The Fifth Portal: a supernatural urban fantasy action adventure (Cards of Death book 5)

by Tamara Geraeds

  “And you had your power, right?” As far as I know, all of the ghosts had their powers when they were alive, but you never know. Magic varies from person to person.

  She gives me a small nod. “That too. If someone was too fast for me, I could slow down time to defeat them. But my father taught me to use my magic only when I had no other choice. True strength lies in knowing when to use which power.”

  “Did you ever use it against someone in your tribe?”

  “A couple of times, at the start of my rule. Some men wanted to test me or prove they were stronger than me.”

  I grin. “And you showed them they were wrong.”

  “I did.” There’s no joy in her words. It’s just something she had to do, nothing she is proud of. It must have felt a little like cheating to her.

  My eyes flick back to the approaching men. They don’t look happy, like they should. I’m about to find out what Maël wants to show me here, but I want to know what led to this moment first.

  “So, what happened then?” I urge her.

  “We built tents and started moving.” She gestures at the homes around us. “It took some getting used to, but we did okay. The men hunted. The women took care of the children and the camp and gathered fruit. But Mansa Kambi was not happy. He knew some of us had survived and wanted us to work for him again. He sent over some of his soldiers to collect us.” Her gaze drops to the ground. She grabs her staff with so much force that the skin around her knuckles tightens. Her jaw is clenched.

  I’m afraid to ask what happened next, but after a short, pained silence, she continues.

  “They used so much force. They hurt my people for not moving fast enough. They bound everyone, even the children. At night, we had to take care of the torn skin on their feet. We were not allowed to hunt or even search for food. When two of the children died, I could not bear it any longer. They had not bound me. I was the only one they respected, although mildly.” She blinks several times. A single tear rolls down her cheek, glistening in the light of the fire. “I tried to talk to the soldiers. I told them we would cooperate if they treated us well. They refused, said we were traitors and would be slaves for the rest of our lives.” She purses her lips. “I could not let that happen. I could not lead what remained of my tribe to a life like that. They did not deserve that.”

  I want to ask her what she did, but my voice has left me. My throat is dry, because for the last couple of minutes, I’ve forgotten to swallow.

  To prevent tears from escaping, I avert my eyes. Silence has fallen upon the camp, as two of the men lead a skinny teen boy to the fire. He’s limping, and his face is covered in dirt.

  Maël is watching him too. She lets out a heavy sigh and finishes her story quickly. Whether it’s because of the approaching boy or the hurt inside her, I can’t tell. “I used my power to free everyone and kill the soldiers. The men wanted to help me, but if we were ever caught, I did not want them to be punished for it. So I took care of them, hid the bodies and we left without a trace. From that moment on, my tribe followed me without question. We moved around constantly, and half of the men acted as scouts while half of the women joined the hunt. We managed to evade Mansa Kambi’s soldiers and followers, and we were quite happy. Until my first mistake.”

  When she doesn’t continue, I turn my head. Regret is painted in streaks across her face as she watches her men lead the scrawny boy to the fire. “Watch,” she whispers.

  Together, we step closer. The boy has sunk to the ground, too weak to stand without the support of the men that led him here. More than a hundred eyes fall upon him as he looks around in fear. The silence is almost palpable, and because of it, my heart shoots up to my throat when a loud drum is heard.

  The crowd parts immediately and bows as a commanding presence steps out into the open.

  She looks more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. Her hair is long here, golden ribbons braided through her dark locks, her face decorated with elegant gold and red patterns. She’s wearing a long, red dress with beads necklaces draped sideways over her chest.

  “Wow, you look so beautiful,” I gasp. “And so… different than anything I’ve seen in my history books.”

  The Maël I know chuckles softly. “Like I said, history records are not all complete or correct. Sure, some tribes wore simple clothes, but we were quite fashionable.”

  I shake my head incredulously. “Very fashionable! I never would’ve guessed you lived so long ago. That dress you’re wearing now will make lots of present day women jealous.”

  She laughs out loud when I gesture at her black dress with the golden flowers and add, “That is, if you lose the cape.”

  She takes a small bow. “Thank you for the compliment, Dante. Now, pay attention. You wanted to see, so watch.”

  With slow but determined steps, sixteenth century Maël makes her way to the boy on the ground. He watches her with wide eyes full of fear and admiration before bowing. The rest of the tribe stands up and forms a circle around the both of them.

  The queen addresses the two men that brought the boy here. She asks them something, but I don’t understand the words.

  “What did you say?” I enquire, without taking my eyes off the scene.

  “Who is this, and why did you bring him here,” Maël translates.

  The two men bow to her again. When they answer, they don’t just look humble, but apologetic.

  “They say they found him, weak and almost starved to death,” Maël explains. “He claims to have escaped an army from another country that took most of his tribesmen on a boat to Spain.”

  I rub my arms to drown out the cold suddenly spreading through me. “That poor boy.”

  “Yes, poor boy.” Maël’s voice trails off, and it takes a while for her to continue.

