The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (37 page)

Simon took the mask in one hand and, with only a moment's hesitation, pressed it against his face.

"Simon, wait," Indirial commanded.

He took his hand away, and the mask stayed. It didn't feel like it was glued to his face, and there was certainly nothing wrapping around his head, so how did it stay on?

"I don't feel any different," Simon said. His voice sounded tinny and muffled behind the mask. He had been right about the eye slits; he could see either Olissa's hands resting on the table or her face, not both at once.

Olissa nodded absently and scratched something down on a piece of paper. "Good, okay. Andra managed to get this far. Now, can you call one of your Valinhall powers?"

"Hold on a moment, Simon," Indirial said.

Olissa huffed impatiently and turned toward the Overlord. "What is it now?"

"I can't believe this is safe," Indirial responded evenly. "Let me try it."

"I'm more comfortable with Simon, thank you," Olissa said, once again in that too-sweet voice. "I hardly know you. Do you have any reason to believe it isn't safe?"

Indirial hesitated a moment before saying, "Nothing tangible. Just...experience. I don't expect anything to be safe."

"Well, unless you have something more concrete, please just trust me." She smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't worry, I’ve been here a while now. I know my way around."

Indirial sighed and shook his head, but he didn't say anything else.

Simon just watched the two in silence. They were treating him like a child. He could almost understand that; to them, he was a child. And if Indirial had known something he didn't about the mask, he certainly wanted to know what that was.

But this was his decision, not theirs.

Before Olissa could say anything else, he called steel.

The liquid cold flowed through his veins and along his muscles, not like a river, but like the torrents of an ocean. He felt as though his limbs would freeze; at the same time, he felt as though he could tear the walls of the House down with his bare hands.

He could see perfectly, too, as though the mask had suddenly become completely transparent. The sudden input of sight and sensation almost blinded him, and he staggered to the right, gripping the corner of a metal table for balance.

The metal warped and bent under his fingers.

Indirial looked down at the medallion he was still holding in one hand, then up at Simon. His expression was a combination of horror and readiness for battle. "Take it off, Simon! Simon! Take it off!"

"Is it working?" Olissa asked eagerly. "How do you feel?"

He felt like he could leap over a mountain; no,
through
a mountain. He felt like summoning Azura and tearing his way through the rest of the House, deeper and deeper, until he had carved into the center of the Wanderer's world.

He felt like tearing an Incarnation apart with nothing but his hands.

Experimentally, Simon reached out to the Nye essence. He nudged the power in his mind, intending to take only a wisp of that chill moonlight power.

It slammed into his lungs, causing him to take a deep, involuntary breath.

It was like waking up after a century asleep. Olissa's pen locked into place, and Indirial froze in the middle of a step forward. Simon concentrated in a way he had never tried before, and Olissa's hand crawled forward, writing on the paper. Indirial lowered his foot a fraction of an inch. Simon loosened his grip a little further, and the pen scratched, Indirial opening his mouth to speak.

Simon tightened his focus on the Nye breath, and the world froze again.

He had to do something with all this power, so he coiled his legs and leaped.

Even through this frozen world, he moved like a stone launched from a catapult.

Too fast too fast too fast!
he thought desperately.

Try to grab a ceiling beam,
Caela said. She sounded exasperated; for some reason, the Nye essence hadn't frozen her voice.

Simon spun in midair, snagging one of the solid wood ceiling beams that arched over the workshop. He manage to halt his progress, though the beam itself creaked alarmingly under his impact.

How can I understand you?
Simon asked.

That's a great question for the ages,
Caela responded.

No, I mean, why aren't you as slow as everything else?

We're not really talking, you know.

Sure we are
, Simon said.

Caela sighed, but she sounded pleased with herself.
We're transmitting our thoughts directly. It's really much more efficient than speech; I'm not sure why you ever bother moving your mouth at all.

Good,
Simon responded, letting himself drop down to his former position.
Now I won't have to worry about leaving you behind when I wear the mask.

