by Kaye, Rainy
The surrounding cornfields came into view up ahead.
“It doesn’t have a location,” she said. “It’s a different kind of portal.”
“Care to elaborate?” I asked. “Or is it more fun if I start guessing?”
She grimaced a half-smile. “You’re familiar with the fixed portals, I assume.”
“Not really,” I said with a cramped shrug. “Just pretend I don’t know anything. You’ll be less disappointed that way.”
Green River, mangled and broken, fell behind us as we continued outside of town, headed in the general direction of Omaha, but several hours away. I assumed the portal was located somewhere between there and where we were, winding between homes set on wide acreage as civilization faded.
“Fixed portals,” Otilia said, “that’s what the portraits are. The opening to their pocket world never moves from where it was created.”
“How does the vault factor into all that, then?” I had to seize the rare opportunity provided to learn something—anything—about the mess I waded through. Perhaps I would pick up something useful. More than likely, though, I would just have a much better understanding of the situation that was going to kill me.
“The vault is sort of like a lock on the portal doors,” she said. “It pushes back against any attempt to blow open the portal. When the portraits are out of the vault, it’s only a matter of time before the portrait portal door gives to the battering ram magic from the witches and mages, and swings wide open. Well, creaks open, I suppose, little by little, until they can fully escape.”
The implication that Yuto, too, had been using a magical sledgehammer to escape the portrait didn’t sit well with me.
I pushed aside the feeling in favor of continuing the conversation at hand. We would be at our destination—wherever that was—sooner rather than later and my chances for answers would come to an end.
Otilia seemed willing to share, even if she didn’t seem willing to re-immerse herself in this world fully, yet. I was still on the fence about the whole situation. Maybe I could trust her; maybe I couldn’t.
There was no one else.
“To recap, the dark witches and mages are held in pockets, and the entryway to those pockets are portals fixed to the portraits,” I said. “The magic of the vault holds the portal door figuratively shut so they can’t beat it open from the inside. But you said the portal to the keys is different than the ones used with the portraits. What other kinds are there?”
“Sliding portals,” she said.
Outside the window, the houses grew farther apart until they were no longer in view of each other. A few trees sprung up around us in green fields.
It was a pleasant change from the unburied remains of Green River.
“Sliding portals,” I murmured, trying to wrap my head around how that added up. If the portal slid around, or moved, then why were we headed somewhere particular?
Before I could ask, Otilia volunteered. “The consortium needed quick access to this pocket world, so they didn’t fix it to one spot. Instead, with the right magic, you can bring the opening to you.”
“That seems…flawed,” Randall said from the passenger seat. “Why wouldn’t they hide the portal opening if it leads to the keys to the vault?”
“It wasn’t always the same,” she said. “The consortium has been around for almost five thousand years. A lot has happened in that time.”
“Who is the consortium?” Sasmita asked. “I never heard of them before all this.”
She gestured vaguely around the car, but the implication was much broader.
At least Randall and I weren’t the only ones who had been left in the dark about this old, powerful, and somehow forgotten organization.
It did beg the question…why did they have a quorum to hunt the dark witches and mages, anyway?
“Who the consortium is depends on who you ask,” Otilia said. “If you obey them, they are your salvation. If you cross them, they are your nemesis. And if you fall on the wrong side of their law, then they are your judge, jury, and executioner.”
Her voice didn’t contain an iota of melodrama. She was stating the truth, or at least her truth, as plainly as I could have ever hoped for.
Now we were getting somewhere. As intrigued as I was about the consortium, we had a more imminent concern. Given I followed the situation correctly, we were about to cross through a portal to retrieve the keys on the other side.
Something told me what laid beyond wasn’t going to be as simple as the pocket room in the house in New Orleans.
“So where are we…” I trailed off my question as the jeep came to a halt.
In front of us rested a low sod house, with rough walls made from old dense grass and soil formed into crude bricks. With the slight slope of the land around it swallowing up the sides, and the grass growing along the roof, it seemed like the building was sinking into the ground.
“The portal is here?” I asked, eyeing the house, still unsure why we could only reach the sliding portal from a specific location.
“No,” Otilia said, pushing open her door. “But it can be.”
She stepped out, and I exchanged a look with Sasmita before exiting the jeep. Fiona crawled out behind me, dropping to the ground in one smooth motion as we headed toward the house. Otilia took the lead, and I fell back to walk with Randall.
The short side nearest us offered a single pane-less window, too small and dark to provide a peek at what lay inside. The door had fallen off and disintegrated, if it had ever existed, but the doorway remained unlit.
As we approached the house, the ground gave ever so gently under my step. Clouds of glittery blue magic puffed around my legs, like my footfalls released it from the earth. The twinkling magic dusted back across the ground and along the top of my boots, fine as baby powder.
I reached down to brush it off, to feel it on my fingers. It ground together like soft crumbs between my thumb and forefinger and sprinkled away.
