The Outworlder Read online

  Natalie J Holden

  The Outworlder

  Copyright © 2021 by Natalie J Holden

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

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  Contents

  Pronounciation guide

  Glossary

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Natalie J Holden

  Pronounciation guide

  Every word I make up is pronounced exactly how it is spelled. A always sounds like in alphabet. E like in elephant. I like in inconvenient. Y like in yellow. U like in flute. Sh like in shame. Ch like in choice. H as in house. X as ks. R can be hard in Dahlsi-é words, akin to the one in German language or soft, smilar to English one in Tarvissi-é words. Double letters denote long sounds, but otherwise don’t change the pronunciation. Diacritic marks are used to denote accent.

  Every letter should be pronounced separately, regardless of the adjacent ones, i.e. Ma-urir, Alde-a-ith, X-z-sim.

  Glossary

  Great Sphere – the universe

  Vhalfr – the lone star of this universe. All suns and moons are merely holes in the skydomes through which its light reaches worlds.

  Cycle – a time in which Great Sphere makes a full spin around the Vhalfr; approximately 2 earthy years.

  Merge – a point existing in two worlds simultaneously, allowing a free passage between them

  Old Karirian Cluster – a cluster of worlds inhabited for millennia

  Dahls – a world in the Old Karirian Cluster, home to the Dahlsian civilization

  Dahlsi – native of Dahls

  Dahlsi-é – language of Dahls

  Tarviss – a world in the Old Karirian Cluster, home to the Tarvissian civilization

  Tarvissi – native of Tarviss

  Tarvissi-é – language of Tarviss

  Tayan – a world in the Old Karirian Cluster, home to the Tayani people

  Xzsin Nyeotl – a world in the Old Karirian Cluster, home to the Xzsim people

  Meon Cluster – a cluster of previously uninhabited worlds discovered and colonized by the Dahlsi twenty cycles ago

  Sfal – the only world in the Meon Cluster to connect with a world outside of it (Dahls).

  Junction world – in Meon Cluster most of the worlds only merge once with one of the four junction worlds: Sfal, Kooine, Tydus and Daesi

  Ae – magical energy

  Ampik – unit of ae

  Magical potential – the amount of ampiks a person can process in a second

  Keverim scale – used to measure a person’s magical potential. One point means a person can process twelve ampics of ae per second; this is the median for all humans.

  Mespana – the closest thing to an army in Dahls. The organization was initially created to ensure a safe exploration of new worlds in the Meon Cluster, but was later entrusted with upkeeping peace within the colonies. Mespana is divided into twelve Cohorts, each has approximately 144 members divided into twelve dozens.

  Kar-vessár – head commander of Mespana

  Vessár(plural vessár-ai) – commander of Mespana

  Nami-vessár – adjutant

  Vaka – a drug with invigorating properties

  Kalikka – a drug with tranquilizing properties

  Tchalka (tsalka) – a piece of reed filled with herbs used for smoking; can have various properties.

  Ytanga – a heavy drug

  Katarda – a drug used by sorcerers to quickly recharge

  Tlaloi - sentient beings

  Humans – arrived in this universe approximately 100 thousand years ago from Earth and since then have evolved into separate subspecies. Still, they’re pretty close to us.

  Chavikii – an intelligent species. Small, stocky humanoids with yellow, rubbery skin, eight beady eyes, and short trunks. Obligate herbivores with the ability to digest any plant matter and neutralize every plant toxin.

  Kas’sham – an intelligent species. Slightly smaller than humans, with slim, fur-covered bodies and expressionless faces. Known for their amazing agility. Obligate carnivores and excellent hunters.

  Ssothian – an intelligent species. Massive creatures covered in orange fur, with vertical mouths and four beady eyes. Men sport large, hollow horns that grow throughout their entire lives.

  Vhariar – an intelligent species. Tall and lanky humanoids, with grey skin and two bowl-shaped growths on the sides of their heads. Considered (especially by themselves) to be the most intelligent among sentient species. Physically weak. Belong to the same evolutionary tree as besheq.

  Besheq – an intelligent species. Humanoids with atrophied arms and ten tentacles growing from their shoulders like a fan. Known for their meek and non-aggressive nature, but watch out for those tentacles, they may be filled with toxins. Belong to the same evolutionary tree as vhariars.

  Dryaks – vile beasts that are surprisingly common in Meon Cluster and are a pain in the ass for everyone in Mespana

  Prologue

  Dyah La’s eyeballs itched.

  She popped another antihistamine pill and washed it down with a gulp of tonic. The pollen-heavy air took an opportunity to sneak under her mask and bite at her face with full force. She cursed and pulled up her veil, then recast the spells necessary for it to work.

