by Bill Myers

Now hold it, partner,
that ain't how it's done.
If you're tryin' to be tops,
don't fight for number one.

The voice sent Nathan and his stool crashing to the floor. One minute he was leaning back, lecturing Denise on the advantages of being selfish; the next minute he was on the ground shaking like a leaf.

“Who . . . who said that?” he stuttered.

Denise would have joined him in his demand but she was still trying to find her voice. Come to think of it, she was still trying to move. By now the entire room was filled with the rock's glaring red light. And that voice-that weird poetry-it seemed to come from everywhere. Every wall, every shelf, everything in the room vibrated with its sound.

“Where . . . where are you?” Nathan demanded with obviously false courage. (But right now, false courage was better than no courage.)

He barely finished the words before the voice answered, "Hold on to yer horses, we'll be gettin' there soon. Jes' need the right coordinates to enter your room."

Denise and Nathan exchanged looks of terror and astonishment.

The voice continued, this time talking to somebody else. “Got it this time, ol' buddy?”

An ultra-cool, gravelly voice answered, “Got it, do I.”

“You sure?” the first voice asked. “Remember the last time when you-”

“Cool, is it,” the second voice interrupted. “Got it, I do.”

Next Denise heard four electronic sounds . . . BEEP!........BOP!........BLEEP!.......BURP!.... . . . followed by a "YEOOOWW!” as the door to the pot- bellied stove flew open and three very strange creatures leaped out. As they sailed through the air, they grew in size until they were nearly as tall as Denise and Nathan.

The first was a furry-faced bearlike fellow with a checkered vest and walking stick. But right now he wasn't doing much walking. With the seat of his pants on fire he was doing a lot more jumping and yelling. Most of that yelling was directed at the second creature, who was tall and purple with a foxlike face, long fluffy tail, and a large Mohawk. He was dressed in a tuxedo.

“Ow, ooo, ooch, ow, ow! Put me out! Quick, put me out!”

The purple creature did his best to slap out the flames. “Man, got it. It, I got.” But he wasn't having the greatest success.

Nathan and Denise watched speechless as the strange dance continued-the furry creature running around with his pants on fire, the cool purple dude trying to put him out.

“Won't you, ooo, ooow, ever get them coordinates right?”

“Cool man, is it!”

After a few more attempts, the purple dude finally managed to smother the flames.

The furry creature sighed and gave a heartfelt, “Thanks.”

“Cool,” was all the cool dude said. Then suddenly remembering his own clothes, he began checking them urgently. “Coat my? Okay, is it?”

The furry creature looked over the cool dude's coat, brushed off a few ashes, then glanced at him with a grin. “Cool.”

Relief swept over the purple creature's face.

With the preliminaries taken care of, they finally turned to face Denise and Nathan. For a moment all four stood in silence. There was no movement in the room-except, of course, for the slightest trace of smoke still rising from the furry creature's rear.

Nathan, who had managed to get back on his feet, was once again trying to sound brave (and might have succeeded if his voice wasn't shaking so much). “Who- who are you guys? Where'd you come from?”

The furry creature pulled himself together, straightened his tie, and answered, "So sorry about that. First, to answer your “who,” I'm Aristophenix T. Xanthrope, and this here is Listro Q."

Denise glanced at Nathan. They may have got an answer, but it wasn't much help. She was about to step in and try a question of her own, when there was a sudden high-pitched squeal-like a tape recorder running at high speed.

They spun around and saw the third member of the party hovering behind them. At first glance, he looked like a dragonfly. On second glance, a ladybug. But neither dragonflies nor ladybugs have glowing blue tails. This one did. He had a glowing blue tail that flickered and blinked for as long as he talked. He also wore glasses.

When he finally stopped talking, the cool dude nodded. “Taken, good point.” Then turning back to Denise and Nathan, he introduced the third and final creature. “Here this is Samson.”

Samson let out another long line of high-pitched chatter, which Denise naturally took as a greeting. Not wanting to appear frightened or impolite (like all those stupid earthlings in all those stupid sci-fi movies), she tried to smile graciously and answer the little fellow. “Well, thank you, and it's certainly a pleasure to meet you.” In an effort to show universal friendship and politeness, she held out her hand to shake.

