Portals

by Brian S. Pratt

  Returning to the task at hand, he tilted the bowl ever so slightly before the shaking of his hands caused him to bring it back level. Relax. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them, he kept his attention focused solely upon the bowl and the Catalyst. As the bowl tipped to once again deposit the powder within upon the black dodecahedral Catalyst, Holk ignored the many pairs of eyes boring into him, and the impending doom waiting to be unleashed.

  A fingertip gently encouraged each spec to fall. One by one, they accumulated upon the uppermost surface of the Catalyst. Its darkness gradually turned gray. He wondered what would happen if even a single granule fell upon the reflective surface. Dire consequences were what Kazzra warned.

  What do I do after administering the powder?

  Watch and do nothing. Once the border has solidified and the reflective surface remains whole, it will be ready.

  But how much of the powder was a question he desperately wished he had asked. Too much and particles would spill over the edge. The Catalyst was not all that big. When he felt no more could be applied without fear of spillage, he set the bowl aside.

  For a few anxious moments, he feared more would be needed. But then the powdery substance sank into, and vanished beneath, the surface of the Catalyst. A murmur coursed through the assembled Ti-Ocks. Holk darted a quick glance to either side, but couldn’t discern the cause. It probably had to do with the powder and the Catalyst. Returning his gaze to the soon-to-be mirror, he saw that no more powder coated the surface of the black dodecahedron.

  From each of its eleven exposed sides, small bursts of light flared as the runes came alive. Once, twice, then after the third burst, they went dark and the Catalyst transformed in the space of two heartbeats from a hard object, to liquid. It radiated from the center and flowed outward to the edges, coating the entire reflective surface.

  At its touch, the border turned from shimmering darkness to a reddish brown. Churning into itself, the substance of the border changed yet again to orange, then yellow, then a dark green. No sooner had a color come into being, than it shifted once again to another.

  Knowing that he would have less than a moment to make good his escape once the border solidified, he positioned his hand above it. One touch and he’d be free of this place forever.

  Dark green changed to light green that in turn changed to sky blue…

  In those final moments of waiting, a thought flittered across his mind. What happens after he uses the mirror? Providing it works, and he does in fact arrive somewhere back home, then what? The mirror will remain in the possession of the Ti-Ocks. They will be able to follow! And if they do, would Kazzra be very far behind?

  Sky blue…dark blue…black…purple…

  Purple held dominance for a lengthier time before fading into amber. The cycle of change was slowing. It wouldn’t be long before the process would conclude.

  If he could not leave the mirror behind, then perhaps he could take it with him? But a moment’s consideration was what fate had allotted him before the border turned from amber to a dark red…and solidified.

  Both hands shot for the borders and grasped it just as a dozen points of pain erupted along his back, shoulder and arms. Claws dug into him as Ti-Ocks pulled him unceremoniously back from the table. Others latched onto the mirror and worked to wrench it from his grasp. An arm snaked around his neck and breathing became all but impossible.

  Strength born of desperation maintained his grip on the mirror’s edge despite the vicious onslaught. Ignoring the pain and the inability to breathe, he steadily edged his right thumb toward the reflective surface. Such an easy task was made nearly impossible considering that at the same time he had to maintain a firm hold so as not to lose the mirror.

  The claws gripping him tore; those grasping the mirror wrenched; yet somehow he kept his grip on the mirror and his thumb moved ever closer. Almost there, he caught sight of two Ti-Ock curved-headed axes being raised, one to either side. The way they were positioned could only result in the severing of his hands when they descended. The Ti-Ocks sought to bring this struggle to a quick and bloody end.

  His gaze returned to his thumb, now a mere half inch from achieving freedom. The strain on his hand had reached such an extent that attempting to stretch across the last bit of distance would surely cost him his grip on the mirror. But with the axes rising to end the stalemate, what choice had he?

  When they reached their apex his thumb quickly shot toward the reflective surface only to have its goal yanked from his grasp.

