The Last Portal (9 page)

‘How long has
it been like this?’ Chris asked, after half sliding across the
cabin floor to his friends. The boat lurched sideways again and
everyone slid across the floor. Chris slid into a bench, followed
by several soldiers and Joe.

‘Maybe ten
minutes,’ Joe said, in a voice wavering with fear.

Chris clambered
over to one of the portholes and looked out. The sea was already
mountainous.

‘What about the
other boats?’

‘We’ve lost
contact with them,’ Joe yelled above the rising noise of the
wind.

Even in the
short time he had been awake, Chris noticed the light had faded
markedly. The rest of the company was also gathering around the
portholes. The sounds of thunder could now be clearly heard over
the chatter of the soldiers. Joe and Susie pushed their way to
Chris’s side. There were now frequent lightning strikes and the
waves were being whipped to foam by the wind and rain. Another wave
hit the boat, sending the crew and soldiers sprawling across the
floor again. The boat lurched sharply and there was loud crash as
the whole deck vibrated. Chris looked out the porthole to see the
main mast hanging over the side of the boat.

The hatch flung
open and Altac appeared amidst a torrent of water. A lightning
strike lit up his face. His eyes were wide with fear and his scar
stood out, dark and jagged, against his pale features. He barked
orders at his soldiers and four Taal rushed outside, slamming the
hatch behind them. The darkness outside was now almost complete.
There was a loud thud on the deck, then another and another. Soon
the deck vibrated like a huge drum, as thousands of hailstones,
some the size of human fists, pounded the boat. The crew huddled
close, then first one porthole, then another, cracked and smashed,
spraying glass fragments and water everywhere, and sending the crew
scurrying to patch the holes with whatever clothes, or other
material, could be found.

The hatch flung
open again and this time Batarr appeared. He looked around quickly.
When he saw Chris, he pushed he way through the knot of soldiers
still clinging to each other on the floor and gripped him by the
shoulder.

‘You must help
us, Mytar!’ he bellowed over the fury of the storm. His green eyes
locked Chris in their stare, filling him with terror.

‘What can I
do?’ Chris shouted back.

‘I can’t reach
them.’

‘Reach
who?’

Batarr didn’t
answer; gripping him by the collar, he dragged Chris to the hatch
leading to the sleeping quarters and threw him in. Chris started
looking around for something he could use to defend himself. Batarr
jumped down and closed the hatch behind him as Chris retreated to
the far corner of the cabin. But in the next lightning strike,
Chris saw that Batarr’s eyes were fixed intently on him in hope,
not fury. Batarr pulled what appeared to be a large tooth from his
coat.

‘Remember when
you used the knife to locate Zelnoff?’ he said.

‘Yes...’

‘I’ve been
trying to contact the Wassin, who live in these waters. They’re
like the dolphins on your home planet, except much larger. The
boat’s engine has stalled and the mast’s broken. They’re the only
ones who can help us now.’

He thrust the
tooth toward Chris. ‘Clear your mind and concentrate on the tooth,’
he demanded.

Chris took the
tooth. Another lightning strike momentarily lit up Batarr’s face.
There were deep lines on his forehead and shadows of exhaustion
under his eyes. ‘Where’ll I tell them to go?’

‘Once you make
contact, I’ll direct them here. Hurry.’

As previously,
Chris held the tooth loosely in his hand. The visions came
immediately. A pod of about ten Wassin was swimming just below the
surface. They were huge, with bulbous heads and rows of sharp
teeth. He concentrated on the lead Wassin. Immediately images
started flowing into his mind. The Wassin had already found the
wreckage of the other two boats and were aware that Batarr and his
people were in trouble. The pod was close but heading in the wrong
direction. Chris felt the presence of another mind - Batarr was
there. The leader stopped swimming, turned sharply and headed
toward them. The link was suddenly broken. Chris opened his eyes to
find Batarr had taken the tooth out of his hand.

‘You’ve done
well, Mytar,’ he said and, in two strides, he had vanished through
the hatchway.

When Chris
reached the cabin he explained to Susie and Joe what had happened.
The pounding on the deck appeared to be less intense but the boat
was still pitching dangerously. Water was now pouring in through
the smashed portholes, and soldiers were busy bailing with anything
they could find, or plugging the holes with parts of benches ripped
from the galley.

