Most of the homes here were made of stone and rough-hewn logs, and were built to last. He got the impression of a clan of people who valued diligence and practicality, with few frills or decorations to speak of. He approved. Sacred artists should be hard workers.
He was fully aware of his own position, lying on a cloud and drinking elixir straight from a bottle that he’d stored in his void key.
But his spirit hadn’t settled yet. Eithan had completed the Pure Storm Baptism before leaving—otherwise, Ziel wouldn’t have come along.
It would be some time before his madra system stabilized fully. Until then, he wasn’t supposed to strain himself.
While he was reduced to the strength of a Jade, there wasn’t much he could do to strain his madra channels. Jade madra shouldn’t hurt him even if he tried to attack himself from the inside out.
Even so, it would be best to take it easy.
Ziel took another swig from the bottle. Technically it was an elixir, as it had beneficial effects on the spirit, but you could also accurately call it wine.
He laid back and threw his arm over his eyes to block out the sun.
They drifted through the Kazan clan for a while, his assistant explaining several times that they were Golds from outside of the valley, they represented the Akura clan and the Sage of Twin Stars, and they were here to warn the clan leaders of incoming danger.
At some point, they passed inside, and Ziel could stop protecting his eyes. It was cooler out of the sun, and a brief glimpse showed him that they were drifting through polished stone hallways with decorations of worked metal. He felt earth aura all around him, which would ordinarily feel soothing.
Now, it felt like he was inside a nervously beating heart.
The Dreadgod’s influence was powerful here. The veins of aura throughout the stone quivered with chaos as the Wandering Titan grew closer.
They entered a bright room, and the murmur of people grew quiet. Ziel’s cloud came to a halt.
“Patriarch of the Kazan clan,” the Truegold woman announced, “I present to you Ziel of the Wastelands, chosen of Northstrider, Uncrowned of the Uncrowned King tournament, former leader of the Dawnwing Sect, and representative of the Akura clan and the Sage of Twin Stars. Let his words be as the voice of heaven to you.”
Ziel groaned as he realized she was going to make him speak. He was not needed for this. She could tell them all about the Dreadgod, and only if they resisted would he need to strongarm them into listening.
But he was here now. He might as well do what he could.
Slowly, Ziel sat up and opened his eyes to see what he was dealing with.
The Kazan Patriarch was a stocky, black-bearded man clad in chainmail. His jade badge was roughly carved with a shield, and he wore a bear’s pelt across his shoulders. He sat not at a desk, but on a log bench at the far end of a long table.
Ziel was certain there had been more people in the room before, as this seemed to be some kind of dining hall filled with empty tables, but apparently they had filtered out while his eyes were shut. He swept his spiritual perception out and found them clustered on the other sides of the oaken doors.
The only people in the large room with him were his Truegold assistant, the Patriarch, and a woman he assumed to be the Patriarch’s wife. She stood behind him with a worried expression and a hand on his shoulder.
Her badge was made of iron, and she wore it literally as a breastplate, strapped to her as armor. There was no way this Patriarch would allow people he assumed to be Jade or higher to be alone with him and his Iron wife without some level of protection.
Instead of saying anything, Ziel leaned down to peer under the table, where he saw a dimly lit script around the two of them. He traced that script back to constructs all around the room.
With enough attention, he could figure out what they did, but that would take more attention than he was willing to spare.
By this point, he had been silent for a long time. He tapped the right side of his own breast.
“You have something in your pocket,” Ziel said. “Take it out.”
The Patriarch’s wife frowned more deeply, but the Jade himself only reached with two fingers into a breast pocket behind his badge and pulled out a pair of halfsilver bracelets. He placed them down on the table without explanation.
Ziel held out both his wrists. “Go ahead.”
The Akura Truegold threw out her hand to stop him. “I can’t allow that, sir. We can’t guarantee your safety with your spirit restricted.”
“Your job isn’t to protect me,” Ziel said. “It’s to protect them.” He kept his arms out.
The Patriarch must have been confused, but he kept his expression blank as he slid the halfsilver rings over Ziel’s wrists.
Ziel grunted in discomfort as the scripts in the rings activated, restricting his madra.
They weren’t cuffs. He could throw them off if he wanted. They were surely designed to be tied in place somehow, but the gesture was what was important, not the actual effect on his spirit.
“This is not necessary,” the Kazan Patriarch said. “I intend to hear you out in good faith.”
“Yeah, well, I skipped a step. We’re not here to hurt you or take anything. I’m going to lay out the situation for you, and if you don’t like what I have to say, we’ll turn around and leave.”
The Patriarch’s eyes flicked to the Akura Truegold, who looked like she was having trouble keeping her hand away from the long knife at her belt. “Your people said you came to warn us.”
Ziel jerked his head toward the stone wall. “You can feel it yourself. There’s a monster coming.” These people were earth artists; they would have sensed the Titan coming, even if they didn’t know what caused it.
“It’s called a Dreadgod, and we expect it to arrive in a matter of days. When it gets here, everybody in the valley is dead. We have cloudships to take you all to safety, but if you want to take your chances, that’s up to you.”
Ziel stopped to take another swig from his bottle. “That’s it. If you don’t trust us, you should still leave on your own.”
He sensed another presence coming closer, creeping along the edges of the wall. It was only at the Foundation stage, so he ignored it.
“Our defenses are strong,” the Kazan Patriarch said, and he didn’t sound overly proud. He was simply stating a fact. “We had planned to retreat into our strongholds and withstand the coming storm.”
“These strongholds. They’re underground, aren’t they?”
The Patriarch didn’t say anything, but his wife twitched.
“This Dreadgod can eat entire mountains,” Ziel said. “Hope you’ve got some good scripts.”
With that, he looked down to his side, where the Foundation presence had reappeared. Dark, glittering eyes regarded his cloud in awe.
It was a child. A little boy.
The Patriarch’s wife took in a breath. “Maret! Forgiveness, please, I’ll take him!”
She rushed over as the boy grabbed onto Ziel’s Thousand-Mile Cloud, pulling his tiny body up. Ziel dismissed him.
“He’s fine. He won’t hurt himself.”
The boy’s mother froze. She seemed to be holding herself back from snatching up her son. Ziel understood that; you never knew what would set off strange, possibly hostile sacred artists. If she expressed a lack of trust in him, then as far as she knew, he might become enraged at the disrespect and attack.
He let out a sigh. “I would never lower myself to harm a child. But if it would put you at ease, by all means take him.”
The cloud bobbed beneath him as Maret jumped up and down, giggling at the springy cloud madra.
She looked somewhat relieved and bowed. “This one is…certain that he can come to no harm under your watch, so long as he is not giving offense.”
Ziel had actually been hoping she would take the child back, but it was too much effort to clarify. He just pretended not to notice the boy jumping up and down behind him.