The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (25 page)

"We need Simon," Alin said.

"For what?" Grandmaster Naraka scoffed. "If we needed someone to swing a sword around, we'd be far better off with a squad from Tartarus. They, at least, could open a Gate and Travel us out of there if the need arose."

"I trust him, and I want him along," Alin said evenly. He wasn't sure why he insisted so strongly on having Simon around; maybe just to keep the Grandmasters off-balance. But it was somehow comforting to know that, should things go wrong, Simon would be around to back him up.

Grandmaster Naraka stared at him for a while behind her red-stained glasses. Then she sighed. "As you wish, Eliadel. But let's not wait until he responds to your call. We should at least go wake him up. We do have a limited window of time, after all."

Alin nodded, and the three of them walked down the hall toward Simon's room.

Alin knocked first, though he didn't really expect a response. Simon should be sleeping, if anything. Still, he raised his caged acorn alarm and gave it a shake; it was still buzzing, which meant that, wherever Simon's was, it was shaking in harmony. Simon should have been awakened by the noise, if nothing else.

One of Grandmaster Naraka's servants, trailing after her like white-dressed shadows, produced a key from a huge ring and handed it to Alin. Taking it into his hand, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Not again,
he thought. How often would he have to trudge through a battlefield, looking for any sign that Simon had survived?

The room had been broken and shattered by battle. There were shallow slashes in the stone of several walls, as though Simon had swung that massive sword of his without regard for his surroundings. Even many of the floor tiles were sliced and cracked. One of the windows was open, one shattered. A thick, unnaturally dark blood had been splattered all over the bed and sprayed over the tiles.

Alin stepped into the room—carefully, in case the cracked floor tiles actually meant the floor might crash down into the rooms below—and searched for survivors. Or bodies.

He found a few tiny shreds of flesh that might have come from a wounded animal, though the whole room stank of so much metallic blood and musk that he would be tempted to believe one enormous beast was killed here.

It only took him a few more seconds to dip into the nooks and crannies of the room, checking under the bed and in one of the closets. He even poked his head out of the shattered window, checking the ground four floors down.

"No bodies," Alin reported. The Grandmaster stayed in the doorway, her face a mask behind her scarlet glasses. Gilad entered, gingerly poking at the walls and peering at the blood. Once, he extended his hand—his right hand, which had been marked on the palm with a bright red symbol—and groped around in the air, as though feeling some invisible object.

"This was Naraka," Gilad said. He sounded surprised.

A dark suspicion bloomed in Alin's chest, and his head swiveled to confront Grandmaster Naraka. If she had attacked Simon while he stayed here, in the Grandmasters' Palace, presumably under Alin's protection....

Well, Alin wasn't sure what he would do. But he was angry enough that he might very well attack the Grandmaster, even if she
was
an ally. He and Simon had never been at all close, back in Myria, but Alin still counted him as a friend.

Naraka slowly shook her head, keeping an eye on the room. "I do not think he is dead," she said.

"Neither do I," Alin said. "He's survived worse than this before. Just a few weeks ago, in fact."

"I have a reason for thinking so, child," the Grandmaster snapped. "If this was an attack from Naraka, it was likely in response to Simon's murder of several Naraka Travelers and his role in the death of Overlord Malachi. In such a case, the goal of the attack was just retribution?"

"
Just?
”
Alin exclaimed. "Tell me now, Naraka, were you involved in this?"

Grandmaster Naraka glared at him. "Will you listen to me, for once?
They
would see it as just, whether or not I do. It is the Narakan way. But if that is so, if this was a planned execution in retaliation for his violent actions, then the attackers would have no reason to take his body away. Do you see? They would have simply killed him and left him here, perhaps marked in some way, as a notice that justice had been served."

Alin pondered that for a moment. "So the fact that he's not here means that he probably retreated to his own Territory. Safe, or at least recovering."

"And yet he's not responding to your call," Naraka pointed out.

