Gateway to Gatan

James Abraham Carter

NOTE: Minor rewriting of the story occurred on 26 July 2025

WARNING: Erotic Content. Adults Only.

The first rays of dawn painted the sky with streaks of rose and gold as Carson Hawk stood within the circle of Stonehenge. The antediluvian structure, silhouetted against the pale sky, held an aura of mystery, a link to a time when magic, not science, ruled the world. The young man of twenty five had arrived early, eager to experience the monument's ancient grandeur in solitude, free from the usual throng of snap-happy tourists. He faced the Heel Stone, its leaning form a silent sentinel, and felt a sense of timeless connection.

Thunder rumbled, breaking the numinous experience. Hawk turned and gasped in surprise at the billowing, racing clouds that had come up behind him from the southeast. A storm had been forecast for this morning, but it had arrived far earlier than predicted. Masses of thunderheads darkened the dawn sky. Lightning flashed within the billowing clouds, and jagged bolts snaked across the heavens in massive discharges that slashed the sky with blinding light. Then the violent tempest was swiftly upon him. The sky overhead turned a bruised purple, and the wind howled like a demented ghost. Seeking shelter, Hawk raced under the looming Great Trilithon, the massive structure offering a small measure of protection from the raging storm.

As Hawk huddled beneath the colossal archway of stone, cursing his ill luck, lightning cracked the sky and struck the very rock above him. The world erupted in blinding light and deafening thunder. Strange forces, dormant for millennia within the stone, were awakened, and a vortex of swirling golden energy materialized within the trilithon’s uprights. Before he could even scream, Hawk was sucked into its spinning depths. For a moment, the world was a swirling whirlpool of vivid light. Then, darkness.

**********

Hawk awoke with a gasp. He was lying on cool, damp earth, its smell and that of unfamiliar spicy vegetation tickling his nostrils. His head throbbed as he pushed himself into a sitting position, blinking against the strange light filtering through the forest canopy overhead. Hawk’s jaw went slack in amazement. Gone was the familiar landscape of England, replaced by a strange alien scene. Towering, gnarled trees reached toward the unnatural green sky, casting long, distorted shadows across an undergrowth of lacy, fern-like plants. He was no longer on Earth; he was on an alien world, alone and utterly disoriented. Incredibly, he had been sucked through a transcendental gateway to the mysterious unknown.

Panic began to set in, but then he noticed glittering movement in the emerald heavens. A strange aircraft was rapidly descending. Its coppery, boat-shaped hull had a large sphere at the bow and another globe at the stern. Although there was no sign of either a propeller or jet engines, a crimson glow was emanating from the rear, where complex brass machinery could be seen. Equally incredible, if not more so, was the horrid monster forcing the vehicle from the sky. The nightmarish thing resembled a giant crimson spider with bat-like wings. The alien horror dove upon the airship like a plunging raptor, forcing its desperate pilot to swiftly take evasive action. But then disaster struck - the strange machine, now dangerously low to the ground, decelerated hard. Too late - branches snapped and cracked as the outlandish aircraft crashed into the weird trees, perhaps fifty yards away.

The mechanism was a sign of intelligent life! Human or alien, someone needed help, and Hawk, alone and friendless, felt a surge of purpose. Scrambling to his feet, he then pushed through the chest-high undergrowth, heart thumping, fueled by adrenaline and the hope of finding an ally.

As Hawk forced his way toward the crash site, a scream, sharp and clear, cut through the air, urging him to greater speed. He burst into a small clearing and saw it: the airship had crashed to the ground, its metallic hull dented and sparks leaping from damaged mechanisms. In the boat-shaped vehicle, a young woman armed with a short sword, her face a mask of terror, fought off the horrid flying spider, its multiple eyes gleaming with predatory hunger as it hovered in front of her, drooling mandibles gnashing and clawed legs striking viciously. The monster, as he was later to learn, was called a zavath. The things were rare, and it was pure bad luck that the girl’s aircraft had experienced mechanical difficulties as she had entered the aggressive brute’s territory.

Without a second thought, Hawk grabbed a fallen branch, its wood hard and heavy. He raced toward the airship. Swiftly, he leaped into the fray, attacking the horrid creature from the rear. Hawk yelled wildly as he swung the branch. It slammed against the monster, connecting solidly. The thing hissed venomously. It flew up into the air and then dove down upon him, screeching like a deranged harpy. He swung at it wildly, and it veered away only to come at him again with undaunted savagery. The young woman, her short sword skillfully wielded in her hand, swiftly came to his aid and fought with a ferocity that matched his own. Her cleaving blade sliced off one of the Zavith’s legs. The thing spun around and flew at the girl with the swiftness of a speeding arrow. Hawk leaped after it, club swinging in a savage stroke. The heavy wood slammed against the creature’s skull. It crashed to the floor and the girl stepped swiftly forward and split is ugly head with a killing blow.

