by Wight, Will
He was almost surprised to see Andra alive, struggling at the worm that still held her hair. It had curled around her lightly, eyeing others of its kind who got too close. Apparently it didn’t want to share its meal.
Simon tore the sheath off his belt with his left hand and used it as a cane, hobbling closer to the worm.
Andra spotted him and screamed for help. The rockworm holding her saw him at the same time and roared, lunging. Simon felt a surge of relief; at least he wouldn’t have to have to walk all the way over there.
Simon felt the power of the cold steel flowing through him, and he grabbed the striking worm in both hands.
Even with more strength than he had ever imagined, Simon could feel the weight and power of the monstrous worm. It bore down on him, inexorable, and nothing he could do could directly oppose its weight or break its rocky armored plates.
But with a surge of cold power and a heave of his shoulders, Simon tossed it to one side.
The crash as the monster hit the cave floor was deafening, and a cloud of dust rolled up where the body struck. Andra hurried over to him through the dust, looking stunned.
Simon tried to smile at her. She shoved him towards the opening above. “Go!” she shouted. “Let’s go!”
It was an excruciating exercise in torture just walking over to the wall, and the periodic strikes from the rock-worms didn’t help. Without the Nye essence, he opposed the creatures with only main strength and his bare hands. His leg felt as if it had been dipped in oil and set aflame.
The climb up the wall was actually easier than walking. He only needed three limbs for the climb, and with the extra strength he thought he made the trip in less time than he had with Lycus.
Andra’s whole family was waiting when they emerged from the cave.
Simon popped up from the hole, pushing Andra ahead of him and then sliding up after her onto solid rock. The children’s father had to scramble out of the way to make room, but Simon didn’t much care.
The Agnos family fell into one another, weeping and clutching each other desperately. The children cried, but they were almost drowned out by their father’s sobs. Their mother kept up a stream of soothing whispers, and tears glistened on her cheeks.
It wasn’t the kind of scene Simon wanted to watch. This was a private moment; he had no wish to intrude. Andra and Lycus’ mother shot him a glowing look over her daughter’s head and mouthed ‘thank you.’ He gave her a sort of jerky nod and looked away, cheeks heating.
A hand extended into his view. He followed it up to the iron-haired man he had seen earlier. His face was largely covered in shadows, but Simon thought it looked softer than before. Simon took his hand, and the older man pulled him to his feet. Well, to his foot. His left leg blazed when he tested his weight on it, so he was forced to lean entirely on his right.
As soon as he stood, the world spun around him. His head felt light, and he eyed his own leg. The cuts were shallow, but they burned, and he suspected he may have lost too much blood.
The other man’s eyes widened. “Caius! Olissa!” Lycus and Andra’s parents looked up. “He needs help. We should carry him to the wagons.”
“I,” Simon said, “I’ll...have to...back.”
Simon tried to tell them he would be fine, that he had to go back, but his head spun again, and he flopped into their waiting arms. If he missed his first night in the cave, Kai would never let him pass the trial. Simon kept up his protests until Olissa cut his pants leg away and started wrapping his wounds. White pain shot up his body, running along his bones, and on top of the blood loss and exhaustion it was too much.
A comfortable warmth surrounded him as he sunk down into sleep.
***
Distant whispers slid into Simon, banishing dreams. It almost felt like he could make out the words, but recognition slipped away.
Another voice joined the whispers. “He’s been a good boy,” it sang. “We should give him what he needs.”
More whispers, softer this time.
“I could not agree more.” The quality of the second voice changed, becoming more amused. “Wake up, little mouse. I know you can hear me. Wake up.”
Abruptly Simon recognized Kai’s voice, and it acted on him like a spark in a pile of dried leaves. He burst awake, springing up and clawing desperately for a sword. He found none, so he clenched his hands into fists, determined to die with blood on his hands. His eyes never stopped moving, seeking for the threat.
He found nothing.
