The Irispire Portal

by Robinson Castillo

  The powered whirring of a high-performance vehicle breaks through the sound of rushing wind. Kyle and I are swooped up by a midnight blue Excelsior Sport Twin Jet X480 as we are about to fall into District Six's swarm of twilight air traffic. The car was tracking Kyle's hip applicator, and he lands in the driver's seat with me on top of him. As soon as we land, a roof materializes above our heads, and the car continues to fly on its upward trajectory.

  "Whoo!" I cry out. "Kyle, you genius!"

  I squirm and squeeze to switch spots with Kyle. When I get myself onto the driver's seat with Kyle on top of me, we cross paths with the six erolith pursuing us. I look out the window as they swoop past us with feral snarls on their usually stoic faces. I push Kyle off of me and roll him onto the passenger's seat. He lands with a flop on the synthetic leather, and his head limply dangles to the side, resting on his right shoulder. I look in the rear-view mirror to see how far away the erolith have fallen.

  "Oh cripes,"

  They aren't falling anymore. They're getting closer. They’re flying.

  I shake my shoulders loose, and take a deep breath, preparing to take control of Kyle's ride. I press the button on the dashboard with the symbol of an 'I,' and the owner's manual lights up on the windshield. I flip through the pages, skipping to the important bits.

  "Okay, I think I got the hang of this," I say.

  I flip the car out of auto-drive and take the FBW controls. I look back in the rear-view. The elves are gathering magical energy into little pinpoints of bright orange light in front of them.

  "Uh-oh"

  I look forward in time to swerve out of the way of a sewage tanker — one of the thousands taking waste from District Seven's sewers and out to treatment plants where solids are separated from liquids and are either processed into fertilizer or recycled back into our usable water. I grimace an apology to the tanker driver even though he can't see me. Then the car shudders and jolts forward as six blasts hit it from behind.

  "Crap!"

  A display pops up on the windshield with red letters reading, 'Rear Bumper Shield Impact.' followed by 'Shield Integrity 75%.'

  "Holy hell! How much more power do these guys got?" I ask unconscious Kyle. "They're flying and throwing fire at us over and over again. You cast three spells, and you're a complete mess. Ugh. Nevermind. We got this. We can lose 'em."

  Then an automated female voice filters through the car speakers.

  "It appears you have been in a traffic collision," it says. "Would you like to speak with a Halcyon representative, or call emergency services?"

  "No!"

  "All right," says the car.

  The car shudders and jolts again as more flaming projectiles hit it from behind.

  The windshield display reads, 'Rear Shield Impact. Shield Integrity 50%.'

  "It appears you have been in a traffic collision. Would you like to speak with a Halcyon—”

  "Shut up! Shut up!"

  I press the button with the circled 'I' on the dashboard and start flipping through the manual, looking for how to shut Halcyon off. I find the right sequence to shut her off, but I need Kyle's thumbprint. Easy enough to do. It's not like he can do anything to stop me. I reach over, find Kyle's hand while keeping my eyes front, and then press his thumb to the thumb-plate on the dash. Halcyon shuts up as ordered.

  Then an elf's head appears in between the two front seats.

  "HUMAN!"

  My heart jumps out of my chest, and my hands swerve the car left, nearly hitting a transport ferry flying some commuters up to District Seven. The elf's head is hovering above the G-Drive in between Kyle and me. The face is handsome, of course, with flawless alabaster skin. It's not a holographic image, like our human communicators, with its small buffering glitches. No this is the elven communication spell. It looks like a real live disembodied head floating in the middle of a car. The head is cut off at the base of the neck. The elf's long silver hair tied in a ponytail is whipping behind him as he flies through the air, and a protective yellow visor shields his deep brown almond-shaped eyes.

  Two more blasts hit the rear of the car.

  'Shield Integrity 19%.'

  "Human! This is your final warning! Surrender the fugitive Kylanthansa Uthmandir at once!"

  "You'd have a better chance of urinating upwards on a rope than me giving him up to your custody," I answer back in Elven.

  The elf's face twists with disgust.

