The Irispire Portal

by Robinson Castillo

  "Are you okay? What was that?" I ask him.

  Kyle pushes my arm away and stands up on his own. "I'm trying to isolate individual Field sources down to the smallest creature. Marchosias is using a lot of energy to summon her forces, and she is using areas with large concentrations of Ashyanthinasi both to fuel her summoning and hide her activities. I finished a sweep of the Atlantic Ocean."

  I had no idea Kyle was powerful enough to isolate individual Field sources over an area as big as The Atlantic.

  "How are you feeling?" I ask.

  "How do you think I feel?" Kyle snaps back. Then he turns his head to the side and coughs up blood on the floor.

  "What did you find?" asks The High Councilor.

  "The Atlantic is clear. Nothing out of the ordinary," Kyle answers.

  "How long before you can do it again?" asks The High Councilor

  I look up at The High Councilor, angry. He took advantage of my plea for Kyle's freedom. He appeased all factions in one fell swoop. First, he made it look like it was my idea, not his, that Kyle be absolved of his crimes. Second, Kyle was released under the condition that he use his powers to track down Marchosias, which will appease the erolith, his people, and pretty much save the world. And thirdly, it looks as though Kyle's effort in trying to find Marchosias will kill him, which would make it look like Elven Nation of Superior complied with the Vokscragan Act should problems arise with the Nanthanoshi.

  It's easy to see how The High Councilor got to his position. Looking at him, I now know the kind of man who could convince the old council to keep Kyle alive and how he managed to become High Councilor despite his weakened position. Like Tamon said, "it's all politics," and The High Councilor plays the game well.

  "Give me five minutes," Kyle says.

  He closes his eyes. His breaths are heavy and short. After a few minutes, his breathing becomes rhythmic. Then he finally calms down.

  "I am ready," Kyle says.

  Kyle walks over to the crystal. He holds his hands out. Reality bends around him and envelops the spinning gem. The globe above spins so the continent of North America is facing us. The Field energy map melts away. A regular map of North America replaces it and is complete with appropriate topographical detail. The air around us thrums, and the globe releases a pulse that hits and staggers me.

  "I advise you to back away, former Bearer," warns Lara from the back of the room.

  "What's going on?" I ask, retreating.

  "There are far more high-level sources of Ashyanthinasi in North America," Lara says. “Kylanthansa will have to summon more energy to be able to isolate and access them. While those in the oceans were coming from animals and natural phenomena, here he must deal with isolating the energy given off by complex life forms."

  Kyle starts with the east coast. Makes sense, it has the most people. New York and Atlanta each have over four hundred million living in them. He starts with New York, and the globe zooms in on the city, showing twelve floating districts. Kyle concentrates even further, and four hundred some million points of red light begin pulsing all through the metropolis. I stand as close to Kyle as his energy field will let me, and I see real people, going about their daily lives. A whole city at a glance. Blood drips from Kyle's nose. Then he opens his eyes. The spinning globe zooms back out.

  "She's not there," Kyle says

  I turn back to The High Councilor. "Hey, he needs a break."

  "We do not have time," says The High Councilor. "We need to find the new Bearer."

  "He's right," agrees Kyle. "I must go again."

  Kyle continues a sweep of the rest of the east coast. It takes less effort to differentiate the Field energy given off by individual trees and blades of grass, which glow green. Those he sweeps over. There is a storm over old Virginia, and Kyle zooms in. The buildup of storm clouds is glowing bright orange, with lightning striking in red streaks.

  He scans Atlanta like he did New York, and more blood drips from his nose. Then he terminates his spell and falls to his knees. He goes into a loud coughing fit, spitting out blood. I rush to him once again. He tries to fight me off, but isn't strong enough and accepts my offer to help him up instead. I turn him around to face his stepfather.

  "She's not in the east coast," Kyle says.

  "How much more do you have in you?" I ask him.

  "I do not know," he says.

  "What of the dwarven cities of the Rinmar clans in the Appalachians?" asks The High Councilor.

  "We can't possibly hit every city," I say.

