The Portal

by Brock Deskins

  Chase took several steps back and felt his feet jerked out from under him. He swung back and forth, suspended by his ankles four or five feet above the ground.

  “Look for things that seem out of place. This is not an easy task in that anyone adept at setting traps knows how to make them blend in with their surroundings. Use the same senses you use for detecting people. Sight will be the most prominent. Look for vines where few or no others exist, look at the leaves and needles on the ground. Do they look like they fell naturally, or were they spread about to conceal something? If they are covering something, there might be a slight rise in the ground. If you are in a passage of carved stone or wood floor, look for signs that a flagstone or board may conceal a trigger to a trap. Is the stone or board elevated, does it move, is the dirt or mortar around it packed, or does there seem to be a slight gap?”

  Chase focused on her words more intently than he ever had on any subject in school. He absorbed everything she was telling him and practiced it in his mind.

  “There comes a time when you may need to take something from someone without alarming them. Maybe it is a key to a room or treasure chest, maybe a document, or a coin purse. The trick is not to change the weight or pressure the individual normally experiences by its presence. Do not tug the item loose or put pressure against the securing ties with a blade when cutting it free. In the case of a coin pouch, fill a small bag with sand or soil with the approximate weight of the object you are taking. Use a hook to quickly and easily attach it to the belt at the same instant you remove the object you are about to steal so the former owner never notices the weight of it is gone. Diversions are the best method of taking something from someone. Having a partner bump into someone while you liberate his or her possession is the best way. Waiting for your mark to become preoccupied is another. When these opportunities do not exist, and it is impossible for you to create those opportunities, then you must rely on quick and deft fingers.”

  She continued her lectures for about another hour, making her student repeat the things she had told him until he had every word and theory memorized. Once he was able to do that, they practiced relentlessly for the rest of the day, taking only short breaks for a bite of food or something to drink.

  Chase quickly learned that the lessons did not stop even then. Samone would filch one of his possessions while he was eating, sneak up on him and tell him he was dead, and slipped several sour berries into his water skin to see if he would detect their presence before he drank. He did not and got a mouthful of bitter water.

  The twins ranged several miles from the camp with Brody and Lucas. The rangers pointed out signs left by animals and identified plants that were edible, poisonous, or had medicinal properties. They told them how to read the clouds in hopes of forecasting the coming weather, and how to watch and listen to the activities of the animals to determine if there were strangers in the woods. Once they reached a clearing about an hour from camp, the two rangers set up a sparring match to evaluate the young man and woman’s fighting skills.

  “Your technical skills are good,” Brody told the twins, “but your combat skills are lacking. This is no duel or tournament with rigid rules and fair play. The sword is only one of the weapons you bring to a fight. Your offhand, buckler, and legs are also weapons. Failure to employ them all is like going into battle with half a sword, or wearing only half your armor.”

  They then practiced their bows. The rangers passed each of the twins a sheaf of arrows that Elderin had strengthened with his magic since their carbon fiber arrows were limited in supply, and they did not wish to risk losing or breaking them.

  “You have great skill in hitting stationary targets,” Lucas extolled to them, “but most targets are not going to obligingly stand still, so we will see how you fair against moving targets.” The rangers mounted a rope and caster system to two trees approximately fifty feet apart. A thick, woven mat in the rough shape of a man hung beneath it. The archers set up about fifty feet back from the target. “Now, Brody is going to pull the target along at about a walking speed at first. As you become proficient, the speed will be increased, as well as your distance from the target.”

  Felicia and her brother took turns firing at the walking target, scoring rather well for their first time. In just a few passes, Brody increased the speed to that of a jog. Not every arrow found the heart, but they were certainly sufficient to stop a man. Once the rate increased to a running speed, the twins had a hard time striking the target. However, by the end of the day both were adept at hitting a running target at almost a hundred feet.

  Chuck and Josh’s ranger instructors led them just a short ways from the camp. They suited them up in thick, quilted armor covered with chain shirts, and steel greaves.

  “All right then,” Bronk, a ranger even bigger than Chuck, loudly addressed them, “Jeffery and I are here to teach you how to use those swords well enough that you can inflict more harm to your enemies than you do to yourselves!”

  The first image that came to both of the young men’s minds when Bronk addressed them was of the marine drill sergeant in the movie Full Metal Jacket, only two to three times his size. They were both waiting to hear the sardonic nicknames he would issue them. They were almost disappointed when their instructor just carried on with their lesson.

  “I saw you both fight yesterday, and while you managed to use your brute strength and longer reach to overcome the assault of the pathetic goblins, let me assure you; you will need far more than effort and luck against even a slightly stronger or more skilled opponent. The first thing is to determine your choice of weapons.” The large ranger looked at Josh. “You swung that massive two-hander like a woman using a broom to chase cats off her porch. How does the weapon feel to you in your hands?”

  “Um, ok I guess. I play street hockey, which is a sport that uses a long stick with two hands. I just related the sword to that,” Josh answered.

  “And what about you?” he asked Chuck. “How do feel about the sword and shield?”

