“Besides Lindon Arelius, who else is down there?” the Archlady continued. “We want to protect them as best we can.”
That seemed reasonable, and Emissary Kahn Mala looked kinder than she had at first. He had likely been predisposed against her just because she was part of Redmoon Hall, which wasn’t fair.
He opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut when he noticed what was happening. With the last remaining spark of his soulfire, he blew away the dream aura she was weaving around his head.
She had been using her soulfire to influence the aura of his mind. That was terrifying. He had never seen anyone use their soulfire to manipulate minds; at least, not as far as he’d noticed. But she couldn’t have been a dream artist. Not only could he feel her madra, but an Archlord-level dream artist wouldn’t have been bothered by Orthos’ pathetic soulfire.
Kahn Mala’s lips thinned further, but now his fury was fully aflame. “Whoever this Lindon Arelius is, I’m sure he’d rather die than receive your protection.”
He kept her eye as he leaned down and munched on another stick.
Little Blue popped up from behind his shell to lend a ring of agreement.
The Archlady snorted in annoyance and addressed her pair of henchmen. “Keep them contained. I will return if anyone else arrives.”
So began a boring period of waiting and eating sticks.
Orthos only knew someone else was coming when the Nethergate cracked again. The Archlady appeared at his side in an instant, barking orders to her pair of Overlords.
Mercy arrived, hair pulled back into a tail and Suu in the form of a walking stick. She blinked at the sight of the Redmoon Hall Emissaries arrayed before her.
“Akura Mercy,” Emissary Kahn Mala announced. “You are under our protection per the agreement between our forces and your mother. Please cooperate and confirm the identity of your companions so we can protect them as well.”
Orthos and Little Blue shook their heads.
Mercy beamed. “You found them already! Thank you so much!”
She rushed over and scooped up Little Blue and Orthos, carrying them into a hug that felt for Orthos like being lifted into the top of a tree. Only softer.
Kahn Mala looked over them all. “We know Lindon Arelius and Yerin Arelius are with you down there. What about Eithan Arelius?”
“Nope!” Mercy said cheerily. “I was just here with my friends Orthos and Little Blue!”
Orthos wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Mercy’s joyful demeanor irritate someone so visibly. “You should know better than this, Akura. If we were hostile to you, we would be using techniques rather than words. Since we are allied for the moment, you will show me the respect I am due and tell me the truth.”
Mercy’s eyes shimmered slightly, as they did before she called her armor. “You’re not calling me a liar, are you?”
Her tone wasn’t much different than usual, but Orthos shifted uncomfortably in her arms. She was weak after her time in the labyrinth, and he could feel that she was weak, but his spirit still itched like he was in danger.
The Archlady was less impressed. “You can’t use your mother to threaten me here.”
“I can’t? So you wouldn’t mind if I called her right now, then?”
“…sit by the others.” Kahn Mala put a trembling hand over her eyes. Her cobra hissed again, and Orthos got the strong impression that the Archlady wasn’t used to dealing with anyone without threatening them.
While the next wait was boring, at least it was less so with Mercy there. She chatted easily with them, and even struck up a brief conversation with their Overlord guards. All the while, she kept patting his head or stroking his shell.
That struck him as undignified. If he was his normal size, no one would think of him as a pet.
After time crawled on for too long, the Nethergate swung open again.
Yerin emerged, and she wasn’t alone. Eithan walked at her side. Yerin’s red eyes widened as she saw Redmoon Hall, and she put a hand on her sword.
Orthos began to laugh.
21
Iteration 119: Fathom
Spread out among the stars of Fathom, the seven Judges of the Abidan Court did battle with the Mad King and his armies.
Zakariel, the Fox, slid in and out of existence, dodging lightning-strikes that detonated stars and slipping past armies of half-real Fiends that clawed for her soul. Her dagger flashed, and ten thousand kilometers away, an ancient warrior wearing a silver crown grabbed at his chest.
Despite all the protections he could weave, despite oaths and promises and seals older than many worlds, his heart had been pierced by a hidden dagger.