The lightning wastes (the traveler s gate chronicles collection 3)

Contents Title Page Copyright WARNING Welcome! [Series Title] The Lightning Wastes Caverns of Flame Ragnarus [Sequel Page] THE LIGHTNING WASTES Will Wight www.WillWight.com Copyright © 2014 Will Wight All rights reserved Cover art by Patrick Foster IMPORTANT: What follows is a small collection of short stories set in the universe of the Traveler’s Gate Trilogy, which begins in the novel House of Blades If you have not read House of Blades or its sequel, The Crimson Vault, then you will not understand the following stories It’s okay; it’s not your fault I understand You’re still handsome and/or pretty If you were simply browsing the Kindle Store and this book caught your eye, I urge you to close this preview and go check out House of Blades I’ll wait If you’ve already read the Traveler’s Gate Trilogy—or at least the first two books—then come on in, my friend! These stories are intended to give you a closer look at the Territories and characters that we didn’t get to explore in the main trilogy If you’d rather stick with Simon, Alin, and Leah, I’ll understand! City of Light will be available in early 2014, and I hope it meets your approval Still with me? Then buckle up We’re headed off the map Here there be dragons Welcome to Elysia, young Traveler You will have heard many stories about what it means to be one of us Do not be fooled No outsider understands our purpose They think we are here to lead other Travelers, to make the decisions that they cannot This is true, and it is not true They think we are here as a last resort, as an ultimate power, to keep the Incarnations in check This is true, and it is not true They think we are here to balance the other Territories, to keep them from obtaining too much power and upsetting the natural balance This is true, and it is not true What I am about to tell you is known by few, and understood by even fewer: we are not here to lead, or to threaten, or to eliminate threats In the course of our duties, we will all these things, but ultimately we are here for a single purpose We are here to guide We are here to lead by example, inspiring other Travelers to live up to their own potential We should be as beacons in the darkness Welcome to the City of Light -Elysian Book of Virtues, Page The Traveler’s Gate Chronicles (Collection #3) THE LIGHTNING WASTES Valor is an easy virtue to admire We make heroes out of those who charge recklessly against superior forces We idolize the warriors who risk their lives to save the innocent, who stand firm in the face of certain death Truly, bravery and courage are fine qualities But Travelers of Endross can take it too far -Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 7: Gold 358th Year of the Damascan Calendar 1st Year in the Reign of Queen Leah I Days Until Autumn’s End Queen Leah the First slumped over onto her camp desk The thing almost collapsed—it was made to fold and pack up for easy marching, and she'd been using it as a permanent fixture for months now She was lucky it had lasted this long without it buckling under her She kept her face pressed against the desk So what if the desk broke, sending her crashing to the ground? She couldn't bring herself to care She had other things to worry about Such as her meeting with the nine Overlords, which had just ended “Could that have possibly gone any worse?” She asked, into the desk Indirial's cloak rustled and a chair creaked; he must have sat down “An Incarnation didn't blast through the tent and kill us all In that light, I'd say we came out ahead.” Leah raised her head, and it seemed to take ten times as much effort as normal “They're barely listening to me anymore, Indirial They're not concerned about the nation They can barely see past their own cities.” Indirial's easy smile never left his face, blinding white against his dark villager's skin It was hard to put a dent in his optimism “You're young, and they barely know you Give them time Besides, the nation's going through a crisis Of course they're going to look to their own realms first.” He had taken his black cloak off, draping it over the back of his chair, leaving his chain-wrapped arms bare She had rarely seen the shadow-chains marking his arms that short; they barely twisted around his wrists He wore confidence like a second cloak, solid and dependable even in a crisis He was as old as her father—old enough to be her grandfather, in fact—but he looked twenty years younger It must have been a Valinhall thing Leah glanced over at the table next to her It was much sturdier than her portable writing desk, and covered with a giant map of the kingdom of Damasca The map was almost lost beneath a chaos of pins and buttons in every color imaginable The release of the Incarnations had worked on