Chasing Portals: Swords and Science Book 1

by Jason Parker

  “Perfect!” he exclaimed. “Just as we hoped would happen! The wide beam coupled with the shorter duration blast was much less powerful. Now, I’ll try a more concentrated beam on the other boulder.”

  “Before you do, take a minute to inspect the structural integrity of the device and make sure everything is still intact,” Dagan advised.

  Nightlocke nodded and checked all the components. He tugged at the handle and the copper pipes. Everything was in place and secure. The chamber and large copper pipe were warm to the touch, but not beyond what he would expect.

  “Looks good,” he said as he turned the dial on the end of the large pipe to the smallest opening. He looked up and saw Lassernan by the stables shaking his head. He now had a shovel to accompany his rake.

  Nightlocke repeated the process to drain the remaining fluid from the test tubes. He aimed the device at the remaining boulder then pulled the trigger. He felt the familiar tremor within the chamber followed by the eruption of the force beam. The duration of the blast was near the same as the previous one, but the magnitude of the beam was considerably narrower. Upon impact, the boulder exploded with a loud boom and a rain of pebbles—the smaller focal point and increased intensity of the blast completely obliterated it. The beam continued onward through the boulder and it struck the castle wall beyond. It dissipated, leaving no damage.

  “Yes!” he shouted, jumped in the air, and pumped his fists.

  Dagan applauded as he walked toward him. “Well done,” he said, extending his hand. Nightlocke grasped his hand, vigorously shook it, and pulled him into an embrace.

  “I never could have done it without your help. Thank you!” he said as he tightened the grip of his embrace.

  “Easy there...remember, I’m old and brittle,” Dagan chuckled as he wriggled himself free. “Seriously, though, don’t sell yourself short. You would have eventually found a solution without my assistance. I just helped you get there a little quicker.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll ever be great at mechanics,” Nightlocke said and unloaded the empty test tubes from the device.

  “Nonsense,” Dagan countered. “The primary difference between the two of us is that I have years of experience. You’ll get there.”

  “How many years, exactly?” Nightlocke asked.

  Dagan raised his right eyebrow and tilted his head slightly down. “Many. Now, let’s get this mess cleaned up and eat dinner. I asked Arletta to prepare a special meal in anticipation of today’s success.”

  “Dagan—really how many years? I’m curious.” Nightlocke returned the test tubes to the rack.

  Just then, Lassernan pushed up a wheel barrow containing a pair of shovels and a rake. “Mr. Garris, will we be blowing up the horses next?”

  Dagan patted him on the back. “No, Lassernan,” he laughed. “No horses today, I’m afraid. Thank you for your help.”

  The moment of truth for Nightlocke was gone. Trying to find out anything about Dagan’s past was proving to be impossible. Dagan revealed nothing and if others had information, they kept it secret. Peeling back the layers on Dagan’s life was enigmatic…a conundrum at best. An irritant like the heat on his neck at worst.

  He grabbed a shovel and pushed thoughts of Dagan aside. The mention of food made his stomach rumble. Dagan and Lassernan joined in on the cleanup effort, shoveling chunks of rock into a wheel barrow and raking up the hay fragments. With every toss, Nightlocke happily replayed the test over and over in his mind. Pull. Beam. Boom. It was lovely.

  The cleanup finished, Nightlocke and Dagan helped Lassernan return the tools to the stables. “Hey,” Nightlocke said, snapping his fingers. “We need a name for the device. We can’t just keep calling it ‘the device’.”

  “Well,” Lassernan drawled as he stood the rake in a corner, “it blasts stuff. Why don’t you just call it a blaster?”

  Nightlocke and Dagan looked at each other with arched eyebrows. “It’s simple, but it works,” Nightlocke said. “Blaster it is. Thanks, Lassernan.”

  Nightlocke went to his quarters to clean up and then made his way to the kitchen and dining area. The aroma of fresh bread and roast beef caused his stomach to start rumbling again. He was certain he smelled beef stew, Arletta’s specialty and his own personal favorite.

