Chasing Portals: Swords and Science Book 1

by Jason Parker

  Nightlocke drained his glass and paced along the lab bench. “That’s not so bad. Say I wanted to change the color of this white shirt I’m wearing to blue. We could treat it with your formulation and apply light through the blue disk. In the morning, when I step outside in the sun, my shirt turns blue. That’s pretty cool.”

  “You’ve touched upon my second problem.” Ambernifer said with a wry grin. “The treated fabric is unable to retain electromagnetic radiation. As soon as you walked back inside, your blue shirt would turn white again. For a moment, anyway. Unfortunately, when the fabric is removed from sunlight the radiation within it is released with a consumptive burst of colored light. You’d be left with no shirt at all.”

  “Oh, I guess that limits you to beach wear,” Nightlocke deadpanned.

  “You ass,” she responded with a giggle and raised her glass for more wine.

  He joined in the laughter and filled their glasses. “Now I’m beginning to understand how you produced the vivid light show tonight.”

  Ambernifer nodded, swirled her glass and took a long swallow. “Yes, all my efforts to create something practical have been reduced to entertainment value. I suppose it’s not a complete loss. Fodjan was certainly intrigued when I discussed my findings with him a couple of weeks ago. He insisted we could turn it into something spectacular.”

  “No offense,” Nightlocke said timidly, “but the light show seemed more of a Fodjan thing than something you would come up with.”

  She waived her hand dismissively. “None taken. You’re right, Fodjan gave me the idea. He shared the composition of a food additive he developed to slow the release of flavor in chewing gum. Then, I worked feverishly day and night to incorporate the additive into my photo reactive chemical compound in order to slow the release of the stored electromagnetic radiation. Less than thirty-six hours ago I created something viable.”

  “Wow!” Nightlocke said and inclined his glass toward her.

  She smiled. “And, with no time for thorough testing, I worked until an hour before the graduation ceremony creating the streamers to be draped across the quad and provide the denouement of the feast.”

  They stood together in silence and sipped the last of the second bottle of wine. Nightlocke was pleasantly inebriated.

  “I'm honored you would work so hard to put something like that together for my celebration,” he said.

  “Hey, it was all worth it,” she said with a smile. “Since we're the last two to become Scientists, we're kind of like club mates or something and, besides, you're kind of cute.”

  Nightlocke wondered if the wine was responsible for the last comment. Aside from her encounter with Ron, Ambernifer had always acted professionally. Truly, though, outside of the classroom, Nightlocke did not know her. Unfortunately, the alcohol had also loosened his tongue and his thought of Ron and Ambernifer caused him to ask on impulse, “Why did you hook up with Ron?”

  Ambernifer’s smile quickly faded and she raised her eyebrows in irritation.

  He immediately regretted his words and tried to recant. “I’m sorry, that was phrased poorly, and it’s really none of my business.”

  “You’re right it isn’t,” she said with less anger than he expected, “but I think your question was a result of you being drunk rather than being judgmental. Luckily for you, given my own current state of intoxication, I’m going to answer your question rather than throw you out of my lab.”

  “You really don’t have to…” Nightlocke started but was cut off by her upraised hand.

  “Just shut up and listen,” she began. “Your buddy Ron is undeniably persistent. He has been hitting on me for the past four years. He is extremely persuasive and can be quite charming, unlike yourself,” she chided with feigned indignation.

  “You’ve probably never noticed how limited my options are for companionship around here,” she continued. “All the men at the Institute are either married, old enough to be my grandfather, or…or Fodjan.”

  The mental image of Fodjan and Ambernifer together caused Nightlocke to double over and burst out laughing. Ambernifer quickly joined in.

  “Anyway,” she said once her laughter was under control, “the prospects in the surrounding villages are not much better. For the most part, I stay focused on my research, but I have needs, you know, like everyone else. Sometimes it takes a lot of discipline to avoid ethical dilemmas and not get involved with a student.”

