Portals

by Brian S. Pratt

  There was still the other mirror yet to explore in the room filled with steam where the floor had been so very hot. Pulling out the mirror that would take him to Kiernan’s Room, he translocated. Once there, he headed to the back of the cavern to the full-length, steel bordered mirror and traveled to the Steam Room.

  From where he appeared, he moved quickly through the steam toward the far end and the two mirrors. The one on the right bore the two red stripes and would take him to the Merchant’s Room. To his left sat the squarish mirror bearing a silver frame that he had yet to try. Its surface was heavily beaded with condensation.

  No marking adorned the slick rock upon which the mirror was mounted. Good or bad, he had to try. Drawing his sword in case it took him to a place of Ti-Ocks, he pressed his hand against the reflective surface.

  Instantly, the steam vanished only to be replaced with the cool air of another subterranean cavern. Similar to others he had encountered, it held stalactites and ‘mites, and stretched for a goodly distance. His lantern’s light revealed it to be deserted.

  A brief search revealed but a single mirror. He gazed into its reflective surface for several moments; when no alteration of his reflection occurred, reached out and touched it.

  The first inhalation in this new place told him he was not alone. An odor, animal in nature, permeated this cavern. It wasn’t quite the same as what he had smelled emanating from the crevice in the cliff face wherein the Ti-Ock had vanished.

  Panning his light around a cavern nearly identical to the one he had just left, he saw further evidence that something may inhabit this place. Bones lay strewn across the rocky floor. Lying against the base of one stalagmite sat a portion of a ribcage that looked all too much like a human’s. A bit more searching revealed the skull that belonged to it. Definitely human.

  Other than slight movements to pan the light, Holk remained immobile. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was any real danger. For after all, Kiernan had to have come this way, and the scribe hadn’t mentioned anything about a beast. Still, some creature could have made this place its lair after Kiernan had perished.

  Off to the right came the sparkle of light being reflected. From the size and shape, it could only be a mirror. Before stepping toward it, he scanned the rest of the small cavern. The mirror was the only one. Keeping eyes and ears alert for the room’s occupant, Holk kept to a slow, cautious pace as he crossed to the other side.

  Small and round with a cracked and peeling wooded frame, the mirror beckoned. Having closed nearly a third of the distance, he was brought up short by a sound from off to his left. Turning the light, he panned it across the few stalagmites the room held.

  Shadows played across the far wall as the light moved back and forth. Again the sound came, but what caused it continued to elude his search. When the noise sounded once more, Holk realized that it came not from before, but from above. Slowly, he angled the lantern so its light gradually illuminated the ceiling.

  Sword poised to strike, his heart racing as it did at the onset of battle, Holk was set to defend himself from whatever carnivorous creature he may find. When the light revealed a fur covered appendage gripping the sides of a stalactite, he took a step backward.

  The appendage belonged to a rather large fur-bearing, salamander-like creature that had wrapped itself around the descending stone projection. Easily four feet in length, its yellowish eyes gazed from behind a snout both long and wide. Never before had Holk seen a creature like this. When it opened its mouth, twin rows of teeth designed for ripping and tearing were revealed.

  “You just stay there and we’ll have no problems.”

  Eyes never leaving the creature, Holk continued to progress toward the mirror. At halfway, the creature shifted its position upon the stalactite to better keep him in view. He prayed there were no more. Every few steps, he briefly moved the light to illuminate nearby stalactites in search for other creatures that may be in the cavern. Assuming it to be alone could prove fatal.

  The creature again shifted position. Now lower upon the stalactite, its head rose at an angle as a single eye watched Holk’s movements.

  The faint sound of a pebble being dislodged drew his attention to another of the creatures off to his right. Half hidden behind a stalagmite, it directed a pair of yellowish eyes toward that which had so foolishly entered its lair.

  Returning the lantern’s light to the one wrapped around the stalactite, his heart sank upon discovering it was no longer there. Shadowy movement along the cavernous ceiling was quickly revealed to be the creature scurrying amidst the hanging ‘tites. It circled around Holk until directly opposite the other one.