the nation like a kick on an anthill Cities were practically trading refugees, as their citizens fled one citadel for perceived safety in another Thousands of them were here, camped under her command, less than five miles from the sealed city of Cana “It's not what they're doing that bothers me,” Leah said “Look at what they're not doing None of them bothered to address the Endross Incarnation Not even Overlord Feiora.” Only a few days ago, they had received word that the Endross Incarnation had burst forth from its prison beneath the city of Eltarim It had left the city largely untouched for some reason, blasting off into the wilderness to terrorize ordinary merchants and a handful of small villagers Indirial folded his arms “Overlord Feiora rules Eltarim, but the city and the surrounding lands are practically untouched She's no Endross Traveler.” “She should have been,” Leah said Her father had appointed Feiora Torannus to guard the Endross Incarnation, even though she was an Asphodel Traveler In every other case, the Overlord Traveled the same Territory as the Incarnation he or she guarded Feiora was the sole exception, and at the moment Leah was having trouble recalling why “In any case, that's no excuse for her shirking her duty.” “You think she may have a personal reason for refusing to listen to you?” Indirial's grin got a little wider “Maybe you shouldn't have trapped her brother alive.” Lysander Torannus, Feiora's brother, had been another Overlord Before she sealed him into a block of solid crystal for treachery and attempted regicide Leah glared at the Overlord of Cana “I'll let him out at any time, if you think she won't mind me executing him instead.” Indirial put on a thoughtful look “No no, I don't think that would win you any friends Besides, she has a point She's got enough trouble keeping her people from panicking to hunt an Incarnation down What would she if she found it?” Leah had to resist raising a hand to her pounding head She always got a headache after meeting the Overlords Instead, she scooped up a report detailing the number of Travelers under her direct command “How many Endross Travelers did you have working for you?” she asked “Six.” “Can you find any of them now?” “I'd bet I can tell you exactly where they are.” Indirial craned his neck and looked meaningfully out the flap of the tent A few miles distant, but still clearly visible, the city of Cana glowed like a cherry-red sunset The whole capitol, from wall to wall, was covered by a shining dome of scarlet light Sealed by the power of the Ragnarus Incarnation No one had been in or out since the Incarnations first escaped, over three months before Leah found herself wondering whether any of the Endross Travelers were still alive Whether anyone was alive, under the dome, or if their blood, minds, and souls had been used as fuel for the weapons of the Crimson Vault “I don't see any on the list,” Leah said, scanning it quickly Indirial leaned forward, shuffling through her papers “I think there's ah, yes, here we go One of Cana's weather-workers made it out before the city was sealed.” Leah took the paper he offered her “An Endross weather-worker? I never knew Cana had one.” “The weather in Cana's pretty mild, so she had an easier job than most, but she warded off her fair share of storms.” She stared at the one single name under the “Endross” column, as though she could make it multiply by sheer force of will “Where are the others? Even counting the people trapped in Cana, we should have seen some Endross Travelers from other cities.” Indirial hesitated for a moment before speaking “This is just hearsay, you understand, but I've talked to the other Overlords They're all missing Endross Travelers I'd go so far as to say we're missing maybe half of all the Endross-trained Travelers in the kingdom.” “Where did they go?” Leah asked Her tone sounded much more harsh than she meant; she sounded like she was going to track them down and strangle them all one by one That didn't sound like such a bad plan, actually of the outpost walls, never to be heard from again Tutor Petrus' well waited just outside his round charwood doorway The pool was covered by a stone lid that took both of them to drag it off, and it was much smaller than the well in the sanctuary Their four buckets filled it almost to the brim “How about you?” Taichon asked, as they walked away from Tutor Petrus' house “Do you know what you're going to say to the tree?” Rasmus couldn't tell the truth, of course That would be admitting defeat to Taichon again “I have some idea,” he said Though part of the route back to the outpost wound through tunnels carved in the red stone walls, much of the road was exposed They had to step carefully on these sections, because there was often a sheer cliff to the side, dropping ten