The Heart of the Gatekeeper's Hoard by Ley Taylor Johnson
Dragons & Wyverns Short Story Challenge
3rd place
The Heart of the Gatekeeper's Hoard
A young wizard’s apprentice bargains with the Gate Dragon in the hopes of retrieving her late master’s soul from the Realm of the Dead.
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death (mild)
The Grand Nexus—the Infinite Intersection Where All Roads Meet, the Portaled Crossroads, home of the vast hoard of the Gate Dragon—was chillier than Yuri had expected. There was a bite to the air that pinkened her fingers where she clutched her gift to the Gatekeeper, and her breath clouded the air in quickening puffs as she collected her nerves. It wasn’t fear that gave her pause this close to the lair’s entrance, as her research suggested the Gatekeeper leaned more possessive than territorial over its hoard (which was bizarre and difficult to move regardless of any thieving intent), but anticipation. The proximity of her goal was thrilling—after months of preparation and tribulation, she was steps away from retrieving Master Orf from his inconvenient respite and resuming her apprenticeship where it had left off.
Master Orf’s death had been an untimely one. Yuri had made the two of them a celebratory breakfast to mark the start of the final year of her apprenticeship the morning she’d found him unresponsive in his study, face smeared in a puddle of the enchanted oil they used to keep his—(their)—instruments in working order. She’d tried to awaken him to no avail, had exhausted the full suite of healing spells she had at her disposal, and had consulted all the other guild masters in the city for help, but it soon became certain that there was no hope of reviving Master Orf through traditional means. At that point, Yuri had rolled up her metaphorical sleeves and resolved to march to the Realm of the Dead and drag his soul back herself, if that’s what it took to complete her education. Months of effort had culminated in her being here at the threshold of the dragon’s hoard, and she had absolutely no intention of taking no for an answer.
This far back in the lair, the hoard’s humble beginnings were evident. The ground was littered with the rusty, squeaking remains of wrought iron gates and splinters of doors with filigree windows and ornate copper handles that had long ago oxidized into a turquoise patina. These most precious and prized of apertures grew in magnificence the closer she ventured to the
heart of the hoard—in size and complexity, yes, as gates and doors gave way to arches and drawbridges and even hallways, but also in oddness. Rifts and tears in space leading to boundless pocket dimensions twinkled invitingly in her periphery, wardrobes that hid entire worlds behind mink coats and moth-eaten wool fluttered in a distant breeze, and there was even a set of mirrored portals that, when Yuri peered into one, reflected the back of her head ad infinitum in a line so immeasurable it made her dizzy. The deeper she went, the more her surroundings began to resemble the Grand Nexus as she’d heard tell of it—a collection of portals and gateways connecting worlds and planes beyond comprehension, where travelers from all walks of life across all realms of creation could enter a new life with a single step. It was no wonder its collector had come to be known as the Gatekeeper, if it alone was the overseer of such a realm. She could spend the rest of her life here and still not see everything it had to offer, learn everything it had to be known.
When she finally arrived in front of the Gate Dragon, she found its enormity difficult to take in all at once. She’d seen her share of drakes and wyrmlings, but none compared to the sheer behemoth before her. She had to crane her neck up, up past meter upon meter of bright, opalescent scales that shone with the same iridescence of the portals around them. Its shoulders and neck stretched so far above her that she couldn’t make out its head past the wide brim of her wizard’s hat, which she quickly doffed following the realization that it was more polite to do so, anyway. Even then, its immense face watched from stories above her with a placid expression she hoped bordered more on curiosity than disinterest. Just behind it, unobtrusive compared to the resplendent creature that guarded it, was the Door of Death—bone white and firmly shut compared to the many doors around it that beckoned her with their open hinges.
It was now or never.
"O, grand Gatekeeper," she recited in a lofty tone, "I have come to request of thee a boon. I have traveled to this space between all things to beg passage through one of thine esteemed doors. In exchange, I bring an offering."
She held up the trinket she’d constructed for this very purpose. It was considered rude to ask a dragon for a favor without the promise of something to add to its hoard, and although she’d puzzled over what to give a dragon that collected the concept of doorways, of all things, she was quite proud of what she’d come up with. The tiny key in her palm was a modification on one of Master Orf’s designs, but where he had merely made a key that could open any lock, Yuri had specialized it such that—
"Any door unlocked with this key will lead to the destination of your choosing," she explained. "No matter where you are or how far from your specified location. It must be bound to its true door before it works, but once that’s done…" She crossed to a nearby door that lay against the ground and unlocked it with the key. When she pulled it open, instead of dusty ground beneath, it opened to her bedroom back at Master Orf’s tower. If she stepped through, she’d fall flat onto her own floor. She closed the door and looked back up at the dragon. "No further incantations needed."
The dragon tilted its head and extended a massive claw, and Yuri looped the key ring around its tip. It snaked its head down to inspect the key, regarding it from all angles.
