Underlord (Cradle Book 6)

by Will Wight

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

  “Sea monsters,” Lindon said.

  Naru Gwei surveyed the situation from his cloud, arms folded. In one long, slow motion, he pulled a finger-sized leaf from a pocket at his waist and placed one end into his mouth.

  Behind him, the wind wall had already died to half its original height.

  “No one is hurt too badly,” Lindon said. “We can end it here.”

  Naru Gwei chewed on his leaf, looking from one of them to the other. Lindon couldn’t guess the Underlord’s thoughts, but he kept pure madra cycling quickly through his channels.

  “Bai Rou,” Naru Gwei said at last, “says that you all are a calamity waiting to happen. A bunch of indiscriminate murderers.”

  Lindon relaxed a fraction. The Skysworn squads were bruised and embarrassed, but all still alive. Naru Gwei knew as well as anyone how much easier it would have been for Lindon to kill someone with dragon’s breath.

  Although their enemies hadn’t been out for blood either. The fight could have been a lot worse, on both sides.

  “Looks like I need to take a look at you for myself,” the Skysworn Captain said. Reaching up for the sword hilt over his shoulder, he stepped off his cloud.

  Massive emerald wings flared out behind him, and he glided over to Yerin, pulling his sword as he flew. The huge slab of dark steel was so pocked, pitted, and scarred that it didn’t reflect sunlight.

  Yerin’s, by contrast, gleamed white, and her Goldsigns shone silver. All three blades flashed as she swung them, sending three madra blades slicing through the air.

  He broke them with one sweep of his sword, but Yerin wasn’t finished.

  She jumped at him as he was dealing with her techniques, smashing her weapon into his side. He responded quickly, swinging his own heavier blade, the two swords meeting with a deafening crash.

  Yerin smashed into the ground, but Naru Gwei didn’t come out easily. He was launched back, his wings losing purchase on the air, flapping and twisting to try and land on his feet.

  A bar of Orthos’ dragon breath blasted toward him.

  He pushed one armored hand against the black-and-red stream, holding it off like a flow of water as he landed on his feet. He drove his sword into the earth, making a clawed fist with his now-free hand, and Mercy stiffened. She had been drawing an arrow into her dragon-headed bow, but now she was gripped by invisible chains.

  She was only Lowgold…or, wait, she was giving off the pressure of a Highgold now. Had she advanced during the fight? Either way, she was still too weak to bother Naru Gwei. He had immobilized her to show that he could.

  He pushed his way up the stream of dragon’s breath, shoving the Blackflame madra down, though his armor had dissolved around his hand and it was starting to disappear up his forearm. Orthos had finally had enough, biting off the Striker technique.

  Then it was Lindon’s turn.

  He dashed in with a sudden burst of speed from the Burning Cloak, launching a punch at Naru Gwei’s back. He didn’t know how much it would do to an Underlord, but he could at least knock the man off-guard.

  With disarming speed, the Skysworn Captain spun around into a punch of his own. Aimed straight at Lindon’s.

  Their two fists crashed together. Naru Gwei’s hand was bare, his gauntlet stripped away by Blackflame, and Lindon’s was a skeletal Remnant white.

  Madra flashed, green against black-and-red, in an explosion that tore away the grass around them.

  Lindon was knocked back, pain shooting up his Remnant arm as though he’d cracked a bone, his shoulder aching.

  But Gwei backed up a step too. He shook out his hand as though it were sore.

  Then the towering pressure of his spirit vanished as he veiled himself. A familiar exhaustion crept over his expression, and he sighed. “I need your word—all of you—that you will at least help me unravel this whole mess around you and Renfei and Bai Rou. Then I promise you fair treatment.”

  They all agreed, though Yerin muttered something under her breath that Lindon didn’t catch.

  Naru Gwei rubbed at the burn over his eye with one thumb. “You’ve taken up far too much of my personal attention already. And I’m not so flush with strong Truegolds that I can afford to throw them away.” The leaf in his mouth had been torn away in the fight, so he replaced it.

