Fantasy | Dragons
Bartholomew’s Door
Tales of the Second Realm
Bartholomew sat back on his chair to gaze upon the fruits of his labours. The device worked. He made a note in his records, and then basked in the blinking lights of the crystals embedded in the metal.
It had been five years since he had first entered this valley in the eastern foothills of the mountains of Pryda. It was like a lifetime ago. He had used all of the money he could scrounge or borrow to buy two female slaves and come to this isolated place in order to wake a dragon. But it had paid off. Bartholomew knew all the literature on the subject, and had written a great deal of it himself. A dragon did not just exist in this world, but in all of them.
In his writings Bartholomew called them “Planes of Existence”; Abelard of Taurnos had called them other “Dimensions”, a fold in reality away from the four dimensions of our perceptions; the ancient works of White-eagle had called them Realms, and his terms often crept into the literature. For instance the dynamic force that existed between the Planes was still called the Aetherial Inter-Realm by everybody for convenience. But all agreed, whether you called them Planes, Dimensions, or Realms, there were Twelve of them. It was White-eagle who gave them their numbers, and the one in which Bartholomew lived was the Second Realm.
The smell of the two females had awoken the dragon, a particularly ancient and powerful dragon by the name of Caradoc. That day was possibly the only time that Bartholomew had thought of the plight of the young women that he had fed to the dragon.
Bartholomew knew the dragon was in his head, it was how he communicated, but he suspected the dragon could also manipulate his thoughts. Sometimes he blamed the dragon’s voice in his mind as the real reason that he had supplied so many young women, that the dragon made him do it. But in truth it was the work that drove him, always being pulled further by the possible, regardless of the consequences. Or at least the consequences for other people.
Dragons were the key to understanding the energy in the Aetherial Inter-Realm, where the twelve Planes cycled through their revolutions, passing through each other in order. Dragons existed in all of the Realms, but were only awake in one at a time. It was this dynamic link between the Realms in the Aetherial Inter-Realm that gave the dragons their power.
Other humans had not only studied dragons, but had gained from their power, and Bartholomew knew that they had bought the tolerance of the dragons in the same way he had. Some had just asked the dragons for trinkets imbued with the power of the other Realms, a ring that could make you wise, an amulet that could make you bold and confident, a sword that could make you a powerful warrior. Bartholomew also asked the dragon to make these things, for the merchant would take them and sell them, to buy supplies and women. The dragon obliged, for it meant his favourite food was brought to his cave.
At first Bartholomew had settled certain curiosities he had about dragons, for example did they all appear the same in the different Planes, but would they appear as different in other dimensions, perhaps mice in one, but dragons in this? He was quite disappointed to find that they were always dragons, although they could be subtly different, and typically of a different colour. In this Realm, and Caradoc always called them Realms being a conservative dragon, all dragons were green.
Other humans that had studied dragons had become conjurers, and had summoned creatures from other Realms through rips in reality, and they used the power of the Aetherial Inter-Realm to control them, not always successfully. Some became warlocks that called on the raw power of the Inter-Realm to destroy their enemies.
Bartholomew disdained the conjurers and warlocks who only sought worldly power. For him his research was purely for the knowledge, for making the world a better place. He wanted to create a door to other Realms. He created a machine that enabled him to sense the other realms. He did not realise that this was what he was doing at first, but when it was built the machine enabled him to feel the nature of individual Realms.
Each Realm seemed to have its own animus or essence, a cluster of inevitabilities that defined the ordinance or direction of each Realm. He was aware of this from the literature on the subject, and that some people thought that these ordinant essences were spirits that could even become manifest, like gods. Bartholomew was a scientist and had no time for such twaddle. Yet this was what enabled the dragons to imbue objects with that spirit or ordinance.
He found that the machine aided him in his research, for when it was set to the Third Realm his thinking was more agile, as it was with the Sixth, Seventh, or Eleventh Realm, but with these he was also too obsessive, indecisive, or empathic to work properly. The empathy especially did not help when fresh food for the dragon had arrived, and he would have to expose himself to the animus of the Eighth Realm to remedy it.
The next major breakthrough for Bartholomew was when he made a machine that enabled him to see other Realms, as though through a window. With that success his knowledge grew exponentially, for other Realms were far more technologically advanced than his Realm. He could see their machines and sources of power. Even if he could not reproduce all of it, seeing it certainly helped him use the resources available to him. He acquired an assistant, a goblin that he called Smiler, who was knowledgeable in the casting of metals, and the villagers in the valley, a carpenter and blacksmith, also helped create Bartholomew’s machines.
Bartholomew never knew why Smiler helped him, he did not seem to need money, and Bartholomew suspected that the goblin had struck a private deal with the dragon that he did not want to know about.
Finally Bartholomew was able to create a portal. At first it would only open onto a Realm that was passing through his realm as it progressed through its revolution, but now here it was, his ultimate machine, standing in front of him. A circle of iron and bronze embedded with glowing crystals, and within it another world, or more precisely, another Realm. A wheel could be cranked to change the interrelationships of the components, to make them align with each Realm. He had tested each one with one of the women brought for the dragon. She had been able to step through, walk out into the other Realm, and walk back. She had then been sent to await the dragon’s pleasure, and Bartholomew had made final notes in his records.
Bartholomew turned the crank wheel to cycle through each of the Twelve Realms. He could sense their animus or spirit as he stood in front of the portal. There were many opportunities provided by many of the Realms. For a moment he was in awe of his own achievement. There was much to learn, incredible power to be acquired. Bartholomew really did not know where to start.
