One of the best things about NaNo is being able to share your story with others. In fact, I love giving snippets for my tales even when it's not NaNo! (Though that was probably obvious.) Because it would've clogged up last week's Monthly HapPENings post, I didn't bother adding any excerpts. But today, I've decided to give you all a glimpse into what the new and improved Portal Chronicles is like. Hopefully it'll be better than the original.
Enough wasting time! Let us dive in!
“Watch out!”
A hand grabbed Mark by the shoulder and yanked him. Shocked out of his raging thoughts, he stumbled a few steps back, nearly tripping over the curb. A black semi-truck roared past, mere feet from where he stood.
He turned to face his rescuer. “Thanks for the save.”
Warren frowned at him. “Yeah, that was a little too close for comfort. It wouldn’t kill ya to pay a little more attention. Probably would do the opposite.”
Head fuzzy, Mark traversed the well-lit corridors to the business classroom, where he sat down next to Grace.
She looked up from her textbook and grimaced. “Did death pull you out of bed and nuke you before you came to school?”
“Feels that way,” Mark groaned. He rubbed his forehead in an attempt to ease the swelling headache.
David reclined on one of the benches, but perked up when he spotted Mark. “How’d it go?”
“Hard to tell. I’ll be getting my grade at some point today.” Mark attempted to shield himself from the nippy air. The wind from Lake Ontario had a frosty bite today, that was for sure. “Warren’s almost done?”
“He should be.”
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” Warren said. He smirked at them. “Ready to go?”
“You bet.” The sooner Mark got off the schoolyard, the happier he’d be.
“I did pretty well, all things considered.”
“Hmm.” Father sniffed, his disdain evident in the tightening crevices on his face. “All things considered. What you did not consider are my expectations for your grades.” He leaned forward. “I thought we had agreed that you had to get an A-, at the very least. Ideally, you’d be getting A+, but that seems to be too high a request.”
“It’s not like I didn’t studying. I did a lot of that. In fact, I did everything I could to—”
“Except you didn’t.” Father’s tone dropped a few decibels. “Because if you had, you wouldn’t be coming home with a B+ and claiming that you ‘did pretty well.’ How do you expect to get anywhere in life without knowing the business world inside and out?”
Quinton leaned over to Daniel. “This is a waste of time,” he hissed. “Ours and theirs. You better apologize to the foreman for pulling him away from his work unnecessarily.”
Daniel brushed him off. The second worker stood there, arms folded. He almost appeared to want to say something, but he instead chose to keep his mouth shut.
A minute later, the one who’d done the talking returned with his boss. Daniel almost took a step back. The foreman had an aura about him that reeked of power and demanded obedience. He stood over six feet tall, built like a hero of old. Every step was taken in confidence. His dark eyes bored into Daniel, holding him captive in his gaze.
The oddest part was the faint hissing seemed to occur when he walked. Must be their equipment nearby.
The bearded foreman held out his hand. “I’m Jarek,” he said. Daniel had expected his voice to be a booming baritone, yet even though it wasn’t, it commanded respect. “I heard you’re with the Witch Hunters. To be honest, I’ve never heard of the agency before.”
“We like to keep to ourselves.” Daniel shook hands. Jarek’s grip was firm and steady, which seemed to fit. “I’m Agent Daniel, and this here is my partner, Agent Quinton.”
“Unwilling partner, I might add,” Quinton put in.
“And now it’s time for the morning news,” the radio DJ said. He proceeded to list a bunch of things that Mark tuned out. Anything business-related received no brain space, thanks to the callous actions his parents took against him.
Then the DJ said, “Police report two men died last night due to a tree falling on their car. The incident occurred on the Lonely Trail, close to the main drag. The accident was made known to authorities by Hoffman and Sons, who are currently demolishing Fort Charles. The company foreman on site, Jarek Depere, said he had sent out a couple of his workers to get supplies from Lakeshore. The men found the wreckage and immediately called the police. As of right now, the victims’ names are not being released. More details to follow. For a lighter topic, here’s your upcoming weather forecast.”
David shut off the radio. “Okay, now that’s weird. Like, freaky weird.”
“But it’s just a coincidence . . . right?” Mark glanced between his two friends. “There’s no way that the convoy that nearly ran me over is somehow related to these guys being crushed by a tree.”
