City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (3 page)

“I have discovered a disturbing truth. As many of you know, I have executed the King of Damasca for his crimes against life and humanity.”

Somewhere among the people, a cheer was born, but Alin drowned it out. “Imagine my disappointment when I found that your Grandmasters were guilty of even greater crimes.”

The remnants of the cheer faded to uneasy silence.

“While the royal line of Damasca has based its three-century reign on the sacrifice of their citizens, they have done so for a cause. They believed that they were protecting the world from a more violent fate. Even if their actions were detestable, their intentions, at least, were pure.

“The Grandmasters of Enosh, by contrast, sought to release that deadly fate upon the world.” Alin turned to the thrashing man steadily turning purple in his grip. “Isn't that right, Grandmaster Helgard?”

Alin's hand opened, releasing the Grandmaster. He fell to his knees, coughing and retching, trying to get a full breath.

Alin waited, Green Light whispering patience into his mind.

“What Damasca is doing is an abomination,” Helgard finally gasped out. “We were trying to restore the Territories to their natural state.” The silver eye carried the man's words to the citizens below.

“By releasing the most powerful monsters in all the Territories onto an unsuspecting world,” Alin announced. “By letting the Incarnations slaughter as they please. I have visited the village of Myria, which is now little more than a pile of ashes. When the Naraka Incarnation was released—as a direct result of your actions, Grandmaster—it tore Bel Calem to pieces. Then it moved on to an innocent village.”

Grandmaster Helgard looked like he was trying to focus on getting his breath back, more than his next turn to speak. The crowd muttered, confused.

“Who cares?” someone called out. “That's a Damascan village.”

“I was born in Myria,” Alin said softly. The people fell silent once again. “The people there knew nothing of Damascan royalty or human sacrifice.”

Except for Leah,
he thought, though the idea didn't inspire the anger it once had. She would have to be held accountable for her dishonesty, but it was nothing to upset him. Not anymore.

Beneath him, the circle of gold had widened. A spot on the wall, about three feet across, had transformed from rough stone to shining gold. Even the texture had changed, smoothing out to a polished gleam.

Like the walls of Elysia.

“Here is my question to you, Grandmaster, to be answered in front of all your people. Why? Why release the Incarnations? What have you to gain from this?”

Grandmaster Helgard had risen to his feet, and there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Why? Because the reign of Ragnarus over all other Territories is unnatural and unjust. Because, despite what they would tell you, Damasca has no divine right to control the Territories. And because the Incarnations will not go wild, as those
royals
claim. They will
join us
in destroying Damasca! Why would they not? We have some of the most powerful Travelers in the world, and we alone oppose those who have imprisoned them for three centuries.”

“So,” Alin said, and the word echoed through all of Enosh. “You think you can control the Incarnations.” He filled one hand with shining golden light. “Why don’t we put that to the test?”

In his mind, the Gold Light laughed.

Alin’s last words were almost drowned out as the howling wind of Helgard blasted him from empty space. Only a flare of Orange Light kept him from being blown over by the sheer force of the wind, and he was all but blinded by a rush of snow. Something roared over even the wind, and he sensed more than saw a flare of silver behind him.

Alin spun around, hurling Gold Light as he turned.

The light slammed into a white-furred, horned creature almost twice Alin's height. It did nothing more than scorch the beast’s fur. The creature drew itself up on its hind legs like a man and growled, reaching one paw out to fill its hand with an icicle longer than Alin's leg.

Grandmaster Helgard knelt behind his Gate, chanting and contorting his fingers into twisted shapes. As he did, his Gate grew wider, as though he were preparing to call something much bigger.

In the back of his mind, Alin reached for the Violet Light of honesty. He summoned sheets of shimmering violet, like fabric made entirely of light, into his hands and cast them like a net toward the huge, furred beast. The light wrapped around the summoned monster like a layer of bandages on a body prepared for burial. The creature roared once more from within its purple wrappings, and then the whole package imploded into a pinprick of vivid violet.

