The Silver Portal (Weapons of Power Book 1)

by David J Normoyle

  “Not at all. I’ve wanted to be my own man for a long time. And now that...” Lukin paused. “Just as long as this is a tribe of adventurers, I’m all for it.”

  “What’s the other bearer like?”

  “He’s been corrupted by religious crazies, but there’s a good heart underneath. And strong mettle too.”

  “Good. And the other bearers? Sierre told me—”

  “Sierre?”

  “She’s the wizard from the Invisible Towers who found me and brought me here. Anyway, she told me the ring is designed to be able to detect the other weapons. That’s how you found me, right?”

  Lukin nodded. “The bow is still in Tockery and hasn’t been moved since Mortlebee threw it away. I imagine that Zubrios’s clerics have it. You know about the tracking crystal?”

  “It disappeared from the Invisible Towers. Sierre wasn’t sure the Lord Protector got hold of it, but it seemed likely.”

  “The other two weapons are west of here,” Lukin said. “One, I think, is in Blackstone. The other started in the northwest and is steadily moving south.”

  “Blackstone,” Simeon said. “That must be where our path leads.”

  “Believe me, I want to have all the weapons and their bearers together. We have the problem of the tracking crystal, though,” Lukin said. “Redbirds almost intercepted Mortlebee and me crossing into Pizarr. Not that I want to stay here, but there’s nowhere else in Mageles where the redbirds won’t get to us.” Lukin paused and considered before continuing. “Unless we decide that our path lies with Zubrios.”

  “The wizards created the weapons to be used against Zubrios,” Simeon said.

  “When a blacksmith creates a sword and sells it, he doesn’t thereafter get to decide on which side the sword fights.”

  Simeon considered. Zubrios had been an enemy to the Pizarrians since he’d arrived in Mageles. The center of the continent had been divided into small fiefdoms, which the Pizarrian warriors had raided. Zubrios had united the fiefdoms and stopped the warriors from raiding north of the Hatori. However, when Simeon left Medalon that night with Sierre, he’d done so to forge his own path.

  Lukin had been studying Simeon carefully. “So you agree?” he asked.

  “Shouldn’t you ask permission before rummaging around in someone’s thoughts?” Simeon asked.

  “That’s not the way it works.”

  “I would be careful about what you say in this camp,” Simeon said. “Sierre doesn’t know if our deaths would allow others to become bonded to the weapons, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who has considered that.”

  Lukin looked startled. “You think one of the chosen warriors might try to kill us and take our weapons?”

  “I don’t think any are the type. But who can tell? If they thought we weren’t on their side, though...”

  “The bowbearer isn’t the biggest fan of Zubrios’s clerics,” Lukin said.

  “I’m not saying we should take the Lord Protector’s side. I’m saying we shouldn’t be pawns to anyone, not the wizards, not the Order, not the clerics, no one.”

  “Mightn’t be all that easy.”

  “Easy? It’ll be dragon-breathing impossible.” Simeon grinned. “Good job we have weapons of power.”

  Lukin nodded at the staff in Simeon’s hand. “I thought you couldn’t use yours.”

  “So far.” Simeon moved closer to Lukin and grabbed him by the arm. “Have you heard of the silver portal?”

  Lukin shook his head.

  “Preventing it was to have been the bearers’ first mission. Before we became involved.”

  “I thought we weren’t going along with what all those here want.”

  “I can see why they are terrified of this, though. Zubrios has been planning it for a long time, and it’s close to happening.”

  “Both the Order and the redbirds have been collecting magical crystals,” Lukin said. “I figured the Order wanted them for the weapons-of-power spell. So you are telling me that Zubrios wants them for this silver portal. What does it do?”

  “Portals are usually a dull gray color.” Sierre had been teaching Simeon everything she knew about them. He knew he had to figure out how to create them, or his weapon was a total waste. “The stronger they are, the lighter the color as more light gets through. Zubrios wants to create a portal that crosses the Grell Barrier.”

