by Will Wight
Lindon was finding that even his polite tone was becoming strained. “I understand that, but as I said before, I don’t need you to provide me a portal. I would like you to connect me to the Akura clan.”
Every Akura he’d found had been more than happy to speak to him, but none of them were able to help him find Charity. Or Fury. Or Malice, for that matter.
In short, he couldn’t find anyone who could actually get him out of here.
He couldn’t even get to Mercy; the last time he’d tried, he had been told—politely, and with more than a few fearful glances—that she had asked not to be disturbed while she cared for her brother.
Under normal circumstances, he would have waited for her. He didn’t want to leave the city without letting her know, whether he needed her help or not.
But the Dreadgod was on its way to Sacred Valley. The ending that Suriel showed him had come at last.
No matter what assurances Eithan gave him, he couldn’t waste another second.
And now his seconds were being wasted for him.
“I apologize, but I have been unable to contact any Sages or Heralds from the Akura clan myself,” the Ninecloud Soul said. “I will pass along your message when it is appropriate; until that time, please return your cloudship to the dock.”
“Ram them,” Yerin said.
She stood at his shoulder, arms folded, two metallic red sword-arms poking out from over her shoulders. The fresh crimson streak in her otherwise-black hair still struck him as unexpected, as did her scarlet eyes.
“Who?” Lindon asked.
There were other cloudships in their view, but none of them were the ones trapping them in. It wasn’t as though he could ram the Ninecloud Soul.
Yerin shrugged. “Anybody. That ought to perk up their ears.”
He knew she wasn’t serious, but it was a measure of his frustration that he considered it for a moment.
The Ninecloud Soul’s voice gained an edge of panic. “Please, do not do anything in haste. You are valued guests of the Court, and I assure you, your requests will be considered with due importance.”
That was quite a sudden shift in attitude. Maybe threatening to ram someone had worked after all.
Dross popped onto Lindon’s shoulder, scowling with his one purple eye at the nine-colored flame that represented the Ninecloud Soul. [Don’t listen to her. She was going to lock us up.]
“I never said that,” the Soul corrected. “I said that if you continued to sabotage Court property, you would be punished to the extent of Ninecloud City law, but those circumstances were entirely different. We are now dealing with an unprecedented disaster, and at the time, you were acting well above your station. You did not have the status you have now.”
Dross’ eye narrowed. [That’s not what you said before. You said…]
He spun into a twisted copy of the Ninecloud Soul, but his colors were duller, and he was shrouded by a haze of oily smoke. He spoke in a version of the Soul’s voice, but he spat every word out in a vicious, spiteful tone.
[Lindon Arelius, if you don’t stop, I will ruin you. I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth! I swear I will destroy you, and even if you become some kind of Sage, I will never be satisfied until my vengeance shreds you to pieces!]
Dross’ form shifted, and he returned to his usual form of a round, purple, one-eyed creature. He stroked his bottom lip with one of his pseudopod arms and spoke in his normal voice. [Yeah, that sounds about right.]
For a moment, the Ninecloud Soul was stunned speechless.
“…is that how you remember my words?”
[I’d say I captured the core essence. The spirit of the message, you know. Better than you did, even. Not to brag.]
“We do not have time for this,” Lindon said. “Please. I recognize that you have a crisis to deal with, and I apologize, but there are lives at stake for us as well. I would be grateful if you could put me through to anyone that can authorize spatial travel.”
“I am truly sorry, but it is beyond the scope of my—” The Ninecloud Soul cut off mid-sentence. “Ah, it seems I spoke too soon. A representative of the Akura clan has arrived. Please contact me if you have any further requests. The Ninecloud Court values your friendship.”
The rainbow flame winked out as the Soul escaped, leaving Lindon to view one of his projection constructs. It displayed the image of the woman who had just stepped onto the edge of his cloud fortress.
She had a slight build and looked to be about twenty, her slick black hair tied into a neat bun. Her sacred artist robes were layers of black and white and violet, and her purple eyes had an ageless serenity.
Akura Charity stood at the base of their home.
Wards over the entire fortress made entering via spatial travel…not impossible, but more difficult. Lindon had requested that security measure to stop Sages from popping in unannounced.
He suspected that one day soon, Eithan would be able to teleport. Best to plan for that early.
Sages could most likely overpower those protections, and Monarchs certainly could, but it would be better than nothing. Evidently that script had kept Charity out, or he was certain she would have appeared at his elbow instead of knocking on his front door.
When she did knock, the entire castle shook.
She was already unhappy. Lindon didn’t think that was fair.
Lindon’s pure madra slipped into the control panel. Opening the doors remotely required an intricate process of chaining madra from script to script, which recently would have strained his concentration.
Now, it was as though his madra did as he wished without his input. On the ground floor, the door swung open.
Once she was through the threshold and inside the protective script, Charity stepped into shadow. She emerged at Lindon’s side a second later.
“You can’t leave,” she said flatly.
Lindon pressed his fists together to salute the Sage of the Silver Heart. “I am grateful for your attention, but we have no time to wait. My homeland is in imminent danger from the Dreadgod. If you would provide us with travel there and back, it would greatly speed our return.”
