Chapter 13

Renfei and Bai Rou led Yerin away from Starsweep Tower, toward the class of applicants. Bai Rou loomed over her in a way that made her want to knock him down a peg, if only he weren't a fully armed and armored Truegold. Renfei had a more reasonable height, only an inch or two over Yerin herself. Yerin couldn't help but like her more.

“As we return to the capital, Stormrock will pass over Serpent's Grave. The rest of the Arelius family will be sent home then,” Renfei said.

Yerin nodded. She had been a little worried that they would stay here, so that she might crash into them during her Skysworn training. She itched at the thought of them seeing her train to leave them.

And at the same time, she ached when she thought about them leaving her. Her feelings were too twisted to think about for very long; clearly, she needed more training.

“There are only fifty other qualified Highgold applicants,” Renfei went on. “You'll be competing with them for ten spots.”

“I thought you'd be begging for as many bodies as you could squeeze into green armor,” Yerin said.

“We can't let our standards slip,” Renfei told her proudly, the cloud over her head lightening. “Now, more than ever, we need the Skysworn to be excellent.” She waited a moment before adding, “However, we won't dismiss the other forty, like we might under other circumstances. We will give them a chance to re-apply, or to serve in other ways. And the basic training program for those who join will be accelerated.”

Yerin translated to herself. They were cutting corners all over the place, but not in places where they had to admit it. So they were desperate, they just didn't want to look that way.

She had another question, but before she could ask it, the crowd parted behind them as random passersby were shoved out of the way. A tall, broad figure loomed behind her, and the brief flash from her spiritual perception showed her a great power moving toward her at speed.

Her sword was in her hand immediately, the blades over her shoulders poised. Her master's memories drifted to the surface, sketching the outline of combat in her mind. Not that she needed his experience—she had scars from enough fights herself. She wasn't so raw and unformed that she'd lock up at the first taste of combat.

Then she saw who it was and completely locked up.

Lindon stumbled up to her, out of breath, dipping his head in apologies to all the people around him he'd shoved out of the way. Orthos rose over him like a smoking mountain, his eyes glaring at her. He looked even angrier than Lindon usually did, though it fit his black, leathery turtle's face.

Lindon's pack was hanging awkwardly from one shoulder, Little Blue seated on his head, his arm twisting and bucking like it had slipped his leash. Wasn't a tough guess to see he hadn't mastered it yet.

He met her gaze, and his eyes were black with red circles. But that darkness faded as he switched away from Blackflame, looking to the Skysworn.

“I'd like to join as well,” he said. “To serve the Empire.”

Bai Rou marched forward, yellow eyes shining in the shadow of his hat, and seized Lindon by the arm. “You idiot,” he said in a low voice, dragging him into a nearby alley. The citizens stared after them, and Orthos followed, growling like he was prepared to attack.

Renfei's cloud was a solid black as she joined them in the alley, one hand on her hammer as though she expected to use it.

“A Blackflame?” Bai Rou snarled, shoving Lindon up against the wall. “In Stormrock?”

Orthos stepped up, growling, his eyes blazing red and Blackflame madra flaring from the plates of his shell.

Yerin had her own sword out. She'd aim for the back of Bai Rou’s neck first, above the armor, while he was focused on Lindon. If she and Orthos killed him quick, then they could turn to Renfei together.

The woman stabbed her finger toward the mouth of the alley. “You didn't even hide yourself! What do you imagine they're thinking right now?”

Wary of a trap, Yerin shot a quick glance at the opening, but she didn't take her eyes off Bai Rou for more than an instant.

The people had run, peeking in from around the corner. They looked terrified. A shop owner shut his door with a bang.

Lindon held up his hands...or his hand, as his white arm rebelled halfway through and started reaching for Orthos. With visible effort, he knocked it down. “I...humbly apologize for causing a scene, but surely you see why I can only join the Skysworn. How can I fight for the Empire when merely revealing my contracted partner causes a panic? Unless I work for the Skysworn.”

Yerin saw a shred of reason in it. If people knew the Skysworn had a Blackflame under control, it would make them look stronger. Lindon would look weaker, too, but he didn't care what every random person on the street thought. At least, he shouldn't.

