Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary

"I keep heading toward the mountains?" Kendra verified.



"That's right. Heading that way will at least let us find the wall; then we'll worry about the gate."



Kendra began trudging into the trees. The others followed. Having no specific expertise with the outdoors, Kendra worried she might lead them poorly. She concentrated on trying to find the best route through the trees, the easiest way up each slope. Her main goal was to avoid the need to double back. Since the others would be struggling against the effects of the distracter spell, she hoped to lead them by the safest, most direct route she could find.



The snowshoes made her strides ungainly, but at least they kept her and the others on top of the powdery snow. Tall conifers towered above her, limbs flocked white. Kendra enjoyed the crisp smell of the snow and the trees. Cocooned as she was within her insulated attire, warmed by the exercise, the cold seemed irrelevant.



She plodded up slopes and around leafless thickets and deadfalls. She tugged insistently on the rope when the others started to meander in the wrong direction. Occasionally a clump of snow would tumble from a tree to land with a muffled thump. Under evergreen branches, she lost sight of the mountains for certain stretches, but she caught plenty of glimpses to keep her chain of followers properly oriented.



Based on some old hand-drawn map in the Knights' archives, Trask believed that the clearing where they had landed was a couple of miles from the gate. Kendra wondered how far two miles would feel treading cross-country through the snow, mostly uphill. She rapidly grew weary of the way her oversized soles made each step a chore.



As Kendra reached the crest of a long slope, she found she had led her team to the top of a thirty-foot face. They would have to parallel the drop-off for about a hundred yards before they could continue forward. From the elevated vantage, ahead through the trees, Kendra beheld the massive gate. Apparently wrought of gold, the gate was composed of closely spaced vertical bars and hung independent of any physical wall or fence. Instead of attaching to a tangible wall, the gate was situated in the middle of an iridescent barrier of prismatic light. Extending high into the air, the multicolored barrier shimmered like the northern lights, but inhabited a fixed position. Kendra paused at the brink of the drop, watching ropes and wheels and sheets of light flutter and fold and collide in endless combinations.



Trask tugged at the rope. "We'd best head back."



"No, we just need to move along the little cliff until we can continue forward. I can see the gate."



"You've lost the route," Dougan mourned. "We've come the wrong way."



Everyone holding the rope was looking backwards, away from the gate and the impressive light display. They began to pull against her together, and Kendra found herself stumbling away from the gate.



"Don't trust yourselves," Kendra said.



"We've reached an impassable cliff," Trask argued.



"Stop!" Kendra shouted, struggling against them. "Your instincts are blind. I won't let us get hurt. I see how we can get to the gate."



"Close your eyes," Warren demanded. "Close them tight and follow her lead."



"That's right," Kendra agreed. "I'll keep us well away from any edges. Let me guide us."



Mumbling uncertainly, the others closed their eyes. Kendra leaned into her steps now more than before. The others kept trying to stray and, even with their eyes shut, continued to second-guess their heading. She led them to where the sheer drop-off dwindled and started directly toward the gate.



"Stay with me!" Kendra commanded as the others started hauling her in the wrong direction.



"You're leading us into an avalanche zone," Dougan cried in alarm.



"He's right," Mara agreed.



They pulled against her so hard that Kendra fell. They dragged her across the snow, away from the prismatic barrier. Kendra called out to them in desperation, "Stop! Guys, stop! You're going the wrong way!"



"Ignore your instincts," Gavin called.



"Go where she pulls us," Warren agreed.



Tanu dug in hard, and they stopped moving in the wrong direction. "Keep your eyes closed," the Samoan bellowed.



"I can sense the danger," Mara insisted. "Your senses are messed up," Kendra said with conviction. "We're right by the gate. Don't think, just follow."



"Blind faith," Gavin said. "Blind faith," Trask agreed.



Kendra arose and plodded in the right direction again, trying to move fast to keep their momentum flowing toward their destination. They were close. It was time to sprint to the finish.



They emerged from the forest into a wide, clear snow-field. Now nothing impeded a full view of the high golden gate and the scintillating wall. Kendra charged forward, breathing hard, straining against the rope. Her eyes drank in kaleidoscopic swirls of light stretching to the edge of sight in either direction. Slow spirals rippled and curled. Glancing back, she saw that even with their eyes closed, her companions kept their faces averted. They followed her on stiff, hesitant legs. But they followed.