  “Cool. I wouldn’t mind seeing some dragons or Ferang demons.”

  “Think it through,” Simeon said. “The barrier was created because nonmagical humans were treated as slaves.”

  Because those with magic were so much more powerful than nonmagical people, Grell had realized that the only way to create a fair society for those without magic was to completely segregate the two sides. In ten thousand years, the barrier had only been breached twice. Three thousand years earlier, Mezziall had come across and swiftly conquered Mageles. His rule had been benevolent. The other time, only thirty years earlier, Zubrios had crossed.

  “If the Lord Protector brings across a hundred, a thousand as powerful as him, we’ll return to the way it was before Grell created the barrier,” Simeon said. “Those without magic will become second class. Our whole society will be turned upside down.”

  “There are already many with magical power,” Lukin said. “Some of the clerics, the wizards.”

  “Those with magical power in Mageles are all descendants of Mezziall. They are few in number, and their abilities are very limited in comparison with someone like Zubrios or Mezziall. Both conquered the continent in short order. Imagine a thousand with that same power.”

  Lukin nodded. “Scary.”

  “It is.” Simeon’s staff felt heavy in his hand whenever he thought about it, and his failure at using it pressed down upon him. He and Lukin had both been just kids not long before. “Perhaps it is too big for us.”

  “Adults always think they know better. Doesn’t mean they do,” Lukin said. “If he opens the silver portal, does Zubrios plan to bring across as many from the other side as he can?”

  “Sierre isn’t sure. You know what a comstal is?”

  “Of course. Do even barbarians have them these days?”

  “Pizarrians aren't barbarians.” Perhaps we were, but I wasn’t going to let a city-reared boy call us that. “And I’ve even used a comstal.” Kind of. Tarla had once borrowed the only comstal in Medalon for Woman’s Council business and used it to talk to the holder of that comstal's pair. A snippet of Simeon's voice had traveled to Rocksea via the comstal's magic. “Anyway, Sierre thinks Zubrios has a comstal that can communicate with someone on the other side of the barrier and has arranged for allies of his to cross over.”

  “Makes sense that he would only bring allies across. He will want mages to help him rule rather than those who will fight to take his place.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So our path is clear,” Lukin said. “We have the weapons of power, and now we have to use them to stop this portal being created, stopping at all the taverns along the way if at all possible.”

  Simeon didn’t know whether Lukin was joking or not, so he settled on a half grin. Simeon still hadn’t figured out the other bearer. Stopping Zubrios seemed impossible, yet Lukin seemed ready to dive straight into the challenge in a brave yet flippant way. It was both encouraging and scary.

  “As far as the wizards know, the silver-portal spell is being prepared close to Blackstone.”

  “Perfect,” Lukin said. “We’ll be able to pick up another bearer there to help us. Can the wizard portal us there?”

  “She’s an energy-mage. Perhaps she could comstal with the Invisible Tower and persuade them to send a portal-mage to help us. However, I think it’s better if I figure out how to use the staff. Then I can portal us there.”

  “You can learn to use it?”

  “Sierre thinks I won’t be able to.” However, Simeon had to believe she was wrong. “We haven’t tried everything yet, though.”

  “I haven’t been t
here in a while, but from what I remember, Blackstone is a fine place for adventurers.”

  Simeon decided ignoring Lukin’s flippancy and focusing on his positivity was best. “Shall we join the rest in Krillo’s tent?”

  “Is there any point in having a meeting now?” Lukin asked. “We’ve already decided what has to be done.”

  “Best to let the older folks think they are making the decisions.”

  Chapter 30

  Twig had been floating in a bubble of nothingness for an eternity. Is this death? she wondered. No. Death was an empty stare and a slab of meat to feed the fish or the carrion eaters. She was in a bubble, so she knew an edge, an end must exist. She reached for it and found it impossibly far. But an outside existed, something beyond the nothingness. She stretched and was able to sense something. Sounds? Voices and a man whimpering, barely perceptible—but after an eternity of nothingness, they were a lifeline.

