The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (46 page)

Deliberately, Leah arched one eyebrow. “That’s odd, since I have been watching the battle. Not two minutes ago, Master Kai was personally engaged in combat with the Incarnation. I didn’t see you on the battlefield, strangely enough.”

“Because they struck me down too early!” Lysander insisted. “The boy, Simon, led the way. I think he’s been working for Enosh all along.”

Lysander was intelligent enough, in his way, but if he had paid any attention to Leah’s history, he would have known that she would never fall for such an obvious lie. She simply knew Simon too well.

Not that Simon wouldn’t oppose Damasca; that would be entirely in character for him. Leah still couldn’t help but feel a little shaky about Simon’s loyalties. But he would have attacked directly, charging at the Damascan troops with his sword out. He would most certainly
not
have pretended to be an ally, and then waited until the perfect time to execute an ambush.

That was a tactic she would have expected from Lysander.

He would have known all of that if he had paid attention to Leah’s past in Myria, followed the connection to Simon, and made the proper assumptions. Anyone with a shrewd political mind would have done so, and come up with a more convincing lie.

But Lysander Torannus, whatever his strengths in Traveling and in academia, took to politics like a child took to brightly colored wooden blocks. He was enthusiastic enough, but hardly an inspiration of skill and creativity.

Leah nodded as though the Overlord’s lie had inspired serious thought. “That’s alarming news,” she said. “I should check it out for myself.”

And, very obviously, she lowered her head to look at the scrying lens on her desk.

Like an oblivious fish, Lysander took the bait.

He stood on his own legs, suddenly not quite as crippled as before, and threw both hands out in front of him. A flock of Sarin sparrows, from Avernus, erupted into the air in front of her, filling her mind with their incessant cries.

She was familiar with the Sarin tribe. Avernus Travelers with contacts among the Sarin made excellent spies, and they were quite useful in combat. The sparrows were in constant psychic contact, and their cries could cause panic and excruciating mental pain in their enemies. The birds themselves possessed blade-sharp beaks and talons that could reduce opponents to bloody scraps in a minute.

But for all that, they were of very little use against a prepared foe.

Leah simply flipped her wrist over, letting her crystal bracelet touch the light, and she tapped into her Source.

Thin spikes of crystal erupted from the earth, piercing the hearts of each bird as it burst from thin air. She wasn’t using her crystal ball, so her accuracy was somewhat lacking, but fortunately accuracy wasn’t a requirement this time. Not every needle of crystal punctured a sparrow’s breast; sometimes they took the birds in the wing, or the beak. Many needles missed entirely, jabbing up into nowhere.

But she was capable of summoning any number of crystals—at least, so long as her dwindling Source held out—while the average flock of sparrows didn’t reach one hundred individuals. She barely had to concentrate. She just had to keep calling crystal.

“No!” Lysander shouted, pulling his hands back. The sparrows stopped flying from their tiny Gate, frozen in prisons of crystal. Lirial crystal, as always, didn’t pierce or stab; it simply locked its targets in solid rock.
 

Of course, that was no less lethal for most of the birds. If their entire bodies had been trapped, they would have been fine, but when their hearts were locked in stasis with the rest of their body outside…well, they didn’t last long.

Lysander practically screamed, grasping at the crystal cages of his sparrows.

Apparently the bond between an Avernus Traveler and his flock went deeper than Leah had imagined.

She summoned her crown, feeling its weight as it materialized from Ragnarus. With it, she could deal with Lysander’s two Traveler lackeys.

But, to her surprise, they were both staring between her and the Overlord in stunned disbelief. Apparently they had never expected to follow Lysander into the attempted assassination of a royal Heir.

“Your Highness…” one of them said uncertainly.

“Help me!” Lysander snapped.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the other Traveler said, and then the two of them bowed to Leah.

“Stay where you are,” Leah said. She grabbed a sword from a nearby mundane guard, who—according to his training—had run to fetch the nearest Traveler when he noticed Travelers interfering. The tent was quickly filling up with loyal Tartarus Travelers, who all had their keys out and pointing in Lysander’s general direction.

