A Portal for Your Thoughts

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  The three remaining men turned to look up at the sheriff.

  “I don’t like this boss. We need t’ get outta here!”

  The sheriff was silent as he stared at the ground. The writhing, pulsing mass of insects was quickly growing smaller as the once incarcerated bugs scrambled to get as far away as possible. They scurried under leaves, into tree roots, under rocks, and so on as they looked for suitable places to hide. The sheriff turned to look back at the manor and then around at the forest. He seemed to come to a decision.

  “Fine. We’ll burn the place down at a later date when I can find some men who aren’t cowards. For now, get in there and fetch me the woman.”

  Sarah sat up straight. They wanted Cora? The men began grumbling amongst themselves. This was not what they had wanted to hear as no one wanted to go inside. One soul, braver than the others, was foolish enough to vocalize his objections.

  “You mean we ain’t leavin’? Can’t you find a woman in town, boss?”

  Sarah winced as she heard the loud crack of a fist striking a man’s face.

  “I don’t need no whore, you imbecile. I need Luther’s wife. If we have to cut our losses tonight then we need to get some leverage against him. I want the location of his gold mine.”

  “Gold? There ain’t no gold in these here parts, boss! Only silver.”

  Sarah quietly agreed. Coeur d’Alene was known for their rich veins of silver, not gold.

  “He pays for his supplies in gold coin,” the sheriff flatly answered. “I know. Old man Hutton keeps me informed.”

  Up on the roof, Sarah groaned. Luther was paying for his supplies in gold coin? He must have been using grifs, gold Lentarian coins that he brought with him. No wonder he had attracted the sheriff’s attention!

  “You three. Bring me that woman. If you don’t come outta that house with her then don’t come back at all.”

  The three men swallowed nervously. They walked up to the porch steps and, as one, hesitated. One man turned to look behind him.

  “You sure you don’t want to come with us, boss?”

  The sheriff had drawn his gun and was pointing it straight at them.

  “You got five seconds to get inside before I start firing. Now get going!”

  The remaining three men reached the bottom of the porch stairs together. As one they looked up at the small flight of six steps and swallowed noisily. Calmly, carefully, they ascended the stairs. Each stair creaked ominously as the weight of the men was put on it. Guns were drawn and were held in trembling hands.

  As soon as the front door’s doorknob was within reach Sarah used her jhorun to open the door, which creaked noisily as it opened. She couldn’t have planned that any better. An outside observer would say that it looked as though the house was beckoning the brave, or foolish, to enter.

  “Oh hell no,” one of the men defiantly said.

  “Duncan, you’re oldest. You first.”

  “What are we, ten years old?” Duncan hissed back. His knees were shaking so badly it was a wonder he was able to stay upright. “Do I look that stupid? Besides, you’re older than I am, Brent.”

  “Am not. Get going! The sheriff has a gun trained on our backs. I ain’t goin’ out like this.”

  The third man, a tall fellow sporting a bright orange beard, boldly covered the distance to the front door in only a few paces and strode through.

  “Bob, what the hell are you doing? Get back here!”

  Cora had been watching through one of the smaller side windows. She was waiting for him. She gave a hard yank on one of the closest ropes. One of the ‘spooks’, hidden within a large vase, leapt upwards and zoomed up the stairs. Less than two seconds later it had vanished, having been pulled up onto the second floor.

  In record time Bob’s newfound courage was gone as he was left, trembling, in the foyer of the darkened house.

  Sarah teleported herself from her hiding place on the roof to the third story, just outside of the master bedroom. The area outside the one and only room on the manor’s top floor was used as a sitting area in her time. A quick glance at the furniture confirmed that was what Cora and Luther used the space for, too. Sarah ducked behind an armchair and peered over the balcony to the ground floor down below. Her vantage point was perfect. She could see the entire foyer from the front door all the way to the base of the stairs.

  She watched the three men inch inside the house. Any moment now Cora should be dripping raspberry syrup down one of the staircase walls. Sarah looked around. It was dark in the house. Some additional light was needed.

