John Smith, World Jumper Book One: Portal to Adventure

by E. Patrick Dorris

As the two guards manhandled me onto the deck, it became obvious that we were travelling at a high rate of speed for a lighter than air craft. A quite noticeable apparent wind was blowing from forward. The initial warmth I had perceived upon the door to the storage locker opening now seemed to be an illusion generated by the stirring of warmer air within, and Layla’s lack of cold weather clothing.

  If my rescuer-turned-captor felt any degree of discomfiture from the wind or temperature she gave no sign, striding purposefully along the deck towards a larger hatch leading presumably toward the person I was to ‘meet.’ As I was brought along behind her I was able to glance around briefly at the ship and surroundings.

  In actual operation the vessel did seem to be crewed largely as are sailing vessels. Occasionally I noticed men in the same cold weather suits I had seen earlier climbing ropes or ladders. They adjusted various line tensions, tied or untied knots, and moved ballast bags from one location to another.

  This was all done quite efficiently and without obvious direction or any kind of supervision. Despite the overall primitiveness of the airship, the propeller mechanism looked to be reasonably complex. Geared drive shafts spun inside of protective housings, only visible when passing through an exposed bearing, or when I saw a crewman open an access panel briefly and refill a reservoir containing a liquid I can only surmise must have been a lubricant of some sort.

  The shafts and gears seemed to be the only major exception to the overall wooden construction of the vessel, being made from a grayish metallic alloy of which I could not identify upon mere glimpses. Other smaller fittings, pulleys and pins were made of predominately bronze or copper alloys, as were the guns I had seen.

  Of the landscape surrounding the ship, I paid little attention. The airship was, as I indicated previously, high in the air. It was of sufficient altitude that details of the surface were obscured both by distance, and by cloud cover. What I did see of the surface merely told me that the ship was over land and not water.

  My sojourn on deck was however quite brief and soon my escorts and I were negotiating a steep ladder, as stairs are called in nautical terminology, down and into the skin of the ship. While the chill air outside had been somewhat invigorating, I was nonetheless glad to be out of the wind. My uplifted mood, slight though it was, soon turned to apprehension as I considered the probable outcome of my rapidly approaching ‘meeting.’

  Several possibilities flitted through my thoughts, but as none of them were remotely pleasant, or as it turned out, accurate, I will not elaborate on them. Suffice it to say that when I was roughly pushed through a doorway after Layla, and then thrown to the deck, what met my senses was completely unexpected. When I say I was taken aback, please remember what I had been through in the several days prior.

  I had thought, until that point, that I was now beyond being surprised. My assumption proved incorrect as I raised my eyes from the floor and looked upon the figure seated in a rather large and well padded chair. The room was dimly lit from a single lantern, and even that was shaded with a cover which allowed only sickly yellowish beams to pervade the shadows in a limited manner. The faintest light from another source of illumination, this one flickering, provided scant additional lighting from another part of the room. It took my eyes several seconds to fully adjust to the gloom, and during each of those seconds I waited for my mind to stop playing tricks on me and reveal the shadowy figure reclining before me.

  After I realized that my vision would get no better, I blinked several times to ensure nothing had gotten into my eyes. All during my acclimation to the dark room, the figure seemed content to study me, much as I was studying it. Not being chastised in any way for staring upon the visage, I began to push myself to my feet.

  Apparently, although I was allowed to look, I was not to be allowed to stand. Several sharp blows to my back, and a kick to my ribs, informed me of this restriction and I desisted in my attempt to rise. Settling back to the floor, I resumed examination of my surroundings. Deciding that speaking out of turn might prove as unwelcome as my attempt to stand, I remained silent.

  Besides the overstuffed chair, the room contained an equally sumptuous bed. Even in the dim lighting I could tell that the bedding arrayed atop of it was brightly colored. A small, well insulated brazier glowed dimly in the corner, providing heat to the room. Incongruously hanging from the wall and foot posts of the bed were several sets of chains and shackles, the purpose of which, I could only guess.

