TravelingDreamer
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B7—Chapter 8: When Old Faces Come Knocking
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 14:49:57 +0000 UTCOn our way to the outpost, we passed a large herd of strange monsters with horns and long, bright turquoise fur, fighting with something brown. I couldn’t see what it was, hidden among all that fur.
“We should come back and skin those,” Mahya sent telepathically. “They’ll sell for good money in Saa.”
“If they don’t dissipate,” I said.
“They won’t. I saw a couple dead on the ground.”
Al also sent joyous sounds about various plants we passed, exclaiming over their uses. I wanted to remind him he wanted to leave, but decided not to pull a Mahya.
After about half an hour, we drove close enough to the outpost, and I felt two Travelers.
“Did you feel that?” I asked the other two.
“What?” they both asked.
“Wait for it.”
A couple of seconds later, Mahya sent, “Now I do.” Al said the same a few seconds after her.
“Makes sense, if the Gates change destination,” I sent.
“Rue hope Travelers nice like Malith,” Rue said.
“I thought you didn’t like him,” I said.
“No. Rue like Malith. Rue was upset Malith say Rue need to be smaller.”
When we reached the actual outpost, two very familiar forms came out of the gate.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I sent.
Mahya burst out laughing. “That’s your chance to beat him up for that comment in the Archive.”
Sonak and Rabban stood right outside the gate. Rabban was smiling widely and waving with enthusiasm. Sonak looked like he swallowed a frog. I hoped he would choke on it.
Rue growled.
I stopped a few meters from them and told him, “Me too, buddy. Me too.”
Mahya and Al stopped beside us. Rabban swept Mahya into a bear hug, lifting her off the bike, then clasped my hand and Al’s before crouching a little to scratch Rue’s ears and neck, running those massive hands all over him. Rue closed his eyes, tongue lolling, and pure bliss spilled through the bond.
“I am very happy to see all of you. This is a great surprise,” Rabban said, his grin stretching even wider.
Mahya tilted her head toward Sonak with a sly smile. “How’s the religious stick in your ass doing?”
Sonak growled, shoulders stiffening.
“That good, huh?” she asked, clearly pleased with herself.
Al gave him a reserved nod, his face unreadable.
Rabban set his huge hands on my and Mahya’s shoulders, gently steering us inside. “Let us go speak somewhere without prying ears.”
I glanced around the busy area in front of the gate. “Why? Does anybody here speak English?”
Rabban shook his head. “No, but they should not hear an unknown language.”
Inside, the outpost looked like a full-fledged army base. Low, long stone buildings stretched in neat rows, broken up by wide parking areas filled with an assortment of vehicles. There were the cool bikes and the centipede-like crawlers, but also plenty of other machines. Square-bodied trucks dominated the lot, some with caterpillar tracks bristling with metal spikes like the centipedes, others rolling on massive spheres instead of wheels. The spheres on the bikes were approximately half a meter in diameter, while those on the trucks were closer to a meter, giving the heavy trucks an interesting appearance.
I wondered if they, too, could go sideways like the bikes. Probably could.
Engines zoomed in the background, crews shouted orders, and the clang of tools rang from open workshops. The air carried the oily tang of sweat and scorched metal. People moved everywhere, most of them wearing some kind of uniform. The base issue seemed to be a brown and yellow suit that clung to the body like a wetsuit. Some wore only that, their sleeves rolled up and their boots scuffed, while others had layered pieces of armor strapped over it. I saw breastplates, reinforced shoulder guards, and bulky helmets under an arm. A pair of soldiers jogged past carrying crates, while another group leaned against a truck, laughing between bites.
The outpost had the same rhythm as a military base on Earth. The sharp discipline of soldiers blended with the rough edges of adventurers’ lives. Orders barked from one side, laughter and curses rose from another, and the entire place hummed with energy.
Rabban led us further into the base, and I felt Sonak drifting farther and farther away. So far, he hadn’t left, only slowed his pace. At one point, Rabban looked back but didn’t say anything. After that, Sonak stopped following us. Better. I really didn’t like that guy and his religious fixation.
He led us to another square building, this one with a big open doorway. Inside, it looked more like a bar or maybe a restaurant. A woman stood behind a small reception stand, and Rabban spoke with her quietly. She gave a small nod and waved us along.
She led us down a hall lined with doors and opened one of them. Inside was a private room. A large wooden table stood in the center, scarred in places, with simple chairs pulled up around it. The stone floor was uneven, and a couple of the chair legs wobbled when I touched them.
