Chapter 17: “Portals, and Necromancers, and Slavers

I self-edit and admit editing isn’t my greatest skill. I apologize in advance for anything I missed.

Ethan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he looked in the direction of the slaver’s camp from the Argo’s gangplank.

There were several large square pens with steel bars and thick wooden frames. They were mostly empty, but one had several burly men in it. There were also several small bunkhouses which he assumed housed the dozen or so armed guards scattered around the camp. The guards didn’t appear to be heavily armored, but they were heavily armed.

On the outskirts of the camp, butted up against a large hill, was a moderately sized house of wattle and daub construction. Just based on the size and ornate look, he assumed that’s where the necromancer lived.

The ground in the entire compound looked to be hardened and cracked sand, which would be quite hot in the full afternoon sun.

Surrounding the entire camp was a fence at least ten feet high with what looked like a crude version of barbed wire lining the top. The only entrance opened onto a road which the camp was situated next to. Across that road and down about a short walk was the earthen ramp that led to the airship dock which the Argo currently occupied.

He turned back to the assembled crew. “So here’s the plan: Rachel and I are going down there.”

Alana opened her mouth to protest, but he headed her off.

“I know you want to go, but archers are much better from a distance if there’s trouble. Plus I’m not risking you or our child, which is why Raklan and Serif are also staying here to guard the ship. If there’s trouble, I want you to turn the guards into pincushions from here.”

The wood elf nodded. She clearly saw the sense, but also clearly didn’t like it.

“These are slavers.” He continued. “I don’t want to take any chances and I have no moral problems with cutting them down if they attack. That’s why I’m bringing some grenades.” He nodded toward the satchel. “I hope it doesn’t become a fight because we’re heavily outnumbered. But if it does, our first priority is to protect each other and defend the Argo. Understand?”

Everyone nodded.

“Then here we go.” He said, activating his disguise gem.

Be careful master. Taloni thought to him.

I will. He thought back.

With Rachel in tow, he led the way down the earthen ramp and across the road to the ten-foot tall double gate. It was made from thick oak boards, was reinforced with wrought iron, and also had a type of barbed wire at the top; these slavers certainly weren’t taking any chances. The double gate was open, and half a dozen guards were watching them as they walked up.

“Looking for some slaves?” One of them asked gruffly.

He shook his head. “I hear you have a portal; How much for a trip?” Ethan replied, figuring that being upfront from the beginning about what he wanted was a good idea. He wasn’t a very good liar anyway.

The man made a thoughtful, grunting noise. “Wait here, gotta check with Gonorran.” Then he walked off.

They waited near the gates for five minutes before the man came back following another man. From the other man’s bearing and demeanor, he must be the one in charge here.

He was tall; well over six feet and very thin. He had short hair which was perfectly styled without a single strand out of place. He was wearing a long tan cloak which was perfectly tailored. Underneath it was a smart-looking leather vest that was also tailored. His clothes were clearly high quality, but not ostentatious.

He almost looked like a pleasant fellow except for the eyes. His eyes were ... dead. Not like the man wasn’t living, but just devoid of light and life. Even though the man was clearly human, his iris had no color, but it was as black as his pupil. They reminded him of beetle’s eyes or black marbles, and complete blackness stood in stark contrast to the whites of his eye. He had a friendly smile that didn’t reach his eyes and the air of a sophisticated yet sleazy used-car salesman.

The man looked at Ethan.

He cocked his head to one side, then raised two fingers and made a slight waving motion, almost like a Jedi mind trick or like he was feeling something intangible in the air.

“A dragon with a disguise gem.” The man said. “Curious.”

“Gonorran I presume?” Ethan replied.

The other man nodded once. “What would a dragon want with my portal?” He spoke every word very clearly and precisely.

“To use it. I need to bring one of my crew to another world for medical attention.”

Gonorran raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know they have the medical skills that you need?”

“I’ve been there before.” He replied evasively.

