Reaper (Cradle Book 10) Read online

  This was his Soulsmith foundry, and for the most part it stayed empty. He kept his tools and materials in his void key.

  But now he and his mother were together in the center as he very delicately pulled Dross apart.

  While Dross hadn’t responded for weeks, he was still alive in Lindon’s spirit. Just…faded. Lindon had cycled plenty of madra to him, and still Dross hadn’t recovered.

  Now, Lindon had manifested him as a spinning purple ball almost as big as Lindon’s head. With great care, Lindon controlled the madra that made up Dross’ form in order to view his insides.

  This wouldn’t harm him, though Dross would have been disturbed to see it. Spirits generally didn’t rely on a specific physical structure to remain alive. If all their parts existed, they should be fine.

  Though that didn’t mean that Lindon couldn’t cause problems by accident. He was reluctant to mess with Dross’ internal configuration, but he needed a better look.

  Dross expanded, his external layer of “skin” vanishing. Now he looked like a mass of organic rings, all spinning in time with one another. Between these interlocking circles was a recognizable system of madra channels, the hazy dream madra moving in gradual loops.

  Seisha’s brush froze in her hands as she was about to take notes. Her drudge gave a whistle that Lindon thought sounded hopeless.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she breathed. “It’s like a Remnant with another unique, independent spirit of its own. I can’t even begin…”

  Lindon’s one hand was occupied with directing Dross’ madra—his right arm still in its sling—so he split his attention to summon a brief spark of fire aura to point out a specific part of Dross’ soul. One of the major rings at the top was faded in a particular spot, as though it had broken and begun to return. “This is one of the connections that broke when he exhausted himself. I was thinking if I could reinforce it—”

  She cut him off with a look of wide-eyed horror. “What? You want to splice another spirit inside him?”

  “Oh, apologies, that’s not what I meant. I’ll graft purified dream madra into him and let his own spirit rebuild itself.”

  “It’s doing that already.”

  “Yes, but if I let it continue, it will be like he’s being born all over again. There’s no telling who he’ll become.”

  At his core, Dross was a compilation of many minds and spirits that had been pieced together and then developed into an individual over time. But on some level, he was still a memory spirit. Just remembering who he had been might be enough to make him that person again.

  Or it could start him over from the beginning.

  Seisha looked completely overwhelmed. “Okay…let’s say you can do that. What happens next?”

  “Well, improving the connection in that ring would hook over to this one, which would accelerate its regeneration. That’s my biggest concern. If I could make all the repairs at one time, I’d get Dross back as he was. But fixing one link in the chain starts a cascade I can’t predict.”

  Lindon could tell his mother was only following him on the most theoretical level. He had hoped her years of experience would make up for her faulty education, but then again, this was a unique spirit. Perhaps the only expert in the world was Northstrider.

  And the Monarch had never responded, no matter how many times Lindon called his name.

  “So if you were to repair him, you’d either be bringing him back to life…or killing him.”

  That phrasing hurt, so Lindon focused on the job. “Technically, he should be functional now. Just without much personality or most of his memories. That’s what I’m trying to bring back.”

  “I see,” Seisha said faintly.

  Then she corrected herself.

  “No, I don’t see at all. But I will.”

  With determination, she began sketching Dross’ internal structure. Her drudge bristled with sensors and flew all around.

  To his mother, every new mystery was an opportunity to learn. That was something he’d always been proud of.

  But he had hoped she would know an answer that would help him now. Just waiting to see if Dross recovered went against everything he wanted to do.

  He wanted Dross back.

  Lindon released Dross, letting the purple loops fade back into a ball at the back of his spirit. “For now, he needs time. He’ll stabilize slowly, which will give him better odds of recovery. I hope.”

  Seisha placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. All we can do is our best, and the rest is up to the heavens.”

  Lindon clenched Suriel’s marble in his hand and nodded.

  “Not fair,” Yerin said, immediately upon catching sight of Lindon.

