The Silver Portal (Weapons of Power Book 1)

by David J Normoyle

  On her knees in front of the body, the weaponbearer had dropped her sword to one side. Her black hair was tangled with blood, and the soles of her feet were red and dripping.

  Lukin reached for the girl’s shoulder. “We’re here to save you. We have to go now.”

  “Wait.” Simeon grabbed Lukin and pulled him back.

  The girl twisted around, her hand clawing into the blood for her sword. Her eyes were black, her expression feral.

  “It’s okay.” Simeon took two steps back to give her space, pulling Lukin with him. “We’re your family.”

  She paused, absolutely still, watching Simeon with those black eyes, her fingers just short of the hilt of her sword.

  “I know you haven’t met us before.” Although Simeon tried to keep his voice soft and calm, a tremble ran through it. “But see this staff?” He held it up. “I found this one night. It glowed when I first touched it. The same thing for the ring of my friend beside me. And for the bow of the boy outside. Same for your sword, right?”

  For a long moment, Simeon thought she wasn’t going to respond and that they’d all just wait in stillness and blood until the authorities came for them.

  Then she nodded. “It did glow. The night in the alley.”

  “We are the weaponbearers. When the weapons chose us, we had to leave our old lives behind. We will form a new family. Us four and one other.”

  “The girl with the axe. This is all her fault.”

  Simeon wasn’t going to believe that the last weaponbearer had caused this nightmare. “No. There were men outside waiting to capture you. We chased them off.”

  “Rawls’s men,” she said.

  Simeon nodded. “We have to protect each other. Will you come with us?”

  The girl looked up at the man hanging from the ceiling. “You’ll help me?”

  Help her with her vengeance against her friend’s killer, Simeon assumed she meant. They had enough problem without adding this Rawls, whoever he was, to the list. He nodded, though. “Yes. We are family now. We help each other.”

  He took a step forward and held out his hand. The girl reached up and took it. Though the grip was slick with blood, he pulled her to her feet. “Now, we have to go. Lukin, grab the sword. Mortlebee, rip a cloak off one of those men to wrap around her.”

  “It’s mine.” The girl picked up the sword before Lukin could grab it, though she did allow it to be wrapped into a fold of cloak and allow the cloak to be wrapped around her shoulders.

  Chapter 39

  A heaviness sank deep into Mortlebee’s chest as he followed Simeon, Lukin, and the girl through the streets of Blackstone. As they moved through the crowded streets, the four of them were given a wide berth. The cloak wrapped around the girl’s shoulders didn’t hide the blood on her trousers or bare feet.

  Not long before, Mortlebee had thought he was a good person at heart. A younger, more innocent version of himself had sat naked in the cold mountains and obsessed about simple thoughts of violence. The new Mortlebee had just deliberately put an arrow through a man’s back and left him to die.

  After his hesitation had resulted in Fellanni’s death, Mortlebee swore to himself that he’d never let that happen again. At the spice shop, he’d done the complete opposite, shooting without warning at the first opportunity. Seeing what the man he’d killed—or that man’s companions—had done to the girl’s friend eased Mortlebee’s guilt a little, though he hadn’t known about it at the time.

  Mortlebee had intended to follow the path of the penitent man and return to his family and to the ways of goodness. After what he had just done, he was beginning to accept that his heart was black, and it was never going to be cleansed. It wasn’t just the murder, it was that he regretted his hesitation to save Fellanni more than he regretted deliberately killing another man. That was opposite to all the teachings of Kale and something he could never explain to Father.

  Fellanni’s death still clouded Mortlebee’s mind with dark tendrils. He felt embarrassed about how he had acted around her. She had only cared about protecting and training him, trying to imbue him with as much of her wisdom and strength as she could. And he had stuttered like a fool and gawked at her breasts. At the end, he’d never even thought to thank her.

  “A tavern. Nice,” Lukin said.

  Mortlebee glanced up at the sign above the door they were entering—Ma’s Kitchen. The girl pushed open the door, leading the way. Lukin hadn’t objected, so Mortlebee assumed she was leading them to the final bearer.