Gonorran made a thoughtful noise and then his eyes flicked up to the Argo. “And what are the odds that one of your crewmembers is a wood elf who wears a green dress?”

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

Gonorran raised his hand. “Peace beast; I have no desire to turn you in to Lord Delmar. He doesn’t much approve of slaver traders, and no reward is worth my business.”

Ethan glanced at Rachel who nodded. He internally breathed a sigh of relief; at least Lord Delmar got one thing right.

“Besides.” Gonorran continued with a glance at Rachel. “I have no wish to embroil myself in a dispute with his daughter, disinherited though she is. I have found fathers to be very protective of their daughters.”

Rachel gave a subtle nod of her head.

“Now.” Gonorran put on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a slave to work your ship? I have several strong men who could work the rigging. I also recently acquired a couple young women who would make fine cooks or pleasure slaves.”

Ethan resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust. “I’m not interested in slaves, just the portal.”

“Come, let me show you my wares before you decide. Then we can discuss my portal.”

Ethan hesitated before nodding.

It was obvious that Gonorran wouldn’t take no for an answer and he didn’t want to push his luck. Not with what he’d heard about necromancers.

“Excellent.” He said with a gleaming smile that was nevertheless slightly creepy. “My stock is very low right now because I’ve just had a major client come through. However, I do have a few excellent specimens I’ve recently acquired.”

The slave master led them inside the compound and over to one of the larger cells. Inside were three men, all of whom were in the prime of life and looked incredibly strong.

They also looked dead inside.

“As you can see, we keep them well fed and exercise them regularly to ensure you get years of strong service out of them. We’ll throw in a slave collar when you purchase them too, so you don’t need to spend any extra coin ... like some slave traders make you do.” He said with an air of practiced derision.

“I’m not interested.” Ethan said gently but firmly. He could feel the scales on the back of his neck starting to stand up. He had the powerful urge to maul the necromancer right here, but resisted for the sake of the crew and especially Beth.

His dragon side didn’t seem to care.

After his morning with Taloni and Alana, the dragon had all but gone to sleep. It didn’t seem to care one bit about the plight of these men. He kept reminding himself that Beth needed the portal to live again. He figured that maybe — just maybe — he could do something to free these slaves after they had gotten Beth back. He needed to play nice until then, but he hated doing so.

Especially with a slaver.

“Not interested in fine specimens like these?” Gonorran said with surprise that was probably feigned, but he was a good actor.

“We have all the muscle we need.” He replied.

Gonorran nodded. “Very well, but you simply must take a look at the women I acquired a few days ago. They aren’t quite broken in yet, but they should be soon. Possibly by the time you return.”

The necromancer led them to another, smaller cage. Inside were two women; one in her early twenties, the other in her forties. One glance told him they were from Earth. The older one was somewhat overweight and had glasses with plastic frames. The younger woman was wearing mascara that had been mostly cried off, leaving streaks down her cheeks. Their clothes were clearly from Earth too. The younger one wore jeans and a T-shirt, the other wore a pencil skirt and button up blouse.

They looked like schoolteachers.

They were also strapped to a contraption much like a pillory from medieval Europe. Their heads and hands were secured with iron shackles to a straight wooden beam. They could barely move and he couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable that must be.

“You can see the old one is a fat hag.” Gonorran said carelessly. “But with a little exercise and some starving she’ll be alright to work.”

The older woman teared up and looked down in shame at his completely unfair assessment. She was a bit overweight, but hardly obese nor old. Ethan again resisted the urge to call his hammer and spear to deal with this disgusting, abominable excuse for a man.

The dragon inside him didn’t even raise its head.

It didn’t care.

“But just look at this one.” Gonorran pointed to the younger one. “Now this one here, she’s a looker. Just imagine how she’d look in your bed.”

The younger one teared up as well and shuddered. She looked completely hopeless and the expression in her eyes was one of deepest despair. Every single one of Ethan’s chivalrous instincts were screaming at him to wipe out every last slaver in the camp to free them.

