by Will Wight
Pride loudly promised that he would, and Mercy nodded, but Lindon remained focused on the door ahead of him. When each of the runes in the script-circle lit, a rumbling of stone sounded, and the section of wall began to slide open.
Letting in a wave of noise.
Deafening cheers crashed over them as the door slid upward, giving Lindon his first view of the arena. The floor was dark gray and smooth, and it seemed very slick—if it was stone, then it was highly polished.
Mercy left first, followed by Pride, and Lindon behind, as he’d been instructed.
As they left the room, bright light and noise overwhelmed him.
His Underlord body adjusted almost immediately, and he took in his surroundings. They walked onto the floor of a massive arena, so large that it looked like it had been designed to host the clash of armies rather than individuals.
Above them, an illusion of light and dreams projected them into midair at a thousand times the height. A giant projection of Mercy waved to the crowds around her, flawlessly reproduced by madra.
Her name unfurled on a banner behind her, and the Ninecloud Soul's voice spoke from all around them: “Representing the Monarch Akura Malice, the Akura prime team presents Akura Mercy, the favored daughter of the Monarch herself.”
The noise redoubled. All around the arena stood eight towers, each built to illustrate the glory of a Monarch faction. The structure had been explained to Lindon already: the Monarchs would watch from a floating platform above each tower as their families and followers watched from within.
As the Ninecloud Soul announced Pride, Lindon glanced back at the Akura tower. It towered over their waiting room, at least eight stories high, all made of wood such a dark purple that it might as well have been black. Unlike many of the other viewing towers, the stands in each level were hidden, covered by shadow madra. He could see nothing from within, though he could still hear the cheers.
Above the tower floated a shrunken mountain growing from shadowy clouds. Dark-leaved trees dotted the mountain, along with a few luxurious-looking houses, but Lindon couldn't make out the details.
Charity and Fury would watch from up there, as would Malice whenever she arrived. The Akura had certainly embraced the image of looming threat.
“The final member of the Akura prime team is an adopted member of an Arelius branch family and a member of the Blackflame Empire vassal state. By the mercy of the Heart Sage, he was raised up to represent the Akura clan: Wei Shi Lindon Arelius!”
The cheers were no less loud for Lindon than for the other two, but he detected a distinct note of confusion, as though many in the crowd could not figure out why he was there.
[I sympathize,] Dross said.
Lindon and the other two walked across to the center of the arena, kneeling in circles that had already been arranged for them on the ground. They knelt next to twelve other young Underlords and Underladies: the Ninecloud Court teams.
They had been introduced before the Akura clan, so Lindon had missed their introduction. But over the last fourteen days he had asked for information on the other teams, so the announcement wouldn't have included anything he didn't already know.
...or so he had thought before he glanced over to get a look for himself. His gaze froze at the young woman in the front of the wedge, the closest position to the center. The same position that Mercy occupied for the Akura.
She looked to be a few years younger than Lindon, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with pale skin and long, blood-red hair. While the others from her faction all stared curiously at the Akura team, she knelt with her back straight and her eyes closed, hands folded on her knees, as though she couldn’t care less what happened around her.
Lindon's nerves pushed at the restraints of the madra Charity had placed around him. Dross, what was the name of the Ninecloud team leader?
[Sha Dellian. You think that's him?]
No, I don’t.
Even if Dellian looked more feminine than his description suggested, he had orange hair, not red. Lindon's memories of his time with Suriel were still very clear, and if he added a few years onto Sha Miara, she might look exactly like the Underlady sitting there.
But there was no way Suriel would have shown him a vision of someone stuck at Underlord. She had placed Sha Miara, as a little girl, on the same level as Northstrider or the Eight-Man Empire.
[Maybe this is her sister,] Dross reasoned. [Or a copy of her grown in a vat and compelled to destroy her enemies.]
Lindon resolved to look up her name after the ceremony.
After the prime Akura team, the Ninecloud Soul announced the Akura backup team. Led by Akura Grace, they had been added to fill the gap left by the destroyed Rising Earth team.