  Now flanked on both sides, Holk wished he had taken the regular lantern instead of the bull’s-eye since it only directed light in a single direction. The sunstone sat in his pack. To access it, he would have to remove his pack and that might entangle his swordarm at a critical moment.

  He debated racing forward to touch the mirror, but then remembered his hand-held mirrors in his newly acquired mirror-pack. He had put the one to the Prison Room in the first slot, the one that would take him to where Kiernan’s remains lay in the second, and the unknown one found in the monolith back in the forest within the third.

  Very carefully, he hooked the lantern’s handle on the hilt of his knife, then reached down and pulled back the flap of the mirror-pack. Just as a guttural growl of yet a third creature sounded from behind him, he laid a finger against the mirror’s surface in slot one and instantly translocated back to the Prison Room.

  I could get to like this. Get in a tight spot, and return to safety.

  But that still doesn’t remedy the fact that at least three, maybe more, of those salamander-like creatures waited for him in that room. If he planned to use that room’s mirror to further the search for the way out, he better think of a way to deal with them.

  What about his third hand-held mirror, the one from the forest? He still had yet to discover where it led. It might be a good idea to see where it goes before I take on the salamanders. Where it led may just make the whole salamander problem moot.

  First things first. He removed the sunstone from his pack and placed it in his pouch where he could access it on a moment’s notice. Next, he went to the storeroom and took three torches from the stack of a dozen; two he placed within his pack, the third he stuffed in his belt. Deciding against swapping lanterns, he retained the bull’s-eye. Should additional light be required, he could now use either the sunstone, or ignite the torch without undue trouble.

  Ready, he closed and locked the storeroom’s door. Drawing his sword, he slipped a finger into the third pocket of the mirror-pack and touched the surface of the hitherto unused hand-held found in the monolith’s recess.

  Cool dampness and the sound of water dripping in the distance filled the small, alcove-like cavern wherein he now found himself. Panning the lantern’s light, he discovered one end opened onto a much larger, cavernous expanse.

  The smaller cave in which he arrived overlooked the larger from a height of a hundred feet. For a subterranean cavern, it was enormous. As he played the light across the larger to reveal its shadowy secrets, Holk detected an underlying odor in the air, one that was unfamiliar. Foul and smelling somewhat like a charnel house, it set his hackles to standing on end.

  It wasn’t the scent of a Ti-Ock, of that he was certain. Continuing to pan the light, it soon fell upon a dark mass lying amidst the floor down below. Considering the distance from where he stood, it had to be quite large. The object was too far away for him to adequately make out, but he did notice that within the lower half of the dark shadowy mass, many objects sparkled in the lantern’s light.

  Jewels?

  His first thought was treasure, but it could just have easily been an exposed vein of quartz. Only one way to find out; he had to get down there.

  The edge of the small cave dropped sheer for twenty feet before turning into a gentler slope. As Holk sought a way down, he came t
o the conclusion that there had to be something interesting, possibly valuable, in this cave. For why else would anyone go to the trouble of constructing a mirror that led there?

  He didn’t relish the idea of attempting to climb down. Instead, he activated the mirror and returned to the Prison Room. Once there, he reclaimed his “strip-rope” from the storeroom, then touched the third mirror to return to the cave.

  A jagged outcropping near the drop-off made a good anchor for the rope. After it was secured, he tossed the remainder of the rope over the edge. Slipping the lantern’s handle over his knife’s hilt, he took hold of the rope and descended.

  The descent to where the incline angled less severely went without incident. He left the rope dangling against the wall as he once again took up the lantern and went forward to investigate.

  The odor grew in intensity the closer to the dark mass he came. Features clarified. The surface was a strange texture, kind of like fish scales that glistened darkly in the light. Drawing closer, he discerned the fish scales had nothing to do with fish, instead being reptilian in nature.

