Bloodline (Cradle Book 9) Page 9

  Eithan beamed. “I have been covering for you all this time. The only difference now is that you’re aware of it.”

  Ziel shrugged and kept walking farther in.

  Even Little Blue gave an encouraging peep.

  “You know I—” Lindon began, but she cut him off.

  “I know,” she said. “Sun’s moving.”

  Together, they moved toward the Heaven’s Glory School. Two or three hundred Akura Golds had massed behind them, but still hadn’t quite caught up yet. Dross reported that they were passing out communication constructs.

  Before Lindon had gone far, they came upon a simple gate. It was only a six-foot-high wall of bricks, enough that any sacred artist could clear it easily, but a squat tower rose behind it.

  There were no constructs anywhere that Lindon could feel, but a few basic scripts could repel madra and keep out Remnants when activated.

  Each of them hopped over the wall with ease, even Yerin.

  [This is perfect! There’s no one here. Maybe they’ll just let us walk on through.]

  Lindon knew that he and Yerin had only escaped so easily the first time because her rampage had already drawn most of the combat-capable Heaven’s Glory members back to the school. This post should have been manned.

  What had drawn them away this time?

  They saw nothing and no one else remarkable until they reached a massive block building standing proudly in the snow. It was covered with scars where it had been glued back together, piece by piece. Scars marred a mural of the four Dreadgods that hung over the entrance, wiping out the top halves of the Wandering Titan and Weeping Dragon.

  The last time Lindon had seen this place, it had been a pile of rubble. The Heaven’s Glory School must have spent a fortune in repairs. All things considered, they had done a good job.

  The entire building had been fenced off and surrounded by boundary flags that would activate security measures if anyone broke the perimeter. The fence was just some wire stretched between wooden posts; a symbolic barrier to alert people to the presence of the script more than any real obstacle.

  And to Lindon, that fence was the most substantial part of their defenses.

  He walked up, gathering pure madra in his finger.

  He flicked out the smallest amount of madra he could gather. It was no more a true technique than a mouthful of grass was a meal.

  The script protecting the Ancestor’s Tomb shone too bright and then flickered out, overloaded by his power so that the runes tore apart the flags into which they were woven. Sparks of essence rose from some buried constructs that had burst under the influx of power.

  “Do you draw satisfaction from kicking over the sandcastles of children?” Eithan asked.

  Lindon ignored him, looking to Yerin, whose gaze was locked on the Tomb. She adjusted the position of her sword-belt too many times.

  “Do you want to go in?” Lindon asked.

  She shook her head. “Can’t stray off the trail. Once there’s no Dreadgod about to fall on us, then we can track my master’s footsteps.”

  “Ah. I retract my objection,” Eithan said. “Kick as many sandcastles as you wish.”

  A stranger stumbled out from behind a nearby tree, golden technique forming.

  [Heaven’s Glory!] Dross shouted. [Get him, Lindon!]

  The young man who faced them with a technique glowing in his outstretched palm wore an iron badge etched with an arrow. An Iron Striker. He wore a white and gold outer robe with a red sash; the uniform of a Heaven’s Glory disciple.

  Lindon felt a strange fondness when he saw that outfit. It really had been a long time.

  “They’re back!” the Iron shouted. He released a line of scorching golden light at Ziel.

  The former Archlord kept on trudging through the snow.

  Heaven’s Glory madra splattered against him like spit against a boulder. His clothes weren’t singed.

  Ziel didn’t even glance at the man.

  Lindon was frozen in shock by the Iron’s words. They had recognized him? How?

  He had been gone for more than three years. He wore completely different clothes, had advanced seven times, and even lost an arm. In the first place, he had never known many people in the Heaven’s Glory School. Odds were, he had never met this man.

  [Maybe it’s the badge?] Dross suggested.

  While he was wearing the badge of an Unsouled, it was made from wintersteel, not wood. Had that one symbol really been enough to alert this lone Iron? Was Heaven’s Glory that vigilant against his return?

