The Crimson Vault Part 26

Simon shut up before he said something he would really regret. Or something that would draw the attention of Leah's red-eyed father and his fast-as-lightning spear.

Full of nauseating, unpleasant emotions, and bleeding or aching at every point on his body, Simon stepped through the Valinhall Gate and went home.

Leah sat on the wooden bench for longer than she probably should have, thinking up all the clever things that she should have said. They all, for some reason, centered on her superior education, or superior upbringing, or superior experience.

For a moment she wished she were back in the village, where they were both on equal footing. That was foolish, but she couldn't help it.

The real problem was that he had a right to be angry. It burned her to admit it, but she would have felt the same in his situation.

You were prepared for this, she told herself. That's the price of a long-term mission: you have to lie to everyone.

It was true. She had thought herself prepared. Her brothers and sisters had lied to her and tried to manipulate her since before she was old enough to read, and she was expected to do the same. That was just how life was.

Except, in Myria, it wasn't. Simon was the same person to her as he was to Alin, or to any of the others in the village. He had risked his life on a quest that he thought would save her, with nothing to gain. Alin had also tried to save her, that was true, but Alin she could understand. He craved the light. He wanted recognition, hers in particular. She understood that, and could even respect it to a degree: at least he worked hard to earn his good reputation.

But Simon? Simon had worked for months to save people with no connection, with no possibility of reward. And she had played him like a piece on a board.

Once, that thought wouldn't have bothered her. She was supposed to be the one controlling people; it was either that, or accept getting controlled in return. Now, though, it ate at her inside.

She had hoped to keep her ident.i.ty secret for as long as she could, maybe faking her death to escape from Enosh. Now that was no longer an option, so was there any way she could repair her relations.h.i.+p with Simon? Maybe she could make him understand her motivations. Surely he would understand if she simply explained. No, he was the type who would appreciate action. Perhaps she could do something to show him that she wasn't so bad after all, that she did have a life outside of her family's lies.

Leah was surprised to realize that she even cared.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:.

THE FROZEN HORN.

358th Year of the Damascan Calendar 24th Year in the Reign of King Zakareth VI 32 Days After Midsummer 13 Days Until Summer's End Simon left his cloak behind as he walked through the stone door to the rain garden. He carried Caela and Azura together, one in each hand, and stared ahead at the lush, leafy greenery that awaited him.

He had been healed completely by the pool, and he had spent most of the time after his battle with Valin wandering mindlessly around the House. He had barely seen any of the Agnos family in the day or two since he had arrived; he had just one glimpse of Andra, waving to him from down a hallway, before she scurried into a bedroom and vanished.

Simon wasn't entirely sure how they could all hide from him, since the House*while incomprehensibly vast*really only had a few rooms that they could all enter, but apparently they had found the few rooms where they could go and Simon could not.

That meant, unfortunately, that he had a lot of time to think. Mostly, he thought about the upcoming battle, and what his role was supposed to be.

He had seen Indirial briefly, hobbling down the hall to take another dip in the healing pool.

"You did a good job," Indirial had said. "We'll need you in what's coming." Then he had disappeared into the bathroom. The pool had been unable to heal all of his internal injuries with only one session, so the Overlord apparently came back for several baths per day. But he spent the rest of his time outside the Territory, meeting with the King, organizing the Damascan war.

Once again, Simon saw Valin's attack in his mind's eye. Indirial had fought the Incarnation evenly for a while, and afterwards, even managed to injure him. What had Simon done? Distracted him, at best.

Simon took a deep breath of the rain garden's humid air and leaned down, placing Caela on the stone tiles at the base of the door. She didn't say a word.

Stepping forward onto the gra.s.s, he leaned his weight forward, crouching on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, and angled Azura to match the gap in the eternal drumming rain. When the dead s.p.a.ce abruptly s.h.i.+fted ahead, he moved with it.

