Underlord (Cradle Book 6)

by Will Wight

  But he tried, spending five minutes apiece on the binding, the customer's sample, and all three piles of dead matter.

  At the end of the process, he had a guess, but it was like guessing how to glue together a broken vase using only his sense of touch. One of the piles had come from a force Remnant; would force madra add the right punch to the fire binding, or so much that it canceled out the flame? Would the rainbow Remnant's lingering resentment spitefully interfere with the bomb's activation, or not? He couldn't tell.

  He pointed to the third pile, the white parts that looked like a disassembled claw and felt like razor-sharp wind. “This matter in a shell around the binding, bound with pure madra, should have minimal interference with the customer's madra.”

  Gesha's wrinkled face was a mask, giving him no hint if he had succeeded or failed. She turned to Eithan.

  “Dross,” Eithan said, “did you still sense what Lindon felt?”

  Dross' eye opened, and he frowned at Eithan. [How could I? I'm all the way over here. I would have to reach into his memory and...oh, never mind, I actually did. Sorry, I was paying attention to something else.]

  “If you would, please simulate the experiment in Lindon's head.”

  Dross helped Lindon visualize the experiment. Lindon saw himself taking the white Remnant pieces and Forging them into a shell around the corkscrew binding. The whole thing turned a pink color, bound with his pure madra, and sealed into a shape like a lumpy stone. He rolled it across the floor and activated it with the sample of the customer's madra, and it detonated violently, blasting a crater into the floor and cracking the walls and ceiling, filling the room with smoke.

  In the vision, Lindon felt no impact, only observing the successful explosion.

  [It's a very nice image,] Dross said, [but I couldn’t tell you if it’s what would really happen. Here, look at this.]

  The scene repeated successfully with the gray dead matter. And with the one made out of rainbows. And when Lindon sealed the construct with Blackflame, which changed the entire nature of the experiment.

  [See, I can make it show any result I want. Couldn’t even tell you which one was most likely to work.]

  Lindon sighed and opened his eyes. “He will tire himself out at this rate. The only way he'll be able to accurately project the experiment is by using my senses to understand all the madra completely. And if I could do that, I wouldn't need him.”

  [That seems deliberately hurtful.]

  “He's still a great help,” Lindon hurriedly added, “just like before. But he can't replace a drudge.”

  Eithan smiled as if Lindon had stepped into his trap. “So he's lacking knowledge of madra aspects and how they interact.”

  [You know, it's nice that someone pays attention and speaks properly. Hey, what do you have there?]

  Eithan held up a ball of spinning copper plates. He caught a glimpse of colored lights flashing from between the plates themselves.

  Lindon's heart leaped. The Arelius family library had all the information about Paths and techniques they had collected over generations. It could simulate hundreds, maybe thousands, of different Paths and their permutations. Lindon had missed it ever since leaving Serpent's Grave.

  “I was surprised to find it here as well,” Eithan said. “Cassias carried it with him when he left Serpent’s Grave, and I…borrowed it. This is your gift, Dross.” He held up the ball of copper in one hand. “Dive in, and learn what you can.”

  With a gasp, Dross gleefully leapt in and vanished, like a child into a pond.

  The light at the center of the spinning copper turned purple, and Lindon heard Dross' exclamations of wonder echoing out from the ancient construct.

  He couldn't help but worry. “He has consumed a lot of other memory constructs. You don't think he'll empty it out or ruin it somehow?”

  “If he can break this,” Eithan said, “then he is welcome to do so.”

  Dross emerged from the library, gasping like a drowning man. [No, this is too much! It’s too much! It's like being part of the tree again, only there's no space for me, and everything's moving too fast! I think I'm going to be sick.]

  Eithan shoved another scale into his mouth. “The deeper you can go, the better.”

  Many of the information constructs that Dross had absorbed back in Ghostwater were left by Soulsmiths, so he had a solid foundation in Soulsmithing, but their memories were fragmented and often contradictory. The more Dross learned, the more connections he would be able to make. Or so he and Lindon suspected.

