The Magician: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel: Book One of the Rogue Portal Series (27 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

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Once again Connor found himself in a crumpled mess on the ground in front of the mirror. He hadn't been able to save Kit. Hadn't been able to do anything but watch as the Demafae encroached, reached her, killed her for all he knew.

              "Oh, dear, it's so adorable how you try so hard to save them all."

              The voice belonged to Rumsfeld. Connor knew it before he'd uttered his first two words. The voice made him squirm. And then, in short order, filled him with the same blinding rage he'd become so accustomed to. Rising from the ground he spun around to face Rumsfeld.

              "You've gone too far this time! I don't know where you get off screwing around with everyone's lives, but you're done. I'll make sure of that."

              "Oh, Connor, please. She went quite willingly."

              "You're a liar! There's no way Kit would have willingly gone into the Void. After all, you control it, right? So nothing she did could have been a choice."

              "Doing your homework I see?"

              "I have to with a slithering snake like yourself running the show."

              "A snake?" He put a hand over his heart as though genuinely hurt.

              "You think you can go around intimidating everyone, cutting people off at the ankles, poisoning everyone and everything around you. But I see through you. You're a cowardly showman who can produce a few good illusions but can't lift a finger to do any real fighting."

              "I don't need to physically fight anyone when I'm in possession of my unique set of skills."

              "What's that? Selfishness and a willingness to toss out all resemblance of morality?"

              "No, my dear. Manipulation and magic. Although really they're the same thing, aren't they? Your kind are quite good at the former. When you put it with the real magic, it becomes a real game changer."

              "Yeah and you're all about changing the game, aren't you?"

              "Your people here say it best, don't you? Divide and conquer isn't it?"

              "I KNEW it! I knew you were behind this! Your entire goal was to try and tear us apart!"

              "Try? I think I've quite succeeded in that endeavor, don't you think?"

              He spoke casually, inspecting the back of his hands as though to add insult to injury, mocking him and his pain.

              "I'm going back, and I'm going to find Hazel and Stuart, and when I do we're going to band together. And then you'll be as good as dead. Because none of us have anything left to lose. Thanks to you."

              "That's admirable, Lovey, but if you're going to find them, you'll have to go where they are."

              "My thoughts exactly. So if you'll excuse me."

              Connor spun around, prepared to walk away from him, go back to the hotel, get Hazel, and find Stuart. It was time they stood up for themselves.

              "They're not out there, Galveston."

              His heart froze.

              "What the hell do you mean?"

              Turning back toward Rumsfeld he narrowed his eyes, balling his fists at his side.

              "If you're going to find your friends, and your dearly departed lover, you'll have to be where they are. And I'm afraid they're nowhere to be found on Earth."

              He gestured toward the mirror. First, Connor saw Stuart. He was walking through the woods, a look of anger and desperate sadness plastered on his face. Before Connor could blink he saw Demafae coming from the woods, grabbing Stuart by each arm like two cops taking away a prisoner. Though the image had no sound, he could see Stuart screaming. Kicking. Fighting. And then they disappeared from sight in a blinding flash of blue.

              Connor's heart sank. He knew what was next. What had to be next.

              "No...please no..."

              "Just wait." Rumsfeld smiled.

              Hazel appeared, sitting cross-legged still on the floor of their hotel room. She turned a page of the book, and then jumped suddenly, shaking her hand as though she'd been stung or had gotten a paper cut. Without warning, a bony hand reached from the spine of the book, grabbed her, and another flash of blue took her away as the book clattered to the ground.

              Connor's breath was no more than ragged gasps at this point.

              "What have you done?" He asked Rumsfeld through gritted teeth, still looking into the mirror as though there was anything but his own reflection to be seen.

              "Oh please, Dearie. You should be thanking me."

              Connor turned to face Rumsfeld once more, and the man smiled a sickening smile of satisfaction.

              "You want to be a hero and save the world so badly....well now I'm going to give you the chance."

