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A possible discourse between Mordochai and Lieutenant Nathans. This takes place on their journey toward the Frozen Gate in the northern reaches of Trias. It will appear in the volume detailing the struggle of those still on the Planet of Legends against what horrors might emerge from the Shroud.
To
some he was Darkens’ the Sky, redeemed Storm Scalla from the Dusk of
Dawns. To others their arch-nemesis, known only as Mordochai. Ancient
dragon that he was, Darkens the Sky remembered a time before the
corruption of the northern part of Trias. Now called the Northern
Wastes, they remained bleak reminder of the horrors the dragons (Scalla)
inflicted upon the Planet during the Second Dragon War (Dusk of Dawns).
He cast his eyes about the bleak landscape, and memories crept back to him. “Ah, I remember this land…” He fell silent, and then added. “This is my fault.”
Astride the horse next to him, Lieutenant Nathans
shifted his gaze. His helmet’s plumage bobbed in the breeze. Brows
lifted in surprise, the lieutenant blurted out his question. “Why do you
say this, sir?”
Around them the small army clattered and
jingled. Wheels groaned over the rough terrain. Scouts tested ahead to
ensure a path strong enough to bear the weight of laden wagons.
“I
could have stopped it. The strength of the power we generated…
something so close to the Gate.” He frowned, his thick brows nestled
together, the longer edges near his forehead.
The bay mare he rode snorted. Her tail lashed and her ears lay against her head. She was not pleased to carry a dragon.
Placing
a steadily hand on his mount, Nathans peered at the leader of the
expedition. He felt something greater settle around them, a thin mist of
momentous. Though he did not understand it, the lieutenant sensed he
should remain silent. This was the most the other spoke continuously in
their entire journey together. He dared not interrupt Mordochai.
Several
moments of silence passed between them. Ice drifts flowed across the
fractured landscape. Swirls of frigid wind slithered through the
thickest of cloaks.
“I am familiar with the Sunlit’s territory.”
A bitter taste flooded his mouth as he spoke the word ‘Sunlit’.
Mordochai continued to speak, his tone faraway as he reminisced. “As we
flew across the Black Mountains I realized where we were, within the
Sunlit’s realm. In those times their territory extended from the White
Mountains, across the Black and to furthest reaches of northern Trias.
This was before the Monteguish Moors existed. A great city port existed
at the apex of the bay.”
The reason for this unburdening still unknown to Nathans, the lycanthrope listened to the dragon’s tale in rapt silence.
“Verdant
fields lush with blossoms in rainbow hue, a cascade of colors that
washed the hills in spring’s first splendor. Flying above it, it
appeared a tapestry of blurs, painted for my pleasure. However, the
reason for my mission was dark. Five dragons cast black shadows on the
land that day. Gothalor and I two of those shadows. The others, the we
chased - Râthamyn, the Frost Scalla known as Ages and Tsar’Lena.
Gothalor meant to destroy them. The moment of realization about our
location created doubt in my mind. From whence the doubt came, this
thought that we should not continue our mission, I surmise it to be my
knowledge of the Gate.”
Mordochai shook his head. Though his eyes
saw the snow-coated lands of their journey, his gaze turned inward as
his mind replayed the events of the past. “That was a bleak day for
Scalla. The Tsar died that day, twice. So determined to be the Tsar of
the Sunlit, Gothalor meant to achieve the title even if it meant he
killed the rest of his species. Naught but a few hours prior, he took
pleasure in poisoning Lena’s sire, Tsar’Gosen. Now he sought to destroy
Lena. Though why he desired such a thing and why I thought it a good
idea to follow him, I now wonder. His reasoning was clear to me at the
time, yet his words have dulled as the years passed. So many things
changed since then….”
The wagons continued to creep along the
ground, the weight of the supplies and of the passengers pressed their
wheels deep into the snow.
“We all knew the stories of the
Shroud, of the Sunlit who gave his life to protect and guard the Gate to
the Shroud. Though the exact location of the Gate was lost, all the
Scalla knew it lay off the northern coast of Trias. When we flew over
the Black Mountains, I knew we were close to the Gate. Why Tsar’Lena
chose to fly that way, I do not know. Perhaps, one day, I shall ask.”
Finally
Nathans broke his self-imposed silence. A question burned his mind. He
said, “What is the Shroud, sir? Tsar’Lena spoke of it as the realm of
Corruption. Can such a place exist?” Fear edged his words.
“It
can, and it does. The Shroud is a realm of Corruption. Between the
whispers of night, the empty moments where silence rules, exists the
Shroud. Within the bowels of this place, lurk Halls of Oblivion. This
place of madness, temptation and fear. It is a place that leaves a scar
upon the soul. The depth of the scar….” Mordochai shook his head. “I
know of only one who has returned from the Shroud.”