  Nightlocke put his hand to his chin. “But what about Ron?”

  “When I finally allowed Ron to entice me with his charms, classes were over and Ron was about to graduate. I knew Rainstel wouldn’t be thrilled if he found out, but I figured at worst I would have to endure one of his lectures.” She displayed a slight smile.

  Folding her arms beneath her breasts in mock exasperation, she asked, “So does that answer your question?”

  “Yes, and you didn’t have to explain,” he said, noticing how the placement of her arms accentuated the prominence of her breasts. He thought it might be intentional, but his alcohol influenced brain would tend to think that way. “I may be out of line again asking this, but since you’re in a giving mood…”

  “What now?” she interjected, maintaining her charade of annoyance. “What else could you possible want to know?”

  “Your name,” Nightlocke replied, “how did you ever come up with ‘Ambernifer’ for your Scientist name?”

  Ambernifer started to laugh and he joined in—relieved and glad he didn’t piss her off by broaching another sensitive subject.

  “My given name was Gennifer which I really liked,” Ambernifer explained. “I asked Rainstel if I could keep it. He was astounded I would even consider such a thing and proceeded to lecture me at length about the importance of tradition within the scientific community. He suggested I reconsider my sacrilege and start thinking about an appropriate name.”

  “My primary scientific interest is, of course, light and color,” she continued, “so to spite Rainstel I considered Greenifer which is very close to my original name and justifiably appropriate. The thought of being called Greenie for the rest of my life, though, convinced me to reconsider. I ultimately decided upon Ambernifer. I liked the sound and it was a good compromise between my given name and appropriateness.”

  Nightlocke smiled thinking of how Rainstel would have reacted had she chosen to use Greenifer.

  “Now Mr. Curious, any more personal questions?” she asked, slinking toward him with an inviting look.

  “No, I think I’m good,” he said, having a difficult time keeping his eyes from fixating on her breasts as she approached. Her sudden nearness titillated his senses. His body began to smolder with arousal, overcome by breathing in her essence.

  “Now it’s my turn for a question. Would you like to stay with me tonight?” she asked in a low, provocative voice. She placed a hand on his shoulder and lifted herself to kiss him slowly and seductively on the lips.

  Without hesitation, he said “Yeah, I’ll stay.” He pulled her close and firmly returned her kiss.

  ***

  In the morning, Nightlocke awoke next to Ambernifer on the small mattress she kept in her lab for long nights of research. He tried to be silent and not wake her, but as he was dressing, she stirred and opened her eyes.

  “Trying to sneak out without saying goodbye?” she asked while stifling a yawn.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked peaceful,” he replied.

  Ambernifer sat up holding a blanket to her chest. “Don’t give me that bullshit.” She paused and leaned forward. “I guess I was unsuccessful at persuading you to stay at the Institute?” She stood and let the blanket fall to the floor.

  Staring at her near perfect naked body made it difficult to resist the urge to make love to her again. Instead, he picked up the blanket and draped it around her.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not you,” he said, fumbling for the right words and struggling to keep his eyes firmly planted on hers and not travelin
g the curves of her body. “You’re fantastic. Given the right time and circumstances—maybe—but this isn’t the right time for me. Please understand.”

  Ambernifer looked away from him and pulled the blanket tightly around her. “It’s okay,” she said, “just go.”

  He was struck by the profound sadness in her voice. He wanted to hug her or at least say something wise or reassuring, but he was unable to find the words. He stared at her helplessly for a moment and then left. Silently, he berated himself as he exited the lab and walked toward the student apartments.

  He stopped by his apartment long enough to clean up and pack his few belongings into a backpack. On the way out of the apartment building, he gave his pack and a couple of coins to one of the village boys. The boys assisted students in transporting their luggage to the stage coach station.

  As he made his way to the administration building, he hoped to run into Ron and Laurela, but did not see either of them. He would have to find them later at the station.

