Advent Of Darkness

By Gary Caplan

Advent of Darkness won 2014 Indie Excellence Finalist Award in Fantasy & Advent of Darkness is a Finalist of 2014 International Book Awards in Fiction-Fantasy.

Advent of Darkness has been chosen one of the NABE Pinnacle Book Achievement Award Winners for Summer 2013.

When veteran and archaeologist John Gideon is transported from Earth by a tall, strange man clothed in ornate red robes, he soon finds himself a stranger in a different world. Unbeknownst to him, the world of Illúmaril is the birthplace of his ancestors and where he truly belongs. Meeting the archmaster wizard Ragan, John is taken under the wizard's wing as a ward and student and begins his journey of exploring this strange new world.

From gnomes, elves, and menfolk to surprising new creatures, John is soon befriended by all, as he reestablishes his connection to his ancestor's home world and begins to learn the truth. Hidden on Earth as a child, John's true importance is only beginning to reveal itself as this foreign world becomes home. With his world turned upside down, John continues to learn about his past and more importantly, of the vital destiny that he has to fulfill.

Advent of Darkness is the first book in the epic fantasy series, The Chronicles of Illúmaril. Styled after the timeless Lord of the Rings series, this sweeping novel is packed with action and adventure that will instantly hook science-fiction and fantasy fans everywhere. Sword and sorcery at its finest, this excellent story will take readers on an amazing journey through intense conflict and an awe-inspiring new world. With its huge scope and thrilling adventure, this is one novel that deserves a place in every reader's collection.

Following John Gideon and his adventures while trying to find his place in society, as well as his destiny, Advent of Darkness takes readers to the wonderful new world of Illúmaril. Embracing all sides of the conflict, the novel uniquely uses epic voices to describe what's happening across the landscape while still using John Gideon as the main character and tool for describing his and his companions' points of view. Utilizing dramatic fantasy and exhilarating action and adventure, this thrilling sword and sorcery novel sets a new standard for epic fantasy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456620394

Book preview

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to all the great authors who wrote in this fantasy genre that inspired my imagination and interest to write. To J. R. R. Tolkien, Roger Zelany, Robert E. Howard, Michael Moorcock, Stephen Donaldson, Terry Brooks, and many others—thanks for the inspiration. I have had these ideas since I was a young boy. I just had to find the time to write. I would also like to dedicate this to my parents, Martin and Merri Caplan, who inspired me to learn; to some friends who helped me work through some of my ideas: my brother Mark and my old friends Brian Godshall, Bob Fedic, and David St John. Last but not least, to my good friend Basil Varian for his help with writing the original draft of the prologue and first six chapters and the part of the draft of last chapter, and his contribution of some interesting names to the Illúmaril story and his imaginative artwork.

Prologue

The car's headlights cut through the darkness of the night on the empty road outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. John Gideon sat behind the wheel, rubbing his eyes, his mind weary from several hours of travel. He was a tall man with a lean but powerful build, surfer good looks, and shoulder-length blond hair.

He had just completed the qualifying exams for his master's degree and his thesis project, which were the culmination of twenty-four months of full-time study at Temple University in Philadelphia.

World prehistory, Stone Age Europe, and archeological methods and theories still jangled in his brain, giving him a headache. Still, he had to laugh slightly at the course his life had taken. A few years earlier, he had left his home state of California and joined the military, not because he did not want to go to college, but because he felt almost compelled to serve. Because of his exceptional intelligence and his athletic ability, he had a few unique opportunities, including gathering intelligence for his company and later Fifty-Eighth Infantry, and that was when his tour of duty got interesting. For three years, he worked both in combat situations and non-combat situations of gathering of military intelligence. During his time in the military, he was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in action against enemy forces. In 1970, he got out, wanting to put the horror of the past behind him. That year, he enrolled in one of Philadelphia's university's archeological sciences program because he thought that the study of old stuff would be sufficiently different. After three years of hell, archaeology would seem like heaven.

Now, here he was six years later, having completed college with honors and recently earned a master's degree, on his way to a doctorate.

He let out a bored sigh and looked up at the sky. In the darkness above, rain-filled nimbus clouds moved in to block the light of the stars.

It's going to rain, he thought to himself.

Cursing softly at the rotten change in the weather, he flipped on the radio and tuned it to the local pop music station, which was playing Disco Duck.

God, I'm really beginning to hate that song, he thought as it mercifully faded out to be replaced by Rod Stewart's newest hit, Tonight's the Night.

Now, that's more like it, he thought.

Soon, he found himself tapping unconsciously on the steering wheel and humming to himself. With a quick downward thrust, he shifted into fourth gear as he thought of trying to beat the rain.

Cool air blew on his face, tousling his light golden-blond hair and easing the stifling summer night air. Glancing at the clock on the dash, he saw it was five minutes to eight.

Thunder rumbled across the heavens, and the night sky flashed with lightning, though the storm was still minutes away.

Gideon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As a rule, he liked lonely country roads during daylight. There were farms and cows and trees and stuff to look at, good for relieving the monotonous boredom of a long road trip. However, at night, the darkness and shadows made everything mysterious and spooky. Trees loomed from either side of the road, their appearance suddenly gnarled and misshapen when lit by the flashes of lightning. No longer the homes of happy squirrels and twittering birds, they became twisted, evil creatures one only encountered in a fairy tale about wicked witches and goblins.

