Ghostwater (Cradle Book 5)

  Contents

  [Title Page]

  [Dedication]

  [Copyright]

  Prologue

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  [Sequel Page]

  [Extras]

  [Other Books]

  Ghostwater

  Cradle - Book Five

  Will Wight

  www.WillWight.com

  To my grandfather, the first William Lawrence Wight.

  1934 - 2017

  Thanks for lending me your awesome name.

  Copyright © 2018 Hidden Gnome Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Patrick Foster Design (www.patrickfoster.net)

  Cover Illustration by Kevin Mazutinec

  Prologue

  Mu Enkai had been nothing before the egg.

  He was born a servant, following just enough of a fire Path to allow him to operate a furnace for a low-ranked refinery. He’d spent his days shoveling coals and choking in smoke, making barely enough scales to live on.

  Then the sky had turned red. He and his fellow servants had taken shelter in the cold furnace, huddling together for days before the earth stopped shaking and the air was no longer flooded with blood aura. When they emerged from hiding, shaking but alive, it had been waiting for him.

  The egg was a glossy, polished orb the size of a man’s head, waiting among the debris of the refiner’s shop. Unlike the building, it was unharmed. Spotless. Beautiful.

  He could feel its promise in his soul; the blood aura that had drowned the world for days was concentrated here. Enkai had never considered himself an ambitious man, but in the egg’s sleek shell, he’d seen his future.

  His reflection was not a servant. Not someone who followed a half-remembered, incomplete Path that wasn’t considered good enough for the sects and schools. He’d seen a king, crowned and baptized in blood, and that promise seized something dark in his soul and pulled it forward.

  When he’d stepped up for the egg, the others had too. He looked to his left and to his right and saw that he was surrounded by thieves.

  It had been a brief, ugly fight, not a showdown between honorable sacred artists. The egg had gloried in the blood spilled, and when he stood victorious, he didn’t think about his wounds or his fallen friends.

  The egg was all his.

  He’d drawn it inside him without quite knowing how. It nestled inside his soul even now, warm and safe beside his core, and its power blazed in him like a bonfire.

  Enkai had been nothing but a Lowgold, and not an especially powerful one at that. But now, what did advancement mean to him? Highgold was nothing compared to the power of the egg.

  Now, he sat in the highest floor of the top-ranked restaurant in town. The strongest sacred artists in the region now knelt before him, trembling, daring not even to look him in the eye. Now, they were the servants.

  Before the egg, Mu Enkai would never have dared speak up in the presence of the three Highgolds who now bowed before him, each with a different Goldsign and a different set of robes. They all represented different Paths, but none of theirs could stand against his.

  The egg changed his body as much as his spirit. Before, he had been small and hunched; as a boy, he had often been compared to a rat. Now, he was lean and sharp, like a hungry wolf. His Goldsign—a shifting flame pattern on the back of his hand—had been stained red as blood. Veins of crimson stretched from his hand and up his arm as the egg’s power radiated out, infusing more of him.

  He gestured to one of his Highgold servants, and the young woman flinched as she raised a slice of rare spirit-fruit to his lips. Even younger than him, she was already a Highgold. No wonder she’d had such a high opinion of herself. She had required a number of demonstrations of his new power before she understood his strength, but now she respected him. He could read that respect in her trembling fingers and the veil she kept around her spirit.

  Enkai bit into the fruit and savored its icy flavor. It carried a soothing power into his madra channels, though little of it went into his core. Most of it went to nourish the egg.

  That was even better. The egg had begun to show cracks, and once it hatched, he could barely imagine the power he’d control.

  He opened his mouth for another bite, but his servant’s hand was frozen. She stared off into the distance, eyes growing wider.

  She could still ignore him?

  Weak sparks of fire kindled in the air around his head, formed by his irritation. The egg echoed him, releasing fist-sized balls of blood-red fire. The egg’s copies were stronger than his own, but that only excited him. The egg’s power was his.

  Before he could pull the young woman’s attention back by force, he noticed that the other two Highgolds—an old man with a trio of horns on his head and a motherly woman with iron-gray skin—were staring off in the same direction.

  He extended his balls of fire to the backs of their necks. All three of his servants fell to their knees with cries of pain as his power scorched their skin.

  “Tell me what it is,” he demanded. He may have had power beyond any Highgold, but he was still only Lowgold. Their spiritual perception was beyond his.

  They looked at each other, which only stoked his rage further. The balls of fire trembled, ready to drive through their bodies. Blood aura affected flesh, so the flames of the egg burned men more easily than wood.

  “We feel someone,” the young woman said. She glanced at the ceiling and licked her lips.

  That was all she said.

  He wanted to slap her—the egg’s power could boost his basic Enforcer technique into a blow that would crush her skull. Instead, he stood and gripped her by the chin. Her face paled, and her eyes slid to the side so she didn’t have to stare into his eyes.

  “When I ask a question, do you think I want half an answer? Tell me—”

  “It’s the Skysworn,” the older woman blurted from the floor. She bowed more deeply. “They must be here to recover the town after the great battle.”

