The room upstairs was full of mirrors. One leaning over the other, and all leaning against the walls. Every single mirror was adorned with elaborate frames and apparently made of gold and silver, carved with colored gems that reflected the faint light inside the room. A dark shadow moved through the mirrors.
“WATCH OUT, OLIE!” yelled Trevor.
A number of phookas came out of nowhere, and Olivia could barely see them, as they were blending into the shadows of the dark room. The creatures jumped from side to side and used the shadows as an advantage to attack the group by surprise. Trevor threw arrows almost without thinking, but it seemed that for each phooka he hit, two more would appear. Olivia and Bran fought the creatures fiercely with their swords, trying to strike them any way they could. The creatures would jump and push them around the room. Oftentimes, Olivia felt as though she were being shaken from side to side. Her head was spinning, and it was almost impossible to concentrate with all that horrendous laughter and the shadows that crawled everywhere in the place. Suddenly everything went silent, and the room seemed to have completely emptied out. All the phookas disappeared, and their laughter faded into the distance until they were completely inaudible.
Olivia looked around, searching for her friends, and she heard Trevor. He was screaming, resisting. Her eyes studied the room until she finally found Trevor fighting with a phooka. The creature was all over him, biting his arms and neck, clearly winning, and Trevor was slowly giving up.
Olivia was taken by a wave of anger. The thought of losing her friend made her heart shrink and explode at the same time, as if her life was also being lost. Or, even worse, as if she were going to live a life without light. Without purpose.
She wielded her sword and moved toward the phookas with all her strength, only to be stopped. She couldn’t move anymore. She looked back and Bran was holding her strongly.
“WE MUST HELP HIM!” Olivia yelled, her eyes fixed on Trevor and the phooka.
“No. He must go alone.”
Bran held Olivia even more strongly now until he wrapped his arms around her in an unwanted embrace. Olivia took some time to process what was happening, and then she started to scream. She needed to break free, she needed him to let her go.
“I MUST HELP HIM, BRAN! WE NEED TO HELP HIM!” Olivia screamed. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let her go. She didn’t understand the reason for all that protection. If they worked together, they would figure out a way to defeat the phooka. To get out of that place. “BRAN! WE NEED TO HELP HIM!” Olivia fought Bran’s embrace, screaming and clenching her teeth. She did her best to free herself, and Bran only seemed to hold her tighter.
And then, Trevor stopped resisting. His screams were getting weaker, and the noises made by the phookas took their place. Trevor was gradually surrounded by the creatures, who came out of the shadows once more. They danced around the boy as in a sinister ritual. Trevor’s body was dragged out of Olivia’s sight and disappeared into the shadows of that mirrored room. Now, there was just an emptiness in her heart, an abyss. Little by little, she quit screaming and fighting Bran’s arms, and he finally let her go.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT? WE MUST FIND HIM! BRAN, WHY DID YOU DO THAT? I COULD–WE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM!” Olivia was yelling again. Tears ran down her face uncontrollably, making her cheeks and her mouth wet. “WE CAN’T GO ON WITHOUT TREVOR! WE MUST FIND HIM, WE MUST HELP HIM NOW!”
For an instant, she didn’t recognize Bran anymore. Olivia paused, took a breath, and looked the boy in his eyes. He seemed different … strange. She didn’t find that sparkle that she loved so much in there. His eyes were cold and satisfied. Slowly, a discreet smile was growing on his face.
“You are right, Olivia Halin. We can’t go on without Trevor.” There was a different voice in Bran’s words. Something screechy and full of mockery. And she knew that voice.
Hearing that voice that she hated profusely coming out of Bran’s mouth was unbearable, repulsive. Gradually, Bran’s face began to shift, giving way to someone else’s features. His smile was not gentle and kind anymore; his eyes were now filled with hate. The Bran she knew and loved so much was being replaced by the one who haunted her since she was in her world. Bran was shifting into Baltazar Fletce.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Consequences of War
Seeing Bran’s face transform into Baltazar’s was deeply disturbing. The change happened slowly; Olivia witnessed every inch of Bran’s skin change its color, his delicate features invaded by Baltazar’s. Someone who Olivia feared, and who represented all that was wrong in Tartae. Thinking of Baltazar pretending to be Bran for those last hours was disgusting. Olivia was nauseated, anger and revulsion were taking over her body.
Once again, she found herself alone with Baltazar, and there still wasn’t a sign of her memory. And once again, he was between her and the Book of the Portals. When that specific thought crossed her mind, she figured that she should be close. She couldn’t give up now. Baltazar was there to protect his master and the Book, and she wasn’t going to leave this dreadful place without it.
“Did Lars send you to do his job again? It must be tiring to serve someone so lazy,” mocked Olivia. Her voice was firm, and she put all that she had into not showing any trace of weakness. In her head, she was gathering all and any memories she had of the lessons she had learned about magic and fighting.
“I see that you lost your memory, but you’re still a brat, Olivia,” said Baltazar insolently, and Olivia was puzzled; she couldn’t hide her surprise and the question burning in her eyes. “Yes, I know you don’t remember anything about Tartae and the Portals. As you can tell from today and your last failed attempts to get your hands on the Book, we are always a few steps ahead of you and your little group. It’s even sad.”
