Chasing Portals: Swords and Science Book 1

by Jason Parker

  “Quickly,” she urged. “Something has happened to Wexworth.”

  She felt a strong surge of reluctance as the two technicians pulled their eyes away from her and noticed Wexworth lying motionless on the floor. They rushed toward him.

  Daak knelt next to him and began patting his cheeks. “Wexworth, sir…Wexworth,” he called.

  Lenien stood beside him, lost in a cloud of uncertainty. Daria quietly closed the door, moved close behind Lenien and gathered the iron rod in both hands. She swung with all her strength and connected with the base of his skull—crack. He collapsed to the ground at Wexworth’s feet.

  “What?” Daak said turning his head as the iron rod crashed into his temple with another crack. He collapsed with a thud on top of Wexworth. She rolled him off and quickly went to her bag to exchange the rod for a dagger. One. Two. She shoved the knife into each—finding their hearts. She wiped the dagger on Daak’s lab coat and stepped away as blood began to pool beneath their bodies.

  Gullible and untrained fighters. They were easy kills. Stell, the only other person who had seen her enter the lab, presented much more of a challenge. He was a trained mercenary and would be wary of any tricks and less susceptible to the distraction of her being dressed in only underclothes.

  She scanned the room. The dismantled and partially packed portal device sat toward the back of the lab on one side. Wexworth and the technicians lay on the other side near a table. The area near the door was mostly clear. She would have room to maneuver should a fight ensue. She hoped the element of surprise would give her an advantage.

  She eyed the dagger and half wished she had coated it with the same poison she had applied to the ring spike. The poison, though, was extremely lethal and caustic. The slightest contact with skin produced severe burns and the smallest amount into the blood stream meant instant death. Fighting half-naked was necessary for freedom of movement, but made exposure to the poison too great a risk.

  She walked to the door and concentrated. She sensed traces of boredom in the main lab beyond the door. Good—Stell didn’t suspect anything was amiss. She intended to use the absence of sightlines between the doorway and Stell’s location to her advantage. She forced herself to relax for a moment and clear her mind. Then she flung the door open.

  “Stell!” she called trying to sound frantic. “We need your help! Please come quickly!”

  She felt his annoyance mingled with a hint of suspicion. “What’s going on?” he called back. “Didn’t you just pull those two clowns in to help you?”

  “Yes, but they don’t know what to do,” she answered. “Something has happened to Wexworth. He’s bleeding from his ears and nose.”

  “I’m not a medic,” Stell said. “Send one of the technicians to get someone from the infirmary.”

  Daria could feel his suspicion rising. “We don’t have time for that. We need to get him to the infirmary!” she hollered with feigned urgency. “Please help!”

  “Okay, okay,” he muttered. She heard the scrape of stool legs sliding across the floor followed by footsteps coming toward her. She quickly moved behind the door and held her breath. The footsteps abruptly stopped at the threshold of the doorway. He undoubtedly noticed the three bodies lying motionless toward the back of the lab. Suspicion and wariness radiated from him like a furnace.

  “What in the world is going on, High Priestess?” he called and began slowly walking forward. As soon as he moved past the door, Daria lunged at him, attempting to bury her blade in his neck.

  “What the hell!” he exclaimed, turning and knocking her hand aside at the last moment. She lost her grip on the dagger. It clacked on the floor. Prepared for his block, she quickly followed up with a roundhouse kick which connected to the side of his head. He staggered back a couple of steps, but he had rolled with the kick, lessening the impact of the blow.

  He was a large, well-built man. She had to press her attack, keep him at a distance, and not allow him to draw his sword. If he did, she was likely finished.

  She stepped forward launching a side kick. He side stepped it and countered with a hook to her stomach that lifted her off her feet and caused air to explode from her lungs. She staggered back a few steps and felt his confidence crescendo. She steadied herself and jumped toward him before he could attack.

