The Gateway (Harbinger of Doom Volume 1)

by Glenn Thater

  “Let them come,” said Artol, as he pulled himself to his feet beside the altar. A thin stream of blood trickling down the side of his head. “We can take them.”

  Ignoring the overconfident sergeant, Theta began searching the floor around the altar. “Find the shards of the black orb, they must be holding the gateway open,” he bellowed.

  More roars, howls and maddening gibbering began anew from somewhere beyond the breach, although no fiends could yet be seen.

  “Another wave comes,” Theta shouted over the increasing din. “I’ll hold fast the portal. Ye must destroy the shards. But don’t touch them with thy flesh or ye shall surely die.”

  “Here it is,” shouted Dolan, as he pointed to a glowing piece of obsidian on the floor.

  Claradon stepped up next to Dolan holding a large hammer. “For my father!” he shouted as he slammed the hammer down onto the shard, smashing it to tiny pieces. The gateway instantly disappeared and the chaotic din abruptly stopped. Where the gateway once was, now remained only the crumbled back wall of the sinister temple.

  Before the men could rejoice in their victory, a loud rumbling began. Within moments, the very earth beneath their feet began to shake. They heard roaring and rumbling sounds like those produced by a herd of large beasts. Mammoth chunks of stone fell from the high ceiling.

  “The whole place is collapsing,” said Dolan.

  “Grab the wounded and get them out of here,” shouted Theta.

  They did so and fled as the otherworldly structure collapsed around them. Two minutes after the earth began to shake; the evil edifice was no more. Only a mound of rubble and a cloud of dust remained. Those that made it out of the vile temple lay strewn about the circle of desolation. Some collapsed from exhaustion, some collapsed from blood loss, still others were already dead. Strangely, the sun was beginning to rise. It was dawn. Somehow, the bizarre atmosphere within the temple’s depths had distorted the flow of time itself, turning what seemed like no more than minutes into more than six hours.

  Young Sir Paldor was immediately sent ahead to Dor Eotrus to summon aid, stopping only a few minutes to bandage the wound on his chest. Tanch and Claradon set about to aid the wounded in the party. Theta and Dolan searched for sign of the skull-faced fiend that had fled the temple. They found no trail, no spoor of the beast. It had vanished. They found the corpses of six knights at the edge of the circle, however. Apparently, they had fled during the battle and were killed by the skull-faced fiend or some other horror that had also escaped.

  After a short while, the survivors gathered about and Sir Glimador reported the casualty list. Eighteen knights were confirmed dead, eleven others were missing and presumed buried in the collapsed temple. Of Dor Eotrus’s knights only Glimador, Artol, Indigo, Paldor, and Claradon still lived. To everyone’s astonishment, Sir Gabriel was amongst the missing. Nearly all the survivors were wounded to varying degrees, although most not seriously. Theta was a bloody mess, covered in ichor and gore from head to toe, though little, if any of the blood seemed to be his. Once the men had caught their breath, Claradon recounted what he saw of the epic battle between Korrgonn and Sir Gabriel - even Theta listened intently. All were shocked at Gabriel’s gruesome fate. “The skalds will tell of that battle for ages to come,” said Artol, tears streaming down his face.

  “Perhaps Sir Gabriel still lives,” Claradon said, as he saw to Ob’s grievous wound, only half believing there was some hope. “Perhaps we can free him of the influence of the monster.”

  “I just cannot believe this,” said Ob, “Last week McDuff, then Aradon and Brother Donnelin and Par Talbon, and now Gabriel. How could this happen? Nobody could beat Gabriel. Nobody.” His hand reached for his wineskin, but it was lost.

  “It’s the end of the world,” said Tanch. “I told you it was coming – no one wanted to listen, but I foretold it. These are the end times.”

  Overcome by all that had happened, Claradon dropped to both knees and wept. His father and his mentor both destroyed at the hands of chaos, and so many other friends and comrades as well. It was all too much; his head was swimming. He gripped Ob’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and recited a prayer to Odin.

  “Steady boy,” said Ob, his voice weak from his wounds and his eyes only half opened, “You’re the Lord of the Land now. You mustn’t show weakness in front of the troops.” Due to his wounds, Ob apparently didn’t realize that nearly all ‘the troops’ were dead.

