In the days following their report to Prince Rhogûn on the ancient, but still dangerous, Gauntlet of Gheas, things once again settled into a routine for the Hand of Fortune. As the Royal Corps of Engineers worked to more permanently seal off the long-forgotten area, Mariala and Vulk returned to tutoring the Prince’s children and their own studies and meditations, Korwin buried himself in developing an interesting new spell he had conceived of during a tavern brawl, while Devrik divided his time between sparring and training with Erol and their Shadow Warrior friends and learning the new spells that he had discovered amongst Arlun Parek’s burned papers.
The suite of rooms the hand had been given by their royal sponsor was large and comfortable, and was ably overseen by Cris and Jeb. Cris had turned out to be not only an excellent squire when needed, but a surprisingly good major domo as well. Jeb, a country farm boy, was less skilled at domestic service, but he was a quick learner and anxious to please. The fact that both young men received arms training from Devrik and Erol perhaps helped to keep them contented, as did the respect Erol paid Jeb when taking longbow lessons from him.
It was during this settling into routine, after months of relative chaos and adventure, that gave Erol time to think about his family. Seeing Draik happily reunited with his brother, so long thought dead, had made him realize that, whatever the anger his father and he had shared over their differing political views, it was past time to let it go. His family certainly thought him long dead, but in the months after his escape from the Taruthani Games he had not really had the time or means to address that… now he had no such excuses.
This realization crystalized for him when the Hand began discussing how best to follow-up on the weapons that the Vortex had been illegally buying from the Khundari. The Republic had been the destination of at least some of those shipments (many others, they had learned from Greatcoffer’s secret records, had gone to other realms, especially the Kingdom of Nolkior). When Devrik had suggested he could lead a quiet mission to Delfarin to investigate, being a native, Erol had jumped at the chance to volunteer as well.
“It’s my homeland as well,” he said enthusiastically, somewhat startling his friends, used as they were to his phlegmatic, stoic demeanor outside of battle. “And it’s time I visited my family, and let them know I am alive and well,” he added, in answer to their looks.
It was soon decided that Devrik and Erol, with Cris and Jeb each acting as squire/batman, would use the nearest Nitaran Vortex, the Ilme Vortex on the edge of the Torvin Marsh, to gate to a known point just outside the Republic’s capital. They debated taking horses, but Devrik felt it would make them more conspicuous on a covert intelligence gathering mission – and if they needed to, they could buy steeds easily enough in the capital. The servants were less than thrilled to learn of this decision, since it meant they’d be humping most of the gear, but kept their comments to the occasional sigh as they packed.
On the morning of 11 Vento the small group bid goodbye to their friends and headed out into a cold, driving rain. It was 25 kilometers to the spot they had to leave the road, and another two kilometers to the vortex site… it was late afternoon before they finally arrived, cold and wet. Even Devrik had begun to regret not riding, and no one was inclined to camp overnight… while the rain had tapered around midday, it had returned as a steady downpour an hour earlier.
After a quick bite of cold sausage and cheese, Devrik began his preparations to summon the portal that would soon lead them to some warmth and comfort. “How far is this roadhouse supposed to be, once we’re on the other side?” asked Erol, pulling his cloak about him tighter and stamping his feet.
“No more than two turns of the glass, I’m told,” his friend responded distractedly. “Now quite, I need to concentrate on this bit…”
A moment later he gave a satisfied sigh, and gestured the others to follow. He stepped forward, into the shimmer in the air that was visible only to him, and vanished. Cris and Jeb were close on his heals, with Erol bringing up the rear. He stepped through –
– and stumbled to a halt as he was hit by a wall of hot, humid air and blinded by intense… sunlight, he realized, shielding his eyes as they slowly adjusted. He felt the familiar “twang” behind the eyes as time seemed to slow down and his perceptions to expand…
His companions stood nearby, faces also scrunched up against the light, hands raised to shield their own eyes. They were on a rocky outcropping that rose from a small clearing of dense green vegetation, like nothing any of them had ever seen. The sun burned hot and bright, almost directly overhead, in a cloudless sky of deep blue. The distant sound of surf could be heard quite clearly over the cacophony of bird calls all around them. He caught flashes of brilliant color amongst the strange… trees?… that must be the birds themselves…
Devrik suddenly staggered and fell to knees, swaying drunkenly, and Cris reached out to keep him upright. Erol knelt in front of his friend and grasped him by the shoulders, peering into his face. “Where are we, Devrik? What’s happened? Are you alright?”
