City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy)

Home > Other > City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) > Page 5
City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) Page 5

by Wight, Will


  That confrontation had done nothing to add to Leah's mood, though she was most disturbed by the implications of an Incarnation entering Ragnarus. It brought to mind suspicions that she had pushed to the back of her mind for months.

  On a whim, Leah tore open a Gate to Ragnarus there in her tent. The red-edged portal swirled open, a circular entry to the cave outside the Vault itself. One edge of the portal brushed against her camp cot, and the top scraped the tent fabric overhead, but she had enough space to make it work.

  She surveyed the familiar sights: the silver double doors carved with the one-eyed king, the two crimson torches to either side. If she wanted to enter, she would have to press a drop of her blood against the doors, but she left the Vault shut. She couldn’t even bring herself to walk through the Gate.

  A vague sensation had bothered her for two seasons, ever since her father's death. She couldn't quite pin it down, but something had changed in Ragnarus. Leah held a Traveler's bond with two different Territories—the Crystal Fields of Lirial and Ragnarus, the Crimson Vault—and their powers felt very different from one another. Drawing on Lirial felt dusty and cool, like a draft of air blowing from a crypt or a library. Ragnarus, on the other hand, was warm and hungry, as though it begged to be used.

  Seizing Ragnarus for the past six months had felt like clenching a fist around a still-beating heart. It throbbed and moved, as though the entire Territory was dancing to a will other than hers. More tangibly, something was wrong in the Territory itself, physically. She had never seen a living creature native to Ragnarus, but she could hear them often. In the cavern behind her Gate, outside the silver doors of the Vault, one could always hear the sounds: shuffling, hissing, distant growling, occasionally even screams.

  Now? Perfect silence. The one-eyed old man stared at her from his silver doors, and Leah thought she saw the beginnings of a smirk on his frozen lips.

  She had never been comfortable here, but this Territory was hers, in a personal way that Lirial couldn't match. She was one of only a few others who had ever been able to Travel here, and she would never have to worry about being interrupted by someone outside her family. Now, Leah didn't even walk inside. She was too afraid to open the doors. Nothing had ever happened to her in there—she never saw anything unusual—but she sensed something. A quiet amusement, as though the Crimson Vault was laughing at her.

  And now the Helgard Incarnation had escaped into Ragnarus. That suggested that matters were about to get worse. Worse even than six months of hunting down Incarnations that had killed thousands of her people.

  Leah closed her eyes and pressed her hand harder against her forehead. She felt another headache coming on.

  “Knock knock,” a woman's voice came from the tent entrance.

  Seven stones, there's my headache now, Leah thought. Right on time.

  She opened her eyes and summoned a polite smile. “Overlord Feiora, I apologize. I was lost in thought. Please, come in.”

  Overlord Feiora Torannus was a strong-looking woman with a heavy jaw, very short hair, and piercing dark eyes. She walked into the tent as though she meant to fight someone within, and sat in one of Leah's folding camp chairs as though it had personally offended her and she meant to crush it in retaliation.

  Feiora didn't wear the typical buckskin and feathers of her Territory. Leah had never seen her do so. Instead, she wore black pants and shirt, plain and unadorned, with a single bronze-and-pearl pin on her breast to mark her as an Avernus Traveler. Unlike her brother, Lysander, she rarely spent time with other Avernus Travelers. However, that didn't mean she had broken all ties to her Territory: a large raven perched on her shoulder. It made no noise, staring Leah straight in the eyes and remaining completely silent.

  Feiora found Travelers too unpredictable to make valuable allies. She preferred to cultivate contacts among the royal family, other Overlords, and influential citizens. As a result, she was well-liked in certain circles high up in Damascan society. Circles that Leah could not afford to offend.

  Therefore, Leah had no choice but to maintain her alliance with this woman, no matter how much she would rather appoint someone else as an Overlord of Eltarim. The position was typically taken by an Endross Traveler, anyway; Feiora had won the seat through her political connections and sheer determination. No matter Leah's personal feelings about her, Overlord Feiora was an impressive woman. And Leah had sealed her little brother in a coffin of Lirial crystal.

