Now, it was as though his madra did as he wished without his input. On the ground floor, the door swung open.
Once she was through the threshold and inside the protective script, Charity stepped into shadow. She emerged at Lindon’s side a second later.
“You can’t leave,” she said flatly.
Lindon pressed his fists together to salute the Sage of the Silver Heart. “I am grateful for your attention, but we have no time to wait. My homeland is in imminent danger from the Dreadgod. If you would provide us with travel there and back, it would greatly speed our return.”
She moved her gaze from Lindon to Yerin and back. “It was risky enough to allow you to move as you wished when you were only a talented young Underlord. Do you expect me to permit an Underlord Sage and the world’s first…pseudo-Herald…to willingly place themselves in the path of the Wandering Titan?”
That sentence raised Lindon’s curiosity on a number of points.
“Pseudo-Herald,” Yerin repeated. “Would have thought they’d give me a shinier name.”
“Do I count as a Sage, officially?” Lindon asked.
Charity flicked one hand. “This is why you must stay with us. You need guidance now more than ever. You are—both of you—playing with forces beyond your comprehension, long before you are ready to do so. Now that we’re losing my father, we cannot afford to stretch our resources any thinner.”
Lindon’s heart froze. Losing her father?
Dross gasped.
Even Yerin rested a hand on her sword. “Are the Heralds still on him?” she asked, as though she could do something to influence that fight.
He startled himself as he realized that she potentially could.
While she wasn’t a full Herald, and he didn’t expect her to be blotting out the sky with her techniques yet, they hadn’t found the time to test out the full extent of her abilities. If Fury was still alive and fighting, maybe Yerin could turn the tide in his favor.
But if he was still fighting, Charity wouldn’t be here. Fury must already be gone.
“He’s ascending,” Charity said. There was an edge of bitterness to the words.
[Ooohhh, that sounds fascinating!] Dross said. [And sorry for your loss. Can we watch?]
“If you stay,” the Sage responded.
The passing seconds pressed in on Lindon, but he needed Charity’s cooperation. “Losing your father will be a loss to us all, and I’m sorry to hear it. I will be happy to comply with anything you wish...after I’ve done this one last thing.”
Everything he’d done, all the pain he’d suffered, all the long hours he’d put in, it had all been to save Sacred Valley. He refused to fail now.
“Your homeland is in the path of the Dreadgod. If there are individuals you wish to evacuate, I’m sure we can arrange that. Carefully. With planning. There are reasons we don’t enter that territory.”
Lindon defied his long-standing instincts by steadily meeting her eye and asking her a direct question. As though they were equals. “And what are those reasons?”
She matched him for a long moment.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said at last. “There are ancient protections in place that…dampen…the powers of anyone above a certain threshold. The field affects you more strongly the more powerful you are, and for some it can be lethal. Large cloudships can’t even fly in such thin aura.”
“A security measure for the labyrinth,” Lindon said.
He had learned a few things. Most recently from a careful inspection of some documents from the Ninecloud City records.
Charity gave him a short nod. “We don’t avoid that place because we hate it. It’s dangerous, and a hundred times so now that there’s a Dreadgod on its way.”
Yerin stood stiffly at Lindon’s side. “Feed that to me one more time.”
“Surely I’m not the first to inform you that the Wandering Titan is on the move,” Charity said, with a glance at Lindon.
“Not that. You’re talking about a boundary field that smothers sacred arts.” Lindon could read tension in every inch of her body. Even her sword-arms were poised, like scorpion tails.
When he realized what she was talking about, he felt it like a slap to the face. This field must have led to the death of her master. He should have seen that immediately and prepared her for it, but he had only been thinking about the implications to his homeland.
Charity spread her hands. “If you’ll dock your cloudship, I would be delighted to explain what little I know about this restricted area.”
“Rotten deal for me, isn’t it? I’m about to see it with my own two eyes.”
Yerin had relaxed somewhat, but Lindon reached out and rested his left hand on her shoulder. Her madra spun restlessly through her body.
To him, the mystery of the Sword Sage’s death was just a small question, a distant itch. As he’d advanced, he’d wondered how it could be possible, but it had never been urgent enough to demand his attention.
To Yerin, it must be far more important. That deserved real investigation.
Once Sacred Valley was safe.
“There are people living in that field,” Lindon said. “Surely they’re entitled to the protection of the Akura clan, or at least the Blackflame Empire.”
“I don’t wish to speak ill of your homeland,” Charity said, “but we only allow them to remain because they aren’t worth our time. They’re like fleas living in an armory. We could sweep them out, but why bother?”
Lindon felt a little guilty that he found Charity’s perspective reasonable.
The Sage’s attachment to him and Yerin made sense as well. They now represented a significant force for the Akura clan. She didn’t want that slipping through her fingers.
But if he had value, he had leverage.
“Did I not contribute enough to our cause during the fight for Sky’s Edge?” he asked quietly. “Have I not done as you wished all this time? Have I not exceeded your expectations over and over again? How about Yerin?”
“I know your worth better than you do. It is precisely because of that—”
Lindon cut her off. “Apologies, but I wasn’t finished.”
If he was going to use his value, he may as well act like it.
Though his heart hammered, and he could feel Charity’s will focusing on him.
It felt strange, like her intentions were pressing down on him from the outside. She was frustrated, and she wanted to force him to see things from her perspective, but knew she couldn’t.
Before he lost his nerve, he continued. “All of that, I’ve done to spare my family from this fate. I desperately want your support, but if I don’t have it, we will fly there ourselves, no matter how long it takes. If we must, we will walk.”
It felt wrong to speak for Yerin, but she stood at his side and nodded along.
A voice echoed from the floor below. “We won’t make it if we walk!” Eithan shouted up.
“So we won’t walk,” Lindon allowed. “We can find other transportation if we must.”
“It won’t be as fast!” Eithan called again.
Lindon spread his hands. “Which is why I would like your help.” And, because he couldn’t resist, he added, “…and I apologize for interrupting you.”