Reaper (Cradle Book 10) Read online

  But she wasn’t joking, and there was more.

  Above the Thousand-Mile Cloud, more clouds began to whirl in the air. These were clouds of dark flame.

  Kelsa had described Orthos to him, and Jaran had heard about his son’s Path. But it was something else to see a hurricane of black fire swirling overhead, a burning vortex. Stinging hot wind blew down on him, though he couldn’t guess how many miles away the fire really was.

  The golden stars that had been spinning around the cloud fortress were now joined by stars of dense blue-white energy. Dark balls of flame fell from the spiral overhead, and they danced with crimson sparks that shone somehow silver.

  The colors of madra wove a complex pattern with one another, and then rushed out toward the Emperor’s fleet.

  From the way the music faltered, Jaran felt the hesitation of the sacred artists aboard the incoming cloudships. If he had been standing aboard one himself, he would have assumed he was about to be bombarded by a volley of Striker techniques.

  But these stars spun around, encircling the fleet, forming a sort of tunnel. After slowing slightly, the cloudships passed through, accepting the invitation.

  “How many were responsible for that?” Jaran asked.

  “Three,” Seisha said after consulting her drudge. “But there were four types of madra. I think the gold light was from a construct.”

  “Were they all Overlords?”

  “One of them was Lindon.”

  Jaran grunted and shifted his weight off his wounded leg. He understood the truth that Lindon had been forcibly advanced, but he couldn’t help but think it was a waste. What could someone else have accomplished with those same resources?

  He wondered if Orthos could intervene on Kelsa’s behalf. If Lindon could do as much in only a few years, Kelsa would shock the entire world.

  On the lead cloudship, a figure rose up on shining emerald wings. He looked like a powerfully built man in ornate green robes, though Jaran couldn’t make out his features in any detail. But from the shining crown he wore, and from the visible distortion of air around him, Jaran assumed he must be the Emperor.

  A moment later, he revised that assumption. No Emperor would press his fists together and bow his head to subordinates in his own territory.

  The voice of the majestic figure boomed out, easily audible to everyone.

  “The Blackflame Emperor greets his three esteemed guests. We are gratified to count you among our allies. Let all our Empire show respect to Archlord Eithan Arelius.”

  There came a booming sound of cheering and music from the fleet of cloudships.

  Before it had faded entirely, the Emperor spoke again.

  “Let all our Empire show respect to the Uncrowned Queen, Yerin Arelius.”

  Another, even louder cheer shook the ground. Even the people of Refuge began to cheer, though Jaran was certain that at least those who came from Sacred Valley had little idea what was happening.

  “Let all our Empire show respect to the Sage of Twin Stars, Wei Shi Lindon Arelius.”

  A final wave of sound came out from the fleet, no softer than the last, but Jaran barely heard it.

  The show had kicked him in a place no one’s words had reached. It was one thing hearing about how powerful Lindon had become, and reluctantly accepting that someone had made Lindon powerful.

  But seeing here, with his own eyes, a display that would have shaken all of Sacred Valley…and to have it directed to his son…

  Seisha looked at the expression on his face and sighed.

  “I did tell you,” she said.

  Lindon stood on the edge of Windfall, each passing second convincing him that he was supposed to do something.

  After greeting them, Naru Huan had remained hovering in midair, his head still bowed. He was clearly waiting for a response, just as Lindon was waiting for Eithan to give him one.

  Yerin scratched her neck. She wasn’t going to bother saying anything, and if she did, it wouldn’t be for everyone’s benefit. She would probably wave to Naru Huan and tell him to come over. This was Eithan’s job, so where was—

  Eithan was grinning an idiot’s grin while staring straight at Lindon.

  Lindon wasn’t as surprised as he felt he should have been.

  He stifled a sigh and rose on a Thousand-Mile Cloud he summoned from his void key for this purpose. He drifted over to face the Emperor, and only when he felt the Ruler technique around Naru Huan did he remember to manipulate the air around him using soulfire to magnify his words.

