Portal to Passion

by Nina, Tara

  The light gave her hope.

  Now she needed rest. Then she’d tackle that door and get out. One hand covered her lower abdomen as she curled on her side in a ball. The other arm cradled her head in its crook. As she thought of the light, warmth gathered in her core and eased some of the chill from her bones. She stared at the glowing flame within the globe until her lids slid shut. Think heat, she issued the silent mantra. Sleep slid over her worn body like a blanket. Before she succumbed completely, she prayed.

  Tor, please be safe and take care of the others. I love you.

  * * * * *

  His troops camped on the edge of Serpentes land. Come sunrise the battle would begin. There had been no sleep for him, not with his lifemate held captive by a snake. This was not supposed to happen. Tor sighed heavily as he stood in the open flap of his canvas shelter and stared into the night, worried and missing Deveney. Raw emotions threatened to control him, but he fought against them. He had to remain in control if he were to succeed in this mission, save his love from harm and seek vengeance for his people.

  Peace. The one thing he’d wanted to maintain between the clans. Peace. But the leader of the Snake clan destroyed that option when he invaded Bjorn Palace, killed, wounded or maimed dozens of guards and took Deveney prisoner.

  Obinu’s actions could not be overlooked or treated lightly. As Ruler of the Clans, it would make Tor seem weak if he didn’t respond to Obinu’s blatant disrespect of the truces between the clans. The unprovoked attack on Bjorn Palace demanded a strong response.

  Why had Obinu taken Deveney and risked the lives of his entire clan? It didn’t make sense, not to Tor. Didn’t Obinu understand the magic of the chakras and the mating ritual? Obinu waged a war for a woman who could never be his. Tor released a heated snort as a thought surfaced. Obinu must have suffered from some sort of early onset of Proprius Bestia madness if he thought he could force a mating.

  Anger grew in the pit of his gut and spread throughout his body. Deveney had better not be harmed. And his child… A vicious growl emanated from deep within, making his lips tremble as it escaped. His lifemate and child better be safe. Tor’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides and his entire being stiffened. Grappling for some sliver of control, Tor paced.

  Daybreak seemed an eternity away. If it were up to him, they would have attacked the moment they landed within striking distance of Ophidian Palace. But Griswaldin suggested they rest, regroup and organize their strategy. Not to mention, they used the snàmh-cèairds more in this day than they had for months. The continued use placed a dangerous strain on their magical resources, which they’d need in order to win this battle. Tor had to admit Griswaldin was wiser in the implementation of war than he, so they camped.

  Thinking it through, Tor agreed with the sound idea, especially since he struggled to make decisions that weren’t emotionally guided. Deveney never left his mind and the need for her safe return controlled his every thought. In this battle, he leaned heavily on Griswaldin for logical counsel.

  Others rested while he remained vigilant in his desires to save his woman. Deveney needed him. Tor spun on his heels, marched into the shelter and flopped onto the cot for the hundredth time this night. She was close. He sensed it. A cool breeze filtered through the open flap to coat his skin with a chill. Whispered words graced his ears. Tor sprang upright. The voice he knew. Deveney reached out to him.

  Tor, please be safe and take care of the others. I love you.

  He raced from his shelter and skidded to a halt at the sight of bright flames shooting across the distant skies. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Ophidian Palace was already under attack. The night watch spotted it and alerted the entire camp by sounding a loud horn. Bodies sprang out of multiple shelters scattered throughout the camp, tugged on weapons and fell in line.

  Griswaldin appeared at his side, dragging a huge, battered snake by its tail behind him. Between clenched teeth, he growled, “Look what I found in the dark, trying to slither under the back edge of your shelter.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Griswaldin threw the snake in the air and caught it right behind its neck. His grip tightened and its eyes bulged.

  “Bring him into my shelter,” Tor commanded. “We don’t have much time. We’ll question him there.”

  Griswaldin called to his second-in-command and issued the order to ready the troops. The man nodded and disappeared into the crowd of warriors. Griswaldin followed Tor into the tent-shaped shelter. After Tor sealed the flap, Griswaldin tossed the snake on the ground. They both recognized the man even before he shifted. Pale-green skin and large, black oval eyes—it had to be Obinu.

