A Portal for Your Thoughts Page 4

  Maelnar pulled several small metal devices from pouches that were attached to his belt and began setting them up on the ground. He retrieved a small notebook from an inside pocket in his robes and mumbled quietly to himself as he made a few adjustments to the strange apparatuses on the ground. He flipped the page in his notebook and then pressed a button on the closest device.

  Nothing happened.

  Grunting softly Maelnar returned the first device to his belt and concentrated on the second. He inserted a small metal key on the top of the flat rectangular device and twisted the key for several revolutions. Properly wound, the second device began whirring and emitting several soft clicks. After ten seconds of listening to the whirring and clicking, Maelnar consulted his notebook a final time. He snapped it closed and pressed another button on the device, silencing it instantly.

  “Nothing,” Maelnar reported. He tapped the first device that had been pulled from his belt. “This one will detect energy signatures that many of the athe crystals produce. If there was an athe crystal, or something equivalent in the vicinity, then it would have made quite a ruckus. It didn’t. Therefore whatever that thing is uses a source of power I am unfamiliar with.”

  “And the second device?” the king prompted. “What does it do?”

  “That is a geographical locator. I don’t have to use it much so I beg your pardon for having to consult my notes. I had to make sure I was using it correctly. I was. Not only did this device not pick up the presence of a portal, it certainly was unable to determine where that portal, assuming it is one, would deposit the traveler.”

  The king sighed. He stared down at the anomaly with grim determination. There were missing Lentarians and more than likely this disturbance - this thing – was to blame. He had to know what was on the other end of... of... that portal.

  “What about a teleporter?” Kri’Entu suggested. “Could someone with a teleporting jhorun be able to determine anything?”

  In unison, both wizard and dwarf shrugged.

  “It couldn’t hurt to try,” Maelnar answered.

  Shardwyn nodded.

  The king turned to look back at Pheron, who was standing off to the side as he gave orders to his men to properly secure the area for the foreseeable future.

  “Captain? Could you send for a teleporter?”

  Pheron nodded. “At once, your majesty.”

  Less than an hour later Capily’s only known teleporter, a slender man in his late 20’s or early 30’s, had joined the group and was staring intently at the anomaly. Dressed in khaki shorts and a green tunic, the nervous young man ran a shaky hand through his brown hair and whistled. He then slid his hands into his pockets and grunted twice. He looked up at the king and realized he was being watched. He smiled sheepishly and returned his attention to the anomaly, stepping close to squat down for a more methodical inspection. A few seconds later he backed away a few feet as if undecided about it.

  “I, uh, er… This is very peculiar, your majesty. I have never seen the like.”

  Kri’Entu smiled patiently.

  “I am sure. However, Mister Breet, I need to know if you can sense where this portal might lead. If it is a portal, that is. What can you tell us about it?”

  Breet closed his eyes and went still. Kri’Entu glanced over at Maelnar and Shardwyn, who were standing nearby. Maelnar gave a quick shake of his head and smiled. Shardwyn was staring at a flock of kytes in a distant tree.

  “It’s perfectly acceptable to say you don’t know,” Kri’Entu told the quiescent teleporter. “I thank you for your time. You are excused and may return to your home.”

  Relief washed over the man’s features.

  “Thank you, your majesty. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be of more help. Perhaps a stronger teleporter might be able to do better.”

  Kri’Entu’s curiosity was piqued.

  “Who would you recommend, Mister Breet?”

  “There’s Tessler, in Donlari. Bertol is good. He lives in Avin.”

  The king smiled and nodded. “Thank you. That was incredibly helpful.”

  “If I may make a suggestion, your majesty?”

  “Of course, mister Breet. Go ahead.”

  “I would contact the strongest teleporter you can. Portals and teleporters perform the same task. As a result most teleporters can get a sense of what’s on the other side of a portal. The stronger the jhorun, the clearer the picture. I wish I could help but, and I will be the first to admit this, my teleporting skills aren’t the strongest. I will have to rest for days just to rebuild my own jhorun for my return trip home.”

  “Who is the strongest teleporter you can think of?” Kri’Entu asked.

  “Lady Sarah,” Shardwyn and Maelnar interrupted, in perfect unison.

  Wizard and dwarf looked at each other and briefly smiled. Breet was nodding.

  “They’re right, your majesty,” Breet agreed. “Her teleportation jhorun is unmatched and envied by all.”

  The king sighed. “I was referring to Lentarian teleporters. I know full well Lady Sarah is the strongest known teleporter. I was hoping there would be someone local we could ask instead.”

  “We’re at a loss here,” Shardwyn told him. “We need more information and so far we are coming up short. No offense, Master Maelnar.”

  The dwarf harrumphed.

  Kri’Entu nodded and came to a rapid conclusion.

  “Very well. We will contact Lady Sarah.”

  Chapter 2 – Call Out the Cavalry!

  “You don’t want your arms to be too rigid. Loosen up a little. There you go. Now look through the peep sight and adjust your aim so that those fixed pins in the sight are straight ahead. Do you see them?”

  “Yes. Which color am I supposed to be looking at? There are three of them.”

