Chapter 10: Gorec's Disappearance

Chapter Ten: Gorec’s Disappearance

“Dyorn, this seems pointless, all these gates here lead to other parts of Dragonia. At this rate it could take a lifetime to find the right gate into Entantium.” Gorec called to Dyorn, halfway down the corridor.

“As long as it might take, we must find that gate. With Kagain knowing of our plans, we must do whatever it takes to retrieve the Blackturner’s Bane.” Dyorn sighed. “Go on ahead and search those gates, we will meet in the middle.”

Gorec nodded and hurried to the other side of the Tower, searching the gates as he went. He came to the last gate, and after saying the spell, he gazed into it and saw that it was the north side of the town. He turned to alert Dyorn but before he could make a sound something dragged him through the portal.

Gorec fell unexpectedly through the portal and landed on solid ground, a gasp of shock followed by a groan of pain could be heard as he attempted to sit up and look around. His left arm reached behind him to toss away the large rock that he had landed on. A few moments later he slowly rose to his feet, with the help of a near by wall.

Gorec stepped out into the open street, keeping his left hand on the wall to help him to keep his balance. His eyes squinted as the bright sun assaulted them; the shear brightness of the sun was more than his eyes could handle yet having been accustomed to the darkness of the Tower. A merchant pulling his own cart passed Gorec, mumbling a few curses as he passed. Gorec dismissed the curses…people were always like that it seemed. “Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me where I am at?”

The merchant stopped, setting his cart down with a scowl. “Do nay be messin’ wit me head. I have many clients I must see to and no time for loonies bothering me about where we be.”

Gorec bowed to the merchant. “Many apologies, sir. I have been traveling for many weeks now and have been suddenly removed from my homeland. I was only attempting to attain my bearings.”

The merchant looked him over. “A traveler eh? Should have guessed. Be seein' more and more of yer people here. Can’t say I mind, ye hear? Good business from travelers. Where ye from?”

He thought for a moment. He couldn’t tell him he was from Dragonia that would bring unwanted attention. “Far away, further then many will travel in a lifetime.”

The merchant looked at him oddly, and then shrugged it off. “No offence, Sir. Ye be in Entantium, though of that all men know. This here be Carin Fios. I suggest a visit to an Inn for any more, I be late as it is.” He hurried off without a second glance back to Gorec.

Gorec watched him hurry off, and then gave another look around. There did not seem to be an Inn in sight. He muttered to himself as he slowly made his way through the streets, merchants calling their goods from their shops often stopped him trying to pawn everything down to the clothes off of his back from him. With a polite no, and a more stern departure, he had worked his way through the streets and to the front of an Inn. The Sleeping Dragon. A strange name, but it wasn’t the name that drew him there. A crowd of people stood outside while a woman, seemingly on the brink of death, was carried out by a group of Flameweavers[1]…members of the Temple. He took another look at the woman, there was something about her that he was sure he knew, but what was it? He dismissed it without a second thought, and waited for the crowd to clear.

Once the crowd cleared Gorec made slow passage into the Dragon, looking around at the patrons, his eyes finally coming to rest on the Keep. “She was one of yers, wasn’t she?”

Gorec stayed quiet for a moment, wondering what he knew. “What do you mean by that?”

“My apologies, sir. I saw you watching and assumed she was of your blood, or perhaps a companion. No offence.”

“None taken, my good man. Do you know what happened? The Flameweaver’s seems concerned.”

“As well they should…she dropped as if Death caught her. There have been those who would hunt her, but in my humble Inn…” He stopped and cursed those people.

“There are some that would hunt her?” Gorec looked at him questionably. “What type of people would hunt someone they don’t know?”

The keep glanced around nervously. “Of these people, I cannot speak. If my Lord would like, I can offer you’re a room…and later we can speak.”

Gorec nodded and took a look around for himself. There were some that even Dyorn would guard his tongue around. “Thank you, good keep. Your generosity warms me.”