  When that realization hit, Holk came to an immediate halt. A reptile? If it was, it was the biggest one he had ever heard of. The body was huge, easily the size of a building. He saw where a serpentine neck emerged from the body, though the head was concealed as the neck curled around the creature’s far side.

  It had a tail. Like the neck and head, it curled around the far side. But perhaps the most curious aspect of the creature was the wings sprouting from its back. They were large, easily half again the size of the creature. Though he had never seen one, he was certain that what lay before him could be nothing other than a dragon.

  Right out of some bard’s tale, there before him was a dragon resting atop a pile of treasure. Holk couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There were no such things as dragons! Of course, he had once thought there were no such things as magic mirrors that transported people from one place to another. Ever since his time in The Devil’s Kiln, Holk had been forced to re-evaluate what he knew to be true time and again.

  Dangerous creatures if the tales were true; temperamental too. Stealing from their hoard was said to bring swift and terrible retribution. At thought of the hoard, he directed the light to the treasure upon which the beast rested; gold, jewels, and many other items of worth such as statues, weapons, and anything else which could be considered valuable. This was perhaps the greatest concentration of wealth Holk had ever heard. Kings were paupers when compared to what lay before him.

  Panning the light along the dragon’s treasure-bed, it came to illuminate a cache comprising over a dozen diamonds of incredible size. They were not directly beneath the beast, rather they lay loose along the edge.

  I might be able to pay the Merchant enough to leave this place.

  Greed warred with common sense. He did have the mirrors. If the beast were to awaken, a quick touch would see him translocated to safety. Figuring this to be his best chance at freedom, he stepped toward the cache.

  No heat radiated outward from the beast’s scaly hide. Its sides rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic tempo. Most likely, the beast slept, or perhaps hibernated? Either way, Holk did not plan to remain long enough for it to awaken and discover that it was not alone.

  Stepping quickly toward the cache of diamonds, he froze when the beast gave a snort. But when no further sound or movement followed, he continued forward. He came to stop at the fringe of the hoard. Mere feet separated him from the diamonds. Assuredly, these gems would be sufficient to cover the Merchant’s price for freedom. Kneeling down, he gathered them one at a time.

  As the eighth gem slipped into his pack, he came to the realization that the beast’s sides no longer expanded in breath. The only warning he had the beast no longer slept was a twitching of the massive wing above his head. In a flash, the dragon rolled.

  Holk leapt backward, barely avoiding being crushed beneath its bulk. Two red eyes stared at him from a reptilian head oddly devoid of horns. Catching his foot on a protruding outcropping of the cavern’s floor, he stumbled backward with flailing arms to land on his back.

  A deep roar shook the cavern.

  His hands flew to his ears on their own accord in an attempt to block the painful sound. Seeing a taloned claw twice his size flying toward him, he rolled out of the way, but not quick enough. Talons brought pain as they pierced side, leg, shoulder and arm. The pain increased tenfold as the claw drew him from the cavern’s floor, to a point before a maw filled with rows of dagger-like teeth.

  Thief!

  The maw opened and Holk knew his death was but moments away. Reaching toward the mirror-pack with his uninjured hand, he wormed a finger into the first pouch and touched the border of the mirror contained within. But when the claw flexed, tearing flesh, his body spasmed with excruciating pain and the hand slipped from the pouch.

  Seconds passed in a blur of blood and pain. The next thing he knew, he lay within the creature’s maw. In the faint light of the lantern that lay askew on the cavern floor below, he saw the silhouette of the teeth rising no more than a foot away. Terror filled him.

  The beast’s jaw moved and flung him against the fearful, flesh-tearing array. Knowing it was now or never, he put every ounce of will he had into bringing his hand toward the mirror pack. A finger wormed its way inside. From beneath him, a long tong pushed upward, raising him level with the tops of the teeth. As the tongue moved again, and sharp points pierced his body, his finger touched the mirror’s surface.

