Quest for Knowledge (Volume 1 of the FirstWorld Saga) by Christopher Jackson-Ash (ebook reader wifi TXT) 📕

“My Sage,” Aglaral said. “Why do you laugh?”

“You wouldn’t understand, my friend. Just an old man’s vanity. Let us be away from here as quickly as we can. The creatures that eat carrion warg are not pretty or sweet smelling.”

As they made ready to leave, forsaking breakfast for a rapid departure, Gamying approached Manfred and whispered to him. “Was it wise to tell Weylyn about the Hero?”

“The damage had already been done, by Kris. Better now to let him think we are further advanced than we are. It may panic him, or rather his master, to premature actions that may aid our cause. He will wonder whether we have the Sword. We have not played all of our cards yet.”

“Let us hope that we will have that card to play.”

“Let us hope indeed.” Manfred’s thoughts turned again to Simon. He looks on me as a grandfather. Would a grandfather send his grandson on such a dangerous errand without support?

Again, Gamying seemed to sense his mood. “You could do no more than you have done, Manfred. The power of the four you have sent will be enough. Let us climb the Ice Stair and visit my good friend Dia son of Din son of Dane, King Beneath the Mountain. Things will look better with a foaming pint of ale in your hand, a good meal in your belly, and a warm fire to tell tales around.”

They left the noisome hut and the bloody battleground and began the long ascent of the Ice Stair. The fresh, crisp morning air cleansed them of the foul odours they had endured. They said little. Each was lost in his own thoughts and the exertion in the thin mountain air left little energy for chatting. The Ice Stair was relatively clear of snow. It has been maintained even through the harshest winter. That is a good sign. They climbed steadily, stopping several times to rest and eat from their dry rations and fast-emptying water bottles. They saw or heard no sign of wargs or any other living things.

It took the best part of the day to ascend. There were a few slips and minor falls, but no one was seriously hurt. The weary travellers emerged onto the snowfield at the top of the Fang Glacier just as the afternoon sun was beginning to set in hues of red and gold behind the jagged white peaks of the Mountains of Death. For Kris and Aglaral, who had never seen it before, the view took away what little breath they had left. Even Gamying seemed moved. Manfred watched them. I have seen this view so many times. It always reminds me of why we are doing this. He spoke aloud.

“If you look carefully between the two peaks you can see right down to Fang Mouth and the Middle Sea. Some have even claimed to have seen the lighthouse at Rhakotis on a clear night. This view always reminds me of the importance of the Balance. There is both order and chaos in these mountains. Without both, we would not be able to survive up here. Come, we have but a short climb now to the welcoming halls of Devil’s Mouth.”

He led them forward across the snow bank, so frozen that there was little risk of breaking the surface and being engulfed in a snowy tomb. They climbed towards a gap between two peaks, where a huge rock archway beckoned. Behind the archway stood a pair of thick oak doors, which opened into the upper level of First Delve. The archway had many jagged rocks pointing down. Many other rocks had been positioned on the ground pointing up. The entrance looked every part its name.

“Welcome to Devil’s Mouth, my friends. Fear not, there is no devil waiting inside, only dwarven hospitality. If you have never tasted dwarven ale, you have never lived. Come; let us seek a warm welcome in the halls of the mountain king.” A good feed and a good sleep is what I need.

The sun was setting as they approached the doors, which appeared to be closed. Manfred withdrew his staff and smote the door three times. The noise boomed through the caverns. “Hail Dia son of Din son of Dane, King Beneath the Mountain, ruler of the Dwarves. We have travelled long and far and seek refuge and sustenance in your hallowed halls. We come as friends of the dwarves and representatives of the Balance. You know me, I am Manfred the Magician. With me is your friend and ally Gamying, Heir-Regent of Tamarlan; Aglaral, Captain of the Guard of the City States; and Kris of Karo who is a bard and will enliven your fires this evening with his stories. Bid us welcome, we beseech you.” That should get their attention. They love a good story.

There was no response. Manfred pushed the door and it swung open, complaining on its hinges. Inside the darkness was complete. They took down lanterns hanging by the door and lit them. Tentatively, they ventured inside, closing the door behind them. Except for their tiny lights, there was total darkness. Except for their muffled footsteps, there was total silence. The dwarves were all gone.

The Journey to Dishley

Simon watched as Manfred and his companions disappeared from sight. His head ached. He had not slept well. He had been troubled by dreams again. In the dream, he was bound naked on a large pine table. A hideous crone mocked him. He struggled to move, but unseen bonds held him motionless. When he tried to scream, no sound came. He tried to send a message to his friends. It is time. Reunite us. I will serve you. Come for me. Simon shuddered. The words still echoed in his head.

