“That is close enough, thank you,” the monk said as they got closer.
“Is this the spirit monk monastery?” Amber asked.
“That is correct, what is your business here?”
“Our business is two-fold. We mean you no harm, come let us go inside and discuss matters,” Wrotan answered.
“Very well, but your weapons must stay at the entrance. The Builder frowns upon bloodshed.”
The monk didn’t wait for a reply. He turned around and began walking back to the monastery. Wrotan motioned for Amber to follow him. She gave him a quick nod before heading forward to catch up to the monk. His age began to show as she got closer to him. He walked with a slight limp and was hunched over just a tad. The wrinkles on his hands were much like those on her grandfather’s hands. He waved for his companions to enter the monastery without him. She slowed down to his pace when she caught up to him. He acknowledged her with a nod without turning his head. One of the others moved to open the door for him, but he waved them off. The monk held the same determination and drive that she had seen in Wrotan.
“He is just like you, you know,” she said as they entered the monastery.
“Please, call me Cristoph. I highly doubt that we are similar, young one. I am a monk and he is a warrior,” the monk replied.
“You are looking at the outside.”
“Ah, forgive me, I have not the ability to ascertain one’s personality in such a short time. If you are indeed able to do so, you have a special gift. Now, how are we alike?”
“He shares your drive. Not for the same things, of course, but the drive and determination is there. You both strive to better yourself at all times, yet that is not your main goal.”
“You get all that from the short time we have spent together? That is most impressive. I strive to be a role model for my younger brothers and sisters. How better to do so than to constantly make an effort to be a better person?”
“It seems a noble cause and that is an understandable goal, one that I think more people have than are willing to admit,” Amber said.
“Enough about me. What is it that your friend is searching for? Or is it you that are doing the searching?”
“Both, but Wrotan can explain them better than I.”
*
“Are you familiar with the elven practice of exiling those who are seeing as a danger to society?” Wrotan asked as he put his mug down.
“I’ve heard much about it, but it is not something they’ve allowed us to research,” Cristoph replied.
“Is it possible that those who are exiled are somehow connected to the spirit world?”
“There is still much mystery to the spirit world, but we do know that none of the inhabitants can take on physical form. However, it is still possible that there is a connection of some sort.”
“Perhaps they are exiled to another world that can also access the spirit world?” Alandra asked.
“That is certainly a possibility. Is there a reason why you need this information?” Cristoph asked.
“We were hoping to stop the return of the shadow dragons. It may already be too late, but we need to try,” Wrotan said.
“Dragons are magical creatures and it is through magic that we have been able to glimpse the spirit realm. If there is another realm in which the shadow dragons reside, they would be far too powerful for any of us.”
“I suppose that leaves us to our other question. Is it possible to enter another’s mind using magic?”
“Yes, but such a thing is extremely dangerous. Either subject could end up destroying their mind. Why would you need to do such a thing?” Cristoph asked.
“A young man named Kade is under the control of the dragons and we must do everything we can to free him,” the hunter replied.
“This is most unfortunate. One of our monks is traveling to the dwarven lands, he would know more about it than I. His name is Lamont. Your best chance is to find him. The only other group that knows about such things resides at the Arcane Academy.”
“You have been most helpful, Cristoph. Is there any way that we can repay you?”
“There is one, yes. Would any of you be willing to attempt to traverse the spirit world?”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous for anyone that doesn’t have the ability to use magic?” Mariah asked.
“Not necessarily. Through our research, we’ve found that people have different reactions to experiencing the spirit world. I understand if you think it is too dangerous, but any assistance would be greatly appreciated,” Cristoph said.
“I will do it,” Wrotan said.
The monk nodded as he put down his cup. He motioned to one of the other monks and they began whispering to each other. Cristoph smiled as he stood up. He took Wrotan’s mug and went into the adjacent room, returning shortly with a filled mug. The hunter took the mug and drank the contents. His whole body began to feel heavy. Everything around him was out of focus. Wrotan slumped back into the chair as he felt his eyelids close. When he opened them, the monks and his companions were nowhere to be found. Upon closer inspection, he saw that there were hundreds of mirrors along the walls of the room. The mirrors came in different sizes. There were seven large mirrors, three small mirrors, and countless tiny mirrors.
He looked at the closest of the mirrors and saw a reflection of himself wearing armor made of bark and he was holding a vine whip. The next mirror showed him wearing plate armor and wielding a massive hammer. His third reflection wore the same thing he had on, except there was a sword of flame in his hand and red streaks in his hair. Two of the mirrors showed him riding a beast of some sort, one was a griffin and the other was a dolphin like sea creature. The last two large mirrors showed near opposites of each other. In the first, he wore shining armor with an equally bright sword. Both the armor and the sword seemed to emit their own light. The other mirror showed him in dark armor with a dark sword. Light seemed to be sapped away by the armor and the sword. He turned to one of the small mirrors and caught a glimpse of himself covered in dried blood. His reflection wielded a massive great sword and had a necklace of skulls. The next small mirror continually changed back and forth between an older version of himself and a younger version of himself. Sometimes the transformation took seconds, other times it took minutes. He turned to the final small mirror and shuddered. Half of his reflection was a bare skull and the other half was pale skin.
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 Ambe
r 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.