The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (10 page)

The Eldest twisted his sword to catch the light.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Truly the Master’s finest work. He will lead Valinhall to glory once again…once he has this back.”

Kai cried out, but it wasn’t enough to stop the Eldest from turning and hurling the Dragon’s Fang at the Crimson Tree.

The gold-and-silver sword flashed as it spun, end over end, before stabbing itself into the center of the tree. It landed right in the middle of the scar, in the long crack that ran through the Tree’s flesh.

Kai only thought he had heard the Tree scream before. This time, it
howled
, and the earth buckled under its fury. Even some of the Nye were tossed from their feet. Kai was lifted off the ground and slammed back down, the chains stabbing into his flesh, but he barely noticed. The agony of the Hanging Tree tore at his mind, shredding his mind like knives through his brain. The Tree’s scream was silent, but he felt it like red-hot ants running in his blood.

Then the scream stopped. At the center of Latari Forest, the Hanging Tree died.

For a moment there was only silence. No living thing in the entire forest made a sound. Each of the Nye turned their empty hood to face the pile of wood that had once been a tree from Ragnarus. Kai started to wonder if he could, perhaps, wriggle free while their attention was elsewhere. If he stayed where he was, he would surely die.

Then, a crack like a lightning strike. The crimson Tree split completely down the middle, and Mithra tumbled free to land on the grass. Each half of the blood-red trunk split, falling away from each other.

A man rose from the earth beneath the broken Tree.

He was covered entirely in dirt and dust. It made sense; he had been buried for almost twenty-five years. He stood, brushing a hand over his bald head, scraping dirt from his eyes. His shirt crumbled off as he stood up, though enough of his pants remained to account for decency.

It’s amazing,
Kai thought,
the things you notice before you die.

The man stepped forward, out of the remains of the Tree. The Eldest went to one knee in front of him, and the Nye all followed suit as one, kneeling before their leader.

He continued brushing the dust from his skin, revealing black marks on his skin. Black marks like tattoos, like the shadows left by chains, like the marks on Kai’s own arms. Only, on this man, the shadow-chains traveled up his arms, spiraling around his shoulders, wrapping around his torso, twisting around his legs. Links of chain wound around his neck, traveling up his face in a bizarre mask, covering his head like hair.

The Wanderer opened his eyes, and they were the same that had haunted Kai’s nightmares for half his life: they had no whites, only darkness all around. His irises were a pure metallic silver, like the steel of a Dragon’s Fang.

Valin, the Wanderer, the Incarnation of Valinhall, reached down and picked up his sword.

“Ka’nie’ka, my friend,” Valin said. The voice was the same as Kai remembered from his childhood, still warm and firm at the same time.

The Eldest stood, but he kept his hood bowed. “It has been too long, Master.”

Valin nodded, smiling a little. “It has. I have spent far too many years dreaming, it seems.”
 

Then he pointed to Kai with Mithra’s tip. “Let him go.”

The Eldest hesitated, but not the other Nye. They swarmed over Kai in a flutter of cloth and blurred motion, and when they withdrew, not a link of chain remained. The sensation left Kai feeling dizzy; it felt not unlike having his clothes torn off by a hurricane while leaving his skin untouched.

 
Kai scrambled to his feet, still awash in too many emotions to name. He was terrified for his life, which was as it should be. But he had not expected to feel so glad to see his mentor again. And he thought he had buried his rage, his hunger for vengeance at the one who had killed his brothers and sisters. He had thought that particular emotion conquered years before, but there it was, resurrected with the father who had slaughtered so many of his adopted children.

Valin levered Mithra up and leaned it against his shoulder in a gesture so familiar that it brought an ache to Kai’s heart. He gave Kai a crooked grin. “You’re looking old, Kai. How long has it been?”

“Almost twenty-five years,” Kai whispered.

Valin’s black-and-silver eyes widened. “Wow. In that case, you’re looking good. How goes the war against Damasca? I’m sure you guys had it rough without me around.”

Kai’s throat went dry. “Zakareth the Sixth remains on the throne.”

“The Sixth? I remember the Fifth.” Confusion darkened Valin’s features, but then he brightened. “Hold on. You mean the one who sealed me here. The Ragnarus Traveler with the red eye.”