Breathing hard, Hawk, now that the deadly threat had passed, finally found a moment to fully appreciate the woman, who appeared to be twenty years of age by earthly standards. She was exotically beautiful, with dark, intelligent eyes. Her flawless skin was dusky, and the raven tresses of her hair were as black as polished ebony. Her simple clothing - a white wrap-around garment with a gold meandros border at the hem, though torn and dirty, nonetheless spoke of a refined elegance. Hawk tried speaking to her, but she just stared at him with a mixture of incomprehension, confusion, and wary curiosity.

He touched his chest. “Carson Hawk,” he said, then pointed at her.

Her wide, beautiful eyes lit with understanding. “Laysanni,” she replied, placing one hand on her ample bosom.

Through a further series of gestures and pantomime, they slowly began to communicate. Hawk managed to convey his desire to examine the airship, to which she consented. The young man was a mechanic by trade and thought that he might be able to repair the damage. Laysanni showed him the engine, which generated the strange force that propelled it. To his amazement, he saw that it was a clockwork motor driven by an incredibly powerful spring of anubu, a bluish metal unknown on Earth. Lift was not generated by gas burners heating air, as is the case with terrestrial balloons, nor by a lifting gas, but by two forms of a crystalline mineral: a black variety called tezan and a white one named ofroz. When brought into close proximity to each other, they produced a levitating force within the large spheres at the bow and stern, where it was trapped and thus provided lift.

Of course, Hawk learned the full details of the amazing craft much later, but what was clear at the moment was that he had neither the tools nor the knowledge to repair the hole in one of the machine’s spheres, the mysterious cause of which he was unable to determine. It was this damage that had prevented her from outrunning the attacking monster. Laysanni, in turn, understood that he was a stranger from far away. Hawk managed to convey the notion that he would help her return to her people. Her relief was palpable, and she gave him a grateful smile so wondrous that it made his heart ache. Hawk, too, was desperate to find his way to safety, and Laysanni’s help in this alien world would be vital to his survival as well. They salvaged what they could from the damaged airship - a spare sword, which she gave to Hawk, and some packets of preserved food. Having gathered what they could, the pair descended by the dangling rope the Earthman had used to climb aboard and then set off into the forest wilds.

For three long weeks, they journeyed together through the alien wilderness, constantly threatened by savage beasts. The terrain was unforgiving, a maze of tangled undergrowth, deep ravines, and strange, fluorescent flowers. As they traveled, Hawk slowly mastered the nuances of payas, Laysanni’s language, which, surprisingly, had a grammar very similar to English, making it very easy for him to learn. Soon, Hawk was conversing with her readily and discovered she was no ordinary woman but the queen of Gatan, a city that lay beyond the trackless forest. He also learned that she was recently married to King Jogar, a fact that drove a sharp pang of disappointment through his heart, for by now he had fallen deeply in love with her, hopelessly so. She was beautiful, intelligent, and incredibly brave, qualities that both impressed and inspired him. He knew she could never be his, but he also knew he would protect her with his life; therefore, Hawk hid his true feelings behind a mask of friendship.

They were roughly midway through their journey when the greatest danger struck. Both had stopped by a forest stream to quench their thirst and bathe. Hawk allowed the girl to drink first while he stood watch. He was on edge. By now, he had acquired survival skills from his fair companion. The wilderness was quiet, too quiet. Hawk's knuckles whitened on the hilt of his sword. No obvious danger presented itself to his roving gaze, but it was evident that something was out there. Then the silence was shattered by wild howls as half a dozen hairy, man-like creatures burst from the undergrowth’s concealment.

A savage beast-man came at Hawk, crude club swinging in a braining stroke. He blocked the clumsy blow and ran his assailant through. Laysanni, now on her feet, was swiftly cutting down another slavering foe. Then the rest were upon them, casting primitive nets of woven vines. Hawk cursed as he and Laysanni were entangled in the snares. Hairy bodies crashed against them, and the pair went down under the odoriferous mass of their brutish assailants. Blocky fists pummeled them into submission. The nets were removed. The captives' hands were quickly bound behind their backs, and they were hauled roughly to their feet.

“What are these things?” gasped Hawk, his body a patchwork of welts and bruises.

“Umoomu,” replied Laysanni, clearly frightened.

