by Will Wight
The real strongest young Underlord in the Kingdom—and maybe among all the Akura’s vassal states—stood behind him, tending to the trees.
Riyusai Meira knelt at the roots of the red-leafed tree that gave them shade. She stroked a hand along its roots, massaging green light into the bark and whispering soothing words.
When the Sage addressed her, she shot up, gray eyes wide. Though she was only twenty years old, her hair was as gray as her eyes, her skin pale, and her clothes drab. She would have looked colorless if not for her Goldsign: vivid green vines and pink flowers that grew out of her head and wove in and out of her hair. Kiro knew some of their peers found the contrast disturbing, but he had always considered it beautiful.
After staring stiffly at Akura Charity for a moment, Meira threw herself bodily to the ground. “This servant does not dare to address the Akura Sage, but is grateful for the Sage's attention. It is the honor of her life to serve the first prince of the Seishen Kingdom.”
Kiro stared at Charity's impassive face, which looked even younger than his own. Mentally, he urged her to mention Meira.
Though the gardener didn't seem to care herself whether she was singled out or not. Her first concern was, and had always been, for him.
Dakata cleared his throat, stepping between Meira and Charity. “We do not have so many young Underlords that we can afford to overlook this...precocious Underlady, but her Path is intended for the maintenance of the palace grounds. This is the first time anyone of any power has come from her family, and while we are of course proud of her, my son's future growth is immeasurable.”
Kiro would have traded all that growth to the heavens for the guts to stand up to his father. This would be the time to say something; Dakata couldn't back down in front of a Sage.
Meira is a genius. Someday, she will defend the Kingdom better than I ever will.
Saying it might change Meira's future...but it also might change nothing. Maybe the Sage wouldn't care, and he would have infuriated and embarrassed his father for nothing. More importantly, he would have lowered the Seishen Kingdom's appearance in the eyes of the Akura family by contradicting his king in public.
He couldn't do it.
Akura Charity looked to Meira again, but to Kiro's disappointment, she said nothing. Instead, she turned to Dakata. “Your Highness, I need you to understand what is at stake here.”
Dakata grew serious, clasping his massive hands together. “My mouth is shut, and my ears are open.”
“The Monarch factions do not move quickly,” Charity went on. “The Uncrowned King tournament does not begin for fourteen months. However, I will make my selections before the first day of summer, so that I have time to personally prepare my recruits.”
Kiro’s heart leaped. The Sage’s personal attention was a valuable prize in itself. He saw Daji’s jaw tighten; undoubtedly his little brother was redoubling his resolve to reach Underlord.
With the instruction of a Sage, Meira would ascend to the heights she deserved. Kiro had to make sure she got that chance. And if they had only the remainder of winter and into spring, it meant they had five months. At most.
The Sage’s purple eyes were clear and direct as she looked at the King, as though she meant to impart a hidden message through her gaze alone. “The Night Wheel Valley will only remain open until the last day of spring, by which time I trust you will have reaped great benefits from its riches. It would also make my decision significantly easier if one party’s young generation were to demonstrate itself decisively superior to the other.”
Kiro read the implication clearly. Of course, his father didn’t miss it.
Dakata chuckled. “Ah, and who among the Blackflame Empire has caught the eye of the famous Sage of the Silver Heart?”
“How strange that you ask,” Charity said, tone dry. “In fact, there is a young man—a Truegold—who was recently involved in the death of my own grand-nephew.”
The other nobles around the table, who until now had done a grand job of pretending to be somewhere else, audibly shifted in their seats or took in a breath. Kiro’s little brother leaned forward hungrily; Daji would relish the thought of an enemy.
Dakata's expression darkened, and Kiro's chest grew tighter. He hadn't realized how volatile this situation really was. The Akura family making their vassals compete wasn't terribly unusual, and might not escalate to the kind of combat he feared.
But if one of the enemy had killed a core member of the Akura clan, under such circumstances that the Sage felt like she couldn't act directly...
“As you gather resources in the Night Wheel Valley, some clashes are inevitable,” Charity continued. “I do not expect to lose talented members of the young generation, but I’m sure both sides would benefit from a…spar. And I would, of course, watch the results of such a contest closely.”
Kiro didn’t see how he could possibly distinguish himself in a fight against a Truegold. On the surface, the Sage was simply using him to vent her frustrations on this Blackflame. But she was a Sage. There had to be more to it.
It sounded like this situation was a better fit for…
Daji stood up so fast that he almost knocked his chair over. He looked furiously eager. “A Truegold! He is mine. I will carve the difference between us into his body.”
Charity did not move her eyes from the King’s face. “That would not be appropriate. As I said, I wish not to lose talented members of the young generation.”
“I swear to you on the name of our family that I will leave him alive to regret crossing you.”
Finally, Charity turned to him. “I will make myself clear. If you face Wei Shi Lindon before you reach Underlord, you will surely die.”
They were in a wide open space, but her voice seemed to echo, hanging in the air long after the words should have faded.
Daji’s mouth fell open a little, his face showing pure, almost comical shock. He had never faced a worthy opponent of his own advancement level. The very idea seemed to have ground his brain to a halt.