  Farming colonies were the worst. Dyah La’s Dahlsian ancestors spent so much time in the airtight city that her body was simply not capable of dealing with the constant barrage of sunlight and allergens. In worlds like Maurir, with the merges surrounded by fields, orchards, gardens, and pastures, her allergies flared up. Her body itched in places she shouldn’t have the necessary nerves to even feel.

  And there was not a damn thing she could do except to pop pill after pill and hope for the best.

  Dyah La sighed, then pushed away from the cart, stretching her stiff limbs. They were in the middle of the main yard of the Montak Mansion, the largest construction in Maurir. A few paces away, shadowed by suspended walkways, Talelouhani chattered with locals—a group of burly men and women of Tarvissian origin, so tall they made Dyah La feel like a child. It might have seemed like a friendly chat, but she knew it was calculated to discretely investigate the condition of the colony. Not that there was a need; there was never any trouble in Maurir.

  Tax collectors, like Talelouhani, arrived twice a cycle to collect one-twelfth of the produce—or whatever l
ocals said was one-twelfth. A token more than anything; Maurir produced nothing Dahlsi cared for. The food collected as tribute was either sold or distributed to other colonies. Still, Dahlsian officials came in regularly to assert their presence and check if the colonists needed any help. Mespanians, like Dyah La, were there to protect them.

  Seeing Talelouhani’s chat was not coming to an end, she decided to go for a walk. The yard was rather large, surrounded by tall, whitewashed walls with only two gates, one leading outside and the other to a second yard. Wooden galleries ran along the walls above their heads, and in their shadow rested large, reptilian daereleigs, the primary livestock of local people. Flower wreaths and moss-green ribbons decorated the wide windows.

  “To celebrate the end of Edira,” one of the locals had explained earlier. “The twenty-seventh month, the last of a cycle.”

  It was only the middle of a cycle for Dahlsi, despite the fact that both nations counted time starting from the same event. Dyah La found Tarvissian traditions charming, even if they made her itch.

  A shouting came from the second yard. It was built around the exact spot where Maurir merged with Kooine, allowing free passage between the two worlds. But Dyah La wasn’t aware of any scheduled visitors to Maurir—and frankly, she didn’t think there were ever any visitors, other than tax collectors.

  She walked back around the cart, just in time to see a group of men entering the main yard. They could almost pass for locals—tall, burly, and bearded. Even their clothing was similar, except their jackets were identical green color. And they had weapons.

  Dyah La’s hand automatically fell to her wand. There were at least two dozen intruders—with more coming—and her heart sank. She was not a sorceress to fend them off, and so far her role had been mostly for show. Oh, she was trained to fight, and Mespana armed her with the most advanced equipment known to man. But she had never actually had to use her skills. Certainly not against an armed mob.

  One thing she could do, though, was sense the danger. And the men flooding the yard radiated it.

  “People of Maurir!” exclaimed a young man she’d barely noticed against the group of warriors. He was short for a Tarvissi, with unruly hair, more brown than black but no beard. “Rejoice, for we come to liberate you from the oppression of the Dahlsian Empire.”

  Dyah La’s eyebrow arched up. Oppression? Dahlsian rule was the exact opposite. Although, her perspective might have been skewed given that she was Dahlsi.

  “We come to restore the natural order of things,” the man lowered his voice, trailing his gaze over the crowd, visibly thrown off by the quiet welcome from the locals. “Restore the way of Tarviss!”

  A cold shiver ran down Dyah La’s spine. So far, the colonists in Maurir seemed more than happy to leave their old ways behind. They had no reason to join his cause, but…

  They were just farmers. The men like the speaker—especially surrounded by guards—must have been daunting. Could he bully them to stand against her country?

  The invaders were filling the yard now, pushing locals aside. Even more stood on the walkways above with crossbows at the ready. There were at least a dozen yards in the mansion—were they all similarly filled?

  “There must be some misunderstanding.” Talelouhani stepped out, and Dyah La’s heart clenched. He stopped right in front of the Tarvissian leader. He was taller but more slender, with a delicate, almost feminine face. A pacifist, like all Varpulians, whose faith in humanity was stronger than any Dahlsi’s.

  Dyah La wanted to scream at him to shut up and walk back, run, hide, flee; but her throat was tight, and she could not make a sound.

  “The Dahlsian Empire never imposed any oppression,” he continued with his soft, soothing voice. “People are free to live how they want. If you wish to follow the Tarvissian ways, no one will stop you.”

  “We’d rather pay our dues to the Dahlsi than parasites like you, lordling,” came a voice from the crowd. The young leader’s eyes darted to the side, searching for the one who had spoken, his lips twisting into an ugly snarl.

  Dyah La expected him to say something, to snap at the bold farmer. Instead, almost too fast for her to register, he pulled out a knife and thrust it into Talelouhani’s chest.

  A scream tore from her throat, but a heavy hand clasped her mouth. The wand was wrestled from her hand and tossed aside like a twig.

