over his shoulder.
“I’m talking to you.”
An onyx statue of a curled-up panther sat next to the entrance, where there had been nothing a moment before. To be fair, the illusion was convincing, even to Lindon. But he had senses the inhabitants of Sacred Valley couldn’t fool.
That, and Lindon had felt the Path of the White Fox following him before he opened the portal.
The onyx panther uncurled itself, its tail spreading out into five copies. The tails flexed out as the cat stretched, opening its jaws wide in a yawn, and as it did so it grew taller. Its snout extended, and its smooth surface melted to gray and then to a coat of white fur.
“You have traveled far down your Path, child,” Elder Whisper murmured.
“So have you, I see. And you have kept that to yourself.”
He did not hide the tone of accusation in his voice.
Elder Whisper prowled around Lindon. “I did not deceive anyone. At first, we taught our descendants to focus on one technique at a time as an adaptation to the suppression field. But memory fades so quickly, and time is the greatest liar of all.”
“If you had the power to open this space, you could have helped us fight the Dreadgod.”
“To face one of the four beasts with illusions is to face down a lion with a spider’s web.”
Elder Whisper kept an illusion of himself standing still and talking as his real form crept out beneath a cloak of invisibility.
Lindon traced the invisible one with his eyes. “That’s how we beat it.”
“When you lose what you fought to defend, and your opponent leaves you alive out of mercy, is that victory?” Elder Whisper sighed and let his illusions drop. “Perhaps it is. In any case, any victory against one of them is temporary. That is why I preserved this place.”
Lindon swept his gaze over the isolated space. “Why didn’t you take what you needed and leave it closed?”
“While I can visit Heaven’s Glory unseen whenever I wish, it would be quite another matter if I were to drag a trunk behind me in my teeth. And the ability to open these spaces is quite separate from the power to create one of my own. In that, you have me outmatched.
“Sages avoid these lands. The last one to visit, the man who left this space, was asking forbidden questions. Which is the best way to find forbidden answers.”
A purple-and-white flame kindled over a cylinder tucked away in the corner.
It was about as high and broad as Lindon’s waist, and made of dull bronze metal. Scripts wrapped around the cylinder, and it took Lindon a moment to analyze them.
When he activated the scripts in the correct sequence, the cylinder fell away, revealing a tall rectangular box beneath. This one, he had to cut through with Blackflame.
Finally, a cube about the size of his head rested in the third layer. It throbbed and pulsed, and Lindon recognized the taste of the madra inside.
As he recognized the symbol on the top: the moon crest of the Arelius clan.
“The Sage brought this to our lands,” Elder Whisper continued, “a tool granted to him by a Monarch. A key to the prison at the depths of the labyrinth. But he was not capable of delving deeply enough.”
Lindon’s will was enough to open the box. It wasn’t made to keep people out so much as to keep something in.
If it was what Lindon suspected, he needed to be fast.
The box opened to reveal a shriveled, mummified, chalk-white left hand.
Appetites Lindon had absorbed from the Wandering Titan burned to life, and he longed to consume the hand whole, to tear it apart with his teeth and let it satisfy his stomach and his soul.
He slammed the box shut again. “We can’t open this,” Lindon said firmly. “It will drag the Titan straight back.”
Elder Whisper sat on his haunches, tails waving smoothly behind him. “Wei Shi Lindon. Would you like to know how to kill the Dreadgods?”
THE END
Cradle: Volume Nine
Bloodline
Bloopers
Lindon braced himself. Here they were, ready to return to Sacred Valley. The time had come.
Nothing between him and his family except a Dreadgod.
[Could be worse!] Dross pointed out. [There could be two Dreadgods.]
Eithan leaned over to whisper in Lindon’s ear. “That, children, is what we call foreshadowing.”
Lindon felt Eithan’s presence before the door to the second floor swung open, and Yerin was already yelling. “Not a candle’s chance in a rainstorm.”
Eithan folded his arms and looked at her curiously. “I’ve always wondered. How many of those do you have?”
“Not a pig’s chance in a butcher shop,” Yerin said. “Not a star’s chance in daylight. Not a sheep’s chance in a tiger den. Not a snowflake’s chance in summer. Not a Copper’s chance.”
