Scourge of the Dragons (15 page)

The hunter quickly turned away and noticed a
strangely shaped mirror. His reflection carried a staff and wore a
long robe. Having his fill with seeing his reflections, Wrotan
turned back to the chair. In its place he found one final mirror.
This mirror was his exact size and shape. His reflection looked
much the same as it always did. He walked up and touched the glass.
Everything went to black and there were familiar voices. He opened
his eyes to find himself back in the room with his companions and
the monks. They stared at him for a moment with looks of dire
concern. Cristoph let out a huge sigh of relief as he leaped to his
feet.

“He has returned!” The monk announced
triumphantly.

“Of course I have returned, I was only gone
for a few minutes,” Wrotan said.

“You were gone for over three hours, we were
beginning to worry,” Mariah said.

“Indeed, but you are here now. All is well.
Now, what did you see?” Cristoph asked.

“I was in this room, or at least some
version of this room. There were hundreds of mirrors, each with its
own reflection of me,” Wrotan answered.

“Yes, the hub. One of the more dangerous
areas of the spirit world. The mirrors are both portals and
reflections all at once. A person can become trapped in another
world if they are not careful. No doubt you saw the mirrors that
were shaped like you?”

“There was only one mirror shaped like me.
The others were varying sizes and shapes. Seven large, three small,
one oddly shaped, and hundreds of incredibly small mirrors.”

“This is intriguing. We don’t have time to
get into all of it, but what I can tell you is that the seven large
mirrors represent the seven cornerstones of our world. They are
water, air, earth, fire, nature, darkness, and light. The three
smaller mirrors represent three inevitabilities of life. Those are
conflict, time, and death. The oddly shaped mirror represents
magic. This means you could possibly learn the arcane arts or, at
the very least, you have a connection to them. Lastly, we have the
mirrors shaped like you. These are the worlds you are most
connected with. Given more time at the hub, the mirrors will change
to allow access to different worlds.”

“Different worlds? Could the shadow dragons
be in one of these worlds?” Alandra asked.

“It is not possible. I will attempt to
better explain it. They are not worlds so much as pieces of our
world. Legends tell of the days of reckoning when men and women
possessed power great enough to seal off entire kingdoms and
continents. It is said that one such man, Cron, was able to not
only seal off locations, but destroy them completely. It was later
surmised that he had not destroyed them, but rather locked them in
another place of existence. We believe the spirit world connects
them all. There are other accounts as well, such as those who
believe that lesser celestial or spiritual beings created lands all
to themselves and invited their most loyal minions. We may never
know the complete truth.”

“Why are they specific to certain elements?”
Amber asked.

“A fine question. It is our belief that
Cron’s enemies harnessed the power of the elements themselves and
with the sealing of the individual came the sealing of the
elements. The world of Palemedor will not be complete until all of
the pieces are restored, or so we believe. Others believe that the
elements have their own miniature worlds and that the individual’s
closeness to each element is what sends them to specific realms,”
Cristoph replied.

“This is all well and good, but the world as
we know it will be destroyed if we are unable to stop the shadow
dragons,” Wrotan said.

“Right you are. I’ve informed Bertram that
you are seeking Lamont and he has agreed to accompany you. He and
his men have prepared everything you will need for the journey. You
may leave as soon as you like.”

*

The man in charge of the expedition,
Bertram, looked much like the other monks they had seen at the
monastery. He had assembled half a dozen others, bringing the new
number of travelers up to twelve. Hadrin smiled as he watched the
party gather. Twelve felt like a good number, not too many, not too
few. Adding the horses brought the number to twenty seven, another
favorable sign in the elf’s mind. His companions, it seemed, were
not quite so satisfied. Alandra looked almost apprehensive as she
approached the group. She stayed close to Hadrin, for the most
part. The Prince was flattered that she chose to stay near him, but
he worried that the two groups might not work as well together as
Cristoph had assumed. He let his thoughts wander as they started
off on what he knew would feel like a very long trip.

