Table of Contents
The Silver Portal
Map of Mageles
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Further Information
Author’s Note
COPYRIGHT
The Silver Portal
Copyright © 2016 by David J. Normoyle
Millenia ago, magic flowed through the world like air. Godlike mages ruled, and those without power became slaves, subservient to the whims of magic-users. To right the world, an enchanted barrier was created to form Mageles, a land free of magic. Over time magic slowly returned, and now the Lord Protector wants to return Mageles to an era where magical supremacy will once again dominate.
They are five: reluctant warrior, street rat, aspiring adventurer, conflicted pacifist and pampered noblegirl. Five misfit youths who were never meant to receive the weapons of power. Only together do they stand a chance against the forces arrayed against them. Separated by a continent and pursued by magic-wielding clerics, the weaponbearers must find each other—but first they must find themselves.
An epic coming of age fantasy bursting with magic and adventure, The Silver Portal is the first book in the Weapons of Power trilogy. Set in a richly drawn world with an intricate magic system, The Silver Portal will delight lovers of page-turning sword and sorcery fiction.
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Map of Mageles
FULL SIZED MAP
Chapter 1
If I didn’t have to eat, I’d find somewhere to hide and never leave, Twig thought. A hole somewhere warm and dry. Getting fed used to be her only worry. That was true until Krawl came along. With him to worry about, she had to be even more cautious, and she was hungry even more often.
Twig was on the bottom of the food chain, a mouse who hid, watched, and waited for opportunity.
Even when clouds blocked the moon and stars, nights were never truly dark in Blackstone. A distant window or lantern always created some light—enough for a nocturnal creature like Twig to get by on, at least.
She pulled her tattered clothes tighter around her. They were drenched through and did nothing to keep her dry. Her occasional shivers kept the cold from seeping into her bones, but it was nothing she wasn’t used to. The cold and the wet were easy to deal with compared to the gnawing in her stomach.
She was perched on a wall, two paces off the ground. Several bricks were missing, one of which she’d removed herself, and she’d crammed herself into the small space. She hid where others could not. No one would see her even if they thought to look. Across the way and farther down the alleyway was her target, the back of a restaurant.
The rain people, they were called, those who lived on the streets of Blackstone. They were called many other names too, some of which doubled as curse words. But Twig liked the name rain people best because nobody knew the rain better than those who had no homes. And rain was the one thing that Blackstone had more than anything else.
At that exact moment, rain wasn’t falling, but it had earlier, a late-spring drizzle consisting of fast and light drops, colder than normal for the time of year, coming in from the southern seas. She knew the rain of Blackstone as she knew the beating of her own heart. The city had more types of rain than it did homeless people, but each season had a signature rain.
In the spring, it could float in from the sea like a falling mist. Twig would stick out her tongue and taste the coolness of it. And that wasn’t even her favorite type of rain. In late summer, after a dry spell, the rain fell straight down in large drops, sucking the humidity from the air and washing the city clean. Afterward, she could imagine the world made anew, a lovely and more sparkling version of itself. Of course, the nice emotions those thoughts generated didn’t last. Good feelings never did.
The autumn storms were the worst. They came with Twig still unaccustomed to the cold, and the howling winds hurled ashore raindrops mixed with ice pellets. Life and hardship were one and the same, but only during the first of the hard autumn rains did she truly feel sorry for herself. In the winter, the rain was cold and constant, bearable as long as the wind wasn’t biting too hard.
Twig scanned the alleyway again. For the rain people, a restaurant’s garbage was a prize. The light was still on inside, and nothing had been thrown out yet. Someone else could have the same idea as Twig, but so far she had seen no sign of life in the alleyway other than the rats.
She was most likely to run into Derm. He was a tall man with a scarred stump at the end of his left wrist, as well as loose skin around his neck, showing the weight he’d lost. The nearby alleyways were his territory, but since all the city was claimed by one rain person or another, Twig didn’t have much choice but to trespass on someone’s claims. Derm didn’t really scare her. He usually softened his blows when he would hit her. He did it more for show than for effect. Rain people defending their territory was part of her world.
Krawl, however, was new.
Twig wasn’t sure where he’d come from. Over the last several weeks, Krawl had declared himself a king in the land of the rain people. He demanded tribute and beat up anyone who had nothing of value to give. That was different from the slaps and kicks rain people would give each other, fighting over territory. Rain people had died under Krawl’s fists. Others had disappeared, and Twig didn’t know if they were alive or not. She had managed to stay out of his way so far, for she had nothing to give him, and she mightn’t be able to take his level of beating. She knew what she was and what she wasn’t—she wasn’t strong.
