The Forsaken Hero

The swirling red hues of the fiery demon gate darkened as they spiraled closer to the pulsing ruby in the center. Although we were still several hundred yards away, the entire structure blazed with magical intensity nearing the Shards of Omniscience-overpowering my ability to inspect it with the eyes of fate.

”It’s quite something,” Riven muttered. Agreement coursed through the ranks of the other mages, but I found my gaze resting on the ground, where the bottom quarter of the gate sunk beneath the marsh.

A small army camped at the foot of the gate, their tent’s banners flying the colors of Viriden. Soldiers surrounded the breach, vigilantly watching for changes or scanning the swamp all around. The sentries allowed us access without a word, and we marched onward until we were greeted by a man in golden armor. He was flanked by several guards dressed more like adventurers, bearing an assortment of personal gear and weapons.

The man, who could only be the city lord, had neatly trimmed white hair and wore burnished gold plate mail. Stern wrinkles etched his face, signs of the pressing stress of his station. Unlike Lord Byron, this man held himself with a noble assurance, lacking any signs of arrogance or cruelty.

”Greetings, heroes,” he said, dipping his head respectfully. ”I count myself truly fortunate you were close enough to assist us. Thank you for your urgency and haste in arriving. I apologize I wasn’t there to welcome you in the city, but perhaps you’d like to join me for a celebration when all is said and done?”

”We’d be honored,” Soltair replied, his voice neither humble nor proud. ”But let’s save that for after we conquer the Gate.”

”Of course,” he said, ”And I must thank Prince Alric for sending the Crimson Guard. It gives me much comfort to know a man of your ability is at my back, Commander.”

Riven smiled, stepping forward and taking the Lord’s outstretched hand. ”Always a pleasure, Griffon. Does that invitation for afterward extend to us as well? We just returned from a cycle, and my men could use a chance to rest.”

Griffon chuckled, peering over to look the ordered ranks of the Crimson Guard up and down. ”They don’t seem worse for the wear, but it’s been too long since we had a chance to catch up. I’m sure we can find room in the hall for everyone. How’s Martha, by the way?”

As the two elderly men fell into a personal conversation, I joined Soltair and Trithe. ”What do you make of it?” I asked.

”I don’t know. Let’s look around the exterior and see if we can find anything,” Soltair replied after a moment’s thought.

The Gate seemed identical to the one in my vision, yet something felt off. I walked directly before the swirling mass of magic, slipping between the patrolling soldiers until I stood in the same spot as I had in my vision. Yeah, something was definitely off, but it felt like more than just the camp of soldiers.

One of the adventurers who had been with Lord Griffon split from his station and moved through the camp. He was a bear of a man, standing nearly seven feet tall and with arms thicker than my torso. A glowing broadsword hung from a loop over his shoulder, its blade almost a foot wide and long enough that its tip sliced through the ankle-deep water behind him.

His eyes glinted with recognition as he met my gaze, and he changed his direction toward me. His imposing presence made the other soldiers shy from his path, and I noted their wary expressions.

”So it’s you,” he said softly, stopping just a few feet away.

”Have we met?” I asked carefully, keeping my expression neutral.

”You could say that, but I think it’s the first time I’ve had the pleasure of laying eyes on your beautiful face. You may call me Fyren.”

His voice was smooth and genuine, and his flattery brought a touch of heat to my face. ”Xiviyah.”

”The defeated,” he murmured distantly before snapping back to the present. ”Forgive me if I seem presumptuous, but would you allow me to accompany you as we attack the gate?”

His question took me by surprise, moving the topic on before I could ask why he was so eager to see me. ”I’m afraid I can’t answer that. You’d need to ask Soltair for permission if you wish to join our party. But aren’t you one of Lord Griffon’s men?”

He laughed, a low rumble deep in his throat, but before he could answer, Griffon and Riven appeared beside us.

”I see you’ve found one of the heroes. Maybe you’ll finally stop badgering me about them,” Lord Griffon said, crossing his arms loosely and turning to me. ”I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, so to answer your question, he isn’t one of mine. He reported the Gate and begged me to allow him to stick around until you and Soltair arrived.”

”Is that so?”

Fyren shrugged unapologetically, jerking his head toward the other adventurers. ”I asked for one of those cool broaches, but got rejected.”

