GAIA: First Gate

By Nicholas Lee

After twenty years of exile, the gods have returned to Gaia.

Leara, who was the last one to send them into exile, must undertake a quest to find the keys to seal them away for two thousand years. With the help of Q’Kron, the god who stayed behind, Demascus, a simple farmer, and Anoreza with his ever-present purple bean-like sapling, Kae’kuhl, Leara will search for the missing keys and a way to remake the one she holds.

But when Demascus becomes possessed by the god Q’Trell, the stakes heighten to stop them from reaching Q’Trell’s gate to the god realm of fire and bring on an Armageddon to Gaia. Loyalties with the council of Varil will be tested, and drastic actions will have to be taken to stop or even slow down Q’Trell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662408236

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GAIA

First Gate

Nicholas Lee

Copyright © 2020 Nicholas Lee

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-6624-0824-3 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0823-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

1

Aman stands on the edge of the windswept plains of Dane. His brown tunic and shoulder-length brown hair blowing gently in the breeze. His brow is cracked and weatherworn and his skin dark from years in the sun. Standing looking to the southeast over the gulf, a sense of dread fills his chest as a dark storm starts building over the island of Corsica. He stands stoic with his beast by his side, a large six-legged reonox with dark brown and gray hair and two tusks jutting just out of its mouth. The beast stood silent with its front shoulders at the height of his. It was just past midday, and with Dane being calm this time of year, there was no explanation for the storm.

What could do such a thing? he asked himself under his breath as the storm grew large. Drelex…

* * *

Laboring since daybreak in his shop, Drelex was working to get together a good haul of weapons to turn a small profit in the nearby town of Akash. The smith, with blackish hair about ear length and a thick peppery beard and mustache, was heavyset about the gut. When he finally looked up from his work, he noticed that the wind, which had been sweeping gently through his shop, was now still. Storm clouds had started forming right above the small shop. The clouds seemed to block out all light from the air that it touched.

What time has it gotten to be? It can’t be that late of an hour, can it? he said to himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

The smith, stepping from his shop, noticed that in the distance light could still be seen on the hills and that the edges of this storm must only be about a day or two walk across, but it was being very good at blocking out the light directly above.

Curse the FOUR! I have work to be done!

As if in response to what he had just muttered aloud, a great sound rang out like the roar of a great beast, and at the same time, a bright white light started to emanate from the center of the storm clouds. Then, as if this wasn’t grand enough for him, an object came through the clouds that shined as bright as the sun. It struck a hill to the east, and upon impact with the ground, an explosion of dirt and rock was hewn into the air, and the dust took a while to settle.

Huh, a little closer, and I’d have to be a farmer! Drelex smirked. Turing to go inside, a voice whispered like a long-lost thought in his head. "Gifts are given, and souls are able to be taken. The Four has blessed the land and give gifts to those that see. The time is now!"

Out loud, he says to himself, Where have I heard that before? Never mind…as long as the day is dark, why not go take a look?

The smith, going into the stable, got one of his best reonox. Ranard, my boy, up to a little trip? Ranard was a rather large reonox with white hairs mixing with the brown, and one of the beast’s tusks were broke and jagged on the left side of its mouth. In less than an hour, he had the beast prepped and bridled to his wagon of simple make and was ready to head east.

It was only a few hours’ trek until he reached the bottom of a rather large hill but with a slow, steady slope enough for his beast to climb. Upon cresting the hill, he saw a large crater, and white flame spread about the sides. Strangely, he thought to himself, the fire is neither hot nor cold. After a moment of looking at the devastation, he noticed three sizable chunks of what, to him at least, was silver.

What a day! No need to work for a week with this haul!

He made the short trip down the steep side of the crater and, at the bottom, noticed that the pieces weren’t quite what he thought or as small as he thought.

By the Four, how is Ranard gonna get down here?

Taking a length of rope with knots at every one hand’s width out of a pouch affixed to his belt, he carefully wrapped it around the three stones in turn just to get their measurements. Upon touching the first piece, a light-green glow spider webbed across its surface. The stones, even though they weren’t of great size, the smith was astonished that he needed no help to lift them. This metal was unlike anything he had ever seen. Even though each piece was about the size of a child, its weight had to be of a house cat or maybe a small dog. The metal was also unique in that, while being in a rough state, it shone with a patina of highly polished silver. One at a time, he carried the three pieces back up the crater and to his cart.

