Dreadgod (Cradle, #11)

by Will Wight

“We are a Court!” declared Razael, the Wolf. “No one has the right to make such decisions alone! And you made our job impossible by leaving without informing us!” “I told you what I was going to do. I told you for centuries. Every time, I was forced to wait or face consequences. Just kill a few more for us, Ozriel. Disobedience is treason. Why would we try to find a better way when this one is working?” Ozriel sneered up at Makiel. “If the burden is so easy to carry, do it yourself.”

In a short time, compared to their total lifespans, the Reaper had changed. What Suriel knew, but the others either didn’t understand or didn’t recognize, was that this man had been inside him all along.

[If I am taken apart and put back together, am I the same?] Dross whispered. [Do you die when you sleep, and another person wakes up with your memories, thinking they are you?] He laughed wildly.

“We must all work together. For the first time since the Dread War, all four Dreadgods have been awakened. The Silent King is somewhere in central Everwood. The Bleeding Phoenix flies east through the Trackless Sea, approaching the Sunken Fleet. The Wandering Titan enters the southern jungles of the Ashwind continent, and the Weeping Dragon was last reported on its way to Ninecloud City. “If you can fight, fight. If you cannot, then help the people flee. This is an unprecedented emergency. Rally your Golds, put aside petty grievances, and work to save us all.”

Sirifel

“What did you do to Mother?” Purple eyes blazed. “She’s ordered everyone to stay away from you.” Lindon opened his mouth to point out that her prohibition obviously hadn’t done much if Pride was there in person, but he shut the words away unspoken. Pride could sense Lindon’s power, and he’d been warned away, but here he was as though daring Lindon to annihilate him. That kind of bold stupidity grated on Lindon, but he could respect it.

Lindon was having a harder and harder time seeing Ozmanthus and Eithan Arelius as the same person. He knew they were. Eithan had said so himself, and had proven his identity in the most dramatic fashion possible. Even Ozmanthus’ echo had confirmed it. It wasn’t that Lindon doubted, but that it was hard to see how time had turned Ozmanthus into Eithan. There was some lesson to be learned from that, even if Lindon wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

“In the time I knew him, Eithan maintained that his only goal was to raise people who could keep up with him. From what I’ve learned of Ozmanthus Arelius, I believe he ascended into the heavens and found that he had no peers even there.”

“I will transcend this world when I will not be treated as a slave,” Northstrider snapped. “I will not bow to the Abidan. I have traveled my own path for centuries, and I will not stop now.” Lindon couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “But the lives lost…” “I did not create the Dreadgods. I oppose them where I can, but I will not be forced from my home before I am ready.”

“It will be too late to speak of danger when the stars vanish once more.” Reigan Shen turned his head and raised a hand to his armada, accompanied by a flash of madra. “Until the true threat is gone, we must preserve all the strength we can. We are on the same side now, Northstrider. Whether you can see it or not.”

Ziel rose from behind the couch and stuck his horns in Lindon’s face. “What are we talking about?” Yerin moved her arm away from her eyes. She and Lindon stared at Ziel from inches away. “Apologies, Ziel, but what are you doing?” “Popping out from the couch,” Ziel said, with a perfectly flat expression. “I thought it was what Eithan would do. Did it help?” Lindon couldn’t find the right words. Yerin made a thoughtful sound. “Bleed me, but it halfway did. If you’re looking for a tip, then veil yourself better next time. We could feel you coming.” “I’ll do what I can,” Ziel said gravely. “Don’t push yourself.” Ziel straightened his spine, visibly steeling himself. “No…no, I can do it. To cheer you up.” Lindon privately thought that if Ziel wanted to be more like Eithan, he would first have to learn to smile.

Ziel walked over to the other box, and Lindon cleared his throat. “Apologies, but I had intended to give that one to Mercy.” Ziel gave him a dead-eyed stare. “Mercy.” “The Dreadgod mentioned her by name. He didn’t mention you.” “…is Mercy here?” “Ah, no. I do intend to make you one, just in case! Once I find more materials.” “You’re going to make me one. Later. Instead of giving me the one right here.” Lindon winced. “The Silent King mentioned Mercy, so I can’t help but feel that she’s in more danger.” “Couldn’t the Sage of the Silver Heart make her something like this? And if she can’t, wouldn’t her family provide you with the materials?” Lindon’s face heated. He hadn’t thought of that. Dross slipped his voice into Lindon’s mind. [I thought of it. But I was hoping for this moment.] “My sincere apologies, Ziel. I would be honored if you would take that construct.” “Thanks.” Ziel picked up the box from the ground and removed the white-and-purple clamshell construct from inside.

