“We became separated, but he has the key. I have every confidence in him.”
Yerin chewed on her lip. “Can we get back down there?”
“I suspect not,” Eithan said. “I only escaped because my opponent was a very reasonable man.”
“Only left because I thought you’d be with him,” Yerin muttered. “Shame we don’t have a key. Maybe we can—"
She was cut off when the Nethergate swung open enough to reveal a man in black-and-red robes, carrying a sword covered by a Blood Shadow. She almost attacked instantly. A moment later, she saw a second man, carrying a Shadow-wrapped chain.
And the third, a woman, stood over a trio of captives. Mercy, Orthos, and Little Blue.
Not a scratch on them, Yerin thought. That’s a bright spot.
Of course, the thought only occurred to her after she had leaped out of the Nethergate with her blade raised. Her madra was already forming the Flowing Sword around her weapon, and just because she now sensed that the enemy was an Archlady didn’t mean she was about to stop.
The Archlady’s Blood Shadow, in the form of a cobra, let out a hiss like a tunnel full of snakes all hissing at once. But it was the Redmoon Emissary herself who raised a weapon to stop Yerin. A crystal hand-axe flashed out of her soulspace and into her hand as Yerin’s attack landed.
The small weapon stopped Yerin’s blow, but it had her full strength behind it.
The Archlady’s knees half-buckled and the ground beneath her cracked before she managed to turn the sword aside.
Yerin allowed it and let herself fall to the ground, since neither of the Overlords had attacked or even threatened the captives.
“You’ve got about a breath and a half before I stop being friendly.”
“She’s not lying,” Eithan observed. “That was friendly.”
Mercy affected a shocked look. “Oh look, it’s Yerin and Eithan! What are the odds?”
The Archlady straightened herself up. “I am Emissary Kahn Mala of Redmoon Hall. I come on behalf of the Sage of Red Faith and the Redmoon Herald to protect you.”
Yerin had eyes, and her perception wasn’t restricted anymore. She could feel the powers clashing all around Sacred Valley, and could see the four Dreadgod cults positioned over the four peaks. There was a massive battle here, and it looked like the enemy controlled this territory.
Yerin tapped her Goldsigns together, striking up sparks of madra. “Just wants to protect me, does he? That’s more kindness than I’d have bet could fit into his dried-up heart.”
Kahn Mala flinched and her eyes flicked up, so Yerin immediately assumed they were being watched. “The Sage told us that you would attack when you saw us, so he sent enough people to stop you from killing us but not so many as to threaten you. He asked me to tell you that he knows exactly what you saw in the labyrinth, and to remind you that he was a researcher there himself. He requests an audience with you, and said that you have a chance to affect this entire battlefield. Even withdrawing Redmoon Hall is not off the table.”
Yerin considered it a triumph of great personal patience that she let a Redmoon Emissary finish that entire speech, and an even greater victory that she considered the message instead of dismissing it out of hand.
“I’ll match that bet and raise it a step,” Yerin said at last. “I’ll meet him in whatever hole he crawls back into at night, but only after you take us back to our people. Can’t relax until I make sure nobody’s missing.”
Kahn Mala looked hesitantly over her shoulder, and then the air buzzed as the Blood Sage’s voice was transmitted through aura.
“We need an assurance of your sincerity,” Red Faith said.
“Swear on my soul,” Yerin responded casually.
The oath tightened, and then snapped into place as the Sage of Red Faith agreed wherever he was. His voice crawled through the air to them again.
“Escort her wherever she wishes to go, as long as you do not put her in further danger.”
Kahn Mala bowed to a distant point, and then looked back to Yerin. “Where would you like to go?”
“Can we get back down to Lindon?” Yerin asked Eithan. He shook his head. “Then let’s walk the road we’ve got. Where’s the Twin Star Sect?”
“I’ll find out,” the Archlady responded.
Eithan pointed.
Not all squads returned from the battlefield after dark, but theirs was scheduled to. Jai Long began to worry as the sun set, and that worry grew with every passing minute.
Finally, he went to find the Truegold Skysworn coordinating the Blackflame Empire’s forces. The woman was respectful to him, as he was about to advance past her, but she still couldn’t help.
“They haven’t checked in yet, and a number of squads were pinned down on the eastern slope. There.”
She pointed, and it was easy to see what she meant. An Overlord-level battle had erupted involving Emperor Naru Huan himself.
He swept great swathes of destructive green wind madra at his enemy, swinging his Blackflame greatsword in both hands, while his opponent controlled a pair of gold-and-blue serpentine dragons made of madra. A Stormcaller.
Jai Long had seen them in battle many times already, though he hadn’t crossed spears with them. It usually disturbed him that his sacred arts were so similar to a Dreadgod cult’s, but this time his throat was tight.
Kelsa and his sister were trapped behind that. Every Striker technique tore a new path through a forest and broke the clouds apart.
But the soulfire was still crawling through his veins. Slower, it seemed, every hour. There was nothing he could do.
He pressed his fists together and bowed to the Skysworn woman. “Please send someone to inform me when they check in,” he said. She gave him a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder.
“By this time tomorrow, you’ll be an Underlord. You’ll be able to take revenge yourself.”
Jai Long didn’t care what was going to happen tomorrow. He needed results today. And he was still more capable than any Lowgold, even mid-advancement as he was.
So he walked back to his tent, grabbed his spear, and changed into a nondescript outer robe that he stole from an unattended trunk. He veiled his spirit—as best he could, though the soulfire running through his channels meant that he wouldn’t stand up to a direct scan—and unwrapped his face.
Jai Long’s advancement to Gold had left him with an unfortunate Goldsign: sharp fangs of blue light and cheeks split deeply down his jaw to show them off. Usually, he kept his face covered to both protect his reputation and to spare others the sight.
Usually.
He hoped the advancement to Underlord would fix him, but thus far he’d kept the soulfire refining his spirit, not his body, in order to get him into fighting shape faster. It had slipped into his bones and organs anyway, even some of his limbs, but he’d managed to keep the soulfire away from his face.
While it might fix him, it might instead make things worse, and he didn’t want to find out until the last possible second. And, more relevant to his current predicament: no one knew what he looked like.
He strode out of the Blackflame Empire’s camp without anyone stopping him. He had to show his rank chip three times to be allowed to leave, but no one questioned a peak Truegold going out to fight.
It was perfect timing, in a sense. An Underlord would be too advanced to leave unquestioned, and a Highgold too weak.
He wouldn’t be able to re-enter the camp without a direct scan of his spirit, which would reveal him, but he shouldn’t need to hide then. He wouldn’t be alone.
Or he wouldn’t be returning.
He filled the body with his Enforcer technique. His inconsistently baptized channels meant that the technique was imbalanced, half-powerful and half-weak, so the snaking white lines of madra that covered his skin flickered between the verge of vanishing and shining brighter than ever.