Somewhat shaken by his thoughts, he downshifted and continued at a safe and steady forty-five miles per hour. It was then, more or less, that he realized with slight apprehension that his seemed to be the only car on the road. He had not passed, nor had he seen, another car for over an hour.

He thought that was a bit odd.

He looked into his rearview mirror.

Nothing.

Nervously, he looked about and began eyeing the dreadful trees again.

Then, as he turned his eyes back to the road before him, the headlight beams caught a man suddenly stepping out onto the road about one hundred yards in front of his oncoming car.

With his heart suddenly leaping into his throat, Gideon quickly lay down on the horn and slammed down hard on the brakes. He steered the wheel to the right. The Mustang's tires screeched to a reluctant halt.

The man stood on the road, motionless, as if he did not realize he had been only a few seconds away from being road kill, and looked at the car.

No, not at the car.

At me!

The engine rumbled idly as Gideon and the man looked at each other.

Was the man crazy? He was wearing some kind of robe, like a fancy housecoat. Red, he thought. He had a tightly cropped black beard and blue-gray eyes.

Piercing eyes. No fear in them.

Lucid, sane, determined.

Clearing his mind, Gideon leaned out the window and opened his mouth to speak, but the strange man in the road spoke first. His voice was clear and strong, though halted and strained, as if English was not his first language.

John…Gid…eon.

It was not a question but rather a confirmation. Gideon stiffened warily at hearing his own name from this stranger's lips.

Thunder and lightning crashed overhead. Rain began to pour down from the sky in torrents. The storm had decided to break.

Who? he began.

They…come…for you! the man continued; his steady gaze seemed to grow even harder. They have breached…the barrier, and they…have found…your scent. You are…in great danger!

Gideon opened the door at this and began to step out of the car. He was shaken but resolute. He was going to find out who this person was and how he knew his name.

"Who the hell are you, man? Do you realize I nearly ran you over? What are you, stoned? And what the hell's all this about? 'They'? Who's they?" he asked in a voice loud enough to be heard over the storm.

Instead of responding, the man cocked his head as if listening to the storm. Rain dripped off his upturned face in torrents.

"They…are…near…Very…close now. You must go, John Gideon! Now!"

"Who is coming, mister?" shouted Gideon, his voice now raised in frustrated anger, as well as in an attempt to be heard over the storm.

The man returned his gaze to Gideon.

Gorghuan! the man shouted. "Run, you fool! Get back in your…car and drive! Now!"

Who or what is a gorghuan? asked Gideon.

The tall man stared at Gideon wildly for a second and then composed himself and said in a low, matter-of-fact voice, "Something you do not want to meet on a lonely road at night."

Gideon realized that the man's English had gotten much better in the past minute or so, but then he heard something over the storm that sent a shiver down his spine.

It sounded like an unnatural baying howl.

He shuddered. This whole thing was seriously beginning to creep him out. The man again cocked his head, listening to the storm.

Did he hear that weird noise too?

As he looked at the wet, darkened road behind Gideon, the man's face slumped in defeat, and he said, It is too late. They are here.

Gideon turned to look behind him and froze in terror at what he saw rushing toward him.

In the distance, he could make out three large four-legged black shapes running at full speed toward him. The faint huffing, growling sound coming from them was similar to that of a large predatory cat or dog. Their eyes burned with a red light, piercing the rainy darkness like infernal headlights.

Holy shit!

He turned back to the man. However, as he did so, he saw a strange light beginning to radiate from him, a pulsing light that streamed with rainbow hues. The man's expression turned from hardened determination to surprise and disbelief.

"No! Emissaries of the ancient enemy! I cannot help you now, he said as the light from his body began to fade. This spellweave has been interrupted. I will try to retrieve you farther on down the road."

And with that, he was gone.

The monstrous dog-things were now only seconds away from the car bumper. Without thinking, he leaped back into the car, floored the clutch, and threw the stick shift into second. The car lurched forward as he leaned hard on the accelerator. The rear tires spun wildly, smoking and screeching as they tried to latch on to the slick road surface. The car fishtailed left and then right. Something slammed into the back of the car, and there was the sound of metal being ripped free somewhere as the car shot forward. He looked back in the rearview mirror and saw one of the receding creatures grappling with what looked like his rear bumper in its jaws. However, the other two were still in hard pursuit, their massive legs pistoning like a freight train. And they are gaining on me!

Let's see if you bastards can go sixty! he shouted into the mirror. He buckled his seat belt, shifted into third, and floored the accelerator.

The night was lit for a second or two by a powerful flash of lightning, and he saw that the creatures were losing ground. The speedometer was reading fifty and rising. He looked back again.

The creatures were falling farther behind, shrinking rapidly.

He glanced at the road before him and then back into the rearview mirror again.

They were now only two ever-decreasing spots on the road.

He turned his attention to the road ahead of him and then shot a nervous glance back into the rearview mirror.

Ahead was what appeared to be a tunnel, and as he rapidly approached it, he thought that the surrounding rain had begun to take on a faint reddish tint. He entered the tunnel and felt an immediate sensation of engulfment within its total darkness. Even his headlights were useless. It felt like floating in space. Flashing, multihued lights appeared at the other end of the tunnel. Streaks of light shot past him, through him, and around him and then disappeared into the void far behind him.

