Waybound (Cradle, #12)

by Will Wight

Ziel responded immediately. “Training Chamber Number One.” [Terrible!] “I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” Lindon said. “It’s professional.” Ziel pointed to him.

[I’ll give you some points!] Dross offered, which Lindon thought was irresponsible. There was no points system in place, so that wasn’t a promise he could honor.

“How can we explain anything if we die of fright, hmmm?” Gesha turned to Lindon’s father. “What did you teach this boy?” Jaran looked over, revealing the pinkish-white color of his restored eyes. “Apologies on behalf of my son, Fisher.” “Tch.” She waved a hand. “Quiet. I know you didn’t teach him anything.”

Mercy, who was leaning out the second story of their barracks, hit the back of her head on the window frame. “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!”

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. Larian would have asked what a couple of Archlords were doing inside a pocket world that had been constructed by the Void Sage, but she recognized their eyes and the feel of their madra.

Second, she was broken down into a more conceptual state, infected by her own authority. This took the form of her body transforming into a nest of hands with dark strings attached. If she had stayed in this state and become a Fiend, she would likely be known as ‘the Puppeteer.’ But she lasted less than a second before transitioning into the third state. She faded away to nothing.

[We’re not sure. A long time. Instead, we started with a copy of me, so it’s useful immediately!] [And here’s a bonus: when we develop our own individual personalities, they’ll all be based on mine!]

Mercy caught the squishy ball of dream madra that shot toward her, and the feel of it delighted her. She’d heard about this project of Lindon’s while they were in the pocket world, though she hadn’t expected it to be ready yet. This was another weapon. And a friend.

Mercy ignored her mother’s instincts and went with her own. She slid Dross into place. Seconds later, her mind and senses opened up. [Wow, I like it in here!] Dross said from inside her mind. [That’s a top-quality human vessel you have. Lindon should have been born to a Monarch.] Hi, Dross! Mercy thought, hoping he could hear the message. Welcome! [You’re even nicer to me than he—AAAHHH it’s a Dreadgod! Right, timing! Yes! Are you ready?]

[We’re going to kill it. Well…I said that with a lot of confidence, but without Lindon waking up, I’m—no offense, but I’m not working with top-quality tools here. Now, listen, I can feel that you have a lot of issues to work out, but this isn’t Ziel’s time to shine, all right? You’re going to be running interference and support.] Whatever gets it dead.

Orthos stood over him, manipulating life and blood aura using soulfire to keep his body going. Little Blue knelt by him and worked on his spirit, wearing a look of great concentration. Without their attention, Ziel would have already died.

[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.]

“No, Monarch. I was only concerned for you.” Ugly anger took over Northstrider’s heart for a moment. She was talking about a boy who had grown fat on bounty he’d stolen from Northstrider. Just by suggesting Lindon could be a threat, she was insulting him. But Northstrider was hundreds of years old. He took control of himself immediately. She did not intend the disrespect, and what was more, she was right. Lindon was a threat. She had said nothing inaccurate. “I have plans to deal with him,” Northstrider said.

“Not as badly as he thinks he does.” Leisurely, the Bleeding Phoenix stood from her chair. She stretched red wings behind her and smiled at him. “We’ll take that up with our brother.” This was the worst possible turn of events. Reigan Shen clutched the Wraith Horn. “He is not your brother.” “Didn’t you all give him a name yourself? The Empty Ghost.”

She paced and fretted, but continued speaking, baring her soul while standing in the depths of her spirit. “At first, it was easy. I was just better than everyone else. And then, when I’d proven myself, I had a Sage and a Herald teaching me. My mother’s a Monarch! And still, you and Yerin—” “Eithan turned out to be the Reaper of Worlds,” Lindon pointed out. Mercy hesitated. “That’s…that’s true,

“I have received more help than anyone in the universe. Even most of my power is stolen. There’s nothing noble about doing everything yourself. You just have to do your best to honor the help you’ve gotten.”

equal. But enough to fight them a while.]

“I wish I had done it sooner. I ran away because I was afraid of you, but I never realized how much you needed me. Let me tell you what everyone else is afraid to say.” Mercy took a deep breath, and Malice prepared to slap her into the next room depending on what words came out of her mouth. “Mother, you sound evil.” Malice blinked.

Sword-and-blood madra swelled, and one wall of Malice’s castle exploded inward. Yerin strode in, sword in her hand glowing with her Enforcer technique. Her eyes, so much like Fury’s, blazed red. The dragon-turtle and the Sylvan Riverseed, both in human form, walked beside her. They would be a hazard. They were contract-bound to Lindon, so he would know anything she did to them. The former leader of the Dawnwing Sect was last, bearing a silver shield in one hand and a massive hammer in the other. Finally, Charity. Her granddaughter. Charity’s eyes were even colder than usual, her very will ice.

