The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (54 page)

The body of a one-eyed old man encased in black and gold armor.

Leah hurried to her father’s side, doing everything she could not to look at the gaping hole in the front of his armor. She knelt beside him, pressing fingers to his neck.

She felt nothing.

Slowly, Leah stood back up. She looked around, trying to piece the scene together.

“Enosh,” Indirial said certainly. He stood farther back in the Vault, in the open chambers where the largest weapons were kept, examining the remnants of the battle. “I recognize the clothing, and I’ve met Grandmaster Avernus before.”

“How did they get in here, Indirial?” Leah asked. She was surprised at how level her voice sounded.

“There’s only one way into Ragnarus,” the Overlord responded. His voice boiled with anger, and he viciously kicked one of the nearby bodies.

Talos.
 

Leah raised a hand to pull aside her father’s eyepatch. But she hesitated, unwilling to peel away the black fabric.

“Did he take even father’s eye?” she whispered. “Would he stoop so low?”

Indirial remained silent as he moved up beside her. After a moment, she realized he was holding something out to her: a small box, like one in which a jeweler might place a ring.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Your father asked me to hold this for you,” Indirial said. “I didn’t understand why, but now it seems obvious.”

Carefully, Leah took the box from his hand and pulled it open.

Nestled within, in a velvet lining, was a bright red stone.

No, not a stone.

A crimson eye.

***

Alin stepped out of the Naraka Gate and into Myria.

He had brought Grandmaster Naraka back to Enosh first, but he hadn’t wasted any time in finding another Naraka Traveler to take him where he really wanted to go. He had been faced with a dilemma: he wanted to keep the journey secret, especially from Grandmaster Naraka, so choosing one of her loyal Travelers seemed foolish. But at the same time, Naraka was the fastest way in and out. And if this was going to work, he needed to be quick.

Alin saluted the young Naraka Traveler—he bowed back, much deeper than he needed to—and gestured to the others in his party.

His sisters followed him out of the Territory, simultaneously trying to cough and take a deep breath of clean air.

“I’ll be glad never to set foot in there again,” Ilana said, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

Tamara nodded her agreement, but Shai appeared greatly encouraged by the experience. “Was that really a sea of melted
rock?
” she asked eagerly. “How does rock melt?”

“In a really hot fire, I guess,” Alin said. “Now, listen to me.”

He kept walking them deeper into the village, farther away from the Traveler. He didn’t want a word of this leaking back to Grandmaster Naraka.

“I’ll be back for you,” he said. “Keep it hidden. Don’t show it to anyone, don’t take it out, don’t even talk about it. Do you understand?”

“There’s only one person here who has trouble keeping secrets,” Tamara said. “You should be saying these things into a mirror.”

Alin couldn’t help it; he glanced down at Tamara’s travel bag, where she held the seed to the Hanging Tree. He wasn’t about to keep it in Enosh, not with Grandmaster Naraka around to burn it, and he had the feeling he might need it someday.

Tamara pulled the bag away, out of his line of sight. “You see?” she said. “It’s suspicious, the way you keep staring at the bag. Just ignore it, it’ll go away.”

“It’s probably dangerous,” Alin cautioned.

“You warned us,” Ilana reminded him.

“Don’t take it apart,” Alin continued, with a look at Shai.

She still had the same bored expression as always when she shrugged. “No promises.”

“I’ll visit when I can, but I can’t do it too often,” Alin said. “It might raise suspicion. And I don’t know what’s going to happen with the war, now that the King is dead.”

Ilana stepped forward, giving him a quick hug. “You don’t have to remind us of that so often, you know. Tell Leah I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say good-bye. I went looking for her last night, and I couldn’t find her. Whatever happened to her, anyway?”

***

Grandmaster Lirial slid the crystal lens over, giving Grandmaster Naraka a clear look at Alin and his sisters in Myria.

“Whatever it is, it’s almost certainly from Ragnarus,” Grandmaster Lirial concluded.