Sensations of weightlessness gripped him as the entire diameter of the tunnel seemed to expand at first and then shrink. The rain around the car took on the same fluctuating colors as the onrushing lights; the entire event took less than a minute.

Then just as he felt he was going to lose both his mind and the contents of his stomach, a light as bright as day stabbed at his eyes, blinding him. As he shot out of the tunnel at sixty-five miles per hour, he realized he was no longer driving on tarmac but had somehow found himself on an eight-foot-wide cobblestone path in broad daylight!

A large fallen tree lay across the path ahead, blocking it.

Eyes widened in terror, for the second time in moments, he instinctively slammed on the brakes and wrenched hard to the right to avoid hitting a fast-approaching obstacle in the road. Unfortunately, this time around, there was a ditch to the right that led down to a small riverbank. The car tilted at a harsh angle and toppled over the bank.

Metal screamed, tires blew, and glass shattered as the car rolled three times before finally coming to rest in a smoking ruin on the lower bank of the river.

When his head cleared, Gideon found himself hanging upside down, held by his safety belt. He realized that it had probably saved his life.

Thanks to the combat medical training he received in the army and the CPR and first-aid courses he had taken a few months back, he realized the seat belt had indeed saved his life, but he was not without injury. He had excruciating pain in his left arm when he tried to move it to open the door. Probably a broken arm, he thought. It also hurts to take deep breaths, a sign of a possible rib injury. Quickly, he checked his legs, chest, and head with his other arm. The wet trickle of blood crept up his temple and into his hairline. His face hurt in several places. Probably glass fragments. He also realized that he had a head wound and was probably in shock.

He unbuckled his seat belt and painfully dropped to the upside-down roof of the car. The pain in his ribs and arm coursed through his throbbing head like a Roman candle. As he moved away from the car, the throbbing gave way to a wave of nausea and light-headedness.

He dismissed this as the effects of shock. He felt heavy, as if the pull of gravity had somewhat increased, and he felt pressure on his ears, reminding him of snorkeling or scuba diving. Slowly, he began to crawl up out of the ditch. His legs wobbled rebelliously beneath him as he walked several paces away, and then he toppled to his knees.

He looked back toward where he came through and saw, not a tunnel, but a slowly shrinking gray-black hole, floating just above the ground. Surrounding this hole were dozens of strange rune like symbols that glowed brightly as they stood, apparently of their own volition, in the air.

Suddenly, a loud whumpf pulled his attention away from the strange sight. The crash had ruptured the gas tank, and the Mustang suddenly went up like a bonfire in a burst of flame and smoke. The force of the concussive blast, coupled with the searing wave of heat, was enough to push him over the edge of consciousness, and everything started to fall away as the blackness rushed over him.

With a short, ragged moan, Gideon's eyes rolled up, and he pitched forward onto his face.

He twitched once, twice.

Then he lay still.

Chapter One

A Stranger in a Strange Land

Gideon woke to the sound of voices drifting through the air. He looked around at his surroundings. It appeared that he was in someone's bedroom, possibly in a cabin, from the looks of the rustic wood and stone construction. He was lying on some sort of water bed made from an odd organic material not dissimilar to an animal's bladder. His eyes moved slowly back and forth, taking in the sight. The voices came to his ears again, softly; as a whisper borne on the winds, it came, and he slowly got up from the bed. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was naked. Then he spied some clothes draped over the back of a small wooden chair. Wrapping the bed sheet partially around his waist for some warmth, he got up and went to put the clothes on. The shirt was light blue and silky, and it felt cool and soft on his skin; the pants were leather, worked to the texture of doeskin, and they were soft and comfortable; and like the shirt, the pants also fit, which surprised him.

After he had dressed, he walked over to the far wall and looked out a small window. There was no one outside. He turned his attention inside and continued his orientation of the room. It was simple yet elegant. Plants had been placed decoratively around the room, giving it a warm, homey feeling. He also noticed several small statuettes, carved from jade, set on the vanity table. He had just picked one of them up to inspect it more closely when he heard a noise from behind him.

Turning around, he saw it was a young woman, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, with a tray of food in her hands. She had long black hair that was wrapped into a tight bun on her head. Long eyelashes accented her beautiful emerald-green eyes. The girl seemed somewhat startled to see him up and about, but she quickly subdued her consternation and, with an amiable smile, set the tray on the bed.

Thank you, said Gideon, returning the smile. I'm famished.

The girl's reply was a light, mischievous giggle and a glance upward at his head. Are you a nobleman, milord? she asked innocently.

Uh, what do you mean? asked Gideon. No, I'm not a nobleman. Why do you say that?

That circlet you wear upon your brow, is it a crown? clarified the girl.

Huh? What circlet? asked Gideon, becoming even more confused. What are you talking about?

Thinking the girl was playing some kind of practical joke on him, he reached up to his head and felt a small circular ornament indeed surrounding his head. He took it off and looked at it closely. It looked like it was made of white gold, but it seemed much stronger than gold. Symbols or letters that he did not recognize ran along its sides, inside and outside, and as he looked, the circlet seemed to glow with an almost imperceptible light.

