A Portal for Your Thoughts

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “If you can get us out of here, friend, then feel free to do so. Just tell us what you want us to do.”

  “It means you’ll need to lay low and not get caught again,” Steve warned them. “You’re going to have to ignore what you’re about to see and don’t ask any questions. Can you do that?”

  “We all can do that,” one of the occupants from the third cell told him in a hushed tone.

  Steve glanced at the wall of bars separating the cells and then back at the door. The bars were equally thick so it really didn’t matter where he started.

  “Again, ignore what you’re about to see and above all, keep quiet. Got it?”

  Four men fervently nodded their heads.

  “Someone keep an eye on the guy in the last cell,” Steve said over his shoulder as he ignited both hands. “If he starts to stir make sure you tell him to keep quiet, okay?”

  The men gasped with alarm when they saw Steve’s hands go up in flames. One of the men pointed at Steve’s hand and opened his mouth to say something. Steve snapped his fingers a few times to get his attention.

  “Nuh uh. Don’t say anything. Remember our arrangement. I’ll get you out but you have to ignore what you see. Agreed?”

  Wordlessly the four men all nodded. With his hands still blazing Steve leaned forward and wrapped them around the locking mechanism on his cell’s door. In moments the iron was glowing red. Steve pumped more jhorun into his hands and ordered the iron to heat as hot as it could. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the two men in the second cell backing as far away from him as they could. He couldn’t blame them. The ambient temperature in his cell must have jumped up at least thirty degrees.

  Steve experimentally squeezed the metal in his hands. It moved! The metal was becoming malleable! He shoved the metal into a ball, like he was wadding up a large piece of paper. The metal groaned just a bit as it was stretched thin in several places. Steve gave the molten metal a violent twist to the left and then to the right.

  Suddenly he was holding a handful of hot metal and was looking at a basketball-sized hole in the cell door. It had worked! There wasn’t any more lock to keep his door closed! Still holding the heated metal in his hands he nudged the door with his right knee. The hinges creaked noisily as they swung outward.

  Cursing silently Steve hooked his foot through the iron bars to keep the noisy door from opening any further. He withdrew his jhorun and waited for the wadded up lock to become nothing more than a misshapen piece of metal. He gently placed the iron lump onto the floor under the cot and turned towards the second cell. Both occupants were gaping at him.

  “Who are you, friend? How did you do that?”

  Steve held up a finger and shook his head.

  “We agreed there’d be no questions. Now, step away from the door. This is going to get warm for you guys.”

  Using the same technique as he had used on his own cell, Steve melted the cell lock and pulled it free from the door. Holding a lit finger to his lips, Steve approached the third cell and repeated the process. He gently opened each of their doors and beckoned to the occupants to follow him. There were a few minor creaks but nothing to arouse suspicion.

  His followers gathered around him as he stared into fifth and final cell. The person inside was still on his cot and wasn’t moving. Was he alive? Steve watched the man’s chest for a few moments and was starting to convince himself that the poor fellow was dead when he saw the chest rise into the air. He was breathing. Good.

  “Leave him,” one of the men told him. “He hasn’t been in there that long.”

  Steve turned to the man who had spoken and scowled. “Exactly how long has he been in there?”

  “Since earlier today. Right about noon, I reckon.”

  “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  “You didn’t ask. Only wanted a name. We don’t know his name.”

  Steve slowly counted to ten. He was right. He should have asked if anyone had recently been brought in. Oh, well.

  Steve melted the lock from the last cell and stepped inside. He placed the piece of cell he had crumpled into a ball on the ground and gently shook the sleeping man’s shoulder. The man groaned and finally rose to a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and groaned again.

  Steve gave the man’s shoulder another nudge.

  “You need to keep it down. We’re getting out of here.”

  The man finally looked up. Steve’s mouth dropped open. He was looking at a spitting image of himself. The face was unshaved and the hair was longer than he had ever worn it, but there was no doubt about it: this man was related to him. It had to be Luther.