Naraka stared into the lens, glaring at Alin as though she could set him on fire from across the miles. “It’s a seed.”

Grandmaster Lirial gasped. His or her artificial voice—even Grandmaster Naraka didn’t know if Lirial was a man or a woman—made it sound less like a gasp and more like a quiet shriek.

“We must have that seed,” Lirial concluded.

“I agree,” Grandmaster Naraka said. She drummed her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “But which do we need more desperately: the seed to a Hanging Tree, or an Elysian Traveler?”

Behind the mask of silver ribbons, Grandmaster Lirial stayed silent for a long time.
 

“I would say that Eliadel has fulfilled his role in prophecy,” Lirial said carefully. “He has, at last, confronted King Zakareth, the Evening Star. With the Hanging Trees gone, the sacrifice will end, thus stemming the tide of blood. And now that the Incarnations’ prison is beginning to break, he has allowed the Gate of Heaven to open once more. He has finished his work admirably.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Naraka said. But she had invested too much into Alin to see him killed or loyal to Damasca. She needed a harsh lesson to teach him, a threat to hold over his head until he gave her his loyalty completely. And she needed that seed.

Fortunately, she thought she saw a way to have both.

Without asking for Lirial’s pardon, Naraka began to open a Naraka Gate. Grandmaster Lirial didn’t complain about the lack of manners, which was no surprise; Naraka had started serving as Grandmaster during the days of Lirial’s great-grandparents.

She stepped inside, letting the heat of Naraka surround her like a warm blanket. Fortunately, Bel Calem was relatively close to Enosh; it was most of four day’s journey over land, but through Naraka, it would take a matter of minutes.

Grandmaster Naraka took the time to prepare what she would say when she arrived. After all, she so rarely had the chance to speak with an Incarnation.

***

As Grandmaster Naraka had expected, Bel Calem was almost entirely in flames. Ash hounds cavorted in the ruins of a merchant’s home, and a hulking
akna’dorma
dragged a corpse behind a nearby shop. Flames rose, shrouding the horizon in smoky light.

To the Grandmaster, it felt almost like home.

A patch of glowing orange worms,
sheg’we,
scurried out of her way as she walked down the streets of the city. Larger, stronger things sensed her as well, creeping back into the shadows rather than face her directly.

The simple creatures of Naraka sensed her power, knowing that she could bind them to her will if she so chose. They avoided her out of fear.

The more intelligent beings knew her, or knew her reputation. They knew, too, that her purpose was the same as theirs: to enact justice at any cost. They avoided her out of respect.

She was Grandmaster Naraka. What had she to fear from her own Territory?

The Grandmaster walked the burning streets of Bel Calem for almost two hours, drawn to the blazing flame of power she sensed at the city’s heart.

At last, she stood before the source of that power: the Incarnation of Naraka.

A man stood before the Incarnation, naked and cowering, as slow-moving
kush’na
skittered in circles around him, and robed Gar’rosh whispered dark promises.

Unlike the Incarnation of Valinhall, the Naraka Incarnation looked very little like the man he had once been. His face was sculpted out of crusty ash and hardened volcanic stone. His eyes glowed like coals; indeed, for all she could tell, they
were
hot coals, eternally smoldering in his skull. His hair was flame itself, sweeping back in a gentle wind.

His body had been formed out of the same rock and ash as his face, and whenever he moved, puffs of ash rose up from his hardened skin. A draconic tail, red-scaled, swept out from his back. It swept back and forth, occasionally lashing at the air.

And he was almost ten feet tall, heavy with ponderous muscle. In both hands, he held a hammer big enough to double as a support pillar in a cathedral. Its shaft was of obsidian; its head, flame itself.

“You stand accused of cheating the innocent,” the Incarnation rumbled. Its voice shook the ground, like the voice of an angry volcano.

The man quivered, glancing from side to side. “I…I don’t…”

The Incarnation’s ash-colored nostrils flared. “I smell it on you. You made others suffer to line your own pockets. Do not deny your own guilt.”

