by Will Wight
Yerin and Saeya tried twice more, but Eithan gave up almost immediately, letting his Forged stars dissipate back into aura. He sighed. "This will be inconvenient."
Naru Saeya turned sharply, staring down at the deck beneath her feet. "Is it gone?"
"All but a spoonful."
Yerin extended her own perception down to the cloudship. She couldn't sense the damage to the hull—she could only sense spiritual powers, nothing physical—but that scarcely mattered. It was the network of scripts and constructs running the ship that actually got them places.
Many of them were still intact. She figured the crew could have them in the air again inside a day.
But the containment around the Ninecloud madra was broken. The fuel given to them had mostly faded into useless essence.
She pushed back a spike of fear. "We're not walking there, that's certain. If you had to place a bet, how long would you say it's going to take us?"
"Another month," Naru Saeya said sadly. "At best."
The tournament's opening was in three weeks.
Yerin walked over to the side, looking down to stare at the smoking hole in the ship. "Well...here's hoping they come looking for us before then."
Chapter 8
The Ninecloud Court looked as though it had been ripped from a dream.
Rather than a city, it looked like a jeweled palace so vast that Lindon couldn't see the end. Shimmering glass bridges connected one ruby tower to another, and shining castles floated on white clouds that sparkled every color. Blue birds with wingspans that looked a mile wide trailed rain from their tails, leaving rainbows falling behind them.
The iridescent structures built on one another, leading up to one tower in particular: a rose-tinted diamond spire encircled by a solid rainbow that reminded Lindon of Samara's Ring back home.
Lindon reached into his pocket, clenching Suriel's marble. Somewhere in that complex—maybe at the top of that tower—was where heaven's messenger had taken him to see Luminous Queen Sha Miara. Years ago, Suriel had assured him that he couldn’t make it with the power he had at the time.
And now here he was.
Without warning, rainbow light shimmered around the cloudship. Lindon began cycling Blackflame, but none of the Akura Lords or Ladies looked concerned. A moment later, a woman's gentle voice poured in from everywhere.
“Good morning, honored guests! I am the Ninecloud Soul, voice of the Court, and we welcome you to the eighteenth Uncrowned King tournament! The first round will begin in two weeks. In the meantime, we will guide you to your rooms.”
He couldn’t see the source of the voice. The rainbow light hovered around their ship, which began to drift toward a nearby amethyst tower.
[It’s interesting how humans decide whether or not to panic by watching others,] Dross noted. [What if all of you are wrong together?]
Charity and Fury are aboard. If they’re wrong about what’s safe, then I guess we’re all going to die.
Other cloudships were being pulled into other neighboring towers at the same time. In fact, the air might have been more crowded than the streets. Maybe the Blackflame Empire team was somewhere among them.
He sent a thread of pure madra into the voice transmission construct he held in his hand.
[That poor construct. Worked to death. You’re a cruel man.]
Yerin’s voice came through in a whisper, and Lindon pressed the device to his ear. But he couldn’t make anything out; her words split and cracked like dry leaves. He poured more pure madra into it, but finally the faceted surface of the construct cracked as well. He felt the binding inside warp, deforming past usefulness.
He lowered it, sighing. It had been wonderful being able to speak with Yerin even every other day, but he had pushed the construct past its original lifespan. It wasn’t meant to last half a year, he was sure.
[There are sects that would have considered that a legendary treasure, handing it down to their descendants to call for help in times of dire need,] Dross said. [I just thought you ought to feel guiltier.]
The Sage can afford it, Lindon responded, but he was disappointed that the construct had finally broken. Now he wouldn’t know when to expect Yerin. Maybe she was finally here. Would he be allowed to see her before the tournament?
As the ship drifted closer to the shimmering jeweled tower, another cloudship joined them, pulled by the same rainbow madra toward a dock next to theirs. This ship was made of pale wood and drifted on a white cloud, but it was much smaller than the Akura clan’s. On the deck were a scattered handful of blue-robed sacred artists.
