by Wight, Will
“Do you have that mask here?” Leah asked, finally.
Unfortunately, Caela sent.
Simon dug around in his pockets for the mask, and his hand encountered something round, warm, and slightly tacky. He pulled it out for a better look.
Oh, that’s right. He’d almost forgotten the red stone that the Eldest had tried to take from him. He’d mentioned something about the Crimson Vault in connection to the stone, and Simon had intended to tell Leah, but somehow he had forgotten.
“Do you know what this is?” Simon asked, holding it up to the starlight.
Leah hissed, her eyes widening. She snatched it out of his hand, dropped it immediately, and then almost fell to her knees scrambling to catch it before it hit the ground. When she managed to snatch it out of the air before it hit dirt, she heaved a sigh of great relief.
Simon could only stare. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so startled. Andra and Erastes moved closer, readying their swords as if to defend her from some threat, but Simon waved them away.
Leah rose to her feet, brushing herself off with her left hand and holding the stone up in her right. “I don’t believe it,” she breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”
“I didn’t know what it was. I still don’t,” he added, hoping she would take the hint.
She shook her head wonderingly. “I can see now. No wonder…”
Simon had to restrain his impatience, but he refused to ask the question again.
“It’s a Seed of the Hanging Tree,” she said at last. “Maybe the last one, as far as I know.”
He took a step back from it, wary. He didn’t know what a Hanging Tree would do to an ordinary Traveler, but he knew what it did to Incarnations, and he had no wish to spend three hundred years as living compost. He pointed to the Seed. “Can we use it?”
“I think…yes, I think we can. Simon, I can’t believe you had this. This might mean the difference between living and dying.” She gave him the most genuine smile he’d seen out of her in years, and her red eye did nothing to ruin the effect. “This could be exactly what we need.”
He cleared his throat. “Then, uh, I’m glad I found it.” Completely by chance, he added in his head.
You should always take credit for your own good luck, Caela said. After all, who else will?
“You realize what this means,” Leah added. “The Seed can’t be planted in a Territory. It seems we’ll have to fight in Enosh after all.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised, Simon thought. We suddenly find something that could turn the fight around, and it supports Leah’s battle plan over mine. Naturally.
Maybe she should inherit Valinhall, Caela said thoughtfully. What do you think, Mithra?
The sword, thankfully, remained quiet.
The sounds from within the tent had stopped, and the two Naraka guards emerged. One of them was nursing a split knuckle. They bowed to Leah and took up their posts outside the tent.
The raven purred in the back of its throat.
“Not long now,” Leah whispered.
After a few more minutes of silence, during which Andra lay back on the grass and began snoring softly, a flash of orange light brightened the tent.
Andra snapped awake, waving her Dragon’s Fang wildly.
“Open a Gate!” Leah ordered the Naraka Travelers, marching forward with Simon and the other two on her heels. This was one part of the plan that she hadn’t explained to Simon.
“There will be traps,” one of the guards said, but he continued waving his hand in preparation to open a Gate.
“Your turn,” Leah said, and Simon stepped forward.
Sure enough, as soon as the Naraka Gate opened, a screaming orange fireball hurled itself from the Territory’s depths.
Simon called ghost armor, throwing up his arm between the Gate and the Traveler. The fireball shattered inches from his forearm, broken by a plate of spectral green armor.
A disgusting smoke-and-sulfur smell wafted from the Territory. “Do we have to go through Naraka again?” Simon asked.
Leah shot him a look. “It’s that or fly.”
Simon was prepared to try flying.
Erastes stepped up, preparing to enter the Gate. “Should we follow her, Your Highness?”
Leah pushed past him and stepped into Naraka first. “I can track her,” she said. “And we know where she’s going.”
“I don’t see how having her along will help us,” Simon remarked. “It practically killed us last time.” Maybe if Leah gave up this idea, they could Travel through another Territory. Any other Territory.