What's this? he asked the girl.

I know not, she replied shyly as she moved the tray of food to the nearby vanity. I know only that you were wearing it when you were brought to us a few days past. Tauri Ragan told my parents only that it was not to leave your head, for it was a circlet of great import.

A few days? asked Gideon. "What day is it?"

It is the sixteenth day of the month of Mead Moon, said the girl with affirmation, in the year of the dragon.

Gideon said nothing. He just gave her a confused, perplexed stare as a reply.

Now, it was the girl's turn to appear dumbfounded.

Do you really not know what month it is? Are you a fool? Are you suffering from brain fever or loss of memory?

No, replied Gideon, who was turning red from embarrassment. Well, maybe. I don't know. He drifted off into silence.

Is there anything I can get for you? You appear ill, said the girl, noting Gideon's look of confusion and embarrassment. Gideon looked around again wondering what had happened to him. He was still a bit groggy and he blinked a few times then he looked back at the girl.

Perhaps you should rest some more? I will go and tell Mother that you are awake; she will be glad of the news.

Turning to leave, she said quietly, in an almost ashamed tone, I am sorry for calling you a fool. Will you forgive my ignorance? It was not very hospitable of me.

Gideon let out a halfhearted chuckle. I wonder if you weren't speaking the truth. Of course, you are forgiven. Don't give it a second thought.

The young woman nodded in understanding and again turned to leave.

Wait! called Gideon after her. I don't know your name. What should I call you?

My name is Mara Valora, daughter of Avon and Bessa Valora, the innkeepers, she replied, turning to face him. It was my mother and I who attended to you whilst you were unconscious.

Gideon reddened slightly as he remembered his condition when he awoke. Had the girl attended to him, she would have seen everything. She probably had to administer sponge baths and other chores that involved physical contact. Suddenly, he felt naked again. Well, he thought, if she has seen everything, she might as well know my name after such an intimacy.

My name is John Gideon.

I know was her hushed reply, and before he could question her further, she was through the door and gone.

Gideon looked at the food with hungry eyes. There was meat and a bowl of creamed soup with two varieties of vegetables he could not readily identify on the plate beside it. A small loaf of sweet bread lay next to the soup bowl, and there was a flask of red wine to wash it all down with. Finally, there was a dessert consisting of ripe, juicy berries covered with a creamy, sweet sauce.

Mmm.

A moment passed. Then, with his stomach growling, he laid the strange circlet on the bed, stood up, went over to the food, picked up a fork and began to eat heartily.

My compliments to the cook, he thought after he had finished. Gideon washed his hands in a nearby washing basin and then dried them off with the towel. When he glanced through the side window again, he noticed that he was on the upper level of the building. He soon found the stairwell and climbed down to the lower floor where the public room was.

Slowly, as he descended, Gideon tried to rationalize what had happened to him since his drive down that country road a few days earlier.

I remember the rain…the man in the road… he said softly to himself. What else? He thought for a moment, trying to comb through his memories then said.

Oh, yeah, and the super dogs from hell! What did the guy call them? Gor…gorg… He shivered and whistled in amazement as he recalled the chase and his narrow escape.

I had broken ribs and a concussion, he thought. Nevertheless, the girl said I have only been here a week? How could I have healed so fast? It's impossible, I know, but it has happened. Where am I? How did I get here?

All these questions prodded at his mind with a relentless passion as he entered the public room of the inn.

In fact, his mind was so engrossed in its questions that he nearly bumped into a mature-looking woman as he turned the corner of the stairway. She avoided the collision with a graceful mobility gleaned by years of practice moving through drunken crowds with heavy-laden trays of mugs.

Excuse me, he said.

The woman was obviously Mara's mother, for her daughter resembled her in many ways, especially in the eyes. She had a load of dirty dishes in her arms, which she was apparently taking to the kitchen for washing.

No, excuse me, sir was her reply. It is good to see you on your feet after so long. How do you feel?

He felt good and rested, and he told her so. She smiled at the news and quickly hurried on her way into the kitchen.

Good. I'll be right with you, all right? she called to him from the other room. I am slightly busy at the moment, for the patrons love my breakfast and can't seem to fill their bellies with enough of it.

She soon reappeared, arms laden with dishes of every sort.

Sometimes, she said, still smiling, I regret being such a good cook.

Gideon smiled.

Well, Mrs. Valora, my breakfast was also delicious, he said truthfully. Tell me, what was it? It tasted familiar, but I couldn't quite place all the ingredients.

Oh please, call me Bessa. Everyone around here calls me Bessa. Anyway, let me see. She thought for a moment.

There was my special sweet bread, elven wine from the Menelorn Forest—we import that special, you know, cause there's such a demand for it—and elderberries in sweet sauce.

I see, said Gideon, realizing he did not recognize any of the ingredients she had listed, save for the elderberries. He decided to turn the conversation onto a different path and asked again one of those little questions that had been festering in his mind since he awoke. Could you perhaps tell me exactly where I am? I seem to be a little lost now. You see, I had a car accident, and I have to phone my insurance agent to see if my policy will cover it. May I use yours?

Use my what? asked Bessa, somewhat confusedly.

Your phone, surely you have a telephone? prodded Gideon.

Bessa's eyes were uncomprehending.