  "You desecrate our language with your ungainly tongue."

  "You desecrate this machine with your ugly face," I say back. "You have my answer."

  "So be it. Now you will die."

  "Okay, bye."

  The talking head disappears.

  "God, that was scary," I say to Kyle.

  I look back in the rear-view, and sure enough there they are, gathering arcane energies behind us. Orange light swirls through the air and gathers into six radiant diamonds, building up to enough juice to blow us to smithereens.

  "All right, Kyle. Let's see what your ride can do."

  I won't be able to survive another blast. The Excelsior Sport Twin Jet x480 is a high-performance machine. It's light and designed for speed rather than durability. Once the shields are down, whatever the erolith throw at the car is sure to finish us. I push forward on the G-drive and accelerate. The propulsion jets WHOOOSH with life, burning more H3. The car shoots forward, and my head snaps back against the headrest. The speedometer needle spikes up to two hundred and twenty miles per hour on the dial. The six erolith in the rear-view shrink as I rush away, flying up towards District Seven's underside.

  The lead only lasts a few moments. The erolith, in their flying arrowhead formation, catches up to the car quick.

  I roll in between two sewage tankers and continue flying up to District Seven. I do a half roll so that I am flying upside down. Up close, the underside of District Seven looks like a giant maze of synthesized steel machinery with spikes, antennae, twinkling multicolored lights, giant pipes, gears, tall blocks, and deep grooves. I try to clip each of these features as close as I can so the elves behind me don't get a clear shot at us.

  The elves release their first volley, and I dive down underneath a giant pipe to evade. Four of the bolts hit the pipe, one hits the wall of a rectangular protrusion, and the last sails past us overhead as I do a barrel roll.

  I laugh out loud. "How do you like me now!"

  I may not have all my powers, but I can sure fly the crap out of a car.

  Then a flaming bolt hits the car from behind and sends it spinning out. I go with the spin, and decrease the speed on the G-drive. As soon as my spin slows, I point the car in the direction I want to go, punch it, and the car shoots out with a burst of speed.

  "Rear Bumper Shield Impact! Shield Integrity 0%."

  My rear is exposed, and it looks like these guys aren't running out of spells any time soon. If they hit my stabilizers with one of their magic projectiles, I am done for. But that's okay. I know what to do. They may have magic, but their magic has laws — laws they are bound to follow. My only shot at getting Kyle and myself away from these erolith is to put them in a position to break them.

  I push forward on the G-Drive again, full speed this time, trusting my reflexes to navigate quickly around the maze of machinery designed to keep a district of thirty million people afloat and functioning. The elves follow suit, increasing their speed. I get to the western outer edge of the district and fly up. I rise alongside District Seven's fifty foot tall perimeter shield wall, then level out before diving down into District Seven proper.

  Each district is a city all its own. Bigger, in fact, than any city I'd ever seen growing up. Back in the late twentieth century Minneapolis/St.Paul had a little over a million people living in it. Now there are three hundred and forty-nine million — quite the jump. District Seven has thirty-three million citizens living in its busy city streets, skyways, and thousand foot tall skyscrapers. Every building is connected, at every floor above street leve
l, by propylglass encased walkways and bridges.

  I dive down into the swarm of District Seven's traffic. I decelerate to a hundred mile an hour fly speed as I swerve and loop down, taking six flying elven assassins with me.

  "Let's see how you bastards like city driving," I say.

  Not very much. I look in the rear-view as two of the erolith get taken out by a van. This is also why they outlawed single person flying apparatus, and created propylglass encased bridges. Too many people were getting smoked left and right. The lead elf looks back with disgust and flies toward me faster. His remaining three erolith buddies follow suit.

  I increase my speed to a hundred and fifty miles an hour. Then I take an exit onto Bringham Street. Every street is like a canyon of synthesized steel, concrete, and propylglass. The faces of people from cars and apartment windows blur as I zip past. I weave in and out of buildings, flying under, over, and besides other cars. The remaining erolith stay on my tail.

  "What the hell do I have to do to lose these guys?"

