by Wight, Will
Benson, on the other hand, looked like Death himself. He was a skeleton made entirely of some shining silvery metal, his bones glittering in the blue light of the basement. The same light as the torches blazed in his eye sockets, and he wore an old, tattered, wide-brimmed hat on his exposed skull. The axe he wielded should have been too big to lift—it looked like it was made for two-handed use by giants, which may have actually been the case—but Benson spun the weapon over his head like a staff, bringing the double-headed battle-axe's blade crashing down on Erastes' head.
The soldier raised his short sword and caught the blow. His blade shone mirror-bright, like one of the Dragon's Fangs, though he had owned this sword as long as Lycus could remember.
Erastes strained under the blow, pushing up with both arms. One of his sleeves slid down, and Lycus saw the black chains printed on his arm.
With a final heave, Erastes pushed the blade away.
Benson chuckled, reversing the axe and grinding its head against the basement floor. “You're a quick one, aren't ya? Not a month with the steel in you, and you're already giving me a close run.”
The soldier smiled, just a little, but Lycus saw his chance.
“We're under attack!” he yelled.
Erastes turned, his blade in one hand, his shirt soaked in sweat. “Where?” he asked. That was what Lycus liked most about Erastes; he took everyone seriously, even children. So many people thought of Lycus too lightly, but not him.
“Entry hall,” Lycus said, and the soldier ran up the steps, taking them two at a time.
Benson managed to raise an eyebrow, even though his face was nothing more than a skull. “It's been a long time since we've been under attack in the House, kid,” he said. He didn't go any further, but Lycus could hear the skepticism in his voice.
“Well, we are,” Lycus said firmly. He hesitated, then added, “It would help if I had the steel, too. You know, so I could fight.”
The skeleton grinned even more broadly than usual, tilting his hat down to cover one eye. “More than happy to. Come and challenge me whenever you're ready.”
Lycus ground his teeth in frustration and ran after Erastes. He had challenged the basement practically every day for weeks, but he lost every time. Once, he had been hurt so badly that he had lain bleeding on the basement floor for four hours, until Simon noticed he was missing and carried him up to the pool. Since then, he hadn't been back.
His own weakness grated on him, even though the adults all insisted that he would grow out of it. He didn't want to grow. He wanted to help now.
But as it stood, the only thing he could do was run for help.
A crash like a whole cart being smashed to splinters echoed through the upstairs room as he was halfway up the staircase, interrupting his thoughts. He froze for a moment, trying to figure out where the noise came from, until he heard Erastes and his sister shouting over one another, followed by the sounds of steel on steel.
Lycus leaped up the last few steps, his own small sword clutched tightly in his fist.
The Tartarus Incarnation stood with its armored back to Lycus, the red-and-black Ragnarus blade in its right hand. It stood over the broken remains of the door to the forge, which it had apparently knocked off its hinges. The steel giant strained forward, pressing against the combined might of three Nye.
Each of the Nye had a long black chain wrapped around some part of the Incarnation's body. One of them had a chain around each of the giant's arms, and the third had its black steel wrapping its thick neck. They pulled against their chains, trying to keep it from entering the forge, stopping it from moving forward, as Erastes and Andra did their best to kill it.
Andra poked the Incarnation's armor joints with her Dragon's Fang, its blade spattered with black spots like ink. Every time she stabbed it, her strikes were deflected, as if she had been attacking the strongest parts of the armor rather than the weakest.
On the other side, Erastes whirled and thrust his blade two-handed into the monster's open faceplate. Erastes heard a sound like the grinding of gears, though the Incarnation said nothing, and then the sword popped out like a spring, launching into the forge and spinning across the floor.
Without missing a beat, Erastes lifted a chair and slammed it against the giant's face. One leg snapped off, but nothing else happened that Lycus could see. He smashed it into the intruder, again and again, until the chair was little more than splinters.
Then he tossed the last bit of wood aside, disgusted. For all their effort, the Incarnation strained against the chains no less than before.