  The old man had also not dared to stand after Enkai forced him to kneel. “They will be pleased to know that you have already restored order.”

  Despite their reassurance, or perhaps because of it, alarm spiked in Enkai’s heart. The Skysworn were more than just a police force; they were wandering judges, empowered by the Empire to punish criminals. He had been raised on stories of independent sacred artists being inducted into the Skysworn and going on to become some of the Blackflame Empire’s greatest heroes. Even the current Emperor had served as a Skysworn for years.

  They could take away everything he’d earned for himself. They might even sense the egg in his spirit, and they would surely kill him and take it from his Remnant.

  The thought of losing the egg made him sweat more than the thought of his death.

  Enkai released the Highgold’s chin and began stalking away, his fireballs blinking out of existence. He had created a room reinforced with scripts just for an occasion like this. He would hide until they went away. “Keep them away from me,” he commanded. “Tell them nothing.”

  Someone rapped on the window.

  As one, all four pairs of eyes snapped toward the sound. A man stood outside on a dark green cloud, arms crossed, in robes of deep blue. It looked
almost like an Arelius uniform, but there was no way he was there to clean the windows. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, he loomed over the room, glaring like an executioner about to pass judgment. His right arm was a Remnant prosthetic, a skeletally thin limb of white light. Despite his young age, he gave off an oppressive feeling, as though he were deciding which of them to destroy first.

  Enkai shivered at the sight of him, afraid to extend his spiritual perception lest he be punished. Though the egg had made him a conqueror, now he felt like a servant once again, flinching whenever an expert passed.

  Without waiting for instruction, the old man hurried over to the window and pushed it open. Only then did Enkai notice the pin on the stranger’s chest: a green cloud. That was the emblem of the Skysworn, though a full member would be wearing a suit of jade armor. Perhaps a disciple? Or a subordinate, deputized to help deal with the emergency?

  Whoever the stranger was, Mu Enkai decided it was time to slip away before he was noticed. The Skysworn would assume the Highgolds were in charge anyway, and he gave off the air of a man looking for someone to punish. Let his anger fall on them while Enkai snuck away. The egg would serve him just as well in some other town.

  “Pardon,” the young stranger said, “but could you tell me which of you is in charge here?” His voice was apologetic, and he bowed slightly as he spoke.

  Enkai stopped at the top of the stairs.

  All three of the Highgolds glanced back, but the old man coughed before he spoke. “I am happy to represent my master before the Skysworn,” he said, and Enkai breathed a little more easily.

  “Your master?” the Skysworn apprentice asked, looking surprised. “Is there a Truegold in town?” Now that Enkai looked at him further, he saw that the man was even younger than he’d first appeared. And not quite so intimidating as his frame would suggest.

  A shiver passed through Enkai’s soul—the stranger had scanned him. But it was soft as a brushing feather. The scan of a Truegold’s perception might have weighed on him, but this was lighter than a breeze. Either the stranger had withheld his power for the sake of respect, or...

  Delicately, ready to withdraw at a moment’s notice, Enkai extended his own perception toward the stranger. With only a strand of his awareness, he touched the young Skysworn’s spirit.

  It was no stronger than Enkai’s own.

  With such a light touch, he couldn’t tell many details, but he didn’t get a sense of fathomless strength he would expect from a Skysworn. In fact, the quality of the stranger’s madra felt like a child’s: like a pure, untainted spring. He couldn’t sense the extent of the man’s core, not without a more thorough inspection, but his madra was no more dense or potent than an average Lowgold.

  Shame crept into Enkai’s heart, quickly followed by anger. To think, he had allowed one of the Skysworn’s servants to frighten him. He hated himself for his momentary weakness.

  Their exchange of scans took less than a breath. The stranger with the Skysworn pin turned to Enkai, eyebrows raising. Instead of drifting away on his cloud, the boy held up both hands to show he held no weapon—his Remnant hand looked less threatening with fingers spread.

  Enkai conjured a ball of blood-red fire, contempt fueling his madra. “I rule here,” he said harshly. “If the Skysworn need to speak to me, they can come themselves.”

  Still hovering outside the window, the stranger pressed his fists together and bowed over them in a sacred artist’s salute. “Forgiveness. We did not intend to disturb you. It is an honor to meet you; we were wondering who had done such an excellent job of protecting this town after the Dreadgod’s attack.”

  The crimson flame still drifted around Enkai’s head, but he paused. He had defended the town, but he had never expected the Skysworn to recognize the truth.

  Enkai straightened his spine and faced the stranger head-on. “They had no Skysworn to protect them. They needed a strong leader.”

  “They’re alive thanks to you,” the Skysworn deputy said, radiating sincerity. The more Enkai saw of the man, the softer he looked. “How did you do it?”

  The honest admiration in the question cracked through Enkai’s suspicion. He swelled with pride; it was about time someone asked him that question.

  “People love to follow the strong. You have to show them your power…but not just show them. They have to feel it. You have to grind it into them, so that your strength is as present and undeniable as the sun.”

