by Wight, Will
Snow simply appeared, perhaps summoned from Helgard, and every exposed surface was suddenly covered in a layer of frost. Even his armor crawled with white, growing like moss over the surface of his golden breastplate. Snowflakes whirled through the air in a white flurry.
Alin opened himself up to Violet, planning to banish every inch of this snow, but he hesitated. He couldn’t dive in too deep to the Violet Light, or he would end up like he had the last time he’d fought Simon. He couldn’t afford to lose control now.
And in that moment of indecision, a frozen hand formed out of the snow, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him to the ground. A layer of black icicles flashed up to meet him, stabbing through his armor and driving into his flesh. The cold was at least as shocking as the pain, which remained as distant as ever, but his Rose Light flared at every wound. The spears of ice drove into his flesh as quickly as he healed, tearing his wounds even deeper, pushing in agony so deep that it reached him even through his Incarnated body.
For the first time in six months, he screamed with actual pain.
His honest, wordless cry summoned Violet Light, which flailed blindly from his body in long, bandage-like strips. Scoops of snow vanished wherever the Violet struck, and it only took a second to clear out the icicles that were driving into his ribs. The Rose Light began repairs instantly.
But Helgard had been busy.
A blue-skinned hand big enough to juggle an ox wrapped around Alin’s middle and tossed him into a building across the street.
Alin surrounded his body in a bubble of Green, filling himself with Red an instant before he hit. He crashed straight through the solid wall, tumbling and rolling to a stop on the second floor.
He caught a glimpse of a room filled with hand-carved wooden toys, perhaps a child’s bedroom, before he was falling again.
The floor hadn’t given way—there was already a hole in this floor, and he had simply rolled into it.
He caught himself with Orange Light before he hit the ground, the Rose still repairing the damage from Helgard’s icicles. He let himself drift gently down to the floor.
When his eyes were blinded by a flash of light, he realized he wasn’t alone.
His head blasted backwards as though he’d been hit with a hammer, and he heard a woman’s mocking, crystalline laughter.
Ah, the Silver Light noted. This is where Simon threw the Lirial Incarnation.
You’re blind, the Rose Light added. Nothing we can do about it for a few seconds, at least.
So Alin called Silver Light.
The world appeared before him, drawn in shades of white and shining gray. Inanimate objects—the walls, floor, the rubble around him—were somehow indistinct, as though he were looking at them from the bottom of a lake. But Lirial shone with perfect clarity, a trio of stars whirling around in a halo behind her head.
Another blast hammered into him, but this one he caught on a shield of Green Light. Then he reached out and grabbed Lirial’s head in a hand filled with Red.
With Red Light coiling through his whole body, Alin hurled the crystal Incarnation through an undamaged section of wall.
That, it seemed, was too much for the building. With a slow roar, the house collapsed in on itself, sagging and sliding down to the snow in the street below. Tons of debris collapsed on Alin’s head, but he covered himself with a shield of Green and Orange. The large chunks floated away from him, the smaller pattering against the six-sided plates of Green. He walked out unscathed.
The Rose Light had already completed its work on the rest of his body, and had started repairing his eyes. The world went from fuzzy outlines to clear, distinct colors as he exited the building, and he took a look around.
The Lirial Incarnation was nowhere to be seen, but Helgard’s blue giant was rampaging down the street. It towered above all the buildings he could see, its entire face nothing but one huge eye. Its head turned, that eye swiveling to look at Alin.
There were beings he could summon from Elysia to match this titan, but they would all be needed to defend the City in case Enosh fell. No matter what this giant was capable of, he would be no match for the Incarnation of Elysia.
The one-eyed titan reached down and scooped up the Helgard Incarnation, lifting her to stand on its shoulder. Helgard raised her hands, and a blizzard howled down the street, covering everything else in a blanket of white.
***
Simon couldn’t understand why the Ragnarus Incarnation wasn’t dead.