  Leah regretted that more and more each day. She should have killed the man.

  “I hear the mission to neutralize the Helgard Incarnation was a dismal failure,” Feiora said, her tone polite, and her words anything but.

  “I wouldn't say that,” Leah said casually, as though she had overlooked Feiora's complete lack of respect. And basic manners. “We retrieved some critical information, and the Helgard Incarnation is certainly not in play, at least for a short time. We have a reprieve.”

  Feiora's eyebrows raised. “A reprieve? Maybe. I have good news: the second Endross Incarnation has gone quiet.”

  The Overlord certainly didn't sound as if she were delivering good news, and Leah understood why. Sealing Endross back in its Territory would have been cause for celebration, and killing it would still be good news. But this Incarnation had vanished. If it wasn't causing chaos anymore, where had it gone?

  Simon, Indirial, and a contingent of other Travelers led by Leah had taken down the first Endross Incarnation months ago. It had been replaced almost immediately by a second Endross Traveler, almost all of whom were crazy enough to make wonderful Incarnations.

  “How many does that make now?” Leah asked quietly.

  “That depends. If you only consider the ones we saw firsthand, and then vanished afterwards, then at least five.”

  “And if you count all the Incarnations whose whereabouts are currently unknown?”

  “Including Helgard? Eight.”

  Leah's head pounded. She had spent the past six months trying to take care of the Incarnations, and matters had moved much more quickly since she recruited Simon and the other Valinhall Travelers. However, in all that time, she had only successfully sealed the Avernus Incarnation back into its Territory. They had killed the Endross Incarnation, but it was quickly replaced, and they had defeated the Tartarus Incarnation in battle, but it had escaped. No one had heard from it in two months.

  Several others had vanished as Leah was preparing to attack them. The Helgard Incarnation, for instance, had seemed to expect an attack. The Asphodel Incarnation had simply not been there when Leah and her Travelers had arrived. The citizens were highly encouraged by her apparent success rate—they seemed to think that she had driven the Incarnations off singlehandedly. The truth was much worse.

  She had no idea where the Incarnations were.

  Evidence suggested that the Naraka Incarnation had burned much of Bel Calem and Myria, as well as most of the land in between. When the Damascan Travelers had arrived in Myria, the Naraka Incarnation was gone. Several villagers had stories of strange monsters and gold-armored warriors, but their accounts were confused. They seemed to have witnessed a battle between the Naraka Incarnation and dozens of Travelers, but Leah had certainly authorized no such battle. And Enosh would never have mobilized to oppose the Incarnations; it was their fault that the creatures were released in the first place.

  The fact remained, however, that the Naraka Incarnation had been the first to vanish. Then the others, one by one. The Ragnarus Incarnation was presumably still in Cana, since the city was isolated by a barrier of crimson light, but Leah had never seen the creature.

  So all the Incarnations that had been sealed underneath the Hanging Trees, with the sole exception of Avernus, were now missing in action. And Helgard was last seen opening a Gate to Ragnarus.

  Leah didn't like what that suggested.

  “Thank you for the information, Overlord,” Leah said at last. “Return to Eltarim and do what you can to rebuild. I will let you know when w
e have found a way to return to Cana.”

  Feiora glanced at the black bird on her shoulder. “I think I would be more useful here.”

  Leah rubbed her head, the old frustration rising. Did the woman think she was making a suggestion? “Return to your post, Overlord Feiora,” Leah said firmly.

  “We're already shorthanded here,” Feiora responded. “We have to find those Incarnations. You don't have anyone else to unify the Avernus Travelers, so I'll have to take that role myself.”

  “Yes, if only we had another loyal Avernus Overlord here. In his absence, I suppose I will allow you to stay here and perform his duties.” Leah kept her expression clear, but inside she was seething. At least she had managed to remind Feiora about what had happened to her brother.

  The Overlord barely seemed to hear Leah. She was staring at her raven, occasionally muttering something as if in conversation.

  Leah waved to the tent flap. “If that will be all, Overlord, feel free to show yourself out.” She didn’t have time to listen to a Traveler hold a private conversation with her bonded creature.

