Underlord (Cradle, #6)

by Will Wight

The Abidan’s Presence whispered, [All four match descriptions of tenth-generation Vroshir.] Pariana didn’t ask for their names. It wouldn’t help. The first generation of Vroshir had worked for the Abidan, long ago. They lived to shatter the Eledari Pact and see the Court of Seven cast down. It was not a grudge that she could resolve.

[Oh, this is fun, you're going to like this. By living in your head, I can handle some of your unimportant thoughts myself! Only a few of the smallest ones, but I can keep them from distracting you. You should notice an increase in your concentration and your processing speed, and your reactions should be a little faster.]

Yerin looked from the Truegolds to Lindon. “Tell me true. What were they feeding you while you were gone?” “Sea monsters,” Lindon said.

Images of the fight with the Skysworn rose up in her head. Compared to her memories of him in the Blackflame Trials, Lindon today was like an adult compared to a child. Only a month or so out of her sight, and he'd undergone a heaven-and-earth-shaking change. He was strong now. Too strong. He'd given her a brief outline of what had happened to him in Ghostwater, but she still wasn't sure about the details. Whatever had happened, it had rebuilt him from head to toe. And he had kept her from joining him. She'd always hoped that he would catch up with her one day, but it had happened so fast

As far as he understood the powers of a Sage, she might well be able to do as much. She was an Archlady, at the peak of the Lord realm, but most Archlords never earned a Sage’s title. There was something special about Sages, but only rumors and legends could tell him what that was. He’d never had a Sage to consult.

When Eithan spoke, his words reverberated in Lindon's spiritual sense like a gong. “I, Eithan Arelius, hereby swear on my soul that if I am allowed to take these young sacred artists as my Skysworn squad, I will do everything in my power to lead them to their own benefit and the benefit of the Blackflame Empire.” His voice continued to echo, and Naru Gwei looked stunned. Eithan's smile crept upward, and he added, “In addition, I will follow your lawful orders in the course of my duties, and...” He paused for maximum effect. “...I will personally spend no more time in your presence than required.” “Deal,” Naru Gwei shouted immediately, as though he feared the moment would pass. Their spirits both quivered, so that even Lindon could sense it, and Eithan spread his hands and his grin wide.

Intimidating stubborn Truegolds into following orders was a bright spot in her day. Wasn't too long ago that they could have swept the floor with her, and now they had to straighten up their spines as soon as she walked in the door. Besides, now that Lindon had a proper spirit in him, he had a natural gift for sharp looks. It made her heart warm to see him make a white-haired elder choke using nothing but a black-eyed stare. The baby squirrel had finally left the nest and grown into a...well, squirrels never turned into anything scary. Call it an ancient sacred squirrel.

The Sword Sage had really stumbled across a buried treasure. If only he had survived, he might really have been able to pass on his unique Sage techniques to his student. Eithan would have to make sure he honored the man’s memory by serving his disciple well. Though nothing ever went as smoothly as it should. He’d meant for the dream tablets to be only one part of her gift. Nine or ten months ago, he’d commissioned Lezaar—the most accomplished refiner of the Arelius family—to craft him a very specific pill. But he had been ousted as Patriarch before the pill was finished, and hadn’t returned since.

Of course, there were still other things Eithan could teach him about the use of pure madra. But he was spread out too thin as it was, trying to master two Paths, Soulsmithing, the madra in that arm of his, and the upgrades to his body and soul that he’d found in Ghostwater. By watching him move, it was obvious to Eithan that Lindon had found a way to enhance his mind, which had pleased Eithan enough to make him dance a little jig. Privately. Eithan breathed out another mouthful of smoke. No, giving Lindon more to do would be counterproductive. What he really needed was time to adjust to the abilities he already had. But no matter how many times he told Lindon as much, Lindon took it as an excuse.