Kai nodded.

“I admit, Kai, I’m a little hurt. Twenty-five years, and you
still
haven’t avenged me? I would have thought Indirial, at least…”

Valin trailed off and he stared into the distance, lost in the past. “No, wait. Indirial, he…he fought me. He sealed me.” Valin’s face contorted with rage. “He stood with the Damascans. Even Indirial, of all people! I thought he would be with me to the last.”

Around Valin, the grass began to shrivel and curl, until it looked like a tightly woven carpet of green.

In reality, Kai knew, it
was
a carpet.

Behind the Incarnation, the brown slivers of the dead Hanging Tree merged together, flowing into one another until they wove into a rough, splintery wicker-back chair.

Incarnations warped the world around them, reforming reality. Twisting it. The longer they stayed in one place, the more the world would transform in the image of the Incarnation’s Territory. In this case, he was turning this world into Valinhall simply by standing there.

Kai glanced back, over his shoulder, at the shrinking Gate. His heart sank. It was only as big across as his head. He would never be able to squeeze through. There were other ways, of course, but he needed Valin distracted.

The Eldest cleared his throat. “Pardon, Master. Indirial was not the only one to oppose you that day.” His hood turned to face Kai.

Valin shook his head like a dog shaking off water. “No, Kai stood with me. He fought…he fought Indirial. I remember that. But then…wait. No, he
was
there. Kai, you were there. You were there when they sealed me!”

At the end, Valin’s voice rose, and an inhuman ring entered his voice, like steel on steel.

“I stood with you until the end,” Kai said. “But while I fought Indirial, to keep him from killing you, you carved your way through Valinhall. Eight children, you raised and murdered.” His voice broke. Their faces swam in front of him even now, children raised as his brothers and sisters. Murdered by the man they called their father.

Valin shook his head, smiling patiently. “No, Kai, no. I tested them. You have to earn your power in Valinhall. It’s the law of our world. Denner and Kathrin passed my test, so I had them healed. They are my true children, like you and Indirial. The others…well. I spared them a worse death.”

The old, familiar rage rose up in Kai again, and he met his mentor’s nightmare eyes. “You lost control. You’ve become an Incarnation, Valin. You’re a monster.”

Valin met Kai’s eyes for a moment longer, and then he nodded. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Kai. You were almost worthy to succeed me.” Then something occurred to him, and he looked down at Mithra. “As a matter of fact, you earned this, didn’t you?”

He flipped the sword over to Kai. It spun through the air and landed point-down, stabbing into the grass.

Valin held out a hand, and an enormous steel claymore flashed into his grip.

“I need that sword, Kai,” he said, his tone matter-of-face. “But I’m no thief. If I want it, I have to earn it back.”

Behind him, a sapling turned into a coat-rack.

Kai wrapped his hand around Mithra’s hilt, but he didn’t pull it out. His steel had not quite recovered, while Valin had his full strength to draw upon. If they fought now, Kai would die instantly. But what choice did he have?

Mentally, he focused on the image of the little quicksilver vial that he had once received from Benson. He pictured its shape, its color, the feel of the cold power rushing along his bones. Then he went deeper.

He saw Benson again, sitting on his throne in Valinhall’s blue-lit basement. The skeleton leaned forward.

“Your steel’s run out, Kai. Nothing I can do to help that.” The skeleton’s blue-flame eye narrowed, as though he were focusing on something. “Hang on. What’s got ahold of you?”

The Wanderer
, Kai sent. He pushed his thoughts forward, focusing on Benson as he always had on his dolls.

The steel skeleton’s eye widened. “I’ll see what I can do, kid. Just try to hold on.”

The vision of the basement blew apart, replaced by the Latari clearing. The Nye stood apart, leaving Valin and Kai enough room to swing their huge blades. Valin stood, his chain-marked body angled and waiting for Kai.

“Well, Kai?” Valin said. “I’ve been here twenty-five years, I’m not waiting another—“

Steel flooded into Kai in a rushing waterfall of ice, and he rushed forward. On the way, he called every power he thought would help: the stone amulet, armoring his skin; the vial of liquid gold, flooding cheery warmth through his body and lending him new vitality; the iron scroll, granting him more knowledge of combat and tactics than he could have earned in one lifetime.
 

