House Of Blades - House of Blades Part 24
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House of Blades Part 24

"The people love you," Ezera picked up. The two of them sounded almost rehearsed. "You are a symbol of our inevitable triumph and Zakareth's unavoidable defeat."

The light of Elysia called to him, just out of sight, warm at the back of his mind. They wouldn't be able to stop him if he decided to force his way through; Ezera rarely saw combat, and Miram would hold herself back to avoid injuring her Rising Sun. He could do it.

But then what? They had done nothing but treat him kindly, and he would repay them by attacking them. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't get to Bel Calem in time without the aid of another Traveler; Elysia was not the best Territory for Traveling long distances.

He almost managed to persuade himself that he had no choice. His reasons were good, his excuses solid. Even Leah wouldn't blame him.

But the Grandmasters were always telling him what a hero he was going to be. Well, so be it. If they wanted him to be a hero, they would have to live with him acting heroic.

Alin sighed as though beaten and put on his most tragic face. "Just promise me," he said heavily, "that you will do everything you can to persuade Overlord Malachi. We don't have much time left."

Ezera relaxed visibly, but Miram looked sad. "Everything we can, Eliadel. And I am sorry." She squeezed his arm gently; her grip was rough and callused.

Alin nodded, blinking rapidly, and looked away. He had never been the most convincing liar, but he would have to pull it off today. He sank into one of the richly stuffed chairs scattered around his room and stared out the window, hopefully signaling to his guests that he wished to be left alone.

They got the message almost immediately; he heard them bow and murmur their respects before escorting themselves out.

As soon as the doors closed, Alin jumped up and reached out to the blazing star in his mind.

Golden light gathered in the air, swirled, formed into the misty outline of a distant shining city. Alin stayed focused, drawing in that distant light and pouring it into the doorway. It took less time and concentration than it had when he first began, back when he could barely open a Gate in an empty room with half an hour, but he still chafed at the delay. Someone could wander in at any second, asking after Eliadel's needs. He wanted to be long gone before that started.

At last he felt a warm summer-scented breeze blowing from the open Gate. Elysia's gleaming rooftops and soaring towers loomed in the distance as he stepped through.

His rooms were in the Grandmasters' palace, at the exact center of Enosh. So how far did he need to Travel to find someone who would listen?

Alin found Gilad exactly where he had expected: sitting on the flat roof of the Naraka Quarters, alone, hunched over a book. Alin felt a small spark of satisfaction; he had nailed his destination in one shot. If only Leah could see him now.

Gilad stumbled to his feet as soon as Alin stepped out of his golden Gate, his book clattering to the ground.

"Alin, uh, sir. How can I be of service?"

"I need to Travel, Gilad," Alin said, mustering up every crumb of authority he could. "Can you have me in Bel Calem tonight?"

Gilad's eyes darted from side to side as if looking for somewhere to hide. He paled. "Eliadel, sir, I don't think I'm supposed to do that."

"So you can, then?"

"Well, I can. But they said they didn't want you leaving the city." Gilad shuffled a little in place, not meeting Alin's eyes. "If you want to leave, um, I think I'll have to stop you."

Alin briefly pictured himself being hauled back to his room by a blushing, stammering Gilad. He didn't think he could stand the shame. Gilad was one of the few Travelers in existence with bonds to two different Territories, and everyone treated him with the respect he deserved as a powerful Traveler. Even so, to be beaten and dragged off by someone too scared to look you in the eye...

Leaning down, Alin looked straight at Gilad, like a big brother confronting a younger. Never mind that Gilad was probably three years the elder, and had been learning to Travel since he could walk.

"Gilad," Alin said, "what does this prophecy say that Eliadel will do?"

"Confront the Evening Star, and stem the tide of blood so the Gate of the Heavens may open once again," Gilad responded. He didn't hesitate, and he sounded as if he were quoting.

"Exactly." Alin had very little idea of what the prophecy actually said, but Gilad sounded sure. "Now, how am I going to do all that if the Grandmasters keep me here?" Gilad's eyes darted away again, and Alin pressed his advantage.

"Listen to me, Gilad. Some people I care about are going to die. They may already be dead. But if they're not, I owe it to them to do everything I can to save them. You understand that, don't you?"

Gilad nodded.

"Now, I can't do this alone. I need someone by my side. Someone who will stand with me against Damasca, even when no one else does. Can you do that for me, Gilad?"

Gilad's back straightened, and he nodded again, more firmly. He even glanced up at Alin's face, once. Briefly.