“Trust me,” Leah said again. She was leaning on his trust fairly hard, tonight. “We’ll have a hard enough time winning Alin over. That’s why this time, we’re bringing a present.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:
STRATEGIC PLANNING
359th Year of the Damascan Calendar
1st Year in the Reign of Queen Leah I
8 Days Since Spring’s Birth
Alin didn’t sleep anymore, so he spent a lot of time thinking. All night, he’d been meditating on the same topic that had haunted him for the past week: his own failure.
You proved yourself an enemy to those who should be your friends, the Orange Light said.
You let them get away! said the Gold.
The Violet Light had a different opinion. You lost control, it told him.
He was inclined to agree.
Alin knew he was an Incarnation, and for the most part that fact didn’t bother him. His Incarnation allowed him to think more clearly, to bond fully with the essence of his Territory. What harm could there be in the manifestation of Elysian virtues? He was honest and compassionate, wise and patient, valiant and loyal, merciful and diligent.
So how had he allowed himself to be taken over? When he’d let the Gold Light control his body, he hadn’t been patient, or loyal, or merciful. The Light had consumed him in valor, so much that he needed to prove his bravery through victory.
But today, after a week of meditation and productive work, he was finally under control. He wouldn’t be making the same mistakes again.
In the Gate next to him, Rhalia drifted over the grass of Elysia, her golden hair shining in the sunrise. “How are you feeling today?” she asked.
“In control.”
Rhalia smiled, watching the sun peek over the city walls. “Ah, so then you’ve learned nothing. That’s what I suspected, but it’s good to have confirmation.”
Irritation shot through him before the patience of the Green Light ground it down. “I am complete, Rhalia. In balance.”
“Not without the White, you’re not,” she added cheerfully, juggling a few balls of Gold Light. She’d been in a better mood ever since the fight in Enosh, in direct contrast to his own feelings. He wondered what had happened.
He elected to overlook her comments about the White Light, which were becoming more frequent these days. “I will not let one battle throw off my balance this time. I will remain composed.”
Rhalia frowned out the Gate, letting her golden lights vanish. “That’s good to hear, because I think you’re going to get a chance to prove it.”
Silver constructs approached from practically every direction, radiating something like panic. A winged silver eye flew up to him and began delivering its report, though he could feel the urgency flowing from it in waves.
“Cordon in Helgard is breached—”
Another Silver construct, like a spider of polished steel, clattered up on the cobblestones and spoke over the first messenger. “Our outlook in Endross was destroyed—”
A golden hummingbird came up from behind him, delivering its message in a disturbingly deep voice. “Over the city walls, Eliadel. You should come and see.”
He leaped toward the walls with Red Light flowing through his limbs, lift provided by a cushion of orange. He was practically flying as he soared over the city, landing with a crunch on roof tiles or cobblestones and pushing off aga
in. The specifics of the various messages were different, but the core intent was clear: he was under attack.
Alin’s heart tore in a dozen different directions.
His Rose-colored compassionate side broke at the thought that the citizens under his protection might be in danger. His Blue mercy urged him to surrender, his Orange loyalty to protect those beneath him at any cost.
But today, he felt more in line with the Gold Light.
At last, he thought, with a sigh of great relief. An enemy.
When he landed on the golden walls of Enosh, he realized how right he was.
The army wasn’t as large as he’d expected. Only a few thousand soldiers, mostly Travelers, had lined up in the wasteland between Myria and Enosh. More important by far were the five figures standing at the front, surrounded by a host of vicious creatures.
Helgard, a horned woman with blue skin and white fur, stood stroking the head of a giant blue cat. It was practically a desert out there, but she moved in her own private snow-flurry, a trail of melted snowflakes following her wherever she walked.
Lirial stood next to her, a woman of white crystal and silver wire. She gleamed like a star in the sunrise, and Alin was only sure of her identity because of the open Lirial Gate next to her. She sent flashing crystal probes in and out, apparently communicating with someone.