And he was starting to gain ground.
The Nye slid across the polished wooden floor, trying to set their stance, but they might as well have been standing on ice. Slow, unstoppable, the Incarnation of Tartarus took one step forward. And then another.
Lycus had never been more aware of his complete lack of Valinhall powers. His sword hung heavy in his hand, and Erastes and Andra both were hitting the Incarnation harder than he could possibly manage. His arms were short enough that he'd have to practically leap on the giant's back before he could do anything, and even a Dragon's Fang couldn't pierce the Incarnation's armor at its weakest point.
Simon would do something, he thought. And if Simon could do it, Lycus had to prove that he was strong enough to do it too.
He ran toward the giant, not because he felt an outpouring of bravery, but because he was afraid that he needed his own momentum to keep going. If he hesitated, he might stop.
When he reached the Incarnation's metal legs, still braced against the House's polished wooden floor, he didn't hesitate.
He jumped.
Lycus didn't have Benson's steel running through his veins, so he didn't leap high enough to land on the giant's shoulders, as he had halfway intended. He managed to cling to the Incarnation's waist, which clicked and whirred beneath him as though he had grabbed on to a huge, living clock.
He scrambled up, finding more handholds than he expected, ignoring the horrified cries from his sister.
“Get down!” she yelled. “We can take care of this!”
Erastes ran into the forge to retrieve his sword. He didn't say a word, which encouraged Lycus enough that he found the strength to climb even higher. He didn't drop his sword, for which he felt a surge of pride.
The Incarnation's chest rumbled like an earthquake beneath Lycus' arms, and it twisted around, spinning at the hips until its upper body was facing backwards, and the gears it wore instead of a face stared at Lycus from inches away from his nose. The black chains of the Nye spun with the Giant as it turned, and out of the corner of his eye, Lycus spotted the three robed shadows gaining better footing on the wood, bracing themselves for a stronger pull.
They would be too late for him, though. The Incarnation seized him around the middle and lifted him up, inspecting him through the clicking clockwork inside its faceplate. Lycus tried to stab it, but the point of his sword scraped the side of the giant's steel helmet, doing nothing.
The giant didn't crush him, as he'd feared. It simply hefted him in one hand and threw him across the room.
***
Kai leaned against the edge of Valinhall’s healing pool, his elbows up against the surface, relaxing. Only the waters of this bath dulled the pain in his back, like a tent peg being hammered into his kidneys every second. The second he left the bath, the wound would start getting worse, steadily burning more and more until the pain became unbearable, but for now it subsided into a dull bruise.
Beneath the suds on the water’s surface, Kai felt something move. It was only the briefest of brushes, a soft current against his leg, but he had lived in this House for a long time. He lashed out with one foot, cupping the imp’s skull under his toes, and then pressed it down against the bottom of the pool.
The water-imp’s skin felt like rough, leathery bark, and its metallic nails scratched against his foot. He kept up the pressure on its head. Nothing it could do to him would hurt half as badly as
the never-healing wound in his back, and the slices disappeared almost instantly inside the pool’s water.
After a few seconds of being pressed against the stone at the bottom of the tub, its skull at the edge of breaking, the imp stopped fighting and started struggling to get away.
Over the years, Kai had learned that it was best to set them free at this point. If you kept an imp unto the point of death, others would come to defend it, and then you ended up having to kill a dozen of them. Which would then wake their mother, and he wanted to avoid that. Kai lifted his foot and let it swim away.
He had never opened his eyes.
When he was as clean as he was going to get, and his stab wound didn’t hurt quite as badly as before, he climbed the stairs out of the bath.
As he did, his foot brushed Mithra’s hilt.
To his surprise, the blade’s emotions flowed into him. She felt determined, frustrated, and the sort of anticipation that prefaced a battle. So…she had been screaming to try and get his attention for minutes now, but he hadn’t noticed. Now that she finally had him listening, she wanted him to go into battle right this instant.
