THIRD INTERLUDE – CONDEMNED
The Sandlands could only be described one way, arid. It was a patch of scorched earth right in the center of MagnaThora, to cross the Sandlands was to move between the reaches: north south and west, more importantly south. The southern range of the Burning Mountains ran all the way west to the Barren Sea with only one break in it, where the Great Gate was built. The Sandlands stopped and the Southlands began with the desert as the transition.
After long days following the Equitor River south, Malinor could see the Great Gate in the distance. A couple days felt more like one hundred days under the beating sun, with not a tree nor a boulder to cast some shade for reprieve. Malinor only had the river, but even the river this far south succumbed to the harsh climate, dwindling to a heavy stream. His face was mostly covered by a longclothe mask that wrapped up over his head, even still his skin felt tender as if sunburnt, and his lips were chapped.
Walking in the sand as this time slowed everything down for him, the hours stretched on and on and the scenery barely changed. Yes, he saw the Great Gate in the distance, mostly black, with towering Greystone pillars checkered throughout. But it would still be some time before approaching the actual gate. Even then, he had little to no idea how he would get through.
All evidence and common sense pointed to the way being blocked, because what good would a gate be to keep the darkness out of MagnaThora if people could cross through it freely. There were few accounts of people exploring the lands near the gate. No one dared to venture out and survey, or if they did they never made it back alive to tell about it. Malinor needed some rest before he made his final approach. He cared not and continued to make his way to the gate.
The fact that the enormous metal and oldstone gate was in sight before him, and every step brought it closer and closer captivated Malinor. Nothing would keep him away now, not even his own fatigue. He dragged himself through the mounds of sand, struggled up the gradual incline and then meandered down what each little dip came thereafter. It was truly glorious. A modern wonder. No living man could be capable of such tower metal walls. Closer up the stone pillars seemed to be more like anchors, keeping these fierce black metal slabs from cresting over one way or another. The stone pillars were only slightly crooked, making it clear they were organic and from Malinor’s guess rooted directly into the ground like a tree.
The more he got under the gate the more it burdened him, as if an old spell took a hold of Malinor. Don’t look up or the wall will topple over. Malinor panicked in his desperate fatigued state and embraced the black metal gate. It was ice cold in the baking hot sun and desert. So cold the frost bit his hands as he pulled away. It didn’t look iced or frosted over. Malinor examined the gate all around him. There were solid seamless burnt steel forged plates shaped by godly magic.
The only break in the immaculate black metal were ornamental spikes and ridges, no doors, no windows, no vents. It was impossible to get around. Just like the tales of old said. The giant metal walls ran straight into the mountainsides of both sides, cutting vertically through the cliffs, leaving no humanly path around the gate. The cliffs shot up so drastically on both sides of the southern pass their peaks had their own whitecaps.
“You’re not gonna get through.”
Malinor jumped.
“Trust me, mate.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m just like you. I wanted to see what was on the other side. It’s impossible. You’re not going to get through. You might as well turn around.”
“I will be the judge of that, stranger.”
“Don’t throw your life away!”
“My life is mine to do what I please!”
“Would you make the same mistakes as a sad old man?”
“I will find a way over that gate.”
“It’s impossible.”
“Who are you?”
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“I’m the only person who knows how to get through.”
“That’s not right. If you knew how to get through you wouldn’t have been waiting here.”
“What do you think is right?”
“I think I’m dreaming or maybe hallucinating in the desert, maybe I’m even dead and this is my hell, forget the nether.’
“You are not dead, Malinor.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I am not a mirage or a mind trick.”
“What are you?”
The old man with long hair, a dark look, and long unkempt beard moved forward. As he revealed himself his figure began to…well, it wiggled. His true form grew out of him slowly with long antennae and wings, and then the antennae swirled into horns and a tail burst forth, his face warping, the hair shedding off along with the molting flesh as the scaley beast finished its transformation.
“You’re…you’re a dragon. A shape-shifting dragon? Do those exist?”
“A DRAGON!?”
The voice of the dragon knocked Malinor back. This was no mere dragon of the Southlands. This was supernatural. Malinor had clearly offended it by what he said. Malinor wavered and then dropped to one knee, bowing his head. The shadow of the dragon approached and consumed Malinor, eclipsing him from the sun. The heat was gone. Malinor dared not look up. It felt eerily similar to touching the gate.
“You are the dragon god, banished to the south by your fellow gods, and imprisoned by Patronalus. How are you here?”
“You said it yourself. I am a god. And I have been…waiting a long time for this moment.”
“What moment?”
“You can’t get by without a little help.”
“How can you help me?”
Suddenly everything around them skipped, wiggling in place like he was doing before. Only this time it included Malinor. Reality shook and the black gate behind the dragon dissolved away, changing to red caverns. The dragon’s eyes glowed.
“I am Dracobra the god of darkness, if I allow you passage into my kingdom you must swear to return north and free my physical body from the earthly prison Patronalus put me in.”
“I swear it. Embody me with your goodwill and I will bring what I learn back to the north and lead the liberation of your legacy.”
The cavernous walls behind the dragon trembled and cracked into crooked slabs. They shook loose and dropped, hitting the floor and exploding into tiny pieces. Behind the falling cavern boulderock was the sunless sky of the south.
“By walking through my portals, you accept the seal of the compact. From the moment you walk through, you will start to inherit my power. You will not know how to access it with your feeble northern brain. My people will help you acquire all the resources necessary to journey north and free me. If you fail to keep your end of the compact the darkness will consume you and eventually kill you. Do not treat this decision lightly.”
“It’s fine.”
Malinor got off his knee and walked through the first portal into the dragon’s cavern prison, he looked around, the stalagmites and stalactites made the bars and walls of the vast cavern. He walked under the dragon, immensely larger than anything he could have imagined, making himself feel as small as a mossquirrel.
“You are a brave fool human.”
“Why not use the portals yourself?”
“The only magic more powerful than mine is that tyrant Patronalus. I am made from the gods. He operates the power of the gods like one of the creators themselves.”
“I will use your power to overthrow and kill Patronalus.”
“You are truly something terrible, human. I know now my legacy is in good hands. Move forth through my kingdom as my first exalted; hold your title high before them and take your rightful place as my champion.”
Malinor passed through the second portal and entered the SouthLands.