[There’s never been a delay before,] the spirit said softly. [If he was going to come back, his body would have disappeared.]
Then the wall crashed down, cutting off the sound from the arena. He heard only Mercy and Little Blue excitedly talking to one another, but Mercy trailed off.
“Lindon? What happened?”
He had driven his fist into the stone, leaving a crater. His right hand left no blood behind, though the white madra cracked slightly.
“...just to spite us.” He bit off the words, his voice low. Tears stung his eyes, though he couldn't understand why. He hadn't known Naian Blackflame at all.
“What?” Mercy hurried around so she could look into his face. “Did the dragons say something?”
The air flickered, and a massive bulk of a man stepped out, ragged hair falling behind him. His unshaven face showed a hint of anger.
“They always do,” Northstrider said. He had appeared in the center of the waiting room as easily as walking out of a door.
The two Underlords both bowed, though Lindon had to force his body to move like a puppet.
“Dragons are beings of destruction,” the Monarch went on. “They would rather see a field reduced to ash than see someone else have a bite to eat.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Lindon said. He didn't have a way yet, but he and Dross would figure it out. Blackflame burned through his spirit, and he took deep breaths, cycling the fury throughout his body.
Northstrider's golden eyes flicked between them before settling on Lindon. “Your opponent asked for his last words to be delivered to you.”
Lindon felt a pang in his heart. Last words. So Naian had expected what happened to him.
“He said, ‘The dragon advances.’”
Chapter 16
In the brightly tiled and decorated hallways leading to their waiting room, Yerin and Eithan ran into the House Arelius team.
If that was a coincidence, Yerin would eat her sword.
Veris Arelius, the remaining Underlady, was the House Arelius woman they had met during the second round. She was tall and long-limbed, with blue eyes that shone like a sharpened blade and yellow hair tied into a braid.
Yerin had never seen Veris’ partner in the flesh before, but she'd looked up dream tablets on House Arelius since the last round. Altavian Arelius was in his early thirties, and his blond hair was almost white. He stood as tall as Lindon but not as broad, with legs built for running and arms for reach.
The sword on his back was twice the length of Yerin’s, and his Goldsigns were his razor-sharp nails. He was a sword artist who specialized in Enforcer techniques; in her dream tablet, she'd seen him cut through three individual opponents in a row during the second round.
Altavian's blue eyes were as peaceful as a lake on a windless day, and he looked as calm as though he walked around in a meditative trance. He bowed when he saw her, but otherwise said nothing.
Eithan swept up to them both, beaming. “It's a shame that we must meet each other in competition, but at least we will have a chance to learn from the main House.”
“If you've made it this far, you don't need any pointers from us,” Veris said. Now that she was speaking words Yerin could understand, her accent was clearly similar to Eithan's. The Arelius woman regarded them both with satisfaction. “Five people with the name Arelius passing the second round. I hope that burns him to the bone.”
“I doubt Reigan Shen is burned at all by our tenacity,” Eithan said, and Veris paled. Altavian's eyes widened in shock, and both members of the House Arelius team took a healthy step away.
Eithan flicked a lock of hair behind him. “We're not going to say anything he doesn't already know. I doubt he thinks we have a positive opinion of him after he killed our Monarch and shattered our home.”
He may as well have been speaking about ancient history, but Yerin's attention was hooked. She'd gathered that the Arelius homeland had been destroyed, and that Eithan had been there, but now it sounded like a battle between Monarchs.
“I wouldn't hate hearing that story,” Yerin said pointedly to Eithan.
“Not here,” Veris said through her teeth.
Eithan lifted his eyebrows. “You think speaking more quietly is going to prevent a Monarch from hearing us?”
“I think a little caution is better than none.” She stared him down for a moment before Eithan cleared his throat and dipped his head to her.
“You are quite right. I apologize, I forgot who I was dealing with.”
Veris' eyes flicked to the ceiling, but she seemed to relax somewhat. “The point remains that this is a good omen. No matter which of us wins, the Arelius name will echo across the world.”
“Mmmm,” Eithan said.
That might have been agreement.
The other two bowed and began to leave, but Eithan stopped them with a gesture. He gathered his thoughts before he spoke, which snagged Yerin's curiosity. Since when did he think before speaking?
“The Blackflame portal to the homeland opens in about two years. I would very much like to meet you there when it does. I believe we may be able to help each other.”
Veris looked surprised, and exchanged a quick volley of words with Altavian in her language. Finally, she said, “Much of that territory has been lost, but we will find a way.”
“Let it be so!” Eithan said triumphantly, and then he strode toward their waiting room. “Come, Yerin! Let's get ready to beat our new friends to death!”
~~~
The scripted stone door of their waiting room slowly slid open, revealing an arena that had totally changed once again.
Rather than covered in ash like Lindon's, their battlefield was covered in rectangular pillars. Some of them were only waist-high, while others towered overhead. Narrow alleys wound their way through the dense maze of structures.
Lindon's Blackflame arena had been designed to give them a source of aura, but this seemed to be built to limit their angles and force them into a fight on different levels. Yerin could imagine having to push to a crossroads to get enough space to swing her sword, and leaping up to the top of a pillar to land a Striker technique on someone below.
She wondered why the arena had been customized in this way for this particular match—it seemed to be designed to restrict the two sword artists more than anything—but the introduction made the picture clear.
“Arelius versus Arelius!” the Ninecloud Soul announced, to the approving roars of an energetic crowd.
The week since the last match had whipped them into a frenzy, because Yerin couldn't hear herself think.
“House Arelius used to rule over most of the Rosegold continent, before the tragic death of the Monarch Tiberian Arelius only eight years ago. But his descendants are still a force to be reckoned with, leaving branches on every continent! Today, it's a family reunion, as their cousins from the Blackflame Empire have come to test their worth against the heart of House Arelius!”
Arelius versus Arelius...this arena had been designed with their bloodline abilities in mind. The close square pillars would block sight and make hearing unreliable, so spiritual perception and Arelius bloodline senses would be the best way to navigate the fight.
And Eithan had forced her to complete his spiritual perception course. Had he known, even then, that they would be in this situation?
Yerin gave him a wary look from the side. If he had anticipated this far ahead, then she should be a little afraid of him.
He kept looking to the center of the arena, but leaned to the side to speak to her. “Good thing we trained your perception, isn't it? This could have been awkward.”
Yerin relaxed. Sometimes she forgot Eithan was only human.
The columns blocked their sight of the other team, but Northstrider appeared in the middle of the arena, standing on the highest rectangular pillar. His wild hair blew in the wind, and he looked down on them with the regal bearing of a king.