  Of the seated figure, I should at least attempt a description. Notwithstanding the dimness of the room, there was certain vagueness about it that could not be ascribed to a lack of lighting alone. It was as if its edges were ill-defined, somehow fuzzy. It wore dark colored clothing, but not the sharp, smooth black that my captors wore.

  Its garment was loose fitting, a robe perhaps, but tattered. As the figure began to stand, slowly and stiffly from the chair, the frayed ends of the robe and sleeves undulated slowly, as if being blown by a gentle breeze, yet no breeze was present. On stiff legs it took a step, then two, towards me.

  I glanced to both sides, but the faces of my two guards remained impassive. Layla stood off to one side, eating small morsels from a bowl as if watching a stage show. Of the three who had brought me here, only Layla seemed to be paying attention to me as the dark, vague figure approached.

  Strangely, it was at this time that I first noticed a smell which pervaded the room. A musty, earthy odor, yet at the same time dry and stale with a hint of eucalyptus, I initially ascribed it to several small punts of incense burning innocuously in the corners of the room. However, when the smell came to me more strongly as the figure moved out of the chair and approached, I reevaluated my assumption.

  It came quite close, apparently unafraid, and looked down upon me. Only then did I get a fleeting glimpse of flesh beneath the shredded garment. That its skin possessed a gray color was obvious, even in the dim light. Although still somewhat out of focus, even this close, I could see that the skin had a dry, quite unappealing texture in addition to the unhealthy tone.

  Nothing in my experience prepared me for the sensations which coursed through me as it spoke. Although the sound was unusual in and of itself, reminding me nothing so much as dry leaves in a pile scraping against one another while being raked, its voice had a more complex quality.

  At the same time the sound reached my ears, I felt it speak through the rest of my body. The sensation was like a low vibration, similar to the beginnings of an earthquake; only this vibration struck me all over at once and did not originate in my feet. It took me some time just listening to the sounds and becoming accustomed to the unusual sensation before I was able to understand what it was saying.

  It must have anticipated my delayed comprehension, because after speaking it stood quietly for a brief time before repeating its question several times in the same relaxed manner, showing no apparent irritation at my initial inability to understand. Eventually I grasped the phrase being repeated. It was simply, “Do you understand me?” As casually as I was able, considering the unusualness of the situation, I replied. “Yes, I understand you now.”

  It was at this juncture that I noticed the briefest rise in its inflection. It may be speculation, not totally unwarranted, but I thought I could detect the faintest hint of surprise in its voice. “So soon? Very well then.” As it spoke more I noticed something else about its language use. It spoke at a very even tempo, and paused for an almost inordinately long time between utterances. I could almost imagine it taking in a long slow breath between sentences.

  It leaned in closer, looking at me with small, dark eyes that were set deeply into sunken eye sockets upon its wrinkled, dry face. If I expected to smell a fetidly enhanced version of the odor that emanated from it as it exhaled and spoke I remained disappointed. I sensed no such change. It asked, dryly “I must know. Have you lain with my promised one?”

  Denial on my lips, I looked to L
ayla with a questioning look. To my chagrin she merely stood, a look of mild amusement turning up the corners of her full lips. “He really has not guessed the truth yet,” she said to no one in particular, although she did so meeting my gaze coolly.

  “Enough,” the crackled voice said, still the same timbre and lack of urgency as before. The only variance was an increase in the vibrational sensation the voice generated. That one minor modification was sufficient to confirm what I had already suspected. The dark figure was in charge, and used to being obeyed.

  With an intensity I would not have believed in eyes so beady and sunken, this strange being stared at me. I realized that it was not going to repeat itself this time, and expected an answer. Not wanting to find out what would happen should I balk, I simply told it the truth. “No, I have not.” It looked at me more closely, saying “We shall see.”

  I half expected it to raise a hand against me, to attempt to extract a different answer from me through coercion. So much was my expectation that I had to steel myself from flinching as it raised its hand. My fears proved unfounded, and the motion was merely the prelude to a summons, made in a beckoning motion. “Bring her in,” it commanded.