The closest I had experienced magic like this was the little glowing embers I used to make without much thought, but had little use for these days. Even then, I had never seen magic so granular and fine, and none that seemed to harbor in the earth like dust in a rug.
I stood, heading toward the house. The gentle slope on three sides heaved, and for a moment, I expected to find the ground was a sleeping dragon, curled around the simple abode. No head or tail or spine appeared with the movement, and once again the ground became still, though I could make out soft, pleasant snores.
“What…” I began as I joined Otilia by the dark doorway.
I squinted, trying to peer inside, but couldn’t see anything. I expected the air to be heavy, earthy, perhaps moldy and damp. Instead, it felt light and clean, like laundry day.
Otilia placed her palm on the wall, just next to the doorway.
“This is the Bajek home. They came to the new world in 1600, after being accused of witchcraft. Rightfully so, I suppose.” Her smirk suggested the landscape that puffed and breathed with magic. “Eventually, they made their way west and settled in Nebraska. Most sod homes in this area were a sign of destitution, and I suppose for the Bajeks, that wasn’t entirely wrong, but the building became part of their family. They tended to it lovingly, and with that…”
“Their magic seeped into the earth,” I said, reaching out to touch the house but not quite daring to make contact. Even from a few inches, I could feel magic sparking and dancing inside the walls.
It wasn’t like Winston.
This was affectionate, welcoming. Magic that did not exist in fleeting seconds to do their bidding, but that had become part of the fabric of the home and surrounding area.
Sod houses weren’t known for durability. I could only imagine how this house had remained intact.
“Dagmara was the last of her family line to live here. The home has been abandoned for some time, but their magic remains.” Otilia turned to me, lowering her hand from the wall. “I can’t do magic anym
ore, Safiya. That was all taken away a very long time ago. I understand what it’s like to be a fledgling witch, even if the memory of being one myself is a bit faded. Moving a sliding portal is no small feat, but I think if the home approves, it will offer its assistance.”
Maybe what she said was strange, but who was I to argue?
I rubbed my lips together, staring through the dim doorway, and then nodded. “Worth a shot.”
Without another word, she stepped inside. I expected her to fumble around to light a lantern, but no such noises came. I ducked through the doorway, even though it was tall enough I didn’t have to.
Just past the threshold, the interior of the house was softly lit but with more than enough illumination to see by. Only two small windows, one on either side, and the door offered an entry for sunlight. There was no way they provided this much light, not even in full day.
The lighting didn’t bounce and shimmer like magic, yet it had to be a result of generations of Bajek witches and mages toiling here.
The interior was one big room, with a simple log bed to one side and several handmade shelves mounted at counter height at the other. A small metal table with two chairs sat against the far wall. Yet the copper pans hung from the wall, the kettle on top of the wood burning stove that vented out the roof, and the blankets folded neatly on the end of the bed lent to a strangely welcoming feeling.
Any moment, Dagmara could return.
“What happened to her?” I asked, my voice hoarse. Whether she had died or moved on to reside elsewhere, I had no right to be here.
“Another story for another day,” Otilia murmured, running her hand along one of counter-height shelves as she approached a large empty picture frame mounted on the wall at the opposite side of the house, the bottom only a few inches off the floor.
She stopped in front of it. The frame stood taller than a person and appeared to be carved from stone, with a rose and thorn motif wrapping around it. I couldn’t imagine how such a heavy frame managed to stay up on the sod wall and not crash to the floor.
“This was one of the only possessions the Bajeks brought with them from Poland,” Otilia said. “They used it as a central point for their magic. I think we can slide the portal into it long enough for you to cross through.”
“And back, I hope,” Sasmita said from behind us.
I tossed her a look that said good point and joined Otilia in front of the empty frame.
“I wouldn’t have the first clue how to move a portal around,” I said. “That’s so different than anything I have ever done.”
Even by accident.
“I know,” she said evenly. “That’s why I brought you here. Instead of you trying to manage the portal yourself, I think you will have a much easier time tapping into the house.”
The house had all but coughed magic onto me as we’d crossed the field to it. Perhaps I would be able to…
I drew a blank. What was I supposed to do, once I tapped into the house? I wasn’t even sure what that meant.
Otilia seemed to read my mind, but that was probably just fine-tuned intuition after being alive for two thousand or so years.
“Ask the house,” she said. “If it’s willing to help us, then that saves you many weeks of learning how to move portals.”
“Oh.”
Had I known I was going to need to appease the house, I would have brought cookies.
“Okay, then,” I added. “I’ll, uh…”
Otilia smiled, patting me on the shoulder, and stepped back. I centered myself in front of the picture frame and, with a deep breath, closed my eyes.
Magic tingled my senses, and I drew it up from the earth. I wasn’t sure how to talk to an almost-sentient house so I just went with the telepathy, because it was less embarrassing than talking out loud in front of everyone.
Hey, uh—sorry, didn’t get your name.
Nothing. My own magic swirled up around me from the earth. The house, however, didn’t seem to be contributing to the conversation.
I mentally cleared my throat.
