The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (21 page)

Simon held up his bloodstained shirt in front of Kai. "Where are the Nye?" Simon asked. "Did I not wait long enough?"

Kai was stroking the flat of Azura's blade like a lover, staring deep into her silvery blade. "It's not your fault, little mouse," Kai said. "The Nye have...other concerns, today."

"Does that happen often?"

"Never," Kai said. "This is something of an exception, and the reason why I was looking for you in the House. We have a problem."

"A problem?"

"You're just full of useless questions, aren't you?" Kai said. He held Azura in his right hand—he seemed not to want to let it go—and gestured to Simon with his left. "Hurry up, if you would. We have places to go, people to save."

Simon pulled on his shirt, wincing at the feel of sticky blood against his scars, and ran after Kai. He led Simon back to the garden, where a familiar figure was engaged in conversation with Chaka. He wore road-stained clothes of brown and green, and looked as though he was about a week overdue for a shave and a haircut. He held a Dragon's Fang in his right hand, and had a huge red-and-gold book tucked under his left arm.

"Denner," Kai called. "We're ready."
 

Denner said something and bowed to Chaka, who bowed back. The leather man didn't spare Simon more than a glance. Denner jogged over to join Kai and Simon. Simon started to say something, but as soon as Denner was close enough, Kai grabbed Simon by one arm and began pulling him out of the room.

"Hold on," Simon said, pulling himself free. "What is going on?"

"This is somewhat urgent, little mouse," Kai said. "Please scamper in this direction, if you would." He seized Simon by the shoulder this time and kept guiding him out.

Denner sighed, but he kept following Kai. "How have you been, Simon?" he asked.

"Well enough," Simon replied, struggling in Kai's grip. Short of calling steel, he didn't think he could break it.

Hariman, the book under Denner's arm, chuckled. Then he spoke, in a stuffy, cultured voice: "You have been well enough, I'm sure. Assassinating Overlords, destabilizing the realm. I hear you're quite the wanted man in Damasca, which is unfortunate, considering that's where—"

He cut off as Denner slapped him on the binding. "Sorry about that, Simon. Sometimes he just runs away without me."

"It's no problem," Simon said, but he felt a little queasy.
 

He had barely considered how he would be treated in Damasca because of what he'd done. Come to think of it, though, he really
had
killed dozens of soldiers. It had always seemed like he had a good reason at the time, but he was a murderer. A murderer. Would they lock him up in some jail he couldn't break his way out of? Maybe even exile him to some terrible Territory?

"Don't worry, little one," Kai sang, still dragging Simon behind him. "You'll kill more before all this is through. You've barely gotten started."

The thought made Simon so sick he thought he would lose his last meal all over the Valinhall hallway. He rarely thought in those terms: killing, murder. He thought of what he did as fighting, becoming stronger, defending the innocent. Somehow, those terms made him feel better.

"We're not sure if you've heard," Hariman piped up, "but the Valinhall Incarnation has escaped his prison."

Simon's head jerked almost involuntarily toward the book, and he wrenched himself out of Kai's grasp one more time. "It's the
Valinhall
Incarnation? The Grandmasters didn't say that."

"They probably didn't want to tell you," Denner said. "Did they seem like they were trying to keep information from you, keep you in the dark?"

Before Simon could respond, Kai placed his palm on Simon's back and firmly pushed. "Less talking, more walking, little mouse."

"What's the hurry? Where are we going?" Simon asked.

"The village of Harinfel," Denner responded.

They reached the entry hall, and Denner raised his sword. He slid his sword down, slicing open a Valinhall Gate, and doing it more smoothly than Simon had ever been able to manage.
 

"Where is Kathrin?" Kai asked. "Is she waiting with Indirial?"

Denner sighed again, shaking his head. "She has a life outside us, now. She made it clear that if I wanted her to go anywhere near our old master, I was going to have to duel her for it."