  “We are humbled to be visited personally by the Blackflame Emperor,” Lindon said formally. And too stiffly. He wished Mercy were here to do this instead, but she was occupied with some family obligation. “We are grateful to be allowed into your territory.”

  The Emperor was a handsome man who appeared in his forties, with a square jaw and neatly trimmed beard. Every time Lindon had seen him before, including in the depths of battle, he had looked like someone who was always in possession of himself.

  So Lindon knew he’d made a mistake when he saw surprise flash briefly across the Emperor’s face.

  “Not at all,” Naru Huan boomed out. “It is our honor to host you for as long as you wish to stay.”

  Lindon didn’t know where to go with the conversation, so he steered it in a direction he understood. If this were a normal visit, he would invite his visitor inside.

  “We could use a guide to your Empire. Please, step inside for a moment and provide us your wisdom.”

  That can’t have been too wrong, because the Emperor dipped his head again. “It will be our pleasure. With your permission, our cloudships will land and begin distributing refreshments to the people.”

  That was the loudest cheer Lindon had heard so far.

  He expected Naru Huan to drop the formalities when he arrived on Windfall, so he was surprised to see the Emperor go to one knee the second he touched down.

  “Naru Huan greets the Sage and the Herald. Forgive me if I have offended you with my lacking manners in the past, and allow me the chance to make up for it in the future.”

  Lindon and Yerin exchanged a look.

  “No eyes on us up here, so you can stand up,” Yerin said.

  “Please,” Lindon added. “It would put us at ease.”

  Naru Huan straightened up, but he still didn’t meet their eyes. “Your words are more generous than I deserve. Please, tell me how I or my empire might serve you two.”

  Eithan pointed to himself. “I can’t help but feel like someone is being intentionally excluded.”

  Naru Huan’s head slowly turned toward Eithan. “I’m sorry, Uncrowned Queen, but does this Lord speak for you?”

  “You know my name,” Eithan protested.

  Naru Huan didn’t correct himself.

  “Pardon, but I thought you two were friends,” Lindon said. An idea occurred to him, and he said, “We wouldn’t mind if you spoke candidly about him. Would we, Yerin?”

  “He’s harmless,” Yerin agreed.

  “I would prefer to be called gentle. Maybe ‘tender.’”

  “Of course, I intend no disrespect to the Archlord,” the Emperor said stiffly. “I simply thought it was appropriate to greet the Sage and Herald first.”

  “Come on, Huan! We’re closer than that! I thought we were friends.”

  Naru Huan’s gaze snapped to him. “I wanted a friend who would keep me informed! My sister sent me word from the Uncrowned King tournament as soon as she could, but I heard nothing from you. The Akura clan sent me congratulations and didn’t even explain why.”

  “That’s quite rude of them,” Eithan said, but Naru Huan kept talking.

  “I was aware the Titan was going to wake up, but then there was a second Dreadgod, and then Monarchs fought on my western border. And I hear you fought as well! Successfully!”

  “In fairness, I didn’t know about the Phoenix either.”

  “Sometimes I wonder why I play at ruling, when everything that matters is de
cided by the games of the truly powerful.”

  “If it makes you feel better,” Eithan said, “everything turned out great!”

  Naru Huan looked to Yerin. “You will go down in history as a hero of the Blackflame Empire. Saeya hasn’t stopped talking about your battles since she returned. And to you…” He turned to Lindon with awe and pain clear in his expression. “If you could give me just a word of advice, I would be grateful for the rest of my life. Reaching Sage at Overlord…I didn’t know it was possible, truly. For a moment of your time, I will give you anything within my meager power.”

  Lindon didn’t feel like it was the time to mention that he had first summoned an Icon when he was an Underlord.

  Eithan raised a hand. “May I point out that I trained these two?”

  Naru Huan breathed in for a solid five seconds, and then exhaled even more slowly. He strolled over to Eithan and put a hand on the Archlord’s shoulder.