Come on, boy, the smith said to his reonox, we’re not the only ones who would’ve seen that. Let’s get back.

Though going was the same as the coming, the darkness had now spread to an even wider breadth than it was before. The smith had no time to ponder such things, for something as valuable as this coming down from the Four, more than just he would be searching. He arrived back at his shop just before dusk, but it was still as night under the clouds. The smith tired and hungry from the day, unbridled Ranard and unloaded the cart.

While sitting in his shop, with the small glow coming from his furnace, he stated to no one in particular, Wonder what the going price would be for one of these? I could take it to Akash or maybe even over to Corpum City and try to get one of them magic folk to buy it from me!

A somehow familiar voice rang out within his head, "Really…you would even dare to get rid of something like us so hastily. What is it that you have anyway?"

The smith sprang from his seat hastily and grabbed for anything close, which happened to be his hammer. Who’s there? Show yourself! NOW!

"CALM YOURSELF, FOOL! One of the stones started to vibrate and gave off a red hue. Do you want everyone, or anyone at that matter, to come and see what the yelling is about? Set yourself down, smith, and maybe we can talk."

Settling back to his perch, he heard, "That’s a good fleshy thing. Now these other two are useless at this point… Never mind, you smith are the only one that can hear me, so don’t talk, just LISTEN! I need a form other than this prison, so what shall I be?"

The smith thinking long and hard about how this could be possible remembered tales from the smiths while visiting the kingdom of Varil many cycles ago of an enchantment that can be placed that binds a spirit, or daemon, to a sword but never had he saw a rough stone talk.

Why does a form such as yours need altered?

"YOU WILL make me into something, and if I get no response from you, then I DEMAND you make me into a sword!"

Why would I begin to think about listening to a talking rock? Drelex said with a smirk.

"DO NOT CHALLENGE ME, CRAFTSMAN! You have the knowledge and capability to help me in this task. The gift is yours if you are willing…"

In order to do this, I need a piece to practice on…so that I can get it right the first time. You are a small rock after all.

At the moment the last word was spoken, a red light began to emanate from one edge of the stone. A fissure appeared that spread in a circular fashion and severed off a single piece.

"There…have at it, but don’t take too long. There are others coming, and I am more valuable than you assume." That was the last word from the stone. The stone fell silent, and the look of the stone became dull and without luster.

Huh, he said, scratching his head, let’s see what I can do.

Picking up the small piece, it felt cold to the touch. He went to the stable and grabbed a load of firewood that he had sitting in a corner next to the main house. The thought crossed his head, I wonder what time it has become now?

Ah well…, he stated under his breath.

Reentering, he walked over to the forge and began to stoke the fire. Once the furnace was up to temp, he placed the metal into the fire. To his amazement, the metal became red hot much faster than he would have ever thought.

That will make this easy. But as he took the piece out of the fire and placed it upon the anvil, it instantly became cold again and didn’t have even a bit of red glow left about it.

Okay, rock, what’s the trick? he stated, looking back toward the stone.

It was silent, and not even a hint was given.

Sighing to himself, the smith gathered much more wood, and until dawn, or what he thought should be dawn, fore, it was still as dark as night on the isle, he tried everything he knew to do, but the metal just wouldn’t stay hot enough to hit even once with a hammer.

With his nerves and muscles shot, he grabbed the stone and chucked it into the water trough and stated, This is useless! Nothing can even— But as the stone hit the water, it began to glow a brilliant red and was moving as if it were the very fire in the furnace. He took it out of the water with his hand, and it felt malleable. Who woulda thought! he exclaimed to himself. It’s not fire at all, but water…cold forge by the Four.

