The Crimson Vault Part 49

Simon winced, as well he might; he had played his role in letting that disaster move forward.

No, it wasn't fair to blame it all on Simon. It was more her fault than his, anyway.

"The Incarnation of Ragnarus rules Damasca now," she finished.

"What about the King?" Simon asked. He didn't mean anything by that, she knew. He had asked the question in complete innocence.

But it still hurt.

Quietly, Kai said, "You stand before the Queen of Damasca, little mouse."

Simon was silent for a long time, but Leah didn't look at his face. This had to be confusing for him, and she wasn't sure what she would see there.

After a moment, Simon walked over and knelt before her. He even bowed his head, though he somehow managed to make it seem unbearably awkward.

"Your Majesty," he said. Then he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes.

Strictly speaking, he shouldn't have done that, but she allowed it.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "What can I do to help?"

Leah's eyes swelled with tears, and she had to blink them away.

This is childish, she thought. She hadn't even liked her father.

But, in the past three days, she had lost her family, her home, and her country. She supposed she was allowed a tear or two.

Later. For now, she forced herself to answer Simon's question.

Leah cleared her throat, making sure she sounded completely in control. "We think my brother Talos is in command of Cana, if the Ragnarus Incarnation let him live. For now, we need to focus on building up our support outside of the city. There are at least four Incarnations on the loose, and we need to deal with them. Once we do, we can find a way back into the capital."

She hoped she sounded confident. She wasn't. The plan was too vague; there was too much left to chance, too much that could go wrong.

But she knew one thing: she wasn't going to leave Cana to suffer at the hands of the Ragnarus Incarnation any longer than she had to. As a Ragnarus Traveler and as a Queen of Damasca, it was her duty.

She would not let her nation down.

On the floor of the Crimson Vault, a man struggled for breath.

Why did he have to breathe at all? His lungs didn't seem to want to inflate, but somehow his chest moved in and out anyway. It was slow, but also somehow mechanical, as though something was moving him outside his own body.

The armor, he realized. There was something about the armor doing whatever it could to keep him alive. He should have taken it off beforea Before what? Who was he? He had a nameaor at least he had, once.

Zakareth. That was it. That was who he was. Zakareth, just like his father, and his father before him.

Memory came drifting back, not in a single storm, but one gust at a time. He was the king. His son betrayed him. His daughter, left behind, not ready to be queen. His people, about to be slaughtered by the Incarnations.

Failure burned worse than the wound in his chest. That was his job: to keep his people safe from the dangers they couldn't handle. The Hanging Trees had been handed down for generations, but he had been the one to let the prisoners escape their cage.

He had failed. And now, he couldn't even relax into an easy death. He was fated to lie here and suffocate, or perhaps bleed to death all over the floor.

It's no worse than I deserve, he thought. I've failed.

In the polished blade of a nearby sword, he caught a glimpse of his face. His skin was pale and sunken. Half of his face was covered by an eyepatch, which hid his eyes empty, gaping socket. Truly, his was the face of a corpse.

Zakareth leaned back and waited to die.

For a while, the only sound was his own heartbeat.

Then he heard a ringing sound, like metal on stone. At first, he believed the sound was in his head, but it grew louder and louder until it ended right next to his ear.

With a supreme effort of will, Zakareth wrenched his gummy eyelid open once again.

The woman above him looked somehow familiar. Yesahe had seen her likeness on the portraits in the palace. One of his royal ancestors, though he didn't have the presence of mind to remember which one.

He didn't remember her looking quite like this.

Her skin was hard and blood-red, gleaming in the light like some kind of crimson metal. The long dress she wore was made of nothing but sweeping red light, somehow solid enough to remain opaque.

And her eyes. Her eyes were red flames, deep and bright enough to put the torches of Ragnarus to shame.

"I don't let one of my bloodline die easily," the Ragnarus Incarnation said. "Not here."

Zakareth tried to respond, but it was everything he could do to keep his chest moving in and out.

"You're in pretty bad shape," she noted. "But I came to a realization, sometime during my three-hundred-year stay in a prison I built myself. Do you know what I realized?"

He tried to shake his head.

"Life," she said, "is overrated. I'm ready to pa.s.s the torch, so to speak. And you have left so very much undone. Regret burns in you. I can respect that."

She glanced back at the silver doors, which were slowly shutting in her wake.

"I'm almost sealed in here, now," she said, though she didn't sound very concerned. "The longer I stay, the harder it gets to leave. So believe me when I say this is a limited-time offer. Do you want the power to lead your people?"

He tried to speak past the sucking noises in his chest.

"You have it in you to be the greatest king that Damasca has ever known," the Incarnation went on, in the same tone. "Not as great as some of the queens, of course, but impressive nonetheless. Strong. Reliable. Immortal."

Once again, he couldn't make a sound.

She leaned close, so that the blazing fires of her eyes seared his face. Her voice was unnaturally intense. "What price are you willing to pay?"

Zakareth finally managed to get a lung full of air.

"Anythinga" he said, in the weakest of whispers.

Ragnarus gave him a red-metal smile. "Good answer."

In the reflection of the polished sword, Zakareth saw the fabric of his eyepatch curl, blacken, and burst into crimson flame.

THE END OF BOOK TWO.

To Be Concluded Ina

CITY OF LIGHT.

(Book #3 of the Traveler's Gate Trilogy).

Available When the Moons of Lirial Have Aligned.

(Early 2014).

Also, check out Will's website for book updates, news, occasional fiction, and the Secret Recipe.

www.WillWight.com.

end.