  We watch as her former self orders some food. She gives it to the boy and gestures for him to leave. An old man joins her. He looks worried and seems to plead for her not to send the boy away. I wait for Maël to translate, but she remains silent. Her mouth is a thin line, and her eyes, sad again, don’t leave the boy for a second. Eventually, the same men that brought him in help the boy to the edge of the camp. There, they watch him until he slowly vanishes in the dark.

  “This was the first we heard of slaves being transported to another country,” Maël finally says. “We had heard of Mansa Kambi’s soldiers tricking traitors like this. That is why I sent him away. The next day, the scouts found him, only about a mile from the camp. His throat was slit, and the mark of a traitor was carved into his forehead.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Her voice is hoarse by the time she reaches the end of the last sentence. I get an overwhelming feeling to comfort her, but when I put my hand on her arm, she strides off. She goes straight for the crowd, that has burst into song at a simple hand gesture from the old Maël. The children form a line from the bride to the groom and throw petals. The wedding is about to begin.

  Expecting Maël to watch the ceremony up close, I follow her, but she suddenly turns left, passing tent after tent.

  “Where are you going?” I call after her.

  She stops when she reaches the border of the camp, and I hurry to catch up.

  There’s nothing but sand in front of us and mountains in the distance. The acacia trees, that give the tents some cover and shadow, provide the only green for miles.

  For a moment, we just stand there, staring at the wind that picks up grains of sand and moves them around aimlessly. Other than that, everything seems quiet.

  I can almost feel Maël’s pain. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right? Kings and queens have to make tough decisions. They make mistakes, just like everybody else.” I place my hand on her arm again, and this time, she doesn’t move. “You couldn’t have known. Your people knew that, didn’t they?”

  Her nod is barely visible. “Maybe.”

  I stare into the distance and wait for her to continue her story. But she doesn’t
speak, and when I follow her gaze, I understand why.

  “Is that normal?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

  Without responding, Maël raises her staff. Her right foot moves a bit back, creating a better balance for her.

  She’s ready to fight, and that confirms my fears. “We’re under attack.”

  I imitate her fighting stance and conjure a ball of lightning. “Will our powers even work here? Aren’t we supposed to be immune to anything from this memory?”

  Just like mine, her eyes follow the sand that falls from the sky in waves, quickly forming the shape of a giant snake. “I do not think this is part of the memory. I have not seen this before.”

  I throw the lightning into my left hand and fumble for my Morningstar behind my waistband with my right. “You mean, something followed us in here? It must be really strong then, right?”

  Maël tilts her head. “No… I do not think it followed us.”

  She raises her staff a little higher as the sand snake dives down.

  In a reflex, I throw my ball of lightning and my Morningstar at the same time. They both soar straight for the snake’s head. It seems oblivious to the danger approaching and keeps coming. The Morningstar hits it first, making the head explode into tiny grains that tumble down. A millisecond later, the lightning hits it. The sparks that fly everywhere blind me.

  It takes a couple of blinks before I can see again, and my stomach turns upside down with a jolt.

  The sand snake is still coming. The bits of it that have fallen down are sucked back up and disappear into the tail.

  I reel in my Morningstar and throw it again, but this time, the sand snake avoids it easily, moving its body up.

  “What do we do?” I ask over the noise of the moving sand.

  Maël doesn’t answer, and when I turn my head, I see her lips moving. The tip of her wand is glowing.

  She’s trying to slow down time.

  “It’s not working! Nothing is!” I yell at her. The urge to step back pulls at me, but I can’t leave Maël here on her own. Who knows what this sand creature will do to her.

  Maël suddenly drops her arm. “Maybe we are not supposed to fight it.”

  I feel my forehead wrinkling as I raise my eyebrow at her. “What? Of course we are. It’s attacking us.”

  “Maybe not. I sense something… hesitant about it.”

  The mouth of the snake opens and comes at me full force.

  I duck just before the sandy jaws snap shut.

  “Oh yes,” I mock, “very hesitant.”

  The snake is moving around us lazily now, leaving enough room for us to move a little, but not enough to escape.

  I keep my eyes on the grainy body, making sure it doesn’t touch me.

  Maël uses a different approach. She is standing absolutely still, letting the sand inspect her from head to toe. She shivers. “I know where this came from.”

  “What? How?”

  “It showed me.”

  The sand snake backs up a little, tilts its head and moves back to me.

  I put away my Morningstar and take out my athame instead, waving it in front of me to ward off the sand. “Is it dangerous?”

  It snaps at my weapon and nearly rips it out of my hand. Grains of sand jump onto my arm and crawl to my neck. It itches like crazy, and every grain seems to hiss at me. I whirl round and round in an attempt to get rid of the sand, waving my arms in the process.

  Maël stops me mid-turn.

  “I am not sure,” she says, calmly wiping the sand off my arm.

  “Well, this should give you a pretty good idea,” I respond, holding up my arm, which is covered in a bright red rash.

  She shoots me a small smile. “I have a feeling it does not attack unless provoked. Try putting away your weapon.”

  The snake’s head hovers in front of my face, and my hand tightens around my athame.

  “Put it away, Dante. Trust me,” Maël says.

  The snake slithers closer through the air with a deafening roar, making it almost impossible to hear what Maël is saying.

  “Put it away,” she repeats, and I lower my weapon.

