Portals

by Brian S. Pratt

  He could now understand why Kiernan had not fled this way. They were everywhere. Better to take his chances back in the underground rooms, than to attempt to go any farther. Turning about, he came to a sudden halt. One of floaters was en route toward him and was less than a foot away.

  Instinctively he struck out with the staff. When it struck, the thing wrapped itself around the staff’s end and began working on it as the previous one had the rock. Its body spread along the wooden length, coming ever closer to where Holk held it. Unwilling to surrender his weapon, he slammed the thing-covered end against the bole of the tree.

  Upon impact, an intense waft of odor, similar to what he had smelled when examining the rock, exploded into the air. The thing failed to relinquish its hold. Whack! He again slammed the end of the staff against the tree. The subsequent discharge of odor from the thing made his eyes water and burn. It remained firmly attached to the staff.

  Movement from around him brought home the sudden change in the gravity of his situation. Dozens of things were now airborne and making their way directly toward him. One floated in the air between where he stood, and the cave.

  Holk tossed the staff toward the floater. When it struck, the thing wrapped itself around the wood, and Holk raced back through the trees toward the cave.

  He easily outdistanced the floaters and they quickly disappeared behind him. Realizing danger was no longer an immediate concern, Holk came to a stop and glanced back to the trees. Several minutes passed before one of the floaters came into view. The thing was moving in his general direction, but not in an absolute straight line. It looked as if it was hunting, like a hound that had lost the scent. When a second one appeared behind the first, Holk turned about once again and took off for the cave. This time, he didn’t slow until he broke from the tree line.

  Though a bit peeved at the loss of his staff, at least it had only been the staff he had lost, and not something irreplaceable like a foot, hand, or head. After putting further distance between himself and the forest, he paused to again search the trees. Several moments passed with no appearance made by the things. Satisfied that either he had lost them, or they had broken off the chase, he made his way up the incline to the mirror by the cave.

  Once there, he glanced again to the tree line to make sure none of those leathery, tapestry-like things were in sight. His gaze roved over the leading edge of the forest, then scanned the treetops. How many of them might the innocent canopy of leaves conceal? He didn’t want to find out.

  From the treetops, he turned his attention to the hills surrounding the valley. Rising steeply, they would make for an interesting climb should he dare make the attempt. Fighting Ti-Ocks would be much preferable than facing those things again. An opponent wielding a weapon he could handle. But those things that floated through the air…they made him shudder.

  Putting them out of his mind, he glanced back to the mirror. The pair of horizontal markings upon the rock face next to the mirror somehow gave him comfort. In a small way, they meant he was not entirely alone. Kiernan had made those marks, and so the mere sight of them gave him the feeling that the scribe was there with him. Holk reached out his hand and touched the reflective surface.

  A dazzling display of light greeted him on the other side. Crystals of varying sizes and colors jutted forth from the cavern walls. Before him, a mosaic of blues, purples, and reds refracted the lantern’s light in a prismatic explosion of color. It was perhaps the most beautiful sight he had ever encountered.

  The cavern itself wasn’t all that big, the lantern’s light easily illuminated it in its entirety. To his right loomed a single mirror, bordered by bluish crystals. Another set of red, horizontal lines had been painted upon one of the larger bluish crystals next to the mirror.

  Giving the room only a brief inspection to reveal the mirror to be the only one, and that the room lacked any other form of egress, Holk went to the mirror and placed his hand upon it.

  The explosion of light vanished. In its place was darkness broken only by the light from the lantern. He stood in a wide hallway of sorts. Stone blocks had been used to form the floor, walls, and ceiling. Before him, the hallway extended past the reach of the lantern; a few paces behind him, it came to a dead end.

  Now, maybe we’re getting somewhere.

  He took a step toward the unknown then came to a quick halt. What if this was an area in which the Ti-Ocks held dominion? Without a weapon of his own, he wouldn’t survive against them. Taking a moment to ready the small, handheld mirror that accessed the Prison Room, he continued, but at a much more cautious pace.