Simon stepped forward, falling into the next stance. Azura's tip sliced a petal off a nearby flower, but since it didn't disturb the rain, Simon barely noticed.

Alin had found his place, working for Enosh. They had practically conscripted him, but he seemed happy there, and Simon didn't blame him. Leah, of course, had a place in Damasca. A rich, powerful, and successful place, in a position of great authority, which still seemed somehow unfair to Simon. He still thought of Leah as just another villager, and no matter how he tried to remind himself that she had been born into her status, he still remained somehow unconvinced.

Anyway, Leah and Alin had their places. And Simon would stand against Valin again, he knew that. The other Valinhall Travelers would expect him to be there, and would likely want his help. What, then, was he supposed to do? Should he just repeat his fight with Valin: distracting the Incarnation, trying desperately not to die, until one of the real Travelers managed to land the killing blow?

Simon stepped forward, thrusting his blade into an invisible opponent. The cold steel trickled through him, lending him the strength to wave Azura around so easily, but he needed a new power. He needed a lot more than that, really; he needed something to fight for, some other clear villain that he could hate and work against without guilt.

He wasn't the biggest supporter of the Grandmasters, but his time in Enosh had convinced him that they truly believed Damasca was killing the world, as well as driving their people with tyranny and cruelty. He couldn't hate people like that; they thought they were doing the right thing, after all.

On the Damascan side, Indirial didn't seem like such a bad guy, and Simon couldn't even blame their annual sacrifice now that he had seen what the Hanging Trees were supposed to hold back. Simon imagined nine other Incarnations, all at least as powerful as Valin, and he shuddered so hard that he almost missed the next step forward.

No matter how strong Valin was, he was still just one guy with a sword: the amount of damage he could cause was somewhat limited. But one of the other Incarnations would summon monsters from their Territory, an army of monsters, and they would shred the countryside like a swarm of locusts.

If they had to face an Incarnation, Simon was glad it was Valin. At least he could be fought.

Simon's sword forms took him through to another thrust, and he remembered Indirial's sword piercing Valin's chest. For a second, he had been sure they had won. If they couldn't kill Valin, even with a sword through the heart, how were they supposed to put him down?

He found himself mimicking Indirial's strike as he imagined it, and as a result he fell slightly out of form. His sword extended a tad too far, and a single raindrop hit the tip with an audible ping.

Without even looking around, Simon called the breath of the Nye into his lungs. The world slowed as the rain began to stop, and he ran back to the entrance with speed that a startled deer might have envied. Behind him, he heard the smooth rush of the water drawing itself up into a thousand long-necked, long-fanged cats.

This time, Simon reached the stone platform before the cats did, and he was far enough away that when he spun around to watch, he saw all the cats dissolving back into puddles.

Simon raised his hands and shouted in triumph, Azura waving like a flagpole into the cloud-covered sky. The sword's tip actually brushed the bottom of a cloud, which made Simon realize that the clouds were only about fifteen feet up. The tops of some of the rain garden trees disappeared into the clouds, and he wondered if there was a roof overhead.

You have a visitor, Caela said. She sounded as though she were about to laugh.

Simon turned, lowering Azura to a better position. Indirial stood there, chain-marked arms crossed, leaning against the stone doorframe. He smiled broadly, flas.h.i.+ng white teeth.

"Don't mind me," he said. "By all means celebrate. I remember when I defeated this room before Kai; I wouldn't let him hear the end of it for three days."

Simon tried to keep his face from turning red, but he wasn't sure he had succeeded. "I haven't defeated the room yet."

"Would you like to?"

Simon stood for a moment, irrationally waiting for a trap. "Yes."

"Then watch," Indirial said. He stepped forward, black Nye cloak billowing around him, and stretched his hand out to summon his pitted sword. When one of the clear spots in the rain arrived, he walked out, falling into a stance that Simon recognized as the first of the necessary forms.