  Dross spent a few moments gasping for breath—though surely he neither needed air nor had any lungs—then nodded, diving back inside.

  A few minutes passed, during which Lindon and Fisher Gesha speculated on what changes Dross would experience, while Eithan sat nearby with a content smile. Then one of Dross' stubby purple arms emerged, quivering, from the construct. He seized the edge of the copper, sluggishly dragging himself out.

  Lindon extended a hand, and Dross rested limply on it, face-down. He felt like a damp rag, and was a little too big to fit entirely in Lindon's hand, but he wasn't heavy.

  [No more,] Dross said. [That's all I can take. I need to digest.] He groaned.

  “While you're digesting, why don't you try our little experiment again?” Eithan suggested.

  Dross slowly dissolved, slipping back into Lindon's hand and up to his spot at the base of his skull.

  Dream madra filled Lindon's head.

  Fisher Gesha and Eithan vanished. Otherwise, the room existed in complete detail, so that Lindon couldn't tell whether his eyes were open or closed. He moved over to the table, closing one hand around the binding.

  This time, he could visualize the experiment with perfect clarity. The white madra was actually a dud, and would not detonate at all. He tried it with the force madra, and the bomb went off early.

  He repeated the experiment six more times.

  The actual solution was a shell of the rainbow madra, but if he used too much, he would smother the binding and weaken the explosion. The shell should be mostly hollow, with only a few columns connecting the binding inside to the outside. The whole thing transformed into a smooth ball that was fifteen different shimmering shades of red.

  Completely stable, totally compatible with the customer's madra, and it expressed a power even greater than the binding alone.

  Dross released him, and Lindon could feel the spirit’s exhaustion after holding the simulation for so long.

  Eithan and Gesha both asked Lindon how it had gone. Without answering them, he moved to the table.

  He had to be very careful to move exactly as he had in the vision, which was trickier than he'd thought. Without the enhancement Dross' presence gave to his concentration, he would have slipped and blown up the table.

  In fact, Fisher Gesha tried to stop him more than once; he wasn't supposed to actually perform the experiment without safety gear. Eithan stopped her, and Lindon continued working. He was afraid that if he let his focus slip for even a moment, he’d lose what he had learned.

  He finished in only a few minutes, and the final product looked exactly like it had in his dream. It was so smooth and easy, it was like magic.

  He stared at the construct. Gesha stared at it. Her spiritual sense brushed out.

  “Beautiful,” she said. “Did you take in the Remnant of some famous Soulsmith, hm?”

  Together, they stared at the bomb some more before she halfheartedly smacked his arm. “This is a cheat. You're cheating.”

  “Apologies. I will—”

  “No, no, cheat some more.” She cackled, rushing to another box. “We're making another cannon!”

  Lindon's thoughts ran to what Yerin had said. What if he did have to fight Kiro again before reaching Underlord?

  He looked down at his right arm. The jagged, angular Remnant arm was losing its luster. The white material was patchy where he had hastily repaired it with hunger bindings taken from dreadbeasts. It had been effective in
peeling away Kiro's armor, but he was supposed to lose it when he advanced to Underlord.

  He would rather keep it. He and Fisher Gesha made it together, and hunger madra was supposed to be special. He had ideas for it.

  Dross was murmuring something in his head about sleep, but he asked the spirit one last question.

  How do I reinforce my arm to withstand the advancement to Underlord?

  [Easy question. No problem. You need a source of Lord-level hunger madra. Now be quiet and let me soak up the aura around your brain.]

  Gesha was still pulling pieces out of various crates, laughing to herself, and Eithan looked like a cat who had delivered a dead mouse to its owner.

  Lindon pressed his fists together, saluting Eithan. “Gratitude. This is more than I can repay.”

  “It's more than you can repay...right now.”

  That had an ominous ring to it, but Lindon pushed through. “Nonetheless, though I am ashamed to even ask, I must beg you for one more favor. Would it be possible for you to get me the Archstone?”

  Eithan's eyebrows went up, and his gaze shot to Lindon's arm.

