The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (31 page)

"Valinhall is too effective at destroying foreign Travelers," the Eldest went on. "The Incarnation can neutralize practically anything another Traveler throws at him
except
physical force of arms. And which Territory is best at physical combat?"

Simon sighed. "I get it," he said.

"I do not wish you to die, son of Kalman. But neither can I oppose the nature of my Territory. If you want to stop the Wanderer's rampage, you must earn this through force of arms."

The Eldest hesitated, then added, "Let me give you a piece of advice: the Incarnation has access to almost all of the House's powers, and in unlimited supply. Good luck."

In a flutter of his black cloak, he vanished.

That is by far the most useless piece of advice I have ever received, Simon
thought.

The Eldest always has a reason behind his words,
Angeline corrected him.
I am sure he would not have given you advice that you couldn’t use.

Okay, then,
you
tell me what he means.

I do not have the Elder’s wisdom,
Angeline said loftily.
I couldn’t begin to guess.

All this time, Valin stood muttering to himself and staring off to the southeast. The Enosh Travelers and soldiers had, wisely, remained utterly silent. Finally, Valin turned back and addressed the men and women on their knees.

"Come with me if you wish," Valin said at last. "All who hate Damasca are welcome. But try to stay behind me. If you're in my way, I can't guarantee I won't kill you."

With that, he started walking away from the Enosh party, headed due southeast. His each step transformed the stones beneath his feet to polished wood.

The Grandmasters stood. Endross rose to his feet like a mountain lion about to pounce, though Avernus simply stood and brushed off her dress. In voices that Simon couldn't hear well enough to understand, they began giving orders to their followers.

Simon slowly slipped his feet out of the chains, which hadn't tightened again since Valin walked off. Maybe, if he moved slowly enough, he could get away and open a Gate. The air here was even starting to smell more like the House, thanks to the Valinhall Incarnation's influence. He started to sneak up the wooden path to the hill.

Grandmaster Endross’ dark eyes snapped to his, and Simon's stomach dropped. The Grandmaster drew a sword in his right hand, and his left became wreathed in a rolling thunderstorm.

Roll right,
Angeline said, and Simon dropped to his right just in time to avoid a blast of white lightning that tore through the hill behind him. Thunder crashed in his ears, and the wooden planks from Valinhall were blown to smoldering pieces.

Grandmaster Endross shouted something, most likely a taunt, but Simon's ears were still ringing.

Grandmaster Avernus turned and saw Endross engaging Simon in combat. She threw up her hands and left him, following the Incarnation. Most of her group from Enosh followed.

Not Endross, though. He stayed, holding a storm in one hand and a sword in the other.

You don't have ghost armor, do you?
Angeline asked.

Mentally, Simon sighed.
Why do people keep asking me that?

Because it's incredibly useful,
she replied.
If he hits you with a bolt of lightning as you are, the only thing you can do is die. Speaking of which, jump left.

Simon rolled left, dodging another bolt of white lightning. The lightning bolts that Enosh Travelers threw seemed somehow weaker than natural lightning: the thunder when they struck wasn't as loud, for one thing, and they didn't quite blind him each time. He had seen lightning strikes before, and the ones Grandmaster Endross hurled were nothing compared to those thrown by nature.

That didn't mean they wouldn't kill him, though. Just that the Grandmaster would have to hit him directly.

Simon called steel and essence, summoning Azura. Grandmaster Endross shouted something at that, his face breaking out into an eager grin.

"I can't hear you!" Simon yelled, launching himself forward. If Endross wanted a fight, he would get one.

At least, that was what Simon thought at the time.

Stop!
Angeline yelled, so urgently that Simon nearly tripped over himself drawing to a halt.

Something fell from the sky so fast that it looked like a bolt of lightning itself; a gold-and-crimson blur that crashed into the earth like a falling star.

Specifically, it crashed on top of Grandmaster Endross.

The Grandmaster had just enough time to raise his arms before the whatever-it-was crashed into him, slamming him into the ground and sending a ring of dust blasting out in all directions.

The wind from the impact tore at Simon's cloak, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the dust.