Renfei was still furious, Bai Rou still had Lindon pushed against the wall, and Orthos' growl was growing louder. Yerin held her sword at the ready, careful not to send any madra flowing through the weapon. If Renfei sensed it, the battle would begin too early.

“How did you get out of the tower?” Renfei demanded. “The guards would have stopped you.”

Lindon looked genuinely confused. “We just...walked out. They seemed busy.”

Other than Renfei and Bai Rou, every other Skysworn Yerin had seen in the city was scampering around like a scared rabbit. She still couldn't swallow that he'd walked straight out with Orthos following him. She wondered what had really happened.

Bai Rou turned to exchange a glance with Renfei. He released Lindon, abruptly taking a step back.

Yerin sheathed her sword as though she'd never drawn it. Her Goldsigns withdrew.

Somewhere around her core, her uninvited guest sent out a pulse of disappointment. Like a craving gone unmet. It pushed against the seal on her skin, but that dam held.

How long will that last? she wondered. If Eithan didn't come back in time, she'd have to find a solution herself.

He'd hinted and teased about a way to get this parasite out of her, but he'd also made it clear as glass that he'd rather she use it. He wanted her to be one of these emissaries, or whatever she'd be called if she didn't work for Redmoon Hall.

She had no interest in that. She'd rather walk away from the sword forever than lose to this...disgusting thing inside of her. She couldn't end such a long fight by giving up. Not even by taking it over herself.

A handful of her master's memories dealt with her guest—it seemed like every other memory she pulled from his Remnant had to do with her. Eithan said that it was easier to pull up memories that touched you in some way, but she was disappointed. She'd hope to learn things about her master she didn't know.

Still, she knew what he'd felt about her Blood Shadow: disgust. He thought the parasite was a burden on her, and he'd only been waiting until she advanced enough to be rid of it.

While she was lost in thought, the other four had gone back to an uneasy standoff.

“We have to bring him to the Underlord either way,” Renfei said at last. “If he wants to invite a Blackflame to try out...well, that's up to him.”

Lindon nodded along. “I believe I'm qualified to apply for one of the Lowgold positions. I know the application process is today; we could try that before meeting with the Underlord, if time is an issue.”

“He's at the testing grounds,” Bai Rou said, ignoring Lindon.

“We'll have to circle around, by the walls,” Renfei responded, looking into the shadows of the alley. “We would be even more visible in the air. Just have to take it fast.”

Bai Rou turned to look at Lindon, face in shadow. “Keep up,” he commanded, then took off with a splash of golden liquid madra.

“You first,” Renfei said. “Try to escape or deviate from the course, and I will take care of you myself.”

Lindon gave Orthos a nervous look. He'd be wondering what Yerin was: whether Orthos could keep himself under control as they ran. After one reassuring pat on the turtle's head, he scooped Little Blue off his head and into his palm.

The Sylvan Riverseed caught Yerin's eye as she was lowered, and Yerin waved.

The spirit turned away as though suddenly frightened, huddling on Lindon's palm. Yerin sighed.

An instant later, Lindon's eyes were dark again, and the Burning Cloak ignited around him like a red-and-black shroud in the air. He kicked off, Orthos trotting after, and Yerin filled her body with madra.

The Path of the Endless Sword didn't have a full-body Enforcer technique, but her Iron body was strong. She fed madra to her limbs in a general Enforcement, which was nowhere near as good as a true technique, but she had no trouble keeping up with Lindon.

They ran side-by-side for a while as she tried to sort out what to say, but the words got tangled up inside her. She couldn't seem to push the knot out past her tongue.

As a group, they were darting through damp alleys, vaulting short walls, dodging piles of trash and hopeless-looking people crouched on the sides of the road. She'd seen the decay of cities before, and it almost comforted her to see that the sickness extended even here, to the city of the Skysworn.

She had remained silent too long, the tangle of words keeping her frustrated. Finally, she just blurted it out.

“You followed me,” she barked as she hopped up on top of an eight-foot wall and waited for him to come after her. “Why? Ten seconds ago, you didn't want to fight.”

