The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (16 page)

Simon gave Alin a blank stare.

“The…little acorn thing.”

“Oh, right.” Simon rummaged around in one pocket and pulled out the acorn in its tiny gold cage.

Alin pointed to the top, at a little knob on top of the birdcage. “If something happens to you, especially if the Grandmasters do something, turn that top part to the right. Wherever I am, it will let me know that you need help, and I’ll come as soon as I can.”

If Simon found himself in danger so severe that he couldn’t fight his way free, he wasn’t likely to have enough time to pull out the little birdcage, call Alin, and then wait until Alin got there. But he appreciated the thought. “Thank you, Alin.”

He flashed Simon a smile. “Don’t mention it. You saved my life once, and I look forward to repaying the favor.”

Then he hurried off down the hallway, catching up with the Avernus Traveler who had apparently slowed her pace to wait for him.

As Simon entered his room, he shook his head. Alin was getting too used to life here in Enosh, where every random passerby treated him like royalty. The next time he tried to leave, his head wouldn’t fit through the gate.

Simon crossed the floor, noting with irritation how long it took him. Who needed this much space in a bedroom, anyway? Not him. He summoned Azura—he had plenty of room for the sword’s seven-foot length—and began the process of cutting open a Valinhall Gate.

He’d had enough of Enosh for the moment. Maybe he could spend the next few days relaxing inside the House, where everything was only trying to kill him.

***

When most of the other Grandmasters had finally wandered out of the council room, Grandmaster Naraka ordered the doors shut. The two servants bowed and slipped out of the room, pulling the doors shut behind them. That left Naraka alone with the room’s only other occupant: Grandmaster Endross.

He was young, dark, and strong, consumed by the typical Endross obsession with combat strength. For a few moments during the meeting, Naraka had wondered whether she would have to summon restraints to keep him off the Valinhall boy.

Not that she would have minded seeing Grandmaster Endross send Simon back to the Latari Forest in a thousand smoking chunks, but there should be no fighting in the Grandmasters’ council chambers. The law forbade it.

“What did you want with me, Endross?” Naraka asked.

Grandmaster Endross stared at her for a moment, his left hand resting on one of his swords. Naraka adjusted her red spectacles to cover the motion of her right hand, which had been marked in her Territory decades ago. If Endross acted too aggressive, she could put him in his place with one more wave of her hand.

She did not expect an attack from Grandmaster Endross—she had defeated his predecessor years ago, and he knew it—but it was best to be cautious. Practically every Endross she’d ever met was dangerously unpredictable.

Finally, Endross took his hand from his sword and gave her the shadow of a smile. “Nothing threatening, Grandmaster Naraka. I only wished to discuss Simon, son of Kalman. With the Valinhall Incarnation loose, he can’t be trusted.”

“Eliadel trusts him,” Naraka pointed out. “More importantly, his mother was killed by a Damascan Traveler. From what I’ve heard, he’s full of rage. He has apparently killed more Damascan Travelers than any one of us.”

She had intended that as a barb, and Endross did not disappoint her.
 

“Not
any
of us,” Endross said forcefully, running his hand along the hilt of his sword. “Besides, he must have been trained by the Dragon Army. Perhaps even by Indirial himself.”

One of Endross’ fists clenched, and Naraka suppressed a smile. He had always wanted to challenge Indirial, even though Naraka was privately certain that the Overlord would carve Grandmaster Endross like a ham.

“I remember a time when the Dragon Army was our strongest ally,” Naraka said.

“But that was a long time ago,” Endross responded.

“So it was.” Before they had killed her granddaughter.
 

“And as for Simon…” Endross shook his head. “I’m not certain he’s as set against Damasca as he pretends to be. He spoke with Malachi before Alin arrived, and supposedly fought with him. But if that’s true, why were they both still alive when Eliadel arrived?”

“Not
everyone
duels to the death every time, Endross,” Naraka said. Privately, though, she had considered the same thoughts.

Grandmaster Endross took an angry step forward, looming over Naraka in what he no doubt imagined was a threatening manner. “You take this too lightly, Naraka,” he said.