Ornheim was next, a giant of white stone standing nine or ten feet tall. He crouched in the sand, absolutely still as stalagmites rose from the ground around him. One of them broke off, the rock forming into a three-foot-tall man-shaped golem. It staggered drunkenly around before dissolving into gravel. The Ornheim Incarnation didn’t react. Veins of every color ran through him, so that he seemed designed for decoration rather than war.
Endross never stood still, pacing up and down the line of other Incarnations. His wings were formed of black stormclouds flashing with heat lightning, his eyes blazing like lightning bolts themselves. Even his hands and feet glowed with lightning, the rest of his body shrouded in what looked like snakeskin. Creatures of Endross burst into existence around him in a cloud of sparks, hissing and crawling through the sand, growling and spitting at the other Incarnations. No one seemed to care, least of all Endross himself, who stared without ceasing at the walls of Enosh.
Finally, King Zakareth the Sixth stood at the end of the line.
Alin recognized him, even at a distance, even with the significant physical changes that the King had undergone during Incarnation. Alin had been the one to kill the man, after all, though it looked like transformation had saved him. His skin swirled with designs of gold-and-ruby, his stone eye replaced by a rolling fireball of crimson. He wore the same black armor as last time, set with rubies and trimmed in gold, and even his gold hair was speckled with the occasional hair of red or gold. In his left hand he held a ruby-topped staff, and in his right a spear. The same spear that Alin had seen him use to fight off half a dozen Grandmasters and highly trained Enosh Travelers.
The King was speaking, giving orders to his fellow Incarnations, but his eyes were fixed on Alin.
You will likely die today, the Violet Light pointed out.
Alin considered that and found it true. The fact didn’t bother him much.
Then I will die defending my city and my Territory, he thought. At the very least, I will die a hero.
The Gold Light approved.
Then an explosion from behind him caught his attention. He didn’t stop and stare; he hurled a cloud of Silver Light behind him, sensing the location, and his body flared with Red and Orange Light as he hurled himself backwards off the wall. He was in the air and flying toward the source of the noise before the explosion even finished.
It was in the Blue District. The ruins of the Naraka waystation, naturally, because it seemed that he couldn’t have a disturbance anywhere else in his city. He hadn’t seen a Naraka Incarnation under Zakareth’s control, but it had been long enough since Alin had destroyed the last one. It was certainly possible that King Zakareth could have kept Naraka in reserve, to send saboteurs through to weaken Alin’s defenses.
A familiar presence glowed in his mind with Silver Light.
No… he thought. No, I couldn’t possibly be that lucky.
Grandmaster Naraka stood outside the ruined Naraka waystation, her red spectacles turned up to watch him.
He landed in front of her, hands trembling, all the old emotions surfacing at once. She was the one who had destroyed his hometown. She was responsible for the deaths of two of his sisters, and the escape of the third. She was the one who had caused him to give up his humanity in the first place. She was even the one who had taught him to Travel.
No matter how he turned the situation over in his mind, she had brought him here.
His palms filled with Gold Light, almost on reflex, but he banished the force before it could fully form. He didn’t need to blast her down in cold blood; he wanted to do this right.
Naraka’s mouth twisted into a smile, and she spoke in her usual, creaking voice. “I come for justice, Eliadel.”
“And justice you shall receive,” he said. That was a line from a story, but whether she understood the reference or not, he didn’t care.
She shook her head slowly. “It’s difficult to become a Naraka Incarnation. Far more difficult than it is for Elysia, it seems. It’s not only a matter of drawing too much power, you see. You have to flee justice, and yet hunger for it at the same time.”
Grandmaster Naraka raised her right arm, which no longer ended in a smooth stump. Her right hand was a shriveled black claw, crawling with orange flame. “I escaped the Queen of Damasca and my well-earned punishment for betraying her. I come here, now, to a place where the law says I could be executed.”