I hear, but I know not what a phone is. Perhaps if you describe one, I can send for one in Taros.

Gideon was beginning to lose patience with the entire scene, but he contained himself, for he realized that the woman was speaking the truth.

That's all right. Perhaps I can probably find one elsewhere. Could you at least tell me what town I'm in?

Bessa's eyes lit up at that question. Aye, that I can. You are in the town of Briarwood, just ten leagues northwest of the capitol city of Taros in the province of Calendor.

Gideon was taken aback! That was not what he had expected to hear. With that, he replied with a soft thank you and found his way to an oaken table where he pulled out a barrel chair, then sat dejectedly and pondered his predicament.

As he sat there brooding, head in hand, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that someone was watching him intently. Gideon turned his head fully on the watcher and was startled by his discovery.

Sitting at a table and writing in a small book was a tiny man, no larger than a child, sporting a small white beard. As Gideon looked up, the little man rose from his seat and walked over to him, studying him carefully. Gideon too studied the diminutive figure with a sense of bewilderment.

He stood only about two feet five inches in height and was proportioned athletically for one of such stature. He wore a dark-green cloak, and his features, gnarled by wrinkles, gave him a dour but wise appearance. He walked right up beside Gideon and said in a gruff but not unpleasant voice, A good day to you, Master Gideon. I trust you're feeling better today?

Gideon looked down at the little man through his outspread fingers.

Who are you? he asked disbelievingly.

The little man made an eloquent bow and said softly, I am Pyne Calandon of the fair city of Noordlindian.

You're a dwarf, said Gideon, and then he added quickly, "or do you prefer the term little people?"

Pyne's eyes widened in surprise. Dwarf? he repeated. Then, an instant later, his eyes softened, and he let out a light chuckle. Dwarf? Goodness me, no. My people are actually called Norgtor or, if you prefer, gnomes.

A gnome? said Gideon with a grin of disbelief. As in the mythic-fantasy type? Riiight.

I can assure you, young fellow, sniffed Pyne with a bit of stiff indignation, that we are not a myth, nor are we a fantasy.

Then he looked around the room, taking in the faces of all the patrons in the rather large common room, and studied them cautiously. This whole day was starting to become surreal, and it was beginning to freak him out.

Listen, little fellow, said Gideon. I want to know where I am and how I got here. Can you tell me that?

Pyne stood next to him and casually gestured toward a chair, which suddenly moved on its own and began to slide toward him and the table.

With a little thump, he sat down in the chair, his feet dangling, and answered matter-of-factly, You know you were injured in several places when Ragan came to get me. You had four broken ribs, a broken arm, and a minor concussion. My healing spellweave fixed most things, but you are still recovering, and I'm afraid you won't be in fighting shape for at least another day.

Gideon nodded in numb understanding and then gestured to the chair and the far table. How…how did you do…? Was that some kind of magic trick?

The little man chuckled, his ancient eyes bright with an inner sense of mischief. Yes, you could say that it was magic. I used a series of spellweavings. He then leaned forward, pointing his smallish index finger at Gideon's face, and continued, Where is your circlet?

I took it off, replied Gideon. What the hell was it doing on my head anyway?

Pyne slowly shook his head and made a tsk tsk sound. "That, young fellow, is a circlet of language translation. Without it, after several minutes you will not be able to understand what people here are saying to you, nor them you. I even enhanced it so it will even protect your head like a helm."

Huh?

I made it for you to use when you woke up and put it on your head so you wouldn't lose it, and what's the first thing you do when you wake up? You take it off and lose it. I should have just mentally imbued you with the knowledge of one of the local languages.

No. It isn't lost, said Gideon haughtily. It's upstairs on the bed.

Well, returned the gnome, you need to put it back on. The spell's delayed residue will allow a few more moments of translation, but I sense it will soon be wearing off. I could weave a translation spell for myself; although it would be easier if you go and get it. We've got things to discuss, and I can't have our discussion turn to gibberish right at the important bits. I will wait for you here.

Gideon sighed wearily and went to retrieve the circlet.

When he came back wearing the circlet on his head, he saw Pyne Calandon sipping on a drink he had ordered while he was away. He had an amused smile on his face, and he was kicking his feet back and forth playfully.

At the moment, Gideon found this very annoying.

Well? he asked, voicing his irritation.

Pyne's eyes glinted as he smiled brightly and said, You want details. I'm sorry, young fellow, but I'm not at liberty to discuss certain things with you just yet.

Gideon balked and began to rise out of his chair.

I will leave the details of how you got here to be told by the archwizard Ragan, interjected Pyne, raising his hand in a now-wait-a-minute gesture. He likely knows more about this matter than I do. I was called to service after all that. However, I can tell you a bit about where you are, though. Hmmm?

Gideon sat back down in his chair warily.

Okay, he said. Tell me what you can.

The little man rubbed his small hands together in gleeful anticipation and said, First of all, you are in another dimension on a different world.

He looked at Gideon, gauging his reaction to this piece of information.

Gideon sat down somewhat stoically in disbelief, unblinking.

A moment passed and still nothing. The gnome decided that either the man did not understand or he was in a state of near-catatonic shock.

The world you came from is very far away from here, he continued. So, for starters, you can forget about 'finding a phone' to inform someone of your whereabouts. We have no such things, but even if we used… he said and trailed off, rethinking what he was saying.