In the brief
few seconds he had contact with the Guardian’s mind, Chris had
learned that Batarr’s men were standing by on the deck of the boat
with ropes. These would be thrown to the Wassin when they arrived.
It would be their last chance. Without any form of power, the boat,
like the other two fishing boats, would surely be swamped and
smashed to pieces by the sea.

Now knowing the
crisis they were in, Chris couldn’t just wait and do nothing. On
impulse, he decided to help direct the Wassin to the boat. He
quickly clambered past the sprawling bodies of soldiers to the
hatchway leading outside.

‘Where’re you
going?’ asked one of the soldiers Chris had climbed over.

Chris didn’t
answer. Instead, he pushed hard against the hatch. It flew open and
he clambered out. He knew immediately he had made a big mistake.
The freezing wind, like a huge moaning monster, knocked him flat on
his back. Wave after wave slammed into the side of the boat,
throwing him aimlessly across the deck. Each time he tried to rise
from his knees, the lurching boat made him slip on the piles of
hailstones. He heard shouts as Altac’s men realised he was on the
deck. Another wave slammed into the boat, throwing him hard against
a railing. Finally, he managed to grab hold and haul himself to his
feet. Several soldiers at the front of the boat were holding on to
ropes they had thrown over the side. He could sense the Wassin were
now circling the boat. Another soldier was slowly edging along the
railing toward him. It was Altac.

The boat jolted
forward as the Wassin began pulling on the ropes. The jolt
dislodged Chris’s grip and he tumbled back further, only managing
to grab the rail at the very rear of the boat. He started screaming
for help. Another wave struck and he almost choked on all the water
he swallowed. The rail was cutting into his hands and the water
almost blinded him. Gathering all his remaining strength, Chris
dragged himself forward along the railing.

Through the
rain, he could see several figures crawling along the railing
toward him. They were screaming something and pointing, but the
wind carried their voices away. Then, with a growing, sickening
realisation, Chris turned to where they were pointing. A massive
wall of water was bearing down on him. Powerless to do anything, he
watched as the wave rose and broke over him. He was lifted away
from the boat and thrown into the depths of the sea. Deeper and
deeper the swirl of current dragged him, until the force of the
wave was finally spent. Only then, with bursting lungs, was he was
able to claw back to the surface.

When Chris
broke through, the boat was already a distant bobbing cork,
disappearing amongst mountainous sea. The rain had nearly stopped,
but he knew that land was a long way off. The waves continually
tossed and dunked him, so that it took all his strength just to
keep afloat. But there was still hope. Not all the Wassin had left
with the boat, and the remaining Wassin were close, searching for
something. Chris concentrated his thoughts, trying to guide them to
him. He felt their presence. Then he saw himself, two legs and arms
thrashing out against the sea. A Wassin surged. The roughness of
the creature’s skin brushed against him. He clutched at the dorsal
fin and was jolted forward as a wall of muscle lifted him out of
the water.

What happened
next was a blur of cold, terror and exhaustion. He measured time
only by the frequent periods underwater and the fear of losing his
grip on the creature as it dived under the waves. Many times his
grip failed him, and for some seconds he was left floundering
amongst the waves, but always the rough re-assuring mound of Wassin
muscle rose out of the waves to support him, allowing him valuable
time to catch his breath and renew his grip on the creature. Then
the nightmare of diving and surfacing would continue. After what
seemed like hours, with his grip finally failing and consciousness
slipping away, he felt one last powerful thrust and found himself
thrown up on dry land.

He rolled over
several times before stopping. The Wassin, who had saved him, was
half out of the water, looking straight at him like some hungry,
greedy shark. Then, with a flick of its tail, the creature was
gone.

Chris rolled
onto his side. In front of him, the mountains towered into the
clouds like a series of giant, white coated, metal spikes. The wind
had dropped and the sun was beginning to break through the clouds.
The warmth was magical. He crawled on his hands and knees higher up
the beach, shivering uncontrollably in his wet clothes. Waves of
exhaustion swept through him as he collapsed on his back. The rays
of sun on his skin felt marvellous. He closed his eyes and thought
he would sleep for just a moment.