"This is not a door," it pointed out. Despite the open sky of the Nexus, its voice echoed cacophonously around her.
"No," she agreed, having expected this argument. "But it allows all doors to be one door, and one door to be every door."
The dragon considered this, then let out a rumbling sound that might have been a chuckle. "Amusing. Very well. What boon do you seek in exchange, witchling?"
Yuri prickled at the diminutive, but steeled herself nonetheless. "I seek passage through the Door of Death," she said.
The dragon laughed—outright laughed. Yuri’s face grew hot as the sound scraped across her spine. "Ha! Your bravery is admirable, but what you ask is impossible. The door will not open. Take your little key, witchling, and return to the land of the living." With that, it tossed the key at her feet.
The dismissal shot a bolt of fury through her. She’d received quite enough of it from Master Orf and the other guild masters, and was growing quite sick of it. The nerve of this lizard to deny her when her hard-won prize was mere steps away!
Yuri stomped her foot. "Why not?" she demanded, pretense vanishing in an instant. "It’s right there!"
"I’m aware of where it is," the dragon said, its gaze not deigning to follow her outstretched hand. "Just as I am aware of where you are not. If you belonged in the Realm of the Dead, you would already be there."
"I’m not trying to go there," Yuri argued. "I just need to get someone out. I’m an apprenticed wizard, you see, and my master…passed." Suddenly. Embarrassingly. "But our contract isn’t up, and I have nowhere else to go, and he needs to finish teaching me."
"He cannot do this from Death."
"Which is why I need to go get him," Yuri explained, slowly, as if to a child. "He won’t be there anymore if I go and pull him out. Obviously."
There was a pause, then, "My apologies," the dragon said. "I did not realize you had such a well-conceived plan in place. You may pass."
"Finally. Thank you." Yuri retrieved her key from the ground and strode imperiously to the door. She placed her palm on the corpse-cold handle, took a deep breath, and—
Nothing.
"Oh, does the door remain closed?" the dragon mused from behind her. Above her. All around her. "How curious."
"Why won’t it open?" Yuri adjusted her grip and leaned more heavily against it, but the door still refused to budge. "Why won’t it open?"
She was aware of how petulant she sounded, but couldn’t bring herself to care. It was all slipping far too quickly from her grasp. She needed to get to Master Orf, needed it like breathing, because if she returned home unsuccessful, she could kiss her apprenticeship and her future as a licensed wizard goodbye. Every sleepless night she’d endured, every drunken breath she’d tolerated over her shoulder, every criticism he’d spit when her work wasn’t perfect would all be for nothing, because this stupid, hateful door wouldn’t open.
"It opens itself only to those who have earned passage by merit of a life fully lived," the dragon said. "Obviously."
Hearing her own tone echoed back at her hit like a slap to the face. Yuri glared over her shoulder. Fine. If the dragon didn’t want her little key, she’d make use of it herself. Eyes blazing, she shoved it into the lock and gave a vicious twist, then sprinted back to the door she’d used for her demonstration. If the Door of Death didn’t want to open for her, she’d just have another door do it. She unlocked the horizontal door a second time, braced herself on a nearby rock, and yanked. The door remained so steadfastly closed that her grip slipped and she fell backward into the dirt.
After everything, it was this final, childish humiliation that did her in. Yuri curled up and dissolved into angry, bitter tears. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was ever fair, because as awful as Master Orf had been, his death had still come at her expense.
"Why are you crying, witchling?" the dragon asked. It had not moved at all during her little performance, which meant it had known the whole time it wasn’t going to work. She felt so foolish. "Surely this dead master is not the be-all and end-all. Ask another to take you."
"They won’t have me," Yuri bit out. "I asked. Master Orf was the only one who would take a girl to begin with. They all called me 'witchling,’ too," she added pointedly. "I’m an apprenticed wizard. And I have a name."
The dragon did not ask, but it did scoop up the key from where she’d dropped it to inspect it again. "It is a clever piece of magic," it admitted, then bowed its head to look at her from eye level. This close, she could make out the tiny, stippled scales around its eyes and the way its reptilian pupils expanded and contracted as it looked her over. "You can make more, yes?"
"Yes?" she hiccuped. "Yes."
"Then waste no more time on a master beyond your reach. Apprentice yourself to me." Yuri froze. "What?"
"I would like every door to be all doors. And then I could have them."
Yuri blinked. "You could license me? Truly?" She stood. "Do you have…I mean, frankly, do you have the legitimacy within the guild?"
The dragon snorted. "I would like to see the masters question my authority after I have removed all of the doors from their homes."
Yuri laughed and wiped her eyes. It certainly wasn’t the solution she’d come here for—she hadn’t even realized it was a possibility until the dragon had offered it. And yet…with everything in front of her, how could she possibly say no? Why would she?
"Very well, Master Gatekeeper," she said, extending a hand to meet its claw. "Consider my contract transferred."