  The door to the chamber swung open behind me with a creak, but I did not dare to look away from the being standing so close in front of me. I heard a voice, respectfully from behind me say, “As you command Exalted One,” followed by the sound of footsteps. Two guards, these wearing the same tight-black gear as the ones who stood at my side, entered. Between them they escorted a female garbed only in a form-fitting knitted garment that extended from her neck to her ankles. Her arms were completely sleeved and each leg was individually covered in a similar manner.

  Her hair, wavy and extending loosely down to the middle of her back, was either light red or auburn. As the two guards led her past me, she turned her head towards me. Although the lighting was not good, and her hair fell in such a way as to conceal a sizeable part of her face there could be no mistaking who it was. No mistaking who it was, except that Layla stood several feet to my right.

  Simple things escape my attention at times, as my eyes shot towards the unfettered and smirking version of the two women I realized something that should have been obvious to me before. The Layla, if that was even her name, whom had taken me captive on the ship possessed jet black hair. In all other respects they seemed physically identical.

  Before I could begin to ponder the ramifications of two Laylas, three if I counted my Nurse Lila from what now seemed like so long ago, the one of them most recently arrived called out to me, “John!” It was the voice I knew, and with it she was asking for my help. My lesson against standing forgotten, or at the very least ignored, I sprang to the assistance of she who had come to my aid.

  I rose without a plan other than to remove Layla from the clutches of the two who held her and led her towards the bed and resplendent shackles. Perhaps I should have considered our situation, and its unknowns, more carefully prior to acting. I had only taken a step and a half, and had not yet even stood upright, when my leg caught on something and I felt a too-warm hand push against my back to aid in my off balancing.

  It seemed my unusual host was not above taking matters into his own hands should the need arise. As I fell face forward toward the deck, only a reflexive tuck on my part prevented me from slamming into the polished hardwood planking. Instead, I rolled smoothly on one shoulder and back to my feet.

  I had considerably closed the gap between Layla and I, standing a mere pace from her. For the briefest of moments, I thought that my course of action might yield favorable results. I began stepping towards the nearest of Layla’s two guards who was now turning to face the disturbance.

  Someone behind me had acted just as fast as I had however and my hope was dashed. A dull thud reached my ears followed immediately by my vision becoming star-filled and fading away. The tingling shock from the blow to my head radiated down my limbs. My legs gave out from under me, and this time there were no reflexes to stop me from crashing to the deck. At least I scarcely felt the wooden impact of the flooring to my chest and side of my face.

  My next sensation was of cold, icy water washing over me as I lay prone. Whether I had lain unconscious a second or for several minutes I do not know. Not that it matters significantly, as I was now receiving the full attention of everyone in the room. As the water ran away from me, yet leaving enough to soak me through to the skin of my torso, another quantity was poured over me, apparently to elicit some sort of response which I was too slow in giving.

  This water felt fully as cold as the first application, and I lifted my head slightly in an attempt to ascertain its origin. A wooden bucket, bound with brass loops and woven cord, dangled from the hand of one of the black suited guards. As I sat up he felt the need to empty the remaining contents of the bucket at my face, and he allowed himself the luxury.

  I managed to blink, but otherwise took the full brunt of the icy liquid full on my exposed skin. Apparently, my ability to perceive time at an altered rate was not triggered by the splashing of a bit of water, no matter how cold and uncomfortable. It was of little concern; Layla’s safety was of greater import to me than avenging this instance of masochistic behavior. In any event, there would be time for that later, perhaps, should I survive.

  “Enough!” Spoke the crackly voice, its sub-auditory vibration quite clearly present. Its annoyance proved to be not at the treatment of either Layla or I, but at the copious amount of water now sloshing around on the deck. “You will clean up that mess, and if the wood needs to be re-treated, you will see to it personally.”

  Looking sufficiently chastised for his carelessness, the one carrying the bucket managed to shoot me a malicious glare nonetheless. I will never understand how some people can blame others when they are called out for their own behavior, but in this case I knew that this one would be holding a grudge against me.

  Noting the several brass and copper cylindered guns now pointed in my direction, I grudgingly became an unwilling voyeur in the unfolding spectacle. The two guards holding Layla’s arms resumed leading, or more accurately dragging Layla towards the bed, for she did not go willingly.