  She tried to stretch again, but weariness enveloped her, and she returned to drifting through the nothingness.

  An eternity later, a man’s scream shattered the nothingness. Twig’s eyes popped open. Water dripped onto stone, and a rodent scuttled into a corner. Her eyes took some time to adjust to the dim light. She was lying on a hard bed in a small room. The man chained against the far wall had stopped screaming but continued to moan under his breath.

  He became aware she was awake. “She’s waking up. Get Rawls.” His groan was half agony and half ecstasy. “Please, somebody get Rawls. Tell him she’s alive.”

  A door opened, and Twig twisted her neck toward it. Torchlight streamed in. A man popped his head in, looked at Twig, then shut the door behind him.

  She couldn’t make out the features of the chained man in the dark. His voice was familiar, but Twig couldn’t quite figure it out. He muttered to himself—something about Mezziall and “alive” and demons and Rawls.

  Twig tuned out his babbling. She figured Rawls would be there soon, and she needed to focus. A sheet covered her. Underneath it, she still wore her clothes, cloak and all. Her lips were dry, and she was terribly thirsty. How long have I been out? She tried to lift her right arm. It took an immense amount of effort just to raise it a thumbswidth. Even that felt like a victory.

  The door opened again, and the man who’d popped his head in earlier entered with two lit torches. Twig slitted her eyes against the blinding orange light. The man placed one torch on the wall by Twig’s bed and the other near the chained man. The torch bearer left, leaving the door open.

  With the chained man’s face visible, despite it being mangled and bloody, Twig was able to recognize the bearded man who’d captured her. He was naked, with cuts and weals crisscrossing his body. Shackles held his arms over his head. And I thought I was in a bad way.

  A large man with a big chest and hunched shoulders filled the doorway, pausing a moment to take in the scene before him, before continuing inside. Twig’s sword dangled by his side in his big fist, looking more like a knife. Straight black hair fell down around his shoulders, and his face was a jumble of leathery skin.

  The bearded man spoke. “Rawls, thank the heavens, you’re here. You see now what I told you was true. I didn’t hit the bitch that hard. I didn’t really hurt her. Could you let me go, now? I’ll never disobey you again, Rawls. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Rawls pointed Twig’s sword at the man’s throat. “Be quiet.”

  The bearded man licked his lips.

  “Now.” Rawls approached Twig. “Can you talk?”

  Twig’s throat was so dry that talking would be difficult. At the same time, she didn’t feel like saying anything.

  “Nod or shake your head. Can you understand me?”

  Twig didn’t respond.

  Rawls gave a thin-lipped smile. “That’s the way of it, is it? The thing is, you don’t know me yet. Because of that, I won’t go too hard on you initially.” He tapped the flat of the blade against the frame of the bed. “In time, you’ll discover that I don’t have much patience.” He whirled, took two steps, and stabbed the point of the sword into the bearded man’s palm.

  The man screamed, loud and long.

  “Now, you’re probably wondering how torturing one of my own men will get you to answer my questions.” He twisted the sword, and the man’s scream turned into a shriek. Blood trickled down the hilt of the sword, coating Rawls’s fingers. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t have much patience, so don’t test me. If I’ll do this to one of my own, imagine how I treat my enemies.”

  He extracted the sword. Blood spilled from the man’s palm and onto his head and face. The screaming turned into sobbing.

  “Can you understand me?” Rawls asked again.

  Twig nodded. She knew she should be terrified, but all she felt was a deep coldness.

  “Can you speak?”

  Twig opened her mouth and tried to talk. Her throat cracked, and all that came out was a rasp. She shook her head.

  He nodded. “You’ve been out a few days—could do with some water. I haven’t come to nurse you. I’ll send someone after. Do you know why the man behind me is being tortured?”

  Twig shook her head.

  “I told him you weren’t to be harmed. I didn’t realize one of your victims was his nephew. Even so, it shouldn’t have mattered. I wanted you alive, and he brings you back to me close to death after you were captured unharmed. So he is punished. He’s known me long enough. You, having just met me, have a small leeway that he doesn’t. But he’s happy that you woke up since I told him that means his freedom.” Rawls held up a set of keys and jangled them.

