Chronicles of Ror (Book Two) The Prince's Decision

By Karen Langolf

Book Two of the Chronicles of Ror series.

Two women, two rescues, only one prophecy.

The story of Captain Ror continues with the second installment, Chronicles of Ror the Prince’s Decision . Weeks of searching the caves of Mt. Heil produce no prisoners even after fleeing winged beasts, Colleen Green and a frightening icicle storm. Captain Ror could put up with those fights every day but the lure of the beautiful Tiffany Collins weakens his resolve. Has fate brought her to him to break his prophecy? That very question is put to the test when he rescues a second woman from a terrible death; one whose green eyes bring night terrors thrashing back into his life. Nothing is more terrible; however, then the story of how and why she came into the caves, all alone

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Langolf
• Release date: Nov 26, 2010
• ISBN: 9781432777128

Karen Langolf

First time author publishing the Chronicles of Ror series.

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Chronicles of Ror the Prince’s Decision

Book Two of the Chronicles of Ror Series

Published by Karen Langolf

Book I: Chronicles of Ror and the Whisehitel Portals, copyright 2010

Book II: Chronicles of Ror the Prince’s Decision, copyright 2011

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Memorials and Dedications

In memory of my grandfathers Harry and Alex, great-uncle Eldon and Richard O’Brien; four great men who made me smile.

To Ray and Jackie as my inspiration for the character of Ror.

Thank you to my mother Jean and father Harold for being my biggest supporters; personal cheerleaders.

Chapter Prologue

(In Ror’s Voice)

Each visitor asks me the same questions without fail. Why is your hair white when you live in a tribe called Black Hair? How come you’re a foot shorter than everyone else? Why can you pulse when the others can’t? And my answer is always the same. I don’t know why my hair is white; I think I was born this way. Same with the height, born small. As for the pulse technique, that one just took years of practice like all other skills. Well, being a half blood Rested tribe does help with that one.

Being one of the heirs to the throne of the Black Hair tribe is a difficult life. In order to become king I must prove I am worthy to lead and have the intelligence to make the correct decisions. My greatest strength has been to bring other tribes into an alliance with us. This in itself is not sufficient to make me ruler, however. The person who rules the tribe must also produce children.

The portals opened again and I’ve met a woman who’s golden hair reminds me of the long dead king Bold Light. But I would never tell her that to her face, that endearing face so beautiful it stops my breath to look at her. And she followed me into the mountains in search of her own people. Such bravery in a woman visitor is very uncommon. That bravery could prove to make a queen out of her…the Black Hair tribe does need a queen…but I sense that was her true motivation for following me; not because she found me irresistible. I’m not sure I want a queen who is power-hungry over intelligent.

Then again if she can prove during our weeks inside the mountains that she is a true fighter, hunter and survivor I might just reconsider that idea. If not, I’m never going to find any of the captured visitors or Rested tribesmen before the Colleen Green eat them. The storm season is here and I don’t want to be stuck inside the mountains with the cannibals and the winged beasts both while having to protect a visitor. If Tiffany is not the woman I’ve waited all these years for, who is?

(In Sarah Gold’s Voice)

Lately I wonder why I ever moved to Oakland, Maryland. When I think back to how my fiancé died I wonder if I made the right choice to leave Chicago behind. Without Caleb Herring my life felt over and completely wasted. I don’t like to think that Caleb’s mother hated me, but I was not who she had envisioned her son to be with. My heart died when he died, shot several times through as he was shot. I still see the blood clutching to his dark body as though it wanted back in, like it didn’t want him to die. Those dreams, not to mention not one bit of family support, are what help me realize leaving was the best thing I could have done at the time.

Employers are all the same no matter where you go; or so I thought. Good ones don’t exist just like fairies and unicorns, so philanthropist Adam Yacht was no different. Stubborn as a bull, his true strength rested with raising money. I told him constantly he should have been in politics lobbying for congress. Perhaps if his son hadn’t died he would have done just that. Then more innocent people were killed trying to help him. It’s hard to be a good guy when the bad guys murder those you care about along with the innocent bystanders. It seriously should be against the rules to kill innocent bystanders.