He glanced around.

There were about ten guards nearby; all of whom were heavily armed.

Ethan, are you okay? Alana’s voice came over their bond.

No, I want to rip these assholes apart.

She didn’t reply, but he could feel her struggling with the same things he was.

“Ethan?” The necromancer said when his attention had wandered for slightly too long.

He shook himself out of his reverie, and then realized that he’d been called by his name without introducing himself. “How did you know my name?”

“There are rumors circulating that a dragon used lightning and raised someone from the dead in the Arcanum Arena.” Gonorran replied with a skeptical look. “I don’t give credence to such puerile rumors, but they do stick out in a man’s memory.”

Ethan nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Now, I see you are a man — or dragon — of discerning tastes.” He got a sly grin on his face that again didn’t reach his eyes. “I do have some other stock that a discerning dragon such as yourself might appreciate, especially with your long life.”

Ethan forced a smile and followed the necromancer to another area with another pen. This one was covered with a large bulap tarp to hide it from prying eyes.

Something wasn’t right.

He could feel it.

He could feel that something was well and truly wrong. It wasn’t just this tour through a slave camp or the unsavory nature of the slaver himself. It was something else. He could feel something in the air; some sixth sense that something truly revolting was happening.

“Now, I don’t show these to everyone, but since nothing else has caught your eye...” He waved his hand and a gust of wind — almost certainly magical — blew the tarp up, so most of it was laying on top of the cage.

His blood ran cold.

He clenched his fist so tight he was surprised he didn’t hear his bones snap. The scales at the back of his neck stood up as Rachel gave a sharp intake of breath. He could feel a fire welling up deep within him. He was beyond angry; he was beyond enraged.

They were children.

Six kids who looked like they were around seven or eight years old were clustered in a corner of the cage looking terrified.

“Of course they aren’t much good for work yet.” Gonorran said like they were discussing the weather. He was apparently too taken with his ‘wares’ to notice Ethan’s body language. “It’s hard to get a good day’s work of them so young, but you’ll save a fortune in the long run by buying young because grown slaves are far more expensive.”

Right then Ethan decided that by hook or by crook, he was going to free those children. He wasn’t sure how, but he was sure. He didn’t have a lot of money on the Argo, but he did have the gold cube...

The dragon woke.

He could feel his dragon instincts bristling at the mere thought of losing a single ounce — even a single gram — of gold.

Ethan clenched his fist so tight he might’ve cut his palm with his fingernails if he was still human. Diplomacy might actually be a better option here, though the necromancer’s head rolling would be far more satisfying.

“Not interested.” He said in as normal a voice as he could.

“There aren’t many takers for children any since the market changed.” Gonorran shrugged with an air of practiced indifference. Then with the air of a sleazy used-car salesman setting up for a line, He said: “I suppose I could drain their life force to power my portal, but I’d rather take your gold for them.”

Ethan snapped at the first half of that sentence.

The dragon snapped at the second half.

He had been a dragon for precisely fifty three days. In that entire time, not once had he and his dragon side ever truly agreed. Not once had his rational, human mind been in perfect agreement with the primal force of nature that was his dragon side. They had always fought each other, vying for control.

Until now.

Now they agreed.

Now they were united in purpose and rage.

And while they had different reasons, both dragon rage and human instincts fully agreed on what needed to be done. He flexed his fingers, calling his weapons to his hand.

Alana felt a tidal wave of emotion surge over their bond. Anger, rage, disgust, and an overwhelming desire for vengeance surged with such force that she physically stumbled at the intensity. Ethan’s hammer and spear — which he’d lain on the deck for quick access in case of an emergency — flew into the air, heading toward him faster than she’d ever seen them go.

She looked towards him, expecting to see a battle in progress but they were just out of sight of the airship. She could see Rachel’s flame red hair, but a building blocked her view of Ethan. They didn’t seem like they were fighting...