The door to the back of the restaurant opened, bags were thrown out, and the door slammed shut again. The smell of garbage wasn’t pleasant, yet Twig found herself salivating. She would find something to eat in there somewhere. She resisted the urge to charge out of her hiding place. She might have been hungry, but she was still a mouse. If another rain person claimed that garbage, she’d move on and go hungry another night. Only with no one bigger around could she scavenge for food. So she listened.
Blackstone was never silent even in the dead of night. If no one was making noise nearby, a myriad of distant sounds coalesced into a low hum that Twig could just make out over the beating of her own heart. She heard all that then, louder, the scurrying of rats. They converged on the bags, bolder than Tw
ig was.
Only when convinced no one else was around did she climb out of her hiding place and cautiously approach. The restaurant window threw light against the far wall, so it was brighter than she would have liked. Several rats gnawed on the side of the bag with a few others close by. She kicked at them, and they fled, stopping just outside the range of her kick. Twig hissed at the rodents, but they didn’t budge. Although she was bigger than them, they didn’t fear her, sensing the heart of a mouse inside her.
Twig grabbed at the knot at the top of the first bag, twisting it, but the coldness had robbed her fingers of their dexterity. She always tried to keep her fingers and toes warm, for she knew their stiffness could lead to her death one day while climbing. But keeping warm when she was wet was difficult. She ignored the knot and widened the holes the rats had made. The bag was designed to resist the attacks of rats, but it was old, and she managed to release some of the garbage, letting it spill onto the stones of the street.
She scanned the alleyway again then dived on what she had freed, ahead of the rats. Her fingers found a half-eaten bone, and she growled low at one rat growing too bold. Saliva squirted from her mouth, and she leaned forward to bite it. Then she saw something, and the bone fell from her hand.
It glowed silver, and she moved to get a closer look. The rats scrabbled through the garbage behind her as she abandoned it. She blinked several times before accepting what her eyes were telling her. A beautiful sword lay on the ground before her.
She reached down to pick it up then paused, checking both ways. She had never been so close to something so wondrous before. How could it just be lying there? She reached down again and that time plucked up the courage to wrap her fingers around the hilt. The silver glow ran up her arm, then with a flash, the light disappeared.
The sword was lighter than air and seemed to draw light to it, gleaming silvery white. The hilt, only wide enough for a single hand, was protected by a crossguard, and the thin blade curved to a sharp point.
Twig took a practice swipe. The blade cut through the darkness in a blur of speed, and she almost fell over, unbalanced by her surprise at the motion. Twig had seen others sparring with swords, and she had even seen a street brawl where someone had been killed, but she had never seen a blade move like that. She had never seen anything move like that.
She tried again, and that time, it was even faster. A sense of power flowed through her. Not only the sword moved lightning fast—her whole arm did. She spun, twirling the sword over her head, then stopped, breathless and dizzy but smiling. When she held the sword, her entire body could move with incredible speed. She whirled again, swiping outward with the sword. The sword clanged against a wall, and she stopped dead. The noise echoed unnaturally up and down the alleyway.
Twig melted into the closest shadow, flattening her limbs against the wall. The dark wave of motion around the garbage halted as the rats paused then quickly resumed attacking the bags. She cursed herself for forgetting who she was. What am I doing twirling around like this with a sword? A bold mouse is a doomed mouse.
Twig took long breaths and waited. Most likely, no one had been close enough to hear anything worth investigating. The sound of metal against stone could have been just a bucket overturned by a feral dog or cat. She wanted to flee, but she still needed to chase off the rats and claim some food. A sword, even a magic one, didn’t fill her belly.
Footsteps approached. Twig sucked in a sharp breath and edged away, keeping her back pushed against the wall. If it was Derm, he would fall upon the garbage and not notice her sneaking away. A large shadow entered the alleyway, followed by its master. Twig froze in place.
The rats scattered, disappearing from view. The figure ignored the garbage, walking straight past it. Only when he stopped by the light of the restaurant window was Twig able to see who it was. As she had feared, it was Krawl.
He stood there, not looking to either side. Twig willed him to walk past without finding her. And when he took a few steps forward, Twig allowed herself to feel a morsel of hope, promising herself to never be so bold again.
He drew his sword and aimed it directly at the shadow where Twig was hiding. Cold leached from the stones and into her back.
“Krawl’s not as dumb as you think. Nor as blind, no he’s not. Come on out.” Krawl’s voice whipped through Twig like the winter wind. “Don’t make Krawl stab you. Come out to where I can see you.”
Twig stumbled out of the shadow, her legs barely able to hold her upright. Terror scavenged at her insides like a ravenous rat.
Krawl’s lips twisted. On another man, it could’ve been called a smile, but Krawl’s face held no mirth. “It’s you, the skinny girl. Krawl has seen you before, you know. Always hiding and watching. Krawl has wanted to get his hands on you. Not many young girls on the streets. None of the brothels have picked you up yet? What age are you?”