  Timed seemed to slow. No longer anchored by his grip on the mirror, he was no longer able to deny the claws pulling him and in that instant when the mirror was drawn away, he lost his balance and fell into the ranks of Ti-Ocks behind him.

  In the heat of battle, tactics must be fluid. As he fell, Holk twisted until he faced the creatures, put one foot upon the floor, and lurched forward. Shouting a war-cry, he barreled into the mass of creatures; he and they went down in a tangled, snarling mass.

  The snout of one reared before him and his fist found a home. Rolling to the side, he managed to come to one knee with sword drawn. Not after any particular target, he laid about him in a flurry of frenzied slices. Ti-Ock blood flew. For the briefest of moments, his enemies fell back. Screaming as a madman, which may not have been very far from the truth, he quickly scanned the room for the mirror. A single Ti-Ock held it above its head as it made for the passageway.

  A score of Ti-Ocks, the greater majority wielding hook-axes, stood in his way; the unarmed ones edged backward and away from the impending fight.

  No matter how many opponents stand in your way, only so many can come at you at once. Use the terrain to your advantage; reduce the avenues from which attacks can be launched.

  Sergeant Wilkers’ sage advice filtered through the haze of battle. Little good it did when you are in the middle of a room with opponents on all sides. Indecision turned to action when the shadow of a falling axe fell upon him. Twisting, he brought his blade up to meet it and hewed through the haft.

  Screaming again, he brandished his sword to the creatures arrayed against him. Feinting toward those grouped farthest from the entrance, he then launched an attack in the general direction of the piles of mirrors, a place where at the moment the concentration of Ti-Ocks was thinnest.

  Axes rose and fell. Each one came away with its head removed. A slice through a Ti-Ock’s chest, a kick to knock another backward, and he had gained the side of the room and the mirrors.

  A quick glance to the entrance revealed the mirror-toting Ti-Ock passing through and moving with all speed to the right.

  Two enemies rushed forward with many more behind. He struck off the axe head of one and had to dodge to the side to avoid the blow of the other. That maneuver put him precariously close to the remaining hand-helds. Light blossomed forth as his proximity brought a trio of light-worms to life.

  Sidestepping half a pace to avoid their grasping tendrils, he ducked beneath the path of an axe and brought his sword in under the creature’s shield.

  Crying out with pain, the beast fell back as its leg felt the bite of the sword from another world. Holk only had a moment to notice the deep gash that would have been a complete severing had he been better balanced when he attacked; then more opponents rushed forward.

  Though he held his own, he was being pushed back toward the reaching tendrils of the light-worms. A feint to one, a kick toward a second and a moment’s respite developed. Screaming, he made as if to attack, then stepped backward and struck the hand-helds with the flat of his sword.

  Ti-Ocks roared in pain and fear as light-worms connected with them. Those able to avoid the grasping tendrils fell back rapidly.

  A narrow avenue barred by a Ti-Ock quartet ran between the wall and the writhing gyrations of light-worm ensnared Ti-Ocks. Holk lashed out at a Ti-Ock converging on him from the opposite way. After shearing through its armor, Holk kicked out and sent it reeling back into its fellow
s.

  Next to him sat the stack of large mirrors. Taking the topmost by its border, he flung it toward the four Ti-Ocks standing between him and the exit to the passageway. No sooner had the mirror left his hand than he reached for a second.

  The lead Ti-Ock instinctively reached out to catch it. When it did, part of its hand came into contact with the reflective surface and it vanished. A second vanished like the first when another mirror hit it square on the snout. The other two, seeing what happened to their fellows, allowed the next three mirrors to sail past and land on the floor. Holk was surprised not to see them smash. Instead, they merely bounced along the floor until coming to a stop in the passageway beyond. The larger ones were apparently more durable than their smaller counter-parts.

  Holk followed the cumbersome missiles with an attack. Meeting the first Ti-Ock head on, he used both hands in a cross-hand slice. Ti-Ock armor, and no small amount of the skin beneath, parted before the blade from another world.