Ethan, what’s--

They have children here! A voice roared over their bond; a voice that was neither fully Ethan nor fully dragon, but a strange combination of the two. And this fucking necromancer will use them to power his portal unless I hand over my gold!

The contempt and vitriol in his tone was unlike anything she’d ever heard. It took the wood elf several seconds to realize what he meant by ‘power his portal’, and her blood ran cold when she did.

Kill them. Her normally compassionate husband commanded. Kill them all.

Without hesitation, she nocked an arrow to her bow and let it fly.

Rachel recognized the motion of Ethan’s hands. She seen him do it enough while he practiced on the Argo to know he was calling his weapons. The logical part of her brain argued that starting a fight with a necromancer inside his compound and surrounded by guards was the worst possible idea.

At this moment, she didn’t care.

One look at those kids while knowing what the vile necromancer was willing to do them was enough. She waited until she thought Ethan’s weapons must be very close, then gathered her mana.

The moment she did, Gonorran reacted.

He must’ve sensed it.

He whipped around making a sweeping gesture with his arms as he did so. A powerful blast of concentrated air threw herself and Ethan backwards. Rachel reacted almost on instinct and met his air-ram with her own to cancel it out. She started pulling heat from the hot, sandy ground which was baking in the afternoon sun to form a fireball.

The necromancer was faster.

He hurled a large fireball at her, she leaned back in an attempt to dodge, then an idea struck her. She never would’ve tried it normally, but his fireball was hastily constructed, and therefore large and slow.

She reached out and took control of the large fireball in mid-air, doing a pirouette while dragging the fireball with her hands and spinning it around with her to launch it back at the original caster.

Gonorran dived out of the way as the fireball carved a sizzling path through the air. He rolled through his landing and came up throwing both of his arms in her direction as he did so. She was caught off guard as a massive air-ram slammed into her, throwing her backwards at least a dozen feet.

She hit the ground, rolled into a crouching position and looked up. The necromancer was calling to his guards and she got ready to attack while his attention was split...

Then she saw the kids.

Gonorran had gusted the tarp out of the way and onto the top of the cage, which allowed the kids to see everting that was happening. She knew how brutal Ethan could be when his dragon side came out and those kids didn’t need to see that; they’d been through enough.

Focusing, she grabbed all the air molecules around the tarp and reoriented them. The resultant gust of wind blew the burlap tarp back down so it hung as before, concealing the fight from the children’s view.

The delay cost her dearly.

She turned back to the necromancer only to be met with another powerful air-ram that she wasn’t prepared for. She was blasted backwards and slammed into one of the buildings. Her head ached and she let herself crumple, hoping that playing dead would give her moment to let her head stop spinning before she launched a surprise counterattack.

It worked.

Apparently, being a slim woman was enough to make the necromancer think she was frail and out of the fight. That was fine by her. As she lay there, she opened her eye a crack to track the fight’s progress and saw Ethan fighting.

It was incredible.

It was brutal.

It was downright disturbing.

Ethan had disabled the disguise gem to reveal his draconic form and roared. The sound was earth-shattering and ear-splitting. Despite being near his roars before, this one was on a whole different level. The blind, primal rage conveyed through the terrifying sound was almost palpable. The roar seemed like a nearly physical force that stunned everything within earshot. Even Gonorran — a necromancer — seemed like he was rooted to the spot for a moment.

Her blood ran cold and she felt her body wanting to lock up in primeval dread. It would’ve been hard to move if she had been inclined to.

She wasn’t.

She was biding her time for a surprise attack.

He didn’t need her help anyway.

The dragon finished his roar and leapt forward with nearly reckless abandon at the half dozen guards that had been rushing him, but were not root to the spot. He hit one square in the chest, knocking him to the ground. He opened his mouth and literally tore out the man’s throat with his razor sharp teeth. The dragon spit the bloody mass of mangled flesh out and used his spear to skewer another one of the guards through the chest.