But if the killers hadn’t killed recklessly I never would have ended up working for him. I’d have been married with children by now. We were introduced by the detective working both of our cases, Adam’s dead son and my dead boyfriend. His name is Detective Ron Smith. The three of us managed to put away the people responsible for their deaths working tirelessly to achieve our goal and maintain dignity in the eyes of the media following behind us. It wasn’t easy when the world thought I was dating Adam. I still shake my head at the media for that one.

It seems strange that was over three years ago. Adam used to say that time passed much quicker when alcohol was involved in day-to-day activities. I really doubt time passed quicker, but it makes you forget how time actually moves for a little while. His wife practically coined that phrase for him, never recovering from their son’s demise.

Not too long ago the detective came to Adam seeking help with another case that puzzled him; one he believed could have been committed by the same people who murdered our loved ones. When he couldn’t help the detective it came down to me. Adam delegates pretty well.

Now I’m stuck in another world where people are segregated based on whether they can perform magic or throw a knife straight; this world they call Whisehitel. Sun shines brightly every day but unless you keep warm clothes over all parts of your body it won’t matter how much sunlight you get hit by. You’d be frozen in a matter of seconds.

Myself and two teenage girls Tiffany Featherlight and Amber Cutler are trying to make our way home by assisting a tribe of people called Rested to track the portals connecting our two worlds. From what they’ve told us Rested tribe controls all the food production in their world and their way of producing this food is by pulse. Whatever pulse actually is I don’t have a clue and at the moment I don’t care. I’ve seen them use pulse to grow plants from the frozen ground, toss fireballs at opponents and heal wounds with a touch. Their ruler is known as King Yimiry and it has been his life’s work to track these portals in an attempt to find a pattern to their appearances.

Apparently they are just as clueless about them as we are. The difference is it only took us a second to realize we knew diddly-squat about them.

Chapter One

White Rock…

She ran through the corridors sweat beading down her face blurring the little vision she had in the darkness surrounding her. The torch light barely glimpsed off the walls, a sign that they were close behind her. She touched the walls as she ran trying to boost herself along and it helped, she seemed to run faster if only briefly.

Catch her. Don’t let her escape.

The voices forced her head to look behind her, fear catching her breath in her throat. Every muscle in her body hurt but she kept running. There was nowhere else to go. Or was there?

Stopping, the young girl looked from left to right knowing her pursuers were not far behind her. Each direction she took meant a possible dead end and she would be trapped there, among the maze waiting for the tall blonde men to track her down.

Extending out her fingers they barely touch the wall on her left side. Thinking hard she tried to remember what her father told her about pulsing. Taking in slow even breaths, relaxing your body so your mind could follow. Remember the wall, understand the wall. Feel the cement texture, rough and crisp to the touch. Implant that feeling into your brain. That is how you can pulse. At least to move objects it’s how you can pulse. But something didn’t feel quite right. Her body was not relaxed, it bounced up and down like one of those beans she tried to stop eating at dinner time because they upset her stomach.

Up there. She’s up there.

You can’t run forever, come out and give yourself up. These walls keep changing. Damn maze.

Panic set in. Gulping in a breath of air she knew there was no time and she simply went with the feeling of her stomach. Placing herself against the wall darkness enveloped her and she became lost to the world.

Not a moment later two tall men, blonde hair plastered to their heads soaked through with sweat, crashed into the corridor where the girl had just been and dashed past without any further glance.

Where did she go? It’s a dead end up ahead.

You sure you saw who you think you saw?

I know her face, lieutenant. It was Gallant’s daughter.

Then she has taken after the rest of the royal bloods and walked through the walls.

Both were distraught. We’re going to get in trouble for losing her. Lieutenant Hiro will have our hides.

Just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking later.

Funny, I don’t remember there being so many curves and walls before. Not sharp like these were.

That girl has friends with strong powers just like her. Remember when we were kids and Elindas created beasts out of grass that flew?

Yeah, but this is ten-times more real than that. I can touch these walls. I couldn’t touch those grass things.

