Fire Prince
Chapter Twenty-four – Through the black doorway
The two friends stood atop the ramparts surrounding the portal site. It was a surreal experience for both Fake and Andin. In just one short year they had forged an ironclad friendship. Somehow fate had guided them to an island in Pelagos, awaiting the opening of a doorway to another world. They thought of their many adventures on the high seas; the close calls, the long nights, and the sweet reward of a year well lived.
The marines formed ranks inside the defenses with the magi positioned behind them. The Brothers stood at the head of the formation.
“I wonder if she’ll have to include it in her report,” said Fake breaking the tension.
“Oh let it go already,” answered Andin who had endured countless naughty-cabin-boy jokes from the illusionist.
The air swirled and filled with energy. “Here we go,” said Andin drawing his sickles. Fake’s jacket melted into a wicked star orbiting his hand. The black speck grew into the full portal discharging prismatic energy in spectacular display. The doorway was open.
The nervous minutes passed and Qin finally stepped forward to cross through. The Brothers had agreed only one of them would ever leave Pelagos lest they be separated from their people again. Qin returned and announced, “A wild plane, the landing party may move in.”
A short while later Fake and Andin crossed through. Beyond the portal was a great forest rung with snowy peaks. The air smelled clean and earthen; the boys breathed in the new smells, “I love forested planes,” said Andin.
“It’s beautiful,” commented Fake.
A stone pylon near the portal site listed the civil planes who had ever visited. “Beldur has only connected here twice, and long ago at that,” said Andin reading the pylon.
Fake examined it himself, “Drojj? That’s the Plane of Lightning isn’t it?” Andin nodded. “This means they opened up here three times in a row just eighty years ago,” said Fake pointing to three of the inscriptions.
“That’s the way things go sometimes – I read that Aeros once opened to the Plane of Fear and of Rage back to back,” said Andin matter-of-factly.
“Do any mortal men live here?” asked Fake.
“It’s possible but it’s rarely more than the oddball hermit.”
Traffic through the portal increased as the day wore on. Great stores of food and medicine were brought through first in case the portal collapsed. A group of magi walked a cart of clockwork cartographers into the plane.
“What are those for?” asked Fake.
“The magi will take one to each edge of the plane to confirm it’s the one they think it is,” answered Andin.
“And which is that?”
Andin pointed back to the pylon; he was only half surprised Fake had missed the name at its head. “Rosewood Thicket,” read Fake aloud. A nearby stump revealed the reddish wood of its namesake, “Makes sense,” noted Fake.
“Come here,” waved Andin. Andin raised the mound of earth they stood upon into the air to survey the land.
“Quite a sight,” said Fake.
Andin scanned the plane; it was a long wedge of forest encrusted with mountains. The mound dropped frightfully as Andin focused too intently on a distant ridge-line. “Sorry about that,” apologized the prince as he steadied their platform.
The platform nestled back into the earth. “Well this is good news for them,” said Andin pointing to the swelling landing party.
“Why’s that?” asked Fake.
Andin explained, “This type of hardwood is rare in Pelagos; I’m sure the ship builders are eager to get their hands on some.”
Small parties of magi formed, each with a cartographer. “Let’s go with them,” said Andin. Fake agreed and they joined the group of three magi.
The lead magi greeted them, “Prince Andin, Fake; will you be joining us?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind,” answered Fake.
“No, not at all, the mountains will be much more manageable with an earth user,” answered the magi. Earth users were a rarity in Pelagos where wind magic was the most popular alternative element.The magi added, “We’re going to leave in the next ten minutes, we hope to cover some ground before night fall.”
Andin saw the provisions the men carried and pitied their burdens, “I think we’re ready actually.”
The small troupe headed into the woods. The trail was overgrown; mankind hadn’t set foot here in years. They each took turns leading, cutting through vegetation. One of the scout magi mentioned his father had surveyed this very plane years before. The comment reminded Andin of his own father’s ominous note. The fire prince worried Beldur’s portal had opened to a hostile plane.
An hour before dusk the lead magi pointed out a reasonably clear patch in the woods, “We’ll set up camp there.” The Pelagics set up their canvas tents, Andin pulled two slabs of stone from the earth forming a sheltering A-frame. He made another for Fake.
The prince lit the fire and the men circled around as the evening chill slipped in. “You’re a handy one to have around,” said one of the magi.
Andin looked at her, “I won’t let you freeze; but tomorrow you lot should make sure you can light your own fires.” Andin pulled a small brewing press from his satchel, “Would anyone like some tea?” There was a collective yes from his companions. Andin handed the press to the nearest magi, “Do you mind?” She tensed her arm as she conjured the water, exhaling sharply when the vessel was full. Andin thanked her and began heating the water.
Andin filled two stone cups with the tea, handing one to Fake. “Thank you,” said Fake. Andin passed the brewing press to magi, water users needed no cups. She took a small sphere of the tea, levitating it playfully in her palm. The other two magi followed suit.
They stayed up late not wanting to leave the comfort of the campfire. The magi were from the southern seas, and they described them fondly to the boys. Fake retold the story of the time when Andin failed a fire jump from the Moontide to the Thresher.
The magi laughed as Fake told the tale, “We were assisting a few research vessels studying the Cephaloi spawning season. It’s a full moon and here’s Andin careening towards the Thresher looking magnificent complete with a sparkling trail of embers.”