  Reaching the administration building, he joined a small group of students who were saying their farewells to the Head Master and some other faculty members. He noticed Ambernifer was not among them. He was relieved by her absence, but also felt resurgent pangs of guilt. He didn’t like leaving things the way he had with her, but what could he say? He was leaving the Institute and wouldn’t lie to her or make false promises.

  He made his way to Rainstel and Sandstar who offered their congratulations once more. They both told him to give their regards to Dagan Garris. Finally, he reached Fodjan who, as was the case every year on departure day, was overcome with emotion and could do little more than give Nightlocke a hug and a handshake. Already feeling depressed about Ambernifer, Nightlocke struggled to keep his emotions in check. He forced a smile for Fodjan and assured him he would return soon for a visit. He walked away melancholy with the realization he was leaving this place—his home for the past four years.

  CHAPTER 8

  Daria Darkmoon was simultaneously frightened and exhilarated. Before her meetings with Moros, the great lord and true god, she teemed with a pendulum of emotion. While he could see her when they communicated, he was not visible to her. She sensed his presence, but heard only his voice. A voice of honey on sandpaper or sweet nectar spiked with venom. A voice that emanated from everywhere, yet nowhere.

  Daria was dressed in a tight fitting black camisole and matching thong panties with black leather knee-hi boots. The camisole was cut low to accent her cleavage. Her breasts were moderately large and exquisitely firm. Her long dark hair was lustrous, her skin soft and smooth. Every muscle in her body was toned and firm, but not to a degree that would compromise her femininity. She strived to be the image of human female perfection. To please her lord she would be the image of human female perfection.

  Daria rested on her knees, closed her eyes and opened her mind. Reaching out to him with every fiber of her consciousness, she focused her thoughts on the bittersweet memory of her lord’s voice.

  “Daria,” a voice rasped. Moros. Her lord. His deep, throaty intonation filled her with dread yet, at the same time, titillated her erotically.

  “Yes, my lord,” Daria said extending her arms and pressing her forehead to the floor, extending her exposed buttocks into the air. “I live to serve.” She relished the dichotomy of discordant feelings and emotions that coursed through her, it was a dangerous euphoria like nothing she had ever experienced or fathomed.

  “You have pleased me, Daria,” Moros's voice echoed. “You have done well with Vladrik. He has been restored and set upon the path I desire. You may rise.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Daria responded as she stood. She beamed with pride at the compliment. “I exist to be you vessel on Gandany. Through me you will reign supreme on this world. Those who now rule Gandany will grovel at my feet and submit themselves before your will.” Her body pulsated. She licked her lips and arched her back.

  “Yes, my pet,” Moros crooned. “You shall have your reward, but you must be patient. You must carefully follow the precise plans I have laid out for you. There is no room for error.”

  Daria fell to her knees and bowed. “Yes, my lord. I understand.”

  “Good. Now rise and tell me of Vladrik.”

  His sandy smooth voice made her weak in the knees. She fought to calm the emotions coursing through her. “Vladrik, or rather his bones, were exactly where you said they would be within the Auldhurst Forest. They were buried deep, but I exhumed them without incident. Standing over his remains, I took hold of the amulet and attuned my mind to the mystical energies. According to your instructions, I molded the energies to my will and combined them in the appropriate quantities. Flesh began to appear on the bones and his body was rebuilt from the inside out. It was a horridly delicious sight.”

  “Perfect.” Moros’s deep chords ran over her viscous and slick like silk.

  Daria quivered and went on. “When his body was whole, he awoke incoherent and ravenous—screaming for blood. He leapt toward me, but suddenly stopped as if he had hit an invisible wall. It was as you said. The spell bound him to me as the one who restored him to life. I was his master. I sent him off to hunt for an animal in the woods. When he returned he was sated and calmed, but not satisfied. He craved the taste of human blood. What manner of creature is he, my lord?”