"She has the life you all wish you did," Hariman said. "Her skills have made her quite rich, as I understand, and renowned in certain circles. I have always said that you could have made a better life for yourself, Denner, if you would only—"

Denner finished making the Gate and stepped through, cutting off his advisor. Kai made sure that Simon followed before bringing up the rear. He still held Azura, which Simon thought he could understand. Surely Kai missed holding his old sword, and if the dolls were still talking to him, that had to comfort him. He carried Angeline with him now, a blond doll in a black dress with a serious expression. Simon hadn't heard her say a word to him, but Kai still cradled her as if she would speak at any second.

Wait a minute
, Simon thought.
Wasn't Kai going for his own sword? Where is it?

It was taken
, Angeline said.
We hope he will earn it back soon
.

Simon wished that didn't sound so ominous.

The Gate opened up onto a field of patchy and dying grass, surrounded by white tents. The tents were lit only by starlight and the occasional candle. Soldiers moved around in the business of war: sharpening weapons, polishing boots, hauling chests from one tent to another. A few soldiers were sleeping, but fewer than Simon had expected, considering that it was the middle of the night. Obviously Travelers were a common sight in this camp, because only a few soldiers looked up curiously at the sight of three men stepping out of nowhere.

Most of the men were either out of uniform or half-dressed, so it took Simon a handful of seconds to recognize their red-and-gold clothes as the uniform of the Damascan royal army. These soldiers were led by no single Overlord, instead serving the Kingdom as a whole. Simon dropped into a fighting crouch, and one hand went to the side as if to summon Azura.

"Put away your fangs, little mouse," Kai said. He smiled when he saw Simon's outstretched hand. "We are among friends." He seemed amused, though it was hard to tell with his hair veiling his eyes.

They simply stood in the center of the camp for a minute or two, letting the soldiers bustle and hurry by them.
 

"What are we waiting for?" Simon asked, finally. Neither of the others responded, but Denner nodded to a stranger who jogged down one of the aisles between tents to meet them.

He was tall and fit, perhaps in his forties, with barely a few specks of gray in his dark hair. His skin was dark, too—a villager, then—and when he flashed them a grin it was wide and friendly. He wasn't wearing a uniform, only black pants and a white shirt with the sleeves cut off, revealing long, heavily muscled arms.
 

Simon stared at the man's arms for a moment, almost in shock. Black chain-marks snaked up this stranger's arms almost to the elbow.

He's a Valinhall Traveler!
Simon thought.
Dragon Army! What is he doing with the Damascans?

Leading
, Angeline replied.
The Dragon Army once opposed Damasca, true, but with Valin's fall...well, Indirial had different opinions than the rest.

The Traveler—Indirial—came to a stop facing the three of them. He beamed. "It's been too long, my friends. You look well."

Denner smiled back, but he didn't say anything. Kai shook his shaggy white head. "We're not here for this, Indirial."

Indirial rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, but give me a moment to pretend we're still friends." He turned his gaze to Simon, and his smile grew more gentle. "And you must be Simon! You've grown."

Simon froze. He pictured this stranger, Indirial, in a black Nye cloak like the one he wore. There were only a few things he remembered about the man who had saved his life: bare, chain-wrapped arms, a long and ragged sword, a black cloak, and a gleaming smile.

Indirial didn't wear the cloak, but his smile was the same.

Simon felt as he had when Benson, the steel skeleton, had kicked him in the chest and sent him flying. He had all but given up on finding the man who had saved his life when he was a child; Valinhall Travelers were rarer than ever, now, and he had come close to convincing himself that his savior must have died over the years. But this was him. This
had
to be him.
 

He was on the verge of speaking when a woman ran up to Indirial. She wore brown buckskin clothing and feathers in her hair—an Avernus Traveler, then, like the ones Simon had met in Enosh. However, the few Travelers he had seen had worn feathers of brown, black, or gold—hers were broad and white, sticking up in a fan over her left ear.

"Overlord Indirial," she said, bowing. "We've found a group of survivors. They were headed for Abdera.”

"Bring them here, to the other survivors," Indirial responded. "Move as fast as possible. If you can find a few more of those eagles, fly them back. We don't know when that monster will return.”

"Sir," she said, saluting.

"Send them to me as soon as you can," Indirial said. "I want to know when we've caught them all."

