Pei Jing woke in the dark. There was no sun to tell him it was the sixth hour. The earth veins gave a low rumble, and a pale blue light spread through the cave around the floating island. The swords in the outer ring picked up speed.
From the mouth of the crack, he watched claymores and scythes pass within arm’s reach of thin bronze blades. No two touched. Each held to its own height and speed. The air smelled of burnt copper.
He tightened the strap of his hat and crawled out. His boots came down hard under four times their usual weight. He bent his knees and let the load settle through his legs and back. Ten paces ahead, the shelf joined a stone ring suspended over the void. It was twelve feet wide. Nothing held it up that he could see.
Before he reached it, three men stumbled through the gate. Their white and silver Cloud Mist robes were stained with blood and soot. Two carried drawn swords. The third was older and stood a little straighter under the weight.
“We cleared it!” the youngest said. He dropped to one knee. “Senior Brother Liang, we made it through the maze.”
