Portals

by Brian S. Pratt

  Holk brought up his mace, caught it haft-against-haft with the other, then in a deft maneuver slid the head downward to connect with the Ti-Ock’s hand. When mace met flesh, the Ti-Ock vanished.

  The remaining Ti-Ock rushed forward. But now that he had but a single opponent, and an unskilled one at that, to contend with it took but a moment before Holk had the creature lying on the passageway floor, its life’s blood pooling on the ground beside it.

  Ripping a strip from the creature’s robe, Holk wiped the blood from his sword. Then with a second, he wrapped the head of the mace to guard against inadvertent contact. Before the cloth completely covered the head, he gazed at one of the mirrored facets and wondered where it was the Ti-Ocks had been sent; most likely somewhere unpleasant.

  Once the head was securely covered, he slid it into his belt and searched farther down the passageway for sign of the mirror toting Ti-Ock. The time wasted in the fight with the quartet of mace wielders had allowed it to make good its escape; the passageway was empty. Cursing, Holk broke into a run as he sought his elusive prey.

  The passageway continued widening and growing brighter. After the dead Ti-Ocks had vanished from view in the distance behind, the illumination filling the tunnel reached the equivalent of mid-day. Heat did not accompany the light; the air felt eerily cool.

  Up ahead, the tunnel jogged around a bend to the left. As he rounded the curve and the passageway resumed its relatively straight path, something spied from the corner of his eye caused him to slow his pace. When he looked, all he saw was the brightness coming from the wall. Disregarding it as nothing, he continued on.

  Not ten paces farther down, that same something was once again seen out of the corner of his eye. As before, when he turned to look, there was nothing to see.

  Once, it could be his imagination. But twice? Unlikely. Scanning the walls failed to reveal the source of what had drawn his attention. Unwilling to waste time on what might still be a figment of his imagination, he hurried on.

  Four more times his vision was drawn to the walls, and once to the ceiling. Each time, he failed to detect anything out of the ordinary. On the sixth instance, his eyes happened to be directed in the direction of the occurrence. A ribbon less than a finger’s length of brighter light flashed for a moment before the spot on the wall resumed its regular luminosity.

  Twin flares of light farther down the passageway drew his attention. Pausing but a moment, he moved closer to the wall to investigate. Reaching out his hand toward the spot, he quickly drew it back when a light-worm emerged followed shortly by two others.

  Holk backpedaled to the middle of the passageway to put as much distance between him and the waving light-worms as possible.

  Other ribbons of light almost immediately appeared in a growing circle radiating outward from the trio that had emerged.

  Now he understood the source of the light radiating from the walls and ceiling of the passageway. They were infested with light-worms. As he resumed his pursuit of the mirror-toting Ti-Ock, additional light-worms emerged in what was quickly becoming a bright carpet of waving bands of light.

  Were they indigenous to this part of the Ti-Ock territory? Or were they set there like guard dogs? By the time the passageway came to an end at a massive archway framed by a pair of massive columns, each comprised of eight brilliantly glowing square stone blocks set one atop another, Holk hadn’t decided which. Either way, it made little difference. He had no where to go but forward.

  Ten paces separated one column from the other. Holk slowed as he approached. Each block showed scores of light-worms moving beneath the surface. The combined illumination emanating from the sixteen blocks was so intense, that it obscured what lay in the shadows beyond the archway. All that could be discerned were indistinct forms. Holk proceeded with caution.

  In the hopes of escaping the notice of the light-worms within the stone blocks, he kept to the center of the archway. Even as he made to pass between the twin pillars of stone, what lay beyond remained indistinct. Feeling very exposed and worried of a light-worm attack, he passed through the arch.

  Keeping the shape of the archway, a short passageway comprised of more light-worm infested stone blocks extended for a good ten paces before coming to an end. Holk hurried through and only had two moments where light-worms extended outward toward him. Each time, they failed to make contact. He was much relieved to pass out of the passageway and into one of regular, non-light emitting stone. How long this passageway may be was unknown for there was nothing but darkness. Holk drew his sword, struck his sunstone to banish the shadows, and continued on.