He then took hold of the full chunk and began to soak it in the trough. It was surprising how long the metal stayed malleable once wet, and he could almost craft it like the clay he used in his molds. But as it started to dry out and the metal became hard, he found that he could use his hammer like on any other metal. These realizations invigorated him and brought him immense joy. He labored all day on this one sword. Many people passing by stopped to ask him about the falling stone, but the work kept him from even seeing them. At dusk, the final hammer blow was struck and the sword, which had an elongated crescent shape with elegant blade guards and a highly engraved handle with recessed holes to inset gems if the buyer so wished, was done.

She’s a beaut! As long as there’s no rain, he stated with a smirk, she’ll be a good sword.

After setting the sword on the table and about to turn to retrieve the oil, he noticed that the red aura was again emanating from the sword. Looking closer, he saw that under its own power, it had begun to lift from the table. All the engraved areas started to glow, and the sword turned its side to him, and the voice rang out once again.

"See, my fleshy thing, I knew you’d figure it out. Now the other two…no leave them to sleep. SMITH, the work you have done is grand…but you have missed something."

I was about to— reaching for a small metal oil can kept next to the furnace.

"NOT THE OIL, YOU FOOL!"

Don’t get—

He was cut off by the brilliance and the heat now emanating from the sword and took a step back.

"YOU will etch my name upon the blade! And the name shall be Q’Trell."

At this, the smith leaned back, and something from the past came to mind.

That language…it’s old. Trell…that’s fire if I’m not mistaken… It can’t be…

Grabbing the sword from the air, a small pale of water, and a chisel he began the painstaking task of etching in the strange metal. After a few hours of toil, the work was done. Upon grasping the sword, to hold it up an examine it, the hilt was burning hot, and it fell from his grasp landing upon the ground with a clang.

What in the…

Before he could continue, a form began to take shape in front of him. The form was of a man, but more of a shade of a man, and made of nothing more than flame. It leaned down and grasped the sword, which in turn started to turn from metal to pure flame.

"You, smith, shall be remembered by me, for this form shall fit my needs well. NOW STAND!"

These last words filled Drelex with terror as he rose to his feet. Q’Trell raised the blade high in the air then stated, "The Four awaited such a craftsman, and for you…the tale is now over."

In a great ark, the sword landed a blow right across the torso of the smith, and within an instant, he was engulfed in flame. The remnants of the body fell to the ground in a mass.

"And now…I shall wait."

With this, a great force shot out from the entity and brought the building to the ground. All the wood was charred beyond repair, and the stone was singed on all faces. As the last bit of the flame diminished, the sword became metal once more. The entity, as it dissipated, lowered the sword to the ground. With this, the sword, which was new and vibrant, lost all luster and was as if it had taken a hundred plus years of rust in an instant.

* * *

After a while of standing on the coast and seeing no change in the weird storm over Corsica, the man turned back toward his camp. Dusk had crept up on the man while he stood gazing upon the isle, and his reonox seemed to be becoming restless. Reaching into a sizable bag attached to the beast’s saddle, he pulled out a handful of mixed grains and offered them to it.

Aw, come on. We’ve seen worse, you and I, he said as he ran his hand through the thick mane of his steed. Then as if compelled to do so, he gathered his things, said a few words to himself, and the fire went out and then climbed aboard his steed.

Let’s go see what the fuss is about!

Grabbing hold of the reins, the man said, Okay, Deox, let’s be off! And with a slight kick to the neck of the beast, the pair headed off at a great pace to the south along the coast. The first night and next day of the journey was quite uneventful. The cool breeze off the sea coming across the plains and the gradual rolling hills of Dane make for a great sight with the large roaming herds of wild game. The pair made it to the Jai River at nightfall of the first day. They had headed slightly inland to the nearest crossing. An old outpost sat near the bridge but had not been manned for some time.

As good of a place as any to settle for the night, he said to himself as he climbed down from Deox’s saddle.

Pulling off the rather large saddle and spreading the blanket that kept the saddle off the beasts’ back, along the ground, he looked around for any signs of light. The night was calm and relatively quiet. Normally, hunters and traders would use this crossing on their way to Corpum, but he hadn’t seen any in a few days. Fish splashed about in the river nearby, and the gentle sound of the trickling water was comforting to the pair.

After gathering a few stones from the river and arranging them in a