  Fifty feet from where he had arrived, the hallway made a sharp turn to the left. Rounding the corner, Holk saw a light flickering directly ahead off in the distance. He immediately closed the shutter of the lantern.

  Seconds ticked by as he stood in the dark, utilizing every sense in an attempt to discover what may lie ahead. The flickering light he took to be a torch mounted in a wall sconce. But of smells, sounds, or other optical discoveries, there were none. Sensing no immediate threat, he proceeded toward the light.

  His footsteps made the barest of noises as he crept forward, eyes straining as they sought to pierce the dark. As he drew closer, the area illuminated by the torch grew in clarity. It did in fact reside within a torch sconce as he had first surmised. The wall upon which it was mounted was of the same stone-blocked construction as the rest.

  An object that sat upon the floor beneath the light was quickly revealed to be a plain, wooden table of modest dimensions. The sight of the table gave him pause. Aside from what he had found in the Prison Room, it was the first man-made construction he had encountered. Or perhaps, should he say…Ti-Ock construction?

  Continuing forward slowly, ever alert for signs of the bestial slayers of Kiernan, he passed from the hallway and into the room. Though unable to accurately determine the room’s dimensions in the limited light emitted by the solitary torch, Holk felt it to be rather large.

  No shadows moved, nothing indicated the presence of another. Keeping to his cautious pace, he made for the wooden table. Constructed of plain, time-worn wood, the table was in every way nondescript. Sitting alone, bathed in the glow of a solitary torch, its presence gave off an ominous, foreboding feel.

  Holk couldn’t shake the feeling, and it grew the closer he approached. When he was but ten feet from the table, an explosion of light erupted before him. So bright was it, that the transition from almost absolute darkness drove needles of pain into his brain. Covering his eyes, Holk quickly back-stepped away.

  “Welcome, human.”

  Chapter 7

  “Oh, I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. No, that was not my intention in the slightest.”

  The blinding light vanished and the ability to see returned. What he saw, however, made him wonder if the sudden flaring of light hadn’t in some way damaged his vision. For there before him was a sight that he had a hard time reconciling with reality.

  It was a man, or at least he might have believed it to be a man had the being before him been less translucent and not floated six inches above the floor. Dressed in bright blue pantaloons with a shirt to match, it boasted a handlebar mustache that extended a good five inches to either side before ending with an upward curl reminiscent of a pig’s tail. It wore a smile both friendly and inviting.

  Holk gazed at the man with wary trepidation. “Who, or what, are you?”

  “To answer your question in its entirety would assuredly take far longer than your frail existence has. Suffice it to say that I am me, just as you are you. Of course, if you are not you, that would still mean that I am me. Perhaps I should phrase that another way.”

  There was little in the being’s demeanor to indicate hostile intention. Though Holk’s wariness subsided, it did not depart altogether.

  “At this point in time, I would think to say that I am a provider of sorts. Yes, provider, that would be an ideal term. For you see, I provide items that humans such as
yourself require. Do you require anything, human? I can supply nearly anything.”

  This must be the Merchant Kiernan had mentioned in his journal. Holk continued to relax in its presence as the being’s rambling nature put him further at ease. “Would you also be known as the Merchant?”

  The being’s mustache quivered as it assumed a surprised expression. “Why, yes. I have been known to be addressed as such. Merchant, Provider, Shopkeeper, and many others, though I suppose each in their own way describes my function in this place and time. Call me what you will, just don’t call me late for dinner.” It paused a moment as if expecting a reaction and appeared slightly disappointed that it hadn’t materialized.

  “Was that funny? Another human I had dealings with once claimed that when used at the right moment, that compilation of words would prove quite the side-splitter. But alas, I must have misunderstood. A human’s reaction to laughter stimuli is something that I have striven to understand and perfect, but I’m afraid my skill in this endeavor remains imperfect. You are a strange people.”

