Waybound (Cradle, #12)

by Will Wight

When she fell, she collapsed onto her back and welcomed the relief from the pressure. When she turned and saw Mercy and Orthos already on the ground, she punched one fist into the air.

“A dragon does not hesitate!” the turtle roared. “She decides her goals and she seizes them! A dragon does not surrender!” Little Blue’s scream was a high, piercing whistle, and she briefly swelled to half Lindon’s height. Then she compressed herself back down to about a foot tall, and a cloud of blood essence rushed up and out of her.

Ziel deactivated the Path of Heaven and shoved his way out of the shelter. “You don’t have to ask. You’re the boss here.” Lindon stood taller than Ziel’s little shelter, and he wore an apologetic look that was spoiled by his burning, inhuman eyes. Those eyes widened into an expression that would have, on someone else, looked like embarrassment. “If you were too busy, I could have come back later.” “Have you heard of being too polite?” Lindon dipped his head. “Apologies.”

Ziel shut his eye again. “Let me know when you’re done. Should be ready anytime…assuming there’s anything we can do.” The same doubt had haunted Mercy’s mind for months. How was she supposed to help Lindon and Yerin? Even now, she was only a newly advanced Archlady, though her Book of Eternal Night would still let her punch harder than she could otherwise. With her revelation still fresh in her mind, Mercy had an answer. What would she do to help? Anything she could.

Cladia had closed her eyes and was still breathing hard, but a grin slashed across her tired face that made her look like Eithan. “And when you see Eithan again…tell him he should have said good-bye.”

The wrinkles by Makiel’s eyes deepened as he smiled. “I know. I know…everything.” It was perhaps the most like Ozriel the man had ever sounded. The second the light in his eyes faded, Ozriel reappeared in a column of sapphire flames. He looked down at his hands and patted his own chest in disbelief. “You really did it! I said I was counting on you, but I didn’t actually believe you could do it.” “Makiel—” Suriel began, but Ozriel waved away the rest of her sentence. “I know,” he said. He gazed at the body floating in space, and Suriel saw the weight of ages and the sadness of the Reaper reflected in him again. “I know everything,” Ozriel said softly.

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?”

[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’s already cleaned it up a lot,” Fury said. “I’m sure by this time next year it will look like a golden hairbrush.” Apparently finding out that Eithan was a celestial executioner still hadn’t fixed Fury’s opinion of him.

“Worst book in the series,” Eithan declared. Lindon shrugged. “I don’t know, I liked it. Lots of powering up. What’s your criteria for a good book?” “Percentage of Eithan. The more lines I have, the better the book. This one didn’t have nearly enough Eithan for my taste.” “You weren’t in the first one either,” Lindon pointed out. “Oh, but I was there in spirit.” “How do you read other books without you in it?” “I don’t.” Eithan held up a book with his own smiling face on it. “There’s only one other story worth reading. From Conditioner to Executioner: A Story of Hair Spray and Spraying Blood – The Eithan Arelius Story, Collected Edition.” “That sounds…uh, fascinating. I’ll have to get a copy one day.” “You have one! Check your pocket.”

“We’re missing a name!” Mercy cried. Dross drifted over. [Oh, I’ve been thinking about this! It’s a chamber where we distort time, right? And that change is very dramatic, so I thought we could call it…] He spread boneless arms wide. [The Hyperbolic Time Ch⁠—] “No,” Ziel interrupted. “No one uses the word ‘hyperbolic.’” [You do better, then.] Ziel responded immediately. “The Danger Room.” “I like that one,” Lindon said, “but for some reason, I get the feeling we shouldn’t use it.” Mercy leaped up. “I like the room part! Let’s go with that! What about the…Requirement Room? No, wait, I’ll think of something else.” “We could say something about the way it functions,” Lindon said, “but this is basically just a complex matrix of stolen constructs. And we wouldn’t want to call it ‘The Matrix.’” Yerin patted the weapon at her waist. “We’re training swords in here, aren’t we? How about ‘House of Blades’?” Ziel pointed to her. “That’s it!”

To Yerin, the world turned colorless and very, very quiet. She realized something new. She saw a pattern so clear that she was shocked she hadn’t noticed it before. Yerin wasn’t just the disciple of the Sage of the Endless Sword; she was also Eithan’s apprentice. The student of the Reaper. She had used Penance to strike down a Monarch. She had learned to imitate Ozriel’s sword strike. In a world that still seemed frozen, Yerin pulled her sword back almost casually. An image formed in the sky at the motion. Not a sword. A vast, smiling face with twinkling blue eyes. “Die,” Yerin ordered. And at Yerin’s command, the Eithan Icon descended on Akura Malice.

“Do you know anything about my father?” Mercy asked. “They told me enough,” Lindon said. “They told me you killed him.” “Wrong!” Mercy straightened up and raised a black-clad fist. “You are my father!” Lindon staggered back, clutching a nearby pole for support. “No! That’s not true! That’s impossible!” “Search your feelings. You know it to be true.” “NOOOOOO!” “Lindon…Join me, and together we can rule the world as father and daughter!” Lindon leaped off the cloudship.

Yerin clung to the edge of the cliff by the tips of her fingers. Lindon peered down at her. “What are you doing?” he asked. Yerin shrugged as best she could while still hanging onto the cliff. “Not sure. I hear we’re supposed to end books this way.” “Not this one.” “Really?” “Yeah, this is the last book in the series.” He reached out a hand to pull her up. “Now we don’t hang onto cliffs, we rest on flat, open, empty ground with nothing left to look forward to and only an all-consuming sense of emptiness.” Yerin looked around her, seeing nothing. “That sounds worse.” “It is worse. But hey!” He clapped her on the shoulder. “At least we’re not hanging on a cliff.”