  Do not think for a second that the thought of another mad charge, ignoring the guns pointed at me, was not constantly in my thoughts. Indeed I had at this point already steeled myself to go out fighting in a vain attempt to reach Layla should the tableaux playing out before me go much further.

  Once again, things did not develop as I expected them to. As the shackles and irons were clamped onto Layla’s wrists and ankles, I was grasped roughly by my own shoulders and yanked to my feet. From there I was walked to the foot of the bed, seemingly to watch the proceedings, although for what sinister purpose I could not imagine.

  It ran against my grain to see Layla restrained so, but I must admit that I admired the way that she kept silent. She physically struggled without abating until the last shackle was in place, but she did not waste her breath on either pleadings for them to desist, or more surprisingly on hurling invectives at them for their despicable activity.

  Throughout the whole ordeal, which took perhaps a minute or two, Layla kept her eyes locked to mine, as if this somehow lent her strength. What happened next caused me to look at her in the same way. The guards at either side of me roughly tore at my garments, causing the buttons of my shirt to pop off.

  After relieving me of my shirt, I felt my pants being cut away from behind. As they fell away, I stood quite naked. Layla’s eyes did not shift one inch at this development, but widened slightly in surprise. At this point, dense though I am at times, I began to grasp what might be intended.

  The wispy, gray leader walked toward the side of the bed, but turned to look at me. I noticed immediately the narrow, double edged blade in his hand as he absently began cutting away at Layla’s garment at one shoulder. When he spoke, it became apparent how silent the room had become. “I will
ask you once again, have you lain with my promised one?”

  I could not conceive of what the correct answer would be in this situation. The truth, as I had already told him, seemed no better than a lie. I could not fathom what this creature was seeking. As I stood pondering, his knife cut lower, revealing more of Layla’s smooth skin. As the blade cut the fibers, ever so slowly, the inherent tightness of the garment revealed itself as the narrow cut widened of its own volition upon the expansion caused by her breath.

  Startled, I tensed as I felt a soft hand rest itself gently on one of my shoulders. Another reached under my arm to the other side and gently caressed my chest. A soft female voice, barely more than a breath on my cheek, reached my ear. As she spoke, her lips brushed my ear, soft and warm. It was the other “Layla.”

  As if anticipating my dilemma, she said in a sweet voice that turned almost pleading at the end, “Say that you have not been with my sister. You must say that you have not.” With that, she disengaged from me and stepped back, but the tinkling laughter which came from behind me was anything but plaintive.

  I was no closer to divining the answer than before. If anything I was more confused, and I must say a bit flustered by the contact with Layla’s sister, as I now knew her to be. The solution was thrust upon me in any event, through no doing of my own.

  The blade had worked its way beneath Layla’s breast, leaving an “s” shaped cut in the woven fabric. Enough of the cloth had curled away that I knew he cared not for her modesty and intended to leave her as naked as I. I glanced around quickly at the guards, steeling myself for one final, and quite probably fatal act of defiance in Layla’s defense.

  The “Exalted One” continued cutting, exaggerating his curving pattern in a manner that made it clear he was in no hurry, and was also quite probably enjoying either the process or its effect on Layla or I. For some reason, as I glanced about, what finally triggered my burst into action was the leering smirk I saw on the face of the soldier holding my right arm.

  As he continued his demeaning task, revealing all too much of Layla’s body, the gray figure began speaking again, almost casually this time. He barely got beyond, “Very well then, I will take your silence as…” when I reached my limit of endurance. I took a sudden step backwards and forcefully brought my arms together in front of me. Still grasping my arms, but entranced by the restrained and quite shapely form being cruelly disrobed in front of them, they were taken completely by surprise.

  Their heads smacked together with a satisfying thunk and they immediately loosened their grips on me and began to sink to the deck. At this most opportune moment, my unusual time dilation finally began again and the next several seconds took what I perceived to be a much longer span.