She moved her gaze from Lindon to Yerin and back. “It was risky enough to allow you to move as you wished when you were only a talented young Underlord. Do you expect me to permit an Underlord Sage and the world’s first…pseudo-Herald…to willingly place themselves in the path of the Wandering Titan?”
That sentence raised Lindon’s curiosity on a number of points.
“Pseudo-Herald,” Yerin repeated. “Would have thought they’d give me a shinier name.”
“Do I count as a Sage, officially?” Lindon asked.
Charity flicked one hand. “This is why you must stay with us. You need guidance now more than ever. You are—both of you—playing with forces beyond your comprehension, long before you are ready to do so. Now that we’re losing my father, we cannot afford to stretch our resources any thinner.”
Lindon’s heart froze. Losing her father?
Dross gasped.
Even Yerin rested a hand on her sword. “Are the Heralds still on him?” she asked, as though she could do something to influence that fight.
He startled himself as he realized that she potentially could.
While she wasn’t a full Herald, and he didn’t expect her to be blotting out the sky with her techniques yet, they hadn’t found the time to test out the full extent of her abilities. If Fury was still alive and fighting, maybe Yerin could turn the tide in his favor.
But if he was still fighting, Charity wouldn’t be here. Fury must already be gone.
“He’s ascending,” Charity said. There was an edge of bitterness to the words.
[Ooohhh, that sounds fascinating!] Dross said. [And sorry for your loss. Can we watch?]
“If you stay,” the Sage responded.
The passing seconds pressed in on Lindon, but he needed Charity’s cooperation. “Losing your father will be a loss to us all, and I’m sorry
to hear it. I will be happy to comply with anything you wish...after I’ve done this one last thing.”
Everything he’d done, all the pain he’d suffered, all the long hours he’d put in, it had all been to save Sacred Valley. He refused to fail now.
“Your homeland is in the path of the Dreadgod. If there are individuals you wish to evacuate, I’m sure we can arrange that. Carefully. With planning. There are reasons we don’t enter that territory.”
Lindon defied his long-standing instincts by steadily meeting her eye and asking her a direct question. As though they were equals. “And what are those reasons?”
She matched him for a long moment.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said at last. “There are ancient protections in place that…dampen…the powers of anyone above a certain threshold. The field affects you more strongly the more powerful you are, and for some it can be lethal. Large cloudships can’t even fly in such thin aura.”
“A security measure for the labyrinth,” Lindon said.
He had learned a few things. Most recently from a careful inspection of some documents from the Ninecloud City records.
Charity gave him a short nod. “We don’t avoid that place because we hate it. It’s dangerous, and a hundred times so now that there’s a Dreadgod on its way.”
Yerin stood stiffly at Lindon’s side. “Feed that to me one more time.”
“Surely I’m not the first to inform you that the Wandering Titan is on the move,” Charity said, with a glance at Lindon.
“Not that. You’re talking about a boundary field that smothers sacred arts.” Lindon could read tension in every inch of her body. Even her sword-arms were poised, like scorpion tails.
When he realized what she was talking about, he felt it like a slap to the face. This field must have led to the death of her master. He should have seen that immediately and prepared her for it, but he had only been thinking about the implications to his homeland.
Charity spread her hands. “If you’ll dock your cloudship, I would be delighted to explain what little I know about this restricted area.”
“Rotten deal for me, isn’t it? I’m about to see it with my own two eyes.”
Yerin had relaxed somewhat, but Lindon reached out and rested his left hand on her shoulder. Her madra spun restlessly through her body.
To him, the mystery of the Sword Sage’s death was just a small question, a distant itch. As he’d advanced, he’d wondered how it could be possible, but it had never been urgent enough to demand his attention.
To Yerin, it must be far more important. That deserved real investigation.
Once Sacred Valley was safe.
“There are people living in that field,” Lindon said. “Surely they’re entitled to the protection of the Akura clan, or at least the Blackflame Empire.”
“I don’t wish to speak ill of your homeland,” Charity said, “but we only allow them to remain because they aren’t worth our time. They’re like fleas living in an armory. We could sweep them out, but why bother?”
Lindon felt a little guilty that he found Charity’s perspective reasonable.
The Sage’s attachment to him and Yerin made sense as well. They now represented a significant force for the Akura clan. She didn’t want that slipping through her fingers.
But if he had value, he had leverage.
“Did I not contribute enough to our cause during the fight for Sky’s Edge?” he asked quietly. “Have I not done as you wished all this time? Have I not exceeded your expectations over and over again? How about Yerin?”
“I know your worth better than you do. It is precisely because of that—”
Lindon cut her off. “Apologies, but I wasn’t finished.”
If he was going to use his value, he may as well act like it.
Though his heart hammered, and he could feel Charity’s will focusing on him.
It felt strange, like her intentions were pressing down on him from the outside. She was frustrated, and she wanted to force him to see things from her perspective, but knew she couldn’t.
