Underlord (Cradle #6)(100)

Lindon approached Yerin slowly, keeping an eye on Meira, but his expression was concerned. “How do you feel?”

Yerin’s vision doubled again, and she sagged in place, the aura slicing into her.

Lindon couldn’t open his Copper sight in here, but his spiritual perception should have been honed as a Lord. He grasped the problem quickly.

An instant later, a colorless light passed from him as he called on his remaining soulfire. The pressure of the sword aura around Yerin retreated, and she drooped forward, almost stumbling.

He caught her.

She didn’t have the strength to stand, melting into him, but she tried to make a joke. “Usually it’s you collapsing and me picking you up.”

Her spirit shivered as he scanned her, and he stiffened. “Mercy, get me some treasures. Right now. Yerin, are you…ready?”

His voice trembled with fear, and Yerin forced herself to stand up straight. “I’ll show you what ready looks like.”

Mercy was already darting from display to display, pulling random objects from each. Yerin was having trouble focusing on her, and everything had started to turn gray around her.

Lindon gently lowered her to the ground, eyes concerned. Underlord really did suit him; now he didn’t look so much like he was trying to glare a hole through her.

Dross appeared over his shoulder, one big eye taking up most of his purple body. His voice slid into her mind, guiding her through the unity of aura, but she had already drifted off.

She didn’t need any more instruction. She could feel it.

Her spiritual sense spread out as easily as spilled water, and her connection to the world solidified.

“I train in the sacred arts,” she whispered, “because…”

She hesitated, the reality of the situation slapping her in the face. Why had she said this out loud? You were supposed to, but there wasn’t supposed to be anyone around to hear. But now stopping would be more embarrassing.

And besides, she was dying.

She blurted the rest out in a jumbled rush. “…because I don’t like people around me dying, and it hurts, and I’m afraid I’ll have to feel that again, so I try to get stronger so I won’t have to. And that’s all.”

Yerin squeezed her eyes shut harder, hoping that it would work and she wouldn’t have to repeat herself.

The aura froze, as though unsure, and after a long second, her soulfire responded.

With a surge of relief, she felt the advancement take over.

~~~

Yerin rose to her feet, washed in soulfire, and Lindon stared at her. Just stared.

She had been remade.

Her Goldsigns now looked absolutely real, as though actual steel blades grew on metal arms from her shoulders. Her green armor was pitted and cracked, but her scars had been wiped away, leaving her skin clean.

It was in the little touches that she had really changed. That, or the loss of her scars had changed her appearance more than he'd thought. Her eyes seemed deeper, looking from within the veil of her hair, and she looked more mature. She hadn't grown any—her head still only reached up to about his shoulders—but that made him feel too tall.

More than anything, she was alive. Her lifeline, which only a moment ago had been a breath away from fading out, now shone as healthy as a young sapling.

The relief was so strong it shook him physically. His fingers trembled, and he leaned back against the wall. How many seconds had he been from losing her?

Mercy danced up to Yerin, glancing her up and down. Then Mercy threw her arms around Yerin’s neck and wept into her shoulder.

“I’m glad…” Mercy sobbed. “I’m really glad…”

The stress and exhaustion must have gotten to Lindon, because the world started looking misty all of a sudden. Even Yerin’s eyes watered, and she wrapped her own arms around Mercy in return.

A moment later, Yerin had evidently had enough, dabbing at her eyes as she pushed Mercy away. She had to brush strands of her hair aside. Yerin’s hair had grown some, as his and Mercy's had. Now it hung down into her eyes, extending past her shoulders.

She saw him looking and blew the hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, it's longer than I like to work with.” A brief whisper of power, and the hair in her face was sliced away. Her attention moved to the back.

“I think it looks nice,” Mercy said cheerily.

“So do I,” Lindon added.

The movement of Yerin's spirit stopped. “Nothing like trying out a change,” she said. “Might like it how it is.”

Dross spun out onto Lindon's shoulder, squinting his eye at Mercy. [Who are you? I’m warning you: I have a large sacred artist attached to me. He fights.]

Mercy looked startled. “Are you okay, Dross? It’s me.”

Lindon had assumed all along that Mercy's advancement had been temporary. She could make herself a Truegold for a while, why not an Underlady? But as he scanned her spirit, he found that the transformation was stable.

“You really advanced,” he said, astonished. “How?”

She shifted in place, rolling Suu between her hands, looking at the tips of her shoes. “I was, uh...always a Truegold. I left home because I didn't want to be a Lady.”

Yerin's eyes narrowed. “If that was a veil, I'm a leaping fish. You took an Underlady's fire to the face.”