“No, it’s not. Being you must be sad. You do all the work and never get the glory. No one even knows who you are. No one ever heard your name,” said Olivia. Baltazar’s expression changed, and Olivia knew that she’d gotten where she wanted.
“Lars doesn’t get involved with things that don’t require his attention.”
“So, you’re saying that you’re in charge of the things that don’t really matter? That’s good. And here I was, thinking that I could be in danger. That he sent his best buddy to fight me. Allow me to give you a piece of advice, Baltazar. I really think you should call him Master Lars. Or even better, Master Edmund Lars. I guess he won’t like to be treated disrespectfully by one his lackeys. You must call him properly. Maybe you shouldn’t even say his name.”
“Oh, Olivia ...” laughed Baltazar. His teeth seemed to be getting bigger by the minute, achieving now unimaginable proportions. His face twitched with that morbid laugh, which still looked like a foreign movement on his face. “I only have one thing to say. This time you won’t be so lucky.”
Baltazar Fletce moved his hands, stretching his arms in front of him as if he were trying to reach for something. His long fingers stretched and widened, and his veins popped out of his skin. All of the mirrors in the room broke at once, and the pieces flew in Olivia’s direction. She ran and quickly hid behind one of the biggest frames in the room. However, she couldn’t avoid all the broken glass and was cut on her arms and face.
Olivia got down on one knee and put both of her hands on the floor. Rapidly, the black stone started to crack until it opened completely, caving in where Baltazar stood. He fell with the stones, landing clumsily on the first floor of the building. But Baltazar got back up quickly, jumping as high and precisely as a monkey, returning to where Olivia was.
Baltazar’s face was far from human now. And it was only getting worse. His eyes were big and incredibly wide, and his pupils were bright red, giving the impression that they would jump out of his eyeballs at any given second. His mouth was open and his teeth completely humongous. Craving destruction. Longing for blood. It was evident that killing Olivia was important to him. He was being tested.
As he got face-to-face
with Olivia, Baltazar studied her for a while and then proceeded to attack her once more. His hands reached for Olivia’s neck, but she grabbed her sword in a quick movement, wielding the weapon fearlessly. The man took a step back but didn’t seem too frightened. He still carried a threatening look on his bizarre face. It was clear that Baltazar didn’t think much of her, maybe because he knew she wasn’t the same as before. Maybe he never saw her as much of threat. It didn’t matter now. The only thing that Olivia had in mind was to finish that fight and carry on. In all that insolence and confidence, Olivia found his weakness.
They only looked at each other for a second or two, both trying to figure out what the next movement would be. Baltazar was slowly losing bits of his once unshakable confidence. Something had changed in Olivia, and he was now being careful. Time seemed to have stopped. However, Olivia knew that the clock was still ticking, and with each second that passed, Trevor’s life was in more danger. This wasn’t the time to hesitate.
Olivia took a deep breath and remembered what Cordella and Bran used to say about balancing mind and matter. She advanced toward Baltazar with an aggressive strike, which the man dodged, moving in her direction as soon as he recovered his balance. Baltazar dug his pointy nails into Olivia’s arm in a movement that was so fast it made her drop her sword. She put her hands on Baltazar’s fists, trying to break away from his grasp. The man’s arms were hot as if his blood was pulsating to the point of boiling inside of him. She tried to break his hold using all her strength, but his hard nails seemed to only get deeper into her skin. In his eyes, the confidence was growing again.
The pain started to take over Olivia’s body. It all could end there, and it would all have been in vain. Clearly, Baltazar was acting like a wild animal who had to weaken its prey until it was the right moment for a final strike. He would definitely look for something more frail and vital than her arms ... and that would be it.
Olivia closed her eyes and gathered all the strength she had left. Her movements needed to be precise and strong. She would probably only have one chance. She needed to get out of there and save Trevor. They needed to save Tartae. Baltazar’s arrogance made him weaker and more vulnerable. She made a quick plan in her head, and she had one shot to make it work.
She knocked her head with all her strength onto Baltazar’s nose, who took a step back and released his grasp a bit, just enough for her to kick him in the stomach. The man, who was now bleeding through his nose, lost his balance and staggered, taking another step back. “You stupid girl!” he said, and before he could do anything else, Olivia took her sword from the floor and, with her eyes closed, aimed it at the man’s chest. The blade perforated his flesh and slid through it until it was completely out again through the other side. For a split second, he stood still, looking at her. The rage was slowly leaving his eyes. They were all blank now. Baltazar fell like a rock onto the floor.
That moment went on so quickly that Olivia didn’t know exactly how it all happened. There was an incredible amount of blood coming out of Baltazar’s mouth and wound. Around him, a pool of blood spread on the floor, touching Olivia’s feet. Baltazar Fletce was dead, and Olivia was the one who had killed him.