  When it was between his teeth, he grumbled around it, “…now I’m going to have to see the smug look on that guy’s face.”

  ~~~

  Naru Gwei and his team had come in a cloudship of their own, and it was three times the size of the one that had carried Lindon and the others. There was plenty of room for all of them onboard, though Lindon, Yerin, and Orthos were all wary of sharing a ship with the sacred artists they had beaten only hours ago. The woman with spikes on her shoulders kept pointing at Lindon as they boarded; one of her arms was held up in a sling.

  Lindon didn't know if she was threatening him or pointing him out to her friends, but it wasn't comforting.

  Naru Gwei left orders behind in the town for a crew to repair and recover the cloudship Lindon had traveled in on, and then their ship was leaving.

  Though their previous cloudship had crammed them all inside, and this one had plenty of room to spread out, Lindon immediately found this trip the less comfortable of the two. No matter where he looked, there were Skysworn and Skysworn apprentices—some with armor, some without—all sporting injuries that he and the others had caused. They treated him like a vicious, wild dog let loose among them, avoiding him at every turn.

  Yerin reacted by vanishing as soon as she could. Which left Lindon trying to find her.

  He passed over the deck, stepping around the young Highgold woman with the crystal tear-tracks on her face. She seemed less hesitant around him than the others. He hoped that catching her had built up some kind of goodwill. She kept shooting glances at him like the others, though he didn't sense any hostility from her. Maybe she was better at keeping her wariness under control.

  Past her, he walked around some Skysworn polishing armor to see Mercy leaning over the railing, staring down beneath her. Her hair had grown long enough to fall down around her face. She leaned so far over that Lindon thought she might pitch over the side, clutching her black staff in one hand.

  She gave an audible gasp and whirled around. When she saw Lindon, she dashed over and seized him by the wrist, dragging him over to the railing.

  “Look, look, you have to see this!”

  She pointed with one black-tipped finger at a circular patch of burning forest.

  It was only after a few seconds that he realized what he was really looking at. One massive tree, as big as a town but far below, with leaves that blazed. A quick glance at the vital aura showed him a huge sea of fire aura, but not nearly enough destruction—the flames were burning, but they weren't consuming anything. The leaves might have been made of fire.

  Around the branches flew fiery birds. They almost looked like leaves drifting off of the burning tree, drifting on the wind.

  There was a strange shiver at the base of Lindon's neck, and Dross spun into existence. The one-eyed spirit had pebbly purple skin and two stubby, boneless arms that drifted down to touch Lindon’s shoulder.

  [Phoenixes! Oh, would you look at that! They're rated as the number one pet that you should never, ever bring to an underwater facility! I have a presentation memorized for the Ghostwater workers called 'You Will Never See A Phoenix.']

  “I've never seen a wild phoenix before!” Mercy said, leaning over the railing again. “Just the ones my uncle keeps in his show garden.”

  A cold spark tingled up Lindon's right shoulder as Little Blue climbed to take her perch opposite Dross. She stared and pointed too, chittering loudly and pulling on his hair to make sure he was seeing them.

  Mercy turned around to look at the Riverseed. “Right? I've always wanted one!”

  Did Mercy
really understand her so easily, or was she guessing?

  Little Blue made a bright sparkling noise.

  Even from so far away, the phoenixes were impressive to watch. They left ribbons of red-and-orange light behind them as they flew, and their cries formed a symphony that drifted up all the way to the cloudship.

  One phoenix swooped down into the burning leaves like a bat taking an insect, emerging with something huge and red in its beak. It opened wide, gulping it down.

  This time, Lindon was the one to point in excitement. “Did you see that? It grabbed a fruit! The fire tree has fruit!”

  Dross and Little Blue gave a simultaneous “Ooooooooh.”

  “A wild natural treasure,” Mercy said. “It doesn't look like anyone is harvesting it. Well, other than the phoenixes. You couldn't ask for anything better for a fire artist!”

  Lindon considered leaping over the side.

  But the cloudship was moving too quickly. The fiery tree was already almost gone, the phoenix-song fading into the sound of the wind.

