The Portaellen War Chronicles

The Portaellen War Chronicles

C.P. Bird

Format: 13.5 x 21.5 cm
Number of Pages: 282
ISBN: 978-3-99107-273-7
Release Date: 23.06.2021
‘Fantaellen will burn! The blood of its people, will fuel the flames.’ Upon the orders of an exiled Prince, the Dual Blood World of Portaellen, is thrown into war and chaos, after the sudden secret murder of his twin brother, the Sovereign.
Portaellen Portal Facts
for Everyone

Only Dual Bloods’, with Portaellen ancestry, can pass through, a Portaellen portal.
A Portaellen portal, will only transport flesh, bone and body fluids. Everything that constitutes, a living form.
If, it is your first time, exiting a Portaellen portal, you will land in the other world naked. (See point two).
If, it is not your first exit, you will land, wearing the clothing and the items, that you had with you, upon entering.
You will not remember, your journey through the portal.
There is one reported portal, on Earth. Two in Portaellen, which are connected directly, to the one Earth portal. No internal link, between the two Portaellen portals, exists.
The distance between Earth and Portaellen, is incalculable. It cannot, be measured. If, you were to ask some Dual Bloods that very question, you would get a tongue in cheek response.

‘How far, is the distance between Earth and Portaellen, you ask?’ A momentary silence, would usually be followed by a smirk, or even sarcastic laughter, before an answer would finally be given. ‘About five hundred years!’

Some, of the above facts, are centuries old. Passed down, through the generations. Hopefully, they will help any Sole Bloods, who will never experience a Portaellen portal journey. Or other Dual Bloods, yet to have an experience. It will also save you from getting a sarcastic response, from a Dual Blood.

It is important to remember, that today, over five million Portaellen Dual Bloods, live amongst us. Only a small percentage, know of their lineage. An even smaller percentage now travel between the two worlds.

Are you one of them?

The Last Knight of Fantaellen

An ode to a warrior
An ordinary man

He is an ordinary man,
A father, a son, a brother,
A man of this life,
A man of the next life,
He is of this world, and another,
He is alive, he has died,
He is yet to be born,
He is all men, yet one man.

On this day of his destiny,
He stands alone.
Around him, a battlefield,
In his hand, his bloodied sword,
having sent many, to their death,
His armour, having defended
against an enemy, so brutal,
and great in numbers,
And yet, he still stands alone.

He is an ordinary man,
A father, a son, a brother,
A man of this life,
A man of the next life,
He is of this world, and another,
He is alive, he has died,
He is yet to be born,
He is all men, yet one man.

On this day of his destiny,
He still stands alone.
Around him, a battlefield,
Seen or unseen, he knows
the enemy surround him,
Therefore, his defiance is roared
long and loud,
He now no longer, feels alone.

This ordinary man is ready,
This father, this son, this brother,
The man of this life,
The man of the next life,
The man of this world and another,
He is alive, not dead,
He has been born,
He is all men, yet one man.
He is ready.

And, into the storm he charged,
with sword in hand,
That one-man war,
The last knight of Fantaellen.


The Beginning

Across, the many lands of Portaellen, there is a legend, that has been passed down, from generation to generation. Every word, every line, has stayed the same since its first telling. It would become known, as the ‘The Beginning’.
The world of Portaellen, was created by Ramazen, a Guardian, (a
God). He was given an atom as a gift, with which, he decided to create a world, for his two argumentative sons, Zada and Yetus.
Firstly, he made the portals between Earth and his newly created World. Then, came the land, fertile and green. Followed, by a river, clear and clean. The elements quickly followed, wind, rain, snow, with two suns and two moons, spawned in honour of his sons. It would take him five hundred years, to develop and form his World. On final completion, he gave his creation, a name. The axis, of Portaellen, now rotated, for the very first time.
Now, that he was happy, with his creation, he presented it, to his son’s, with the hope, that they would work together, to establish and create, a brotherly bond, between them.
From the start, the brother’s ideas were different, on how to run their new world. Quickly, arguments turned to conflict, as brother fought brother. Other Gods and warriors from Earth, were recruited for the fight, as all-out war, was declared. It would become known, as The First War.
Their Father, finally intervened, when he had seen enough. Ramazen, angrily split the world in two, by creating a sea. He named it, The Stoirim Sea. Each brother was banished to the land, either side of the stormy, body of water.
Even, this did not work. Zada and Yetus, gathered massive armies, and many ships, in the hope, of invading the other’s land. War raged on, on either side of the Stoirim Sea. Countless, warriors and Gods died. And finally, after years of unyielding conflict, a stalemate existed.
In, what was to be the final battle, both brothers were killed. Their blood was said to have soaked the land, of what would become known, as the country of Wulfdaeden.
On hearing the news, of the death of his son’s, the grief stricken Ramazen, annihilated, what remained of both armies, with bolts of fire and white-hot lightening. No living creature was left alive.
The scorched earth, remained empty, for many future centuries. Before, Ramazen disappeared, (never again, to be seen, at the God’s table), he had said, that he hoped, that future generations, of Dual Bloods, would one day inhabit, the world that he had created. And, that there would be peace.