  As he walked into the kitchen, Arletta greeted him without turning from the stove. “Hello there, Nighty-Night, dear.”

  “Hi, how did you know it was me?” he asked as he squinted at the bright lights reflected from the polished brass accents of the stove.

  “Arletta always knows who’s in her kitchen, sweetie,” she said turning toward him with a broad smile. She wiped her hands on her gravy stained apron. “And besides, Mr. Garris and Lassernan are already in the dining room.”

  “Well, everything smells absolutely delish,” he said, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply through his nose.

  “You and your sweet talk,” she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I hear you’ve done something special today. Mr. Garris walked in smiling from ear to ear going on about how you created some amazing moon beam or some such.”

  “Force beam,” he corrected with a laugh. “We call it a blaster. You should have seen it, it turned a wall of hay bales into dust and boulders into pebbles.”

  “Well, I’m not sure why you’d want to ruin some perfectly good bales of hay or break rocks,” she said with a bit of frown, “but I’m sure you did a good job of it.”

  He laughed again. “Thanks. You know, sometimes I think you’re wiser than all the rest of us put together.”

  “Well, I don’t know about all that,” she said flashing her gapped-tooth grin. “Now go on in the dining room with the others so Arletta can finish getting dinner ready.” She gently shooed him away.

  The stew was one of Arletta’s finest and the cheese encrusted bread bubbled over the edges. During dinner, Nightlocke and Dagan discussed a few technical details about the force beam test, but the conversation was mostly casual so as not to exclude Lassernan and Arletta. Aside from the normally reticent Lassernan droning on about horse feed for a while, the talk was light and to Nightlocke it all felt like home.

  At the conclusion of the meal, Arletta brought out a white-frosted double layer chocolate cake with the words 'Congratulations Nighty-Night!' scripted on top in red icing. The cake melted on his tongue in richness and sweet—exquisite. He thanked and complimented her a hundred times for the thoughtful surprise.

  After enjoying their dessert, Dagan asked Nightlocke to join him for a drink on the balcony overlooking the ocean. The temperature cooled since the afternoon blaze and the stony ledge he leaned on resonated warmth—a remaining residue of the sun. Setting over the ocean in shimmering splashes of orange and red and purple, the sun created the perfect backdrop for the conclusion of a perfect day.

  “Quite a day,” Dagan said as he handed Nightlocke a snifter of brandy and motioned for him to sit.

  “Yes! An amazing day and a beautiful evening to go along with it,” Nightlocke agreed as he sipped the brandy and seated himself.

  Dagan sat next to him and raised his glass. “To success,” he said. Nightlocke nodded and clinked glasses with him. Enraptured by the sunset and the effects of the day, the two drank and sat in silence for several minutes.

  “So what do you plan to do next?” Dagan asked, breaking the momentary pause.

  Nightlocke ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve hardly had a chance to think about it. I would like to construct a couple more blasters and then travel to Euphastis and give Queen Aedana a demonstration. I hope she will see it as a valuable weapon for use at the Outposts.”

  “Aedana is a wise woman and would undoubtedly recognize the many benefits offered by your force beam blaster,” Dagan said as he stroked his beard. “Understand, though, you have created a very powerful weapon. In the wrong hands it could prove to be extremely destructive.”

  Nightlocke raised an eyebrow toward Dagan. “So, you’re saying
I shouldn’t show it to Queen Aedana?” he asked. All he had ever considered was the usefulness of his force beam in battling the dangerous creatures from the Stoneskull Mountains. However, Dagan was right…if the blasters were in the wrong hands, the ramifications would be exponential.

  “I’m not suggesting what you should or should not do. I am simply pointing out to you to consider all factors before making decisions about something so powerful,” Dagan said then took a sip of his brandy.

  Nightlocke stared at his snifter as he swirled the brandy within. The wind in his sails had slowed to a zephyr.

  “Do not look so disheartened,” Dagan smiled. He leaned over and patted Nightlocke on the shoulder. “What you have achieved today is truly remarkable, and I’m confident you will make the right choice about how to introduce your invention to the world.”

