Bloodline (Cradle Book 9) Read online

“We can find a natural treasure,” Lindon assured her.

  “Or just kill a man whenever you need to cycle,” Eithan suggested.

  Besides the fields of grass blowing in the wind of their passage, the second feature to catch the eye was a short purple-leafed tree with pale bark emerging from the plains.

  “This is an orus tree,” Lindon said when they reached it. “It’s native to Sacred Valley. This one is three hundred and fifty years old, and it was raised in rich aura, so its spirit-fruits are stronger than usual. You’ll get to try some for yourself once we…”

  He trailed off as Ziel plucked the lowest-hanging fruit from the tree and took a bite. Lindon hadn’t even tasted it yet.

  But it wasn’t as though he had asked them not to eat any fruit. He was the host here; it was his responsibility to see to the comfort of his guests.

  “How is it?” Lindon asked.

  Ziel shrugged.

  As they passed another stretch of open grass, Eithan explained Lindon’s plan to add a Soulsmith foundry to the space. Lindon couldn’t recall ever having mentioned those plans aloud.

  Then they came to a crystalline pool, shaded by broad-leafed bushes so tall they were almost like trees.

  Little Blue splashed around in the pool, dipping beneath the surface to slide through the water like a fish. Faint blue spirits followed in her wake, spinning and swirling around after her.

  She turned and gave a wave as she saw them approach.

  “This is an area of balanced natural aura,” Lindon said. “Sylvan Riverseeds are born in places like this, and they’re said to be soothing for the soul.” He could already feel a sort of invisible pressure lighten just by standing nearby, though he wasn’t sure if that was relief from the constant presence of aura or if he was just starting to relax.

  “Oh, you made her a little place to play!” Mercy said excitedly. “She’s going to love this!”

  Little Blue chirped agreement, but Lindon’s cheeks grew hot.

  “I mean, well, yes, but there are practical considerations too. Unintelligent Sylvan Riverseeds can be used in Soulsmithing, and there are certain plants that can only grow in a neutral aura environment.”

  Little Blue ran up a bush and leaped into the pool, landing with a tiny splash.

  Half a dozen other splashes followed her a moment later, from the handful of pure scales that Eithan had just cast into the water. The lesser Riverseeds swarmed around them, eating the Forged madra one nibble at a time.

  “Fatten, my little piglets!” Eithan cried. “Feed and grow strong!”

  Popping her head out of the water, Little Blue gave a disapproving peep.

  That brought them to Eithan’s third of the island, which Lindon had been looking forward to. Eithan had a single tree and a hut of his own, but most of his territory was covered in cultivated rows of plants of all shapes and sizes. Lindon saw something that he even thought might be an artificial hive for bees.

  “So this is where you got the herbs,” Ziel said. “Squeezed them out of the Ninecloud Court.”

  Lindon was only too happy to learn more. “Your turn, Eithan. Can you tell us what these do? That one looks like a cloudbell bush.”

  “Ah, but who cares about my modest garden when we have yet to explore your luxurious home?”

  “I do,” Lindon said.

  “Didn’t you say you got the Ninecloud Court to install a redundant series of security scripts in your cloudbase? I would love to hear more about that.”

  Lindon wasn’t fooled. Eithan just didn’t want to talk about his plants. Either because he had some kind of plan in mind…or, equally likely, because he was feeling lazy and wanted to put Lindon on the spot.

  Probably both.

  On the other hand, Lindon would take any excuse to talk about the modifications the Court had made to the functions of his fortress. “We’ll come back later, then. All fortresses come with a set of security circles to disperse hostile madra, but by giving up some features on the surface, I was able to get them to include a more thorough—”

  Eithan threw up a hand. “Oh no! Danger! We’ll have to pick this up some other time!”

  Lindon extended his spiritual perception and soon found a flock of venomous presences approaching one of the Akura cloudships.

  As Eithan and Mercy sprinted off, Lindon turned to Yerin. “I know he timed that.”