  I first noticed that things were not progressing normally as my two former captors fell to the deck as if in slow motion. As I strained to look around and begin moving towards the guard standing nearest me by the side of the bed, the one who had kept his gun pointing at me, I realized that I was moving with even less effort than I had when last I experienced this phenomenon.

  The thought even filtered through my thoughts that I must be regaining something, some ability I had lost in my initial accident on that battlefield in France. I wondered how many other facets of myself remained hidden from my knowledge or use, but only wondered briefly. As I have said before, when I am in that altered time rate I find myself to be more analytical than is normal for being in a crisis situation.

  So I re-focused on the problem at hand, overpowering the guards, freeing Layla, and escaping. Ignoring the holstered guns of my now prone guards I grabbed instead their stabbing blades, one from each thigh sheath, and advanced on my first target.

  As of yet, none of guards or the “Exalted One,” seemed to be tracking my movement fast enough to be of any consequence. I did however have some apprehension that at least one of the occupants might discharge his firearm at me. The idea of attempting to dodge a bullet or bullets did not imbue me with confidence, so I ignored the thought.

  I reached the first guard and, unceremoniously and quite unfairly, stabbed him directly to one side of his throat, aiming to open his artery. As I drew the blade back, evidence followed in extreme slow motion in the form of a bright crimson stream arcing from the small hole I had created. I was already vaulting over the bed, and Layla, in an attempt to reach the other guard before the stream of blood had become even three inches long.

  Half way through the vault, my feet swinging over and my hands lifting me from the springy mattress that had nearly caused me to misjudge my acrobatic feat, a new problem arose, as if I were not already faced with enough challenge. Being within the ship, the knowledge that we were moving through the air had been diverted from my attention. The sight of one portal disc, then another, moving through the forward bulkhead and directly towards me gave me pause and reminded me that the ship was indeed still mobile.

  I had not freed Layla, and could not allow myself to be ported to “safety” while she was still captive. The problem was, I was in mid-air with no leverage. The disc floated rapidly towards me, of course it was the ship moving and not the disc, but the relative description serves well enough. To my astonishment, time slowed down even more.

  Presently, the room seemed even to dim slightly from the distortion and I was again moving as if in molasses. But I was moving, and managed somehow to tip the side of the bed as I passed causing me to spin as I inched through the air. It was barely enough, for as I spun, the first disc passed by me. The second however clipped my leg, sending the sensation of falling through me. It was nearly as disorienting as when I had passed through the first portal from the war in France, but thankfully, I was not carried through the portal as it floated past.

  I saw that the discs moved with impunity through the other objects and people in the room, so apparently I was the only one who could see them, or be affected by them. Still I wondered as I tumbled toward the deck if I could bring something or someone through with me. After all, on my first journey, I had remained clothed and even armed.

  I tumbled awkwardly to the deck and time accelerated slightly. Although a bit clumsily, I rose to my feet once again using my forward momentum and sliced the second guard twice, once on his inner thigh as I came up, the second upwards beneath his armpit in a circular motion. Somewhere, I had also learned how to use knives to deadly effect.

  I noticed the guards moving slowly now, and I began for the first time to feel sluggish. There was seemingly a limit to how long I could maintain this state, and I felt I was fast approaching that limit. Unfortunately, I still had much to do. The gray one, and Layla’s sister remained, and I had still not freed Layla.

  I struggled on, movement becoming more difficult and slower by the instant. The room was fading now in earnest, although in my deepening haze, I believed it to be more an artifact of my exhaustion than anything else. In desperation, I hurled my bloody blade towards the chest of the “Exalted One,” in the vain hopes that it might strike true.

  As the first spun through the air I fell to one knee, somehow managing to throw the second blade from the numbing fingers of my left hand. Blackness began closing in rapidly as I saw with satisfaction that my first blade and then the second did indeed penetrate full into the chest of the gray one. The sound that followed, although muffled from both my fatigue and the residual time distortion, turned my satisfaction to anguish.

  It was laughter. It laughed at me and perhaps it laughed at the blades protruding from its chest as if they were some kind of joke. Blackness engulfed me then, and I neither saw nor felt anything more.

  Chapter Six