The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (56 page)

Her death was his fault. It was not a matter for guilt, but for responsibility. He would have to find a way to atone.

He learned something else as well: Ilana was still alive. Barely.

Two of his sisters dead, and one with only the weakest hold on life. Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it back with his newfound light. Despair was pointless; it never got any results.

Still holding the Incarnation’s hammer with one hand, he reached out with the other and pointed to two gold-armored soldiers.

They saluted, understanding his unspoken words, and dragged Ilana out of danger. They even took Tamara’s body with them, and he reminded himself to thank them for that later. There was no excuse for ingratitude.

Alin looked up, meeting the Naraka Incarnation’s glowing ember eyes.

Revenge, he knew, was just as pointless as despair.

But there was always the virtue that the Incarnation himself wouldn’t shut up about: justice.

Right then, Alin had some very definite ideas about how to bring this monster to justice.

The whole process of summoning Elysia had only taken, perhaps, a minute. The Naraka Incarnation kept his hammer in place out of distraction more than anything else.

Now that the spectacle had subsided, he pulled his hammer back, lashing his tail and leaning down to peer into Alin’s eyes.

“An Elysia Incarnation,” it rumbled. “Yes. It’s been so long…”

The horrible, ash-skinned mouth twisted itself into a smile.

Alin flooded his body with red light, not bothering to dispel the green shield around his hand. Once, he wouldn’t have been able to maintain that shield for long. Now it seemed a paltry effort, barely worth his attention.

He gathered up all the superhuman strength of the red light, forming his shielded hand into a fist.

Just as the Incarnation looked like it was about to speak, Alin slammed his shielded fist into its jaw.

The ten-foot Incarnation’s face exploded as he shot backwards, shattering the house behind him and falling backwards into its rubble.

On wings of orange light, Alin soared after him, not giving him a moment’s rest.

He landed on the Incarnation’s chest, bringing his fist down like a hammer-blow on its ribcage.

The Naraka Incarnation howled, and Alin’s entire body burst into flames.

The pain wracked Alin’s mind; no matter what he had become, he wasn’t fireproof, and his armor blazed like an oven.

Somehow, though, the pain was a distant thing. He felt his flesh burning away, and his first thought was:
I need that foot. I cannot allow it to burn.

So he summoned the rose light, flooding his body with it. He healed even faster than the Naraka flames could burn him, standing within the flames. Only five minutes ago, he would never have been able to stand the agony.

Now, he stood somewhere beyond such petty concerns.

The head of the Incarnation’s hammer caught him in the chest, and would have crumpled his armor except for an instinctive shield of green that turned the blow at the last instant.

Momentum launched Alin into the sky, but it was the work of a moment to summon orange light to stop in midair.

He hovered there for a moment, looking at the Naraka Incarnation roaring impotently below him.
 

This was a problem. If he remained in the sky, the Incarnation couldn’t follow him. If the Incarnation couldn’t follow him, then Alin wouldn’t be able to beat it to nothing more than a smear on the ground.

No…not vengeance,
Alin reminded himself.
Justice.

Alin wouldn’t be able to beat it into a smear on the ground…for justice.

The Incarnation shouted again, and then huge, bat-like wings of ash sprouted from its back. With lumbering sweeps of its giant wings, it somehow managed to gain enough momentum to clear the rooftops of the village.

Alin felt himself smile. There was one problem solved.

The Naraka Incarnation extended one hand. A wave of fire, so intense it seemed almost solid, blasted from its palm.

Alin didn’t even move, he just surrounded himself with a ball of green light and let the fire wash harmlessly over him.

When the fire cleared, the Naraka Incarnation was there, swinging a hammer at the top of Alin’s shield. He struck with enough force to level a palace, blasting Alin and his green shield into the dust.

Alin struck with the power of a meteorite impact, sending rings of dust blasting away from his landing.

Fortunately, the shield absorbed most of the damage, leaving Alin to stand up mostly unharmed. If he had taken the hit, then he would have had to rebuild his body with the rose light, and that would have wasted precious seconds.

Black lizards the size of ponies shrieked as they ran up to him in a pack, trying to shred his flesh with their needle-sharp teeth.

Alin blasted a wave of gold light outwards, shattering those teeth and most of the other bones in the creatures’ bodies.

If they hadn’t attacked him, they would have remained alive. It was only correct.

The Incarnation roared above him, diving down with its glowing hammer raised. With the silver light, Alin sensed him long before he saw him, and he simply flew out of the way.

The Incarnation crashed into the ground, blasting himself into a cloud of ash. He re-formed almost instantly, lifting his hammer back up in both hands and letting out a roar.

“I learned something new recently,” Alin said. His voice didn’t sound normal, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Did you know,” he continued, “that each Territory has its complement in Elysia? It’s true. Naraka represents justice, but what is justice without mercy?”

Alin opened his palm, and an orb of liquid blue light drifted within, like a globe of luminescent water.

The Naraka Incarnation howled and charged, its hammer leading the way.

Tendrils of blue light erupted from Alin’s hand, winding around the Incarnation, sliding around and binding its limbs. They leeching away its strength, flowing with pulses of blue light. The Incarnation struggled against the tentacles wrapping its arms and legs, trying in vain to free itself. But the more it fought, the more of its strength flowed through the blue light.

Through the blue light, and into Alin.

When the Naraka Incarnation’s thrashing had all but quieted, and it lay, breathing heavily, on the sand of Myria, Alin walked up to its head. He stood over the Incarnation, staring down at its pitiful form.

“You can consider this a mercy,” Alin said.

He summoned the golden sword and brought it down on the Incarnation’s skull.

The creature died with barely a spasm, releasing its death grip on the hammer. Its body dissolved into nothing more than a mound of vaguely human-shaped ash.