He planted his foot in the old man’s chest, kicking him with enough force to crack a stone pillar. The King flew up and back, flipping in midair and landing on his feet on top of a nearby building. Simon leaped after him, vaguely aware of a towering blue giant and a flowing cloud of snow rushing along beside him. Helgard was Alin’s problem now, and Simon only had enough time to deal with one opponent at a time.
Deep in the Nye essence, Simon flashed toward King Zakareth, sweeping Mithra in wide arcs to back him up. Once the Incarnation had his back to the ledge, Simon could launch a real attack and finish him.
That was the plan, but the King was proving a match for him even with the Nye essence. The point of the Lightning Spear caught the flat of his blade and knocked it up, leaving a gap in his defenses that he had to step back to cover. From there, the Ragnarus Incarnation had the advantage, and his Spear seemed to be everywhere. It was all Simon could to do turn each blow with Mithra’s edge, knocking the spear aside high, then low, then sidestepping as the Lightning Spear reached for his throat.
Panic gripped him by the gut. He wasn’t worried about losing the fight, not with the mask, but he was running out of time. There were only half a dozen links left in his chain before it closed around his neck, and he died. Like Kai had.
You’ve driven him away, Caela said. Leave him! There’s nothing he can do on his own.
The second I turn my back, he’ll put the Lightning Spear through me, Simon said, slipping past a strike from the same spear. I need…
Help, Caela finished. Fortunately, you’ve got some coming.
Behind Zakareth, Erastes climbed up the side of the roof. The King would never be able to read Simon’s eyes behind the mask, but he still tried not to look directly at the other Valinhall Traveler, for fear of drawing the Incarnation’s attention.
It didn’t matter. Zakareth cocked his head to one side, as though listening. His expression never changed as he pivoted smoothly, hurling the Lightning Spear straight at Erastes.
The soldier had no chance. He only had the steel, not the essence, and he would never be able to react in time. His eyes barely had time to widen before the Spear…
…shivered to a stop in mid-air, frozen and hovering.
To your right! Caela called, and Simon glanced over to see Leah standing on the next rooftop over, red eye blazing, with one hand outstretched toward the Spear. Her raven whirled overhead, screaming.
The Spear started to float toward Leah, but then Zakareth beckoned sharply, and it flipped back into his hand.
“Hello, father,” Leah began, but Simon didn’t have time to listen to a conversation. He threw himself back at the Ragnarus Incarnation, trying to push the old man around so that Erastes could have a shot at his back.
Unbelievably, Zakareth got even faster. He ducked a strike from Simon, spun around and tripped Erastes with the butt of his spear, then completed the turn and thrust the Lightning Spear at Simon’s chest.
So that’s what happens when you use Ragnarus enhancements on an Incarnation’s immortal body, Caela said. The Nye will be interested to know that.
What can I do? Simon asked, the chains on his neck closing around him like the hands of a murderer. But when Lirial alighted on the building, firing a series of white bolts at Leah, he knew the answer.
Nothing.
***
Leah had come to fight directly, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. Murin thought she was an idiot for doing so, and she couldn’t help but agree with the
bird. Direct combat wasn’t her style; that was why she had Simon and Indirial.
Or…just Simon, now. She would have to get used to that.
She was preparing to call Lirial crystal and seal her father’s feet, maybe at least trip him up a bit, when Lirial herself drifted to the rooftop, her dress of silver wire flashing in the sun. Lirial struck with her version of a star-net, blasting Leah with a mixture of crystals and bolts of solid white light.
She called crystal out of the roof, and a jagged spire of pale stone met the bolts, defending her for a moment. Only for a moment. If she could summon the Lightning Spear, she would be fine, but her father held that weapon in an iron grip.
She did have one card yet to play, though.
Kneeling behind her spire of crystal, Leah pressed both palms to the roof and stretched her will out to Ragnarus.
“Cynara the First, Queen of Damasca, your daughter calls upon you,” she said. The Queen had insisted that her summons should be appropriately dramatic, or she wouldn’t bother answering.
For a few seconds, the Lirial Incarnation continued chewing through Leah’s crystal shield, and she started wondering if she should repeat the call again, though with some more flowery language.
