Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (42)

They had ignored the pyramid thus far, but now they were looking toward the new flesh and drooling. Lizard-like dreadbeasts the size of wolves scuttled over the ruins.

“At least I can clean up here before I take you,” Lindon said.

Ziel immediately sat down on a nearby rock.

“We can handle ourselves,” Orthos said. “Only this many cannot stop us.”

Lindon opened the cases he’d prepared for this moment. Powerful natural treasures of fire and destruction radiated out, and he wove those strands of aura together into a spinning hurricane of dark flame.

In moments, the Void Dragon’s Dance descended on the pyramid. While the three of them remained in the eye of the storm, black fire scorched the surface layer of all the surrounding ruins. Thousands of dreadbeasts were wiped away before they had the chance to scream.

Orthos shut his mouth. “I suppose that was faster,” he allowed.

Lindon let the technique disperse, and when the clouds of fire and ash blew away, there were no signs of dreadbeasts anywhere on the surface. Even most of the smaller rocks had been obliterated, leaving the larger chunks of stone in the ruins rounded down, as though they’d been eroded for decades in a river.

That had been relatively easy, but now Lindon had to try something more difficult. He squared his madra and focused his will.

Then he reached out his right hand, which snarled at the edge of his control. And he opened a void in space.

“Open,” Lindon commanded.

With white fingers, Lindon tore the world apart.

Since he was opening a portal that didn’t lead far away, it was relatively easy, but the effort still tired him. His portal also shook at the edges and had already begun to shrink.

“Pardon, but we should move through quickly. I regret to say that my skills need work.”

“Still too humble, even when tearing a hole in the world itself,” Orthos grumbled as he walked through. “Hold your head high and proudly announce what you’ve done!”

“Maybe when I have more practice,” Lindon said.

Ziel walked through without a word. His hammer and shield would be in a void key, since Lindon could still feel the protective mental construct in his soulspace, but he still couldn’t help but worry.

“You have your shield?” Lindon asked, as he followed Ziel through the portal and let the shimmering gateway disperse. “And the weapons I left you?”

“I was fighting with Sages before you were a Copper,” Ziel responded. “Then again, I lost. So never mind. Yeah, I have the weapons.”

Orthos was craning his neck to look up the side of the obsidian castle that stretched over them. “Incredible. I can feel the dignity of my ancestors in every stone.”

Lindon was just as impressed, but for a different reason.

Centuries ago, grains of sand had blown past the entrance to this castle. They were still there, frozen in mid-gust. Clouds overhead were locked in place, and a bird on one of the rooftops spread wing to take off. It had been in that position for almost a thousand years.

Lindon called a rock to his hand with earth aura and threw it at the field around the frozen time. It clattered against an invisible wall and fell to the ground.

[You could have tested the barrier with your hand,] Dross said, disappointed. [Perhaps we would have been sucked inside and frozen for ten thousand years, emerging only to find the blighted wastes of all we once loved.]

You see, that’s the outcome I was working to avoid.

[Boring.]

Ziel knelt, brushing at the hard-packed ground and extending his spiritual perception down. “Hope you have a key, because we’re not breaking this script.”

Lindon’s right hand strained against his will and he felt his own hunger rising in response. The runes on the black cloth around his upper arm shone, straining the cloth further. Malice’s prop wouldn’t be there to help him much longer. He had to hope he could handle the full force of the Slumbering Wraith’s arm when the seal wore off.

“Fortunately, I have a key,” Lindon said. Then he knelt by Ziel and pressed his hand to the ground.

Lindon began to Consume.

There were a number of places like Shatterspine Castle in the Wasteland. Long-abandoned battlefields from ancient experts and powerhouses that could turn fortunes around. Once, Sages and Heralds had competed to find their way into this place. They had found the Grand Oath Array’s working impossible to unravel, and brute force had not availed them.

Perhaps they would have succeeded if they had continued their efforts for longer, if they had worked together, or if Northstrider had deigned to help.

But in the end, they had moved on to easier treasures to claim. As useful as a Herald’s Remnant would be, it was locked inside its own separate prison within. The Grand Oath Array itself wasn’t even within, only clues and fragments that could lead to understanding of its mechanisms. The effort was not worth the reward.

For them.

Lindon Forged the force madra instead of venting it, and a perfect orb of cloudy gray appeared in his left hand. It radiated such power that Orthos and Ziel both took a step back, but Lindon let it drop and continued absorbing.

Dross screamed out harsh laughter, and Lindon couldn’t tell if he was delighted or in pain. He was sorting the residual will that remained inside the technique, but even spread between Lindon and Dross, it still pushed against them as though trying to burst them from the inside.