  Then I do the stupidest thing and fly straight down in a nose dive, ignoring all sky-traffic rules, and endangering the lives of many. At least it pays off. I lose two more pursuers in the process. One gets smoked by a pizza delivery guy. The other gets rammed by a five-ton and gets thrown into a building wall, caving in some concrete: four down, two to go.

  I look in the rear-view. The remaining two erolith gather Field energy around them into concentrated black crystals in front of their faces. I am still in my nosedive, rolling to avoid cars and glass bridges. Right before I hit the street, I pull up and level out, flying ten feet above street level.

  The two elves follow and are behind me. Their black spell crystals are floating in front of them. I smirk. They'll take their sweet time before firing at me in the city. They have to be sure to hit no one else except Kyle and me. Their laws regarding the use of magic don't allow for any form of leniency when it comes to affecting human destinies. If they miss and hurt, or worse, kill someone else, they'd be in as much trouble as Kyle. In front of us, about a mile away, the street ends at the massive Halcyon Inc. compound. I am considering whether to turn left or right at the end of the street.

  I look back again. The elves fly closer, gaining on me. They get to about thirty feet behind me. Then the lead elf smiles, and both of the elves' shining black crystals disperse in a dark black pulse. I wonder for a moment what the hell kind of spell the two unleashed. But a moment was all I had because I crash, head-on, into something in front of us with a violent cacophony of crushing metal and broken glass.

  I was driving at a hundred and fifty miles an hour. My body whips forward, continuing on its momentum, as airbags explode and inflate. My face pushes into the airbag so far in that my mouth smashes into the top of the steering controls. I get cut by flying bits of glass from the windshield. Then the car drops ten feet and slams down to the ground. Bits of pavement fly everywhere.

  My ears are ringing. My vision is blurry. I look beside me. Kyle is there limp like a ragdoll, squeezed between the seat and the front console, looking like he's bent in half at the stomach. His face is badly bruised and bloody. I try to move my legs, but I am pinned between my seat and the console. I scream through gritted teeth, trying to get myself free, but no luck.

  I sit there, dazed. I am exhausted, spent from running, driving, and eventually crashing. What did I crash into? I look up. Because of the crumpled hood, there is only a couple of inches at the top of the windshield for me to look through. At first, I see nothing, but then my eye catches a light shimmer in the air in front of us. A solid, black wall, materialized in front of our car, and we slammed right into it.

  I grunt, squeeze, and reach a shaking hand over to Kyle. I strain to get two fingers on his neck. There is a soft, weak pulse. He's still alive, but barely. The magic he used and the car crash we got into took a lot out of him. I'm pretty sure blood loss will take care of the rest. Tears of frustration borne from the feeling of failure well up in my eyes. I barely have the strength to wipe the tears from my face.

  The car doors fly from the car, splitting at the hinges, ripped off by an unseen force. The two remaining erolith hover towards us, one on either side of the car, staying at least ten feet away. They got us. The lead elf, the one whose alabaster face appeared in the middle of Kyle's car, is hovering on my side, while the female elf erolith is on the other side looking right at Kyle. Both of them have a clear shot at us.

  "I admire you, human," says the lead elf. "It's difficult to find such determination among your race. It's a shame that I must end you. There are many of your kind that would benefit from your bloodline. You should be proud."

  "Oh shut your stupid face, and get on with it," I tell him.

  The elf smiles ignoring the whirring traffic around him. I look at the sidewalks and see pedestrians scurrying away, screaming, and afraid. The sounds of sirens are blaring in the distance. My vision is starting to fade, and I am living in intermittent light and dark. The elf begins concentrating arcane power into a single point of orange light in front of him. This is it. This is how I go. I turn to Kyle.

  "I'm sorry," I say.

  I look up, and the lady elf on Kyle's side is gathering power in unison with her captain, or commander, or whatever the hell you call them in the erolith's ranking system. I turn back to my executioner. Then there is a blinding flash.