  "Former Bearer, we must do a thorough search," says The High Councilor.

  "Okay, how about we strap your ass to this crystal, and you can look for Marchosias yourself," I say.

  "Watch your tongue, human," says a random erolith. "You are not talking to someone of your ilk. He is The High Councilor of Silanthanos."

  "It is all right, soldier," says The High Councilor.

  By this time, all thirty erolith are standing as far away from us as possible. They've all moved to the back of the auditorium, looking down on us.

  I bow respectfully, but keep a disdainful eye at The High Councilor.

  "Forgive me. But I suggest we overlook some cities," I say to them. "We need to start going about this search strategically to save time. By now Marchosias knows we're looking for her."

  "Nyyx is right," Kyle says. "I've been using too much of Ashyanthinasi to go unnoticed. She knows I'm close."

  Kyle and I turn away from everyone at the back and look up at the globe, which is now back to the red, orange, yellow, green map of swirling Field energies. Kyle needs a break, and hopefully thinking about where to search next will give him some time to recover.

  "We'll bypass Minneapolis," I say. "We were just there with the sword. Marchosias wouldn't have risked having both The Destroying Angel and the Bearer so close to each other."

  "So, which city?" Kyle asks me.

  Our best bets are the big population centers. Kyle already did a sweep of New York and Atlanta, and it almost wiped him out. We're going to skip Minneapolis/St.Paul. All that's left are Mexico City, Dallas, and Los Angeles. I won't waste his time going through the Appalachian dwarven settlements, nor the ones up and down the Rocky Mountain chain. The Field energies there aren't as strong as in human cities — not enough to hide Marchosias' activities.

  "I have no idea," I say.

  This is getting harder to figure out with every second that passes. There are too many options, and little time or energy to explore them all. I'm missing something, but what? I start thinking about anything out of place that occurred the last two weeks. The answer is everything. Everything has been messed up. But there was something amiss the night I met Marchosias. It wasn't weird at the time, but after taking into account all that's happened, there was something that night that feels out of place.

  "You know what I find a little strange?" I say. “Maybe it's nothing, but when Marchosias had Astraea unconscious in her arms, I had the Destroying Angel in my hand."

  "Okay. And?"

  "Marchosias said to me, 'you can keep the sword. I have what I came for.'"

  "So?"

  "She said it like it didn't matter, even though she knew The Treaties were broken and the sword was the best way of beating her. She was so smug about it too. She sounded like the sword wasn't important to her at all."

  "Maybe she wanted it to sound that way," says Kyle, anticipating what I was getting at.

  "Exactly. What would you have done if you were her?"

  "I would have gotten one of my minions to get the sword, and get it as far away from the new Bearer as possible," he says.

  "Which was what Thaddeus tried to do before your sister came and fought him. But even the way he went about it was a little off. He tried to pass it off as if he wanted the sword to be part of his collection."

  "Why were they playing coy?" he asks me.

  "Well coy is Thaddeus' default, but you're right. They're working hard at trying not to be obvious
."

  "So, what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying we shouldn't be obvious either. Marchosias knows we're going to hit the cities first because they have a huge, stable, concentration of Field energies. But we gotta start thinking what else would be teeming with Field energies strong enough to mask a powerful mass summoning?"

  "Gargantuan levels of natural forces," answers Kyle. "Which is why I began with the Atlantic Ocean. Shall I attempt the Pacific?"

  "Do you have enough juice left for that?"

  He shakes his head.

  "It's probably too far anyway,” I say. “Even with all their talk of enslaving humans, Marchosias is going to strike the elves and dwarves first. They present the greatest threat to her dominance. Once she gets rid of them, humans will be easy pickings. Which means she wants to be close. What about a storm? Is that strong enough to hide her?"

  "A powerful one, sure," he says, "but they are too fleeting. She would need something consistent, stationary, and can supply a steady connection to Ashyanthinasi."

  We look at each other and smile.

  "The Calderas," we say in unison.

  "But which one?" he asks. "Long Valley?"

  "Yellowstone. It's closer to Superior, and the dwarven settlements in the Rocky Mountain chain."