"It could mean he's simply too deep in the Territory," Gilad suggested. "Maybe he's in hiding, and didn't take your alarm with him."

It was possible. Even likely, considering Simon. He was always the type to run off on his own without notifying or considering the people left behind.

"Time will not wait for us, Eliadel," Grandmaster Naraka said at last. "If he responds to your call before we leave the palace, then we will take him with us. Otherwise, we have our mission."

Alin followed the Grandmaster out, considering her words. If she had spoken the truth about the Narakan assassins seeking justice, then it was most likely that Simon was under attack by Damascan Travelers. Which made sense, if they thought he was working on the side of Enosh.

Then again, why attack Simon? Why not one of the Grandmasters, or Alin himself? If the Damascans had enough accurate intelligence to know where Simon's rooms were located
and
when he was supposed to be in them, then they had more than enough opportunity to strike at anyone they wished. Why Simon?

The whole thing stank. And, while Grandmaster Naraka had carefully implied that the attackers must have been Damascan, she had never actually denied her involvement in the attacks.

Also, why now? Alin found it hard to believe that Simon would vanish so suddenly, just before they embarked on a mission that Grandmaster Naraka thought was so critical that Alin himself should accompany her. She had insisted that he stay tucked away safe in the palace before; why should this mission, seemingly so risky, be the one that she allowed him to undertake?

There were too many lies, too many half-truths, and too much suspicion for Alin's taste. He preferred his conflicts simple and uncomplicated: us or them.

He would accompany the Grandmaster on her attack; after all, she had shown him nothing but dedication and loyalty. Besides, he couldn't let it be said that the Eliadel was a coward. But he would keep his eyes and ears open.

And when he returned, he would demand some answers.

***

Filled with the cold power of steel and Nye essence, Simon blurred forward. He felt his cloak pulling behind him, so that he looked like one of the Nye rushing over the grass.

The Valinhall Incarnation stood, calmly waiting for him. He didn't appear to have taken any sort of specific fighting stance; he just stood there on the short hill, his gold-and-silver sword held casually in both hands.

Simon stopped and pivoted at the last second, turning his momentum into a slash meant to take Valin in the side.

The Incarnation simply twisted his blade to the side and caught Azura's edge. Without a word, he turned Simon's strike and stepped forward, launching an attack of his own.

Above you!
Angeline screamed. Simon had left her sitting on the grass nearby, in order to have both hands free, but she still had more than enough of a vantage point to both see and sense the entirety of the battle.

Between the doll's warning and the speed of the Nye essence, Simon had counted on having enough time to gracefully dodge Valin's first strike, stepping to the side and launching another attack of his own.

But, even after watching Indirial's battle earlier, Simon had never expected the Incarnation to be so fast.

By the time Simon heard and processed the doll's warning, Valin's blurring blade was only an inch from his neck. He hurled himself to the side with so much strength that he overcompensated, almost launching himself into the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Simon twisted in the air and landed on his feet, skidding along the dew-wet grass.

He's coming,
Angeline sent. Simon barely managed to get Azura up and in front of him before Valin followed him, seemingly flying forward, blade flashing.

Azura rang like a cracked bell in Simon's hands as he somehow matched the Incarnation's strike. Even the steel flowing through his blood seemed somehow strained to the breaking point, like a sword bent so far that it was about to shatter. Valin did not seem to pause, flowing gracefully from attack to attack as though practicing.

Only desperation and panic blocked the second attack, and the next, and the next. Simon felt as though his arms would tear apart, and he couldn't seem to get enough breath. Sweat trickled down past his eyes, and some part of him knew that if his sweat blinded him for even an instant then he would die.

More strength,
Angeline called.
You need to be stronger.

It's a little late for that,
Simon sent, but he knew what she meant.

He could call steel all at once, instead of drawing it out as he normally did. He seemed to remember that he could do the same thing with Nye essence too, though both powers would burn out even more quickly.

