It pointed him to the base of the stone tower.
Though he called it a tower, it looked natural, like a rough pillar that had been left standing after a river eroded the rest of a cliff over centuries. Only one aspect of its construction seemed artificiaclass="underline" a bowl-sized scoop out of the rock surrounded by delicate lines and barely perceptible script.
The Eye of the Deep showed him a blue light hovering over that indentation. It took a moment for his exhausted thoughts to click together, but once they did, he recognized the bowl for what it was: a keyhole.
Lindon stumbled forward, dropped to his knees, and pushed the sapphire inside.
With a sound like milk slurped through a straw, the rock melted. Even the keyhole disappeared, leaving him holding the Eye and staring into a dark tunnel.
Dry wind whispered out, carrying the scent of dust...and a hint of coppery blood and something sickly sweet, like a whiff of garbage. The tunnel extended down, beneath the level of the sand outside, and the walls were covered in long scratches. Another keyhole rested in the tunnel wall to the right.
The wind from the tunnel whistled, and Lindon realized that he could no longer hear the fish shrieking.
A bland, unremarkable-looking man in pressed white appeared out of nowhere to Lindon’s right, hands folded behind his back. He looked down on Lindon and spoke in a quiet voice.
“Shall I detain him?”
With the last of his madra, Lindon pushed Orthos down into the tunnel. He could barely fit, and he slid a few feet down the smooth, sloped floor before coming to a halt. His consciousness didn’t flicker.
“I think we have a moment to bargain,” the golden dragon-girl said airily, stepping from among the stalks. A disc of shining gold liquid floated behind her head like a halo, she held a whip of the same madra in one hand, and her footsteps hissed on the sand. Some sort of Enforcer technique, he was certain.
There were long, pale scratches across her golden scales. The fish must have tried to bite her, but failed to penetrate her hide.
She pointed with one claw to the jewel. “Give that to me, and you may live. Give me your box without complaint, and you may follow me as my attendant until I withdraw.”
Lindon tucked the box under his left arm and gripped the Eye of the Deep in his right. He had to hope his Remnant arm didn’t decide to disobey him now. “I apologize, honored lady. Perhaps once I have had a night’s sleep.”
Then he jumped backward, slamming the Eye into the keyhole on the wall.
As he’d hoped, the wall reformed immediately.
But not before gold madra sprayed into the tunnel, filling it with burning heat. He flinched back, but then the wall finished forming, blocking the rest of her attack.
All sound cut off.
He turned back to the tunnel, with the only light coming from the dim red glow of Orthos’ shell. He fell to the ground, catching his breath, letting the box slide down the slanting floor until it came to a rest against Orthos’ side.
He crawled over to it, leaning against Orthos’ leg. If he touched the wrong part of the sacred beast’s shell, his hair might catch on fire. Orthos could control that while he was awake, but not sleeping.
Propped against the turtle’s leathery skin, he looked into Little Blue’s face. She seemed concerned, reaching for his forehead.
“Just need a minute,” he said. “Just a minute.” He leaned back, breathing heavily, trying to soothe his spirit.
He didn’t notice when he slipped into sleep.
Chapter 5
Lindon woke some time later to a bright light glaring into his eyes.
He shot up, sending shocks of pain shooting through his joints. His breath came in uneven, painful gasps, but he pushed it into rhythm so his madra would move.
They’re coming for me, he thought. I can’t be here. I have to run. He felt another spike of panic. Where’s Yerin?
He spun, an Empty Palm gathering in his left hand. Over Orthos’ bulk, he could see nothing but a sloping hallway lit in blue, long scratches leading down the wall. He turned back the other way: an empty stone wall. His ragged breathing echoed in the tight hallway.
When his mind woke up, he remembered where he was. Alone, trapped in a Monarch’s pocket world.
Slowly, he let the aches in his body drag him back down. His throat was dry and painful, his ribs bruised, his back aching. He covered his eyes with trembling fingers and looked between them at the ceiling.
The circle of runes glowed blue, bathing them in a watery light. He should stand up and check out his surroundings. He could sense that Orthos was still alive, but still unconscious and weak. They could all still be in danger.
Breathe. He had to keep his madra under control.
As a matter of habit, he focused on the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel cycling technique. It dug at his spirit like he was trying to drill a hole in his own heart, and it felt like metal bands were tightening around his lungs, but it gave him something steady to focus on.
He inhaled and exhaled in revolution after revolution until he could make himself believe that the fight was over. The enemies were gone.
Now that he had a moment to think, the memories closed over him like the icy cold ocean of Ghostwater.
Yerin’s scarred face as she tried to reach the portal to save him.
Renfei, poised to speak, as a red line grew down from the top of her head.
His Thousand-Mile Cloud dissipating to mist.
The two halves of Little Blue’s habitat lying in the sand.
Renfei’s death hit him harder than he’d expected. He hadn’t known her well, trusted her, or particularly liked her. But seeing her killed in front of him, so casually...so easily...
She was a Truegold in full armor, and she went from alive to dead in a moment. She didn’t deserve that.
And that could have been him, just as easily. More so.
Then there was Yerin.
What was happening to her on the outside? It couldn’t be worse than what was happening in here, so at least she’d been spared that, but he couldn’t help but run through the possibilities. Without Renfei, Bai Rou could have decided he’d be better off without his apprentices. Mercy and Yerin wouldn’t be a match for him, even together; Mercy was only a Lowgold. He could kill them both and say they’d all died with Renfei, and Eithan was the only one who would ask any questions.
Ever since losing his arm, he would sometimes wake up and forget. He’d try to reach for something and see the skeletal stretch of white madra and the sight would strike him as wrong. That wasn’t his arm. It would take his brain a moment to piece together the truth.
Separating from Yerin felt the same. Looking down the hallway without seeing her was like glancing down and seeing his arm missing.
A worried chirp shook him out of his cycling trance, and he pulled his hand away from his face. He was surprised to discover his fingers were damp, and hurriedly swiped at his eyes. His father would have given him a lecture for crying in public. There was no one here to see, but it was hard to shake the old fear that he’d be caught in a shameful position.
Little Blue was barely visible against the ground, looking up at him in the azure light. She was pale and thinly spread; he could see right through her.
Only then did he realize that his soul felt much better. He still had almost nothing in either core, but his channels had been scrubbed and cleansed. While he wouldn’t want to fight, at least he wouldn’t risk permanent spiritual injury with a single Empty Palm.
Carefully, Lindon lowered himself back down to the floor and held out his palm to Little Blue. “Gratitude,” he said, as she clambered up to his wrist.