Their ship had clearly suffered some damage. Scorch marks dotted the hull, and sprays of cloud madra hissed from the bottom.
One woman onboard spotted them and walked over to the edge. Just when Lindon thought she would leap over, she vanished mid-step, appearing on the deck of the Akura cloudship. She dragged a gust of icy air with her.
The new arrival looked young, perhaps midway through her twenties, with sun-browned skin and long, flowing white hair. She wore sky-blue sacred artist’s robes decorated with snowflakes like white flowers. Along the outside of her forearms ran a frozen line of ice down her skin. A straight-bladed sword hung in a blue sheath on her back.
Charity did not appear surprised to see her, instead giving a shallow bow. “Min Shuei. It seems you ran into some trouble on the way.”
Lindon, watching intently, startled when Mercy rushed up behind him and grabbed his arm in excitement.
“That’s the Winter Sage! I haven’t seen her since I was a girl!” She leaned forward, staring at the newcomer. “She’s taller than I remembered.”
The Winter Sage’s expression crumpled as she stared at Charity, as though she were about to cry. “Charity! Where were you?”
“I was not aware you were in trouble,” the Heart Sage said stiffly. “Why did you not contact us? I would have sent my father to your side in a moment.”
“It was Xorrus,” the white-haired woman said, and now her speech was tinged with hatred. “By the time I sensed her strike, she was already flying away. She drew the blood she wanted.”
Akura Charity was still cold as usual. “Your team?”
“She killed one of my boys,” Min Shuei said, full of sorrow. “He was only twenty-six, and so full of talent. His mother hasn’t eaten in weeks. His father swore to mount a dragon’s head on his wall for every year of his son’s life.”
“But only one?” Charity clarified. “You still have two competitors left?”
The tanned woman turned horrified eyes to the Sage of the Silver Heart. “Hundreds died, among them one of the most talented students I’ve ever had. He cannot simply be replaced!”
“And yet he must be,” Charity said. “I am not insensitive to your grief, but this competition is our best chance to strike back. Have you selected a replacement yet?”
The Winter Sage bristled with rage, and icy madra spread to every corner of the ship.
Lindon shivered, his skin prickling as sword-aura stung him in response to this woman’s anger.
Charity did not muster her madra in response, but nor did she seem moved by the other Sage’s hostility. They faced one another in silence as the other Akura members scurried away, evacuating the deck.
Then a door slammed open, breaking the quiet. Akura Fury strode out, his black hair rippling like a flame and his chest bare as always. For the first time that Lindon had seen, his expression was totally serious.
“I smell Xorrus,” the Herald said.
The Winter Sage gestured back to her cloudship, which by that time had settled at the end of a dock sticking out of the emerald tower. The Akura cloudship shuddered as it, too, was drawn into a dock.
Servants in rainbow robes waited for them, bowing, but no one left the ships yet.
Fury drifted up on a cushion of wind aura, using his soulfire to float. He moved as naturally as if he were on a wind Path, effortlessly flying over to the white cloudship, hovering next to the burn-sca
rred hull.
“Amazing,” Lindon said.
“That’s a Herald for you.” Mercy chewed on one of her black-gloved thumbs for a moment before saying, “…you should know that there’s been a feud between my family and the gold dragons for generations. Uncle Fury especially. He’s considered just behind Northstrider and the Beast King as a great enemy of dragon-kind.”
[Third place isn’t bad,] Dross said.
Fury ran his hand along the scorched wood of the Frozen Blade cloudship. “This can’t have been more than a week ago. She was alone?”
The Sage of the Frozen Blade closed her eyes and took a deep breath, bringing her madra under control. “A wing of lesser dragons burned down an ancestral grove as we traveled. I stopped to deal with them, but they were only bait so that Xorrus could strike against my Underlords.”
Fury’s red eyes burned. “You were lucky not to lose everyone. But now we have greater concerns.” He turned to Charity. “Xorrus is only the Dragon King’s left hand.”