  Chapter 1

  Less than an hour passed after my return to Sfal when the unmistakable tingling of a telepathic message at the back of my head summoned me to the vessár’s office.

  The door slid open as soon as I approached, enchanted, like everything else here. I entered the office—a small, white, and sterile room with most of the furniture neatly folded into the walls. Over a large desk, Laik Var eyed me unsympathetically.

  “Vessár,” I said, straightening and clasping my hands behind my back.

  “Aldait Han.” He motioned me in.

  I tapped my foot on a darker spot on the floor, making a chair unfold. It was tight and uncomfortable, made for someone half my size, but after two cycles of living among Dahlsi, I was used to it. I looked at my commander expectantly. He was short and wiry, with a balding head and grass-blue eyes deeply seated in a web of crow’s feet. They reminded me of two guards flanking the throne that was his enormous nose. The picture would be more dignified, though, if the eyes weren’t always reddened and the nose always runny. Allergies.

  Like me, he wore a black single-piece uniform with the logo of Mespana: a sword and a wand crossed over a diamond, along with the number of our cohort stitched on the right arm. The only sign of his office was a silver sash running from left shoulder to right hip.

  “What the fuck is this?” he asked, throwing a thin scroll box onto the desk.

  I looked at him in confusion.

  “A letter for my family, Vessár,” I replied. I had written it during the last mission and threw it into the box on my way here. It was the only thing I’d managed to do after submitting my report.

  The mission had been a nightmare. We were in Sorox, a strange, colorless world, and the pervasive grays were getting to me. I almost forgot how my skin looked under normal light. Not to mention trudging through steep, rocky mountains with barely any life, being confined to our six-member group, locked in a tight, uncomfortable tent, and forced to survive on Dahlsian food rations after my own stock ran out. Now, I felt like my uniform was glued to my skin, and no amount of magic would make me clean. I needed to peel it off and take an honest bath: water, soap, and a good scrub. Then put on something comfortable that would let me breathe again and go out, feel the sun on my face. See real colors, eat food that didn’t come from a fucking tube and had a smell, taste, and texture, that satisfied instead of just filling up. I was tired. I needed a break. I’d earned it, by Vhalfr!

  But from across the desk, the vessár’s eyes bore into me, and I knew my rest would have to wait.

  “Fuck,” he cursed quietly, leaning back in his chair. “Nobody told you yet?”

  * * *

  The city passed me in a blur. I was drenched in sweat, and my lungs worked like bellows in the hot, damp air. After days spent in chilly Sorox, I found the tropical heat of Sfal unbearable. Yet I ran as if chased by demons, and I didn’t—couldn’t—slow down.

  Not until space opened around me and I knew I had reached my destination.

  The market.

  I had no time for a bath or even a decent meal. Mespana was mobilizing. In half an hour, we were to report in at the train depot, ready for departure to Maurir. But by Vhalfr, I was not going to spend another gods-damned day on food rations!

  It was silly, I knew. Food was just sustenance, something to keep the body running. And the state provided all citizens of Dahls, even outworlders like me, with perfectly balanced rations. But I was no Dahlsi; I abhorred that sludge. I was a farmer’s son; I needed real, fresh food: berries eaten from the bush, zeeäth eggs laid in the morning, arpa root thrown on the fire straight from
the ground with green tendrils still wriggling, looking for dirt to dig in. Or at least some dry vye to make porridge.

  So yes, I was determined to spend the last half-hour of my freedom shopping for groceries.

  It was early evening, only one of two triangular suns still open in the golden-pink sky. The market was almost empty; most of the stalls had closed, and the few remaining merchants were packing up. Only food vendors were still aplenty, serving the last dallying patrons, filling the air with the scents of smoke, spices, and deep-fried habava fruit.

  I was parched after the run, so I grabbed a bottle of palm sap from a besheq vendor. Their tentacles rippled more than usual, and I couldn’t shake off the impression of being judged. I say “their” because I was never able to determine the sex of most of the nonhumans. Now I wondered how much they could tell about me.

  Human. Male.

  … Tarvissi?

  The vendor left without waiting for me to return the bottle, so I guess that was my answer. I used the spell to turn the flask into sand, and with creeping discomfort, I plunged into the market.

  I always had a complicated relationship with that place. I was equal parts intimidated by its size and opulence, awed by the wealth of goods from all around the universe, overwhelmed by crowds, and enraptured by the foods. Now the crowd was almost nonexistent, and the silk cloth hanging over the alley provided respite from the sun, yet whatever semblance of good mood I could muster quickly soured when I noticed merchants stopping what they were doing to stare at me warily. None of them offered me their wares. Usually, it was hard to take a step without having someone throw their stuff at me, yelling encouragements and offers. Especially in the evening when there were more vendors than clients, and they had to fight for every sale.