Just in case, Alin sent tendrils of blue questing into the pile of ash, thirstily drinking up the remnants of heat and power.

Then he called a meteor of golden power from the sky, blasting the pile into a crater five feet deep and ten feet wide. The ash rose on the wind, likely scattered from here to Bel Calem.

No sense taking chances.

A blue-armored knight rode up to Alin, saluting him. He rode a creature that looked like the blue-skinned hybrid of a tree frog and a wildcat.

“The creatures of Naraka have been pacified, sir,” the knight said.

“Excellent,” Alin responded. “Tell all the districts to see to the villagers. Treat them with all courtesy and respect.”

The knight saluted and rode away.

Alin lifted into the air on sunset wings, drifting back to his family’s house. After a moment of searching, he brought up Tamara’s travel-bag. Within it, he could feel the sticky, grasping presence of Ragnarus, pulsing like a disembodied heart.

Slinging the travel-bag over his shoulder, he went to search for his Gold soldiers. He needed Ilana.

And then he had some business to conduct.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
IVE
:

L
ONG
L
IVE
THE
K
ING

358
th
Year of the Damascan Calendar

24
th
Year in the Reign of King Zakareth VI

Summer’s End

Simon woke up, in a strange room of a strange city, feeling oddly refreshed. A huge window lay just next to his bed, and a single glance outside showed him that many of the nearby buildings were built around trees. A handful of men and women in brightly colored festival clothing celebrated something, but most hurried about their work.

There had been a holiday coming up, but he couldn’t quite remember which one. And if today
was
a holiday, why wasn’t everyone celebrating?

Summer’s End,
he remembered at last. If this was a holiday, it should be Summer’s End: the end of the first half of the year. Tomorrow would be the first day of autumn, so people celebrated the last days of summer.

In Myria, no one would do any work today. At least, none they didn’t absolutely have to. Apparently things were different here, wherever this was, judging by how few of the people had joined in the festivities. Most hurried by, or gathered in groups, whispering.

Well,
he thought,
at least I have something to celebrate. I’m clean, dry, and comfortable.

Even here, there should be a Summer’s End feast. His stomach groaned at the thought.
 

He glanced around the room, hoping to see some food, but no such luck: the room was small, with just a table, his bed, and a second bed, exactly like the first. That bed was empty and neatly made.

The door, presumably leading into the hallway, had been barred from the inside. Well, it sure was a good thing he had a bar on his door. No Incarnation or hostile Traveler could possibly get to him in the face of a
barred door.
Now he felt secure.

That means I don’t have a doll,
he realized. If Otoku or Caela had been around, they would surely have responded to his sarcastic thoughts. They rarely missed an opportunity to prick his ego.

Simon slid out of the bed, feeling stronger than he would have expected. The last thing he remembered was taking the mask off and feeling like he would never be strong enough to walk again. Come to think of it, how long had he been here? And where was
here,
exactly?

A note on the table nearby caught his eye, and he picked it up.

Simon,
he read.

You’re in the healer’s wing of the Overlord Eli’s estate in Abdera. We took you to the pool, but you didn’t wake up. You’ve been in the care of the Asphodel healers here. I hope to return before you wake, but if I don’t, come to the House as soon as you read this.

Do not leave your room.

—Denner

Simon regarded the note, glanced at the morning sun out the window, and stretched.
 

Then he summoned Azura, prepared to open a Valinhall Gate. He considered walking outside anyway, in defiance of Denner’s orders, but he really had no reason to. He had very little idea where ‘Abdera’ was, and even if he did, he’d rather be in the House anyway. Hopefully, both Denner and Indirial would be home, and then he could get some complete answers.

Come to think of it, had Kai survived? A knot formed in his stomach. The last he had seen Kai, the man was dying from a cursed wound. Had they managed to heal him in time?

Suddenly worried, Simon raised the blade to begin cutting open a Gate, and found himself pointing the tip of his sword at Alin’s throat.

Simon jerked back, banishing Azura.

“Alin!” he said. Then he noticed what Alin was carrying: he cradled Ilana gently in both his arms. “How…sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t mean…what’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing, physically,” Alin responded, his voice calm and even. “She is healthy, so I imagine that her mind is in shock. She will need regular supervision until she recovers.”

That was when Simon realized that this wasn’t Alin.

Not really.

He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed immediately. Alin’s skin was a shade lighter than usual, as though he had died last night and hadn’t quite decided to lie down yet. His hair was a brighter gold, as though it was actually made out of coils of precious metal.

But it was his eyes that were the biggest giveaway. The whites were still white, but unnaturally so—they were pure white, white as clouds at noon, white as fresh snow. And his irises…

Simon wasn’t sure what color Alin’s eyes had been before, but whatever that color was, it was probably in there. Somewhere. His irises were made of shifting slices of color, as though a rainbow had bent itself into a ring and been crammed into Alin’s eyes. The rainbow’s rings practically glowed, shifting so that the orange was the most obvious one second, then the pink the next, then the aquamarine.

“Alin…” Simon began hesitantly, “…are you okay?” He had almost asked
What are you?
, but he thought Alin might take that badly.

Besides, he was afraid he knew.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t banished Azura.

Alin ignored the question, carefully laying his sister down on the freshly made bed.

“I need you to look after her,” Alin said. His voice still had no particular inflection; he sounded as though he were reading his words off a page. “Take her to your Territory, or back to Myria, whatever you like. Not Enosh. Just take care of her, and keep her safe.”

“Why not bring her to
your
Territory instead?” Simon asked.

“I can’t go back there anymore,” Alin said. He stared out the east window; from that angle, he would be staring directly into the sun. He didn’t blink.