So she’s got a friend strong enough to make illusion solid. The left guard smacked his hand against this forehead, eyes full of recognition. Zora could make matter into reality.

Great, so little princess can move through solid walls and also make illusion solid. Perfect. Just perfect. We won’t ever make it to Pulse Rider status.

Chapter Two

Shadow Falls…

The dark haired man laid on the examining table, feet dangling over the edge. Pieces of the hair laid across his face, eyes closed chin pointing to the left exposing the back of his head. Ron’s eyes only took in the face; it looked so peaceful as though it merely slept on the table. Like there wasn’t a large gaping hole in the back of those eyes.

The body suddenly flipped over exposing the man’s back instead of the over-developed chest. Thin scarring danced across his back, licking each inch of his skin in tiny translucent criss-cross patterns. But the face still pointed to the left, eyes closed.

Ron wondered if the man was breathing.

At the shoulder blades dark bruising formed spreading from the left to the right shoulder. Against the dark red skin covered in dirt the bruising blended in, looking like a harsh sun burn instead of an actual contusion. Eyeing down the body the pants were cut off a few inches shy of the rear end, exposing the skin from the thighs to his toes. The man was over muscled beyond what Ron thought possible.

Watching him, Ron believed the corpse was going to rise off the table and walk over to him. But what did the corpse have to tell him?

A thickly male voice ran through his mind; it was someone recognized but he didn’t know currently who it belonged to.

Treetop. Name is Treetop.

A younger male voice spoke out again. Uncle Treetop married Style and had children. He left searching for Chitra, his son. Never came back.

The original male voice spoke once again carrying on without missing a beat. Spent much time among Cave Dwellers. Believed they knew where Chitra was.

A moment later he opened his eyes. It was too dark to actually see anything above or around him.

Soft snoring told him the other people in the room were still fast asleep. Rubbing his eyes the detective waited, mind working through the oddball dream he’d just had.

Triggered by all these dark haired men and women. Black Hair. Simple name for simple people. But it doesn’t tell me who killed John Doe. Treetop, huh? Wonder why they called him Treetop. Symbolist of something? No, these people don’t hold onto symbols. About the only symbol they have is the legend of their golden-haired king. Then again it could mean something completely screwy.

Eye sight improving Ron rolls off the bed careful not to step on the bare ground with his bare skin. Becky’s feet might need more attention, should see if that herbalist has more bandages. Always wear shoes, always drink the heat stocks. Don’t touch the ground otherwise. How is it possible that her feet stuck to the ground like that, anyway? It’s too cold here to have sweaty feet.

Moving along the ground he headed to the overhang to find his overcoat stuck against the wall on a nail. Reaching inside he pulls out the manila envelope. Finding the wooden table in the darkness Ron switches on his flashlight pen and pulls out the pictures. The top one is the face of the man, eyes closed muscles slackened. He’d seen the picture so much it was imbedded in his memory, permanently.

Sifting through the rest he settles on the image of the man’s upper back. Tip of his finger tracing the shoulder blades his eyes cannot make out the bruising that he’d seen ever so clearly in his dream. Scratching his chin the detective’s eyes focus but in the dim light he can’t see anything at all.

Frustrated, he tosses the picture into the pile letting the cascade over the table. I am so close to solving this thing. These are his people. They said he lived among the cave people in search of his lost child. That explains why he was covered in dirt but it doesn’t explain who killed him. What could these markings really mean? Who really are the Solo Loss and why do they attack Black Hair?

The room became very bright suddenly stinging his eyes. His hand rose to cover them before he became permanently blind. In the edge of the light a shadowy figure arose.

Dammit Tim,

Sorry, detective. I didn’t know where I was so I turned on the lights. Kinda forgot. The younger red-headed man answered sheepishly.

Coughing, Ron cleared his throat. It’s okay, Tim. Uncovering his eyes the light was still too bright. Dim that.

Oh. Sure.

As soon as the light became bearable the detective looked down at the table once more, easily spying half a dozen pictures completely strewn about.

