Yerin leaned back against her chair, groaning at the state of her injuries. “Not that it’s going to be much of a helping hand when we can’t advance.”
“If you’ve got enough of a Herald’s body and the beginnings of authority, then you can use a Dreadgod weapon,” Lindon said. “At least for a while. I made them, and you contributed to killing the Dreadgods, so that should give you enough of a connection. With one of those, you’ll be a match for the Monarchs.”
“I am concerned about our speed,” Orthos said.
Mercy held up four fingers. “It’s really only four targets left, isn’t it? Emriss will ascend once she gets rid of the others.”
“We think,” Ziel muttered.
Lindon was confident they could trust Emriss. She had practically handed him the key to the Silent King. Then again…
Lindon turned to Dross. “Have we heard from Emriss?”
Dross shook his head. [She must have sensed the battle with the Weeping Dragon, but she’s made no attempt to contact us. And the other Monarchs were harassing us freely, so she wasn’t keeping pressure on them.]
“Then what is she doing?”
[Either she has a secret plan that we can’t possibly comprehend, or she’s been captured by the Monarchs.] Dross shrugged. [Could be both. Especially when the Eight-Man Empire held back the Dragon for us. They seem to be her allies, so the other Monarchs could have made a move while they were gone.]
“So, first up on the list,” Yerin said. “Free the tree.”
“Could they have killed her?” Ziel asked.
[Emriss formed herself up from a Remnant, but she isn’t one anymore. She’d leave a Remnant, like anyone. I can’t imagine Reigan Shen or any of the others wanting to take on another Monarch’s Remnant and the Dreadgods.]
“Which brings us to the last point,” Lindon said. “The Dreadgods have grown.”
He could feel them, even now. Almost as clear in his spirit as Orthos and Little Blue. The Bleeding Phoenix and the Wandering Titan were far from each other, and they were having a great time.
Lindon clenched his right fist. “They’re feeding.”
The others quieted. None of them extended their spiritual sense to find the Dreadgods, but they could all feel it.
The Titan and the Phoenix had gotten the same boosts to their power that Lindon had, though they hadn’t also created any Dreadgod weapons. Perhaps that would give him the edge.
No matter what, they would be more aware and more awake in addition to more powerful. Somewhere, the people of the world were facing down an apocalyptic crisis.
[Just one more reason to speed things up!] Dross said cheerily.
The mood had hit rock-bottom once again. Even Ziel’s newfound resolve seemed to have cooled, though he still seethed with palpable motivation. Besides Dross, they seemed to have all come to the conclusion that they’d signed up for an impossible mission that now had to be completed in no time.
“We can do this,” Lindon assured them all.
Mercy shrunk in on herself. “That’s what you said last time.”
“And we became much stronger,” Orthos said.
“Not enough,” Ziel pointed out.
Little Blue sighed and picked at the corner of the table.
“So what’s the difference this time?” Yerin asked.
“This time, we’re sticking together,” Lindon said. “And we’re going to start by gathering allies.”
“You should not be so calm,” Northstrider said to his prisoner.
Emriss Silentborn watched him from the inside of a tank. It had been designed to hold dragons, so it was a massive glass bubble suspended in a dark ocean. The inside was dry and barren, a stretch of sand.
There was no life in this pocket world. Nothing to give off life or dream aura except Northstrider himself, and he kept his own aura under tight control. He also allowed no sunlight or water inside, keeping the interior of the tank lit only by dim scripts.
Emriss could sustain herself for years with no food or water, but she would find it uncomfortable. That was the idea.
However, she had set herself up anyway. She’d formed a chair out of one of the boulders by molding earth aura, and she lounged on it as he watched. Her eyes were shut peacefully, her hands folded over her midsection.
“Why not be calm?” she asked in return, without opening her eyes. “Would panic accomplish more?”
“We will release you under one of two conditions. Either you ascend immediately, or you swear an oath to help us fight the Empty Ghost.”
She mouthed along with the words ‘Empty Ghost,’ though this couldn’t have been the first time she’d heard the name. “And if I wait here?”
“You stay here as your people are slaughtered by Dreadgods.”
He had expected a reaction to that. She’d given up centuries binding the Silent King. Her greatest fear was losing her population to the Dreadgods, and she would do anything to stop that fate.
Or so he’d assumed.
She continued lounging at her ease. “Mm. That would be a pity. It would take two, three generations to rebuild. Trees tend to take a long view, you know.”
It was a bluff. She was hiding her reaction. Northstrider knew that, and his oracle codex agreed. He’d gone over the codex with scripts and workings of the Way, and he was certain no trace of Dross remained.
Northstrider bet on that chance, matching her stoicism. “Very well. I’ll present you the same offer in a week. Next time, I’ll come with dream tablets from Dreadnought City.”
He manipulated the water around him. For their entire conversation, he had been floating in his artificial sea, speaking to her through the glass. Now he tore open a portal to the outside, ready to escape.
“See you next week,” Emriss said casually. “If you have that much time.”
Northstrider looked back over his shoulder and allowed a small smile to crack his lips. Then, without another word, he passed through the portal.
As soon as he was through, in his latest fortress at the bottom of the Trackless Sea, his smile was replaced once again by a scowl. He had pretended to have a strong hand to call Emriss’ bluff. She would be panicking now, he was certain, though he couldn’t examine her directly without her realizing.
If she wasn’t bluffing, though, then he was wasting his time. If she really did think on the glacial time scales of a tree and she wasn’t concerned about losing this generation of her population, he didn’t have any leverage over her.
His codex showed him that wasn’t the case, but he no longer trusted the codex’s predictions as he once had. Certainly not against Emriss. He wouldn’t put it past her to have foreseen this possibility.
Northstrider’s current headquarters was called the Sunken Tower, and it was the most advanced fortress he’d ever designed.
It was like a spear of dark stone driven into the bottom of the ocean. Each of its thirty floors was home to many facilities and pocket worlds, carrying out research that he could confidently say was unmatched in Cradle.
Others had gathered around the Tower. Northstrider didn’t lead a sect of his own, but greatness always attracted followers. And in times like this, where he was weakened and could not attract attention, followers could be useful.
Emriss’ cell was accessed by a scripted doorframe at the end of a hallway with Herald-level constructs and workings of great authority.
He left that hall on the thirtieth floor and flew the short length to the roof. A hatch opened at his approach, and a script prevented water from rushing inside.
Northstrider splashed upward into the ocean. The darkness of the sea’s depth was kept at bay by circular lights that floated here and there like miniature moons. Lesser structures spilled out from the Sunken Tower, all around, each releasing light from its windows. Many were covered by scripts that pushed back against the pressures of the depths, allowing human Golds to survive here.