  Nightlocke nodded. He knew Dagan’s words were true and he understood scientific achievement carried with it a measure of responsibility.

  “Now, enough with the serious talk. I have something for you,” Dagan said.

  Nightlocke sipped his brandy and watched as Dagan retrieved a bag from the ground beside his chair and handed it to him. He reached inside and pulled out a worn wool overcoat, tattered and frayed on the edges. He didn’t know quite how to react. Dagan had an odd sense of humor sometimes.

  Dagan laughed. “I suppose an old coat isn’t exactly the perfect gift on a warm late summer evening, is it?”

  “Well, it is a bit unusual,” Nightlocke said, trying his best to not sound ungrateful.

  “There is more to the coat than its worn appearance would suggest,” Dagan said holding up his index finger. “Indulge me. Let me ask you. Did you notice your force beam strike the castle wall today?”

  Nightlocke nodded vigorously. “I was going to ask you about that. Yes, I’m sure the beam that pulverized the second boulder continued on and hit the wall.”

  “It did,” Dagan confirmed as he crossed his legs. “As did the first beam that struck the hay, though it was difficult to see through the cloud of hay dust. I’m sure you observed the castle wall was completely undamaged. This castle dates back to the Age of Magic and when it was built the stone was infused with magic that strengthened it and rendered it virtually indestructible. This castle will stand long after you and I are gone.”

  “Incredible…I had no idea it was built in the Age of Magic,” Nightlocke got up and went back to the stony ledge and ran his fingers along the rough texture. It felt normal.

  Dagan continued. “Let me relate this to something you are familiar with. While magic is no longer present, objects infused with magic retain their mystical properties. I’m sure Rainstel demonstrated this for you with the handful of magical pieces in his office at the Science Institute. The magic became one with the objects, a part of their essence. The coat you are holding is such an object, quite a remarkable one, in fact.”

  Nightlocke held up the frayed coat and examined it. He moved it aside and looked at Dagan. “I don’t doubt you, but I can’t help but be a bit skeptical. Rainstel’s magical objects were cool, but not much more impressive or useful than parlor tricks. Honestly, this coat doesn’t look like much.”

  Dagan motioned for the coat and Nightlocke tossed it to him. Dagan grinned and grabbed a three-foot long stick from the balcony floor and placed an end in one of the coat pockets. Slowly and methodically, he pushed the stick into the pocket until it completely disappeared.

  “Whoa!” Nightlocke said narrowing his eyes. “How did you do that?”

  “Wait a moment,” Dagan said as he picked up a fist-sized chunk of rock from a small table near his chair and dropped it into the same coat pocket. He flung the coat back to Nightlocke who caught it reflexively and defensively, not wanting to get smacked by the rock inside. He was surprised to find the coat weighed the same as it had the first time he held it. He patted around the area of the pocket and could feel neither the stick nor the rock.

  “Okay, what’s the trick?” he asked.

  “No trick on my part,” Dagan said innocently raising his hands. “It’s the magic in the coat. The pockets are entrances to…hmmm…let’s call it a void. Whatever you can fit through the mouth of the pockets can be stored in the void with no alteration to the weight or shape of the coat. If there’s a limit to how much you can put in there, I have yet to reach it. To retrieve an object all you need to do is put your hand in the pocket and visualize it. Go ahead and give it a try.”

  Nightlocke rolled the coat into a ball then shook it out. “Really? It’s that simple?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes,” Dagan responded, brushing his hands toward Nightlocke. “Try it.”

  “Okay, I want the stick.” Nightlocke tentatively reached into the pocket. Almost instantly he felt the end of a jagged piece of wood at his fingertips. He grabbed hold and removed his hand from the pocket, bringing the end of the stick with him. He continued to pull until the full length was outside the pocket.

  He smiled toward Dagan. “Amazing!” He plunged his hand back in. He imagined the rock. Again he felt an object at his fingertips, grasped it, and pulled his hand free of the pocket with the rock clasped in his grip.

  “All right,” he said smiling and nodding his head. “This is way cool. I could store a whole portable lab in there. Thank you, this is incredible.”