After a moment of dazed incomprehension, Devrik shook his head and his eyes seemed to clear. He leveraged himself to his feet with Erol’s help, and slowly looked around the clearing. “I have… no idea where we are… but clearly, we are not where we should be… Erol, did you “enhance” my casting…?”
“No,” Erol shook his head. “I didn’t think you needed it, and by now I know what it feels like, so I know I didn’t do it involuntarily.”
“Then I’m afraid it was my fault,” Devrik sighed heavily, rubbing his head to sooth the throbbing ache that was growing there. “I knew it was possible, Master Vetaris certainly warned me of it often enough… but we’ve been so successful, I just assumed…” He tapered off in frustrated silence.
“What?” Erol prompted. “Are we lost?”
“Well, yes and no… vortex traveling is not an exact science, not even a precise art… you need to already know the Gate you seek, through previous use, or learn the mental “template” for it. But even under the best conditions, it is entirely possible to miss your target. Which is what I seem to have done.’
His friends looked at one another worriedly at his unusual hesitation and uncertainty.
“I can certainly open this local vortex…” he gestured vaguely at the air around them, “But not soon, by choice, given how crappy I feel just now… that jump really… drained me… but I can open it, and try to get us back. Of course, not knowing exactly where we are… I’m not sure how easy that’s going to be…”
“But don’t you known the, um, the pattern, or whatever, for the Gate we just left?” Cris asked. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, reverse the process?”
‘It’s… not that simple…” Devrik grimaced as he sat down on a nearby boulder, still rubbing his temples. “The pattern is really two parts… while the pattern for any gate is fixed, the pattern for the gate you’re coming from affects the final… equation… I’ll have to rest and study this vortex, try to learn its pattern…”
“We should probably let the others know what’s up,” Erol sighed, and he began to rummage through the pack that Cris had dropped as soon as he’d been able, looking for the slips of Mariala’s special paper. With a colorful curse he’d learned in the arena, he held up a sodden mass of parchment that instantly began to crumble around his fingers. It seemed there’s been a leak…
It was obvious that Devrik was in no shape to immediately try to open another portal, so Erol took charge and set Cris and Jeb to preparing a camp for the night. Once over the shock of the unexpected, the youths were not at all sad to be out of the cold and rain, and they set about setting things up with enthusiasm. While they were busy and Devrik was resting, Erol hefted his trident and headed towards the sound of surf, cautiously surveying his surroundings as he entered… is this what they call “jungle” he wondered.
A few minutes along what was probably a game trail brought him out of the lush green canopy and on to a beach, whose brilliant white sand contrasted beautifully with the multitude of blue-greens of the ocean that spread to the horizon and the deep blue bowl of the sky above. He stood stunned for several minutes before continuing his exploration…
♦ ♦ ♦
Having determined that they were on a small, and apparently unpopulated, island Erol allowed the boys to enjoy the beach after they’d all eaten, while Devrik slept and he himself kept a wary guard. There may not have been human life on this island, but there was clearly animal life, some quite large, by the signs.
But the rest of the long day passed uneventfully, and when the sun finally went down in spectacular colors, they were all ready for sleep. Devrik was feeling better by then, and volunteered for the first watch. He also used the time to contemplate the nitaran pattern of the local vortex…
The next morning, after a breakfast that included some strange, but delicious fruits none of them had ever heard of, plucked from nearby trees, he was ready to again open a Gate. “I’m aiming for the vortex near Dürkon, though,” he explained to his companions. “It’s too risky to try for a vortex I’ve never been to from one I’ve just encountered.”
No one was inclined to argue with him, and with some reluctance at leaving this lovely clime for a return to rain, sleet and cold wind, his little band prepared to follow him through the invisible doorway he summoned –
– and onto a grassy plain, under a gray sky of high clouds, that stretched from horizon to horizon. A cool wind, which seemed colder than it really was after the tropics, rippled the waist-high grass in the vast patterns of the invisible airs above them.
“Shit!” was all Devrik had to say.