A brute cuffed her to silence before she could elaborate. Hawk cursed the beast-man and his own helplessness. The pair was forced into the thick undergrowth, and soon came upon a trail that their hairy, bestial captors compelled them to follow. Hawk observed the creatures as they marched along. Their squat, hairy, humanoid bodies were covered in a pelt that was striped and colored in a tiger pattern. But their faces were more like those of a wild boar than either simian or feline, the creatures’ prominent tusks adding to the noisome impression. They possessed a form of speech - a series of grunts, whistles, and hooting sounds that enabled them to communicate basic ideas. They had neither clothing nor jewelry, and their weapons consisted solely of crudely carved clubs.

After about twenty minutes, they arrived at the village of the Umoomu. It consisted of a dozen primitive, dome-shaped huts made from large leaves bound to a frame constructed from long, supple canes. The entire settlement erupted into wild hooting at the sight of the captives. The crowd surged forward with feral excitement, and no doubt would have torn the prisoners limb from limb had their guards not beaten back the bloodthirsty mob.

From this terrifying experience, the captives were quickly dragged to another. At the far end of the village, a large, rough cage of thick timbers had been built, and in it paced a restless beast of fearsome appearance. In general shape and size, the monster resembled a blend of wild bull and reptile. Its skin was heavily scaled with muddy brown plates. The feet were not hoofed but clawed. The head was horned, but not bovine in appearance, the cruelly curved beak giving it a falcon-like aspect. Hawk estimated that it must have stood at least 6 feet tall at the shoulder.

The captives’ bonds were cut and they were forced into the cage, which was divided in the middle by a portcullis of roughly hewn timbers. The entire village gathered around the enclosure. They fell to their knees, hands raised, swaying. They began to howl, the ugly noise making Hawk’s neck hairs stand.

Laysanni moved close to him. He placed his arm around her. “What’s going on?” he anxiously asked.

“I’m not sure," the girl worriedly replied. “My people know little about these primitives. They must worship the bokkis. It is a vicious beast - a fitting god for violent savages. I fear that we are to be the sacrifice.”

Four beast-men began to haul on thick ropes of woven vines. The heavy portcullis squealed as it was raised. The bokkis snorted. Its dark eyes regarded the caged captives with feral malevolence. It backed up in preparation for a savage charge. Hawk’s mind spun with desperate plans. He hit upon an idea.

“Lie down,” he said. “I’ll distract it.”

“But…”

“No time to argue,” firmly replied Hawk.

The portcullis opened fully as he pushed Laysanni to the hard-packed earth. The bokkis exploded from confinement. Hawk waved his arms, shouted. The beast charged him. He turned and ran for the door through which they had been forced. The maddened beast was close upon his heels. He could almost feel its hot breath upon his back. At the last possible moment, he flung himself aside. The enraged monster, unable to stop its terrific rush in time, slammed into the cage’s door.

The collision was like a crashing gunshot. Thick timbers cracked, but did not break entirely. The bokkis turned as Hawk scrambled to his feet. The wild beast was now even more enraged. Again it charged. There ensued a mad race around the cage. Hawk sprinted with Olympic swiftness in a desperate bid for life and freedom. Laysanni looked on, her heart pounding in fear for her valiant companion. The savages hooted in wild appreciation of the mad spectacle as the foaming beast closed in to toss the frantic runner on its vicious horns.

Again, Hawk darted for the cracked door. Again, he leaped aside. The murderous monster smashed against the weakened wood. The damaged door exploded outward in flying splinters and shattered timber. The savages’ excitement quickly turned to wild fear. The creature was free. Its mad eyes looked upon the beast-men. The bokkis charged the crowd, hell-bent on exacting bloody revenge on those who had robbed it of its freedom. It plowed into the primitives like a runaway freight train. Bodies flew through the air. Savages screamed. They fled, the bokkis in relentless pursuit. In but moments, the village was empty, and quietness descended upon the scene.

Laysanni ran to Hawk’s side as he climbed to his feet. “Are you hurt?” She anxiously asked, her eyes wide with concern.

“I’m all right,” Hawk replied with a smile as he wiped away a smudge of dirt from her cheek. It was an innocent act, but roused powerful emotions within the girl. She pressed his hand to her warm, soft skin, relishing the contact. Her breath quickened. She leaned into him, and he slipped his arm around her. Hawk could feel the press of her full breasts against his chest. He was fast becoming aroused. Gently, sadly, he broke the contact. She was a married woman and thus forbidden to him.

“We’d best retrieve our weapons from the stream and get as far away from here as quickly as possible.”