Morrot stamped on the brakes and swore. “Powers above, I hate these rush hours. How is anyone expected to travel anywhere when they’re stopping every other foot?”
Jarek chuckled to himself. “And these civilizations pride themselves on efficiency.”
A hush descended up the car’s interior, broken by more cursing from Morrot as he hollered at other drivers. “I’m using this lane, you qarn! Get your own.” He laid on the horn for at least three seconds. “And put your finger down while you’re at it!”
Both Mark and Warren followed suit. Out of nowhere, dizziness suckerpunched Mark in the gut. He crashed into a table and knocked his head on the way down.
Warren slid to his side. “Frick, frick, frick. David, I need your help.”
In an instant, David joined them. The shouts of the gunmen reached their ears. “Okay, new plan.” David pointed at the kitchen. “We hide there until they’ve passed.”
“There’s a reason the staff fled into the halls instead of staying in the kitchen,” Warren said, even as he lifted Mark from underneath his armpits. “Grab his legs, will ya?”
David obeyed, and the two of them carried Mark to their destination. Shivers coursed through his body, almost making him convulse. The strange paradox was that he felt like he was being roasted from the inside out. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.
In one corner stood a small crib, beautifully carved from a mahogany wood. He hadn’t noticed it in his rush and assumption that he’d taken down everyone. Tiny hands poked through the bars, reaching for him. He put the gun away and walked closer.
The crib’s occupant, a toddler, stopped crying upon the sight of him. She cooed and pulled at her curly black locks.
Can’t be much older than two years of age. He lifted her out of the crib, and she stared at him with magnificent sapphire eyes.
“Hello, dear child. You look well-rested.”
She uttered not a sound. For some odd reason, he was reminded of all he’d left behind in Kythe. Days long past filtered into focus, and his gut churned with the agony of waiting to see his mish’ner again. “You bring back memories to me,” he said in hushed tones. “Ones of a pleasant manner and of an unwelcome nature. Thank you. I needed the reminder.”
She poked at his mask and giggled. He laid her back down in the crib. “You must not see the carnage out there, but what’s done is done. I have altered the path you tread, and for that, I am sorry. Yet we must all come to terms with the simple fact that fate is a cruel and fickle mistress. The sooner we learn that lesson, the better.” He chuckled. “Even you, a tender child, are at her whims. Let my actions build up your character. In the end, it will benefit you.” As he switched off the light, he added, “Farewell, precious girl. When you’ve grown, do better than I ever did.”
Step by step, minute by minute, the light shone brighter and brighter until flashlights were no longer needed. Then they arrived at a clearing and ducked low to the ground. The town sprawled before them, beckoning them into its presence. It was a haggard thing, fighting against time’s restraints but showing signs of weakness.
How wonderful it must’ve looked back in the day: a haven in the middle of the Orion Forest.
In the distance, he could hear machines rumbling and snarling at one another. Shouts from workers mingled in with the chaos. Two beefy men sat on the barricades that blocked vehicles from using the highway, which ran right through town as the main drag. Floodlights stationed all over the place provided more than enough visibility for the company, but possibly too much for any proper sneaking around.
“How’re we planning on getting into the town?” he asked.
Fort Charles’s square was an utter mess. Trees once beautifully pruned had been allowed to mutate into whatever they desired. Flowerbeds ran thick with weeds, although several wildflowers still sprouted here and there. The cobblestone pathway was almost invisible underneath the long grass and caked mud. Had it not been raining, the fountain would’ve been bone dry. Mark skittered through the square like a grave robber: he knew what he was doing, and he also knew the consequences, but he was still doing it anyway.
The murderer jogged up the crumbling stairs leading to the town hall and tugged on one of the doors. The hinges screeched so loudly, Mark winced from where he was several yards back. He caught the man starting to shift and crouched behind the fountain. His friends grabbed their own hiding spots, and the trio remained still.
Does he know he’s being tailed? The uncertainty injected his anxiety with fresh energy. His hands dug into the rough path so hard it seemed they might begin bleeding.
Ever-so-cautiously, David peered out from behind the statue of a gallant lord he was hiding behind. “He’s not there anymore. I think we’re good.”
“What is it?” Cronus asked.
“I’m not alone here. I’ll contact you again soon.” Jarek gestured in an odd manner, and the hologram vanished, the light whisking into his chest. Then he whirled. “I know you’re in here. Show yourself.”
