Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (24)

This was the sort of response Lindon would have expected days ago, if containing the Dreadgods hadn’t demanded the Monarchs’ immediate attention.

“Apologies, but he told me nothing of his intentions. I was more surprised than anyone when he revealed himself as a heavenly messenger.”

Northstrider’s expression darkened, but Lindon had prepared himself for this.

“I swear on my soul that I knew nothing of Eithan’s true identity.”

Northstrider’s glare weakened slightly as the soul oath took effect. A one-sided oath like this wouldn’t have the same binding power as if they had made a bargain between two souls, but it should be enough to convince the Monarch that he was sincere.

Even so, Northstrider’s voice was as harsh as ever. “You must know something of his goals.”

“In the time I knew him, Eithan maintained that his only goal was to raise people who could keep up with him. From what I’ve learned of Ozmanthus Arelius, I believe he ascended into the heavens and found that he had no peers even there.”

Northstrider nodded absently. A reflective black orb appeared over his shoulder, flickering with script in many colors. His oracle codex, no doubt supplementing his analysis of the situation.

“He did battle with someone,” the Monarch said after a moment. “Who was it?”

“I regret that I don’t know.”

Whoever that had been, his appearance had been enough to drown the world in despair and blot out the stars. The fact that the Monarchs had failed to appear meant that he was someone who could not be contained in this one world, and thus his ability was beyond Lindon’s imagination.

He suspected it was beyond Northstrider’s as well. And the Monarch didn’t seem happy about it.

“Forgiveness, but I would like to take this opportunity to ask a question, if I may. Surely you could ascend to the heavens at any moment. Why have you chosen to stay?”

In the labyrinth, Lindon had learned that the presence of the Monarchs sustained the Dreadgods. If they left, the Dreadgods would soon weaken and eventually die.

Northstrider knew that, and yet he chose to remain here. Endangering millions of people by his presence.

Lindon had to know why.

The Monarch folded his arms. “You know already. You have traveled the labyrinth, as I have. You know the relationship between Monarchs and Dreadgods, but you also saw what was in the sky. There are powers that dwarf even me.”

“Surely that is only more reason to leave.”

“I will transcend this world when I will not be treated as a slave,” Northstrider snapped. “I will not bow to the Abidan. I have traveled my own path for centuries, and I will not stop now.”

Lindon couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “But the lives lost…”

“I did not create the Dreadgods. I oppose them where I can, but I will not be forced from my home before I am ready.”

There was certainty in the Monarch’s voice, as Lindon had supposed there would be. Northstrider had made his decision hundreds of years ago, after all.

Lindon bowed his head. “Gratitude for allowing my impertinent question.”

“It’s not as simple a situation as you believe,” Northstrider went on, which was one of the few times Lindon had heard him continue a topic of his own volition. “How many lives do we preserve by minimizing conflict between one another? If we all left, then the first Herald to advance could annihilate an entire hemisphere of the planet with no one to keep them in check.”

“I am certain there is no perfect solution.”

Lindon intended to leave it at that, but Northstrider’s gaze sharpened. “Go on,” he ordered.

So Lindon continued. “…but surely there is a solution better than letting monsters roam loose.”

“Then look for one. You have Dross. Research. Plot. Calculate. Simulate. Bring it to us. But if you cross me…” The pressure of Northstrider’s will froze everything on Windfall and in the water. “…I will kill you.”

Lindon pushed against the willpower, freeing his own motions enough to bow and speak clearly. “I do not wish to be your enemy.”

“Then watch yourself. When you are a Monarch yourself, only then will you understand the burden we carry.”

Northstrider turned, and the watery world was stripped away like a painting torn from a wall. Lindon felt space twist as the Monarch vanished, leaving Lindon aboard his cloud fortress hanging in the sky over Sacred Valley.

[He doesn’t usually give warnings,] Dross observed. [He is more merciful than we deserve.]

Lindon regretted giving so much of his real thoughts away. It would have been more prudent to pretend to be completely under the Monarchs’ command, and then to pursue his own research against the Dreadgods on his own time.

“Even so,” Lindon said aloud, “we learned something.”

They had determined for certain that Northstrider wouldn’t leave Cradle unless forced.

So Lindon had to force him.





Northstrider slid through the Way, which somehow felt more distant than usual, emerging only when he felt that he’d arrived.

Ninecloud City spread out beneath him, a collection of bright jeweled towers in every color. They reminded Northstrider of candy: dyed bright colors to attract the attention of children, and devoid of substance.