Samson immediately swooped down and bit it.

“Ow!” she yelled, pulling back her hand.

“Samson!” Listro Q scolded.

Aristophenix cleared his throat and tried to explain, "You'll have to excuse him, Sammy's not being rude. In Fayrah, opened hands mean you're offering food."

“Fayrah?” Nathan asked. “What's that?”

“Home, for us,” Listro Q answered.

“Yeah,” Denise said, sucking her fingers, no longer quite so worried about universal friendship and politeness. “So why'd you come here?”

“Bloodstone threw you into moonlight.” Listro Q motioned toward the rock Denise had given Nathan. It now sat on the counter just as plain and dull as any other rock.

“Bloodstone?” Nathan asked.

“Yes,” Aristophenix said, "A symbol to all, of Imager's great compassion, of the price that he paid, to bring you back into . . . uh . . . fashion!"

Denise gave a little shudder. It had been a long time since she'd heard poetry quite so awful.

“A universal call for help made you,” Listro Q said. “By putting it in moonlight.”

“Help?” Nathan said. “We don't need any help.”

“You don't?” Aristophenix asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“What do we need help for?” Nathan said.

“Selfishness, your speech?” Listro Q asked. “Number one looking out for, didn't just a minute ago hear we?”

“Huh?” Nathan asked.

Denise ventured a guess. “I think he's talking about your looking-out-for-number-one speech.”

All three strangers nodded.

“Oh, you heard that?” Nathan asked, swelling with pride.

“Believe that, do you?” Listro Q asked.

“Well, yeah, sure.”

“Then more help need you than know you.”

Nathan frowned in confusion.

Aristophenix explained: "In our world of Fayrah, the opposite is true. We care less for the me's, and far more for the you's."

Nathan broke out laughing. “Yeah, right.” He looked back at the group.

Nobody was smiling.

“Come on.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Who are you fooling? No one could survive in a world where you care more for the other guy than for yourself. That's impossible.”

Suddenly, all three creatures began to laugh.

“What?” Nathan demanded. “What's so funny?”

“Never wrong, more have been you.”

Once again, Samson began to chatter.

Listro Q and Aristophenix listened carefully, throwing in a few “mm-hmm's” and “good's” until the little guy finally finished.

“What did he say?” Nathan asked.

Listro Q explained. “A child is still Samson. Graduate to adulthood soon must he.”

“Yeah?” Nathan said. “So what does that got to do with us?”

Aristophenix continued, "To graduate in Fayrah, good deeds Sammy must do. So come over to our kingdom, and let him show it to you."

Nathan's face lit up. “You mean go with you? Like to another planet or something?”

Denise gave a little shiver and whispered, “Nathan.”

“Actually,” Aristophenix replied, “we call them dimensions.”

“No kidding?”

“Nathan,” Denise whispered louder.

He turned to her. “What?”

She wasn't sure how to say it without hurting anyone's feelings, so she did what she did best. She just blurted it out. “We don't even know these . . . people.”

“So?”

“So you just don't go along with a bunch of strangers . . . no matter what dimension they come from.”

Nathan glared at her but Listro Q seemed to understand. “Correct, absolutely is she.”

Aristophenix nodded, his furry face scrunched into a frown. “I understand what she's sayin', but-”

“Yes,” Listro Q agreed, “however-”

“Exactly-,” Aristophenix said.

“On the hand, other-”

“I see yer point, but-”

Samson joined in, long and loud.

Soon, Aristophenix was shouting to be heard.

So was Listro Q.

It had quickly turned into a free-for-all debate.

Denise and Nathan traded looks.

“Excuse me!” Nathan shouted.

No response, except for more arguing.

He tried again. “Excuse me! Excuse me!”

At last the three quieted down.

Somewhat embarrassed, Aristophenix pulled himself together, adjusted his tie, and answered, "We understand your fears. You are right, this we know. But to prove Nathan is wrong, our kingdom we really should show."

“That's right,” Nathan agreed.

Denise started to protest. “But-”

“Come on, Denny. Don't be such a chicken!”

Again she felt her ears starting to burn. “I am not a chicken!”

“Sure you are.”

“No, I'm not, but-”

In a sudden burst of maturity, Nathan started clucking.

“Nathan,” she warned.

He clucked louder.

