence, as surely as Aysha will ours. And even the dragons will eventually become aware of Ryuu. But most dangerous of all, is that Aamon will also eventually become aware of us, and when he does we need to be as far away from The Pearl Isles as possible.”
“Or he might discover the location of this Guardian book and tell Lord Zelroth about it,” Lusam mused.
“Possibly. Or he might just as easily tell another mage about it in five hundred years’ time. The point is, it’s possible that neither of us will be here to protect it, because we can’t return here unless we succeed in sealing The Rift. If we do, Aamon will become aware of the Guardian book’s location and eventually, he will use that knowledge to his own advantage. No, I’m afraid once we announce our presence to the world, there will be no going back. Either we succeed, or we fail. There will be no middle ground for us.”
Lusam suddenly realised something else and cursed under his breath. “If anyone did discover this place, they would also discover the location of the Guardian book in Helveel,” he said, gazing up at the picture on the ceiling above.
Arlo shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t. I would remove the image before we left,” he said, then with a wry smile he added, “Or maybe I’ll replace it with an image of a particularly nasty place I once visited to the far south of here, instead.”
“That would work too,” Lusam said, chuckling at the thought of it.
The silence in the room stretched out for several minutes
before either of them spoke again, each contemplating what their new future together might hold. Eventually, though, Arlo broke free from his reverie and cursed under his breath. “Oh… I’m so sorry, Lusam. I’m afraid that I’m not a very good host. All this time and I haven’t got you anything to eat or drink yet. Wait here a moment, whilst I go and fetch us something,” he said, and without pause, he stood up and disappeared through one of the doors at the back of the large chamber. A few moments later he returned carrying a tray of food and drink, none of which Lusam recognised. One thing on the tray, however, caught his eye. It was a plate containing a dozen or so small oval objects, similar in size and appearance to the black olives he had sometimes seen for sale in Helveel market when he had been a street kid there. Only these reminded him of something else, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Here we go,” Arlo said, placing the tray in the centre of the table. “Please, help yourself.”
“Thanks,” Lusam replied, pouring himself a drink from one of the large jugs. Even before the liquid touched his lips he recognised the smell, and a quick taste of the clear liquid confirmed his suspicions. It was from the same purple melon-sized fruit Vultog had given him to drink from in the forest. The one that was poisonous if you ate its flesh. And the same one he was warned about having a strong laxative effect if he drank too much of it. Arlo must have seen him staring at the liquid in his cup, and guessed what was on his mind.
“Don’t worry, the unpleasant side effects are removed by boiling it first,” he said, with a knowing smile. And as if to prove his own point, he poured himself a large cup and quaffed it down in one. Lusam took a small sip from his own cup and placed it back on the table, before reaching out towards the olive-like objects on the plate. He picked one up and rolled it between his finger and thumb, and smiled when he realised what they reminded him of. They were almost exactly the same shape, size and colour as The Keeper’s Eyes that Oracle had used in the cave.
It was then that Lusam suddenly remembered what Arlo had said earlier, and sat bolt upright in his chair, looking at him across the table. “A few minutes ago you called the portal, The Keeper’s Gate. How did you know it was called that?”
“Because that’s what he called it,” Arlo replied, as he began pouring himself another drink.
“Who?”
Arlo stopped pouring the liquid and looked up at him. “The Keeper, of course. Who else?”
“You know The Keeper?” Lusam gasped.
“Yes. Well, at least I used to know him. But I’m pretty sure he’s dead now. I met him when we first arrived here. And I can tell you, he wasn’t at all pleased to see us,” Arlo replied, chuckling to himself. “In fact, we fought each other on and off for the first two hundred years or so before we even spoke a word to one another. I suppose you could say that he was a Guardian of sorts himself.”
“How so?” Lusam asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“Well, after we finally stopped fighting each other, I discovered why he was so upset with us. As you already know, magic in this realm isn’t exactly in plentiful supply, but there is a reason for that: the Soul Stones. Or more precisely, The Keeper’s Soul Stones. Their purpose is simple: remove as much magic from this realm as possible. Well, when we first arrived here I discovered the large amount of Soul Stones near the mountain, and used them to replenish my own power reserves whilst I built this place.”
“It was you who drained all of those Soul Stones?” Lusam asked, slightly aghast.
“Yes, and looking back on it now, it’s not something that I’m terribly proud of, either. At the time I thought they were merely a natural resource, and exploited them accordingly. But later I learned their true purpose, and exactly how much work of The Keeper’s I had undone. I was shocked to discover that each Soul Stone took him more than a year to create. And worse still, he could only create one at a time. When I realised that I had destroyed thousands of years work, I felt terrible about it.”