Rabban leaned toward the hostess and spoke with her in a low voice. She gave him another nod and slipped out. We took our seats, and a few minutes later, two servers came in carrying trays. They set down plates of roasted meat, still steaming and giving off the smell of herbs and smoke. There were also a couple of plates with roasted vegetables and a large plate of something that looked like orange mashed potatoes. A basket of bread landed beside it, warm enough that steam curled up when they uncovered it. Bowls of pickled vegetables added a splash of color in bright reds and greens. One server placed a jug of dark drink on the table, along with a few clay cups, the smell yeasty with a hint of spice. They also gave us individual plates and strange utensils. The knife looked like a large hunting knife, but the fork was odd, with only two long prongs like those used for a barbecue. When everything was set, the servers gave short nods, then backed out and pulled the door shut.
Rabban exhaled. “Here we can speak without unwanted ears.”
He looked at his hands, turned them over once, then glanced at Rue before staring at his palms again. “Why are my hands and your familiar shining?” he asked me.
Mahya shifted in her seat, her fingers tapping against the table for a moment before she pulled them into her lap.
Rabban’s eyes moved to her, and she immediately wore that guilty expression turned up to eleven.
“A small accident,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “Wash your hands with soap a couple of times, and it’ll come off.”
Rabban kept his eyes on Mahya, taking in her nervous fidgeting. Then he suddenly threw back his head and burst out laughing, the sound booming off the stone walls.
She made a face at him, which only made him laugh harder. I snickered too, and even Al’s lip twitched. It was barely noticeable, but it did twitch.
She gave him a dirty look, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you big oaf. When you’re done, tell us what’s going on. We figured the world is upgrading, but that’s the only thing we know.”
That cut his laughter short. He straightened a little, the grin slipping from his face. “How do you know?”
Al folded his arms across his chest, his tone clipped. “My family’s archive.”
Rabban’s expression softened into something almost wistful. “One day, I wish to visit your family’s archive,” he said in a dreamy tone. “It took me and Sonak five days of searching in the Travelers’ Archive to find the answer.”
Al gave him a curt nod. “Maybe one day.”
I leaned forward on my elbows. “What did you do after we split, and how did you end up here?”
Mahya tapped the table with a finger and shot me a look. “I asked first.”
“Are we in a hurry?” I asked.
She stuck her tongue out at me. I laughed. At least she didn’t look guilty or pissed anymore.
Rabban reached for one of the plates and cut into the meat. “Eat, eat,” he said, nodding toward the food. “The food here is good.”
I broke off some bread and used it to mop up the sauce, the herbs sharp on my tongue. Mahya picked at the pickled vegetables first, her expression thoughtful as she chewed. Al poured himself a cup from the jug, sniffed it once, and then drank without a word.
“So…” I said in a leading tone. “What did you do, and how did you end up here?”
He swallowed and nodded. “We spent another two months in Vegas after you left and made a lot of money in the casinos. After that, we traveled in the USA for some time and bought goods for sale. We wanted to stay longer, but the natural disasters got more frequent, so we sailed to Spain.” He shook his head. “It was a mistake to stay so long in America. We sailed on a big ship, like a city with pools and restaurants, and it almost drowned twice. In Spain we traveled for some time and ate a lot of good food. From there we crossed to Stinojopheleshawizhnzarnoshwitly and—”
“How did you manage to say that?” I cut him off.
Rabban laughed. “Sonak and I practiced before crossing the Gate. We needed two days to learn the name.”
I made a go-on motion with my hand, tearing another piece of bread. “And?”
He jabbed his knife toward the meat before speaking. “We spent two years in Stinojopheleshawizhnzarnoshwitly but got tired of being drunk all the time, so we crossed to a low mana world. We took a short vacation to sober up and stop having headaches. Very boring place. Don’t go there.” He shook his head and shoveled another bite into his mouth.
“What’s it called?” Mahya asked.
“Patul. In local language, it means bounty.” Rabban reached for his cup and took a long drink before going on. “From Patul we crossed to a medium mana world that was fun. It’s called Lumis.”
“I traveled Lumis,” I said, reaching for the jug to fill my cup.
“You did?” Rabban asked. “Only you?”
“No, we started together and traveled part of it,” I said, setting the jug back on the table. “But then Mahya and Al went to Earth to take care of some things, and I continued alone. Where did you travel in Lumis?”
“We crossed to Solaria and traveled in Azureas. We planned to go to Crystalholm, but the next Gate was here, and when we crossed it, it was also in a red zone on the Map. Not this one, another one in the north.” He used a piece of bread to wipe his plate before going on. “Sonak wanted to gather cores and resources, so we stayed. With all the dungeons around, we first thought it was the world you wrote about in the Archive.” He gave me a pointed look. “It was a mistake to write such information openly in the Archive.”