But again, he continued, that is for Tauri Ragan to discuss with you. You are in the town of Briarwood, in the lands of Calendor Province, north of Silmir Province and the Bashan Nations, in the central and western portion of the continent known as Ascalon.

Ascalon? repeated Gideon, responding finally, unconsciously backing away from Pyne. Where's Ascalon?

Pyne casually took another sip from his mug and said, What part of 'another world' didn't you understand? Ascalon is one of the five major continents of the planet called Illúmaril. Then with a short chuckle, he added, Now you know where you are.

Illúmaril? Ascalon? said Gideon in a sinking voice. This was not what he had wanted to hear. He was expecting to find out he was in some small, out-of-the-way town, perhaps in Ohio. Suddenly, nausea flooded his stomach.

I don't feel too well.

Hmmm, said the gnome reflectively as he studied Gideon's reactions with widened eyes. Ragan said that the outworlder would probably suffer from severe disorientation and incredulity, but I never thought that it would be this severe.

Severe! shouted Gideon, who was beginning to draw attention to himself with his raving. "You're telling me that I'm not in my state, my country, hell, not even on my goddamned planet. Of course, I am going to go a little nutty. I must be dreaming! I've got to be!"

Please control your outbursts, John Gideon, said Pyne sternly. Try to accept the fact that you have been physically transported to another world. It will be easier for you further on down the road.

Suddenly, Gideon shot forward in his chair and said, "And why should I believe in you, this place, everything? How do I know that I'm not still unconscious? Maybe I'm in a coma in some hospital somewhere. I've heard of people having some real wowsers when they're in a coma. What you are asking me to believe is something unbelievable!"

Well, I've done what I was asked to do, replied the gnome with a noncommittal shrug. His smile was gone now. You will either come to grips with your circumstances or not. However this turns out, my part in this immediate business is almost complete. I must be leaving you now. I am very busy, and I cannot afford to loiter on White Council business forever. I do have lands to govern to some extent, you know. Yes, I must get back to Noordlindian. Only the Erradans know in what condition my councilors and my eldest son have put my city by now. Well, good-bye, young fellow. Perhaps you will visit me when you are more accustomed to your surroundings.

With that, Pyne waved good-bye, said a few words, made a subtle gesture, and began to shimmer, then glow, and then slowly disappear.

Wait! shouted Gideon after the fading gnome. Where are you going? You can't leave now! What do I do now?

Just wait for Ragan, young fellow, replied Pyne. The little man had almost disappeared, and his words came as a whisper. He'll be along very soon, I suspect, and he'll take charge of you. Be at ease, John Gideon. You will be safer with him than with anyone you have ever known in your world.

And with that, he was gone.

Gideon stood motionless for a moment, his jaw slack in wonder. He could not explain this latest feat. A hologram? Possibly, but where did it project from, and why couldn't he see the telltale blue lights of it?

It was about this time that Mara and Bessa came back into the room. Gideon sat back in his chair and stared pensively at them as they caught a moment's rest after making the meals. Bessa smiled warmly to him as she wiped the bar while Mara leaned against the wall and stared directly at him. Slowly, he returned the smile.

Just then, the front door opened and in stepped a tall man, well over seven feet in height, with powerfully built limbs and a handsome but rugged face, accented by a close-trimmed black beard that was flecked with gray.

It's the guy I nearly ran over on Earth!

He was clad in a wine-red robe that split on each side below the hip. Along its edges were embellished silver-and-black designs that stood out boldly on the red field. His hand appeared powerful and strong as it clasped the jeweled pommel of a long, gleaming sword that hung menacingly on an ornate leather belt at his side.

You! said Gideon loudly to the stranger and pointed at him. Hey, you! I want to talk to you, buddy.

The bearded man's blue-gray eyes turned on Gideon, and Gideon felt like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. There was almost a physical force behind the man's gaze, and he had to admit, when this man looked at you, he looked at you with all his attention.

Slowly, the man came over to his table, blocking out the view, and replied, And I wish to talk to you too, John Gideon.

"Who are you, buddy? asked Gideon. And why the hell are you interfering with my life?"

The man met his stare, seemingly unperturbed by Gideon's posturing. He replied in a rich, deep, commanding voice, I am Ragan the Red, an archmaster of the Red Lodge. I come and go as I wish, and I have come for you, John Gideon. I am not interfering with your life, but there are others, those unknown to you, who would see you dead at any cost. You are in great danger, my friend, and whether you believe in this world or not, I am one of the few who can help you.

I really don't think I need your help. Thank you. Gideon chuckled. I spent three years in the military, and I'm a black belt in martial arts and Jeet Kune Do. I'm used to being attacked by people I don't know.

The big man didn't seem impressed. He sniffed disdainfully and said, You have some fighting skills. Good. You will need them. However, do you have protections from magic? You will need that to stay the hand of the Dark One's minions.

If they are alive, I can deal with them, said Gideon nonchalantly. Nice try, Ragan the Red, but I don't need magic because there is no such thing. It's all just hokey sleight of hand and mass hypnosis. No. Thank you, but no. This is all some crazy, mixed-up coma nightmare I'm going to wake up from soon, and you will all be nothing but fading memories.

