Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (117)

“Do I look like the Blood Sage to you?”

“We need to make the Monarchs ascend,” Lindon said. He could discuss the truth with anyone who knew, so Yerin’s explanation had loosened his lips. “But if they ascend first, it will take years for the Dreadgods to die. Years with no one to stop them. So we need to get strong enough to kill the rest of them.”

“The rest of them,” Ziel repeated. “Except for the Silent King. The one you killed. The Dreadgod you killed yourself.”

Lindon cleared his throat. “The Monarchs did most of the work.”

“Oh. Never mind, then.” Ziel gave him a pointed stare.

Inside the Ancestor’s Tomb, Lindon looked around at his team. “Did you all succeed in your assignments?”

[We know you did,] Dross whispered to everyone at once. [He just wants to see it.]

Orthos opened the void key Lindon had provided and Remnants spilled forth, black dragons of dark red madra that snarled and prepared to wreak havoc.

Until Lindon stared at them with black-and-white eyes. They slithered back inside.

Orthos grunted at them. “I have one Archlord black dragon Remnant, two Overlords, six Underlords, and fifteen Golds. And one cowardly Herald.”

From behind the others, Noroloth’s Remnant peeked a head up. “May I say something?”

“No,” Orthos said.

The Herald Remnant had been bound so that its power was restricted, which just barely allowed Lindon to fit it into Orthos’ void key with the rest of them. If it had resisted, it could have broken the restriction, but then Lindon would have torn open the space and hauled Noroloth’s spirit out bodily.

Which the Remnant was very eager to avoid.

“Will that be enough to get Orthos to Archlord?” Lindon asked Dross.

[Mmmm…given time. If he can subdue all their wills. And if you’re willing to donate a little madra, and a lot of soulfire.]

“That’s Orthos taken care of,” Lindon said. “Ziel.”

“Got it.” Ziel cracked the scripted container at his waist, and silver light spilled out along with a powerful will. He shut it quickly. “You’ll have to tell me if it has enough authority for you.”

“It does,” Lindon said. “Pardon me.”

He walked up to Ziel, close enough that the man’s horns almost poked him in the forehead. Most people would have backed up a step.

“What are you doing?” Ziel asked flatly.

“Looking,” Lindon said.

He felt something in Ziel’s spirit, and…yes, he thought he saw a glimmer of understanding in the depths of Ziel’s eyes. So Eithan hadn’t been making it up after all.

Or maybe it was his imagination.

“When you reach the peak of Archlord, you’ll be close to Sage,” Lindon said. He stepped back. “At least, I believe so.”

Ziel sighed, but he nodded as though he agreed.

“Blue,” Lindon said.

Little Blue peeped and held her hand up.

“You did a great job.”

Blue ran around in a circle on Orthos’ head, cheering.

“I have a few more elixirs for you and I’ll feed you a little more power, but I think you’re ready. Yerin, how about you?”

Yerin opened her void key and jerked a thumb at the wide opening. A scripted chest quivered and shook as the vessel struggled to maintain the power within. Red light spilled from the lid.

“Still not convinced he’s not going to bust out and eat us.”

“He missed that chance. Dross.”

Dross appeared in the air next to him and pushed his tentacles together in a salute. [At your service, Sage!]

“Tell them how strong you are.”

Dross’ eye glittered. A shining halo appeared over his head, and then the world began to flex as he distorted the senses of everyone in the room. A thousand copies of Dross appeared in every square inch of air.

[Strong,] they all said.

“Now tell them what’s on their way.”

The extra clones of Dross vanished, replaced by an image of a huge red bird flying over the ocean. The Bleeding Phoenix gave a searing cry.

A miles-long sapphire dragon swam over a sea of clouds, and its mouth crackled with lightning anger. The Weeping Dragon roared.

A towering black statue with a shell and skin like stone waded through mountains. The Wandering Titan plunged its fist down into a canyon, and when its hand re-emerged, it was holding a gargantuan sword.

The images vanished and left everyone in silence for a long moment.

“Dross,” Ziel said at last, “now tell them how they’re going to survive the attack of three Dreadgods without the Monarchs to help.”

Dross gave a wide grin, revealing sharp teeth, but it was Lindon who answered the question. “We’re not just going to survive,” Lindon said. “We’re going to attack.”

Ziel looked from Lindon to Dross and back. “Oh.”

Behind his back, Lindon clasped his human hand in his white one. “Not long ago, far below this spot, I promised you that I wasn’t going to fight alone anymore. I swore to you, and to myself, that I was going to find a way for you all to catch up to me.

“Now we’re going up against enemies who have all defeated sacred artists stronger than I am. They have more support than we do, more people than we do. More skill. Centuries more experience.”