Part 11 (1/2)
That Grandmaster shook her head. ”We are not ready*” she began, but Grandmaster Naraka cut her off.
”Not yet, Grandmaster Ornheim,” Naraka said harshly. ”There are those in this room who are not qualified to hear the following discussion.”
So the Territory with all the rocks is called Ornheim, Simon thought. Got it. Only a few weeks ago, he had suffered quite a collection of injuries at the hands of living stone summoned by Ornheim Travelers.
Then he realized that all the Grandmasters had turned to look at him.
His senses sharpened, and he reached his mind out to Valinhall. At even the slightest hint that they were trying to summon something, he would call steel and essence and be out the door before they could blink.
Alin spoke up, speaking with the same resonant command he had used when delivering his speech. ”Grandmaster Naraka, Simon is here at my invitation. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to him.”
Mentally, Simon took back every petty and insulting thing he had ever said about Alin.
Grandmaster Endross turned his dark eyes on Simon. ”Your pardon, Eliadel, but I have crossed Travelers of Valinhall in the past. They call themselves the Dragon Army, and as far as I can tell, their only purpose is to murder other Travelers.”
Several other Grandmasters muttered agreement.
One of Endross' hands, apparently unconsciously, drifted down to his sword-belt, which hung over the back of his chair. From the belt hung a pair of identical scabbarded swords.
”With the council's permission,” Grandmaster Endross continued, ”I would welcome the opportunity to eject the Valinhall Traveler personally.”
Simon decided that, if it came to a fight, he would take out Grandmaster Endross first.
”Seconded,” came a lilting voice from a pudgy woman underneath a flower banner.
”Three voices agree,” said Grandmaster Avernus. ”Let it be done.”
Endross began to stand up, and Simon called steel. The icy power rushed through his blood. If the Grandmaster was anything like Cormac, he would need to summon his thunderstorm first. At that point, Simon would call essence and Azura.
He had nothing to defend against a bolt of lightning. His only hope would be to take the Grandmaster out before he could gather himself for a real attack.
With a surprisingly loud crack, Alin slammed his gauntleted fist down on the table.
”Grandmaster Endross,” Alin said. ”I believe I made myself clear. Simon stays where he is. Now, either sit down or remove yourself from this council.” His voice carried a weight that Simon would never have believed came from a seventeen-year-old.
Endross moved his eyes from Simon to Alin. He hesitated a moment, looking between Alin and Grandmaster Naraka, before he bowed and sat back down. ”I live to serve, Eliadel,” he said.
Alin turned toward Naraka as though nothing had happened, though Simon noticed a miniscule smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. ”Grandmaster Naraka, you have the floor,” Alin said.
He sat, and Naraka rose to her feet. Only her head and shoulders rose over the surface of the table.
Grandmaster Naraka turned her head to address the council. ”Eliadel, and those few of us who have not received word, there has been a major development in the last twenty-four hours. At long last, one of the Incarnations has escaped its prison.”
Two or three Grandmasters gasped, but most nodded along.
Simon had only heard Incarnations mentioned once or twice, in an att.i.tude of dread. He had an image of an Incarnation as a terrible monster that rose from the depths of a Territory to spread madness and chaos. So he was not prepared to see Grandmaster Naraka break into a wide smile. It did horrible things to her wrinkled face.
”Brothers and sisters,” she said, ”The prophecy of the Rising Sun has already borne fruit. The reign of the Crimson Vault has almost come to an end.”
Each man or woman*or indistinct, androgynous figure, in the case of the silver-wrapped Grandmaster*reacted differently to the announcement. Most of them smiled. Grandmaster Helgard laughed and pounded the table. Grandmaster Ornheim stroked her stone necklace, looking thoughtful. One Grandmaster, a young, athletic man underneath a banner of three silver keys, simply nodded. He had the expression of a man with a job to do, and he would do his best whether he enjoyed it or not.
After a few moments they calmed down, and Grandmaster Naraka spoke again. Her customary twisted, sour expression was back in place. ”This gives us an opportunity. As you are all aware, since Overlord Malachi's death this past month, Damasca has begun to prepare for war.”
Simon struggled to control his expression. Apparently, he was the only one in the room not aware of the impending conflict.