Power resonated in his voice, compelling Mark to come out of hiding. The chill spread throughout his entire body, and sweat dampened his forehead. Warren snatched a loose board and readied himself. From the looks of things, he was going to attempt the same maneuver he’d used on the school shooter, although perhaps with even more force this time around. David waved in a motion that implied Warren shouldn’t go through with the plan.
Jarek walked toward the doors, mere feet away from Warren. “You are aware that you must pay for your actions, yes? Death will suffice, of that I’m confident. You can be assured that—”
Warren leapt into action and swung the board upward. It connected with Jarek’s jaw solidly, but it shattered instead of its target. Jarek didn’t even flinch. “That was foolish.” He snatched Warren by the shirt. In turn, Warren jabbed him in the eye, and he let go to cover it while crying out in pain.
“Run!” David yelled.
The assault rifle trembled in Mark’s grip. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the death machine. Shooting had been so instinctive. What would his parents have said if they’d seen what he had just done?
“You’re a monster,” Father would have fumed.
“Look at what has become of you hanging around that dock worker’s boy. You are no longer welcome in this home ever again.”
“Maybe,” Mother added,
“everyone would’ve been better off you had let yourself get shot.”
That’s all he was: a disgrace that deserved no better than death. In his moment of weakness, despite his efforts to shrug off their words because they didn’t matter to him, his shame increased tenfold. He had failed his family, his friend, and his God. The panic attack shifted into overdrive and ignited a bout of hyperventilation.
Rugott threw open a door at the bottom and stepped aside to let them pass. Then he closed it and typed furiously into a keypad mounted on the wall. It took Mark a second to realize that the tech didn’t match up with the town’s outdated appearance. He checked out the rest of the room, brightly lit and filled with various monitors showcasing info he didn’t understand, along with other unrecognizable pieces of equipment. But it was the wall opposite him that freaked him out.
Four compact machines, two on the floor and two on the ceiling, formed a square shape on the wall. In between those devices was a fluctuating mass of . . . energy? Water? Light? All three? It almost seemed like someone had taken a sliver of outer space, painted it a blend of cyan and silver, and implanted it here. It released a low purring that was almost too quiet for the human ear.
“What the heck is that?” he whispered.
He jumped at the sound of metal striking the ground. A thick steel plate had dropped in front of the door, effectively blocking anyone else from entering. The lights dimmed and gave the room an unsettling ambience.
“I put this place in lockdown,” Rugott said. “It enables a power-saving mode, like a laptop, so that the portal stays connected.”
“A portal?” Warren asked, both bewildered and incredulous.
David pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to think we’re way in over our heads.”
Mark had never experienced any sensation quite like entering the portal. It first identified itself as being dunked in a pool of bitter cold water. Then somehow he wasn’t in the water and was instead the very water itself. He sloshed through a slide of all purple and black hues imaginable. Comets of flaring orange and shimmering green blazed past him in every direction. Time was a lost concept here. It held no power and refused to indicate how long he’d spent traversing this trippy tunnel.
Something crunched and snapped in the general location of his feet. He glanced downward and gasped—or at least, he tried to. The water that was his feet was freezing over, and the ice crawled up his body. The panic drummed away at his brain.
What’s happening am I gonna die am I already dead where are Mark and David I disappointed everyone I’ll be forgotten God save me I can’t go on—
He stiffened, his entire being constructed out of thick ice. Faster and faster he slid. All the colors around him became one mass of torture for his eyes. He closed them in an effort to shut it all out, but it seeped through and scalded his mind. If his lips weren’t stuck together, he would have screamed.
It had been a lie. Everything Rugott said was to lure them into the galactic death trap. Did he have his own motives and agenda? There was no way of knowing, and Mark suspected he never would find out. All he could do was hope and pray while battling against the cruel, gnarled hand that gripped his heart.
Light and energy exploded through his core, and the ice entrapping him shattered into millions of tiny chips. The corridor’s fabric ripped in front of him, and he fell. Solid ground was right beneath him, so it was more like he sat down hard than anything else.
He lay on his back and stared up at the sky for a moment. Stars winked back at him, and the atmosphere remained still, save for crickets chirping. Wait a minute . . . it’s nighttime here. As if we never left. And where is here, anyway?