  Sarah closed her eyes and pictured the lit candle and its holder in the kitchen. True to her word, Cora had left the candle on the counter for her to use in case she needed it. Well, she did. She ordered her jhorun to move the candle from the kitchen to the foyer all the while remaining in sight.

  The candle rose a few inches off the ground and deftly navigated its way through the house en route to the foyer. Sarah was careful to keep a mental picture in her mind the entire time lest she lose her concentration and drop the candle. The last thing she wanted to do was accidentally set Cora’s home on fire. Besides, it was her home, too. Just not yet.

  Duncan, Brent, and Bob all gasped loudly as the lit candlestick floated into the room and settled on a small table near the base of the stairs. Before any of the three could say a word Duncan gasped again and pointed up at the wall. Thanks to the additional light provided by the candle they could see dark red liquid slowly oozing down the wall.

  “Tell me that ain’t blood!” Brent whined.

  Duncan swallowed nervously.

  “Sure looks like it.”

  “There’s blood on the walls,” Brent whined, in a louder voice this time. “The walls are bleedin’! Do you know what that means?”

  Sarah sniffed the air. She could smell the raspberries from Cora’s homemade syrup. Hopefully no one else would be able to smell the sweet fragrance in the air. Despite the circumstances, Sarah smiled as she briefly imagined what Steve would say if he were by her side. He’d look her straight in the eye and tell her he was in the mood for a raspberry filled doughnut.

  The three intruders, displaying a level of courage she wouldn’t have originally given them credit for, remained side by side and inched further into the house. In a matter of a few moments they had detoured to the left and had disappeared from her sight.

  Sarah scowled. She teleported one story down and quietly leaned out over the second story balcony railing as far as she was able. The intruders had moved deeper into the dining room and were out of sight. Sarah teleported herself down to the ground floor and peeked into the room.

  “They must be hiding!” the sheriff loudly called out from outside. “Luther never leaves the house. His wife has gotta be with him. Find them!”

  “Betcha them spooks got ‘em,” Bob whispered as he peered anxiously around the room they had all just entered.

  They were in the dining room, Sarah noted. A gorgeous hand carved mahogany dining table, with twelve chairs set in place around the massive table, was in the center of the room. The table had not one, or two, or even three support legs to hold it up, but four. A matching hooded sideboard, china cabinet, and server were also in the room. Sarah spotted several majestic griffins carved into the base of the table legs, acting as ‘toes’ to keep the table from tipping over. Despite the seriousness of the situation Sarah couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to this table in her time. Look at it! It’s gorgeous!!

  Also in the room were several tall bookcases, also constructed in mahogany. Each of the five-shelf bookcases was filled with books.

  “I’m tellin’ ya there’s no one here!” Duncan whispered.

  Sarah smiled. She knew what she had to do.

  The doors to the china cabinet sprang open, causing the three men to yelp with fear. The dishes flew out of the cabinet and soared about the room before neatly stacking themselves back into the cabinet. It only took about ten seconds.


  Sarah glanced at the men. They were rooted in place, rigid with fear. Enjoying herself, she ordered her jhorun to reorganize the books on bookcases. Within moments lines of books were flying through the air and passing through more lines of books. The neatly executed maneuver was more organized than a marching band executing a flawless performance out on the field.

  Once all the books were once more resting on the shelves, albeit in a different order, the trio of men calmly looked at one another. As one, they all opened their mouths, took a deep breath, and screamed. Throwing caution to the wind each man screamed as though they were personally living their worst nightmare, which Sarah had to concede, might just be the case.

  The men bolted from the room and ran back the way they had come. Sarah ducked out of the way behind a suit of armor as she giggled to herself. This was actually quite fun!

  Wait.

  Sarah glanced up at the complete set of armor she was crouching behind. She could see the Lentarian crest proudly displayed on the cuirass. This wasn’t anywhere in her house in her time, either. She briefly contemplated what might have happened to it but pushed the thought aside as the men came rushing by her. Thankfully, in their haste, they didn’t see her.