I sighed, setting my bread down. “Yeah, I know. But it still doesn’t exempt Sonak from blame for posting my name in the Archive.”
He stabbed his knife into a slice of meat, his jaw tightening. “Yes. I was very angry with him. You don’t repay good deeds with betrayal. We had a big fight and almost broke up the team, but he apologized and promised to make it up to you when you met, so I forgave him. But he knows if he doesn’t keep his word, I’ll continue on my own. I don’t trust traitors.”
I gave a short nod, pushing the last of the bread around my plate. “We’ll see.”
“Now my turn,” Mahya said, setting down her fork and leaning forward. “What’s going on here, besides the world upgrade?”
“Before that,” I said, raising a hand slightly. “Doesn’t it strike any of you as strange that the Gates from different worlds lead to the same places? I mean, here and Lumis.”
Mahya and Rabban both stared at me with blank expressions.
“No,” Al said. He adjusted his wobbly chair and spoke in his usual even tone. “If the worlds belong to the same cluster, it is logical.”
I frowned and leaned back, cradling my cup. “I never really got the cluster thing. Does it mean they’re in the same galaxy?”
“Not necessarily,” Al said. “A cluster means the worlds are interconnected by more than one Gate. They come in groupings.”
“Why?” I asked.
He spread his hands to the side in a simple shrug, as if to say he had no idea.
“Nobody knows,” Mahya said, spearing a piece of meat and popping it into her mouth. She chewed quickly, then added, “It’s just the way it is.”
“Okay, sorry for interrupting.” I set my cup down with a soft thud and glanced around the table. “So, as Mahya said, what’s going on here besides the upgrade?”
Rabban wiped his hands and leaned forward. “This is one of nine anomalous zones. That is what they call them here. On our Map, it is marked in red.”
Mahya nodded. “Yes, we saw.”
“They appeared about four or five years ago. They cannot decide on the exact time.” Rabban reached for his cup and took a slow sip.
“Why not?” Al asked, setting his fork neatly across his plate.
“For about a year before the zones grew, mana aggregation portals appeared at the center of each. Before that, they only had dungeons, so they thought these portals were a new kind of dungeon.” Rabban gestured with his hand as if brushing away the argument. “Some claim that was the start of the anomalous zones. Others claim it was only a precursor, but not the true appearance. ” He waved his hand again, dismissive. “It does not matter in the bottom line. By now, they have realized the portals are not dungeons, but are unaware of the upgrade. We tried to think of a way to let them know without being caught, but finally decided it didn't matter. The upgrade will come anyway, and they are already dealing with it, so we didn’t endanger ourselves.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“What’s the story with the outposts?” Mahya asked, leaning her elbows on the table.
“A monarchy and nobles run this world. Once they realized the riches that could be harvested from the portals and noticed the high concentrations of dungeons, many noble houses claimed parts of the anomalous zones. Since then, the zones have grown several times. Before they grow, there’s always a massive outpour of mana, followed by a beast—or essenceborn as they call them here—and a monster wave. After that, the zone expands. They move the outposts farther out, and new houses get the chance to establish fresh ones. Each outpost belongs to a different house. By the way, you came from the zone, so if they ask you, say you were gathering herbs and came from outpost seventeen.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The houses that run this outpost and number seventeen are at a house war, so they don’t share information. And you can’t say you were clearing portals or dungeons. They’re very possessive of them inside their territories. But everybody’s allowed to kill monsters and beasts outside the portals and gather other resources. That’s considered the king’s land and doesn’t belong to the houses.”
“Didn’t you say each has an area that belongs to it?” Mahya asked, tilting her head.
“Yes and no.” Rabban set down his cup and laced his fingers together on the table. “The land is the king’s land and belongs to the crown. The noble houses are each responsible for the safety of a certain part, so the portals and dungeons fall under them. They consider them theirs. The problem is that they have a loose definition of what belongs to them and what doesn’t. Just in case, I will take you to the post leader, and you should give him a potion or two as payment for collecting herbs on his land.”
Mahya opened her mouth to argue, but Rabban lifted his hand to stop her. “Yes, it is not his land, but it will be easier. If you want, I can give you a few potions.”
“No need,” Al said. “I have a sufficient supply.”
“So if it’s so strict here, why’d you stay to gather resources?” I asked, pushing my plate aside and reaching for my cup.