  Little Blue and Orthos had finished supervising Kelsa’s training for the day, and now they were sitting on his shoulders again.

  “You could raise a spirit of your own,” Lindon pointed out. “There are Sylvan Riverseeds forming out by the pond.”

  “You ever spent time chatting with a sword spirit? No, because they’re always cutting. And blood spirits are…” She shuddered.

  Lindon had interacted with some blood-aspect Remnants, and even their dead matter tended to act as sadistically as possible. Then again, the only real blood spirit he had spent any time with was Ruby, and she was an exception in most ways.

  Little Blue gave a little chime of sympathy and ran down, leaping off Lindon’s sling and over to Yerin. Yerin caught her, looking pleased.

  “You are a peach and a half. You don’t have to ride him around all the time, you know. You’re invited to stick to me.”

  Little Blue whistled that she was sticking with both of them, and if anything, Yerin looked even more touched than before. Lindon thought she might cry.

  “Aren’t you a gem. You know how to pick ‘em.” Yerin nudged Lindon’s shoulder. When she jostled his arm, she noticed his sling again. “Still can’t piece that together?”

  Lindon sighed. “The underlying structure of the binding is damaged. No matter how much hunger madra I add, I can’t fix it.” In fact, the problem was essentially the opposite. He had flooded the arm with madra of a higher quality than he could handle when he’d Consumed energy from the Wandering Titan.

  At this rate, he’d have to replace it, but he was holding back. He needed to find hunger madra of a higher quality, and there was only one source for that. Without it, he could potentially get the binding working temporarily, but it would be a patchwork fix at best.

  Yerin hesitated, stroking Little Blue’s hair while she searched for the right words. “Not taking a side myself, understand, but why don’t you grow a new arm? Like, one with skin.”

  “I don’t want to lose the technique. Consuming power is the fastest shortcut I have for advancing.”

  Most people didn’t have the option of regrowing body parts, and they needed a Remnant prosthetic. But most people didn’t have Sages and Monarchs who owed them favors. Lindon was certain he could get his arm back if he wanted it.

  But he didn’t. The new one was more convenient, and his sense of touch was even returning with time. When he advanced to Herald, he expected it to be just as good as his old arm would have been.

  Of course, when he advanced to Herald, that would make him a Monarch.

  “You planning on fighting one-handed all the way to Monarch?”

  “I could fix it after that, I suppose.”

  She broke into a crooked grin and leaned into him. Little Blue gave a tinkling laugh.

  “Just thought hitting Monarch wouldn’t take long, didn’t you?”

  Lindon cleared his throat. “Not exactly…”

  “Can’t lie to me. My dream techniques are too powerful.”

  “Well...without Consume, I will definitely be slower.”

  Yerin leaned deeper into him until he wrapped his arm around her. “Wouldn’t mind trying that myself, for a change. Dragging our feet, seeing the sights.”

  Lindon was reminded of a blood-spirit who had
been excited to see the world with her own eyes. Ruby. He glanced at the red streak of Yerin’s hair and wondered how much of that longing remained.

  People had been telling Lindon to slow down for years, but he had never felt like he could afford to. Now, though…

  Yerin went on. “Most sacred artists are advancing for something. Keep a home, take over a sect, kill a rival…bake a cake, I don’t know. Not saying that’s for you and me, but I just thought…maybe we could try it for ourselves, since we’ve got the chance. See through their eyes for a while.”

  As much as Lindon ached to do something, he was beginning to think she might be right. The Dreadgods were loose out there…but they weren’t about to kill him, and they weren’t his responsibility anyway. He couldn’t explore the labyrinth yet, he couldn’t fix Dross yet, and he couldn’t advance yet.

  All he had left to do was cycle normally and investigate his Sage powers.

  And just…live.

  “I guess we could try that,” Lindon admitted. “For a while, at least.”