  Kyle holds out a hand and spins the infrared globe, so we are looking at old Wyoming. Right in the middle of what was once Yellowstone National park is a wide area of bright orange, measuring around 65 by 60 miles, pulsing with undulating edges, surrounded by yellow waves. Super-volcanoes occur when magma in the mantle rises into the crust but can't break through it. So the pressure builds in a large and growing magma pool beneath the Earth's surface. The Yellowstone Caldera hasn't exploded in nearly seven hundred thousand years, and it has grown massive.

  "That's it," I say. I look at Kyle. "Are you up for this?"

  "Yes," he says.

  Kyle walks to stand ten feet away from the crystal. Then he reaches out and creates a reality warping bubble around him and the crystal. On the globe above, the top layer of earth is stripped away. Underneath the surface, the magma swells, and churning soft earth gives off a bright orange light. The light is blinding, and it's impossible to isolate anything in this wild, geological phenomenon. It has so much power, the kind that can obliterate half a continent. How is he going to be able to sift through all this mess?

  Another pulse of energy explodes from Kyle. This one is far bigger than the last and blows me back five feet. Everyone in the room is pushed back as well. Kyle screams through the pain. Reality is warping not only around the crystal and Kyle but has covered the globe as well, and the edge of the warped bubble extends fifteen feet around them all. My toes are at the edge of the warped reality bubble Kyle created. I have to step back. Being up close to this much Field energy is making my insides turn.

  On the globe itself, the entire Field energy expelled by the churning magma flows disappear, and we are looking on a ruined city. The ruins are arranged in a circle around a mile high stalagmite. Beside the city is a red river of molten rock, bubbling and boiling.

  Then we zoom to Roxx, chained up to a torture rack surrounded by grunds (little squat creatures of scarred flesh and sharp claws). Her thermal suit is torn. There are spots of burnt flesh and blisters all over her body. Her face is beat-up, plump, swollen, and bruised. While her body may be weak, her Field energy is strong, and she glows with pure white light.

  "What is that?" someone asks.

  "That's a celestial," Lara answers.

  That's Astraea! The spirit is alive and well, but Roxx is suffering. Kyle sees her, and momentarily loses concentration. I try to move to Kyle to get a hold on him, but the warped reality field around him is too strong, and it hits me with an electric shock that sends me back two steps. Kyle sees his love and roars. He grits his teeth and focuses harder.

  We zoom out to a flat plain with hundreds of stalagmites sprouting from the ground, and row upon row of ogres (real ogres), demon wolves, minotaurs, goblins, and wraiths. Then we look up at the mile high stalagmite. We follow it up its side, climbing to a dizzying height. At the top is a beam shooting up, creating a hole in The Field Eternal, where more demons are being summoned and coming into the material plane. As the spirits pass through the portal, the Field gives them physical form, turning them into monsters.

  These images look more like dream sequences — disjointed, and with no coherent thread. I have no idea where this is, or what we're looking at sometimes.

  Then the whole thing is swept away, and Marchosias' malevolent and beautiful face replaces the globe. Her hair, made of billowing flame, tickles the ceiling. She roars, and the image explodes in a huge energy pulse that knocks everyone down. Kyle is thrown to the back of the room, hits a wall hard, and falls limp to the ground. I hear an explosion, and see the crystal at the front of the room shatter into dust.

  I rush over to Kyle. His head is limp, and blood is coming out of everywhere. Even his eyes. His eyes! I cradle his head in my arm and wipe the blood away, but the flow of red doesn't stop. Lara kneels beside us on the other side. She gathers Field energy. The air swirls in front of her, and concentrates in a spinning yellow crystal. Then she lays a hand on her brother, and yellow light spreads out through Kyle's body. The bleeding stops, but Kyle remains unconscious.

  "Thank you," I say. "Is he going to be okay?"

  Lara shakes her head. "His vital signs are weak. I cannot heal him all the way. Ashyanthinasi has taken too much from him. He will never be whole again."

  "Take him away," says The High Councilor. "Get him to a recovery room, quick."