  As it fell backward, the remaining Ti-Ock paused momentarily. Its gaze flickered between its comrades undergoing the less-than-gentle caresses of light worms, and the human before him that had so readily dispatched the one before. When Holk shouted, brandished his weapon and charged; the Ti-Ock lost all stomach for the fight, turned tail and fled.

  Holk was hot on its heels until it entered the passageway and turned to the left; he let it go. Glancing to the right, he saw the mirror-toting Ti-Ock pass through another of the torch-lit areas some distance farther down. It didn’t appear to be in any hurry. With a grin on his lips and vengeance on his mind, Holk took out after it.

  Chapter 21

  His prey didn’t remain ignorant of its danger for long. It was alerted when a mob of maddened Ti-Ocks boiled outward from the room. Shouting their guttural speech, they set out in an axe-waving wave of death after the human. Seeing a shadowy presence with a glint of steel in its hand racing through the dark passageway toward it, the Ti-Ock clutched the mirror close to its chest, turned, and fled.

  Holk exhilarated in the chase. His bid for freedom might come to an end at any time, he may end up dead beneath a Ti-Ock blade, but he didn’t care. He felt more alive at this moment than before the ill-fated siege and subsequent flight through The Devil’s Kiln that culminated in his coming to this place

  Casting a glance over his shoulder revealed that he was keeping ahead of the Ti-Ock mob; maybe even gaining ground. Returning his gaze to the one with the mirror, he saw the gap between them steadily narrow. He kept focused on what lay before, not the danger following behind.

  The Ti-Ock momentarily vanished from sight when it dodged into a side passage. As Holk came abreast of the opening and prepared to enter, an axe-bearing Ti-Ock barred his way; and the axe was coming straight for his head.

  Unable to do more than dive beneath the blade, Holk felt the axe head slice several hairs before he hit the floor. Rolling, he reached a kneeling position barely in time to bring the sword up to block a downward hack. The sword edge bit into the haft but hadn’t the momentum to completely cleave it in two.

  As the Ti-Ock drew back the axe for another attack, Holk attacked. A quick roundhouse over his head and his sword connected with the beast’s shin sending the beast to the floor minus the lower part of its left leg. Coming to his feet, Holk turned to follow the mirror-toting one and left the other to writhe on the floor.

  This new passage held no torches, but wasn’t completely dark. Unlike the main passage he had recently departed, this one exuded a small amount of light. Holk couldn’t discern its source, but it was sufficient for him to see that it stretched for quite a distance. Far ahead, his prey raced with all speed down its dimly lit length.

  The brief battle with the Ti-Ock had allowed his pursuers to narrow the gap. Not enough to catch him, but close enough that should he experience another such unexpected interlude, he would risk being overtaken. Dismissing the increased danger, Holk remained focused on the Ti-Ock with the mirror and worked to recover the lost ground. Slowly, he pulled away from those behind.

  Mirror-Toter fled down another side passage; Holk didn’t even slow. Keeping his sword before him, he braced for an attack that failed to materialize. No sooner had he entered the new passageway than he saw Mirror-Toter duck behind an iron bound door. When the door began to swing close, he increased his speed.

  Hinges long in need of maintenance protested the movement of the ponderous door. A quarter of the way closed, it picked up speed.

  Holk knew if that door closed, the chance of recovering the mirror would be all but gone.

  Ten yards away, the door reached the halfway point and was closing in earnest. Six yards away, Holk knew he would never reach the door in time. Desperation times prompted desperate measures; he threw his sword toward the steadily narrowing gap.

  The door was but inches from closing when the blade entered the narrow opening. A pain-filled howl followed, but the door slammed shut…then edged open a fraction.

  Holk reached the door and dug his fingernails into the part of the frame sticking out and drew it open. On the ground beyond the door laid a purple-robed Ti-Ock. Protruding from its side was the hilt of his sword. The blade had entered just below the left shoulder. Lifeless bestial eyes seemed to stare accusingly.

  There was no time to admire his handiwork. Passing through, he discovered a handle on the other side of the door. As he pulled it closed, the mass of axe-wielding, maddened Ti-Ocks slammed against the outer side. An iron bar used for securing the door was attached just above the handle. Throwing the bar into its wall recess, Holk secured the door.