The keep bowed. “Think nothing of it, my Lord. It is not often an Outlander comes. Why, I haven’t seen one in twenty years.” He stopped, always looking around. “But, I am getting ahead of myself here. We shall speak more of this later, after my Lord has rested.” He stopped a barmaid, and after a few whispered words she started down the hall. “Follow her, my Lord; I shall join you in your chambers once I can.”

“Thanks you once again for your kindness. I will see to it that you are rewarded once I can.” With that he hurried down the hall after the maid.

The maid led him quickly down the hall answering “Never know who may be watching.” Whenever Gorec asked about her pace. Finally they stopped in a room hidden deep in the Inn. After she lit the candles to illuminate the room Gorec could see it was fit for a king. Glints of gold and silver reflected from almost every surface, from solid gold candlesticks to the gold and silver inlaid table and canopy bed. Sheets of silk, colored a pale blue, lay under a goose feather blanked, colored a darker blue. He glanced around a few times, perhaps this innkeeper though him a king of some land. He looked at himself in the silver gilded mirror, a soft beard darkened his features, predominantly around his chin, but nothing else seemed to mark him other than a king.

A few moments after the maid left the innkeeper came in, quickly closing the door behind him. “I be most sorry for the room…it be necessary to keep the wrong ears from us.”

Gorec looked at him, questions filling and overwhelming him. He took a breath, calming his thoughts. “Who are you?” The first and possibly most important question came out without a second thought.

“I do called Sardin, my Lord.” He answered just as quickly.

“Sardin, who are these people you mentioned? Those who hunted other people?” Gorec kept an intent gaze on the man and the quick flicker of shock that overcame his calm appearance showed that he was not expecting that question yet.

With a breath he looked around, again, checking that the door was closed before seating himself in the chair across from Gorec. “You have come at a bad time, my Lord. These be real dangerous days. People be vanishin’, sometimes three a week. It started twenty years ago. A man cam and visited here, he be an Outlander, and began recruiting people. Never was specific about why he was recruiting in public, but a week after he left people started disappearing. It started with brigands and thieves, which none minded, but then upstanding citizens started vanishing. Some do reappear, all in black, but be no better than brigands. Some never returned at all.” He stopped as the same maid returned with two silver wine goblets and a pitcher of a light blue wine balanced on a tray. She filled the two goblets and went as silently as she entered. Taking a drink of his Sardin took another breath and went on again. “It do be worse now. People have been hunted. Strange, though, is they all look alike in the face.”

Gorec took a drink for his own goblet, to absorb the information. “So people that look like her are murdered?”

Sardin nodded. ‘An’ you, my Lord. Two weeks ago a man looking like you was first killed, just the same time the first woman like your friend. It be near a month since the first two, married couple, were killed. An’, another married pair jus’ last night.”

Gorec almost choked on his wine at that, and covered with clearing his throat. “So, four people are being hunted?”

“Yes, my Lord. An’ one looks like you, and your friend.”

Gorec sighed. “Thank you, Sardin. Alert no one that I am here, and for safety have only you or the woman that showed me to this room serve me. It seems as if I am to stay in the room during the day.” He shook his head in disgust. “I know you are busy, but I have one more question. Have you ever heard of The Blackturner’s Bane?”

Sardin froze in his chair, as if petrified. His eyes grew wide and almost bulged out of his sockets. Once he was able to move the blood fled from his face, making him as pale as marble. “Dangerous question, my Lord. Very dangerous, for you and me.”

“Dangerous? How?”

“The man, the Outlander, he called himself Yaren Blackturner. He was brought into town by the Flameweavers, from deep in the forest, near death. My lover, may she rest in peace, was a Flameweaver at the time and was one caring for him. She said he never got better until they escorted him over the Mage Roads. It is said he died soon after, murdered by his own kin.”

Gorec nodded, with a soft sigh. So Kagain killed his father. Why? “I still don’t see what it has to do with the Bane, or asking about it.”

“I do be getting there, milord. Yaren was brought back from deep in the Ashetar Forest, from a temple erected overnight in some stone that looks like onyx. When he stayed here he had a blade covered in black velvet, he was never without it. When he returned he didn’t have it. He also kept mumbling ‘It’s done. My family’s Bane is born.’” Sardin finished what was left of his wine, and stayed staring into the emptiness. “He mumbled other things to. Mad ramblings about an evil son, and the murder of a king, and something about the destruction of this town. None of which have occurred, of course.”

