“I do,” Lindon said.
“Didn’t you say you got the Ninecloud Court to install a redundant series of security scripts in your cloudbase? I would love to hear more about that.”
Lindon wasn’t fooled. Eithan just didn’t want to talk about his plants. Either because he had some kind of plan in mind…or, equally likely, because he was feeling lazy and wanted to put Lindon on the spot.
Probably both.
On the other hand, Lindon would take any excuse to talk about the modifications the Court had made to the functions of his fortress. “We’ll come back later, then. All fortresses come with a set of security circles to disperse hostile madra, but by giving up some features on the surface, I was able to get them to include a more thorough—”
Eithan threw up a hand. “Oh no! Danger! We’ll have to pick this up some other time!”
Lindon extended his spiritual perception and soon found a flock of venomous presences approaching one of the Akura cloudships.
As Eithan and Mercy sprinted off, Lindon turned to Yerin. “I know he timed that.”
“He can bleed and rot. Let him swat the birds down without us. You can tell me about the scripts. And the…constructs.”
She was being completely sincere, but she didn’t care about the way the fortress worked. He would be explaining for his own sake.
“No, let’s go get some birds.”
“You’re stone-certain?” She’d stay if he wanted her to, and he knew that.
When he nodded, she shot off after the other two, stopping in midair to turn around and wave for him to follow.
Ziel stood motionless next to Lindon. The edges of his cloak fluttered in the wind. “I’d like to hear about the scripts,” he said.
Lindon sighed. “Thanks.”
The ships floating on their purple clouds stretched out behind Lindon and the others. He reached the edge of his own flying island in time to see a flock of beasts approach.
They were toxic green, leathery birds that trailed dull fog. The birds and the trails behind them gave off a powerful sensation of venom madra.
Mercy had already drawn her bow, shooting down the closest three birds before they could get even close to the cloudship they were targeting. Even so, the rest of the flock—several hundred strong, at least—didn’t falter.
“I hope they’re not intelligent,” Mercy said.
Eithan put his hands on his hips. “If they are self-aware, and they’re still attacking this convoy, they’re certainly not very intelligent. In fact, how about a game?”
Yerin was about to race off and leap over to the next cloud, but Lindon saw her freeze at the suggestion.
“We’ve all advanced in some way recently,” Eithan went on. “I’m sure I can’t be the only one longing for a chance to stretch my muscles, spiritually speaking.”
Mercy shot down another bird that was ahead of the group. “One technique apiece?”
“For educational purposes only! I wouldn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of having all bets placed on me.”
“And you’re sure they aren’t intelligent?”
“From their behavior, I would say no. Also from their spirits, the fact that they’re screeching to one another instead of speaking, and from my extensive education. I’m familiar with this species, and they’re slightly less intelligent than rats. Meaner, too.”
“Then it sounds fun! I’ll go!” Mercy seized the string of her bow in her black-gloved hands, pulling it back and Forging a dark arrow onto the string.
Her spirit surged, and the full power of an Overlady was focused onto the bow. Lindon felt the techniques layering onto the arrow one at a time, until the missile quivered with unreleased force. The dragon’s head, now at the center of the bow, hissed angrily. Its eyes flashed violet.
Her will was clearly focused on the bow, but Lindon sensed something beyond that. Something he wouldn’t have been able to put his finger on before, and that he still couldn’t quite define. It felt as though her arrow was reaching a dimension beyond the physical. That was authority, he supposed, but only a whisper of it.
Mercy released the string.
The arrow whipped up a whirlwind, tearing up the grass as it blasted through the air. The sunlight flickered in its wake, as though the missile stained the air with darkness in its passing.
When the arrow impacted the flock, it tore a hole in the mass of birds.
Then it exploded into dark tendrils.
Strings of Shadow lashed out from where they’d been compressed into the arrow, snatching up nearby birds with oily arms and pulling them together. A mass of sealed, fused-together birds tumbled down through the sky.
Mercy held her hand over her eyes to peer down. “Thirty-four! I think I could get fifty next time.”
The flock had noticed, and was wheeling around in the air to re-focus on Mercy’s location.
“Looks like you’ll get your chance to try,” Eithan said, “but only on your next turn. Yerin, you must be dying to try out the extent of your powers.”
“Like a starving dog,” Yerin said fervently. Her hair blew over her shoulder as she stepped up, pulling a black-bladed sword from her new void key. Netherclaw had originally been chosen as the weapon of her Blood Shadow, but now it suited her madra better.
Now that she and Ruby had merged. Which still made Lindon feel…strange.
Yerin’s gleaming scarlet sword-arms withdrew, sliding like liquid into her back. The lock of red in her hair shone slightly as she focused on the tip of her sword.
And if Mercy had added a touch of weight to her arrow with her will, this attack struck Lindon’s new senses as though Yerin had strapped a boulder to the end of her weapon.
Silver-and-red light swirled around the blade, and Lindon recognized the technique she was forming: the Final Sword.
But it was rougher, less controlled than it had been before. Not only had they developed it as a pure sword technique, but she had lost the connection to the Sword Icon that had made the technique possible before.
Ruby had figured out a version of the Final Sword with her blood madra, but it had always been weaker than Yerin’s. It looked like now, Yerin was compensating for her lack of experience in the aspect with pure, overwhelming power.
In fact…
Just from standing next to Yerin, Lindon was buffeted with force beyond the physical. Ziel had planted his feet, Mercy held a hand across her eyes, and Eithan cleared his throat.
“Yerin, perhaps we might reconsider—”
She unleashed the technique.
A beam of gleaming red-chrome energy shot forward from Yerin. It was rough like a river, not as smooth as black dragon’s breath or sword-shaped like the former version of the Final Sword. It sounded like a long, ongoing explosion. Like a roar.
And it was wider than Yerin’s entire body.
Where the passage of Mercy’s technique had uprooted some grass, this one tore up a large trench of soil. The flock of venomous birds was aimed at their fortress, and the Final Sword speared through the center of them all.
Those in the middle were wiped out, of course, but power flickered out from the edges of the technique, whipping nearby birds from the air like lashes of liquid lightning.
After only a few seconds, the technique faded.
There was only one bird left, a straggler that had flapped heavily beneath the rest of its brethren. It let out a loud squawk and hauled itself in the other direction.