He shrugged as he landed next to her, though his white arm folded up with the motion and wouldn't unlock. “You've followed me for the better part of two years,” he said at last, taking off and trusting her to keep up. “You didn't have to stick with me after Sacred Valley, and you didn't have to help me through the Blackflame Trials. It seemed like my turn.”

He gave her an embarrassed smile. “When I stopped looking at all the problems, and I just asked myself what I wanted to do...I realized I wanted to come with you. So here I am.”

Yerin kept her eyes focused on Bai Rou's broad back, because she could feel heat rising up through her neck and into her cheeks. Her words were stuck in her throat again, but for a different reason this time.

“Well,” she said at last. “Glad you finally saw it straight.” Then, to change the subject, she asked him, “How did you really get past the guards?”

“It’s a good thing the applications aren’t back in the tower,” Lindon said, voice low. “Orthos burned a hole in the wall.”

***

Lindon was losing track of the number of times he’d been imprisoned.

Bai Rou walked around him, producing a pair of manacles joined by a short length of chain. They looked like iron, but pale specks like stars deep in the metal told him that they included halfsilver. They would disperse madra on contact, preventing him from burning his way out of the restraints.

Not that he was drawing on his Blackflame madra at the moment. He had switched to his pure core as soon as Renfei and Bai Rou had dragged him into this squat, nondescript building. The Path of Black Flame made him aggressive, made him want to move, to act.

If he was filled with Blackflame madra, he was sure he would have tried to run. That would only have resulted in a short chase followed by Bai Rou dragging him down the hall anyway. He could sense that was what Orthos wanted to do; the turtle was safe, but growing restless. Wherever he was, he wouldn’t stay there long. Little Blue had crawled back in her case, and though they’d taken his pack, they’d left her inside.

The manacle was uncomfortably cold on his wrist of flesh, but it positively burned his Remnant arm. He managed to slip the edge of his sleeve inside, to protect his artificial limb. If he hadn’t, Bai Rou would have been dragging his limp body inside.

Past an ordinary door was yet another bare, nondescript room. He was growing used to those. At least this one didn’t have a bed, so they wouldn’t keep him here for too long.

There was another door on the opposite wall, and a smooth wooden chair in the center of the floor. A circle of script on the ceiling glowed softly white.

Otherwise, it was empty.

Bai Rou walked him to the chair and clipped the chain between his restraints to a hook in the floor. Lindon sat down, because it was that or stay uncomfortably hunched. There wasn’t enough slack in the chain for him to stand up straight.

“You don’t need to speak respectfully,” Renfei said. “He appreciates direct answers more than good manners. But you should be respectful.”

“Tell the truth,” Bai Rou added from his post by the door.

Lindon’s breath sped up as he pictured the Skysworn Underlord. The man had shown him no mercy during the duel…but he had, in the end, allowed Lindon to go free.

It made him feel better about being cuffed and chained to the floor of what was most likely an interrogation room.

The far door swung open and Naru Gwei entered, the man shuffling inside in his beaten armor as though dragging a weight behind him with every step.

Renfei and Bai Rou bowed slightly and pressed their fists together. Lindon mimicked them as best he could in his position.

“I am Wei Shi Lindon, sir,” Lindon said. He had to force himself not to refer to himself as ‘this one.’ “I was not able to properly introduce myself last time.”

The man slipped a long leaf into his mouth, chewing it for a while before saying, “You’re part of the Arelius family.”

“I have that honor, sir. If I could only—”

“But you weren’t born to it.”

“No, sir. Underlord Arelius was kind enough to take myself and my companion under his wing.”

The old Skysworn didn’t ask about his companion. “Where were you born?”

“Sacred Valley,” Lindon said. “It’s far to the west, past the Desolate Wilds.”

For a long moment, he chewed his leaf. “Are there more Blackflames hiding in Sacred Valley?”

Lindon forced a polite laugh. “No sir, no. There aren’t even any Golds.”

“So this was something that Eithan Arelius taught you.”

The old man was drilling for something, and Lindon wasn’t quite sure what; surely he’d known all about Lindon’s situation before even the duel with Jai Long. The uncertainty made him wary. “I entered a contract with a sacred beast known as Orthos. You have him captive here, somewhere, and I’m sure he could give you a further explanation.”