Before he’d even finished speaking, the Heart Sage’s voice echoed throughout the cloudship. “Be on alert. We have two remaining vassal teams that have not yet arrived: the Temple of Rising Earth and the Blackflame Empire. We have every reason to believe that one or both have suffered an attack.”
A shiver passed down Lindon’s spine.
“I will approach the Ninecloud Court for assistance,” she continued. “In the meantime, use any methods available to contact our teams. If we can determine their location, we can send protection.”
Lindon fumbled in his outer robe for the broken communication construct. He poured madra into it, flooding it in an instant and creating a shrill shriek of sound. The binding only dissolved faster, but he flooded it with even more power. Even an instant of connection would reassure him that she was still alive.
Mercy squeezed his arm with one black hand. “Nothing to worry about. We have much better lines of communication with the Empire than with the Frozen Blade school. If something had happened, we would have known.”
That would be reassuring except for the concern in her own voice.
Dross didn’t help.
[That’s right, don’t worry,] he said. [I can see why you might be worried. The Blackflame Empire is closer to the dragons and even weaker than the Frozen Blade school, so you might expect them to be in much greater danger. But you can’t ignore the possibility of good luck!]
The construct in Lindon’s hand exploded, sending fizzing chunks of madra flying in all directions.
Mercy patted him again. “Someone onboard will have a way to communicate with the Naru clan. I’ll find out where they are.”
Lindon tried to thank her, but he was focused on the damaged cloudship. The gold dragons had done that to weaken the Akura clan in the tournament. They were the ones who would get the Blackflame Empire.
He remembered Ekeri, the Truegold who had suspected him of carrying around a treasure from Ghostwater. She had hounded him relentlessly until he had barely managed to kill her.
If the Akura team didn’t perform well enough—if he didn’t—her family would take over the Empire. Including his homeland.
Maybe they had already…
Before his thoughts could make it too far, his spiritual perception screamed at him. He collapsed to his knees as the two Sages and the Heralds dropped their veils at once. They all looked west, across the jeweled city, but through his watering eyes he couldn’t see what had drawn their attention.
Most of the other Akura clan members on the deck had crumpled just like him, but he noticed that the Ninecloud servants on the dock only flinched in their multi-colored robes. They did not shrink back.
The rainbow light returned to surround the cloudship, and the pleasant female voice that had greeted them drifted through the air again. “Welcome, guests. Please enter your rooms.”
“We have reason to worry for the safety of our teams,” Charity said. “Can you confirm that the Rising Earth and Blackflame Empire teams are still en route?”
“The Rising Earth team missed their arrival date last week,” the invisible Ninecloud representative admitted. “Enter your tower, and we will be happy to give you a full accounting of their absence.”
“We will have our own accounting,” the Winter Sage said, her voice furious. Still staring into the west, she drew her sword. Lindon wanted to see what she was watching for, but she raised her weapon into the air.
It looked the same as Yerin’s.
Hers couldn’t be the only white-bladed sword in the world, but Lindon recognized it immediately. He had been with Yerin when she’d pulled it from the Sword Sage’s body. This was exactly the same as the one Yerin carried, from the shape of the hilt to the length of the blade.
He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Had Yerin’s master carried a sword from the Frozen Blade school?
A winged silhouette flew from one of the distant towers to the west, growing larger and larger, clutching something huge in its talons. The shadow resolved into a dragon, golden and serpentine, with a cloud of sand rolling around it like smoke.
Its wings were each big enough to strike their cloudship from the air, and it bared its gleaming fangs. Golden dragon eyes, with their vertically slitted pupils, glared at the ship.
The power of its spirit enveloped the city, driving air traffic away. Cloudships and winged horses fled at the dragon’s approach. This gold dragon’s power rivaled Akura Fury’s.
A Herald.
[Xorrus,] Dross said, [left hand of the Dragon Monarch. She is called Desert-bringer, the Breath of Destruction, the Eternal Sandstorm.]
Lindon could barely breathe, but he tensed further. How do you know?