  “So, you could provide something that I want?”

  “Yes, absolutely.” Moving forward in its excitement, it accidentally floated into the table so its upper torso was effectively divided by the tabletop from its lower. Realizing what it had done, it backed off so to once again appear whole.

  “Do you want a third eye? I can do that. Put it anywhere on your body you wish. One human opted to have one placed on the back of his hand so he could see around corners. Of course, he later complained that whenever he wiped sweat from his brow, his eye would sting.”

  Holk shook his head. “No. I do not need a third eye. But I could use a sword.”

  Instantly, the table elongated to three times its former width and a score of weapons appeared upon its top.

  Gazing at the array of blades, he refrained from touching them as he feared what the being might do should he try. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but recall how Kiernan had mentioned this being had a quota of souls in need of filling. The exercise of caution would be well advised.

  The weapons ranged widely from a paring knife hardly bigger than his thumb, to that of a sword as large as himself that he could never hope to lift. Some were in excellent shape while others were rusted to the point where they would shatter during the first passage of arms.

  “As you can see, I offer nothing but the best. I can also imbue any sword with any ability you desire.” Picking a curved saber off the table, the being held it aloft as it burst into flame. “A flaming sword could prove most beneficial. Or perhaps, one of the purest adamantine.” The flames vanished and the blade transformed into a shiny, black metal. “With this, nothing would stand in your way. It will cut through anything.”

  And probably cost me my soul?

  “What’s the price?”

  “Price?” the being asked as the saber returned to its original form and appeared back upon the table. “Each has its own price. Nothing costs more than what you can give, I assure you. Everything is within your means.”

  Looking skeptical, Holk returned his gaze to the weapons displayed before him. “Can I touch them without entering into a deal?”

  “Assuredly so. Touch them, wield them, why, even throw them against the wall if you so desire. I have been placed here to service those humans who were fortunate enough to find their way to my room.”

  Picking up a longsword that appeared serviceable, Holk asked, “Your room?”

  “So I have come to think of it. I’ve been within these walls a very long time. Humans come, humans go, yet I remain; but not for long. Soon, I shall be allowed to leave this place and find work elsewhere.”

  “Why can’t you leave now?” Discovering that the sword lacked the proper balance, he returned it to the table and picked up another.

  “Providers, uh, Merchants, such as myself have a quota they must realize before the terms of their service have been met.”

  “And what do you need to fill your quota?”

  “Why, human souls of course. I need but two more, then I can move on.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to wait a little bit longer. You aren’t about to get mine.”

  The being took on a sad expression. “So true. You humans are a tight-fisted bunch when it comes to your souls. It’s not like they are doing you any good as it is. Can you touch it? Does it feed you when you are hungry? Of course not! Yet each and every one of you hangs onto them as if your lives depended on them…which they don’t.”

  Holk wasn’t convinced, but kept his thoughts to himself. Replacing the second longsword back on the table, he took up the third and final one that was close to the length and heft that he was used to.

  After sighting down the blade, he held it at arm’s length, then put it through several complex maneuvers. “The balance is just a touch off.”

  “It is?” The being came around the table and peered closely at the sword. “How can you tell?”

  “There is too much weight in the hilt.”

  “Hmmm.”

  The sword suddenly felt…different.

  “How is that?” the Merchant asked as it brought its attention to bear upon its human customer. “Better?”

  Holk repeated the maneuvers then nodded. “It’s perfect.”

  Beaming, the being’s smile practically glowed with happiness. “Do you wish to acquire that sword?”

  “Perhaps. What are you asking?” When the being gazed at him in a calculating manner, Holk quickly interjected, “I’m not giving you my soul.”

  Waving away the statement, the Merchant shook his head. “That blade, perfect for your needs though it may be, would not require such a price.”