“Get back to the portal as soon as you deliver the message. The Titan is supposed to be the least intelligent of the Dreadgods, but I’m sensing—” The Titan vanished. It took a second for Mercy’s eyes to process. The impossible had just happened before her eyes. It was like a mountain disappearing, or the moon. She felt as she had when she’d looked outside and seen the stars winking out, though then at least she had her mother’s company. A moment later, the Dreadgod reappeared, and it was right on top of them.

“It’s hard to hear about this level of destruction and not be grieved,” Ozriel said. “The difference between us and the other six is that we were grieving before.”

He let out a breath of relief, and someone clapped him on the shoulder. He assumed it was one of the bridge crew until, with a chill, he realized his Presence hadn’t detected anyone next to him. Slowly, the old Silverlord turned his head to the right. Ozriel stood next to him in black armor, white hair flowing behind him, a satisfied smile on his face. “So Daruman told you I was weak, did he?” Gerravon closed his eyes and remembered his life. “Weaker,” the Reaper said. “He should have said weaker.”

Amorenthus

Even blind, Ozriel still had a master’s touch. Which made her even angrier. “You can do that, but you couldn’t come up with a better way of saving us than to risk everything?” Ozriel blew out a breath and ran a hand over his head. “When I left, I was confident it was the right thing to do. Now…I don’t know.”

Lindon pretended they didn’t exist and kissed Yerin goodbye, which he thought would help him accept the situation. It didn’t work. He leaned over her and muttered, “There has to be a less risky way to do this. How would you feel about replacing your arm?” Yerin looked to his Remnant hand. “That’s a thought. Maybe we’ll call that a backup. Still got the Bridge as my ticket away; he can’t stop me from zipping out whenever I want.”

Ziel took the tablet with a strange look on his face. “It wasn’t so long ago that I was the one recommending dream tablets for your training.” “I’m pleased I can repay you in some small way,” Lindon said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Lindon said over a bow. “I am Wei Shi Lindon Arelius.” He wasn’t certain if he should still use the name “Arelius” now that Eithan was gone, but he supposed Eithan had more right to hand out the title than anyone.

Mercy appreciated any opportunity to talk to her mother as a person, rather than as a Monarch, but she was frightened by how much the war in the heavens had disturbed Malice. Frightened, because that had been Eithan. And she worried what that feeling of helplessness would drive her mother to do. “I’m sure Lindon and Yerin didn’t know,” Mercy said. “I have no doubt. I am concerned about how Eithan may have positioned them without their knowledge. How he may have positioned all of us.”

As Yerin, she felt like she had put down a burden she’d been carrying all her life. As Ruby, she felt like she’d finally been released from prison. Now, she had all the freedom she wanted. Yerin stared off into the distance. She didn’t notice that the lens and dream tablet had been removed until the Blood Sage handed her a handkerchief. Only then did she realize her cheeks were wet.

Zaius

Yerin opened her soulspace and Little Blue stumbled out. She chirped a warning, mildly wary of the Blood Shadow being so close. The spirit tugged on what looked like a white log, and a moment later the hunger spear followed her out of Yerin’s soul. Little Blue staggered under the awkward burden. “Likely be easier if you were bigger,” Yerin pointed out. Lindon had said the same thing before they left, but it seemed Little Blue was attached to the first part of her name. The Riverseed squeaked something that Yerin roughly translated to “I’ll do it myself.”

Something caught the edge of her senses, and she whipped the owl’s head around. She saw a tiny red messenger construct flitting by, one of ten thousand that zipped through the city’s skies every night. There was nothing that seemed strange about it to the eye, but it wasn’t the owl’s vision that had noticed it. It wasn’t one of the owl’s senses at all. Charity had sensed the attention of another person focusing on her, just for a moment. Another will, watching her.

Natarianath

Noroloth,

“I don’t know if you remember Verge, but it had a shorter lifespan than most Iterations to begin with,” Suriel responded. “It was always destined to end when their Highest Kings began binding Fiends to serve their purposes.” “What a pity that someone couldn’t descend and warn them about the dangers of what they are destined to do.” “They’re summoning monstrous beings from beyond reality. They know it isn’t safe. But in every branch of Fate, they choose to do it anyway.”

