Part 22 (1/2)
”Wow,” Gilad said. ”That was impressive.”
Of course, as soon as the Endross Travelers turned to deal with Alin's attack, the snapdragon tore into them from behind, fire and claws and fanged jaws working in unison.
Alin winced, looking away, as the smell of burning flesh filled the hall. It was nauseating, and he could feel bile rising in his throat.
I will not lose control, he thought. Not in front of them. I will not allow myself to look weak.
Grandmaster Naraka and Gilad walked forward, stepping over the burnt corpses of the Endross Travelers as though picking their way through so much garbage. Alin followed on their heels, trying to stare at anything else.
Past the corpses of the two Endross Travelers, the hall ended in a pair of stone doors, carved with forbidding designs that looked like they might crawl right off.
Grandmaster Naraka put her red-marked right hand forward and straightened her spine visibly. ”This is it,” she whispered. ”After all these years...I can hear Naraka itself crying behind these doors.”
Gilad stepped forward as though he couldn't help himself, like something in the doors was drawing him. He placed both hands on the doors, feeling around. ”I don't sense any traps. At least, nothing I can detect. Just a chain and a padlock.”
Grandmaster Naraka snorted. ”Out of the way, boy. I'll show you how to check for traps.”
She walked forward and began waving her hand in an orderly pattern, her face set in a stony expression, as though she were preparing to endure a blow.
Alin should have felt triumphant, standing as they were in front of their goal, but for some reason he just felt nervous. They had certainly worked hard enough to earn their way here, and the reason they had decided to strike here in the first place was because they knew it was lightly defended. But something twisted in his gut, as though his body itself were certain something was wrong.
He looked up and down the hallway, seeing nothing but corpses and destruction left by their battle.
We've won, Alin told himself. I need to celebrate, not take everything so seriously. I'm not Simon. For some reason, though, he couldn't feel anything but exhaustion.
Alin turned back to Grandmaster Naraka, who had a hand to the door. The cracks between shone with a bright red light.
He almost didn't hear the light thump that sounded from the other end of the hallway, but that sound sent s.h.i.+vers down his spine in a way that the roar of battle never had. Alin spun around to face the noise, hurling and throwing a globe of destructive golden light in the same motion.
It was the swordsman in black from earlier. He had hopped through the hole Alin had blasted down to this floor; he must have followed them down the other floors too. His head was no longer wrapped in black cloth, and his hair was a white mop that hung down into his eyes.
He crouched there, knees bent, one hand pressed against the tile, until Alin's blast of gold almost reached him. Then he c.o.c.ked his head to one side, and the ball of golden energy flew over his shoulder and crashed into the wall behind him.
”Dangerous, dangerous,” the white-haired swordsman said. ”You should find new toys to play with.”
Then he was running down the hall, and Alin began to wonder if they would make it out of here alive. He put both hands forward, filling the hall with his bright green honeycomb s.h.i.+eld. It would take the swordsman a few minutes at least to get through the plane of solid light, and by then Grandmaster Naraka would be inside the doors.
The Grandmaster cackled. ”Well done, Eliadel! Just stall him until I can get through.”
The swordsman raised one hand, placing it flat against the translucent green wall, opposite Alin's own hands on the other side. From this close, Alin saw that the white-haired man's arm was wrapped in the same black chain marks as Simon's. Maybe they had something to do with summoning, somehow, like the symbol Naraka Travelers had tattooed on their hands.
”You fought bravely,” Alin called. ”Now stand aside and let us finish our mission. Do not stand with Damasca. They*”
The chains on the man's arms went from black to a bright, flaring white in an instant, and Alin's s.h.i.+eld shattered like gla.s.s. The pain was indescribable, as though someone had torn out a piece of Alin's skull and crushed it underfoot. He screamed, collapsing to his knees, barely noticing that he had landed in a pool of blood.
The Valinhall Traveler walked casually past Alin. As he did, the swordsman pulled something out of one ear. Wax?
”I couldn't hear you,” the man sang. He didn't bother to cut Alin down, but Alin was in too much pain to wonder why.
Alin watched through a haze of agony as Gilad raised both hands, chanting and spinning his Naraka-marked hand at the same time. Behind him, Grandmaster Naraka was pulling the doors open.
The white-haired man stepped forward, and*though he didn't move any faster than before*Alin somehow lost track of his movements. He moved so smoothly that Alin could barely see him step from one place to another.