The other guards finally reacted.

They raised their weapons and Ethan was forced to retreat to avoid them. Gonorran smiled wickedly. He started moving his hands as if there was an invisible orb right in front of him that he was caressing. Slowly, a green light began to form where the center of the orb would be.

He did this for several seconds before Rachel realize what spell he was charging. She was about to shout a warning to Ethan, but it was too late. Gonorran extended both his hands and the green light streaked toward the dragon.

Rachel summoned all of her willpower.

She grabbed every last molecule of air around Ethan and applied her will like she had never done before. She forced them all to change direction instantly, creating the most powerful air-ram she’d ever summoned to blast him out of the way.

It was barely enough.

Ethan was blasted almost twenty feet to the side and the green light missed him by mere inches. The light streaked past and struck one of the guards. His eyes when blank the moment the green light touched him. He crumpled like a sack of potatoes, dead before he hit the dirt.

Gonorran turned to face her and pulled up his hands for another air-ram.

Air-rams were tremendously effective in re-locating your opponents. However, since they hit the entire body at the same time with the same force, it was more like an extremely hard push than a punch ... unless you could knock them into something.

Rachel rolled and the necromancer’s strike missed. As she rolled, she used her close contact with the sandy ground — which was very hot from the afternoon sun — to gather enough heat for a small fireball. She launched it at devastating speed like a mini-cannonball.

Gonorran crossed his arms over his chest, then whipped them outward as if to ward the micro-fireball away. The fireball impacted on seemingly thin air and completely dissipated.

The necromancer looked at her with interest. “How did a child like you get so skilled?”

She ignored him.

Two guards were trying to sneak up on her. Without looking, she extended her hands rearward and blasted one with each hand. They were thrown backwards and she heard them hit the building behind her with a sickening crunch.

She grimaced, she’d never be able to do that to Gonorran; not being this far away because proximity mattered when controlling the elements, especially against another mage.

Gonorran was momentarily distracted as Ethan let loose another mini-roar before charging the guards again.

Needing to close the distance quickly before he turned back to her, she leapt into the air, firing another air-ram to boost her jump. She made it ten feet into the air at the apex, and as she hurtled toward Gonorran she blasted another one to slow her fall, before grabbing all the air in front of him, determine to knock him into the next kingdom.

She landed mere feet from him, but he had already turned his attention back to her and must’ve guessed her plan.

She could feel the air resisting her.

Proximity mattered when controlling the elements — especially against another mage — so she took another step closer. She raised her hands, putting all her willpower into this strike.

He responded in kind.

Then both took another step closer, each hoping to get closer than the other to the air under contestation. Both had their hands outstretched. Both had looks of fierce concentration.

Rachel grunted with the effort.

While mana was used to fuel spells, the strength of the spell was entirely dependent on the willpower of the mage. A mage with higher willpower could create far more powerful spells, regardless of how much mana he — or she — had access to.

This wasn’t a contest of mana or magical knowledge.

It was purely a contest of willpower.

It was a nineteen year old girl versus a powerful necromancer who’d been practicing magic for decades; an evil mage who’d doubtless had ten times the combat experience that she herself had.

She held her own.

She couldn’t believe it, but she held her own.

She could feel her mana being rapidly depleted as the struggle continued. Each was trying to take control of the air between them to blast the other away. Caught in a state of flux, the air turned into a powerful wind blowing out to their right and left sides as the ultra-high pressure air looked for an avenue of escape.

Rachel summoned the depths of her willpower, gathering strength for a final push. For some strange reason, she could feel her birthmark — the one on her left shoulder that resembled dragon scales — tingled slightly as she plumed the depths of her willpower for the resolve to beat this wicked man.

She was winning

She felt it.

He felt it too; She could see it in his eyes.

“How?” He breathed as the powerful winds began to turn in his direction.

“Fuck. You.” Rachel replied, then released her coiled willpower into her spell.

