The Crimson Vault by Will Wight

Author:Will Wight
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Hidden Gnome Publishing
Published: 2013-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE:

A DECLARATION OF WAR

Simon dashed away from the clearing, following the trail of the Incarnation. He should have been running across wet grass, but his shoes pounded on hardwood flooring; that was a bad sign. The Incarnation's corruption was spreading. The Damascans' entire camp had been corrupted by the Incarnation’s presence, now: the tents had transformed from peaked canvas into wooden structures with shingled roofs. They looked like doghouses. The earth between the rows of tents had transformed into wood-paneled flooring, the grass into green carpeting. Lantern-poles and hitching-posts for the horses had transformed into coat-racks and hat-stands.

The weapons strewn about camp remained untouched, waiting in barrels or beside cots, but the blood and corpses were nowhere to be seen.

It looks like the Nye have been busy, Simon thought.

Up ahead, Angeline sent.

He still couldn’t get used to having a doll who actually kept her mind on business; he wasn’t sure he liked it. Caela or Otoku would have responded with a joke, or at least sarcasm.

It usually annoyed him, but now he was finding that he missed their banter.

Simon snagged a spear from where it stood upright in a barrel, hefting it in one hand. The Incarnation had already destroyed Harinfel, but Simon could see another village to the southeast, in the distance; he could just barely see Valin's chain-shrouded back. He was headed straight for the cluster of buildings.

As the Incarnation walked, the ground behind him turned to polished wood. Rocks scraped and rumbled and shed dust as they shaped themselves into chairs; trees he passed dropped their leaves and bark as they were formed into carved beams, holding up a ceiling that didn't exist. The world shaped itself around the Wanderer, steadily becoming more and more like Valinhall.

Simon ran. His steel had almost recovered, and he desperately wanted to call its power. His already-exhausted arms ached from supporting the spear, and the muscles in his legs burned. He would need the full extent of his power, so he waited, running on his body's natural strength alone.

He was running downhill, and if the terrain had remained in its natural state, he would have had to slow down or risk twisting an ankle on rock and tumbling down. But the Incarnation had kindly provided him with an even platform of flat wood, so he ran without hesitation, steadily eating up Valin's lead.

The Valinhall Incarnation didn't seem to be hurrying, but nor was he wasting time; he moved ahead at a measured pace.

Once Simon had covered enough of the distance between him and Valin, he called steel. The surge of cold power through his body soothed his aching muscles and filled him with a strength that felt intoxicating compared to his exhausted weakness. He hurled the spear with the strength of five men, sending it flying more than far enough to take Valin through the back.

Of course, Simon had never trained with the spear, and aiming one correctly was harder than it looked. The spear clattered to the ground five paces ahead and ten paces to the left of his target.

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