Gareth and th Lost Island

  Gareth

  and the

  Lost Island

  By

  Patrick Mallard

  Text and image copyright © 2015 Patrick Mallard

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is dedicated to my wonderful wife and children for all of the love and support they have given me through this process.

  Gareth and the Lost Island

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Prologue

  Like many good stories, ours will begin at the beginning. Before there was anything, there was just a huge expanse of soul numbing nothingness. Bored out of her mind, Fate shoved really hard into the nothingness. She caused the very first event to happen, an explosion of such huge proportions that it spawned not one, but an infinite number of universes. The universe we are interested in is one of the few that somehow managed to meld magic and science into a unified set of laws that governed how things worked. After that really exciting start, lots and lots of time passed which has no real bearing on our story.

  Several billion years later, a solar system near the outer edge of a spiral galaxy formed. The solar system had seven planets, with one being in just the right place to have life spring up. This planet would later be known as Hadronus. A few more billion years passed, and the forces of science and magic worked together to spawn several, different, sentient species on Hadronus. Following the pattern found in most universes, the intelligent species went on to royally cock things up. The pride and jealousies of the sentients lead to two separate apocalypses that almost left the planet bereft of intelligent life.

  We fast forward once again, and we find that the intelligent species on Hadronus had pulled themselves up out of the ashes to give civilization a go once more. Humans had risen to be the most dominant of the 12 intelligent species to survive the Second Great Apocalypse. They lived in a golden age of magic crystals and steamwork gears.

  Humans, being humans, bred like bunnies, and soon overran the borders of their country to spill out across Hadronus. One such group of humans set sail from the Southern continent in search of a new home. Historians argue about why they left their homes, but most people simply assume they were just really annoying to be around and were shown the metaphorical door by their neighbors.

  Against all odds, the group of refugees somehow managed to discover a lush island kept warm and comfortable year round by the trade winds. They named their island Draconia after their cartographers finally charted the island, and the ruling council decreed the island looked like a majestic dragon in flight. To everyone else on Hadronus, the island looked more like a pig with wings.

  Living up to its image, the small island nation of Draconia became a major trading hub thanks to a visit by a group of Wizards who were charting the planet’s mystical Leylines, lines of magic force that encircled the planet. The visiting Wizards discovered that not only was Draconia smack dab in the middle of the trade winds, but it was also sitting on the intersection of four major Leylines and several minor ones.

  Since proximity to Leylines was needed to perform most types of magic, even more people flocked to the island. Representatives from all of the sentient races packed up and moved to the now prosperous island, bringing their unique languages and knowledge bases with them. Wanting to take advantage of this resource as well, the major merchant families got together and founded the University Arcanum.

  Several hundred years passed, and we reach the time when our story takes place. The Island Republic of Draconia continued to prosper, even though it had given birth to politicians. The University Arcanum managed to teach its students, despite having professors that bore more than just a passing resemblance to said politicians. Even with all of those drawbacks, a young assistant professor still found reasons to celebrate, and made his way to the local pub with his adoptive father. This young professor would go on to change the face of Hadronus, and become a household name worldwide. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Before he changed the world, Gareth Mintel got really, really drunk.

  Chapter 1

  The Spirits Merchant was an aptly named inn on the outskirts of the shopping and trade district of University City, the southernmost settlement on the Island Republic of Draconia. The inn was a sturdily built, two story brick building. Inside were two large taprooms on the main level, and rooms for rent on the second floor. The Spirits Merchant also happened to be the closest inn to the University Arcanum from which the city took its name. With such a prime location, it wasn’t uncommon to find both the stables, and the lot adjacent to the inn, full of horses or steam powered carriages as their owners enjoyed a good drink with friends.

  Since merchants had a tendency to look down their noses at the poor students, and the only slightly better off professors, the owners of the Spirits Merchant divided their large ground floor into two rooms to keep the groups separated. Like the clientele they were built to serve, the taprooms were as different as they could possibly be. The only thing the rooms had in common was a series of fans linked together with well-oiled chains that ran along the ceiling to provide a comfortable breeze for their patrons. The fans were powered by a steam engine hidden from view in the basement. The engine was placed there to keep the merchants from having to hear its noisy rumblings, and to keep the drunk engineering students from tinkering with it.

  The merchants wishing to imbibe did so in a room decorated with tasteful oil paintings of gentle landscapes. Conversations were had in comfortable, high backed chairs arraigned around small tables. The room was designed to help the businessmen relax after a long day at work, and as such, those using that taproom were expected to be on their very best behavior. Secretly, many of the merchants yearned for the rowdy energy of the other room, but were too conscious of their social standings to be caught dead with the economically impaired.

