Reaper (Cradle Book 10) Page 4

  The Mad King manifesting into reality, holding a black Scythe.

  That last image was only shown for a moment before an overwhelming tide of blue light as the Abidan delivering the report escaped, but even in that brief flash less than a second, Suriel could see the sky behind the Vroshir—and the entire Iteration—crack.

  There were a thousand of these, and they covered the room. Suriel faced her Presence, though she knew the construct could hear her every thought.

  “What can we do?” she asked.

  [You cannot leave this Iteration until Makiel is restored,] her Presence reminded her. [With that restriction, you are limited in what you can accomplish alone.]

  In her mind, the Presence spooled out a list of how she could resolve each of these emergency scenarios…except for the appearance of the Mad King. That was beyond her.

  “And if I’m not alone?”

  [Your highest probability of success comes from cooperating with the other Judges in the tasks they are already performing.]

  Her Presence gave her brief glimpses of possibility. Razael, the Wolf, would never leave the battlefield. Joining her would mean putting two of their seven greatest assets in the same place…but it would also make Razael far more capable. Together, they could potentially cut off the advance of the Mad King, though still not oppose him directly.

  Telariel, the Spider, wouldn’t risk his own life even in the event of total system collapse. He was currently coordinating Abidan efforts on all fronts, and with Suriel’s support, he would have an easier time pushing past chaos. Not to mention more willing to take the field, with the greatest healer backing him up.

  Zakariel, the Fox, was more selfish even than Telariel. She had a lot in common with the Angler of the Crystal Halls, and each considered the other something of a rival. If it didn’t benefit her directly, she usually didn’t do it, and she was currently raiding Iterations under Vroshir assault to scoop up any valuables before the world fell. Though any Silverlords that encountered her had no chance of escape.

  Suriel might persuade the Fox to act for the good of the Court, which would open coordinated rescue efforts.

  Suriel could work together with any of the other Judges and accomplish great things. But not enough. None of them could stop the advance of the Vroshir.

  All predictive models showed the same thing: the Mad King cementing his isolation of Sector Eleven, then moving in for the kill. Once Sector Eleven was in ruins, he would retreat before even he was cut off by the chaos he’d left in his wake. Then he’d leave the Abidan to clean up after him.

  No two Judges could stop him. Without Makiel, no two could even fight him.

  But what about three?

  “What are my odds of getting two other Judges to work with me against the Vroshir directly?”

  [Not high.]

  Suriel preferred her Presence to answer numerically where possible, even when regarding scenarios that were technically incalculable. When it didn’t, that meant the scenario was truly uncertain.

  [It is a shame that those who rise to become Judges tend to be unusually individualistic,] her Presence continued. [Forceful. Difficult to persuade, even with objective facts.]

  Suriel stroked the ghostly gray correlation lines that ran from the back of her skull to her knuckles like strings of smoke. “It will be difficult to get them to abandon their individual pursuits, but not impossible. Is there any other chance of victory?”

  [If you define victory as preserving as many of those under our protection as possible, then a defensive engagement has the highest probability of success. Taking conservative actions and retaining territory until the Vroshir incursion ends gives us the best chance of reclaiming as many worlds as possible almost one hundred percent of the time.]

  “And what if I define victory as forcing the Vroshir incursion to end early?”

  [It is a shame that those who rise to become Judges tend to be unusually individualistic,] her Presence repeated. [Forceful. Difficult to persuade, even—]

  “Connect me to the Titan,” Suriel interrupted.

  With a faint sigh, her Presence obeyed.

  3

  Within the corrupted lands of the Desolate Wilds, there were only a few livable pockets in which the dreadbeasts and the blight of venom aura had been pushed back. A few years ago, Lindon had found an alliance of five factions formed around the emergence of the Transcendent Ruins, but that had only been temporary.

  The town in which the residents of Sacred Valley found shelter was called, quite simply, Refuge. It had started off as a temporary camp, but that had been years ago. Recently, it had been home to thousands, and some homes had housed families for three generations.