  For a moment I think it's coming from the elves, but like me, they shield their eyes. A bang follows the flash. Then flames and a concussive force blows our executioners away like leaves afire. I unhook my belt and lean what I can of my upper body out of the car. The explosion sent flying bits of concrete, rebar, wood, steel frame, and burnt body parts everywhere. The flames are all around me. More explosions follow as each floor of District Seven's Halcyon Building follows the same flash, bang, flame, carnage pattern. I look forward to see what is protecting our car from the flames. The elves' shimmering black wall is holding up and remaining steady, saving us from the fire and flying debris. That's when I look up and see a beast in the flames. The same beast I saw feasting on my innards when I went through The Rending. A wolf with black wings. Exhaustion is creeping in. My vision is fading, but the demonic wolf face remains. Then everything goes black.

  Nine

  The demonic wolf startles me awake. My face is drenched in sweat. Where the hell am I? I hate waking up not knowing where I am. I haven't seen my bed in — how long since I went through The Rending? It sure as hell hasn't been more than a week, has it?

  I'm in a dark room, lying on a comfortable mattress; one of those that feels right — a Goldilocks mattress. In the corner of the room is a door, which is five feet away from the foot of the bed to the left. Light is shining through the bottom, giving some illumination but not much. Worry starts to creep in, causing stirrings of unease within. I strain my ears and can make out a professional sounding female voice mumbling through the walls. The words "explosion" and "Halcyon" were in there somewhere. Is someone watching the news?

  "Lights," I say.

  The lights come on with little to no effort. Even the brightness level is to my liking. Holy shit, I’m in my bedroom! There are two black bedside tables, a brown dresser, and a sliding closet door-slash-mirror on the wall to my right. Nestled in the right corner of the room opposite the door is my painting station for tabletop miniatures. I'm home! I turn over quickly and feel the mattress I am on. I’m on my bed! These are my pillows!

  "AARRGGHH!"

  I scream in pain, reminded by my body that sudden movements after a car-accident-slash-explosion are ill-advised. All my muscles are screaming. I look down at my body. My torso is bandaged with flex-wrap from my armpits down to my hip, meant to immobilize my ribs and midsection. From underneath the flex-wrap comes a soft whirring as tiny nanobots massage my body. I've never needed them, but I've seen these things in action before. Halcyon Inc. developed them. They're meant to help heal broken bones and internal hemorrhages. I throw the blanket off of
my lower body and see that my legs have been splinted and flex-wrapped as well. Then comes the pitter-patter of little steps outside my bedroom. The door panel beeps, and the door slides open.

  "Oh, hey. You're awake."

  I knit my brow, looking at this strange woman at my bedroom door. She leans on the doorframe with her left shoulder. She crosses her legs and arms and smiles at me. Her raven black hair is shoulder length on her left side and bobbed on the right. She looks like she's in her mid-twenties, stands at about five foot eight by my guess, and gorgeous.

  She has a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, and smooth skin with full lips that turn up at the corners with a small pout. Her powder blue eyes are clear as swimming pools. Her slender neck blends gracefully to her exposed right shoulder. She is wearing, or at least her image modulator is projecting, a tight, black, one piece, with a silver and leather belt contouring the top of her hips. The outfit lets me admire the untrammeled transition from her chest, to abdomen, waist, hips, and legs. On her feet are high-top, heavy-looking brown boots. On her left arm is a white leather sleeve wrapping over her left shoulder, and ending down at her left wrist.

  "Excuse me, do I know you? What are you doing in my place?" I ask her.

  "Nyyx," she says, with a tone of familiarity. "I'm the reason you're in your place."

  "Wait, you brought me here? How do you know my name? How did you even get in here? Who are you?"

  "Shhhh," she says. "Relax."

  She sits on my bedside and starts stroking my forehead softly. Her gesture is eerily comforting. It's weird to feel a familiar touch from a stranger.

  "Oh, don't look at me like that," she says.

  "Who are you?"

  She blows a swift exhale from her nostrils.

  "Nyyx, I don't know how to say this," she says. "Well, I know how to say it, but I don't know how you'll process the information."