  “Would your name be Luther? Luther Miller?”

  The man warily eyed him.

  “I am. Who are you? What do you –”

  Luther trailed off as he noticed his cell was open. He slowly inspected the other cells and saw that all the doors were open.

  “How did you get in here? What happened to the cells?”

  Steve helped Luther to his feet.

  “I’ll explain later. Right now we need to get out of here.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” Luther asked. He pointed towards the stairs leading to the ground floor. “We may have gotten out of the cells but that doesn’t mean we’re free. We’ll still need to sneak by Gabriel.”

  “Who’s Gabriel?” Steve wanted to know.

  “He’s the deputy.”

  “Ah. Got it. Well, let’s see what we can do.” Steve motioned for the men to gather round. “Who knows this area best? What’s on the other side of these walls? Check that. Which wall doesn’t have any other buildings behind it?”

  One of the occupants of the third cell raised a hand.

  “This building faces into town. Directly behind us is Maple.” The man headed back towards Steve’s cell and motioned him over. He pointed at the small perimeter wall, the one wall not made of iron bars. “On the other side of this is forest. Nothing but trees for miles around.”

  Steve nodded.

  “Then this is our exit point.”

  “How do you plan on getting through that?” the man asked. He knocked on the wall a few times. “The wall’s gotta be made of brick and stone and is at least a foot thick.”

  “You just watched me melt iron bars and you’re questioning me about bricks? Really?”

  The man held up his hands in defeat. Steve pointed back at the other cells.

  “We’re going to need a rope or something. See if you can use the material from the cots and make us a rope.”

  The man nodded. He and the others quickly went to work stripping the fabric from the wooden frames. Steve turned back to the wall and ran his hands along its surface. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Steve sank to the floor and contemplated his options. Several times before he had created a tiny pinprick of intense fire and heat and had used that to cut through leather and wood. Could he use that to burn through the stone? There was only one way to find out.

  “Someone keep an eye out for Gabriel. There’s a good chance he’ll be able to smell what I’m about to do.”

  One man, a prisoner from the second cell, positioned himself next to the doorway leading to the stairs and gave him a thumbs up. Steve nodded. He turned to the wall and closed his eyes.

  Breathing slowly he focused all his jhorun onto one tiny point. He needed his Dot of Fire to be hot enough to burn through solid stone and since he was certain ol’ Triggerfinger downstairs was sure to smell burning bricks, he had to be able to do it as quickly as possible. He opened his eyes. A tiny orange dot had appeared directly in front of him on the wall’s surface. A single tendril of smoke had also appeared.

  Here we go, Steve thought to himself.

  He channeled all of his jhorun into the tiny dot and then proceeded to draw a two foot circle with it down near the floor. Uncertain if the dot had adequate time to burn its way through the stone Steve decided to run the dot over the same line again. He moved the dot a few
feet to the left and left it there while it smouldered in place. He put both hands on the circle that had appeared and pushed.

  Nothing. The rock was clearly thicker than he had thought.

  Determined, Steve ordered the dot back over to the circle and traced it around the circle a few more times. Steve spent the next ten minutes tracing the fire dot around and around the circle, noticing that he was finally making progress. It now looked as though someone had used a tiny chisel to cut a circle into the wall. He again ordered his jhorun to move the dot to the side and then pushed against the wall.

  There was a loud grating noise as a chunk of wall, in a slightly squashed circular shape, moved forward a few inches.

  “I think we have it,” Steve told the others. “Is the rope ready?”

  One of the men held up a twenty foot section of braided burlap rope.

  “It ain’t pretty, but it’ll do. We’re ready.”

  “Remember, you’re going to need to lay low for the foreseeable future,” Steve reminded the motley group.

  “That sumbitch ain’t ever gonna find me again,” one man vowed. “Locked me up for no reason. Was just trying to work my mine.”

