more than Dormas realized, and he said, 'Be comforted, my brother, for though you are not king, you are a prince in the realms of Errada.'
"This Dormas pondered for a moment and then laughed sarcastically and said, 'I do not wish to be a prince. I wish to be king! Were it not for your mewling and compensations to your inner circle of friends, I would be.'
"Adon grew angered at these words, saying, 'You forget yourself, Dormas. I am king. I was elected by the free will of the majority of beings of Errada and the Lords of Errada. All, that is, but you. I will tell you this, Dormas, the Lords of Errada held secret council discussing the possibility of you as our leader, but because of your instability, we had to decline the motion. One cannot rule as an absolute. The vice of power makes rulers unjust and of no benefit to the subjects they rule. Therefore, their trust and authority become unworthy. Above all, Dormas, a ruler needs compassion and benevolence for all his subjects or his responsibility as the sovereign leader is meaningless.'
"To this, Dormas said to Adon, 'Compassion is a fool's device! Fear is what our creatures need to keep them loyal to us, the fear of annihilation and retribution. O, great king and brother, I fear you have grown soft in your limited omniscience. And I shall not follow a soft liege.'"
"Nice guy," quipped Gideon sarcastically. "What happened then?" He found himself enjoying Ragan's storytelling manner.
"Dormas left Errada and came to Illúmaril. He settled on Ascalon, in the lands now called Morthaurnan, built a vast city within a mountain fortress he created called Gorhaudfuin, and proclaimed himself king and the lord of the world. For many years, he dwelt in isolation, creating creatures to live in his kingdom. During this time, he created the Urshkaar as his primary soldiers, the Urakeen, and most of the other dark folk of the world, including trollkin, dread giants, ogres, and such. Then, as a gift from Sorgoth, Dormas was given the Charachau, deadly warriors from the one of the outer planes. Dormas modified these creatures with his power, and they became demonspawn. These Charachau became the first of many terrors to walk the land created or gathered by Dormas. The Charachau only live to serve and fight and fight to serve and live.
"When the Firstborn of the people you might call elves came to Ascalon from Alorion, he lured some down the path of evil and made them into the Dark Elves, his first great servants. The greatest most powerful and skilled of these Dark Elves became the Valharri, 'lords of power.' In time, Dormas created a vast army of such power and size that he decided the time was right to seize dominion and take Errada. He then declared war on his Erradan brethren and all that they stood for and created. After four great wars and defeats, Dormas eventually had a powerful spellweave placed on him called the Interdiction of the Guardians, which effectively prevents him from physically entering the world in any form, even spiritually to a degree."
"And where is he now?" asked Gideon.
"He still remains outside, thankfully," replied Ragan. "But there are those loyal to him who would see this interdiction removed and have him return. For long years, the Urshkaar lords and the Valharri have worked on finding a way to break the edict and allow him to return. Soon, I fear, the time will come that the Dark Lord will once again walk the land. But let us speak no more of this now, for it makes my heart heavy. Come, you will require rest in a few hours. There is a grove of trees ahead; we will be protected from the sight of those we do not wish to find us."
Gideon agreed and continued down the road alongside Ragan. He dismounted the elax near the grove. He shook his legs vigorously and stretched them.
"Ahh," he said, "the circulation is returning."
Ragan latched his elax to a nearby tree branch and then sat himself down under the tree to rest.
"We'll try to cover another six leagues before we bed down for the night," he said, closing his eyes.
"Six leagues?" exclaimed Gideon. "Why, that's—" He calculated quickly in his head. "That's almost twenty miles, Ragan. My butt will never survive."
But it seemed that the wizard was meditating, for he said nothing in return, so Gideon proceeded to sit himself down beneath another tree and looked up at the sky.
It was growing dusk, and the stars were just beginning to twinkle far above him. Illúmaril's three moons loomed in the different areas of the horizon, casting a baleful light over the land.
"Ragan?" he called softly.
The wizard grunted in acknowledgment.
"Why was I brought here? I mean, it must have taken great ability and power to do it, but why? Why me?"
Ragan opened his eyes and looked at Gideon, his face stony. His eyes shone with subtle triumph yet were tinged with sadness and sympathy.
"Dormas has his greatest servants working on finding the way for him to return from his banishment," said Ragan, his voice unwavering. "The Alor High Council and the White Council both feel those servants will succeed at this task in time, and they decided we needed aid from the outside. They have scanned the cosmos for an age, through time and space, seeking champions for the upcoming war against him; this will be the fifth time Dormas has come to our world seeking dominion. Each time in the past, he has been beaten back, but he has always returned just as strong or stronger and each time with at least one new creation or ally. Both councils believe that we must find those who will be able to organize aspects of our defenses to accomplish his demise. Neither council chooses to tell me exactly how that is to be accomplished. I can only say that you have some part to play in this overall defense, and you will be needed in the coming year."
"Look, Ragan," said Gideon, "Illúmaril is nice, okay? But it is not my home, and I don't think I could live here for the rest of my life. I'm from another world, y' know, a place where the biggest threats are terrorism and nuclear war. I don't belong here; I belong there. Look, I'll help you in your fight against your enemies if you send me back to my rightful place when it's all over, okay?"
Ragan frowned as he tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.
"Very well, John Gideon. When all is done, if that is what you still desire, then I will arrange to return you to your world," replied the wizard softly, "though I don't understand why you wish to return. I know your mind and your interests; I know your dreams. I should think our world would be fascinating to you."
Gideon replied, "It is. I mean, I'm a good sport, and I love fighting the good fight, but I think that if I survive this little war you're so set on making that will be enough for me." He paused for a moment and then chuckled. "I could retire and take up writing. Hell, I mean, I've got the makings for a fantastic story."
"I just hope you live to tell the tale," replied Ragan grimly, "and the omniverse is still around to hear it." Then a broad, beaming smile flashed across his face as he leaped to his feet and strode with vigorous steps toward his elax. "Come along, my boy. Let us continue our journey. We have a long way to go yet, and it grows later by the minute."
Chapter Two
Vasha
They had stopped for another rest once during the evening, and Ragan told Gideon briefly of the nobility on Illúmaril and that he would eventually be speaking with one or more soon. He also let Gideon get a few hours of sleep before they moved on. Several hours after riding into the night, the pair found themselves nearing a small cluster of ancient trees, several of which were burned to ashen stumps. It was now close to dawn, and Gideon swayed in his saddle, drifting through a light sleep. Ragan was silent. He would not wake his sleeping comrade, for Gideon needed his rest if he was to continue. His enemies were close; he could sense them, but he could not tell where they were hiding. They had masked their presence with subtle and powerful magics, which was, in itself, a great feat; even Ragan was not able to penetrate easily without giving his own location away. Suddenly, there was a stirring in the trees. Ragan moved stealthily, as not to give away his position to someone or something that might be watching him.
"Who is there?" he cried. "Show yourself!"
His hand instinctively clasped the jeweled hilt of the enchanted long sword at his side, and he tightened his grip.
Gideon awoke