Portalcraft and Portalmancy 101

Skott snapped his fingers three times in quick succession. The sound scarcely carried over the still-roaring din of the encroaching ocean. 

“Oh! Oh! Stochastic terrorism. That’s the phrase!” he declared. “Nobody in some guerrilla command center decreed that the Gobhollow archaeological site had to be destroyed. Instead, concerned parties in high places just put out a constant drumbeat of grumbling about how the dig’s findings were an affront to elvan culture, yeah? It implies that something must be done to stop this affront to elvan honor, and these unaffiliated elvan farmers take it from there.”

Scholarly Grognar nodded understandingly, as did stately Lamora. Lucy mostly looked like she was still wondering what ‘stochastic’ meant, while steely-eyed Skottson and Sethset appeared to be keeping up.

That gang of elvan farmers had already sauntered off. A great gulf of churning water now stood between Lamora’s posse and the far side of the pit; it would take a good day’s walk to round the pit now that there was an ocean in the way.

At least we don’t have to worry about those guys causing more problems, Skott thought. He wondered if he should feel angrier about the group of seemingly random elves across the way. They had almost killed his family, after all. Thankfulness for being alive won out over bitterness for having been put into such a situation, for now.

“Escaped by the skin of our teeth,” Skott said, still doubled-over beside the carriage they’d taken here. His spine wasn’t going to forgive him for carrying a near-grown half-orc up a steep hill anytime soon.

“Are you okay, Skott?” Lamora knelt down beside him.

“I’ll… be fine,” Skott lied.

The orc’s large hands began to knead at his shoulders anyway. His pain alleviated as the hands made their way up and down his back.

“Wow. You’re a wizard.” Skott chuckled. “Guess I didn’t really need a deep massage south of age twenty.”

“I’m enhancing my palms with minor healing magic,” Lamora explained.

Skott laughed, which turned into a slight groan as she healed up another crick in his back. Wizard, indeed.

Old memories of Lamora healing battlefield scars rushed through Skott’s head. She’d used a similar technique back then.

“Sooooo,” Skott began. “Uh, nobody knows you’re here. Could the P.M’s near-death by drowning going to cause any problems?”

“Provided nobody finds out,” Lamora said with a minor chuckle. “My body double should more than be capable of handling the mage’s conference.”

Skott shrugged. So long as she insisted, he’d trust her judgement.

“The blood-obsidian…” Skott leaned into the healing touch. “Wonder how long it will take for the portal ring to be repaired.”

“About that!” Grog said.

Their scholarly son had set up another, more hastily-erected tent to work on by what was now a cliffside overlooking the water.

“… We’ve got two doses. I can install one into your ring in a jiff and it shouldn’t break on you again. Then we’ll take this second one back to the college with us and set up a second ring for a backup.”

“How long do you have before you must be back in your world?” Lamora asked.

“I… can’t remember,” Skott admitted. “Probably better to get home sooner rather than later.”

It’s just a temporary return this time, he told himself. With the ring, I can come back at my leisure.

Sethset kept his eyes on the sky. The clouds above were eerily still. They were arranged in a few sheets angling inland. Skottson suggested a storm was coming.

“You have to return to sort out something called… ‘vacation time’?” Lamora asked.

The massage was done. Skott got to his feet and could tell in an instant that his spine problems were gone and his mobility was restored.

“Ah. Yes. It’s, well, at my job, I cashed in a year’s worth of accumulated vacation to afford the time to come here. Oh, I still plan on visiting whenever time allows. I just need to sort out, well, I might want to look into phasing that job out of my life anyway. Their vacation packages are hardly competitive for the field.”

The only reason Skott had so much vacation to spare at once was because he’d previously be hoarding it and neglecting to take spare days off for his health.

“Sounds wonderful,” Lamora said. “To be able to just drop all the responsibilities of your job and get away from it all.”

Skott looked out into the silt-heavy water. He supposed her mini-getaway hadn’t quite been relaxing. Then again, his vacation to Aeirun wasn’t shaping up to be a relaxing time either.

“They, uh, don’t have vacations where you’re from?” Skott asked with a nervous flourish. “Being head of state must be a stressful job.”

“Mmm. I’d love to geta way and unwind.” Lamora nodded.

The pair turned to face each other. Her lips are really close, Skott thought. Their cheeks turned a deep blushing shade; his rosy, hers emerald. Her features had softened a bit with age, even as her orc physique had caused Lamora to now be a bit taller than her human.