  The stench of burned flesh filled each intake of air, but that didn’t stop Tor.

  Light flashed off Tor’s sword as he pulled it from its sheath and leveled its tip to Obinu’s neck. There was no missing the hatred and anger in his tone. “Tell me why I should not slit your throat for the injustices you’ve caused against the clans.”

  Obinu attempted to stand, but couldn’t. Burns covered multiple areas of his body, excluding his face. But from the disfiguration of his hands, he’d obviously used them to shield his face from harm. His legs remained crumpled beneath him and he leaned against the cot for support.

  “You put the clans before your own needs.” He hissed and his whole body trembled, then he continued. “You ask not of your female, but for a reason not to kill me in the name of the clans. I find that curious for a mated man such as you.”

  Though he wanted to beat Obinu to death, Tor refused to give him the satisfaction of unnerving him over Deveney. He needed his head clear if he was to save her. Lowering his sword, Tor closed the gap between them, grabbed him by the arm, and leaned into his face as he spat, “What I find curious is how you got so burned?”

  Obinu laughed. In a slow, tortured movement, he waved his free hand down his body. Areas of flesh were charred and melted from his chest to the tops of his thighs.

  “As you can see,” his hand dropped to lay listless against his hip to emphasize his words as he spoke, “my chances at reproduction are no longer an option thanks to your mate.”

  Releasing his grip on Obinu’s arm, Tor stepped back. His lips parted slightly and he couldn’t help but stare at Obinu’s damaged carcass. The sound of Griswaldin’s muffled cough from behind him snapped him out of his moment of disbelief. Deveney wasn’t capable of such destruction. Was she?

  He looked across his shoulder and met the steady stare of the older man, who shrugged as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe the prisoner or not. Tor returned his gaze to the glazed-over, dull stare of the snake. A spark of defiance lingered within those beaten eyes and reignited Tor’s anger and it hit him why she may have done such to this man.

  “Explain what happened and leave nothing out or it will be your head.” The words seethed between Tor’s clenched teeth.

  “My head or not, I have nothing left to lose. But you…” He hissed and again his entire being shuddered as he spoke. “You have what every man wants. She is one of powerful origins. I received these wounds when I attempted to mate with her.”

  When he lunged at Obinu, a strong hand clamped onto Tor’s shoulder, stopping him in midstride. Tor lifted his chin and looked across his shoulder to Griswaldin, who declared, “Let him speak. Then kill him.”

  Tor shook off Griswaldin’s hand and returned his glare to Obinu. The battered creature had the audacity to smile. Swallowing hard, Tor took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. In the end, Obinu would die. Glancing from one end of him to the other, Tor decided from the extent of his wounds, death loomed near. He needed information on Deveney’s location, not revenge. If what the snake claimed was true, his lifemate inflicted enough damage to their enemy for his crimes.

  “Finish your tale,” Tor snapped, squaring his shoulders and staring down at the snake. He lifted his sword and tapped Obinu under the chin with its tip. “By the Goddess Nirvana, it better be the truth you speak.”


  “Why lie?” Obinu shrugged. He attempted to resituate his posture, but failed. Weakness controlled his movements and it sounded as if it was a struggle for him to breathe.

  Sympathy for the injured made Tor sheath his sword. This man may be his enemy, but he didn’t deserve to die like this. He knelt beside Obinu and helped make him comfortable as he called across his shoulder to Griswaldin.

  “Summon a healer.”

  Griswaldin pressed the mic on his shoulder and made the call.

  Obinu coughed and gasped, then let loose a harsh guttural laugh. He rasped, “No need. Death will be a relief, instead of joining the Proprius Bestia. In order to control your woman, I forced a healer to give her a dose of gelsemium nitidum.”

  “The sleep potion,” Griswaldin interjected.

  “Yes,” Obinu continued. “Our magi laced it with a spell that rendered her in extreme pain if she attempted to use her magic, which obviously didn’t work well on her.” Obinu half-laughed, half-coughed. “She also injected her with a potion that was created to override the mating magic. That didn’t work either.”

