The Underrails Vol. 1 and 2

By Etherer Daz

Volume #1:
Two Nomads (interworlders) open a gate and accidentally let otherworlders into the port (while also accelerating their ‘talents). They race to undo the damage and avoid discovery, but it calls for some unusual maneuvering.

24K Novella/100 pages

Volume #2
A run-in with a teen who’s lost his way sets Zya and Akir on an undesired trip into Long Wepor on the heels of altered Obin and the wisps they’ve been stealing from unsuspecting minds in Loreport. What follows them back may have larger implications for the entire port and an awakening they’re not sure anyone’s ready for.

24K Novella/ 100 pages

 

Genre: Fantasy, Paranormal, YA/New Adult

Original Release: June 2012

• Language: English
• Publisher: VioletPaper/7Spirals
• Release date: Mar 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497714182

Book preview

Table of Contents

The Underrails Vol. 1 and 2

The Underrails #1

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

The Underrails #2

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

7

8

9

10

11

The Underrails 1& 2

(c)EthererDaz/Dazjae 2012

VioletPaper/7Spirals

All rights reserved.

[e-mail]

...

The Underrails #1

Gates and Gliders

a novella

––––––––

(Image)

1

Nights without port work were growing more common than Zya cared to think about, but she utilized the Daily Cup, researching to keep herself busy. Not terribly exciting but useful; she guessed - even if the monotony of text in front of her made her eyelids heavy. She'd been at it for hours, and even the simplest of off-port retrieval orders would have been preferable to a night of seemingly endless text-tracing. But, no one was calling this week, and she'd have to get over that. Zya rubbed her temples, and let her eyes slip closed a second.

She saw him when she opened them and scanned the space. Another nomad. She hadn't noticed him enter the coffeeshop, but Zya could feel the vibrations of his portkey. He was probably headed for the port at the back of the cafe. Not that he'd get far with the current guard on duty. Taking a slow sip of her latte, Zya eyed him. He was new. Definitely not an easy read, either. She wondered what he was there for. Averting her eyes when he glanced up from the paper he was reading, she lifted the wide-mouthed mug in her hands to her lips and swallowed a substantial amount of gingerbread java.

It was always so cold in the coffee shop despite the heat Eliza paid a third of her profits for. A regular flow of discs was probably the reason the Watch placed a cafe in that quarter. Fuel and water fees keeping their governing devices afloat and all. Steady income keeps the machine running.

The other nomad was watching her now. Zya frowned at her foolishness, feeling his lingering gaze. She'd been too bold. Hopefully, she hadn't raised too much suspicion. But, she was sure she had. Sipping the last of her coffee, she folded closed the book of old reports and returned them to her pack, making to leave. The nomad caught up with her when she reached the door.

See all you needed to see? he asked, a searching curiosity glinting the chocolate brown lenses of his eyes.

I just came for the coffee.

I felt you scanning me.

It's not like that.

What's it like? You're obviously nomadic. Carrying an illegal key, too? Does the owner know there's a dimensional door here?

Zya's eyes narrowed.

No.

The nomad looked her over, relaxing a little.

We should have a talk. Elsewhere.

Sounds great, except for the fact that I don't know you.

His gaze was insistent. It might benefit your port access.

Zya looked him over, her mouth flattening into a grim line, then gestured to him with her free hand to lead the way.

The nomad stole a glance at Zya several paces from the coffee shop. She didn't try to run. He'd spotted her fair and square, and if he'd wanted to turn her in for key fraud, he could have directed gate patrols to the coffee shop's video discs.

How many gates do you know about? He asked her, maintaining a brisk pace, eyes focused straight ahead of him.

Where are we going?

I asked you a question, he noted with a more conversational tone, completely ignoring her own inquiry.

I know of a few. That one's the real hot bed though. It opens to a lot of scenic vacation spots. People pay a pretty penny for dimensional escorts these days.

That's not what you do.

Oh no?

No. I see the oath tattoos on your neck and peeking out from your sleeve. You're probably covered in them. I wouldn't doubt you have a load of protective metal rings as well.