Simon stood inside what was seemingly a canvas-covered wagon, probably one of those with the Agnos family caravan. The wagon rumbled beneath him, and he heard oxen lowing outside—the wagon was moving. Wooden crates took up most of the wagon’s interior, blocking much of the wagon from his view. An oil lantern sat inside one of the crates, cushioned in sawdust, but it was unlit; the only light came from moonlight filtered through the canvas roof.
Someone had spread blankets across three crates and laid him on top. He stood on them now in a fighting crouch.
He faced Kai, who sat at his ease on another stack of crates. His smile was amused, though as usual Simon couldn’t see the swordsman’s eyes behind white bangs. Azura apparently remained in the House, but Kai cradled a blond doll in a powder-blue dress under his left arm.
“What a jumpy little mouse he is,” Kai murmured. “Almost like he had a reason to fear.”
“What are you doing here?” Simon asked. He couldn’t seem to get his heart to slow down, like his body expected danger and wanted to be ready.
Kai held up a clay jug and shook it. It made no noise. “The leg was quite nicely minced. Much longer and you would have never danced another reel.”
Come to think of it, Simon’s leg hadn’t collapsed when he jumped to his feet. Experimentally, he flexed his left knee. Someone had untied the bandages, but there was no pain. The leg ached a little, maybe felt a little tight, but it didn’t hurt. It felt clean.
“From the pool?” Simon asked. He was still having trouble coming to terms with Kai actually being there.
“The water weakens every second it’s away from the House. By the time I got here, it was barely enough. Now you can get back to work.”
Simon hopped down from the blanket-covered crates, hope surging. Maybe Kai would let him try again after all. “I lost my sword in the Cave. Should I go back in unarmed?”
Kai’s head tilted slightly, curiously. “Call steel, little one.”
“What?”
“The liquid steel the skeleton brews. Call it to you.”
“Oh, right.” Simon focused on an image of the liquid metal in the glass vial, locking it in his mind. As usual, he reached into Valinhall for more.
The power flooded into him, far greater than the usual trickle. His muscles tightened until they felt banded with cold iron, and his bones seemed replaced with solid ice. It had only come this strongly once before, when he pulled Andra from the cavern.
The soft light in the wagon wasn’t much, but he could see well enough to make out details that had been invisible to him in the cave: a light gray design wrapped around his forearms from wrist to elbow, twisting into a clearly recognizable image. Chains. Like chains had been tied around both his arms and then removed, leaving only their shadows behind.
He stared at his chain-marked arm in horror. What had happened to him? He had never seen the chains before, but he could feel them, cold and hard against his skin, as if he wore actual bonds of steel. Though they looked like harmless gray tattoos, he could see them moving, crawling up his arms. They were past his elbows now. Maybe Kai had done this to him while he was asleep?
Kai nodded slowly. “The marks on your skin show that you have drawn deeply enough,” he said. “They prove your bond to the House.”
Hesitation crept out through Simon’s voice. “So...I passed?”
A sound blew on the wind, like whispered laughter. Kai chuckled along with it. “Oh no, you fail
ed. I don’t think anyone has failed any faster. But success was not the point of this exercise. It was only a test to force you into a position in which you had no choice but to rely fully on your new powers.”
“What are you saying?” Simon asked.
Instead of answering, Kai reached into the air, never taking his eyes—or his face, at least, since his eyes were still covered by white hair—from Simon. Space shimmered in a long line, and Azura stretched out from Kai’s fist, gleaming. It stretched almost half the length of the wagon.
Kai pushed Azura’s hilt toward Simon. “Take it.”
Hesitantly, Simon did so. The hilt was wrapped in black cloth, but tightly enough that he knew it would never slip. As he had suspected, its length made it awkward; even the slightest shift in his grip made the end swerve toward the wagon’s canvas.
“Too heavy?” Kai asked.
It wasn’t. The cool power running through his veins mocked weight so trivial; he might as well have been carrying a stalk of wheat. Simon hefted it up and down experimentally, careful not to cut anything.