He stepped past Gilad, slipping a foot behind the young Traveler's ankle and tripping him to the ground. While Gilad still hung in midair, the swordsman slammed his fist into the young man's face. Gilad crashed into the floor, and the Valinhall man kept walking.
Grandmaster Naraka had the doors fully open now, and she was waving her red-marked hand desperately, trying to summon enough power to incinerate the Hanging Tree.
A huge, broad-bladed knife flashed into the Valinhall Traveler's hand. He stepped forward, and the steel flashed twice.
The Grandmaster's hands fell to the ground. She grunted but didn't scream, running forward into the room as though there was something she could still do to accomplish their mission.
The Valinhall Traveler grabbed her by the scruff of the neck like an unruly puppy and pulled her back. ”No, no, no,” the white-haired man said. ”We must all wait our turn.” He raised the knife high.
Alin rushed forward, leaping to his feet despite the pain, to try and save Grandmaster Naraka.
”The Tree, Alin!” Naraka screamed desperately. ”Get the Tree!”
The world seemed to freeze as Alin's mind tore in two different directions, trying to come to some sort of a decision. He could accomplish their mission, right now: all he had to do was throw himself to the right, through the doors, and unload golden power into the Tree. Out of the corner of his eye he could even see his target: a ma.s.s of blood-red vines, leaves, and branches that covered this entire bas.e.m.e.nt room.
Then again, he would be leaving Grandmaster Naraka and Gilad to die. He would be more likely to survive; he could still open a Gate and retreat to his Territory. The other two were in no shape to do so. Gilad was unconscious, the Grandmaster crippled.
Even worse, he wasn't sure he wanted to destroy the Tree. What would happen if he released an Incarnation here? The plan had been to retreat through Naraka, where the Naraka Incarnation couldn't follow them, but now that he had to Travel Elysia, who was to say the Incarnation couldn't follow him there?
The white-haired Valinhall Traveler c.o.c.ked his head to one side, like a curious bird. ”Alin?” he said.
Alin made his decision. He filled the hall with golden power, blasting the swordsman with pure force. The man in black tried to swat the golden blast away with the blade of his knife, but he was ultimately thrown backwards, past the doors and down the hall. Alin didn't follow him, throwing up a green s.h.i.+eld again to delay the man. If the Valinhall Traveler managed to shatter this one, too, Alin thought he might pa.s.s out from the pain, but he needed something to stall the man, even for a few seconds.
He slipped one gold-plated arm under Naraka's midsection, pulling her back to crouch over Gilad. Opening a Gate usually took him almost a minute, but he didn't even have five seconds. He needed the Gate open now. He poured his desperation, his focus, and his remaining energy into the air in front of him, willing it to tear open and show him Elysia.
At last, the Gate peeled open, revealing the City of Light.
The sky of the Territory seemed made of pure gold, as though the entire realm had been locked in an eternal sunrise. The City gleamed under the golden light, its walls stretching off as far as Alin could see in either direction. The walls were vast and white, probably fifty paces high at their peak, and adorned with flowing designs and precious gems. The gates of the city were silver and gold, boasting even more jewels.
The City stood even higher than the walls, revealing peaked towers of gold, copper, bronze, and other, more exotic materials. The s.h.i.+ning green leaves of an impossibly tall tree waved next to one particular tower, and the tree's fruits glimmered like half-seen stars.
Outside the walls stretched a field, the flowers and gra.s.ses blew gently in a spring-scented breeze. This seemed like a place of safety, where one could relax and enjoy the surroundings.
Usually. At the moment, it felt like their last, desperate hope.
Alin's power ripped out of him with the Gate, leaving him dangerously exhausted. Even his vision fuzzed for a moment, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to move through the portal.
Under his arm, Grandmaster Naraka thrashed weakly. ”No, Alin, no,” she said. ”The Tree, Alin. Get the Tree.”
She had done something to the stumps where her hands used to be; they were mangled and torn, and looked half-burnt, but they didn't bleed as much as they should have. Still, she left a trickle of blood on the tiles.
”It's not worth it,” Alin said. He placed Grandmaster Naraka beyond the portal, onto the softly waving gra.s.s. Then he grabbed Gilad by the legs and dragged him through. The ground on the other side wasn't exactly parallel with the floor, and Gilad may have dropped a few inches when Alin dragged him through, but a few bruises on Gilad's head was the last thing Alin wanted to worry about at this point.