City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy)

by Wight, Will

  The scene wavered and blew away like smoke in the wind, the masked Simon vanishing to nothing. The Asphodel Incarnation sat, unharmed, in his blossoming chair, idly chatting with Zakareth. “…the information comes from within them, you see,” Asphodel was saying. “All I have to do is nudge it, give it form.”

  King Zakareth hadn’t twitched. He still leaned with his elbow against the arm of his throne, Rod of Harmony on the other hand, looking at Indirial.

  Indirial was actually standing, which was remarkable. He had thought everything about the scene must have been an illusion, but evidently the Incarnation had coaxed him to his feet even through his body’s pain. Remarkable.

  He felt that same agony now, but he set it out of his mind. It was only pain.

  “It seems you are to be congratulated, Asphodel,” King Zakareth said. There was no triumph in his voice, only utter confidence.

  The Asphodel Incarnation buffed his fingernails on the edge of his flower-petal shirt. “Well, I hate to brag, but I am the best.”

  “Congratulations,” Indirial said, “I’ve called on Valinhall.” He knew with perfect clarity that, a moment ago, he would have released the diamond immediately, fearing to push himself past his limit. If his debt to Valinhall grew too great, he would Incarnate.

  But so what?

  Zakareth wanted him to become an Incarnation because the King was certain he could control Indirial with the Rod. But, as Indirial had wondered earlier, he wasn’t even certain the Rod of Harmony would work on a Valinhall Traveler, who kept all his powers within himself. Beyond that, King Zakareth had obviously been unable to control Valin to any degree, or the original Valinhall Incarnation would still be living under Damascan control.

  So the situation became utterly clear.

  Situation: the enemy is holding two priority targets hostage. He has left me the freedom to call on my Territory because his objective is to get me to do so.

  Primary Objective: free the hostages, take them to Valinhall.

  Secondary Objective: total destruction of all enemy forces.

  Question: do I allow him to accomplish his objective in order to accomplish mine?

  Nerissa was pressed against the edge of her cage now, calling something, but Indirial didn’t listen. It wouldn’t be combat-relevant information, so he didn’t waste his attention.

  Indirial glanced between the Incarnations of Asphodel and Ragnarus. Could he take them both? Asphodel was hardly a threat; with the diamond protecting his thoughts, he could destroy that Incarnation in short order. So would he be able to kill an impossibly powerful Ragnarus Traveler in one-on-one combat?

  I can’t be sure, he concluded. There’s too much in the Crimson Vault that I’m not aware of. As far as I know, he has some weapon that controls Incarnations without any possibility of resistance, and the cost was simply too expensive for him to pay while he was a human. I should release the…

  Something in his thoughts clicked together as the last link of chain formed around his throat.

  …what was I thinking? Of course I can win an open battle.

  I am Valinhall.

  ***

  The Avernus Incarnation settled back on her wings, holding a newly delivered tea-tray in her hands. This one held a pot and two cups, in case Leah might change her mind.

  This time, she accepted. There had been water out in the wilderness, but she was still thirsty. Besides, whether Avernus was lying or not, Leah thought the threat of being poisoned had passed. And she wanted something to do while they talked.

  Leah took a sip of her own tea, and found it a balanced blend of savory sweetness. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised; much of Damasca's tea was imported from the Feathered Plains. The Asphodel blends were better, but most people didn't trust tea leaves harvested from a Territory known for poison and mental deception.

  “Who would try to control the Incarnations like that?” Leah asked, trying to steer their conversation back on track.

  Avernus ruffled her feathers in what looked like her equivalent of a shrug. “Other than your ancestors, I have no idea, though I had some passing familiarity with Queen Cynara the First. She seemed genuinely enraged at the Elysian Incarnation's manipulation of us, calling us abominations and all that. Perhaps she was simply an excellent actress, I don't know. And as for the one who first led us, the Incarnation of Elysia herself...” Avernus shook her feathered head. “She was honest to a fault, which I suppose came from her Territory. She never told a lie or ordered another to do so, even when it would have been tactically sound. And I never sensed any deception or ambition in her, just a warped desire to guide us to a better future.”