♦ ♦ ♦
And so began an amazing, exhausting odyssey. Over the next several days Devrik lead his small party through Gate after Gate, and not always to locales as safe or as pleasant as the first two… and none of them home…
A forest of evergreens, heavy with snow, and crawling with Gülvini and wolves, neither of which hesitated to attack these new interlopers…
The ruins of an ancient city, half buried in sand, under a velvet-black sky of blazing stars… in which something no longer alive, but malevolent and intelligent dwelt…
More ruins, covered in ropy vines as thick as a man’s thigh and shadowed by a vast canopy of trees, sunlight filtered into a green twilight, and through which swung strange, almost-human shapes…
A battlefield, where two armies of fierce, sallow-skinned, black-haired, slant-eyed men, mounted on horses armored in overlapping plates of lacquered metal, screamed in an unknown language and hacked at one another in bloody frenzy…
A blizzard of howling winds and blinding snow, so cold a metal blade might crack like glass…
A mountainside high above a dark evergreen forest, and a cave mouth which vented steam, welcome relief after the almost-fatal cold of the blizzard… until the immense reptilian head of an ancient red dragon emerged from the darkness, followed by its seemingly endless body and wings that blotted out the sun…
Finally, on the fourth day, exhausted, battered, frozen and burned, the group found themselves on a rocky islet rising, barely, from the inky black waters of a vast underground lake, or maybe sea… the cavernous ceiling so very far overhead was only visible by the faint glow of some phosphorescent fungi that limned its craggy surface.
“At least there doesn’t seem to be anything around to attack us,” Cris said, plunking a small pebble into the still, black water. As the sluggish ripples spread out Erol clipped him upside the head.
“Idiot! The Immortals alone know what’s lurking down there – and if anything is, now you’ve told it we’re here!”
But his fears seemed unfounded as the minutes ticked by and nothing rose from the depths to devour them. Gradually they all relaxed, and Devrik collapsed on the ground. “Got to sleep… can’t keep up… these multiple…” He was asleep before he could finish the thought.
They were all exhausted, and with no idea if it was day or night it was not long before they all began to drift off. Erol was the last… despite his determination to stay alert and on guard, his eyes eventually drifted shut and he slept deeply on that rocky shingle.
An indeterminable time later, Devrik woke with a start. He had no idea how long he’d slept, but his mind felt clear and refreshed for the first time in days… even if his body felt like he’d been ground between two millstones. He woke the others, they ate the last of their food, and he prepared to summon a Gate once more.
By this time they all expected some fantastic landscape, so it took a moment for them to realize that they recognized this spot. It was the glade in the woods near Dor Dür, and they were home!
It was a ragged but grateful party that collapsed in Ser Alakor’s solar a short time later. An anxious Raven plyed her husband with hot tea and food, while Draik did the same for the others, as they recounted their recent adventures.
It wasn’t until the next day, Erol’s birthday, that Devrik remembered they needed to contact the rest of the Hand, who would be beginning to miss them by now. Fortunately both Raven and Draik had some of Mariala’s special paper, and word was sent off at once…
♦ ♦ ♦
Back in Dürkon, life had gone on as usual after the departure of the Delfarin reconnaissance mission. The first hint that something was not right came the next day, when Mariala checked her collection of special papers, to see if any messages had come in. To her surprise, the papers linked to the ones she’d sent along with Devrik and Erol were a crumbled piles of ragged scraps.
“It’s as if the paper had been soaked,” she told Vulk when he arrived at her summons. “Though it’s as dry as a bone…”
“Does the paper mimic the state of it’s “twin” beyond just the ink?” Vulk asked curiously, examining the ruined parchments.
“I never thought to test it, honestly. Hmmm, let’s see…” She took a fresh sheet and sliced it in half, handing one piece to Vulk and carrying the other over to the fireplace. She tossed it in and watched as the paper blackened and curled.
“Hey!” Vulk yelped as the paper in his hand began to blacken and curl as well. He had expected to feel heat, but the paper simply charred and then crumbled to gray ash without burning his fingers or giving off any heat at all.
“Fascinating!” Mariala murmured thoughtfully.
It was agreed, once they had informed Korwin and Toran of their experiment, that it was likely the expedition’s parchment had not been stored safely, and had been soaked in the previous day’s rains. There was no reason to believe there was any worse problem, so the matter was dropped, and they went back to their various tasks.