  “He is not what he once was,” Moros replied. “The amulet I instructed you to retrieve from the grave of the wizard Jamis enables the holder—you—to embrace the mystical energies and channel magic. Little mystical energy remains in your world and it is near impossible to harness without the use of talismans such as the amulet. Few such talismans remain in existence.”

  Daria closed her eyes and leaned her head back, letting his words wash over her.

  “With the mystical energies scarce, only certain spells will work and the formulations must be extremely precise. The mystical energies in your world are derived from the basic elements of earth, air, fire, and water. Trace amounts of earth, fire, and water can be tapped into, but I am able to detect no usable quantities of the energies associated with air.”

  Daria understood little of what Moros was explaining, nor did she care. She was enraptured by his voice. She simultaneously felt the tingle of soft feathers brushing her skin and the arousing bite of pin pricks. She could listen to him forever.

  Moros’s voice resonated throughout the room. “Fortunately, the reanimation of Vladrik required only a combination of earth, fire, and water,” he continued. “The magic that exists in your world, even when it was at its most potent, cannot restore natural life to the dead. Vladrik is now an undead creature. He has the semblance of life, but he does not live as you do.”

  “I don’t understand. Can you explain further, my lord?” Daria pleaded. She yearned to hear more of his sickly sweet voice.

  “In the world of my origin, we called such creatures vampires. Vampires are immensely strong, fast and nearly invincible. Their only true weakness is the extreme sensitivity of their skin to sunlight. Their strength is diminished while the sun shines and they must cover themselves from head to foot. The slightest kiss of the sun will cause their skin to burst into flame. Death by fire or impalement through the heart by a weapon of wood construction is the only way to destroy them.”

  Her breathing grew heavier. Her words followed its rhythm. “I observed his indestructible nature. Soon after Vladrik's resurrection, he prowled ahead of me as we were making our way through the Forest. The scent of a small camp of rangers called to him. His attack was quick and brutal. By the time I caught up with him, he had already drained the blood from two of the rangers. The remaining two were taking turns violently hacking at him with their swords, but Vladrik barely noticed. His wounds simply disappeared.”

  “That is most excellent and as expected,” Moros interrupted. “Vampires are extraordinary creatures.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she breathed. “As Vladrik moved to attack the remaining rangers, I ordered
him to control his blood lust and subdue rather than kill. Once again, I held the amulet and embraced the mystical energies, this time, water and earth. I focused the energies on the potion I had inveigled the fool Scientist to concoct for me. Again, my lord, your instructions were flawless. I commanded Vladrik to force the captives to drink the potion and, soon, the rangers' efforts to escape weakened and they became feverish.”

  “Yes, yes. The onset of the infection,” Moros mused.

  Daria rolled her shoulders and pushed out her breasts. “Soon their struggles resumed, but differently. They thrashed about as mad men, devoid of any self-awareness and full of rage.”

  “Excellent, my pet. And what of Vladrik?” Moros’s voice buzzed.

  “Obeying your wishes, I commanded him to drink the remainder of the potion. It seemed to have no effect on him, but within minutes he smiled and the infected rangers calmed. Vladrik told me he could feel their simplistic minds, reach into them and link them together as a single unit. One mind, one purpose. I freed the transformed rangers from their bonds and they stood frozen as if in a stupor. Vladrik was in complete control of them. I ordered him to set off with the afflicted rangers, infect others and build an army. As you instructed, I also directed Vladrik to seek out the wizards who had opposed him in his previous existence and destroy them.”

  “You did well, my Daria,” Moros said with an exultant rasp. “While not truly alive, Vladrik has full recollection of his previous life. He harbors great resentment for this world and those that brought about his downfall. I have learned Vladrik has already murdered his former lover, the sorceress Zarlyn. The bitch’s demise was most timely. She was becoming uncomfortably close to discovering how to harness the remaining mystical energies without talismans. That would have been most unfortunate.”