What was that?
he asked his doll.

I'm not sure,
she responded.
It was too fast before, but now...maybe...a spear?

The dust cleared, and Simon saw that it was indeed a spear. A dark wood shaft stuck up from a gold-and-steel head, with an enormous ruby set where wood and metal met. The spear had driven into the cracked ground where it had landed, and now it stuck there, quivering.

Grandmaster Endross lay, dirty and bleeding, a pace or two behind the spear. Apparently he had managed to knock the weapon off-course as it fell, though Simon couldn't imagine what kind of protection would have allowed him to do that. Endross tried to struggle to his feet, but slipped and fell back. He looked dazed as well as dirty.

Boots crunched in the sand behind Simon. A lot of boots. Simon spun, sword in hand, ready to face this new threat.

He found himself face-to-face with the King.

Simon had never seen King Zakareth before, but he had heard the stories. This man—with his white hair and beard, his glowing red eye, his armor of black and gold—couldn't be anyone else. More than any one of his features, it was the way he carried himself that left no room for Simon to doubt.

He looked on Simon with the sort of cold authority that Simon had always expected a king to have. Then he looked away.

"Put away your sword, Simon, son of Kalman," the King said. "You will not need it any longer." His voice held no doubt. Each of his words possessed an almost intimidating weight.

Simon let Azura vanish. What else was he supposed to do?

Behind Grandmaster Endross, the Valinhall Incarnation and the remaining Endross Travelers turned around. Valin's eyes grew so wide that Simon could see the gleaming silver from where he stood. He roared loud enough to shake the ground, raising his sword of gold and steel and rushing across the ground with the speed of the Nye. Simon had no doubt that he was seeing Valin's true rage, the fury of a man who sought the vengeance long denied him.

King Zakareth gestured, and the spear tore itself from the ground by Grandmaster Endross and flipped through the air, flying into its master's hand.

"Back up, Traveler," the King snapped, and Simon instinctively ran out of his way.

Zakareth took two steps forward and, with a strength Simon wouldn't have believed he possessed, hurled the spear.

The weapon left his hand with a thunderclap even louder than the lightning bolt Endross had tossed earlier. Such was the spear's speed that the air seemed to explode around it as it blasted forward, catching Valin at the level of his chest.

Simon focused his Nye essence, slowing the world enough so that he could just barely see what happened. It was so quick that he could still barely see the details; he couldn't believe that even an Incarnation could move so
fast
. As the spearhead streaked toward Valin's chest, the Wanderer brought his sword down in both hands, meeting Zakareth's spear with the edge of his Dragon's Fang.

The world exploded in a crash of sparks and crimson light. The force tossed Simon backwards, sending yet another ring of dust blasting outward. Even the air seemed to ripple in the face of such an impact. Grandmaster Endross tumbled across the desert, driven away by the explosion. His allies from Enosh stopped, bracing themselves against the air.

When the smoke cleared, the Valinhall Incarnation stood still, chest heaving, holding his sword in both hands. The spear lay on the ground before him. He was obviously uninjured, glaring at King Zakareth from fifty paces away with obvious malevolence in his eyes.

The King motioned with one hand, and a figure in a brown cloak stepped forward: Denner. He had his red-wrapped sword in one hand, but this time he didn't hold Hariman under his other arm.

What was Denner doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be defending one of the Trees?

He wouldn’t be here unless his orders had changed,
Angeline said.
Denner is
very
responsible. Unless he finished his task already of course.

Of course. Denner may have Traveled to one of the Overlords, killed all the attackers, and then hitched a ride back here, all in an hour or two. That didn’t seem
too
unbelievable.

Now that he thought of it, how long had Denner been gone, anyway?

A troop of men and women marched behind Denner, each dressed in the red-and-gold of the King's army, with one unique exception: they all had a silvery steel badge over their chest, marked with the image of three keys. And each of them had a silver key in one hand.