  At last, they were beginning to get to the portion of the conversation where the Avernus Incarnation started to conceal how much she knew. Leah had wondered when they'd get to this part. “As I understand it, you Incarnated during a war between Ragnarus and Elysia. If, as you say, someone manipulated you into it, then how can you possibly believe it wasn't someone representing one side or the other?”

  Avernus looked down into her cup, swirling one talon idly on the surface of the tea. “It is more accurate to say our Incarnation ignited the war, rather than occurred as a byproduct. As for who placed the pieces on that particular board...I must admit that I don't know.”

  Very carefully, she set her teacup aside and leaned in toward Leah, her raptor eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “However, I've told you all this for a single purpose: to illustrate to you that this current system is unnatural. It was engineered! This whole, messy business with all nine—or eleven, I suppose—Incarnations running around, it would never occur in nature. You simply have to find a way to restore the original balance.”

  As reluctant as Leah was to accept the advice of an Incarnation regarding the current policy toward her kind, she would be foolish to turn down any source of information about old Damasca. No matter how biased the source. “What would a balanced world look like, then?” she asked. “As you helped me realize, I would ruin myself if I allowed the Territory outposts to be destroyed.”

  Avernus smiled. “That's the beauty of it! You don't have to give up the outposts. Simply run them according to the Incarnation's laws, not yours. The Territories have a symbiotic relationship with their Travelers, and most Incarnations know it. So, for instance, if the Naraka outpost were subject to its own justice system outside of Damascan law, the Naraka Incarnation should be perfectly satisfied. The Asphodel Incarnation...well, I have practically no idea what the current Asphodel Incarnation wants, but in general those outposts should remain untouched as long as everyone knows to steer clear of the Mist.”

  “And what about Avernus?” Leah asked pointedly.

  “Arrange the outposts according to tribe rather than according to national allegiance,” the Incarnation said.

  Leah thought of the outpost in which she sat: Damascan and Enosh Travelers lived together with their families, and she had seen no birds but ravens. “That seems to be the trend already,” she said dryly.

  “Then you truly have nothing to lose.”

  If the whole situation was as simple as the Avernus Incarnation seemed to think, then Leah would give up her crown to her insane sister Cynara and go off and live as a hermit in the most desolate part of Lirial. For one thing, she couldn't see the Endross Incarnation standing for an outpost under any circumstances. Even if he agreed to it initially, there was nothing to stop him from blowing it to splinters when a violent mood took him.

  There were other holes in the plan as well. “Am I to believe that, if we sorted out all the current Incarnations into their original Territories, that all my problems would be solved?”

  “No, of course not,” Avernus said, picking up the corpse of a dead rat and casually biting off its head.

  Leah was rather proud of herself for keeping her composure at that moment. She even managed to take a casual sip of her tea.

  “There's no stopping human nature,” the Incarnation said, munching on the rat's
bones. A bit of blood dribbled down her chin, and Leah took a quick gulp of scalding tea to keep herself from becoming sick. “Travelers would still Incarnate here and there, but this whole mess with nine people Incarnating at the same time would never happen again without direct intervention. All you would have to do is deal with the Incarnations as they pop up, which should be relatively simple.”

  Simple? Would it be simple when a Naraka Incarnation emerged in the center of Bel Calem, burning an entire city block to the ground before her Travelers could get there and seal him? Leah couldn't believe that Avernus didn't see these problems—maybe she was reducing the problem for the sake of rhetorical argument, but Leah still thought she was painting over some fairly serious objections.

  Even more than that, what motivation did she have to listen?

  “The Hanging Trees have worked for my ancestors for generations,” Leah said, watching the Incarnation for a reaction. “Why should I value your solution over theirs?”