“Ah, let’s… go see how that portal ring is shaping up,” Skott said, blushing deeper still.

Lamora glanced about. “Yes, right. Ah, let’s.”

Both were acutely aware of Lucy looking at them from across the way with a goofy, fangs-bared grin on her face. They mutually ignored her and checked out Grog’s tent.

+++

Skott and Lamora had mostly skipped the will-they-or-won’t-they phase during their first journey together in Aeirun. They’d grown close during Skott’s otherworldly adventure, saved the day against the high king of the elvan, then sort of just slunk off during the victory party after round four of sweet-mead.

Having their hands brush together as they entered the ringsmith’s tent of someone who was, it must be stressed, the product of those victory celebrations, elicited new feelings in Skott. He felt like his cheeks were on fire.

“Oh, hello there. Mother.” Grognar nodded to Lamora, then turned to Skott. “S—ahem, Father. I’m almost done!”

A mobile-friendly collection of lenses and drills, like some kind of combination optometrist-slash-dentist’s office contraption, sat on a fold-out table. Lucy’s chipped portal ring sat firmly fastened within the device. A fresh layer of sticky red substance lay plastered over the crack in the crimson orb.

“Just needs a bit of time to dry,” Grog announced. “After which, why, the coastal region is a hotbed of portal activity! Best hypothesis is that it’s due to all the blood-obsidian deposits under the shoreline, but that’s not important right now. Come, let’s get it into the sun to dry, then we’ll give it a whirl!”

The group waited as Grognar held the ring high to the sun. That ample cloud cover slowed things down a bit, but the blood-obsidian seal dried up all the same. When it was done, Grog handed it back to his sister, Lucy.

“Alas, I suppose you’ll be taking this one.” Lucy-Kignora in turn handed the ring to Skott.

Skott put this ring on his finger. He used to have an old varsity ring from high school, and to his surprise, the blood-obsidian portal ring felt right around the same weight and shape.

“What, do I say some magic words?” he asked.

“It’s calibrated to your bloodline,” Lucy explained. “So it should be even easier for you to wield! Just flick your wrist and envision your destination.”

“It may, in fact, help to initiate the portal conjuring with some kind of command phrase,” Grog added.

Skott blinked slowly to clear his thoughts.

“Right. There’s… no place like home?” he began.

The human imagined Earth, and imagined what another portal to his home realm would look like. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a shift in the winds, another oval fissure in reality opened up. It was night back on Earth, but he could see some street lights off in the distance.

“Fascinating,” said Grog. “As much as I’d enjoy an expedition to your alien homeworld myself, we really should wait until a more steady supply of blood-obsidian is acquired before jumping through these things willy-nilly. Best keep at least one portalmancy expert on the Aeirunian side, yes?”

“So once I’m through, I can use this ring to get back?” Skott asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t about to be separated from the family for another sixteen years.

Grog nodded. “While you can always hop back through, I’ll note that blood-obsidian supplies are limited. I kept the larger of the two stones to take back to the tower. Just… do whatever Earth-business you need take care of. By then, we should be able to facilitate your return back at the mage’s tower.”

“We found you once, after all,” Lucy said with a nod.

Air from a humid night wafted through the portal. It would’ve been muggy back on Earth, but in contrast with an Aeirunian afternoon, it was downright refreshing.

Skott looked back to his fantasy orc-family. Lamora stood in the center of her—their—kids.

“Don’t be gone so long this time,” she said. “I’ll be waiting again, Skott of Omaha.”

Again, Skott blushed. “Don’t worry. Just have to sort a few things out. Shouldn’t be more than a day this time. Promise.”

Sort out some more leave… and one other thing. Skott sighed, preparing for an awkward conversation Earthside.

She grinned at Lamora, who also blushed. Then, Skott stepped through the portal.

+++

Acclimatization had come fast for Skott. This humid summer night now felt a little chilly. Boston was no stranger to cold nights. But this…

Skott looked around. He was standing in a parking lot.

“A… hospital?” Skott said to himself. “Wait a minute…”

Wide-open, gently rolling hills spread out in all directions, blocked only by the sight of additional buildings. It sure wasn’t the Boston ‘burbs.

With a flick of his wrist, Skott opened the portal again, just a crack. Grog and Lucy’s heads appeared through the narrow opening.

“Hmmm? Coming back so soon?” Grog asked.

“Hey, this isn’t my house. This thing sent me back to Omaha!”