I’m Safiya, but you probably knew that…maybe? I don’t know much about magic houses, as it turns out.
Silence, except for the soft scraping sound of Fiona shifting around somewhere behind me. I tried to tune her out.
I really need to get the keys, and Otilia thinks you can help me open the sliding portal. That frame, there, would work splendidly, as far as I’m concerned.
I received no reply.
Maybe houses weren’t telepathic.
I rolled my shoulders back a few times to help loosen the tightness in my neck and then, forcing myself not to think about how everyone was watching me—which only served to remind me they were—I pressed one hand to the wall next to the frame. My magic funneled up my body from the ground and flowed down my arm, through my hand, and into the sod bricks.
A blue glow washed along the walls and snaked across the ceiling.
“Let’s try this again,” I said, focusing magic into the house. I was either going to animate the damn thing, or bring the entire building down around us. “We really, desperately need to reach the keys so I can open the vault, and I don’t have the first clue how to move a portal. There’s two less-than-friendly mages about to break their seal again, and I have several more to round up. And all of this is an enormous waste if I can’t get into the vault.”
The wall pulsed under me, and at first, I thought it was my magic. Then I realized I was no longer channeling magic up from the ground; the house throbbed around me like a heartbeat.
I could feel the earth outside waking up from its gentle slumber, and I imagined the dragon-like hills perking up to listen.
“Please,” I said, softly. “All I need is the portal that leads to the keys. I will do everything else.”
Red lines shot up the long sides of the frame and then across the top and bottom short ends.
I leapt back, biting down a surprised squeal. The sound came out as a sharp hiccup instead.
The house huffed in a breath and let it out as a deep satisfied sigh. The blue glow across the walls and ceiling vanished, and I got the distinct impression the house and hills had returned back to sleep.
Tentatively, I poked all four fingers of one hand through the frame, expecting it to disappear through the portal. Instead, the tips rammed into the brick wall. One nail cracked on the side.
I pulled my hand back, flicking off the piece of nail as I turned around to face Otilia. I meant to ask her what I was supposed to do now, but in the same instant, I realized the answer.
After all, I had told the house I would do everything else. Apparently, I had interrupted its nap.
“Never mind,” I said. “I got this.”
I turned back around, pulling the medallion from under my shirt, and slapped it onto the wall surrounded by the frame.
The medallion lit blue and spun into action.
My heart sank. There really was a portal here, and in a moment, it would be open. That meant I would be obligated to step through it.
With a grimace, I asked, not looking back at the others, “Hey, Otilia, it’s not just a room past this, is it?”
“It’s a whole world,” she said, and I kind of had known that already. “Once you’re past this portal, you’ll see a tower in the distance. Head to it. Through the tower is where the keys are.”
I should have asked her more about the tower, but my concern shifted to Fiona. I couldn’t take her through the portal. She was sick, and I couldn’t tell these days if all the adventuring would make her worse, or if the bigger issue was that she might turn on us at the wrong time.
Her meltdown in the ranger station in Haven Rock had not been reassuring.
I didn’t entirely trust leaving her with Otilia though. Otilia had some baggage that I had not yet pawed through fully enough.
As the last symbol clicked into place, unlocking the portal, I spun on my heel to face the group.
“Sasmita,” I said, tensing at w
hat I was about to ask. “Would you stay here with Fiona?”
Sasmita didn’t argue, as I thought she would, but instead gave a tight nod. “I’ll wait for you before heading off to the next mage.”
Right. If it wasn’t for Eliza Brown being tucked away into the vault before Sasmita could collect her blood, my road companion may have already jetted.
The binding of our alliance was loose, at best.
“We’ll try to be fast,” I said, but I had no idea what that even meant compared to what we were going to be up against. Otilia had said another world waited on the other side of the portal. That could be literally anything, and I doubted she could prepare us enough in a few short minutes.
I had seen plenty from the dark witches and mages to know that the pocket world may not be all daffodils and sunshine.
Without thinking, I crossed a few paces to Sasmita and took her hands in mine.
“If something happens…If we don’t come back from the other side…” I glanced at Otilia, hoping she would wave off my concerns; that she would insinuate I was being silly or dramatic and beyond the portal wasn’t all that bad.
She did no such thing.
My heart sank farther. “If we don’t come back, please look after Fiona. She was a good person, once. I don’t know what happened to her, but she doesn’t deserve this. Please help her if we can’t.”
Sadness welled up behind Sasmita’s features.
“Safiya, that’s…” She swallowed hard, pulling away from my loose grip on her. “I will help Fiona as much as I can but…I have to put my son first. I have to save him.”
I reeled back a little.
Son?
Save him?
From what?
Now was not the time for this revelation. The portal waited. We needed to retrieve the keys.
I turned to Randall, checking for his reaction.
What the hell was happening anymore?
“We’ll deal with this when we come back,” Randall said, stepping toward me. “One thing at a time. Let’s go get the keys.”
The portal attached to the enormous stone frame on the wall, the size of a doorway, sat open, inviting us into the pocket world.