The man collapsed to his knees and began to sob. Not overwhelmed by his own guilt, the Grandmaster was certain; he was just terrified.

“Confess,” the Naraka Incarnation said, “and you may receive a measure of clemency.”

“I did!” the man cried. “I did it. I charged twice the honest price.”

The Incarnation rumbled, deep in its huge chest, and its eyes flared bright. “Good. There is justice in honesty. Gar’rosh! Show him leniency in his punishment.”

The man screamed and begged as the robed lizard-men dragged him off to his punishment. He even snatched at the hem of Grandmaster Naraka’s robes as he was dragged past, pleading for help.

The Grandmaster stepped out of reach. This was for his own good; whatever punishment he received, he would be a more honest man for it.

The Naraka Incarnation slowly turned its massive body, regarding Grandmaster Naraka with amusement on his ashen face.

“So…” he rumbled slowly. “You are not known to me, but you have a familiar smell.”

Grandmaster Naraka pushed her glasses up on her nose. To her shame, she briefly considered pretending to be blind, an easy enough assumption for most people to make. It usually gained her a measure of sympathy, or at least opponents who underestimated her.

But the Incarnation would see through that in a second, and even if he didn’t, he could almost certainly sense a lie.

She was ashamed it had even crossed her mind. She would need to assign herself an appropriate punishment, later.

“I am called a Grandmaster of Naraka,” she said. “This is now my only identity. I have shed my old self to become an avatar of my Territory.”

The Incarnation chuckled, sounding like he had tried to gargle boulders. “You are not an avatar of your Territory,” he said. “Not in full. You don’t even know what that means.”

“Regardless, I have lived my life in accordance with Naraka. It was I who burned the Tree in Cana.”

The Incarnation’s ember-colored eyes flared. All around the city, creatures of Naraka shrieked as one.

“Then you turned the last key in my prison,” he said. “I owe you a debt.”

She shook her head, spreading her hands to show her humility. “You owe me nothing. I wish only to destroy the keys to that prison, and ensure that you are kept free.”

The Incarnation lashed his tail, leaning forward on his massive hammer. “Speak clearly, Grandmaster.”

She met his glowing gaze squarely.

“There is a seed…”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
OUR
:

T
HE
G
ATES
OF
H
EAVEN

358
th
Year of the Damascan Calendar

24
th
Year in the Reign of King Zakareth VI

42 Days After Midsummer

3 Days Until Summer’s End

Alin returned from Myria as weary as he had ever been in his life. His armor seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and all he wanted was to head straight to his rooms and sink into bed.

But as soon as he stepped out of the Naraka Traveling room—where each Naraka Traveler in the Grandmasters’ palace arrived and departed—he was all but mobbed by a group of Enosh citizens.

The cheering felt like it would destroy his ears.

“Eliadel!” someone cheered.

“You did it!” a man called.

A weeping woman threw her arms around Alin’s neck, and all of a sudden everyone was trying to touch him, even just placing their hands on his armor.

The Naraka Traveler leaned forward and whispered, “They didn’t catch you the first time, but everyone has heard the story by now. They deserved the chance to thank you.”

Alin glared at the man, but he just smiled back.

I specifically asked him to keep quiet, and what does he do? He has the whole palace waiting for us, that’s what he does!

But he had to admit, as he listened to the people talk about his courage, his strength, and how much better their lives would be without Damascan oppression, that they probably deserved it.

He found himself smiling and shaking hands, returning greetings and compliments. He did avoid telling the story, though; he would surely do so eventually, but for now, the memory was just too fresh.

The crowd practically carried him off, so it was most of an hour before he broke free and managed to make it back to his rooms. All in all, the encounter had done him good—he felt much better now than he had earlier. The world had begun to seem so complicated recently; it felt as if any decision he made would inevitably be wrong.

He could relax now, knowing that at least these people’s lives had been made better by his actions.

When he pulled open the door to his rooms, Grandmaster Naraka was waiting for him.