These must be the Tartarus Travelers, Alin realized. Since coming to Enosh, he had heard of Tartarus Travelers referred to as 'soldiers,' but he had never thought of them as fighting alongside ordinary troops. Travelers had, to him, always seemed like they should be kept separate from the ordinary fighters.

The five swordsmen seemed only too happy to fall back, hurrying back to the Travelers with more enthusiasm than discipline. The man in black simply stood there and watched, head c.o.c.ked to one side.

As one, the three Tartarus Travelers each pulled out a small silver object and pointed them toward the man in black. They would be keys, Alin knew, tiny keys of Tartarus steel that Travelers of that Territory used in summoning.

Each Traveler moved the key differently. One turned it, as though opening a lock. One drew the key from top to bottom, like slitting a curtain down the middle. The other drew her key from left to right.

A Tartarus Gate gaped open in front of each Traveler, and wind whipped in the red-lit room as though the Gates were sucking all the air in with them. A spinning blade, like a razor-edged cartwheel, flew out of one Gate, flying parallel to the ground. Another Gate spat forth a spray of arm-length needles. From the third, a huge form*like a man in a suit of silver armor, but impossibly large*shouldered his way into the world.

The summoning process only took a split second, which must have been what stopped the man in black from simply blowing his gla.s.s horn again and forcing the Gates to disappear. Alin wasn't sure he had ever seen a Traveler open a Gate and complete a summons as quickly as these three from Tartarus.

But the swordsman in black was ready. He went to one knee as soon as he saw the Tartarus Travelers take out their keys, and he placed both of his swords very carefully on the floor. When the air in front of him exploded in a storm of flashing steel, the man in black summoned an enormous shield that looked as though it had been designed to stop a rampaging bear. It was huge, easily big enough for the crouching man to hide behind, and most of its center was covered by a scuffed bronze plate. The swordsman angled the shield and let the needles slam into it. Most either stuck in the wood or struck the bronze plate, bouncing off and spinning into the air.

The razor-edged wheel spun over the shield, shaving a splinter of wood from the shield's very tip. Then the swordsman did something. It happened so fast that Alin wasn't sure exactly what he saw, but it seemed as though the man in black thrust his hand up into the center of the spinning blade, grabbing something that Alin couldn't see.

The silvery disc stopped spinning, as the swordsman in black clutched it by the middle. Now that it wasn't moving so quickly, Alin could see the weapon in more detail: it was a solid sheet of metal, razor sharp all the way around, but the center of the circular disc was empty. The circle in the middle was crossed with a single bar, as though to give a warrior something to grip.

There was no way to use it as a handhold, though, Alin was sure. Even though the swordsman held it up now, there was no way he could use it: the disc was too wide, too heavy, and too unwieldy to use in combat. He could try and use it like a shield, Alin supposed, but he had a much better shield sitting on the ground in front of him. Besides, the disc had a hole in the middle.

"Oh, no," Gilad whispered. He started muttering to himself in what Alin recognized as the beginnings of a Helgard summons.

The swordsman in black leaped over his shield, running to meet the huge man in the silver armor. The armored giant drew an enormous broadsword, swinging with two hands down on the man's head.

He blocked the broadsword with the edge of the silvery disc, and sparks flew. By the light of the sparks, Alin could tell that the swordsman was indeed dressed head-to-toe in black: he had wrapped strips of black cloth over his face and head.

With the disc in the swordsman's left hand, he held off the armor's sword. With his other hand, he slipped his own sword inside the armor's visor. That simple. He almost looked delicate, as though he were simply and harmlessly flicking the man on his armored forehead.

The armored man seemed to melt, sinking down to the floor in a deafening clatter of metal.

By this time, the three Tartarus Travelers had spread out to surround the man in black, already moving their keys to summon more weapons. The five remaining swordsmen spread out as well, presumably to keep from looking useless.

And Alin made a decision.

The Grandmaster was waving her hand in a summoning motion, probably to make another useless demonstration of power, and Gilad was still muttering his Helgard summons. Alin grabbed them both by the back of the neck and pulled them toward the corner of the room.

