Terranum

 " "…A hundred generations of the Silver House will pass before the peoples of Terranum once again receive the grace of opening the Portal of the Human Brothers of the Elves. This will happen when two suns scorch the Earth of Tharkas, and in the north the Boggart Ice Medelkharts cross the Ocean of Darkness. Only the Chosen One will cross the Veil of Time so that the lost nations may find each other."

XII Prophecy of Sharen

The Book of Heavenly Portals

Monday is the most hated day of the week for 90% of humanity, at least that part that does what it most dislikes, work. I dragged myself out of bed at twenty past seven. Feeling a throbbing pain in my skull reminding me of yesterday evening spent in the pub with friends from my previous job, I skipped the shower, rinsing only what was necessary for a somewhat normal functioning. I ran out of the house, proving to myself that it was possible to make it to the editorial office, three blocks away, by eight o'clock.

Squeezing through working people who were in the same hurry as me, or who were already late, I made my way to the office building where our newly launched newspaper, "Życie w Mieście," was anchored.

The newspaper's launch was my salvation. I was fed up with working for a company that, to paraphrase Tolkien, "must not be named," with the harassment of a furious, schizophrenic boss and his even more deranged concubine. Working for that company was depressing and frustrating, and the stupidity of the owners was beyond mere seven-league boots! So, when I heard about the newspaper's opening, I practically kneeled down and took my resume to the editor. Then came a short interview and a spot in the Sports section! The job change was like a refreshing sea breeze...

The day promised to be bleak. A drizzling rain made everything gray and featureless. Cars glided lazily through traffic, sleepy salespeople opening sleepy shops. Here and there, a colorful umbrella embellished the blackness of traditional raincoats. "Yesterday," but full of enthusiasm, I trudged along the uneven sidewalk, the cold autumn drizzle bombarding my face with thousands of tiny droplets, when my attention was drawn to a man dressed like something out of a dark western. The tails of his worn leather coat fluttered to the rhythm of the strides of his massive, equally worn hiking boots. His simple, wide-brimmed hat, beneath which long, straight, raven-black hair fell to his shoulders, was pulled tight over his eyes. As I passed him, I smelled a strange scent, like forest and flowers, though I couldn't quite pinpoint which ones. Partly because my knowledge of flowers, or rather their scents, was scant, or rather nonexistent, and partly because the scent vanished so quickly. I stopped. For a moment, my thoughts racing, I stood staring at the man. I decided to turn around and follow him, at least for a while. I reached for my cell phone and dialed the editor's number. Agata, the editor's secretary, answered, a shapely young blonde doing her student internship there. I told her I'd be an hour late because I might have some interesting material for an article in the next issue. The

rain had stopped, and the sun peeked out from between the clouds, brightening the streets. I followed him twenty paces away. He was of average height, like me. His narrow shoulders carried a backpack that matched his coat and hat. However, when the sun hit it, it turned a dull green. An odd clasp caught my eye. I'd never seen one like it before. It was a brooch in the shape of a green maple leaf, shimmering with a metallic sheen.

I followed him for a few minutes, wondering why I was doing this. Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed him turn into a side street. I waited a moment and then turned into it too. He was walking confidently between empty cardboard boxes and orange garbage cans. To the right rose the ramp of an old warehouse, probably a meat processing plant. The chipped paint on the walls indicated it had been unused for a long time. Water dripped from a leaky, rusty gutter. I tried to tread carefully so as not to attract his attention with any unnecessary noise.

He turned right into a narrow, oval-topped gate. I quickened my pace so as not to lose sight of him. The gate led to a typical inner courtyard, surrounded by the four-story walls of post-war tenement houses. In several places, irregular holes were visible, from which the communist plaster had probably fallen off. The walls rose high, narrowing toward the vault of the still-overcast sky. The yard was strewn with scattered old newspapers and debris blown by the wind.

But there wasn't a soul in sight!

Each wall had doors leading to the stairwell. I quickly scanned the windows, hoping to spot the shadow of a man climbing the stairs. Unfortunately, there was no sign of movement. Angry with myself, I walked to the first door on the right. It was locked. The same with the next one, and the next. Wait a minute, something's not right here. I thought to myself. Either the guy had realized I was following him and hid by blocking one of the doors, or... Exactly, or what? Or... he'd disappeared?! He hadn't just flown out of nowhere!

I was already imagining my boss scolding me for being late. And what would I tell him? That I'd been following some freak and he'd disappeared?! Or that he'd flown away?

I turned, eager to get to the newsroom as quickly as possible. My heart stopped for a split second, then sped up into a gallop. Standing half a meter away was this guy!