  “I know you want to keep the arm, but that’s quite a request. You’re talking about a potent weapon stolen from an ancient, cursed labyrinth and confiscated from a traitor to our Empire's leadership. It's in the Emperor's personal vault. Do you think I can do the impossible?”

  Lindon had known that was unlikely. “Apologies. In that case, do you know another source of Lord-level hunger madra? Maybe a powerful dreadbeast?” No sooner had he asked the question than he realized he should have asked Fisher Gesha; she used to hunt dreadbeasts back in the Desolate Wilds.

  Eithan looked unaccountably disappointed. “Wrong!” he shouted. “You were supposed to say, 'Yes, Eithan, of course you can do the impossible.' I'll have it to you in a few weeks.”

  Lindon stared at him doubtfully. Cut off from the Arelius family as he was, he was having trouble raising money for their regular advancement resources. If he had a strong enough connection to the Emperor to get a treasure from his personal vault, how could he be lacking scales?

  Though he had no choice but to rely on Eithan. Dipping his head, he said, “Thank you. That is more than I deserve.”

  Eithan folded his arms and looked down on Lindon proudly. “I look forward to the day when you and I can stand together as equals.” He pointed one finger to the ceiling. “Now, I have not a moment to delay if I am to rob the Emperor blind! To the vaults!” He turned and strode out of the room, his turquoise outer robe shimmering behind him like a jeweled cloak.

  Leaving Lindon and Gesha in the foundry, to explore the limits of Dross' newfound power.

  Gesha clutched so many tools, pieces, and containers to her chest that Lindon couldn't see her face. She spilled them over the table, revealing a wild expression.

  “Sacred instruments,” she said. “Can he make weapons, hm?”

  “Can you help me make weapons?” Lindon asked aloud.

  [Let me sleeeeeep,] Dross moaned to both of them. [And of course I can. So long as I have blueprints.]

  Lindon wasted not a second in tearing open his void key. “I'm getting my Skysworn armor.”