Gilad sputtered and coughed, cut off mid-chant. Grandmaster Naraka tried to grab him by the arm with her glowing red hand, promising vile threats.

"Quiet," Alin said. "We're wasting time." He wasn't sure he would get away with that tone any other time, but at the moment he was far more focused on getting results.

Alin dragged them off to one corner of the room, underneath a cloud of Naraka's red fireflies. He glanced to his side, to the room's door, and briefly considered just walking out. He quickly rejected the idea. They could wander the corridors of the house for hours looking for the Incarnation; despite what the Grandmaster claimed, he didn't think it would be so easy to find the way downstairs in the Overlord's mansion.

"What are you doing, boy?" Grandmaster Naraka demanded.

"We need to get to the Incarnation," Alin said.

"Good point," Gilad said. "Stay on mission."

Grandmaster Naraka shot a poisonous glance back at the Valinhall Traveler, but then she brushed her hands off, businesslike. "We've wasted enough time here. Let's get moving."

She sounded for all the world as if leaving had been her idea.

"So where is the room?" Alin asked.

"The Hanging Tree has to be in contact with the earth," Grandmaster Naraka responded. Her red gla.s.ses looked almost black in the crimson light. "Wherever it is, it will be below us."

Alin reached out to Elysia, that sunny light he always felt just over his shoulder. Bright golden force began to gather between his palms.

"Below it is," Alin said. Then he blasted a hole in the floor.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:.

ALIN VS. KAI.

Simon stared at the sword jutting from the Incarnation's chest. Indirial barely hung onto the hilt, still kneeling on the ground, apparently too exhausted to stand. But he pushed the sword in with both hands.

"I couldn't...see you," Valin said thickly.

"It's my impeccable fashion sense," Indirial responded. He twisted his blade as he tore it from the Incarnation's flesh.

Valin stood there for a moment, a ragged hole in his chest, and Simon allowed himself to relax. The soldiers were still fighting the Nye, but they seemed to be winning*at least, there were fewer black robes standing than there had been a few minutes before. Maybe this would all soon be over.

Step back, Angeline said grimly. It's not over.

Valin looked up, and for a moment the silver of his eyes gleamed brighter than the moon. A bright green light flared in his wound, like sunlight filtered through a forest canopy. Before Simon's eyes, the Incarnation's wound knitted itself whole.

The Valinhall Incarnation spun, impossibly fast, and seized Indirial's wrist. Indirial twisted for leverage, trying to break his master's hold, but Valin's grip didn't budge. The chains on his skin twisted and writhed like a nest of black snakes.

With a shout, the Incarnation hauled Indirial off his feet and lifted him up in the air, slamming him down against the ground with a deafening crack. The Overlord struggled feebly, but Valin walked up and stomped on his ribs with impossible force. Simon heard the crack from where he crouched in the bushes, two dozen paces away. Valin kicked his former student hard enough that Indirial's body rose into the air. Then he spun on his heel and kicked Indirial's black-cloaked form in midair, launching him all the way across the clearing. His body rolled when it landed, coming to a stop almost at Simon's feet.

"That's enough," Valin said calmly. With one hand, he brushed the blood from his chest; the wound was gone completely. With his other hand he summoned his blade.

Valin swung his gaze to the southeast, staring off into the distance. Simon barely heard his words. "You won't stop me, this time," Valin said. "I will smash through anything in my way. I will earn this."

With a chill, Simon realized he was staring in the direction of Cana.

The Incarnation of Valinhall raised his blade to the sky as if in salute, and for an instant the Nye all froze. Then they collapsed into shadows and moonlight essence, slithering away. The soldiers who had just been engaged in combat looked around, bewildered, wondering where their opponents had just gone. One or two even raised a ragged cheer.

Valin dashed forward, faster than Simon had ever moved with Nye essence. Simon couldn't even see him, except in flashes: first he was on the hill where he had fought Indirial, then he was twenty paces away, standing in the middle of the soldiers, his gold-and-silver sword pulled back.

Then the soldiers died.