  “Perhaps, we can cast out the monster from Sir Gabriel. We must find him,” said Tanch.

  “I’m doubting it pal,” said Ob weakly, “Gabe’s the toughest son of a bitch this side of Odin. Ain’t nothing, not even some damn chaos lord as can take him over if he’s alive. He’s dead and it took his corpse I say. And that’s the end of him.”

  “Oh my. Don’t say such things Master Ob, we have to try the save him.”

  “The gnome speaks truly,” said Theta. “Gabriel is lost. There’s nothing we can do for him save to avenge him.” Theta pulled a metallic flask from his belt; uncorked the top and put it to Ob’s lips.

  “You fought bravely, gnome,” said Theta. “Drink this, it will strengthen you.” Ob did so. Almost at once the flow of blood from Ob’s wound stopped and color returned to his face.

  The survivors soon headed back to the Dor as fast as they dared. With them they brought as many of their fallen comrades as they could manage, including Lord Eotrus’s body, what little remained of it. Patrols would soon return for the rest of the honored dead.

  On the way, Par Tanch approached Claradon. He spoke in a stronger, deeper and steadier voice than was his custom. “Brother Claradon,” he said, taking care that no one else overheard, “Though I know this timing is poor, I must advise you that the Order of the Arcane, and likely the Crown, for reasons of their own, will never allow the events of last night to be known. They will cover it up. Some story will be fabricated to account for the battle, the howling in the woods, the fog. They will force you and your officers to swear to never reveal the truth.”

  Claradon’s eyes narrowed as he was taken aback by these words. “And what if I don’t go along with these lies? What if I want everyone to know the truth of how father and Sir Gabriel died?”

  “Then they will destroy you. You’ll lose the Dor and your good name, perhaps even your very life.”

  “Would they really go so far? Could they?”

  “They would, they could, and they’ve done such things before. I’ve seen it.”

  “But King Tenzivel has always been a friend to us. He would never allow this.”

  “The king is old, Claradon. Dark voices whisper in his ear these days. Things are changing in Lomion, my friend, and not for the better - we cannot count on the King’s support.”

  “Then what are we to do?”

  “Let us be the ones to create the tale. That way we can be assured that Lord Eotrus, Sir Gabriel and the others are honored as the heroes that they are. We can say that a pack of trolls came down from the mountains and caused all the trouble. There was a time when trolls rampaged through these lands, causing much death and destruction. Though rarely seen these days, they’re still much feared and are considered exceedingly deadly. Any knight that fell in battle to a pack of such beasts whilst protecting his lands would be rightly named a hero.”

  “And how would we explain the wailing in the night?”

  “We’d say it was the trolls. Few alive in these parts have ever heard the call of a troll. If we say that that’s what they heard, most would believe us.”

  “And the fog and the thundering explosions the night father was lost?”

  “A freakish storm, nothing more. Claradon, I know this is difficult, but we must do this. We must protect the Eotrus name or your enemies will use this opportunity to destroy you. We’ve little choice in this. Besides, we will always know the truth. The people will know that our comrades died as heroes defending the Dor. What does it matter that people think they fell to trolls rather than chaos
demons? A hero is a hero.”

  “Very well, very well. For the sake of my brothers, I’ll go along with this. But know well, if it were only my position and my life at stake, I’d tell the Order to go to hell, and the Crown too, if need be.”

  “I don’t doubt it, Master Claradon.”

  “What of Paldor? He’s likely telling the tale even now.”

  “He hit his head in the battle. He became delusional and wandered off. He didn’t know what he was saying.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you, Par Tanch.”

  “It’s my job, Sir. It’s my job. We’ll not be able to keep the truth from the senior knights at the Dor though. You’ll have to swear them to secrecy and all of us here as well, of course.”

  “It will be done.”

  Claradon awoke in his bed to Ob shaking him. “Get off your duff you lazy bugger! The men are in the great hall already. We need to get you down there right quick. Mister know-it-all, fancy pants is giving a speech. The boys need to know you’re the boss now, not that foreigner, nor anybody else.”