Then there was a red flash, and Cynara stood over her.
Her dress of scarlet light flowed against the wind, crimson flesh standing out like a spot of blood against the white snow on the roof. Her eyes were locked on Lirial, and there was a small smile on her lips.
Leah didn’t know what price Cynara had taken for her help, but whatever it was, it left her feeling like she was on the edge of passing out. “I’m glad…I met…with your approval,” she managed to say.
Cynara waved a hand. “Good enough,” she said. “Now, I don’t have quite the power I once did, but since Zak isn’t using it…”
Leah had a second to think, Zak?
Then Cynara pulled the Rod of Harmony from the Crimson Vault, and stepped in front of the Lirial Incarnation.
The bolt from the star-net crashed into a wave of red light from the ruby on top of the Rod. Lirial screamed, and then the bolt appeared an inch from her eye, slamming into her forehead and flipping her over backwards.
Queen Cynara was already on top of her, moving with a grace and athleticism that Leah would never have expected. The Rod was gone, and she was driving a heavy mace down on Lirial’s crystal head.
There was a flash of white light, and Lirial was floating across the street. Cynara walked to the edge of the building, next to Leah, her stride casual. The mace was missing, and she held a gold-and-ruby dagger in each hand.
Cynara bent her scarlet legs as if to leap after Lirial, but she evidently thought better of it. The twin daggers went back into the Vault, and a wide, shallow bowl came out.
“Watch yourself,” she called to Leah.
Leah wasn’t sure what she was meant to look out for, but she backed up as far as she could. Simon was still locked in battle with King Zakareth, two or three roofs over, but the old soldier Erastes was gone. Dead?
Then Alin’s gold-armored figure came hurtling out of the snow like a falling star. He flew straight toward the bowl that Cynara held, which she angled to catch him. In a flare of red light, Alin froze ten feet from the bowl, hovering in midair. When he stopped, a blast of wind shot out from him, as though the force of his flight had been dispersed into the air. Snow blasted away from him in a ring.
The snow that had started to melt on the roof, even what had half-melted to slush, froze solid. Leah started shivering again; the temperature seemed to drop into the depths of winter in the span of a few seconds.
“The Bowl drains heat,” Cynara explained, levering the bowl to the side. Floating in the air, Alin moved along with the artifact, falling on to the ceiling when she dumped the bowl over. “That’s the only price, though I’m not entirely sure why.”
Alin rose to his feet, brushing snow from his shattered armor. “Thank you,” he said, then he gave Cynara a closer look.
“You’re the former Ragnarus Incarnation?” he asked.
Cynara smiled more broadly, then gave him a mocking curtsy.
Alin stood for a moment, thinking. After a few seconds, he held out one golden hand.
“Please, Rhalia,” he said.
A woman popped out of the air in front of him. She wore a long white dress belted with a golden sash, and her blond hair almost reached down to her feet. She spun a loop in midair, her arms and smile wide. “You should have summoned me ages ago! It’s a lot whiter than I…remembered…”
Her loop slowed to a crawl, and she drifted down to the roof, staring at Cynara. The two summoned women stared at one another with wide eyes. Even Queen Cynara looked as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“…Rhalia?” she whispered, and several dozen separate facts clicked into place for Leah. Cynara had mentioned her sister, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Leah had known that her sister was an Elysian Traveler…but the Elysian Traveler? The first Incarnation of Elysia, and the one that had almost destroyed Damasca?
Tears welled up in the golden eyes of the legendary Elysian Incarnation, and she staggered toward her sister, wrapping her pale arms around Cynara’s red shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” Rhalia murmured through her tears. “I always…wanted to tell you…”
They held each other for a while, and then Cynara released her. Rhalia didn’t let go.
“Rhalia,” the Queen said.
The former Incarnation of Elysia shook her head. Alin shook his head and stepped off the roof, caught by Orange Light, flying away to join Simon.
One roof over, the Helgard Incarnation landed in a crouch. Her one-eyed giant stepped up beside her, raising its fist as if to smash the roof on which Leah stood.
