Wildmane by Todd Fahnestock

Author:Todd Fahnestock [Fahnestock, Todd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Parker Hayden Media
Published: 2018-05-14T22:00:00+00:00

35

Mirolah

The next day, Medophae asked if she’d like to go for a hike up toward the cliffs near Denema’s Valley. The idea of being alone with him coursed through her like wine. He wanted to show her something from his past, share something.

“Where?” she asked.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said, and that was that. They packed a lunch, and after a nod and a brittle smile from Orem, she and Medophae set off on their hike.

He guided her confidently through the forest, navigating around tightly clustered trees, knitted together with moss-covered vines. When the path vanished into undergrowth, he tore branches out of their way. When the way narrowed, he twisted sideways and slipped through the gaps. She watched the play of muscles in his arms, how he shifted so easily between force and grace. She was so engrossed in watching him move that she bumped into him when he abruptly stopped before an archway in the mossy mountainside.

“Sorry,” she said, backing up. “What is this?”

“Portal.”

She almost couldn’t see it, it was so overgrown. But she could make out a shape obviously constructed by human hands, a nine-foot-tall arch that came to a point. It looked like it should have led somewhere, but it didn’t; it recessed into the rock about six inches deep. There were carvings along the edges of it, but most of those were covered over with vines and moss.

He took hold of the vines and ripped them aside, revealing carved symbols beneath as golden fire danced about his back and arms. The symbols were crude but compelling, appropriate for the wild surroundings. He ran his fingers over them.

“Behold my attempt at art,” he said.

“You made this?”

“Bands did most of it.”

“Oh...” She didn’t want him to talk about her. She wanted this moment to belong to her and Medophae. “What does it do?”

“It moves you from one place to another, instantly. This one goes to Calsinac.”

“There are others?”

“Yes. They all go to Calsinac. Or more accurate to say, they all come from Calsinac.”

“Why?”

“Calsinac was so remote. We needed to be able to communicate easily with other kingdoms. Only the leaders of Denema’s Valley knew of this one. Bands said knowledge of such gates could be dangerous.”

“Where else did you build these portals?”

“Seabreak. Belshra. Southrock. Wayland. Buravar. Tiernan. And other cities long since vanished.”

“I don’t know any of those places except Buravar. Or wait. Actually, I think Orem mentioned Belshra in his story about The Vampire’s Wager.”

“Hmmm.”

“That’s the story where you outwitted the evil vampire Darva. She thought herself a queen, stole the princess. She made you face the dramath’s riddle. But you beat it and rescued Princess Silasa, who would otherwise have become an evil vampire like Darva.”

“I see.”

“Please tell me that one is true,” she said. “It’s one of my new favorites.”

“Orem is a good storyteller.” But his eyes were downcast, and his happy mood vanished.

Mirolah inwardly cursed herself. She was acting like a vapid little girl again, asking whatever silly questions popped to mind.

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