“I truly hope you’re taking care of yourselves. Both of you. But I’m here because you haven’t taken our Patriarch away from us. Eithan forfeited that title months ago.” Lindon shifted uncomfortably, stealing a glance at Eithan. Yerin was staring at him openly, waiting for a response, and Mercy made a face that suggested she’d rather not be hearing this. Orthos let out a long breath of smoke, and through their bond, he felt resigned. Like he’d heard his most troublesome child had caused a problem once again.

“Very well, then,” Eithan said, and suddenly he radiated a presence that Lindon had only felt from him a handful of times before. It had nothing to do with the power of his spirit, which was still veiled. It was more subtle than that; a sense of authority, as though he was suddenly possessed by the Remnant of a king.

Cassias took over the explanation. “The Heart Sage is choosing three Underlords from the young generation to represent the Akura vassal states in the tournament. I suspect Eithan—” “—already has his candidates picked out,” Eithan said, throwing out his arms. “If it all works out, I’ll be able to provide all three candidates. And two of them officially have the name ‘Arelius,’ so it still looks good for us.” Lindon and Yerin traded glances. He was clearly pointing to them, and they had been adopted into the Arelius family. Cassias’ eyebrows raised. “Three?” “Three?” Mercy repeated. Eithan met her eyes and smiled. “Three,” he said. “…if everything works out, as I said.”

She went on, but Naru Huan knew why her voice had faltered. She'd sensed the same thing he had a minute before, when he'd extended his perception at the appearance of the towering darkness. She had felt it a little later than he had, and her surprise had been enough to interrupt her planned speech. A small handful of people had been waiting at the base of the portal. They had rushed into it as soon as it had appeared. Upon seeing a massive pillar of black that stretched from the earth to the sky, who would willingly walk into it? Only someone who knew what it was and where it would appear. Naru Huan's lips twitched into a smile.

Riyusai

“You could turn your Shadow into a weapon,” Eithan said idly. “Or a pet. Or a clone of yourself that will make you an unstoppable force of pure destruction.” “Hard work is quiet work,” Yerin said. “Take your time deciding. Just because two techniques are relatively common and one is the legendary power of a Sage doesn't make one better than the others.” “How has no one killed you yet?” “Sheer laziness. Listen, you shouldn't worry: my wisdom is vast and deep. I have ideas about how to improve whatever Blood Shadow you create. There's a rare metal that can bond with a formless Shadow and still be stored in your spirit, which would give you a shifting, metallic weapon that responds to your every thought.” A sword that could change shape as she fought. She could see some uses for that. What the Blood Sage considered the weakest option was only his opinion, after all. Eithan breathed out a cloud of smoke. “Yes, if Lindon had chosen a Path other than Blackflame, I would have worked with him. Never let it be said that I stop people from making the wrong decision. Like, let’s say you don't want to combine the power of two Sages in one body—well, in two bodies...” Yerin threw her sword at him.

“If only someone,” Eithan said loudly, “had access to a substance that strengthens and refines the soul. One that might be prepared in a Monarch’s pocket world, for instance.” Lindon sighed, reaching out for his void key. He should have known that he could never keep a secret from Eithan. “Some kind of, oh, let’s say, spirit-enhancing water…” “Please,” Lindon said. “I understand.”

His phrasing caught Lindon’s attention. Dross, has he not scanned you? Lindon asked. [You know, I don’t think so, but now I’m questioning it. I’m starting to wonder if he can see thoughts.] “Once you reach Underlord, then your real training can finally—” With a gentle effort, Lindon pushed Dross out of his palm. The spirit manifested, one-eyed and purple, and raised one of his stubby arms in greeting. Eithan froze in mid-speech, his wildly gesticulating arms stopping in the air. [These things can be awkward, can’t they? I know who you are, but I’m not sure if you know who I am. Do you know who I am?] Lindon imprinted Eithan’s expression of pure astonishment in his memory forever.