  But that was before the attack of the Wandering Titan.

  Now, the town was half-empty, and signs of battle against the tide of dreadbeasts marred the walls and littered the streets. The buildings had only survived thanks to their own good fortune; attacks from Dreadgods or Monarchs had carved new ravines into the territory all around.

  The townsfolk, though, were anything but grateful for their survival. Everyone had lost someone, many had lost homes, and now they were facing an influx of refugees from their west. As Lindon had expected, they would have violently rejected the people from Sacred Valley.

  Would have, except that the most advanced experts in the region were Truegold. Even Jai Long could toy with the most powerful people here. Not only did they keep their complaints down, but they would do anything to keep the mighty strangers here. There was a sense of security from curling up next to the strong.

  So far, it was within Lindon’s expectations. But once again, he wished he had Dross to talk to, because he had begun seeing strange flags pop up everywhere in and around Refuge.

  And he was afraid he knew who was responsible for them.

  “Where did these flags come from, Eithan?” Lindon asked the air.

  A few nearby people shot him strange looks, but they kept about their business. They hadn’t met him yet, and once again they couldn’t sense anything through his veil.

  Eithan could hear him. He was close enough, and Lindon knew he was paying attention.

  The flags came in many colors, but they all had one symbol: a starburst with one half red or orange and the other half blue. Both halves were melded roughly, as though they’d been fused together. He hadn’t paid much attention to it at first, until he overheard a name attached to the symbol.

  The Sect of Twin Stars.

  “Eithan, what’s the Sect of Twin Stars?”

  A girl his own age came to a stop when she heard him speak. She was a Lowgold with a blue hurricane Goldsign swirling around one wrist, and she zipped over to him as though he’d called her by name.

  Too late, he saw that she was wearing the same two-colored starburst symbol newly sewn onto her robes.

  “Are you interested in the Sect of Twin Stars?” she asked excitedly. “They’ll take just about anyone, you know. It doesn’t matter what Path you’re on. And they have teachers you wouldn’t believe! The sect founder is a Sage! I don’t know what he’s doing here, but they say if you’re a loyal member of the sect, they’ll take you east with them when they leave.”

  Lindon felt like he was trapped in some kind of bizarre illusion, but he still responded automatically. “Gratitude. Where did you learn about this sect?”

  “Oh, they’re telling everybody! You can go see for yourself. There’s a big blue cloudship to the north where you can go and apply, and if you’re accepted, you’ll get an elixir right away!”

  She straightened herself and said proudly, “With their support, they say I can make Truegold in a year. And…” She darkened as she added, “…and we won’t have to stay around here anymore.”

  “I see.” He dipped his head. “Apologies for taking up your time.”

  He didn’t ask her name because he didn’t want to give his own, but he marked her face. He didn’t know if Eithan was serious about taking these people away from
Refuge, but he would make sure she at least got a spot.

  When he arrived at the north side of town, his suspicions were confirmed. Sure enough, the blue cloudship was Windfall, with Eithan’s portion of the island—the part covered in crops—angled toward Refuge.

  A huge crowd had gathered at the edge of the giant blue cloud, encircling a few young men and women who were proudly displaying sewn-on badges of the Twin Star Sect.

  Standing on the top of the cloud, half of his body still wrapped in bandages, was Eithan.

  “Stand proud, new acolytes of the Twin Star Sect!” Eithan cried. He sounded more energetic than anyone so injured should be. “We have chosen you to receive training from the best of the best, so that you may reach heights undreamt of!”

  The crowd applauded, and the new recruits looked smug, but Lindon was starting to wonder if this was all some elaborate prank on Eithan’s part.

  He activated the Soul Cloak for just a moment, kicking off and soaring over the crowd. When he landed next to Eithan, the Archlord swept a very stiff bow to the people down below.

  “Now I must bid you farewell, as the time has come for me to confer with our founder and Patriarch: the Sage of Twin Stars!”