I looked into his cold, unnaturally wide blue eyes. He stared at me unblinkingly, as if probing my thoughts. I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead and a shiver run down my spine. He had perfectly formed facial features, I'd say perfect, without the stubble I'd almost expected. A straight, slightly pointed nose, incredibly pale skin, just a touch of pink on the cheeks. Gay?! I thought. Gay—a psychopath?!

I'd have loved to run away, but this guy blocked my only escape route. When my initial moment of panic subsided, I decided to use one of my gifts. I'm quite a diplomat, after all. I wanted to speak up, improvise something quickly, make a fool of myself, but he beat me to it.

"Why are you following me?" He had such a resonant voice. Masculine, to be sure, but somehow somehow melodious.

I took a step back, taking a stance. After all, you'd seen a few movies where a lone hero could take on even an entire army of villains. Ready for the slightest move, I decided it was better to tell him the truth.

"Allow me to introduce myself," I said in a voice unlike my own, the tone of which surprised me. "My name is Michał Sienkiewicz." I slowly reached into my jacket pocket for my business card. The man watched my hand closely. I offered it to him.

"I'm a journalist for the newspaper 'Życie w Mieście' and I wanted to talk to you about your stay in our city, because judging by your attire..."

He gave me a half-smile and, before I could finish, said,

"Am I supposed to believe you're following me to interview me?"

I nodded, wondering if I'd believe myself in his shoes.

"You know, it might seem strange," I began to explain, "but I really am a journalist. Check my business card."

In a split second , he landed a blow to my forehead. I fell backward against the door. Sliding down, before darkness descended, I saw him standing over me. I lost consciousness.

I woke up in the corner of a dimly lit hall. A searing pain in my arms brought me back to consciousness. I was chained. My arms were twisted behind me, bound at the elbows and wrists. My legs at the ankles and knees. Lying on my side, I looked around the room. A cold concrete floor, worn by the ravages of time. The same walls, with their stained windows. Metal spans and supports supporting a leaky tin roof. Dusty papers and cardboard remnants of the industrial use of the place, scattered everywhere, gave the impression of an abandoned and forgotten place. In the opposite corner, in a storage room, a lamp on, three figures sat hunched over a table. One of them was my "acquaintance" in a hat. The other two hid their identities under dark hoods. They spoke in hushed tones, making it impossible to understand. The pain in my limbs had subsided somewhat, so I decided not to wait for events to unfold and tried to free myself. I began to move my bound hands vigorously, but whoever was binding me knew exactly how to do it. Despite the cold, I was sweating as I struggled against the bonds, but the effect was only to graze my wrists painfully.

The door to the storage room opened with a creak. I froze and closed my eyes, feigning unconsciousness. I heard approaching footsteps. I felt a presence above me. One of the hooded figures spoke in the same resonant voice as the man in the hat.

"You've hit Lord Fabian. Perhaps he's been hit too hard?

Lord Fabian?! I thought it was some pseudo-aristocratic conspiracy. My tormentor was called Fabian and was some kind of lord. As long as they weren't psychos who had made up their minds, and I, the fool, had fallen into a hole without even trying!

"He'll be fine," the hatter said dispassionately. "We need to wake him up and question him. He's been asleep for a long time..."

I felt a nudge from my boot against my leg. What am I going to lie about? I pretended to wake up. I narrowed my eyes and quickly surveyed the other two. One was a man very much like a cowboy, except instead of a hat, he wore a hooded cape, from beneath which hung lighter hair. The other figure was undoubtedly a woman. She had slimmer shoulders, and her cape reached the ground, hiding her feet. A medallion in the shape of an eight-pointed star, suspended from what was probably a silver chain, jingled on her chest. From beneath the hood hung a thick, waist-length blond braid, woven into which was a gold ribbon.

"Oh!" " He's waking up," the hatter's companion observed.

"You're a smart one... no doubt," I said, and immediately regretted it.

I was instantly kicked in the shin. I hissed in pain and said through my teeth, "It wouldn't have been so easy if I hadn't been tied up. Unless you like kicking tied-up people lying on the ground. Sucker! "

"I'll gladly try," he replied.

"Easy, Danbert!" the hatter stopped him.

The woman, who had been silent until then, spoke in a melodious, melodious voice: "What does 'sucker' mean?"

"Something... like a client, but in that sense... a simple insult, ma'am," the hatter hurried to explain.

"Who are you?" I asked. "Some bunch of pseudo-aristocratic lunatics?"

That hothead kicked me again. I howled this time because I got hit in the exact same place. "I'll teach you some respect, you dog!" he said angrily. Again the hatter called him to order.

"Gentlemen! Calm down! You're behaving like children!"

With a reprimand in her melodic voice, the woman put them in their place. As if on cue, they both bowed their heads and apologized together with a humility worthy of a goddess.

