in Sacred Valley. It must be an effect of leaving the formation behind himself, and having his former power slowly restored.
Dross’ mental voice was high-pitched. [Ready, ah, ready to leave!]
Go! Now!
Under Dross’ control, Windfall lifted off even as Lindon streaked down to meet them. One Li family was halfway on, and two members tumbled off the side.
He swooped down and caught them by the backs of their collars, hauling them up to the rest of their family.
He could do nothing for the others.
The ones left behind screamed and begged for him to return, but he had already landed on the house. There was a hatch on the roof, and he used his power as a key to prove his identity and slip inside.
Dross was launching the fortress now, but his madra wouldn’t be enough to fuel it for long, with the aura here as thin as it was. Lindon took over as soon as he entered the control room, letting pure madra flood out to the scripts.
To his surprise, the control room was crowded. Orthos and his family sat off to the side, but so did many of the refugees from the Li, Kazan, and Wei clans, each keeping to their third of the room.
He had expected them to spread out across the fortress. He supposed they were seeking comfort in company.
The cloudship shot further into the air, but he activated another script, showing him Eithan’s cloudship. It was still grounded.
Did Eithan even have the madra to take off?
He was about to go back and help when Eithan’s ramp smoothly folded up, the ship lifting effortlessly from the ground. That was one problem solved.
Now he just had to pretend they weren’t leaving thousands upon thousands of people to die.
The Akura cloudships had stopped taking passengers as well, though some were still empty. They rushed away ahead of him, moving away from the Dreadgod as fast as possible. He didn’t blame them. They had stayed longer than he expected.
He tried to keep his thoughts focused, but somehow he had already activated a viewing construct to show him the scene behind him. The crowd of desperate people dashing down the slopes of Mount Samara was projected into the air. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.
Maybe some of them would make it.
“You saved these lives,” Orthos said gravely. “Focus on that.”
Lindon tried.
“Needed more time,” his father said. “With only another week, we could have gotten everyone.”
Lindon had faced enough trouble trying to get people to listen to him even with the imminent threat of a Dreadgod looming over them. Would they have listened to him at all if the danger weren’t at their heels?
The spirit’s emotions were hard to untangle, but they were definitely urgent. Lindon activated the viewing construct directed to the east, but he saw only the Desolate Wilds and the purple Akura cloudships dashing away.
But he thought he felt something. And he saw a speck…
No sooner had he noticed than the speck rushed over their heads. It was a long shaft of Forged crystalline madra the size of a tower, and it sped overhead at impossible speeds, kicking up a snowstorm as it passed by Samara’s peak.
The arrow struck with a deafening explosion, followed shortly by the roar of the Wandering Titan.
Then the golden sky darkened. Not with clouds, but with shadow madra.
With his delicate Sage senses, Lindon felt the fabric of the world ripple. A woman stepped from a tall column of darkness, a woman clad head-to-toe in armor of purple crystal and carrying a shimmering blue bow.
Akura Malice didn’t stand as tall as when she’d faced the Bleeding Phoenix, but she still towered over his airborne cloudship. She nodded once to his fortress—to him—and then rose into the air.
She took aim with her bow again, and Lindon’s heart lifted. They were saved.
But why had she stopped to see him?
A knock came from the door, and the feeling of a familiar presence soothed him. He released a heavy breath.
The hatch in the ceiling opened and Yerin dropped down. She landed easily, stretching her arms as though exhausted. “I’d contend I’ve done my part. How many Monarchs have you recruited today?”
Lindon commanded the cloudship to land.
15
If Lindon had thought the ground was trembling before, it was nothing compared to what the battle between Monarch and Dreadgod did to the earth.
The Desolate Wilds quaked around him, black trees losing leaves by the bushel. The Purelake, the glistening pool of