This is amazing, Simon thought. How had his life changed so much in just a few weeks? His chest tightened abruptly with the realization, the overwhelming feeling, that his world wasn’t ever going to be the same.
Plus, now he had a huge sword. His six-year-old self would have been delighted.
“That’s one of the purposes of this trial,” Kai continued. “To make sure you’re physically strong enough for one of the Dragon’s Fangs. But there’s one more purpose, too.”
Simon’s eyes snapped up from the end of the sword to Kai. He didn’t want to look too eager, but it sounded like Kai was about to hand him another miracle.
“Reach deeply,” Kai said, “as you did before. Only this time, picture the entry hall. Call out to it, like you did to Benson for steel.”
Simon reached, stretching out, straining, drawing on the power of Valinhall. Nothing happened.
He opened his mouth to say so, but his master cut him off. “Now move the tip of the sword down, through the air. As if you are tearing a curtain hanging from the wagon’s roof, but much slower.”
Simon did so slowly, carefully, feeling a little foolish. He held the vision of the entry—with its mirrors, wooden sword racks, and soft red couches—tightly in his mind.
The tip of the sword moved through the air about an inch before Simon felt the faintest resistance, as if the sword had reached the edge of an invisible sheet of parchment. Simon drew the sword down a little at a time, slicing through...something, as he did.
Following Azura’s descent, the world tore open, revealing wood-paneled walls, empty sword racks, and gilt-framed mirrors. As though the image of the wagon had just been printed on a curtain, and Valinhall rested behind.
When Simon brought the tip of the sword down to rest on the wooden planks of the wagon bed, wood-scented wind blew from the ragged oval Gate in the air. On an impulse, Simon stuck his arm through, into the entry hall. The air on the other side felt noticeably cooler.
He pulled his arm back out and grinned over at Kai, thrilled with the sense of power. But Kai wasn’t smiling anymore. Kai drew the backs of his fingertips slowly down the doll’s blond hair. With a look as though he were watching his sister die, Kai set the doll down on the crate next to him.
Then he stood up and walked over to Simon, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Kai never made any sort of friendly gesture, so this one caught Simon off guard. For a moment, he wondered if it meant he had done something wrong.
“Azura is yours,” Kai said. “Treat her well.”
Simon blinked at him as though he were speaking another language. “There are a bunch of swords without an owner, right? I thought I was going to get one of those.”
Kai shook his head. “If we could just hand them out as we wished, much of my life would have been simpler. But if we do, they will be no more than steel for you. The House has chosen, and we must respect its choice. If you tried to use a different blade, you’d never be able to open a Gate, nor would you enjoy its...other benefits.”
Simon waited for a moment, but Kai said no more. After a handful of awkward seconds, Simon ventured, “So you want me to ask about the other benefits?”
Kai muttered to himself, then sighed. “You know, little mouse, you...never mind. You’ve seen already that members of the Army have their own bedroom with its own number. Mine is number seven. Azura is the seventh Demon Fang forged by the Wanderer, so only Azura’s bond can open that room. The seventh bedroom is yours now, along with everything in it.”
If Simon’s jaw wasn’t hanging open, it was only because he was too stunned to do more than freeze. The sword he had just received was probably worth more than everything in his house in the village had been, and ordinarily he would have been too shocked to even accept. But he had expected to earn one of the thirteen Fangs, if not Azura, so that hadn’t come as much of a surprise. The bedroom was something else entirely. It was twice as big as his house, and a thousand times better appointed. Even sleeping on the floor next to the bed for a few months had been more comfort than Simon had ever expected. To have the whole room to himself was beyond imagining.
Weakly, Simon said, “But it’s bigger than my whole house.” It was the closest he could come to a protest.
One corner of Kai’s mouth twitched up, and it looked like he was about to laugh. “Not anymore.” He nodded towards the open Gate. “Now your House is much bigger.”
To his shame, Simon almost choked up. Somehow the otherworldly powers of a Traveler didn’t seem as great a gift as somewhere to stay.
