Sir Lyman and the Morning Gate

Swan Rampant on a Field of Blue

"You are a sad sight, leaf."

"Gnome!" Hoolie shook off the knight's offered hand, helping himself up from the dusty road.

"Gnome then. And are you equipped with a sweet name to balance your sour temper?"

"You may call me Hoolie—if you must."

"I am Sir Lyman." The knight, looking every inch the courtly hero, executed a stately bow of introduction.

"You jest!" A mirthful hoot from the belly—a most uncourtly sound—rocked Hoolie back on his heels.

"Now and again, I confess it." Sir Lyman rose from his bow. "But not where my name is concerned, I assure you."

Hoolie looked the knight up and down. Removing his rumpled hat, he scratched at his rumpled head and squinted up at the lordly man before him.

"Have you heard of my exploits?" Sir Lyman accented his pose with a dash of jaunt. "I am who I claim."

"Yes, you are," agreed Hoolie with a long whistle. "The ducks on your tabard—if the sight can be credited—mark you as Duke Terwin's man."

"Ducks? You will slay me with your humor, gnome! The Duke's badge is a swan—rampant on a field of blue."

"Rampant swan? My jest is but a poor beggar to your own!" Hoolie peered at the device on the knight's chest. "Travel has muddied your blue, I fear. No wonder the ducks are raging."

"Forgive my appearance." The knight politely ignored Hoolie's own disheveled state. "I have been seeking a hermit by the name of Hoarguard. Might you know him?"

"Hermit? Hoarguard? Aye. I know hermit and Hoarguard both."

"And are they not the same person?" asked the puzzled knight.

Hoolie considered the question seriously for a long moment. "Tell me, how do you know of this hermit?"

"Kysic, a mighty mage, bid me seek him out."

"You know Kysic?" Hoolie wobbled in disbelief.

"We were acquainted in childhood," offered the knight, waxing thoughtful. "He hungered for power, as wizards are wont. Recently he dared the realm of dreams and woke some fell nightmare. I fear a madness took him. Before the end, he charged me to quest for the hermit Hoarguard, that I might find the Morning Gate and secretly enter the lair of the great wyrm, Polgrim."

"You seek to slay this dragon in a bid for the hand of Duke Terwin's daughter."

"Why yes—are you acquainted with the Duke and his daughter?"

"Only through tales," mused Hoolie. "This wizard however—that he sent you after Hoarguard and the Morning Gate is at once strange and telling. You, of all people. I am sad to hear of his passing, and deeply troubled at the manner of it."

Hoolie leaned heavily on his staff, his slight weight magnified by a gathering gloom. The knight wondered at the change in his companion's mood, but he shared a moment of sympathetic silence.

"Yes," Hoolie whispered at last. "Yes, I believe they are. I will take you to Hoarguard, and together we must seek the Morning Gate."