Jhamed approached. “Are you ready to leave? We have a long ride ahead of us.”

Simon nodded. “You will take it slowly, won’t you? I’ve never ridden a horse before you know.” And I’m scared shitless.

“Don’t worry, Simon. You’re a natural. Before you know it, you’ll be out-riding all of us. I’ve seen it many times before.” Jhamed had this unnerving habit of talking about previous versions of Simon he had known and assuming they were all the same. He was usually right.

Five riders left Elannort on that crisp spring morning. The four companions were joined by a young groom from the stables. Like the previous group, they had packed to travel light, as they would leave their horses behind when they crossed the first dimension portal. They each carried a backpack, containing essential provisions. Dawit had his axe slung at his waist and carried his shield on his arm. Taran wore his sword at his waist and his long bow slung over his left shoulder. A quiver of arrows jostled with his backpack. Jhamed, as usual, carried no visible weapons. Simon assumed that he had several blades hidden about his person. Simon carried only the empty scabbard that had been presented to him at the Council of the Wise.

They headed north-west along the road that led to Two Rivers, the town where the rivers Hope and Doom joined to form one massive watercourse that entered the Great Inland Sea at the town of One River. These two great rivers drained the Mountains of Death and were virtually impassable except at the One River Bridge. The area bounded by the two rivers and the Mountains of Death, to the north, contained the well-named Forest of Doom.

Simon was apprehensive. Jhamed, of course, was a veteran of inter-dimensional travel. Taran had been on one quest before to save elves and bring them home to FirstWorld. Dawit had never tried his assumed powers and there was a chance that he might have to return to Elannort with the horses. Simon had made one recent trip, most of it inside a hessian sack. The three inexperienced travellers were keen to learn from Jhamed. He, as ever, appeared to be happy to have centre stage and show off. The five riders rode abreast along the well-paved road while Jhamed entertained them.

“The multiverse is in a constant state of flux. The gateways between dimensions are continually changing. Because FirstWorld is in the centre of things, it has many fixed gateways. Without these, we could become lost, wandering through the dimensions forever. I am an expert, no I am the expert in inter-dimensional travel. Even wizards cannot keep up with me. I have the ability to map the dimensions in my head and see where the portals are. I surprise myself, sometimes.”

“Lucky you're modest with it,” Simon joked.

Jhamed ignored Simon’s barb and continued. “The fixed gateways are located in a largely unpopulated area between the Lost Road and the Fools’ Road. In the old days, there was quite a lot of traffic between the dimensions, hence the quality of the two roads. These days, the roads see few travellers. We will not stay on this road for long. We need to head north, to a gateway that is located just to the west of the Fools’ Road. Manfred suggested we leave along this road and cut across country to confuse any spies that might be watching. I think he’s gone paranoid in his dotage. Only people with the correct genetics can access the dimension portals. It’s an innate thing – either you have it or you don’t. The portals themselves are almost invisible. Only a trained eye can see them. The fixed ones have been marked, with discreet symbols, to aid travellers, but most portals have to be identified by the effects they generate. If you look closely, you’ll see a kind of shimmer in the air, almost like a heat haze. If you travel enough, you’ll learn to spot them.”

“You can take objects through with you? Why can’t you take other people?” Simon asked. It doesn’t make sense to me.

“When you first came to Elannort, I put you in a sack and carried you. My back still aches, by the way. Had you not had the ability to travel through the dimensions, when I entered the portal you would have been left behind and I would have arrived with an empty sack. That’s the way it works. Any inanimate objects you are in contact with make the transition. No living things without the correct genes can make the trip. That’s why we’ll have to leave our horses behind.”

He paused, uncharacteristically, as if thinking about whether he should say more. He laughed aloud and continued, “Manfred tells me that the time portal is different. When you make that trip, Simon, you will find that you arrive at your destination completely naked. He says it’s a built-in protection so that you cannot take technology back in time before it was invented. Just imagine how that will go down, a pale, naked, red-haired boy turning up in the middle of a Council of the Wise.”

Simon blushed and Jhamed laughed again. Just my luck. Anyway, I’m not going to visit a Council of the Wise. Let’s get this part over first. I can worry about my dignity later.

“That I would like to see.” Dawit joined in the laughter. Taran was more circumspect, but he smiled quietly to himself. The young groom, Simon noted, seemed as embarrassed as he was.

They continued to ride at walking-pace. They had seen no one since they had left Elannort behind. They had passed a few farms, where the occasional dog had challenged their authority, but otherwise they had had the road, and it seemed the world, to themselves. It suddenly dawned on Simon that he was riding quite effortlessly and without worrying. I don’t think I’m ready for a gallop yet, but I’m doing OK. I must be a natural, like