Bloodline (Cradle Book 9)

by Will Wight

  Though he’d never thought of it before, the Wei Patriarch of his memories gave him a similar impression to Reigan Shen. Powerful, regal, with the power and mane of a lion.

  The Wei Jin Sairus of reality was…lacking.

  His face was heavily creased, his build was flabbier than Lindon remembered, and the weakness of his spirit made him feel pathetic. He was considered perhaps the greatest fighter in the Wei clan, but from Lindon’s perspective he was no better than the other Jades in the room.

  The Patriarch was speaking as they entered. “…Kazan deception cannot be discounted. While I myself doubt that they can mobilize a boundary formation of this scale, we must be half trusting and twice cunning. We will seize one of their southern fields and test their reactions.”

  Some of the other elders had looked around at the opening door, but the Tenth Elder was clearly waiting for the Patriarch to finish speaking so he could introduce the visitors.

  An ancient man with a white beard down to his waist examined them carefully. He stood in a corner, as though positioned to watch everyone else in the room, and he had turned his scrutiny to the newcomers.

  Lindon didn’t feel any spiritual sense on him, but his stomach churned nonetheless.

  “…Lindon?” the First Elder asked.

  The Patriarch stopped his speech to turn toward them. The Tenth Elder bowed. “This young clansman has returned from outside claiming to bring news of our current situation. If it pleases the Patriarch, allow me to introduce Wei Shi Lindon.”

  Several clumsy spiritual perceptions locked onto Lindon and began scanning his spirit, including the Patriarch’s.

  Yerin’s red eyes remained on the Tenth Elder until it was clear he wasn’t going to introduce her. “People from your homeland think asking my name’s going to give them some nasty disease,” she said to Lindon in a perfectly normal voice.

  Several of the spiritual senses turned to her.

  Lindon saluted the First Elder. “I have returned, honored Elder.”

  “Shi Lindon,” the Patriarch said. “What entrance did you use to return to the Valley?”

  Lindon knew what that question really meant. “I came through Heaven’s Glory, Patriarch. And I brought allies with me.”

  No murmuring went up between the old men, but several exchanged meaningful gazes. Heaven’s Glory had been after Lindon’s blood, but he had come through them unharmed. With a large enough force to escort him through enemy territory.

  This was the Wei clan. No one would take him at his word. They would investigate his claim, but that would take time.

  Patriarch Sairus made a doubtful sound. “You must have mighty friends indeed, if Heaven’s Glory respected them enough to allow you to pass.”

  Lindon met his eyes. “Yes, Patriarch, I do.”

  Before anyone could react to that statement, Lindon turned to the First Elder and dipped his head again. “A monster known as a Dreadgod comes for you. It is called the Wandering Titan, and the shaking in the earth you feel now is the least sign of its coming. If it passes through Sacred Valley, it will notice none of us, but its very footsteps will bury us all. You must leave.”

  The First Elder’s white eyebrows climbed into his hair. “You have proof?”

  “Dross,” Lindon said aloud.

  They had practiced this on the way.

  On cue, Dross projected Lindon’s memories into the minds of everyone in the room.

  His first sight of the Wandering Titan sleeping face-down in the bay outside Sky’s Edge, its black shell the size of an island. The close-up view of its hand, each finger like a collapsed tower, as Lindon reached out with his Remnant arm to touch its rocky skin.

  The feeling of overwhelming strength as it woke, the slashing of its tail kicking up waves, one cycle of its madra knocking a cloudship from the air.

  With that, the memories cut off.

  Every Elder exclaimed differently. Many of them had risen to their feet. Some demanded Lindon repeat his technique. Others were simply impressed, or in shock.

  None looked more shocked than the First Elder. “Where did you train the Fox Dream?” he asked in disbelief. He glanced down at Lindon’s badge. “We can find a Ruler badge for you.”

  That warmed Lindon more than he had expected. Even though he hadn’t been the one to use the technique, and he had passed beyond the understanding of Sacred Valley’s ranking system long ago.