  “You didn’t tell him where to find it, didja?” another asked.

  “Hell no. That’s my mine. He can get his own.”

  Steve turned around and held a finger to his lips.

  “Guys, not now. Worry about that later. Tie that rope off. As soon as I push this out it’s going to make a loud ruckus. Everyone ready?”

  The makeshift rope was tied to the closest bar.

  “We’re ready here, friend. Do your thing.”

  Steve gave the cut rock a violent push and grimaced as a loud grating sound was heard by all. The rock slid forward another few inches.

  “What’s going on up there?” a voice hollered from below. “What are you doing? So help me if I have to come up there…”

  Steve gave the rock a final shove and winced at it fell from the wall and crashed noisily below. The rope was thrown through the hole. Steve pushed Luther through first.

  “Get going! Hurry!”

  Luther scurried through the hole and down the rope. Fortunately it was only a dozen or so feet to the ground. Steve leapt to the ground next and turned to look up at the rapidly descending prisoners. Just as soon as each person’s feet touched ground they were off like a shot. Within moments every man, except for the two of them, had disappeared into the forest.

  Just then Gabriel poked his head through the wall and shouted with alarm.

  “Hey! You! Halt in the name of the Law!”

  Gabriel took a handful of the homemade rope and leveraged himself out of the hole. He was in the process of drawing his gun when Steve used his Dot of Fire and sliced the rope in two. Gabriel fell the remaining five feet and lay motionless on the ground. Steve pulled the deputy up into a sitting position and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

  “Relax, you’ll be fine. You’ve just had the wind knocked out of you.”

  Gabriel tried to swing his gun around so that he could point it at Steve. Steve caught the man’s hand and easily disarmed him. He looked at the Colt revolver and shook his head. Steve’s thumb and index finger glowed red as he pinched the gun’s barrel closed. A quick check revealed this was the only gun Gabriel had on his person.

  Steve handed the disabled gun back to the deputy.

  “Think carefully about what you just saw,” Steve told the man, who had begun trembling. “Who do you think melted those bars up there? Who cut through the wall? That was me. Don’t ever draw a gun on me again. Ever. Are we clear?”

  Gabriel vehemently nodded his head.

  “Good. I’ll be on my way then. For the record, those cells were terrible. They’re way too small.”

  It was too much for the deputy. He passed out.

  Steve took Luther’s arm and ducked into the woods.

  “Who are you?” Luther asked him yet again. “Do I know you?”

  “Nope.”

  “How did you cut through that wall?”

  “I’ll explain later. Right now we need to get to the Silver Spike.”

  “I don’t want to go to a saloon. I hate saloons.”

  “Noted. However, Cecil should be waiting for us with some horses, I hope.”

  “You dragged Cecil into this?”

  Steve glanced irritably at his great-great-grandfather.

  “Don’t look at me like that. He wanted to come. He insisted he help break you out.”

  “You went there for me?”

  Steve nodded. “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll –”

  “Explain later.” Luther sighed. “Yes, you’ve told me that before.”

  Half an hour later they arrived at the Silver Spike Saloon. As with all the other saloons it was a hive of activity. Three different saloongirls were strutting up and down the street in front of the Silver Spike and were constantly trying to persuade people to step foot inside. Steve guided Luther around to the back of the building. There, as he was hoping he’d be, was Cecil. He was astride one horse while he held the reins of two others.

  Steve hurried up to him and stepped up into the left stirrup. He swung his right leg over the horse and took the reins that Cecil tossed to him. He looked back and saw that Luther was already seated on the third horse, ready to go.

  “Cecil, we need to move. Go!”

  “Where to?”

  “Where else? The manor. Go!”

  “You know about my manor?” Luther called from the back as the three horses galloped off. “How?”

  Just then Cecil twisted in his saddle to look behind him.

  “It’s too dark to see where I’m going! We’re going to kill ourselves if we try to gallop through the woods at night!”

