by Will Wight
Lindon searched for a response, but none came.
That was exactly what he’d done.
Suriel had shown him that he wouldn’t make it anywhere without a certain level of strength, so he’d struck off on his own. He should be the first one in line to agree with Yerin.
But he couldn’t. Something about her words gnawed at him.
Eithan hopped over, hooked one arm around Lindon’s neck, and dragged him over to Yerin. He threw his other arm over her as well. She looked as uncomfortable as Lindon felt, but Eithan beamed down at them both like a proud father.
“You both have a piece of it, don’t you? Yerin, you have to watch yourself so that you don’t fall into a rut in your thinking. But Lindon…so do you.” He ruffled Lindon’s hair, which was uncomfortable and strangely claustrophobic. “In our big, broad world, there’s a certain difference in strength that no number of tricks will circumvent. For instance…”
He grinned more broadly. “…at your current stage, the two of you couldn’t give me so much as a headache even if you stabbed me in my sleep. Though I know you adore and idolize me, so let’s give a more reasonable example: if you want to survive Jai Long in a year, you must learn sacred arts the right way. Even with the full support of the Arelius family, and Jai Long on the run from his clan, you’ll at least need to reach Lowgold in a solid and proper manner so you don’t collapse into a pile of jelly when he glances in your general direction.”
Lowgold. It was the sweet fruit that dangled out of Lindon’s reach.
But he hadn’t even reached Jade yet. Once he’d longed for Jade, and now he saw it as nothing more than a moat to be crossed. One of many. Even once he reached Lowgold, he’d still have a long journey to match Jai Long.
“Thank you for the instruction,” Lindon said. “I never intended to suggest that I wouldn’t work hard. I’ll train harder than Jai Long, harder than anybody.”
“I forget how young you are,” Eithan said fondly.
Abruptly he released them, taking a step back and turning to face the door. “We’ll resume this discussion soon, because our guest has finally arrived!”
Yerin frowned and put a hand on her sword.
“If you recall,” Eithan went on, “you have yet to meet my family.”
Lindon had wondered where the rest of the Arelius family was. Scouts from the Sandvipers and Fishers had spotted Arelius banners approaching weeks ago, and Lindon had expected to meet them by now.
Eithan extended hands to the doorway as though presenting a prize. “It is an honor and a pleasure to introduce…my brother.”
The barn door swung open.
The man standing in the doorway looked perhaps ten years younger than Eithan, putting him just past twenty. His hair was the gold of fresh wheat, which must have been an Arelius family trait, but his was tightly curled. He held himself with grace and poise, standing proudly with one hand on the hilt of the slender sword at his hip. A silver bracer covered his right forearm from his wrist almost to his elbow.
He did not wear the traditional layered robes of a sacred artist, but otherwise it looked like he had the same taste in clothes as Eithan: his shirt and pants were deep blue silk, stitched with intricate silver thread, and looked as though they’d been tailored for him only the night before.
He made eye contact with Yerin, then Lindon, nodding to them both.
Before he could speak, Eithan cried out, “Cassias! Brother! It’s been too long!”
Cassias smoothly sidestepped without glancing at the Underlord, and Lindon wondered how often anyone managed to dodge Eithan.
“I’m not his brother,” Cassias assured them, tilting his chin to say over his shoulder: “I am not your brother.”
“Cousin Cassias it is, then!”
“Nor are we cousins, except in the loosest sense. Distant, distant relatives, we are.”
Eithan didn’t seem put off. “Well, we’re like brothers, anyway. You should have come to see me more than two days ago. Did you have to spend so long playing with the Jai clan at the border?”
Cassias straightened, pivoted on his heel, and addressed his…‘brother.’
“You saw what happened at the border, I’m certain. And I have my own questions about what I saw from you. If I'm not mistaken, you provoked a Jai clan exile and killed the heir to one of their vassal sects.”
“Not me,” Eithan said proudly, turning to Lindon. “You'll note that young Lindon, here, was the one who brought down the Sandviper heir.”
