“All the time is a little harsh.” A little more humanity cracked Eithan’s smile. “I will allow, though, that I can be a unique experience.”
“Let him kick you,” Yerin suggested. Everyone looked to her—Naru Huan’s face had grown substantially brighter—but she didn’t back down. “You want to show you’re sorry? Let him kick you.”
Eithan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m a little disturbed at how quickly you came to that suggestion.”
“I dream about it every night.”
Naru Huan controlled himself, but Lindon could see that he was holding back excitement. “I would like that very much.”
“Well, if I’m not going to defend myself, I would prefer if you took it easy—”
He didn’t.
The Emperor’s kick contained all the madra, aura, and soulfire of an experienced Overlord. The sudden detonation of air would have leveled Lindon’s house if not for the scripts and his own protection. As it was, air surged out from Windfall for miles, even buffeting some landing cloudships.
Lindon watched as Eithan flew as a rapidly vanishing speck to the west. “I think he might make it all the way to Sacred Valley.”
Naru Huan clapped his hands and shouted. “Bring me a blank tablet!” His escort of Golds on the neighboring cloudship scurried to obey.
Lowering his voice back to normal, the Emperor spoke to Lindon and Yerin. “I need to record this memory while it’s fresh. I can never forget this.”
Indeed, he looked like he’d been injected with a good night’s sleep in an instant.
Kicking Eithan. Lindon would have to try that.
5
Lindon didn’t need to do much to load the people of Sacred Valley onto the cloudships. He didn’t have a role here other than to supervise; in fact, he could have left on Windfall and delegated everything to the subordinates from the Blackflame Empire.
But there were a few things he needed to see to himself.
Orthos was healthier than he’d been since the fight with the Titan, but Lindon only knew that through his bond. He hadn’t visited yet today, so when he landed, he was surprised not to see Orthos. Normally, even an Iron could see Orthos from miles away. It was hard to miss a flaming turtle literally the size of a hill.
He found a handful of Truegolds still packing up the intricate script-circle and other tools they’d used to see to Orthos’ safety for the last several days. All the bustling action in the area stopped when Lindon arrived, as everyone bowed.
Lindon was getting used to that. At least enough to not let it slow him down. “Continue with what you were doing. I’m just here to see Orthos.”
He looked into the forest where he felt Orthos, and would have expected to see him even at normal size. Apprehensively, he asked, “Did everything go…well?”
Little Blue whistled her concern.
An old Truegold woman cleared her throat. “We are assured by Lord Orthos that the process was completed according to plan, but the ways of soulfire are unknown to us. You will have to assess his condition for yourself, honored guest.”
“Lord Orthos?”
“He told us to call him that himself. Should we address him by a different title?”
Lindon supposed Orthos was a Lord now, so he reassured the Golds that they had done well, passed them a scale—which they regarded with awe—and then leaped across the clearing and into the forest.
“How are you?” Lindon asked. He knew Orthos could hear him.
“Well enough to devour some enemies,” Orthos said. “But not so well that I want to fly. You’re a Sage now, just move us there.”
Lindon heard Orthos’ voice, and based on that and his spiritual presence, Orthos should have been right in front of him. He saw only a red glow in some bushes, and an odd thought came to him: had Orthos buried himself in the ground?
Then the bush shook, and Lindon saw Orthos emerge.
At about the level of Lindon’s ankle.
Orthos snapped up a bee that had crawled along the ground too close to his mouth. “Don’t give me that look. My spirit is as strong as ever.”
Lindon knew that. If it hadn’t been, he would have sensed the change immediately.
But now Orthos was the size of an ordinary turtle. Maybe a baby one. Lindon was having trouble reconciling the sight, but Little Blue wasn’t.
She gave a flute’s whistle of pure joy and leaped off Lindon’s shoulder. When she landed in front of Orthos, she chattered about how happy she was to see him and threw her arms around his shell.
Orthos spat out a mouthful of insect. “Stop it! You’ll get burned!”
But Little Blue was sturdier than she had ever been, and the glowing red plates of Orthos’ shell didn’t harm her at all.
Lindon knelt, though he didn’t need to get any closer for a clear view. He was starting to feel like he was the awkward one for being so tall. “Did something go wrong with the soulfire?”
Orthos snorted smoke. “I told the Golds everything was fine. We’re going into the labyrinth, aren’t we? Well, now I can fit anywhere. You’re the one who might get stuck.”
He lifted his chin proudly, as though being less than a foot long was his life’s greatest accomplishment.
Little Blue sat cross-legged on top of his shell, the ocean blue madra of her dress draping over his sides. She chittered about how he should stay this size all the time.
“What happened to your voice?” Lindon asked.
“Nothing,” Orthos rumbled.
“That’s what concerns me.” Shouldn’t Orthos’ voice be higher pitched? Or at least fainter.
Orthos raised his head proudly. “I have a wonderful voice. I see no reason to change it.”
Little Blue peeped her agreement.
Lindon tried and discarded a number of responses. He eventually settled on “As long as you’re happy. We can get you some more soulfire whenever you want to change back.”
“It won’t be soon,” Orthos assured him. “Transformation is exhausting. And you can keep me in your void key while we’re flying, so I won’t feel it. Let’s get going.”
Orthos began marching back toward the fleet of cloudships as Little Blue rode happily along.
Lindon straightened to join them. He was a little worried about his stride, though Orthos could use the Burning Cloak. He’d keep up.
But no sooner had Lindon taken one step than he heard a deep clearing of a throat behind him.
“Carry me,” Orthos demanded.
“Are you sure? I thought you would consider it…demeaning.”
“If you had a shell, I’d ride on it. You owe me.”
That was true, and it wasn’t as though Lindon found it embarrassing. The thought of carrying Orthos was just very, very odd. Like him carrying a horse on his shoulders to market. He was strong enough to lift a horse easily, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t look strange.
He lifted Orthos, cradling the turtle in his arm, but Little Blue protested. She patted her own shoulder.
“On my shoulder?” Lindon asked.
She chimed once in agreement, scrambling over to his right shoulder and taking her usual seat.
Orthos didn’t object, so Lindon settled him on his left shoulder. He was a little worried that the turtle would wobble off, but claws gouged into Lindon’s skin as Orthos got a grip.