  “He can bleed and rot. Let him swat the birds down without us. You can tell me about the scripts. And the…constructs.”

  She was being completely sincere, but she didn’t care about the way the fortress worked. He would be explaining for his own sake.

  “No, let’s go get some birds.”

  “You’re stone-certain?” She’d stay if he wanted her to, and he knew that.

  When he nodded, she shot off after the other two, stopping in midair to turn around and wave for him to follow.

  Ziel stood motionless next to Lindon. The edges of his cloak fluttered in the wind. “I’d like to hear about the scripts,” he said.

  Lindon sighed. “Thanks.”

  The ships floating on their purple clouds stretched out behind Lindon and the others. He reached the edge of his own flying island in time to see a flock of beasts approach.

  They were toxic green, leathery birds that trailed dull fog. The birds and the trails behind them gave off a powerful sensation of venom madra.

  Mercy had already drawn her bow, shooting down the closest three birds before they could get even close to the cloudship they were targeting. Even so, the rest of the flock—several hundred strong, at least—didn’t falter.

  “I hope they’re not intelligent,” Mercy said.

  Eithan put his hands on his hips. “If they are self-aware, and they’re still attacking this convoy, they’re certainly not very intelligent. In fact, how about a game?”

  Yerin was about to race off and leap over to the next cloud, but Lindon saw her freeze at the suggestion.

  “We’ve all advanced in some way recently,” Eithan went on. “I’m sure I can’t be the only one longing for a chance to stretch my muscles, spiritually speaking.”

  Mercy shot down another bird that was ahead of the group. “One technique apiece?”

  “For educational purposes only! I wouldn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of having all bets placed on me.”

  “And you’re sure they aren’t intelligent?”

  “From their behavior, I would say no. Also from their spirits, the fact that they’re screeching to one another instead of speaking, and from my extensive education. I’m familiar with this species, and they’re slightly less intelligent than rats. Meaner, too.”

  “Then it sounds fun! I’ll go!” Mercy seized the string of her bow in her black-gloved hands, pulling it back and Forging a dark arrow onto the string.

  Her spirit surged, and the full power of an Overlady was focused onto the bow. Lindon felt the techniques layering onto the arrow one at a time, until the missile quivered with unreleased force. The dragon’s head, now at the center of the bow, hissed angrily. Its eyes flashed violet.

  Her will was clearly focused on the bow, but Lindon sensed something beyond that. Something he wouldn’t have been able to put his finger on before, and that he still couldn’t quite define. It felt as though her arrow was reaching a dimension beyond the physical. That was authority, he supposed, but only a whisper of it.

  Mercy released the string.

  The arrow whipped up a whirlwind, tearing up the grass as it blasted through the air. The sunlight flickered in its wake, as though the missile stained the air with darkness in its passing.

  When the arrow impacted the flock, it tore a hole in the mass of birds.

  Then it exploded into dark tendrils.

  Strings of Shadow lashed out from where they’d been compressed into the arrow, snatching up nearby birds with oily arms and pulling them together. A mass of sealed, fused-together birds tumbled down through the sky.

  Mercy held her hand over her e
yes to peer down. “Thirty-four! I think I could get fifty next time.”

  The flock had noticed, and was wheeling around in the air to re-focus on Mercy’s location.

  “Looks like you’ll get your chance to try,” Eithan said, “but only on your next turn. Yerin, you must be dying to try out the extent of your powers.”

  “Like a starving dog,” Yerin said fervently. Her hair blew over her shoulder as she stepped up, pulling a black-bladed sword from her new void key. Netherclaw had originally been chosen as the weapon of her Blood Shadow, but now it suited her madra better.

  Now that she and Ruby had merged. Which still made Lindon feel…strange.

  Yerin’s gleaming scarlet sword-arms withdrew, sliding like liquid into her back. The lock of red in her hair shone slightly as she focused on the tip of her sword.

  And if Mercy had added a touch of weight to her arrow with her will, this attack struck Lindon’s new senses as though Yerin had strapped a boulder to the end of her weapon.