Alin didn't let his surge of elation show. He just nodded back, as though he had never expected any other response.

"I'm glad to hear it," Alin said. "Now, we need to leave as soon as possible."

"Grandmaster Naraka has sentries posted on the other side," Gilad replied. "They'll let her know if anybody tries to sneak past."

"Can you get past them anyway?"

Gilad issued a weak smile. "They don't call me a genius for nothing, I guess."

Alin grinned back.

"Then let's go."

Alin tried to keep the sleeve of his rich blue jacket away from the walls of the cavern, but it was an almost impossible task. The red stone of Naraka had a gritty, sandy outer coating, like a layer of fine ash-come to think of it, that was probably what it was. Regardless, as he followed Gilad through a twisting oven-hot tunnel of stone and ash, Alin found himself trying to keep his clothes away from the walls. The shirt alone was worth more than anything he had ever owned, and he didn't want it stained. Though he feared he was far too late for that.

A rattling screech, like the cry of an angry hawk, echoed painfully through the tunnel. Gilad twisted around to look, though he knew he couldn't see anything around the bend.

"Guardians from Bel Calem," Gilad whispered. "They've caught our scent."

Almost instinctively Alin breathed deeply through his nose, but all he smelled was singed meat and rotten eggs.

"On the bright side," Alin said, "that means we're getting close."

"Hurry," Gilad responded. "We have to hurry." He took off running down the tight corridor.

Alin ran after him, trying not to think about what a new set of clothes like these would cost. In a matter of seconds the tunnel opened up onto one of the huge caverns that seemed to make up most of Naraka. The heat, even compared to the stifling sauna of the tunnel, felt like a slap in the face.

The stalactites, hanging from the ceiling far overhead, glowed apple-red against the surrounding shadows, giving an eerie impression of bloody stars in a black sky. Wide streams of molten rock-Gilad had called it "lava"-poured in endless rivers from rents in the walls. A lake of lava below rippled and roiled as things stirred underneath the surface. Alin caught a glimpse of black scales and one gleaming ruby eye before he shuddered and looked away.

Their tunnel led onto a bridge of stone, wide enough for two to walk side-by-side. Technically. Alin was sure that he'd rather try it single-file. At the far end of the bridge, an obsidian pillar stood sentry at the center of its own circular island of stone.

The pillar, a jagged spike of gleaming black, stabbed towards the ceiling, fiery golden symbols gleaming on one side.

Gilad pointed straight at the obsidian pillar. "That's the way out, but it should be..."

Two brawny men walked out from behind the pillar, readying black wooden shields and long black spears. They were accompanied by a pair of ember-colored insects the size of wolves. They looked like huge ants painted in colors of flame.

"...guarded, yeah, I was going to say guarded."

Alin touched the golden light in the back of his mind, and everything seemed to brighten. He knew he was probably glowing, but didn't bother glancing at his own skin to check.

"Gilad, what are those things?"

The Naraka Traveler didn't look at him. He kept flexing his right hand as though working out sore muscles; Alin knew that palm carried his Naraka brand. Was it paining him, or was he preparing to use it?

"Itasas tribesmen," Gilad said. "Oh, wait, you mean the bugs? The natives call them kush'na, but that roughly translates to 'flame-walkers.' They can walk on the lava, you see."

The tribesmen stopped at the end of the stone bridge, shields forward and spears pointed at the ceiling. One of them called out, in a thick, awkward accent, "Stop. Turn back. Go away."

"Can you open a Gate right here?" Alin asked.

"No. You can only open a Naraka Gate at certain points. Trying here could kill us both."

"Then can we turn back? Go around?"

The shrieking cry came again, echoing from the tunnel behind them.

"No time," Gilad responded, and began to run forward onto the stone bridge.

Filling his palm with the deadly gold light of Elysia, Alin followed.

As one, the two flame-walkers let out a burbling hiss and skittered forward. Gilad pulled a red stone from his pocket and tossed it into the lava far below.

What was that supposed to do? The ant-monsters were still coming. Gilad hadn't done anything!

He hurled the gold light in his palm. It felt oddly heavy, and instead of blasting the flame-walker apart, it just knocked it back a few steps. He felt awkward and strained, though an attack like that should have taken barely more effort than throwing a brick.

"What's going on?" Alin asked, panicked. "I should be stronger than this!"

Gilad studied the lava below, ignoring the approaching flame-walkers, but he answered the question. "The Territories are far apart. You can never call up your full power in somebody else's Territory."