  Even so, this was the man who had once given him the badge declaring him Unsouled.

  “You can’t expect us to take an illusion as proof, no matter how carefully crafted,” Patriarch Sairus said.

  “Pardon, Patriarch,” Lindon said, “but I didn’t.”

  Then he unleashed the full might of his spirit.

  He had been drained down to roughly Gold, but his pure core was mostly full, so it was stronger than his Blackflame madra. Exerting spiritual pressure on someone had better results the greater the power difference and the more sensitive the receiver’s spiritual sense. It could be used on those under Jade, but its effects were blunted.

  The senses of these Sacred Valley Jades were dull, but fortunately the gap in power was wide.

  Everyone in the room collapsed to their knees, gasping for breath, as a great weight settled on them. Everyone except Lindon, Yerin, and the First Elder.

  Lindon took it easy on him.

  “I know more than most what power the words of the strong have over you,” Lindon said. “Let this represent the weight of my words.”

  Patriarch Sairus struggled to speak, but Lindon continued. “I have strength beyond anyone and anything you have ever encountered.” A moment later he added, “…in this life.”

  They had all seen Li Markuth and Suriel, though they had died for it.

  “If I wanted you to suffer or die, I would not need to deceive you. I could have that now. If I wanted revenge, I could have it. I could have leveled the Heaven’s Glory School, but I did not. I do not want your lives. I want you to keep your lives.”

  He released the spiritual pressure, and as they gasped and raised themselves, he bowed to the room in general. “Please, listen to me. We have vehicles prepared to take you to safety. Though I have not been here for several years, I do not want my own clan to fall.”

  The various elders all had their own opinions, from apologizing for treating him so rudely to demanding that he apologize for treating them so rudely, but he was listening only for the Patriarch’s words.

  “What would you have us do?” Patriarch Sairus finally asked. His voice was sore.

  Lindon lifted himself from his bow. The Patriarch looked surly, but he should back down before superior power. At least when there was another way out that could benefit everyone.

  “Contact everyone in the Wei clan, and anyone living in the wilds that you can. Bring everyone to the Heaven’s Glory School. We will use their pathway to the outside.”

  “When?” the First Elder asked.

  “Now. My allies are waiting just outside the walls to help.”

  The room was quiet. All of them felt the floor vibrating beneath them.

  The Patriarch seemed to struggle with himself, but finally he turned to the First Elder. “Call them.”

  Relief flooded Lindon’s chest. He had been afraid he would have to carry the Wei clan elders to Mount Samara on his back.

  A grieved expression crossed the Elder’s face, but he didn’t protest what he must have heard as the order to leave the only home he’d ever known.

  The First Elder nodded to the Patriarch and swept out of the room…but not before placing his hand on Lindon’s shoulder.

  “Welcome home, Lindon.”

  11

  It didn’t take the Wei elders long to whip the entire clan into action.

  The Path of the White Fox was excellent for sending messages, at least compared to the other Paths of Sacred Valley, and the commands of the Patriarch spread all over Wei territory over the course of the day. The Akura Golds spread out as w
ell, shipping small families or individuals back to Heaven’s Glory on personal clouds.

  As the sun began to set and Samara’s ring started to shine, families in white and purple flowed east in a river. They took hand-pulled carts, Remnant-led carriages, wardrobes floating on clouds…anything they could use to carry their belongings away from home.

  Lindon could hardly believe it. From his Thousand-Mile Cloud floating high in the air, he watched people filter out from buildings and choke the road, but he couldn’t convince himself that it had worked.

  He was sure something would have gone wrong.

  Have you heard from Eithan? Lindon asked Dross for the fifth time.

  [I don’t remember hearing from Eithan.]

  Dross had sent a message to Eithan telling him to prepare for the coming of the Wei clan, but they couldn’t be sure their transmission had reached him. The first waves of the Akura clan hadn’t returned yet either, so for the moment, they had to guess that Eithan had heard them.