Kai stepped away from the hilt, and the emotions stopped. Like Azura, Mithra rarely let him know what she was thinking. Unlike Azura, though, she was so insistent. Not nearly as polite, or graceful, or passionate as Azura.
He slipped into his clothes quickly, but not so fast as to make the sword think he was rushing because she wanted him to. When he finally picked Mithra off the ground, she smoldered with frustration.
He smiled. He never could stand passive ladies; he preferred his blades with a bit of a temper.
It only took him a second in the hallway before he realized what Mithra had been trying to tell him: a giant covered in Tartarus steel was marching in from the entry hall, an angry red Gate behind him. He had clearly torn his way into the House with a gatecrawler, and now he was locked in combat with the young girl Traveler, Andra. She was oblivious to his presence, her back to him as she swung Seijan in a futile effort to pierce the invader’s armor. Her brother was nowhere to be found, which surprised him; he had thought those two were practically joined at the hip.
Far be it from me to disturb her, Kai thought, and he stopped at the seventh bedroom. Mithra practically shrieked in frustration.
He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Only Azura’s bearer, or those he specifically permitted, could enter the seventh bedroom easily. Despair rose in Kai’s chest as he remembered how this used to be his room, but he put that aside. He had long thought about what he would do in this situation, when the desire to see his dear little ones became too much.
Calling steel, he pulled his foot back and stomped the door in.
The wood around the doorframe shattered, and the door swung open. The Nye would not be happy with him, but he was too happy to care.
His beautiful dear ones were talking.
I had a dream this would happen, Lilia said sleepily, her purple eyes content. Or was it a nightmare?
Delaine sighed. I should have known it would be you.
You should be helping, you know, Caela said, scowling from beneath her blue bonnet.
She’s absolutely right, Angeline agreed.
Kai forced reluctance into his voice. “I would love to help, if only I had an advisor. It would be foolish to head into battle as I am now…”
The statement was met with sighs, jeers, and mocking laughter from the dolls. Kai was sure that Simon must have taken Rebekkah, or else he would have heard ‘punch you in the face’ included somewhere in the verbal abuse.
Otoku had her arms folded, though Kai hadn’t seen her move. Oh, and you don’t think your advisor will show up soon? He’s the last person to ignore a direct threat to the House.
“Be that as it may, he’s not here now. I’m afraid that I can’t risk heading into battle without an advisor, it simply wouldn’t be wise.”
She grumbled a bit more, and her sisters joined in, telling him what a horrible person he was. His smile broadened; he had missed them.
Simon’s not here, Otoku said at last. So fine, I will allow you to borrow me. Only for today. And no baths! She held her arms out for him to pick her up.
Tears burned at the corner of Kai’s eyes. She had actually moved. For him! He picked her up as delicately as a sculpture of spun glass.
I hope you appreciate the sacrifice she’s making, Caela sent. Make sure you get rid of the Incarnation.
He’s absolutely wrecking the House! Gloria added.
The invader had given him a chance to use his beloved dolls in combat again. Far from killing him, Kai wanted nothing more than to shake the creature’s hand and thank it, from the bottom of his heart.
But the little ones wanted him to take care of this threat, and that was what they would get.
He pulled open the door to the bedroom, and Otoku sighed. Place me and Mithra on the ground.
He couldn’t conceal his surprise; she normally hated being set on the floor. It could smudge her dress. Are you sure?
No, I’ve given up my magical powers of prediction and now I’m wildly guessing. Hurry up.
Smiling to himself, Kai placed Mithra and Otoku on the ground. Then, to his surprise, he saw a body flying toward him.
***
For a second, as Lycus flew through the air less than a foot from the room's ceiling, Lycus marveled that he didn't feel any pain. Surely the Incarnation should have killed him, and he would die in horrific agony...compared to that, this seemed almost pleasant.
He had realized what would happen to him at the end of his fall, and the seeds of panic started to bloom, when his trip came to an abrupt halt. This, too, didn't hurt as much as he'd imagined. In fact, it almost felt like someone had caught him.