It all blasted through him in a river of strength and power, and he channeled it all into his attacks.

Pale blue light flickered through Valin’s skin, as he called one of the powers to which Kai did not have access: essence of the Nye.

Valin stepped to one side, and Kai’s strike missed him by a hair’s breadth. Kai turned his stroke into a stab, which Valin batted aside with his own blade. He let out a blistering three-part combination, but Valin turned every attack. Once, he slapped Mithra aside with the palm of his hand.

Kai finished with a downward stroke of his Dragon’s Fang, putting all his steel strength into the blow. Valin caught the blow on his own sword and held it off with one hand.

With every bit of strength he could muster or call, Kai pushed his sword down toward Valin’s head. But, one-handed, the Valinhall Incarnation was still stronger.

Valin pushed Kai’s blade aside.

“You’re not bad, Kai,” Valin said. “But you don’t have the full power of Valinhall. My turn.”

Then he attacked.
 

Kai could barely see the blows, let alone turn them aside. He met a few using nothing more than his knowledge of Valin’s attack patterns, and some of the other strikes didn’t land firmly enough to penetrate his stone-hard skin.

With his dolls, maybe he could have countered Valin’s attacks. The Valinhall Incarnation had almost unlimited strength, speed, and endurance, but Otoku or Gloria could have warned him of Valin’s strikes before they landed. Without their advice, he just wasn’t fast enough.

Valin drew a line of blood down Kai’s cheek, his right arm, his hip, and his left leg. Kai ignored the pain, drawing on the power of the ice dagger from the winter garden. It numbed the wounds, kept him fighting, even as his other powers kept him on his feet.

Finally, one of Valin’s blows met Mithra near the hilt. Kai’s palms rung as though he had held them against a struck bell, and the Dragon’s Fang fell to the grass.

Valin scooped up his sword. He sighed in contentment. “Much better,” he said. The claymore vanished.

Kai backed up a few steps, as his former master got the feel of his old sword. He only had one power left in his arsenal that might be of any use to him at all. He continued creeping backwards, his eyes fixed on Valin.

The Wanderer turned his metallic eyes to Kai. “You have done well, Kai. I am proud to call you my student. But you might warn the Damascans before I can finish what I started.”

He raised Mithra’s silver-and-gold blade. “Good-bye,” Valin said.

Kai reached into Valinhall and called the black gauntlet.

Valin rushed forward in a blur of flashing steel, but the dark metal gauntlet shimmered as it vanished from Valinhall and appeared on Kai’s left hand. It was heavy, spiked, and tipped on each finger with claws. Not something he would normally wear when fighting.

The knowledge of the iron scroll warned Kai that Valin would attack his neck, so he spun around as he dropped to one knee. Mithra sliced through the air above him.

Kai reached up with his left hand, gripping the Valinhall Gate with his taloned gauntlet. The portal was now only the size of a grape.

Kai drew the gauntlet down, tearing a ragged hole in the world.

The black gauntlet was difficult and time-consuming to earn, but it was the Valinhall gatecrawler: a device that could tear closing or recently closed Gates back open. It was the only way Kai knew of to follow a Traveler into a foreign Territory, but he had never used it to open his own. In theory, it should work the same way.

And now he had proved that theory to himself. He knelt before a Valinhall Gate, full-sized if a bit more ragged around the edges than usual.

Kai threw himself into the entry hall, just as Valin’s sword came down again. He felt a line of fire against his back, but he cleared the portal.

Valin stood at the edge of the Gate, staring into the Territory he had created.

“Come on in, master,” Kai taunted. “I’m wide open.” He brushed white hair out of his eyes, and was startled to find the hair warm and sticky with blood.

Valin smiled a little, but he pulled Mithra back. There was a sound like a distant horn, and the blade began to vibrate as though Kai were seeing the sword through a heat haze.
 

“Sorry, Kai,” Valin said. “I’ll come home someday. But until then, I’ve got work to do.”

He swept the shivering Dragon’s Fang across the Gate, and the Gate blew away like dandelion fluff in a high wind.

Kai smiled to himself.
I won,
he thought.
I survived.

Then he passed out in a pool of his own blood.