  The caravan of cloudships were not as advanced as those provided by the Akura family to reach the Uncrowned King tournament. They took three months to get from the Desolate Wilds to Serpent’s Grave, landing regularly to refuel their constructs from ambient aura and their store of scales.

  Over the course of that journey, everyone went on with their lives.

  Naru Huan sparred against Lindon more than once, making Lindon glad that he wasn’t an enemy. He was quite practiced in fighting against Blackflame, possessing several sacred weapons designed explicitly for that purpose, and he himself was a powerful and crafty opponent.

  Not that he was able to win. Lindon himself had more madra than he did, even if he didn’t use any Sage authority. Not to mention his other special advantages. If Dross had been able to give him a combat report, Lindon thought he could beat Naru Huan every time even if he limited himself to only his pure core.

  Not that he told the Emperor that.

  Naru Huan spent the rest of his time either dealing with the administration of his territory, visiting his family, or with Eithan. Officially, he was looking for advice on advancing to Archlord, but Lindon thought he might just be enjoying the chance to spend time with someone who saw him as a friend and not an emperor.

  As for the rest of the Naru clan, Captain Naru Gwei saw entirely to the leadership of the Skysworn and was never on the same cloudship as Eithan at the same time. Naru Saeya, by contrast, had become much friendlier than Lindon realized she could be.

  She trained the other Underlords from her Empire, sparred with Yerin, sought advancement tips from Eithan, and even challenged Lindon to a duel. Once. He thought she was enjoying this trip as a sort of pleasure cruise, and was glad someone was enjoying themselves so much.

  If anyone else was having as good a time, it was Little Blue. She had grown addicted to training Kelsa, and was now seeking out fights with the other Jades and Golds on the ship. She mostly used the Empty Palm, which she could Forge to make big enough to interact with a human body, but she could also partially manifest the Hollow Domain and even accelerate herself with the Soul Cloak.

  Her battles with Jai Chen’s spirit, Fingerling, were especially entertaining to watch, as she would quickly become tired of using techniques and just wrestle instead.

  After introducing his tiny form to everyone, Orthos was true to his word and spent most of the trip inside the Dawn Sky Palace stolen from Sophara. Lindon kept expecting him to get bored, but he insisted that bored was better than elevated.

  The other person who longed for boredom was Ziel. He kept trying to rest, but wherever he went, the Sect of Twin Stars found him.

  They always found him.

  Someone had given Ziel the title “Master of the Training Hall,” and any students who needed specialized training hunted him down. Ziel tried his best to scare them off, but he was prevented from outright refusing by the oath he’d made to Eithan in return for the Pure Storm Baptism.

  The sect quickly figured out that he didn’t mean all the harsh things he said, and that became part of his charm. They sought his advice on everything from scripting to advancement to technique training to roommate squabbles.

  Every time he was asked to rule on which Jade most deserved to eat lunch first, or whether a Lowgold’s new Goldsign was really making his snoring worse, Lindon was certain he’d summon his hammer and knock someone into the horizon.

  He never did, though, leading Lindon to wonder if he didn’t mind as much as he pretended.

  Mercy, meanwhile, was perhaps the busiest aboard the fleet. With Fury absent, Charity and Malice were the two remaining pillars of the Akura family. And Mercy had sworn to take on their burden, so she had been taken away by the Heart Sage to help lead their clan.

  For about a week.

  Charity brought her back, haggard and worn, with a pile of work that could be completed on the ship. Lindon was starting to appreciate how much effort and expense went into such spatial travel, even for only one passenger, and was surprised that Charity had allowed it at all.

  When he saw Mercy’s state of living death upon her return, he also wondered why Mercy had returned. Surely she could have visited them once they arrived in Serpent’s Grave.

  But just chatting with him about the day’s training, or playing with Little Blue, or dragging Yerin along to visit the other ships, gradually brought her back to life. She was like a plant absorbing life madra, going from wilted to healthy in an instant.

  A few weeks later, Charity returned to pick Mercy up one more time, and she took a deep breath before diving back in.