Naraka sighed and waved him away. “Settle down, child. I happen to agree with you.”

Endross’ face barely changed, but he blinked expressively. “You do?”

“Simon is not bound to us,” she said. Not as tightly as Alin was, at any rate. “He is not committed to our cause, and he has dangerously high influence over our Eliadel. We need him either securely on our side, or safely dead.”

She wasn’t sure which of those options she preferred. Naraka would relish the thought of the Dragon Army getting what it deserved, but she wasn’t convinced Simon himself had earned a death sentence. Well, he would have to prove it.

Endross’ dark face almost lit up. “In that case, I would like to be the one to duel him.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Naraka said.

“Please, I would be happy to test myself—”

“I said that won’t be necessary, boy,” Naraka snapped. She glared at him through her red-tinted glasses. When he finally nodded, she snorted and looked away.

“Besides,” she said, “it’s already taken care of.”

***

Simon drew Azura down the air, the Gate to Valinhall sliding into existence behind it. Whispers slid out from the Gate, tickling his mind with recognition.

Apparently, the dolls had something to complain about.

“I’m coming in right now,” Simon called. “Just wait, I’ll be there in just a minute.”

If anything, the whispering took on an angry tone. Simon kept cutting the Gate, but as the Gate grew larger and more defined, the whispers became clearer. He felt that he could
almost
understand what they had to say. He could even recognize Otoku’s voice; she seemed to be shouting at him, in her way.
 

They’re fighting again,
Simon thought. It had happened before; among more than three dozen dolls, it was probably inevitable that they would disagree every once in a while. This time sounded worse than usual.

Finally, Azura’s tip reached the floor, and the Valinhall Gate bloomed into a wide portrait of the House’s entry hall. Simon had barely a second to take in the red-cushioned furniture, the lights, the mirrors, and the sword racks on the walls, before the urgent whispers of the dolls crashed into his mind.

…kill you!

Run!

Behind you!

…outside the window, you half-wit.

Hurry and dodge!

Hide!

Come inside, Simon, hurry!

That’s what you get for leaving us behind.

Hello, Simon, how are you?

Flee!

It seemed that all of his dolls were speaking at once, each giving him advice that overwhelmed and conflicted with the advice of the others. He stood for a moment, stunned, before the obvious message hit him: he was under attack.

He immediately spun, putting his back to the Valinhall Gate, and surveyed the room. Night had fallen during the meeting with the Grandmasters, and now the room was lit by nothing more than a pair of ordinary lamps. They burned low, keeping most of the room in shadows, but he had just enough light to see.

The bed, tucked into a nook in the corner, seemed undisturbed. The furniture was all in its proper place, and the curtains around the window fluttered in a gentle breeze. He could see most of the room, and he saw nothing suspicious.

Otoku’s voice floated to him through the Gate.
If you’re done having a look around
, she said,
would you come inside? Of course, you might prefer being disemboweled….

A few of her sisters chuckled appreciatively.

Where are they?
Simon sent. He held Azura in both hands, angling it across his body. The point almost scraped the ceiling.

You should listen to us
, Caela said.
Come inside
.

Where?
Simon insisted.

Several dolls sighed.

Angeline spoke, as straightforward and businesslike as always.
They’re climbing up the walls, Simon. They will be inside the window in seconds.

How many?
Simon asked.

Three.

Which is two more than it would take to kill you
, Otoku pointed out.

Simon’s hands tightened on his sword. If the dolls were so worried, then he should be too. They knew what he could handle, and they only wanted him to be safe. The smart thing to do would be to step through the Gate.

On the other hand, he was ready for something to happen. He was sick of failing to conquer the garden room, sick of the Grandmasters, sick of problems he couldn’t solve. A fight would make things simple.

Besides, the Gate was still open. He had an easy way out.

Once, I had a dream that we were bound to someone who actually took our advice,
Lilia said.
Alas, it was only a dream.