So you've decided to use the mask, have you?

Why wouldn't I?

A question you ought to consider carefully.

Simon shook his head wearily. All of his doubts had flown away in the face of this wonderful rush of power. Surely even Valin couldn't stand against him like this. If Caela wasn't convinced, well, he was used to doubt and mockery from the dolls. He wouldn't let that stop him.

He loosened his grip on the Nye essence enough that he could see Olissa blinking in surprise. He wondered why for a moment, and then understood: from her perspective, he had been standing in one place, and then suddenly appeared inches away. She hadn't seen him move.

The thought thrilled him, and he turned to Indirial.

He saw the man just as his broad hand smacked him upside the face.

The mask flew free, and the world lurched back into normal speed. The mask hit the wall and rang like a bell before it crashed down to the floor.

"What was..." Simon tried to ask
What was that for?
, but his mouth seemed not to have the energy it needed to move. He moved to step toward Indirial, but his legs gave out, and he melted bonelessly to the stone floor.

Olissa's mouth gaped open in shock. "What happened?"

"At the end of the hallway, beyond the bedrooms, there is a trap door beneath a rug,” Indirial said. "Go there, raise the door, and call for the Eldest. Tell him that Indirial needs a favor."

"I haven't seen the Eldest for—" Olissa said, but Indirial cut her off.

"The Eldest will be where he needs to be. Do as I say. And under no circumstances climb down the ladder. Do you understand me? No matter what he says, do not climb down the ladder."

Olissa's face struggled with itself, and she glanced down at Simon, but finally she obeyed.

Simon wasn't surprised. Even if he hadn't known that Indirial was really a Damascan Overlord, the authority in the man's voice would have sent him running. He tried to say something, but his mouth wouldn't obey.

He ordered his hand to move, but his fingers only twitched. His body had no strength at all.

Well, there's one cure for that,
he thought. Then he called steel.

Nothing happened.

You've used it all up,
Caela sent.
I warned you.

You didn't warn me!

Well, I would have, if you asked. Why didn't you ask?

Simon would have throttled her if he could move. And if it would have done any good to throttle someone with a wooden neck.
What happened to my steel? I didn't use that much.

I'm not sure,
she admitted.
It felt full the entire time you had the mask on, as though it wasn't draining at all. But as soon as the mask fell off, it went straight to empty.

Indirial knelt over by the wall, covering his hand in the corner of his cloak and gingerly picking up the mask without ever touching the metal with his hand.

Simon didn’t think he had the strength to turn his head, but he heard the rustle of cloth next to his ear. Then a rasping voice spoke from above him.
 

"What happened here?" the Eldest asked. He leaned over Simon's body for a better look, his dark hood peering into Simon's eyes.

"What do you know about this?" Indirial demanded. He raised the mask up for the Nye's inspection, still not touching it with his skin.

"An artifact of Ragnarus, captured in battle from a defeated foe. It meets the requirements to become part of Valinhall."

"It's from Ragnarus!" Indirial said. "It can't be safe. Look what it did to Simon."

The Eldest's hood snapped up to regard Indirial. "I would have thought that, of all people, you would not be squeamish about using the power of the Crimson Vault. You should know that nothing in Ragnarus is less than a powerful weapon. If you mean to stop the Incarnation, I should think that you would relish every weapon you can get your hands on."

Without responding, Indirial strode over to Simon and reached down, holding up Simon's limp arm. "And what about this?" the Overlord asked.

At first, Simon thought he meant the fact that he couldn't move after only seconds using the mask. That was Simon's main concern, certainly. Then Simon looked at his arm.

It was covered by a design like black chains. The chains twisted all the way up his arms.

He hadn't noticed before, because of the icy chill of the mask's power and his subsequent collapse, but he could feel the chains crawling past his shoulder blades and onto his back, binding his ribs in what felt like cold steel.

Maker above,
he thought.

"This is what happens when he only has the mask on for a few seconds," Indirial said. "What happens if he tries to fight Valin in it?"