  Feiora squared her jaw and turned back to Leah. The raven turned at the same time, meeting Leah's eyes again. “Eugan asks me to express his concerns about Alin, son of Torin.”

  Where had that come from? “Alin? As far as I know, he's still in Enosh.”

  And Simon thinks he’s an Incarnation, Leah thought. She had never seen any indication of it—she hadn’t seen Alin flying around blasting people to pieces, in other words—but that would explain why they had heard nothing from Enosh since the Incarnations had been released.

  For the first time, the raven opened its beak and gave a caw. Feiora chuckled. “Eugan says you're holding something back. He’s a perceptive one, but even I figured that one out.”

  “The Overlords know everything about Alin that I do,” Leah said coolly. Not everything I suspect, but everything I know.

  Feiora frowned, still looking at her raven. “I...Eugan made me promise to tell you something. These are his words, not mine, you understand. He says that you're adrift and sadly lacking in allies. 'You're lost on the wind and your flock is too small,' is actually how he said it. He has suggested that you need an advisor.”

  The Overlord shrugged the shoulder without a bird on it, seemingly as lost as Leah felt. “You should visit the Corvinus tribe in Avernus. I suspect you'd find it worthwhile. That's all he said, and may Naraka take me if I know why.”

  Was that a trap? Leah couldn’t draw on her powers fully in a foreign Territory; did Feiora want Leah in Avernus so that she would be weaker, and the Overlord could make some kind of a hostile move? Even if the suggestion was made in good faith, how could Leah justify the time it would take to Travel through Avernus?

  Leah was still considering how to respond when the tent flap opened and one of her Tartarus guards poked his head inside.

  “I'm sorry to bother you, Your Majesty, Overlord. But there's a woman there who says she knows you. She claims to have information regarding the current situation in Enosh.”

  Leah shared a glance with Overlord Feiora, and they rose to their feet at the same time. Eugan squawked, and Feiora nodded.

  “He says to be careful with this woman,” she translated. “She's old and dangerous.”

  Then, at Leah's gestured command, the visitor entered the tent. She was a shriveled old woman with straggly white hair and a pair of cracked red spectacles. She wore a patched, stained robe that might once have been red, and a ragged pink scar wrapped her one remaining wrist like a scarred bracelet. Her right arm ended in a smooth stump. Leah couldn't see from her perspective, but she knew that on this woman's palm lay a Naraka Traveler's brand. The guards had known to check, which was why they had tied her arms behind her with a short length of ragged rope.

  “State your name and business, woman,” Feiora said.

  Leah held up a hand. “That won't be necessary, Overlord Feiora. Please, allow me to introduce Grandmaster Naraka.”

  Feiora’s eyes narrowed, and she rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. On her shoulder, Eugan squawked.

  The Grandmaster grinned, revealing gaps in her teeth. “So you're the Queen of Damasca? I never would have thought. Grandmaster Lirial thought you were nothing more than a scared natural Traveler from the villages, but I had my suspicions that you were a spy for one of the Overlords. Looks like we were both wrong, eh?”

  In Enosh, Grandmaster Naraka had always scared Leah. She could admit that now, if only to herself. But here, in Leah’s tent, wearing clothes that looked like they had been stolen from a beggar, the Grandmaster was anything but intimidating.

  “The past few months have clearly not been kind to you, Grandmaster,” Leah said. “But things can always get worse.”

  “As I said, I bring you news of the current state of affairs in Enosh,” Grandmaster Naraka said, seemingly unfazed. “We have been occupied by an invading force.”

  Leah rubbed one temple. She would rather send a Grandmaster to the executioner's block than suffer unfounded accusations from her. “I am afraid you’re mistaken. We have sent no force to Enosh.”

  Naraka chuckled humorlessly. “Not you. We're occupied by the Elysian Incarnation.”

  Overlord Feiora turned to look at Leah, and her raven began to chuckle.

  Alin, Leah thought. Her head hurt worse than ever.

