But she wasn’t on her own.

Sophara showed no intention of attacking. She gave an angry roar, her wings beating the air, and turned to fly away.

A Rippling Sword caught her in the flank the same time as a lance of light from Eithan's star. A fist of green wind madra grabbed at her tail. Yerin's technique actually drew blood, Eithan's crashed onto the bronze shield floating around her, and Saeya's drew her up short.

"I have not allowed you to leave," Naru Saeya declared, rising up on wings of her own.

Yerin felt a burst of pride that all three of them had come to the same conclusion. None of them were a match for Sophara, but she wasn't invincible, and she’d been foolish enough to come here on her own.

This was exactly the time to attack.

The cloudship's crew had leaped over the side at the first sign of Underlords clashing, and the ship itself still listed to one side, having a chunk burned out of it by gold dragon's breath.

Sophara only flinched at the damage from their techniques. Blood rolled down her scales, but she still faced them with slowly flapping wings. "I don't need to waste time with you," her aura-born voice said. "You are already done."

Once again, she turned. Another volley of techniques reached her, but they were either dodged, deflected by the floating shield, or crushed by her own madra.

Yerin and Saeya tried twice more, but Eithan gave up almost immediately, letting his Forged stars dissipate back into aura. He sighed. "This will be inconvenient."

Naru Saeya turned sharply, staring down at the deck beneath her feet. "Is it gone?"

"All but a spoonful."

Yerin extended her own perception down to the cloudship. She couldn't sense the damage to the hull—she could only sense spiritual powers, nothing physical—but that scarcely mattered. It was the network of scripts and constructs running the ship that actually got them places.

Many of them were still intact. She figured the crew could have them in the air again inside a day.

But the containment around the Ninecloud madra was broken. The fuel given to them had mostly faded into useless essence.

She pushed back a spike of fear. "We're not walking there, that's certain. If you had to place a bet, how long would you say it's going to take us?"

"Another month," Naru Saeya said sadly. "At best."

The tournament's opening was in three weeks.

Yerin walked over to the side, looking down to stare at the smoking hole in the ship. "Well...here's hoping they come looking for us before then."

Chapter 8

The Ninecloud Court looked as though it had been ripped from a dream.

Rather than a city, it looked like a jeweled palace so vast that Lindon couldn't see the end. Shimmering glass bridges connected one ruby tower to another, and shining castles floated on white clouds that sparkled every color. Blue birds with wingspans that looked a mile wide trailed rain from their tails, leaving rainbows falling behind them.

The iridescent structures built on one another, leading up to one tower in particular: a rose-tinted diamond spire encircled by a solid rainbow that reminded Lindon of Samara's Ring back home.

Lindon reached into his pocket, clenching Suriel's marble. Somewhere in that complex—maybe at the top of that tower—was where heaven's messenger had taken him to see Luminous Queen Sha Miara. Years ago, Suriel had assured him that he couldn’t make it with the power he had at the time.

And now here he was.

Without warning, rainbow light shimmered around the cloudship. Lindon began cycling Blackflame, but none of the Akura Lords or Ladies looked concerned. A moment later, a woman's gentle voice poured in from everywhere.

“Good morning, honored guests! I am the Ninecloud Soul, voice of the Court, and we welcome you to the eighteenth Uncrowned King tournament! The first round will begin in two weeks. In the meantime, we will guide you to your rooms.”

He couldn’t see the source of the voice. The rainbow light hovered around their ship, which began to drift toward a nearby amethyst tower.

[It’s interesting how humans decide whether or not to panic by watching others,] Dross noted. [What if all of you are wrong together?]

Charity and Fury are aboard. If they’re wrong about what’s safe, then I guess we’re all going to die.

Other cloudships were being pulled into other neighboring towers at the same time. In fact, the air might have been more crowded than the streets. Maybe the Blackflame Empire team was somewhere among them.

He sent a thread of pure madra into the voice transmission construct he held in his hand.

[That poor construct. Worked to death. You’re a cruel man.]

Yerin’s voice came through in a whisper, and Lindon pressed the device to his ear. But he couldn’t make anything out; her words split and cracked like dry leaves. He poured more pure madra into it, but finally the faceted surface of the construct cracked as well. He felt the binding inside warp, deforming past usefulness.

He lowered it, sighing. It had been wonderful being able to speak with Yerin even every other day, but he had pushed the construct past its original lifespan. It wasn’t meant to last half a year, he was sure.

[There are sects that would have considered that a legendary treasure, handing it down to their descendants to call for help in times of dire need,] Dross said. [I just thought you ought to feel guiltier.]

The Sage can afford it, Lindon responded, but he was disappointed that the construct had finally broken. Now he wouldn’t know when to expect Yerin. Maybe she was finally here. Would he be allowed to see her before the tournament?

As the ship drifted closer to the shimmering jeweled tower, another cloudship joined them, pulled by the same rainbow madra toward a dock next to theirs. This ship was made of pale wood and drifted on a white cloud, but it was much smaller than the Akura clan’s. On the deck were a scattered handful of blue-robed sacred artists.

Their ship had clearly suffered some damage. Scorch marks dotted the hull, and sprays of cloud madra hissed from the bottom.

One woman onboard spotted them and walked over to the edge. Just when Lindon thought she would leap over, she vanished mid-step, appearing on the deck of the Akura cloudship. She dragged a gust of icy air with her.

The new arrival looked young, perhaps midway through her twenties, with sun-browned skin and long, flowing white hair. She wore sky-blue sacred artist’s robes decorated with snowflakes like white flowers. Along the outside of her forearms ran a frozen line of ice down her skin. A straight-bladed sword hung in a blue sheath on her back.

Charity did not appear surprised to see her, instead giving a shallow bow. “Min Shuei. It seems you ran into some trouble on the way.”

Lindon, watching intently, startled when Mercy rushed up behind him and grabbed his arm in excitement.

“That’s the Winter Sage! I haven’t seen her since I was a girl!” She leaned forward, staring at the newcomer. “She’s taller than I remembered.”

The Winter Sage’s expression crumpled as she stared at Charity, as though she were about to cry. “Charity! Where were you?”

“I was not aware you were in trouble,” the Heart Sage said stiffly. “Why did you not contact us? I would have sent my father to your side in a moment.”