  Yerin, who had physically changed at least as much as he had, shouted to the Iron who was staggering back from Ziel in shock and fear. “Oi!” she called. “How do you know us?”

  The Iron turned to run, but turning was as far as he got.

  Eithan was already behind him, standing out from the white surroundings in his stylish cyan silk. He smiled and seized the Heaven’s Glory disciple by the upper arms. “Relax, new friend!”

  The stranger made a whimper like an animal with its leg caught in a trap.

  Yerin strode over to him and snapped her fingers to get his attention. “Hey. Do you know my face? Did you draw swords on me before?”

  There was anger in her voice, but Lindon was certain she wouldn’t hurt him, no matter how he answered. The Iron was only sixteen or seventeen, and he paled and shifted as though looking around for help. “This one didn’t see you! This one only happened to witness your friends.”

  “More of them in the trees,” Ziel reported, as he continued to walk toward the sparse forest.

  The hostage’s eyes lit up. “This one would be honored to take you to the school’s Elders. If you cooperate, this one is certain we could come to an understanding.”

  For the first time, Lindon witnessed what it was like to hear someone weaker than him speaking too humbly. It was painful.

  He felt a moment of shame for his past self.

  “You mentioned that you saw our friends,” Eithan said casually. “Which ones? We’re very friendly people, you see.”

  Lindon wondered if some of the Akura Golds had somehow managed to make it into the valley ahead of them.

  “From…from last time,” the Iron said. He spoke uncertainly, as though he hadn’t understood the question. “The rest of you. Apologies, this one doesn’t know which ones, he saw only techniques of light and fire.”

  “Who do you think we are?” Mercy asked curiously.

  “You’re…aren’t you…exiles from the Wei clan?”

  In the woods, techniques flashed as the other Heaven’s Glory sentinels attacked Ziel.

  Lindon grabbed the front of the boy’s outer robe and forced him to meet his eyes. “You were attacked by exiles from the Wei clan?”

  He waited for the boy’s furious, desperate nod.

  “When?”

  “Two…no, three? Three days ago!”

  An old man’s commanding voice split the air. “Release him!”

  Lindon looked up to see Elder Rahm, keeper of the Heaven’s Glory School’s Lesser Treasure Hall, facing them with his chin raised and his back straight. He stood with the vitality of a younger man, though he had to be at least eighty.

  Four oblong security constructs floated behind him, a pair over each shoulder. Their tips shone with gold as they kindled their Striker techniques.

  A jade badge hung on his chest, showing off a scepter emblem. A Ruler.

  Lindon glanced behind the Elder to see Ziel’s increasingly distant figure shrugging off a barrage of Iron-level techniques.

  Lindon released the Iron disciple, taking a few steps closer to the Heaven’s Glory Elder. He pushed his fists together, white knuckles against those of flesh, and dipped his head.

  “Greetings, Elder Rahm,” Lindon said. “It has been too long.”

  Rahm’s eyes crawled from Lindon’s face down to his badge before realization dawned on him. It quickly turned to disgust.

  “Unsouled. I would take your hand for robbing
me, but it looks like someone stole that pleasure from me.”

  Lindon wanted to be offended by that, but he probably deserved it. While the Heaven’s Glory School had worked against him, Rahm had not started as an enemy himself. But Lindon and Yerin had robbed him anyway.

  “How did you contact the other exiles?” Rahm continued, the constructs behind him growing hotter. “Or do they give you your orders?”

  “I understand you’ve suffered from an attack, but we’re not here to hurt you. We’ve actually come to help.”

  Elder Rahm’s jaw slowly dropped. He looked as though he had just heard the most stupid statement he could possibly imagine.

  “I was too lenient on you before, Unsouled. I’ve since learned better than to expect honor from a Wei.”

  He triggered all four of the launcher constructs. They began gathering light and heat into points as the Striker bindings within them cycled power. There was a delay of only about a quarter second between Rahm triggering the constructs and their techniques activating.

  In that gap, a finger-thin bar of Blackflame sliced all four of the weapons into pieces.

