That really was comforting, though Cassias didn’t say so out loud.
“In the meantime, I will make you a deal. If you manage to push Lindon and Yerin so hard that either of them gives up, I will release them from the Trials. And Lindon from his obligation to Jai Long. In that case, you will also be allowed back to your normal duties in the shortest time possible.”
Eithan beamed at him. “So you see, the most prudent and merciful course of action is really to come at them with everything you have.”
A fist clenched Cassias’ gut, but he couldn’t argue. There was a fine line between preparing the young for a harsh world and abusing them, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get them to surrender quickly. Lindon, at least. Once they did, Eithan would honor his word.
The Underlord patted the ivory table. “Now, it seems we’re in luck. They are trying the course for the first time. Let me show you how this works.”
Chapter 13
Lindon hefted the crystal ball in his palm, Blackflame madra swirling around his body, and the crystal flared with a dark, bloody light. He faced the thick forest of stone pillars as scripts ignited all through the ground.
Dark gray shapes started condensing in the shadows, like gravel pulled together by an unseen force to slowly build a larger figure. They gained definition as they formed, until they looked like statues of ancient soldiers: bulky, clad in layered armor, and carrying thick shields and swords or spears.
Three of them were almost finished forming, but there were other half-assembled shapes in the darkness behind them.
Yerin raised her sword.
Lindon bolted for the pillars.
Whether these were constructs or impossibly solid Remnants, his task remained the same. He had to keep the Burning Cloak up in order to keep the crystal active, and his Blackflame core was already on the verge of emptying itself again.
But these soldiers were taking their time to form, so what would happen if he just…skipped them?
He leaped over the first rank of soldiers, pain lancing through his ankles and calves, and the power of his jump almost carried him face-first into a pillar. He stumbled to an awkward landing but kept running, ducking around columns whenever he would run into a half-formed soldier.
It was working. The soldiers at the front formed faster than the ones behind, so he could outrun the Trial.
Even with the enhancement of the Burning Cloak, it took him five or six slow breaths to reach the end of the columns. When he did get past them, they vanished abruptly, leaving him standing in the sunlight again.
Another arch stood before him. It was a twin to the original entrance, with two exceptions.
First, the air between wasn’t clear. It was opaque and smoky, so he couldn’t see what waited beyond. Second, the paint on the support said, ‘Trial Two’ instead of ‘Trial One.’
A sense of warning shook his soul as he considered that gray area in the center of the arch, which he took as an alarm from his new Jade senses. He slowed, examining the smoke more closely. It was dense aura that sent a shiver through his rib cage.
He didn’t know what aspect of aura that was, but he could be sure of one thing: he wasn’t touching it.
Lindon scooped up a handful of gritty dirt and tossed it at the barrier between the arch. The dirt sizzled and disappeared.
He turned back to hear Yerin’s shout, the sounds of metal clashing against stone, and a roar like rocky plates grating against one another.
Forged gray madra started to gather itself in front of the arch. If the cores of the others had been pebbles, this one was a boulder, and in seconds it had formed into a towering stone giant with a horned helmet and a pair of tridents, one in each hand.
It planted its feet firmly on the ground, and behind it, the aura barrier in the arch flickered and disappeared.
Lindon had a fingernail-thin grip on his remaining madra, and the crystal in his hand was starting to dim. Nonetheless, when the giant struck at him with its trident, he had to do something.
Roots of Blackflame madra slid through his channels, then they all exploded, igniting a shot of blazing hot power. The Burning Cloak flared higher, the air around his body crackling black and red, and he slapped the trident away with the back of his fist.
The repelled trident dug a ten-foot groove in the ground, sending black dirt spraying everywhere, but he barely felt the impact—the strain on his elbow and wrist from moving his arm so quickly was far more painful than the little slap of the weapon.
Lindon was in love. This was it—a power so great it required his Iron body to withstand. His elbow blazed with pain as though he’d torn it, but it was already healing.
But he couldn’t exult in his power—he had a test to pass. The barrier had opened, which meant he could finish the Trial.
Then he kicked the ground to move forward, and his Blackflame core guttered out.
The crystal ball in his hand went dark. The aura barrier flared to life again in the arch. His legs collapsed, but he switched to drawing madra from his pure core before he buckled to the ground.
And the giant soldier dissolved. Gray madra faded to essence and blew away, half-visible sparks on the wind.
A brassy gong sounded from somewhere, its sound echoing through the canyon, and Lindon had to assume it meant defeat.
Lindon spent a moment regretting that he hadn’t passed on the first try, but the promise of Blackflame was like a sun that burned all disappointment away. He turned back to the columns, whistling and tossing the crystal ball in one hand.
He’d already started cataloguing everything he needed to improve the Burning Cloak. It was good for explosive bursts of movement—punching, jumping, kicking—anything where a sudden burst of force would help. But for steady strength, for lifting or carrying or running long distances, he would need a different technique.
To optimize the Burning Cloak, he wanted pills to refine his Blackflame madra base so that he could activate the technique more easily, practice keeping it active longer, and training to answer specific questions: how fast could he move? How much strain could his body withstand? Could he channel the technique through only a single part of his body at a time?
This could be exactly the tool he’d needed to keep up with Yerin. He just needed to master it.
As soon as he had the thought, he realized that he could still hear a battle: shouts, stone on metal, and heavy crashes.
Lindon picked up the pace, jogging through the columns. The back ranks of stone soldiers had started to dissolve, and ignored him, but the ones closer to Yerin weren’t banished yet. She was still fighting.
Then he saw her.
He hadn’t even reached Copper when he’d watched her fight the Remnant of her master back in Sacred Valley. He had lacked the senses to truly appreciate the fight.