There was the tiniest moment of completely calm as his spell was utterly shattered. Her formidable willpower had crushed it into non-existence and the air between the necromancer and the redhead was momentarily without a magical master.

Then her spell hit.

The massive air ram — even more powerful than the one she’d hit Ethan with — landed. The necromancer flew through the air like a stone out of a catapult. She dearly wished that air-rams were more like powerful punches, because he’d be dead if they were. Sadly, the force was spread evenly over the body and so caused very little actual damage.

The necromancer tumbled a few times through the air, then righted himself as he began to fall. He used a gentler air-ram to slow and guide his fall, landing next to one of his dead guards.

He was smiling.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. Why was he smiling? She’d just handed him his ass and he looked very pleased with himself.

The necromancer extended a hand toward the fallen guard. Something flowed from the dead guard’s body to the necromancer’s hand. It looked like heat waves rising off the desert.

Dark mana.

Rachel could’ve slapped herself for her stupidity, inexperience, and for forgetting what made necromancers so deadly.

He was absorbing the negatively charged mana from the dead body to replenish his reserves. He looked so pleased because she had used a lot of mana on their contest of wills. He surely had too, but he could replenish it easily thanks to the plentiful number of dead bodies Ethan had left lying around the area.

She couldn’t.

She had less than half her mana left and he had just completely refilled his.

“Shit.” She breathed as he grinned.

Alana loosed another arrow. This one missed its mark because of the extreme distance and the target had moved before the arrow arrived. Given the range, she was finding it hard to hit them because they were always moving. She started toward the gangplank to get closer, but a small hand reached out to grab her dress and stop her.

Taloni was sitting on the deck with her back against the solid railing of the Argo. Her legs were pulled up to her chest and her arms were around her knees in a sitting version of the fetal position. She looked terrified.

“Taloni, what’s wrong?”

The Fey teen shook her head but didn’t speak. She looked like a small child who was terrified.

“What is it?” She asked after kneeling down beside the horrified Fey teen.

“I ... I feel...” She managed to get out before she lost her nerve.

“Oh.” Alana said as comprehension dawned on her. They were both bonded to Ethan, but she had long ago adjusted the walls of her mental fortress so his dragon emotions didn’t overwhelm her.

Taloni hadn’t.

The full force of his rage had made the wood elf physically stumble, even with her mental defenses.

The Fey teen didn’t even have mental defenses.

The wood elf wanted to kick herself for forgetting to teach Taloni how to shield her mind, but it was too late now. There was no way she could learn it when she was this scared. She felt the emotions coming over their bond with Ethan, and shuddered to think what it must be like to feel them full force. She might be huddled on the deck too.

She glanced over at the fight, where Ethan — or maybe the dragon — was brutally ripping into another guard. His hands, feet, and teeth were covered in blood, and the rest of his body was splattered with it. He was ripping through them with the weapons that nature gave a dragon, in addition to the ones she’d given him. He was cutting through them like a scythe through harvest wheat.

Those horrible men were meeting a horrible end.

She shuddered and wondered if she should be more disturbed by the grotesque spectacle before her. Taloni trembling shook her out of her reverie.

Ethan. Alana called to him. Ethan you need to calm down; you’re scaring Taloni.

Shut up you elven bit-- a strange, enraged voice sounded in her head before being abruptly cut off. It sounded like Ethan, yet not like Ethan and she recognized it instantly.

“The dragon.” She breathed as she recognized the primal side of her husband that was occasionally driven more by animal instincts than human reasoning.

She looked out toward the slaver’s compound to see Ethan swaying slightly on his feet, as if trying to get his bearings. One of the guards was slowly creeping up behind him. Quick as a flash, she drew her bow and let an arrow fly. It embedded itself in the man’s chest several seconds later, mere moments before he would’ve run her husband through.

Ethan! She thought to him sharply, hoping to jar him back to the Present. Ethan, WAKE UP!