  Silver-and-red light swirled around the blade, and Lindon recognized the technique she was forming: the Final Sword.

  But it was rougher, less controlled than it had been before. Not only had they developed it as a pure sword technique, but she had lost the connection to the Sword Icon that had made the technique possible before.

  Ruby had figured out a version of the Final Sword with her blood madra, but it had always been weaker than Yerin’s. It looked like now, Yerin was compensating for her lack of experience in the aspect with pure, overwhelming power.

  In fact…

  Just from standing next to Yerin, Lindon was buffeted with force beyond the physical. Ziel had planted his feet, Mercy held a hand across her eyes, and Eithan cleared his throat.

  “Yerin, perhaps we might reconsider—”

  She unleashed the technique.

  A beam of gleaming red-chrome energy shot forward from Yerin. It was rough like a river, not as smooth as black dragon’s breath or sword-shaped like the former version of the Final Sword. It sounded like a long, ongoing explosion. Like a roar.

  And it was wider than Yerin’s entire body.

  Where the passage of Mercy’s technique had uprooted some grass, this one tore up a large trench of soil. The flock of venomous birds was aimed at their fortress, and the Final Sword speared through the center of them all.

  Those in the middle were wiped out, of course, but power flickered out from the edges of the technique, whipping nearby birds from the air like lashes of liquid lightning.

  After only a few seconds, the technique faded.

  There was only one bird left, a straggler that had flapped heavily beneath the rest of its brethren. It let out a loud squawk and hauled itself in the other direction.

  Yerin gave a long, low whistle as she limbered up her shoulder. “Now that fits like a good sheath.”

  Eithan ran a comb through his messy hair. “That, ladies and gentlemen, illustrates the strength of Heralds. While Sages focus their willpower outside of themselves, to make changes to the world directly, Heralds focus it inwardly. They enhance their own power beyond all limitations.”

  Lindon was already thinking about how he might do something similar. “And that involves fusing with your own Remnant?”

  “Might be my ears are still tickling, but it sounds like you’re thinking about trying it,” Yerin said.

  “Are you trying to be the world’s first Underlord Monarch, Lindon?” Eithan asked curiously. “You know, if you tried that, I’m fairly certain you would fail before your spirit and body collapsed in on themselves like a burning house. But I’ve been wrong before. Maybe you’d make it all the way to the collapse.”

  Mercy gestured with Suu, which was now back in staff form. “That brings up another good point. Why are you still an Underlord, Lindon?”

  In fact, Lindon had almost advanced the night before.

  When he had found out they were supposed to stay in the Ninecloud Court one night longer than he wanted to, he had planned to immediately advance. He was sure he had his revelation figured out, and if not…well, the insight required to touch the Void Icon had to be harder than the one to reach Overlord.

  But he and Dross had done some research.

  “We looked up what Charity told us,” he said. “If we’re heading into the suppression field around Sacred Valley, it’s more of an advantage not to advance. The more advanced you are, the more it takes from you.”

  “I will expect you all to carry me like a rescued princess,” Eithan declared.

  Mercy gave Lindon a sympathetic look. “Was it hard for you?”

  “Had to take his void key,” Yerin said. “Starting out, he told me not to let him advance, but he kept talking excuses. ‘What if I don’t get another chance?’ ‘I just want to see if I have the revelation right.’”

  “I wasn’t lying,” Lindon protested.

  Dross’ voice came into their heads, muffled slightly by distance. [Yes, he was.]

  “Lindon’s cruel deceptions aside, it looks like we’re out of targets,” Eithan said. “The rest of us will have to wait for another chance.”

  Some of the targeted cloudships had strayed from the line, scared off either by the birds or by the massive technique Yerin had used to defend them.

  Mercy moved to the edge of the cloud and straddled her staff. “I’m going to go check on the ships.”

  “I’ll come,” Yerin said, shoving her black-bladed sword back into her void key. “Have to show them I don’t have claws. And I want to see if I can make the next ship in one jump.”