Taking the sword from the guard, she walked over to the Overlord. With the point of the sword, she pushed him down to his knees. Then she planted a foot in his shoulder and kicked him over onto his back.

Crown heavy on her head, Leah knelt over Lysander, who squirmed on the grass like a worm trying to inch itself away from a bird. In her right hand she held the sword, blade poised over his throat.

“Overlord Lysander Torannus. By my authority as the Successor to the Damascan throne, I declare you a traitor, the penalty for which is death by public execution.”

“No, wait! I’ve seen the future! I can show you what is to come!”

Leah leaned on the sword, driving it into the soft earth beside Lysander’s head. He flinched and craned his neck, trying to get his face as far from the blade as possible.

“This sentence will be carried out…”

She intentionally let her words hang in the air, watching his panicked reaction. Then she reached through her crystal bracelet, into Lirial, and summoned crystal.

Milky white crystal erupted from the ground, encasing Overlord Lysander in a solid, translucent coffin.

“…when I have more time,” Leah finished. Then she stood up, pulling the sword from the grass. The crystal would preserve him until such time as she decided to render judgment, whether that was days or weeks.

Or years. She had her duty after, all.

A duty that started with finding her brother, and getting some answers out of him. There was no way Lysander had come up with the initiative to start a rebellion on his own, and from what she’d seen, he was firmly in her brother’s pocket.

It was about time she went looking for Talos.

***

Simon ran through the halls of the House, relying on nothing more than his normal strength. More than anything else, he wanted to call steel and run as fast as possible, dip into the pool, withdraw some water, and make it back to Kai as soon as possible.

But he had another plan in mind, and for that, he would need his powers to last for as long as possible.

As he ran through the hall, Andra stuck a peek out of her bedroom. He actually had to dodge around her to avoid running into her long blond hair.

“Why the rush?” she called after him.

“Get the workshop open!” Simon yelled back, wrenching open the doorknob to the seventh bedroom. “And hurry!”

As soon as Simon pulled the door open, he heard Otoku’s impatient voice in his mind.

What was that all about?
Being banished back to the Territory like that is not as much fun as you’d think, you know.

The other dolls chimed in, one on top of the other.

You’ll end up dead that way, if you keep leaving us behind.

Are Kai and Denner still out there?

I’m going to punch you in the face!

You should stand still when we’re talking to you.

Simon ignored them, glancing around the shelves for a blond doll in a powder-blue dress and bonnet. He finally spotted Caela at the end of one of the shelves—two feet away from where he had last placed her—and snatched her up before dashing out of the room.

I see you’ve made the intelligent choice, selecting me,
she said.

I’m putting on the mask,
he responded.
You were with me when I used it last time.

In that case, I take back any compliment regarding your intelligence.

Simon stopped by the bathroom to scoop up some water, realized he didn’t have anything to carry it in, doubled back for a waterskin, realized he didn’t know where to
get
a waterskin, and ended up having Caela guide him through the armory for an empty skin.

Finally, he ended up in the forge, trying to pull open the iron door leading into the workshop.

It was locked.

Simon slammed the heel of his fist into the door, wondering if he could just call steel and tear the door down.

Fortunately, Olissa showed up before he could do something desperate. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and her hair looked as though squirrels had used it as a nest.

“Simon, what’s…” she trailed off into a jaw-cracking yawn.

He had forgotten about the time difference in Valinhall, but at this point, he couldn’t care any less.

“I need the mask,” Simon said.

Olissa eyed him suspiciously, as though suspecting him of pulling a prank on her. “You can’t use it, though. It needs to be attuned, whatever that means. You heard the Eldest.”

“Then I will
have it attuned.
Please, let me in the room.”

“Who are you going to get to do that? The Eldest Nye has already said he won’t do it.”

He didn’t have time for this. “Mistress Agnos, if I know anything about the Eldest—and unfortunately I
do
—then he is just inside the workshop, waiting to appear dramatically as soon as we need him. I beg of you, open this door. Kai is dying.”

His urgency must have gotten through to her, because she pushed the door open. She didn’t take out a key or even turn the handle, she just pushed, and the door swung inward.

