The blanket was starting to tear around the runes; the script had put too much of a burden on it. It would last a few more hours, if they were lucky, before the force of the activated script tore the fabric apart.
One of the dragons, a gold-scaled lizard the size of a horse stopped nearby. Its head was barely visible in the crack of open air they could see. These weak dragons didn’t look anything like the huge sky-crawling serpents her master had mentioned, but she supposed they changed as they advanced even more than sacred artists did.
It sniffed, eyes flaring with light. It started snuffling around the forest floor like a hunting dog, looking for them.
Some sacred beasts were no smarter than normal animals, but dragons were different. This one would be able to speak and use the arts of any Highgold sacred artist. But it was hard to remember that as it snarled and hunted by scent.
Yerin braced herself, reaching for her sword. It almost took her by surprise when she realized she wanted the dragon to find them.
If it did, there would be no more hiding. No more running.
They weren’t running from this thing anyway. They were running from its big sister; the Lord-stage dragon they’d felt coming after them.
The barrier of cloud had faded days ago, and they had tried to make their way closer to the beach. But every time they did, dragons tracked them down in the time it took to boil a pot of tea.
Yerin was about ready to throw the dice and dash for victory. She wasn’t built for hiding and creeping.
Her Blood Shadow agreed.
While she was holding herself back, her Shadow slipped out of her back. It actually looked like a red-tinted shadow this time, sliding along the ground and closer to the dragon. If the sacred beast didn’t notice, it was going to spring out of the ground and get the first strike.
Yerin grabbed it.
A chill of terror passed through her as she caught it. Not because it had almost alerted the dragon; a large part of her welcomed that. It had almost escaped on its own.
When else would it decide to do that? When she was with friends? When she was asleep?
She hauled back on it with one hand and the full force of her will. Just touching it made her feel degraded, like she’d lost somehow, but she dragged it back.
When she wrestled it back into her spirit, it boiled around outside her core, lashing at her from the inside.
She sat there panting as the dragon moved a little farther away. That had been too close. Too close to her losing control.
It tempered her will to steeclass="underline" she needed to be stronger. Stronger without this thing.
From beneath the scripted blanket, Mercy looked at her with concern. “Are you feeling alright?” she whispered.
Yerin threw the blanket off and stretched all four arms. It felt good to stand up again.
The gold dragon stared at her.
She took a deep breath, feeling madra cycling freely within her spirit. Veils were a necessary sacred art, but they felt like tying yourself in a sack.
Yerin hopped out of the tiny hole in the ground where they’d hidden. Mercy stared up at her from inside, eyes wide.
Still stretching her arms, Yerin used one of her Goldsigns to beckon the dragon. “All right, you ready?”
The dragon glanced from side to side, ready for a trap. But after a moment, heat flared in its eyes again, and it roared.
Yerin put a hand on her master’s sword and concentrated on the aura.
She needed power that didn’t lean on the Blood Shadow. Power that was hers alone. And she’d always learned better when she was pushed to the brink of a cliff.
The dragon rushed at her, sword-aura gathering around its claws as it swept them in a powerful strike.
The sound of a bell echoed through the air as she activated the Endless Sword.
The sword-aura around his claws exploded, causing shallow white slashes to appear on his scales all over his body. His strike wasn’t slowed at all, and Yerin threw up her Goldsigns to block.
When the claws met the steel of her Forged madra limbs, the impact pushed her back. She let it happen, falling back several steps.
Then she tried again, focusing this time.
Her technique should look like the wind: it should surround her, unseen except for its effect. It should be like she was defended by a thousand invisible swords.
As she triggered the Endless Sword again, it looked more like a thousand invisible swords flailing wildly.
Its tail slammed into her, though she got her sword in the way just in time. It knocked her backwards, and she had to use her Goldsigns to brace herself before she hit a tree spine-first. The silver madra limbs stuck in the trunk like axe-blades, catching her just short of slamming into the wood.
Mercy emerged from beneath her, using her staff to lever herself out of the hole. She’d tied her hair back into a tail again, and her purple eyes were fixed on the dragon. “I’m sorry, she’s training. I’m Mercy! You are...”
The dragon drew in a breath.
Black madra stretched away from Mercy and stuck onto the limbs of the tree just above Yerin’s head. She pulled herself away just in time, as a spray of fiery golden madra incinerated the grass, leaves, and scripted blanket she’d left behind.
Yerin glanced up at Mercy as the Akura girl dangled from a limb. “You want this to go faster, then you could help. Hit it with your stick.”
Mercy sighed, giving the dragon a sad glance, before she gripped her staff in both hands. “It’s not a stick.”
The dragon was gathering itself to leap into the tree, but Mercy’s weapon came to life in her hands. It looked like a bundle of flexible black tendons worked into the shape of a staff, except for the violet-eyed dragon’s head on its end.
That snarling head slid from the end of the staff down to the center. The staff itself bent like a wooden limb under pressure until it was shaped like a crescent, and a single black string slid from one end to the other.
A bow. It was a bow, almost as tall as Mercy was.
Mercy drew the string back, Forging a jet-black arrow as she did so. The point emerged between her weapon’s jaws.
“This is Eclipse, the Ancient Bow of the Soulseeker.” She loosed, and the arrow stuck in the dragon’s palm. “It was my mother’s weapon from Lowgold to Archlord. Made from the Remnant of a shadow dragon who became a Sage.” Another arrow took the dragon in the other hand, but it had already burned the first one free. “With this bow, my mother sealed the living volcano of Shara Kahn.” Two more arrows, and this time dark madra spread like a web from the point of impact. It started crawling over the dragon like living ropes.
“She destroyed the Sunlight Rebellion with this bow, and bound together the thirteen islands into one.” The dragon went crazy, tearing and clawing at itself like it was trapped in a net. But as Mercy continued firing arrows, the web kept drawing tighter.
“I know it’s just a bow, but I call her Suu.” Mercy patted the bow on its dragon’s head. “Good girl, Suu.”
The bow hissed.
Yerin hopped down, inspecting the dragon. It still struggled, but it was wrapped in a dark cocoon and didn’t look like it was going to escape anytime soon.
This way, at least they didn’t have to deal with its Remnant.
“What about yours?” Mercy asked politely, dispersing her madra and dropping to the ground. She missed her landing and fell in a heap but didn’t seem to care. “Did you get that sword from your master?”
Yerin ran her fingers down the hilt. “...yeah.”
“So what’s its story?”