Rabban cut into the meat on his plate, chewing before he answered. “They’ve got an interesting system here. You can register as an eliminator in one of the outposts under a contract. It typically lasts for two months, but it can be extended to longer periods. By the way, the months here are longer, only two in each season.” He paused to take a drink, then went on. “During your contract, they tell you which portals and dungeons to clear, but you can’t take the core or break the central crystal. Special teams of cleaners go with you into the dungeons and portals and collect all the resources. You can take a third of the raw materials, or get forty percent of their value in money. Most people in the outposts work under that system. The second option’s what Sonak and I use, and I recommend you use it too.”
He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table. “There’s an organization here called the Free Cleaners. They don’t belong to any outpost, but they’ve got representation in all of them. As a free cleaner, you get to choose which dungeons and portals to clear, but you’ve got to pay for them. The price depends on the estimated value of the materials inside, and you must give them the cores. Also, if you don’t clear the portal completely and monsters come out of it when you close it, you pay a big fine. Bigger than the worth of the materials you gathered.”
I snorted. “So how’s it worth it? Sounds like shit conditions.”
“Yes, and not a lot of people choose to be free cleaners,” Rabban said, waving his knife for emphasis. “Especially since you need to collect all the resources yourself. With our Storage, it’s not a problem, but there’s another reason. A purchased dungeon or portal usually comes with a set date you have to clear it—usually ten days. During that time, you’ve got free access to the zone and can gather whatever you want from the outside.” He tore off a chunk of meat and chewed before continuing. “Also, new dungeons and portals keep popping up, and not all the portals are white. Some even start as orange or red. If the portal or dungeon isn’t in the database, you can clear it without paying. And if nobody discovers it while you’re inside, you can even take the core and nobody will know.”
“The cores aren’t that important,” Mahya said.
Al and I both turned sharply toward her and stared.
“What?” she asked, blinking at us in confusion.
“The cores are not important?” Al asked, his brows lifting.
“Who are you and what did you do with Mahya?” I asked, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.
She waved us off. “We’ve got a much better and easier selection in Zindor. Here, I’m more interested in the resources, especially ores.”
“Oh, you’ll have a great selection,” Rabban said. He scratched his ear and leaned back in his chair. “A lot of the portals are marked as potential sources of ore. But usually the red ones or higher, so they’re not easy.”
“It’ll be fine,” Mahya said, brushing crumbs from her hands.
“I’m not so sure,” I said.
“Why?” she asked, tilting her head at me.
“The one we cleared in Zindor was dark yellow, almost orange, and it took us nearly six months. A red one sounds a lot more difficult.”
Mahya shook her head, and Al gave a low sound of disagreement.
“What?” I asked, looking between them.
“The one we cleared stayed yellow due to insufficient mana levels,” Al said, still struggling to adjust his chair without much success. He sighed and moved one seat to the left.
Mahya nodded quickly. “Yeah, and it was huge by any metric. Don’t forget, it had thirty years to grow.”
“So you’re saying it won’t be that bad?” I asked, still doubtful.
They both nodded, and Al hummed in agreement.
“Fine, I’ll trust you on this one,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“How do you know which portal or dungeon is in the database and which isn’t?” Mahya asked.
Rabban took out a square device. It looked a bit like an iPad, only four times thicker. The bottom was metal, the top covered in glass, and it practically hummed with mana. He tapped the screen, and a list appeared. I still hadn’t learned the written language, but it was obviously a table of some kind, broken into columns.
The first square in each row showed a color, ranging from white to black, with yellow, orange, red, and burgundy in between. Those were clearly the portals. The other items didn’t have colors but were underlined instead. I pointed at one. “Dungeons?”
Rabban nodded.
He gestured at the screen, moving line by line. “Portal or dungeon number with its corresponding color.” He pointed to the next column. “Location, with markers on the way.” He tapped the following one. “Estimated time until breakout.” Another tap. “Estimated resources.” Finally, he rested his finger on the last one. “And who registered to clear it, and by when they must do it.”
"Where can we get one?" I asked.
“I'll take you to the post leader and the Free Cleaners’ office after we finish here. You can buy one in the office. It's more expensive there, but it doesn't have tracking.” Rabban said, lifting his cup. “In the meantime, please tell me about your adventures.”
We spent the rest of the meal filling him in. When we told him about the cultivators’ world, he burst into laughter so hard he slapped the table with his palm. The heavy wood rattled, cups clinked together, and he leaned back, clutching his stomach. The laugh rolled on until tears welled at the corners of his eyes. When we told him about the prostitutes, his laughter shot up even louder, echoing off the walls until dust shook loose from the ceiling and drifted down onto the table.
Yeah. It was funny. In retrospect.
Comments
TravelingDreamer
Thank you
Wurschtelpotz
> praying ears *prying
Angela Roberts
Rabban is a cool guy. Sonak is still an idiot. The world seems interesting.