She smiled widely, and as Alin watched, her canines elongated into fangs. “I come because I have only one desire: to bring you to justice. You, who killed my fellow Grandmasters. Who ruined everything good in this city. You, Alin, deserve justice.”
Her other hand burst into flames, and Grandmaster Naraka cackled loudly enough to shake the streets of Enosh. The Silver Light warned him that a handful of other people were scrambling out of the Naraka Gate behind her, but he didn’t care that she’d brought backup. The Incarnation would be the real threat, and his eyes were stuck to her transformation.
The glasses slipped from her nose, red lenses shattering on the ground. Her pale white eyes turned orange, like live coals, her body twisting and stretching into a hunched, serpentine form. She spat out a tongue of flame.
Then Leah’s voice echoed through the street, supernaturally loud. “We allowed her to come to you, Alin,” she said. “A peace offering. Do with her what you will, and none of us will interfere.”
For an instant, the hideously transformed Grandmaster Naraka looked as surprised as Alin felt. But then she turned back to him, unable to look away for very long. A red, pebbled tail shot out from under her robes, spikes on the end scratching the stones.
Fury pounded in his heart, the Gold Light crying out for victory.
But he had regained control of himself. Did he dare give in to his desire for vengeance now? What would that do to him?
Then again, there was an Incarnation here on his streets. Surely the right thing to do would be to destroy her before she ran rampant and killed his citizens. Yes, he was sure that in this, what was right and what he wanted were one and the same.
In her Gate beside him, Rhalia was whispering advice, but he didn’t listen. He called Gold Light.
Then there was a streak of shadow and steel, and Simon slammed a giant hammer down on Grandmaster Naraka’s head. She crumpled with a noisy crunch, though ash sprayed out instead of blood.
Simon looked up, meeting Alin’s gaze. His hood was down, and his eyes were angry.
“I’m sorry about that,” Simon said. “She didn’t tell me what she was going to do.”
Bones popped and slid as the Naraka Incarnation pulled herself together, flesh sliding back into one
piece, her head rising out of the pile of her body. Fire gathered in one of her hands.
Then Simon slammed the hammer down again.
He ground the head of the weapon into her body, leaning casually on the handle. “We heard the King was going to attack you, and we wanted to come help. He already tried to destroy Valinhall, now he’s moving against Elysia.”
Elysia? The King was trying to destroy not just Enosh, but Elysia? Alin glanced over at Rhalia who was looking thoughtfully at Simon. “You know, I like his approach,” she said. “It’s efficient.”
“Are they really going to attack the City?” Alin asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said, her voice grim. “It’s been tried before, and it was futile, but we had many Travelers then. Now, you can’t even set foot in the Territory, and I can’t leave unless I’m summoned…on our own, against six Incarnations—”
“Five,” Simon interrupted, slamming his hammer down on Grandmaster Naraka again.
Rhalia laughed. “Five, right. Five Incarnations, on our own…they could do it. Bring down the walls of Elysia.”
Simon had tossed his hammer aside, and had started driving a sword into the pile of flesh, bone, and ash that had once been Grandmaster Naraka. This was a different sword, Alin noticed: roughly the same length and shape, but with a line of gold running down the middle. The gold sang to him, shining brighter than the ordinary metal should have. It couldn’t be from Elysia, could it?
“See?” Simon said. “You need our help. The enemy of your enemy is…us.” He frowned down at his own cloak. “Stop laughing, he knows what I meant.”
An old man in chain mail and a gray uniform had stepped up beside Simon, stabbing his infantry sword into Grandmaster Naraka. A blond girl of maybe thirteen or fourteen joined him, cutting off limbs and pieces of bone with her own short, slightly curving blade.
Everything was happening so fast, Alin couldn’t get a grip on himself. But one thing was clear: he couldn’t attack them, now that they’d named themselves his allies. None of the Elysian virtues would allow that, no matter how much the Gold Light grumbled that he needed to finish the fight.