Watching the Overlord, Simon released his liquid steel and drove Azura down into the soft earth, letting his power evaporate. He couldn't challenge this room without enough strength to wield his blade, so he needed to give the steel enough time to fully recover before Indirial finished.

As Indirial walked through the third form, with his body twisted almost backwards, Simon caught a glimpse of the other man's face: he had his eyes firmly shut.

He flowed from form to form showing the ease of decades of practice, moving with a skill and confidence that Simon could only imitate. Instead of following the direction of the rain, it seemed almost that the rain followed him, parting just in time to avoid his blade. Every time Simon saw his face, his eyes were closed.

It only took Indirial about a minute to work his way to the far side of the room. As soon as he reached the far stone door, sword stretched out to one side in the final form, the rain stopped. The light even brightened, until it seemed almost as though the sun had risen behind the clouds.

Indirial smiled at Simon from across the garden and stepped out on the gra.s.s, walking back. The rain didn't start up again; apparently, he had earned the right to cross as he wished.

Simon stepped forward himself to meet the older swordsman halfway, but as soon as he did, a tiny cloud detached itself from the overcast cover overhead. It flew over until it rested directly over Simon, and then it unleashed a waterfall of torrential rains.

Hastily, Simon leaped to the side, but the cloud followed him, drenching him in heavy raindrops.

Soaked to the bone, he walked back to the stone platform. The cloud followed him even there, giving him a few last drops as though to teach him a lesson. Then it flew back to join the other clouds overhead.

You could have warned me that would happen, Simon sent.

You were in no danger this time, Caela said primly. I was eager to see what would happen.

You knew exactly what would happen!

Then I was eager to watch.

Indirial finally reached Simon, his blade still held lightly in one hand. "Kai taught you the forms?" he asked, as though he already knew the answer.

Simon shrugged. "He walked me through some of them, but I watched Kai run through the whole routine every morning all summer. I know them well enough."

"He didn't*" Indirial cut himself off by shaking his head. "He should have taught you the forms in your first week, Simon. I don't know what he thought he was doing with you."

"I don't ever know what Kai thinks he's doing."

I do, Caela sent. Trust me, knowing doesn't help.

"Anyway," Indirial went on, "the room responds to you. That's the trick. I had to try a dozen times before I figured it out: if you try to respond to what the rain garden shows you, you'll never get there. You have to lead and let the room respond to you."

Nervously, Simon eyed the clouds, which had started to release a soft downpour once again. Indirial noticed.

"Don't worry about the cats," he said. "They won't maim you too bad before I get to you, and I'll take you right back to the pool for healing."

Simon thought he was being awfully casual about the maiming part, but he did as Indirial suggested, taking a deep breath and exhaling his fear. Summoning steel, he pulled Azura from the earth.

Then he stood, waiting for the clear spot in the rain.

"Don't wait," Indirial said. "Let the room react to you."

So Simon closed his eyes and stepped forward into the opening stance, crouched and ready to strike. No drops struck him, so he moved ahead. He forgot about the rain, about Indirial behind him, about Valin's looming threat. He focused on nothing but the image of Kai, running from one stance to another amid the waving gra.s.ses of Chaka's garden.

Simon did as he had so often seen his master do, moving forward almost without effort. With his eyes closed like this, it was almost like practice, and he lost himself in the familiar rhythm of moving from stance to stance.

You should open your eyes, Caela suggested. Simon did so, to find that he was inches from the wolf-carved stone door, all the way on the other side of the rain garden. Behind him, the sound of the rain had vanished.

Simon turned around, exultant, ready to shout with joy.

He found himself looking into the frozen eyes of a thousand long-necked cats, their translucent bodies made up of flowing rainwater.

Simon froze, keeping Azura cupped in both hands, as the final form dictated. He was ready to fight if he had to, but he didn't like his odds against this crowd. It seemed as though every raindrop had become a deadly cat, their icicle fangs visible through transparent mouths.