Sure enough, the guards all had matching purple broaches, through the Eyes of Fate, I found them heavily enchanted with protection and illusion magic. Before I deactivated the ability, I glanced at Fyren and my tail twitched in surprise. He was covered in magic items of considerable strength. From his studded leather armor to his knee-high boots, his gear was wrapped in protective and supportive magic. His sword practically blazed with the majesty of a sixth-level ward, but the large amulet resting on his thick neck drew most of my awe.

The shining pendant, set with the largest ruby I’d ever seen, hung a gleaming gold chain. The runes were so complex I couldn’t begin to decipher their purpose, woven together in an intricate knot many times tighter than the basilisk’s curses.

”If you stare like that, even I’ll get embarrassed,” Fyren said, chuckling shamelessly. My face flushed red and I tore my eyes away. If the opportunity presented itself, I’d love to study it more, but I pushed the thoughts away for now.

”So, Fate Hero, how long until your team is ready to enter the Gate?” Lord Griffon asked, instantly sobering the tone of the conversation.

I looked over at Soltair, who had found his way into a conversation with a group of soldiers. ”I’m not sure, but we don’t have much to prepare. He doesn’t think it will pose much of a challenge, so we might rush into it today.”

”And what do you think?” Griffon asked lightly, but I could feel a subdued intensity behind his words.

”I don’t know. But I feel it would be dangerous to underestimate the power of demons.”

Fyren grunted in agreement, his eyes taking on a calculative light. ”Those monsters are sure to be cunning. Best to be prepared.”

Griffon nodded slowly, watching Soltair over my shoulder. He dropped his arms to his side with a sigh and politely excused himself. ”Thank you for your opinions. Perhaps it’s best if I speak with him now.”

Riven split away as well, returning to the Crimson Guard, who were busy making camp. As Fyren and I were left alone, I looked up and found him watching me intently. Shifting uncomfortably at his unwavering attention, I took a step back and asked something that had been bothering me. ”They said you discovered this gate, right? Is there anything different about it now?”

He scratched his chin, fingers scrapping against the rough scrub of his unshaven skin. ”Hard to say, but I can’t think of anything unexpected. Naturally, the Gate’s lower to the ground now, but I can’t think of anything besides that.”

”What do you mean by that?”

He glanced at me, wariness overtaking his features. ”You knew that, right? About the gates dropping?”

He sighed as I shook my head, rubbing his forehead and muttering something about an idiot. I was afraid it was me for a second, and was about to apologize, then realized he had referred to himself.

After a moment, he said, voice barely more than a mumble, ”I heard somewhere that the gates sink into the ground as they get closer to breaking. Supposedly, they open when the center gets level with the ground.”

His words sent an anxious thrill down my spine and tail, and I stared up at the writhing red circle. That was it—what I had sensed was off. In my vision, the rim of the gate had barely begun to scrape the surface of the mud, yet right now, in real time, it was several feet deep. Fyren blinked, a question on his lips, as I dropped to my knees, but I ignored his curiosity and cast a spell.

Murky water rippled away from my outstretched palm, peeling away in muddy layers. The water bulged inward, but a slowly rotating magic circle formed a cylinder of air that allowed me to see to the ground. My heart dropped as I pressed my fingers into the mud, feeling the brittle stubble of reed stocks. I lifted my head, sweeping around the gate, and found a near-perfect circle of cleared ground, devoid of any plants. Initially, I had passed it off with the excuse that the soldiers had simply tramped it down, but I could no longer accept that.

Standing slowly, I turned to look at the gate, feeling a chill that defied the noonday sun.

”What is it?” Fyren asked.

I opened my hand, allowing the charred ends of scorched reeds to drop into the marsh. A perfect circle, centered on the point before the gate, directly in front of where I was standing.

”Are you sure nothing can escape before it reaches the ground?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

”Of course not,” he replied, an odd edge to his voice. ”Wouldn’t we know it if the demons escaped? Their mindless lust for a penchant for destruction would have made hiding impossible.”

Before I could worry further, Lord Griffon raised his voice, calling the attention of the entire camp. Soltair stood beside him, hand resting on his sword hilt and eyes glowing with excitement. It was time.