Underlord (Cradle #6)(83)
Especially since Kiro, Daji, and Meira had leaped off the ship before it had departed. Without the Sage's warning, they would never have noticed a few veiled Truegolds slipping off the Empire's massive cloudship. They would have pursued, missing their chance.
Kiro still hadn't sensed anything, but thanks to Akura Charity's map, he knew exactly where to look. And as they approached, they saw the gate open a crack.
The flowers braided in Meira's hair blazed pink, and her smile was cold. She was beautiful in her new armor, thin and sleek, her scythe making her look every inch the Lady of Death. But he couldn't take advantage of her preoccupation with him. Besides, she deserved someone who could give her his full attention.
“We're in luck, Your Highness,” she said. “They came. Their Emperor can say whatever he likes, but we have the prize.”
Shame rushed through Kiro at her mention of the Emperor's words, though he showed none of it. Naru Huan had seen through him.
Daji gripped his swords, pacing forward. “I'll take them myself. See what the Sage thinks when I paint her halls with their blood.”
“Restraint,” Kiro reminded him, though he did follow his little brother toward the gate. “If we are not careful, we will disgrace ourselves in her eyes instead. And we cannot hurt Akura Mercy, even by accident.”
He had chewed on her words ever since she’d appeared, and her phrasing still disturbed him.
Her note didn’t say 'Do not harm Akura Mercy,' or 'You will be punished if you harm Akura Mercy.'
It said 'You should not harm Akura Mercy.'
That could be taken as a command...or as a warning. Either way, Kiro intended to obey.
Daji made no comment, but together, the three of them entered the gate to the Akura vault.
~~~
The interior of the Akura vault was enormous. It must have extended beyond the outer wall and into the mountain itself. Lindon found himself in one hallway about fifty yards long, the ceiling far overhead. The hall ended in a wide, circular atrium with a central spire that swirled with script. Scripts on the spire shone in a host of colors, drawing aura from all over the facility, and Lindon felt like he could guess at its function even without opening his Copper sight. It must siphon any excess aura that escaped containment and funnel it elsewhere to the rest of the house.
The hallway was as wide as the gate had been, and into the stone walls were carved house-sized nooks that contained the natural treasures. After walking into the hallway for a few paces, he stared into the first such opening on his right.
A massive scripted cauldron, big enough to cook an ox in, sat in the center of the display. It was filled to the brim with those black death-aura skulls, from as small as a fingernail to bigger than an actual human skull. Other, similar objects had been placed in the corners, or on shelves around the walls: a black vase that spilled ominous green aura, a sword with a blade stained in green-edged black, and a little statuette of a cat licking its own paw with eyes that blazed green-and-black.
The whole display radiated death. There was nothing that walled off this nook from the hall except a line of script around the inside of the entryway. If Lindon stepped across that line, he was certain the death aura would kill him instantly.
And there was another nook above that one. Two rows per wall.
Opposite the hall, on his left, was a similar display filled to bursting with the power of water. The center of that display was a fountain rather than a cauldron, and its shelves sported seashells, clear blue fruits, crystal-clear clouds that wept rain, bars of reflective blue steel, and swirling orbs like trapped whirlpools in every size from small enough to fit in his palm to bigger than his entire body.
He scanned down the hall. There were ten such displays in each row on either side, and both an upper row and a lower row. So forty natural treasure displays in this hall alone.
There were four hallways radiating out from the central atrium. And maybe more, further down; who was to say that this was the only crossroads in the entire vault?
“There has to be one of these filled with swords,” Yerin said, looking hungrily from one to the next.
[If you find one for dream aura, I promise I will stop altering your memories while you sleep,] Dross said.
Lindon missed a step.
[Kidding! Or am I? You won't know unless you bribe me.]
“There are sixteen for shadow aura,” Mercy said, hobbling down the hall on her staff. “As I'm sure you noticed, darkness is thicker than weeds out there.”
Even with the spire at the end of the hallway drawing off excess aura, there was still enough power here to overshadow the Night Wheel Valley many times over. Lindon felt like he was about to advance just thinking about it.
But he kept a close eye on Yerin.
“We can give you as much time as you need,” he said, but he was hoping that being here would somehow lead her thoughts in the right direction.
They reached the spire, which was ringed by a waist-high wall. She hopped up onto it, sitting high enough that she could look him in the eye. “No sense in that. You advance, then we stuff our pockets. I'll keep an open eye.”
“First, why don't you—”
“Listen,” she interrupted, “I'll be thinking 'till my skull pops while you do it. Maybe the feel of you advancing will set a spark to my torch and light my way forward. But whether it does or doesn't, we could use an Underlord right now.”