"It seems the human truly knows nothing about us," she said. And I began to ponder their strange speech and all the other details that seemed out of place to me. The woman didn't know the meaning of the word "sucker," the guests addressed her as "Madam" with such respect and reverence, they looked so pale and dressed differently. I must be going paranoid! I thought I was about to start believing in aliens! I immediately dismissed these sick thoughts, scolding myself. I'd always had an overactive imagination.

"Sir, have you heard the name Terranum?" she asked.

She strangely charmed me, because I wanted to respond to her with the same respect and reverence as her companions, and I immediately wanted to tell her my whole life story.

"No, I've never heard that word," I managed, however.

A mocking smile spread across the hooded man's face, but he refrained from commenting. Instead, the hatter spoke up:

"Then why were you following me?

" "I'll repeat it again." I wanted to interview you for the newspaper. If you hadn't hit me, I would have called my boss, who would have confirmed it.

The woman's eyebrows rose in question, and she looked at the hatter, but she didn't say a word. He immediately rushed to explain.

"A boss is a supervisor of employees. His language is a bit... different from ours. And words have a slightly different meaning from our ladies." Then he turned to me and said,

"It seems you've accidentally stepped into some serious... if you'll excuse me, some serious trouble."

He glanced at the woman, who nodded. The hatter's companion clearly had doubts, but I beat him to it.

"If you can sort this out, I'll call the editor." I sensed my chance. "I have my phone in my pocket."

"No need, sir," the woman said. "The fewer people know about our... mission, the better.

" "Madam, it's an unnecessary risk!"

The woman silenced the hooded man with a decisive gesture. "Enough! Danbert..." I felt a strange shiver as she spoke. The man called Danbert fell silent instantly. "We'll let you go. But you can't tell anyone about us or this place. Besides, Fabian will take care of that."

Finishing her words, she turned and walked away to the closet. The hooded Danbert followed her, giving me a meaningful look.

The hatter stood over me, legs spread. He drew an intricately carved dagger, the blade engraved with some symbols or runes I didn't understand. Without ceremony, he turned me onto my stomach and cut the bonds with a confident slash. I felt relief, and then the familiar pain as circulation returned to my limbs. I sat up, rubbing my legs and arms alternately. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement on the floor nearby. The rope that bound me came to life! The severed pieces shifted and reconnected!

"What the fuck is that?!" I shouted in astonishment. The hatter said in a calm voice, "This is Pallithias rope; it's woven with the hair of Pallithia, a goddess from my country.

" "So what kind of country is this where ropes come alive, people walk around dressed like cowboys, and talk to each other in archaic ways?

" "Let's go, I'll show you something."

He helped me stand. I noticed that, considering his size, he lifted me with ease. As I stood, I felt dizzy. It was the remnants of the blow to my forehead. I leaned on his arm. Helping me, he led me to the storage room.

I sat down heavily on the empty chair. The Hatter poured me a disposable cup of some liquid from a green canteen he'd pulled from his backpack. I drank it in one gulp. It tasted oddly sweet and sour, but I felt better. Fabian waited a moment, looked at the woman, who nodded again, and began:

"As you've noticed, we're dressed strangely for you, and we also speak a language you wouldn't normally understand, were it not for the fact that you clearly possess telepathic talent and understand our thoughts more than our speech. Only I know your language."

I reached into my pants pocket and felt for the plastic box. There was a soft click. I wanted to say something, but he stopped me with a gesture and continued.

"We come from another reality, from which you humans migrated here thousands of years ago. I know this sounds like a fairy tale to you, but I'm telling you this so you'll understand our intentions."

I laughed nervously. What's he saying? Fairy tales?! This is science fiction! Another reality, telepathic talent, what kind of nonsense is this?!

"Many thousands of your years have passed since the Portal connecting our worlds was closed by the Dark Lord Nathanus's curse. The Dark Lord cast the curse moments before his death, which is why it was so powerful and so effective. In our world, magic is used, a fundamental part of the existence of all races. We have naturally advanced further than you here. Terranum, as our world is called, simply developed faster. And yet we are filled with admiration that with such rudimentary knowledge of magic, or rather, with almost no knowledge of it, your race has survived and developed.

"Break!" I thought. But I only looked at him with a surprised expression.

"I came here in search of the Chosen One," he continued, "of whom our ancient books and prophecies speak. This man will have the gift that will allow us to reconnect our worlds. For now, the Portal is unstable, and the passage of someone from your... race would result in his death." When the time comes, I will find you, and you will help me search for the Chosen One. For obvious reasons, we keep this place secret. If anyone of your race were to carelessly enter the Portal, it would be destroyed, and the passage would disappear forever! As you've already noticed, we differ in appearance. We are a different race. You call us elves.

If I hadn't already been seated, I would surely have fallen! "Elves?! I gasped, "the kind with pointy ears?!"

