Part 39 (1/2)
A giant, probably from Helgard, judging by its skin, roared and flailed around among the smoke, while a six-winged dragon fluttered ominously overhead. The fighting Damascan soldiers*at least, the ones he could make out at this distance*seemed to be fighting smaller creatures, or occasionally what looked like their own shadows come to life.
Grandmaster Avernus led the way, a pair of ravens circling her head like vultures. Alin followed.
As he stepped through the Gate, a nearby tree suddenly cracked in half. The sound was like a lightning strike next to his ear, and he jumped back, summoning a globe of golden light on reflex.
The top half of the tree fell over deceptively slowly*fortunately, it was just far enough away that it didn't threaten anyone in his party*and tore off, cras.h.i.+ng to the ground.
Something dropped from the center of the tree: it looked like whatever had struck the tree in the first place.
Was thataa man?
He hit the ground in a crouch before drawing himself up to his full height. His body was wrapped entirely in the shadows of chains, and he held in one hand a long sword with a core of gold.
His sword looked almost like Simon's.
The figure turned to look in Alin's direction, and even from that distance, Alin could see his black eyes.
”Move!” Grandmaster Avernus called. ”Eliadel! Move, now!”
The rest of the Travelers were hurrying after the Grandmaster, trotting away from the black-eyed swordsman, so Alin followed them.
After only a few feet, he glanced back.
The man with black eyes was right behind him.
Alin let out a shout and hurled the blast of golden light. It splashed across a half-healed wound in the man's chest, doing exactly as much good as if Alin had splashed his attacker with a gla.s.s of water.
”Where is the king?” the man said, speaking not to Alin but to the Travelers behind him.
”He's here,” Grandmaster Avernus said, in an almost pleading voice. ”We're certain he's here.”
That was when Alin realized who*or rather, what*this man was. This was the Valinhall Incarnation.
It was all Alin could do to stop himself from taking a step back.
”Where?” the Incarnation asked. He didn't sound angry or particularly threatening, but somehow Alin wondered just how far he was from killing them all.
Beneath Alin's feet, the rock twisted and formed into polished wooden flooring. The wood planks radiated out from the Incarnation, turning the natural world around him into some kind of house.
”Well, I*” the Grandmaster began.
She was cut off by a black blur and the sound of a thunderclap.
One second the Incarnation was facing the Enosh Travelers and asking questions, and the next he was ten feet away, locked in furious combat against an attacker who looked like a blob of liquid shadow.
Alin couldn't even see their blades; the wind from their conflict threatened to blow him off his feet, and he could hardly hear through the noise.
They struck each other with such speed and power that they would clash just in front of him one second, ten paces away the next, and behind him an instant later. They seemed to be everywhere, smas.h.i.+ng at each other with enough force to crack rock.
During one of the instants when they slowed down long enough to be visible to the human eye, Alin thought he saw the attacker wearing a black-and-silver mask as well as the cloak.
A young, black-cloaked man with a long sword. Even underneath the maska ”Simon?” Alin muttered, but he couldn't even hear himself.
Gilad's hand seized his shoulder and pulled him away from the fight. All the Enosh Travelers were running now, lest they be caught up in the battle. Alin ran after them, casting frequent glances behind him.
Are we working with thatathing? he wondered.
He trusted the Grandmasters*well, some of them*but he was becoming less and less sure that he wanted to ally himself with any of these Incarnations.
If that had been Simon, then he was fighting the Incarnation. That might even put him on the same side as Damasca.
Alin couldn't help but wonder if Simon had the right idea.
Leah arrived at the scene of the battle wearing her crown, and with her Lirial Source all but tapped out. The noise of war was nearly deafening, and the scene was madness: Travelers called powers against soldiers, who fought against chain-wielding shadows, who tried their best to strangle summoned beasts, who killed other Travelers. And practically everything was on fire.
It looked like it would take days for her to sort out, maybe longer with her nearly empty Source.
So it was fortunate that she had brought some help.
Leah signaled Indirial, who bellowed his orders at a voice that cut even over the relentless thunder of the battlefield.
”Tartarus, forward!” Indirial called, and men and women in the armored uniforms of Tartarus stepped forward. Their outfits were marked in places with red and gold, to helpfully distinguish them from the enemy for the benefit of those without extensive battlefield experience.
Each of them held a silver key, and at another command from Indirial, they all summoned something.
Some called armor, others weapons, others relentless forces of implacable steel. Still others summoned automatons that crashed across the battlefield crus.h.i.+ng anything that didn't explicitly wear a Damascan uniform.
An Endross lightning wyrm crawled sinuously through the air over her head, letting out a roar that could be heard even over the percussive thunder of combat. It shot a ma.s.sive blast of lightning down at the ground, dangerously close to where she was standing.
Fortunately, Indirial was there.
He simply raised one hand, catching the bolt on a ghostly green gauntlet that he all of a sudden seemed to be wearing. The lightning shattered into a million sparks, damaging nothing but Leah's vision.
”Do something about that,” Leah ordered, practically screaming to be heard over the noise.
Indirial grinned. ”Don't worry!” he called back. ”I know a specialist.”
He put two fingers to his lips and whistled. Seconds later, a man in a brown cloak materialized seemingly out of nowhere.
At first, she thought the cloak was spattered with mud. Then she reminded herself where she was.
The man in brown*presumably Denner Weeks, the Valinhall Traveler she had met earlier*said something. Indirial just smiled and pointed up.
Denner looked at the lightning wyrm, wheeling overhead for another pa.s.s, and his shoulders slumped. He let out a heavy sigh.
Leah took the opportunity to look around the battlefield. Most of the Enosh Travelers were already dead or fled, with most of the summoned creatures seemingly under control. But every few seconds, another peal of what sounded like thunder crashed through the air.
Where was that coming from?