“We’ll pay them back for this,” Lindon said. “A hundred times over, we’ll pay them back.” It wasn’t the sort of thing that would comfort him, but he suspected Yerin would appreciate revenge more than sympathy.
She smiled in one corner of her mouth even as she gripped the harvester's handles. “Master always said I should get captured once or twice. Shows spine when you break free.”
The guard shouted at them to work before Lindon could respond, but his spirits lifted. If Yerin hadn't given up, there was still hope.
If nothing else, running the harvester would be good exercise for his madra. If he got his hands on a few scales, he might even be able to advance while he was down here.
Now that he'd settled on a goal, Lindon grabbed the handles and sunk his spirit into the script.
The harvester activated almost immediately, drawing Lindon's senses to the aura in the air around him...
He swallowed back a scream.
It was a silent storm, a chaotic gale of blinding color that flashed and blasted in every direction as though it would tear everything apart. He couldn't pick a single aspect out of the maelstrom—anything, maybe everything. It felt as though it would peel the flesh from his bones with sheer force, though it passed through him harmlessly.
When the harvester began, it pulled the slightest breath of that aura from the air, running it in a corkscrew pattern through the center of the iron barrel. The energy circled between the crystal chalices at the bottom—purifying the aura and converting it to madra, no doubt—and Lindon's spirit was only necessary to keep the script running so that the process continued. The crystals were steadily filling up, and when they were full, he supposed the final stretch of script would activate and pop out a scale.
He wasn't sure, because he had to release the harvester when his core ran dry. He leaned over the barrel, panting heavily.
The Sandviper guard wore the hide of a bear-like dreadbeast and had an axe in one hand. Lindon had to flinch as the man stalked closer, growling.
“Back to work,” the man spat, jabbing him with the butt of his axe.
Lindon met the man's eyes, trying to look earnest. “I'm sorry, honored elder, but I'm only—”
The man hit him again, hard enough that the room spun in a haze of pain. “Don't give me that look. You think you're getting out of here? The dreadbeasts are coming, and they're going to...Where's your collar?”
He swung the axe harder, and if Lindon hadn't let himself collapse with the blow, it would have broken his shoulder.
“What have you done with it?” the man roared, lifting his axe again. Lindon sputtered out protests, holding up a hand to protect himself. Yerin moved, standing in front of him.
Something skittered across the floor like a stone across the surface of the pond, and the guard tripped.
His foot flew out behind him, and for an instant, Lindon expected him to plant his face in the floor. But he was still a Gold, and he caught himself with one palm against the ground, flipping upright. He spun around, pulling a second axe from his belt.
“Which one of you?” he growled, choked with anger.
A man in the corner lifted his head and met Lindon's eye, winking.
Lindon stared. It was that same yellow-haired man. He'd been captured too? How? When?
The leader of the guards raised a hand. “Be peaceful, Tash,” she said. “You tripped.”
Tash shouted a protest, but he didn't even get the first word out of his mouth before she spoke again. “And he's a Copper. Collar won't make him any weaker than he already is.”
The guard looked back at Lindon in disbelief, and then something brushed gently against Lindon's spirit. If he hadn't been paying attention, he might not have noticed.
So that was what it felt like, having his soul tested by another. He would have to remember that.
Tash shoved him one more time with the butt of the axe, then left him alone. For the rest of the day, Lindon was allowed to stop and cycle whenever he needed, though the first time he was sure Tash would split his head for stopping the harvester. Instead, the guards treated him like he didn't exist. When Yerin so much as glanced up, they shouted her back down. He was an exception.
That had to be an advantage, somehow.
He glanced back to the yellow-haired man, only to find that the man wasn't against the wall anymore. He was right next to Lindon now, though Lindon hadn't heard a thing.
“Isn't it ingenious, this thing?” he said, gesturing to the harvester. “In the Blackflame Empire, we don't have anything like it.”
Tash turned around, his skin blooming red. “Quiet!”
“My name is Eithan,” he said with a bow. He made no attempt to quiet himself, and even several of the others turned around with looks of disbelief. “And you are Wei Shi Lindon. The Copper. You're famous! Although infamous might be more accurate, really.”
Tash had an axe in each hand and looked ready to use them. Lindon scraped his harvester across the ground to put a little distance between him and Eithan.
The yellow-haired man followed him. “You know, there's an opportunity for you here. The measure of a sacred artist isn't talent; it's how you respond to risk.”
Lindon turned away, trying to make it clear that he wasn't speaking. Tash had arrived, an axe in each hand.
“It's kind of like this,” Eithan said, and pivoted on the balls of his feet to deliver an overhand punch.
Straight at Lindon.
Lindon released his harvester, jerking to the side. He slammed into Tash's legs, and no matter how strong the Gold was, he'd been caught in mid-stride. He stumbled, halfway falling, and caught himself on the lip of a nearby harvester.
The guard looked up at Lindon with a face like a furnace.
“What do you do when you're met with danger?” Eithan asked conversationally. “Do you fight? Do you beg for forgiveness? Do you listen to me? Now, Yerin.”
Yerin's hand shot out, stopping Tash from planting his axe in Lindon's skull. She looked back at Eithan, looking as stunned as Lindon felt.
“One step to your left,” Eithan said, and Lindon followed his instructions. In a blur of motion, Tash had already thrown one axe, and it whistled through the air to clatter against the wall.
Now everyone was staring at Eithan, Lindon included.
“Let him go,” Eithan said, and Yerin released Tash just as he swiped at her arm with his remaining axe.
“Lindon, take two steps back and then sit down,” Eithan said, but by now Lindon was catching on. The man was singling them out for some reason, pushing them into trouble, and Lindon wasn't going to stand for it any more.
Of course, he didn't have to be rude about it.
He took a step forward and gave a shallow bow. “Forgiveness, elder brother, but I don't—”
Something large and snarling passed over Lindon's head, ruffling his hair, and latched onto Tash. The man screamed, and blood sprayed up onto the walls.
“Well done,” Eithan said, patting Lindon on the shoulder.
For the first time, Lindon noticed more openings halfway up the walls. They were half the size of the hallway that had admitted the miners, but they were plenty big enough for the dreadbeasts that appeared out of nowhere, hurling themselves down onto the miners.
“Weapons up!” the woman in charge shouted, raising her own sword, but her command had come late. The guards already had their weapons in hand, and the miners crouched by their harvesters.
The creature on Tash looked like a monkey with skin mottled bruise-purple and meat-red, and by the time Tash managed to pull the dreadbeast away, he wore a mask of blood. He gurgled as he took a staggering step forward, and Lindon looked away.
Only two of the miners stood in the middle of the deluge: Eithan and Yerin. Yerin had lifted the harvester with one hand—it was taking her obvious effort, which must have been the collar's effect—and punched a rotting dog with the iron barrel on her fist.