At my question, Lord Fabian took off his hat and brushed his hair back from his ear. It was... pointy! As if on cue, the others pulled down their hoods. Their ears were also pointy! They smiled, amused, at my expression. Only now could I take a closer look at the woman. She had similar features to her companions, only somehow more noble. Overall, she was beautiful and so... delicate. In the center of her forehead, between her lovely blue eyes, was a complex symbol, inscribed with an eight-pointed star. As I stared at them, I began to believe they were fairytale creatures. I only managed to utter a surprised curse. They put their covers back on, and Fabian continued his tale.

"There are no humans in our world. You left because of a curse, to this world that was separated. The other races stayed with us.

" "Tell me, dwarves exist too!" I blurted out.

"Dwarves," he corrected me, and began to list off. "Elves, gnomes, halflings, harpies, satyrs, and the greatest enemies of all living things – dragons!

" "Dragons?!!" I shouted. "Nooooo... No way! I won't believe that! Magic... Oooh! And witches and sorceresses?"

"I assure you, though I know it seems utterly absurd to you. Ours is the primordial world, where everything began, from which everything originated. There are seven worlds to which Portals lead. The gods intended that each of them would be dedicated to a separate race, but due to the Dark Lord's machinations, the magical balance has been disturbed. A war rages on in Terranum, and we are losing. The elves, dwarves, and smaller races can no longer hold back the onslaught of the dragons and their leader, Lord Remanthilldros, who has seized control of the Portal of the Five Dragons and is importing his mutated kin in ever-increasing numbers. We must unite our worlds as quickly as possible to save Terranum.

" "If Remanthilldros takes over Terranum, he will have access to all the Portals, and then life on all the worlds would be threatened," the woman interjected, her voice trembling. I thought she couldn't be lying. Tears shone in her beautiful eyes.

"All races, like you, would be trapped by the curse in their own separate worlds, and the Dark Lord would conquer each world one by one and enslave the races," Lord Fabian continued.

"Lady Ellamina here is the queen of our world. Our family has been guardians of the Portals for centuries, which is why we are here to search for the Chosen One. We will contact you soon. We are only awaiting the final data that will allow us to determine the location of the Chosen One."

Everyone stood up, so I stood up too, realizing the story was over. I was stunned by what I had heard. My mind was so muddled I couldn't form a coherent sentence. We left the locker room.

"What will become of me now?" I managed to ask.

I received no answer. The queen approached Fabian, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him. Then she approached me. I was about to kiss her, but she simply placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "Sir, wait for a sign from Lord Fabian. We will see each other soon, and then our fate will all depend on you."

The next moment, the illusion of the old warehouse vanished. The Portal appeared before my eyes in all its glory! A three-meter oval framed in gold, richly carved with ancient runes older than all of humanity. It glowed with a brilliant white light that dazzled my eyes, making me water. I almost fainted. The Queen and her companion stepped into the light, which grew even brighter, and... The Portal vanished.

"Now you must return to your life. I'll escort you. The drink you drank will make you forget everything. I've reinforced it with a spell that will temporarily block certain facts from your memory. But don't worry," he reassured me, seeing that I was about to protest. "You'll remember everything when you come into contact with anything related to this matter. The spell is designed so that your memory will return when you see my face. Let's go, there's no time to waste."

As promised, he escorted me to the yard where I was abducted. It turned out that the place was about ten minutes away from the warehouse where the elves had hidden the Portal. Dusk had already fallen. As I realized, it was almost 11:00 PM. The streets were deserted at this hour. Shop windows glowed neon, and a cool evening breeze swept the deserted streets. Only an occasional taxi drove by.

Finally, the elf shook my hand and said goodbye. "Don't blame me for that punch this morning. Safety reasons. You know how it is...

" "Yes, I know, I know... But how are you going to make that potion work?"

I looked into his blue eyes. He smiled suspiciously. Before I could realize his intentions, I was hit between the eyes again. For the second time today, I lost consciousness.

***

I woke up lying in the garbage-strewn yard. My head hurt. I couldn't remember anything from the moment I left my house for work that morning. I staggered out of the gate into a street littered with cardboard boxes and overflowing garbage cans. I slowly came to my senses. I stepped out onto the street, which was a fifteen-minute walk from my apartment. I wondered what I'd been doing all day. Judging by the headache around my forehead, someone must have attacked me. I checked my pockets. My wallet was full, I checked my credit cards, only missing a business card... I checked my cell phone. I had six missed calls. I reached into my pocket and felt for the plastic box. My recorder. I rewound a bit and turned it on.

"...for centuries, that's why we're here to search for the Chosen One. We'll be in touch with you soon. We're just waiting for the final details that will allow us to determine the location of the Chosen One.

I remembered! I remembered everything!