“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Sarran frets as he watches his lord draw the symbols on the tiled floor of the great hall. “There are warnings about opening Gateways for a reason.”

  “You worry too much,” Lord Nicholas dismisses, but a moment later he pauses and looks up at Sarran. “It’s true that there are a lot of horror stories about what happens when someone opens a Gateway, but almost every one of them is when the ritualist attempts to make contact with the creatures that live between worlds, and the others are when contact is made accidentally. I’m not trying to do that. I’m building a Passage between Gateways, something which by its nature will repel the creatures between worlds. The oracle has assured me that as long as both the candidate and I have collected the appropriate Energy, it will be well. As you know, it’s been several days since the candidate completed his side of the Energy requirements, and I have enough Cores here to supply mine.”

  “And what of the laws against it?” Sarran points out. It isn’t only the danger of the Gateways themselves that’s his concern, after all. Lord Nicholas stills for a moment.

  “I have enough warding up that no one should be aware of the attempt.”

  “Secrets have a way of being spilt. What if the candidate himself lets something slip?”

  “If there is no loss of life or damage to property as a result of whoever or whatever comes through the Gateway, there are few penalties which can truly be enacted, and none that would set my House back particularly.”

  Clearly feeling that that was the end of the discussion, Lord Nicholas bends his head back to the task of drawing the symbols which make Sarran’s eyes hurt just to look at them. Sarran doesn’t raise the point that it isn’t only the law that might cause issues, nor that his lord is taking a lot of risk for a very uncertain gain. He knows Nicholas has already considered them and has decided to do this anyway.

  Still, he can’t help fidgeting with anxiety, no matter how much that breaks the demeanor of a calm and unflappable manservant which he tries to keep up, even when it is just him and Nicholas.

  Although they’d almost grown up together, ever since taking his father’s mantle, Nicholas’ needs have changed. Now the wielder of so much power, the authority over so many, he sometimes needs a space where he can be less than perfect, where he can admit to the concerns which bother him, the fears that nag at him. And for that he needs calm acceptance and reassurance from his manservant. Or sometimes gentle teasing to pull him out of whatever mood he’s got himself in if he threatens to start brooding excessively. But either way, he needs somewhere he can relax. And since a happy marriage seems to be unlikely to happen any time soon, it falls upon his manservant to provide that space.

  Sarran is happy to fulfil that role for Nicholas – his lord, his friend – but sometimes it is a harder task than others. Such as when Nicholas is opening a Gateway, something which almost all the literature Sarran had read warned against. And yes, perhaps the oracle had said that it would work fine, but she isn’t here, is she? She isn’t the one who might have to watch Nicholas be torn to shreds, his mind broken by the creatures that live in the space between worlds before they claw their way through the portal to devastate the area around. So little is known about them that they don’t even have a name. But that they are dangerous is clear.

  But even if Nicholas is his friend, he is also Sarran’s lord. Sarran can argue, can make suggestions, but ultimately it is Nicholas who makes the decisions. And he is set on this course.

  Sarran fidgets again. Perhaps part of it is that he had been forbidden from helping. Magic is not remotely his specialism and he knows very little about rituals, but Nicholas told him that as the one doing the ritual, it has to be him that draws all the symbols and sets everything up. All Sarran has been able to do is bring the various ingredients for Nicholas to then prepare and use.

  The time before the ritual site is ready seems to take both forever and the blink of an eye. In the end, there’s a five-pointed star with Cores set at the tips of its points in the centre of the ritual circle. Around it are more Cores connected by lines drawn with a mixture of ingredients, including a distressing amount of Nicholas’ blood.

  Sarran was particularly displeased when his lord cut himself and then proceeded to wait until he was as white as a sheet and he needed to be held upright before he took a healing potion – apparently the potion’s magic would impact the blood’s composition as would any healing magic apart from very specialised Skills. And since Nicholas didn’t want to bring the healer in on this, they didn’t have access to those.

  Some of the lines form the mind-hurting symbols, others link them together. Everything is connected, and Cores are scattered all over, with at least one for each symbol. The whole design is contained within a much larger circle, this one drawn with a less distressing line of salt. Sarran doesn’t envy the servants who will have to deal with this after the end of the ritual – and wonders what they will think. He hopes that Nicholas doesn’t want to keep his activities so secret that he asks Sarran to do the job.

  Within the circle, but near the edge nearest Sarran, is another smaller circle, surrounded by smaller symbols. Supposedly, those are to reduce the chances that the creatures between the worlds will notice this, but Sarran can’t help but wonder whether they will actually work.

  When Lord Nicholas stands up from drawing the final symbol with the brush soaked in his blood and other ingredients, he already looks drawn. Sarran steps towards him in concern, but his lord waves him off.

  “I’m fine. I just need a drink.”

  Sarran quickly passes him a waterskin that he’d brought earlier in preparation and he drinks deeply. Looking slightly better, Nicholas steps forwards into the prepared circle of the ritual site. Sarran moves as close to his lord as he can without actually stepping into the ritual site and draws his sword. All he can do is grip it tightly and hope that he doesn’t have to use it.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Nicholas starts chanting, the words unfamiliar to Sarran’s ears, though he notices that the same phrase is being repeated over and over again. The Cores which have been set at the tips of the star start glowing with a golden light.

  The light snakes its way through the lines of the star and then beyond. Each Core it touches begins to also glow and the effect spreads throughout the whole design until everything, Core or line, is glowing with that golden light. If this wasn’t so dangerous, Sarran would think it beautiful.