“A Copper’s chance in what?” Lindon asked.
“Copper doesn’t have much of a chance anywhere.”
Eithan stroked his chin. “Do you make these up on the spot, or do you have an extraordinary memory for folksy idioms?”
“Sometimes I remember, sometimes I make ‘em up.” She shrugged. “Can’t say it makes an inch of difference either way.”
Lindon was impressed. “If you’re making those up that quickly, I think you might be some kind of genius.”
She snorted. “Not a snowball’s chance in Hell.”
Eithan and Lindon stood over the grimy pit, looking down into the hole where a Heaven’s Glory building had collapsed. “If you already know what’s down there, I would appreciate it if you would tell me,” Lindon said.
Eithan grimaced. “Lots of grimy blankets, some destroyed tools, and a shallow sewer of human waste.” He knelt and brushed his hand over an indentation in the rubble. “A halfling lay here.” He moved to another dent next to the first. “And the other.”
“What’s a halfling?” Lindon asked.
“Hush, I’m dodging copyright.” Eithan closed his eyes, tracing a trail. “They crawled…their hands were bound!”
“I’m certain you’re making this up.”
“Their bonds were cut!”
Lindon decided to ignore him.
Ziel stared down the Kazan Patriarch. “There’s a big monster coming. It’s called a Dreadgod. Come with us if you want to live.”
“Okay, let’s go,” the Patriarch said.
They high-fived.
Orthos exchanged glances with Little Blue before he looked back to Yerin. “He does not feel like he’s in danger.”
Yerin’s heart eased a little. “What does he feel like?”
Orthos gave her an odd look. “Like all humans. Soft but bony. I don’t see why you’d need to ask me that, though.”
Yerin’s face heated. “Wait, no, I meant—”
“What a question to ask an old, lonely turtle. You would know the answer better than I would anyway, I imagine.”
“I yield. White flag. Please stop.”
Little Blue’s laughter echoed like bells.
For the second time in a day, Lindon gripped the marble and prayed.
I don’t know what to do. Help me.
The marble buzzed for a second, then stopped. Then buzzed again. On the third buzz, it was interrupted by a woman’s voice.
“New marble, who’s this?”
“This is, uh, Wei Shi Lindon? From Cradle?”
“Oh yeah, Lindon! Hold on one second, let me put you in here. Cradle…Kid…I…Saved…okay, I’ve got you in. Now let’s make this quick, I’m roaming.”
“State your desires,” Northstrider said.
Yerin spoke immediately. “Infinite wishes.”
The gathered Monarchs looked to one another.
Northstrider grunted. “Obviously we can’t—”
“I wish to win the next tournament.”
“That violates the entire spirit of the competition.”
“Immortality.”
“You don’t need any more increases to your lifespan.”
“The ability to grant my own wishes.”
“That’s advancement, and it’s what we’re offering you.” Northstrider’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you getting these ideas?”
Yerin pulled out a scroll, which unfurled all the way to the ground. “Lindon wrote it. I remember ‘em all, but he thought you might want to read them. Next, I’m supposed to ask for ‘points.’”
Northstrider incinerated the list.
About the Author
Will Wight lives in Florida, among the citrus fruits and slithering sea creatures. He’s the author of the Amazon best-selling Traveler’s Gate Trilogy, The Elder Empire (which cleverly offers twice the fun and twice the work), and his series of mythical martial arts magic: Cradle.
He graduated from the University of Central Florida in 2013, earning a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing and a flute of dragon’s bone. He is also, apparently, invisible to cameras.
He also claims that WillWight.com is the best source for book updates, new stories, fresh coriander, and miracle cures for all your aches and pains!
Also by Will Wight
Cradle
Unsouled
Soulsmith
Blackflame
Skysworn
Ghostwater
Underlord
Uncrowned
Wintersteel
Cradle: Foundation
Cradle: Path of Gold
The Traveler’s Gate Trilogy
House of Blades
The Crimson Vault
City of Light
The Traveler’s Gate Chronicles
The Elder Empire
Of Sea & Shadow
Of Dawn & Darkness
Of Kings & Killers
Of Shadow & Sea
Of Darkness & Dawn
Of Killers & Kings
For the most up-to-date bibliography, please visit WillWight.com