You're quite the observer.

I have to be.

The nomad reached an arm out to gesture her left to a building tucked into the heart of the fashion district. Zya raised a brow when he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key that unlocked the door. In seconds, he waved her through. Hesitating a moment, Zya stepped over the threshold and glanced back at the other porter. A chill went through her watching him bolt several locks and secure one with another key, effectively locking them in.

Follow me, he said, crossing the room and pulling open a door that led to the basement level of the building.

Zya did as he asked with the hint of a scowl.

They descended a very long set of stairs that wound down to a room with several antique typewriters at the bases of small, ornate screens. Zya suppressed the urge to ask what all of it was, but her curiosity burned. She was horrible at waiting. It would be nice if the traveler would get on with whatever he was working up to.

Have a seat, he told her when they'd reached the platform at the bottom of the stairwell. He motioned a hand toward a spindly stick-legged chair with a flat top by one of the typewriters and monitors.

Frown deepening, Zya did as he asked.

Don't look so angry, he told her, failing to lighten the mood.

Who are you exactly? Zya asked.

Someone who needs to find something.

Thank you for the clarifier, Zya uttered, shaking her head.

I'm a kind of guard.

Zya frowned.

Not the kind you have in mind.

Then why am Ihere?

I happened upon something that I need another expert's perspective on before I leave Loreport. A box with inscriptions on it. It's not run of the mill code. It's more like an imprint. It looks like... It's better I show you. But, I need assurance you won't speak of it to anyone until I'm sure of what it is. And, even then...

I won't. Zya agreed, meeting his eyes and leaning forward.

I apologize for my lack of manners. My name is Akir.

Zya.

A pleasure, he said.

Looking her over, the nomad lowered his eyes to a drawer built into the wall nearest him. Rising from the stick chair, he made his way to it and rolled the lock's knob in the direction of an apparently secret letter combination (too quickly for Zya to memorize). The box he pulled from it was smaller than she expected and looked more like a stone than a manufactured container. He placed the stone box on a stand toward the end of the room and gestured her over. Zya rose and walked toward it at a cat-like, leisurely pace, tucking the thin twists falling from her upsweep behind her ear.

That's the imprint.

Zya squinted her eyes and leaned forward to inspect the code. Her eyes quickly narrowed. She turned to him with disbelief.

Seriously? You could have just asked for my number.

You can't think I manufactured that inscription. I didn't engrave this relic and 'age' it to pursue you.

Zya raised a brow.

You see the imprint just as clearly as I do. It's ancient.

And, if it opens up a portal? Should we skip through it together?

Zya grinned.

I asked you here because of your fire. I was watching you just as much as you were watching me at that coffee shop. I know what I saw.

Rolling her eyes, Zya extended her hand, trying to ignore the charge that shot through it when Akir's hand closed around it. Glancing at the imprint on the box, Akir stepped closer to her until their arms formed a sharp V, making a disjointed version of the letter H with their bodies. His eyes met hers then, but whatever attempted to linger between them was interrupted by the beam of green light that shot abruptly from the box. The pair watched it in amazement as it nearly widened enough to permit one person through it. It was definitely a portal. Zya's eyes glinted. She could make out the outline of buildings in the distance beyond the tinted threshold, but it was difficult to tell where it led. And, before they could make it through the gate, the light sputtered. Just as they cried Noooo, it went out.

Why would it close?

Akir looked at the box with obvious emotional strain, the vitality draining from his sun-kissed face.

It closed when we let go of each other's hands.

Maybe it needs a polarity-based frequency, he muttered, almost to himself.

I'm intrigued. We should keep trying to find out where that door leads.

Your club card is in the mail. There are several watches and circles who want to get into that world.

Zya's brow raised.

Why?

"That is the question. Isn't it? Not that we can answer it now."

Maybe, Maybe not. The imprint might be suggestive, not literal.

Akir looked to Zya dumbly, clearly unsure of how to respond.