  “The pins denote distance to target, so it depends how far away you are from what you’re shooting at. The bottom pin, the yellow one, would be the furthest setting. It’s presently set to 40 yards. The orange is set to 30, and the green pin at the top is set to 20 yards. Since you’re about 20 yards from the target I’d use the green pin on the top. Once you’ve got the green tip of that pin on what you’re aiming at then you release the arrow. It’s that simple.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that. All the times I’ve watched you shoot one of these things I never knew how to properly aim it.”

  “Want to hear a secret? Up until about two months ago, neither did I.”

  Surprised, Sarah released the tension in her compound bow and turned to stare at her husband.

  “But you’ve had your bow for over a year now!”

  “I know. Let’s just keep that between ourselves, okay?”

  Sarah laughed and swatted her husband’s arm. She tightened the wrist strap on her arrow puller and clipped the nock of her arrow back onto the bowstring. She attached her arrow puller to the D-loop and took a deep breath. As smoothly as she could, keeping the tip of her arrow pointed at the ground, she pulled back on the string in one fluid motion. Keeping her arms steady she felt the level of resistance drop as the cams on the upper and lower limbs reduced the pull to a fraction of the full draw weight. Sarah took aim at the square archery target Steve had set up on the huge lawn behind their house and gently touched the arrow puller’s trigger.

  There was a soft swoosh and the arrow was gone. A split second later it had sunk deep into one of the inner rings of the bull’s eye on the archery target. With a triumphant smile she turned to her husband and handed the bow to him.

  “Yep. That’s how it’s done.”

  “What are you giving me this thing for? I have my own.”

  “I thought maybe you’d like to try mine seeing how you’re having so many difficulties with your own.”

  Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t we just full of it today?”

  “I’m the one who is reliably hitting the target. How are you doing?”

  Steve shook his head with exasperation.

  “You’re not going to le
t me live that down any time soon, are you?”

  Sarah smiled sweetly at him.

  “Well, ask yourself this. Have you gotten an arrow closer to the center of the target than I have?”

  Steve pursed his lips and came close to pouting, not that he’d ever admit it.

  “No.”

  “Would you like me to give you some pointers?”

  “I just gave them to you. You’re not allowed to give me pointers. Besides, you’re probably using your own jhorun to look good.”

  Ignoring the insult, Sarah pointed at the second compound bow that was leaning up against a nearby tree.

  “Your turn then. Let’s see you do any better.”

  Steve handed Sarah’s pink compound bow back to her and picked up his much more manly camouflage-colored Stringer bow. He inserted his left hand into the wrist strap so he wouldn’t accidentally drop the expensive bow and clipped an arrow to the serving point. He hooked his own arrow puller to the bow’s D-loop and drew the arrow back, simultaneously adjusting his posture so that the arrow and the ground were parallel with one another. He targeted the center of the large cube. His finger inched toward the release trigger.

  Sarah sneezed.

  Steve’s arrow missed the target and sank deep into one of the bales of hay he had set up as a backstop. The arrow had practically disappeared into the backstop as only the tips of the feathers were still visible.

  “No fair! You did that on purpose!”

  Sarah sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose.

  “Shoot. My allergies are really bad right now. I should take something for that.”

  “Snot.”

  Sarah squinted at the target and frowned. She reached for a pair of binoculars that were sitting on the small patio table Steve had set up next to them. She adjusted the focus and stared at the distant bales of hay.

  “Your bow doesn’t have to be set that high, does it? I mean, look at that arrow. Only the tip is left.”

  “It is set low as it’ll go,” Steve pointed out.

  “Oh.”

  Sarah nocked another arrow and targeted the bale. A moment later there were two arrows sticking out of the center of the target. Sarah took a seat in one of the patio chairs Steve had dragged over from their deck and laid her bow across her lap as if to say, ‘I thought this would be difficult.’

  Steve fired off four arrows, one right after the other, in rapid succession. Three hit the target and the fourth joined his first arrow in the backstop behind the archery cube.

  “Perhaps if you aimed you might do a bit better,” Sarah idly suggested.

  Steve scowled and tried again. This time he took several deep breaths and then held it in an effort to become as motionless as possible. He drew his arrow back and held it. He twisted just a little to the left so that the tip of the green targeting pin was touching the center of the bullseye. Standing completely motionless, and confident that his arm wasn’t wavering, he hit the trigger.

  The arrow streaked across the open countryside and embedded itself into the target. It was his best shot yet; unfortunately, the arrow was still at least three inches farther away from the center than Sarah’s. He quickly glanced at his wife and caught the smug smile that had momentarily appeared on her face.

  “Alright, alright, laugh it up. Congratulations. You’re better at this than I am.”

  Sarah rejoined him and fitted another arrow to her bow’s serving point. Taking aim she released her arrow. Then another. And another. Every arrow was as close to the target’s center as her first was, if not closer.

  Steve reached for another arrow but found his quiver empty. He watched Sarah fire the last of her arrows and then set her bow on her chair. She picked up the pair of binoculars and again inspected the target. There were far more pink arrows than green ones sticking out of the three foot by three foot archery target. Sarah closed her eyes and concentrated. Fifteen pink arrows suddenly dropped into the soft grass at her feet.

