The Magician: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel: Book One of the Rogue Portal Series (22 page)

              The other hand, long and thin with claw-like extensions, pressed Connor's other shoulder to the ground. On the faceless head of the Demafae, a mouth appeared, then stitching like that of an overgrown scar where eyes should have been, and then caverns for eyes. The haunted, demonic face grinned in a menacing fashion, showing rows of razor sharp teeth. It spoke, though it did not move its mouth.

              "You will never pass, Galveston! You will never escape!"

              "Prince! Prince!"

              The squeaking voice from behind confused Connor, until he realized that "Prince" was what the Traveler had called him, too. Without bothering to question it he looked back at the creature, who held out a glowing blue stone.

              "Prince! Quickly!"

              Connor could only see the creature in an upside-down fashion, given that he was on his back, pinned down by the Demafae. It leaned close to his neck, its hot breath sending waves of nausea over him. The stench of sulfur grew stronger than it had ever been. He couldn't reach the little creature. But the imp was his only chance of escape. Even if the small being was tricking him, it couldn't be more sinister than quickly approaching death.

              He closed his eyes, mustering up all the courage he could, saving his strength, willing it to go to his arm, and in one fell swoop he swung his arm backwards and down, palm up. The Demafae landed on top of him, one of his metallic teeth sinking into his chest. Connor let out a scream of pain. At the same moment, something cold and smooth landed in the palm of his hand. Closing his eyes, he accepted his fate and closed his hand around the object like a drowning person reaching for a life vest, not believing it would really save him, but hoping nonetheless.

              Cool wind cascaded across his face, and the screeching and moaning that had accosted his ears in the swampy region of the Void vanished. Daring to trust his senses, he opened one eye, and then the other. Glaring sunlight forced one of his eyes shut again, and while he adjusted to his surroundings he tried to put together where he'd arrived at. Pine trees as tall as buildings surrounded him and towered to a point above him. Moving one of his hands he felt grass, nettle, and earth beneath him. The air felt cleaner, thinner, less tangible than it had just moments before.

              He curled his hand around the stone that the gnome creature had placed there, and brought it before his eyes, studying the thing. It looked like a misshapen rock, sapphire in color, glistening with multiple facets and seeming to glow from within. The pebble-sized stone weighed heavily in his palm, but he could have easily hidden it if he'd had to. It puzzled him, and he turned the stone over and over, trying to see if there was anything unusual about it.
Everything is unusual about it,
he thought, laughing to himself.

              He sat up and took an inventory of his surroundings. The world around him was green and lush, and for a moment he thought he'd been transported to another area of the Void. One not so acidic and more inviting. Looking to his left he saw the hotel.
Not the Void,
he thought, sighing with relief. The woods weren't close to the hotel, but he was in the same realm. Good enough.

              A deafening drumbeat of pain thudded through his head, making him feel woozy and nauseated all at once. He put his head in his hands, and rested his elbows on his knees. Attempts at staving off the effects of whatever teleportation had just occurred were not working. He didn't understand. He'd gone through the portal before, been sucked into the Void before, why was this time different?

              With a sudden bolt of terrifying realization he thought of the Demafae, and how it had sunk its teeth into him before he was transported back to his realm. Lifting up his shirt he noticed that his chest had two fang-like markings, and he was still bleeding. He'd brought a book back from the Void. He'd never doubted that the goings on of the Void were indeed real - more real than he'd wanted to admit. But until he saw the blood and fang marks, he hadn't considered the frightening truth that if he died in the Void, he died permanently.

              A noise to his right interrupted his panicked train of thought. He looked with a sudden jerk of his head, unsure of whether he'd heard anything at all, but simultaneously being quite sure of it. Unexpected visitors were not to be trusted at this point. He heard the noise again. A slight breaking of branches, and...was that singing? A faint melody reached his ears. His pocket watch began to glow with a new fervor.

              He sent frantic, darting glances all around him, trying to cover the whole area at once. The singing was still faint but it grew a small step in volume. Something caught his eye from directly in front of him, and he saw a lily fall from the trees - from beyond the trees - and land in front of him. It didn't land with the force of something that had fallen by way of gravity, but rather as though an invisible hand had guided and placed it there. It was startling white, purer than anything he'd seen in his life, though he'd seen many lilies.

              Before he had a chance to wonder anymore about the flower, another visage demanded his attention. This time it was in the form of a girl, standing before him. She looked real enough, but he could see through her the way a person could vaguely see the trees beyond thick fog. The girl was mid-height and wore a long, flowing, white dress. Her hair fell beyond her shoulders, hanging in blond curls. She was beautiful.

              She stood there for a matter of moments, not speaking to him, but communicating much through her eyes. They appeared distressed, but not panicked. It was as though she pitied him for some reason. As though she was trying to tell him something important. Warn him of something.

              She pointed to the flower on the ground. He picked it up and held it up to her with a questioning look on his face. She nodded, and pointed to her chest.

              "This will heal it?" he asked.

              She nodded, smiling for the first time since she'd appeared, though the sadness didn't leave her eyes. He lifted up his shirt, and pressed the blossom to his wounds. The blood was sucked away in a slow and methodic manner, filling the white lily until it became crimson, and when the flower had completed its metamorphosis, it was entirely crimson, and his wound was healed.