The portal was on the Seventh Realm, called by some the Realm of the Lady of Peace. It was beautiful, a lovely tree-filled valley with what appeared to be an ancient building standing a pleasant walk away, and further off was a white city that seemed to be floating in the sky. Bartholomew felt at peace just standing in front of the portal.
“You know,” he said to himself. “What you need is a holiday.”
He had not taken a break in five years. Always working, always studying, always building, with never a break. He sighed. Maybe this would be the best idea. He could think of somewhere more profitable to spend his time later, in the meantime, a short break in the Realm of Peace would be just what he needed.
“What could go wrong?” he thought. And with that, he stepped through the portal.
Bartholomew stood on the grass of the Seventh Realm, and immediately felt a wave of serenity flow through him. A quiet smile formed on his face and he looked up into the sky where clouds rolled across the blue and birds were singing. It was a short walk through a wooded glade to the ancient building that Bartholomew had seen through the portal. He came to an ancient oak door and knocked. When a woman answered the door Bartholomew was struck by the tranquil beauty of her smile. He was surprised that she was a human, like him, for he had seen that other races predominated in this Realm.
“Hello,” he said. “Are there any scientists here? I would really like to speak with one.”
“N’dichak nedra?” said the woman.
Bartholomew’s mouth dropped. Of course, they might speak another language. He had not thought of that. She turned back and called melodiously to someone, and another human female came, holding devices. The woman at the door took one and gave the other to Bartholomew. Following her lead, he put the device in his ear.
She spoke, and he could hear the same gibberish in one ear, but in the other ear he heard: “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “We are all Maidens of the Dragon here, we await His return.”
“Oh. So where are the scientists?” She came out of the door and pointed to the far-away floating white city.
“There, it is the city of Sandyfields, do you wish to go there? Would you like to breed with us first?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“There are not many of our race in the Realm of Peace, and so we are always interested in breeding with appropriate males. You are quite skinny, but I am sure you will do, and you seem intelligent so your sons may prosper in this Realm.”
Bartholomew was rather taken aback by her words, but something was sinking in.
“My sons? What if there were daughters?”
“Well obviously they would stay here to become one of us and worship He who brought us to this Realm of Peace, and if the Lord wills, like us they will be sustenance for Him if He wakes.”
“You…, you want to be eaten by the dragon?” Bartholomew’s brow was wrinkling with confusion.
“In Thanks, yes, if it is His will to awaken in my lifetime.”
“Um.., I think I’ll pass, thanks for the offer, but perhaps I’ll just go and look for the scientists.”
She pointed him towards a path that led down the valley.
“It is a short walk, and then you will come to the station. If you wait a while a shuttle will come. You may keep the translator.”
“Thank you,” he said, and he stumbled down the path.
It was a lovely day. Soon he came to another building of a very different sort, made of materials he did not recognise. Inside there appeared to be two narrow roads of white material that went off into the distance, and on the nearest was what looked like a wheel-less carriage, again made of a white material that Bartholomew did not recognise. It had large round windows of what must be glass of some sort, although so clear it was as though it was not there at all. He entered through an open door, which then slid shut behind him.
“This is the shuttle for any stop between Dragonvale and Sandyfields city,” said a disembodied voice. “Please state your destination.”
“Um, Sandyfields, I suppose.”
Immediately the carriage started moving, and Bartholomew found a seat. He looked out of the window at the passing countryside as the carriage glided noiselessly along.
“I wonder what makes this run?” he thought.
All of his life he had avoided using the term “magic” for he knew that everything had a scientific explanation, but for the life of him he could not imagine what was making the carriage work. Perhaps there was magic in this Realm? Briefly he imagined building transportation networks like this all across his world, but strangely the thought left him again. He just did not seem to care about the things he cared about before. Power, influence, wealth, prestige. He sighed. It was a deep soul-releasing sigh as he gave everything up, and sat in the comfortable carriage as it sped towards the floating white city.
“I don’t think I’d like having my daughter fed to a dragon,” he thought to himself.
It slowly dawned on him that all of those women he had fed to the dragon were somebody’s daughter, had been parented by a father and a mother. Neither parent would probably have given them life and then brought them up just to be food for a dragon. He was unhappy, but strangely at peace.
“Perhaps I will learn the magic of this Realm,” he thought. Somehow, feeding someone to a dragon did not seem like a nice thing to do anymore.
Caradoc the dragon summoned the goblin Smiler, and the goblin quickly answered the summons.
“Yes, Master,” said the goblin, always aware of the proper courtesies of address.
“Have you turned the device off?”
“Yes, Master, the human will never return now.”
“Good. Destroy it, melt everything down. Get the humans in the village to help.”
“Master?” The goblin queried.
“Yes?” said the dragon, his voice practically reverberating around the goblins head.
“Why did you not just kill the human?”
“Oh, well, he did seem quite a nice chap, really. I don’t think he at first realised the cost of feeding a dragon, the cost on his conscience. Humans that dabble with the power of dragons become evil, wicked creatures. I just thought he needed a second chance at his destiny.”
“You are noble and good, Master,” said Smiler.
“Yes, now clear off before I eat you.” The goblin went scurrying off.
Caradoc knew he would not eat the goblin, they are not sufficiently filling, and you just end up needing more. The great dragon curled up for a nap. He would cleanse the minds of the goblin and the human villagers of memories of Bartholomew when they were done. As for the merchant, when he returned he would have the villagers murder him. Dragons are creatures of great power, such that other sentient beings are lower organisms as far as they are concerned, humans were especially trivial given their short life span. But Caradoc had issues with individuals that were cruel to his food.
“Perhaps after everything is cleaned up I shall have a little holiday in the Seventh Realm myself,” he mused.
I have created a Medium article that contains a map which covers all the locations in my Second Realm stories. It will be updated as new locations are added.