  Two of the three Highgolds flinched back at the reminder. Not the young woman. She frowned up at a high corner of the room as though staring through it. He didn’t spare her a thought.

  The stranger nodded seriously, rubbing his chin with his hand of flesh, with the attentive air of a man taking notes. He still wore what Enkai would call a glare, but he didn’t seem angry. Well, a man couldn’t help the face he was born with. He was clearly reasonable, no matter what he looked like.

  “Well, if your approach worked so well here, I can’t wait to see how it will help the next town.”

  Enkai hesitated, the fire around his head sputtering. “The next one?”

  “In the wake of the crisis, we have more citizens in danger than we have capable leaders. I’ll have to report this to my superiors, but I’m sure we’ll want to put another town or two under your jurisdiction. If you are willing to serve the Empire in this way, of course.”

  The egg. This was all thanks to the egg.

  The townsfolk had given him tributes: more scales, elixirs, and treasures than he’d seen in his lifetime before the egg. Another town would make him rich beyond his dreams.

  But more than the riches, it was the people that captured his imagination. Even more people, bowing to him. Sacred artists taking his orders.

  He cracked a smile for the first time, and two of the Highgolds joined him, though their expressions were a little too shaky for his taste. The young woman was late, still staring at the corner of the ceiling, but she eventually shook herself awake and smiled even more broadly than the other two.

  A thread of suspicion crept back in, and he extended his perception. The egg had lent him some of its bloody power, which helped his madra burn through flesh, but it had done nothing to extend his spiritual awareness. He stretched his spirit as far as he could, feeling nothing but the spirits of the remaining townsfolk huddled in their homes…and one presence high in the sky. A Truegold, headed this way.

  The real Skysworn were coming.

  Their servant was just stalling for time.

  Fear and rage and pain crashed over Mu Enkai in one dark wave, and he fed it all to the egg. Tendrils of its power extended more deeply into his soul, and he welcomed them. The ball of fire over his head swelled to life, turning a deeper red, and the stranger stumbled back. He held up his white arm to shield his face. He had realized his mistake…but too late.

  Enkai swirled madra through his body, stepping forward and lashing out with a Striker technique. The fireball that he’d created streaked forward like a shooting star, followed by eight lesser lights. This technique had once been used to light firewood, but the egg had transformed it into a new level entirely. It had evolved, becoming a true weapon.

  Fused with fire madra, the blood power would allow it to burn flesh like dry tinder. It could devour the body of a Lowgold in seconds.

  Though he hadn’t thrown it at a Lowgold.

  The young Highgold cycled her spirit quickly, raising icy mist as a shield, but his technique burned through hers without slowing down. For an instant, she had a shocked look on her face and a scorched hole in her belly.

  Then she went up like a torch. She opened her mouth to scream, but the fire had swallowed her breath. Her chest was a blackened ruin before the eight smaller sparks landed, trailing after the initial fireball.

  As a Highgold, she took a second or two longer to burn.

  With everything he’d done for this town, they still dared to call the Skysworn. She had sensed them coming and failed to warn him; no matter
how many demonstrations he gave, they all still plotted behind his back. The truth felt like a knife in his back, and black hatred rushed out of the egg.

  Though it didn’t use an audible voice, the egg seemed to whisper to him.

  You have no choice. They pushed you to this.

  Before a breath of time had passed, while the first Highgold still had half her flesh left, he had already taken aim at the second.

  The old man kicked off a movement technique, sparks flying from his feet, as he dove for the window. He still presumed to run; that stoked Enkai’s fury even hotter. If he had to burn through the Skysworn servant to reach the old man, so be it.

  But the stranger wasn’t outside the window anymore. He was dashing across the wooden floor, focused on Enkai like a man staring at a blood enemy, pulling back his arm of flesh as though he was about to drive it into Enkai’s stomach.

  Enkai drove his red fireball down instead of forward, slamming it onto the Skysworn servant’s head.

  The man dropped to one knee, ducking to the side, forced to drive his strike up to meet Enkai’s wrist. His palm struck, but not hard enough to stop Enkai’s move. He seemed even weaker than a normal Lowgold. Pure madra rushed into Enkai’s wrist without ruffling a single hair on his arm, but it did flow into his spirit and disrupt his technique.

  …about as much as a gentle breeze disrupted a bonfire.

  The bloody fireball fell undeterred, burning through the servant’s blue robe in an instant and entering his body. With the bloody power of the egg fueling it, he was dead already.

  He screamed, but Enkai had already moved past him. He should have known what would happen when he tried his tricks. They wouldn’t work on Enkai.

  The real Skysworn would arrive to find nothing of this town but ash.

  He leaped out the window and landed on the stranger’s green Thousand-Mile Cloud. From his vantage point, he could see the old man almost to the edge of town, sprinting down the dirt road and past the half-destroyed buildings that had remained after the Bleeding Phoenix’s passage. Another few seconds, and he would be beyond Enkai’s range.