Portals

by Brian S. Pratt

  It took him some time, but he managed to acquire the first real meal he had had in days. After that, he used the rock and several well placed yanks of the rope to sever the bird’s neck. He would have liked to have kept it, but without salt, it would not have kept well.

  He put together a fire of freshly cut strips and roasted the meat. The aroma given off as the flames did their work caused his stomach to cramp with hunger.

  Chapter 5

  Though the meat hadn’t fully cooked, it still satiated his hunger in a way the mushrooms had never been able. During his meal, he would eat while gazing through the window out over the water. Memories of the day before, especially his fight with the birds, had reawakened the desire to escape this place. The problem of how to affect his escape remained elusive.

  He considered trying the flaming beacon again, but thought better of it. To do so blindly, without foreknowledge that it would be effective, could possibly cost him his rope and torch sconce as it almost had last night. Also, the stalks from which the strips were harvested wouldn’t last forever. Should he use the last of them needlessly, it could take years before more grew to maturity.

  A way out had to be possible. There remained only the two possible avenues which he had already discovered; the door that defied all attempts at opening, and the mirror high above the ‘Tite Room that had drawn in his torch.

  Holk’s thoughts returned to the mirror time and again. It seemed the logical way to go; he just needed a way to reach it. The more he considered it, the more the memory of how the torch had been drawn into the mirror by an unseen force kept coming to the fore. Finally, he gave in and made his way back to the ‘Tite Room.

  Standing in the area beneath the mirror, he felt the flow of air that circulated throughout the room. In his hand he held the torch sconce. Its light failed to penetrate the darkness of the room’s upper recesses, but he knew the mirror was there.

  He picked up a rock, figuring to test whether the force that drew in his torch had been a one time instance. Tossing it to where the mirror was set in the room’s ceiling, he felt a sense of satisfaction when the rock failed to reappear.

  It had worked. Now, if he could but find a way up there. He briefly considered tossing the torch sconce up in order to get a better idea of what the area surrounding the mirror was like, but thought better of it. He didn’t wish to risk losing it as he had the torch.

  Wait a minute…

  The beginnings of an idea began to take shape. If he tossed up the torch sconce, it would be drawn into the mirror. What if the rope was tied to it, and in turn, tied to him? Would it draw in the torch sconce, rope, and him? If the rope held up under the weight of the bird, assuredly it would have no problem with him.

  Excited that he may have a viable solution, Holk immediately returned to the Prison Room. There he collected his rope and all the loose strips acquired the day before. If this crazy plan worked, he may not be able to come back. Stuffing the strips in his belt, Holk quickly headed back to the ‘Tite Room.

  Once there, he dumped out the burning material upon the floor and tightly secured one end of the rope to the torch sconce. The other end, he wrapped twice about his chest then tied it off. There was a solid ninety feet of rope remaining, plenty to reach the mirror.

  Holk took hold of the rope three feet from the sconce. Slowly at first, he began swinging it back and forth. Once he had it arcing sufficiently, did two complete circular rotations. On the upswing of the third, he gave it one final burst of speed to launch the sconce upward. It sailed past the reach of the light. A second later, it fell back into sight.

  Didn’t do it hard enough.

  Catching it, he again moved into position and began swinging the sconce. This time, he rapidly increased the rate of revolution on the second circular rotation, and with a grunt of effort, launched it upward.

  “This will make it for sure.”

  Speeding along quicker than before, the sconce vanished into the darkness. Seconds ticked by and the sconce failed to return. When increasing tension began to be felt upon the rope, Holk gave a cry of success.

  With incredible slowness, the rope tightened. He held on with both hands as the pressure steadily increased. When it had tightened to such an extent that he began to feel his feet leave the ground, Holk started questioning whether this was such a good idea. Who knew where that mirror led, or even if he could survive once there?

  Feet now adangle, he was being inexorably drawn upward. His rate of ascension could be measured in feet per minute. A snail racing across the floor would have moved faster. But, slow or not, progress was being made.

  When it drew him into the inky darkness of the upper reaches, he knew he was close. Holding onto the rope with one hand, he reached his other upward in an attempt to find the mirror.

  Wind whipped around him in ever greater agitation as he drew closer to the mirror. When an icy sensation seemed to strike the fingertips of his searching hand, he tried to pull them back only to discover he could not. Panic ensued.

  The iciness descended his arm. He knew the mirror had been reached. It was drawing him in. Faint swirls of silver interposed with a deep amber could now be seen. His arm was frozen to the elbow.

  Unable to escape it even if he wanted, Holk felt the top of his head go numb. Fear now ran rampant. Caught like a rabbit in a snare, there was naught he could do. The coldness spread to his forehead. At that point, his mind grew fuzzy. Screaming from sheer terror, he felt the iciness reach his eyes. The terror lasted but a moment more before consciousness fled.

  Slowly, the mirror drew the rest of him into itself until nothing remained within the ‘Tite Room.

  Consciousness returned, and with it came pain. Worse than any hangover, his head ached as if fiery daggers were repeatedly being plunged into his skull. Groaning, he opened his eyes. Either he had been blinded by his passage through the fluxing mirror, or where it had sent him lacked a source of light. The later possibility seemed more likely.