  Eithan ushered Lindon toward Lindon’s own home as the crowd cheered below.

  “What?” Lindon asked.

  “I feel like you’ve already pieced it together accurately,” Eithan said. He sagged down onto his personal Thousand-Mile Cloud, groaning as he did. He made a gesture as though to brush hair away from his face, but grimaced as he found his hair short.

  “You created a sect in my name.”

  “That I did. It was something of a bluff, but you know how it is. Sometimes these things get away from you.”

  “I don’t know how to lead a sect!”

  “I, of course, considered that you might feel that way. Not a problem at all. I would just like to borrow your image as a figurehead. That might work even better, in its own way; you could be the enigmatic mysterious expert backing our operations from the shadows.”

  Lindon gave Eithan a sidelong glance, but the man looked perfectly sincere.

  “Apologies, but I thought you would try to trick me into doing it.”

  “Lindon! Lindon. Lindon. How dare you say something so hurtful and yet so accurate.”

  Lindon continued staring at him, and Eithan’s usual smile faded a bit. “Believe it or not, I had intended to consult you first. I had a plan for a grand reveal and everything. You do like tiger meat, don’t you? Anyway, events got ahead of me, and I had to work quickly to bail out of a complicated situation. I do apologize.”

  Lindon shook his head. “No need.”

  “What?”

  “This is perfect.” Lindon’s mind was whirling. “We had to keep borrowing the name of House Arelius or the Akura clan, but now we can act on our own. You know what we can do with an organization behind us? Besides…” He winced as his enthusiasm was too much for his fractured Remnant arm. “You taught me my cycling technique and guided me in my pure madra techniques. You have more right to the Path of Twin Stars than anyone but me. And Dross.”

  Eithan looked from his own bandages to Lindon’s sling. “If I hugged you right now, would that put an awkward strain on our relationship?”

  “It would certainly strain our injuries.”

  “Then just know that I embrace you in spirit.” Eithan settled down on his cloud. “As you can imagine, many of the people around here no longer have anywhere to belong. And no one in several hundred miles has ever had a real sacred arts education. We need teachers, and refiners, and more resources…but most of all, we need somewhere to settle that doesn’t have the word ‘desolate’ in its name. Or Dreadgods lurking nearby.”

  “I assume we’ll use whatever portal you brought Windfall through.” That hadn’t even struck Lindon as odd. When he’d seen the cloud fortress appear out of nowhere, Eithan’s presence had been the only explanation Lindon needed. Clearly, Eithan had set up some kind of transportation between here and Moongrave, or had bartered with the Monarch.

  Eithan became interested in his own fingernails. “As…eager as I am to claim credit for that, it actually crawled out of a shadow without warning or explanation. I begin to wonder if Malice has some kind of grudge against me.”

  “Why? Sending the fortress back was a favor.”

  “It was my shadow that it popped out of.”

  Presumably Lindon’s family had been aboard; he could sense them nearby. Not that their presence was entirely a relief. They would have been perfectly safe in Moongrave.

  “They should have room for us in the Blackflame Empire,” Lindon said. “Naru Saeya suggested the Emperor was very pleased with us.”

  Eithan sighed. “Yes, it does, and just between you and me and any Monarchs that happen to be eavesdropping on us, I suspect they’ll be sending some cloudships for us soon. They won’t have missed a Dreadgod’s rampage, and they know we were involved. Naru Huan has an opportunity. But we would be the most powerful beings in the Empire by a huge margin. Our presence could change the entire landscape of the nation, not to mention their relationship with the Akura clan.”

  Lindon chewed on that for a long moment. If he wasn’t qualified to lead a sect, he certainly didn’t feel qualified to give his opinion on international politics.

  Then again, he was a Sage now.

  “Moving to the Empire solves our problems,” Lindon said at last. “If they want us to leave later, we can. But there are too many people here, and even clean water is expensive. We have to move.”

