//------------------------------//
// Chapter 18: Jordan 
// Story: Forbidden Places 
// by Starscribe 
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Jordan wasn't unaccustomed to pain. 

It wasn't like the governments of various cities and townships all over the world were spiteful or malicious with the places they didn't want people to go. Of course a few were historical locations, with insides vulnerable to destruction under hundreds of careless feet. Those were easy, his friends just weren't careless.

But the second (and much larger) class of forbidden places, those were dangerous. Some were made of toxic chemicals and needed respirators to visit. Others were crumbling and structurally unsound, or filled with other hazards. Exploring any of them meant weeks of research and preparation. But even so, there were accidents. He'd broken a leg, cracked a few ribs, and even been impaled once on a bit of rebar. Lucky that thing missed anything important.

But there was something about being stabbed here that made the whole situation ten times worse than it ought to be. The wound wasn't even that deep, grazing one of his legs and thankfully missing an artery. That poor bird they fought first had ended up suffering far more serious injuries. 

But for Jordan, it wasn't the pain. They even had a real first-aid kit, so cleaning and sealing the wound took very little time. But the other ponies—they didn't seem to understand the concept of a minor wound. 

For the first few hours after takeoff, they wouldn't even let him leave the makeshift triage—now located in their old cell. Someone asked after him practically every few minutes, or at least it felt that way. 

"I'm fine," he grunted, twisting the injured leg around to show the white bandage, unstained with blood. "We used wound-glue. I won't even need stitches." Still, he could hope he'd at least have a scar to show for it. How many people could tell the girls they met in shady bars that they'd taken an injury fighting pirates?

"Miss, you really shouldn't move so much. You lost a lot of blood during the fight. And if you move too much, you could tear open your leg."

That was Foxglove, the only pony with any first aid experience. He'd taken over watching them for Kaelynn once she went back into her tank. 

Jordan didn't bother correcting him, just like he hadn't so many times before. Explaining that this body felt more like a loaner from the dealer while his real one was in the shop hadn't exactly been near the top of his list while they were fighting for survival. 

Technically, they still were, and Jordan wasn't able to do a damn thing to help. He listened to the shifting of weight on the deck above them. Mostly he heard Blake's voice, giving instructions, and directing the repair.

But it was the rescued ponies who were really doing all the work. The mast probably weighed half a ton, and they could make it float. All the while he listened for the shout of alarm that would mean they were being followed. That would probably mean death—it might mean it was better to glide off the ship, and take his chances with the desert.

"I'm fine, Foxglove," he said, pushing the pony gently away with his undamaged leg. "Really. I just want to get up there and help them keep watch. You know, something useful? Look at these other hurt people. They need you, not me."

Foxglove twitched slightly at the use of the word “people,” but he seemed to guess what it meant from context. At least so far they hadn't bothered explaining anything about their origin. They'd fought together, and maybe that would mean sharing after a little more time. But Blake had suggested waiting until they knew they would get out safely, and Jordan agreed. It didn't make sense to share anything that might be used against them later.

But that alarm never came. From the cheering and shaking on the deck, Jordan assumed that the mast was back in place, or at least not falling over. Of course the real test of that repair comes when they try to raise the sail.

He should be up there helping, his wounds weren't that serious. But arguing with Foxglove was a losing battle. The “earth pony” was so strong that he could keep Jordan trapped in the sleeping bag with a single hoof on his shoulder. 

Eventually, the warmth and the gentle rocking of the ship were too much. Being up during the day was the worst. After being trapped in bed for long enough, even he finally slept.

Suddenly he was free again, flying through the air with confidence and dexterity. He glanced down, and sure enough his leg dangled there, wrapped in bandage. It ached when he thought about it, so he focused on other things. It stopped aching. 

By now Jordan knew what he was doing. There was no mystery involved in gliding down through what was apparently a fully enclosed cavern, walking down the steps, and finding the door. In the way of dreams, doing something he understood well felt like it only consumed seconds of time, rather than minutes or hours. Just like that he had one hoof up against the doorway leading deeper into the place that Pale called the Dreamlands.

