Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (17)

“They are no threat to you—” Lindon began, but he was cut off.

“Lindon. You took my birthplace and the power of my kind. In return, I claim your life.”

Lindon drew back from the massive tiger, veiling himself and trying to withdraw from the overwhelming pressure. He reached out to the Void Icon for comfort and support, but the Silent King’s presence was overwhelming as the Dreadgod stalked forward.

“Orthos is not safe from me because he is close to you. Akura Mercy is not safe from me because she is the daughter of a Monarch. Yerin is not safe from me because she is a defective Herald. And Dross is not safe from me because he remains silent.”

The dark Dross slid out of Lindon’s spirit and manifested in the air next to him. He was pulled by an invisible hand, struggling as the will of the Dreadgod tugged him closer to the tiger’s jaws.

[I wonder if Eithan can speak with the dead,] Dross whispered to Lindon even as he fought the Silent King. [Maybe I will see him before you will.]

Lindon threw himself desperately at Dross, battling the Dreadgod. It had not been so long since he’d clashed wills with the Wandering Titan, but the Titan had been weakened by the suppression field.

Lindon had grown stronger since then, but this was on another level.

“Enough!” Lindon commanded, tapping into his authority as the Void Sage. The connection shredded itself, fading to nothing.

As the image of the Silent King faded away, the Dreadgod spoke once more. “I will not relinquish you, Lindon. The sooner you dedicate your life to me, the fewer of them will die. Be wary, because I come for you.”

Then the pressure released and Lindon sank to the ruined streets of Dreadnought City. Sweat ran down his head and neck and he shuddered from the fear that still gripped him.

He had the attention of a Dreadgod. That was always going to happen eventually—it had become an inevitability when he attached the Slumbering Wraith’s arm to his elbow, and especially when he’d claimed the labyrinth.

But now, he shivered in fear. It was disturbingly likely that the Dreadgod would make good on its promise.

Dross materialized again, floating next to Lindon. [Once more, I have danced on the edge of oblivion. How thrilling.]

Lindon forced his fears down and pushed his way back to his feet. “Did you find it?”

[The Silent King’s new lair is three hundred miles southwest of this location. He sleeps in a dark cave and keeps his voice quiet, as befitting of his name.]

“Report to Emriss,” Lindon said.

Then he took off on his Thousand-Mile Cloud. He led the cloudships and other vehicles a few dozen miles north of the city, to an ancient ruin that had been preserved for generations. The people here studied it as a relic of the past, and there was even a museum just off-site.

As soon as Lindon’s feet met the courtyard, the ancient stones of the ruins responded to his authority. “Home,” Lindon commanded, expanding his will to encompass all the citizens of Dreadnought City.

The labyrinth obeyed, and everyone dissolved into white light.

He caught a glimpse of blue as they were buffeted by the Way, the strange sapphire world beyond space. This was a place he understood very little, and he only saw it for an instant before they appeared once again.

In Sacred Valley.

The center of the Valley, which had been leveled by the rampaging Titan and then damaged again by battle only a few days ago, was in even worse shape than Dreadnought City. Lindon brought the fleeing civilians in by air so that they wouldn’t have to navigate through miles of debris to exit.

Flying experts from the Akura clan directed the people from the Everwood continent toward an exit. They would be taken care of in camps sponsored by Malice.

Those camps weren’t safe from Dreadgods, and these days that meant they weren’t safe enough, but it was the best anyone could do. This was Lindon’s sixth trip, and he had now traveled over more of the world than he ever had before.

Most of the energy for the transportation came from the labyrinth. It didn’t have an inexhaustible supply of power, but its reserves were impressive.

Transportation through the labyrinth was far cheaper than most spatial transport. There were endless applications for such an ability, and Lindon dreamed about them in his few spare moments.

He still hadn’t slept since Eithan had ascended into the heavens…or rather, returned to the heavens. He also still hadn’t been accosted by the Monarchs.

Yet.

Lindon had been shocked to learn that everyone remembered the sky turning black and Eithan doing battle. The one time he’d been visited by a heavenly messenger before, she had been careful to remove memory of her identity from everyone but him.

It wasn’t strange that Yerin remembered, or Orthos. He could believe that Eithan or Suriel had left their memories intact. What about the rest of the world?

This had been a far larger incident, but memories remained. Were they unable to erase the minds of so many people, or was it something more complex?

In any case, the Monarchs were still too busy with the Dreadgods to chase down Lindon. For which he was grateful.

In the days since hearing Emriss Silentborn’s call for help, Lindon’s encounter with the Silent King had been his closest brush with a Dreadgod. But that had been too close.

Windfall, his home, drifted on its huge blue cloudbase nearby. Yerin wasn’t home, though it would have surprised him more if she had been. She had her own work to do with the Phoenix.