Gorec gave a sad smile. “Don’t count on it. Yaren does have a son, who is evil. His name is Kagain. He is trying to murder the Emperor and Empress of Dragonina, for the throne. He is after me to complete his dream. It seems Kagain wants to rule Dragonia and Entantium. To do so he wants to use the Towers, and Mage Roads, to make them into one place. He will use the location of this town to do it, because there are not many people in either area. The town, and both Empires, will be destroyed if he succeeds.” Gorec’s last words came out in a croak. His throat had suddenly gone dry. He finished the rest of his wine to refresh himself.

Serdin palled again, his mouth was moving but no words came out at first. “And, the Lady? Why her?”

“She is his daughter. She is helping the Emperor and I stop Kagain.”

“HIS OWN DAUGHTER!” Serdin leapt to his feet, knocking the tray to the floor. “What kind of monster would kill his own daughter?!”

“The kind who cares only for his own goals succeeding. The kind that would kill his own father as well. You see now? I need The Blackturner’s Bane. It is the only way to stop him, and he must be stopped. He already has hold in Castlelake, if he isn’t stopped now it will be too late!” Gorec’s voice rose toward the end of his words, causing Serdin to back far against the wall to be out of the way.

Sardin stared at Gorec for a few moments, visibly shaken in fear.  “So it do be true.  There do be a madman about.”

“It still gets worse.  He has tried to kill the Andros’ twice.  Both times using his minions, which number in both men and beasts.  He also has an alliance with Brell, the Spirit ruler of the Lake of the Dead.  Furthermore, he has captured one of our own, Dyorn’s wife Lyra.  Now do you see why I need to know all about what happened, and your assistance.  Tell me where the Flameweaver’s are and tomorrow I shall leave.”

“I will do what I can, milord, but all I know is that it is almost a half a days walk from here.  Beyond that you be on yer own.  The temple has its own defenses that only the blaze Mistress know of, and some all know.  It is guarded with Flames, and it is said there in an enchantment on the land to stop unwanted guests and those who wish to harm them.  That do be all I know of it.”

Gorec nodded, storing the information and planning his entrance.  “Thank you very much for your help, Sardin, you have been more of an asset than you know.”  Sardin gave a slight nod than bowed himself out, leaving Gorec to plan and sleep.

 

As promised, Gorec was off early, before first light.  That was how he found himself staring into a forest, barely able to make out a Temple in the distance.  He mad a quick lunch of a few apples he found nearby before starting his journey into the forest.

He was halfway to the Temple before his feet refused to lift.  A sudden burst of heat in front of him announced the presence of a Flame, the elemental guardian of Firær.  “State your business, traveler, or be prepared to face the Flame God’s wrath.”  The Flames voice was cool, and melodically, not something he had expected from such a dominating creature.

“I am Gorec, called Wuith by some.  My business is that of the Worlds.  I seek a counsel with the Flameweaver’s, about a woman brought here yesterday.”  Compared to that of the Flame’s[2] Gorec’s voice sounded stiff, uneven, and even gruff.

The Flame flickered for a moment, in thought, before disappearing all together.  In place of the Flame stood a FLameweaver, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.  Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, far enough from her neck to show her torque, a wreath of living flame.  Her green eyes looked as deep as a canyon, and as luminous as a forest in mid-spring.  “What business do you have with the Flameweavers, and one of our charges?”  The voice was the same as the Flame’s, proving that it had only been a guise.

“I seek counsel with your order, Priestess.  The charge of which you speak is a companion, who holds precious information about my quest…information that could decide the fate of the Worlds.”

The priestess thought for a long while, longer than Gorec would have liked, before answering.  “It seems you speak true.  The Order has agreed to allow you entrance, but you must come in peace.  As for your companion, she still lives but only just.  There is powerful magic at work about her, magic even our Mistress has never seen before.  If we help you, you must return the favor.  If she is effected by some curse we do not know than the entire world may be at risk, no matter what you accomplish.”