“I’ve got other business to see to,” Kai said, “and so do you. So listen close, little mouse, and perhaps you won’t get eaten up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“First, each of the swords comes with an advisor. Someone to guide you, to teach you, to help you in battle. You met Hariman, didn’t you?”
It took Simon a second to recognize the name of Denner’s talking book. He nodded.
“And, of course, you’ve seen mine.” He gestured to the doll lying on the crate, and sadness passed over his face again. “My lovely little ones. I will miss them so. They’re so much better than...”
His voice trailed off. Simon glanced back at the doll, remembering all those haunting whispers at odd times. Maybe those had been, as he had once suspected, the dolls communicating with Kai. Giving him advice?
Of course, Kai still might be insane. He had to keep reminding himself of that.
“Now,” Kai said, “a warning.” He held up the back of his hand, and it took Simon a second to recognize the mark on the back of Kai’s hand: a single link of chain, written in shadow.
“I keep my chains under control,” Kai said. “The more you use your powers—and the deeper you draw on Valinhall—the more the chains will grow. The longer you resist, the more the chains shrink. Right now they will grow quickly, and they will vanish quickly. This will not always be the case.”
Kai’s voice got quiet, and he stared at the back of his hand. “Do not let the chains cover your body,” he said.
“What? Why?” Simon asked, shaken. The chains were already up past his elbows; how much longer did he have? “What will happen if they do?”
“Incarnation,” Kai responded. “Later you should ask the dolls—we are running out of time.”
Simon glanced nervously down at his arms.
“One final thing,” Kai said, and his voice was strong again. “The children you saved. You know they are Damascan?”
Simon shrugged, uncomfortable. “It’s not so rare. Back home, we all thought Leah’s father must be Damascan, because her eyes were blue. And Alin’s family was supposed to have a touch of it, way back.”
“I do not accuse you, little mouse. You did a good thing. But this family has at least one soldier with them.”
Simon thought of the man with the iron-gray hair. He nodded.
“One soldier, and enough wagons to supply many more,” Kai said. “Why do five people need four wagons? And since you fell asleep, the wagons have been moving. Back toward Myria. Why would they be doing that, I wonder?”
Simon could think of no response. He had felt safe sleeping here, but now he wondered if he was in hostile country after all.
Kai walked through the Gate, still talking. “Troubling questions. I suggest you leave as soon as you can. Nothing good can come of staying here.”
“I’ll be going to Bel Calem,” Simon said. “I’ve got to get everyone out.”
“You’ve slept a long time, boy,” Kai responded. “Nine days left until midsummer. Tomorrow, the sacrifices will begin.”
The Gate was closing now, reversing the direction in which Simon had carved it. The hole slid over Kai’s feet, his shins, steadily closing him inside the House.
“Master, you won’t have your sword anymore. Won’t you need one?”
Kai cocked his head. “Azura has always belonged to another. I was only borrowing her for a pleasant while. But now,” his face turned grim, “now I have to get my sword back.”
The opening was only about as big as a window now, and through it Simon saw the older man turn on his heel and walk deeper into Valinhall. Without looking back, Kai waved one hand in the air, a gesture of farewell.
And the Gate winked shut.
***
The old man’s name was Boez, and he screamed her name as Malachi’s soldiers dragged him away. He reached out a hand, at the last instant, as though he expected her to save him.
Leah turned her face away, tasting bile.
“Don’t tell me you’ve developed a tender stomach now, of all times,” Malachi said. He himself sat across from her, the folding table between them covered in a neat white tablecloth. Breakfast sat before them: sliced bread, tea, a selection of local fruits. Malachi speared a fig on a small two-tined fork, lifting it to his mouth and chewing with obvious pleasure.
Boez’s scream, muffled by the wall between them, made her stomach twist again.
“I find that the wails of the damned make a poor appetizer,” Leah replied. Her plate was clean, and as far as she was concerned it would remain that way.
