“Children of the Blackflame family were deadly threats even at Copper.”
Lindon waited for the hook. He didn't like the rigid nature of the Path much; those techniques were made for blowing things apart, and nothing else. He would prefer something with some subtlety to it, some creativity.
But it did offer him exactly what he was lacking: the ability to break through Jai Long's techniques. And it didn't demand expertise, just a basic competence in Striker techniques.
It appeared to be exactly what he needed.
“There have to be some disadvantages,” he said.
“Oh, of course there are. There's a reason why the family lost the Empire and all but died out: this madra eats away at your body as you use it. Blackflames tended to lose their reason in their later years, or else they ended up twisted husks. Their bodies couldn't keep up with their power.”
Eithan waited expectantly, and Lindon soon caught on. “But mine...”
“The Bloodforged Iron body is tailor-made to resist corrosive breakdown like this, though it will burn through your madra like a bonfire through dry leaves. So you won’t be able to rely on that for long.”
“Didn’t the Blackflame family have bodies like mine?” The resources for Lindon’s Bloodforged Iron body had come from a cave in the Desolate Wilds; he had to assume a rich clan from an empire would have the means to do even better.
“They chose their bodies to maximize combat potential, but you? You just need to survive. A real Blackflame disciple might tear you apart head-to-head, but you won’t lose control of your limbs by the age of sixty. You also have the advantage of a second core, and switching to Blackflame only as needed will minimize the strain. So long as you take the time to cleanse your channels after using Blackflame madra extensively, it shouldn’t eat into your lifespan at all.”
Then it was perfect for him. “Why did you show me those other Paths, if you were going to lead me to this one all along?”
Eithan put on a shocked look. “I am a man of my word. If you decide you want to learn another of these fine Paths, then by all means, I will accept your decision.”
Lindon stood, considering. The Grasping Sky was eliminated because of its political implications, the Crawling Shade because it would make Lindon look too sinister to trust. The Last Oath was purely defensive, which wasn't what he needed to win a duel. Broken Star would take too long to find.
“What about Jade Rivers?” Lindon asked.
“Oh, absolutely! Absolutely. As long as you think you can perfectly master a combination Ruler, Striker, Forger technique in the next ten months. And if you think you can evade a Truegold's attacks while taking five seconds to prepare that technique, yes. A fine choice.”
Lindon rubbed his forehead and gave in. “The Path of Black Flame, is it?”
“Since the only family ever to use it was the Blackflames, that's what we commonly call it. Either the Blackflame Path or the Path of Black,” he exaggerated the pause, “Flame. We like our names simple here.”
“Is that family going to come after me for using it?”
“Who cares what they think? They're dead. Mostly.”
“…mostly?”
“And I doubt the Imperial clan will be incredibly happy about us demonstrating the powers of their predecessor in public, so we're left with that little problem, but that's a minor detail. It isn't illegal to practice the Blackflame Path, unlike the Path of Grasping Sky.”
“That was illegal?”
“There are only a few places to harvest Blackflame aura in the entire Empire, but to our spectacular good fortune, the Path was created right here in Serpent's Grave!”
Lindon looked around the room. “We can practice here?”
“Not in this exact spot, no. What you're looking for is a location that naturally flows with the aura you'd like to practice. In this case, something that resonates with both fire and destruction. Destruction is one of the most difficult aspects of aura to find and cultivate, but fortunately for us, dragons radiate just as much of that as they do heat.”
Seeing the bones of a dragon was one thing, but Eithan seemed to be implying something entirely different.
“Pardon, but it sounds like we’re going to see a real dragon.” It was like learning he was about to feed a lion by hand: a unique experience, but far more terrifying than anything else.
“There's a cave in this very city where the Arelius family has sealed a descendant of the ancient dragons, and that cave is filled with such madra! What luck!”
Lindon finally caught on. “By chance, does that cave happen to be Underground Chamber Number Three?”
Eithan beamed and clapped him on the back. “By now, my servants should have the seals undone and a medical team standing by. After you!”
Chapter 10
Sand blew in waves against a cliff of black stone. A cave mouth opened into the mountain, rough and round, as though it had been chewed into the rock by a worm twice the height of a man. A script encircling the entrance shone scarlet, and though there was no door, a red haze rippled in the air—visible even without Lindon's Copper sight.
“There's a door deeper in, though the servants will have opened that for us,” Eithan explained as they approached. A huge stone had been rolled away from the entry, resting now to the side. “We don't want to hold it open for long. You can never be too careful when you're trying to prevent deadly beasts from escaping.”
Lindon gripped the straps of his pack tighter, feeling the weight of his halfsilver dagger in his pocket.
Half a dozen sacred artists in various uniforms dropped to their knees as Eithan approached, all of them wearing the colors of the Arelius family. One servant stood apart, outside the haze of the entryway, bowing at the waist.
“The scriptors have undone the prime seals,” he said. “Two stand ready to repair the script in the event of a breach, and three of the servants before you are trained healers with madra of blood and life. They lived through the fall of the Blackflames, and they should be able to counteract the Path’s powers if you make it outside.”
“Exemplary work as always, One-Thirteen,” Eithan said, pulling out his iron scissors to snip a stray thread from the servant's outer robe. “Keep it up, and soon I’ll have to start using your name. Do you have any—”
He was interrupted by a deep, bass roar that rumbled up from underground. It resonated in Lindon's chest, and he thought he could feel the sand beneath his shoes shaking.
He slipped one hand into his pocket for Suriel's marble, rolling its smooth, warm surface between his fingers.
“Agitated today, is he?” Eithan asked.
“His handlers say that company soothes him,” One-Thirteen responded, with a nervous glance behind him. “It seems they haven't had any volunteers since Lady Nakali lost her leg.”
“Ah, well, I can't say I blame them. Though the Soulsmiths made her a fine prosthetic, didn't they?”
“No expense was spared, I’m told, although surely she misses her flesh and blood.”
“Well, at least she can roast meat on her kneecap now. That should be some comfort.” The roar came again, and this time the cave mouth darkened with a red, smoky light. Eithan sighed. “I'm back now, so I’ll do my best to relax him. If all goes according to plan, I may have a permanent solution for you.”
The servant turned to regard the entry, but Lindon got the impression he was trying to look anywhere but at Eithan. “Underlord, if you don't mind, the handlers wanted me to remind you of the…merciful solution. He has rendered us great service, and it seems honorable to grant him rest. Please pardon my disrespect.”