He looked up to see Kai’s smile. His eyes were hidden behind clumps of his shaggy white hair, and he was smiling down at Lycus as though he held his own precious infant.
Lycus leaped out of the swordsman's arms as fast as possible.
Kai didn’t seem to mind. He reached down and picked up one of his dolls from the floor: this one wore a long red dress with flowers on it, and her black hair hung loose down her back. He scooped her up, brushed off her dress, and placed her gently on his left hand.
With his right, he reached down and picked up a Dragon's Fang. It was easily as long as Simon's, covering more than half the room, and it had a smooth vein of gold running down the flat of the blade.
He must have placed the sword and the doll there before he caught Lycus. How had he known to do that? How had he found the time?
Kai looked at the Incarnation and cocked his head to one side. “So noisy, my dear, so noisy. You know I need my rest. Shall we stop the noise, so silence reigns supreme once more?”
The steel giant heaved its right arm, pulling one of the Nye off its feet, and then smashed a fist into the black robes. The Nye deflated as though it had been filled with nothing more substantial than air, flowing off like a snake made of black cloth and squirming blue-white light.
Erastes dodged one blow, and Andra hurled a decorative urn, which smashed against the Incarnation's armor. The other two Nye strained even harder, but the giant seemed to ignore them now. It ducked beneath the door to the forge, walking inside without looking back, then seized the handle to the workshop in one armored fist.
Lycus looked up to beg Kai to help, but the man was gone.
In his place hung a cloud of black smoke.
Smoke whirled through the room, flowing into the forge, re-forming into Kai, standing beside the Incarnation. He brought Mithra's silver-and-gold blade down on the giant's exposed neck.
The room rang with the sound of a bell cracking, and Incarnation of Tartarus almost dropped to one knee. That was more than Erastes and Andra had managed, and for the first time, Lycus thought they might actually be able to beat this thing. Kai was a full member of the old Dragon Army, not a new Valinhall Traveler like Andra or Erastes, and he could do things with hi
s powers that Lycus couldn’t imagine. If anyone could beat this creature, he could.
The Incarnation righted itself and slammed a skull-sized fist into the metal of the workshop door. At the first hit, the door dented. At the second, it caved in. At the third, it was knocked off its hinges and went flying into the room, crashing into a table and sending tools spilling all over the floor.
The Incarnation headed inside, and Lycus gasped as he heard his father, Caius, scream for help.
Lycus felt as though his heart would stop. His father almost lived in the workshop, some days, and the room wasn’t that big. It would take the Incarnation significantly less effort to crush Caius than it had to crush the workshop door.
Erastes, Andra, and Lycus all ran forward, trying to help, even though the Nye had lost their grip on their chains. The two black chains now dangled from the Incarnation's shoulders and arm, flying behind him like streamers as he marched through the workshop.
The two Nye looked at each other, black hood meeting black hood, and then they backed into the shadows and disappeared.
“Hey, get back here!” Andra shouted, but they were gone.
Why did they leave? Lycus thought, astonished. Had they realized they couldn't beat an Incarnation, and therefore abandoned the rest of them to their fate? Were they trying to test the humans, to see if they were 'worthy' of defeating this invader? Or maybe they were trying to do something useful, and they had gone for help.
Now that he thought of it, Kai was standing there too. He stood with his head cocked, looking at the Incarnation's back, Mithra held in one hand and the black-haired doll in the other.
Lycus rushed past him, hoping desperately that the Traveler would decide to help. Kai was always strange, even frightening, but he was still an ally. Even a friend. He lived in Valinhall, too, which made Lycus think of him as on their side. The idea that he might stand aside and let the rest of them die...it hurt in ways that Lycus didn't even like to think about.
As terrible as Simon had been, that day when he killed the soldiers under Erastes' command, at least he hadn't abandoned his friends.
The Incarnation kicked and smashed at the tables in the workshop, destroying almost as an afterthought, as though it had been ordered to crush every piece of furniture it could lay its hands on.