  Obinu struggled to breathe but managed to state on a graveled breath, “Deveney is unconscious and locked in the lowest dungeon beneath Ophidian Palace. I tried to get to her when the Proprius Bestia attacked, but couldn’t.”

  “Your fortress is under Proprius Bestia attack?” Tor repeated more than questioned. Images of Deveney filled his brain. She may have defended herself against a simple snake such as Obinu. But the Proprius Bestia…they’d kill her. “You brought this attack upon your clan, Obinu, when you created an opening in the shield. Some of them obviously slipped through before it was discovered.”

  “I ask no forgiveness for the wrong I have done.” A coughing fit sent Obinu into convulsions for several seconds before he spoke again. “There is a secret entrance on the east side of the fortress. Follow the tree line. It will guide you to an obscure path at the base of the cliff. Look for the symbol of the snake on the wall, touch it and the door shall open.” He coughed and blood trickled from the corner of his lips. Tor tugged the blanket from his bed and covered Obinu. Chills racked his body.

  “How did you get here?” Tor asked. If Obinu found them, then so could others from his clan and so could the Proprius Bestia.

  “In snake form, I was captured by a Proprius Bestia vulture when it swooped from the sky and snatched me from the ground before I gained cover. I spotted your encampment as it flew over and made the decision to shift. As man, I weighed too much for the beast and it dropped me. At the last second, I returned to snake form before hitting the ground. But it didn’t save me from internal destruction. Not the wisest of choices. Your female burned me, but those wounds didn’t kill me. I did that to myself.”

  Tor tensed as Obinu added, “The fate of the clans weighs heavy upon your shoulders, Tor. You’ve found a way to save them from extinction. It is too late for me.”

  “Why did you turn against the clans, Obinu?” Tor had to know.

  “I only wanted a mate and if I couldn’t have one, then it wasn’t fair you did. If the potion the magi created didn’t make her mine, then I planned to use her to find out how she got here and take that from you as well.”

  On a heavy sigh, the last breath of air left Obinu’s body and his head rolled to the side. Tor issued a silent prayer for him as he lowered Obinu to the ground and covered him with the blanket. The healer hurried in, but the urgency had passed.

  Obinu was dead.

  Tor stepped away from Obinu and turned to Griswaldin. “Deveney is without her magic and has no other form of protection. We must find her and save her. It’s time to fight.”

  Together, they stepped out of the shelter. Snàmh-cèairds were filled to the brim with warriors armed and awaiting his decree. The second-in-command nodded to Tor and Griswaldin from the helm of the closest snàmh-cèaird. “On your word, we leave.”

  Tor took a deep breath. This was something he had hoped never to have to do. The Proprius Bestia were once men just like themselves. But now they were wild, demonic creatures who knew no boundaries between right and wrong or life and death. And Deveney was at their mercy.

  In a clear, level tone, he proclaimed, “We are at war, men. The objective has changed. We are no longer out to subdue a wayward clan. The Proprius Bestia have attacked Ophidian Palace. It is our job to force them back to Dystopia by any means necessary. They cannot be allowed free roam of Eximius Mundus. They will destroy our home and we shall not let that happen. Let’s go and may the Goddess Nirvana grant each of you strength to accomplish this goal.”

  A roar from the troops pierced the night as the clear bubbles around the snàmh-cèairds sealed shut. They turned in unison and navigated toward the distant red glow on the horizon. Gawyn and his men transformed into huge redtail hawks and took flight. Their job was clear. They were to keep watch over the warriors and take down any Proprius Bestia capable of flight.

  Tor and Griswaldin climbed aboard the snàmh-cèaird that waited for them. Through mic communication, they informed Gawyn and the second-in-command of their plan to enter the fortress through the dungeons. Gawyn understood their reasoning and wished them well. Griswaldin took the helm and guided it directly to the tree line. Within minutes, they landed at the base of the cliff beneath the palace.

