Dozens.
Striker, Ruler, and Forger techniques shoved Yerin back with force, with wind, with water, with dreams, even with clouds.
She broke them all with a sweep of her sword, but they did push her back. Even Lindon felt like he had crashed into a soft cushion for a moment.
It was the clearest indication of how much advancement they’d lost. He should have waded through those techniques as though through still water.
In that second of distraction, the goldsteel chain finished wrapping around. The script-circle completed.
Instantly, bands wrapped around Lindon’s spirit. It was nothing to him, only mildly unpleasant, but he recognized the feeling of the same script that had bound him at the entrance to the Wei clan.
He shot out to steady Yerin, who was having trouble even breathing and staying upright. Sweat began to bead on her forehead already, and her Goldsigns hung heavy.
Blackflame kindled in Lindon’s outstretched hand. “Stop!” he demanded.
If he released, he was going to kill someone.
He turned to Heaven’s Glory. “Help us!”
The Grand Elder folded her hands in front of her, staring blithely over his head. Lindon turned back to the Wei clan, and the Patriarch met his eyes with cold disdain. “Stage three!”
Fizzing bottles flew through the air and landed beside them. Some were refiner’s work, elixirs that dispersed to gas immediately, but others were venom Ruler techniques. The air filled up with half a dozen types of poisonous gas.
Yerin flashed into white light. The Moonlight Bridge.
She reappeared two feet away, staggering and coughing.
She couldn’t cross the goldsteel script.
The poison seeped into Lindon’s lungs and crumbled before the might of his Bloodforged Iron body. His breathing would be more troubled by sitting too close to a campfire.
Dragon’s breath blasted the goldsteel chain.
It grew red-hot, but that was all. The substance was naturally resistant to all kinds of madra, and the script weakened his techniques even further.
So he had to try something else.
But Yerin was coughing, and his solution would take a moment. With brief flicker of his madra, he opened an unsteady rift onto a luxurious house.
He had found this device in Sophara’s void key, but he hadn’t had a chance to test it yet. Normal void keys wouldn’t close with a living being inside, but this was a home. It obeyed different rules. He hadn’t wanted to rely on this until he tested it more thoroughly, but it was the quickest way he knew of to shelter Yerin if she couldn’t leave.
Yerin stumbled through the gate, gasping in grateful lungfuls of air.
With a breath of relief, Lindon let the entrance close. Now he could gather his focus for a working. His authority as the Void Sage should be able to break—
The space spat Yerin back out.
She tumbled to the ground out of nowhere, and Lindon simply stared at her for a moment in disbelief. Why hadn’t it worked?
He sensed a sort of instability from the space, as though it were barely holding together. It must have ejected her as a security measure.
But when he realized she was hacking and coughing with tears in her eyes, he grabbed her and pulled her to the edge of the circle, where the air was clearest.
He still wanted to try his Sage powers against the script, but they were untested. The sooner he got Yerin out of this, the better, so he leaned on the abilities he knew.
It felt like there was an invisible wall over the script, and Lindon ran his white hand down until he rested fingers on the goldsteel. He activated the binding in his arm, Consuming madra from the script.
[Behind!]
Lindon turned and slapped three halfsilver-tipped arrows from the air.
A cloud of venom madra exploded at his feet, and Yerin shouted a warning.
The Wei Patriarch shouted again, and more arrows flew through the smoke. Lindon swatted them aside, but he felt so sluggish with his power restricted.
He missed one…and it stuck in his shoulder. The halfsilver penetrated only shallowly, but it disrupted his madra, stinging his body and spirit.
Through tear-stained eyes, Yerin saw him pull the halfsilver arrow from his arm.
She raised her sword. A distant bell rang, and was echoed by all the blades nearby. Sword aura erupted, tearing clothes and skin. It was enhanced by blood aura, so the cuts that bit flesh were deeper.
But the script had weakened her too much. One of the archers staggered back, but the others steadied bleeding hands and took aim.
At her, this time.
The world slowed and seemed to freeze.
Don’t stop me, Dross, Lindon thought, and the world returned to normal speed as the spirit released his grip.
Just as Lindon released his own.
Dragon’s breath obliterated one of the men standing over the goldsteel chain. The Striker technique burned arrows from the air, leaving sparkling bright arrowheads falling to the dirt.
With space cleared, Lindon fell down again, starting the Consume technique once more.
It was difficult to touch the chain directly, but that resistance was quickly overcome. Madra flooded into his white arm, most of it vented, but he cycled the Heart of Twin Stars and sorted it into its components.
There were a few different Paths used to fuel this barrier, but he kept only the madra from one of them. The most familiar.
Dross, Lindon thought.
[I’m not giving you a combat solution against a bunch of Irons.]
Break down the Path of the White Fox.
[Oh, that’s easy. Done.]
More arrows and techniques poured in until the air was thick, but even unsteady on her feet and blind through tears, Yerin hacked them away herself. He was certain that the only thing keeping her from throwing herself at the enemy was his presence.
Finally, the script failed.
He pulled her in front of him, shielding her with his body, and whispered, “Head to the ships.”
“Bury ‘em,” Yerin choked out.
In a flash of white, she vanished.
Leaving Lindon surrounded by enemies.
Lindon folded back into the poisonous smoke as techniques and arrows flew. When he was hidden, he Forged a disguise next to himself. It felt like molding a rough mannequin, but dream and light madra—guided by tweaks from Dross and Lindon’s own instincts—filled in the details.
A perfect copy of Lindon stood next to him.
[They craft every detail themselves, so they can’t get anything wrong. It’s a lot better to stay loose.]
This was the Fox Mirror.
Lindon grabbed the aura around him with his White Fox madra, shaping it into a distraction. This time, he didn’t have to fill in any of the details at all, other than ordering the illusion to make people look away from him. Their minds would fill in the details themselves.
He left the smoke, the Fox Dream hanging around him. The Irons who rushed in close, carrying weapons, were affected by the Dream and screamed or stared off in the distance or simply ignored him.
He walked through the crowd. This modification had been his own; he hadn’t needed Dross’ help with this one. He had worked enough with dream and light aura, and his own experience with shaping aura showed him that he could hold the Fox Dream as a continuous Ruler technique rather than a one-use ability that he simply cast on someone.
If anything, he was mimicking the same boundary field that the Wei clan had put up around him only a minute before.
The Patriarch and the Elder surrounding him were too far to be fooled by the Fox Dream, so they shouted orders.
Following their instructions, a steel-haired Jade with a pair of blades and a shield badge closed the distance with Lindon. One of the Elders, maybe the Seventh. Lindon didn’t care.
A sword flashed at Lindon, but his real weapon went lower. This was the Foxtail, an Enforcer attack technique that bent light and perception to hide movement.
In a fight between equals, it was a huge advantage. Lindon had once been proud of the way other clans avoided duels with Wei Enforcers.