It was strange to approach the shimmering radiance of the barrier. The colorful wall looked too much like a rainbow or a mirage, an illusion that should recede when an observer drew near. Instead, the barrier inhabited a fixed position, flashing and gleaming, filling Kendra's field of vision as she approached the gilded gate.



"Stand still," Kendra called at last, a step or two from the shiny gate. Glancing back, she saw that the others were trembling.



"Hold your ground," Trask growled.



Gavin and Warren dropped to their knees. Mara moaned and grimaced. Dougan hummed a simple tune in a strained voice, beads of perspiration on his brow. Tanu took deep, cleansing breaths, wide nostrils flaring, broad chest expanding and contracting.



Kendra unzipped her coat and felt for the inside pocket where she had stashed the unicorn horn. Her gloves made her fingers clumsy, so she pulled one off, and soon held the smooth horn in her bare hand.



"Forward," she encouraged, leaning against her companions to grind out the final steps to the gate. Seeing no keyhole, she touched the tip of the horn to the center of the gate. Upon contact, the metal gleamed brilliantly and the gate swung silently open. Even upon close inspection, the hinges of the gate were apparently anchored to nothing more than the translucent barrier of light. Legs churning, she towed the others through the opening.



On the far side of the barrier, she no longer had to pull. Opening their eyes, the others gathered around her, wearing befuddled expressions as if they had just awakened. The frigid bite had gone out of the air. Tiny wildflowers bloomed in the tall grass. No snow clung to the trees here, nor to the ground, save a few meager patches in the shade. Ahead of them stood a gray stone wall with round towers at the corners and a raised drawbridge in the center, dark timbers studded with iron. The broad, crenellated wall reached maybe twenty feet high, the corner towers an extra ten feet taller. None of the buildings beyond the wall reared much higher. No visible guards or sentries manned the battlements. The stronghold looked timeworn and dreary, more like an abandoned fort than an occupied castle. Behind them, the golden gate clanged shut.



"Welcome to Wyrmroost," Trask murmured.



Kendra found the sturdy, silent fort disquieting. "Do we go knock?" she wondered.



Tanu scratched his head, staring up at the tremendous mountains. "How did we miss those?"



A roar like a thousand lions exploded from the nearest stand of trees, making Kendra start and turn. A gold and red creature snaked up from the grove, long body twirling and winding like a ribbon. Two sets of gold-feathered wings fanned out, propelling the serpentine dragon toward the gate.



"Stay calm," Gavin urged. "Stand your ground. Don't reach for weapons. Don't make eye contact."



Kendra stared away from the dragon, watching it approach from her peripheral vision. The great wings spread wide, creating a rush of wind as the dragon alighted near them. Paralyzing fear washed over Kendra, the terror instinctual and overpowering. Was this how a rabbit felt when it saw a hawk swooping down? The dragon had a head like a giant lion, with red-gold fur and a crimson mane. Eight sets of legs supported the scaly body, the large feet each a hybrid of dragon claw and lion paw. The dragon stood half again taller than Trask, and stretched longer than two school buses.



"Visitors," the dragon purred in a rich, interested voice. "We seldom have visitors. This is a dangerous domain. I prevent the unworthy from entering. Are any of you capable of speech?"



"I can converse with you, mighty one," Gavin said. "And look me in the eye. Impressive. What of your companions?"



"I can speak," Trask said. "We seek the caretaker."



"I can speak as well," Mara added.



Kendra trembled. She doubted she could move her arms or legs, but forced some words past her lips. "As can I."



The dragon inclined his leonine head. "An impressive group of humans. Four of seven retaining some semblance of control. One with true self-possession. Who can move?"



Mara and Trask went to stand at either side of Gavin, who saluted the dragon casually. Kendra tried to override the paralysis in her limbs but failed. The dragon shook his head, fluffing up his shaggy mane. "Three? Why not the fourth? I



see, although she harbors a strange energy, she is not a true dragon speaker. What errand brings you to Wyrmroost?"



"We s-s-seek audience with the caretaker," Gavin said.