  Claradon’s head still spun from the tale Ob told him the previous night, as Claradon stood by the wounded gnome’s bedside. The last days seemed a maddened dream. Claradon pulled himself together as best he could, splashing some water on his face to revive himself. He strapped on his sword belt and headed to great hall.

  In the interests of keeping their secret, knights guarded the doors, only admitting ranking knights who knew the truth of what happened in the wood. When Ob and Claradon arrived, Theta was standing at the forefront, addressing the men. The knights were rallying around him, bristling for a fight, enraged as they were over the loss of their Lord and their comrades. Each time Theta spoke, the knights quieted down.

  “We have to destroy his body,” Theta boomed in his strong, steady voice. “When we do, we’ll be killing Korrgonn, not Gabriel. But it won’t be easy. Korrgonn not only has all of his own knowledge and skills, but now he also hath Gabriel’s. Now he is far more dangerous than ever before. Now he knows all that Gabriel knew. No one will be safe until we put him down. And do not forget the skull-faced demon – that creature was Mortach of Chaos. He must be destroyed as well.”

  “Oh my,” said Tanch. “Two Chaos Lords running about; it’s the end.”

  Artol stepped forward. “We must find them and destroy them for what they’ve done, however difficult the task.”

  “We shall track our enemies to the ends of Midgaard, and beyond if need be,” boomed Theta. “We shall cleanse the world of their plague.”

  A cheer erupted in the hall, the knights rising to their feet and shaking their fists.

  “There can be no other course of action,” boomed Theta.

  After the noise died down, Tanch said, “This sounds like we’re embarking on a major undertaking. It may be that my delicate back isn’t up to the challenge. Perhaps I can do more good tending to the wounded or praying to Odin in support of this valiant quest.” The knights laughed at the cowardly wizard and poked fun at him.

  Claradon moved through the ranks. “No, Par Tanch. I’ll need you in this. You’ll come with us. We shall go back to the Vermion, to the circle and pick up the trail of the chaos lords. We’ll not return until we rid this world of them.”

  Ob cleared the way ahead of Claradon. “All right, Theta, move aside,” shouted Ob, pushing through the troops to the front of the hall. Theta glared at the gnome, stood his ground, but said nothing.

  “Claradon is here now and will be taking over.” Ob climbed atop a table and turned to the gathered knights, his arms upraised. He motioned for quiet. “Brother Claradon, as first son of House Eotrus, and upon Lord Aradon’s passing, is now Lord of the Dor, and Patriarch of House Eotrus. You will serve him with the same respect and honor with which you served Aradon afore him. And if you don’t, I’ll rip your stinking heads off!”

  “Long live Lord Claradon,” boomed Sir Artol, from amidst the knights.

  “Long live Lord Claradon,” shouted all the knights in response.

  “And death to the Chaos Lords,” boomed Sir Artol, standing and raising his fist to the air.

  “Death to the Chaos Lords,” boomed the whole company in retort.

  “I guess we won’t be going home anytime soon, Lord Angle,” whispered Dolan.

  “Not for some time, Dolan.”

  “When do you think them evil-doers will leave us be so we can live like regular folks?”

  “When I’ve killed them all; not before.”

  XV

  EPILOGUE

  Many years later.

  The appointed hour is at hand. Our wait will soon be over. I still cannot believe this - my most feared nightmare has come to pass. I’ve dreaded this day for so long; I’ve prayed it would never come. But it’s here - it’s now. There were so many things I wanted to do before this fateful day. If only I had more time.

  But there is no more time for memories, no more visiting with the shades of my past-- now is the time for action, for courage, and for sacrifice. This time - I lead. I am the rock that must steady the troops. I wield the sword that will carry the day - or condemn us to everlasting defeat. This is my burden. I carry it alone.

  I can hear my men stirring in the camp outside. The clinking and clanking of many armored men, the sounds of a hundred swords being pulled from their scabbards. I’m ready. I will make my father proud.

  A great wind came up, and the air suddenly grew unnaturally chill. Brother Claradon Eotrus, Lord of Dor Eotrus, rose, adjusted his sword belt and picked up his shield. Moments later, his Knight Captain and his House Wizard rushed into the command tent, fearful looks etched their faces.

  “Lord Eotrus,” said the wizard, “It’s time. The fog has returned!”