  He lay there, listening to his environment. To his right could be heard the sound of falling water, the ensuing splashing indicated that a pool of some sort was located nearby. Holk turned onto his belly with the intention of crawling over to it in hopes that partaking of the cool liquid would in some way tame the thunderous pain.

  Even so small a maneuver as rolling from back to front increased the pain tenfold. Holding his head with one hand and taking deep, measured breaths did little to still the pounding. Aside from inflicting greater pain upon himself, the maneuver did reveal the fact that his rope was loosely twined about his body. A brief search revealed the torch sconce remained attached for which he was thankful.

  The presence of the rope failed to hinder him in the least as he crawled across the stony surface toward the water. He had to be in another subterranean cavern. The musty and earthiness of the air, coupled with the tinkling of the water and the feel of stone beneath him told him that.

  Though his head objected painfully to his moving toward the water, he failed to give in to its demands that he remain still. Once at the water, he cupped his hands and drank deeply of the crisp, coolness. Immediately, the pounding in his head began to subside. Not greatly, just enough so he no longer felt in danger of passing out. After slaking his thirst, he splashed water upon his face which further aided to improve his condition.

  Feeling better, he rolled upon his back and laid an arm across his forehead. Now able to give in to the pain, he kept motionless for some time. Holk slipped in and out of consciousness, at each reawakening found the pain lessened. When he regained consciousness for the fourth time, the pain had subsided to a manageable level.

  Now to discover where it was the mirror had deposited him. In the dark, removing the torch sconce from the rope proved tricky, but not impossible. After it was freed, he tore another strip from the bottom of his trousers and set it within the sconce’s cup. He then took one of the dried strips stuffed in his belt and loosely wadded it atop the cloth.

 
; Sparks momentarily pushed back the darkness as flint scraped across the stone floor. During the brief illumination, the small pool was illuminated as well as two stalagmites rising on either side of the water. He was definitely in a cavern.

  The cloth ignited. As the fire spread to the dried strips of mushroom stalk, he took up the sconce-torch and surveyed his new environment. It resembled the ‘Tite Room in many ways. Stalagmites rose from the floor, yet no ‘tites descended from the shadowed upper reaches, which led him to believe the cavern roof must be quite a distance above.

  He didn’t see a mirror, though since the cavern continued beyond the light’s reach in two directions, Holk figured to find one at some point. First off, he coiled the rope into a uniform bundle that he draped over his shoulder and across his chest. He then headed off to see what this cavern held, and what he found shocked him.

  Not more than twenty feet beyond the small pool of water, a boot, and then the tattered leggings of what had once been a human, came into view. Pausing, Holk glanced curiously around at the darkness for others, but the remains before him proved to be the only one.

  The bones had been stripped clean. The clothing it wore was tattered and torn, as if the man had worn these same clothes for an extended time. Perhaps due to a prolonged period within the mirrored labyrinth as Holk now found himself?

  “What happened to you?”

  Coming closer, Holk found the skeletal right arm extended above the head, while the left arm lay against the side of the body. From the skeleton’s position, it looked like whoever this had been, had died in the midst of dragging himself across the floor. Kneeling down, he gave the remains a cursory look

  An empty knife scabbard was attached to the belt. A single pouch rested next to it. Holk opened the pouch and found three small gems, two silver coins bearing an unfamiliar design, and a key.

  “Yes!” he exclaimed as he took the key and examined its teeth. “It just might fit.” They were of a size comparable with the keyhole in the door he had been unable to open. If it fit…

  Excited, he removed the scabbard and pouch from the skeleton’s belt and secured them to his. Even though the scabbard was empty, it still might prove useful at some point, like if he should come across the knife that went with it.

  Further searching failed to reveal anything else of value. Holk considered building a cairn for the man, or perhaps burying him, but there were insufficient rocks available and the ground proved to be far too rocky for digging.

  “Sorry, old chap. But you’ll have to remain as you are.”

  Holk was about to rise when something about the man’s clothing caught his eye. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but more than one of the holes were vertical slits, such as what would be created by the insertion of a blade. Looking for others, he rolled the body onto its back and found six altogether; four on the main torso, the fifth on the left arm, and another on the right leg. Moving the clothing to reveal the bones beneath, he saw how directly beneath the openings, several of the bones showed tell-tale nicks, nicks such as what a sword would make.

  This man had not died from starvation of the elements, he had been slain! Suddenly, the cavern felt small and less secure. There were others in this subterranean place, and from the evidence in front of him, hostile.

  “Where were you heading?”

  A glance to the ground around the skeleton’s feet revealed how the stone was darker than the rest of the cavern floor. The darkened area extended in a wide swath for a short distance before coming to an abrupt halt. Perhaps the “stain” was in fact the dried remains of a bloody trail left behind as he crawled.

  Holk surmised that where the stain-trail ended must be the point at which one would appear after using a mirror to travel to this place. The man had appeared on this spot, then crawled to where he lay now. Why?