  When the inn owners designed the taproom devoted to those from the University, they went in a totally different direction. Instead of tasteful landscapes, the room was decorated with black and white pictures from a recent invention known as a camera. While the quality still wasn’t that great where the photos were concerned, the fact that almost all of them were of nearly nude models more than made up for it in the eyes of the University crowd. Long tables ran the length of the room with benches on either side. Where the merchants tried to keep things as quiet as possible, the students were always a boisterous bunch. One of the louder traditions that had evolved on the scholars’ side was that each customer was expected to stand, and loudly toast whatever they felt like at least once during their visit.

  Gareth Mintel put a hand out on the table in front of him to steady himself as he stood up. When he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to fall over, he lifted his hand, and brushed his shoulder length, sandy blond hair out of his eyes. In an effort to look presentable, he tugged on
the bottom of his waist length overcoat in a vain attempt at straightening the burgundy colored wool. His eyes lingered on the wide blue stripe and then the smaller green and brown stripes on his sleeve near the cuff. The wide blue stripe signified he was professor in the School of Languages, while the small green one denoted he was simply a researcher in the Applied Magics department. The brown stripe was slightly larger than the green, but not as big as the blue one. The brown stripe showed he was an adjunct professor in the Archeology Department.

  After raising his glass of wine (and managing to only spill a little bit of the golden nectar), Gareth shouted happily, “A toast… to misplaced accent marks!” With a well-practiced motion, Gareth drained his cup before slumping back onto his bench with a rather unmanly giggle.

  In response to the toast, a young dwarf, barely over a hundred and twenty years old, took a mighty swig from his stein full of ale. He was dressed similarly to his adopted son with gray trousers, knee high boots, and a cropped, burgundy jacket. Where Gareth had blue, brown, and green stripes, Dr. Tralnis Granitestaff had a single white stripe with gold embroidery on his to signify him as a doctor in the School of Medicine and a tenured professor to boot. After wiping the foam from his long, black beard, Tralnis leaned across the table to look at his son. “Not that I’ve ever found a reason not to drink to something, but what in the 34 layers of hell does an accent mark have to do with anything?” he inquired.

  “Everything of course, and hopefully it should secure my tenure at the University,” Gareth replied. Seeing the confused look in Tralnis’ eyes, he went on. “You see, one of the most boring tasks given to a first year student studying Issian is to translate the works of the Issian philosopher, Dravis the Martyr. It’s supposed to build character, or some rubbish like that. My discovery changes all of that. It will make Dravis’ works something that people beg to translate,” he stated.

  Instead of looking confused, Tralnis now looked skeptical. Noting his father’s expression, Gareth went on. “I was working in the library, and came across an original copy of the first volume of Dravis’ works. It turns out that whoever made the copies to be translated routinely put the accent mark in Dravis’ title in the wrong place. Instead of Dravis the Martyr, his real title was Dravis the Hung!” Gareth explained, his voice full of excitement.

  Tralnis held up one hand in a gesture for Gareth to pause. “No offense Gareth, but only a language scholar like yourself could get excited about a little change like that. What does it matter if some poor dead sod is known as a martyr versus that he was killed by hanging?” he asked.

  Gareth chuckled and gave his father a lopsided grin, and then swayed in his chair as the room started to spin a bit. When the walls started behaving like they were supposed to, and remained still, he tried to explain better. “That’s just it, Tralnis, Dravis died happily of old age, and I what assume was exhaustion, not from hanging,” he stated. Having his sense of humor influenced greatly by his Dwarvish father, Gareth timed his next statement for maximum effect. While Tralnis took another swig of ale, he said, “Dravis’ title had nothing to do with his demise, but everything to do with how much the women (and a few of the men) from his village were impressed by the size the equipment below his belt, as well as the great uses he put said equipment to.”

  Tralnis spit out his ale and sprayed it across the table. “You now have my attention, Gareth,” he stated needlessly.

  “Issian has very few words, and the placement of a single accent mark can change the meaning and context of an entire sentence. Knowing where the accent mark was supposed to go completely changed how Dravis’ first work read. Turns out, it was just an introduction for the other six volumes which documented the techniques he developed over his lifetime of shagging. Of course after I learned that, I had to find the other six volumes,” Gareth told him.

  “Of course!” Tralnis agreed with a grin. Now here was an ancient text the small doctor could appreciate. The only thing Dwarves like to do more than drink ale was have sex, and they drank a lot of ale.

  “I dug through nearly every storage room in the library’s basement. I must have sifted through several tons of parchments before I found the collected works of Dravis. They were in an unlabeled box in the back of an alcove that was set aside for cleaning spells and rituals,” Gareth complained. “Dravis might have had the appetites of a Dwarf, but he was nothing if not thorough in the documentations of the techniques he had either learned, or developed on his own. Volume 3 is well… let’s just say that I had to take a series of cold showers while I translated it,” he said, blushing slightly.