Hadrin slowed his horse just in time to
avoid a collision with the rider ahead of him. The tedium of riding
for days at a time without much break in the scenery and only two
stops per day had lulled the Prince into a routine that lacked
awareness. He began to inquire as to why they had halted, but
stopped when he saw the caravan in the distance. Bertram called
together the small group. The Prince kept his eye on the caravan as
he moved in closer to the others. There was something unnerving
about the caravan that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“These are the first travelers we have seen
yet. They might have useful information,” Bertram said.

“They might be dangerous. I’ve never seen a
caravan with that many guards,” Hadrin said as he continued to
watch the caravan.

“There is no doubt they’ve spotted us by
now. Any evasive maneuvers would set us well off course.”

“Do you think a caravan would hunt down a
dozen riders?” Wrotan asked.

“I’ve seen the aftermath of such an event.
We may not be in the wilds, but things here can often be much
worse,” Bertram replied.

“That doesn’t leave us with very many
options,” Mariah said.

“I count three: we can approach peacefully,
we can run, or we can attack,” the Prince said.

“We can approach them peacefully, but we
should be ready for them to attack,” Wrotan added.

“Approach with confidence and be prepared, I
like that. Paladins are trained to fight against any odds, we can
approach with the utmost confidence. What about you?” Bertram
asked.

“Don’t worry about us,” the hunter
answered.

The paladin nodded before spurring his horse
to a trot. Hadrin looked at the others in his party. Alandra’s
expression was closer to defiance than confidence, but the Prince
felt it would work just as well. Mariah looked cautious, but seemed
prepared for the worst. Amber did the best she could to put on a
strong face, but there was little doubt that the caravan guards
would see through it. Bertram and his paladins all seemed under
control, but there was a sense of unease about them. Finally,
Wrotan looked as though he had just slain a dragon and was
returning for the feast. The Prince had no doubt that the hunter
would be the reason the caravan guards would choose against
fighting. If they choose not to fight, that is, the elf
thought.

“I don’t know that I can do this,” Amber
said as she got closer to Alandra and Hadrin.

“Stick close to Wrotan, only a fool would
attack him,” the Prince said.

“That spirit world visit seems to have made
him even more Wrotan than he was before, if that is even possible,”
Alandra said.

“What do you mean?” Mariah asked as she
joined the others.

“I’ve never met anyone so set on
self-improvement. He is an accomplished hunter, he has saved dozens
of lives, the man is constantly striving to do the right thing. It
doesn’t matter if the beneficiaries are appreciative or not. For a
man so outcast by much of society, you would think he would get
tired of pushing himself,” Hadrin said.

“No more time for conversation, I need all
eyes on the caravan. Alert me if you see anything out of the
ordinary,” Wrotan said as he slowed to speak to his companions.

The hunter spurred his horse forward. He
rode on past Bertram without even checking with the paladin. Hadrin
was relieved to see that somebody other than the leader of the
paladins would be the first to make contact with the caravan. He
could tell that Bertram was not pleased, but the paladin made no
move to overtake Wrotan. Everyone watched as the hunter slowed his
horse near the outskirts of the caravan. He had his horse slow to a
crawl as he looked down at the caravan guards. The mercenaries
watched with no small measure of wariness as Wrotan called out for
the caravan master to come meet together. Bertram caught up to the
hunter and they both dismounted as the caravan master came out to
see them. He was younger than Hadrin had expected, but he looked
the part. His extravagant outfit made all but a few of the members
of the caravan look like peasants. He was flanked by two of his own
personal bodyguards, neither of whom seemed to like the idea of
Wrotan and Bertram demanding to see their master. More caravan
guards began to gather as they watched the two strangers with
seemingly iron wills.

“I don’t like the look of this, we best be
ready to open an escape route for them,” Mariah said.

“They’ve certainly managed to gather quite
the crowd,” one of the paladins said.

