Part 21 (1/2)

These must be the Tartarus Travelers, Alin realized. Since coming to Enosh, he had heard of Tartarus Travelers referred to as 'soldiers,' but he had never thought of them as fighting alongside ordinary troops. Travelers had, to him, always seemed like they should be kept separate from the ordinary fighters.

The five swordsmen seemed only too happy to fall back, hurrying back to the Travelers with more enthusiasm than discipline. The man in black simply stood there and watched, head c.o.c.ked to one side.

As one, the three Tartarus Travelers each pulled out a small silver object and pointed them toward the man in black. They would be keys, Alin knew, tiny keys of Tartarus steel that Travelers of that Territory used in summoning.

Each Traveler moved the key differently. One turned it, as though opening a lock. One drew the key from top to bottom, like slitting a curtain down the middle. The other drew her key from left to right.

A Tartarus Gate gaped open in front of each Traveler, and wind whipped in the red-lit room as though the Gates were sucking all the air in with them. A spinning blade, like a razor-edged cartwheel, flew out of one Gate, flying parallel to the ground. Another Gate spat forth a spray of arm-length needles. From the third, a huge form*like a man in a suit of silver armor, but impossibly large*shouldered his way into the world.

The summoning process only took a split second, which must have been what stopped the man in black from simply blowing his gla.s.s horn again and forcing the Gates to disappear. Alin wasn't sure he had ever seen a Traveler open a Gate and complete a summons as quickly as these three from Tartarus.

But the swordsman in black was ready. He went to one knee as soon as he saw the Tartarus Travelers take out their keys, and he placed both of his swords very carefully on the floor. When the air in front of him exploded in a storm of flas.h.i.+ng steel, the man in black summoned an enormous s.h.i.+eld that looked as though it had been designed to stop a rampaging bear. It was huge, easily big enough for the crouching man to hide behind, and most of its center was covered by a scuffed bronze plate. The swordsman angled the s.h.i.+eld and let the needles slam into it. Most either stuck in the wood or struck the bronze plate, bouncing off and spinning into the air.

The razor-edged wheel spun over the s.h.i.+eld, shaving a splinter of wood from the s.h.i.+eld's very tip. Then the swordsman did something. It happened so fast that Alin wasn't sure exactly what he saw, but it seemed as though the man in black thrust his hand up into the center of the spinning blade, grabbing something that Alin couldn't see.

The silvery disc stopped spinning, as the swordsman in black clutched it by the middle. Now that it wasn't moving so quickly, Alin could see the weapon in more detail: it was a solid sheet of metal, razor sharp all the way around, but the center of the circular disc was empty. The circle in the middle was crossed with a single bar, as though to give a warrior something to grip.

There was no way to use it as a handhold, though, Alin was sure. Even though the swordsman held it up now, there was no way he could use it: the disc was too wide, too heavy, and too unwieldy to use in combat. He could try and use it like a s.h.i.+eld, Alin supposed, but he had a much better s.h.i.+eld sitting on the ground in front of him. Besides, the disc had a hole in the middle.

”Oh, no,” Gilad whispered. He started muttering to himself in what Alin recognized as the beginnings of a Helgard summons.

The swordsman in black leaped over his s.h.i.+eld, running to meet the huge man in the silver armor. The armored giant drew an enormous broadsword, swinging with two hands down on the man's head.

He blocked the broadsword with the edge of the silvery disc, and sparks flew. By the light of the sparks, Alin could tell that the swordsman was indeed dressed head-to-toe in black: he had wrapped strips of black cloth over his face and head.

With the disc in the swordsman's left hand, he held off the armor's sword. With his other hand, he slipped his own sword inside the armor's visor. That simple. He almost looked delicate, as though he were simply and harmlessly flicking the man on his armored forehead.

The armored man seemed to melt, sinking down to the floor in a deafening clatter of metal.

By this time, the three Tartarus Travelers had spread out to surround the man in black, already moving their keys to summon more weapons. The five remaining swordsmen spread out as well, presumably to keep from looking useless.

And Alin made a decision.

The Grandmaster was waving her hand in a summoning motion, probably to make another useless demonstration of power, and Gilad was still muttering his Helgard summons. Alin grabbed them both by the back of the neck and pulled them toward the corner of the room.

Gilad sputtered and coughed, cut off mid-chant. Grandmaster Naraka tried to grab him by the arm with her glowing red hand, promising vile threats.

”Quiet,” Alin said. ”We're wasting time.” He wasn't sure he would get away with that tone any other time, but at the moment he was far more focused on getting results.

