But this only stoked her rage hotter, because the presence of the Empire’s armies meant two things. First, that Reigan Shen had devoted staggering resources to bring so many people so far. Second, that House Shen was still unaccounted for.
He had presumably kept his own forces in reserve to defend his territory, but she would know soon. Her subordinates were on their way to the Rosegold continent already.
Malice gave the gathered horde an icy once-over. “To think he would empty his treasury to bring such an army here.”
“I told you! He’s invested.” Larian pulled her bow from the ground and gestured with it. “So are you going to let this happen, or do you want to make us earn our keep?”
Miles behind Malice, the unaffiliated experts of the Wasteland received her transmitted message and removed their veils. Three Heralds, a Sage, and five ancient Archlords. From the other side of Sacred Valley, Charity cycled her own madra, and several Herald-level spirits shone like bonfires as well—living weapons of the Akura clan.
At a glance, Malice’s own forces were lacking. She had fewer Sages and fewer Heralds.
Then again, the Eight-Man Empire couldn’t really be counted as a collection of Sages and Heralds, but as one Monarch. And these were Malice’s lands. Not only could she draw upon more forces than the enemy, she had other resources to play.
And she could call Northstrider.
Larian sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d consider settling our differences with a series of duels, would you?”
Malice tapped her bloodline legacy so that her eyes shone, and she radiated shadow aura to blacken the sky. “Invaders, hear me! You have trespassed on Akura lands. Withdraw, or your blood will flow like water.”
“Guess the fight will come down to Golds, then,” Larian said. “At least it is a good cause, in the end.” Then she shed her casual appearance and adopted a manner more befitting a self-respecting Sage. “Long-Sight!”
The Long-Sight war-band, beneath their banner of a bow and an eye, gave a shout and a pulse of spiritual power that shook the ground.
Far away, a different voice shouted. “Ghost-Blade!”
The Ghost-Blade war-band answered their leader, and another cry went up from another member of the Eight-Man Empire.
“Blood-Chorus!”
“Flame-Gift!”
“Green-Stride!”
The war-bands of the Eight-Man Empire sounded like the footsteps of the Wandering Titan as they answered their leaders.
And soon, if Malice didn’t stop them, they would hear the Titan’s actual footsteps once again. Reigan Shen had often claimed he wanted to call the Dreadgods together to destroy them and make them into weapons. Even if that were true, it would ruin her lands.
So she would crack open this formation and destroy Shen’s plans, even if she had to drown them in blood.
10
Lindon could best describe the next room as a “hall of hammers.”
It was a stone cellar, and very recently, the walls had been lined with wooden shelves and racks. He had to piece that together, because now the room was strewn with splinters. Someone had clearly done battle here, and recently, though the stone of the walls was unharmed.
Before that battle, the racks and walls of the room had been filled with hammers. Lindon was certain only because some pieces remained.
As they entered, he had to step over a hammer with a head that looked like it was made of dark purple glass. It still leaked sparks of pink essence from a crack. A pile of broken hammers lay in the corners, where they had been discarded, and a few had been crushed while still strapped to a rack.
Those same racks were all over the room, empty, and Lindon noticed evidence that they had been occupied recently.
“Dross,” Lindon said aloud.
[Yes?]
“…what do you think about this situation?” Lindon had thought that question would go without asking.
[This room was recently the repository for sacred instruments. All, or most, hammers. Most likely the intact instruments were looted after the battle.]
Yerin nudged a pile of rubble aside with her foot. “Wake me when we find a room like this for swords.”
Orthos had already hopped off of Lindon’s shoulder and started munching at a defunct hammer.
“Stop that,” Lindon said. “That could be a thousand years old.”
Orthos met Lindon’s eyes and deliberately took another bite.
Eithan skipped to the middle of the room, then twirled in place. “Ah, I see, I see. Well, this is a disappointment. This is all quite ancient by modern standards, of course, but none of it dates back to our first Patriarch. They must have removed any of his relics when they first arrived.”