  They had also contacted Orthos at the Fallen Leaf School, but Lindon was certain that had worked. Orthos grew slightly closer by the minute.

  Yerin braced herself on Lindon’s shoulder to lean out and watch the people beneath them. “It’s going to take them a year and a half to get out.”

  That was one of Lindon’s concerns. Would the clan have enough time to escape before the Dreadgod arrived?

  He opened his aura sight. Jagged veins of gold moving through the earth throbbed rapidly now, and the ground pulsed to the regular rhythm of a heartbeat.

  While he couldn’t feel the Dreadgod with his spiritual sense yet, it only took his eyes and ears to know the Wandering Titan was close.

  They still had monumental work ahead of them if they wanted to evacuate everyone in Sacred Valley, but between the Wei clan sending out messages, the Akura Golds providing their assistance, and Mercy and Ziel visiting the other clans in person, it should be possible. They only needed a few more days. Surely they had that long.

  Although Lindon was relieved that, even if they didn’t manage to convince anyone else, at least he had helped his own clan.

  He was somewhat ashamed of that thought. The other clans deserved to be saved just as much as his own, and he would still work to help them make it out, but the Wei clan just mattered more to him. Of course they did. They were his family.

  [Should I start replaying the memories of all the horrible things they did to you, or do you not need my help with that?]

  That didn’t matter anymore. He had gotten them to listen, which felt in a strange way as though he had gotten some revenge. Like the rivers of white-and-purple marching beneath him proved his worth.

  That was silly, but he felt pride in it anyway.

  Yerin shaded her eyes with one hand and looked east, toward Mount Samara. “Well, bleed and bury me if that isn’t a problem.”

  With so many weak presences beneath him, Lindon couldn’t sense anything in that direction. At least not through the power of the Wandering Titan and the suppressive field of Sacred Valley.

  But with Dross’ help, he picked out figures moving through the woods on either side of the road.

  Heaven’s Glory. Armed and moving his direction.

  [They really don’t learn their lesson, do they?] Dross mused.

  Lindon was more than capable of flying over and taking them out himself, but he was worried about Yerin and the Wei clan. It was hard to tell how weak Yerin might be, and if any of the enemies made it past him, the Wei clansmen would have no warning.

  He tried to keep his irritation from rising into anger.

  The Heaven’s Glory School just would not leave them alone. He didn’t know how they made it past Eithan, but he couldn’t imagine they’d harmed him.

  Then again, these were the very same people who had managed to kill the Sword Sage.

  His frustration started to fade into worry as he landed next to the Patriarch. Wei Jin Sairus and a handful of Elders made a boulder in the flowing stream of the clan, and they stopped barking orders to turn to Lindon.

  A couple of them saluted and bowed to him, and one elder Lindon didn’t recognize beckoned to nearby servants, but Lindon kept his eyes on the Patriarch.

  Sairus dipped his head slightly, but that was all.

  “The Heaven’s Glory School is coming,” Lindon reported. “They’ll reach our vanguard in minutes.”

  The Patriarch’s gray eyebrows pinched together. “A battle group?”

  “Weren’t coming to scratch our backs,” Yerin said.

  “Then we should meet them ourselves.” Sairus gestured, and the nearby servants—who had been rummaging in saddlebags—instead dashed off to prepare mounts for the elders.

  “We’ll meet you there,” Lindon said.

  Yerin had never stepped off the cloud. This time, she sat down, her legs dangling off the edge. “Not saving any for them,” she muttered.

  They arrived back at the forefront of the Wei clan evacuation as the people in purple-and-white were coming to a confused halt. Remnants pulled up short, carriages ground to a stop, and constructs settled to the ground.

  Heaven’s Glory stretched across the road, a dozen Irons led by half as many Jades. Including Grand Elder Emara.

  What was Eithan doing?

  The Grand Elder stepped forward…and bowed at the waist. “Wei Shi Lindon, I apologize if we frightened you. Your master, Eithan, sent us to help you.”