Wow. Tim stood over his shoulder rubbing his eyes. What a mess. That’s what you’ve been working on, right?

Yeah. The case.

So, do I get to ask questions about it?

Questions? Ron asked curious. What kind of questions?

Well, you know. How did he die?

Blunt force trauma to the back of the head.

Okay. Where did he die?

Inside a cave in their mountain.

Which mountain? Don’t they have two?

Your guess is as good as mine.

So the last one would be why did he die?

Already Ron was beginning to think this was going to be a long day. Anything better to ask me?

Yeah, what the hell are we going to do today? They didn’t have anything for us to do the last few weeks.

Want to search out those caves? Ron asked him.

Like I want to get carved up or staked to a tree by the Colleen Green. Tim shivered, unsettled at the thought of becoming the next victim.

Something doesn’t compute with their story.

Tim had crawled back into bed and turned over on his side when he heard the detective still talking. Like what?

When I walked through the forest there were lots of dead blonde bodies lying around. Rested tribesmen. Not a single visitor among them. The detective answered, eyes looking over at Tim.

Weird. Don’t you think there would be dozens of people, especially those from Met’s?

Ron nodded. Yeah, if their story is true there should be hundreds of brunettes, blondes, red-heads, baldies…you name it.

So they are lying. Tim yawned eyes closing quickly. What do we do then, detective?

Rolling his eyes, Ron could hear him snoring long before the eyelids completely closed. How you can fall asleep with your eyes open and not be a cop…nah. Not worth it. But we do need to keep asking questions. Maybe they will tell us more about this Solo Loss. The pictures still sat on the table before him and in one motion they were gathered up and back in the manila envelope and back in his overcoat hanging on the wall.

The bed was just as comfortable now as it had been when he’d laid down hours before. Drifting off to sleep Ron’s mind wandered back to happier moments with Lori before peaceful dreams overtook him and a bright smile formed for a split second on his face.

Chapter Three

White Rock…

Days went by with Sarah working through the parchments, Tiffany trying to read to her every so often and Amber lying on the ground playing with her hair color, painting her fingernails or sewing up different patterns for clothing. The pink haired girl was quite good at sewing and enjoyed humming while she worked. Most often it was theme songs to movies Sarah had never seen so the game she played with Tiffany went beyond Sarah’s comprehension.

Too bad you girls don’t know some jazz music. I’d be all over that.

Amber held up the plaid fabric she was working on sewing together inspecting a side she’d just stitched twice over. From the distance Sarah was away it was impossible to see what the girl was actually doing but at this point it didn’t matter. So long as whatever the girl had intended to make she didn’t plan to give it to Sarah.

In her pocket Sarah’s fingers traced the lining of her thin leather wallet. She knew its texture by heart now. Each day she made sure it was still with her; each day she prayed that somehow she’d make it back through to the portals and find a cell phone to call her boss. Then each morning she woke up looking at the fading green and pink hair of the two teenagers sleeping up against her on the floor.

To think all I’ve accomplished is rearranging a room. Sarah shook her head. Adam would have my hide. They could have made us beds by now, Gallant offered so nicely, but no. I had to be the idiot and say it was unnecessary. This floor is so cold!

Out of the corner of her eye Sarah could see Tiffany eyeing the fabric as though it was going to magically grow teeth and try to bite her. The girl snorted then put her nose back into the parchment. Just under her breath she muttered something Sarah wasn’t too sure she heard correctly.

Don’t like this type of fabric?

Looking up Tiffany sneered, slightly pointed with her face in Amber’s direction. The dark red mark around her eyes fading after two weeks of cover-up makeup. She still hadn’t explained how she’d gotten the shiners but Sarah wondered if she’d said something she shouldn’t have to the wrong Rested tribesman.

Plans to make a skirt out of that. You’re an idiot, you know. It’s cold enough here to freeze your breath just out of your body and you want a skirt?

It’s for you. Tiffany’s head turned and she stuck her finger down her throat in disgust. Sarah laughed at the girls grateful to have some company even if they annoyed the hell out of her sometimes. But three days of quarreling over the plaid fabric was enough to make her a little less than friendly. Looking around her she felt the sudden urge to throw a pillow at the both of them but nothing was within reach.