Lindon felt the attention in the room turn to him, and he almost flinched back. This felt uncomfortably like the Underlord was trying to shift the blame onto him. His earlier misgivings about the Arelius family returned in force, but he showed Cassias a smile and a shallow bow.
“I am Wei Shi Lindon, honored Cassias. Please excuse me for any inconvenience my actions may have caused you.”
“Not at all, Lindon, not at all!” Cassias said immediately. “I am more than aware of what happens when my family's Patriarch gets too...enthusiastic. You were caught up in his plans, and it is I who should apologize on his behalf.”
To Lindon's astonishment, Cassias bowed deeply. “Forgive us, and do not hold this against our family. On my name as an Arelius, I will send protection for you when you return to your home. You need fear no reprisals from the Jai clan or the Sandviper sect.”
When you return to your home. Did Cassias not know he was coming back to the Blackflame Empire with them, or was he trying to give Lindon a graceful way out?
Either way, the greedy part of Lindon wondered at the nature of the 'protection' he had mentioned. If Cassias was willing to part with a weapon or a high-grade elixir, Lindon might be better off taking them and making his own way...
Yerin pulled at the ragged edges of her sleeve, shooting glances at Lindon every second or two as though checking his reaction, but Eithan laughed.
“You didn't watch us too closely, I see! Yerin and Lindon are coming with us. I have adopted them as outer members of the Arelius family.”
Cassias straightened slowly from his bow, keeping a blank expression fixed on Eithan. “I...see,” he said at last. “I apologize, Lindon, I was not...aware.” He seemed to be struggling not to say something, his jaw tightening at the end of every sentence. “Did you inform the branch heads, Underlord? Did you receive their permission?”
“Time flows on, and plans must keep pace!”
“Plans,” Cassias said, the word falling like a handful of mud.
“Which brings me to another subject,” Eithan said, and suddenly his entire demeanor sharpened. Though nothing about him changed visibly, Lindon shuddered, the madra in his body shivering in its cycle. An Underlord stood before them now, not just Eithan. Yerin even took two steps back, gripping her sword—for comfort, Lindon hoped, and not because she thought she might have to use it.
Eithan continued, his voice still pleasant but carrying an underlying edge. “Your encounters with the Jai clan at the border. Explain what happened.”
Cassias glanced from Lindon to Yerin. “I would be happy to inform you aboard Sky's Mercy, if you'd like to—”
“We're among family here,” Eithan said softly. “Say it.”
“Very well.” Cassias relaxed, folding his arms and leaning up against the barn wall. He seemed more comfortable dealing with a businesslike Underlord than a friendly, playful one. Lindon could relate. “I was not only following you to bring you back. My father sent me with dire news shortly after you left.”
“Then the Jai clan has seized our assets,” Eithan finished, steepling his hands together.
Cassias' eyebrows lifted. “They have. In Serpent’s Grave alone, we’ve lost the flame garden, three warehouses, the sword hall, and two of our medical contractors. Each time, they claim they’re settling a private debt. They’ve sabotaged two major sanitation projects that I’m aware of, and eight full crews have vanished. We don't know if they were bribed away or...silenced.”
Eithan spoke
in the same lighthearted, half-joking tone as always, but the shivering sense of danger hadn't evaporated. “That’s one city. What about the rest of Jai territory?”
“When I left, the worst of their actions were confined to Serpent’s Grave. There have been a few unsanctioned duels between our people and the Jai clan, but nothing worse. Of course, that was a month gone.”
“And the other clans?”
“The Naru have admonished the Jai clan for their actions, but the Emperor’s support will arrive as soon as a winner is made clear, and not before. The Kotai clan has yet to make a statement, but as long as we keep their streets and sewers clear, they won't even notice.”
With every word, Lindon felt less and less prepared for this conversation. He had no idea who the major players were in the Blackflame Empire, no sense for the different clans. Or even the function of the Arelius family; Eithan had introduced himself as a janitor, but Lindon couldn't tell whether that was a joke.