  She rubbed her hands together, laughing gleefully. “Thanks to the Emperor, I've got enough blueprints to choke a dragon. Boy, you are going to make me a fortune.”

  ~~~

  Yerin stared up at the ceiling. Lindon had been gone for hours, and even the Brightcrown healers had drifted away. For the first time since the battle, she was alone with her thoughts.

  At least, she wished it was just her thoughts.

  She had stuffed herself with the food and elixirs Eithan had sent her, and they’d done a mountain of good, but she hadn’t finished even half of the platter. The rest sat there, cold now. And every few minutes, her Blood Shadow would try to lunge for it.

  This time, instead of holding it back, she let it go.

  The Shadow surged to life, flowing into a red mirror of her. It wore her sliced-up robes, not her Skysworn armor, and it held its six bladed Goldsigns out like the legs of a spider. It dove for the food, seizing a pitcher of life-infused water and pouring it into its mouth. Its jaw extended unnaturally wide, and it drained the pitcher in seconds, tossing the empty vessel aside and snatching up a muddy brown gourd. It took a bite with crimson teeth.

  Yerin thought she might empty her own guts all over her bedsheets. Watching this parasite gorge itself with her face was all her childhood nightmares come at once.

  She could still remember the Shadow tearing its way through her family. Their faces had become blurred with time, but the feeling remained crisp and vivid. She made it from day to day by not thinking about this thing living inside her, because when she thought about it too much, she wanted to gouge it out with her bare hands.

  But she couldn’t get rid of it. It might be her way forward.

  It kept scarfing down food. The Blood Sage’s tablet had talked about this. It could sometimes feed on its own, which should be encouraged, but only rarely. If the Shadow was allowed too much freedom, it might break away.

  Yerin stood; she wouldn’t face this monster lying down. She tightened her brown patient’s robe and walked forward until she was only a few inches behind it.

  It turned around lazily, still chewing, holding a roasted hunk of meat in one hand. It gave her a lopsided grin.

  This thing even had her scars.

  Yerin had to stop herself from pulling her master’s sword and carving it up. She didn’t know what that would do to herself, but she was willing to roll those dice.

  Instead, she spoke. It had enough of a mind; it should understand her well enough.

  “Why didn’t you end me?” she asked.

  It could have. She had lost control of it completely. It could have hollowed her out from the inside and made her into a nest.

  Instead, it had released her after only a few seconds, suddenly loyal as a dog. It had even fought beside her, and she didn’t know why.

  The Blood Shadow’s grin widened, and it took another bite of meat. It made a low, growling noise, almost a purr.

  The sound sent another shudder of disgust through Yerin, but she sensed satisfaction. The Blood Shadow was satisfied with the way things were going, it had just been a little hungry. It was happy to be growing physically, spiritually, and mentally.

  If it had killed her, it would have had to feed itself.

  Yerin ground her teeth. This was why she hadn’t wanted to develop the Shadow according to the Sage’s instruction. She knew, as Eithan had said, that turning it into a clone was her strongest bet. She wasn’t so blind that she couldn’t see the advantages of a second copy of herself, but every inch she gave the Blood Shadow was a loss. One step at a time, she was bringing a monster to life.

  But when she’d already lost the life aura, she hadn’t seen any other choice. Now she was committed.

  With every mouthful, the Blood Shadow became a shade more solid, a notch more real. Its eyes had a glimmer of life to them.

  Yerin stepped closer until their eyes were only an inch apart. Of course, it was her exact height. “We’re hitched to the same wagon now, but heaven’s truth, I will bleed and bury you given half an excuse.”

  The Blood Shadow lifted the meat to its mouth and took a huge bite, chewing loudly. It didn’t back down or look away.

  “If I don’t advance, you’re going off this cliff with me,” Yerin said. “No more free meals.”

  It continued chewing, but she thought it was listening.

  Yerin would try to advance there in the Blackflame Empire, but if she couldn’t make it before too long, she’d have to go back through the portal. The Seishen Kingdom would have guards or walls built, but she’d risk it. Lindon would go with her; she hadn’t talked it over with him yet, but he would. The two of them could punch through and sneak around the Valley until she advanced.

  Or they couldn’t, and she’d be doomed. No matter what they tried to do, she co
uldn’t afford to have a stranger fighting for the reins of her soul.

  “You want us both to live?” Yerin went on. “You listen to me like I’m the voice of heaven. I say frog, you jump. I say snake, you crawl. I say dog, you—”

  A nightmarish voice scraped out of the Blood Shadow’s throat.

  “Woof,” it said.

  Then it gave her a bloody grin.

  Chapter 14

  Back in the Starsweep Tower in Stormrock, Lindon sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of his room among the Skysworn. Full Skysworn got much better rooms than trainees—his previous quarters had been little more than a closet with a bunk crammed in.

  He sat with natural treasures strewn around him. A knuckle-sized black skull, glowing with the power of death, sat to his left. A budding flower sat to his right, vibrant with life. Before him, a bottle of water that swirled on its own, occasionally rising into the shape of a curious face. Behind him, a crystal containing a spinning red flame.

  He found it easier to follow the aura when they were arranged in contrasts. Reaching through the fist-sized ball of gray soulfire swirling inside him, he extended his senses. The treasures radiated great power, but it was still nowhere near as easy to sense as it had been in the Night Wheel Valley.

  He traced the lines of color back to their sources, but stretched further. To the yellow veins of the stone beneath him, the green feathery breath of the air around him, the faint heat radiating from his own body. He could feel the connections, the subtle blending as one power became another. He was ready.

  Lindon focused inward.

  I need the power to protect my family, he thought. He filled himself with the desire to protect, focusing on the horror he'd felt as Suriel had shown him Sacred Valley, on his desperation to save Yerin.

  Nothing happened.

  He strained to detect any change in the aura. If some Truegolds who were qualified to be Underlord missed it, then it must be a subtle change.

  [Yeah, but you’re thinking of backwoods Truegolds from an aura-poor nation with only a handful of Underlords,] Dross said. [They missed it because they were…I don’t want to say they’re stupid. Ignorant? Poorly educated? Backwards savages stumbling through their Paths like blind men?]