  Two fireballs sprang into existence; one on the left side of the riders and the other on the right. Cecil gasped with astonishment.

  “They’ll pace you,” Steve told his shocked friend. “Now you can see. Get going!”

  Luther spurred his mount so that he was galloping side by side with Steve.

  “Wizards be damned! You’re Lentarian! You’re using jhorun!”

  Steve turned to Luther and smiled.

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that. I’m using jhorun but I’m not Lentarian. Well, mostly not Lentarian.”

  “What does that even mean?” Luther asked, perplexed.

  “It’s a long story. The short version of that is I’ve been to Lentari before. Many times. I love it there.”

  Cecil reined in his mount so that the three of them were galloping side by side.

  “You’re from Lentari, too? I thought Luther had made all those stories up!”

  Luther leaned back in his saddle so that he could talk to Cecil behind Steve’s back.

  “You didn’t believe? Not even a little?”

  Cecil shook his head.

  “I wanted to believe, Luther, I really did. Look at it from my point of view. Would you have believed me had I come up with a story like that?”

  Luther looked back at Steve.

  “You have no idea how glad I am to see you. Fortuitous timing indeed! I had almost given up hope!”

  Baffled, Steve looked at his ancestor.

  “Given up hope about what? What’s the matter?”

  “If those stories are true,” Cecil was saying, more to himself since no one was paying attention to him, “then that means magic is real! You can do magic! That’s incredible, my friend. You’ll have to give me a demonstration!”

  Luther shook his head. “I told you before, Cecil, that I cannot do that. My jhorun no longer works here.”

  This time it was Steve who leaned back in his saddle so that he was staring straight at Luther.

  “You mean your jhorun worked here before and it doesn’t now?”

  It was Luther’s turn to smile.

  “It’s complicated, my friend.”

  “Let’s see if I can uncomplicate it.
On Lentari your jhorun worked fine. When you came here you knew there was a chance your jhorun wouldn’t work so you took measures to make sure it worked at least long enough to complete the portal. My guess is they gave you a jorii or two, but have since used the jorii up. How am I doing?”

  Luther stared at him in utter shock.

  “How do you know this?”

  The three horses continued to gallop through the woods as Cecil guided them towards the manor.

  “No one knew the nature of my mission. I told no one. The king told no one. Even the wizard wasn’t told, although I suspect he knew.”

  “Trust me, Luther, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  Just then they came to the familiar iron gates that indicated they had arrived on Luther’s land. They led their horses through the open gates one at a time and once Luther was through he dismounted, closed the gates, and locked them from the inside. Five minutes later they brought their horses to a stop by the four stall carriage house that would one day become Steve’s garage.

  The front door banged open. Cora, AnnaBelle, and Sarah all came bounding down the steps. Cora threw herself into Luther’s arms and sobbed hysterically. AnnaBelle embraced Cecil and whispered words of encouragement to him. Steve held out his arms for a hug. Sarah approached and gave him a high-five.

  “Good job, honey!”

  Steve remained motionless with his arms up and still open. Both eyebrows lifted as he gazed at his wife. Sarah burst out laughing and threw herself into his arms and gave him a passionate kiss.

  “Oh, just kidding. Nicely done!”

  Luther led the horses into one of the garage stalls and pulled a gate Steve hadn’t noticed before closed. He ushered them all inside the manor. It was then that Luther got his first good look at his rescuer.

  Standing side-by-side the resemblance was uncanny. They were the same height. They had the same color hair. They had the same nose. They even looked as though they weighed the same. Cecil slowly walked around the two of them and said nothing. Cora kept looking at Steve, then at her husband, and finally back on Steve.

  “Why do you look like him?” Cecil asked him as he walked back to his wife. “Is this some type of prank?”

  Steve watched as Luther slowly turned to him. He watched his ancestor’s eyes widen. Comprehension had dawned. He looked back at him questioningly. Steve nodded knowingly, causing Luther’s mouth to drop open.