The Avernus Traveler hurried off, past the row of tents. As soon as she had enough free space around her, she raised what seemed to be a feather to her mouth and blew. It made a sharp whistling sound that somehow managed to cut through the rumble and bustle of the soldiers' night. A distortion, like heat haze, briefly hid the stars over her head, and then a giant white eagle appeared out of nowhere, as though it had simply come into being mid-dive. It landed on the ground next to her, feathers pure white, and nestled the Traveler's head with its cruelly hooked beak.

The Traveler rubbed its head for a moment and then hopped on the bird's back. She pulled a pair of goggles from a pouch at her side—Simon had seen those before, in Enosh—and strapped them to her head. Then she and the eagle both flew off.

Simon watched them go, his mind whirling.
Overlord
Indirial? The man who had saved his life was a Damascan Overlord?

"You're an Overlord?" Simon asked. He barely recognized his own voice.

Indirial's smile faded, but he nodded. He seemed to know exactly how Simon felt, and he had a look of patient acceptance on his face.

Hariman made a sound like he was clearing his throat. "Simon, son of Kalman," the book said, "I have the honor to introduce Indirial, son of Aleias, Overlord of the realm of Cana and bearer of the first Dragon's Fang. He's a personal friend of ours."

"I've missed you, Hariman," Indirial said. "We should catch up. I know a few things that might interest you!"

"Oooh!" the book responded. "I have simply
nothing
but time, Indirial. I am entirely at your disposal."

Denner sighed.

Indirial looked around for a moment. "Where's Kathrin?"

"She couldn't make it," Kai said softly.

Indirial squarely met his gaze. "Due to some trauma in her youth, I'm sure," he said. Kai didn't respond.

"Well, gentlemen, it's time to get to work." Indirial strode off down the rows of tents, not watching to make sure the others were following. Simon did so, mind reeling. Indirial was an Overlord. How many had he sent to the sacrifice? Why had he saved Simon's life? Surely it was
his
Travelers who had attacked Simon in the first place.

"This camp is outside what used to be the village of Harinfel," Indirial went on. "A few hours ago, Valin came knocking. We're taking you to interview some of the survivors now." He stepped over a soldier who had apparently passed out and fallen outside of his tent.

"Valin?" Simon said. He was having trouble processing all the new information he had received in the past few hours. "I thought this was the Valinhall Incarnation we were after."

Indirial stopped. He turned around, but he didn't look at Simon. "Wow, Kai," he said. "You really haven't told the boy anything, have you?"

Kai smiled, but it was a rigid thing, like the rictus of a corpse. "It was never supposed to be me that trained him in the first place."

The Overlord ignored that, focusing on Simon. "Valin was the first of us," he said. "He was also the first to fall. You can draw almost as much power from Valinhall as you can handle, but if these—" he tapped his forearm, which was almost covered by the black chain-marks, "—ever cover you completely, then you stop controlling the power, and the power starts controlling you."

He straightened, and continued walking. "We call that process Incarnation."

"They keep saying
the
Valinhall Incarnation, though," Simon said. "Is there only one?"

Hariman made an excited sound. "Please, Indirial, allow me," the book said. "For the most part, Territories are only embodied in a single Incarnation at a time. If one Traveler loses control, he becomes an Incarnation. Well, then, you may wonder what happens when a second Traveler loses control. Excellent question! Often, these Travelers simply die on the spot."

Simon resolved to keep a closer eye on his chains in the future.

"Of course," Hariman went on, "there are a few memorable occasions where Travelers have lost control of their power and simply had their minds destroyed by the force. Still others have actually
become
creatures of their Territory themselves, and were then consumed by their Incarnation. Either way, it is theoretically impossible for two Incarnations of the same Territory to exist simultaneously."

"Here we are," Indirial said. He swept aside the flap for a tent that, to Simon, looked identical to hundreds of others.

Inside a man crouched in the dirt. He wore the outfit that Simon was used to seeing from the village: tan shirt, brown pants held up by a stretch of rope. Very similar to the clothes that Simon wore now, in fact, and in much the same condition: this man's clothes were covered in almost as much blood as Simon's. This man clutched a sheathed sword to his chest and shuddered staring off into space. He held the sword as tightly as if it were his only child.