Barely a second later, a figure in fluttering dark red clothes leaped in through Simon’s open window. In an instant, Simon took in its alien appearance: it looked like a blend of lizard and man, with pebbled rust-red skin and a long lizard’s tail that stretched out behind it. When it saw Simon, it hissed and flicked its tongue out like a snake, tasting the air. Its fingers were tipped by long claws, which gleamed in the dim lamplight.

The lizard-man wore ornate, multi-layered red clothes stitched with symbols that Simon didn’t recognize. It didn’t attack immediately. Instead, it stepped aside and let a second figure sneak in through the window. This one wore clothes similar to the first, only they were burnt orange instead of red. The third figure wore black. His robes looked like Simon’s cloak, only with no hood and intricate silver script down the fringes.

Simon called steel and essence, letting their cold strength infuse his body. Part of him wanted to charge the creatures immediately, but for safety he should stick with the Gate at his back, and let them come to him.

Why not attack?
Angeline asked.

Strategy,
Simon sent. Otoku and Caela snickered.
Besides,
he said,
maybe they’re not hostile.

All of the dolls started laughing.

Come on, it could happen.

The red-dressed lizard-man’s lips peeled back, revealing dozens of sharp triangular teeth in his flat mouth. “We have come for your blood, Traveler,” the lizard-man said.
 

Yeah, he’s probably friendly,
Otoku said.

“Who sent you?” Simon demanded. He edged backward a little, toward the Gate. The Nye essence slowed the world enough that Simon had to focus to understand the creature’s words, but he had grown better at that over the past weeks. Now he could have a normal conversation with the Nye essence in his lungs, though he still had to focus.

“We are the Gar’rosh,” the orange lizard-man said. “In Naraka, we punish murderers. Only a month past, you slaughtered three Travelers of our Territory.”

“One of those Travelers was known to us,” the Gar’rosh in black put in. That one smiled, showing bloodstained teeth. “We have come to deliver punishment.”

Assassins from Naraka had come to punish him for killing Travelers. That meant they had probably been summoned by Damascan Travelers, though he supposed they might have been able to cross over from Naraka on their own. Why now, though? Were they afraid that he would join with Enosh?

Eyes up front, Simon!
Caela sent.

The red Gar’rosh rushed forward, moving almost as fast as Simon filled with Nye essence. By the time Simon reacted, the creature’s face was a foot from Simon’s chest, its claws spread and needle-sharp.

The Gar’rosh was apparently just as fast as Simon, but the Nye essence granted more gifts than mere speed. Simon’s reactions were more coordinated and graceful under the effects of the essence, and he nimbly dodged to one side, sweeping Azura down at the reptilian assassin. The blade gleamed in the dim light as it rushed down at the lizard-man’s neck, blurring into a sheet of shining silver light.

Upon missing Simon, the assassin in red had stumbled almost into the Valinhall Gate, but had managed to catch itself just in time. Not that it mattered; Simon was about to take the lizard-man’s head from its shoulders.

You should look behind you,
Lilia suggested.

Burning lines scraped across Simon’s ribs and he screamed at the pain, twisting to see what had happened. The Gar’rosh in orange had snuck up behind him, reaching under Simon’s cloak and raking its claws along Simon’s side.

Simon had twisted away so suddenly that his strike missed the lizard in red entirely. Azura slammed into the floor and shattered the tiles.

Jump to the right,
Angeline said.

With all the strength of steel, Simon leaped to his right, black cloak trailing along behind him. He landed all the way across the room, landing at the foot of his bed. He brought Azura up, preparing to attack, but then the black-robed Gar’rosh was right in front of him, its yellow snake eyes inches from his.

It was close. Too close to swing Azura. Tendrils of panic crept up in Simon.

Punch it in the face!
one of the dolls called.

So Simon punched the lizard-man in the face with his off-hand. The assassin fell back, and Simon finally had enough room to use Azura. He stepped forward in a simple thrust, but the other two Gar’rosh had already recovered and were scrambling toward him.

If he impaled the black Gar’rosh, the other two would shred him to pieces with their claws. So he changed tactics. He spun in place, turning his thrust into a sweeping strike that kept the red- and orange-dressed assassins at bay.