              "Thank you," he said, looking back up at her.

              She only nodded in response.

              "Who are you?"

              The pools of sadness in her eyes deepened, and for a moment he thought he could see lifetimes of tragedy and injustice form in his mind, like a medium conducting a reading. She simply looked down, and then back at him.

              "You can't speak?"

              She shook her head.

              Then, she reached out to him with a slow movement, as though her hand was being raised by an unseen force, levitating, and then moving toward him. She took a step, and the singing that had preceded her appearance returned and became more intense than it previously had been. He heard words in a language he couldn't understand.

             
Olem epsi katuine

              Lame sarren guthga

              Forseli un abamath

              Olem epsi katu

              It was no language, and every language at the same time. At once Latin and Italian, tribal and romantic. It was beautiful, and the melody was like a lullaby from a land not his own.
And perhaps it is.
Perhaps it was.

              He felt himself leaning toward her, wanting to take her hand. Wanting to go wherever she was from. Like a child attracted to a fairy tale, he wanted to follow her. The singing grew, and other voices joined in with it. An ethereal orchestra. A feeling that couldn't be attributed to any sense of the physical body. As he reached for her, he saw a ring on her hand. A stone in a rectangular cut with golden filigree and a rose gold gem. It was the only thing on her body - if that's what it was - that was discernible as being any color at all, save for the white dress.

              He reached for her, his hand almost touching hers, when suddenly the music stopped, she looked with panicked eyes toward the hotel, and vanished. He felt like he'd woken up from a long, drug-induced sleep. Everything around him felt surreal. He'd felt it before - the feeling had grown the deeper he fell into the Void, the more times he'd traveled there. The feeling that Rumsfeld's realm was the real world, and his was the artificial world. He felt more a part of the Void than he did on Earth. Even though he hadn't enjoyed many pleasurable experiences in the Void, it still felt more genuine.

              Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the thought. Nothing made sense. Nothing was right. Everything was real and nothing was real.

              Looking toward the hotel, he identified the source of the girl's panic. Kit was running toward him. He'd been helped off the ground one too many times, and didn't feel like allowing her to find him in that state again. Right before she reached him, he found his legs and stood, brushing the twigs and dirt off his pants. He thought about taking the crimson lily back with him to show the others, but when he looked down it was gone. Must have vanished with the girl.

              "Hey, you good?"

              Kit's response seemed odd to him. The last time he'd been sucked through a portal she'd all but suffered a nervous breakdown. But here she was, calm and collected, as though she'd just run across a soccer field after a game to give him a high five.

              "I...yeah."

              He didn't know whether he was good or not, but he wasn't in the mood for a discussion. He wasn't in the mood for much of anything. If he was honest, he wanted to go back to the Void. It seemed to be the only place in which he ever received answers. The only place where he could find out who he was. The only place where anyone seemed to
know
who he was.

              "Good. That was something else, huh?"

              He looked at her, puzzled.

              "Yeah you could put it that way."

              She smiled and offered a brief laugh.

              "Well the others are freaking out, so we might as well get you back, huh?"

              "You don't seem very surprised by this, Kit."

              She gave him a suspicious look.

              "Well at this point I'm not surprised by much, to be honest."

              They started walking toward the hotel.

              "So what exactly happened?"

              "You were looking at something in the book and it turned into a portal. You were sucked through. Flat disappeared. The others started to panic, and I said I had an idea of where the thing might return you. So I went looking, and...well here you are."

              "Yeah. Here I am."

              "Something bothering you?"

              Her tone went from casual to accusatory in a matter of seconds.

              "Yeah, Kit, a lot is bothering me. And more and more the things that bother me have to do with you."

              "You're welcome."

              "For what?"

              "Finding you! That's a real measure of thanks, getting all accusatory."

              "Oh yes, thank God you found me, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come to save me. Oh, I know. WALK to the hotel!"

              "What the hell is your problem?"

              He stopped walking and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him, taking the other arm to keep her there.

              "My problem is that you seem to know a hell of a lot about what's going on, and nobody else does! My problem is that you always seem to know what to do and where to go, and you shouldn't. And I don't believe for a damn second that you're sitting around reading books on the Void all the time and that you got all this knowledge from books. I happen to be going crazy trying to figure out what the hell is happening to me, and all you know how to do is keep secrets. THAT'S my problem, Kit! I'm sick and tired of your secrets!"

              "Get your hands off me!"

              "My pleasure."

              He stormed off toward the hotel, breathing so hard he could barely catch his breath, his heart pounding with such force he thought it would burst. His veins seemed to be filled with poison instead of blood, filling his body with anger and his mind with thoughts that didn't make sense.

              "You know, I tried to tell you!"

              He looked toward the sound of Kit's voice, unaware that she'd followed him.

              "Oh yeah, and when was that?"

              "In the library! But you were so concerned about the damn mirror you wouldn't listen!'

              "And you didn't have any time between then and now? I don't buy it."

              "You don't have to!"

              "What is going on!"