by Will Wight
“I am Wei Shi Lindon, honored Cassias. Please excuse me for any inconvenience my actions may have caused you.”
“Not at all, Lindon, not at all!” Cassias said immediately. “I am more than aware of what happens when my family's Patriarch gets too...enthusiastic. You were caught up in his plans, and it is I who should apologize on his behalf.”
To Lindon's astonishment, Cassias bowed deeply. “Forgive us, and do not hold this against our family. On my name as an Arelius, I will send protection for you when you return to your home. You need fear no reprisals from the Jai clan or the Sandviper sect.”
When you return to your home. Did Cassias not know he was coming back to the Blackflame Empire with them, or was he trying to give Lindon a graceful way out?
Either way, the greedy part of Lindon wondered at the nature of the 'protection' he had mentioned. If Cassias was willing to part with a weapon or a high-grade elixir, Lindon might be better off taking them and making his own way...
Yerin pulled at the ragged edges of her sleeve, shooting glances at Lindon every second or two as though checking his reaction, but Eithan laughed.
“You didn't watch us too closely, I see! Yerin and Lindon are coming with us. I have adopted them as outer members of the Arelius family.”
Cassias straightened slowly from his bow, keeping a blank expression fixed on Eithan. “I...see,” he said at last. “I apologize, Lindon, I was not...aware.” He seemed to be struggling not to say something, his jaw tightening at the end of every sentence. “Did you inform the branch heads, Underlord? Did you receive their permission?”
“Time flows on, and plans must keep pace!”
“Plans,” Cassias said, the word falling like a handful of mud.
“Which brings me to another subject,” Eithan said, and suddenly his entire demeanor sharpened. Though nothing about him changed visibly, Lindon shuddered, the madra in his body shivering in its cycle. An Underlord stood before them now, not just Eithan. Yerin even took two steps back, gripping her sword—for comfort, Lindon hoped, and not because she thought she might have to use it.
Eithan continued, his voice still pleasant but carrying an underlying edge. “Your encounters with the Jai clan at the border. Explain what happened.”
Cassias glanced from Lindon to Yerin. “I would be happy to inform you aboard Sky's Mercy, if you'd like to—”
“We're among family here,” Eithan said softly. “Say it.”
“Very well.” Cassias relaxed, folding his arms and leaning up against the barn wall. He seemed more comfortable dealing with a businesslike Underlord than a friendly, playful one. Lindon could relate. “I was not only following you to bring you back. My father sent me with dire news shortly after you left.”
“Then the Jai clan has seized our assets,” Eithan finished, steepling his hands together.
Cassias' eyebrows lifted. “They have. In Serpent’s Grave alone, we’ve lost the flame garden, three warehouses, the sword hall, and two of our medical contractors. Each time, they claim they’re settling a private debt. They’ve sabotaged two major sanitation projects that I’m aware of, and eight full crews have vanished. We don't know if they were bribed away or...silenced.”
Eithan spoke in the same lighthearted, half-joking tone as always, but the shivering sense of danger hadn't evaporated. “That’s one city. What about the rest of Jai territory?”
“When I left, the worst of their actions were confined to Serpent’s Grave. There have been a few unsanctioned duels between our people and the Jai clan, but nothing worse. Of course, that was a month gone.”
“And the other clans?”
“The Naru have admonished the Jai clan for their actions, but the Emperor’s support will arrive as soon as a winner is made clear, and not before. The Kotai clan has yet to make a statement, but as long as we keep their streets and sewers clear, they won't even notice.”
With every word, Lindon felt less and less prepared for this conversation. He had no idea who the major players were in the Blackflame Empire, no sense for the different clans. Or even the function of the Arelius family; Eithan had introduced himself as a janitor, but Lindon couldn't tell whether that was a joke.
“Where did they stop following you?” Eithan asked.
“Two miles east, one mile north. They were forced to break off pursuit, which allowed me to slip through.”
Eithan closed his eyes.