Olivia didn’t have the guts to take the sword out of Baltazar’s chest. Even though she was fighting for her life–and her friends’ lives–the realization that she had just ended someone’s life took over her body like a poison. She was about to throw up and cry. Her heart sank with guilt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Final Challenge
After a minute or so of staring at Baltazar’s lifeless body, Olivia shook her head and reminded herself that she needed to keep moving. She ran into the shadows in the room, heading in the same direction where the phooka had vanished with Trevor some time ago. She walked between the mirrors and, where she thought there would be a wall, there was a dark, long corridor. She materialized a flame in her hand, strong enough for her to see a couple of steps ahead. She kept walking almost blindly through the hall for some minutes, listening only to her own steps. It took her some time to come to her senses and realize that she had left her sword behind. From now on, she had to count only on her young and inconsistent magic.
She kept moving forward until the construction changed, the walls were now quite rustic. Olivia had arrived in a stone corridor, a place that resembled a cave. From a distance, she started to hear the familiar noises made by the phooka. All that annoying laughter and incessant jumping. Olivia walked faster, being extra careful not to be heard.
Olivia saw a doorway some feet away from where she was now, and the phooka sounds were getting very loud. She made the flame in her hand become small and weak so she could get closer without being noticed and the flame would be ready for what she had in mind. As she got nearer to the doorway, Olivia let the flame in her hand grow significantly, and then she blew it hard inside the room. The place was completely filled with fire. The creatures began to scream desperately and to look for a way out of that place. They found a path out through a small window located in one of the walls and jumped through it without giving it a lot of thought. They didn’t even notice Olivia’s presence, and they left a rotting smell behind, making it hard to breathe. Once she was in the room, she noticed that the phookas had been guarding a trapdoor.
She pulled the metal handle, and there was Trevor. His hands and feet were tied up.
“TREVOR!” yelled Olivia, running downstairs to the dungeon and untying the boy quickly. The two friends hugged.
“I was trying to understand what was happening up there. How did you get rid of the phooka?”
“I set the place on fire and they ran. They’re not very brave, apparently. When they find themselves at a disadvantage, they run away like scared prey.”
“They’re not very smart either. In between the annoying laughter, they let it slip that Lars hid the Book of the Portals in his favorite room, the large one underground.”
“Do you know how to get there?”
“No, but at least we know where to look. Olie, are you OK?” asked Trevor, finally seeing that Olivia’s clothes were all covered in blood and her face was full of small cuts.
“Yes ... Bran was not really Bran.” Trevor looked confused, and she continued, “It was Baltazar Fletce. We fought and I’m here now ...” finished Olivia, her stomach turning once more by the thought of Baltazar dead on the floor with her sword into his chest. Could she ever forget that?
“I wish I could have helped you.”
“I know. I really do … Let’s find the Book of the Portals and get this over with. It’s about time,” said Olivia, walking toward the old wooden stairs that provided access in and out of the dungeon.
Trevor grabbed his bow and arrow, which were lying next to the trapdoor. Olivia and Trevor ran through the corridor to the mirror room, and Baltazar’s body wasn’t there anymore. There was only blood everywhere, wreckage and a huge hole on the floor, right in the middle of the room. She hesitated for a moment, wondering what could have happened to the man.
“Olie?” Trevor called, noticing her confusion.
“We must run, Trev! We’re not alone in here.”
They ran hastily through the house, trying to remember where they came from and how to get to the main room. The way was still tricky and inconsistent. They hurried across both wide and thin corridors. Sometimes they would recognize a small detail on the walls or the ceiling, other times they felt that they had never seen the place they were in before. Olivia and Trevor were scared; they had been inside that mansion for hours now, and the place seemed to be getting into their heads, making them feel more confused and insecure. Less like themselves. They couldn’t lose any more time. Their destiny was hanging by a thread.
The two friends kept going, sometimes slipping on the overly polished floor. The gloomy hallways seemed to have no end, until they finally saw a pair of black doors. Olivia and Trevor looked at each other and ran toward it, opening them to find the large main hall.
They walked in and across the room, a huge set of red double doors was leading to the east wing of the house. As they opened them, a beautiful dining room was revealed. The place seemed ready for a sophisticated party. The tables were set with red linen and shiny silverware. In the corner, a piano didn’t quite fit the rest of the place, which was so impeccably and carefully decorated. The instrument was crooked, and the bench had fallen onto the floor.
Olivia and Trevor exchanged a meaningful look and got closer to the piano. The weird position of the bench told a story. Something had happened there, and they were pretty sure of what that was. They tested the floor, knocking it incessantly until it made a different sound. It was a hidden passageway.
“He must have been in a hurry. He must have forgotten about the piano and that we would check here eventually,” whispered Olivia.
“Olie, there’s no handle to open it. You need to do something.”
“Er–let me see,” said Olivia. Trying to remember something that could be useful now.
“Hurry, Olie! We don’t have much time!” Trevor’s voice was urgent, but his tone was very low. No one appeared to be around, and they wished to keep it that way.
Olivia managed to glue her hand to the icy cold stone that the floor was made of and pulled it up hard at once. The door opened without much resistance, showing pompous marble stairs leading to a basement of some sort.
The Portals of Tartae- the Land With the Two Moons Page 20
