Chapter 18
PORTAL FATIGUE DETECTED
Arioch
“She said Pripyat?” Tyrin asked.
After waiting in line, we now stood before a terminal inside the portal station. The machine demanded that we select a destination. Thanks to Clymene, I had one; however, it was not listed.
“Yes.” I scanned the cities again.
“I’ve never heard of Pripyat.”
Nor had I, which was why I had looked it up last night. “A city in Ukraine, abandoned after a nuclear disaster in nineteen-eighty-six.”
Recognition sobered his expression. “Chernobyl.”
“You have heard of it?”
He gave a brisk nod. “A terrible tragedy that was broadcast all over the news when it happened. As far as I know, the land is still not habitable.”
I nodded, returning my attention to the terminal. “Chernobyl is not listed as an option, either.”
Tyrin slid to my side, eyeing the machine. “May I?”
Technology had never been among my strengths. The manor had little use for it, and I had even less patience to learn something I rarely used. I surrendered the terminal to Tyrin and turned my attention inward while he worked.
The artifact clawed at my awareness from what felt like the far side of the world, each passing moment sharpening the demand to retrieve what was mine. I had no choice but to answer.
I would not see home tonight.
The realization should have troubled me.
Instead, frost crept unbidden across my fingertips as something dangerously close to exhilaration stirred in my chest. I smothered it with shame.
My caution had granted the little thief the time she required to escape, leaving my people exposed for every hour I spent in pursuit.
Yet adventure had sunk its claws into me, and I was not entirely certain I wished to shake them loose.
“Found it,” Tyrin announced, sounding as surprised as I felt. “I had to type it in.”
The look he cast me required no words, for we had to be contemplating the same matter.
Why would an exclusion zone possess a teleportation station?
The Pripyat station was 10,615 kilometers away. The journey bore an exorbitant price and included an energy drain that would persist for ten hours and forty minutes.
“Pardon me,” Tyrin said, summoning the assistance of the nearest guard. “What exactly does portal fatigue entail?”
The elf glanced up from his post by the door, his features sharp and aristocratic. Burnished armor etched with runes that pulsed with protective magic caught the overhead lights. Cold amber eyes swept over Tyrin and dismissed him.
“Is it the reading or the comprehension that has you stumped, gargoyle? Teleporting drains energy. Our system cannot be more precise than that. You are holding up the line. Either make your selection or exit the building.”
Anger flared in my chest at his blatant disrespect of my húskarl. I stepped forward, fingers itching for Silentium’s hilt, ready to meet the insult with violence. This elf knew not whom he addressed, and I would teach him some manners.
Do not! Tyrin’s hand settled on my forearm with an iron grip as he spoke into my mind. Attacking the Peace Council wardens will lead to certain death. We require answers, not entry into Valhalla.
I forced my jaw to unclench, knowing he was right. This battle would lead me no closer to the treasure currently torturing my mind with its demands.
I met the guard’s gaze and held it, watching his smirk falter as my pupils contracted to vertical slits. I offered no words, merely a hint of the creature within.
He shifted his weight.
My stance relaxed, and Tyrin’s hand fell away. I turned back to the terminal and selected the abandoned city, my thumb hovering over the confirmation button as I scanned the terms and conditions.
“Forgive me for not pressing Ieshim for more details on teleporting,” Tyrin said. “My oversight has left us unprepared.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Nor is there any reason to tarry.”
Before he could protest, I confirmed the purchase. The terminal hummed and requested payment, which I fed into the slot. The elven guard watched with narrowed eyes as we deposited our weapons and bags before retrieving our tickets and following the arrows to the portal platform.
Tyrin requested to teleport first, but I was brimming with curiosity and desperate to ease the anguish created by the distance between myself and my treasure. I stepped onto the platform and waited.
The world lurched.
Blinding light consumed me. Pressure crushed my chest until black spots danced across my vision. Nausea rolled through my gut, and my limbs filled with lead, buckling my knees. I stumbled forward and caught myself on something. When I opened my eyes, the world was dark and blurry.
I forced myself upright and blinked until my vision cleared. A string of lights encircled an A-Frame sign that read GET OFF THE PLATFORM NOW! in several languages.
Massive open windows provided enough moonlight to navigate the cracked concrete slab beneath me and the two steps down from the platform.
I stood within a portal station, yet there were no guards, no attendants, and no other travelers.
The scent of concrete, nature, rot, and something unfamiliar that I did not trust hung in the air.
Moonlight spilled through gaping windows in the concrete, illuminating the remains of a colorful art collage painted on the opposite wall.
Radiation had decayed the artwork, peeling it away in chunks and leaving behind a macabre warning of the poison still lingering in the air.
Disconcerted, I focused on my treasure only to realize I had made a mistake.