  Very carefully, Avernus set the decapitated rat down on the tea tray. “The time beneath the Tree was...unpleasant. It was like a restless sleep, plagued with nightmares, in which I could almost wake up, but never quite enough. During those times when I slept the lightest, I could feel the Tree feeding on me, draining my power away one sip at a time. It was like having leeches all over my body, taking away my blood drop by drop. For three hundred years. Time still moved for me, there under the ground, even if I slept through most of it. Instead of three centuries, it felt like...let's say, one. Would you like to be trapped under the ground for a hundred years?”

  To keep her reaction blank, Leah took a sip of tea.

  “Birds are meant to fly free, with the entire sky behind them,” Avernus went on. “Being locked in the earth for so long...I can't describe it to you. It's the reason why I insisted on a tent this big—” she waved around her, indicating the high ceiling—“but also why I demanded a tent at all. If I didn't keep myself inside, I'm afraid I would start flying and never stop...”

  Her voice trailed off, and in spite of her determination not to let an Incarnation's words sway her, Leah couldn't help but ache for her. She had never thought of it quite like that before: unable to move, buried alive for generations, fed upon by a vampiric tree from another Territory. Death would be a welcome relief.

  “Thank you for your perspective,” Leah said, and stood. If Avernus was lying, then Leah had done nothing more than waste a few minutes in exchange for a quick trip back to the outside world. If she was telling the truth, then Leah had gained valuable information. Either way, it was time to leave. “Please have one of your Travelers send me back to my camp outside of Cana. If I wish to consult with you further, will I still find you here?”

  The Avernus Incarnation didn't stand, but she did stretch out both pairs of mismatched wings, reaching from one wall of the tent to the other. “The next time you set foot in Avernus, wherever you enter, you don't need to worry about finding me. I’ll find you.”

  She opened her mouth and made a sound like a raven's caw, and two ravens fluttered in. One of them, Leah somehow recognized as Eugan—she couldn't remember him flying out, but he must have left the tent at some point. They fluttered over to Leah, landing one on each of her shoulders.

  “Take Eugan back to his Overlord, if you would,” the Incarnation said. “She's looking in entirely the wrong part of this Territory, and I can see that you will encounter her before I will. Murin, on your left shoulder, is my gift to you. She does not belong to you, but I have no doubt that you will find a use for a mind-reading raven in the Damascan court. She will serve you for as long as you wish, and help advise you on the matter of the Incarnations.”

  Murin made a sound in Leah's ear that sounded like a gurgling purr. She couldn't think of a way to get rid of the raven short of killing her and enraging the Incarnation, so it looked like Avernus had managed to literally perch a spy on Leah's shoulder. Even if everything else the Incarnation had said was completely accurate, this alone would have reminded Leah never to trust anyone who tried to ambush her for a meeting.

  She hoped the raven would at least learn to speak a language she could understand. If she had to interpret a code of squawks directly into her ear, she would go deaf before she even got a chance to do whatever the raven wanted.

  “I'm overwhelmed by your generosity,” Leah said, smiling warmly to cover up the irony in her voice.

  “Galene will take you home,” the Incarnation said, but then she hesitated. “However you choose to deal with the Incarnations, I hope you remember this one thing. We are not pure evil, no matter what you think, nor pure forces for destruction. We are, as our name suggest, simply incarnations of our Territories.”

  “I’ve tried to believe that,” Leah said honestly. “But it's hard to do, when we can lay such a toll in death at your feet.”

  Avernus sighed. “An Incarnation in the Unnamed World is like a hawk pushed into a river. At first they panic. The instant an Incarnation is created, the very first moment when they begin the transformation, that's when they're the most dangerous. The compulsion to act according to their Territory is overwhelming, and it's not until later that their own will comes back into play. For hours, even days...well, I'm afraid at that stage there's no appealing to reason. You just have to try and survive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY:

  OLD FRIENDS AND NEW ENEMIES

  There was a straight sword in his left hand and a Dragon's Fang in his right, and Indirial was in the air, falling toward King Zakareth. He didn’t know how it had happened. He didn't remember jumping or summoning either sword, but now he hung in the air, ready to draw blood.