They eyed him with what looked like hunger, liquid ears occasionally flicking to one side or the other.

Too afraid to move, Simon stood still, frozen with Azura in one hand. If they attacked, he would be overwhelmed in seconds, so he certainly didn't want to provoke them.

Moving his eyes as little as possible, he looked up and across the garden at Indirial. He still stood in the same position, lounging casually against the door back to the courtyard.

Simon looked back down at the cats. After a moment, a single one of the long-necked creatures let out a contented "mrowl," and the cats all bared their icicle-teeth in horrible smiles. Once again, Simon wondered if he was about to be eaten. Then their bodies liquified*everything but their frozen teeth*and they flowed into one another in a horrible vortex of swirling ice and water.

The icy wind that flew out of their vortex was so cold it bit into Simon's skin. He had to throw up an arm to defend his face against the freezing a.s.sault.

After a few dozen seconds, the whirling stopped, and the vortex condensed into a single shape that fell down onto the gra.s.s.

It was a horn, like the one the watchmen back in Myria had used to sound an alert at the gates. Unlike any other horn Simon had ever seen, this one wasn't made of metal. Frosted ice made up its mouth, and most of the tubing seemed formed from blown gla.s.s. Inside one particularly fat tube in the middle, Simon saw a still-moving puddle of water.

For a moment, Simon wondered how a horn made of ice, water, and gla.s.s would even make any sound. Then he reminded himself where he was. If the horn had been made out of shadow and moonbeams, it would still make some kind of sound.

He reached down and scooped up the horn, which was exactly as cold as he had expected. Excitement rose up inside of him, and he held the horn aloft for Indirial to see.

Congratulations, Caela said. It certainly took you long enough.

Indirial casually walked over, and Simon noted that no rogue stormclouds drenched him. "Well done, Simon! At this rate, you might even be able to challenge another power before we have to fight Valin again. That's good; you'll need as much as you can get against the Grandmasters."

"I wasn't sure this room even had a power," Simon said.

"Most rooms do," Indirial responded. "When Kai first made it past this room, the guardians didn't think he was worthy. They let him pa.s.s, but he didn't earn the horn. He had to go back and try again for months before they finally gave it to him. Denner couldn't convince Benson to give him the steel until after almost a year of trying."

A whole new world of possibilities was opening up to Simon. "What about the forge? I defeated that guardian. And I beat those candle guys in the library, too, but they told me there was no other power."

"If you defeat the guardian, you get to pa.s.s the room. If you defeat the guardian with distinction, you earn their power." Indirial shrugged. "At least, that's how Valin used to explain it to us. It seems there are all sorts of rules that vary from room to room."

Simon looked down at the instrument in his hand. He had to s.h.i.+ft it to his left, because the cold was about to burn his palm. "What's this, then?"

"The frozen horn," Indirial responded. "It was an artifact Valin stole from Helgard and brought here, attuning it to Valinhall instead. It closes Gates."

Curiously, Simon raised the horn to his lips and blew. A weak sort of whistling sound emerged from the end, but nothing else happened.

Indirial chuckled. "It doesn't work in a Territory. And there's more than one way to use it*the easiest is to call its power into your sword, like this."

He concentrated for a moment, and then his cracked Dragon's Fang began to vibrate like a struck tuning fork. "This is easy and quick, and it's the way we use it most often. Swing your sword through a Gate*" he swung his blade from left to right, for emphasis* "and the Gate vanishes. You could, instead, summon the horn and blow it. Don't, though."

"Why?"

"For one thing, there's only one horn. If you summon it, n.o.body else can use it while you have it. For another, it's not as efficient if you sound the horn manually. It will still close Gates, but the process takes longer, and it takes over an hour before you can use it again. If you simply call the sound into your sword, the power recovers in seconds."

"Why?" Simon asked again.

Indirial looked at Simon blankly. After a few seconds, he simply spread his hands and shrugged.