  “You definitely can,” Mercy began, but Yerin had already leaped with enough force that she kicked up dirt behind her.

  Mercy followed after, flying on Suu, leaving Lindon alone with Eithan.

  Ziel had wandered off to lie down by the pond, and it looked like he had fallen asleep instantly. The Sylvan Riverseeds were dancing on his face.

  Eithan was waiting expectantly, so Lindon continued as he would have if Eithan hadn’t been present. He focused on a nearby clump of grass, steadying his breathing, gathering not madra or soulfire but his will.

  “Hold,” Lindon ordered.

  The blades of grass froze, locking in place as the others bent and bobbed in the wind.

  Lindon maintained his concentration, but the working of will released before he was ready, his clump of grass joining those around it once again.

  “I don’t know how to practice,” Lindon admitted. “Dross has explained everything he knows about Sages, but it isn’t much.”

  Most of the more useful works about Sages were either restricted or too strange for him to understand. Sages didn’t usually write about their own powers to other Sages, after all.

  There had been old attempts by Sages to pass down their powers to disciples, but they had never worked, and Lindon hadn’t been able to find any of those attempts in his brief search of the Ninecloud library the night before.

  Eithan stroked his chin. “Picture, if you will, a building with many floors. Each floor is higher than the last, and each supports the one above it. These floors are the laws that govern our existence. At the bottom, the foundation, are the physical laws.”

  He clapped his hands together. “It’s no less complex than the other systems, and it forms the basis for all of them, but it is superseded by the level above it.” He spread his palms apart slightly to reveal the blue-white coin he’d Forged. “Madra.”

  A snap, and the madra disappeared. “With madra, we can break and bend and overrule the physical laws that would have bound us otherwise. Within certain rules and limits, of course. If we continue this analogy, soulfire is the staircase between the madra system and the next level up. At which we exert our wills to control the world directly.”

  He gestured to the clump of grass that had once been frozen. “That is the level on which you and Yerin now operate. While she has enhanced her ability to add willpower to her own actions, you can take actions that you previously could not
.”

  Most of that, Lindon had already figured out to one degree or another, but he peered into the Archlord’s face for a long time, looking for…something.

  After facing Eithan’s pleasant smile for too long, Lindon finally asked the question that was on his mind. “How do you know? How do you know any of this?”

  Though Eithan had promised to stop keeping secrets, Lindon still expected an evasion, but Eithan squinted up into the sky and spoke.

  “I was an advisor to the Monarch Tiberian Arelius.”

  Lindon wondered if the “deflection” had been nothing more than a simple lie. “You were an Underlord.”

  “I didn’t advise him on advancement, obviously. But I have always had an…instinctive grasp of the underlying theory behind the sacred arts, you might say. They found early on that I could handle dream tablets far beyond my age or advancement level, and that I could draw from them more insight than anyone else.”

  Eithan swept blowing hair out of his face and gave Lindon a serious look. “You can call me what you like. Genius. Savant. Prodigy. Virtuoso. Once-in-a-lifetime intellect. I’ve always preferred that people look beyond who I am on the inside and really appreciate my gorgeous exterior.”

  For a moment, Lindon was overwhelmed by the knowledge that Eithan had been advisor to a Monarch. He’d been trained by someone who had studied at the highest levels. Lindon wished he’d known earlier; he had missed so many chances to exploit Eithan’s knowledge.

  Then again…

  Eithan had always acted like he knew everything. And he had been careful about doling out knowledge a little at a time.

  Maybe this wasn’t so much of a surprise.

  Lindon pressed his fists together and bowed lightly. “Gratitude for your instruction.”

  “I would appreciate it if you would keep that between you and the others, by the way,” Eithan said. “Most of my kinsmen don’t even know.”

  “Pardon, but why not?”

  “You know me, Lindon. I love nothing more than keeping a low profile.”

  5

  [Information requested: birth of the Mad King.]