  Four explosions echoed behind Elder Rahm before his eyes had a chance to widen.

  Lindon closed the distance between them in a blink. He didn’t use the Burning Cloak. He didn’t need it.

  “Tell me about the Wei clan exiles.” Lindon said. He kept his voice quiet and firm, but he didn’t want to sound too threatening.

  The threat was already clear.

  Elder Rahm’s eyes moved to the others behind Lindon. “Did you really come from outside without knowing anything?”

  “Apologies, Elder,” Lindon said, “but answer my question.”

  Rahm’s wrinkled face melted slightly, into an expression that was one degree below a smile. “The heavens hate you. Perhaps I was right all along to pity you.”

  “Clearly we’re wasting our time,” Eithan said with a sigh. “He has a soul of steel. We will never get any information out of him. We’ll have to search for clues on our own.”

  There came a squawk and a handful of screams as Ziel pushed over a tree with one hand, sending the Irons hiding in its branches falling to the ground like overripe fruit.

  Elder Rahm stiffened and gave Lindon a hateful glare. “Kill me. My Remnant will—”

  “Oh, what great fortune!” Eithan cried. “A clue!” He was peering into the trees, shading his eyes with one hand. He leaped away, trusting the others to follow.

  Mercy and Lindon both turned back to Yerin, who looked from one to the other. “Not at my peak, but I’m not really made of glass.”

  [Hey Mercy, why don’t you keep her company?] Dross suggested, without letting Yerin in on the conversation. [Lindon can carry the old man. Oh no, wait, I’m sorry he’d rather carry Yerin. Of course, that was stupid of me. You take the wrinkly one.]

  “I’ll take him,” Lindon hurriedly insisted, tossing Elder Rahm over one shoulder. Rahm struggled and protested, but he was a Jade. He’d be fine.

  “Then I’ll—” Mercy began.

  Yerin vanished in a flash of white light.

  Her Moonlight Bridge could take her almost anywhere, but Lindon sensed her only a little ahead. She’d used it to catch up with Ziel.

  “I really want one of those,” Mercy sighed.

  They caught up in seconds. Once they did, Eithan and Ziel stopped holding back and picked up their speed toward the Heaven’s Glory School.

  In only a few more minutes, they arrived. Yerin appeared in their midst at the center of a bright white light. She was breathing heavily, but using that Divine Treasure to transport shouldn’t have been so tiring. There could be restrictions to using it while in Sacred Valley, but Lindon moved that question to the back of his mind.

  Elder Rahm had shouted almost the entire time as they moved at speeds greater than he’d ever imagined, but now that they had come to a stop, he was quiet.

  Lindon remembered the Heaven’s Glory School—at least the part he’d seen—as a collection of smooth rainstone buildings that always glistened as though slick with water. Each living area was next to a small garden with a tree and a few colorful plants.

  All of that…had been here, once.

  Someone had treated the Heaven’s Glory School like the Dreadgod had treated Sky’s Edge. Buildings were sheared in half as though by massive swords, rubble was scattered around by explosions, and great gashes had been torn in the ground. Lindon didn’t see a single garden that hadn’t either been burned completely away or at least scorched.

  Heaven’s Glory apprentices with copper, iron, or even wooden badges scurried everywhere, in the middle of construction projects. Some stood on ladders to repair rooftops, others filled in holes with dirt, still others patched up windows or carted away debris or re-planted trees.

  And every one of them froze as Lindon and the others emerged abruptly from the woods.

  One long pause later, they all screamed and ran, scurrying every direction and shouting for fighters to protect them.

  Eithan walked casually up to the street that ran through the center of the school, gesturing to the debris around him. “Lindon, what’s your take on this?”

  Lindon unceremoniously dumped Elder Rahm from his shoulder. The old Jade twisted and landed in a crouch. He tried to dash away but ran straight into Yerin’s outstretched hand.