Enough! shouted Ragan in a voice powerful enough to rattle windowpanes and unsettle dust. For an instant, Gideon thought the man was growing in size with his anger. There was a flash of lightning and rumble of thunder from outside, and a gust of wind blew the door open. The patrons in the common room were still, and all talking ceased for a moment as if they were waiting to see what would happen next. Enough of this prattle! I have been through too much on your behalf to listen to this nonsense.

Then the wizard gazed skyward as if asking for help from above. After a moment, he returned his gaze to Gideon and began to speak again. This time, his voice was soft and smooth and mellow. Gideon thought at that moment he sounded a bit like the singer Barry White.

Listen, boy, and heed my words well, continued the giant. I will attempt to answer all of your questions. Several months ago, I was given the task of retrieving a certain person from the world we call Kara, and you call Earth. I had been ordered by the Lords of Errada themselves to bring him here and look after him upon arrival. No questions asked. That certain person was you. Again, do not ask me why, for I do not yet know.

Gideon remained in a curious, quiet pose as he listened.

For weeks, I tracked and trailed your life force through the astral plane until I could find a suitable place and time to affect the transport, continued Ragan. Then, five days ago, you were on your way home through a particularly deserted stretch of road. It appeared so deserted, in fact, that I could create the time/space corridor without detection. Anyway, unbeknownst to me, I was tracked by one of the Ancient Ones, a great Lord of Chaos and Entropy named Sorgoth. Just as I was about to create the portal and guide you through, the ancient one hit me with such a powerful Essence bolt that I was cast out of Kara and back to Illúmaril like a rock from a slingshot.

As the wizard spoke, Gideon noticed, much to his displeasure, that Ragan's eyes began to glow faintly, like a dying ember or the eyes of a wolf caught in a light, and he seemed to grow even taller.

He shuddered.

The man—if indeed he could be called a man—did not seem entirely human.

And those dog creatures? The gor…gor…? asked Gideon.

The gorghuan, finished Ragan. The dogs of war or hounds of the abyss. They have many names. They were servants of the Dark One, sent to track and kill you.

Gideon shivered as he remembered the terrifying creatures.

When you came through the gateway, continued Ragan, there was an accident, and your car was destroyed. I found you on the banks of the Ainúrion River and brought you here to the good people of the town of Briarwood, who tended to you until I returned, as I have many tasks to complete. Upon seeing your wounds, I summoned one of the best and most discreet healers I know, Pyne Calandon of Noordlindian, and told him to look after you and answer your questions as best he could. Then, I departed for the city of Calenfalas, where Javril, the head of my lodge, was to be found. I felt that if I were to learn more of your situation, he would be the one to tell me.

Well, what did this Javril have to say? asked Gideon.

Javril could not answer several of my questions. It seems the decisions and orders came from the Inner Circle of the White Council. That means only a chosen few know why you were brought here. I was instructed that Lord Nimmeral, who is the head of my order, the Tauri and grand master of the White Lodge, or Lord Talmor Arangûl, the corthrondal of Andrim, would share with you the details of your situation. I have not been able to speak to either of them recently, but rest assured that you shall in time.

You mentioned that we were in danger, Ragan, said Gideon, his mind in a whirl of apprehension. What did you mean?

Well, as I've said, grunted Ragan with a tone of hopelessness, I fear that I've been followed, as the gorghuans' attack and Sorgoth's interference have proven, even with all my precautions—thought shields, mystical barriers, and other attempts to hide my trail. No doubt, agents of Dormas the Dark One spotted me when I left the Calenfalas region. I can feel their dark presence even now. These lands are none too safe. It is possible that scouts have been sent to investigate my business in these lands. We must leave tonight so as not to endanger the lives of these good people for harboring an old archmage and his traveling companion.

Leave? asked Gideon. Why? Where are we going?

Eventually to the ancient Pool of Tetherin, replied Ragan somberly. Bathing in the pool will adapt you to our gravity and likely benefit you in other ways. We will stop in Mindon, one of our major cities, for I will need to get some other necessities for you.

Why are you doing this, Ragan? asked Gideon.

Because it is my responsibility as a Tauri to look out for wanderers such as you and teach them was the wizard's reply.

Gideon looked at Ragan curiously for a moment and then decided not to pursue the issue.

Several hours later, they were ready to leave the town of Briarwood. Ragan had saddled two strange beasts and was preparing their satchels with equipment for travel. Gideon stepped outside and studied these new animals.

They were birdlike animals and reminded him of large, transmogrified ostriches, but upon further observation, he thought them more similar to the diatryma of prehistoric Earth.

The elaxes are normally wild, explained Ragan, noticing Gideon's curiosity. However, they were domesticated for riding purposes long ago. If you hold these guide straps attached to the head harness, you can give them directions. We also have horses on this world, but because of the rocky terrain we will encounter three days hence, I decided you should learn to travel by elax.

You expect me to ride one of these things? asked Gideon in fearful anticipation. He did not ride well, and the elax looked difficult to handle.

Yes, I expect you to ride it, replied the wizard somewhat sarcastically. Unless, of course, you don't mind being toted on the back of my elax as baggage.

Reluctantly, and somewhat awkwardly, Gideon climbed onto the beast.