“Knock it off!”

And louder still.

“Nathan!”

But he would not stop

. “Nathan, I'm warning you!”

Her warnings did no good. Finally, she'd had enough. You could call Denise a lot of things, but you couldn't call her a chicken. “All right, fine!” she shouted. “We'll go!”

Nathan grinned and the group nodded, pleased with her decision.

Then she added, “But just for a few minutes.”

Everyone agreed. But, even as they thanked her and promised her everything would be all right, Denise felt herself growing just a bit colder. She couldn't put her finger on it, but somehow she suspected this little trip of theirs would be anything but all right? . . .

“Bobok, my precious and most trusted friend . . .” The Illusionist leaned forward on her throne, wrapping her leathery wings about her shimmering scales and war- scarred body. “Tell me on what occasion do you honor my humble kingdom with your wondrous presence?”

Bobok rolled back, just out of reach of her powerful hoofs. He knew she hated him almost as much as he hated her. In the past three thousand epochs, they had fought hundreds of battles over the disputed border between their two kingdoms. But now he had put all of that aside. Now he had come here, to Seerlo, the waterless kingdom of wind and sand, to speak with her personally.

“I sense a stirring in Imager's tapestry,” he purred as he rolled from side to side in the fire-hot sand. He had lost all of his legs and arms in the Great Rebellion. And over the epochs of time, as he propelled himself by rolling, he had worn off all the other parts of his body as well. He had become a perfectly round orb-no nose, no ears, not even a head-just a perfectly round, ice-blue orb, with two tiny eyes set deep within their sockets. He continued. “Two threads are tugging at the Weave; two threads from the Upside-Down Kingdom are about to enter Fayrah.”

“What?” the Illusionist asked in astonishment. “Don't they know it is still your season in Fayrah? Don't they know that you still have two hours in which to tempt anyone you can to cross through the Portal and enter your domain?”

“Perhaps they have forgotten,” Bobok offered.

“And Imager, he would allow this?” she demanded.

“After the awful price he has paid for their freedom? You did say they were from the Upside-Down Kingdom.”

Bobok smiled a sinister grin. “It is the supreme act of egotism, wouldn't you agree? Thinking his love would save them from our ways. But we must work together. If I succeed in wooing them through the Portal, I must cross your kingdom to reach mine.”

“But of course, my kindest and dearest of friends. Whatever you wish. After all, it is your season. Of course there must be some minor charge-a tariff for such a crossing.”

“Of course,” Bobok softly agreed. “And what might that be?”

“Since we have been so close these many epochs, and since you are such a kind, handsome gentleman, the fee will be slight.”

“I thought as much,” Bobok cooed.

“Let me see,” she thought aloud. “Your keen intellect perceived two threads, did it not?”

“Yes, male and female.”

“And they've both been re-Breathed?”

“No, neither one has come to know Imager. Though the girl may be closer to re-Breath than the boy.”

“Good . . . good-then you must let me try to lure the girl to stay with me.”

“That is a hefty price, dear lady,” Bobok protested, “to take half my catch.”

In reply, the Illusionist gave the slightest wave of her hand. Instantly a thousand soldiers rose from underneath the sun-scorched sand. Part cockroach, part giant ant, they lay dormant to conserve their moisture until needed. Suddenly they scurried around Bobok, surrounding him on every side, buzzing their wings, clicking their pincer jaws, poised to attack. But Bobok was not frightened. He had known this would be the Illusionist's response.

She smiled sweetly-no easy task with a beak for a mouth-and spoke. “Surely a sensitive man of your great heart and giving nature would not deprive me of the girl.”

“Of course not, gracious lady,” Bobok purred. “The girl is as good as yours.” With that he turned and started rolling through the hot sand, past the soldiers, and toward the distant Portal . . . toward the Kingdom of Fayrah.

He could practically hear the Illusionist grinning over her powers of negotiation. But that was all right; he was grinning as well. It had gone exactly as he had planned. He had no interest in the girl-never had. All he wanted was the boy.

And he would do anything to get him.

Excerpted from The Portal, book one of the “Imager Chronicles” series by Bill Myers, and reprinted by permission of Tommy Nelson Publishers. Read chapter 3 of The Portal.

Click here to read chapter 1.