Underlord (Cradle #6)(33)
Eithan didn't say any more, clearly waiting for them to take over. He didn't need to say anything; Lindon understood.
“Mercy and Eithan are the two guides,” Lindon said. “Split up, cover more ground. Orthos and I should be separated. Go to the closest source of treasure, clean it out, and send a signal through your armor when you have. Then we'll assign new hunting spots so we don't waste time covering the same ground...”
He realized he was giving orders. He had grown used to making the decisions for his little group in Ghostwater, and doing missions for the Skysworn over the last two months, Eithan had kept himself out of command. Lindon had often slipped into the role, but why? This was Mercy's home, Yerin was stronger than he was, and Eithan was the only Underlord.
Lindon flushed and looked down at the ground. “...unless anyone else has another suggestion.”
“We don't,” Yerin said, turning to Mercy. “Lead the march. You, me, and Lindon. The turtle can go with Eithan.”
“I look forward to catching up with my old friend Orthos!” Eithan said, leaping over to the sacred turtle. “And my old friend Yerin!”
Yerin stopped in place. “...what?”
“Every second we spend talking is a second we’re not stealing! Begone with you!”
So Lindon and Mercy headed off together, trying to pretend they didn't see Yerin staring dejectedly after them.
~~~
Delving into the forest was like plunging into a dark, icy cave. The wind howled through the trees, fire madra doing little to ward off the cold, and unseen things shifted and hissed in the shadows...perhaps the shadows themselves.
Mercy had lightened up as they ran through the forest, and now she looked around with fondness. “I used to go on picnics out here,” she said. “This way!”
In only minutes, she led them to the edge of a short cliff. The drop was only ten feet down, and they overlooked a clearing about fifty yards square. It radiated an aura so forbidding that it stood out even from the deep shadows of the forest around it; Lindon shivered and slowed as they approached the cliff, afraid to glance down.
But Mercy walked up and looked around without fear, so he followed suit. Beneath them, filling the clearing, was a small battlefield. Skeletons littered the ground, rusted weapons sticking out of the earth. At first, it looked as though armies had clashed here, but all the skeletons were facing the same way. So an army had been obliterated here.
Between the bodies were brown grass and petrified vines, as though nothing could survive entering the clearing. The whole scene was shrouded in shadow like the rest of the Night Wheel Valley, but a spectral green light gave the field of death an otherworldly glow. At first, he couldn't make out the source of that light.
“The Valley has been in our family for generations,” Mercy said, walking to a row of long spears that had been driven into the ground on the edge of the cliff. The spears were covered in scripts, and were connected to the ground by long coiled-up cables. Their spearheads were dull. “The aura is so strong here that every big event leaves a permanent mark. This is where the Nutarou family tried to storm our house, believing that the family of shadow-artists living there was just a myth to keep them off the land.” She lifted a spear. “Their Remnants are long gone.
“Now, it's filled with death aura.”
With one motion, she hurled the spear into the land below—the momentum of the throw caused her to stumble and almost fall. Lindon caught her by the green-armored elbow, and she looked up at him gratefully.
“Sorry. Still don't have my legs back.”
“Back?” he asked.
While waiting for her to respond, he watched the spear. It landed between the bones...and for the first time, Lindon noticed black spots covering the bones. They almost looked like beetles crawling over the carrion, though they weren't moving. Maybe more like barnacles.
As the spear drove itself into the ground, cable uncoiling behind it, the scripts on the weapon's shaft activated. Those black spots darted over to the spear's shaft like bits of iron pulled by a magnet.
“My Puppeteer's Iron body gives me great control over my movements,” Mercy said, springing into a handstand. And almost immediately starting to fall. “Or...it used to,” she said calmly as she toppled.
Wisely, she had moved away from the cliff for this demonstration, so flopping onto her back only kicked up some dust. “Having my coordination sealed was one of the prices for leaving home. With enough training, I'll get it back.” She sat up, brushing herself off. “Looking on the bright side, I've learned a new appreciation for physical training! My Iron body made things too easy. Would you light up that circle for me, please?”
The long cable connected to her spear on one end was tied to a stake at the top of the cliff. The stake was driven into a stone block with a script on it, and Lindon activated it.
Immediately, the cable came to life and started drawing the spear back. The spear, now covered in black spots and glowing with a hazy green light itself, was reeled back like a fish on the end of a line.
“Incredible,” Lindon said, as he watched the process. “The death aura is too strong to go down personally, so you bring the natural treasures to you.”
“Not just the aura!” Mercy said, popping to her feet. “There are Sylvan Graveseeds and other natural spirits down there, not to mention nasty Remnants that like the power of death. It's safer from up here.” She gestured to the long row of spears. “Most of the treasures growing in the valley have some system like this when it comes time for harvest.”