The Violet Light corrected the balance of the world, banishing anything that didn't belong back to its home Territory. It was also, Alin sensed, one of the most difficult to summon. One strip of the paper-thin light would cost him more effort than a dozen orbs of golden force.

At least, it would have yesterday.

Another strip of violet twisted up from the ground like an unspooling bandage, wrapping itself around the Grandmaster's Helgard Gate. It shivered for a moment, as though resisting, and then blinked shut.

Grandmaster Helgard staggered back as though he had been slapped, and Alin stepped forward to meet him.

“If you are so weak, how can you protect your citizens?” Alin asked, and the hovering silver eye caught his words and cast them out to the crowd. “I will do a better job protecting Enosh. Protecting my people.”

The silence from the crowd lasted a moment longer, and then they burst into applause. With a simple mental effort, Alin banished the silver eye. He didn't need it anymore.

The Grandmaster didn't bother with a rebuttal. He was muttering in his strange language again, making signs with his hands.

Red Light swirled around Alin's arm as he reached out and slapped Helgard's hands apart. “I only have one question for you, Helgard. Where is Grandmaster Naraka?”

Helgard's face filled with stubborn fury. “Is this what you wanted all along? A city to call your own?”

“I have a city,” Alin said calmly. “It's much nicer than this one, so I'm thinking about bringing it here. Now, I will ask one more time. Where is Grandmaster Naraka?”

“With
you,
Eliadel. If you don't have her, then I can only be pleased that she escaped. If anyone will be able to flog your rebellious hide, it will be her.” Then he spat at Alin's feet.

Such gestures did not bother him now. He simply summoned his sword—its blade formed from interlocking planes of golden light—and ran Helgard through.

There was no road to perfection for this Grandmaster. He had knowingly endangered his people and the world. It was only right that he should suffer the consequences. The Blue Light begged for mercy, the Gold cheered his decisive action, and the Rose asked him to stop. But in this, his mind was made up.

The Grandmasters would have to die.

The golden circle had engulfed most of the wall near Alin, and he thought the gleaming gold looked much better than the irregular, dirty stone. The gold was clean, smooth, and even. He would have to make sure to rebuild the entire wall of Enosh in the image of Elysia.

Alin looked out over the city, and he realized that there was much work to be done before he could oppose the other Incarnations. Months of work, at least. He accepted that fact, letting green patience rule him. He would do as much as he could for this city. As much as needed to be done.

He would start by finding the other Grandmasters and introducing them to their fate.

No matter how long it took.

***

Simon leaned on the crutch the Nye had made for him, hobbling down the hallway. He wasn’t supposed to be out of bed except to use the pool—Olissa’s orders—but this was his responsibility.

“Where are you going to go?” he asked.

Ilana stopped at the entry hall. Her hair was bound up behind her, and she carried a pack of supplies on her back. “I’m going after my brother. Somebody has to keep him from making an even worse mess of things.”

“Alin’s an Incarnation now,” Simon said hesitantly. “Are you sure he’ll even want to see you?”

She leaned over and ruffled Simon’s hair, which she’d done to Alin when he was a little boy. Simon had always thought it looked embarrassing and uncomfortable. Now, he discovered that he was absolutely right.

“I don’t understand all this Traveler stuff,” she said, hitching her pack up onto one shoulder. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll figure something out.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and Ilana had clearly made up her mind. So, even though the strain felt like it would kill him, Simon called steel. Then he reached up and pulled Azura down from the wall.

After Ilana passed through the Gate and into the outside world, he stood in the entry hall for a few long minutes, thinking. Back in Myria, he’d never known Ilana particularly well, but he found himself wishing she would succeed. He hoped she found Alin and talked him back to sanity.