“Rhalia,” Cynara said, more urgently.
“I’ve waited three hundred years for this,” Rhalia said, without releasing her sister. “I can take a little longer.”
“No, you can’t!” Leah yelled. She drew as deeply as she could from her Lirial source, tried to summon the Lightning Spear—it failed; her father must still be holding it—then tried to summon the Titan Shield, but that failed as well. Her father still had a grip on everything useful.
As the giant’s blue fist fell, she wondered if her crystal would be enough.
Then an orange sun bloomed between her and the descending fist. The giant’s hand rose into the sky, pulling its enormous body along with it. At any second, Leah expected the orange light to vanish, letting the one-eyed titan fall back down to earth. It never happened. It kept drifting up, silently struggling, until Leah lost it among the clouds.
Helgard seemed more stunned than anyone else, her mouth working soundlessly.
Rhalia finally let go of her sister, smiling proudly. “I am sorry,” she said at last.
“Yes, well, I spent the last three and a half centuries sealed inside a blood-sucking tree,” Queen Cynara said dryly. “For the first hundred years, I kept planning out how to escape and make you suffer.”
Rhalia’s face crumpled, and she looked as though she were about to cry again.
“…stop that. You’re almost four hundred years old, act your age. It’s been a long time since I blamed you for this. I paid my price, and I reaped the reward. Bitter as it may have been.”
Ignoring the Helgard Incarnation, who looked curious rather than confused, Queen Cynara gestured to Leah.
“Leah, daughter of Zakareth, this is my older sister Rhalia.”
Rhalia beamed and drifted over to Leah, spinning circles around her in midair. “This is Leah, huh? She wears the Eye well. Much better than that old man.”
Cynara’s expression hardened. “Anything was better than the old man.”
At first, Leah was inclined to correct them about her name—she was the daughter of Kelia, not Zakareth. But Cynara had never met her mother, so she let that slide. Then she thought they were talking about her father as the ‘old man,’ but the context made tha
t unlikely. Rhalia would have never met Zakareth the Sixth. Someone from their own time, then?
A shrill alarm from one of Leah’s scout crystals shrieked in her ear, and she spun around to find a dozen White Razors—sharpened snowflakes the size of wagon wheels—spinning straight at her, out of the snow.
She blocked the first one with crystal, but Cynara shattered the rest with a fistful of crimson darts. They shot out of midair and pierced each snowflake straight through the middle.
Leah was forcibly reminded, then, exactly how much she had left to learn about the Crimson Vault.
“We can handle this, Leah,” Queen Cynara said, launching a red wooden javelin at Helgard.
“Could you go see to the Elysia Gate, if you don’t mind?” Rhalia asked. “There’s a golem that cut his way inside.”
That’s right, I almost forgot. Ornheim had been using his gatecrawler to slice his way into Elysia, and the rest of them had been too distracted by the other Incarnations to pay him any attention. Without another word, Leah started climbing down from the roof.
“Too slow!” Rhalia called, and then Leah felt herself lifted up by the shoulders and carried down to the street below.
…it wasn’t the most dignified way to travel, but at least it was fast.
***
Alin fought side-by-side with Simon, and it was the most fulfilling thing he had done in years.
He blasted King Zakareth with Gold Light, sending the Incarnation staggering, but when he turned to launch his spear in Alin’s direction, Simon was all over him, swinging that gold-and-silver blade of his so fast that Zakareth had to summon his shield. He used both that and his spear to keep Simon at bay. Meanwhile, Alin had the space to summon a coil of Blue Light underneath Zakareth’s foot, snagging his grip and draining a bit of his armor’s power away.
The Ragnarus Incarnation broke the Blue binding, but it still made him stagger a bit, took a little energy away from his weapons. He would fall to the two of them, and soon.
And there was something…right about it. Alin and Simon, standing side-by-side, fighting the evil Incarnation. Alin was even fighting like a Traveler; he couldn’t call much more power without endangering Simon as well, so for a moment he could pretend that all was as it should be, and he and Simon were about to vanquish the evil king together.