There was only one problem this time: the door was shut. He pushed and shoved against the heavy wood, even bracing his shoulder up against it with all his might. But the door resisted him. Curious, Jordan took a step back, surveying this new obstacle in detail. 

Most people would probably have just given up when they encountered a sturdy enough barricade. But getting into places he wasn't supposed to go was kind of Jordan's only hobby. 

The double doors stood about twice his height, apparently made of stone. Structurally that didn't make sense—but this place wasn't strictly real, so the usual suite of rules didn't apply. The stone surface was painted completely in strange symbols, written in a language that Jordan couldn't read. But maybe he didn't have to.

Pale Light hadn't had enough time to get too detailed with everything he had to reveal about the Dreamlands. But some of it made sense.

This door was about intention. He had to want to be through it, and to be willing to face the consequences. I'm leaving my own dreams if I step out there. I'm vulnerable.

Jordan advanced on the door again. This time he wasn't trying to force his way through. He belonged on the other side of that door, and he was prepared to face whatever waited for him as a result. If that meant danger, so what? He'd come to other worlds already. He'd fought pirates, crossed a desert, and maybe even killed someone. 

The doors rumbled and shook, then swung open a crack. Almost the instant they opened, they began to drift closed again. He hurried through the opening, dodging through the crack just fast enough not to lose his tail in the impact.

This wasn't the forest he'd been expecting. Instead Jordan stood on a stretch of gray sand, extending away from the hollow archway behind him. As before, the doors vanished as soon as they shut, leaving no view of the world behind.

The sky overhead was black and spotted with stars, swirling in patterns more complex than he'd ever observed in the simple night sky.

That wasn't just sand stretching away from him. He saw craters spotted across the strange surface. The plane was pockmarked with them, some so wide and deep that they could swallow whole buildings and still have room for dessert.

But there was no forest this time, teaming with life. For a time Jordan thought he was completely alone, with the oppressive silence and the stars. But hey, at least he wasn't suffocating. 

Then he saw a figure—a pair of dark wings in the distance, and a pony's distant outline. They were exploring the bottom of a crater—Pale! Jordan took off, wings spreading wide. It felt far easier to fly here, which made more and less sense at the same moment. The lunar gravity barely even pulled on his wings. But at the same time, there shouldn't be air for them to fight against.

He started to sink, and quickly banished the thought. Confidence and desire seemed to matter most of all. He already knew that he could fly here, so long as he believed it.

But as he closed on the figure, they turned to look back, and he realized it wasn't Pale Light. Those wings had fathers, like the pegasus pony they'd rescued. Not only that, but this creature was so much larger than anyone he'd met yet. They would be even bigger than the griffons.

"Sorry!" He stopped in the air, maybe fifty feet overhead. "I thought you were someone else! I didn't mean to bother you!" He turned off in a random direction, and intended to keep flying that way—but there was a flash of light, and suddenly he was on the ground.

He blinked, wings beating fruitlessly and scattering dust and sand. But his legs were fast enough, and he didn't fall. He looked around in confusion, then looked up at the pony.

She was dark blue, with a mane that his eyes didn't want to focus on. It faded into the stars behind her, with patterns stranger and more complex than even the world of dreams could show. Was he in danger? Such a large creature almost made him want to run. But Jordan hadn't ever been very good about the fear response, and that wasn't about to change now. "I thought there were only bats in here. I guess Pale was wrong."

Was this creature even a pony? She looked down on Jordan with a sweep of her expansive wings, striding around him in a few appraising steps. Jordan tucked his tail self-consciously, puffing out his chest and spreading his wings to be as big as possible. For whatever it was worth. He didn't even have the protection of the useless clothes.

"The Dreamlands are a vast expanse, larger than any single realm. They contain all creatures with minds of their own, great and small."

She sounded a little like she looked, her speech strange and her accent formal. But did she really sound like that, or was Jordan just interpreting it that way?

"It is true that among ponies, only thestrals travel freely in the unwaking world. I am an exception... and it seems you do not know me." She twisted slightly to the side, so Jordan could see her cutie mark clearly. It was almost as hard to accept that stupid name as it was to accept not wearing any pants. "Not even this symbol?"