Because if she failed, and Alin went on a rampage, Simon would have to kill him.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE
:

G
ATES
IN
THE
S
NOW

358
th
Year of the Damascan Calendar

1
st
Year in the Reign of Queen Leah I

Winter’s End

Six months later, Simon gathered his black cloak around him. For once, he was glad of its warmth. The color stuck out even more than usual against the snow, painting him like a single blot of ink on a sheet of parchment. He was higher up in the mountains than he had ever been, nestled in a tiny valley surrounded by rock walls.
 

The whole scene was covered in three feet of snow—more than Simon had ever seen in one place except through a Helgard Gate. He had seen mountains, where snow would gather on the very tops, and they experienced the occasional flurry in Myria, but the flakes usually melted the moment they hit the ground. Before he left the village, he’d never seen more than wet patches of slush.
 

He had only imagined an endless white blanket like this. It was even colder than he would have expected.

Oh my, the wind is so violent up here!
Gloria exclaimed. Simon pulled the doll out of his coat pocket, partially to look at her, partially to see if she would react to the cold. He wasn’t sure if the dolls could or could not sense temperature, but he always savored the opportunity to learn new things about them.

Gloria in particular had a wide smile on her painted wooden face, and her white hair was done up into an ornate bun, tied with fine golden chains. More gold ornaments adorned her fluffy pink dress.

Aren’t you cold, sweet one? It has to be freezing in this snow, but you’re not saying a word!
Like all of Simon’s dolls, Gloria’s mental voice sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel filled with whispering wind.

I feel like if I open my mouth, my tongue will freeze off,
Simon sent.

Don’t complain, now. It’s unbecoming of a sweet young man like you. No one likes a boy who complains too much.

You asked me!
Simon had only taken Gloria because she had irritated him for months about favoring Caela and Otoku over the others. He had only been out here waiting for an hour or two, but he was already regretting his choice.
Please tell me there’s a Valinhall power that keeps you warm. I’ll go challenge that room right now.

Hmmmmm, let me think,
Gloria sent, in tones of exaggerated thoughtfulness.
The winter garden has an ice dagger that will help you ignore pain and discomfort. I don’t think it does quite as much for temperature, though. As a matter of fact, I bet it makes you even colder!

Simon let Gloria chatter on, because she seemed to be most happy that way. He wished he had taken Caela or Otoku, even if that did mean he played favorites. Not only would they be better company, they both understood Leah better than he did. Maybe they could help him feel better about his role in her plan.

“Stay where I tell you and wait,” Leah had told him. She was wearing a fancy red-and-gold dress and her crown, so it was more of an order. “When I need you, I’ll give you a signal.”

“What signal?” he had asked, in the foolish and naïve hope that someone would, for once, explain a plan before requiring him to follow it.

“I assure you, you won’t miss it,” she’d said, and then practically shoved him through a Gate. And now he had been standing around in the cold for the better part of two hours. He had come here to fight an Incarnation, not freeze his toes off when his boots soaked through.

Gloria was still babbling, and Simon began to wonder if the dolls could run out of breath when they didn’t have any lungs.
…and you know about the white flame, though that’s more the illusion of warmth than real heat. It burns poisons out, but you know that, it’s not intended for comfort, and look out!

Simon almost didn’t hear the warning buried in Gloria’s chatter, but a shadow loomed over him and he hurled himself to the right. As he collapsed into a snowdrift, he called steel.

His muscles chilled and tightened, as though they had been banded with ice-cold metal. Chains crawled up his arms, beginning with one black link on the backs of his hands and snaking slowly up his wrists. They looked like ink, but they felt like rough iron on his skin.

All in all, the sensations did nothing to make him more comfortable.

The shadow swelled for a moment before something huge and white slammed into the spot where he had been standing, sending puffs of snow blasting into the air. The sound echoed off the nearby rocks in an endless crash.

Before Simon could get a good look at the thing that had just landed—it looked like a ball of dirty white fur embedded in the snow—a shining crystal came rocketing through the sky, flashing like a shooting star. It was a chunk of grey-white stone about the size of his fist, and it flew at him as though it were going to slam into his teeth.