What if Eithan had been imprisoned by the Abidan? What if Yerin and the others had been jailed with him? Or worse? What if the intruder in bone armor, the Mad King, had reached them? What if they had been fighting for their lives all this time?
Little Blue whistled as she grabbed his arm. She was as nervous as he was.
Lindon shook his head. “I don’t know what we’re walking into. Be on your guard.”
“Of course,” Orthos rumbled. He popped a handful of gravel into his mouth and chewed.
Risky it may have been, but there was only one thing Lindon refused to do: stay put.
He marched into the tenuous portal. It trembled around him but held.
While it looked like the portal should only take one step to cross, he found himself putting one foot in front of the other over and over again. Each movement took a tremendous effort, like he was pushing against space itself. Or perhaps as though he was crossing incomprehensible gulfs with every step.
His sense of time began to distort, and Orthos and Little Blue passed him easily. A thread of despair wormed its way into his heart. What if he’d tried to ascend too early? Power weighed him down. Maybe they would make it and he wouldn’t.
Two hands, one black and one blue, closed around him and hauled him forward.
The three of them stumbled out of the portal together, onto a dirt clearing at the center of a bustling metropolis. The sudden release of pressure was euphoric, and Lindon took a deep breath.
From around him came scattered applause and some cheers.
[What friendly natives,] Dross said happily.
Lindon looked around somewhat warily with his eyes and spiritual senses. This was a whole new world; what were the people like?
To the eye, they were mostly normal humans. They varied in appearance, but they were the same sorts he could find on Cradle. There were a handful of different species—one looked like a humanoid bat sacred beast, and another shrouded figure was taller and thinner than a man on stilts—but the vast majority were human.
If anything, this crowd was less colorful than one he might expect in Ninecloud City or Moongrave. He saw a few oddities that might pass for Goldsigns or constructs, but no Remnants, and most people looked entirely mundane.
It was his spiritual sense that told him he was really in a different world.
Everyone he sensed was strange. They were bound to powers he had no names for, like Icons he couldn’t identify. Not everyone, by any means, but enough to worry him. This was like wading through a crowd full of perfectly veiled Monarchs. Or perhaps human-form Dreadgods.
[That’s what they should be thinking about you,] Dross observed.
A gray-haired man with a curiously gleaming left eye laughed and applauded Lindon, asking him a question.
Not a single word of the man’s sentence was familiar to Lindon. It almost didn’t sound like speech.
Dross? Lindon asked.
[Did you expect me to be able to translate that?] Dross asked blankly.
I hoped that maybe, with a deeper connection to the Way…
[This is a world I’ve never heard of. The man says five words, and you expect me to have reverse-engineered an entire alien language.]
The man said something again, pointing to his own mouth.
“Apologies, I don’t know what you’re saying,” Lindon said.
[Now, why are you speaking to him? How is he supposed to know what you’re saying?]
“It’s more polite to say something.”
Orthos jerked a thumb at himself. “Orthos.” He pointed. “Lindon. Blue.”
The gray-haired man was attentive, considered for a while, and then snapped his fingers.
“Cradle!” he said happily. “Does this function yes?”
[Just because that worked,] Dross said, [does not mean you were right to expect it.]
“I can understand you,” Lindon said in relief. “Gratitude.”
The man chuckled. “Pleasing. Translation is bad at beginning. Will grow into smoother as we continue talk.”
“Good,” Orthos said.
Little Blue waved and gave a happy tinkling sound.
The gray-haired man looked startled. “New language?”
“Something like that,” Lindon said. “My name is Lindon. This is—”
“Orthos introduced you three. Gryth is my name. Gratitude.”
Orthos nudged Lindon with an elbow. “He understood me.”
Dross popped up beside Lindon, and Gryth looked to him with no surprise. Beings like Dross must be common here.
[Let me send you the language,] Dross said. [Or we can keep half-understanding each other, if you want.]
Gryth waved a hand in acceptance, and Lindon felt previously invisible protections fall away. He was opening himself to Dross’ transmission.
Not entirely. There were still walls up, Lindon was sure. But a second later, Gryth’s eyes widened.
“Not bad!” His voice was much smoother than before. “This is a mind-spirit to be proud of, if you got him before you ascended.”
Dross swelled up. [As I’ve always told him.]
“Apologies, but where are we?” Lindon asked.
Gryth grinned in response. “Must be overwhelming for you, huh? Welcome to Kareia, the most abundant of the United Worlds.”
Lindon looked around at the metal buildings surrounding them. “What do you produce?”
“This is a residential planet. Nine out of ten habitable planets here produce natural resources, which we ship out to other worlds. Anyway, you’ll get the lay of the land once you go through processing.” He tapped a badge on his chest, bearing a symbol that reminded Lindon of a simple script. “I’m an officer of Import Processing, which just means I track down people like you who end up here by accident and get them started.”
“Are you one of the Abidan?” Lindon asked.
Gryth darkened. “No, I’m not with them, and you should thank the Void you ended up in a United Realm. They’ve been enslaving people from your world for thousands of years. Most of you end up with us eventually, but only after the Abidan have squeezed you dry.”
Alarms rang in Lindon’s mind, and he felt the same response in Orthos and Little Blue as well.
[Hey Lindon,] Dross whispered, [let’s hide that marble, huh?]
Lindon was acutely aware of the transparent ball, a warm blue light in his pocket. Gryth noticed something off about his reaction, because he frowned. “Nothing to worry about. We’ll get you recorded, brief you with enough information so you can get by, and we’ll let you go. The Realms are free to enter, free to leave.”
Lindon smiled to reassure him even as he reached out with his will to Suriel’s marble. “Gratitude. I would appreciate the lesson.”
Without a verbal command, it would be hard to do, but Lindon focused his authority to command the marble to disappear. He should be able to teleport it into his void key, though it would make its own way out eventually.
“What have you got there?” Gryth asked calmly.
Lindon hadn’t done anything yet except focus on the marble.
But he hadn’t faced down Monarchs and Dreadgods to back down here.
“Apologies if I startled you. I was only putting my belongings in order.”
Gryth nodded to Lindon’s pocket. “Well, apologies right back at you, but this is my job. You can show me now or I’ll find it later. I can see everything in your void space, and I should be able to see everything in your pocket.”
Suriel’s marble had stopped even Eithan’s senses. If Lindon hadn’t focused on it, this stranger would never have felt its presence.
[Well, it glows blue,] Dross pointed out. [He still has eyes. As soon as we emptied our pockets, he’d know something was wrong.]
With that in mind, Lindon shrugged and pulled out the marble filled with blue flame.
Gryth’s expression changed subtly. It wasn’t obviously hostile, more like he had slipped on a professional’s mask. “Now, who gave you that?”