Travelers. They were all Travelers. Simon stopped counting at twenty as they marched past him, fanning out into a crescent shape behind Denner, who stood a few paces ahead. Not all of them were from the silver-key Territory—Tartarus, he thought. A handful wore leather straps and loose tan clothing with brown hoods. Some of them had storms swirling around their hands, so Simon identified them as Endross. Two or three more wore the blood-red robes of Naraka, or the feathered head-wraps of Avernus. One woman in the gray robes of another Territory he wasn't sure he recognized—Asphodel, maybe—stood with a girlish smile on her face, twirling a lock of her hair around one finger.

They spread out behind Denner, who stood facing his former master.

"Face us on your own," Denner called. "We will allow the Travelers to retreat. Today, we only want you.”

Valin's face was contorted with rage, and he didn't take his eyes off King Zakareth's face. "You're standing up for that
monster?
" he spat. "I expected better from you, Denner! You were worthy!"

Denner sighed wearily, angling his Dragon's Fang up so he could scratch his back with its point. "I only see one monster here, master," he said. "Let the Grandmasters leave, and we can fight here. It’s about time we ended this.”

Valin visibly struggled with himself, shudders rippling through his body, his chains swirling and crawling across his skin on their own. His eyes closed, and when they opened, the silver of his irises glowed unnaturally bright.

"Agreed," he said, his voice flat. Mithra lowered to point at the King, and Valin’s figure blurred as he rushed forward.

He ran straight into a whirling thunderstorm.

Grandmaster Endross had lurched to his feet, tossing his Gate in front of the rampaging Incarnation.

The Wanderer had been sucked into Endross.

Denner shouted something and leaped forward, his Dragon’s Fang blurring and vibrating strangely in the air. Simon thought he heard the call of a distant horn.

The brown-cloaked Valinhall Traveler swept his blade through the Gate, and it dissipated into a fine mist.

Too late.

Grandmaster Endross managed to slip through the Gate just as it closed, following the Incarnation into Endross. The rest of the Enosh Travelers were already piling through various other Gates, each slipping back into their own Territory.

King Zakareth stood watching the scene, his crimson eye blazing, his face set in cold anger.

“Follow them,” he commanded.

The Damascan Travelers immediately began opening Gates, one by one stepping through in pursuit of the Grandmasters and the Valinhall Incarnation.

Denner sighed and walked over to stand by Simon, shaking his head. “We won’t catch them. Even if we do, Valin’s just as deadly in a foreign Territory as he is here.”

“I know that better than most,” the King said softly. He raised one hand, and his spear tore itself from the ground and flew back to smack into his gauntleted palm. “We have lost nothing here. We will simply return to our previous strategy: gather everything we have outside of Enosh and crush them in a single blow.”

He didn’t sound angry, excited, or determined at the prospect of finally crushing his enemies. He didn’t sound emotional at all. He sounded as though he were simply stating facts.

He would gather his forces. They would crush Enosh. There was no possibility for failure.

Simon shivered. It was difficult not to believe King Zakareth when he spoke like that.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Denner said. “I’m sorry, but why haven’t we destroyed Enosh before? Why wait until now, when they have an Incarnation on their side?”

“Until recently, it was more profitable leaving Enosh intact,” the King said flatly. “Leah, explain.”

A woman’s voice spoke up from behind Simon. “Even when they opposed us, Enosh Travelers still helped to secure their Territories. They kept the wild elements down, and they maintained roads and waystations. We even traded with them occasionally. In all, it was far more efficient having them around. At least, until they got too aggressive.”

At the sound of her voice, Simon stiffened and slowly turned around. He knew that voice. He knew her.

He stared straight at her, but his mind refused to accept what he saw.

The King noticed. He spread his hand to his left, where stood a tall man with curly golden hair like Alin's, wearing an expensive suit of black and red. "My son, Heir Talos," Zakareth said. But Simon was having a much more difficult time taking his eyes off the young woman to his right.

She was dressed in a long dress of pure red. A circlet held back her dark hair; it was made of silvered steel that shone an unnatural red, and set with a small ruby. On her left wrist, she wore a milky white crystal hanging by a silver chain, and her eyes were surprisingly blue. She stared back at him, her face totally blank.