  “I know, Eithan. I do know. You have done more for the Empire than anyone since my mother, but you make it so hard to be grateful. If only you weren’t so…infuriating. All the time.”

  “All the time is a little harsh.” A little more humanity cracked Eithan’s smile. “I will allow, though, that I can be a unique experience.”

  “Let him kick you,” Yerin suggested. Everyone looked to her—Naru Huan’s face had grown substantially brighter—but she didn’t back down. “You want to show you’re sorry? Let him kick you.”

  Eithan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m a little disturbed at how quickly you came to that suggestion.”

  “I dream about it every night.”

  Naru Huan controlled himself, but Lindon could see that he was holding back excitement. “I would like that very much.”

  “Well, if I’m not going to defend myself, I would prefer if you took it easy—”

  He didn’t.

  The Emperor’s kick contained all the madra, aura, and soulfire of an experienced Overlord. The sudden detonation of air would have leveled Lindon’s house if not for the scripts and his own protection. As it was, air surged out from Windfall for miles, even buffeting some landing cloudships.

  Lindon watched as Eithan flew as a rapidly vanishing speck to the west. “I think he might make it all the way to Sacred Valley.”

  Naru Huan clapped his hands and shouted. “Bring me a blank tablet!” His escort of Golds on the neighboring cloudship scurried to obey.

  Lowering his voice back to normal, the Emperor spoke to Lindon and Yerin. “I need to record this memory while it’s fresh. I can never forget this.”

  Indeed, he looked like he’d been injected with a good night’s sleep in an instant.

  Kicking Eithan. Lindon would have to try that.

  5

  Lindon didn’t need to do much to load the people of Sacred Valley onto the cloudships. He didn’t have a role here other than to supervise; in fact, he could have left on Windfall and delegated everything to the subordinates from the Blackflame Empire.

  But there were a few things he needed to see to himself.

  Orthos was healthier than he’d been since the fight with the Titan, but Lindon only knew that through his bond. He hadn’t visited yet today, so when he landed, he was surprised not to see Orthos. Normally, even an Iron could see Orthos from miles away. It was hard to miss a flaming turtle literally the size of a hill.

  He found a handful of Truegolds still packing up the intricate script-circle and other tools they’d used to see to Orthos’ safety for the last several days. All the bustling action in the area stopped when Lindon arrived, as everyone bowed.

  Lindon was getting used to that. At least enough to not let it slow him down. “Continue with what you were doing. I’m just here to see Orthos.”

  He looked into the forest where he felt Orthos, and would have expected to see him even at normal size. Apprehensively, he asked, “Did everything go…well?”

  Little Blue whistled her concern.

  An old Truegold woman cleared her throat. “We are assured by Lord Orthos that the process was completed according to plan, but the ways of soulfire are unknown to us. You will have to assess his condition for yourself, honored guest.”

  “Lord Orthos?”

  “He told us to call him that himself. Should we address him by a different title?”

  Lindon supposed Orthos was a Lord now, so he reassured the Golds that they had done well, passed them a scale—which they regarded with awe—and then leaped across the clearing and into the forest.

  “How are you?” Lindon asked. He knew Orthos could hear him.

  “Well enough to devour some enemies,” Orthos said. “But not so well that I want to fly. You’re a Sage now, just move us there.”

  Lindon heard Orthos’ voice, and based on that and his spiritual presence, Orthos should have been right in front of him. He saw only a red glow in some bushes, and an odd thought came to him: had Orthos buried himself in the ground?

  Then the bush shook, and Lindon saw Orthos emerge.

  At about the level of Lindon’s ankle.

  Orthos snapped up a bee that had crawled along the ground too close to his mouth. “Don’t give me that look. My spirit is as strong as ever.”

  Lindon knew that. If it hadn’t been, he would have sensed the change immediately.

  But now Orthos was the size of an ordinary turtle. Maybe a baby one. Lindon was having trouble reconciling the sight, but Little Blue wasn’t.

  She gave a flute’s whistle of pure joy and leaped off Lindon’s shoulder. When she landed in front of Orthos, she chattered about how happy she was to see him and threw her arms around his shell.