Orthos would know more about this situation than he did, though Lindon doubted the turtle would cooperate with any questioning.

Only the wet sounds of the leaf between the man’s teeth broke the silence of the room. Eventually, he reached out and shut the door behind him.

The snap of the door closing echoed in the tiny room.

The Skysworn Captain folded his arms and leaned against the wall. Bai Rou took a respectful step away, but the old man didn’t seem to care. He examined Lindon through a curtain of matted gray hair.

“Did you ever break that arm as a kid?” he asked. “Back when you had it, I mean.”

Whatever Lindon’s interrogator wanted, he was coming at it from a different direction. Lindon only wished he understood where this was headed. Why hadn’t he waited for Eithan before trying to join the Skysworn? Maybe the Arelius Underlord could have persuaded them to hold another round of applications.

“Both of them, yes,” Lindon said. He’d broken one falling out of a tree, and the other had been broken by a tree.

“And how did they treat that break, back in Sacred Valley?”

“We weren’t the richest family in the clan, sir. We had simple elixirs and a scripted sling.”

“No life artists?”

“Only for more severe injuries, honored sir.” Lindon’s father had his leg treated by a life artist, but the woman hadn’t been on hand soon enough to restore the limb completely. Without her, he wouldn’t have kept the leg at all.

The man nodded slowly, flipping the leaf over between his lips. “And burns? You ever burn yourself?”

Lindon’s eyes flicked to the scar on the side of the man’s face. “Minor burns only, sir.” His voice had grown quiet, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Well, since they didn’t heal burns back in Sacred Valley, I’ll tell you how we do it here.” Lindon stayed focused on the raised patch of ridged, reddish scar tissue that ran from his temple down to his skin. It only missed his eye by a quarter-inch.

“Blood madra removes unhealthy tissue and grows some more. Life madra smooths it all out, heals it together with the rest of your body so that you’d never know you’d been burned at all. And that’s just a general picture. If you get a specialized healing Path, or some decent elixirs, the whole thing can be done in a breath.”

He ran his little finger across his scarred cheek. “Black fire hurts a little worse.”

Lindon sat, more and more conscious of the chain locking him in this room. He looked to the more familiar Skysworn for comfort, but Bai Rou had his arms crossed, his yellow eyes staring at the far wall. Renfei kept her eyes on her Captain.

“They tell me you’re requesting entry into the Skysworn,” Naru Gwei said, without leaning away. “Did Eithan tell you to do that?”

“No! No, I…I probably should have waited for his permission, but I didn’t. He doesn’t know.”

“But he was the one who turned you into a Blackflame,” Gwei said. His expression still looked tired, as though he hadn’t slept in three days and wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. His tone, by contrast, betrayed no impatience.

“He helped me along this Path, yes,” Lindon said, hoping this wouldn’t reflect too badly on Eithan. The Arelius Underlord had never told him to keep his involvement a secret.

The Skysworn Captain gave no sign whether he thought this was good or bad. He kept leaning against the wall, chewing his leaf. “Did he do that to your core?”

From his previous conversations with Renfei and Bai Rou, Lindon gathered that they assumed his pure core was a sort of disguise to cover the Path of Black Flame. “I split my core on my own, sir. Before I met Eithan.”

“And what did he want you to do with this new Path? What purpose did he have for you?”

Finally, Lindon saw what the Underlord was getting at. Naru Gwei assumed this was all part of Eithan’s plan, and wanted to know what that plan was.

“For the duel, sir. I asked him for a Path that might allow me to fight someone stronger than I was.”

“The way I’ve heard it,” Gwei said, “Eithan allowed the duel. Even proposed it.”

“His favorite training method is…I guess I would call it extreme duress.”

The Skysworn Captain swallowed the leaf and withdrew a long straw from within his armor. He placed it between his teeth and continued chewing. “So he proposed this duel, held you to it, and then held out the Path of Black Flame as your only salvation. That doesn’t sound like a plan to you?”

“He’s pushing me forward,” Lindon insisted. “He’s helping me grow.”

Naru Gwei unfolded his arms and leaned closer. “Into what?”

Lindon had no answer to that.

“What did he say you would do after the duel?”

“Nothing I know of. He’s helping me advance.” Lindon felt less confident than he had before.