It was late, in the Earth year of 1919, when the first rumblings, of another possible conflict, in Portaellen, were being spoken of. Many Dual Bloods, were tired of war, having fought in the First World War, on Earth.
Many, Fantaellen’s and Wulfdaeden’s, (the two biggest countries, in Portaellen, and mortal enemies), had fought on the Western front, as comrades. Rivalries, of the past forgotten, as the war raged on, in the mud, for four long, and bloody years. Men, who had fought in that mud, and the trenches, as allies for their Earth country, now looked likely, to become enemies.
Most Dual Bloods did remain sceptical though, of a Third War in Portaellen. The Second War, some hundred years previous, had lasted, just two hours. It had dragged, all nations of the Portal World, large and small, onto opposing sides, once Wulfdaeden and Fantaellen, had declared, war on each other.
When, the two-rival generals, had met on the battlefield, for, what was to be, the first and only time, they both dealt each other, deadly, fatal blows, and died of their injuries. Because, neither army, really knew why they were fighting, the armies dispersed, and the Second War of Portaellen, was over.
So, entering a new decade, the talk of a Third War in Portaellen, was still being brushed aside, as Earth became used, to its newfound peace, in the winter of 1920. Even, the rumours, of the sovereign of the Portal World, banishing his twin brother, from Fantaellen soil, the previous year, in an incident, that remained a mystery, did not ring, any alarm bells.
Since, being small children, the twin brothers, had always stuck up for one another, and been inseparable.
With the death of his beloved wife, as she gave birth, to their twin children, a son and a daughter, the sovereign, received his greatest comfort from his twin brother, who was there with him, through the hardest times. However, it would be a grief, that he would never, fully recover from.
When, the reports, filtered through, of the exiled twin, having fled to Wulfdaeden, and quickly amassing, a huge fleet of ships, in the ports, facing the coastline, of Fantaellen, those alarm bells, did start ringing. Loud and clear.
In the first few weeks, of the Earth year of 1920, a First World War veteran, and proud Dual Blood, received his call to arms. JJ Quixall, (James, Jonti), or Jonti, as he liked to be known, had sworn, that he had seen enough death and destruction, in the trenches of Belgium and France, to last a lifetime. The official, piece of paper, in his hand, told him otherwise. He was weary and tired but knew he would get over it. His second country needed him. He would answer the call. That would never have been in doubt. Ever.
Now, with the feud between two twin brothers, once again, bringing Portaellen, to the brink of war, the portal world’s, century of peace, looks likely to be broken, and men like Jonti, will once again, have to answer the call to arms.
Every story has a beginning. This is ours.

Part I
The Coming Storm

Chapter One
The South Western Coast of Fantaellen
Portaellen year of 1420
The unpredictable swell of the coastal waves pushed a small rowing boat, over the crashing breakers of the Stoirim Sea, and onto the sandy shore. Six hooded figures, with their faces blackened, quickly jumped clear of their vessel, before running at a pace, up the sands, through the black, inky darkness, of the dead of night, towards the shelter of some rocks, up ahead.
The hooded figures, remained in the shadows of the rocks for a short while, as they watched and observed for any enemy, sentry movements on the headland and the high ground, that overlooked the beach. The dark horizon before them, was illuminated by the two Portaellen full moons, in the star strewn sky. The beams of both moons were extended beyond the higher ground, and were rested, just in front of their hiding position. The hooded figures remained as still as possible, as their eyes continued to scan the high ground.
The order to break cover, was finally given, with a hand signal. The six figures now made their way across the sand towards a grassy bank. Every man, watching, observing and being careful, to stay as low as possible, as they ran.
Within a short distance, they became spooked, when two sentries suddenly appeared, at either end of a path, on the headland, and proceeded to walk towards one another. All six, instantly hit the sand, and remained still and silent, for a moment or so, as they observed the sentries, walking towards one another.
The two sentries, eventually came to a halt, when they met, on the high ground. For several minutes, they spoke. Their voices carried faint, on the wind. The six hooded figures waited patiently. Their existence on the sand, engulfed by the darkness and the shadows, just beyond the reach of the moon beams. There, they stayed, observing the enemy sentries, not a muscle twitching. Their breathing controlled. Their blackened faces watching and waiting for their moment to move.
As the two Fantaellen sentries parted, and began to walk in opposite directions, the order was given by several hand signals, for the group to split up. Two, were sent in the direction of one of the sentries, and two sent towards the other. The final two, made their way, along the beach, towards a grassy bank.
The larger figure, a man who had a prominent scar, across his forehead, that was red and swollen, was the leader of the group. He watched closely, as his men moved into position, ready to attack. He then turned to the younger man, who was a lot smaller in stature, and carried a satchel, which he looked into checking the contents.
‘Do you think, you have enough poison, to get the job done?’ enquired the leader.
‘Yes. More than enough,’ replied the younger man.
‘Good. You must not be seen entering. Remember, present yourself, as if you’ve been there for a while. Learn all the routes quickly, through the passageways and corridors. No one must suspect. When you have completed the mission, send the signal. And don’t forget. If you need them, we have someone, on the inside.’
‘Yes sir. I remember their name.’
‘Excellent. Our ships in the fog, are relying on you. The signal, must be given.’
‘Yes sir. I will not let them down.’
‘Right. Excellent. Now make ready. The sentries, are about to be dealt with.’
The two now watched, as simultaneously, a hooded assassin, crept out from the shadows to stand silently behind each sentry, before forcibly placing a hand over their enemies’ mouths. Instantly, there was a flash of a small blade, followed by a thrust of the weapon, deep into the lower back. Quickly, but silently, the two sentries were pulled to the ground, where their throats were then slit. The hand of the assassin was only released, when their victim, showed no signs of life.

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The Portaellen War Chronicles
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