"Fair enough," the dragon replied. "You will find Agad inside Blackwell Keep. I am Camarat. I work with Agad. I have not screened visitors for many years." Camarat prowled forward and sniffed Warren, then took a whiff of the knapsack. "More in there than one might suspect. But nothing too alarming." The dragon moved in front of Trask, exhaling blue-white fumes from his nostrils. "What brings you to Wyrmroost?"



"We seek the key to a distant vault," Trask said, scowling after the words left his mouth.



"A key? Interesting." The dragon moved to Mara, exhaling on her. "What else do you hope to accomplish?"



"We want the key and we want to survive," she replied.



The dragon reared up like a cobra, towering over them, two sets of legs pawing at the air. "Very well, you may pass. Be forewarned. Wyrmroost is not for the faint of heart."



The gilded wings spread wide and with a rush of air the dragon took flight, elongated body curling and snapping like a whip. Awed by the fluid grace of the magnificent creature, Kendra watched it corkscrew into the sky. With a clacking of gears and the clang of heavy chains the drawbridge in the wall began to swing down. A hard-packed path wide enough for a wagon led directly from the golden gate to the drawbridge. Trask marched toward the fort.



"Is there often a dragon at the gate to welcome visitors?" Kendra asked Gavin, falling into step beside him.



"I've n-n-n-never seen such a thing. We would have warned everyone. I haven't met a dragon quite like Camarat either."



"Was he breathing truth serum on Trask and Mara?"



"Or something like it. Hey, good job dragging us through the gate. I was feeling pretty foggy."



"We all have our specialties." She hoped she sounded casual instead of proud.



They reached the drawbridge and passed over a shallow, dry moat choked with thorny shrubs. The iron teeth of a raised portcullis hung menacingly above as they strode through the thick wall and out into a flagstone courtyard. A solid gray building topped by battlements stood before them. No light shone within the high, narrow windows. Three figures awaited them in front of the single heavy door to the stone structure.



In the center, the tallest minotaur Kendra had ever seen leaned on a long-hafted battle-ax like a staff. His shaggy fur was the silky chestnut of an Irish setter, and a black patch covered one eye. To the left stood a creature like a centaur, except with the body of a moose. Several scars defaced his brown skin, the most gruesome angling down from one ear and curving halfway across his throat. He carried a black bow and wore a quiver of arrows. A polished horn hung from one shoulder by a leather strap. On the right, a thin, hairless woman with four arms and skin like a snake tested the air with her slender tongue. Her lower hands held daggers with jagged blades.



The minotaur stepped forward, twisting his head so he could better regard the newcomers with his good eye. "What brings you to Blackwell Keep?" he asked gruffly.



Trask held his hands at his sides, palms outward. "I am Trask. We come as friends, hoping to lodge here for the night. Are you Agad?"



The minotaur snorted, nostrils flaring. "Agad will receive you in the High Hall." He gestured at the snakelike woman. "Simrin will escort you. Leave your arms and gear in the guardhouse." With his ax, he pointed at a structure to the side of the main entry. "The alcetaur will assist you." The moose-bodied centaur came toward them.



"Let's do it," Trask muttered, heading for the guardhouse.



The silent alcetaur showed where to pile their gear. Warren checked with Trask before setting down the knapsack, then complied after receiving a curt nod. Kendra kept the unicorn horn inside her coat pocket.



With their belongings stored, Kendra and the others followed Simrin through a cavernous hall where crows roosted in the rafters. Shorter than Kendra, the serpentine woman moved with a fluid, slithery stride. She led them out a door at the rear of the hall, up two flights of stairs, and across an enclosed walkway to an adjacent building. Kendra peered down through a window at a courtyard overrun by ferns, bushes, and gnarled trees. Chipped statues spotted with lichen watched over the vegetation, marble faces all but worn away.



Simrin guided them up a few steps and through a large set of doors into a narrow chamber with a barrel-vaulted ceiling. Daylight shone through leaded lancet windows onto a long stone table with twelve seats on each side. At the head of the table in the largest and most elaborate chair sat a plump, elderly man whose flowing gray beard reached his lap. A black cloak trimmed with sable hung from his hunched shoulders, mostly covering the silky red robes beneath. Jeweled rings adorned each finger. He was eating moist chunks of meat out of a hollowed heel of tough, dark bread.

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