Sir Lyman and the Morning Gate

The Morning Gate

"Where is it?" Hoolie sighed.

Hoarguard rustled hesitantly, adding to Hoolie's trepidation. The gremlin pranced about in a gleeful fit—until Hoolie smacked it with his staff in annoyance.

"I fear... our game has been interrupted," said Hoarguard at last.

Hoolie gasped. "No!" He dashed around Hoarguard's wide trunk, eyes searching for... "No!" ...a chessboard lying beneath the shelter of trailing willow leaves. The board had been disturbed.

"I was winning!" Hoolie rounded on the little gremlin. His knuckles whitened on his staff, but the gremlin flinched safely out of reach.

"The key is there," grumbled Hoarguard. "Transformed by magic."

Hoolie studied the pieces. Six black and six white, pawn through king for each color. Which was the key?

"There must be a clue," Hoolie said flatly. Gremlins were miserable tricksters, but they had their own perverted sense of fair play.

The gremlin grinned slyly.

"There is... a rhyme," replied Hoarguard.

"He who uses the key,
chooses the key.
Each plays a game,
their roles are the same."

Hoolie tapped thoughtfully on the point of his nose and nodded to Sir Lyman. The knight would be user and therefore chooser, but... the riddle seemed simple... deceptively so.

Sir Lyman paced uneasily.

A knight really should step once to the side for every two steps forward, thought Hoolie. In a fit of whimsy, he imagined Sir Lyman's nervous pacing translated onto a chessboard. Whoever controlled his movement certainly had little regard for the rules. Ah! Hoolie knew the answer.

At Hoolie's sudden smile, the gremlin became agitated.

"No aid!" relayed Hoarguard. "The knight must choose... alone."

Hoolie had expected as much. The gremlin eyed him warily.

"Scalabrini defend us!" Hoolie huffed, crossing his arms.

Sir Lyman crouched to study the board. It seemed much too easy. I am a knight—surely a white knight—but how can the obvious choice be correct? Some thought clamored... with a start he turned to Hoolie.

The gremlin clapped and pointed at the board, demanding the knight make his choice. With a last thoughtful look at the anxious gnome, Sir Lyman shrugged and made his selection: the black pawn.

The gremlin's eyes bugged out. For a surprised moment it looked almost... adorable, but quickly passed into a snarling, spitting rage.

"Well done!" exclaimed a jubilant Hoolie.

The gremlin stamped about in a tantrum.

"Begone!" boomed Hoarguard. A long, willow whip cracked overhead causing everyone to flinch.

The mischevious creature glowered once, but then skulked away into the shadows.

"I feared you would not pick up my hint," admitted a relieved Hoolie.

"What kind of half-wit hedge knight would I be if I didn't know the Scalabrini Defense?" scoffed Sir Lyman. "Knight takes pawn."

**********

Key in hand, Hoolie and the knight set off at dawn for the Morning Gate. A creek led them alongside mounting bluffs deep into the forest. There, shaded by trees standing since the morning of the world, gaped a doorway fit for dragons.

"The gate, it's already open!" Sir Lyman bounded forward. "We didn't need the key after all!"

"Yes, I knew it would be."

"You knew?"

"Yes."

The dark opening in the rock exhaled an icy silence. Sir Lyman shivered. He looked from the Gate to Hoolie.

"I fear you have been mislead concerning the nature of the Morning Gate," whispered Hoolie.

Sir Lyman pointed at the open door. "The lair of Polgrim, does it not lie beyond?"

Hoolie cocked his head to the side... nodded. "It does, I suppose—"

"You suppose?"

"—as do many other strange and wondrous places," continued Hoolie.

Sir Lyman frowned anew at the yawning portal. "What manner of place is this?"

"A border. Between this realm and another. A realm of dreams... and nightmares."

Sir Lyman straightened. "The wizard—"

"Yes. Kysic visited the Dreamworld while asleep, as any mortal might. Then he dared to open the Gate from within." Hoolie shook his head sadly. "For a waking mortal to step into the Dreamworld is perilous." Hoolie's voice acquired a hard edge. "But to enter as Kysic did, and then pass through the Gate again into the waking world... that is not allowed. There are some guardians of Law who can not be crossed."

A deep silence swallowed the gnome's words.

"I think, at the end, Kysic tried to atone for his folly," said Hoolie. "That's why you're here."

Sir Lyman no longer knew what to think.

"You and Kysic. 'Acquainted as a child,' you said," quoted Hoolie. "Undoubtedly."

A light of understanding dawned in the knight's dark eyes.

"Not only nightmares, like the Brothers, wander through the open Gate," said Hoolie softly. "Other fantastic figures come from the land of dreams as well."

Hoolie pointed squarely at Sir Lyman's chest—at the rampant swan—and the knight knew the truth.

"Many children hear fairy tales of Sir Lyman the Laughing Lord. Even those who later grow to become mighty mages. In his need—inside the Dreamworld—Kysic called a hero of fable to his aid."

Sir Lyman grew very still. Thoughtfully, he took the magical key from his pouch.

"So. I have been a pawn all along."

Hoolie nodded. "Carry the key across the threshold, and the Gate will be closed."

Sir Lyman gazed into the doorway. Its dark opening beckoned like destiny. The silence, not so oppressive now, seemed expectant.

"I have a dragon to find, Hoolie. I did not expect it to be an easy task; the prize is a sweet one." Sir Lyman winked at the little gnome.

"Farewell, my friend." Hoolie watched the knight stride confidently into the shadows of the Morning Gate.

A sudden laughter echoed back to Hoolie.

"I see your butterfly, gnome!" The call was faint but clear. Hoolie smiled to hear the familiar humor in the receding voice.

As the laughter faded, so too did the Gate, until, at last, no opening could be discerned in the rock wall. But there, just as high as a gnome might stretch for a keyhole, appeared the faint impression of a beautiful butterfly on the wall.