“Good timing,” Eithan said, looking out of the portal. “It seems we’re due for another shuffle.”
Sure enough, as Lindon closed the Soulforge—and slipped its key around his neck—they saw the walls of the labyrinth blurring. The lights flickered as the entrances changed.
New doorways opened up all around the room, but one caught everyone’s attention in the first moment. Instead of a gaping cave mouth onto a hallway of stone, this one was a small wooden door leading off of the platform with the Dreadgod tanks. It simply hadn’t been there before.
And instead of a symbol over it, there was a handprint. It was thin and skeletal, sunk into the stone, and it had stained the rock white.
Eithan strode forward. “Well this seems like the obvious choice, doesn’t it?”
He threw open the door. It was a narrow closet, but there was only one object inside: a tank, just like those that had once given birth to the first generation of dreadbeasts. But none of them wondered why it had been separated from the others.
This one was corrupted and half-melted, turned gray-white. It gave off waves of hunger aura, and a level of significance that at least matched the other Dreadgod pods.
The birthplace of Subject One.
Lindon could sense the Void Icon clearly here, and he longed to stay in the room and meditate on the nature of his Icon.
Instead, he rapped to open up the drawer. This time, instead of a twisted bone, there was…dust. Fine gray sand, or perhaps fine ash.
As with the others, the power had been leeched out of this natural treasure long ago. Lindon swept it into a bag that came with his Soulsmithing supplies, afraid to miss even a grain. As he did, he opened himself up to the Void Icon.
There were reflections on the concept of nothingness everywhere. What was hunger if not a desire to devour, a will to allow the stranger in and kill me, borrow my powers, start the chain of events that would finally END IT ALL.
Lindon staggered back. The sudden intrusion of thoughts that weren’t his own had disrupted his concentration.
Did you hear that? Lindon asked.
[Clear, firm resolve. You should learn from him.]
That was…
[Subject One, I’m sure. The thought clearly came from below us, which you would notice if you had paid attention. Let’s see if we can hear more.]
Lindon reached out again, and the sensation was instant.
He waits in the darkness. He had waited for time beyond counting, hungry for freedom, for power…for everything. He only knew hunger, and the connection to the others of his kind that remained on the surface. Those who had followed him. The Dreadgods.
Finally, a Monarch had come to him. Finally. Finally, one of those who had cursed the world had come to end what they had created.
Subject One welcomed Reigan Shen with open arms. The Monarch was close, and would be here soon. He would close off the labyrinth from the pursuers, so they could not interfere.
For the Slumbering Wraith hungered for all things. Even death.
“Out!” Lindon shouted. He tried to shove everyone out the door, but it had already blurred closed.
They were surrounded by nothing but featureless stone. Eithan had theorized earlier that the labyrinth couldn’t lock them in; it had to move on set paths in certain patterns. Ozriel’s remaining dream tablet had suggested the same.
But now, the labyrinth had broken its own rules to turn against them.
And they were trapped.
19
“There’s no way this can stay locked for long,” Lindon said, as he scanned the sealed room they were crammed into.
If Orthos had been his normal size, they wouldn’t have all been able to fit into this room at all. Now, they were packed around Subject One’s birth pod, and Lindon had Ziel’s hammer jammed up against his jaw and Yerin’s back pushing into his.
Orthos and Little Blue had scrambled to the top of his head, and Blue was ringing like a panicked bell.
Eithan nudged Mercy’s staff away from his face and spoke. “It’s too bad that time is of the essence, because I don’t know if the labyrinth can seal us in here for minutes or for days.”
Lindon, of course, had no idea either. But it was clear to him that the labyrinth had been twisted out of its natural patterns. Not only did it make sense logically, but he could feel it. The labyrinth’s controller had twisted space to lock them here, which couldn’t last forever.
He looked to the wall a few feet away. “What does that script do?”
There was a slight indentation in the wall, which held a script at about head-height. Ziel answered him. “It’s a spatial transfer script, like the ones on a transport anchor. I’m no Sage, so I don’t know exactly how it works, but it’s written like a one-way trip.”
Lindon guessed that made sense, and Dross chuckled along with his thoughts.
[Yes, they had to ditch their failures somewhere, didn’t they? Those inferior beasts who couldn’t properly adapt to the energy must have been shipped off to the surface.]
“At least there’s a way out!” Mercy said.
Eithan sat on one ledge of the tank. “If I didn’t know better, I would think the labyrinth was trying to kick us out.”
They were being rejected, and Lindon knew it. Subject One had chosen Reigan Shen, so it was blocking their way forward. There was nothing for them to do but retreat.
Or…
Lindon tapped the floor with his foot. “It will be difficult, and I can’t make any promises. But I think I can break through the floor.”
“If that doesn’t wring your spirit dry, I’ll dig through the next floor with my teeth.” Yerin gave him a frown over her shoulder.
Ziel sighed, and leaned his head back against the wall. “What do you think we’re going to do to Reigan Shen if we catch up to him and you’re out of power? You think Arelius is going to smile him to death?”
“I’ve done it before!”
Smoke blew down into Lindon’s eyes, and he blinked it away.
“Very well,” Orthos said solemnly. “I’ll do it.”
Lindon considered very carefully how to refuse without destroying Orthos’ feelings. But before he came to a conclusion, Dross laughed out loud.
[Ridiculous! What can an Underlord sacred beast do to the stone of the labyrinth? Can you sense the layers of aura and authority embedded in this stone? You could not burn away the dust!]
Lindon couldn’t see Orthos, but he could feel the glare that the turtle directed toward the smug, floating spirit.
“Before Lindon fixes you,” Orthos said, “I hope he lets me bite you one time.”
[Try it, beast! I am only as physical as I choose to be!]
Even that conversation tied his stomach in knots, because it reminded Lindon that he might not be able to fix Dross. But he distracted himself with the problem at hand.
“Orthos, are you suggesting you transfer your power to me?”
“It hasn’t been much use since you outgrew me, but yes. I’ll lend you what I can, and then you can send me back to the surface.”
It wasn’t a terrible idea. Lindon still had Blackflame scales left, but every source of power would be helpful. And he wanted an excuse to send Orthos back anyway. This was a relief; now, at least, he would be safe.
“Are you sure?” Lindon asked.
Orthos felt the feelings through their bond and let out a heavy breath. “How else am I going to help?”
A little irritation slipped into Lindon’s relief. Not at Orthos; at himself.
Hadn’t he just said that he wanted to use his power to keep everyone together? And now here he was at the first opportunity, letting someone go.
“Next time, we won’t have to leave you behind,” Lindon promised. “We’ll catch you up to us, no matter what we have to do.”