Before he lost his nerve, he continued. “All of that, I’ve done to spare my family from this fate. I desperately want your support, but if I don’t have it, we will fly there ourselves, no matter how long it takes. If we must, we will walk.”
It felt wrong to speak for Yerin, but she stood at his side and nodded along.
A voice echoed from the floor below. “We won’t make it if we walk!” Eithan shouted up.
“So we won’t walk,” Lindon allowed. “We can find other transportation if we must.”
“It won’t be as fast!” Eithan called again.
Lindon spread his hands. “Which is why I would like your help.” And, because he couldn’t resist, he added, “…and I apologize for interrupting you.”
He was hoping that his resolve would make an impression on the Heart Sage, but her face was still placid. She did, however, let out a long breath.
“Lindon. Yerin. I will do anything in my power to keep you as allies. So instead of forcing you, I will beg you.”
To Lindon’s surprise and discomfort, Charity bowed deeply at the waist.
“Please, do not go yourselves. There is too much that may go wrong, and humanity will be worse off for your deaths. Please stay here.”
Even Yerin shifted uncomfortably, and she flicked a glance up at Lindon to gauge his reaction.
At that moment, the script-circle on a panel to Lindon’s right lit up with a new figure made of light. Mercy was running up to their front door, waving a black-clad hand.
“Can you hear me? Open up!”
Lindon triggered the door without thought, and Mercy’s projection beamed as she ran through. “Thank you!” she called.
Charity straightened from her bow, folding her hands in front of her and waiting as though she had expected Mercy to arrive with exactly that timing.
When Mercy reached the top floor and joined them in person, she spoke immediately. “Don’t hurt them, Aunt Charity!”
Mercy’s appearance was sloppier than usual. Her hair had been tied back unevenly, with strands escaping here and there, and her black-and-white robes were rumpled and loosely tied. There were unexplained smudges on her face, and Lindon wondered if she’d had a chance to rest.
Overlords didn’t need much sleep, but they’d all had an exhausting few days.
Charity’s eyebrows tightened. “What makes you think I was going to hurt them?”
Lindon absolutely thought Charity would use violence to make them listen, but he didn’t say so.
Mercy ground her staff and raised her chin, as confident as if she were giving an order. “They’ve earned the right to go where they want.”
Maybe she was delivering an order, though Charity still outranked Mercy in their family hierarchy.
The Sage was unmoved. “Even if we ignore the Dreadgod, there are other threats. If an enemy Monarch or Sage finds them, they will be slaughtered.”
“Then aren’t they going to the safest possible place?”
“Not from the Wandering Titan.”
Yerin waved one crimson-tinted sword-arm. “Malice owes me a prize.”
“The Monarchs collectively do,” Charity pointed out. “Our clan owes you a debt of gratitude that we will gladly repay, but it is poor compensation to send you into certain death.”
“Then help us,” Lindon said. “You said we could organize something to evacuate Sacred Valley without us going in person. Why don’t we do both?”
He had pushed her for help before, but now he felt he had an opening. “It can only be faster than going alone. And safer.”
Charity looked to Mercy, who eagerly nodded. The Sage searched the faces of Lindon and Yerin, and then she closed her eyes.
Lindon couldn’t tell if she was communing with her Monarch, looking through her own memories, or even gazing into the future, but he sensed nothing.
After a few breaths, she opened her eyes.
“I can only mobilize perhaps two dozen passenger cloudships,” she said. “They have a maximum capacity of six thousand apiece, so depending on the size of your valley, you may need to make multiple trips, and that may not be possible if the Dreadgod is too close.”
Lindon’s spirits soared, but before he could thank her, she continued.
“Furthermore, the cloudships cannot operate inside the valley’s security field. The ships will have to wait at the border. I will leave their crews under your command, and they can help you evacuate, but they will have standing orders to leave immediately at the first sign of the Wandering Titan. Even if they have no passengers aboard.
“Finally, in order to reach the territory in question, we will need to pass through the portal to Sky’s Edge. Where the Dreadgod is currently feeding.”
A chill passed through Lindon’s spine. He remembered the massive humanoid figure of dark stone, its shell rising from the ocean like an island.
He had felt its thoughts crashing over his mind in an avalanche of hunger.
He could imagine what it was like when it was awake, active, and focused on destruction. He could imagine it all too well.
“I will enter the portal first,” Charity continued. “If I believe the situation is too dangerous, I will not allow you to pass. Once I have escorted you through, if the situation is too risky for the other cloudships to follow, then I will leave them behind and you will be on your own. Even if everything goes perfectly, I expect you to be wise enough not to throw your lives away and to return as quickly as possible. If these conditions are not acceptable, then I cannot allow you to go at all.”
She spoke as though she expected resistance, but Lindon couldn’t understand why.
Not acceptable? That was perfect. She was offering more support than he had hoped for, much less expected.
Now, he had a real chance of success.
Dross folded his arms. [That seems convenient, don’t you think? Awfully convenient. You’ve got some kind of plan for us, don’t you? A secret Sage plan. I’d trust you a lot more if you gave me a peek inside your memories. Just a quick—]