  The snake tilts its head and… starts to vibrate.

  “What’s it doing?” I whisper, not daring to move.

  Maël puts her wand back into her cape and smiles when the snake vibrates harder. The roaring of the moving sand is replaced by a growing rumble.

  My breathing goes faster. “Is it going to explode?”

  “No.” Maël chuckles. “No, Dante, it is purring.”

  My jaw goes slack. “It’s what?”

  “Putting away your athame will make it even happier. Try it.”

  “Are you sure? It’s probably just getting ready to eat us.”

  She chuckles again. I have to admit, I love the sound. “Yes, I am sure.”

  The muscles in my arm protest when I lift my shirt and put my weapon back behind my waistband, where it lies coldly against my skin.

  The rumbling gets louder, and the sand snake seems to smile at me. Then it nods, as if to express its approval, and takes off in a whirl of dust and heat.

  With one hand pressed against my chest to slow down my heartbeat, I turn to Maël. “What on earth was that?”

  “That was the beach from the lost continent of Mu.”

  “Come again?”

  Surprise flares up in her eyes. “You have never heard of Mu?”

  “Not of Moo and not of any beach that can do that.” I stretch my arm and point at the swirling sand that’s now barely visible in the distance. “What is Moo, the land of cows?”

  She shakes her head at me. “Very funny, Dante. No, it is Mu, written with a ‘u’, and it is a continent that popped up between Asia and America in the early nineteenth century.”

  With the sand snake far away, but still in sight, I relax a little. I lick my lips. “How can a whole continent just pop up somewhere?”

  “Well, Mu is actually a part of Purgatory. But it has a will of its own, as you can see, and one day in 1822, it managed to escape and settle in the Pacific Ocean as a new continent. Everyone could see it, even non-magicals. If you look it up in the history of the non-magical world, you will find that the whole thing sank about a month after it appeared. Ruins were found at the bottom of the ocean. But the magical community knows that Mu got taken back to the Underworld by Charon, the ferryman. Several people saw it happen. Nobody knows for sure, since Charon has never been very conversational, but the story goes that Mu wanted more power and, therefore, moved to Earth to rule over people. However, the Beach of Mu is strong, and it warned Charon, who came to get the continent and place it back where it belongs.”

  My head is spinning, or maybe that’s just a remnant of the sand whirling around me. “You’re saying this Mu can move on its own? So, it’s alive?”

  She takes out her wand again and peers at the sand moving along the edge of the camp on the other side. “Yes, you could say that. And as you can see, the Beach of Mu can move on its own too.”

  “What about Purgatory? I thought that didn’t exist. We have Heaven, the nine circles of Hell, the Underworld and the Shadow World, which is the world between life and death, basically. So, what is Purgatory then?”

  The purring gets louder again as the sand comes circling back to us. It dives at us, and we duck to avoid it. My hands sting as it touches the snake, but one look at my arm tells me the rash is already gone.

  “Purgatory is the place where impure souls go,” Maël continues as we watch the sand soar through the sky above us. “Those who are not bad enough for Hell and not good enough for Heaven end up there, and they can be purified. Purgatory is part of Tartarus and Mu is part of Purgatory. It is the place where the souls wash ashore.”

  The tail of the snake hits me in the neck, and I double over. I land on my knees hard and grit my teeth. “Okay, that’s it. I’ve had it with this thing. You say it’s harmless, I say it
’s about to swallow us whole.” I focus on cold and imagine the grains of sand freezing one by one.

  The snake hisses as frost wraps around its tail.

  Maël aims her staff at me. “Do not anger it!”

  I try to answer, but my words come out slurred, stretched. “Wwwwhyyyyy noooooot?”

  “Because it is wired to punish those who keep using violence.”

  The snake’s head appears in front of me out of nowhere. It isn’t smiling anymore, and the purring has changed back to an angry roar. I can’t move anymore. The grains of sand crawl around faster than before, changing the shape of the creature from long and slender to short and bulky. Arms pop out of its new torso as it looms over me.

  I want to scream to Maël to release me from her time lock, but I can no longer produce any sound.

  All I can do is watch in horror as the African queen lays her staff on the ground and gets down on one knee. Has she been taken over by an evil entity? Why is she letting this happen?

  The sandy head, which now resembles a lion’s, is inches from my face. Its hot breath makes my head burn. I pull away, inch by inch and way too slow to save myself. Tears form in my eyes, not just from the physical pain, but also from the thought that one of the ghosts in my Shield is leaving me to die.

  “Mighty Beach of Mu,” Maël says, her nose touching the ground, her empty hands stretched out in front of her. “Please give this boy another chance. Sorrow and a heavy burden have tainted his mind and faith, but in his heart, he is good.”

  Well, that sounds a lot better. Maybe she’s still herself after all.

  The lion closes its mouth and whirls around to face her. It roars at her, and she flinches a little.

  Softly, she continues. “I know you have the ability to look into his heart, probably better than anything else in the universe. Please judge him yourself and kill him if I am wrong.”

  What? I gasp, but the sound is only in my head. Tears now crawl in pairs down my cheeks. She is lost. Why else would she suggest killing me?