When Lindon spoke again, his voice was thick. “Where will you go?” “There are many places that could use a dragon.” Lindon swept at his eyes, drawing pure madra, trying to keep his emotions under control. Orthos extended his head, resting his forehead against Lindon’s. “A dragon is not ashamed of tears,” Orthos said. And Lindon lost control. He threw his arms around Orthos’ neck and wept with Little Blue, as Dross drifted silently overhead. After a while, a familiar feeling in his spirit drew his attention to the side. Yerin stood there, looking horrified, six Goldsign arms gleaming in the dim light. She was out of breath, her tattered robes in disarray, and dead leaves in her hair. “Bleed me, but it looks like you’re trying to sneak off without me,” she said, and her voice quivered. Orthos shook his head. “I would not dare.” Lindon released the turtle’s neck only for Yerin to replace him an instant later. She didn’t cry, she just shook, and he murmured something to her that Lindon couldn’t hear.

[Feel how it resonates with everything around you, drawing you closer to nature. Now, follow that sensation back into yourself, deep into your soul. Into your mind. Now, tell me why....why do you practice the sacred arts?] “To protect people,” Lindon and Yerin said at the same time. Lindon braced himself, straining to detect any change in the soulfire inside him or the aura outside. What was supposed to happen was a transformative resonance. Lindon's personal revelation would connect him to his own spirit, and the soulfire would carry that resonance to the outside world. For reasons he still didn't understand, that would draw on the aura to fuel his soulfire and burn away his old body and spirit, leaving him reborn as an Underlord.

He had the bearing of a violent demon, a savage fixed on violence. Akura Charity's nephew must have met a horrible fate at this brute's hands. But Kiro's body had still been bathed in soulfire, and Lindon’s had not. In a few more seconds, the prince would win this contest. Then Lindon's eyes cleared. The black and red bled out of his eyes like ink being wiped away. The aura around him faded away, and the pressure on Kiro eased up. He didn't understand why Lindon would drop his Enforcer technique, but he wouldn't miss an opportunity when he had one; he shoved the axe away and pushed harder with his shield, intending to bowl Lindon over. The Blackflame began to slide back. A new aura of light surrounded Lindon, this time a nimbus of hazy blue-white madra. Lindon stopped sliding back, holding the shield. Only a second later, he was standing upright. Kiro felt a chill. The other Enforcer technique had given Lindon explosive strength and speed, but this brought the feeling of steady strength, like a placid lake.

Do you have a plan ready yet? [I'm running on the excess dream aura produced by your mind, so I wouldn’t say I’m drowning in power up here. I’m most of the way done, though. Call it sixty percent.] Lindon spared some attention from his Soul Cloak to send a trickle of pure madra to Dross at the base of his skull. He wasn't sure it would work, but it was similar enough to how he had cycled the power of the Spirit Well to Dross before. [I appreciate that, I do, but it’s not really helping. Sorry. If you could upgrade your brain, that would really be ideal. Or some dream elixirs, those would be good too.] Lindon resolved to get Dross some dream elixirs. So long as Kiro didn't catch them. He heard a distant echo in his thoughts as Dross began to speak again, suggesting he was contacting the others. [Hello! Hello out there, we could use some backup. A little help would be nice before we're killed by this big armored man. Any assistance you could spare would be greatly appreciated. Any at all. Very soon.]

Before he could ask Mercy to grab Yerin's sword, the Blood Shadow appeared next to him. It looked into his eyes, and it was like he could see a spark of the real Yerin in them. It was unnerving. He dipped his head to her. He wasn't exactly sure how to address the parasitic spirit living inside Yerin, but it was best to be polite. “Thank you for your help,” he said. The Blood Shadow smiled again, gave him a wink, and then crumpled. It coiled into a rope of red light and slithered back into Yerin's spirit.

“Am I being ignored?” Eithan asked. “Now you know how it feels,” Cassias muttered. “It would be more fun if you sobbed out your apology and begged me for my assistance.” “Don't you have some work to do?” Eithan's mouth quirked into a familiar smile. A spark returned to his eyes. “Well then. I suppose I do.”