  She decided an additional act certainly couldn’t hurt.

  The visor clinked loudly as it dropped into place. Bob, intent on reaching the outside door as soon as possible, risked a backwards glance and gasped with horror as the suit of armor stepped down from its pedestal and raised its two arms up in a proper ‘undead’ fashion. It slowly ambled towards them but rapidly picked up speed as Sarah became more comfortable animating the articulated metal suit.

  “Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Duncan shrieked out as he spotted what had captured Bob’s attention.

  WHAM!

  The third man, Brent, also watching the animated suit of armor clank noisily towards them, sprinted towards the manor’s open front door but forgot that only one of the double doors was open. He had slammed headfirst into the heavy wooden door, which had created a resounding thud strong enough to shake the dust off the top of the frame. The force of the impact had also pushed him back into the foyer and into his two companions, who hadn’t been watching where they were going, either.

  Sarah slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Without realizing it, the armor mimicked her as her jhorun inadvertently matched her movements to the armor’s.

  Duncan made it to his feet first. He and Bob both saw that Brent wasn’t moving and therefore gave him a not so gentle kick on the butt.

  “Get up, idiot! We’re clearin’ out!”

  Bob risked a glance backwards and saw the armor doubled over in laughter.

  “That rat bastard is laughing at us!”

  Duncan didn’t care.

  “Let ‘im laugh. I’m outta here!”

  “What about Brent? He ain’t movin’!”

  Duncan slung his companion’s inert form over his shoulder and rushed outside, completely ignoring the sheriff’s frustrated shouts. He and Bob, with their friend over his shoulder, disappeared into the woods.

  Sarah teleported herself back to her hiding place on the roof. She peeked over the edge and saw the sheriff sitting, astride his horse. He was still shouting orders, making threats, and promising all manner of nasty things if the men didn’t return. When it became clear that no one was returning, he turned back to the manor and sat, motionless, on his horse, holding the last remaining torch.

  Sarah then summoned the last of her tiring jhorun for a final task: gently push down on every board on the porch below. Sounds of stretching and creaking wood were everywhere and grew progressively louder. She risked a glance at the sheriff. He was still sitting on his horse.

  Unmoving.

  She pushed a final blast of air at the sheriff’s torch and extinguished it. She heard the sheriff mutter a curse and finally turn his horse around. The horse, all too willing to leave, immediately galloped away.

  Sarah watched him leave from one of the manor’s darkened windows. If she didn’t know any better then she’d say the sheriff hadn’t been that scared at all. If anything, he had looked pensive.

  She frowned. That couldn’t be good.

  Chapter 9 – Royal Pain in the Athe

  Steve stared at the dwarf in utter silence. Had he heard him right? Selwyn’s daughter wanted a dragon ride? How in the world was he going to be able to grant that request? He alone had permission to ride a dragon, and a very specific one at that. Pryllan. Earlier this year he had earned the right to ride other dragons, but only with their consent.

  Steve sighed. He fervently wished Pryllan was here now. The Pryllan from his own time, that is. He knew that his large wyverian friend would be willing to give a small dwarf child a ride, especially if Pryllan knew it would probably be the last exciting thing the child was ever able to do. Unfortunately, if anyone tried to hop on Pryllan’s back now, in the current time, then they’d more than likely end up eaten.

  “Are you sure there isn’t anything else she wants?” Steve hesitantly asked. “Maybe we could get a dragon to carry her around in its talons. Do you think that would suffice?”

  Selwyn fixed him with a blank stare, saying nothing.

  “You’re aware that riding a dragon is forbidden?”

  “I’m well aware of the Rinbok Intherer’s decree,” Selwyn snapped. “Do you not think I pleaded my case with the Dragon Lord himself? I am one of only a handful of people that have ever met the dragon king and lived to tell the tale.”