An Ancient Race

Chris could hear his
mother and father discussing him in the kitchen. If he was quiet,
he could sneak over and listen by the door. But as he crept closer
he found it difficult to recognise their voices. They sounded very
nasal, and tended to hiss when they spoke.

‘He’ss a boy,
he’ss a boy,’ his mother was saying.

‘Yess, I ssee,’
his father said in a deeper and rather guttural voice.

‘What’ss a boy
doing wasshed up on the sshore?’ his mother said.

‘Maybe he’ss a
fissherboy?’

‘No, no
fissherboyss don’t dresss like that. And hiss handss are
ssoft.’

‘True, true
hiss hands are ssoft. Not hard like a fisherboy’ss handss.’

Chris jolted
awake. He wasn’t at home sneaking up on his parents. He was lost
and hungry in another dimension with little chance of ever finding
his way home. And who knew what creatures were about to attack him.
He kept very still with his eyes shut, hoping they would go
away.

‘Lovely
clothess,’ the female voice continued.

‘Yess, lovely
clothess,’ the deeper voice agreed.

‘Besst quality,
yess, besst quality,’ the female voice hissed. ‘Musst be from a
rich family over the other sside of the lake.’

‘Yess, musst
be,’ the deeper voice agreed.

‘Lookss very
thin.’

‘Yess. Lookss
very thin.’

‘Maybe he would
like ssome nice fressh fissh?’

‘Yess, maybe he
would like ssome nice fressh fissh.’

‘Sshall we wake
him and assk?’

‘Yess, let’ss
wake him.’

Chris was
nudged gently on his shoulder. With little choice, he rolled over
and sat up facing the direction of the voices. He found himself
staring at two of the most peculiar creatures he had ever seen.
They were smaller than him, covered in dark hair, with long noses
that looked more like snouts. But the strangest feature was their
eyes, which were completely black and actually protruded slightly
from their eye sockets.

‘Who are you?’
he blurted, rather too loudly.

The slightly
lighter coloured creature took a step toward him. ‘Very
impolite.’

‘Yess,’ the
darker haired creature knitted his hairy eyebrows, so they formed
one long black line. ‘Maybe he’ss jusst sscared?’

‘Yess, we
sshould introduce oursselvess. That may help.’

‘Yess that’ss a
good idea.’

The
lighter-coloured creature smiled, revealing a row of yellow teeth,
then bowed. ‘My name iss Casss,’ she hissed.

‘And mine iss
Dusss.’ The darker-coloured creature also bowed, revealing similar
rows of yellow teeth.

‘We are the
Nethral,’ Cass announced, in a rather proud tone.

This was
obviously meant to mean something, but Chris had no idea who they
were. ‘My name is Chris,’ he said finally, not knowing what else to
say.

‘Oh that’ss a
funny name,’ Cass said, her voice suddenly quickening and climbing
an octave.

‘Yess,’ Duss
agreed, ‘a very funny name. Where do you come from?’

‘From the other
side of the lake,’ Chris said cautiously. ‘I fell off a fishing
boat in the storm.’

‘Oh you musst
be a good sswimmer then,’ said Cass. ‘Don’t like sswimming
mysself.’

‘No, no,’
agreed Duss. ‘We don’t like the water.’

Chris nodded,
not knowing what to make of these two creatures. Were they just
acting silly, or was this their natural behaviour? Yet, he could
detect no hidden thoughts behind their words.

‘Have you seen
any other people or kids that look like me?’ he asked, deciding to
steer the conversation in a more sensible direction. ‘Or maybe some
wreckage washed up on the beach?’

Duss and Cass
looked at each other, then shook their heads vigorously. Too
vigorously, Chris thought. It was almost comical. If this was
Earth, he would have thought they were mocking him.

‘We’ve not
sseen anyone,’ Cass said.

‘But we’ve not
been looking,’ Duss added, tilting his head slightly to one
side.

‘Yess, yess,
that’ss true… we’ve not been looking,’ Cass confirmed.

Chris leaned
back trying to take stock of his situation. His senses told him
these creatures were totally harmless. He felt dizzy, hungry and
sore. The sun was still out, but it looked like late afternoon, and
there was no way of knowing if the others had made it to shore, or
how far away they were. He felt in his pockets. The key was still
there. And his clothes were nearly dry.