The Crimson Vault Part 41

He looked into Valin's black eyes, gleaming with metallic silver, and at the chains wrapping the man's neck.

Then he reached up and pulled off his mask.

Immediately the world lurched back into normal motion, and weakness seized his limbs, pulling him relentlessly to the ground.

Valin's face was clearly, almost comically, confused.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Simon didn't quite know himself.

Trust me, Simon, Caela said smugly. I got this.

From the corner of his vision, Simon saw a flare of ruby light.

Leah's voice, clear and commanding, echoed in the open air. "Incarnation of Valinhall, you have slaughtered your way through my country for too long. In punishment for your crimes, I command you to drop your weapons and await execution."

Then, in a more normal voice, she added, "Die, you monster."

A wave of crimson light swept across the field, seizing the Incarnation in bonds of shining ruby. The light wrapped his limbs, pulling the sword from his hand, drawing him down to his knees.

The Incarnation screamed, straining against the power of the Crimson Vault. His feet dug into the ground, but he was still pulled to his knees.

The red light wrapping his limbs looked almost like chains.

"Ragnarus!" Valin snarled, pulling against the chains as if he meant to tear Leah apart with his teeth. "I will bring an end to you! Do you hear me? I will free the world from you!"

Simon was shaking, rather unsteadily, on his feet.

But he hadn't lost all his strength yet. And he was still holding the crimson sword.

Simon let Azura drop from his fingers, taking the Ragnarus blade in both hands. Then he didn't so much stab the Incarnation as collapse on top of him, letting his body fall blade-first as his strength left him.

The red blade penetrated Valin's chest and drove into the dirt below.

The Incarnation's body twitched and writhed like an insect pinned to a board, his limbs jerking and sc.r.a.ping against the earth.

"I can do this," Valin whispered. "Don't worry. I can save you alla"

Then he died.

Simon lay on top of the Wanderer's body for the sole reason that he couldn't seem to move at all. Even moving air in and out of his lungs felt like more effort than his body could handle. He would have pa.s.sed out, but somehow he felt too drained to do anything but stay awake.

Leah walked over to him, kneeling to press two fingers to the Incarnation's neck.

"Howahow?" Simon managed to say.

Leah smiled at him and tapped her crown with one finger.

Simon tried to smile back, but he wasn't sure if his face moved. "Nice," he said.

She stood up and walked away, almost entirely out of his view. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her making urgent gestures to nearby servants and soldiers.

I brought her, Caela announced proudly.

Why didn't you tell me? Simon sent. He tried to crane his neck, to see where Caela was*did Leah still have her*but he couldn't move.

I didn't know if she would make it in time, the doll responded. She can run quite fast, though. You should invite her to Valinhall.

I would have died without her, Simon said. You did a good job.

Caela made a sound that was almost like a purr. Good, good, praise me more. Indeed, you would be lost without my wisdom and guidance.

Indeed, Simon agreed.

A pair of Damascan soldiers grabbed him, one under each shoulder, and lifted him into the air. He tried to stand, but his body responded like a rag doll, and he couldn't resist. Even his head lolled bonelessly on the end of his neck.

Maker, this is embarra.s.sing.

Leah ordered the soldiers around by clapping them on the shoulder, pointing, or making other signals. She didn't say a word.

Caela, why isn't she talking?

I don't think she can, the doll responded. Some side effect from her crown, probably. Ragnarus is like that.

Power like that in exchange for losing your voice? Simon asked. That doesn't sound so bad.

We don't know how long it lasts, Caela pointed out. And that might not be the only price.

Simon considered that, but it still sounded like a good deal to him.

The two soldiers walked him over, maneuvering him toward a stretcher held by a pair of medics.

Hopefully that meant he was on his way to get medical care, though he was sure that all he really needed was a trip back into Valinhall. Not that he had the strength to open a Gate, at the moment.

Another pair of heavy footsteps walked up behind him, accompanied by the sound of clanking armor.

For some reason, those sounds alone filled him with dread.

Uh-oh, Caela said.

What? Simon asked. What is it?

A gold light, like a second sun, shone from behind Simon.

Then Alin's voice rang in his ears. "Simon? What's going on here?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:.

THE CRIMSON VAULT.

Alin had been on the verge of stepping into Ragnarus when he had a change of heart.

Amid the sounds of battle, he had followed the Grandmasters through the Damascan camp to where Grandmaster Avernus claimed they would find Heir Talos. They had managed to evade the worst of the fighting, though they still had to deal with stragglers. One of the shadow-men*like a phantom in black robes*had leaped at Alin, a black chain outstretched between its gloved hands. One blast of gold light had sent it flowing away like a serpent made of shadows and moonlight.