  “I liked it a lot! I used my shield like I was catching hockey pucks and swung my sword at anything ugly that got too close,” Chuck replied enthusiastically.

  “Then that is what we will train you on. We may also have some better equipment for you to take with you than what you came with. I don’t know what blacksmith forged your weapons and armor, but I wouldn’t let him shoe my horse given the skill I see used to make them.”

  The two lads were suited up, given dulled practice blades, and taught the finer art of attack, block, parry, and riposte. After several exhausting hours of practicing those moves against the rangers, the young men were paired off against each other in a full sparring match.

  Both were initially hesitant about striking out against the other with their full effort and strength but, as they tested each other’s skill, they fell into a full on practice skirmish, battling hard against each other’s defenses. Having a shield gave Chuck a definite defensive advantage, but he could only swing his blade with one hand, which limited the speed and amount of power he could put behind the attack. Josh, on the other hand, had only his large blade to block and attack, with which made it harder and slower to return an attack after parrying. However, when he got the offensive advantage, his swings struck with extraordinary force and speed, which brutally bashed against Chuck’s shield and sword.

  Time and again, Chuck used his shield to block Josh’s heavy blows, returning a strike whenever his friend left him an opening before he was able to bring his huge sword back around for another attack. The problem with the defensive strategy was that each hit against his shield rocked his body and sapped his strength. Chuck also telegraphed his swing by having to move his shield to the side when he counterattacked. Josh was usually able to leap back or to the side and avoid Chuck’s strike. Josh’s continued assault finally defeated Chuck’s defenses when his arm no longer had the strength to hold his shield in place.

  Chuck still kneeled on the ground, breathing hard,
while Josh loomed over him and patted him on the back when Bronk and Jeffery approached. “You two did well. Chuck, you have to go on the offensive, and don’t declare your attack with so much movement of your shield. Shield and sword should be moving as one, otherwise you may as well shout out that you are about to swing. When you do block with your shield, try to deflect it at an angle. Your arm is numb and nearly useless because it spent the last half hour taking as much of a beating as your shield did. Josh, measure your attack and practice conservation of energy. That big sword of yours will sap the strength out of your arms in minutes they way you are fighting. Swordplay is a strategic endeavor, not one of mindless hacking as if you are cutting firewood or brambles.”

  Josh and Chuck nodded their agreement and understanding of their trainers’ review. The bout of sparring and the day’s worth of training left both young men exhausted and sore to the point of collapse. They were both used to a rigorous training regime in the sports they played, but nothing could have fully prepared them for this level of effort. Even so, they gave everything they had and learned a great deal in that first day. The thought of continuing the exhaustive training filled them both with equal amounts of dread and anticipation.

  Elderin took Ted and Gabe to a small nearby river and followed it upstream about a mile to where the water cascaded over a twenty or thirty foot waterfall. “I have taken you both as my students since I am the only magic user in the area until more druids answer my call. Being a druid, the manner in which I summon and cast my magic is similar to both of the very different ways that each of you cast your magic. Gabe, you are able to invoke feats of magic by communing with your god and beseeching his aid much as I commune with my god. You do not need a specific formula or ritual, as it is with wizardry. You request to wield a small portion of your god’s power by praying to him in a manner that pleases him. And if you are found properly devoted, and your prayer is worthy, then he acts through you on your behalf.”

  The druid turned to Ted and addressed him next. “As a wizard, your ability to wield magic is based upon your ability to memorize the specific words and forms of power of a given spell. These forms and spells have been written down in books for millennia. The words of the spell open a channel to the magical energies of this world, as well as to provide instructions on how to perform the somatic, or weaving, portion of the spell. The somatic portion of the spell is you weaving the multiple threads and lines of magical energy into the proper form that creates the desired effect. Much like weaving a pattern on a loom, the different threads determine the pattern. I also cast my spells in such a manner; however, most of my magical weavings are made to channel the forces of nature to work with me, as opposed to shaping and releasing arcane magic pulled from the ether.”

  “Gabriel, your ability to wield the power of your god is much more a thing of devotion and emotion. You must attune your heart and mind to your god so he will look favorably upon you. There are no forms or guidelines for what you do. You must let your heart and soul guide you. You have already shown you are capable of earning your god’s favor, but now you must make that attunement as natural as breathing and thinking.”

  Gabe secluded himself in a small clearing and just sat, looked, and listened to the wind and wildlife while blocking out the distracting sounds of human labors. He closed his eyes and prayed while trying to feel the presence of God in everything around him. As he communed, he felt a sense of peace, love, and warmth spread through him, and he knew his purpose.

  Elderin was able to guide the young wizard’s study more directly. Ted studied the spells in his book along with a smaller book of spells Elderin gave him. As he studied, and with the druid’s assistance, he was able to decipher some of the more complex rituals and patterns, but many still lay beyond his understanding. Harnessing the power of magic was like wrestling a python. It fought him, and it took as much physical as mental exertion to bend it to his will. However, his knowledge and understanding still increased three fold just in that first day; his eidetic memory played a major role in his rapid learning.

