He caught his frustration before it bloomed into anger, instead pulling out a scripted fire-starter and lighting the pipe. He didn’t need the fire-starter, strictly speaking, but he enjoyed using it. The script lit up one rune at a time as it spiraled down the wooden script, pulling in red fire aura as it did so, culminating in a burst of sparks when it reached the end. So satisfying.

With nowhere to go, the smoke curled against the ceiling. He turned his attention to Lindon.

He was relying almost entirely on Blackflame, using his pure madra as a backup, which was a shame. But he couldn’t handle Eithan’s techniques yet. Despite having practiced the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel for a year and a half, he did not have the madra reserves yet. Nor could his spirit handle them before his channels and core were reinforced by advancing to Underlord.

Of course, there were still other things Eithan could teach him about the use of pure madra. But he was spread out too thin as it was, trying to master two Paths, Soulsmithing, the madra in that arm of his, and the upgrades to his body and soul that he’d found in Ghostwater. By watching him move, it was obvious to Eithan that Lindon had found a way to enhance his mind, which had pleased Eithan enough to make him dance a little jig. Privately.

Eithan breathed out another mouthful of smoke. No, giving Lindon more to do would be counterproductive. What he really needed was time to adjust to the abilities he already had. But no matter how many times he told Lindon as much, Lindon took it as an excuse.

Aboveground, Lindon smashed through a shield of madra and hauled a Highgold murderer up by her collar. Orthos stomped down on a man who tried to flee, Mercy put an arrow through a hand that tried to stab Yerin in the back, and Yerin sliced a spear in half.

He smiled around the pipe. They moved with a confidence beyond their age. He couldn’t have been prouder of them.

And he couldn’t wait to see where they went from here.

Only one of the murderers escaped; the lookout. Eithan’s students had never seen him. He had waited underground, veiled and peeking through a trapdoor. After seeing the Skysworn devastate his partners, he had scurried downstairs, pulling a scripted seal from his pocket.

He was muttering to himself, a crazed smile on his face, as he approached the vault. His last resort. Eithan could see the thoughts written on his face: he was going to release their secret weapon. The puppet construct they had created for emergencies. Stitched together from Truegold Remnant parts, it had not been crafted by a true Soulsmith, and as such it was all but uncontrollable. He couldn’t direct it; he could only unleash it.

The murderer placed the seal against the vault door, and the greater script on the door shone brightly. Interlocking metal gears began to turn, and the door slowly ground open.

The man laughed triumphantly as the vault was revealed, but his laughter slowly faded.

He stood face-to-face with Eithan, who sat on a padded chair in his Skysworn armor, calmly smoking. Behind him, a monstrous puppet-construct continued to dissolve into motes of rising light.

Eithan blew smoke into the man’s face.

Chapter 5

A few busy days later, Lindon and the rest of the team landed on Starsweep Tower to find Cassias Arelius waiting for them.

He was flanked by two Truegold Skysworn, who must have escorted him to the top of the tower, but his bearing made them look like his attendants rather than his guards. He was only a few years older than Lindon, his curling hair the same blond as Eithan’s. Rather than sacred artist robes, he wore a pressed shirt and pants of dark blue with silver trim, and he stood straight as Starsweep Tower itself. His hand rested on the hilt of a thin, silver sword that he wore at his hip.

He glared at Eithan as the team landed, but he still spared a bow for the others. “Lindon, Yerin, Orthos. It has been too long. Your squad leader has been ignoring my messages.” He shot another angry look at Eithan as he turned to Mercy.

“I apologize, young lady. I am Cassias Arelius, and if you’ll forgive me, I’d say you must be Akura Mercy.”

“Pleased to meet you, Cassias!” She bobbed an unsteady bow. “Thank you for lending us your Patriarch. He’s always taking us to interesting places.”

If Yerin had said the same thing, it would have been sarcastic.

Cassias looked surprised, and glanced over to Lindon and Yerin. “Yes, ah, that brings up what I’m here for. But first, Lindon and Yerin, you’ve…advanced. Of course you have. Congratulations to both of you.”

He didn’t sound congratulatory, but weary, as though he suspected Eithan of pushing them far too hard. He had expressed concern for them before.

But Yerin accepted his praise proudly, straightening her spine and lifting her chin, her sword-arms extending.

Lindon bowed to Cassias in response. “Gratitude. We have been fortunate.”

“I truly hope you’re taking care of yourselves. Both of you. But I’m here because you haven’t taken our Patriarch away from us. Eithan forfeited that title months ago.”

Lindon shifted uncomfortably, stealing a glance at Eithan. Yerin was staring at him openly, waiting for a response, and Mercy made a face that suggested she’d rather not be hearing this. Orthos let out a long breath of smoke, and through their bond, he felt resigned. Like he’d heard his most troublesome child had caused a problem once again.

Eithan looked unconcerned, smiling gently as the wind pulled his long yellow hair behind him. He wore the emerald armor of the Skysworn more naturally than any of them, and Lindon had wondered more than once if he’d had the shape modified for style.

“I’ve been making the most of my freedom since you stripped me of my position,” Eithan said. “Making the Empire a better place one locked-up smuggler at a time.”

Cassias stepped forward, looking ready to draw his sword. “I did not strip you of anything, the branch heads did, and I took it on myself to inform you. And they had good reason. You don’t do your job, Eithan! They cut off your funding and authority to force you to come back and face the family. The Emperor himself allowed it! And we’ve heard less from you than ever!”

Eithan’s smile grew tight. “You don’t think we could do this somewhere more comfortable?” The sun was setting, and the wind was growing uncomfortably cold.

Cassias threw up his hands. “I think you’ll run off! I’ve spent the whole season trying to track you down, and now I think you’ll disappear if I take my eyes off you for an instant! You always do that!”

He did tend to do that a lot, Lindon realized. Though he appeared out of nowhere even more often.

“Very well, then,” Eithan said, and suddenly he radiated a presence that Lindon had only felt from him a handful of times before. It had nothing to do with the power of his spirit, which was still veiled. It was more subtle than that; a sense of authority, as though he was suddenly possessed by the Remnant of a king.

“When I arrived from the homeland,” Eithan said, “I agreed to take over the Patriarch position for the Blackflame branch of the clan, but I also made it clear to your father that I had plans and goals of my own. His memory is short, for only seven years later, I find that he is dissatisfied with my level of service. Very well, then. Let it be as though I never traveled through that gate.”