Bloodline Plant Lord: Rise of the World Sovereign

The Furnace Road — toward the fourth stamp.

Kaelen Voss was halfway through counting the gap when the canyon walls brightened.

He pulled the wrapping over his face and dropped into a hollow beside the path. Heat swept across the exposed stone where he had been standing, catching his shoulder before he could press himself farther into shelter.

It had come too soon.

Since entering the Alliance’s one-way road to Stage Five, he had learned to move between the surges. The plate-backed beasts hunted in those intervals, but he could fight them. When the walls brightened, he needed shelter. He had even learned to sleep in the longer gaps, waking with enough time to cover himself.

He counted through the heat and started again when it passed.

The next surge came earlier still.

Kaelen stayed in the hollow until the pressure eased, then lowered the cloth from his eyes. Ahead, the path ran between stretches of bare wall. There were places to crouch, but they were too far apart for the intervals he was counting now.

He could reach the first before the heat returned. Getting from there to the second would leave him exposed.

He flexed his right hand around the blade. His fingers closed properly now, and he no longer needed the strapping to keep the weapon in place. He adjusted his grip and checked the cloth around his left arm. Its outer layer was brown and stiff, with small cracks where it bent at the elbow.

Three marks were burned into the writ in his coat. The next booth lay somewhere beyond the bend, hidden by the glow.

Kaelen watched the walls and counted another interval. He picked out the stones he would use to cross the uneven section, then waited for the surge to pass.

As soon as it did, he ran.

He reached the first hollow, crouched with his back against the wall, and drew the wrapping over his head. The next surge passed close enough to heat the blade in his hand. He shifted it away from his leg and kept counting, breathing through the cloth.

When the pressure lifted, he pushed off the wall.

The second hollow was still ahead when the canyon brightened again. He raised his left arm across his face and ran the remaining distance with the heat on him.

The outer wrapping blackened. A split opened near his wrist, and the heat burned through the layers beneath it. By the time he reached shelter, he could smell the cloth scorching.

He went down hard on one knee and pulled his arm against his chest. The hollow sheltered most of his body, though heat continued to catch his boots. He drew them in and waited for the walls to dim.

His count stayed steady.

Only afterward did he look at the arm. He had reached the end of the surge without losing a number, even when the wrapping failed.

He set the blade beside his knee and peeled back the damaged cloth. The skin beneath was burned from wrist toward elbow. In the middle, a patch the size of his palm had darkened without blistering. He touched its edge with one finger; it felt hard beneath the soot.

Kaelen lowered his sleeve over it and wound the surviving cloth back into place. There was no time to do more before the walls began brightening again.

While he waited, he took out the writ to check that it had survived. He held it beneath his coat through the next surge, then retrieved his blade and continued around the bend.

The booth appeared through the red glow, with a single slot in its stone face like the others.

He reached it during a gap. When he brought up the writ, its corner was folded against his palm. He had been gripping it since the last shelter, tightly enough to leave an edge pressed into his skin.

He straightened the corner with his thumb and fed it into the slot.

The walls brightened before it came back.

Kaelen glanced along the path for somewhere to crouch, but the booth’s open side offered no cover. He pulled his face wrapping higher and waited with his hand beside the slot.

The writ slid out. He caught it, saw the fourth mark, and tucked it inside his coat as the heat reached him.

He turned his damaged arm away from the opening and bent his head. Heat worked through his clothes while he stood there counting, unable to reach the next hollow before the surge passed.

When it eased, he opened the bag.

The grey vial was still half full. Inside the lid, Eira’s small, square writing specified half and no more. He had already taken that much.

Kaelen checked the stopper and put it back.

The wrapping had loosened around his elbow. He caught the trailing end, but the light along the walls was already rising again. He closed the bag and started toward the next shelter, winding the cloth around his arm as he walked.

Mei Lanhua — Unknown Location.

Mei Lanhua had stopped watching the window.

It was too high to see through, and the light in it never changed. The same flat brightness filled the room whenever she woke. There was a bed against one wall, a basin against the other, and no way to tell how much time had passed while she slept.

The door gave her more to work with.

She heard the guards change in the passage outside: approaching footsteps, a brief exchange, then another set walking away. One guard stepped more heavily than the other. The meal followed soon afterward.

First came the sound of a heavier door opening farther along the passage. It usually shut before the slot in her own door opened. A tray appeared with a bowl on it, and the guard waited for her to collect the food before pulling the tray back and closing the hatch.

Mei learned the sequence because there was little else to listen to. She could sit on the bed and know when to get up, reaching the door as the bolt on the hatch moved.

Recently, the order had changed during the heavier guard’s shifts.

Wheels scraped along the passage. One caught at the same place each time, followed by a small jolt and someone pushing harder. On those occasions, her hatch opened before the outer door shut.

She heard more voices then, although she could seldom make out what they said.

The cart might carry food or other supplies. It might have nothing to do with her captivity. She had no way to tell from the wheels alone, so she listened for them at each meal and kept track of which guard was outside.

The heavier footsteps came again.

Mei left the bed and knelt beside the door, bringing her eyes level with the slot. She leaned against the wall with one hand resting on her knee. From there she could reach the bowl without having to stand.

The outer door opened. Wheels scraped over the uneven patch.

Her hatch slid back, and the tray came through.

She raised her hands to collect the bowl. Beyond it, a narrow space beside the guard’s hip gave her a view across the passage.

A crate passed on the cart. Near its lower edge was a label with four marks. She caught the first three together, then the last as it moved past the guard: a closed hook, tilted slightly to one side.

Mei took the bowl while repeating the shapes in her head.

Someone spoke beyond the door. The wheels scraped over most of the sentence, but she caught one word.

Edius

She kept her head lowered as the guard withdrew the tray. The hatch shut, followed a moment later by the outer door.

Mei stayed kneeling with the bowl in her hands until the footsteps moved away. Then she returned to the bed.

She knew the name, but she had heard too little to know why it had been mentioned. It could have concerned the crate or something else in the passage. She went over the sounds that had come before and after it, trying to separate them from the wheels, but could recover nothing certain.

The label was clearer. Four marks, the last shaped like a hook. She traced them against the side of the bowl with her fingertip, then did it again without looking.

At the next meal, the lighter guard was outside. There were no wheels, and the outer door closed before her hatch opened. Mei collected the bowl promptly and went back to the bed.

The guard had waited for her handoff again. That was the part of the routine she could affect.

When the heavier footsteps returned, she took her place beside the door. She wanted to see whether the next crate carried the same label, and hear whatever passed between the guards while the outer door remained open.

The wheels approached.

Mei waited for the tray to stop, then reached for the bowl with one hand. She moved it carefully toward the edge before bringing her other hand underneath, stretching the familiar action by a moment.

Beyond the guard’s hip, the cart came into view.

She eased the bowl toward herself and listened.