Golden

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

        We reach Atriel in a heap of limbs and thorns. The overgrown shrubs that surround us prick my skin and scratch my face. I roll away from them and onto the soft blades of grass. Quinn and Daneth both groan as they crawl away from the bushes and sit up. I stand, taking in the towering trees and the bright sunlight that filters through the gaps in the leaves. A shadow of a crescent moon hangs in the sky as if waiting for its time to shed its own light over the world.

        “A moon and a sun,” I murmur. “There must be a night cycle in this world.”

        “You have no memory of this place?” Quinn speaks from behind me.

        I look over my shoulder, “you had no memory of Procratus either.” I cannot stifle the hard tone in my voice; I am helpless to the pain that pierces my chest. It’s as if everything Quinn says crawls uncomfortably on my skin.

        “Why are we here?” Daneth’s small voice asks.

        I turn to look at him, still holding both of his bags. I hand one to him and sling the other one over my shoulder, “we are here to find four people,” I tell both him and Quinn. “Julen spoke about four supernatural beings who are being held prisoner somewhere in this world and a woman named Kia can help us find them.”

        “Do you know where she lives?” Quinn asks.

        I nod, “A city called Portalto. I am certain the Othsqire transported us there but we need to make sure we are in the right place”

        “Dad told me about this world,” Daneth speaks up. “He said they have trains here that can take us wherever we want, but we have to pay for ‘tickets’.” He holds the last word in imaginary quotation marks.

        “Did he tell you how to pay for them?” I ask.

        “He said people here use something called money. It’s a way to trade with people for things that you want. I don’t know how to get it though.”

        I purse my lips and take in what appears to be a type of forestry. A woods, perhaps, for it seems to be too small and less dense than that of a forest. “Let’s leave here first and find some kind of shelter. We will make plans after.”

        Both Quinn and Daneth nod and follow beside me as we head down what appears to be a path. It looks worn, as if hundreds of steps have withered the fine, pale dirt. I hope we don’t cross paths with an atrien; I am not sure how they will react to Daneth and Quinn’s strange appearances. The look nearly identical with their pale faces, dark hair and darker eyes and that may come across as alarming to one from this world. I give them both a once over, “if we come across an atrien, act as though you were born in this world. They may look at you strangely because of your appearance but they will not question you if you don’t seem suspicious,” I tell them.

        They cast their eyes at me and nod, remaining silent. We continue walking down the worn path, until an odd shape suddenly comes into view. As we grow closer, I see four metal cylinders supporting a four-sided picture. Lines interweave haphazardly across the luminous picture with a type of language written in different sections.

        “A map,” Daneth speaks up. “My dad had one in his room. Apparently it’s supposed to give you directions on where to go.”

        “It’s unfortunate that we cannot read it,” Quinn murmurs from beside me.

        His voice pricks at my skin, but I make sure not to show it. “Yes, but we can still follow the line. Hopefully it will lead us out of the forest. Look,” I point to a singular yellow dot in the middle of the map, “this must be where we are now. If we follow this path, it will lead us out.”

        So we resume our walk, moving briskly through the towering, prickly trees and stepping over large fallen branches. The journey is shorter than expected, and soon I pick up different voices speaking ahead. “Stay silent and act neutral,” I tell the two as we approach the end of the forest.

        When the path ends, we step into a clearing that is bustling with atriens. Their facial and bodily structures are almost identical to mine, but unlike Procratus, each atrien looks entirely different. Strands of brown, blond, black and even reds all sway in the slight breeze as colourful eyes wander. Some atriens are shorter while others tower, and as the three of us move further into the scattered crowd I notice that I am part of the taller ones.

        “They look like you,” Quinn murmurs, “but they don’t. How can this be? I thought a species is supposed to look identical.”

        “Perhaps that only applies to procratans,” I reply.

        The atriens take no notice to us as we move past them; only occasionally does one glance my way at give a strange look at my attire. We head towards what appears to be a black path of some sort. As we grow closer, we pass a moveable stand. A man stands behind it, giving us a smile before speaking in an entirely foreign language. He grabs a metal utensil and uses it to hold a piece of cylindrical meat in our direction; he seems to be offering it.

        I return his smile and shake his head before walking past him.

        Once the man is out of hearing distance, Daneth speaks up, “I wanted to try one.”

        I glance at him, “we don’t know what kind of food is eaten here. What is edible for them might by poisonous to you and Quinn.”

        “Why wouldn’t it be for you?” Daneth catches.

            Quinn answers for me, which pulls at my nerves. “She was born here, she is an atrien as well so she would be able to eat it.” I purse my lips and say nothing; I would rather not have Quinn speak for me but I also don’t want to start an unnecessary fight.

        We reach the black path and stop. Yellow and white lines mark the path, “what are those for?” Quinn wonders aloud.

        He takes a step forward, only for a sudden loud noise to ring in our ears and cause him to jump back. A man in what appears to be a vehicle of some sort rushes past us and the sound stops. I notice that he doesn’t cross over the yellow and white lines.

        “A road,” Daneth says. “My dad used to tell me about some worlds that have roads, where people would drive on them with their cars. He said the marks make ‘lanes’ and that they have to stay in one lane; they can’t drive on the lines unless they’re switching lanes, or they will get in trouble.”

        My gaze lingers on the small boy for a second too long. He looks so much like Julen. “I am assuming we cannot cross these roads?”

        He shakes his head, “we can, but only at certain times. I don’t really remember what my dad said after that. I wish I listened to him more.” With these words, he glances at Quinn with a fierce look that startles me.

        Suddenly, Quinn looks at me with furrowed eyebrows. “How will we know if we are in the right city? We don’t speak atrien language, nor do we read it.”

        “We can still ask. We must try,” I tell him. As I finish speaking, my eyes land on a passing atrien. I touch her arm lightly, “Portalto?” I ask.

        The woman frowns and then begins speaking in the same foreign tongue as the man behind the stand. I bite my lip and shake my head. “I don’t understand,” I tell her, trying to show that I don’t speak the same tongue. Her eyebrows furrow deeper, “Portalto?” I ask again, gesturing around us.

        Slowly, she nods. “Portalto,” she says, copying my motion.

        I give her a smile, “thank you,” I try to express with hand gestures. The girl nods, giving me a strange look before hastily walking away.

        I can hear Daneth and Quinn’s chuckles from behind me, “I have never witnessed such an awkward conversation like that,” Quinn laughs.

        I purse my lips and glare at the both of them, feeling an unusual warmth blossom in my cheeks. This heat is dissimilar to the warmth I had felt with Julen; this is embarrassment. I glare at them again. “At least we know we are in the correct city. Now let us find this woman.”