  He didn’t progress far before the tunnel narrowed and began circling to the right in a tight, downward spiral. Three revolutions brought him to where the darkness began to fade and light took its place.

  Twice more he came full circle before being brought to a halt by a pair of rather sturdy looking doors. Ornate, runic engravings had been masterfully applied. Twin orbs of light glowed from where they were affixed to the walls on either side. Holk could see movement within each; a closer look revealed each orb held two light-worms.

  Curiosity wanted him to reach out his hand to see if the orbs would prevent the creatures from emerging, but reason stepped in and forestalled such an ill-conceived action. Instead, he focused his attention upon the door.

  Aside from the intricate pattern of runes, each door held a large ring that looked to be made of silver. Holk took hold of one and pulled gently. To his surprise, the door swung open.

  Light exploded outward in such intensity that it caused him to dance backward in startlement and throw an arm across his eyes to shield them from the glare. Once they grew used to the brightness, he peered out from behind his arm and saw something that made his heart sink.

  Beyond the doorway laid the beginnings of a vast cavern containing hundreds if not thousands of mirrors. Stepping forward, he opened the door to its fullest and gazed at the stacks upon stacks of mirrors. Some rose horizontally from the floor, others leaned against massive stalagmites. Scanning the room, he sought any sign of Mirror-Toter and his mirror.

  As he turned toward the left, a light-worm emerged from the wall, and if not for a sudden duck and quick dash into the cavern, it assuredly would have had him. Now that he was several feet beyond the entrance, he could see the extent of the light-worm infestation. They were everywhere.

  Hardly a square foot of any wall and ceiling lacked the creatures.

  Some crawled along the surface; some extended outward and waved in the air, while others would vanish beneath the stone only to reappear a moment later. The only part of the cavern that appeared to be unaffected was the floor.

  Off to his left gaped the maw of a smaller cavern. Within, even more mirrors were visible. Not seeing anywhere else Mirror-Toter could have gone, Holk wended his way through the piles of mirrors toward it.

  Not a very large cavern, this off-shoot of what Holk took to be the Ti-Ock’s mirror repository was little larger than the passageway that had brought him there. A narrow path ran straight through a myriad of haphazardly stacked mirrors leading toward the far end where a narrow opening beckoned.

  Holk moved to traverse the path, but only managed to take a couple steps before being assailed by an overpowering feeling of foreboding. Such was the power of the sensation that be broke out in a cold sweat and his hands started shaking.

  His eyes drifted uncontrollably toward a mirror with a black border that leaned against a stack of fifteen others. The reflective surface drew his gaze and held it; fear rose at his inability to look away.

  Losing the battle for control, his vision blurred as a scene of horrific proportions began unfolding within the mirror. His mind trembled at the sights; though indistinct, they produced an unreasoning and unbearable fear.

  Unable to do naught but stare, he sought to break the connection by bringing up his sword and interposing the blade between his eyes and the mirror’s reflective surface. The horror grew and his mind shu
ddered beneath the onslaught. Every inch was a battle; the terror drained his will and demanded that he drop his arm. From somewhere deep within, Holk found the strength to continue.

  Not until the gemmed crosspiece filled his vision and no part of the horrific scene could be seen, did the mirror relinquish its control upon his mind. When it did, he felt his limbs go rubbery; closing his eyes he backed from the room.

  Once in the main cavern, the unreasoning sense of fear and foreboding subsided until all that remained were whispers of nameless terrors. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he gathered his courage then braced for a return into the smaller cavern.

  This time he would not allow his gaze to wander. Holding his sword up before him with the narrow opening at the cavern’s end directly behind it, he kept focused on the blade and entered.

  The fear hit him again, but this time he was ready. There was intelligence behind the fear; he could feel it trying to gain a foothold within his mind. But with his concentration fixed firmly on the sword and the narrow opening that was his goal, he successfully fought the urge to turn his gaze upon the mirror with the dark border and safely traversed the room.