  Simeon followed the girl inside while Lukin paused for Mortlebee to catch up. “I’d wonder what the scrolls of whoever would say about what you did back there,” Lukin said.

  “Could you find me a copy of the scrolls?”

  The tavern was much more welcoming than the one in Pizarr had been. The richness of the smell reminded Mortlebee of his home while Mother was cooking bread, though the fragrance wasn’t as pleasant.

  “Why? You have forgotten them already?” Lukin asked.

  “No. I’d like to pile them up, set a match to them, and watch them burn.” The scrolls hadn’t killed Fellanni, but they had stopped Mortlebee from saving her.

  Inside, Lukin didn’t follow Simeon and the girl, instead heading straight for the bar. “Barkeep, who does one have to do to get a drink around here? Barkeep?”

  “Come,” Mortlebee said, noting that the tavern was empty, with no customers and no one serving. “This is no time for joking around.”

  “Who’s joking? Can’t you smell it calling out to you? If I don’t get a beer right now, I’ll faint.”

  Near the back of the common room, the swordbearer fell to one knee and raised her hand to her head. Simeon reached to help her. The girl swatted his hand away, got back to her feet, and disappeared through a back door. Simeon followed. “We have to find the final bearer and come up with a plan,” Mortlebee said.

  “Barkeep,” Lukin leaned his head over the bar to shout. “Forget about the drinks. I’d like to order a new band of adventurers. A proper one this time.” He looked across at Mortlebee. “What did I do to deserve you guys? I accepted with good grace the religious crazy—no offense—who threw away his awesome energy weapon. Then we got the only Pizarrian never to be raised to a man, and he can’t use the magic in his staff at all. And now that girl—I think Delaron must be right about life being a cosmic joke. She looks about five years old.”

  “She’s just thin,” Mortlebee said. “She’s maybe a few years younger than us.”

  She reminded Mortlebee of his sister, Kataya. Who I’ll never see again.

  “Is she the slightest bit sane? You saw her.”

  “Her friend was killed and hung up like a piece of meat. Not everyone can brush off death like you can.”

  “I choose to live in a world of laughter and adventure, and I have no idea why everyone else doesn’t join me.”

  “Come,” Mortlebee said.

  “Are we going to save the world, win the girls, then drink the night away in celebration? And by girls, I don’t mean insane, blood-splattered five-year-olds.”

  “If we are lucky, we’ll get to die valiantly while trying to save the world.”

  “Mighty cheerful today.” Lukin stuck his head behind the bar again. “Barkeep. How are those new companions coming along?”

  “You aren’t exactly a bundle of kittens yourself.”

  “Me? No one could hope for a better.”

  “Yeah, right.” Mortlebee grabbed Lukin’s jerkin and dragged him off the stool. “Come on.”

  Mortlebee headed for the door Simeon had taken, and Lukin allowed himself to be dragged behind. A dark bloodstain on the floor marked where the girl had fallen. The two of them exited through the back door and started up a flight of stairs.

  “Come, quickly.” Simeon, standing at an open doorway, gestured them forward.

  “What is it?” Mortlebee asked when he reached the Pizarrian.

  “The axe bearer has stayed in this room for s
everal days. The clerics may have used the crystal to find her. We should move somewhere else as fast as possible.”

  “Things are looking up,” Lukin said, moving past Simeon and into the room. He addressed a short blonde girl. “How did a pretty girl get mixed up with ruffians like us?”

  Mortlebee blinked, seeing the girl in the room for the first time. More than pretty, she seemed to draw the light of the room toward her.

  “My name is Suma,” the girl said. “I found an axe one night, and it led me on a path to here.”

  “We all have weapons of power,” Lukin told her. “I’d prefer to talk about things which are more fun. Why don’t you come downstairs and join me for a drink?”

  “Seriously, Lukin,” Mortlebee said. He knew he was staring at Suma as much as Lukin was, and he hated himself for it. That was how he had been with Fellanni.

  “Your name is Suma,” said a black-haired youth standing behind her. “Not Summer?”

  She turned and gripped the young man’s arm. “I’m sorry. I never got around to telling you. I’ve used the name Summer since I left Xercia.”