  “We do, but relocating into the Blackflame Empire will cause much to change. There’s no telling how everything will fall out.” Eithan paused. “I withdraw my objections. That sounds exciting!”

  They were only a few steps from Lindon’s house, but instead of drifting up to the door, Eithan led his Thousand-Mile Cloud to the edge of the floating island. He looked down onto the twisted green-and-black trees of the Desolate Wilds.

  People were camped everywhere, crammed into shacks, hasty walls and scripts protecting them. The protections didn’t look like they would survive a stiff breeze in the night, much less an actual attack.

  Of course, if there was an actual attack from anything less than a Monarch, Lindon would sense it coming from miles away and take care of it before any of those below were in any real danger. But he couldn’t be everywhere all the time.

  “This is what a sect is for,” Eithan said. “We can’t do everything. At some point, they have to protect themselves.”

  Lindon watched an Iron man from Sacred Valley bowing to a Lowgold child from the Wilds, and he nodded. Without someone around who was Underlord or better, the first Truegold-level dreadbeast to attack would tear through this crowd like a wolf through sheep.

  And he could sense the tension quivering in the air like a vibration in the vital aura. These people had all lived through a Dreadgod rampage, and they never knew when it might return.

  The only ones who looked confident were those wearing the Sect of Twin Stars logo. They belonged to an organization that would survive. One that could protect them.

  “I see,” Lindon said.

  “I thought you would.”

  Orthos hovered over the black, corrupted trees of the Desolate Wilds, just outside the camp the refugees from Sacred Valley were using for shelter. The turtle was suspended on flows of vital aura, scripts directing life aura to him to regenerate his wounds.

  Lindon looked up from the shadow as the giant sacred beast blotted out the sun.

  Orthos rotated in the air, one smoldering red-and-black eye rolling to see Lindon. “Tell these children to lower me to the ground. I can stay still myself.”

  A team of sixteen Truegold elders—the best the region had to offer—sweated and labored over scripts and natural treasures. They stared at Orthos with fear, but toward Lindon they demonstrated only polite respect.

  They could sense how powerful Orthos was, and at the momen
t, he was almost half the size of a Dreadgod. He could roll over and crush a town.

  As for Lindon, if he didn’t remove his veil, they couldn’t feel his power at all. As far as they knew, he may have just been a Jade. But his powerful friends treated him well, so they followed suit.

  Lindon controlled wind aura to levitate up to Orthos so they could speak eye-to-eye. He looked down to survey the Truegolds, who were slightly more impressed now that they had seen his skilled control of aura. Although this was nothing a Gold on a wind Path couldn’t do.

  “They’re working under Eithan’s instructions,” Lindon pointed out. “I doubt they’d listen to me unless I forced them.”

  Orthos grumbled, which sent a covey of startled birds fluttering into the air. “It’s good luck for them that I’m not in a bad mood. If I broke this formation, I’d squash them.”

  Some Truegolds went pale and stepped back. Orthos couldn’t keep his voice down when he was big enough to swallow cloudships.

  “Now that you’re awake…” Lindon hesitated, unsure how to phrase his thoughts properly. “I’ve heard of giant sacred beasts, and I knew you were going to transform. But how…”

  Orthos laughed, and several of the Golds lost their feet. “Bigger than you expected?”

  “I thought you’d be a dragon,” Lindon admitted.

  “What do you call someone who violates their own soul?” Orthos asked. “What do you call a trash human who does something that no one with a conscience would ever consider? You say they’re inhuman, don’t you? It’s your actions that determine what you are on the inside.”

  He raised his head proudly. “I’m more a dragon than any of those proud gold dragons who ambushed you like cowards. And I gained this control over my body when I accepted that I was in the form that suited me best.”

  “I am grateful to have you back in any form,” Lindon said. “But I do admit, I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize you.”

  “The lot of you need a shell more than you need fangs and claws.” Orthos glanced down at himself. “But…hmmm…I didn’t realize it would take so much soulfire to grow. And just as much to shrink.”