“Gothalor?”
Even as he spoke, Nathans realized his question was rhetoric. The very
real possibility of meeting the Shrouded Scalla caused him to shiver.
Though a stout knight, the lieutenant was not above fear. “He is the
only one who has returned.”
Mordochai did not reply.
Nathans
swallowed and grit his teeth. He recalled the stories of Gothalor’s
attempt to break through the Kaleidoscope Gate. So great the dragon’s
presence, only his head fit through the hole between realms. “He is
insane. A place like that is where Lieu… Ambassador Márinvalle and the
others have gone?”
The Storm Scalla remained silent still, his
dark gaze unblinking. Flecks of snow gathered in his tapered goatee. His
fur-lined cloak swayed in the wind. Unlike any of the others, Mordochai
was not affected by the cold. Those closest to him found a gentle
swirling of warm air surrounded him and followed, if briefly, in his
wake. This advantage in the freezing land might have made him popular to
stand near, had it not been for the underlying sense of foreboding that
also lingered around the dragon. Human he may appear in form and
feature, but human he was not.
Lieutenant Nathans exhaled and rolled his shoulders back. He looked across the frozen tundra and treacherous ravines. What would the Lieute….er Ambassador do?
Still new to his promotion, he sought to discern what Elias might do in
any given situation, for the Kêrath was Nathans mentor, even from his
childhood. He would learn everything he could, glean information from all sources prior to attacking a foe of this magnitude.
Not for the first time, Nathans prayed he was worthy of a task of such
epic proportions. He hoped he was ready to guard all of Trias from the
Shroud, and possibly face Gothalor. “Tell me more, if you would, sir.
What more do we know about our foe? About the environment?”
If
Mordochai heard Nathans’ request, he did not acknowledge it. However, he
did start speaking again. “Gothalor succeeded in wounding Lena. Enough
to make her fall from the sky. When Gothalor felled the last of the
Sunlit, the world felt it. This act so foul it wracked the fabric of the
Planet and caused the same corruptive force that occurred in
Gramera’ger to crack the seal surrounding the Gate.”
“What do you
mean?” The lieutenant’s mouth curled at the edges as he frowned. Faint
lines creased his forehead, the first tell tale signs of age. Tsar’Lena
spoke to him about how the Gates were formed, counseling him on what to
expect. Even her thoughts about expectations were not completely
accurate. There was simply too little known about the Shroud or what
lived in it.
“Whatever force or entity, if such a thing exists,
creates the Gates to the Shroud from the Planet was affected that day.
The deed Gothalor did earlier in the day was enough to create an
entirely new Gate into the Shroud – where now the Temple of Many Colors
and the so called Kaleidoscope Gate exist. I do not know exactly how the
Northern Gate of Trias cracked. Perhaps in an attempt to save the Tsar,
the Sunlit guardian attempted to break free of the grip time had upon
him? Whatever the reason, the backlash of the Time sphere cracking
washed through Trias. Everyone and everything north of the Black
Mountains was affected.”
Nathans’ emerald eyes widened at the
immensity of the event. At the mention of ‘Time’, a tendril of thought
wandered through his mind. The majority of his attention remained
affixed to Mordochai’s words. Though I know Rylian is meant to be
Time, I yet have trouble with it. This same Álfr that drew us from
Castle Torana will ascend to become the essence itself? A remarkable
fate indeed. He felt both in awe and honored to be so blessed by
Illynallah that she allowed him to participate in this journey.
Unaware
of the lycanthrope’s thoughts, the dragon continued. “Upon sensing the
great wave rolling toward us, I fled. I warned Ages, but the fool went
back to rescue his allies. Perhaps in time, he will forgive me for not
turning back. I wonder if he will call me a ‘coward’ again when next we
meet…” Mordochai sighed and then snorted, a shadow of scorn passed
across his features. “Too tired to use other means of escape, I flew
south. Even my wings were weary. It did not matter. In the end, the wave
caught me. I sensed the spiraling wash of distortion before it drown me
in its vortex of power.”
Nathans shuddered again.
“Somehow,
Tsar’Lena’s life was spared and she frozen in the depths of the lands,
waiting her awakening. As for Trias …” He flipped his gloved hand toward
the landscape, bleak and dismal. Far to the north, their destination
lay trapped under years of glacial flows. “Who guards the Gate, I do not
know. I know he was once a Sunlit. If he is Corrupted, I do not know.
The Gate is additionally sealed with time… out of sync with Trias. If
any of the crack still exists, Time may not be on our side…”