  The bloodied swordbearer, who had been standing in the corner, paced from one wall to the other and back. The room was small, so she only needed four paces. Her head was held low, like a caged animal’s, and she shot intermittent glances at the others in the room.

  Simeon stepped into the center of the room. “Five of us are weaponbearers. I’m Simeon.” He gestured to himself. “We have Lukin, Mortlebee, and Suma.” He indicated each of them in turn. “And Twig.” He pointed at the pacing girl, who must have told him her name on the journey from the spice shop. Simeon looked at the black-haired youth. “You are the odd one out. How did you end up here?”

  Suma reached behind her and took the youth’s hand. “Carew is my friend and my prince. You can trust him. I wouldn’t have been able to rescue the girl—Twig—without him.”

  Twig stopped pacing, swiveled, and snarled at Suma. “He’s dead because of you. You should have let me be.” A slash of blood low on the white wall behind her marked where her trousers had brushed against it.

  “I don’t know who you are talking about,” Suma said. “I do know that whoever captured you had a body strung up on your cell wall. Not a place that a normal person would choose to stay. I didn’t ask for thanks, but I don’t appreciate being shouted at.”

  Twig unfolded the corner of her cloak and pulled out her sword. At the same time, Suma reached down and grabbed her axe.

  “Stop,” Simeon roared, stamping his staff against the floorboards.

  Both Suma and Twig stopped midaction.

  “Whatever way it happened, we five are now the weaponbearers,” Simeon continued. “Whether mistakes have been made or not, we have to move forward. Together. Many throughout Mageles will want to use us or imprison us or kill us. Only together will we have any chance of preventing that. Our old lives are behind us. We are each other’s new family.”

  Suma put her axe back down. Twig held onto her sword but didn’t make any further moves to flee or resume pacing.

  Lukin looked at the dark-haired youth. “That speech was directed at the rest of us, not you.”

  The youth smiled thinly. “I’m Carew. From Hokeland.”

  Lukin studied Carew for a moment before nodding. “So you are.” Lukin addressed Simeon. “He’s not lying. He’s the fourth son of the Baron of Hokeland and came to Blackstone looking for excitement and found the axebearer.”

  “He’s not lying?” Suma seemed surprised, which didn’t make sense since she had already assured them that he could be trusted. She had light-green eyes, and several strands of blond hair, curling at the bottom, fell over her face. Mortlebee realized he was staring again, and he flushed and looked away. He was a pig, leering at every pretty woman.

  “Okay. The six of us.” Simeon said. “We should get out of here, then, and discuss future plans elsewhere.”

  “We need to decide where to go,” Lukin said. “I have a plan.”

  “Does the plan involve copious amounts of danger and little chance of success?” Mortlebee asked.

  Lukin grinned. “I wouldn’t put my name to any other type of plan. The fifth weapon, the bow, has been moved to—”

  “My bow! Why didn’t you tell me before?” Mortlebee interrupted.

  “It wasn’t long ago, and we’ve been running about a lot lately,” Lukin said. “The bow is now close to Blackstone. I think we should try to retrieve it. If we are lucky, perhaps we’ll be able to do something about the silver portal. More importantly, there’s a decent chance we’ll find the tracking crystal there, since it had to be used to find the bow.”

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Suma said. “What’s a silver portal and a tracking crystal?”

  “This is the tracking crystal.”

  Everyone turned toward the open door to see a scarlet-cloaked figure standing there with his palm outstretched, holding a blue crystal.

  “Ull Rohaim,” Lukin said.

  “The one and only.” Ull Rohaim bowed his head. “This tavern is surrounded. I tell you this not to threaten, just so we can all sit down and have a sensible conversation.” He pocketed the crystal.

  At Ull Rohaim’s shoulder, another eagle-crest appeared. That one had long blond hair and a sneer of disdain on his face. It was a face seared in Mortlebee’s mind—the one who’d killed Fellanni.

  “You!” Mortlebee shouted. He lifted his bow and drew an arrow from his belt.

