First his ears, then his eyes. Though his Bloodforged Iron body had healed him so far, that still couldn't be good for him.
A black web snagged him and dragged him along the dirt road. Mercy and Yerin hauled him in, stuffing him down into a cellar door.
He fought them, though none of them had much strength at the moment. "Please," he begged them, "please, I have to see."
This was real power. These were the sacred arts that could stand over the entire world.
In this case, literally.
Mercy pushed him deeper, casting fearful glances behind her. "If we don't get down, we will die. Trust me."
He still struggled. "I beg you! I have to see this."
She halted for a second, though the wind grabbed her ponytail and tossed it around. "She’ll be fighting for days.”
Lindon stared at Mercy. Yerin, who had most of her body down the stairs already, looked up and peeked out.
"How do you figure that?" she asked. The armor covered the figure completely, and there was nothing to say if it was a man or a woman.
"I think she knows who it is," Lindon said, watching Mercy's expression.
"I should," she responded. "That's my mother."
A blazing crimson light crashed into a shining amethyst blur, and Mercy shoved Lindon the rest of the way inside. The last he saw was a wall of dust and debris headed their way before the door shut it all out.
Chapter 18
They huddled in the shelter of the broken village’s cellar for three days.
Most of the homes here had stockpiled some food, so they were able to feed themselves easily. Water was harder, at least at first, until they ventured outside and realized that one of the blows from the distant battle had torn open a spring. They filled as many jars as they could carry, hauling them back to their cellar while avoiding as many bloodspawn as possible.
After the first day, the sounds of battle had faded to those of a thunderstorm. By the end of the second day, they'd disappeared entirely, and the red haze had vanished from the sun.
Only then did the bloodspawn completely vanish. Most of them had been torn to pieces in the wake of the titanic conflict, but stragglers still formed until the red aura withdrew.
It was for the best, because Lindon couldn't fight. He couldn't even cycle.
Little Blue had worked on him, with every spark improving his shattered spirit, but each of her touches caused him agonizing pain. Each time, it was like setting a broken arm.
She hated that he was in pain, but she still tried her best. But he wasn't her only patient—Yerin and Orthos needed help as badly as he did.
Her power was stretched thin, and the store of pure scales in his pack wasn't endless. Eventually, she paled and had to curl up in her case again, the crack hovering over her like a frozen lightning bolt.
If his madra channels had been in better shape, he could have shared his power with her. As it was, he needed to feed her if he wanted her to help, but she needed to help him before he could heal her.
So they were stuck, waiting.
He was awakened on the third day by someone tearing the door open. He tried to extend his perception, but it was like trying to touch something with a broken finger. He shied back.
Not that it matters, he thought. I know who it is.
There was only one person who could find them. And, for that matter, only one person who would have gone looking for them.
Eithan stuck his head down, hair gleaming in the shaft of sunlight he was letting in. He jerked back, lips twisting in disgust.
"An apocalyptic battle is no excuse not to bathe," he said.
Lindon rose, apologizing, but Mercy laughed, her voice light with relief. Yerin rolled her eyes, and Orthos extended his neck from his shell, snorted, and withdrew it again.
Despite the smell, he hopped down the stairs, examining them with hands on his hips. He addressed Yerin first. "I see you managed to follow my advice after all!"
"No choice," she said. "Bad luck pushed me into a corner."
"You'd be surprised how often people listen to me when they're left with no choice. I'll have to fulfill one of those many rewards I've promised you."
"Cheers and celebration," she muttered.
Then he turned to Lindon. "Why is it that I so often find you locked in a dark place, filthy and exhausted and covered in blood?"
"At least Yerin didn't have to kick me this time."
"Does that happen often?" Mercy asked.
Her comment pulled Eithan's attention to her, and his smile broadened. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said.
Lindon couldn't quite see how, but he got the impression Eithan was lying. Somehow.
Mercy stood and propped her staff on one shoulder, bowing and pressing her fists together. "Akura Mercy. I cannot thank you enough for coming to rescue us."
Eithan didn't mention her family name, though Lindon was sure he knew what it meant. All the clan members among the Skysworn trainees had known, though the lower-class students hadn't. He doubted those Lowgolds would have information that Eithan did not.
"Not at all, young lady, not at all. I was simply retrieving some of mine." He beamed over at Lindon and Yerin. "I have some news that you will enjoy, and some that you will not. Which would you prefer first?"
"I could use some cheer," Yerin said.
"Bad news first, then! I do not know how the Skysworn will react to your absence. It could be that you are wanted for capture."
Capture. Again.
Lindon had rarely longed so badly for advancement in the sacred arts. The stronger he was, the harder it would be to keep him imprisoned.
He couldn't imagine anyone keeping Mercy's mother in a box.
"Allow me to follow with the good news: I have successfully completed a difficult task for Naru Gwei, and he owes me a favor...although it was not actually difficult for me, but that was not a relevant detail to share with the Empire. They will punish you lightly, just for the sake of appearance, but then they will allow you to continue serving the Skysworn."
Yerin scoffed. "Maybe when the sun cracks and falls. They dropped me from the sky." Lindon had shared that story with her during their time in the cellar.
"Alas, they won't let go of you. You are still, officially, Skysworn. Even I cannot pry you loose, now that you have committed to them." He spread his hands. "If it eases your mind, at least know that they won't be trying to kill you so aggressively anymore. Not now that I'm openly in favor."
Mercy heaved a deep breath before saying, "They think we're the enemy. We just have to show them we're all on the same side."
Yerin and Lindon stared at her.
Eithan pointed. "That's the spirit. Another piece of good tidings: the Bleeding Phoenix has retreated for now."
A chill ran down Lindon's spine. "She didn't kill it?"
"Kill it? If anyone could kill a Dreadgod, they would not have survived for so long. No, there's a reason behind the Bleeding Phoenix's name." He paused a moment. "I think you've figured out the Bleeding part, but the Phoenix half is just as important. It disperses its Blood Shadows all over the world, then it builds itself a new body from the power they gather. Unlike most of the other Dreadgods, Monarchs can destroy its body temporarily, but it always forms again.
"Although, in this case, that isn't what happened."
Eithan was milking the moment, Lindon could tell. Unfortunately, he couldn't pretend not to be interested. The Underlord had them on a hook, and he knew it. Even Orthos had poked his head out of his shell.
"The honored Monarch fought for two days and nights, until her armor was cracked and leaking essence. She would surely have had to retreat in only another hour or two, and the Phoenix had sustained no injury. Their battle had spilled into the eastern wasteland, but it would be nothing for the Dreadgod to turn back and return to our lands."