Those three sat in the row behind Lindon and Pride, who were themselves seated behind Mercy.
Once again, the cheers took on a strange tone. Lindon thought he heard some jeers mixed in from the other stands. It was considered embarrassing to bring two teams from your primary faction, implying that you weren't confident enough in your vassal factions. It made the Akura clan look weak, like they didn't have enough reliable underlings and had to make up the difference.
Two of the Underlords behind him whispered to one another, but Grace cut them off. When Lindon glanced behind him, she nodded to him.
After them came the Frozen Blade team. Two of them were Underladies older than Lindon, wearing sky-blue robes and with icy blades extending from their forearms. Their black hair was streaked with white, and they carried blue-sheathed swords.
The third was a young Underlord who stumbled after them in a poor imitation of their poise, his own sword cradled in both arms. It was clear which of them was the last-minute replacement.
Then came the moment he was waiting for...and the announcement from the Ninecloud Soul that he'd dreaded.
“The final vassal team of the Akura clan, the Blackflame Empire, has not arrived,” the pleasant female voice said. “Therefore, at this time, the Akura clan is permitted to form a backup team from any remaining qualified individuals.”
This time, the buzz from among the stands was as loud as the cheering had been earlier. Most of the other towers were not shrouded like the Akura clan's, so Lindon could see the stares aimed their way.
His restraint, reinforced as it had been by Charity, continued to crack. What had happened to Yerin? It was difficult to imagine anything surprising Eithan, but he wasn't the biggest fish in the pond anymore. If a Herald had shown up...
The rainbow light turned its focus to the tower next to the Akura's, which was the plainest of all. It looked like a normal wooden tower separated into eight floors, each of them filled with raised tiers of seats and bustling with humanity of all descriptions, as well as dozens of sacred beasts. One figure stood out on each level: a man or woman in gleaming gold armor.
“I present to you the representatives of the Eight-Man Empire and the Ghost-Blade warband, the squires of...one moment. Apologies to the Ghost-Blades, but it seems we have a late arrival.”
When the stone door behind him began to grind open, Lindon spun all the way around.
Yerin led the way, hair streaming behind her like a banner and wind whipping at her black robes. He had heard her voice every other day for the last seven or eight months, but now the sight of her crashed over him like a wave.
She was real.
He wasn't used to seeing her without her scars, but when her eyes met his, she visibly brightened, and a half-smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.
The relief was so sudden and overwhelming that Charity's restrictions on his emotions collapsed. He struggled to sit straight and to keep his breathing ordered.
Eithan strode to catch up with Yerin, holding her back for a moment as Naru Saeya took the lead. No doubt that was supposed to have been their marching order all along.
The Emperor's sister was tall and resplendent, emerald wings spread, and she accepted the cheers at her introduction with visible grace. The crowd was noti
ceably less enthusiastic about the vassal teams, but she made her walk and settled into her place behind the Frozen Blade team with poise.
Eithan, after her, waved cheerily to everyone. His long golden hair was flawlessly combed, and he wore a dark blue outer robe wrapped in white and black. Lindon was sure the Arelius family symbol would be sewn into the back. In other words, he looked the same as ever, and winked at Lindon as he settled into his own seat.
Lindon exchanged looks with Yerin again, reassuring himself that she was really there. When she caught his gaze, she jerked her head back toward their waiting room.
He craned further, twisting almost all the way around, and saw the door closing on the Winter Sage. She must have been the one to bring them back. Before the stone passed in front of her, he noticed her complicated expression.
Once the Blackflame Empire team had been settled and Lindon's heart had calmed down, he realized the Ninecloud Soul was introducing the Eight-Man Empire teams. Each of their four teams came from a different warband: Ghost-Blade, Flame-Gift, Blood-Chorus, and Nine-Hands. Based on his research at the Akura clan, the names were usually related to the primary Path practiced by each band.