  Mercy jumped up, pointing at something else. “Oh, look at that!” This time, it was a mountain that jutted straight from the earth like a spear. Its peak was covered in dark clouds flickering with lightning...too much lightning. It looked almost like a ball of lightning containing a little cloud.

  “You must have seen more amazing things than this with your family,” Lindon said. Lindon had never spent much time watching the scenery, but he suspected that the wonders of a Monarch's home must dwarf these.

  “Well, sure, we keep fountains and gardens at home for decoration. But I'm always training at home.” Purple eyes met his. “When you spend all your time training, you don't get to go out and just enjoy things, you know?”

  Spent all her time training?

  “Forgiveness,” Lindon said hesitantly, “but if you spent all your time on training, then how are you still...” He trailed off. “I'm sorry if it's too personal.”

  Mercy looked down at the deck, laughing awkwardly and scratching at her cheek. “That's a little embarrassing, actually. The truth is, I used to be stronger.”

  [And now the owl's back! There are so many birds around here. Maybe the bird aura is strong here. I know there's no bird aura.]

  Dross drew Lindon's attention up, where he saw the silver-and-purple owl swooping down from the clouds above them.

  Mercy saw him turn and followed his gaze. “Is the owl back? Where is it?” She sounded doubly eager to see the owl, almost like she was afraid to miss it.

  “It went under the ship,” Lindon said apologetically.

  Mercy kept surveying the horizon, gripping her staff tightly. “I'm afraid it might be a...family thing.”

  That brought up a thought that Lindon had been avoiding for weeks, ever since stepping out of Ghostwater's gate. He and Mercy had never really talked like this before, and this was as close to alone as they were going to get.

  “Speaking of your family, I wanted to—well, I wasn't sure how to bring it up. Do you know Akura Harmony?”

  Mercy hurriedly glanced from side to side. “I'm not sure now is the right time to talk about this.”

  “I'm afraid I have some...news. Harmony is mmmph.”

  Mercy covered up the last word by pressing both hands against his mouth. Her Goldsign, the black madra that she wore like gloves, felt slick and cool.

  “Ssssh! Nope! I don't need to hear it! I can guess!”

  Lindon tried to tell her he understood, but she pushed harder. “I get it! I understand!”

  She was still looking past him, as though desperately afraid of being overheard.

  [That's right, I thought she looked a lot like Harmony,] Dross said, fortunately only to Lindon. [I mean, like how Harmony used to look. Not how he probably looks now. Sliced into a thousand little cubes by a collapsing world and left to dissolve in a sea of chaos and oblivion.]

  When she finally noticed Lindon's nods, she released him and continued. “It's not as big of a deal to me as you might think. We were only engaged because—”

  “You were engaged?” Lindon interrupted. His voice was a little too high.

  Little Blue reacted to his surprise, letting out a startled peep.

  “It was a family thing,” Mercy said hurriedly. “His branch of the family wanted to improve their status, so they wanted to marry him off to the Monarch's daughter. And he thought the only one worthy of him was...”

  She trailed off for a moment and started fiddling with her fingers. “…the family genius.”

  The cloudship shook, running across a moment of rough wind, and Mercy pitched over face-first. Only a quick string of shadow tied her to the railing fast enough to prevent her from slamming her nose into the deck.

  Her staff—or maybe it was a bow, in the form of a staff—hissed as it clattered to the deck. She scrambled to retrieve it.

  Lindon wondered in what area she had been considered a genius. A scripting genius? A refiner? Mathematics? Maybe she was a genius with shadow madra; he wouldn't be able to tell.

  “Did Harmony—” Lindon started to ask, but Mercy grabbed her staff and pushed it into his face. The dragon's head on the top glared painfully bright violet light into his eyes, hissing at him from an inch away.

  He was afraid to move with the staff so close, and he kept his eyes fixed on the dragon's snout, but behind it he could see movement. The silver-and-purple owl had openly landed on the railing next to them, only a few feet from Mercy.

  Its wide eyes stared straight at Lindon.

  “Good-bye, Lindon!” Mercy shouted. “It was fun talking with you! I'll see you later!”

  The owl continued staring at him as Mercy pushed him away.

  Dross spun off his shoulder and back into his spirit. [Some consider owls to be omens of death,] Dross said. [Especially mice.]