They fell like wheat at the harvest. One man had a Tartarus steel blade, and managed to knock aside one of Valin's blows before the Incarnation kicked him across the battlefield and on top of the nearest tent. No one else offered any resistance. Valin pa.s.sed through the crowd of soldiers, and in only a handful of seconds left nothing behind him but bodies and b.l.o.o.d.y mud.

Apparently one of Indirial's Travelers had survived, because a red lizard*like a blood-red salamander the size of a pony, with three barbed tails*ran up and hissed in Valin's direction. Then it flicked its tail forward, sending three tiny fireb.a.l.l.s buzzing toward the Incarnation's face.

He didn't bother blocking; he let them hit. The fireb.a.l.l.s shattered inches from Valin's face, crashing against a translucent helm of pale green light. When the light from the fire faded, so too did the helm. Valin vanished from where he was standing, reappearing ten paces later behind the giant salamander.

The lizard's tails each fell to the ground, followed by its head.

Valin kept walking through the camp, due southeast, seemingly in a hurry this time. Every once in a while his sword dipped out into one or another of the tents to the side, and he withdrew it even bloodier than before.

Simon shivered as he realized that, this time, the Incarnation was going to cut his way through all the way to Cana. What was the village that Indirial had shown him on the map, the one between them and Cana? The village of Belcor?

Angeline interrupted his thoughts. We need to get Indirial to the House, she said, her tone firm. Simon. You need to get Indirial in the pool, or he will die. You can still return to fight the Incarnation.

Fight him? Simon asked. I can't stop him. I'm not ready for him.

You don't need to stop him, just to slow him down. Remember? Indirial's reinforcements should be here soon. But for now, return to the House.

Simon wasn't sure there was any need. Indirial was likely dead already, considering the beating he'd taken. Simon called what little steel he could*even the small trickle he managed to draw from Valinhall was enough to keep him on his feet*and moved Azura down the air in the beginnings of a Valinhall Gate.

As soon as the portal was complete, Simon hauled Indirial through and began dragging him down the hall toward the pool. He would need to toss the Overlord in for healing and stand guard himself; Indirial was obviously in no shape to deal with the imps on his own.

Simon tried to keep his own condition from his mind, but he couldn't help noticing the aches and pains of his body. He was covered in sc.r.a.pes, cuts, and bruises. There was no part of his body that didn't ache. He had sustained over a dozen cuts that he didn't remember earning, and his steel would only last him another few seconds before failing entirely. Even worse, he was exhausted at a bone-deep level. He had never felt so tired.

But he stayed on his feet, dragging Indirial down the hall by the neck of his cloak. He had run out of liquid steel completely, and was dragging the Overlord down the hallway with nothing but his tired arms, when he backed into something in the middle of the hall.

Wearily, Simon turned to see Lycus catching his balance against the wall. His blond hair was disheveled and the side of his face purple, as though he had just come from a fight.

Simon didn't have time to ask questions. He shoved Indirial at the boy.

"Lycus, I need you to get some help. Take care of this guy. Bring him to the pool and protect him while he's in there, can you do that?"

Lycus nodded, his eyes wide, and he started to hurry off for help. He had barely moved more than a few feet, though, before he hesitated and turned back to Simon.

"Where are you going to be?" he asked.

"Doing something stupid," Simon replied, then he forced his aching body to limp back towards the Gate.

Kai was gone, Indirial unconscious. Somebody had to slow the Incarnation down before he carved a b.l.o.o.d.y trough through the village of Belcor, and it looked like that was going to be him.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't his responsibility, that he could let Indirial's Damascan friends take care of it whenever they showed up. It didn't work.

Simon wasn't sure if he could stop Valin long enough for reinforcements to show up. He didn't know if Indirial's reinforcements could handle an Incarnation even if they did show up in time.

But he did know that he couldn't sit around and do nothing.

He had to try.

Alin stood three floors below where he had started, crouching behind the green shield he summoned from Elysia. The shield surrounded him in a half-dome made of hexagonal plates of interlocking green light, like a honeycomb of solid force. A bolt of lightning shattered against the green shield without even scorching the Travelers within.

Gilad and Grandmaster Naraka stood behind him, but he couldn't turn to check on their condition. Every once in a while he felt a flash of heat on his back and heard a somewhat distant scream, and he took that to mean they were doing their jobs. So he had to focus on his own.