Grandmaster Naraka continued. ”Our information suggests that King Zakareth plans to first scour our Territory outposts, and then*when all our escape routes are blocked*he will come against our city in full force. This means that the attack on the former Grandmaster Helgard, saints preserve him, was not an isolated incident.”
All the other Grandmasters, except Helgard, murmured, ”Saints preserve,” in unison. The current Grandmaster Helgard scowled through his beard, and Simon could have sworn he heard the man growl.
No one had told Simon about a Damascan attack. If the previous Grandmaster Helgard had been killed, then staying in Enosh might be even more dangerous than going home. Maybe he and Leah should round up the other villagers and head back to Myria, leaving the Travelers to tear each other apart on their own.
An image flashed in Simon's mind: his mother's corpse, twisted and broken on the floor of a cave. That was what happened when the villagers tried to stay out of the way. Myria sat between Enosh and the closest Damascan cities. The villagers would not be spared; they would simply be crushed underfoot.
”This presents us with an opportunity,” Naraka continued. ”Grandmaster Lirial?”
The silver-wrapped figure stood, bowing slightly to Grandmaster Naraka. ”Thank you, Grandmaster,” it said. His or her voice vibrated, as it had to travel through a long tunnel, and emerged in a monotonous buzz. ”As you know, the Overlords are charged with keeping the Incarnations sealed in their prisons. Normally, an a.s.sault on the Overlords is ill-advised, because any approach by land or by Traveling is too well defended.”
At the head of the table, Alin smirked.
”That is no longer the case,” Grandmaster Lirial continued. ”Many Damascan Travelers, and in some cases even the Overlords themselves, have been called away to prepare for the war effort. We have identified three, possibly four Trees that are poorly defended. But they will not remain that way for long. In my opinion, now is the perfect time for an a.s.sault.”
Grandmasters Helgard and Endross grinned at each other like boys. Beneath a gray banner marked with a purple flower, the pudgy Grandmaster sighed and shook her head, resting her chin in her hand. The Grandmaster beneath the three silver keys sat up straight and squared his shoulders like a soldier at attention.
Grandmaster Avernus combed a finger through her long silver hair, looking down at each of her peers in turn before she spoke. ”We should see to this matter personally, I think,” she said.
Grandmaster Lirial bowed, silver ribbons rustling, and then sat back down. Apparently Lirial felt his or her part was done. Naraka, however, laced her hands together thoughtfully.
”Small teams, I think,” she said. ”Each led by at least one Grandmaster. Three of us must strike at Damasca in an attempt to destroy the Trees, and a fourth team should go to aid the escaped Incarnation.”
”Aid it?” Alin asked. ”Aid it in what? What does it want to do?”
Simon had wondered the same thing, but he knew better than to ask. They would only ignore anything he said anyway.
”Destroy Damasca,” Grandmaster Helgard declared.
”Why?”
Grandmaster Naraka straightened her red spectacles and took on a lecturing tone. ”The Incarnations are forces of nature. They are n.o.ble creatures, with incalculable power, but being in this world too long drives them mad. They are like rabid beastsaand Damasca has kept these beasts whipped, beaten, and chained underground for three centuries. It is only natural that the first thing an Incarnation would do, when freed, is to bend all of its powers toward Damasca's destruction.”
All the other Grandmasters nodded or made sounds of agreement. Alin, on the other hand, looked straight at Simon.
His gaze made Simon inexplicably nervous. What is he looking at me for? Simon wondered. Did he want advice? Did he want Simon to say something? Maybe he just wanted to know what Simon thought.
Alin raised his eyebrows in a question, and Simon shrugged. Alin seemed to accept that as an answer, turning back to the Grandmaster and listening to their continued conversation. They were preparing to vote on whether or not to attack Damasca, but Simon had no doubts about which way the vote would fall.
Personally, Simon wasn't sure what he thought about this whole business with the Incarnations. He had little love for Damasca, that was true. Though the village where he grew up was technically part of the Damascan Kingdom, they almost never saw any full citizen or full-blooded Damascan. The villages all considered themselves separate from the Kingdom, and for the most part, the people of Damasca respected that. Simon's only real interaction with Damascans had come at one end or another of a sword.