“Where did they stop following you?” Eithan asked.
“Two miles east, one mile north. They were forced to break off pursuit, which allowed me to slip through.”
Eithan closed his eyes.
Slowly, his smile brightened before his eyes snapped back open. “That puts a wrinkle in their plan, doesn’t it?”
“We have a brief window to leave, and I humbly suggest we take it.”
Eithan raised fingers to his chin, staring at something in the far distance, thinking. “Soon. I have to adjust to this new information.”
Yerin’s arms were folded and her Goldsign quivering. Judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t happy about being left out of the conversation either. Lindon didn’t want to stress his welcome by asking too many questions, but he strained under the weight of his curiosity.
Finally, Cassias remembered they were there. “The Jai clan was trying to prevent me from returning with the Underlord. They weren’t bold enough to openly destroy a cloudship flying the Arelius colors, but they’ve made my life difficult for the past few weeks. If the Jai warriors down below hadn’t called for help, I would not have been able to land.”
“Called for help?” Yerin asked. “What’s got their feathers rustled?”
“I was too high up to see clearly, but it’s strange. It seems they were attacked by one of their own.”
Chapter 4
Sandviper techniques lit up the shadows with an acid-green glow as they tore through a wooden wall, their caustic madra melting straight through the rough lumber planks. Wood hissed as it dissolved, the sound almost loud enough to drown out the pleas for mercy that came from beyond.
When the wall fell to pieces, four Sandvipers walked into the one-room shack. A flash of white light, then green, a scream, and the fur-clad Sandvipers came out carrying a pair of struggling figures.
Both wore sky blue robes and had black hair that shone like metal in the moonlight. One captive had hair close-cropped so that it looked like a tight helmet, but the other’s fell in a stream of dark, gleaming iron.
A young man and woman of the Jai clan, cowering for shelter and hoping the attack would pass them by. They might have been brother and sister, or young lovers, or two strangers who happened to duck into the same abandoned house.
Jai Long didn’t care. His spiritual sense washed over them, confirming that Stellar Spear madra flowed through them both, sharp as an axe and white as snow at noon.
“Both,” he said, and Gokren gestured to the Sandvipers. They snapped collars around the two Jai necks. When they realized the scripted metal cut off their access to madra, the man’s eyes bulged, while the woman continued to beg through a mask of tears.
The Sandvipers dragged them away to join the others.
Jai Long had never used the Ancestor’s Spear before. He knew only the legends—that the original Matriarch of the Jai clan had used the weapon to steal the power of her foes. As far as he knew, he might be helpless while siphoning madra, and it was safer to experiment on captives rather than opponents.
They had captured eight sacred artists of the Jai clan. Twice that number had escaped, and even more had been killed rather than let themselves be taken.
Half of the Jai clan shelters in the Five Factions Alliance had been reduced to rubble.
Only days ago, when the power of the Transcendent Ruins was at its height, Jai Long and the Sandvipers would never have been able to pull off a raid of this scale. They would have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Since the Ruins had been picked clean, most of the Jai clan had drifted back to their homes. The Sandvipers had all stayed, waiting for the return of their Truegold chief.
The chief who now stood with Jai Long as his sect members streamed into homes like a swarm of ants, carrying out Jai stragglers.
Seven lights flared in Jai Long’s senses, and his eyes snapped to the sky. Shadows flapped against the stars, carrying shapes against their backs, but Jai Long’s spirit told him who they were.
Reinforcements. Somehow, the main branch of the Jai clan had sent backup against him already.
Jai Long let his breath out in frustration, but it came through his twisted teeth in a long hiss. How? The nearest stronghold of the main family was weeks away by air. But only the main branch had the authority to summon an elder.
Six of the figures were at the peak of Lowgold, but the seventh was a Truegold master. Before Jai Long could see him clearly, the elder swung his spear, and a white beam of light flashed like lightning.