  She threw a flurry of intentionally predictable punch and kick combinations which he easily blocked and evaded. He flashed a wicked smile and pushed a few strands of long, sweaty blonde hair away from his face. She could almost touch the self-assuredness and sense of control emanating from him. She paused, feigning exhaustion. He took the bait and charged toward her, lowering his shoulder. A wave of lust flooded through him, intermingling with the confidence. Once he had her on the ground, he would have her.

  Just before he reached her, she jumped upward and then pushed off on his head and leap-frogged over him, causing him to stumble. Landing nimbly on the ground, she deftly turned and grabbed the handle of his sword, freeing it from its scabbard before he could regain his balance. His confidence evaporated, replaced by fear as she buried the sword in his lower back, twisted it, and yanked it free. He turned toward her, moving his hands to cover the blood surging through the hole in his abdomen.

  “Bitch,” he gurgled as blood began to flow out of his mouth. He sank to his knees and fell face forward as she stepped out of the way.

  Daria dropped the sword and wiped sweat from her brow with her forearm. The fight had consumed precious minutes. She needed to get moving. She retrieved her dagger and closed the lab door. Hurrying back to her bag, she replaced the dagger and removed three towels and a hand saw. Gathering her dress and sandals, she tossed them out of the way and returned to Wexworth with a towel and the saw.

  She unfolded the towel and spread it out beneath his head. Kneeling next to him, she tilted his head back and placed the saw blade just beneath his Adam’s apple and began moving it back and forth. She gasped as blood sprayed into her face from the torn flesh, temporarily blinding her. She bent down to wipe her eyes on the tail of his black lab coat, surprised by the spurting blood. Dead bodies didn’t pump blood, which meant he was still alive. It was nothing short of a miracle considering the deadliness of the poison.

  She fished around in the pockets of the lab coat until her hand found what she was searching for. Smiling, she pulled out Wexworth’s lavender tinted goggles, looped them over her head and adjusted them about her eyes. With the goggles in place, she returned the saw to his neck and moved it across his throat with renewed vigor. The splatter of warm blood on her face and body felt surprisingly exhilarating. She moved the saw faster and faster until it bit into the bone of his spine and finally scraped the floor beneath.

  She pulled the saw free as Wexworth’s head lolled to the side of his body. This time, he was unquestionably dead. Removing the goggles, she admired her work. Killing him the second time had been even more satisfying. She bent to pick up the head, but it slipped from the grasp of her blood covered hands and rolled a few feet away. Cursing his lack of hair, she carefully retrieved the head, making certain her grip was secure, and positioned it upright on the towel to allow whatever blood remained to drain out.

  Grabbing one of the remaining clean towels, she located a basin against the side wall of the lab and filled it with water. She cleaned her arms and face as best she could, then dried off and wiped the remainder of her body with the damp towel. Faint red stains were still visible on her hands and arms, but they should escape the notice of a casual observer. Wishing she had thought to bring a mirror, she hoped any stains on her face would be similarly imperceptible. Her dress would cover the rest.

  She hurried to the icerator near the disassembled pieces of the portal device and retrieved the flask containing the remaining sample of Belene’s brain fluid. She poured the fluid in the basin with the crimson water, released the stopper, and flung the flask at the wall where it shattered into pieces. Heading back to her bag, she hesitated and ran to the portal control
panel. It was disconnected from the portal frame, but otherwise intact. Smirking at the ridiculous Wexworth Station inscription she pulled the brass headpiece from its hook and ripped it free of the copper wires connecting it to the panel.

  Returning to her bag, she stuffed the headpiece inside and grabbed the duffle and last towel. Looking at the remains of Wexworth she chuckled at how arrogant he looked even with his head detached. She wrapped the head in the towel and dropped it into the duffle. Placing her bag on top, she closed the duffle, quickly dressed and flung the duffle over her shoulder.

  She paused when she reached the door. In the distance she could sense varying degrees of excitement, frustration, satisfaction, and anxiety. There were others within the lab complex but none were close. She toyed with the idea of searching for the infected creature Wexworth had obtained from Vladrik, but quickly dismissed it. She could not afford to be seen by anyone else and did not have the time to kill them. Damn Vladrik and his insolence. The infected creature would have to wait for another day.