Slowly, his smile brightened before his eyes snapped back open. “That puts a wrinkle in their plan, doesn’t it?”
“We have a brief window to leave, and I humbly suggest we take it.”
Eithan raised fingers to his chin, staring at something in the far distance, thinking. “Soon. I have to adjust to this new information.”
Yerin’s arms were folded and her Goldsign quivering. Judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t happy about being left out of the conversation either. Lindon didn’t want to stress his welcome by asking too many questions, but he strained under the weight of his curiosity.
Finally, Cassias remembered they were there. “The Jai clan was trying to prevent me from returning with the Underlord. They weren’t bold enough to openly destroy a cloudship flying the Arelius colors, but they’ve made my life difficult for the past few weeks. If the Jai warriors down below hadn’t called for help, I would not have been able to land.”
“Called for help?” Yerin asked. “What’s got their feathers rustled?”
“I was too high up to see clearly, but it’s strange. It seems they were attacked by one of their own.”
Chapter 4
Sandviper techniques lit up the shadows with an acid-green glow as they tore through a wooden wall, their caustic madra melting straight through the rough lumber planks. Wood hissed as it dissolved, the sound almost loud enough to drown out the pleas for mercy that came from beyond.
When the wall fell to pieces, four Sandvipers walked into the one-room shack. A flash of white light, then green, a scream, and the fur-clad Sandvipers came out carrying a pair of struggling figures.
Both wore sky blue robes and had black hair that shone like metal in the moonlight. One captive had hair close-cropped so that it looked like a tight helmet, but the other’s fell in a stream of dark, gleaming iron.
A young man and woman of the Jai clan, cowering for shelter and hoping the attack would pass them by. They might have been brother and sister, or young lovers, or two strangers who happened to duck into the same abandoned house.
Jai Long didn’t care. His spiritual sense washed over them, confirming that Stellar Spear madra flowed through them both, sharp as an axe and white as snow at noon.
“Both,” he said, and Gokren gestured to the Sandvipers. They snapped collars around the two Jai necks. When they realized the scripted metal cut off their access to madra, the man’s eyes bulged, while the woman continued to beg through a mask of tears.
The Sandvipers dragged them away to join the others.
Jai Long had never used the Ancestor’s Spear before. He knew only the legends—that the original Matriarch of the Jai clan had used the weapon to steal the power of her foes. As far as he knew, he might be helpless while siphoning madra, and it was safer to experiment on captives rather than opponents.
They had captured eight sacred artists of the Jai clan. Twice that number had escaped, and even more had been killed rather than let themselves be taken.
Half of the Jai clan shelters in the Five Factions Alliance had been reduced to rubble.
Only days ago, when the power of the Transcendent Ruins was at its height, Jai Long and the Sandvipers would never have been able to pull off a raid of this scale. They would have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Since the Ruins had been picked clean, most of the Jai clan had drifted back to their homes. The Sandvipers had all stayed, waiting for the return of their Truegold chief.
The chief who now stood with Jai Long as his sect members streamed into homes like a swarm of ants, carrying out Jai s
tragglers.
Seven lights flared in Jai Long’s senses, and his eyes snapped to the sky. Shadows flapped against the stars, carrying shapes against their backs, but Jai Long’s spirit told him who they were.
Reinforcements. Somehow, the main branch of the Jai clan had sent backup against him already.
Jai Long let his breath out in frustration, but it came through his twisted teeth in a long hiss. How? The nearest stronghold of the main family was weeks away by air. But only the main branch had the authority to summon an elder.
Six of the figures were at the peak of Lowgold, but the seventh was a Truegold master. Before Jai Long could see him clearly, the elder swung his spear, and a white beam of light flashed like lightning.
Sandviper Gokren vanished from Jai Long’s side in the same instant, and then he was standing next to the beam of light as another Sandviper stumbled away. The elder’s technique scorched a line in the dirt instead of skewering the Sandviper through the chest.