Sandviper Gokren vanished from Jai Long’s side in the same instant, and then he was standing next to the beam of light as another Sandviper stumbled away. The elder’s technique scorched a line in the dirt instead of skewering the Sandviper through the chest.
As expected of a Truegold. Before Jai Long had even shouted a warning, Gokren had sensed the attack coming, determined the target, and pushed the man aside.
Jai Long hurriedly flipped open his spear case, removing the shining shaft of white light. He tossed the case aside, ready to defend himself. If the elder struck again, he might not be able to protect anyone else, but he could at least survive.
He had half-expected the Jai elder to gloat from up above and then rain techniques down on their heads, but instead the seven figures descended toward the street. As they got closer, Jai Long could make out their mounts: bats the size of horses, with wings like unfurled sails. The sacred beasts were dirty gray-white, but their eyes shone like tiny stars in the dark.
As the Jai landed, Gokren breathed deeply, cycling his madra so steadily that Jai Long could feel it, like a mighty river rushing next to him. The Sandviper chief ran a hand through gray hair, pushing it back even further, then gripped the short spear sticking over his shoulder.
“I’ll move the Truegold back,” he said quietly. “A pair of my hunters will move with me. You lead the rest, but I don’t have anyone here who can stand face-to-face against that pack.”
The six Jai clan warriors landed their bats only fifty yards down the road, fanning out to cover their mounts. The elder stood behind them, his spearhead rising higher than the silver helmet of his hair.
These were strangers to Jai Long, people he must have left behind years ago in his exile to this wilderness territory. The Lowgolds all had a few traits in common: black hair that gleamed like polished metal, blue outer robes marked with the star-and-spear emblem of the Jai clan, and tall spears that they held with confidence.
Though they were less advanced than Jai Long by one stage, they would never have been chosen as escorts unless they were competent. And while the Sandvipers specialized in hunting the beasts of the Desolate Wilds, the Jai clan was equipped for battle.
“I need them to harass only,” Jai Long said, his voice as low as Gokren’s. “Split them up, keep them from crashing on me all at once, and I’ll handle them.”
Gokren’s fingers flickered in a signal, and Jai Long felt the Sandviper powers behind him spreading out.
“Sandviper chief,” the el
der drawled, ignoring Jai Long entirely. “You’ve interrupted our business tonight.”
Chief Gokren jerked his head toward Jai Long. “Not me.”
The elder pushed through his escorts, using the butt of his spear as a walking stick. Jai Long’s opinion of the man fell lower. He was grinding his weapon into the dirt with every step—didn’t he know what that would do to the wood?
“We’ll expect a generous apology for this,” the elder said. “Go back to your homes and wait for me there. I will have a word with the exile about his new weapon.”
Jai Long swept out his perception, looking for another Stellar Spear presence. This group was too far from home to be alone—they would have brought supplies, and left at least one scout to report their fate if they were attacked.
To his shock, he felt only the dim presence of a few more bats roosting two streets down. Extra pack animals, but no sacred artists.
“Where is your scout?” Jai Long asked.
The elder sneered at Gokren; he still refused to look in Jai Long’s direction. “We’re in the territory of our branch family. Word of what happens here will reach the Underlord, and the chief knows that.”
Gokren was a seething mass of power standing next to him, his Sandviper madra foul and bitter in Jai Long’s senses. Despite their battle plan, Jai Long couldn’t believe the Sandvipers would actually fight for him. The Jai clan were his enemies, not Gokren’s.
But if they left him, he would be facing six trained fighters and a Truegold elder. His breath came faster, his madra cycling quicker as he looked for an exit. If he moved quickly enough, he could pull them into the Wilds. Away from Jai Chen, and into terrain where he might be able to fight them one at a time. So long as they didn’t get back to their bats.
Gokren moved.
The Path of the Sandvipers had no techniques for speed. In a battle of Truegolds, Gokren would be among the slowest.
But he was still far faster than the Lowgold guards.
His short spear flickered out, launching a green ghost of itself that flew at the Jai clan like an arrow. His second spear was in his left hand, already shining green with another technique.