If you want to go home I need to figure this out. Or else we’re stuck here for the next 25 years.

Don’t mind if I’m stuck here. This place is awesome! They have magical powers here and adventures…don’t you get it? Tiffany was put-off by Sarah; it was in the harsh tone of her voice.

No, Sarah didn’t bother to look up from the parchments, I don’t get it. Every time I leave this room someone is following me. First it was Lach who acted as though he was curious about something. After the fifth time I finally resorted to asking if he needed to hold my hand.

Amber giggled, practically hysterical. Its so hard to read those parchments. I touch it and it makes crackling noises like I’d just broken it in half. I don’t know how you do it.

You ignore the noises after a bit. Sarah picked up the parchment and wiggled it around producing loud cackling sounds. Amber shivered at the noise so Sarah did it again just to egg her on.

Tiffany tsked at Sarah, finger shaking in the air. Such a bad example for us. Wish we had a network connection back to our world. I could be watching ‘One Piece’ right now or Neo Pets.

The pink haired girl shook her head a little bit. Definitely better than sitting through another English class. You’d think about ten years of taking the same thing over and over they’d come up with something useful. Making me read Hamlet again? Amber jumped up onto her chair and took a deep breath in, her breasts expanding against the Transformers t-shirt she had on. To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?

Hands covered Tiffany’s ears as she turned and hollered at her friend. Would you knock it off with this Hamlet crap again? It’s not like Shojo Beat made a manga from it.

Fine. But can’t I say the anagram too?

Tiffany hollers out into the empty room hearing her echo bounce back at her. Don’t even start!

What’s an anagram? Gallant watched their performance a multitude of questions forming in his mind.

Strutting proudly to her own imaginary beat, Amber blurted out the answer. Rearranging the letters in words and phrases so that they spell out something which has the same meaning.

You’d think you just found out she is going to the premier for Twilight or something. Tiffany wiggled her nose before an immense sneeze came out. S’cuse me.

She’d be better off quoting Lord of the Rings. Sarah didn’t bother to look up from her documents.

Gallant eyed the wrinkled parchment sitting beside Sarah in surprise but didn’t mention it. Instead he talked only to the teenagers. Is that something you do for entertainment? Gallant’s questioning voice was a welcome distraction from the two girls. Or is it part of your educational system?

It’s an amazing trick people can do with letters and words. Amber smiles sweetly at him, batting her eyes.

Oh no, she doesn’t have a crush. Sarah thought.

Tiffany covered her ears once more and stuck her tongue out at Amber. And you are not going through this again!

Returning his attention to the brunette woman sitting in the straight-back chair Gallant smiles warmly. My apologies for keeping you waiting Sarah but I may have a helping hand for you.

Looking behind Gallant Sarah sees a smaller balding man easily in his sixties. The gray flannel he wore was not belted as all the other males had been but hung loose allowing for a larger gut to expand comfortably.

Harry Kaufman. Nice to meet you, miss.

Thank you for your help, Harry. Studying him for a moment Sarah realized she’d seen him at least once before during the few times she’d managed to eat down in the mess hall rather than in the study. He had sat with other visitors each time. Rumor had spread that he was working on something very valuable to the Rested tribe. Just what, exactly, Sarah hoped she was going to find out. Of course, curiosity got the best of her and she couldn’t help but ask. Are you an electrician?

Yes. And you may be in luck with your computer. May I see the charging unit for it? Harry slipped off his glasses and proceeded to clean them on the edge of his shirt.

Tiffany grabbed her bag and walked over rummaging through it trying to find the charging unit. Handing it off to him Harry immediately turned it in his hands reviewing the size and structure of the base unit.

I was very excited to hear that computers have become so much smaller now. You have no idea how anxious…well, how fascinating this news is for me.

Letting the two of them puzzle over the charging unit Sarah returned her attentions to separating out the data before her. She had finished the third parchment just as they were plugging the charger into an electrical device Harry had made.