The first time he had called all his steel in such a way had been back in Orgrith Cave, where he had done so to save Andra Agnos' life. After that incident, he had been able to call more steel than ever, and it seemed to last longer. But would it be enough now? More importantly, he wasn't sure he would survive the first second after burning his powers out.

You won't survive if you don't,
Angeline pointed out.
Do it!

Simon managed to push back against Valin's sword, giving him enough of an opening to take a single step back. Without giving himself enough time to think too much about it, Simon drew deeply on the Nye essence. The world seemed to stop around him, grass blown back by a breeze made solid, stars hanging in the night sky, soldiers paused with their swords held above taut black chains. At the same time, Simon called a torrent of steel, which crashed through his body in an icy flood, pressing against the inside of his skin like a sack stuffed to bursting.

All the while, the chains slid up his arms. He had never been as conscious of them as he was now, face-to-face with the chain-shrouded Incarnation. Though the chains of Valinhall looked like living tattoos of black, crawling up his arms, they
felt
like real chains, cold and rough against his bare skin. He could only imagine the pain of having them wrapping tight around his entire body; like being draped in a heavy, pressing blanket of rigid metal.

Simon righted his stance, balanced on the balls of his feet, and gathered both hands on Azura's hilt. Then he struck, with all the strength and speed he could draw from his Territory.

Valin's eyes widened in surprise, but he still turned Simon's strike. Simon didn't let up, attacking again and again, the chains crawling faster than they ever had, wrapping his biceps and shoulders. The Incarnation moved as swiftly as he had with Indirial, speeding up to match Simon, their crashing blades sending out spray after spray of bright sparks.

While their blades rang together like the pounding of the surf, while he moved faster than anything in a human body had any right to do, Valin laughed.

"Not bad, little dragon," he said. "I'm glad to have you along."

His voice didn't sound warped, like most other sounds Simon heard through the Nye essence. Nor did he sound strained, as Simon himself felt. He sounded casual, even amused, as though they were playing his favorite game.

"Destroy Damasca with me," Valin said idly, blocking an overhand strike from Simon that would have sliced a boulder in half.

"What happens after?" Simon said, through gritted teeth. He was putting all of his power into attacks, and they were barely fazing the Valinhall Incarnation. He didn't think he'd given the man a single scratch.

"After?" Valin sounded confused, as though he'd never considered the concept. "We would need to protect the innocent people, of course," he said. "Test them. Make sure they're strong enough. If we use all thirteen swords, we can spread out. Finally, the strong will not oppress the weak. Everyone will be strong."

He means killing everyone, doesn't he?
Simon sent to Angeline, thrusting Azura at Valin's chest.

He means what he said,
Angeline said sadly.
He doesn't see a difference between attacking someone and making sure they're ready for an attack. In his mind, he'll be doing the world a favor.

So the power does drive you mad,
Simon thought.

Not mad,
the doll responded.
Madness comes when a mind is broken. Incarnation does not break a man; it changes him. Just never into anything pleasant.

No matter what Angeline or Valin said, that sounded like madness to Simon. He stepped forward in a combination attack that Kai had taught him, striking once, twice, three times in a single, continuous motion. The first was supposed to force the opponent on the defensive, the second to throw his guard wide, and the third to strike home.

It worked. Valin's Mithra was knocked aside just enough for Simon's third attack to reach him.

Simon surged forward with all his strength, Azura's tip resting against Valin's bare chain-marked chest. A trickle of blood flowed down Valin's flat stomach as Azura pierced his skin.

For a moment, Simon dared to hope.

Then he realized that all of his strength, everything he had drawn from Valinhall, was just barely enough to scratch the Incarnation's skin.

Simon pressed harder, leaning on Azura with everything he could draw, trying desperately to call another scrap of liquid strength from his Territory. But nothing came.

Valin didn't seem bothered by his single wound, and he didn't bring Mithra in to take advantage of Simon's distraction. He leaned closer, a smile on his lips, his black-and-silver eyes amused. "You've done well, boy. But you've barely seen the surface of what Valinhall has to offer."