  Chapter 40

  The pain from finding Bareth dead roared within Twig as she paced. She knew she shouldn’t have let herself get too attached. She had thought she was a sheltered person with family and friends. That had been her weakness, and both she and Bareth had suffered. She should have remembered who she was. Rain people stood alone.

  Coming with Simeon had been a mistake. What do silver portals or crystals matter to me? When the door was pushed open, she stopped pacing. Two eagle-crest clerics stood outside. The first cleric—Ull Rohaim, Lukin called him—said he only wanted to talk, but Twig knew that for a lie. She tightened the grip on the sword, ready to flee. The bowbearer moved first, though, followed immediately by the second cleric.

  As the blond cleric charged into the room, Twig, for the first time ever, saw someone move as fast as she could. He smashed Mortlebee against a wall before he could touch his arrow to his bow. Suma took up her axe and grabbed Ull Axilium and wrenched at the cleric, but he grabbed her before she could throw him. The two of them, arm in arm, flew across the room and smashed into an adjoining room.

  That was the chance Twig had been waiting for, to get away. The other cleric disappeared from the doorway, and she moved after him. The stairway was clogged with clerics rushing out. Even with her speed, that way offered no escape. Instead of fleeing, she returned to the room and slammed the door shut, lowering the bar to lock it.

  Suma still grappled with the cleric. They slammed back through the wall, making a second hole in it. Their strength allowed them to move through the wall as if it were paper, but it didn’t protect them from the effects. They were both stunned by the impact but refused to let go of each other. Carew tried to pull Ull Axilium off Suma. The cleric shrugged him off, and he went flying backward.

  Suma shouted and charged the cleric, and the two of them flew at the window. Timber and bricks exploded outward, and the two of them fell. Twig rushed to the hole they had made.

  The street was emptying quickly of pedestrians. Both Suma and the cleric lay on their backs on the black cobblestones, moving feebly. They were alive but injured. Several clerics rushed from the entrance of the tavern toward them. Twig put her hand on a piece of damaged wall and vaulted down. Her knees bent as she landed, her bare feet hitting the ground with a slap. The axe had fallen from Suma’s hand, and one of the clerics was picking it up. Serves her right. She was at least partly to blame for Bareth’s death. Even if she didn’t mean it. Even if she thought she was helping Twig.

&n
bsp; Twig used her speed to dash away. Simeon and the others had talked about them being her family. That was a lie. Rain people didn’t have family. Rain people knew they were alone in the world. Twig could trust herself and herself alone to make sure she remained alive.

  Bareth had helped Twig, and she thought she had to repay that. She had tried the friendship of which he spoke, and it had made her weak and gotten him killed. Because of Bareth, Rawls had been able to control her. Because of their friendship. A dark vortex of rage and grief whirled within Twig. She would make Rawls pay for what he had done. After that, she didn’t care what else happened.

  She came to a corner of a building and halted behind it, looking back. The sheltered people continued to flee in all directions, though some had stopped at a distance to watch. Lukin and Simeon had jumped out through the gap in the second-floor bedroom. Simeon fought off two clerics with his staff. Lukin had fallen, and a cleric stood over him, his sword raised.

  Carew jumped down onto that cleric’s back, and the two of them went down in a swirl of scarlet. That gave Lukin a chance to stand, but as soon as he did, three more clerics surrounded him. Suma was held by two other clerics with no way to get free.

  It was over—the bearers had been captured. It was time for Twig to retreat to the rooftops to stay safe. Instead of running, however, her bare feet gripped the cobblestones harder. The fingers of her free hand flexed open then closed. She couldn’t just leave.

  Take from the Takers—that was what she had decided to be her mission. The Lord Protector and his clerics took more than anyone else. He took whole countries. The latest reports had him invading Pizarr. And Twig knew that Bareth would have wanted her to help those youths claiming to be her friends and family.

  She dashed back, heading straight for where Lukin was surrounded by four clerics. He was dodging back and forth, slipping to the side to avoid one sword, then ducking to avoid another while blocking a third strike aimed low at his legs. Twig came up behind one and drove her sword up through his back. As he fell, his body twisted, and her sword was wrenched out of her hand. Her power fell away from her in an instant, and she stumbled back.