Flipping the next parchment over Sarah sighed when she saw the scribbling of an ancient hand in the Rested tribe’s own language. Her day was not improving in the slightest, and it was still the morning.

My teammate going to give me a hand? Looking over her shoulder Gallant was standing behind Tiffany watching intently as Harry opened up several machines he’d brought with him and started to unhook things and re-hook things in different spots.

It’s truly amazing what your world can do. Harry helped us to create an energy source that gives us light without creating fire.

We call it electricity but I doubt it’s the same here as it was there. On our world power lines run millions of miles in order to give light to millions of people. Sarah’s eyes focused on the documents before her she didn’t notice the look of disbelief that quickly turned into something else on the man standing beside her.

Three hours later Sarah and Gallant are still compiling data into multiple columns, trying to find any patterns possible. Scratching his head Gallant notices something puzzling but he’s unsure if Sarah had noticed it. Have you noticed that the portals never open between 6 and 12?

AM or PM?

Both.

Lifting her eyes to Gallant Sarah thinks about it for a moment. I’d noticed the portals never seemed to close between 12am and 6am or 12pm to 6pm. Hadn’t noticed that about the time opening, though.

Does this give us a clue on the portal locations?

All she could do was shrug. Sarah didn’t have a clue what to tell him. It had only been a couple of hours since Harry had started to work on the charger for the laptop and already Sarah was getting tired.

Moving onto the fourth parchment Sarah began to run her eyes over the first line of the data and her hand starts to write. Date 17,382,19290. Portal location: Northern Domain Heil River, bearing 23L – 28t. People entered 29. Portal remained open 60 hours. Time opened roughly 5:20 pm. Time closed roughly 7:02 am. So what does 20L and 13T stand for? It’s not latitude and longitude, I take it?

It is Lorth and Trigger.

Looking over the data she had just written Sarah double checked the previous line making sure she hadn’t rewritten the same data. Date 17,229,19265. Portal location: Northern domain Heil River, bearing 20L – 13t. Portal remained open 15 hours. People entered 3. Time opened roughly 4:29am. Time closed 7:15 pm.

Noticing the oddly focused look on Sarah’s face Gallant walks over to her and gazes over her shoulder. You seem puzzled by something.

You told me that 20L – 40L is way of determining locations like our latitude and longitude. Swirling around in her chair facing the table Sarah grabs the map. Fumbling inside the toolkit she pulls out a package of thumb tacks and sticks them in the last eight locations she had recorded down.

23L – 28T. 20L – 13t. There’s a pattern here.

I don’t see anything.

The distance between 20L and 23L is 3L, which is the number of people who entered from the portal in 17,229,19265. The distance between 13t and 28t is 15t which is the…

The number of hours the portal remained opened. You’ve found something.

Don’t be too proud of me yet. We’ve got to test this on several other lines first.

They stared at the data for some time verifying figures before Gallant’s hands ended forcibly on the table, head shaking. I see one problem already. According to this pattern, the numbers go up but looking at these lines here, the numbers consistently go down. We do not know whether the distance is West or East.

There’s got to be another connection. Running her fingers down the columns Sarah compares times, locations, people, but nothing sticks out. Crap. Told you not to congratulate me until we have proven it works. Here’s another one to add to the error list.

Just need more time. If my father, the king, has spent so much time on these we cannot expect to solve it any quicker.

Gallant busies himself with adding locations to the maps, marking the numbers next to each tack he sticks in.

Are you adding times opened onto that map?

No, I hadn’t. Did you come up with something?

The times these portals open might be the key. Standing up from her chair Sarah wanders over to the map on the table. At the far side are little labels Tiffany had given them from her bag. Never thought I’d be happy to see someone actually prepared for their studies.

What do you mean?

Teenagers in my generation didn’t bring things to class, lucky if they remembered their books. She’s got labels and binder clips and pencils. Sorta nice.

Is it normal to bring these in as well? Bottles…

Sarah saw the half empty bottle of blue hair dye Gallant held in his hand and started to laugh. "Normal if you’re Goth.