  ***

  Simon swept Azura in an arc, stepping forward as he did. The blade sank into a standing column of thick stone, creating a single crack in the rock.

  A distant chuckle filled the courtyard of Valinhall.

  “Not there...” Makko taunted. “Almost...”

  The courtyard was a vast plain of smooth square tiles in a uniform gray. The columns stood in rigid, even rows all throughout the room, made of the same gray stone as the floor. The whole room, like a handful of others in Valinhall, served no purpose that Simon could tell. You could march an army through this room, but how would you get them here? Most of the House's other rooms had small, tight corridors. What did all this empty space accomplish?

  This room produced nothing, it did nothing, and it seemed like a complete waste. Why was he spending his time doing this?

  Don't whine, Caela said. It doesn't suit you. I told you, patience is the way through the courtyard.

  The light in this room was provided by small, yellow-white candle flames that whirled around the low ceiling like lost fireflies. As a result, shadows were his constant companions in this test. They danced and shifted all around the room, cast by columns and guttering flames.

  Simon thought he saw a flicker of movement to his left, and drew a weighted hatchet he had brought from the armory. He hurled it left-handed and ran after it, on the chance that he had actually struck the room's guardian.

  Nothing. The hatchet's blade rang against plain stone.

  “Not there...” Makko's voice drifted over to him. “Behind you...”

  Simon spun around, Azura held at the ready. He saw nothing.

  The other way! Caela shouted in his mind. Another lance of pain shot up his half-healed leg as Makko sank her teeth into his thigh.

  The miraculous healing powers of the Valinhall pool had restored the wound enough so that he felt no pain walking on the leg, only a little tightness. But he still needed time before he was fully healed, and now this guardian insisted on tearing open his old wounds. Thanks to her and her useless room, he would take even longer to recover.

  Simon kicked back, his heel connecting with something that felt like kicking a down-stuffed pillow. He turned to see Makko rising into the air: a wolf, but a wolf knitted out of a dozen different colors of yarn. Her eyes were smooth black pebbles, her snout a twisting nest of red, green, blue, yellow, and purple threads. Her teeth, now stained with his blood, looked like knitting needles made of smooth bone.

  He rarely caught a glimpse of Makko, so he had to take this opportunity. He raised Azura, preparing to bring it down on the guardian's back.

  His s
teel ran out.

  His muscles sagged, feeling indescribably weak when restored to their natural strength. Azura suddenly weighed five times as much, and sagged in his hand. He managed to lower the sword without dropping it.

  Makko vanished behind a column with a flash of her multi-colored tail, still chuckling. “A hunt takes patience...Next time, remember...”

  Then she was silent.

  Simon kicked his blade in sheer frustration, sending it clattering across the tiles.

  You shouldn't do that, Caela sent, in the smug tones of an older child lording her knowledge over a younger. She won't like it.

  Who? Makko?

  Caela let out an exasperated sigh. Not Makko. Azura.

  Simon pulled the doll out of his cloak pocket, looking her in the eye. Her curling blond hair rested beneath a powder blue bonnet, and she wore a frilly dress in a matching shade. She had the same self-satisfied expression as always. “The sword can't talk,” he said. “It's only a sword. It would have said something by now.”

  You're speaking out loud again, Caela reminded him.

  Simon gave a mental sigh. Fine. But I've used Azura for a long time now. If it could talk, I would know.

  Just because someone doesn’t talk doesn't mean she doesn’t listen.

  Simon eyed his sword, shining in the yellow candlelight. The dolls had lied to him before, as part of a series of pranks, and they didn't know everything. They could be wrong as easily as he could. But this seemed like something they would know.

  A shadow detached itself from the pools of darkness behind one of the columns. The Eldest Nye stepped into view, his black outer cloak faded to a dark gray. Unlike most of the Nye, who stood hood-and-shoulders taller than Simon, the Eldest only reached Simon's shoulder. He was hunched with age, as though he should be bent over a cane, but he glided over the tiles like he moved on wheels instead of legs. If he had hands—Simon had never seen them—they were well hidden in voluminous sleeves that draped down almost to the ground.

 

‹ Prev