“You need not worry.  What has affected her will only affect her blood kin.  Now, please, allow me to see her, the longer I wait the more danger we are in.”

With that the priestess led Gorec in, and to Alora.  “Here she is, traveler.  Get your answers and go, there is much we must do yet.”

As the priestess left Gorec got his first sight of Alora.  She was pale, deathly so.  Her eyes, once vibrant, had lost their luster, almost as if she was on the brink of death.  Her breathing was shallow, and uneven.  The sight sent Gorec to tears as he stood by her, taking one of her cold hands gently in his.  “Alora, my love, can you hear me?”

Alora’s eyes went to him, and a forced smile creased her bloodless lips.  The pain she was trying to hide became obvious in the attempt.  She tried to speak, but nothing came out.  Tears fell down her face, leaving a glistening trail.  She opened her mouth so speak again her voice breathy, almost ethereal, and barely a whisper.  “The forest, it’s in the forest.”  Her eyes, and mouth, closed as she fell into a deep sleep.

Gorec stood there, trying to fight back the tears.  He had to be strong for her.  He leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  “I will save you, my love.”  He backed away, and left, hoping he had time.

His eyes stayed on Alora until he was out of her room.  He turned just in time to see the woman he bumped into, causing them both to topple over.  Gorec’s head bounced off the stone floor, landing harder than it had hit.  “Clumsy man!  Are you alright?”  The concern in the woman’s melodically voice, and angelic face, was all he saw and heard before the world went black.

“So sad to have come so far only to lose.”  A man’s voice echoed in the darkness.  Gorec tried to find the voice, but found he couldn’t control his body.  “Fear not, young mage.  You are alive.  There is much yet that you must do.”

“Who are you?”  Gorec’s voice sounded alien to him, with no determinable point.  “What do you want with me?”

“Patience.  I am here to help you.”  That voice again!  It seemed to come from nowhere, and everywhere at once.  “I am here to bestow upon you a great gift.  You must hurry, the want it too.”

“Who wants what?”  Gorec found it hard to concentrate, and remember.”

“The sword, of course.  Do come to your senses, you help no one being confused.  Awake, Gorec, and remember.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the Blaze Mistress[3], if you must know.”  That voice!  IT wasn’t the voice in the darkness, it was the same melodically voice he heard before.

“Blaze Mistress?  What happened, why am I still here?”

“Where else would you be after sending both of us to the floor?  Your clumsiness is overabundant, even for a man.”

“My apologies, Mistress, but I am in a hurry.  The fate of the Worlds depends on my success.”  The room swirled into focus, it as a basic room.  The walls of stone unadorned, one windows near the top provided the illumination.  Gorec felt something tugging him, a painful tugging.  His body stiffened as he grimaced.

“You can go no where yet.  Something happened to you before you woke, and I intend to know.  Until that time, you are not allowed to leave.”

Gorec sat up, and started to stand but was stopped but the appearance of another Flame.  “Mistress, there is nothing wrong with me.  It is a gift and it will pass.  Now, all due respect Mistress but, call off the Flame and let me go.  I refuse to be held against my will!”

“Such a feisty man.”  The Mistress smiled softly.  “If it were not against our rules, I would ask you to be a Priest, your spirit is exactly what we need.  Now I will allow you to leave, as well as forget your rudeness and blatant threat.  I will do this all on one condition.  You will tell me about this ‘gift’.”  The Blaze mistress made the entire thing seem sweet, and forgiving, yet let it be known who made the rules in the Temple.

“Mistress, I haven’t the time…”

“Than you shall stay here til you have the time.”  Her voice was rougher than Gorec had ever imagined it could be, and he settled back with a sigh.

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[1] A term for the Priestesses who serve Firære

[2] The Elemental Guardians of the Temple of Firære.  The High Priestesses of the Temple are gifted with the ability to transform into one during battles.

[3] Title given to the leader of the Temple.  Called thusly because of her control over the Flames.