  Beyond he entered a small junction where three other passages extending away like the cardinal points on a compass. Each was the same as the one through which he had just passed, the only exception being that these each bore eight mirrors mounted on the walls, four to each side. One of these passages had to lead where Mirror-Toter had gone. But which one?

  Using his sunstone, he stood at the entrance to each and tried to ascertain the Ti-Ock’s whereabouts. Where each passageway ended, a dark, open expanse began. An additional mirror storeroom perhaps? Thinking that to be a likely supposition, Holk turned his attention to the passageways themselves and the mirrors they held. None produced the unreasoning fear that had pervaded the small cavern just vacated. One being as good as another, he held his sword at the ready and passed into the one on his right.

  He expected to feel something upon entering, but was relieved when nothing developed. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed upon the dark opening at the far end, he quickly sped through and discovered his supposition had been correct. Three tiers of mounted mirrors lined the walls; of Mirror-Toter and the mirror Holk had crafted there was no sign.

  Turning about, he made his way back toward the junction. As he reached halfway through the intervening passageway, motion from up ahead made him quicken his pace. Mirror-Toter emerged from the passageway directly across from the one in which Holk moved. Seeing the human with sword drawn, it fled into the tunnel leading toward the light-worm infested repository. Holk let him go. It was not the Ti-Ock that he sought, but the mirror it no longer carried.

  His gaze fell upon the shadowy entrance from which the Ti-Ock had appeared. Sensing that at last he may be free of this place, he hurried forward. Upon leaving the passageway and entering the junction, he came to a halt upon spying where Mirror-Toter had stopped. The Ti-Ock had yet to vacate the passageway and enter the repository. Their eyes met.

  “Yah!” Raising his sword and yelling with every ounce of fierceness he could muster, he took one step forward.

  Mirror-Toter turned and fled.

  Holk didn’t proceed any farther. It was the mirror he was interested in. Turning to the dark opening beyond which he was certain his mirror lay, he produced his sunstone and hurried forward.

  The short passageway led into yet another room filled with mirrors. Holding aloft the sunstone, he searched for one with a dark red border. The search was not easy as the piles were haphazardly stacked and of varying heights. As those stacks nearest him failed to yield results, he moved deeper within the room.

  When a mirror with a red border was spied, Holk would use the tip of his sword to move aside others in order to get a better view. The first one proved to be too rectangular, the second’s border wasn’t dark enough. A third proved to have the proper hue, and except for swirls of silver decorating two corners, could have been his.

  Two-thirds of the way into the room, the glow of the ‘stone pierced the deepest shadows in the farthest reaches. His eyes passed across a stack nestled against the rear wall. About to move to the next, he noticed a dark red corner protruding from behind. Grinning triumphantly, he moved forward.

  A feeling of foreboding settled over him and grew stronger by the heartbeat. He glanced at the mirrors nearest him but failed to detect the source of the unpleasant feeling. Then a barely heard noise from behind caused him to glance over his shoulder.

  Mirror-Toter stood at the entrance to the room. In its hands it clutched the mirror with the black border.

  Like before, fear rose as his gaze was drawn uncontrollably to the reflective surface. Incoherent imagery grew to clarity and Holk knew terror the likes of which he never could have imagined existed. His mind quailed beneath the assault.

  Whatever intelligence lay beyond the mirror knew that it had Holk and reveled in the knowledge.

  Moving his sword to block the mirror from his sight proved beyond Holk’s ability. The horror pierced his mind and subdued volition. Strength fled his body as would a lake after its dam gave way. Instead of rising, the blade dropped until his fingers could no longer hold it and the sword clattered to the ground.

  Mirror-Toter laughed. At least so Holk interpreted the rapid burst of abbreviated grunting that coincided with an upturn at the edges of the creature’s mouth. Stepping forward, it brought the mirror closer. He could do nothing but stand still; his limbs no longer obeyed his commands.

  Fear will undo you, son. Is this what I taught you? To whimper and quail like a newborn child?

