House of Blades (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (25 page)

Something stumbled out of the tunnel. It looked like a cousin to the mantis-thing Simon had killed earlier, all insectile grace and overlapping stony plates. One of its claws was missing, and it oozed ichor.

Andra screamed, and Simon decided it was time to go. He scooped her up and jumped off the ledge, down into the bowl below.

The Nye essence and liquid strength were fading away, but there was enough of each left that he had no trouble landing on the rough, sloped stone surface. He would just have to make it out before his powers left him entirely.

Still carrying Andra, Simon leaped over the body of the nearest worm, clearing it in a single bound. No problem so far, and if he hurried, he should be able to get Andra through the hole in the roof before his powers faded again.

Simon landed on the other side of the sleeping worm. And stared straight into burning eyes.

Somehow the rock-worm’s stony face registered surprise. The granite eyelids widened, and its flap of a mouth opened and closed soundlessly. For a second, Simon was too stunned to move. Some part of him wondered whether, if he kept his gaze still enough, the worm might stay where it was.

Trying to maintain eye contact, Simon edged slowly to one side. Maybe he could sneak around the thing, get far enough away to escape while it was confused. He slid another step.

In his arms, Andra let out a shuddering little squeak of fear.

The worm’s searing blue eyes, each the size of Simon’s two hands together, flicked down to Andra, then back up to Simon. They flared bright, and the rock-worm tossed its head back, letting out a cry halfway between a lion’s roar and a trumpet call.

The nest of giant, tangled worms began to writhe. Glowing eyes lifted above the mass as dozens of other rock-worms woke. From the distant corners of the cave, more deafening cries answered the first.

Simon tried very hard not to scream and run.

The closest rock-worm plunged its head at Simon, mouth gaping wide. It was filled with teeth like sharp chips of obsidian. Simon barely had time to duck out of the way, shifting Andra under his left arm as he did so. He should have been faster than that; with the Nye essence in him, it should have looked like the worm was striking through cool honey. He scrambled to hold the glowing essence in him, but it was like trying to hold steam in his fingertips. It was sliding away from him, no matter what he did. And he thought he could feel Andra growing heavier by the second; the quicksilver strength must be draining as well.

Simon turned and ran for the exit. Andra screamed something from under his arm, but the noise of the worms around him was far too loud. He ignored her; if he didn’t make it out of the cave before his powers faded, they were both dead. But running through a room full of giant sleeping rock-worms was one thing, and doing it when they were all awake and thirsty for blood was something else entirely.

A flick of a boulder-sized tail clipped his shoulder, and he stumbled forward in between three enormous heads. They snapped at him with mouths big enough to consume his ribs in a single bite. He managed to stab one in the eye and dodge the second, but the third got a mouthful of Andra’s hair. She screamed as the worm pulled her by the hair, and slid out of Simon’s grip. Simon lunged for her, but the worm he’d wounded went into a frenzy. Maddened with pain and anger, it flailed about, slamming into Simon with its body and bringing its teeth down on Simon’s leg.

It was like someone had wrapped his leg in a blanket of rusty nails and then squeezed tight. Pain flashed, white and hot, and he screamed. The worm shook its head like a dog shaking a rabbit, and the rusty blades sliced through skin and muscle.

Somewhere inside, Simon realized that he was about to die. He and Andra were both about to be eaten. He had never experienced the sheer surge of primal, instinctive terror that thought inspired in him. When he had thought Kai or Chaka was about to kill him, at least he would have died clean; one thrust through the heart, followed by whatever came next. This would be neither clean nor merciful, torn apart by monsters under the earth.

And Simon refused to allow it to happen. He reached for strength, reached deeper than he ever had before. He stretched his mind out to Valinhall, to the steel skeleton in the depths of the blue-lit basement.

Time slowed. The ring of steel on steel drowned out all other sounds: the sound of Benson clapping.

“Not bad, boy,” the skeleton said. “I’m game. Now let’s see what you can do.”

Icy cold flowed into Simon’s veins, not in a smooth trickle, but in a raging torrent that seemed to freeze him from the inside out. It did nothing to soothe the pain, but Simon found that almost didn’t matter.

He let his sword fall, grabbing the rock-worm’s jaws in both hands. Then he pried his leg out with main strength.

The worm tried to fight, but it felt like a temperamental dog instead of a rampaging monster. Simon hopped away from its head—careful to avoid landing on his injured leg—and scooped up his sword. One of the other rock-worms struck at him, but he drove his sword so deeply that it must have pierced the brain; the creature simply shuddered and went limp down its whole length, the light in its remaining eye fading. Glowing blue fluid leaked down Simon’s blade. The injured worm struck again, and Simon drove his sword up, under the thing’s chin, in between its head and body where the armor was weak.

Simon felt the blade shatter, even as gallons of stinking blood poured down from the wound. He let the sword go and glanced around for Andra. The Nye essence had faded, but it barely mattered to Simon. With this much power rolling through him, he felt invincible.

 
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 failed. 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.