A lone caravan guard acted before anyone
else. He drew his sword and lunged toward Bertram. The leader of
the paladins stepped back out of range of the blow and drew his war
hammer. His hammer’s long handle gave him the necessary reach to
counterattack without fear of being hit. He swung the hammer with
such speed and precision that his opponent never had a chance. The
other caravan guards stared in disbelief as their comrade collapsed
to the floor. Hadrin could hear the caravan master yelling
something as his men frantically began drawing their weapons. A
small portion of the soldiers broke off and moved to intercept the
paladins who were rushing to join their leader in battle. The
Prince drew his sword and charged forward to join the holy
warriors. Mariah and Alandra followed closely behind as Amber began
preparing healing herbs and bandages.

“To Bertram!” One of the paladins ordered as
she rushed into the battle.

“We’ll need to break through for them to
stand any chance of surviving,” Alandra said.

The two groups met together in a giant
clash. Hadrin downed an opponent and then was forced to parry. He
stayed on the defensive until Alandra was able to assist him in
overcoming his opponent. They banded together and took out three
more opponents. The Prince stopped once they had broken through the
small batch of opponents. He watched in horror as dozens of caravan
guards descended upon Bertram and Wrotan. The caravan’s lone
magician stepped forward and cast a quick spell. Hadrin and the
others attempted to charge toward their companions, but were
stopped by a magic barrier. He hit the barrier with his sword and
it sent a shockwave through his body, forcing him to drop his
weapon.

“Save your strength, they’ll come for us
next,” one paladin said as she helped Hadrin to his feet.

“If they get a chance. Look!” Mariah said,
barely able to contain her excitement as she pointed toward the
fight.

Bertram batted away attack after attack
using both his shield and his war hammer. Wrotan stayed on the
offensive as his companion defended against the crowd of
mercenaries. He used his superior quickness to pivot around
opponents and his strength to knock them aside or into each other.
His free hand darted to and fro, pulling a guard off balance or
shoving another guard out of range. The two combatants continually
switched places to ensure that their opponents were unable to adapt
to their fighting styles. Within a short period of time, they have
managed to wound or kill enough opponents to create an opening.
Wrotan darted past the guards and took up position with his back
against the mage’s barrier. Bertram joined him shortly thereafter
and they worked in conjunction to fight off several waves of
attacks.

“Bring that barrier down, we need to
surround them again!” The caravan master yelled.

“It will allow the rest of their party to
join the fight,” the mage said.

“I don’t care, I want them dead.”

Hadrin nodded to the others and sprang into
action as soon as the barrier was down. Their charge broke the
enemy’s spirit, resulting in a rout. The caravan master, driven
insane with rage, began cutting down his own troops as they tried
to retreat. Wrotan reached him first and delivered a sword through
the heart before he or his bodyguards could react. With their
leader dead, the handful of remaining soldiers either continued
running or surrendered. Bertram ordered his men to split up and
examine the wagons. He wiped off his war hammer and joined them.
Wrotan sat down and began checking for wounds. His aggressive style
of fighting had helped to seal the victory, but it had left him
open on several occasions.

“That didn’t quite go as expected,” he said
as the others approached.

“There must be an explanation for their
willingness to fight,” Amber said.

“I believe that I’ve found something that
will explain that,” Bertram said as he approached.

“What is it?” Hadrin asked.

“According to the leader’s journal, they
were slavers. More than likely, they thought we were guardsmen for
some noble whose son or daughter had been kidnapped and that Wrotan
was a champion from the clan they raided a week ago.”

“Where are the slaves?” Amber asked.

“Sold. No more than two days ago,” one of
the prisoners said.

“According to the journal, they were headed
out on another raid. It seems that the four kingdoms were keeping
them well paid and well equipped to ensure that the borderlanders
and wilders were kept under control,” Bertram added.

“It is a fairly common practice in the
wilds. The smaller tribes get hit the hardest. Chiefs have even
begun to authorize retaliatory raids. I had hoped for a friendly
caravan, but getting rid of a bunch of slavers isn’t a bad thing,”
Wrotan said.