  Remembering how Kiernan had written that many of the minor items available through the Merchant could be purchased with the small, red-capped mushrooms, he reached into his pouch and removed the ones he carried.

  “Will these do as trade?”

  Its eyes widened upon spying the red bounty. “Why, yes. I would be more than happy to trade that blade for those mushrooms.” Snatching them from his hand, the Merchant quickly gobbled them up.

  “I take it you like them?”

  “Oh, yes. They are an exquisite delicacy not found where I come from. To use a term you humans are fond of, they are worth their weight in gold.”

  Holk grinned as he admired the blade he now possessed. But there was one slight problem. He didn’t have a scabbard. “How about a scabbard, too?”

  One appeared on the table, a perfect match for the blade.

  “Do you have any more of those delectable mushrooms?”

  “Uh, no.”

  He definitely didn’t relish the idea of holding the sword all the time. “How about another trade?”

  The Merchant eyed him quizzically.

  “I have an empty knife scabbard. How about we make an even swap? The knife’s scabbard, for the sword’s.”

  “I don’t know.” Eyeing the empty scabbard belted around Holk’s waist, the Merchant didn’t look too enthused by the deal. “It’s not comparable in size or weight.” The being turned its gaze upon Holk. “But, seeing as this is our first meeting, and I wish for you to return to purchase further items, I will accept the terms.”

  The knife scabbard vanished from around Holk’s waist only to be replaced by the sword’s. When Holk sheathed the blade, he found it to be a perfect fit. “Thank you.”

  “Always glad to be of service. Would there be anything else you desire?”

  “Actually, yes.” The being’s eyes lit up but Holk held up his hand. “Unfortunately, I have nothing further with which to trade.”

  “Oh, that is not a problem, not a problem at all. Why, there have been many humans who found their way here with little more than the shirts upon their backs. By that I mean, they had nothing with which to trade, for they often had trousers, boots, undergarments, and so forth. By saying they had naught but the shirt upon their backs, I didn’t want you to think your fellow
humans wandered around half naked with their, uh….” The Merchant then pointed to its nether region. “…exposed.”

  “I understand.”

  “You do? Excellent.”

  A moment of silence ensued. Holk finally asked, “You said it wasn’t a problem?”

  “What wasn’t a problem?”

  “That I had nothing with which to trade?”

  “Oh! That’s right. There are always ways in which a human can be of service to one such as myself. Having to remain within this room until my quota has been filled allows for little opportunity to gather things that I may wish to possess.”

  “Didn’t you just say you could provide me anything I wanted? Wouldn’t that mean there was very little you don’t have?”

  The being shook its head. “I’m afraid you have developed an erroneous assumption. Perhaps due in part to my inability to accurately understand every subtle nuance of such primitive linguistics. The items I have to barter with are not mine. No, they are most definitely not mine. They have been made available to me, but I do not own them, cannot take them with me when I leave.”

  “So, you want me to get something for you?”

  Shrugging, the Merchant asked, “First, what is it you want? Perhaps a dagger to go with your new sword? Or a whetstone? Swords don’t sharpen themselves you know.”

  Holk produced the pair of cloth-wrapped mirrors. “I would be interested in a leather pouch that would easily carry these.” Unwrapping them, he held forth the two travel mirrors.

  The Merchant was quite surprised to see them. “Where did you get those?”

  “Found them.”

  The swords atop the table vanished as the tabletop returned to its original size. A leather pouch, divided into eight thin pouches, each large enough to hold one mirror, appeared upon the table. “Would this do?”

  Holk picked it up and looked it over. Taking one of the mirrors, he saw how it slid easily within, yet wouldn’t come out on its own. “Yes. What do I have to do to get it?”

  “Nothing much, really. Merely acquire an item that was lost to me. Or should I say, stolen by a tricky human. Alas, the human no longer survives and the object rests where the thief met his end. All you need do is to go and retrieve it for me. Bring it back here, and this is yours.”