Other Travelers had contended with giant birds, fireb.a.l.l.s, blasts of lightning, swarms of glowing wasps, and other, stranger threats, but they had suffered no casualties. Still, the constant attacks wore on them, and Alin thoroughly regretted his heavy armor. His knees groaned, and he began to think longingly of the bed he had left behind in Enosh.

The worst, though, were the glimpses he would occasionally get of the battle between Simon and the Incarnation. A tent would explode, or a giant would fall in a spray of blood, and then he would see them: two dark shapes battling in the ground or slamming into one another in the sky, swords flashing.

Simon was working hard, fighting to slay the Valinhall Incarnation, and some little voice kept telling Alin that he should help.

Finally, Grandmaster Avernus led them into a hollow surrounded by trees, far enough away from the Damascan camp that they wouldn't be seen.

Talos was waiting for them, and he looked on the verge of death.

A thick layer of blood matted down his curly golden hair. Someone had covered him in hasty bandages, as though he had run off before the healer had finished.

Worst, by far, was his eye. A bandage covered the entire left half of his face, but a bloodstain marked where his eye would have been. Alin wondered how the Heir was even standing.

Not that he looked unfazed. Talos stood hunched over in pain, his left hand resting against his forehead as though he were physically stopping himself from touching the remains of his eye.

When he saw them approach, Talos straightened. The scabbard on his belt was empty, his sword missing.

"You took your time," he said. "Are there any Asphodel among you?"

One woman in a gray robe stepped forward. "I am a mist-binder only," she said. "I cannot offer you healing."

Talos spat on the ground at her feet, though that didn't seem to bother her. "Where are the rest of your Asphodels?"

"Grandmaster Asphodel was killed in battle only last week," Grandmaster Avernus said coldly. "Most of our Asphodel Travelers elected to stay behind, defending the city as she would have wished."

The Heir let out a cold, harsh laugh. "You're telling me you mounted an attack with no healers?"

Alin stepped forward. "I wouldn't say that," he said. A bloom of rose-colored light unfolded on his palm.

Talos stepped forward eagerly. "Heal me," he commanded.

Alin pulled his palm back. "Where are your own healers?"

"Scattered," Talos snarled. "Probably dead. Those Valinhall Travelersa"

Grandmaster Naraka cackled, moving her way up to stand beside Alin. "Your ambush didn't go as well as you expected, hmm?"

"Enough talk!" Talos strode forward and grabbed Alin's gauntleted hand.

When Alin's other hand came up, it was full of golden light.

"I'll heal you," Alin said. "Ask politely."

"We don't have time for this, Alin," Grandmaster Avernus snapped.

"I disagree. Ask me."

Talos' face twitched, and his eyes jerked from looking at the pale rose in Alin's hand to the sounds of battle coming from the Damascan camp. They seemed to be getting louder.

"aI ask you, humbly, toaplease heal me," Talos choked out.

Alin let the rose light drift forward, sinking into Talos' chest. "Was that so hard?" he asked.

Talos shook for a moment in uncontrolled spasms, the rose light glaring through his flesh. After only a few moments, the bleeding slowed, he breathed more easily, and his skin took on a healthier tone.

A quick healing like that wouldn't restore him fully, Alin knew, and it certainly wouldn't give him back his eye. But it was a good start.

Talos straightened, breathing quickly, and turned from Alin.

"Very good," he said. "Now, let's not waste any more time."

He put one hand out. The air began to swirl with red light as he began to open a Gate to the Crimson Vault.

Through the trees, Alin saw something furious and shining crash to the ground not fifty paces away. He thought he saw the Incarnation's gold-and-silver sword, and the edge of Simon's black cloak.

Curious, he walked closer, pushing some limbs out of the way.

They were moving so quickly and covering so much ground that Alin could barely follow the fight, but it was clear Simon was winning. He held two swords now, and it looked like one of them was red.

Talos' sword? How had he gotten that?

Alin glanced back at the Heir's empty sheath, and*despite himself*he grinned. He could only think of a few explanations for how Simon had ended up with the sword, and most of them were hilarious.

Simon was pressing the Incarnation back hard, and Alin waited for the stroke that would send Valin's head rolling and mark Simon's victory.

It was strange how he rooted for Simon. Technically, he supposed, he should be on the side of the Incarnation.

But inside, he cheered Simon on.

Then, without warning, Simon stopped swinging his sword. For an instant both he and the Valinhall Incarnation stood still.

And Simon pulled off his mask.

Something was wrong, Alin knew it immediately, and on instinct he stepped forward to help.

Grandmaster Naraka seized his arm with her one remaining hand.