They only told him that now? He had counted on the power of Elysia to protect him in other Territories, but now he might not even have that!

The flame-walkers were only a few paces away, rippling with heat and ember-colored light. They hissed again, and Alin felt his skin crawl.

"Do something!" he yelled. Gilad, watching the lava, smiled and stretched out a hand.

"Okay," he said.

Something ripped from Gilad's outstretched hand, an almost-invisible ripple that expanded from his hand in a blast of silent thunder. An invisible wall passed through Alin, and he flinched back, but he felt nothing. When the wave of Gilad's power met the flame-walkers, they staggered back-startled, not injured-and hesitated for a moment, but then continued forward. The ripple shook dust from the walls, and the nearby lava threw up waves as though a strong wind had passed overhead.

Alin waited a handful of seconds for something to happen. If Gilad said he had done something then Alin trusted him, but as far as he could tell, the Naraka Traveler might as well have spit from the bridge.

Then something burst from the ocean of lava far below. It looked like a hawk, but a hawk built entirely out of campfire flames. Its eyes were bright coals, its beak white-hot, and sparks drifted from its spread wings. It let out a searing cry as it shot from the lava, and it snatched one of the flame-walkers in its blazing claws.

Only then did Alin realize that this hawk was the size of a horse.

It snatched up the flame-walker and kept flying, releasing the creature to splatter on the ash-covered rocks that surrounded the lava ocean. Then it banked away for another pass.

The flame-walker had stopped facing Alin, turning to hiss at the hawk instead, but Alin had no desire to play fair with a hellish creature from another world. He blasted it in the stinger with a pulse of golden light, knocking it from the bridge.

One of the tribesmen had turned toward the hawk, shield raised and spear held at the ready. The other charged across the bridge, heading for Alin, spear lowered.

"Gilad!" Alin yelled, but Gilad had practically collapsed, holding his head between his hands.

"Took...too much...sorry," Gilad said through gritted teeth. Blood leaked from one of his nostrils.

So it was up to Alin to deal with this man, was it? If he could have called on Elysia's full power, he wouldn't even be worried. As it was, though...

It took far too much effort to pull gold light from Elysia, like ripping out a stubborn weed. Each time he tried, he felt as though he had dragged a bag of rocks uphill with one hand. And when he did finally get a ball of golden light, it splashed harmlessly on the charging man's shield.

In sheer desperation, Alin reached deeply into Elysia, straining himself to the limits, for something that he had once called without thought: a golden sword of pure, translucent light.

It formed, finally, just half a second before the tribesman reached him with his spear. Alin stabbed the sword forward.

Then there was a rush of flame and heat, and the tribesman vanished. Alin blinked for a moment, clearing his eyes, before he saw the man tumbling through the air toward the lava below. The hawk, soaring overhead, screamed its triumph, and flew off deeper into the caverns. It vanished behind a falling stream of lava.

The bird must have flown by and snatched the man up just before he could attack. Alin shuddered. The bird could just as easily have taken him, and he would have never had time to react.

Sword in hand, Alin turned to meet the next tribesman, but he was gone too. He couldn't have left, since this bridge was the only passage between the obsidian pillar and the rest of Naraka, so that left two options: either he had opened his own Gate to the real world, or the hawk had gotten him too.

Either way, the bridge was clear.

Alin pulled Gilad to his feet, and together they hobbled over to the gold-marked black rock that stretched over Alin's head.

"Can you get us out of here now?"

Gilad didn't answer, just began whirling his right hand in a complex pattern. Alin took that as a yes.

Just as the Gate opened, cool air flooding out and soothing Alin's singed skin, he heard the sound of a hunting horn.

Reluctantly, fearing what he would find, Alin turned away from the Gate to look back across the bridge.

More tribesmen, blackened shields and spears in their hands, emerged from the tunnel that Alin and Gilad had used. They had another crowd of flame-walkers with them.

Great.

Alin wrenched a bolt of light from Elysia, ignoring the strain he felt in his mind. He hurled it forward, striking one of the ant-creatures with enough force to toss it from the bridge. The wind from the open Gate behind him felt cool.

"Gilad, come on! Gate's closing!"

Gilad ducked behind the obsidian pillar, gasping for air. "If I do...they'll just open it again. They'll be after you...in seconds."

"Get that hawk to do it!" Alin said.

"I might be able to call it back without a second summoning stone," Gilad responded, "but it'll take time."