  “What about mine? Are you really going to make me walk all the way over there when you can teleport them just as easily as you did yours?”

  Sarah gave him a devious smile. “Sure. I can do that. What’s it worth to you?”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I said what’s it worth to you? A ten minute back massage?”

  Steve glanced irritably back at the target over fifty feet away and weighed the pros and cons of Sarah’s offer. Laziness won.

  “Fine. You’ll get your back massage tonight.”

  His green fletched arrows appeared next to hers in the grass. Steve shook his head as he glanced back at the arrow-free target. He’d deny it under the most heinous of tortures but he did think Sarah’s jhorun, her magical ability, was more useful than his own. He briefly thought back, years ago, upon their first visit to Lentari and how much their lives had changed since then.

  Steve and his wife were the only two people on the face of the planet who could do magic. Thanks to their first visit to the magical kingdom of Lentari, he and Sarah had been gifted with jhorun and included in an ancient prophecy where they had become protectors of the young crown prince. Now, years later, Mikal no longer needed their protection so their babysitting days were over.

  Steve sighed. Since retiring from the full-time nanny position he and Sarah had found themselves in, there just hadn’t been any situations that had called for his jhorun. But that wasn’t surprising. He could summon and control fire. It was a very handy and very powerful jhorun to have in Lentari, but in Coeur d’Alene? It was only used when he wanted to light his barbecue. Or perhaps to safely light the fuse of one of the high powered fireworks he was so fond of.

  So was his jhorun useful?

  Steve sighed again, which garnered him a speculative look from Sarah, and slid his arrows back into his quiver. Over the next half an hour husband and wife continued to fire arrow after arrow at the target. Occassionally Steve would move the target father away, just to see if Sarah could hit it as easily as she had been doing.

  She could. In fact, it seemed as though her aim improved as the distance increased. Steve silently vowed to practice more when Sarah wasn’t around. His friends in Lentari would never let him live it down if they knew his wife could outshoot him with a bow. Steve grimaced. With the way he was shooting Sarah could probably outshoot him with her eyes closed.

  “What’s that face for?” Sarah asked, breaking more than thirty seconds of silence. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  “Promise not to laugh?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No promises. Out with it. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s nothing. I was just thinking that if Rhenyon could see me now he’d be laughing his butt off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your archery skills are far superior to mine.”

  “Oh, stop being so competitive. So I’m a better shot, so what? As soon as you figure out the nuances of that bow then you’ll be doing much better than me. Don’t take this the wrong way but if you actually practice more you’ll get better. I don’t see you shooting this thing that often.”

  “It’s not fun shooting by myself,” Steve informed her. He picked up her full quiver and held her bow while she gathered up the patio chairs. Sarah turned to smile at him.

  “Why do you think I suggested we should buy me a bow, too?”

  Steve felt his smile stretch from one ear to the other.

  “You wanted a bow so you can shoot with me? Awww, how sweet!”

  “Don’t get all mushy on me,” Sarah warned. “You were just outshot by a girl. How do you sleep at night?”

  Steve grinned. “Like a baby.”

  “A snoring baby,” Sarah agreed. She hooked her arm through his as they walked back to the manor. “Are you going to take care of Annie’s computer today?”

  Steve groaned and sighed aloud. “Yeah, I need to do that. I’ve been putting it off.”

  “Any idea what’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s the same problem
that my mom’s had. And your mom’s. They’ve picked up extra software on their computers when they weren’t paying attention and, as a result, their laptops have begun to slow down. I just gotta break up the party, so to speak.”

  “Well, put that stuff away and let’s head over there. I’m looking forward to spending some time with the boys.”

  Half an hour later, after their archery equipment had been properly cared for and put away, Steve and Sarah were on the doorstep of one of the other three houses on their property besides the huge manor. Ever since they built a house for Annie and Tristan on their extensive property Sarah had surreptitiously suggested that a third house might be in order.

  “You never know if we’ll have someone else move in here,” Sarah had told him. “It could be your parents, or even mine. If that happens, wouldn’t you think it would be a good idea to be prepared?”

  “By building another house??”

  “Sure. We can afford it. And as long as we’re doing that…”

  Sarah trailed off and batted her eyes at her husband. Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What? What’s the rest of that sentence?”

  “We should build a lodge.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “For gatherings and get togethers,” Sarah explained.

  “Are you suggesting the manor isn’t big enough to entertain a lot of people?”

  “I know it is,” Sarah patiently explained to her exasperated husband. “But we live there. Do you really want that many people wandering around our house?”

  Six months after Annie and Tristan’s house had been finished the final touches were put on the guest house and the enormous lodge. The massive lodge, at over four thousand square feet, sat several hundred feet away from the manor and was situated up against the base of the government owned forest lands.

  Sarah knocked again. She looked at her husband and shrugged. Steve walked over to the side of the garage and peered in one of the two windows.

  “She’s there,” Steve helpfully told her. “Her car is parked in there.”

  “Stop peeping through the windows,” Sarah scolded. “It’s creepy. Get back over here before she sees you.”