Mentally, Kiro upgraded the Blackflame Truegold to an actual threat. If he was so much better than other Truegolds his age, then he could not be allowed to advance to Underlord.
“Say no more,” King Dakata said. “Describe him to my oldest son, and you have only to sit back and watch.”
Charity looked to Kiro, who stood up straight, focusing on the Sage’s chin. He was too afraid to look into her eyes. “As first prince of the Seishen Kingdom, I swear to serve you with all my ability.”
He felt Meira behind him. This would be his way of living up to her expectations. If they could both be selected by the Sage, then he would thank the heavens. If they couldn’t, he could push her forward.
He could not match her in the sacred arts, but at least he could do his duty.
Chapter 6
The darkness blinded more than only Lindon's eyes. All his senses, his spirit, and his Copper sight shut down one step at a time. Little Blue trembling against his Remnant fingers vanished first, and then the feel of Yerin's hand in his. There was a rushing sound in his ears, until even that faded to silence.
The presence of the others—the subtle force of their spirits—faded away, until he felt more alone than he had since leaving Sacred Valley. He had never realized how much he relied on spiritual sense until now; even Orthos' existence in his soul disappeared.
It was like being Unsouled again.
His instinctive reaction was to panic, to flail around and grasp for what he was missing, but he restrained himself. If Little Blue was still in his hand, and only his sensation of touch was missing, he could crush her if he lost control of himself. If they had been teleported separately, then she would be safe either way. The important thing was to stay calm.
But with his senses stripped away, he hung in an endless abyss.
Completely alone.
[I don't know that I've ever been anywhere this dark before,] Dross said. [There's always something around that glows. It used
to be me.] He sighed. [I miss glowing.]
Lindon seized on the company. Dross! Are we being taken somewhere?
[Oh, yes. Classic spatial transmission. Here's a funny story: when Northstrider first tried to develop transportation gates to and from Ghostwater, everyone he sent into them died! They just, pop, blew apart! Even the slightest error results in messy, horrible death.]
The darkness retreated, Lindon's senses fading back in with the smell of wet earth and the comforting sensation of friends all around. Little Blue had scampered out of his palm and up to his shoulder. She gave a long whistling sigh when she saw him again, throwing cold arms around his neck. Yerin's hand was still in his, and she squeezed tighter when she felt him there.
[Ah, there we are. Nothing to worry about, as I expected.]
They stood on a grassy field, staring down the length of the Night Wheel Valley.
It was well named.
The broad valley was shrouded in darkness, with black clouds covering any trace of the sun. Most of the dim light came from purple lightning flashes deep within the clouds, and the long grass at Lindon's feet blew in a wet breeze.
Like a hurricane, the clouds swirled in a slow vortex over the entire valley, with the glow of purple lightning most intense at their center. Lindon had to assume that was the Night Wheel.
The valley ran between mountains on the east and west. While the western mountain was largely blanketed in trees, the eastern mountain was absolutely covered by what looked like one massive castle of black stone. Crenellated walls rose in layers up the side, marked by towers that blazed with purple bonfires. Windows and arrow-slits throughout the huge fortification shone with orange or purple light—the orange seemed to come from natural fire, and the purple from runes. He could see a few script-circles burning purple even from this distance, and for him to see them at this distance, each rune must be the size of a horse.
The spiritual pressure coming off that massive building was overwhelming. It pressed against his spirit like a lurking nightmare, until Lindon wished he could return to the darkness he’d just left.
Most of the valley, like the mountain to the west, was covered in trees. He couldn't see the far end of the valley because of the trees, except for the tower of darkness that rose from the ground to the sky. It was identical to the one on their side, which caused Lindon to put a few pieces together.
If there was a gate, that meant someone else would be coming through it. Of course the Akura family wouldn't simply give them an opportunity; they had to make it into a competition.
The trees were difficult to see in the gloom, and upon further investigation, he could see that their leaves were black with faint lines of pulsing light running through them like veins. The bark was dark gray.
They reminded him of the trees in the Desolate Wilds, though those plants had been corrupted by some disease. These didn't feel unhealthy; they radiated a sense of life, like any other trees, but somehow muted. As though he hadn't entirely shaken off the suppression of the portal's darkness.
Orthos poked his head out of his shell, looking around. “It was a gateway?” He gave a loud humph and bit a chunk out of a nearby blackened tree. Even its wood was a pale gray. “You should have said so,” he complained, through a mouthful of splinters.
“Who has time for thorough explanations?” Eithan asked, then pointed to Mercy. “Now, Mercy, where are we?”
Mercy had set her jaw, her eyes fixed on the massive house to the east, her staff gripped firmly in both hands. “This is one of my family’s properties,” she said. “I didn’t live here, but it’s where I was trained.”
Suddenly, the massive spiritual presence in the castle took on ominous significance.
“Does that mean, in the house...” Lindon was afraid to finish the sentence. From what Mercy had said before, he suspected the Akura Monarch could sense her name spoken anywhere in the world.
“Maybe,” Mercy said grimly. “My mother doesn’t live here, but she visits from time to time. Her presence…lingers.”