He considered a moment, then jerked backward suddenly, grinning up at her. "Wait, I have seen that! They were minted on some old coins. Really old, at least a few centuries."

The pony smiled wanly, then left him. She was on her way down towards the center of a crater. There was something in the bottom, though Jordan couldn't quite make it out. "It would need to be far older, or far newer than that. I doubt my mark was used much while I was banished here."

This was his chance to escape. Maybe if he kept flying, he would run into Pale Light eventually. That pony would be able to answer his questions, more than the ones they'd rescued. Those ponies just told him to rest.

"Not just old coins," Jordan continued, trailing along after her. "On some ruins too! There were sun and moon glyphs all over it. Since they were French I was thinking it was a Louis the 14th kinda deal—sun king or whatever. But maybe it didn't have anything to do with my world at all. The moon did look exactly like your tattoo."

That made her stop, glancing back over her shoulder. Like all the other horses, she didn't seem to pay the slightest attention to what Jordan could see from that angle. Nothing he hadn't seen for the last few weeks already. Blake would probably stare like an idiot. 

"That's quite the way to assemble your words, young mare. I would think you were a dreamwalker from another realm, except for your appearance. Did you choose to look like that to soothe away my worries? Did you hope to extract information about Equestria, perhaps?" 

She stiffened just slightly, her wings open enough to spread her feathers. It was far more dignified than anything Jordan had done.

But Jordan couldn't help himself—he laughed. "If I had any choice about the way I looked, I don't think I would've chosen this. I'm not really sure what all the options were, but 'keeping all my hardware' would've been on the list. Maybe one of those horny things, the unicorns seem to have it made. Levitating things around like they have enough hands to get things done. Not all confused and awkward and flustered by all the smells. The hormones you keep in these brains are downright hellacious." 

Being so honest was a risk—he'd known that going in. But of all her reactions, he hadn't expected the horse to smile back at him, wings relaxing. She gestured with her tail, a flick he'd seen from several ponies now. It meant to follow, and he did. "I see what this is. Discord has opened another Worldgate. He didn't waste time using that new authority. Let me guess: you've signed a mysterious contract with a figure you don't understand, and now you're forced to spend time in Equestria? Quite the talent you inherited to Dreamwalk your way here without training..."

Jordan shook his head vigorously. "No, none of that. My friends and I didn't sign anything, we were exploring. Weren't supposed to be down there, I know. People die in the catacombs. Well maybe they don't die, maybe they end up here! Or... okay I saw a body, so I guess some do. But we ended up here! We ran out of supplies, and there was a monster on the other side, and—"

The pony loomed over him, standing in his way so abruptly that Jordan hardly even realized what happened. A set of soft wings wrapped around him. Without knowing why he felt it, Jordan's breathing slowed, and he stopped ranting. He took a few deep breaths, relaxing.

"Peace, Otherworlder. I do not know what you are describing—but my sister will. She ruled during the long years of my absence. If there was traffic between worlds, she would know about it. If you are not bound by contract, there is no reason you could not return the way you came."

He winced. "Well, uh... we can't. There was a monster, like I said. I don't know... exactly what it was. But everyone saw it. Felt like it was chasing us back the way we came. Didn't want us to leave. We tried getting out another way, but the place was full of poison."

They'd been walking long enough that Jordan could finally see what they were approaching. It seemed a little like a stylized Greek temple, built near the bottom of the crater where it would be in perpetual shadow. But neither the lack of air nor the biting cold reached them. 

"What is your name, Otherworlder? That I might find you again?"

"Jordan," he answered. "Jordan Little."

"And I am Luna," she answered. "Princess Luna, at least for a little while longer. I am not certain retirement will suit me." She looked away, towards the temple. It was bigger than it looked from a distance, maybe hundreds of feet tall. But Jordan didn't hear anything else.

The world dissolved around him in a swirl of mist and rushing wind. The next thing he knew, Blake was standing over him, with that stupid grin on his face. "Sorry to wake you," he said, not sounding even a little bit sorry. "We made it."