  The young trainees all returned to the camp about the same time. Only Chuck and Josh seemed to have come back early enough to get comfortable, and that was only because they had become too exhausted to lift their weapons any longer and had the shortest walk back. Even after their grueling training had ended, the rangers had the pair stretch their sore muscles out while they lectured the finer points of offense, defense, and tactics. They described and demonstrated the strengths and vulnerabilities of armor, weapons, and potentially hostile creatures.

  Bread and strips of venison were on the menu today. The young fighters were encouraged to eat their fill of the protein-rich meat to help them rebuild their torn muscles, not that they needed much encouragement. They were all famished after the day’s exertions and training, and tomorrow it would start all over again.

  CHAPTER 6

  The goblin squad struck camp early the next morning. Droog was in an especially foul mood due to his lack of sleep, first and second-degree burns, and numerous burning and itching ant bites. He clouted several goblins behind the ear for not moving fast enough, or just for having the misfortune of finding themselves within his reach.

  Drew had to force himself not to laugh at the pitiful-looking goblin. He wore burn marks along both his arms and legs; his left ear had a huge blister on it, and he was missing a large patch of hair that may well never grow back to cover the scar that would surely form once the burn healed. Angry, red bite marks covered every square inch of his exposed skin, and from the way he moved and scratched, a great deal of unexposed skin as well.

  The morning was brisk, far colder than the world he had left, so Drew wore his ratty blanket draped over his shoulders. He figured it must be fall or early winter here, just as it had been in the world he had left behind. His blood quickly warmed as they marched on and the sun burned away the early morning haze. In the distance, he could see the tall, imposing peaks of a mountain range and wondered if they would be traveling that far.

  Droog marched toward the front of the procession of goblins, probably not wanting to look at his captive that he had been so proud of just the day before. They tramped on in silence, Droog because he was still petulant, and the rest to avoid their leader’s foul mood. Some of the goblins in the rear of the column whispered back and forth to each other and occasionally looked at the back of their leader and snickered.

  Around noon, Drew heard the sound of rushing water ahead. They soon came to a swift-flowing river with its white, turbulent water rushing past the shores. Droog issued an order in his guttural language and four goblins headed off both upstream and down. The goblins shared water, bread, and some dried meat while they waited for the scouts. In less than an hour, both parties returned, and the goblin troop walked downstream along the banks of the whitewater.

  They stopped at a tree that had fallen across the river. The trunk of the tree on their end was propped up on a jumble of large stones jutting out of the earth. The river was much narrower here, but it was also several feet below them as it carved its way through a small chasm.

  Drew looked downstream and saw that the river ended in a sheer drop, forming an impressive waterfall that cascaded some twenty feet or more before it continued its race downhill. Droog motioned for the goblins to cross the log bridge. They climbed the rocky outcropping and began scrambling across the log.

  “Hey, Droog,” Drew called to the goblin leader when it was his turn to cross. “That log isn’t very big. I don’t think it’s such a good idea for me to cross on it.”

  Droog glared hateful eyes at the human then assumed a haughty voice. “You just scared little human boy. You not brave like goblins. You big and clumsy too. You cross. Droog show you how,” the goblin sneered condescendingly.

  Droog clamored up the rocks like a monkey and stepped out onto the log. Just for effect, he hopped up and down a few times to show off his balance and the sturdiness of his makeshift bridge. Drew saw that h
is jumping caused the far end of the log to shake just a bit as the near end dropped slightly with the goblin’s weight. Several feet of the tree’s trunk hung over a large boulder supporting their end of the log, and created something of a fulcrum point.

  “I guess you are right, Droog, sorry to have doubted you,” Drew patronized the goblin as he climbed up the rocks to reach the log.

  However, instead of stepping out onto the log as the others had done, he climbed higher up the rocks until he was standing on the top of a large stone three feet above the very end of the log. He waited until Droog was just beyond the halfway mark before he called back out to him.

  “Droog, is it still safe?”

  The goblin leader did not even bother looking back at the seemingly nervous human as he jumped up and down on the slick, mossy log to prove its stability.

  “See, dumb scared human, it safe. Now move!”

  “Ok, Droog,” Drew acquiesced and jumped down from his perch and drove his legs as hard as he could onto the end of the log.

  Drew nearly lost his own balance and barely avoided falling several feet to the hard ground, but he managed to stay upright on the end of the log as the timber dropped nearly a foot beneath the impact of his feet. Droog and another goblin currently crossing the log were not so fortunate.

  Droog, caught in mid hop, was unprepared for the sudden shifting of the bridge. His arms windmilled, and he scrabbled for a hold that did not exist as he fell solidly onto the downed tree and slid over the side.

  The goblin leader and one of his warriors fell into the torrent of water raging several feet below the span of the fallen timber. Drew listened to Droog’s curses as the inexorable force of water swept him and his minion away. The cursing stopped when Droog paddled around to look at the source of the roaring of water behind him. His eyes widened in terror when he comprehended the danger of the waterfall he was fast approaching. The goblin’s cursing redoubled in its intensity, along with his flailing in a futile effort to swim toward the shore.