  Instantly, he lay upon the floor of the Prison Room. Pain wracked his body, his senses grew dull, yet he knew if he gave in to it, he was lost. His eyes fell upon the door to the storeroom; within lay a dozen of the red-capped mushrooms that contained healing properties. They were his only chance at survival.

  Using his good arm, he dragged his body toward the door then somehow managed to extract its key from within his pouch. Pure agony assailed him as he worked to bring the key to the keyhole. It slipped inside, the key was turned.

  The room spun and his vision grew ever more obscured. He managed to get the door open far enough for him to pass. Leaving a trail of blood like a slug depositing slime, he reached the far side and the shelf upon which the mushrooms sat. Reaching upward, he caught the edge of the shelf. In an attempt to rise, he put pressure on the shelf and…crack...the wood broke to drop a hail of items upon his already abused body. Some of those items were the mushrooms.

  No more strength did he have. It was by sheer force of will that he managed to bring a mushroom to his mouth. He could feel his life quickly slipping away. Five more he managed to ingest before his arm would lift no more. He hoped six would be enough.

  As consciousness at last drew to a close, motion in the room beyond caught his attention. A figure strode toward him; armored, helmed, and bore an unsheathed blade. The last thing Holk saw before slipping away altogether, was an armored foot coming to a stop in front of him.

  Chapter 10

  Sunshine warmed his body. Sunshine? The fact that he lived was greeted with no small amount of surprise. He lay in a half-conscious state for some time before the snap-crackle of burning wood brought him the rest of the way to consciousness.

  There was no pain. That fact in itself proved remarkable. The last moments before passing out were vague, but that he had been mortally wounded and in great pain remained vivid. He had entered the storeroom in search of mushrooms, but then… his memory grew obscure. Had there been someone else? Armor…sword…feet?

  Opening his eyes, he raised his hand to shield them from the sunlight streaming through the barred windows of the Prison Room. From his left came heat from the fire; he turned his gaze toward it.

  A lad sat upon a short stool beside a ring of stones in which the fire burned. Maybe eleven years old, he wore a ratty old cloak; the legs sticking out of it were barren of covering as were the dirt-stained feet. Unruly locks of blond hair cascaded to shoulder length.

  On the ground next
to the lad, a burlap sack that had seen better days leaned against the legs of the stool. Worn and frayed, the sack bulged, filled with items unknown. Through a ragged hole in the side, a metallic glimmer could be seen. Unfortunately, not enough of it was visible for him to discern what it could be.

  A minute rolled by as Holk watched the lad do nothing but gaze into the fire. It was almost as if he was captivated by its brilliance. When he at last tried to adjust his position to one of greater comfort, it broke whatever spell had mesmerized the lad.

  Hopping off the stool like a rabbit scared by a hound, the boy took three quick steps backward then came to a stop against the wall. In one hand he held a handheld mirror, the other remained poised above its reflective surface. Eyes locked on Holk, the lad appeared set to activate the mirror’s power at the slightest provocation.

  Forcing a grin, Holk nodded to the lad. “Hello.”

  Remaining stock-still, the boy did not answer.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” When that declaration produced no affect, he added, “I promise.”

  The lad appeared unconvinced.

  “You’re the first person I’ve seen since coming here.”

  Facial muscles moved ever so slightly, but the lad kept his distance.

  Holk pushed himself into a sitting position, then had to take several deep breaths to ward off passing out. He held head in hands until the spell passed, but kept one eye pointing in the general direction of the boy.

  “Name’s Holk.”

  Once the danger of being rendered unconscious passed, Holk raised his head. For the first time, he saw the mirror-pack strapped around the lad’s waist. It was a match to the one he bore, but where his had but three mirrors, the lad’s looked full.

  Fearing his mirrors had been taken, he sought his pouch and sighed when he felt the three mirrors within. He pulled out the first and saw the twin lines drawn by Kiernan. They had not been replaced or stolen.

  “What’s your name?” When the lad didn’t answer, he took a calculated guess and asked, “It wouldn’t be Streyan, would it?”