“Having failed once, though, gave me something of a…fatalistic humor about the whole situation. If I was going to try anyway, why not have some fun with it? And over the years, a crazy thing happened: I did have fun.” He gave her a smile that invited her to join him. “Just because the job is grim doesn’t mean you have to be, does it?”

“Mercy would want Malice to ascend rather than endangering others.” When Charity didn’t react, he pushed harder. “Apologies, but you have to know it’s true. Mercy would never allow the Dreadgods to keep killing people when it’s possible to remove them.” Charity’s eyes widened. Just slightly, but Dross made sure Lindon couldn’t miss it. And Lindon interpreted the sudden shock and horror that cracked the mask. Dross gasped in delight when he recognized what Charity’s expression meant, and pressure tightened around Lindon’s throat. Malice had made him swear not to reveal the truth “to the uninformed.” The intention was more important than the phrasing, but Lindon had known what she meant. His own intent was clear.

Lindon had many regrets. He regretted that he was dragging Dross down with him for his own stupid mistake. He regretted that he hadn’t been able to keep the promises to the others. He wanted to see Yerin one last time. And he wished Malice had warned him. He should be at peace, but he was still bitter. He couldn’t help but think this had been a trap.

Obviously Lindon had violated his oath to Malice, which had involved not revealing the connection between the Monarchs and the Dreadgods. But why had Malice set him up by not telling him there was a Sage who didn’t know? Why had she allowed it to be possible for him to violate the oath?

“I see you’re upset, but there’s nothing to be done about it. Advancement is the process of pushing against the natural order. Making it work for you. The existence of the Monarchs upsets a sort of balance, and the Dreadgods are the consequence of that.” Charity’s jaw worked, but she could find no words terrible enough for the truth. Finally, she choked out, “So…all you have to do is leave?”

Helethshan

That deserves some more consideration, Ziel thought, as he pulled his hammer away from the wall. The wall through which he’d just launched the dragon Archlord. The sheer impact had blown back the other dragons, but Ziel didn’t even remember delivering the blow. He didn’t regret it, though.

“Lindon,” the Silent King whispered into his mind, “I keep my promises.” And that was when Lindon realized this attack wasn’t limited to Moongrave alone.

Orthos heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll be glad when the Dreadgods are dead.” “I never blamed the Dreadgods for what they do. Might as well blame an earthquake or a storm.” Ziel stood and wrapped his cloak around himself. “Now, I’m starting to hate them.”

She felt that same joy now, buried under layers of fear. If not for the oath, if not for Little Blue’s safety, if not for the fact that part of her wanted Redmoon Hall to tear itself apart, if not for her desire to leave and go help her friends… She would want to fight Redmoon’s Remnant. It was a monster. Someone needed to fight that monster. And she wanted to be the one to do it.

Yerin had been prepared to fight again, but she didn’t sense hostility from this Remnant. Only endless, hungry curiosity. She opened her void key. “Strike you a deal,” she said. “Squeeze in there, pack yourself up, and I’ll use you to finish off your research.” The skeleton tilted its head. All the eyes swiveled for her. “The Void Sage has a way to take me up so I’m stabbing Dreadgods. Could use your techniques. Stick with me, and you’ll start up a new generation of Monarchs.” The Remnant considered her deal. Then it slid into Yerin’s void key on its own.

Earth erupted where he knelt at the same time as madra of every aspect crashed on his location. The constructs didn’t defend him; Lindon hadn’t left Jai Long any protection. Jai Chen and Kelsa watched in numb horror as he died. The scene was surreal. Kelsa wondered if she herself had been caught in an enemy’s illusion. Jai Long couldn’t die so easily. He had never told her the last of his secrets, the ones that weighed so heavily on his conscience. Kelsa had told him he didn’t have to, but she’d been sure he was going to come around. After all, they had plenty of time. Or so she had thought.