There were two Endross Travelers in front of him, a man and a woman, and their storms were growing big enough to shroud the entire hallway in black clouds and flashing lightning. Alin had learned enough of Endross to know that, the bigger those Gates became, the more he had to worry about. Of course, defending himself from lightning bolts was worry enough.

Alin let the green shield flicker out of existence in order to hurl a head-sized globe of golden light, but he had to immediately pull the shield back up when one of the Travelers tried to swarm him with a flock of little flying lizards. They scrabbled against his green shield, hissing at him and crackling with blue sparks.

"Send me another one of those lights," the female Traveler taunted. "That was delicious."

"Come on out and fight!" the male called.

Alin didn't know what was worse: the fact that they considered it an actual battlefield tactic to try and taunt him into making a stupid decision, or the fact that it was almost working. He was all but prepared to drop his shield and run at them with his fists if he thought it would shut them up.

There was a flash of heat against his back, and then a sudden freezing chill. Something huge roared, and*though Alin didn't turn around*he would have bet it had a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. The whole floor thundered as the whatever-it-was pounded down the hallway toward its prey.

Grandmaster Naraka tapped him on the shoulder. "Allow me to tend to these two, Eliadel. I have some experience with Endross."

Alin stepped to one side, though he didn't let his green shield lapse. The Grandmaster made a few gestures with her hand, and then a head poked its way out of thin air in front of her. It looked like a jet-black crocodile's head on a long, serpentine neck.

As it got closer to his shield, the head burst into flames.

"I've seen one of those things before," Alin realized aloud. "I fought one in Bel Calem."

"They are the kush'da'rosh," Grandmaster Naraka explained, taking on a lecturing tone. "Also known as snapdragons. They are quite rare, and prefer to attack from ambush. Drop the shield, please."

Alin glanced at her. The swarm of flying lizards was still only feet away, gnawing at the solid green light as though wishing to tear flesh from bone. At his look, Grandmaster Naraka nodded, so Alin let the shield drop.

Immediately, the tiny fliers rushed toward Naraka's black lizard.

"Little known facts about the kush'da'rosh," the Grandmaster said. "First, Endross creatures almost always consider it the strongest creature around. So they attack it first."

The giant black creature had fully emerged from the Gate, now, and it seemed to be having a great time snapping the little drakes out of the air and swallowing them whole. Their blue sparks seemed to cause it no inconvenience whatsoever.

"Second," the Grandmaster continued, "snapdragons are quite resistant to lightning."

The hallway filled with a blinding light, and Alin flinched away from the radiance. His hair stood on end, and the whole hall smelled as though the air was somehow burned.

One or both of the Enosh Travelers had launched a bolt of lightning at him...but it had been intercepted by the snapdragon's black hide. It swiveled its black crocodile head toward the Endross pair and let out a deafening roar, bursting fully into flame at the same time. When it waddled down the hallway, it did so with frightening, sinuous speed.

Alin raised his arm to protect himself from the snapdragon's heat, but Grandmaster Naraka*who had been standing even closer to the burning creature than Alin*seemed to feel no need. She just watched her summoned creature, impa.s.sive behind her red spectacles.

The kush'da'rosh had reached the two Endross Travelers now, having slipped between their rolling thunderstorms. The woman had banished her storm, fighting it hand-to-hand with her drawn sword. She was laughing, for some reason. The man kept maneuvering his storm like a shield, so that every time the snapdragon bit at him it risked falling into the storm.

Of course, they had*however temporarily*taken their eyes off the other three Travelers. Perhaps they expected their allies at the other end of the hallway to distract Alin and his party long enough for them to survive.

Gilad walked up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Alin. "All finished," he said. Alin didn't have to check to know that everyone else in the room was dead.

"So it's just these two, then," Alin said. Grandmaster Naraka nodded, and Alin filled both of his palms with golden light.

The male Traveler managed to get his Gate up in time, swallowing the golden light whole, and the woman somehow sensed the light coming, spun around, and caught the blast on the flat end of her sword. The light deflected up into the ceiling, sending debris clattering down.