Lusam whistled. “No wonder he was upset with you. But why were the Soul Stones even needed in the first place?”
“To stop any of the creatures here developing their own magical abilities and leaving through The Keeper’s Gate.”
“I don’t understand. Why was that so important?” Lusam asked.
“Because this entire realm was created by Erebi before his death at the hands of his brother, Aamon. It was kept a secret from the other Gods and used to conduct his own experiments. Apparently, he wanted to outdo his own siblings when it came to creating life, and was unwilling to reveal anything less than perfection to the outside world. His experiments, however, were short-lived, and ended abruptly with his death. Unfortunately, though, The Keeper was unaware of his God’s demise, and simply continued with his original instructions. His job was to nurture and protect the life forms which Erebi had created, and move any of them that showed signs of promise to this side of the mountain for later appraisal.
“Like I said, we fought each other for a very long time, but eventually, when we realised that neither one of us could attain outright victory over the other, we decided to call a truce. It was then that I learned about the Soul Stones and their true purpose, and why he himself was here. As part of that truce, we agreed not to venture beyond the mountain or interact with any of the inhabitants there, or even allow them to know we were here at all. Nor could we hunt any of the creatures on this side of the mountain, much to Ryuu’s annoyance. There was one exception, however, and that was the many wyverns which hunted The Keeper’s chosen creatures indiscriminately. He was more than happy to see those gone, but Ryuu not only disliked the taste of their meat, he also disliked being used as a method of pest control. Eventually, we agreed on a compromise. Ryuu would keep the wyvern population in check, and in return, he would be allowed to hunt the large hoofed creatures of southern plains. But only if he approached from the sea, and didn’t fly over the land where he could be seen by the inhabitants below.”
“Is it true, did he really have six legs?” Lusam asked, remembering the strange paintings of him in the cave.
“Yes, he did. But how would you know that?” Arlo asked, giving him a strange look.
“Oh, I saw some very old paintings of him in the orc caves. I spent some time studying them during one of their rituals. He looked like a very strange creature to me. In fact, I’m amazed that you even managed to communicate with him at all.”
Arlo shrugged. “We understood each other just fine, as soon as we stopped trying to kill each other and actually took the time to talk.”
“Yeah, that’s something that I don’t really understand. How is it possible that the orcs, fairies and even The Keeper speak our language if they’re not from our world?”
“For the same reason humans can communicate with dragons. We all use the language of the Gods, of course.”
“Language of the Gods?”
“Yes, the language of the Gods. Surely you didn’t think that we all just happened to start speaking the same language on our own, did you?” Arlo said, chuckling to himself. “We all speak the same language because our Gods speak it. Well, with the exception of Aamon, that is, who instructed his followers in an entirely new language. One which allowed them to pervert the use of magic into the form of necromancy, among other things. And then there was that orc I once met inside the mountain, of course. Hagi… or was it Hoodoo, I can never remember.”
“Hagu!” Lusam exclaimed, excitedly.
“Yes, that was him… Hagu. What a strange fellow he was. To be honest I’ve never been quite sure what language he was trying to speak. Some of it seemed familiar, but most of it sounded like complete gibberish to me, but…” Arlo stopped dead mid-sentence and stared at Lusam. “Wait a minute. How do you know his name?”
“A friend of mine told me all about him. He’s the greatest hero of all time to the orcs. A legend.”
“A legend!” Arlo snorted. “He was almost dead when I found him inside the cave entrance, and wh
en I finally did manage to revive him, I found that he was so drunk he could barely stand up. I had to bring him back to this side of the mountain until he sobered up a little. If I hadn’t, I’m sure the fool would have somehow stumbled his way back into the caves again and died. The problem was, as soon as we exited the cave at this side, a fresh wave of gas erupted from deep within the mountain, flooding the passages and surrounding areas on both sides. I knew there was no way he could have survived the gas if I left him on the other side of the mountain alone. And after spending several—excruciatingly painful—hours of my life listening to the man babble on about nothing whilst he slowly sobered up, I had no real desire to follow him back to his village and meet more of his kind. Instead, I gathered up a handful of Soul Stones and placed an enchantment on them to protect him from the gas, and sent him on his way. But not before he drove me half-crazy asking me what my name was. I kept saying ‘Arlo’, and he kept saying ‘hello’ back. Over and over again. It was infuriating. Eventually, I told him my name was Guardian, and he just about managed to say Gardan, so we settled on that.”
Lusam roared with laughter, almost falling off his chair in the process.
“What’s so funny?” Arlo asked, frowning at him.
“You…” Lusam squealed, “the legendary Gardan.”
“What?”