The Underlord stared at him for a long moment, then jerked his head toward the door. His two subordinates traded looks, though they couldn’t do anything but leave. Bai Rou ducked his woven hat beneath the doorframe, and the cloud over Renfei’s head passed through with plenty of room to spare.

They didn’t look back at Lindon.

“The duel is over,” Naru Gwei said. “Now, in the middle of an imperial crisis that he helped cause, he’s trying to slip a Blackflame into my Skysworn. While he tries to take over himself. I know what he’s doing, linking Underlords to the Skysworn. He’s trying to win them over from me.”

The Underlord had loomed over Lindon, the air in the room swirling and picking up into a windstorm. His scarred face was hostile: he was working himself up into a fury. Whatever was happening out there had put too much pressure on the Skysworn Captain, whether it was the threat of Redmoon Hall or whatever Eithan had done.

Either way, Naru Gwei had decided Lindon was part of it.

Lindon’s right arm started straining against its restraints, and he almost wanted to help it.

The Underlord leaned toward Lindon, his dirty gray hair swinging closer. Lindon shut his mouth. Naru Gwei's weather-beaten face somehow looked both weary and intense, as though he were bracing himself for an unpleasant task that he had performed hundreds of times before.

“Lower your head,” the Underlord commanded, and Lindon could hear his death in that command.

“It’s not Eithan!” Lindon said desperately, tapping his Blackflame core. His eyes heated, and he knew from experience that they would have transformed into a copy of Orthos’ eyes: pure black with red irises. The Path of Black Flame flooded into his left hand, and his right remained mercifully untouched and intact.

He poured that power into his cuffs even as he Enforced his muscles. If he melted them, they would burn through his wrists, so he had to hope he could tear his hand free before the damage was too great.

Instead, the madra broke to steam on contact with the cuffs. A spike of cold shot up Lindon's arms, as though he'd driven an icicle through his wrists.

Halfsilver in the cuffs. He'd remembered, but hoped against hope that there was some flaw.

“A friend wanted to join! Yerin, I mentioned her earlier, she’s the companion that Eithan adopted. She wanted to fight Redmoon Hall, so she insisted on joining the Skysworn! I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t let her down!” He was babbling as though every word out of his mouth would slow down the Underlord’s blow.

Considering that he was still alive, maybe there was something to that theory.

“She just wanted to help! And…ah, so do I! Of course!” As Naru Gwei’s hand drifted upward toward the hilt of his sword, Lindon's breath came faster and faster. His breath started to blur, and the ice in his wrists grew sharper as he poured more effort into breaking the shackles. Even his white arm was writhing with desperation. Just a little more, he was sure. He had to believe that. Just a little more...

“Eithan adopted her too,” the Captain said quietly, and Lindon forced himself to take deeper breaths. He could feel Orthos growing agitated in his own cell, feeding on Lindon’s fear—if it went too far, or if Lindon was killed, the turtle would go on a rampage.

“Why?” Naru Gwei continued. “What was special about her?”

“She was apprenticed to a Sage,” Lindon blurted out. Yet again, he wondered if he should be sharing this, but Yerin had never kept it a secret. She would proudly tell anyone.

“Which Sage?”

“The Sword Sage!”

Naru Gwei’s green-armored fingers wrapped around his sword hilt. “Which Sword Sage?”

There was more than one?

“I don’t know!” Lindon insisted. “I don’t know! She’s on the Path of the Endless Sword, and she learned it from him, but I don’t know if he had another name, or...”

After a moment, the Captain’s hand moved down. He stared at the wall, and Lindon felt a light brush on his spirit as the Underlord’s perception moved through him…and kept going.

He was looking for Yerin.

***

Naru Gwei wasn’t an Arelius, so he had to rely on his spiritual perception to find someone. He’d long been jealous of their bloodline legacy; it was wasted on them, he felt. The world’s best scouting tool, and they wasted it on civic maintenance.

But there were some things that an old-fashioned spiritual scan did best.

He found a nearby Highgold sword artist almost immediately. Her madra moved in smooth, steady rhythms—she was cycling. That would be Yerin. There were other sword artists nearby, but none of them so close.