  Orthos spat out a mouthful of insect. “Stop it! You’ll get burned!”

  But Little Blue was sturdier than she had ever been, and the glowing red plates of Orthos’ shell didn’t harm her at all.

  Lindon knelt, though he didn’t need to get any closer for a clear view. He was starting to feel like he was the awkward one for being so tall. “Did something go wrong with the soulfire?”

  Orthos snorted smoke. “I told the Golds everything was fine. We’re going into the labyrinth, aren’t we? Well, now I can fit anywhere. You’re the one who might get stuck.”

  He lifted his chin proudly, as though being less than a foot long was his life’s greatest accomplishment.

  Little Blue sat cross-legged on top of his shell, the ocean blue madra of her dress draping over his sides. She chittered about how he should stay this size all the time.

  “What happened to your voice?” Lindon asked.

  “Nothing,” Orthos rumbled.

  “That’s what concerns me.” Shouldn’t Orthos’ voice be higher pitched? Or at least fainter.

  Orthos raised his head proudly. “I have a wonderful voice. I see no reason to change it.”

  Little Blue peeped her agreement.

  Lindon tried and discarded a number of responses. He eventually settled on “As long as you’re happy. We can get you some more soulfire whenever you want to change back.”

  “It won’t be soon,” Orthos assured him. “Transformation is exhausting. And you can keep me in your void key while we’re flying, so I won’t feel it. Let’s get going.”

  Orthos began marching back toward the fleet of cloudships as Little Blue rode happily along.

  Lindon straightened to join them. He was a little worried about his stride, though Orthos could use the Burning Cloak. He’d keep up.

  But no sooner had Lindon taken one step than he heard a deep clearing of a throat behind him.

  “Carry me,” Orthos demanded.

  “Are you sure? I thought you would consider it…demeaning.”

  “If you had a shell, I’d ride on it. You owe me.”

  That was true, and it wasn’t as though Lindon found it embarrassing. The thought of carrying Orthos was just very, very odd. Like him carrying a horse on his shoulders to market. He was strong enough to lift a horse easily, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t l
ook strange.

  He lifted Orthos, cradling the turtle in his arm, but Little Blue protested. She patted her own shoulder.

  “On my shoulder?” Lindon asked.

  She chimed once in agreement, scrambling over to his right shoulder and taking her usual seat.

  Orthos didn’t object, so Lindon settled him on his left shoulder. He was a little worried that the turtle would wobble off, but claws gouged into Lindon’s skin as Orthos got a grip.

  That wasn’t enough to puncture an Overlord’s skin, so Lindon merely waited until Orthos stopped wiggling around.

  “Comfortable?” Lindon asked.

  “Better than flying. Next time, I’ll try sitting on your head.”

  Lindon walked back to Windfall, feeling very peculiar. He was also certain that, if Dross were around, he would have joined the other two. If Lindon wasn’t careful, he was going to end up with some sort of reputation as a Sage who kept tiny pets.

  Unless, he thought, he had such a reputation already.

  Lindon shuddered.

  Below the deck of one of the larger cloudships, Jai Long swept his spear through Kelsa’s torso.

  Her body vanished, the Forged illusion dispersing into essence of dreams and light. The aura around him trembled, and his sight wavered; for a moment, his vision started to flip upside-down.

  With a flex of soulfire, he burst the incomplete Ruler technique and whipped the butt of his spear toward Kelsa’s throat.

  She held up her hands in defeat before collapsing onto the deck. Wei Shi Kelsa was tall and broad, if not so large as her younger brother. She had enough reach to be a match for him with her own training spear, if only she were advanced enough to do it.

  Now she panted in exhaustion, covered in sweat from a hard day’s training. He pulled his spear back, grounding it against the deck.

  For him, this level of sparring counted as a break.

  “Gratitude,” Kelsa said between breaths. “I still can’t…switch techniques.”

  “Not quickly enough. Any of my teachers would have recommended focused technique training.”