  He hadn't called Nye essence, nor did Benson's cold steel flow through his veins. And yet, somehow, the world slid slowly by. He felt enough power in his hands to rend steel.

  He didn’t need to hold the diamond anymore—the power was part of him now. His every thought was precise, filtered to absolute clarity by the focus of the Valinhall diamond. In that clear, cold light, his future became simple.

  He was going to kill Zakareth. Then he would kill Asphodel. After that, he would begin the selection process: there were too many Travelers, too many people, who weren't strong enough to hold their own in combat. He would be doing them a disservice if he didn't attack. They would learn or they would die, and if they failed, he would be sparing them a worse death in the future.

  It was so simple, he couldn't believe that he hadn't seen it before.

  Vasha struck first, because of her length, but King Zakareth brought up a black-and-gold shield directly from his Territory. The tip of the Dragon's Fang skittered to one side, repelled by something more than simple metal.

  Indirial reversed the infantry sword in his left hand, driving it down like a dagger toward the Damascan King's crown.

  Zakareth's expression didn't falter, though the red light of the room glittered in the odd ruby and gold swirls on his skin. He met the second blow with the shaft of Rod of Harmony. The Ragnarus artifact didn't shatter, as it had done in Indirial's vision, so the King managed to knock both of Indirial's strikes aside.

  He remained motionless, focused, determined. Indirial knew him well enough to guess his thoughts: the King truly believed that the future held nothing but victory, so not a single wrinkle of worry marred his expression. He was that confident.

  Indirial landed with both feet on the stone, but he drew one leg up and kicked Zakareth in the chest.

  Red bolts of lightning, like tiny flickering worms, crawled all over the King's black armor. The ruby at the center flared, but some power of the Crimson Vault had scattered the strength of Indirial's kick.

  It hadn't worked, and Zakareth was bringing his Rod of Harmony forward, so Indirial dropped his swords and fought bare-handed. He slapped the Rod aside with the back of his left hand, bringing the right up to wrap around the King's throat.

  King Zakareth's command flared with the light of the Crimson Vault, sending another flash of light ro
lling through the hall. He spoke only one word: “Surrender.”

  Indirial's hand unclenched without his will, as though a muscle spasm had seized his fist and forced it to open. His knees buckled, and he flopped to the ground at the King's feet.

  Without a look of triumph or celebration, the Ragnarus Incarnation raised the Rod of Harmony. He didn't look like someone who had defeated a worthy foe. To him, the outcome of this fight had never been in doubt.

  Indirial, on the other hand, felt fantastic.

  This is what I was missing, he thought. He had never realized how long he'd lived without a real opponent. Sure, he had Travelers to kill every once in a while, and some of them even posed something of a challenge. Other times, an enemy would catch him off-guard, and he would suffer a severe injury.

  That danger had given him an illusion of satisfaction, but now the veil had been ripped from his eyes. He wasn't satisfied. He had never been satisfied! Valinhall wasn't meant for crushing the weak, it was meant to challenge those with even more power.

  So as the King activated the Rod of Harmony, a single spark of light igniting in the tip of the ruby, he must have seen something in Indirial's grin. He hesitated.

  Indirial felt it when the chains on his skin turned to steel.

  The marks of Valinhall had never grown up to his scalp or down over his face, as they had with Valin. They began at his wrists, wrapped around his midsection and down to his feet, but they ended in a collar around his neck. And all of a sudden, they flashed from black to a shining steel.

  Doors opened in Indirial's mind as though he walked through the House of Blades, throwing open each new room and devouring the power within. He called no specific power, but the ruby light binding him was a simple thing to throw off, if he had a moment of spare concentration. And the King had hesitated.

  Indirial bent all his focus to the commands of the Ragnarus crown, and he sliced through that power like a Dragon's Fang through a length of twine. Still wearing his grin, he stood toward King Zakareth.