  “I’m sure you will put it to good use,” Dagan said with a wink. “Unfortunately it’s a little threadbare in places. I’ve considered trying to mend it or even reinforce it with keratium, but I’ll leave that to you now. Oh!” he leaned forward and threw and index finger in the air, “And one other thing. The coat also has properties that enable it to adapt to the weather. You’ll find it comfortable to wear regardless of the temperature.”

  “Wow, even better, thanks again. How did you ever come across something like this?” Nightlocke asked. He held the coat and smoothed his hand over it.

  “It’s been in my possession for quite some time,” Dagan answered.

  Nightlocke stopped. He was suddenly irritated by yet another cryptic response to something concerning Dagan’s past. “Why is it you’re so reluctant to discuss your past?” he asked finally.

  Dagan stood and leaned on the ledge of the balcony looking at the orange hued ocean in the fading red rays of sunlight. “I prefer not to dwell on the past. If there is something about my life I feel is important for you to know, I’ll tell you. But for now let’s focus on the present and future.”

  “Sure,” Nightlocke replied. “I suppose you’re entitled to your privacy.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was surprised he had spoken them. It was not what he intended to say. He suddenly felt strange as if he were outside of his body looking at himself.

  “Thank you,” Dagan said. He turned to look at Nightlocke and rested his back on the ledge. “Now, I’ve been thinking you should go into town and celebrate. A young man like you should get out once in a while. You’ve been cooped up in the lab for months.”

  “I…I suppose,” Nightlocke muttered. Again it was not what he meant to say. He wanted to say he was tired and would prefer to retire for the evening.

  “Well then it’s settled,” Dagan nodded. “I hear the Fire Dance has an excellent band playing tonight. Perhaps you should go there.”

  “Thank you, Dagan. For this…” he held up the coat, “…for everything. The Fire Dance sounds like a great idea,” Nightlocke said even though he hated noisy dance halls.

  He stood, slipped into the magical overcoat, and headed toward the stables.

  CHAPTER 28

  Ghost leaned against the side of the bar and momentarily rested her head in her hands. It had been a slow night at the Silver Chalice up until a half an hour ago when the gaming tables started to bustle with activity. She had been serving bread and meat and beer to the patrons at the long tables in the center of the bar. Then she was ordered by the rotund and watermelon chested tavern owner, Mistress Shanda, to rotate to the busy gamblin
g tables. The gambling area was her least favorite. The tips were unpredictable and inconsistent, unless ass smacks and breast gropes counted as tips. Those were always plentiful and she had already endured a few this evening.

  Twenty minutes prior, Skenan rolled in and joined a dice tournament. He was usually a big winner at dice but was now standing to the side of the table watching. He was out. Maybe he lost on purpose. She knew he did that sometimes so others would continue to play with him.

  Since she served him a week ago with the Priestess Jhenna, this was the first she laid eyes on Skenan. She knew he worked his share of evening rotations in the Triumvirate Guard, but wondered if the Priestess was now occupying his free nights. When she met with her the previous day, Ghost had wanted to ask the Priestess if she was still seeing Skenan but decided it was better to keep quiet. Prying was not a good idea. Having an ally in the Castle was useful. Though it was strange to consider such an idea with a member of the clergy. Odder still, she thought they could be friends.

  She smiled as she looked at her distorted reflection in the polished wood of the bar. She had no such qualms with questioning Skenan about his love life. If he had enough ale in him, he’d spill all the details.

  “Ow!” Ghost yelled and rubbed the top of her head. She looked up to see Shanda waiving the knuckle of her middle finger. Shanda shoved a tray of ales in her direction and motioned for her to get moving. Ghost delivered the ales, fending off an attempted grope of her breast, and sidled next to Skenan.

  “Hey, Skenan, no luck so far tonight?” she asked.

  “No, I’m playing terrible tonight,” he said loud enough for the table to hear and finished with a wink and a sly grin in her direction.

  She wiped a spot on the table and then said casually, “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been kind of busy lately,” he responded, as he rolled a wooden disk with blue and red markings between his fingers. He once told her it was his lucky charm.