But there was another layer to it, one she was just beginning to touch. Sometimes her spirit warned her of danger before she could have sensed anything. What was it feeling?
Her mind returned to the construct that allowed her to speak with Lindon regardless of the distance. She could track the shadow and dream madra as they twisted into one another, but they were held in place by...something else. There should be a third element there, but she felt nothing.
It was a vague concept, and as she wondered about it, she extended her perception around her. Beyond Eithan and Saeya's fight, she stretched it into the trees that now rose over their cloudship.
The aura was rich here, and she felt the power of the wind as it played through the leaves. A storm gathered overhead, but fire aura had gathered within it, so it was going to be a bad aura-storm.
Those happened sometimes, especially in lands with strong vital aura. She and her master had been forced to travel through rains of fire or winds of scorching poison, though of course she’d had a Sage’s protection at the time.
She found herself sensing for gaps in the aura, still chewing on the vague feeling she’d gotten from the construct.
Instead of an answer, she felt danger.
Saeya and Eithan jumped away from her at the same time Yerin's spirit screamed a warning, and all three of them shouted to the crew at the same time. Far overhead, a winged golden form split through the clouds, diving down toward them.
A gold dragon. It must have hidden in the overwhelming fire aura gathered overhead, disguising itself even from Eithan.
It had a serpentine body, four clawed limbs, gleaming fangs, and shining eyes. Its scales glittered even in the dim light of the overcast day, and it descended on them like a golden spear.
Yerin's sword leaped into her hand, and her six sword-arms flashed behind her. She gathered up the sword aura, shaping it to her will, focusing the Endless Sword on the tip of her master's white blade.
Saeya stood upright, her emerald wings spread behind her, peacock feathers standing up straight behind one ear. She made a fist, and wind aura snagged the dragon's wings in mid-flight.
The creature shuddered as though stumbling in midair, losing a bit of speed, but broke the Ruler technique after a moment of concentration.
Eithan looked up at the sky, yellow hair streaming behind him and hands in his pockets. Behind him, blue-white stars of Forged madra began to appear.
"Too late," he said.
At the same time, the gold dragon cracked open its jaws. It spewed bright orange liquid flame in a thick stream, like a burning river, down on their ship. Gold dragon's breath. The Path of the Flowing Flame.
Yerin unleashed the Endless Sword which, as expected, only scraped a shallow line across the gold dragon's scales. She hadn't intended it to be a lethal blow, she only wanted to throw off the dragon's aim.
It didn't work. The dragon's head jerked, and the line of Flowing Flame madra scorched the ground to one side of the ship, but only an instant later the sacred beast pulled its head back. Fire madra blasted through the bottom of the ship with a sickening crunch that Yerin could feel through her feet.
The dragon caught itself in the middle of its dive, flapping its wings to hover in midair. Yerin could feel the force of the wind and the pressure of its spirit; it had the power of an Underlord.
Yerin pooled madra in her sword, gathering up the Rippling Sword technique, and slashed at the air. A wave of razor-sharp energy swept at the dragon, but a round plate of bronze emerged from behind the creature, sweeping around and catching the Striker technique. Yerin's madra burst apart on the shield.
The dragon reached out to the aura around it, resonating with its soulfire. It was far too weak to be an attack—Yerin could feel that immediately—but it was still a complex aura manipulation technique that Yerin wasn't sure she could match.
Words, half in her ears and half in her head, soon formed from aura of wind and dreams. "Where is the Blackflame?" the dragon demanded in a feminine voice. A voice Yerin had heard before.
She hadn't heard it in many months, and she had never seen this form before, but a female gold dragon with a grudge against Lindon...there was only one she knew of.
"He's dead," Yerin said to Sopharanatoth. "Choked on his soup."
A spiritual scan passed over the whole cloudship, sending a shiver passing through her soul. Yerin didn't expect the dragon to retreat just because she found out Lindon wasn't around, and besides, Yerin wasn't the same weak Highgold that she had been when she'd first met Sophara. She had no problem challenging an Underlady now.
Yerin slid up to Naru Saeya, keeping her sword out. Voice low, Yerin asked, "Can you get me up there?"
"That would be a bad idea," Saeya responded. Sweat rolled down the sides of her face, and she licked her lips.
Yerin looked to Eithan for confirmation, and he nodded.
He didn't seem as worried as Saeya did, but he hadn't banished the stars gathering in the air behind him either. "Feel for yourself."
Yerin reached out toward the dragon with her perception...and suddenly Sophara loomed a hundred times larger in her vision. Yerin’s spirit quivered like a kicked puppy.
This was not someone she had any chance of defeating. Not on her own.
But she wasn’t on her own.
Sophara showed no intention of attacking. She gave an angry roar, her wings beating the air, and turned to fly away.
A Rippling Sword caught her in the flank the same time as a lance of light from Eithan's star. A fist of green wind madra grabbed at her tail. Yerin's technique actually drew blood, Eithan's crashed onto the bronze shield floating around her, and Saeya's drew her up short.
"I have not allowed you to leave," Naru Saeya declared, rising up on wings of her own.
Yerin felt a burst of pride that all three of them had come to the same conclusion. None of them were a match for Sophara, but she wasn't invincible, and she’d been foolish enough to come here on her own.
This was exactly the time to attack.
The cloudship's crew had leaped over the side at the first sign of Underlords clashing, and the ship itself still listed to one side, having a chunk burned out of it by gold dragon's breath.
Sophara only flinched at the damage from their techniques. Blood rolled down her scales, but she still faced them with slowly flapping wings. "I don't need to waste time with you," her aura-born voice said. "You are already done."
Once again, she turned. Another volley of techniques reached her, but they were either dodged, deflected by the floating shield, or crushed by her own madra.
Yerin and Saeya tried twice more, but Eithan gave up almost immediately, letting his Forged stars dissipate back into aura. He sighed. "This will be inconvenient."
Naru Saeya turned sharply, staring down at the deck beneath her feet. "Is it gone?"
"All but a spoonful."
Yerin extended her own perception down to the cloudship. She couldn't sense the damage to the hull—she could only sense spiritual powers, nothing physical—but that scarcely mattered. It was the network of scripts and constructs running the ship that actually got them places.
Many of them were still intact. She figured the crew could have them in the air again inside a day.
But the containment around the Ninecloud madra was broken. The fuel given to them had mostly faded into useless essence.
She pushed back a spike of fear. "We're not walking there, that's certain. If you had to place a bet, how long would you say it's going to take us?"
"Another month," Naru Saeya said sadly. "At best."
The tournament's opening was in three weeks.
Yerin walked over to the side, looking down to stare at the smoking hole in the ship. "Well...here's hoping they come looking for us before then."