As expected of a Truegold. Before Jai Long had even shouted a warning, Gokren had sensed the attack coming, determined the target, and pushed the man aside.
Jai Long hurriedly flipped open his spear case, removing the shining shaft of white light. He tossed the case aside, ready to defend himself. If the elder struck again, he might not be able to protect anyone else, but he could at least survive.
He had half-expected the Jai elder to gloat from up above and then rain techniques down on their heads, but instead the seven figures descended toward the street. As they got closer, Jai Long could make out their mounts: bats the size of horses, with wings like unfurled sails. The sacred beasts were dirty gray-white, but their eyes shone like tiny stars in the dark.
As the Jai landed, Gokren breathed deeply, cycling his madra so steadily that Jai Long could feel it, like a mighty river rushing next to him. The Sandviper chief ran a hand through gray hair, pushing it back even further, then gripped the short spear sticking over his shoulder.
“I’ll move the Truegold back,” he said quietly. “A pair of my hunters will move with me. You lead the rest, but I don’t have anyone here who can stand face-to-face against that pack.”
The six Jai clan warriors landed their bats only fifty yards down the road, fanning out to cover their mounts. The elder stood behind them, his spearhead rising higher than the silver helmet of his hair.
These were strangers to Jai Long, people he must have left behind years ago in his exile to this wilderness territory. The Lowgolds all had a few traits in common: black hair that gleamed like polished metal, blue outer robes marked with the star-and-spear emblem of the Jai clan, and tall spears that they held with confidence.
Though they were less advanced than Jai Long by one stage, they would never have been chosen as escorts unless they were competent. And while the Sandvipers specialized in hunting the beasts of the Desolate Wilds, the Jai clan was equipped for battle.
“I need them to harass only,” Jai Long said, his voice as low as Gokren’s. “Split them up, keep them from crashing on me all at once, and I’ll handle them.”
Gokren’s fingers flickered in a signal, and Jai Long felt the Sandviper powers behind him spreading out.
“Sandviper chief,” the elder drawled, ignoring Jai Long entirely. “You’ve interrupted our business tonight.”
Chief Gokren jerked his head toward Jai Long. “Not me.”
The elder pushed through his escorts, using the butt of his spear as a walking stick. Jai Long’s opinion of the man fell lower. He was grinding his weapon into the dirt with every step—didn’t he know what that would do to the wood?
“We’ll expect a generous apology for this,” the elder said. “Go back to your homes and wait for me there. I will have a word with the exile about his new weapon.”
Jai Long swept out his perception, looking for another Stellar Spear presence. This group was too far from home to be alone—they would have brought supplies, and left at least one scout to report their fate if they were attacked.
To his shock, he felt only the dim presence of a few more bats roosting two streets down. Extra pack animals, but no sacred artists.
“Where is your scout?” Jai Long asked.
The elder sneered at Gokren; he still refused to look in Jai Long’s direction. “We’re in the territory of our branch family. Word of what happens here will reach the Underlord, and the chief knows that.”
Gokren was a seething mass of power standing next to him, his Sandviper madra foul and bitter in Jai Long’s senses. Despite their battle plan, Jai Long couldn’t believe the Sandvipers would actually fight for him. The Jai clan were his enemies, not Gokren’s.
But if they left him, he would be facing six trained fighters and a Truegold elder. His breath came faster, his madra cycling quicker as he looked for an exit. If he moved quickly enough, he could pull them into the Wilds. Away from Jai Chen, and into terrain where he might be able to fight them one at a time. So long as they didn’t get back to their bats.
Gokren moved.
The Path of the Sandvipers had no techniques for speed. In a battle of Truegolds, Gokren would be among the slowest.
But he was still far faster than the Lowgold guards.
His short spear flickered out, launching a green ghost of itself that flew at the Jai clan like an arrow. His second spear was in his left hand, already shining green with another technique.
The elder moved like a ghost, breaking the Forged missile into sparks and knocking Gokren’s spear aside before he could reach the average soldiers.
