His looks—like an older version of Eithan—and the lightning crackling behind his blue eyes had made Lindon assume at first glance that this was Tiberian Arelius.
“You have the backing of House Arelius to study the labyrinth,” the Monarch in the memory said. “But I expect you to keep that quiet except at great need. I cannot trust any Sage or Herald under a Monarch’s protection, and I’m certain you understand why.”
“That’s clear as new glass,” said the man leaving the memory, and his casual drawl made Lindon think of Yerin. Lindon wished he’d recorded more of his thoughts, because this had to be a personal record of the Sword Sage himself.
“Since you’re going deeper into the labyrinth than you planned, you might consider taking a team. Just be sure you’re only bringing people you trust.”
The Sword Sage laughed. “I was going alone before I heard a word from you. If you’ve got a list of people who can keep up with me, can be trusted, and are itching to run off across the world on my say-so, I’d love to see it.”
Tiberian’s posture sagged, and he rubbed his forehead. “I take your point. If I had so many subordinates who were capable, trustworthy, and unified in purpose, I would have no need to employ you. But please, don’t risk yourself. My advisors and I are simply testing a theory. We should have many years left before this becomes urgent.”
“Wouldn’t that be a treat,” the Sword Sage muttered.
Lindon could see when the memory faded from Yerin, because her eyes focused and she scowled into empty space. “Well, isn’t this a nest of snakes?”
“We’ll need a good plan,” Lindon said. Based on his quick glimpse, it felt like half of those who had gone into the labyrinth had failed because of a lack of information. “But first,” he continued, “I think we should take a quick look inside.”
“Not going to get our faces bitten off for a peek, are we?“
Lindon slipped the dream tablet into his void key. With some study, he might even be able to make a partial map out of those memories.
“Let’s find out,” he said.
They left the Sword Sage’s void space open and readied themselves for battle, facing down the circular stone door leading into the labyrinth.
“Open,” Lindon commanded once again.
His working crashed against the door…and fell apart.
Yerin relaxed her grip on her sword. “Try it harder?”
“This part isn’t supposed to be difficult, I’m certain. It’s just the outer door. There are outer entrances that Underlords can open, and some that open themselves at set times.”
Lindon considered for a moment, then spread his spiritual sense out as far as he could under the suppression of Sacred Valley. He received a clear impression of the underground labyrinth; like a turtle that had entered its shell.
“It’s locked down.”
“The Titan, you think?”
“It must be. We’ll have to check with Elder Whisper.”
Lindon stared at the outer door, wondering if he could break through it. It would be stupid to try; even if he succeeded, he would only be exposing Sacred Valley to whatever was inside. But he felt like they had begun a race, only to stumble at the first step.
“Huh,” Yerin said. “That’s a kick to the face.”
Elder Whisper whipped his tails in agitation as he stared at the sealed labyrinth door.
“I have read of this reaction,” he whispered. “And I have seen times when the Nethergate refused to open on time, or when the labyrinth seems to…sulk, if you wish to put it that way. The cause is almost always beyond my understanding.”
“Not so much this time,” Yerin said.
“Yes. One does assume that the labyrinth has locked itself to prevent further intrusion by the Titan.” A white snout turned in Lindon’s direction. “What else could it be?”
That question bothered Lindon greatly.
“Can we use the hand?” he asked.
Whisper shook his head. “That tool allows you to borrow the authority of the Slumbering Wraith, and thus command the layers of the labyrinth that he himself controls. If he controlled the outer gates, he would long ago have released himself upon the world.”
“At least this gives us time to prepare,” Lindon said, reluctant as he was to give up on entering. “I don’t think any of us are ready to fight another battle yet, and we can put together all the information we can about what’s inside.”
Elder Whisper sighed. “Poor timing in one sense, but fortunate in another. The Dreadgods have been driven off, for the moment, and we need time to settle our people. At least for now, there is no disaster looming over us.”
“Not that we know,” Yerin muttered.
Lindon evened his breathing, hoping Elder Whisper was right. The Dreadgods were stirring, but taken care of for the moment. There was no reason to assume anything disastrous would happen at least for the next few months.
Their luck couldn’t be that bad.
Iteration 001: Sanctum
Suriel connected to the network of Abidan all over existence. They didn’t control nearly as much territory as they did before, and the Way was disrupted by chaotic interference everywhere.
But she spread her message as widely as she could.
“Ozriel,” Suriel called. “We need you.”
None of the Judges had ever done this before. Such an open call could be intercepted by anyone, assuming they were in a world that was still connected to Abidan control. Making this broadcast was as good as telling the entire cosmos that Ozriel was gone. That the Court of Seven had misplaced their greatest weapon.
If they hadn’t figured it out already, they never would.
“Wherever you are, I know you can’t see what’s happening. You would have returned. Unless you really are dead, and then…” She sighed. “I wish you would have trusted me more.”
That was too personal for a public broadcast, but it was hard to care. She could see the lights that represented Iterations turning gray one by one as the Vroshir extended farther than they ever had before. Tightening the noose on Sector 11. On Cradle. On the Abidan.
“They have your Scythe. If you could see what they’re doing with it, it would break your heart. Come back, and tell us what you saw. Because if you saw this, and you left anyway…”
It wasn’t the optimal thing to say to lure Ozriel back, but Suriel had to say it. Her voice went cold.
“…then I’ll execute you myself.”
She canceled the connection, and a construct of light like a sapphire spiderweb vanished from in front of her. Her message now traveled through the Way Between Worlds, where it would be received by every Abidan and every world still connected to reality.
In theory. In practice, the amount of chaos the Vroshir were introducing meant she had no idea how far this message would spread. Maybe it still wouldn’t reach Ozriel.
But there weren’t many other actions she could take.
She wasn’t wearing her armor, there not being much chance of combat here in Sanctum. She wore a simple white uniform that her Presence materialized for her as she waited here, in the headquarters of the Phoenix Division of the Abidan.