There was a question he wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring his thoughts together. Dross, he said, and the spirit filled in the blanks. [I know,] Dross answered, his voice uncharacteristically grave. [Yes, this is exactly what the Life Well was meant for. It would heal her. It could even take that blood spirit of hers up a notch.] How much would she have needed? Lindon asked. It didn't matter. He hadn't saved any. But he wanted to know. [One spoonful.]

“Yerin, I don't know what I'd do if you were gone. When I think about the future, you're in it.” He didn't know what he was trying to say, but the more the words spilled out, the easier they came. “I don’t care if we go home, or stay here, or end up wandering in the wilderness, as long as you're with me.” He was surprised to realize that his eyes were hot. “Please…I don’t want you to leave me behind.”

“They compete because there is a limited opportunity, and everyone wants it badly enough to spill blood for it. Not because I make them.” Mercy looked at her skeptically. That was not a strong argument. “When you throw a steak between two starving dogs, is it their fault for fighting over it?”

“Fury has yet to make his selection for our primary team, but you were to lead, and I had chosen Harmony to be the second. If your brother Pride can replace you, that still leaves an empty space for Fury. And one for me.” The shadows had reached her neck, and her face started to fade away. “And I can fill that slot however I want…”

“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.

He'd left because, back in Sacred Valley, he was the least. The weakest. He had wanted to escape. So what was he afraid of now? What was his fear telling him about his family, about Yerin, about Eithan and Orthos? That he was still weak. Powerless. That he was still the same useless Unsouled who could change nothing. Lindon reached out with his spiritual sense, connecting to the aura around him. It was easier this time. I fight so I won't be worthless anymore, he thought. It felt the same as the hundreds of other declarations he’d made over the last two months, spoken and unspoken, calmly or desperately or burning with quiet hope. He still wasn’t sure if his answer was correct. But this time, the soulfire in his spirit quivered, and the aura around him shook with it.

Naru Gwei kept talking, but Lindon focused on the west. He saw the Desolate Wilds, marked as a black smudge, and recognized a range of mountains by the coast. Closer to the western sea than he'd ever realized. It was unnamed. The map had it listed as “Restricted Territory—Dangerous and Forbidden,” next to the seal of the Akura family: one big star and two smaller stars over a mountain range. That's where Sacred Valley was.

He had to save Yerin...but he wanted to win. Was there a way to do both? To seize and hold a piece of the Night Wheel Valley, increasing her chances of advancement, and also show they were the best the vassals of the Akura family had to offer? His first thought was assassination. If they killed Kiro and Meira, that would be two of the Kingdom's star Underlords out of the running. But not only did they have an Overlord defending them, Lindon also wasn't happy about assassination being his first answer. And the Sage of the Silver Heart had restricted bloodshed. Then he remembered something he couldn't believe he'd forgotten. He turned on the spot and seized Mercy.

“Not two suits,” Kiro corrected. He kept his gaze on Meira’s face, drawing from her the strength to correct his father. “Three.” Her gray eyes widened with shock, and his father swelled with fury. Still, he kept himself fixed on Meira. “I don’t want you behind me any longer,” he said quietly. “I need you by my side.” “I will not fail you again,” she swore. She thought he was giving her the means to serve him better. It was the opposite; he was trying, for once, to serve her. “You’ve never failed me,” he said.

Eithan looked to the Emperor. “Twenty-nine Lords and Ladies, one of which is an Overlord. How many do you think we're worth?” “Ten,” the Emperor said immediately, still watching the skies. “I can match the Overlord, and in a fighting retreat, perhaps one or two Underlords more. I trust you to tie up three without getting yourself killed, though I doubt you can finish them.” “I'm honored by your confidence in me,” Eithan said. “Though it depends on their deployment. A few of them are old and dangerous, and I would hesitate to face them even alone. They would ruin my hair.”