“Then all of a sudden he clips a rope and plummets straight into the water, right into the biggest squid orgy known to Pelagic scientists. I’m already on the Thresher and I’m just dying watching Andin try to fight off these eager male squid who had mistaken him for an egg-laden female.”
Andin wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Fake for telling the story or himself from embarrassment. Fake didn’t relent, “The commotion clues in the crew, who just start pouring salt into his wound. The crew of the Moontide is pretty rowdy but they pale in comparison to the misfits aboard the Thresher.”
“Andin is fighting his way towards the swimmer ladder while they’re yelling out, don’t fight it Prince Andin; there’s a first time for everyone! Now the squid have gone mad with lust and are periodically wrapping him up in tentacles and dragging him under to mate. Another sailor shouts, Ten tentacles means ten times the pleasure!”
“And he can’t do much to fight them off; fire magic is practically useless underwater. After a few more minutes of torture and tormenting from the crew, Andin rips out a ballast stone from inside the Thresher, batters the nearby squid, and rides the stone to the deck.”
“Now the Thresher is taking on water. Andin is just lying there cursing all of us while Captain Dohm is telling Andin that they can’t patch the hole unless he helps move the ballast stones out of the way. But Dohm can’t keep a straight face about it because the whole situation was just too perfect.”
“He’s even more pissed now telling us how much he hates us and hopes the ship sinks and all the creative ways he plans on ending our lives. But between laughs of hysteria Dohm is pleading with Andin to help because if Pria finds out that they didn’t immediately help a man overboard he and his crew are going to be disci
plined, not to mention the hole in the ship’s hull.”
“Still angry and embarrassed, Andin reluctantly gives in and goes below decks into the lowest cargo bay and begrudgingly moves the ballast stones so the hole can be fixed. It has to have been the funniest fifteen minutes of my life.”
The magi, bent over with laughter, tried to comfort the prince, “I’m so sorry that happened; if it’s any consolation, Dohm and all of his men would have been lashed if they found out.” Andin didn’t answer.
Fake nudged him in his side, “Oh it’s not that bad; it’s a great story!”
Andin slowly turned his head towards Fake, “Next time you get the sloppy squid sex and I get to not help you.”
Fake unleashed his most mischievous face and agreed, “Deal.”
Andin made more tea and the magi told more of their own stories. Well past midnight they turned in and slept soundly.
In the morning they packed up camp and pushed deeper into the woods. Their progress was slowed by the overgrowth but the local wildlife had kept some of the trail intact. Periodically the magi would stop and deploy the cartographer, overlaying the new data with the old.
“Any changes from the old maps?” asked Andin.
The youngest magi answered, “No, not really, the tree line sometimes shifts but the cartographer won’t detect that, we’ll draw that in by hand over the summer. Wild planes like this are usually pretty stable.” The magi adjusted the strap on his bag.
“How much detail will it show?”
“Not much, they’re designed to be used at sea to find land masses from far away, but we make do,” he answered with pride. The mapmakers of Pelagos were the best at their craft.
The group marched on towards the northeast corner of Rosewood. Two more days of hiking and they crossed the tree line, heading up the rocky slopes. Where it was needed, Andin cut steps and holds into the rock face. The magi all had brought double strapped canteens; they used the water inside to catch themselves in a fall.
They made camp in a crevice, scaring off the lizards who called it home. “The edge of the plane is opposite this mountain,” said the lead magi patting the rock wall. “The edge is a strange place,” said another. Andin worried the strange creatures who called the edge home might be as aggressive as they were in Beldur.
The morning hike around the mountain went quickly. Andin cut a flat platform into the mountainside for the mapmakers to work on. Fake and Andin stood as near to the end of the plane as they dared. “It’s funny, I used to sit on the edge of my plane for days hoping to see something go by; some sign that I wasn’t alone,” said Fake.
Staring into the infinite distance Fake said, “You don’t even realize how terrible you felt until you can compare it to a moment of true happiness. I think that’s how I did it, absolute ignorance.”
At his side Andin answered, “No one considers themselves luckier to be your friend than I.” With no other words spoken two men stood at the precipice of existence. Knowing the failure of one meant the failure of both.
The magi had finished, “Are you coming back? We’re done.”
“No, go on without us, we’ll find our own way back.”
Sure they were now alone Fake asked, “So what does the note mean?”
“Cong is slang for conflagrate; it’s a childish way of saying kill or murder. Only a Beldurian would know that though.”
“Well then who is G-k?”
“Garruk, the god of the Plane of Torment,” answered Andin darkly.
“What? How do you even kill a god?”
Andin shrugged, “It’s only happened once before.”
“When?”
“When the First Gods sacrificed themselves to destroy Odium.”
“We might want to consider alternate solutions,” joked Fake.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been told to kill Garruk. Before I was thrown into your realm I was in Ventisma. They keep some of their dead heroes preserved in a crypt as a sort of biographical archive. One of them told me it I had to kill Garruk,” explained Andin.
“And now with your father’s message you’re thinking this is a legitimate mission,” said Fake putting the pieces together in his head.
Andin nodded, “We need to go to Torment.”
“Hey you remember that laundry list of impossible things we had to do?” asked Fake sarcastically.