  This repeated several times, with the Akura clan sapping her will and time with her friends restoring it. Lindon imagined how Pride must feel, seeing the situation from the opposite side, and the thought amused him.

  The trip to Serpent’s Grave was a great improvement to Lindon’s mood generally. Since leaving Sacred Valley, time to relax was scarce. Not that he knew what to do with himself when he wasn’t working, as every single person he knew pointed out at every opportunity.

  But even life with his family had grown easier, which Lindon suspected had to do with his parents witnessing not only his sacred arts but the general deference everyone else showed him. Having an Emperor ask for pointers during training didn’t hurt his reputation.

  He and his mother practiced Soulsmithing, which started as him showing her what he’d learned and ended up with her grilling him constantly for information.

  With his father, he didn’t have much in common, but the restoration of Jaran’s eyes had helped his attitude. Lindon pushing both his parents to advance to Jade had helped as well, even repairing the shape of Jaran’s long-twisted leg.

  He no longer needed a cane, a fact that seemed to amaze him every day. But he still limped occasionally, when he wasn’t paying attention. Everything physical had been cured, but after so many years, he had to learn how to walk properly again.

  Kelsa, meanwhile, had advanced to Lowgold.

  Lindon spent a few weeks nurturing up a White Fox Remnant he’d taken from Sacred Valley. He had to cleanse it with his own pure madra, then supplement the Remnant with White Fox madra he’d refined until it met his quality standards.

  Once he considered the Remnant advanced enough for his sister, she had no trouble bonding it whatsoever. Jai Long had been very concerned about that, which Lindon supposed made sense, considering the man’s own abnormal advancement to Lowgold.

  Lindon had the materials for another Heaven’s Drop, and some of the refiners onboard were skilled enough to help him make one, but Kelsa had a much more difficult time adapting to the control over her Gold madra than he had.

  At first, he had assumed she was suffering from the effects of spending so long in Sacred Valley, or from practicing low-quality cycling techniques for so long. But it turned out this was common, even in those with flawless foundations. Some people just didn’t have a good sense for madra control.

/>   She would gradually adapt, but it left Lindon surprised. He had intended to forcibly advance his entire family to the peak of Truegold immediately, and had expected Kelsa to break through to the Lord realm without much trouble.

  He wondered aloud if maybe not everyone could advance as quickly as he did, even given the chance.

  Yerin had stared at him for five straight minutes when she heard him say that, while Eithan laughed himself sick and then stored the memory in a dream tablet to share with others.

  Lindon still didn’t see why it was funny.

  Eithan, as usual, was everywhere.

  He hopped from ship to ship, keeping an eye on everyone—though he could have done that without moving—and popped up randomly to give advice to every guard, soldier, servant, deckhand, and fighter in the fleet.

  Lindon wondered once again when Eithan found the time to work on his own advancement. But then again, the cloudships had never been cleaner.

  Eithan ate dinner with Lindon and Yerin almost every night, regaling them with stories from all over the fleet, often including stories that he hadn’t been privy to and that the subjects would probably object to sharing.

  His greatest contribution to the trip was undoubtedly giving Lindon and Yerin tips on their advancement.

  As it turned out, there were reasons beyond the mystical why Heralds found it difficult to comprehend Sage techniques, and vice-versa. They required almost entirely opposite training methods.

  To become stronger as a Herald, Yerin had to push herself to the limit and accumulate power. It took a mind-boggling quantity of resources to push one to the peak of Herald, which was the way to maximize the chances of a successful advancement to Monarch.

  She had to cycle diligently, take every elixir she could afford, and fight often.

  Yerin found that an easy road to travel.

  But to advance as a Sage, Lindon had to meditate on his Icon, and take actions to “align himself conceptually to its deeper meaning.” Lindon began to wish he had another Icon, because “aligning himself” to the Void Icon meant long hours of reaching out toward it and trying to empty his thoughts.