It's a no-brainer. The port is polarity-based, she added.

Catching her meaning, and swallowing his apprehension, Akir moved closer to Zya, hesitantly lifting his eyes to meet hers. Zya grinned at his awkwardness and drew his lips into a soft kiss. Their eyes glanced at the box in tandem, but it remained closed. Zya lifted her head again, her hand closing around his, and this time he accepted her kiss without guard, pulling her closer to him.

A green light hit them then. It was working. But, the portal's light had only opened a hair. Not even one of them could slip through it.

It took another minute for the widening of the green light to alert them to their success. It was almost as big as a door now. It flickered twice before they turned to watch it, pulling away from one another slowly. The portal had grown as wide as a Watch door. They could easily step through it now. Exchanging a hopeful glance they tightened their grip on one another's hands, but that too was interrupted by a shower of glittering shimmer raining out of the green light. Their eyes squeezed shut as it covered their faces and hands and spattered their clothes. Swallowing apprehension, Zya blinked through the shimmer and tugged Akir along, determined to make it through the door, but it flickered just as they reached it. Like a television screen, it crackled with a kind of static, and abruptly closed.

Dammit! Zya shouted.

Worth a try anyway, Akir murmured, a deep disappointment saturating his tone.

Zya looked him over.

All's not lost.

Yeah?

I'm sure this glittery stuff can tell us something. You got a microscope around here?

In the corner collecting dust, he answered.

Scotch tape? Zya asked.

In the drawer to your left.

Zya reached for the drawer handle and pulled it open, ripping two pieces of tape from the built-in roll at its center.

C'mere, she told him.

Akir stepped closer to her, holding out his hand as she applied the tape and peeled it back gently. A reasonable amount of the shimmer came off with it. She did the same to a patch of skin on her own hand then carried the two pieces across the room to the desk where the microscope perched.

It's an ancient piece of equipment, he offered, moving to join her. Let me have a look?

The nomad pressed one of the tape segments between two slides pulled from the drawer at the mechanism's base, and set it in place, leaning to peer at it through the lenses.

Whatever it is, it isn't moving at a rate I can detect.

What do you think it is?

I'm really not sure, but we can save these. We should each keep one. We don't know where that portal leads.

Could be we're not meant to know, Zya offered.

Could be, Akir agreed, his eyes lingering on her until the crash of several data disks drew his attention abruptly away.

Zya swallowed a flicker of fear. You think something more than the shimmer came out of that gate?

I don't know, Akir answered, frowning. Whatever it is, we should get you out of here.

I'm a big girl.

I know, but we don't know what we're dealing with. Let me escort you home.

Frowning, Zya crossed the room to grab her coat. She began her ascent up the twisting stairwell, and halted on the third step, glaring at him. Akir grabbed his own coat and followed her without a word.

At the top of the landing, he stopped to look her over.

The shimmer's barely there now.

I can't see it on you much anymore, either, she noted, looking him over curiously. We should really find out what that was.

There are old texts I can research. How do I get in contact with you when I find something?

I'm the only Zya in the book.

A lot of surnames to wade through.

A little hard work never hurt anyone, she told him.

Where you headed?

Probably back to the boarding house.

Shaking his head with a grin, Akir stepped ahead of her, taking the lead. At the last door, Zya halted him with her hand.

I don't need an escort back.

Are you sure?

I need to clear my head.

Making the universal sign for Call me, Zya exited the building with a wink, pulling her coat more snugly around her when the wind nearly swept her off of her feet.

Zya decided against stopping at the coffee shop.

There'd be too many questions. She didn't have the patience to explain the strange young man that escorted her out, the tongue session she'd had with him, and the portal they couldn't penetrate. She might be able to find some information on the portal's shimmer in the comfort of her own home, though, and a nap certainly wouldn't hurt. Resolving to focus on the latter option, Zya made her way back to the boarding house.

Fifteen minutes later, she was enjoying the comfort of her warm, pillowtop mattress with her virtual box propped on a cushion. Keying in a number of synonyms for the words