  Having reached the outermost symbols and Cores, the flow of light reverses, all pulled back to the star. There, it starts pooling in the centre of the shape itself, a ball of golden light glowing in an area where there are no lines.

  It flashes brightly, enough that Sarran has to lift his off-hand to cover his eyes. He hears Nicholas gasp slightly and he forces himself to look through the light to check on his lord. He can see nothing – it’s too bright.

  And then the light dies away significantly. Where once there had been a ball almost small enough for Sarran to wrap his arms around it, now there is a massive disc of rippling silver, which extends two thirds to the roof of even the cavernous Great Hall.

  Sarran quickly checks on Nicholas, relieved when he sees the man looks mostly fine, just even more tired and pale than before. Perhaps the Cores hadn’t been enough and the ritual had taken more from his lord. Perhaps that was always part of the ritual. Sarran doesn’t know.

  But at least there hasn’t been any sign of the creatures between worlds. At least, not yet.

  Sarran’s attention sharpens as the rippling of the silvery gate changes slightly. And then suddenly a creature flies out of it. A bird? But an oddly shaped one for sure.

  Sarran suspects that this is not the candidate – he’s pretty sure Nicholas would have told him if he’d recruited some sort of bird-folk. One of the candidate’s Bonded, then.

  Moments after the bird flies out of the portal and starts circling them, another creature emerges. This one looks like some sort of reptilian canine, though with a nasty spiked tail. Sarran’s grip tightens on his sword and he prepares to grab Nicholas, ritual or not. But fortunately, though the beast watches them warily, it doesn’t attack. Orders? Or intelligence? Or perhaps both.

  One by one, more creatures pop through the silvery disc. Two wolfish looking creatures, with feather-like fur. Five winged feline-type creatures with the same kind of fur. Though they clear the way for the next arrival, they remain close to the disc. With each one, Sarran’s eyebrows rise higher and higher. Just how many Bonded does the candidate have? And how is the Gateway staying open this long? Sarran is sure Nicholas said it should only be open for thirty seconds, but it has been longer than that for sure. And yet there is no sign of the candidate.

  Then a humanoid reptile steps through, intelligence clear in its eyes and the spear it holds in its hands. Though clearly crafted by magic, its low-quality materials make it of little value. Still, the fact that this reptile is wielding one shows that it at least is sapient. Is this the candidate?

  Sarran darts a look at Nicholas, but the man’s drawn expression shows no sign of recognition. No, then. Though the way he’s blinking is not a good sign – the manservant recognises it as him being not quite connected with reality. He’s seen it a time or two when Nicholas has done some great magical working, but never one so dangerous as this.

  Sarran clenches his hand around his sword hilt and then forcibly releases it. The Gateway had better close soon or it will take more from Nicholas than the man can stand to give.

  The first bipedal lizard is followed by another two-legged reptile. This one stands a head taller than the first, has a massive sail on its back and looks less humanoid in the way it stands. It isn’t carrying any weapons, either, and moves to stand behind the other bipedal reptile protectively.

  More of the humanoid reptiles come through, though not all of them carry weapons and two are noticeably smaller and less muscular than others. But the gleam of intelligence in their eyes and the way they look around the room as though surveying a potential battleground indicates that they are no less sapient than the first.

  The next arrivals are hardly less surprising. Where did the candidate get dragons?! A white one and a black one. Small for dragons, the white one’s shoulder-height is comparable to the average human; the black one is a bit smaller. Still, dragons. Sarran abruptly regrets not pushing Nicholas harder about bringing in some guards. He’d be far more comfortable if he had a company of fighters at his back. And here he had been fearing that the creatures between worlds would be the biggest danger to his lord! The only thing that reassures Sarran in the slightest is that none of the creatures who have stepped into the Great Hall are showing any signs of hostility.

  Protectiveness, yes, and Sarran suspects that it wouldn’t take much to provoke the creatures to attack. But so far, they haven’t indicated that they will make the first move. Is this why Nicholas didn’t want any guards? Had he been worried that they might be the first to make a move and provoke a blood-bath? If so, Sarran will give him an apology for his doubt – assuming they both make it out of this alive.

  The next beast through is a feline bigger even than the dragons. Sarran frowns. It’s black with golden eyes and gleaming white teeth. But this is the most familiar shape of all the beasts so far. Why does it look familiar?

  He’s so busy puzzling over the question that he almost misses the appearance of the candidate. Because who else can this be? The only human among the group. Not that that’s easy to see since the man is covered from head to toe in greyish-green hide armour set with black scales. His face is uncovered, though, and Sarran sees hard, searching blue eyes set in a tanned brown face covered in a thick beard.

  And then another beast comes through and knocks the candidate off his feet. Sarran should be preparing to defend his lord as the candidate rolls forward and jumps to his feet not far from Nicholas. But all Sarran can do is stare at the massive beast which has stepped through the Gateway, its aura striking him as soon as it does. He staggers in place at the sheer power of the creature.

  Abruptly, Sarran starts praying to the gods – he hopes that if it comes to a fight, Nicholas will be in a good enough state to call his Bonded or they’re dead. The thoughts consuming his mind mean that he barely notices the silvery disc disappear as if it had never been.

  He hears Nicholas speak, but the words only just register as his mind desperately searches for a way to regain the advantage if the situation turns sour. They really should have at least had some of the animals with them, even if Nichlas didn’t want to bring in other humans.

  “Greetings candidate. Welcome to this world. I am Lord Nicholas Titanbend.” It’s the tone which gets through to Sarran. Nicholas sounds awful.

  The manservant focusses on him once more just as his lord collapses.

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