  Steve was instantly contrite.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive; it’s just that your daughter’s request isn’t an easy one.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Selwyn grumbled. He fixed Steve with a stare. “That’s why I’m willing to steal you a crystal. Anything that will make Aislinn smile one last time will be worth any price.”

  Cecil put a friendly hand on Steve’s shoulder.

  “We have to help her. We must find a way to grant her wish.”

  Steve looked back at his friend.

  “I know that, Cecil. You know that. However, I feel there’s a few things you need to know about the dragons. As you’ve personally witnessed, the dragons aren’t overly fond of humans. The humans that live here trust them just as much as the dragons trust them. They do not allow riders.” Steve eyed the dwarf and refrained from telling them that in his time, he just so happened to be a dragon rider. There simply wasn’t any way to convey that thought without revealing where he was from. Or, more specifically, when. “You need to trust me on this. They frown on it. There’s no way we are going to get one of them to allow a dwarf rider on their back.” He sank down on one knee to look Selwyn in the eye. “Is there no other way?”

  The dwarf adamantly shook his head no.

  “It’s the only thing she wants. I am unable to grant this wish and it tears me apart. No father should have to experience the hell that I’m presently stuck in. Your arrival just might be the blessing I need. If you really want that athe crystal then you’d best hope your powers of persuasion are significantly better than mine.”

  Cecil tapped him on the arm. “Didn’t I hear you say you were friends with the dragons?”

  “I am,” Steve automatically answered as he nodded his head, “but in my own time.” Realizing his mistake, Steve cursed silently to himself. He smacked Cecil on the arm. “Dude, you weren’t supposed to ask me that.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Think about that, man.”

  Cecil nodded sagely. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

  “What did you mean?” Selwyn asked, confused. “How can this not be your own time?”

  Steve cringed. He quickly shot a dark glance at Cecil.

  “It’s a long story,” he assured the dwarf, “and I just don’t have the time to tell it. Selwyn, could you give us a minute? I need to have a little chat with my companion in private.”

  “Very well.” The dwarf turned and pointed at the be
ginnings of a paved road leading down into the heart of the city. “I’ll be over there. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

  As soon as they were alone Cecil grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled him around until they were face to face.

  “We have to grant that wish.”

  “That’s the problem, Cecil, we can’t. Only a dragon can.”

  “You said before that you were friends with the dragons. Contact them. Plead our case. Perhaps they’ll be willing to help.”

  Steve began ticking off points on his fingers.

  “First, the dragons here don’t know me. I can’t go walking right up to a dragon, tap it on the nose, and ask to speak to Rinbok Intherer. Yes, I could do that in my own time, but not here. They don’t know me and they certainly don’t trust me.

  “Second, even if I could agree to convince the dragon that I know to allow me to ride her there’s no way she’d agree to allow a stranger on her back. The human wyverian alliance won’t be created for over a hundred years. Third, the dragon dwarf alliance is almost as new as the alliance with us humans. It hasn’t happened yet. What we need the dragons to do is practically impossible.”

  “How long do dragons live?” Cecil wondered. “Are any of the dragons you’re friends with alive right now? Couldn’t we ask them?”

  “I’ve ridden several dragons,” Steve admitted, “but I only have permission to ride Pryllan. She’s an emerald green dragon who just so happens to be mated to the Dragon Lord himself, Kahvel. However, in this time, the present Dragon Lord, Rinbok Intherer, will be the sourpuss that I remember him to be, and I guarantee you he won’t allow this to happen.”

  “Couldn’t we prevail upon his sense of morality to do what needs to be done?”

  One of Steve’s eyebrows jumped up. “His sense of morality? Trust me, his Royal Grumpiness doesn’t have one.”

  “Then you must try this Pryllan character. She sounds like she would be our best bet for success.”

  “In my own time, I might be able to…”

  “I do not care about your own time, Steve,” Cecil all but snapped at him. “We must focus on the here and now. There’s a sick child who wants to ride a dragon. Let’s make it happen, shall we?”