At first, Dross enjoyed the thrill of approaching doom. The risk made him feel alive. Then Lindon had started to fight against the Silent King, and Dross felt much as he had when the sky blackened: that at least they would die together, as one. Then Lindon took the blow meant for him. Dross could see every one of Lindon’s thoughts. He had to push to access memories, but surface thoughts were harder to ignore than to witness. So he heard it, clear as a song, when Lindon resolved to die before Dross. And Dross heard what Lindon meant by “Dross.” In the weeks since Dross had come back to awareness, he had tried several new personalities. Lindon had looked at the problem like a Soulsmith, trying to find a solution. To fix him. The reality was, Dross knew how to return to his old self. He had known…perhaps not the entire time. There was a while after waking when he had been very confused. He knew, though. He knew how to return. But the old personality had failed. He had failed Lindon by breaking. Dross was looking for a new Dross, a better Dross. One that wouldn’t flinch in the face of death and could endure the threats they faced. He liked his current personality, which helped him to enjoy those moments of danger. Even though, every time Lindon said Dross’ name, he was asking for the old Dross. The original. The one he’d been before. Which made Dross wonder: if my personality changes, will he throw me away? That was an unworthy thought, and one he was embarrassed to have. Lind...

Dross materialized, and he shone violet, sending up sparks from his eye and his teeth. [Wow, and I thought I was strong before! When I finish digesting this, I’ll be…meaty.] He flexed one tentacle, which suddenly bulged with muscle. [See? See, Lindon? This is what you said I’d—] Lindon stood and threw his arms around Dross. “Welcome back,” Lindon whispered. His eyes burned with tears. Dross returned the embrace and sighed. [Sorry. I made you suffer longer than I meant to.]

“You made a mistake today,” he said to Emriss. “I won’t forget that.” “I don’t forget anything,” she said sadly.

Finally, Ziel weakened the seal enough that the Remnant striking from the inside was enough to shatter it. “At last!” the spirit of the black dragon prince cried. “I am fr—” Its perception stretched upward and froze. Then the spiritual sense spun right back into its soul. “Put me back!” Noroloth demanded. Ziel stared at the Remnant as Orthos gave a dry chuckle.

Yerin was too startled by the voice to pay attention to its message. Dross! You’re back! [You know, I had this whole plan. I was going to pop out when you least expected it—well, that was my backup plan, I had another plan where I pretended to be the old me, then I shifted back…it doesn’t matter now. Anyway, I’m back!] Little Blue gave a tinkling gasp and held out her arms. [Awww, I want to come out…but Lindon’s having a stare-down with a Monarch. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.]

Cassias started to walk, but then he hesitated. “Actually, I apologize, but there is one more thing I was wondering. Eithan…was he really…” “Yeah.” The Truegold’s brow furrowed, and Lindon wasn’t sure how to read the expressions crossing his face. “Why?” Cassias asked at last. “I’ve asked that myself every hour since he left,” Lindon said. “If you’ll pardon me for half a guess, I think he was lonely.” Cassias nodded. “Yes. I think he was.”

“We need to make the Monarchs ascend,” Lindon said. He could discuss the truth with anyone who knew, so Yerin’s explanation had loosened his lips. “But if they ascend first, it will take years for the Dreadgods to die. Years with no one to stop them. So we need to get strong enough to kill the rest of them.” “The rest of them,” Ziel repeated. “Except for the Silent King. The one you killed. The Dreadgod you killed yourself.” Lindon cleared his throat. “The Monarchs did most of the work.” “Oh. Never mind, then.” Ziel gave him a pointed stare.

The images vanished and left everyone in silence for a long moment. “Dross,” Ziel said at last, “now tell them how they’re going to survive the attack of three Dreadgods without the Monarchs to help.” Dross gave a wide grin, revealing sharp teeth, but it was Lindon who answered the question. “We’re not just going to survive,” Lindon said. “We’re going to attack.” Ziel looked from Lindon to Dross and back. “Oh.”

“Oh no, we’re under attack,” Larian muttered. With one finger, she plucked the string of the bow lying next to her. “Eat my best techniques, robbers! Pchew, pchew!” She clapped a hand to her armored chest. “Ack! They got me! I’ll tell my grandchildren of this battle. Let us part with mutual respect.” Then she yawned and leaned back, pillowing her head on her hands.

Shen snarled in her face. “Am I the only one who saw the stars die?” Larian spread her hands and danced backwards. “Hey, maybe the rest of us didn’t eradicate the Arelius family before learning that their founder was the interdimensional god of death. You know what they say about hindsight, don’t you?”