“Restraint,” Kiro reminded him, though he did follow his little brother toward the gate. “If we are not careful, we will disgrace ourselves in her eyes instead. And we cannot hurt Akura Mercy, even by accident.” He had chewed on her words ever since she’d appeared, and her phrasing still disturbed him. Her note didn’t say 'Do not harm Akura Mercy,' or 'You will be punished if you harm Akura Mercy.' It said 'You should not harm Akura Mercy.'

“Let Yerin advance,” Lindon said quietly. “Leave us alone, and I will swear an oath right now to turn down any nominations for the tournament.” Kiro stopped his gradual advance. His shield lowered slightly. “I beg you, please stand down. She is dying.” The prince hesitated. Lindon thought he sensed uncertainty in the man's spirit, and for a moment Lindon hoped. Then Kiro shook his helmeted head. “I can't. I bear greater responsibility than you can imagine.”

There were six techniques bound up in Lindon's resonance cannon. Spear of the Golden Sun, from a Path of light and fire. Heart-seizing Claw, from a Path of blood and destruction. Phoenix Wing Burst, from a Path of force and fire. Song of Falling Ash, from a Path of destruction. Gravetouch, from a Path of death. And black dragon's breath, from the Path of Black Flame. All of those techniques were Striker techniques, all of them lethal, all compatible with one another, and all compatible with the Path of Black Flame.

The blade of green flame closed in, with Yerin raising her master's sword to meet the weapon, but she could feel death breathing down the back of her neck. Silently, she apologized to Lindon. To Eithan, to Orthos. And even to Mercy. She knew the pain they would go through after her death. But she also felt a little relief. At least, by going first, she wouldn't have to feel the pain of losing them. Something in her soulfire stirred.

Yerin's thoughts snapped into place. She'd been on the right track before, but hadn't taken it far enough: she wasn't growing strong in order to protect the people she cared about. She pushed herself because she wanted to avoid the pain she'd felt so many times before. The pain of loss. I practice the sacred arts, she thought, because I don't want to hurt anymore.

Anger rose up in him, ugly and hot. “Maybe I can’t touch you,” he said, “but the Sage doesn’t care about your friends.” Daji turned to leave, hefting his swords in both hands. He had beaten her, but he hadn’t truly won yet. Only crushing all three of them would be a true victory. He had taken the first step when motion caught the corner of his eye. He raised his blades, spinning back to battle. Akura Mercy threw herself on his swords. The weapons pierced her ribs, and her purple eyes widened in pain from only inches away. For a moment, he stood frozen in shock. She had pushed herself to her feet, stumbled over to him, and intentionally lunged into his blades. She hadn’t even tried to defend herself. She slid down, leaving her blood on his swords, her lips stained red. He saw sadness and pain in her, but no fear.

Instead of a Remnant, Malice’s direct descendants attempt to bond with Divine Treasures created by their predecessors. These Books require an open soulspace as well as a Jade core, so special—and expensive—means are used to open the soulspace early without harming the child. There are many such Books, each left behind by an Akura expert, each with seven pages and seven techniques. Malice’s descendants are tested by the Books, taken into a dream-world where they are given trials by the Divine Treasures themselves. Those who pass and truly embark on the Path of Seven Pages are recognized as members of the head family. Those who fail are still given the full protection of the Akura clan, but are sent to branch families. Only one book has never been claimed before: the first book, the one crafted by Malice herself for her successor. Her idea of a perfect shadow Path. It contains the seven techniques that the Monarch would have learned herself, if she could start her journey anew. It is the guide to the Path she wishes she had walked. The Book of Eternal Night.

“You admit your loss?” Malice asked, her every word graceful. “Yes.” Mercy had chosen to give up her bet so that she could save Lindon and Yerin, but she still felt some regret. And a touch of despair. She had enjoyed being out on her own. But it had been worth it. If Daji had joined Kiro or Meira, Mercy’s friends wouldn’t have survived. Her freedom for her friends’ lives was a good trade.

