C.P. Bird - The Portaellen War Chronicles

For many years, she had been a loving and attentive lady. She had cared for the twins, as if they had been her own children. Her appearance, and that of the twins, was always immaculate. She lived by the virtues, of godliness and cleanliness.

Since their father’s last visit, her niece and nephew, had seen a dramatic change in their aunt’s personality, and general appearance. For someone, who had been a loving, caring person, it had been a quick and severe change. And, it was the twins, who bore the brunt, of that change.

‘Come on Maddie. You must get dressed. Before, the dragon screams at us again.’

Quickly, his sister dressed, as Josh tried coaxing Samson out, from below the chest of drawers. The frightened cat was having none of it.

The twins heard the kitchen door swing open, and the heavy footsteps, of their aunt, across the hallway. Josh and Maddie, stared at each other, and waited for the bellowing voice, to scream at them.

‘Get yourselves down here!’ roared their aunt. ‘Sharpish! Otherwise, there will be no supper tonight, for either of you!’

The kitchen door, instantly slammed.

‘What! No watery soup and mouldy bread, for supper,’ cried Josh sarcastically.

This bought a smile, to his sister’s face.

‘Come on,’ Josh started. ‘Before, she takes away the lumpy gruel, for breakfast, as well.’

Both children chuckled to themselves, as they closed the door, to their bedroom behind them. Whilst they made their way, quickly across the dank and dark landing, towards the stairs, they noticed, that the air had become thicker. Neither child, now smiled.

In the kitchen, their aunt waited. At her feet, were two metal buckets, filled with hot water, and a scrubbing brush, for each child. On the fire, a thin, but lumpy, liquid boiled. The sickly smell filled the kitchen.

Only, after countless chores, could breakfast be eaten. A breakfast, that neither child, relished.

Chapter Three

The Wulfdaeden Portal Point

Portaellen

Normauss had sprung out of the portal at Hells Point, (an inhospitable place, located in the wild north, of Wulfdaeden), wearing only the dirty cloak, he had been wearing, upon entry. He looked dishevelled and angry. This, as you will come to realise, is the troll’s normal look. If, at any point, he is being nice, he is only adapting to his situation, until he can return, to his more natural state.

Normauss glanced back briefly to watch, as the window of the portal, slowly closed until it was completely gone, from view, in the dark sky.

It had just begun to drizzle. Normauss shivered, as he pulled the hood of the cloak, over his head.

Making his way cautiously down the dark, rugged corridors of the ravine, the troll, remained vigilant. He felt a constant need to look around, at every nook and cranny that he could see, through the fine rain and darkness, as he continued, along the path. Normauss tried not to think about, what could be lurking, in the cold inky blackness, that his eyes could not penetrate. It felt, as if the rock formations and the night, would swallow him up, at any moment.

Normauss suddenly halted, in his tracks. He could see four red eyes, transfixed on him. The troll took the impulsive decision, to remain, where he stood. He was shaking. The combination, of the fine rain soaking him to the skin, and fear, caused his body to tremble. A cold shiver shot down his spine. He knew, who those red eyes belonged to.

The four red eyes were set into the two skulls of a creature, as black as night, who patrols Hells Point. It, is a two headed, black hound, built of pure muscle and power. The creature is thought to be, the only type of its breed. A deformed mutation.

He was found wandering through Hells Point as a puppy, lost, lonely and near death. It was thought that the creature, was abandoned by its mother. So, it was taken in by the local regiment, of Blackheart knights. They trained him, to hunt, track and kill. They watched, as the creature developed and evolved, through his early years.

Eventually, upon reaching adulthood, the hound was put to good use, guarding the ravine. Here, he developed new skills to survive the conditions, that he lived and hunted in. The name given to him; was Beorn. He would become known as, The Hound of Hells Point.

‘Good evening Beorn,’ Normauss called out. His voice wavered ever so slightly when he first spoke. ‘It’s me,’ he continued, ‘Normauss.’

Slowly, the troll walked towards the four red eyes, his hand gingerly held out, in a gesture of friendship. He had hoped, to feel the touch of the creature’s wet fur. And, not to lose his hand.

Normauss whimpered slightly, as two sets of yellow fangs, and four red eyes, suddenly crept closer, towards him, through the dark. Beorn, then let out, one deep and extremely aggressive bark, that shook the troll, to the core. The hound looked ready for the kill, as he came into view. The copious amounts, of foaming saliva, dripping from his fangs, did little to quell, the troll’s fear. The two sets of red eyes now narrowed and Beorn began to growl.

He looks possessed, Normauss thought to himself. The troll could now sense that the hound wanted blood.

‘Don’t, come any closer Normauss,’ a deep voice said, from the shadows. ‘You know, he’ll rip you to pieces.’

‘I thought, just maybe, he would recognise me, for once,’ Normauss whined.

‘You know, he loves troll meat,’ came the instant reply.

Normauss, did not answer. He chose instead, to stay perfectly still, as he eyed every move, that Beorn now made.

‘Stay there troll. Do not move.’

Normauss, listened to the advice, and remained rooted to the spot.

‘Beorn. Heel. Good boy.’ The command, from the shadows, instantly bought the creature, to a standstill.

Normauss breathed a huge sigh of relief. He now watched, as Beorn turned slowly, to face the other way, and walked towards the voice. He listened, as the hound, continued to growl, whilst dragging his heavy feet, across the rock-strewn floor, towards the voice.

‘Good boy,’ the voice, was now a lot calmer and soothing. ‘For you.’

Normauss, suddenly heard something heavy, thud to the ground. Moments later, came the sound of gnashing teeth, and the tearing of flesh. Followed by the grinding of bone. Hearing the sound, of the corpse being consumed, caused the troll to shudder once more, and slowly retreat, back on himself, into the relative safety, of the darkness.

Normauss watched, as four men promptly appeared from out of the shadows up ahead. They were dressed, in the red robes of Wulfdaeden. They wore black armour on their upper bodies that showed the symbol of their country’s flag. The Tri-Lance.

One of the men, a knight, of obvious strength and agility, with a scar of significant length, going down his left cheek, stepped forward, as a loud rumble of thunder, echoed through the ravine.

‘We have orders, from our master and king, to bring you urgently, to the Fortress Of Fear. He impatiently awaits your report. He threw, Normauss a blanket. ‘For you troll. Put it on.’ He growled, ‘We wouldn’t want you getting a chill.’ The knight’s tone was sarcastic, as he finished, ‘Would we men?’

‘No,’ mocked his men, as they replied together.

‘All right. Thanks. Saves me a walk,’ replied Normauss, as a stupid grin, suddenly emerged, across his face. He, then proceeded, to pick up the blanket, and throw it over his soddened robes. ‘Nice blanket. Thanks.’ As he spoke, Normauss winked at the knight, who had thrown him, the blanket.

The knight didn’t seem impressed with the troll’s childish remark. As, he grabbed Normauss’s wrist, he scowled at him, before sharply pulling him, past Beorn.

Beorn, was not interested in Normauss, anymore. The hound’s heads were still ripping apart the carcass, that had been given to them.