  Searching the area where the dark stain began, he noticed a rectangular object not far off. Roughly four inches by six, it bore the color of the rock upon which it laid. Interest piqued, Holk picked it up and turned it over. His face gazed back at him.

  It was a mirror!

  Its wooden frame bore cracks, and the glass had a slightly silver hue to it. Could the man have dropped it upon arriving? More importantly, would it work just like the wall-mounted ones? A portable, translocation mirror? Only one way to find out; he placed his thumb against the reflective surface.

  At first, it appeared as if nothing had happened. But then realization came that he now stood upon the beginning of the stain trail. It had worked! The mirror had brought him to this room in the exact same spot as the man. Desiring to test his theory once more, he moved off a short ways and touched the mirror. Instantaneously, he was returned to the beginning of the stain-trail. This could come in handy.

  Returning to where the skeleton lay, Holk said, “Wherever you were, you were attacked and used the mirror to return here. Then, you began crawling.” He raised the sconce-torch high as he gazed at the floor of the cavern extending outward from the skeleton’s outstretched arm.

  Following the invisible line along which the man would have crawled, he came to one of the larger stalagmites in the room. There upon the ‘mite, were etched three small vertical lines.

  “Was this where you were heading?”

  Holk brought the sconce-torch close and ran his finger along the three lines. Moving to the rest of the ‘mite, he searched an ever growing radius, unsure as to exactly what to look for. Searching first the side bearing the etching, he then gradually worked his way around until having tactually inspected it in its entirety.

  When that proved ineffectual, he turned his attention to the cavern floor adjacent to the ‘mite. He immediately noticed how three rocks were stacked in a less than natural way, though certain it was meant to appear so.

  Two the size of a man’s fist rested upon a third that was wider and flatter. Holk moved aside the top two, then lifted the flat rock. A small depression barely six inches deep by five wide was revealed. Within the depression laid one solitary item; another mirror.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  Taking the mirror, he held it up next to the other. They were practically an identical match. The only feature to distinguish the two mirrors apart was a single, red dot in one corner of the second.

  Holk glanced to the skeletal remains of the precious owner. “Where did you get these I wonder? And are there more?” Curious as to where the mirror with the red dot led, he placed his thumb upon its mirrored surface. When twin windows filled with the light of day appeared before him, Holk gave a whoop and holler. He was back in the Prison Room.

  Activating the first mirror again, he instantaneously returned to the Dead Man’s Room. Touching the red-dot mirror, he again appeared in the Prison Room.

  This certainly beat having to go through a series of mirrors to move from room to room, not to mention how he would now be able to avoid the need for swimming through the underground lake in order to leave the Lake Room. All he had to do now was use the portable translocation mirrors. His situation had definitely taken an upturn.

  Careful to not again touch the reflective surfaces, he set the mirrors upon the stone floor. He then reached into his pouch and drew forth the key. “Let’s see if this fits what I think it does.”

  Moving to the door that had thus far prevailed against every attempt at breaching, he inserted the key into the lock. It slid in smoothly. Holding his breath, he turned the key. Tumblers moved, a click sounded, and the door cracked open.

  “Yes!”

  Replacing the key within the pouch, Holk pulled the door open to reveal a small alcove with four tiers of shelves ringing the three walls. His excitement increased upon seeing the items resting on the shelves.

  There were two lanterns, a stack of twelve torches, a small cask, a pile of cloth that looked liked the remnants of a dozen different garments, a bulging sack that clinked with the sound of coins when touched, a score of rotting mushrooms, and a picture of two men sittin
g in a library before a roaring fire.

  Sitting upon the center shelf directly opposite the door was a worn, leather bound book. Next to it were three hollowed-out mushroom caps and a thin stone, three inches in length, whose end had been fashioned to a point. On closer examination, the mushroom caps were revealed to contain a dried substance; one being black, another red, and the third, blue.

  Holk carefully removed the book from the shelf and took it back into the other room. He moved to one of the windows where he could take advantage of the sunlight and opened the cover.

  The first ten pages were filled with drawings of birds, each having a brief descriptive narrative at the bottom detailing habits, diets, and so forth. The depictions were masterfully crafted and the words flowed beautifully. It wasn’t until the eleventh page that the aspect of the book changed.

  Instead of pictures of birds and descriptive phrases, the page held writing of a more hurried look, though still crafted in neat, well formed lines and characters. The narrative sounded quite similar to Holk’s own experiences since his arrival.

  The man’s name had been Kieran Grayson, a scriber from Portsmith, a town Holk had never before heard. Kiernan was an avid lover of birds and had been on a three-day overnight to add to his growing catalog of native avians, when he spied something glistening in a pool of water at the base of a waterfall. Curious, he reached in to discover what it was, and found himself freefalling into the Lake Room just as had Holk.

  Skimming quickly through the next couple of pages that were filled with a letter Kiernan wrote to his loved ones in the event he didn’t make it out, he came to information of a more interesting topic.

  …the mirrors allow movement from room to room…

  …for some, if you stare into them long enough, it will give you a foreshadowing of what you will find on the other side…