The Eldest stood there, in the doorway, his hands folded into opposite sleeves.

“The only joy left in my life is the joy of a good entrance,” the Eldest rasped. “Why do you take this from me?”

Simon pushed past him, looking around for the workbench where they had left the mask. As soon as he stepped inside the room, torches on the walls suddenly ignited, providing him with light as soon as he needed it.

“Eldest Nye,” Simon said, “I know that I am still in your debt. But even so, I need your help. If I don’t have the mask, I can’t defeat the Incarnation.”

He didn’t stop looking as he spoke, lifting up furniture and opening drawers. But he still couldn’t find it.

“Mistress Olissa, where is the mask?”

From within the depths of his cloak, the Eldest produced the steel-and-iron mask. He held it in front of him as though offering it, but when Simon reached for it, the Nye pulled back.

“Kai is dying,” Simon pleaded.

“That means nothing to me.”

“Without the mask, I can’t defeat the Incarnation.”

“That’s true.”

In sheer frustration, Simon shoved over a nearby table. The tools arranged on the top crashed to the ground. Something shattered. “What do you want from me?” Simon demanded.

“Continue demonstrating your immaturity,” the Eldest said. “Surely, I will be persuaded then.”

Simon cast his mind about, trying to think of something—anything—that might persuade him.

“If I do this for you,” the Nye said slowly, “then I will expect you to take responsibility for your actions. Kai has been irresponsible; you must live up to your burdens. Do you understand?”

Hope lifted in Simon’s chest. “Absolutely.”

The Eldest shook his hood. “I do not think that you do. But you must abide by that responsibility regardless.”

“Of course!”

“You must also bring me something in return,” the Eldest continued. “One of the lost Dragon’s Fangs, or an artifact of some other Territory.”

“How about a sword from Ragnarus?” Simon asked. “One cut is always lethal.”

“A fragment of the Crimson Vault?” the Eldest asked, sounding surprised. “Perfection. But for it to truly belong to Valinhall, you must take it in battle.”

“That would be my pleasure.”

The Eldest placed a sleeve on the face of the mask, which began to shine as though it had been placed under a full moon. “Then, under those conditions, I grant you this new power. However, you must remember one thing: this will not last long. The Incarnation is a part of Valinhall in ways you couldn’t dream. He will sense this mask, and before long, he will be able to summon it from you. You will die, then.”

Simon watched the mask glow. The eye-slits flashed blue-white once, and then died. “Defeat him before he can take the mask from me. Got it. How do I kill him?”

“It is difficult to kill an Incarnation,” the Eldest responded. “And it leaves a dangerous gap, making it more likely for another to take its place.”

With the mask grasped in one sleeve, he held it out to Simon.

“I would try and trick him back here,” he concluded. After he paused a moment, he added, “Good luck, son of Kalman. I think that I like you, and I do not want to see you die today.”

Simon slipped the mask into one of his cloak pockets, hurrying out of the workshop. Olissa must have left at some point during the conversation, because she was no longer standing by the door.

He started summoning Azura before he was fully in the entry hall, already reaching through her to cut open a Gate.

To his surprise, he almost impaled Andra.

She stood with her blond hair pulled back and tied, wearing a simple outfit of a loose-fitting shirt and trousers. She wore her Dragon’s Fang, much shorter than his, buckled onto a belt, and her advisor drifted over one shoulder. He looked like a ghost made out of black yarn, with buttons for eyes and a wide-stitched mouth.

“Watch it!” Andra said, jumping out of Azura’s way.

Her advisor, Manyu, drifted over to Simon. “You seem, aaaahhh, in quite a hurry. May I ask where we’re going, hmmmmm?”

“We?” Simon asked, startled. He looked from Andra to the other person in the room, who was buckling on his sword-belt.

Erastes had been a member of the Damascan army, so it was fitting that he wore a soldier’s uniform. He didn’t wear the red-and-gold of the royal army—Simon wasn’t clear on the details, but apparently only the soldiers under the command of the royal family were allowed to wear the red-and-gold uniforms.