  Gareth was interrupted when a thin hand was placed on his shoulder. The hand was brown with a wood grain pattern unique to the Dryad species. He turned to look up at her, and nearly fell off the bench. His lack of balance was partly due to how beautiful the Dryad was, but mostly due to Gareth being well and truly drunk. The Dryad had long, dark green moss that served as her hair, and eyes the color of forest soil. She was dressed in a gown that appeared to be made of small, green leaves which covered just enough to leave some things to the imagination. Like most of her species, the Dryad was shorter than an average human, and her head would barely come up to his chin if he were standing. Her small stature gave everyone the impression that her rather full breasts were even larger than they really were, placing them well in the spectacular range.

  “Excuse me for interrupting, Scholar, but the Issians were friends of my people before the Second Great Apocalypse and Dravis is very much revered by us,” she stated. Knowing that Dryads were a very hedonistic society (second only to the Dwarves), this didn’t surprise either Gareth or Tralnis very much. “Have you truly discovered the lost texts?” she implored. Gareth’s deep blush gave her the answer she was looking for. The Dryad tightened her grip on Gareth’s shoulder, and lifted him off of the bench with surprising strength. “I’ve rented a room upstairs. Let’s see how much of Dravis’ teaching you were able to retain,” she offered.

  Tralnis held out his arm, blocking Gareth’s path temporarily. With his other hand, he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a small vial full of a brown fluid that seemed to be constantly in motion. “Here, take this. You’ll want to be sober to fully appreciate all that a Dryad can offer. Also, I think the pretty sapling here would appreciate you at the top of your game, so to speak,” he offered.

  The Dryad smiled in thanks while Gareth uncorked the vial with his thumb and downed the whole thing in one swallow. “Good gods, Tralnis! That tastes worse than your cooking!” he moaned. After a moment, the room stopped spinning, and Gareth’s smile matched the Dryad’s. “You perfected the formula,” he stated, pointing out the obvious. Tralnis nodded, and then jerked his head towards the stairs with a proud smile. “Right, don’t wait up for me,” Gareth joked before letting the Dryad lead him out of the taproom.

  Tralnis waited for Gareth to leave the taproom before he stood on the bench and raised his mug. His deep voice could be heard from one end of the room to another as he spoke. “Tonight, my son has done that which many, including myself, never thought possible. He managed to attract a beautiful young woman who approached him, and nearly dragged him off to her bedchambers,” he stated. His comment was met with good natured laughter. “Fellow scholars, that was not the impossible deed of which I speak. My son is a handsome man, and several woman have hoped to ensnare him. No, the seemingly impossible feat was that she was insistent he bed her, not despite him being a language scholar, but because of it!” he boasted proudly.

  The room became quiet as his words sunk in. “Are you serious?!” a voice questioned from the crowd eventually.

  Tralnis held his mug high. “I swear on this delightful ale that what I say is the truth. I witnessed it just a moment ago,” he replied. This was met with impressed murmurs. “To Gareth Mintel, may he continue to do the impossible!” he toasted, and then sat down.

  All of the students, and a few of the professors stood, raised their glasses
or mugs, and replied loudly, “To Professor Mintel!”

  Tralnis chuckled to himself, and shifted down the bench to chat with an attractive couple of students who wore the gold sleeve stripes of the School of Mechanical Sciences. As he moved closer, he couldn’t decide if the young man, or the young woman was the better looking of the pair. Either way, he was sure he was going to have an enjoyable evening.

  Chapter 2

  Gareth allowed himself to be dragged along the hallway to the Dryad’s rented room. She opened the door, and gestured for him to step inside. The room was comfortably furnished with a large pine bedframe, and a dresser made of the same wood. The far wall had a large open window with the tan curtains pulled back to let in the night air. After he crossed the threshold, the Dryad shut the door, and slid the lock into place.

  While the light filtering in through the window from the twin moons wasn’t quite enough to read by, Gareth found it was more than enough to see the beautiful woman standing in the room with him. His mouth went dry in nervousness as she closed the distance between them with two quick steps. The Dryad paused for a moment as she stared into his eyes. “You have the most beautiful, violet eyes I have ever seen. They remind me of lilacs in summer,” she told him softly. Before Gareth knew what was happening, the Dryad was kissing him, forcing entry into his mouth with her tongue.

  Gareth broke the kiss, and took a half step back. “This is wonderful and all, but I don’t even know your name,” he protested slightly.

  The Dryad reached forward and ran her finger along Gareth’s jaw. “Do we need names to do what our bodies crave?” she inquired, her voice husky with desire.

  Gareth thought for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. “No, I don’t suppose we do,” he answered.

  “I didn’t think so,” the Dryad said as she raised her other hand, and slid Gareth’s jacket off of his shoulders. What followed next was her forcefully removing each piece of Gareth’s clothing, and tossing them around the room in between passionate snogs. At one point, she had pressed him into the front of the dresser while she undid his belt. Most of Gareth’s mind found what she was doing to be quite arousing. The remainder however, wondered if the handle on the dresser drawer was going to leave as big of a bruise on his back as he thought it would.