Next to the plain wooden tower stood a structure of steel and glass that shone brightly in the sun. Before reaching Underlord, Lindon wouldn't have been able to stare at it directly without hurting his eyes. The Monarch platform overhead was a huge globe of dark water, suspended in midair, with a half-seen creature circling in its depths.
Northstrider's platform. Lindon repressed a shudder, reminded of Ghostwater.
“The unaffiliated sects and independent sacred artists gather in the name of Northstrider, the great Monarch who lost his life only a short time ago in battle against the Weeping Dragon,” the Ninecloud Soul said. “May we all die with such honor and courage.”
[He's not dead, right?] Dross asked nervously.
We know he isn't. I've seen him since then.
[Are you sure you can trust this Suriel? Maybe she showed you an illusion or a recording! …oh no. That’s it, isn’t it? It was a recording. Oh, he’s dead. He’s definitely dead.]
You’ve seen the memory, Lindon thought. You tell me. And he must have been the one to stop Charity from saving Harmony in Ghostwater. Over the last few months, he had asked some careful questions about what had happened back in Ghostwater and had pieced together his own answers.
[Right, right, of course. This is all part of a plan. A secret plan. Do you think he'll show up?]
Hopefully not, Lindon responded.
[I won't say anything. But think how happy he’d be to see me!]
Only one participant of Northstrider's caught Lindon's eye: a young-looking but haggard man in a tattered gray cloak. His green horns glistened in the sunlight. Ziel.
He's eligible? Lindon asked Dross, surprised. The last time we saw him, he was considered a Truegold.
With the damage to his spirit, it was a surprise that Ziel could use the sacred arts at all. Lindon strongly suspected that he had once been at least an Overlord, maybe an Archlord, but someone had twisted and tormented his spirit until even producing the power of a Gold was a stretch. Maybe he was regaining his former powers.
[I assumed he was about a thousand years old,] Dross said. [He talks like he was born old.]
Lindon tried to get Ziel's attention without moving around too much, but the horned man kept his eyes on the ground. He settled into the middle of the pack, in between the two other members of the Beast King's faction team, and collapsed into his assigned circle as though trying to melt into the floor.
Massive blocks of pale stone held up by fluted columns made up the next viewing tower. The people inside were draped in white and by and large had bright yellow hair, though Lindon noticed there were fewer people in these stands than in any of the others.
Above their tower, a cloud flashed constantly with bright blue lightning. It was an impressive display, but it emitted none of the spiritual pressure that came from the other Monarch platforms. Lindon doubted there was anyone up there.
The Arelius Monarch, after all, had been killed.
As the Ninecloud Soul announced the team from House Arelius, each of whom might have been Eithan's cousin, Lindon noticed that they got even weaker applause than most of the vassal teams. And all three members stared at Eithan before sitting down.
Lindon turned to see Eithan's reaction, but he greeted his relatives with a bright grin and a wave. Was Eithan hiding his real feelings, or was his reaction to seeing his relatives for the first time in years really so uncomplicated?
The next tower was one of the most eye-catching. It looked to be made of copper clockworks with gaps filled in with glowing Remnant parts of every size and description. Dark-skinned people filled the stands, each of them accompanied by at least one puppet construct. They whirred through the air, marched up the stairs, hung on chairs, or dangled from the ceiling.
Instead of a Monarch platform, a tree covered the roof of the tower, so large that it doubled the structure's height. It was made of blue-green light, like a Remnant, but with a layer of density and detail that Lindon had never seen. He could see grooves in the bark, veins in the leaves...and Lindon's soulfire-refined eyes picked out eyes in the center of each leaf.
This was Emriss Silentborn, Queen of the Everwood Continent and Monarch of Titan's Grove. The Remnant Monarch. While most of the other Monarchs exuded an overwhelming spiritual pressure even while veiled, Emriss gave off a soothing, reassuring presence. Almost a familiar one, though Lindon was sure they had never met before.
[Emriss is the most public of the Monarchs,] Dross said, [and it's rare to see her stay in the same place long. It's thanks to her that you humans can all speak to each other; she spends her life traveling around and gifting people with language.] He thought for a moment. [We should try meeting her. I bet she has a real fondness for mind-spirits.]