  Weakened she may have been, but Rahm was still no match for her. Her fist tightened on his outer robe, but she remained stone-faced. As he recalled, she didn’t have the same grudge against Rahm that she had against the other Jades.

  What do you think, Dross? Lindon asked.

  In Lindon’s vision, piles of debris and some of the streaks on the ground glowed purple. It took him a moment to sort all the information Dross was sending him, but once he did, Lindon began to speak.

  “Heaven’s Glory was pushed back to this point. Their barrier was halfway made of Forged madra, and not all of it has been reduced to essence yet.” He gestured to a pile of what looked like golden glass shards. “The rest was stacks of wood, half of which was cleared away, but the rest is over there.” A pile of charred wood rested against a building to their right.

  Lindon pointed down the street, to a building that was completely ruined. “The attackers got whatever was in there, then tried to force their way through this direction, but were forced back by Heaven’s Glory defenders.”

  That story was told by the angle of the scorch marks and the damage on the buildings behind them. Lindon didn’t even need Dross to tell that someone had been using some serious Striker techniques, firing in this direction. They had sliced straight through stone.

  “Did you see this from up there?” Lindon asked.

  “I assure you, my abilities are significantly reduced compared to normal. You’ll have to take my word for it. Now, what’s your conclusion?”

  “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but it seems to me that someone raided the School from deeper in the valley, stole whatever was in that building, and was discovered either when they were inside the building or shortly outside. Then they pushed their way in this direction in an attempt to escape.”

  The attackers had tried to leave Sacred Valley. Interesting that, after getting what they wanted from Heaven’s Glory, they had wanted to escape the valley completely instead of returning home.

  “That would be my guess as well,” Eithan agreed. “However, it is a guess. Deduction is not an exact science. It could be that these attackers became enraged and wished to inflict damage on the rest of Heaven’s Glory, not trying to escape.”

  “Pardon, but then I would expect more damage to the buildings.” Most were broken in some way, true, but the enemy techniques had clearly been focused onto the barricade. If the attackers had been interested only in inflicting as much pain as possible, they could have launched these destructive techniques in every direction.

  Eithan waved a hand. “Certainly. I just think we ought to remember that there are many thing
s we can’t know.”

  An alarm horn blared in the distance, and shouts showed that Heaven’s Glory warriors were on their way.

  “Now, I wonder…” Eithan began, and Lindon didn’t need him to finish.

  Both dashed over to the rubble of the most thoroughly destroyed building visible.

  It was actually one house back from the street, and whatever battle had leveled the rainstone had carved visible chunks out of the surrounding homes. This building had been larger than the others, similar to the size Lindon remembered of the Lesser Treasure Hall, but otherwise Lindon could glean almost nothing from its remains.

  At this point, it was basically a rectangular pit filled with fragments of a diced building.

  “If you already know what’s down there, I would appreciate it if you would tell me,” Lindon said.

  Eithan grimaced. “Lots of grimy blankets, some destroyed tools, and a shallow sewer of human waste. I would call it a prison, but those aren’t usually kept twenty feet from the main thoroughfare.”

  People. People had been stored here.

  Lindon didn’t like the picture that was forming. Someone had attacked Heaven’s Glory from within the valley, taking someone from this prison and leaving the building in ruins, and had then tried to leave. But they’d been forced to retreat.

  And it seemed like this person was an exile of the Wei clan. Lindon was beginning to feel sick, and he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or a premonition.

  A Striker technique lanced toward Eithan’s back, a streaking line of golden madra.

  Lindon reached out and caught it on his right hand, absorbing the power into his hunger arm. He vented what he couldn’t process, but it was pathetically little.

  Eithan dipped his head slightly. “Thank you.”

  “Name yourselves!” A furious woman’s shout came from behind them.

  Lindon turned to see an old woman with a jade badge leading a contingent of about ten Irons.

  [Twelve,] Dross corrected.

  Lindon held both his hands over his head. “I apologize for our haste, honored Elder, but we come in peace.”

  “Liar!” Elder Rahm shouted from where he stood behind Yerin. “These are enemies of the School!”