  END

  GLOSSARY

  PLACES

  The Realms

  Asgard: legendary home of the gods

  Lomion: a great kingdom of Midgaard

  Midgaard: the world of man

  Nifleheim: the realm of the Chaos Lords

  Vaeden: paradise, lost

  Places Within The Kingdom Of Lomion

  Dor Eotrus: fortress and lands ruled by House Eotrus, north of Lomion City

  Dor Lomion: fortress within Lomion City, ruled by House Harringgold

  Dor Malvegil: fortress and lands ruled by House Malvegil, southeast of Lomion City on the west bank of the Grand Hudsar River

  Dyvers: Lomerian city known for its quality metalworking

  Lomion City (aka Lomion): capitol city of the Kingdom of Lomion

  Riker’s Crossroads: Village at the southern border of Eotrus lands

  Tammanian Hall: high seat of government in Lomion; home of the High Council and the Council of Lords

  Tower of the Arcane: high seat of wizardom; in Lomion City

  Vermion Forest: foreboding wood west of Dor Eotrus

  PEOPLE

  High Council of Lomion

  Selrach Rothtonn Tenzivel III: His Royal Majesty: King of Lomion

  Aramere, Lady: Councilor for the City of Dyvers

  Balfor, Field Marshal: Commander of the Lomerian army

  Barusa of Alder, Lord: Chancellor of Lomion

  Cartagian Tenzilvel, Prince: Selrach’s son, insane

  Dahlia, Lady: Councilor for the City of Kern

  Glenfinnen, Lord: Councilor for the City of Dover

  Harper Harringgold, Lord: Arch-Duke of Lomion City

  Jhensezil, Lord: Preceptor of the Odion Knights

  Morfin, Baron: (reportedly dead)

  Slyman, Councilor: Master of Guilds

  Tobin Carthigast, Bishop: Representative of the Churchmen

  Vizier, The (Rabrack Philistine): Representative of the Tower of the Arcane

  House Alder (Pronounced All-der)

  Barusa Alder, Lord: Chancellor of Lomion, eldest son of the House

  Edwin Alder: nephew of Barusa

  House Eotrus

  The Eotrus rule the fortress of Dor Eotrus, the Out
er Dor (a town outside the fortress walls) and the surrounding lands for many leagues.

  Aradon Eotrus, Lord: (pronounced Eee-oh-tro`-sss) – Patriarch of the House (presumed dead)

  Claradon Eotrus, Brother: (Clara-don) Eldest son of Aradon, Caradonian Knight

  Ector Eotrus, Sir: Third son of Aradon

  Gabriel Garn, Sir: House Weapons Master

  Jude Eotrus, Sir: Second son of Aradon

  Knights & Soldiers of the House: Artol ‘The Destroyer’, Sir Paldor, Sir Glimador Malvegil, Sir Indigo,

  Malcolm Eotrus: Fourth son of Aradon

  Ob A. Faz III: (Ahb A. Fahzz) Castellan and Master Scout of Dor Eotrus, a gnome

  Tanch Trinagal, Par: (Trin-ah-ghaal) of the Blue Tower; Son of Sinch; House Wizard for the Eotrus

  House Harringgold

  Harper Harringgold, Lord: Arch-Duke of Lomion City; Patriarch of the House; Lord of Dor Lomion

  Grim Fischer: agent of Harper, a gnome

  The Lords of Chaos

  Azathoth: god worshipped by the Chaos Lords and The Shadow League

  Arioch; Bhaal; Hecate; Mortach

  Korrgonn, Lord Gallis: son of Azathoth

  Others Of Note

  Angle Theta, Lord: (Thay`-tah) (aka Thetan) knight errant and nobleman from a far-off land beyond the sea.

  Caradonian Knights: priestly order of knights

  Dolan Silk: (Doe`-lin) Theta’s manservant

  Myrdonians: Royal Lomerian Knights

  Pipkorn: (aka Rascatlan) former Grand Master of the Tower of the Arcane. A wizard.

  Volsungs: men/humans

  THINGS

  Miscellany

  Asgardian Daggers: legendary weapons created in the first age of Midgaard. They can harm creatures of Nifleheim.

  Dargus Dal: Gabriel’s Asgardian dagger