But by the 15th, they began to be concerned again. They had expected the team back the day before, and as the sun set with no sign of the travelers, the worried deepened. By the next day they had all agreed that they needed to follow their friend’s trail and find out what was going on. Vulk told Lekorm Darkeye of their intent as the others made preparations, and it was decided that they would take horses, including Devrik’s & Erol’s.
It was just as she was leaving her study to head to the Outer City and the stables that Mariala noticed writing on one of the parchments she had left with Raven, in Dor Dür. The others were greatly relieved when she told them the missing party was there, and they decided to head out to Dor Dür, since they were already set to travel.
In the brief space allowed by Mariala’s enspelled parchment it had not been made clear what the problem had been, so it was without any concern that Vulk opened the same Gate that Devrik had invoked, to shorten their trip to Dor Dür. Fortunately, nothing went amiss and they arrived to a happy reunion and a chance to belatedly celebrate Erol’s 24th birthday.
Everyone was fascinated by the travelers amazing tales of the places they’d seen and the adventures they’d survived, and it became a bit of a game trying to figure out where they had been. “I’m certain that the battle you saw must have been in Kwan Kar,” Korwin opined confidently. “I’ve read accounts of those Eastern lands, and the people there are described just as you saw.”
But that was the most confidence anyone had in their guesses, which didn’t stop them from making them for many tendays to come. Vulk also rather enjoyed ribbing his friend about his lack of facility with the Gate spell.
“Clearly, Kasira’s ritual for opening a Gate is much superior to the efforts of mere mages,” he kept pointing out, until Devrik began fingering his sword suggestively. And not in a good way.
But it wasn’t Devrik’s implied threats of violence that finally made the cantor regret his humorous barbs…
♦ ♦ ♦
On the 26th Vulk received a letter from his mother, almost two tendays old, telling him that his father was very ill. Over her husband’s objections, she was asking him to come home, in the hopes that his healing touch might help where the physicians had not.
Vulk wasted no time in throwing his kit together, dragooning Cris as his squire, and riding out for the Ilme Vortex that very day. Unfortunately, he didn’t arrive at a spot just a few miles north of Virzon. Instead, he and a tight-lipped Cris found themselves in a large stone chamber, surrounded by a number of Khundari cantors in brown and red robes.
“Oh, not again!” was all Cris said.
They soon learned that they were in the great Khundari city of Karac-Tor, capital of the great Dwarven kingdom known as the United Realms of Karac. Though annoyed at the interruption of their religious ceremony, they were not terribly surprised – it had happened before, the head priest explained, and would no doubt happen again.
A few hours of questioning by the High King’s security, and the travelers were escorted to another nitaran vortex just outside the city, where they were invited to depart. Cris was all for traveling overland, even after Vulk explained the distance involved, over mountain roads, with winter approaching. But in the end he followed the cantor through the next Gate –
– and was pleased when Vulk informed him that they were right where they should be, this time.
The visit to Virzon turned out to be more holiday than crisis – Vulk’s father was already well on the way back to good health, and his son’s ministrations were unneeded. But his presence was greatly appreciated, and their visit was marred only by the minor matter of the murder of a local spice merchant.
Forced to investigate to clear the name of a childhood friend, Vulk and his sidekick soon uncovered a conspiracy by a cabal of wealthy merchants to seize control of the city government. In less than a day they exposed the plot, saw the conspirators arrested, cleared the friend’s name, and were home in time for dinner.
Preparing to return to Dürkon on 2 Glacia, even Vulk was now a little reluctant to risk travel by Gate. But with winter in full swing, overland travel was uncertain and the dangers well known… In the end, they risked the nitaran vortex. But this time there was not hitch, and they arrived exactly where they had hoped to arrive.
Although they had not hoped for the snow that was falling as they made their way back to the City…
♦ ♦ ♦
Again, life returned to normal for the Hand… tutoring, researching, studying, and training. This comfortable pattern continued for almost a ten-day, before it was once more upset. On the afternoon of 10 Glacia the members of the Hand of Fortune were summoned to a meeting with Captain Darkeye and Prince Rhogûn – not in one of the usual audience chambers, offices or studies, but in one of the high dungeons. It seems a Gülvini had approached on of the City’s outposts, bearing the blue spruce branch of truce and an incredible story…