The Sandviper chief ended in a low stance, his spears spread to either side like wings. The Jai elder stood on the defensive: back straight, knees bent, weapon pointed straight as a ruler at Gokren’s chest.
“Your life is over,” the elder said, almost sadly.
“My life ended three days ago.”
After another long moment, the Truegolds vanished. By unspoken agreement, they leaped over the buildings to the left, moving to where their battle wouldn’t kill their subordinates. Leaving Jai Long and twenty Sandvipers facing six elite Jai sacred artists.
Jai Long ran forward like a wolf into a pen of sheep.
The fighters of the Jai clan did not flinch. They formed up into a wall, side by side but with enough distance between them that they could fight. One raised a hand-carved whistle to his lips and blew.
The seven bats rose with a screech, blacking out the stars. Their wings sent a gust of wind blowing across Jai Long’s face, and with screams like glass shattering, they pounced on the Sandvipers.
Jai Long cursed himself. He had forgotten about the bats.
He cast them out of his mind, even though the battle sounds behind him were horrific. He had his own worries to deal with: he was charging into half a dozen enemies, and it was too late to stop. Even if he was charging alone.
Though he was still a good thirty feet away, the Lowgold bodyguards raised their spears and stabbed in his direction. Six spearheads blazed white as they executed the Jai clan's orthodox Striker technique: the Star Lance.
Lines of finger-thin light blasted toward him, each sharp enough to drill through his skull, but his weapon was already spinning
He spun his spear in both hands, executing a technique of his own: the Serpent's Shadow.
His spearhead trailed ribbons of white light as it spun, and those ribbons came to life, slithering through the air with a will of their own. The Forged snakes raised their heads and hissed, coiling themselves between him and the incoming techniques.
Such was the gift his Remnant had left him.
The Star Lances tore holes in his serpents, breaking off chunks of madra with every impact, but none of the techniques penetrated to Jai Long.
Jai Long didn’t wait to see what his enemies would do next. He cycled his madra according to another technique: Flowing Starlight. This was an orthodox Stellar Spear technique, which his Remnant had left largely unaffected.
The Jai clan won their duels through s
uperior speed.
The light-aspect madra circled through his channels faster and faster. Lines of white light slid out from his stomach, covering his skin in glowing, serpentine lines, marking the progress of Flowing Starlight. They looped around his shoulders, spilling up his arms and down his legs.
Power gathered in his limbs along with the lines, and when two knots of madra curled up and ended at his eyes, the world around him slowed.
This technique was a way to gradually prepare the body for handling intense speed. It reinforced and fueled him, finally sparking his senses so that they could keep up with his newly empowered limbs.
Six pairs of eyes narrowed as they realized what he was doing, six spirits revolving just like his, lines of white light spilling out of their robes and flowing onto their limbs as they engaged their own Enforcer techniques to catch up with him. The marks on their skin were a matrix of straight lines, not a nest of twisting serpents as on his, but there would be no functional difference in the technique.
Except that he was a Highgold. They were too slow.
He had been reluctant to test out his spear in battle, but now it seemed he had no choice. Whether he liked it or not, he was about to have his questions answered.
Jai Long closed the thirty-foot gap in a blink, coming in low next to the first enemy. The man had started his own Flowing Starlight technique, so he was fast enough to get the butt of his spear between him and Jai Long. But that was all he could do.
The white spear swerved around his, stabbing him in the lower abdomen. Into his core.
Most sacred artists Jai Long knew would have hesitated to fight someone a stage lower than they were, and even if they were forced into that undesirable position, they would avoid killing their opponent. It was shameful and embarrassing to lower yourself to that level, especially in public.
But Jai Long had no pride he didn’t mind losing.
Jai Long’s spiritual perception confirmed he'd struck the right target, and he withdrew his spearhead in an instant. The man's madra leaked out visibly, spilling starlight and blood in equal measure, but his spear should have stolen some of that power. Had it worked at all? He didn't feel any—