Waybound (Cradle, #12)

by Will Wight

Then Lindon’s eyes snapped open and his veil dropped. Orthos shouted involuntarily. He would have staggered back several steps if he could have moved at all. A mountain had collapsed onto his shell, and he was held in place by an invisible fist. That wasn’t Lindon, that couldn’t be Lindon. That was a Dreadgod. The Empty Ghost. And it was coming for him.

Instead, Orthos was standing over her, taking up most of the Blackflame training cave and bellowing encouragement. “A dragon does not hesitate!” the turtle roared. “She decides her goals and she seizes them! A dragon does not surrender!”

“I’m still waiting for the bad news.” [The bad news is that I can’t use a bow!] Dross floated around the room in agitation, thrashing his flexible arms.

“I told you, I’m not there yet! Touching an Icon is not as easy as you made it look.” “She’s almost there,” Yerin said confidently. “I’m not!” “She’ll be taking her pick of Sage or Herald. Can’t lie and say I’m not concerned about Orthos and Blue, but I don’t have an ounce of worry about her.” “Worry about me!”

“Looking for you?” “Sometimes you stand aside, and sometimes I must go through you. Either way, let us be done with it here.” If she couldn’t see that much, she wasn’t as skilled of a Hound as Makiel had thought. This time, Makiel could read her face. Suriel radiated pity. “You still have the same blind spot. I’m not here for you.” Suriel held out a hand. “Come to me,” she whispered. And the ice beneath Makiel’s feet began to crack.

Suriel, the Phoenix, met his eyes. “I have faith in him.” Makiel knew what she was doing. She was seeking to patch over the oldest wound in the Court of Seven. Even this, she sought to heal. She wouldn’t be able to do it. This wouldn’t lead to change. He took the Scythe anyway.

“This is foolish,” Charity went on. “We’ve fought on the same side for years.” The white rings in his eyes burned. “You saw how Malice treated Mercy. You think I’m the one who betrayed you?”

A portal opened into a swirl of blue, and two people walked out. But not ones Larian recognized. The Archlord man had weathered, tar-black skin and gray hair. He wore dark leather that looked as though it had been made from dragon hide, with bits of armor strapped to it. The Archlady had navy hair the color of the deep ocean and skin like a summer sky. She carried a tank of something under one arm. Something that felt spiritually powerful.

Red-on-black eyes lowered to meet Lindon, and Lindon saw a spark of fire in their depths. The authority of a Dragon Sage.

From a seated cycling position, Little Blue stuck both fists into the air. “Yay!” she said. Lindon felt his, Orthos’, and Dross’ surprise at the same time. “Blue?” Lindon asked hesitantly. “Can you…speak?” “Mmm-hmmm!” Little Blue said.

“Alataraxa,” Orthos offered. [Why would you suggest that? You want to go from the easiest name in the world to one that only dragons can say?] “It was my mother’s name.”

She needed to hit it now, if at all. [More importantly, why am I red?] Dross asked.

[I have tried to talk everyone out of sacrificing their lives today. Why is no one listening to me?]

A lifetime of fury burst from him in one word. “KILL!” the Shield Sage roared. For all the people this death would protect, the Shield Icon approved.

[You’re too heavy to move,] Dross explained. [Sorry, is it rude to say you’re heavy?] another Dross asked. [Bloated,] a third Dross suggested. [Bulky.] [Metaphysically dense,]

Eithan had descended from the heavens in search of companions. Suriel didn’t fight alone, and she had encouraged him to seek out Yerin and to fight alongside the others.

[It’s every parent’s dream to see their little boy grow into such a fine young Dreadgod.] “You’re not my parent.” [Well, I don’t like your parents, so I choose to replace them.]

[Good job not giving it away,] Dross whispered. [If I couldn’t read your mind, I wouldn’t know how nervous you were. Keep your sweat on the inside, that’s what I always say.]

Lindon expected a memory, but instead Dross’ eye turned gold and he sported a shaggy mane of hair. [‘Rrgh, I’m Northstrider, and I’m smarter than everybody! I’ll solve this Dreadgod problem! I’ll use their power against them!’]

Also, there’s no creativity in replaying exactly what happened. No soul.]

don’t want to send you off in defeat,” Lindon said honestly. He waited until Northstrider looked up to say, “I want to send you off in victory. You won a long time ago.”

“I find it hard to believe that someone like you could force me out of my own world,” Northstrider said. And, despite what he’d said about respect, Lindon found it hard to resist a parting shot. “It’s my world now,” Lindon said.

This was the hunger that had been in him from beginning; the desire to get stronger, now taken to an absurd extreme. That was what the Dreadgods were made of. At their fundamental level, they were made to devour the world.

In the meantime, Emriss could speak to Akura Mercy about what it meant to bring joy.

“Makiel, stop,” she ordered. “My name was Tommess,” he said. “And I intended to give up my position on our return anyway. Consider this my revenge.” When she realized what he meant, she gave one dry laugh. “He will hate this,” Suriel agreed.

[We’re clear on the Fate end,] Dross reported. [Their legends of you are going to get…weird.] Wait, how weird? Mercy asked. How weird, Dross? Dross wouldn’t answer her.

He pushed back, trying to see Eithan’s face. “Eithan? Are you okay?” Tears streamed down Eithan’s cheeks, and he forced a smile. “I just…I wasn’t prepared…to be so proud.” He ruffled Lindon’s hair. “You used my shampoo.” Involuntarily, Lindon let out a laugh. “I did it!” Eithan cried. “I have cracked the stone-faced man! It shall go down in history as one of my greatest feats. And look!” He ruffled Lindon’s hair again. “So silky smooth! Such volume! Truly, this is my apprentice.”

“How can you face that?” the prince asked. “That’s not an enemy, that’s…the end.” Lindon lifted into the air and turned to face the Fiend. Dark fire kindled in his hand. “No,” Lindon said. “I am the end.”

“When I was your age,” his father began, “I had to take a test.”

“It helped me understand who I was. But I want you to remember that this is a tool to help us see where you are going to begin. It doesn’t tell you where you will end up.”