Twig had avoided getting too close to any of the whores or their pimps. They promised food and shelter, but she knew what would happen next. She would be beaten and forced to stand on a corner in bright red lipstick, wearing no pants. She’d seen it happen to others. She preferred an empty belly to dead eyes.
“Not very talkative, are you? But Krawl’s happy to find you. Almost makes it worth it to be out on a night like this. The whores don’t like Krawl. And their pimps don’t like him either. They don’t like their property bruised and broken.” Krawl leered, his open mouth showing several missing teeth.
With that look, the clawing of the rat inside her stomach became more frantic. The streets were more dangerous for girls, but having been born a girl had been one of Twig’s lesser misfortunes so far in her life. The rain people mostly didn’t notice or care, and that was fine with Twig. She was lucky enough to be thin and ugly—men didn’t notice her the way they did pretty girls. Or they hadn’t before.
“What have we here?” Krawl’s gaze traveled down Twig’s arm to the sword. “Krawl didn’t think you’d have something of value to offer me besides yourself.”
Twig had completely forgotten that she still held the sword. “It’s mine.” Her voice was the squeak of a mouse, but she had surprised herself by speaking at all. Krawl raised his sword, and she stumbled back.
“Krawl hopes you aren’t dumb enough to try and use that. Krawl prefers his girls alive, wiggling and squealing.”
Twig took another step backward, and her heel hit the wall behind her. She remembered the speed of the sword as it cut through the darkness, and she wondered how fast Krawl could move. She swallowed. That isn’t the thought of a mouse.
“It won’t do you any good, you know, skinny girl.” He advanced. “Krawl knows. Swords are only useful to the strong.”
Twig’s heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage.
“People think Krawl is stupid, but he’s not. Krawl understands the streets. Krawl knows that there are two types of people. There are Givers, and there are Takers.”
Twig’s shoulders touched the wet stone.
“Those of you who live on the streets like rats are not the Takers. That’s how Krawl realized he could be a king here and take all he wanted.” He tapped the side of his head. “See. Krawl’s smart. That sword’s a pretty little thing. Hand it over, and Krawl will be gentle with you.” His laugh was like the coughing of a diseased dog. “Or as gentle as he knows how.”
Twig’s sword blurred forward. Krawl looked down in shock to see the sword skewered through his chest. Twig was almost as surprised as he.
Krawl’s sword clattered to the ground. He fell to his knees and swayed, but Twig’s grip on her sword kept him from falling completely. Black blood gushed down his jerkin. The shocked look was plastered to his face. “Krawl’s not stupid, you know,” he spluttered.
They were his last words. Twig pulled the sword from his chest and plunged it back in. It went in smooth and fast.
“You’re a Taker.” Twig wiped splattered blood from her face. “Take that.”
Chapter 2
He cautiously opened his eyes. The room’s shutters were closed—at least he’d thought to close them before collapsing on the bed the night before. Something queer was going on, though.
He thought back on the previous night. Lukin and his buddies had had a few calm drinks to start off with, then they went to a tavern with a two-man band. The band played well. Possibly. They had a few rowdy ones and moved on to the next tavern. There, the barmaids were pretty. Probably. Then they’d had a few for the road. Lukin couldn’t remember much else about the night.
Thus, nothing was explaining the yellow glow in the room. He rubbed his eyes then turned onto his side. Nestled in the corner of the room was a small gold ring, and the glow was coming from that. Lukin reached for it, but his fingers fell just short. He wasn’t ready to get out of bed just yet, but he had to know what was going on with the ring. He stretched his arm out farther, and his fingertips grazed past the ring. He stretched again. And fell out of the bed with a thump.
He tucked his head into his arms and groaned. That was the last thing his head needed. At least he was beside the ring. He picked it up. It was about the right size, so he popped it onto his second finger. It slid past the knuckle and fit snugly. That’s nice and all, but my hand shouldn’t start glowing, should it? Before he had a chance to worry too much about it, the glow disappeared from his hand, from the entire room, in fact.
Lukin lay his head back on the floorboards, glad to have been returned to darkness. It was too late to get back to sleep though, and Lukin was curious what the ring looked like on his hand so he could check whether it was proper apparel for an adventurer. So, grumbling to himself, he stood and opened the shutters.
Shards of sunlight spiked through his eyeballs and into his brain. He slammed the shutters closed and leaned his back against them, taking several long breaths. Once the spiking pain had disappeared, he slowly opened the shutters a crack. He frowned, confused. How is the sun so high in the sky? It couldn’t be past midday already, could it?
The Silver Portal (Weapons of Power Book 1) Page 1