Without quite understanding why, Mercy flew faster to catch up. For some reason, she felt like she ought to catch her mother before she hit the ground. It was a ridiculous thought. Mere stone couldn’t hurt a Monarch.

Judging by his expression when he opened his eyes, its form surprised him. Emriss was not shocked. Ziel’s Remnant was a hulking, horned creature with much longer horns than Ziel himself had. Its deep green body pulsed with violent energy, its thick jaw was locked in a perpetual expression of rage, and its hands were massive fists. Even so, it slumped onto the ground, staring at nothing. Ziel pointed to it and looked to Emriss. “How am I supposed to get that thing to cooperate?” “That thing is you,” Emriss reminded him. The Remnant let out a heavy breath.

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

“Same on my side.” She settled the slab into place with an earth-shaking slam. “Not an expert on this kind of advancement, but I’d bet you’re in for a fight.” Ziel didn’t think so. “No,” he said with a sigh. “My Remnant will just sit there.” Yerin scratched a rune into the stone, following instructions Dross was giving her. “You’d say so?” “You saw it. I’ll be wrestling dead weight.”

This was a creature of pure rage and pain. It hated everything, and wanted to destroy anything it could reach. Itself, perhaps, most of all. Upon seeing the manifestation of his own spirit, Ziel’s heart broke. This was the man he’d been.

Even the Dreadgods slowed down, though they didn’t retreat. Lindon weighed the spiritual pressure of both sides. Sha Miara, Reigan Shen, and two Dreadgods. Emriss Silentborn, the Eight-Man Empire, Mercy, Ziel, and Yerin.

Ziel’s muttered voice sounded like it was coming from next to Lindon’s ear. “Advance to Archlord, he’s a Sage. Advance to Sage, he’s a Dreadgod. Advance to Monarch, he’s off to kill a Dreadgod on his own.” A moment passed, and then Ziel’s voice came again. “Dross? You didn’t send that to him, did you?”

He wished he could control the Bridge precisely enough to send Yerin straight into the Phoenix’s beak—or, poetically, into the path of one of Lindon’s techniques—but the best he could do was to shove her aside.

I love what a shit he is

But that was the last thought Yerin could spare for people she didn’t care about. She was about to ask a real question, but Ziel beat her to it. “Can you help Lindon?” Ziel asked.

“Yeah, it’s not like I’m tripping all over myself to rush in there, but I’ve got to measure before I cut. Just because you called my name doesn’t make you a saint from the heavens. Maybe I ought to be saving him from you.” Before R’leya could come up with a response to that, the newcomer held her breath and strode through the portal. Insects scurrying at her feet were shredded by invisible blades before they got close.

Except Bardolph himself, who was a mechanical skeleton of copper and steel. A flame burned green in a furnace at his chest; that was his soul, bound to animate the entire frame.

Mercy didn’t listen. She swallowed the Soldier up with shadow and annihilated it. “Please remember that self-replicating undead soldiers are not good weapons. Please remember that. I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea in the first place.”

“There you go! Oh, and I gave some big trees to the Ulethians. Don’t hurt them! If the Bisons or the Trees are gone, I’ll come back. And then I’ll have to kill you. Or whoever’s responsible.” Sulthurus gave a deep chuckle. “You?” “Yeah! Just keep the Bison and the Trees alive, and there’s nothing to worry about! But don’t cross me. But enjoy! But don’t make me come back, okay?” [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.

Then Ziel was supposed to come back and kill the ones responsible. He didn’t think she’d like that answer. “I’m supposed to come back and kill the ones responsible,” he said. It wasn’t his job to give her answers she liked.

“Do you have a monster I can fight?” Ziel asked. She offered him a pen. “Sorry.” “…do you think you could find one?” “Are there monsters on your planet?” she asked excitedly. Ziel heaved a sigh and picked up the pen.

“Apologies, I don’t know what you’re saying,” Lindon said. [Now, why are you speaking to him? How is he supposed to know what you’re saying?] “It’s more polite to say something.” Orthos jerked a thumb at himself. “Orthos.” He pointed. “Lindon. Blue.” The gray-haired man was attentive, considered for a while, and then snapped his fingers. “Cradle!” he said happily. “Does this function yes?” [Just because that worked,] Dross said, [does not mean you were right to expect it.]

Fury sighed. “None of the Judges will fight me. Not even Eithan. He says I need to get stronger before I challenge him!” Despite his disappointment, Lindon thought the man looked excited.

Fury whistled. “Hey, look at you getting the hang of things! We’ll be fighting in no time!”