The time had come. “I follow my Path,” Lindon said, “so I won't be worthless anymore.” For an instant, his perception expanded, so that he touched all the aura in the vault. Just for a moment. The transformation began.

“I train in the sacred arts,” she whispered, “because…” She hesitated, the reality of the situation slapping her in the face. Why had she said this out loud? You were supposed to, but there wasn’t supposed to be anyone around to hear. But now stopping would be more embarrassing. And besides, she was dying. She blurted the rest out in a jumbled rush. “…because I don’t like people around me dying, and it hurts, and I’m afraid I’ll have to feel that again, so I try to get stronger so I won’t have to. And that’s all.”

[Now, I'm not suggesting this is a good idea,] Dross began, [but do you think you could take a little sip of her madra for me? I promise I won't be mad if you cycle it to me.] You want us both to die? [I want to be able to do that to their minds! Look at that! They're completely senseless! Imagine if I could do that to someone, bam, just knock them out like that.] Lindon gave it more thought than he should have.

Charity's purple eyes were cool. “Whatever your intention was, you knowingly opposed a member of the Akura family. And in doing so, you cost us a potential competitor in the Uncrowned King tournament. You owe us a debt.” It might have been the exhaustion, but Lindon's fear turned suddenly to anger. He kept his words respectful, but his tone had a bit too much of Orthos in it. “When the world began to collapse around us, I offered to take Harmony back. There was no feud between us. No reason either of us should die. He refused, and not only did he refuse, he said he would turn the resources of the Akura clan against me and not rest until my family was destroyed.” He hadn't intended to tap Blackflame, but his eyes burned. “My family lives in territory owned by the Akura clan. Even so, I did not kill him. But I did leave him.” He left out the part where Orthos had destroyed the portal. Something flashed across Charity's face, but he couldn't tell if it was anger, grief, regret, or something entirely different. It was gone too soon, her voice as placid as ever. “Even so, Harmony was my selection for our team. You owe me, and I collect on debts incurred intentionally or otherwise. I have been watching you, Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, and as of tonight, you have become qualified to pay me back.”

She stepped back into the Way, the endless power of order comforting her, but she still shivered internally at what she’d just seen. Iteration 943 had been erased. “What could do that?” she asked her Presence. [Request denied,] her Presence said. Without her permission, the ghostly doll formed in front of her, looking at her with its featureless face. The construct couldn’t truly disobey her, but it could act independently when it needed to. This time, it sensed that she was looking away from an uncomfortable truth, and it met her with a gaze that had no eyes. [You already know.] There was only one weapon that could erase a world so thoroughly. The Reaper’s Scythe.

“And, of course, there’s the team leader,” Eithan said casually. “The captain, if you will. The Sage’s first choice. The one who will lead the team into battle against the enemy.” Yerin waited. Eithan smiled. “Who?” she asked. He smiled wider. “…who is it?” She was starting to worry that she knew the answer. “What?” he asked innocently. “I’m thirty-four. How old did you think I was?”

Last fall, two young outsiders had torn through the Heaven’s Glory School, breaking their way into Sacred Valley. They were still at large somewhere, hiding just as she was. If she ran into them, she would fare even worse than the Heaven’s Glory Jades had.

“Took me long enough to find you,” he grumbled, “but a dragon does not give up.” Kelsa heard crunching. When she focused, she could see that this creature had leaned down and snapped up a tree branch. It chewed and swallowed a moment later. Now the beast stepped forward, and she could see it in the light of Samara's Ring, paler and brighter than moonlight. It was a turtle. Kelsa gathered up her madra again. It must have been the Heaven's Glory School who had sent the sacred beast to hunt her. He hadn't attacked her yet, but that only meant he was under orders to take her alive. “I am called Orthos,” the turtle said. “I come from your brother Lindon.”