  “Thank you.” The bearded man’s voice was a strangled whisper as blood continued to trickle upon him from his wounded palm. His legs had buckled, and the chains on his wrists were the only things keeping him upright.

  Rawls approached him, but instead of freeing him, he stabbed the man in the chest.

  He died quickly.

  Rawls dropped the keys at his feet. “I lied.”

  He turned back to Twig. “This is stuff you should know about me if we are going to work together. Trusting me is a bad idea. Obeying me is a good idea. Clear?”

  Twig nodded. She glanced at the bloodied sword in Rawls’s fist. The sword might not have given supernatural speed to anyone else, but it continued to deal out death.

  “Now, you are probably wondering what’s in store for you. You have, after all, killed a number of my men, and I’m not someone who forgives and forgets. However, for me, everything is about relationships. When you killed those men, you didn’t know me, and you didn’t know they were my men. Now we know each other, things are different. You understand?”

  Twig nodded again. She understood that Rawls preferred chains of fear and blood to ones of metal.

  “It’s the sword, isn’t it?” Rawls held up the bloodied blade. “It gives you your power, your speed?”

  Twig nodded.

  “I thought so. You could have been a speed-mage, but no color-changing crystals were found on you. And though at first glance, the sword doesn’t appear particularly special, the more I study it, the more remarkable it seems. For instance, I can’t detect a join between blade and hilt. It appears all one piece. There have been rumors that the wizards in the Invisible Towers were trying to create weapons of power. They may have succeeded.”

  Twig had heard about the Invisible Towers but not the weapons of power. Is that what my sword is? How did it reach me from the Soylant Forest?

  “I can use it as a normal sword,” Rawls said. “It’s sharp. It kills people like any other blade, though smaller than most.” He swiped it through the air, and drops of blood sprayed onto Twig’s face. “It isn’t magical for me, though, or any of my men. Do you know why?”

  Twig shook her head.

  “You know less than me, don’t you? The wizards couldn’t have meant it for a Blackstone street urchin. Something went wrong, either by mistake or perhaps interference. If interference, most likely, Zubrios was
involved. He is becoming more active, extending the limits of his influence.” Rawls stared into the torchlight for a moment before continuing. “Either way, something went wrong, and it’s to our benefit. While you were unconscious, I talked to someone who knows about magic. I’ve learned that magic weapons are extremely difficult to make and that it’s common for them to become bonded to a single person. That’s why the power only works for you.”

  Rawls suddenly walked out the door. “Send someone to feed and nurse the girl back to health,” he called out. “She’s going to live.”

  Rawls returned and sat down on the bed beside Twig, placing the sword on the floor. He touched her forehead with a finger and dragged the finger down her temple and onto her cheek.

  Twig’s skin crawled. She felt more helpless than when she’d been trapped in the nets and was being punched in the head.

  Rawls turned his finger up to show Twig the blood he’d wiped from her face. “You are young, but you already have blood on you. I’m not going to punish you for killing my men, but the way I see it, you owe me.”

  Twig’s insides clenched up. Rawls’s gaze was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She’d thought she’d already seen true evil, but Krawl was nothing compared to Rawls. And she was now his. That was what that gaze said. It made her want to return to the eternity of nothingness from which she had just woken.

  “There’s a possibility that, if you were dead, I could bond the sword to someone else. It’s not a certainty, and I don’t want to risk losing the power that has fallen in my lap.” He stood. “I did a bit of investigating about you. Do you care for the spice seller?”

  How could Rawls know about Bareth? Twig shook her head, but Rawls read a different answer in her eyes.

  “So you do.” Rawls smiled. “You’re a smart girl, and I think we now understand each other. I won’t have to go into detail about all the bad things that will happen to you, this spice seller, and anyone else you care for if you try my patience.” He patted her hand then bent to pick up her sword again.