“Yes,” replied Laysanni, quietly. “Lets away.”

**********

After two more weeks of hardship that seemed like an eternity of struggle, they reached the outskirts of Gatan. Looking down on the metropolis from a forested elevation of land, Hawk saw spread out before him a city of breathtaking beauty. Graceful buildings, constructed from a strange, pearly stone, were separated from each other by broad, tree-lined thoroughfares teeming with colorful crowds. A river ran past the city. Many watermills lined both banks, the primary motive power of industry, and beyond them were Gatan’s lush farmlands. Overhead were a number of airships, similar to Laysanni’s craft, but much larger, which conveyed goods and passengers to the many kingdoms of the sprawling Uthori continent.

“We will enter the city through a secret passage,” Laysanni explained. “My people no doubt think that I am dead, and my sudden appearance will cause great excitement as I walk through the thoroughfares. People may be trampled in their eagerness to greet me. Besides, look at the state of my clothes. I can’t possibly appear in public dressed like this.”

“No,” replied Hawk with a slight smile. “You would certainly cause quite a stir.”

This was indeed correct. The girl’s fine clothing had been reduced to rags by the trials of their arduous journey. Her large breasts were bare, and the scrap of tattered cloth that dangled between her shapely thighs hardly concealed her womanhood. Laysanni didn’t try to hide her nudity from Hawk’s gaze. It was a sign of her deep trust in him as an honorable man. For his part, Hawk was sorely tempted. Being only human, he desperately wanted to take her in his arms and more, but managed with an iron will to control his desires and play the role of the perfect gentleman.

Having agreed on the best course of action, Laysanni led Hawk to the ruins of an ancient cube-shaped temple of black stone that lay in the forest about 2 miles from the city walls. They entered the brooding pile of fallen columns and crumbling walls and walked across the leaf-littered floor to an altar carved with strange serpentine symbols so old that their meaning was lost in dusty antiquity.

“This is the Temple of Marak, an ancient god no longer worshiped,” explained the girl. “ A hidden passage lies beneath the movable altar of the chapel. I’ll need your help in shifting it.”

Both set their shoulders to the block, pushing mightily. Stone grated. The altar slowly began to move, groaning in protest as ages of inertia were painfully overcome. At last, after much struggle, a hidden tunnel gaped before them. They descended into the cool darkness, the way lit by the eerie glow of luminous glass discs that lined the walls. The passage was long, narrow, and claustrophobic, but it led directly to the palace.

As they passed along the way, Hawk was beset by mixed emotions, for their journey together was fast coming to an end. On the one hand, he was happy for Laysanni. Soon, she would be reunited with her loving husband. He was envious of the king and sad for himself. Perhaps as a reward, Jogar might give him a minor role in the royal bureaucracy, and with his knowledge of mechanics, he might be able to contribute to these people’s technical advancement. But it was doubtful that, as a commoner, he would see Laysanni again, except perhaps from a distance during a royal parade. It was indeed a bleak thought that weighed heavily upon his downcast heart.

With the passing of twenty minutes, another branching tunnel took them to the king's private chambers. Reaching its end, Laysanni placed her hand on a section of the wall, and with a soft click, the door slid silently open. The scene that met them was shocking. King Jogar lay in bed, not alone, not grieving for his lost wife but with Chasura, Laysanni's younger sister, nestled beside him and engaging in a sexual act.

The girl was sensually caressing Jogar’s shaft with her lips and tongue as she playfully cupped his scrotum. Jogar groaned as his pleasure mounted. He exploded in her mouth. Semen dribbled from between her full lips as she took his phallus deep into her throat, allowing him to complete his climax. When he was spent, she began to eagerly lick his flaccid member clean.

The shock on Laysanni's face was raw and visceral. She stood frozen, rooted to the spot. A bitter realization dawned in her mind as the pieces of a puzzle, hitherto disjointed, came together. Her marriage to Jogar had been nothing more than a political arrangement. She had suspected her husband lusted after Chasura, but as adultery and divorce were forbidden, his only way to be with her was to kill Laysanni. He had encouraged her to fly out over the wilderness, a place where she normally didn’t go. Her accident was clearly no accident. It was a well-planned assassination attempt by Jogar (he had used an acidic paste that had slowly eaten through the airship’s globe, thus causing its levitating force to escape).

"You!" Laysanni hissed, stepping fully into the room, her voice trembling with rage as she pointed accusingly at the King. "You tried to kill me!"