  She exited into the main lab and made her way out of the Castle west wing without encountering anyone. Reaching the doors to the central corridor she paused and held her breath. She sensed no one nearby and cautiously opened the doors. No guards were present. Relief flooded through her as she exhaled. From this point she should have no further troubles. Her men in the castle watch had successfully created confusion with the guard duty schedule.

  She quickened her pace, but paused upon reaching a section of the main corridor near some storage rooms. She recalled the sudden influx of emotions that arose out of nowhere earlier in this spot when she walked by on her way to meet Wexworth in the science center. The emotions she intuited suggested two people. How she had moved past them without sensing them as she approached confounded her. The sudden wave of shock she had sensed next convinced her she had been recognized. She had considered backtracking to investigate, but time was precious. She had decided to not stray from her plan and proceeded onward to Wexworth. She hoped she would not regret this decision later.

  Sensing no one in the area now, she continued down the main corridor and turned toward the rear exit of the Castle. Stopping briefly at a staff supply room, she removed the black and red dress, tossed it in a laundry bin, and then retrieved her hidden white robe. Continuing toward the exit, she nodded toward the guards who offered respectful greetings and opened the doors for her. Once outside, she followed the path through the rose garden connecting the Castle and the Cathedral.

  She traversed the garden and reached the Cathedral without incident. Once inside she smiled and nodded toward a few clergy members who bowed in her direction. When she reached the door to her private quarters she sensed anticipation and pent up desire within. She smiled and opened the door—happy to see Ambernifer sitting cross-legged on her sofa in a short navy skirt and tight-fitting pink tank top. A white clergy robe was draped over the arm of the sofa.

  “Ambernifer,” she said as she removed the duffle from her shoulder, “you are a welcome sight. I need some good news. You do have good news?”

  “Rough day, Daria? Or should I call you Lancia inside the Cathedral?” Ambernifer asked. She leaned toward Daria and squinted. “Are those blood stains on your hands and face? Are you all right?”

  Daria was touched by the genuine feelings of concern emanating from her. “I’m fine,” she said with a dismissive gesture. “Call me Lancia, just to be safe. I’ll tell you all about my day but you first. As I said, I need good news.”

  She smiled and Daria could feel the excitement ready to erupt from her.

  Ambernifer threw her hands in the air. “Calvor is dead!” she exclaimed, standing and swaying her luscious hips and clapping her hands in time to an imaginary beat.

  Daria laughed, pleased by her enthusiasm and joined in the dance. After a few moments they embraced and flopped down next to each other on the sofa. “Did you run into any problems?” Daria asked.

  “No, I was in and out of Crossroads quickly,” Ambernifer explained. “The church was easy to find. As you said, it was the only church in town. When I entered the chapel it was empty except for a middle-aged Priest. I made a grand show of lighting a candle and offering my devotion to the statue of Keyaul. Afterward the Priest introduced himself as Dennan.”

  Daria rested her arm on the back of the sofa and smirked. “Ah yes, my old friend Priest Dennan.”

  Ambernifer nodded and crossed her legs. “I told him I had met an elderly Priest earlier in town and wanted to thank him for some valuable advice he offered me. Priest Dennan was very accommodating and said he knew of whom I spoke. He led me through the chapel to some rooms in the back of the church. When he paused at a closed door, I unsheathed the knife hidden under my shirt and jammed into the base of his skull.” Ambernifer made a sharp upward motion with her fist.

  “And?” Daria asked with raised eyebrows.

  Ambernifer clapped her hands. “He dropped like a rock, with very little mess!”

  Daria didn’t need her empathic abilities to feel the pure joy radiating from Ambernifer. It was more contagious than the infection she had started in the north. “Congratulations,” she said squeezing Ambernifer’s hand, “there’s nothing quite like your first.”