  Lindon felt like the world had flipped upside-down. He settled his cloud onto the ground as Thousand-Mile Clouds spread out behind the Heaven’s Glory artists.

  Yerin kept a hand on her sword as she hopped to the ground, clearly on edge against the Heaven’s Glory Jades.

  But the clan didn’t stop just because they were blocking the road. Wei clansmen bustled around him, flowing along, intermittently cutting off his view of the Grand Elder as travelers passed between him and the old woman.

  “I admit, I did not expect to hear from you yet, Elder,” Lindon called over the din of the crowd. “If you could coordinate with the Wei elders, they will lead you to families that can use your help.”

  The Jade dipped her head again. “Our paths up the mountain are already crowded. We will carry some through the air, and others through side paths.”

  Heaven’s Glory spread out even as the Tenth Wei Elder scurried to greet their leader.

  [I don’t like it here,] Dross muttered to Lindon. [There’s too many people around, and I can’t sense anything.] Between the normal Sacred Valley restrictions and the presence of the Wandering Titan, Lindon’s perception was restricted to the point that he felt as though he wore a wet sack over his head.

  Keep an eye on them.

  They had seen how strong Lindon was, and it seemed true that Eithan had sent them…but Lindon had killed several members of the Heaven’s Glory School. He didn’t trust them, and Yerin certainly didn’t. He expected them to have some kind of plan.

  Of course, no matter how a spider spun its web, it was useless against the tiger. Lindon would scatter Heaven’s Glory one more time if it weren’t for the Wei clan streaming between—

  The second Lindon returned his attention to the Wei citizens in front of him, he and Dross realized the same thing at the same moment.

  The drivers in their carriages, and the riders on the backs of their saddled Remnants, weren’t casting nervous glances at Heaven’s Glory.

  They were looking fearfully at Lindon.

  He had been betrayed.

  Again.

  A deep anger came up from where he’d buried it. He’d managed to fight it back ever since he’d arrived here, but now it bubbled up.

  Into the Path of Black Flame.

  His Blackflame madra was no better than a Jade’s, but what more did he need? Threats would be worth more than truth, now, and intimidation better than actual power.

  So Lindon drew inspiration from the person he knew who could best act like he was in charge even when surrounded by enemies, and
he said what he thought Eithan would say.

  “Gentlemen,” Lindon said, “this is a mistake.”

  Each of the Wei clan surrounding them pumped madra into lengths of cloth they revealed from their backpacks, saddlebags, from the sides of their carriages. Each was woven with scripts.

  Boundary flags.

  The boundary formation snapped into position immediately, locking the aura surrounding Lindon and Yerin and suppressing their power. Aura of light and dreams was agitated, casting phantom images and sounds all around them.

  To Lindon, they were just noise and nonsense, but he put a hand on Yerin’s shoulder. He needn’t have bothered; she looked around with completely clear eyes and sneered.

  “Heaven’s truth, I was going to let them live,” she muttered.

  Dross, where are the Golds?

  [Not too many around, and they can’t see us. I can contact them, I think, but…] He hesitated. [Do we need them?]

  Yerin might.

  Dross sent out a call for help.

  The Wei Patriarch arrived outside the circle, the First Elder at his side. “Stage two!” he shouted.

  Wei clansmen ran forward, carrying a massive chain of scripted goldsteel and looping it around the outside of the boundary field.

  Lindon’s wariness spiked. A script in goldsteel would be significantly sturdier than boundary flags, so whatever it did, it might actually affect them.

  If this went any further, he was going to have to burn his way out.

  So he wouldn’t let it go further.

  He ignited the Burning Cloak and dashed in the direction of the Wei clan elders, who stood on a hill overlooking the road. He crashed into the side of a carriage, smashing the outside to splinters and sending it careening onto its side. The illusion field shattered.

  Yerin followed up a second later, tapping one foot onto the upturned cart and leaping for the elders. Constructs erupted from the crowd all around.

  Dozens.

  Striker, Ruler, and Forger techniques shoved Yerin back with force, with wind, with water, with dreams, even with clouds.