She pointed with the dragon head on the end of her staff, and its eyes flared with violet light. “This valley is like our family garden. I used to cycle out here when I was a little girl. The vital aura here is strong, and we have every aspect you can think of.
“Of course, the strongest aura here is shadow. It covers everything.”
Lindon could already feel that was true. Everything was soaked in darkness, and it felt like a ghost was running fingers down his spirit. He already wanted to turn back.
“This place is full of natural treasures,” she continued, and Lindon immediately throttled the urge to leave. “It's where we grow them, so to speak.”
The air seemed to push against Lindon. He felt heavier, and simultaneously hotter and colder. That couldn't entirely be explained by shadow aura, so he opened his Copper sight.
And immediately regretted it.
A canvas of solid black pushed against his eyes, with lines of bright color burning against it. It was so stunning that it seared his spirit, and he cried out, hurriedly shutting his senses.
Yerin moved her hand to his arm, checking to see what was wrong, and Little Blue gave an inquisitive peep.
Dross hissed in sympathetic pain. [For you, looking directly at the aura here is like staring into the sun with your human eyes, so try not to do that. You probably could have used that warning a minute ago, but uh…lesson learned! Let’s call that a win for practical education.]
“The aura density here is far greater than it was in the Transcendent Ruins,” Eithan announced. “Cycling aura here will be much faster than back home, which will make reaching Underlord that much easier! Half of the reason that Underlords are so rare in the Blackflame Empire is that the aura is so thin, reaching the peak of Truegold becomes difficult. So for us, the opportunity to train here is a treasure all its own!”
“That’s…more than nothing, but how about the real treasures?” Yerin asked.
“That is the correct question! Your first step is to reach the pinnacle of Truegold and open a soulspace. You can get there with time...or with money. This place is a treasure trove. We are the first ones here.”
Eithan didn't say any more, clearly waiting for them to take over. He didn't need to say anything; Lindon understood.
“Mercy and Eithan are the two guides,” Lindon said. “Split up, cover more ground. Orthos and I should be separated. Go to the closest source of treasure, clean it out, and send a signal through your armor when you have. Then we'll assign new hunting spots so we don't waste time covering the same ground...”
He realized he was giving orders. He had grown used to making the decisions for his little group in Ghostwater, and doing missions for the Skysworn over the last two months, Eithan had kept himself out of command. Lindon had often slipped into the role, but why? This was Mercy's home, Yerin was stronger than he was, and Eithan was the only Underlord.
Lindon flushed and looked down at the ground. “...unless anyone else has another suggestion.”
“We don't,” Yerin said, turning to Mercy. “Lead the march. You, me, and Lindon. The turtle can go with Eithan.”
“I look forward to catching up with my old friend Orthos!” Eithan said, leaping over to the sacred turtle. “And my old friend Yerin!”
Yerin stopped in place. “...what?”
“Every second we spend talking is a second we’re not stealing! Begone with you!”
So Lindon and Mercy headed off together, trying to pretend they didn't see Yerin staring dejectedly after them.
~~~
Delving into the forest was like plunging into a dark, icy cave. The wind howled through the trees, fire madra doing little to ward off the cold, and unseen things shifted and hissed in the shadows...perhaps the shadows themselves.
Mercy had lightened up as they ran through the forest, and now she looked around with fondness. “I used to go on picnics out here,” she said. “This way!”
In only minutes, she
led them to the edge of a short cliff. The drop was only ten feet down, and they overlooked a clearing about fifty yards square. It radiated an aura so forbidding that it stood out even from the deep shadows of the forest around it; Lindon shivered and slowed as they approached the cliff, afraid to glance down.
But Mercy walked up and looked around without fear, so he followed suit. Beneath them, filling the clearing, was a small battlefield. Skeletons littered the ground, rusted weapons sticking out of the earth. At first, it looked as though armies had clashed here, but all the skeletons were facing the same way. So an army had been obliterated here.
Between the bodies were brown grass and petrified vines, as though nothing could survive entering the clearing. The whole scene was shrouded in shadow like the rest of the Night Wheel Valley, but a spectral green light gave the field of death an otherworldly glow. At first, he couldn't make out the source of that light.
“The Valley has been in our family for generations,” Mercy said, walking to a row of long spears that had been driven into the ground on the edge of the cliff. The spears were covered in scripts, and were connected to the ground by long coiled-up cables. Their spearheads were dull. “The aura is so strong here that every big event leaves a permanent mark. This is where the Nutarou family tried to storm our house, believing that the family of shadow-artists living there was just a myth to keep them off the land.” She lifted a spear. “Their Remnants are long gone.
“Now, it's filled with death aura.”
With one motion, she hurled the spear into the land below—the momentum of the throw caused her to stumble and almost fall. Lindon caught her by the green-armored elbow, and she looked up at him gratefully.
“Sorry. Still don't have my legs back.”
“Back?” he asked.
While waiting for her to respond, he watched the spear. It landed between the bones...and for the first time, Lindon noticed black spots covering the bones. They almost looked like beetles crawling over the carrion, though they weren't moving. Maybe more like barnacles.