"I'm not convinced you should be fighting Valin at all," the Eldest rasped. "Besides, if you are so concerned for the boy's welfare, then you can wear the mask. I do not care."

Olissa came rushing into the workshop then. "I shouted down that trap door until I was hoarse. I don't know what you expected to happen, but—"

Then she noticed the scene: Indirial, kneeling next to Simon, holding up his chain-wrapped arm for emphasis. The Eldest Nye, standing over them both, turning his hood to regard her as she walked into the door.

Simon could only see the whole picture out of the corner of his eye, but he had to admit: it made for a strange situation.

"Eldest!" Olissa said, sounding surprised. "You're here!"

"I knew where I was needed," the Eldest responded, turning back to Indirial. "Why did you need me, son of Aleias? My master may call for me at any moment, and I must be ready."

Indirial stood, standing face-to-face with the Eldest. He rose head and shoulders above the Nye, but the Eldest certainly didn't back down.

"Why did you bring her here?" Indirial asked. "Why open this room up at all?"

"I use what resources I am given. When I see someone so rich in imagination, in potential, I must have her working for the House. That is all. What she creates? That is no concern of mine. This mask is nothing.
She
is the real treasure."

Simon couldn't see Olissa's face, but she was probably wondering whether to be flattered or creeped out. That was how Simon would have felt, at least.

"We will not take the mask," Indirial said. "You will not bind us as you bound Valin."

The Eldest spread his arms wide, his sleeves drooping down to the floor. "You wound me, son of Aleias. Even if you wished to take the mask from here, it would not function for you outside of the Territory. It is not yet attuned."

Indirial stared, obviously considering that.

Simon, feeling strength return to his limbs, struggled up to a sitting position, propping himself up against the wall.

"What..." he began, but his voice trailed off and he had to swallow. Both Indirial and the Eldest looked at him. "What would it take? To do this 'attuning' thing."

Indirial ran a hand through his hair, not looking at Simon. "We can't use this, Simon. We can't. It's too great a risk. Instead of beating Valin, we could actually make him stronger."

The Eldest ignored Indirial, rubbing his sleeves together, his hood turned toward Simon. "I, or someone like me, would have to bind the mask to a specific room, and a specific challenge. Anyone with enough ties to the House could attune an artifact, if the artifact meets the correct requirements. If they did so, then you would be able to summon it in the outside world."

"Do it," Simon said, but Indirial immediately snatched the mask away.

"I know what it looked like, Simon," he said, "but this is exactly the kind of thing that snared Valin in the first place. We can't afford the risk."

The Eldest shrugged. "It does not matter."

Both Travelers looked at him.

"It does not matter," he said again. "I will not do it."

"What? Why not?"

"For me, there is no gain," the Eldest said, in his grating almost-whisper. "If you can summon the mask, you will challenge the Valinhall Incarnation. You will likely die, and my investment in you will be wasted. Or else you will kill Valin, and still I have nothing to show for it."

The Eldest Nye turned his back and glided from the room.

"So no, son of Kalman. I will not do this thing. Be at ease, Overlord."

The Nye vanished.

"Excuse me," Olissa said, "but I made it. I think I should get to say something about—"

Something seemed to hit her, and she stopped in mid-sentence. Almost comically slow, she rotated her neck to look at Indirial.

In a small voice, she said, "Overlord?"

Indirial kept looking at the mask, answering in an absent voice, "Hm? Oh, yes. Indirial, son of Aleias, Overlord of the realm of Cana, subject to the authority of His Majesty Zakareth the Sixth, the Morning and Evening star, and so on, and so forth."

From the small smile quirking up the corner of Indirial's mouth, Simon didn't think he was quite as casual as he pretended.

Olissa looked like she was about to faint. Hastily she pulled the goggles from her hair and tossed her pin down, smoothing the front of her dress.

"I didn't...I mean, I thought..." She glanced around, looking for answers, but soon decided to just go to her knees in a deep bow.