  He was in another of the mysteriously illuminated corridors. Mirror-Toter’s shadow moved in the distance. Holk drew his sword from the lifeless Ti-Ock, wiped the blood off onto its robe, then sheathed it as he continued the pursuit. The sound of pounding from the other side of the door quickly changed to that of axes hewing away.

  “Good luck,” Holk laughed. The wood was very strong, and with the iron binding it, the Ti-Ocks could be at this for a long time; time enough for him to reclaim the mirror and make his escape.

  Up ahead, the passageway enlarged, becoming wider and taller. As it broadened, the amount of light radiating from the walls increased. The Ti-Ock fled and Holk followed.

  Steadily, the distance between them narrowed. So intent on his prey was he that when more of the purple-robed Ti-Ocks appeared in the distance, he failed to notice. When he did, he realized they came forward at a steady pace. There were four and each wielded two maces.

  Mirror-Toter raced through their ranks. Afterward, they closed formation all the while continuing their advance.

  Holk slowed as he drew close to these new adversaries. When less than twenty paces separated him from them, he noticed how the heads of the maces were oddly shaped. They were roughly spherical, about the size of an apple and faceted like a gem. Wary as to what this may portend, Holk slowed.

  The line came to a halt when fifteen paces remained between them.

  Advancing with caution, he caught sight of how the light emanating from the walls was being reflected by the heads of the maces. What were they made of, glass? Then it dawned on him. The heads were covered in small mirrored sections no larger than a coin. Would they work the same as their larger counter-parts? Or did they portend some new deviltry. If so, all they would have to do was touch him… Little time was given to ponder this new development for with a snarl and a series of barking commands, they charged.

  They fanned out as they raced forward. Holk feinted for the center then dodge quickly to the left. A mirror-mace descended toward him and he met it with the broadside of his sword. The resultant clang rang throughout the passageway and the battle was joined.

  As the second mace swiped in toward his side, Holk danced backward a step. Then when the Ti-Ock drew back its mace to resume its attack, he changed direction and skewered one of the other Ti-Ocks through the middle. The attack of a third forced him to twist off-balance in order to avoid the touc
h of the mace. Simultaneously, he drew the sword from the dying Ti-Ock and lurched toward the wall. Twisting so his back would hit the wall, he quickly regained his balance.

  The three remaining fanned out; one faced him directly while the other two moved to either side.

  Holk kept them at bay by slicing the air about him; first to one side, then to the other. Intentionally overextending himself while warding off the one to the right, he caught sight of the one to his left advance with mace held high.

  In one fluid motion, Holk halted his attack, reversed the trajectory of his sword, and pinioned the forearm holding the mace.

  Though in severe pain, the Ti-Ock had the fortitude to bring its second mace down against Holk’s shoulder. To his surprise, he didn’t vanish. As it pulled the mace back for a second blow, Holk grabbed the weapon’s haft; then twisting his sword that was still impaling its other arm, the creature roared with pain and he wrested the mace from its grasp. Immediately, he struck it against the creature’s forehead and the Ti-Ock vanished.

  Two quick steps forward to put distance between him and the remaining two, Holk then turned about.

  One was almost upon him. Lashing out with his sword, he forced it back but then pressed forward and followed through with the mace. The creature stumbled off-balance in its attempt to avoid the mirrored head. About to finish it off, Holk’s attack was preempted by a blood-curdling roar from the remaining Ti-Ock.

  Rushing in with little care as to its own safety, the creature attacked simultaneously with both maces. Holk brought up his sword and caught both weapons just below the head; then lashing out with his foot, he kicked the Ti-Ock backward. Off-balance for only a moment, it was sufficient time for Holk to follow through with a thrust that took it through the chest.

  Seemingly oblivious to having a blade impaling it, the Ti-Ock continued forward. One mace came flying from the side. Holk managed to duck and avoided it; the mirrored head missing by mere inches. Its second mace came down in an overhand hack.