The huge, green-armored man had already left the ship, his hat of dried straw shading his face. He strode over to her, where they exchanged an animated discussion.
“What’s crawled up their armor?” Yerin asked, nudging him with the side of her silver Goldsign.
Mercy stumbled in the sand, but braced herself with her staff of smooth black. Its dragon head hissed at her, glaring with violet eyes. “The door wasn’t supposed to be open.”
Lindon rested his hand on Orthos’ shell, considering.
“They’re going to separate us,” Lindon said, keeping his voice low. The other two turned to him, Mercy looking resigned, Yerin’s face darkening. “One group goes through to scout, and the other stays out here until the first reports back. They’ll divide us so that each of them can handle a group on their own.”
Yerin’s hand moved for the hilt of her sword. She’d been allowed to have the weapon back when none of the Skysworn could sense anything exceptional about it.
It was the weapon of a Sage, but neither Yerin nor Lindon had said anything. It seemed the Sword Sage’s blade could hide from lesser artists.
“Let them try to split us up. Now’s our chance; we fight them out here.” She nodded to Orthos. “Big guy ties up the big guy, and the other three of us take Renfei.”
Lindon exchanged glances with Mercy, and both of them extended a hand in a calming gesture.
“We don’t need to go that far,” Mercy said.
“It’s too much of a risk. We don’t need any more enemies than necessary.”
Yerin gave them a sour look. “You two got in step awfully quick.” She took her hand away from her sword, but her Goldsigns twitched as though ready for action.
“Wei Shi Lindon,” Renfei shouted. “You and the beast are with me. Ladies, you stay with Bai Rou. We will observe the situation and report back within the hour; I can relay a message to Bai Rou at any time.”
Unsurprised, Lindon rapped his knuckles on Orthos’ shell. “It’s time, Orthos.”
The turtle’s limbs slid out slowly. He didn’t feel tired. Quite the opposite; it felt as though Orthos were wrestling to keep himself under control. The rings of red in his black eyes were bright, but he nodded to Lindon.
Lindon and Orthos joined Renfei, facing the portal. Its rippling surface gave no indication of what waited on the other side.
“We walk through together,” the Skysworn said, cloud rolling over her head.
Lindon took a deep breath and stepped forward. Yerin stopped him, hand on his left arm.
She looked as though the words had gotten caught as she tried to speak. She cleared her throat. “...stay sharp,” she said at last.
Mercy gave him a wave.
“Gratitude,” Lindon said, dipping his head to them both.
Then, with Orthos on one side and Renfei on the other, they stepped into the jade doorway.
As he’d experienced before, the world was swallowed by an endless expanse of blue light that looked thick, as though he could reach his hand out and run his hand down it as though down a veil.
But this time, it only lasted an instant.
Chapter 2
The air ripped like a torn page.
Lindon stepped through the portal into a bubble of air the size of a castle. His shoes crunched on the dry sand of the ocean’s floor, which spread out in front of him to the edges of the bubble. Twisted rock formations and bunches of brush-like weeds rose in irregular patches, with tiny crabs skittering from shadow to shadow.
The water outside the bubble was black as ink, but the space was brightly lit by…Lindon hesitated to call it a “tree.” It looked more like a glowing, abstract sculpture meant to represent a tree: a bunch of blue tubes spread out like roots coiled together to make a trunk, and at the top—where he would expect leaves—were clusters of glowing yellow lights. They weren’t too bright to stare at, but all together they lit the bubble like late afternoon.
This ocean clearing was silent in a way the land never was. No wind brushed these plants, and no waves crashed nearby. Only the occasional scuff of sand or the soft drip of water disturbed the stillness, and the air tasted of salt and green plants.
A sense of awe hung heavy over the space, like Lindon had trespassed on an ancient tomb. Invisible pressure pushed on him as though he’d shouldered the entire weight of the ocean above.
It was only a moment before he realized that the pressure wasn’t his imagination. By then, he’d noticed that Renfei had stopped, one hand on her hammer, her cycling madra drawing wisps of dark cloud around her armor. Orthos growled so low and loud that the sand shook.
They weren’t alone.
A young man sat with legs crossed on top of a nearby boulder. His robes were white, his unbound hair spilling down his back, and his features so delicate that at first Lindon mistook him for a woman. A disc of shadow hovered behind his head like a dark halo.
There were others that might have drawn Lindon’s eye first, but this man drew his spiritual perception like a magnet. He was a deep, dark weight, and Lindon had to pull back his perception before he touched the young man’s spirit. He was cycling now, eyes closed and breath even, but Lindon feared that even the slightest touch would wake him.
Far at the other end of the clearing, where the edge of the bubble met the sand, a sprawling miniature palace of golden madra glittered in the light. A pair of servants in plain, identical white coats stood at attention in front of the curtain that served as the door. A...creature...peeked out of that curtain, shimmering even more than the palace.
It looked like a woman merged with a dragon, covered in gold scales and with a face closer to that of a lizard than of a human. She wore strings of jade, silver, and pearls in layers around her neck, and rather than a sacred artist’s robe, she had wrapped herself in silk of every color. As she saw the newcomers, a smile stretched across her leathery lips, and she casually manifested a shining drop of gold madra between her claws.
Lindon began cycling Blackflame. Once, he had caught a Truegold off-guard and burned away the man’s hand. If he could injure Sandviper Gokren so badly, he might have a chance against these strangers. So long as they didn’t notice him first.
His attention was drawn by a deadlier threat: a flash of red from the left, far away from both the cycling man and the dragon-woman.
He recognized that color. He recognized that sensation in his spirit, a shivering impression of a thousand corpses drowning in a crimson sea.
A young woman stepped up, Blood Shadow covering her like a cloak. Her hair fell into her eyes, shrouding her expression, but blood madra trickled away from her feet, steadily spreading across the sand. She didn’t bother to veil her spirit, so she blazed like a bloody torch to Lindon’s perception. She was Truegold, without a doubt, and a strong one at that. She gave Lindon the same impression as Renfei or Bai Rou, and she looked to be at least ten years younger.
The Redmoon woman made three, but there was a fourth presence nearby.
He cast out his perception and immediately noticed a tiny hut to his right. It looked like it had been slapped together from mud and bundles of dried grass, though he could see neither of those materials anywhere around him.
Another young man, about Lindon’s age, pulled himself out of the hut’s doorway like a corpse crawling from a grave. His eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded, his gray cloak stained and dirty. Two emerald horns rose from his forehead, pointing up.
Lindon accidentally brushed the man’s spirit with his spiritual perception, and he hurriedly pulled it back. The man seemed not to notice, but his aura felt as strong and steady as the roots of a mountain.
He took in the situation with the look of a man who would rather be anywhere else. Though he had done nothing that Lindon could tell, the golden-scaled woman stopped in her tracks, looking nervously in his direction. The girl from Redmoon Hall watched them all.