“Y’know,” Mark piped up, “if I didn’t know that we’re in some place called Kythe, I would’ve sworn we’d teleported to another country on Earth.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Warren said. “You would think that this place would be really weird or something.”
“In what way?” David asked.
“Oh, the usual stuff you find in fantasy books: dragons, Chosen Ones, prophecies, and other stereotypical elements.”
“But that’d make it boring, not weird,” Mark said.
Warren huffed. “Okay, try this on for size. People who willingly eat plants that shoot fire become immune to said element.”
“Uh, I feel like they’d die before they would be fireproof.” David chuckled and added, “Not to rain on your parade or anything.”
“Yeah, I feel like you two are definitely bursting my creative bubble. Now I’m not gonna talk about all the other stuff I had in mind for this world, like talking crocodile-octopus things and disturbing acts of violence and the ability to pick up a random weapon and become instantly good at it.”
“That’d be the worst story ever,” Mark said.
David nodded. “Yeah, everyone would make fun of it because of how ridiculous it is.”
“Wow. Thanks for the support, fellas.” Warren stomped ahead.
Mark couldn’t help but laugh, and David echoed his merriment. Warren turned around, grinning, and laughed along with them. The banter helped ease Mark’s knotted stomach and cut his anxious tension. He pushed the thought of home out of his mind for the time being so he could concentrate on the here and now.
Something skittered past in his peripheral. He twisted in that direction and scanned for any signs of danger. Nothing presented itself in the light, but that did nothing to ease his churning gut.
Warren tensed up as well. “I think someone might be following us.”
“Or something.” Mark shivered.
The instant they moved forward, a sound—light footfalls?—arose for a brief moment from behind them. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he might have missed it entirely. “There it is again.”
“Show yourself!” David hollered.
From between two braziers emerged an emaciated figure. It was as if someone had dunked the thing in a vat of eggplant-colored paint. But that’s not what freaked Mark out.
The creature had no face.
It took rolling steps toward them, evidently adept at stealth. He retreated as the monster advanced. “I think we should run.”
The middle of its face split, revealing a vertical mouth of pointed fangs. Mark almost passed out on the spot. “Go, go, go!” David yelled.
Things weren’t much better at the base of the Grand Tower. Knights were ushering civilians inside while holding off the swarm of flesh-eaters. The road glistened with blood, torn bodies discarded like so many cheap toys. The screams of the innocents, the commands of the men in charge, and the shrill roars of the enemy faded from Mark’s awareness. All he saw were the dead.
So many dead.
He gazed at the faces of the people rushing in. How many of them had families like Warren’s? Had they been chewed up in their own homes? On the path to safety? Would anyone ever be whole again?
The brave fighters did their best to stave off their foes, and they seemed to be succeeding. But they needed a boost soon, or they would surely fall among the KIA count. Swords broke skin, arrows pierced vitals, and shields bashed against heads. But still the beasts rushed at them from all sides.
Mark spotted a broadsword coated in a thick goop, and he lifted it off the ground. It was heavier than it would’ve appeared in a movie; nevertheless, he hefted it as best as he could and marched toward the creatures.
“Mark!” Warren pulled him back by the shoulder, like he had when Mark was about to be flattened by a zooming semi. “What the actual heck are you doing? We got lucky with the one back there, but there’s no way we’re gonna be able to take out more.”
“I cannot—I refuse—to keep letting people die for my well-being.” Mark shook off his friend’s hand and walked toward the horde.
“Ah, you’re finally awake.”
Mark whirled at the unfamiliar voice. A lanky fellow towered over him. If the wind had eroded a stone into the shape of a human and breathed life into it, this man would be the result. Salt and pepper curls stuck out from beneath his cavalier hat, which was fashioned out of a black fur that Mark didn’t recognize. He wore a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up, and loose-fitting black pants.
“Terribly sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” The man extended his hand. “Sea Captain Smits, at your service.”
Mark accepted the proffered handshake. “Mark Harrison. Uh . . . how did I get here, by chance?”
“Oh, you fainted after the battle with the suvorens. The commander of Valheart’s outpost ordered us to bring you and your friends before our governing body for questioning.”
Well, that's all I'm sharing for now! Sorry that the post got so long; there was a whole bunch of stuff I didn't even include. I hope you enjoyed taking a look at what Shattered is like. Let me know if you've posted snippets from your NaNo project on your blog!