Directly across from the Akura clan stood a tower made from massive logs like undressed trees. They had no tiered seats like most of the other stands, only big open platforms where dragons—some in human form, some not—jockeyed for position. Those on the lowest platform were almost all in the form of dragons, but the higher tiers had more and more in the guise of humans. Silken veils shrouded the top layer of the tower.
The Monarch platform was by far the smallest. It was only a single covered throne, floating on a cloud of sand over the tower. A boy sat in the chair, wearing nothing but a worn wrap.
Lindon focused on him, catching a glimpse of sandy hair, golden eyes, and pale skin, but very quickly removed his eyes. His spirit screamed danger even from just glancing at the King of Dragons, as though staring for more than a second would draw his wrath.
He only looked like a twelve-year-old boy, Lindon knew. He was a Monarch, and perhaps the oldest of them.
Far beneath him, his descendant led the march out of the waiting room.
As the Ninecloud Soul announced Sopharanatoth, leader of the gold dragon team, her golden eyes focused on Lindon. Her human form was mostly complete, but patches of gold scales dotted the pale skin of her cheeks and the backs of her hands. Her nails resembled claws, and her thin golden tail whipped the air behind her.
Her face was sculpted into a fine image of human beauty, and her clothes were ornate layers of red and purple, but she stared into Lindon with such fury that he could feel it in his spirit. She spared some for Pride, and settled on Mercy as she sank to her knees only a few feet across from the Akura team.
Lindon couldn't see how Mercy responded, but he kept his eyes on Sophara. She radiated hate, glaring at their whole team.
[I don't know about you, but I'm relieved. Someone truly dangerous would keep their emotions in check.]
Lindon hoped that was true. The earlier he could get a lead on the gold dragons, the more he could relax.
He'd thought of the dragon team as the last, but in fact there was one more. A tower that he hadn't paid much attention to until now...but when
he did, it sent a spike of alarm through him.
The Monarch platform at the top was a palace that floated unsupported by clouds. It had open sides with no walls, only pillars supporting the roof containing a garden that looked like a paradise. Carefully cultivated trees and bushes spilled from the sides along with a shining waterfall that trickled down to the ground, and Lindon was certain he heard distant music within. That was the most ordinary part.
Beneath it, the tower was divided into four floors...with each floor representing a Dreadgod.
Lindon had done some research into the Dreadgods after the Bleeding Phoenix's attack on the Blackflame Empire, and a little more during his time in the Akura family. Much of the common knowledge about them came from rumor, hearsay, or legend. But he had put together a basic picture.
The top floor of the viewing tower contained blue seats, and was carved with the image of a dragon surrounded by crackling lightning. The Weeping Dragon. Its cult, the Stormcallers, filled the seats. Their Goldsigns—sparking rings of lightning around each arm—lit the inside of the floor.
The next floor down was all white, topped by the image of a crowned tiger and filled with sacred artists with cloths tied around their mouths. The Silent Servants, cult of the Silent King.
Lindon was already too familiar with the inhabitants of the red floor, who called themselves Redmoon Hall. Other than wearing red and black, they had very little in common—some were followed openly by their Blood Shadows, but others did not keep theirs visible. Their floor was covered by a carving of the Bleeding Phoenix, a crimson bird with wings spread.
The leader of their team caught his eye: Yan Shoumei, the girl he’d met in Ghostwater. Her hair hung over her eyes like a hood, and her Blood Shadow slithered formlessly around her.
He hoped she didn’t remember him.
Finally, on the ground floor, the members of Abyssal Palace wore hoods and stone masks. Their seats were black, and they gathered beneath the image of the Wandering Titan, a turtle-shelled armored warrior.
No Monarch controlled the Dreadgods. No Monarch could, as far as Lindon understood the world. But someone had gathered the four separate cults together under one banner, and by process of elimination, Lindon could guess who it was even before the Ninecloud Soul named him: Reigan Shen, Emperor of Lions and Monarch of the Rosegold continent.