Alin dragged them off to one corner of the room, underneath a cloud of Naraka's red fireflies. He glanced to his side, to the room's door, and briefly considered just walking out. He quickly rejected the idea. They could wander the corridors of the house for hours looking for the Incarnation; despite what the Grandmaster claimed, he didn't think it would be so easy to find the way downstairs in the Overlord's mansion.

”What are you doing, boy?” Grandmaster Naraka demanded.

”We need to get to the Incarnation,” Alin said.

”Good point,” Gilad said. ”Stay on mission.”

Grandmaster Naraka shot a poisonous glance back at the Valinhall Traveler, but then she brushed her hands off, businesslike. ”We've wasted enough time here. Let's get moving.”

She sounded for all the world as if leaving had been her idea.

”So where is the room?” Alin asked.

”The Hanging Tree has to be in contact with the earth,” Grandmaster Naraka responded. Her red gla.s.ses looked almost black in the crimson light. ”Wherever it is, it will be below us.”

Alin reached out to Elysia, that sunny light he always felt just over his shoulder. Bright golden force began to gather between his palms.

”Below it is,” Alin said. Then he blasted a hole in the floor.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:.

ALIN VS. KAI.

Simon stared at the sword jutting from the Incarnation's chest. Indirial barely hung onto the hilt, still kneeling on the ground, apparently too exhausted to stand. But he pushed the sword in with both hands.

”I couldn't...see you,” Valin said thickly.

”It's my impeccable fas.h.i.+on sense,” Indirial responded. He twisted his blade as he tore it from the Incarnation's flesh.

Valin stood there for a moment, a ragged hole in his chest, and Simon allowed himself to relax. The soldiers were still fighting the Nye, but they seemed to be winning*at least, there were fewer black robes standing than there had been a few minutes before. Maybe this would all soon be over.

Step back, Angeline said grimly. It's not over.

Valin looked up, and for a moment the silver of his eyes gleamed brighter than the moon. A bright green light flared in his wound, like sunlight filtered through a forest canopy. Before Simon's eyes, the Incarnation's wound knitted itself whole.

The Valinhall Incarnation spun, impossibly fast, and seized Indirial's wrist. Indirial twisted for leverage, trying to break his master's hold, but Valin's grip didn't budge. The chains on his skin twisted and writhed like a nest of black snakes.

With a shout, the Incarnation hauled Indirial off his feet and lifted him up in the air, slamming him down against the ground with a deafening crack. The Overlord struggled feebly, but Valin walked up and stomped on his ribs with impossible force. Simon heard the crack from where he crouched in the bushes, two dozen paces away. Valin kicked his former student hard enough that Indirial's body rose into the air. Then he spun on his heel and kicked Indirial's black-cloaked form in midair, launching him all the way across the clearing. His body rolled when it landed, coming to a stop almost at Simon's feet.

”That's enough,” Valin said calmly. With one hand, he brushed the blood from his chest; the wound was gone completely. With his other hand he summoned his blade.

Valin swung his gaze to the southeast, staring off into the distance. Simon barely heard his words. ”You won't stop me, this time,” Valin said. ”I will smash through anything in my way. I will earn this.”

With a chill, Simon realized he was staring in the direction of Cana.

The Incarnation of Valinhall raised his blade to the sky as if in salute, and for an instant the Nye all froze. Then they collapsed into shadows and moonlight essence, slithering away. The soldiers who had just been engaged in combat looked around, bewildered, wondering where their opponents had just gone. One or two even raised a ragged cheer.

Valin dashed forward, faster than Simon had ever moved with Nye essence. Simon couldn't even see him, except in flashes: first he was on the hill where he had fought Indirial, then he was twenty paces away, standing in the middle of the soldiers, his gold-and-silver sword pulled back.

Then the soldiers died.

They fell like wheat at the harvest. One man had a Tartarus steel blade, and managed to knock aside one of Valin's blows before the Incarnation kicked him across the battlefield and on top of the nearest tent. No one else offered any resistance. Valin pa.s.sed through the crowd of soldiers, and in only a handful of seconds left nothing behind him but bodies and b.l.o.o.d.y mud.

Apparently one of Indirial's Travelers had survived, because a red lizard*like a blood-red salamander the size of a pony, with three barbed tails*ran up and hissed in Valin's direction. Then it flicked its tail forward, sending three tiny fireb.a.l.l.s buzzing toward the Incarnation's face.

He didn't bother blocking; he let them hit. The fireb.a.l.l.s shattered inches from Valin's face, cras.h.i.+ng against a translucent helm of pale green light. When the light from the fire faded, so too did the helm. Valin vanished from where he was standing, reappearing ten paces later behind the giant salamander.