[Just like your new friend Fury, she was one of the Heralds who formed the original pact of Ghostwater. I found a record of her personally ignoring me.]
From this distance, it was clear that the dragon Herald was carrying a massive chunk of stone. Perhaps the top of a tower or a segment of castle wall.
He strained against the spiritual pressure to keep his eyes clear and open; a fight here could kill him and everyone else on the cloudship. Surely the Sages would know that better than he. They would hold back.
The dragon’s mouth opened, and her mocking laughter shook the ship. Xorrus said, “A gift from my father to the Queen of Shadows.”
She darted upward, deceptively swift, and dangled the stone over their ship. Its shadow covered Lindon entirely.
Then she dropped it.
The masonry was big enough to crush the ship, but Lindon didn't even have time to flinch before Fury caught it. Hovering two dozen feet over the deck, he held up the massive rock with one hand, staring upward. He didn't seem to strain in the slightest.
But from this angle, Lindon could see an emblem carved into the stone, larger than Fury's body: a series of rising stalagmites.
“Oh, you wiped out the Rising Earth sect?” Fury’s tone was light, even conversational. “I see, I see.”
The rainbow light around their ship intensified. Now the voice from the Ninecloud Court sounded nervous. “Honored guests, we humbly ask that you please settle your grievances in the arena. The collateral damage from a clash between you—”
Fury hurled the boulder.
It shot toward Xorrus with such an explosion of force that the wind pushed back everyone on the deck. A deafening roar tore through Lindon's ears, and he could no longer keep his eyes open.
When he opened them again, the gold dragon was laughing. The cloud of sand around her had grown. Had she dissolved the boulder into sand?
Akura Fury laughed with her.
Together, the Heralds laughed and laughed, but every second Lindon grew more nervous. Dross, if they start fighting, how much trouble are we in?
[I wouldn't say we're safe, but it’s nothing to be worried about. Heralds never come to blows. And besides, look how friendly they are!]
Charity had dropped her veil, her spirit unleashed, though she looked as calm
as ever. And Min Shuei, the Winter Sage, still bared her sword. Small blades of frost, barely visible, played in the air around her in a constant snowstorm. Her expression twitched and her hand shook as she fought to keep herself under control.
Fury's laughter died down first, and he sighed as he wiped a tear from his eye. “It's funny, isn't it? Life is funny. I brought you a gift too!”
Charity's voice resounded in Lindon's mind. Get down! The mental command was so strong that everyone on the cloudship threw themselves to the deck at once.
Then Akura Fury struck.
A dozen black palms, each bigger than the ship, slammed into the gold dragon at once. The handprints of shadow madra dissolved the cloud of sand, but they didn't crack scales. They seemed to sink into the dragon's spirit. She roared in pain and gathered up golden fire in her mouth.
Cords of multi-colored light looped around both Heralds, locking their bodies and spirits in place. Xorrus' dragon breath dissipated, but she didn’t struggle against her rainbow bonds.
Her pained growls turned into laughter once again. “A cheap price for the Temple of Rising Earth.”
The Ninecloud Court voice echoed over them all, this time sounding stern. “By the power of Luminous Queen Sha Leiala, we have restrained you. You are still our guests, but do not take our Court lightly.”
Sha Leiala? Lindon thought.
[Monarch of the Ninecloud Court,] Dross explained. [Do you not understand how to pick up on context clues?]
What about Sha Miara? Lindon asked. Suriel had taken him to her coronation two years before.
[Never heard of her.]
Xorrus bared her fangs in a smile as the light of the Ninecloud Court dragged her backward. “I hope your sister will give my granddaughter some competition.”
Fury turned back to his ship, letting the light pull him away as well. “I don't think it matters. What do you think, Charity?”
Charity, cool as ever, inclined her head toward Xorrus. “I'm sure she will do your family proud,” the Sage said, “before the tournament ends and I kill her myself.”
Xorrus struggled against the light, snapping her teeth, but she was still pulled inexorably away.