He’d read reports that had mentioned Yerin, but he hadn’t paid them much attention. He had been focused on Lindon, the Blackflame. He’d even seen her once himself, briefly, though she hadn’t stood out to him.

But now he’d found yet another seed that Eithan had tried to plant in the Skysworn.

At first, he felt nothing out of the ordinary. She had a powerful soul, with madra that was potent for a Highgold. She may be on the verge of Truegold, or she might have used some elixir. None of that was cause for alarm.

But upon closer inspection, he felt something: a seal. Fueled by soulfire.

The seal was like a cage embedded in her soul, and it must have been made recently. Soulfire couldn’t last forever.

What was inside?

He ran his perception around the box, probing for gaps, but he found none. Instead, he sat there with his attention on the box itself, waiting for an impression to drift through.

After a few breaths of time, he felt a wisp of something from inside the seal: blood. Like a monster that had spilled an ocean of blood and was hungry to spill more.

He jerked away, his head actually snapping backward as he broke the connection.

Could Eithan have done this intentionally? No, he must have picked this girl up months before Jai Daishou had opened the western labyrinth. And he couldn’t have known the Jai Underlord would attract the attention of Redmoon Hall.

Or could he? How far ahead had Eithan’s plan gone?

If not for Naru Gwei’s vigilance, Eithan would have slipped a Blood Shadow into the Skysworn.

The Underlord wasn’t surprised no one had caught it before. Even without Eithan’s seal, most people had never encountered a Blood Shadow before. Renfei must have scanned her before allowing her into the Skysworn, but she could easily have mistaken that impression as a blood Remnant or perhaps part of her Path.

But Naru Gwei could tell. If she wasn’t part of Redmoon Hall herself, she was well on her way.

Now, the Blackflame and the Blood Shadow’s host were in his power. He could rid the Empire of both of them.

He stood still, thinking, as Lindon squirmed against his manacles beside him. He could kill them both in an instant.

And then what would happen?

He would provoke the Arelius family at least, on the verge of a national crisis. Everyone expected the Arelius to replace the Jai clan in the ranks of the great clans, now that Jai Daishou was dead. This would be the worst possible time to make new enemies.

Even if he were willing to face that problem, there was a greater one: the Sage of the Endless Sword.

Eithan said he was dead, and if he had adopted the Sage’s disciple, he would be in a position to know. But could Naru Gwei accept anything Eithan said?

No, he couldn’t. If the Sage showed up alive, and his disciple had been killed by a fellow Highgold, he would have no one to blame. But if she had been killed by an Underlord…

Naru Gwei wouldn’t last any longer against an Archlord than a Copper would. And the Sages were the greatest of the Archlords.

No, he couldn’t kill her himself. And he would prefer not to antagonize the Arelius family by executing Lindon either. Now he had two enemies with backgrounds he couldn’t afford to offend.

Wait, not two…three.

A new face popped up in his memory, and he remembered the request from the Akura clan.

Take good care of our errant daughter, their messenger had said. Treat her as you would a favored disciple, and place her where the battle is hottest. If she is to fall, there will be no reprisals. Your cooperation will be rewarded.

The Akura clan had entrusted their Empire with this request only months ago, and Naru Gwei himself had been assigned to oversee its execution. The Emperor was counting on him.

There was no reason he couldn’t fold two more enemies into the plan.

Lindon and Yerin would still have to apply. They could go through the evaluation process like usual, and Eithan Arelius couldn’t complain. If they failed, they would join the reserve, and Naru Gwei could still find a place for them.

And if they succeeded, so much the better. They would share a fate with all the Empire’s enemies.

Before Lindon could react, Naru Gwei pulled free his sword and struck through the young man’s manacles. Halfsilver had its uses, but it was brittle, and it practically crumbled under the force of his blow.

“You’re free to go,” the Captain said.

Lindon’s expression looked dissatisfied, as though he’d missed the opportunity for a fight, but he sounded only relieved. “Gratitude, Underlord, gratitude.”

“Better hurry,” Naru Gwei said, returning his sword to his back. “The application begins precisely at noon.”

Without a backward glance, Lindon scurried out of the room. He would be headed for his contracted partner and to Yerin.

And, soon, to his death.