Ragan then told Bessa that for their own safety, they should tell anyone who would inquire about them that they had never been there.

Gideon bade a heavy-hearted farewell to the Valora family. Although he had known them for only a few short hours, he liked them and was sorry he had to leave. He did not want anything to happen to them, especially since they had been so nice to him.

Perhaps I will stop here again in the future, Bessa, he said. Thank you for everything. Good-bye.

Then, with Ragan guiding his elax by the harness straps, he waved farewell to the Valoras, and the two travelers proceeded down the stone roads that led west.

After about three hours, Gideon's backside began to ache.

Ragan, he moaned between jolting strides, this pace is killing me. Can't we stop and rest? I mean, how far is it to this Tetherin anyway? Will a five- or ten-minute rest stop hurt?

It seemed like every other word that left his lips came out like a hiccup because he was bouncing up and down on the elax's back.

That is normal and to be expected from someone who does not ride often. We do need a rest, but we will take it a little later on. Can your posterior wait until then? asked Ragan, smiling slightly.

I guess it can hold out another ten minutes or so, but not much longer.

He felt heavier and was doing his best just to keep from falling off his mount. To keep his mind off his aching buttocks, he decided to ask some more questions of his traveling companion. After all, Pyne had told him that Ragan would answer all his questions. He decided, after a moment, to address a question that had been bothering him since it was brought up.

Gideon spoke with some loudness as Ragan had moved ahead, Ragan, you mentioned something about the Dark One. Who is that, if you don't mind my asking? This Dormas guy?

"Do not speak that name so loudly, heedless of its implications," growled Ragan as he spun violently in his saddle to face him.

Gideon balked.

"I am sorry, young one. I momentarily forgot that you are unaware when it comes to the ways of this world and its fears. Forgive my outburst. The uttering of that vile name fills me—and all free folk—with disgust. The Dark One I was referring to is Dormas, the rebel lord of Errada. He is what you might call a greater power or deity.

"Long ago, when this world was young, after the Eternals finished creating the multiverse, the Erradans returned to the key world of Illúmaril. Then the Lords of Errada were united. They created many of the beasts and races that still exist on this world, and when it was their time, the Erradans awoke those first races of Illúmaril from their sleep. Dormas was one of those creators. At the time, he too was 'of the light.' Nevertheless, even the core of the most pure can be rotted with the proper temptation. Such was Dormas's destiny.

"Dormas's temptation was an unquenchable thirst for power, and it was this that drew the attention of the entity Sorgoth. This powerful vile entity of the void persuaded Dormas with visions and promises of power and turned him against the other Erradan lords.

"The ruler of the Lords of Errada then, as now, was and is the wise and noble Adon, who, though elected king, had no more power than the other Eternals.

Dormas hated Adon because his own power was far superior to that of his ruler, and he felt that might and knowledge should make the ruler. Since he could not openly challenge Adon for the crown, Dormas sulked in his halls, twisting and manipulating the structures that make up life.

Genes? asked Gideon excitedly. You mean he was a genetic engineer? A scientist?

In one sense, said the wizard after a moment's thought. "Though his methods were far different from anything you would have learned on Earth. In the course of time, he created many things, though some were unnatural, abominations that he hid in the deep cave systems under the world, where they still wait to be freed. Eventually, through his own sources, Adon and some of the other Erradans discovered Dormas's coveted secrets and called him to council.

"'Dormas, my brother,' he said, 'I understand that you are perverting the blessed matter of life that the Lords of Creation gave to us for safekeeping and are twisting it into things so tormented by their deformities that they are mad. Why do you do this, my brother?'

"And Dormas scorned him by saying, 'Do you not know, O Omnipotent One?'

"However, Adon knew more than Dormas realized, and he said, 'Be comforted, my brother, for though you are not king, you are a prince in the realms of Errada.'

"This Dormas pondered for a moment and then laughed sarcastically and said, 'I do not wish to be a prince. I wish to be king! Were it not for your mewling and compensations to your inner circle of friends, I would be.'

"Adon grew angered at these words, saying, 'You forget yourself, Dormas. I am king. I was elected by the free will of the majority of beings of Errada and the Lords of Errada. All, that is, but you. I will tell you this, Dormas, the Lords of Errada held secret council discussing the possibility of you as our leader, but because of your instability, we had to decline the motion. One cannot rule as an absolute. The vice of power makes rulers unjust and of no benefit to the subjects they rule. Therefore, their trust and authority become unworthy. Above all, Dormas, a ruler needs compassion and benevolence for all his subjects or his responsibility as the sovereign leader is meaningless.'

To this, Dormas said to Adon, 'Compassion is a fool's device! Fear is what our creatures need to keep them loyal to us, the fear of annihilation and retribution. O, great king and brother, I fear you have grown soft in your limited omniscience. And I shall not follow a soft liege.'

Nice guy, quipped Gideon sarcastically. What happened then? He found himself enjoying Ragan's storytelling manner.

"Dormas left Errada and came to Illúmaril. He settled on Ascalon, in the lands now called Morthaurnan, built a vast city within a mountain fortress he created called Gorhaudfuin, and proclaimed himself king and the lord of the world. For many years, he dwelt in isolation, creating creatures to live in his kingdom. During this time, he created the Urshkaar as his primary soldiers, the Urakeen, and most of the