Cradle: Rise of Lords (Cradle, #7-9)

by Will Wight

He cut off as the Archlord's spirit tightened, and this time Lindon sensed anger. “Your voice should be used only to answer questions. If the Sage and I say you are a prince among men, it is so. If we say you are a worm groveling in the dirt, it is so.”

“Serious, Eithan! Be serious!” She shook him as her Blood Shadow re-formed behind her. The spirit's anger boiled against hers, feeding her fury. “I don't have a Dross! I don't have a Sage left to light my way! All I’ve got left to help me is you, so I need you to stop holding back!” Eithan's smile was calm. “As you wish.” Yerin released him, taking a step back and steadying her breaths. “That’s more than nothing, then.” Her Blood Shadow felt like it wanted to tear Eithan apart with its teeth. Focusing her spirit, Yerin raised her master's sword. Before she could make a move, every protective script in the arena lit up at once. To her spiritual senses, the atmosphere grew painfully heavy, as if the air had suddenly turned to water. Her spirit screamed a warning, and she threw the Endless Sword up like a barrier, surrounding herself in sword-aura. Her Blood Shadow exploded. Blood madra splattered all over the walls in a spray as though it had been struck by the hand of a Monarch. Yerin had seen nothing. She had felt only a brief spike of pure madra. Where was Eithan? She cast her perception out for him, but she sensed nothing. She spun in place, hunting for him. He was right behind her.

And yet she was hobbling herself, no doubt to train her spiritual perception in some way. She had not known the Sword Sage well, but she had known him, and this was absolutely something he would do. But that didn't make it wise.

Charity's annoyance faded, and she leaned slightly closer to her viewing tablet. It was still somewhat annoying when a sacred artist risked everything for progression...but it was forgivable when it worked.

Lindon didn’t figure out what Dross meant before Yerin responded. “Might be you know this already, but he doesn’t give up. If you cut off two legs and an arm, he’d fight you with one hand and his teeth. If there’s a way to win, he’ll hunt it down or he’ll die on the trail.” Lindon was too stunned to be flattered. Yerin went on smoothly. “Haven’t spent long in your valley, but everybody I met tripped all over each other to see who could stab me in the back first. Guess you taught him right, because he’d twist himself inside out before he turned on me. If my core popped tomorrow and I was no better than a Copper, he wouldn’t leave me alone until he found a way to put me back together.”

“There are very few advantages to such a situation,” Suriel continued. “One is that I have some more leeway in how I am permitted to act. As they say: when your boat already has a hole in the bottom, no one cares if you chip the paint.”

“‘With our swords, we carve our place in destiny,’” Makiel recited. “Don’t quote yourself. It’s not flattering.”