Chasura jerked up, stared, her mouth open in shock and horror, her voice paralyzed by shame, the sheet clutched to her body. By contrast, Jogar's face was contorted into a mask of pure malice as his true nature was exposed. “You are right to accuse me,” he said, his smooth charm replaced by a cruel sneer. “I was tired of your endless coldness. Chasura is a far more passionate lover - more fitting for a king.”

“Cold,” cried Laysanni, outraged by the insult. “How else could I be when I do not love you! And furthermore, I’ll have you know you’re not the great lover you conceitedly believe yourself to be. But despite my dissatisfaction, I have been loyal to you, you murderous adulterer.”

Jogar swore. He leapt from the bed, grabbing a dagger and sword from a nearby taboret. The enraged king viciously hurled the smaller blade. Chasura screamed in horror. Laysanni, quick to react, drew her sword to deflect the flying weapon. But the speeding dagger struck her wrist, cutting shallowly but painfully. Laysanni gasped. She dropped her sword as Jogar lunged to disembowel her.

Hawk, with a cry of rage, leapt forward. His own sword rasped from its scabbard as he jumped protectively between the woman he loved and her brutal and treacherous husband. The ensuing fight was fierce and savage, a desperate struggle for survival. Jogar was strong, ruthless, and a skilled swordsman. But Hawk, fueled by his protective instincts and his love for Laysanni, battled with wild determination.

Their blades clashed in ringing strokes. Sparks flew as they surged about the room in a savage dance of death. A chair was overturned. A table fell. Ornaments shattered. Both combatants were bleeding from minor wounds. Jogar grinned evilly. He was gaining the upper hand. He lunged. Hawk leapt aside, the deadly thrust missing him narrowly. Channeling all his strength into one last desperate attack, Hawk struck hard and fast. Jogar screamed as the Earthman pierced his guard and ran him through. The king fell, undone by overconfidence, a look of disbelief and terror frozen on his face. His body crashed against the floor, his dead eyes staring vacantly as Chasura wept.

**********

Four days had passed. The Royal Council’s inquiry into Jogar’s death and all the circumstances surrounding it had concluded with the king being found guilty of adultery and attempted regicide in a posthumous trial. Lysanni was now ruler of Gatan in her own right, her people overjoyed at her miraculous return. Hawk turned from the balcony, where he had been standing to give Laysanni and her sister some privacy. It was the first time the two women had been in close proximity since the terrible events of the royal bedchamber, and Hawk was somewhat worried about how things would go. He saw the younger woman kneeling in supplication before the queen, repentant tears streaming down her face.

"I knew nothing of Jogar’s evil plot," she sobbed. "I swear to you by holy Arfram, as I did before the royal council. I thought you were dead. I did not realize the evil that hid behind the king’s seductive charm. I will understand if you never forgive me for what I’ve done.”

Laysanni, who had summoned Chasura for private judgment, looked at her sister, her face free of malice. At first, although Laysanni had never loved Jogar, there had been a deep sense of betrayal. However, the queen’s initial anger and shock had, over the past four days, slowly given way to understanding and compassion. She could sense the truth in Chasura’s words and saw the genuine remorse in her eyes. There was no longer a vindictive desire in her to exile her younger sibling.

The queen smiled. “I forgive you,” she said as she raised her sister up. “I, too, was deceived by Jogar’s appealing facade. It is impossible for me to condemn you when I was also fooled by that wicked man.” Chasura wept, but her tears were now those of joy at being forgiven. The two girls embraced, reconciled, and thus their sisterly bond was renewed.

Laysanni turned to Hawk as he stepped into the room, relieved that a rapprochement had been achieved. The queen’s eyes were filled with a love that mirrored his own and made his heart soar. "I am free at last, Carson Hawk," she said, her voice soft. "Free to tell you now that everything has been concluded, that I love you, just as I sense that you love me, but hid it because I was married. Forgive me for not revealing my true feelings for you earlier, constrained as I was by my loyalty to a man who did not deserve it. I promise you, I will not be the unenthusiastic bedmate that I was with him, but equal to my sister in my passion."

Hawk came to her, smiling, and they embraced, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sealed their deep, abiding love, which had blossomed in the face of adversity. Chasura, seeing their need for privacy, quietly left the room, happy for both of them. The couple moved out onto the balcony. Here, they stood, hand in hand. Below them was the city square, which was packed with a multitude of citizens. The throng began cheering wildly at the sight of their beloved queen as Hawk and Laysanni looked out upon the world, ready for their future together as soulmates. Carson Hawk, who had stepped through a perilous gateway to the unknown, had found not just a new world but a love that transcended all boundaries, and at last, he knew the great treasure that is true happiness.

The End