  Tor leapt out with his sword in hand, as did every one of the dozen warriors behind him. Griswaldin bellowed the command. They spread out and searched the wall for the symbol of the snake. Eyes closed, he concentrated on Deveney. Her essence grew stronger. Guided by an unseen force, Tor opened his eyes and went directly to the wall, turned, and walked about three feet to his left when he found it. Palm flat, he pushed the symbol and the rock slid to the side, revealing a secret passageway.

  The battle echoed above their heads. Flames tumbled over the palace wall to the trees behind them and burst into a blanket of fire. One warrior ran to the snàmh-cèaird and moved it just in time, before another ball of fire landed on it from over the wall. Griswaldin tapped his mic and ordered the man to maintain the snàmh-cèaird. It might be their only means of escape once they found Deveney. With that secured, the rest of them turned toward the opening in the cliff wall.

  A strange glow from automated wall sconces filled the tunnel with low light. Tor took the lead. Obinu said she was in the lowest dungeon beneath the palace. But were they low enough? Did this tunnel go down another level? His heart pounded and sweat beaded his brow. They had to find her and soon.

  The sound of footsteps echoed from high above their heads. Was the battle going their way or the Proprius Bestia’s? The question tortured Tor’s thoughts as he searched for Deveney. From dungeon cell to dungeon cell, they searched but found no one. These rooms looked as if they hadn’t been occupied in centuries. At the end of the hall, it split into two staircases. One went up. The other went down. That had to lead to the lowest section and, hopefully, Deveney.

  A loud rumble shook the ground. A battered, oversized black bear tumbled down the stairs and landed at their feet. Tor knelt along with Griswaldin to examine his wounds. Four of the warriors with Tor and Griswaldin took post along the stairwell. Two stood watch at the top of the downward flight and the others circled the wounded in a stance of protection. The bear shifted to man.

  In a pain-stricken voice, he gasped, “I was sent to warn you. A few of the Proprius Bestia have entered the dungeons. I managed to secure three of the four I saw on the level above this one. The other one threw me down the stairs. Their containment won’t last. The cell doors are weak and rusted.”

  No sooner had the last word left his mouth when the sound of fighting snapped their attention to the upper stairwell. Two of the warriors remained on guard ready to fight should anything get through. The other two were obviously engaged in a battle somewhere on the floor above them from the sounds of it.

  “Can you stand?” Tor asked as he examined the warrior’s injuries. Bruises covered his chest, arms and face, but the deep, d
ark discoloration of his thigh concerned Tor the most. That leg had to be broken.

  “Yes,” he stated. “I am ready to return to the fight.”

  With Tor and Griswaldin’s help, he stood. On further evaluation, they knew the man’s leg was broken. The wounded warrior amazed Tor. Obviously in pain, the man wished to return to battle.

  “You have fought your last this day,” Griswaldin stated and motioned for two of the warriors around them to help with the man.

  “But…”

  Tor stated, “No buts. You have served this mission well. It is time you seek the safety of shelter to heal.”

  “Take him to the snàmh-cèaird, then return here,” Griswaldin commanded. At the sight of the other two warriors on the stairs springing forward into action, he added, “Your help will be needed back here as quickly as possible.”

  The larger of the two warriors lifted the injured man and flung him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. He stood straight, held his sword in one hand and secured the man over his shoulder with the other as he looked at Griswaldin. “You need more hands in this battle. I’ll take him back alone.”

  Before anyone protested, the warrior ran down the tunnel in the direction of the opening.

  “Your son makes a fine warrior,” Tor stated the obvious.

  “That he does,” Griswaldin proclaimed with a wide grin. His chest puffed with pride. He spun on his heels to face Tor. “Now let’s get your mate before those bastards make it this far.”

  With a nod, Griswaldin sent three more warriors to the upper level to secure the stairwell. The last three he posted at the base of the stairs.

  “Don’t let anyone come down here alive who isn’t recognizable as a fellow comrade.” He followed Tor down the other set of steps.

  * * * * *

  She heard footsteps above her head. It sounded odd, out of place, like a barroom brawl. Bodies slammed against bodies. What happened? Was that smoke she thought she smelled?