A second dusty platform held my sword and bag. I made my way to retrieve it as Tyrin and his belongings materialized. He stumbled and went down on one knee, gasping for breath for a moment before snapping to attention, scanning the station, and then addressing me.
“Where is everyone?”
“Not here.” I retrieved my sword and bag, feeling the full weight of each.
He must have heard the frustration in my tone, because he asked, “Not even the wolves?”
The artifact’s presence blazed in my mind like a beacon, closer, yet still impossibly distant. I shook my head. “The wolves did not teleport here.”
He exited the platform and reclaimed his weapons and bag. “Why would Clymene send us to an abandoned station?”
I bit my tongue to keep from reminding him it would not be her first mistake. That was not important now. “I only hope we can leave.”
Tyrin turned in a circle. “The station is unmanned?”
“And vacant for some time.” I crossed the room to the terminal.
“Perhaps the Peace Council restricts its hours of operation since the location is so remote. I cannot imagine this station sees many visitors.”
The screen flickered to life as I approached. The crack that spider-webbed across the bottom left corner did not appear to affect its functionality. I scrolled through stations, wondering where to go next. Without seeing the sky, it was impossible to determine the direction the artifact pulled me.
A warning blazed across the display: Portal fatigue detected. Service unavailable for 10 hours and 36 minutes.
I swore.
“What is it?” Tyrin hurried to my side.
“We are stuck here until the fatigue wears off.” I stepped back, frustration clawing at my chest. The artifact pulsed in my awareness, taunting me with its distance and my failure.
“What exactly did Clymene say about this place?”
“I see a city. A city poisoned by man’s technology. That is where you will find your second chance.”
Tyrin stared at me, doubtlessly waiting for more, but I had nothing else to offer. “Second chance?” he asked.
I shrugged. It was not my problem, and I could not risk my life to uncover the mystery spoken by a seer who had previously failed my family.
I frowned at the machine, wishing I could force the location of the wolves from it. “It does not matter. We cannot tarry here any longer than necessary.”
“No.” Tyrin’s gaze roamed over the space, taking in the machines connected to teleportation platforms. They looked far older and more rudimentary than the equipment in the Seattle station.
“I see no evidence of the Peace Council’s involvement with this station.
There are no posted reminders that this is neutral territory. ”
“Come, then.” I headed for the stairs that led up to the ground level and the windows. “Let us find somewhere safe to bed down until the fatigue passes.”
We emerged from the edifice to survey our surroundings.
Moonlight illuminated barren trees, crumbling structures, and an immense half-cylindrical metal construct in the distance.
The air bore the taste of decay, and radiation clung to the back of my throat like a foul taste that refused to dissipate.
Snow crunched beneath our bare feet, shattering the uncanny silence of the forsaken city.
I would have ascended above the tree line to conduct a more thorough reconnaissance of our surroundings, yet I could not muster sufficient magic to even elevate myself from the ground.
With a start, I realized that was not my sole limitation.
“Can you shift?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“No, m’lord. My magic is thoroughly depleted.”
“As is mine. What is that building across the way?” I pointed through the barren trees.
He squinted. “A tower block.” My expression must have revealed my ignorance, because he added, “Living quarters for several families.”
“It would provide an acceptable view of the portal station.”
“Indeed.”
Weapons in hand, we moved with deliberate care, our steps as light as we could manage, avoiding the frozen snow wherever possible.
Some Tricari possessed the gift of soundless passage across any terrain, but neither gargoyles nor dragons were blessed with such stealth.
Through patience and considerable effort, we reached the tower block and ascended the stairs without incident.
With each floor we climbed, the stench of decay and mold grew more oppressive.
Fearing for the structural integrity of the edifice, we dared not venture beyond the third story.
Each dwelling consisted of a kitchen, living quarters, and two bedchambers.
By the time we selected the one affording the finest view of the portal station, exhaustion had so thoroughly claimed me that I feared I might collapse where I stood.
It seemed unbelievable that I had awakened well-rested mere hours past. Portal lag was proving to be quite the formidable adversary.
Tyrin and I dug into our rations, desperate to recoup a modicum of energy.
“I’ll take the first watch,” he announced once we finished.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he dipped his head and added, “M’lord.”
My duty weighed heavily on my shoulders. I required rest. My people depended on my safe return, but the matter extended beyond mere obligation. The wolves had teleported elsewhere, and it was imperative that I divine their location. I could conceive of but one method to do so.
With any luck, the little thief would likewise be forced to surrender to her exhaustion.
The living space still retained a broken television, a ruined sofa, and a surprising quantity of debris.
Everything bore a sharp, electrical scent.
I procured a broom from the kitchen and swept clear the refuse before stretching out upon the floor near the window, taking care not to touch anything to which the acrid reek of radiation clung.
“Rouse me in three hours,” I commanded.
Tyrin bowed his head. “Rest well, m’lord.”
I succumbed to slumber the instant my head came to rest upon my arm.