  ~~~

  Yerin sat in the cramped confines below the deck of the airship, a sword in her lap, cycling. The aura was thin here, and she was almost wasting her time trying to pull power from the sword, but she would accomplish even less up above.

  Lindon, Mercy, and Orthos were up there, but if Yerin spent more than two breaths on the deck, she'd end up drawing swords on somebody.

  A few more breaths, and the weak aura finally broke her patience. She gave up and stabbed her cycling sword into the wall, where it stuck, quivering. If she had wrapped her madra around it, the weapon might have split the wall in two.

  Cycling wasn't going to do anything for her, and besides, she'd spent most of the last couple of months cycling and running through the jungle. Lindon was back, finally; she wanted to do something, not sit here alone and wait on the mercy of the Skysworn. It was like getting a taste of freedom only to be hauled back by the collar.

  She fiddled with the hilt of her master's sword, restless. She wanted to be let out, to go...

  To go and do what?

  She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but she couldn't sit here anymore. The fight earlier had gotten her blood flowing. And speaking of blood, her Blood Shadow was as riled up as she was, seething inside her soul. They both wanted a challenge.

  She found herself thinking back to the Blackflame Trials, back in Serpent's Grave. She'd had a challenge then, something to try and overcome every day.

  And she'd pushed herself forward to meet that challenge. With Lindon.

  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.

  Her Blood Shadow surged inside of her a
gain, and she kept it suppressed with the strength of her madra. It still disgusted her, but it was supposed to be a ticket to great power. It hadn't done much for her so far, but maybe that was her way forward. Her personal Ghostwater.

  She shook herself. It wasn’t like her to worry too much about someone else. She should focus on herself and her path to Underlord. That was certainly what Lindon was doing.

  A knock at the door shook her back to reality, and she rose with Goldsign blades poised over each shoulder. A quick scan, and she knew who it was, though she was surprised to sense him here.

  She felt oddly guilty as she opened the door for Lindon, as though he might somehow have heard her thoughts.

  Maybe he was feeling the same way, because he wore an expression like he was smuggling weapons under his outer robe. He looked uneasy, which—on his severe face—made him look like he was plotting a murder. He ducked inside before she could say anything, glancing behind him.

  He grabbed the door from her and slammed it shut, pulling a small object from his pocket: a nail. Without a word, he started scratching runes into the door.

  “You kick Gwei between the legs and run, or what?” Yerin asked. It was helping her mood to see Lindon acting this way; if there had been something really wrong, she would have heard explosions. And he wouldn't have left Orthos and Mercy up there on their own. Which meant he was getting himself all worked up for something small.

  Still, she was curious. Maybe it was a big problem. She could hope.

  When he'd finished his script-circle, he ran some pure madra through it, and the runes erupted in light. The wood creaked at the force of the madra running through it, and some splinters flew off into the air, but Yerin's spiritual sense was suppressed.

  Lindon relaxed, slipping the nail back into his pocket. “Apologies, but I think there’s an owl following me.”

  He turned from the door to her, and suddenly Yerin was conscious of how small this room really was. It wasn't much of a room at all, more like a closet—she'd piled bags of uncooked rice into the corner in order to give her enough room to sit and cycle without cramping her Goldsigns. The training sword she'd jammed into the wall took up half the length of the space.