  “I know, right?” Ambernifer exulted. “It was such a rush. It felt so, I don’t know, liberating maybe? Anyway, I could hardly wait for more. So, I knocked on the door. After a few moments I was almost afraid the Priest had led me to the wrong door, but then it swung open and there was Calvor. I drove the knife into the old man’s chest before he could even say anything. The look of surprise on his face was priceless as he dropped to the ground. I twisted the knife a few times to ensure the kill. There was more blood with him, so I searched the pockets of his robe quickly before it became too messy. There was no amulet. I did a quick search of his room. Nothing.”

  “That’s too bad,” Daria said, reaching into her pocket to touch her own amulet. Feeling a surge of concern from Ambernifer, she quickly added, “But there was no certainty we would find it. You have done well. Lord Moros will be pleased.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a beaming smile full of gratitude.

  “So, I assume you encountered no problems making your way here to my apartment?” Daria asked.

  “None at all,” Ambernifer answered. “The magical coin-shaped key was in Rainstel’s office just as you said it would be. It allowed me to access the short-cut system. When I walked through the door in the short-cut chamber here beneath the Cathedral, I found the robe you left for me. Since the chamber staircase led to a secluded closet within the inner sanctum, I easily made my way to your apartment. With the hood of my robe up and my head down, the few others I saw along the way paid me no attention.”

  “Excellent,” Daria nodded.

  “Now,” Ambernifer said, patting Daria on the leg, “tell me what you’ve been up to.”

  Daria sighed, rose from the sofa, and walked to her duffle. She opened it, pulled out her bag, and then shook the remaining contents of the duffle on the floor. The towel-wrapped head rolled toward Ambernifer. She peeled away the towel and stared at the bald head, sunken eyes, and oiled beard that had been splayed into an unkempt mass, a stark contrast to the customarily pristine point.

  “Eww is that Wexworth?” she asked, curling her lip and oozing shock, disgust, and fascination.

  Daria nodded and related the events that had transpired in Wexworth’s lab. She purposefully left out the details about Delon and Vladrik. She did not think it wise to share with Ambernifer what was largely the result of her own failings.

  Daria simply said, “Lord Moros wants the portal device rendered inoperable.”

  “Wow, you’ve had a busy day,” Ambernifer said, casually kicking Wexworth’s head aside.

  Daria could sense the stirring of desire rising within Ambernifer. She unfastened her robe and let it fall to the ground. She could feel the effect of her lingerie clothed body fueling Ambernifer’s passio
n. She slowly walked toward her, climbed up on the couch and straddled her. She gazed into Ambernifer’s eyes—exalted—then she smiled and bent to taste her sweet lips.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Trying to remember everyone who has been an influence or inspiration on a project that has been in the works for many, many years is a difficult to thing to do. Many have helped along the way and I am truly appreciative to all of you. A few have had a large part in making this crazy dream of mine a reality.

  A big thanks to Ruth Perkinson for her incredible edits. You found the raw gems and polished them. You made this a better book and me a better writer. (Ruth is also a fantastic writer and has published multiple books.)

  I could not have done this without the love and support of Norma Anderson. Much appreciation for the fortitude to read through the complete manuscript multiple times. Most importantly, the book would not be a book without your brilliant cover design and making the map look like a map.

  Many thanks to Beth Brown (another great writer) for her invaluable help in getting the book published. I truly could not have sorted through the maze of self-publication without you.

  Much appreciation to Scott Behnke of the long defunct Adventure Publications. I’m sure you don’t remember me, but the advice and encouragement you provided to a young twenty something aspiring writer has been a constant spark.

  Gratitude to my parents for always being there for me. Instilling in me a love of reading at an early aged has served me well in all aspects of my life.

  Extreme appreciation to the members of the various incarnations of the Featherstone Writers group. You helped breathe life into a stagnant manuscript. I have learned something from each one of you. A special shout out to you, Julie Turner! Thanks for providing me with motivation to keep forging onward.

  Finally, thanks to my incredible daughters, Kylie and Holly, for always being interested in how the book was progressing and frequently asking me if it was done yet. Well, it finally is!