  Four erolith rush to take Kyle away. I look up at The High Councilor. "He has fulfilled the conditions of his release. We have a location."

  The High Councilor gathers Field energy into a rose-colored crystal in his palm. The face of the silver-haired Captain Haloran appears.

  "Yes, High Councilor," says Captain Haloran.

  "Ready our forces. We have our destination. I am giving the order to break through their blockade on our southern pass. If it’s a war they want, that is exactly what we shall give them."

  Thirty-Six

  Lara, Lev, Tamon, and I are flying across Superior in one of Superior's elven boats. We soar above the treetops, the keel scraping forest canopy. Below us are three hundred thousand elven warriors and five hundred Thadamar dwarves. Crystals are floating above them, lighting their way in the night. The dwarves are accustomed to the dark and can see with perfect clarity in this moonlit evening.

  The deck of our boat is twenty feet wide, thirty feet long, and loaded with gunmetal. Firearms were courtesy of The Thadamar. The smell of burnt gunpowder is going to fill this forest tonight. To the left of us fly twelve other boats, to our right are twenty more. Each boat has three erolith and two dwarven gunners. The erolith pilots of each are flying us in a straight line across the night sky.

  Once we pass Superior's barrier, our air forces fly higher, rising to six hundred feet. Our ground forces go into a full sprint towards Superior's southern pass. The Thadamar push ahead of the elven ranks, positioning themselves at the vanguard as skirmishers.

  Though their torsos are armored in heavy metal, the dwarves bound across the valley floor gracefully, propelling themselves with their massive, long, simian arms, and strong compact legs. They’ve got warhammers, or battleaxes strapped to their backs. They’ve slung assault rifles over their wide shoulders, holstered pistols at their waists, and clipped grenades onto their belts. Without breaking their stride, they ready a rifle and pull on their charging handles. Hundreds of clicks and clacks sound out at once, like old-time military men performing rifle drills in a line. The Thadamar are now moving on three limbs, with one arm wielding a rifle pointed at whatever will come charging out in front of them.

  Behind the dwarves, the elven front line unlatches the spears on their backs and hold them in front like a sprinting phalanx. Blue, arcane shields materialize over their non-spear wielding forea
rms. Their formation tightens to form a glowing, blue, mile long, shield wall. The ranks behind them unsheathe silvered shortswords and activate arcane shields of their own. The ground looks like the flat plane of a top-down video game I used to play, all lit up.

  Ahead of us looms the dark, obsidian mass. The moon is full in the southeast and stars dust the night sky. If Lara is right, and we are a small part in The Omega Treaties which promoted peace across the galaxies, then I wonder how many of them are at war. How many other worlds are going through what we are about to go through?

  As we move toward the floating black cloud, it lets loose a downpour. But those aren't raindrops. Hundreds of thousands of ogres fall from the floating rock like paratroopers. Only instead of parachutes, each monster is enveloped in a reality warping bubble, slowing their fall. That's not all. Flying straight at us, like a swarm of locusts, is Thaddeus' vampire army.

  My heart beats like a drum, rolling faster as we approach the enemy. Lev is kneeling on the deck with Tamon. They're both arming themselves to the teeth.

  Lev loads an AR-15, pulls back on the charging handle, and slings it over his right shoulder. Then he picks up another rifle and slings it over his left. He belts a double holster over his hips and holsters a couple of Glock-17s. The Elves were nice enough to give Lev some elven armor, light, and maneuverable. He wears a suit of brown and green with strategic protective plates at the shoulders and over his stretched midsection, serving as cuirass and pauldrons, and a couple over his thighs serving as poelyns.

  Lara is in her erolith armor, black leather, yellow trim, with swirling etchings going across the body of the suit. She has a shortsword belted at her waist. Her long black hair, tied in a ponytail, is flipping out the back of her helmet. Grecian in design, the edges of her helmet is bordered with yellow and has swirling patterns etched into the metal. The air changes as she gathers Field energy. The etchings on her suit and her helmet glow a baby blue, and over her left forearm forms a rectangular arcane shield.

  "Ready yourselves," Lara says.