  In a sea of madness, Sergeant Wilkers’ voice found a kernel of sanity. Holk latched onto it as would a drowning man a wayward piece of flotsam.

  Fear is of your own making. Understand it; control it; subdue it. Fear has no place on a battlefield.

  Memories of his time with Sergeant Wilkers ebbed from the nether recesses of his mind.

  …the drubbing given when Holk failed to perfect a simple maneuver…

  …the first time Holk managed to leave a welt on the sergeant’s chest…

  …the look of pride on Sergeant Wilkers’ face after setting four of Holk’s peers upon him and seeing him prevail…

  Holk latched onto that look of pride; concentrated upon it to the exclusion of all else. Sergeant Wilkers was an anchor, a safe harbor from the storm.

  Mirror-Toter drew closer; the mirror but a shadowy haze obscured by his recollections of times past.

  You know what you have to do, so do it. Are you going to allow fear to rule you?

  No!

  Fighting against the power of the mirror, Holk recovered marginal control over his right arm. With Sergeant Wilkers lending him strength, he managed to reach across his front to where the mirror-mace was hooked within his belt.

  Mirror-Toter saw the movement and quickened its pace toward him; the mirror held out before it.

  Numb fingers wrapped around the weapon’s hilt and drew it forth. Still wrapped with cloth, Holk hadn’t the strength to spare unwrapping it. Instead, he drew it back over his shoulder.

  Now, son!

  Releasing the vision of Sergeant Wilkers, Holk brought his arm forward and let go of the mace. It sailed the intervening distance to strike the center of the mirror with a crack.

  The fear and terror vanished as the reflective surface shattered. So too did the hold on his limbs. Rubbery and weak, his legs buckled. As he hit the floor, a dark mist rose from the shattered remains of the mirror.

  Mirror-Toter gave out a high-pitched squeal that could only be interpreted as fear, turned tail and fled.

  Holk hadn’t the strength to get to his feet. He lay on the ground and watched as the mist rose and came together. Once every wisp had merged to form a singular cloud, it began moving his way. He didn’t know what it was, but was certain its touch was a thing best avoided. Glancing behind him, he spied the stack behind which his mirror had been placed. By sheer force
of will, he turned onto his stomach and started crawling toward it.

  He could feel the cloud behind him; could feel its malevolent energy drawing ever closer. Stretching out an arm, he would pull himself along the floor, then out went the other and he worked a little bit closer to his goal.

  It was a race to see if he could reach the mirror before the cloud could reach him.

  …stretch…pull…stretch…pull…

  His legs trembled each time they pushed him along; arms screamed their protestation, but he continued toward his goal.

  Whispered thoughts sought to intrude into his mind, undermine his will and bring him to a halt. Keeping focused on progressing across the floor kept him from succumbing to its spell.

  He reached the edge of the mirror stack just as the sound of a boot scraping along the floor came from behind. Knowing it was foolhardy in the extreme, he couldn’t prevent the reaction of looking back over his shoulder. Thinking he would find Ti-Ocks, he instead discovered a large warrior, completely encased within jet-black armor. From head to toe there was nothing showing what may lie beneath. At the same time, he realized the dark cloud had vanished. The armored warrior drew its sword and moved forward. Like the armor, it too was of darkest black and seemed to draw all life from the world.

  Holk’s own sword remained on the floor where it had fallen, now some distance on the other side of this new foe. Weaponless and weak, his only chance to survive was to reach the mirror. Spurred on by the nearness of his goal, he managed to quicken his pace.

  The steps of the armored warrior echoed as it quickly closed the distance.

  Reaching the rear of the stack, Holk grasped his mirror’s border and worked to free it from where the stack of mirrors had it wedged against the wall. Yanking with one hand and pushing aside the stack with the other, he managed to get it free.

  Wrapping an arm around the mirror, he rolled onto his back just as the warrior’s sword struck the spot he had been but a moment before. Gazing up at the faceless helm, he prayed that Kazzra’s instructions had been correct. With the sword rising to deliver another blow, he touched the reflective surface.