              And with a sudden flick of his hand, Connor felt himself flying backwards, and instead of feeling the shattering of glass behind him saw a flash of blue, darkness, and then landed hard on his hands and knees. He looked up, and clenched his jaw as he took in the familiar surroundings. Rumsfeld had sent him through the portal and deposited him on the floor of the Celestarium.

TWENTY-NINE

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Connor stood, gazing around the empty Celestarium, knowing it was only a matter of time before Rumsfeld appeared. Anger fueled him. Anger and hatred and rage. All the things he'd never wanted to be associated with, but which now filled him. All of them directed at Rumsfeld, and Eleanor, and all the people who had anything to do with the whole mess.

              He balled his fists at his side and felt paper crinkle in his right hand. He held the paper up, identifying it as a scroll. Opening it he found a map of the Void, much like the one Hazel had drawn, only this one was more detailed and...were the images moving?
A gift from Rumsfeld, no doubt.
He chuckled.

              As though on cue he heard a pop, and Rumsfeld materialized in front of him, the same satisfied smile drawn across his face.

              "What the hell is this?" Connor asked.

              "Well I see you've skipped over the pleasantries."

              "Those ended when you killed my father and mother and kidnapped my friends."

              "Mm. Fair enough, I suppose."

              "So what the hell is it?" He held up the map.

              "You know exactly what it is. It's a map."

              "And where are Hazel and Stuart and Kit?"

              "Oh, they're around, never you fear. But it wouldn't be any fun to just
tell
you, now, would it?"

              The sing-songy nature of his voice made Rumsfeld want to punch him, but he thought better of it. He had no time left to waste. Whatever mission Rumsfeld wanted to send him on, he needed as much information as he could. And if that meant courting the devil for awhile longer, he'd do it.

              "So where would you suggest I start looking for them? Couldn't hurt to give me that much, could it?" The edge on his voice was intentional.

              "Wherever you like, really. But, as in all things, the beginning is an excellent place to start. Don't you think?"

              "Why did you do this? Why did you bring us all here?"

              "I offered you a chance, Connor. A rare opportunity to hand over the portal." Connor's hand instinctively found the portal around his neck. "But you wouldn't take it. And because you wouldn't hand it over willingly, I'm afraid I had to bring you here. Now you get the chance to fight for it. And maybe you'll find your friends in the process. The scroll in your hands, that map, is far better than the one darling Hazel drew for you, because this one is - shall we say - interactive."

              "And how does one go about interacting with it?"

              "Intention, Love. After all, intention guides everything, doesn't it? The deep, dark matter that we shove underneath the shiny exterior. That's the stuff that really counts." He leaned forward and got so close to Connor their noses were almost touching. "That's the stuff that gets things done, don't you think?"

              "So what am I to do? How do I fight for this portal? What's keeping you from taking it right now?"

              "The same things that were keeping me from taking it before. Long story, I'd hate to beleaguer your quest. After all, you have quite the journey ahead of you. Start with the First Hour and work your way around." He pointed to the map. "You'll be told everything you need to know. You'll find your way. And you'll be given the chance to find out why it is you're here, defend the portal, and accomplish your mission."

              "Which is?"

              "Soon to be revealed. Full disclosure is a bore."

              "And if I fail?"

              "I wouldn't leave an opening for that, Lovey. If you fail, you die. As do all of your friends." He narrowed his eyes and took a step back. "Assuming, of course, that they're still alive when you find them. You know by now that the Rogue Portal, which currently lies in your possession, allows you to travel throughout the realms. You can do that by intention, a skill you'll learn later on. But I'll help you out with the first one."

              He smiled and extended his hands in true showman fashion.

              "Ready to go save the world?"

              "You have no idea," Connor said, quelling the nerves in his stomach.

              "Very well then. This is your chance to stop playing the hero and actually be one. I suggest you get started."

              He raised his hand as though to conduct an orchestra, and then stopped.

              "Oh and one more thing, Dearie."

              "What."

              "Welcome to the Void."

              And with that, Rumsfeld swished his hand and the world went black and blue.

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   THE END 
 
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