or fifteen feet to another plateau of solid rock Rasmus had known careless students or visitors to slip in the grit and ash, tumbling down to the stone below The fortunate survived with only a few broken ribs, while the unlucky could suffer a twisted neck or shattered skull “Well, I told you my story ” Taichon trailed off uncomfortably Good manners suggested that Rasmus should share his tale now “It's a lot like yours, I would say,” Rasmus said The bucket in Taichon's right hand swung out over a fifteen-foot drop “Pushed someone They fell and got hurt The difference was, they deserved it.” “Huh.” Taichon sounded disappointed He clearly didn't think Rasmus had any such story That was just like him: he never believed anything Rasmus said Sure, he was making up the tale this time, but he had certainly earned a little trust “You don't believe me.” “No, that's not true,” Taichon protested Rasmus would show him He barely thought about it It was more a surge of emotion, of inspiration, of something long hidden inside him lurching up and taking control for a single instant Rasmus took one step to the right and shoved Taichon had time for one startled, panicked expression before he went over the cliff A second later, a cracking thud and two hollow thunks marked Taichon and his pair of barrels hitting the ground I’ve done it now, Taichon thought I did it His head felt like someone had pumped it full of smoke Would the Travelers find him now? He had intentionally injured another student, after all That was a crime He had committed a crime in Naraka, of all places What was going to happen to him? No, not a crime A punishment After all, had Taichon not confessed to him that he had gone unpunished for hurting his little sister? Wasn't it a Naraka Traveler's job to arbitrate such cases? In fact, this was the best kind of penalty: one that fit the transgression Taichon had pushed his sister out of a tree, and in just retaliation, Rasmus had pushed him off of a cliff If the fates were kind, Taichon would suffer the same injuries as his sister The scales of justice would be balanced Rasmus might even be rewarded, for acting as befit a Traveler of Naraka That was when it occurred to him that he couldn't hear any of the noises he had expected from Taichon No screams, no groans, nothing Maybe he had hit his head, just like his sister That would be for the best: maybe he wouldn't remember anything when he woke up Rasmus stepped around a wild ash hound as he walked toward the cliff, shoving the dog out of the way with one leg He leaned down Most of Taichon's body lay pressed flat against the stone, but his head had twisted almost all the way around, as though he had tried to get one last look at Rasmus His killer Rasmus stumbled back from the edge, thinking fast He would have to come up with a story that didn't make him sound like a murderer He couldn't lie; the older Travelers had ways of finding guilt even through the most clever lies He had to make the truth serve his purposes Taichon had fallen from a cliff, and Rasmus saw it happen He wished it hadn't happened, he was full of regrets, and all that It was true; he now wished he had waited for a shorter drop He had never meant to have a body on his hands As cover stories went, that one would But he had to look like a real friend in grief He threw his buckets to the ground, convinced that someone who had truly witnessed the death of someone he loved would have abandoned the buckets instead of carefully carrying them back Rasmus then started to run Someone in his position would be expected to go for help as soon as possible As he ran, he couldn't escape one thought: at least he would have something really good to confess in his Initiation He barely made it three paces before he was forced to stop A trio of ash hounds, their manes burning, stood in his path They stared at him with orange eyes That was odd behavior for the dogs They were mostly scavengers, except under certain conditions, when they would work together to bring down larger game They never stood and waited for something to come to them Rasmus swerved to run around them, but another hound emerged from a nearby tunnel and glared at him with glowing eyes Rasmus spun around to try another route There was a second tunnel back near Tutor Petrus' house; it took more time, but he could always explain that he had been forced to take the longer route As he hurried back, he noticed three or four more ash-gray shadows, smoldering gently and trailing smoke He ran faster He had passed the spot where Taichon's body lay before he saw the hound behind him Now, how had it gotten through? It couldn't have passed him without him seeing it, and it couldn't have come from behind him: the only other thing behind this point was Petrus' house The tiny dog, barely more than a puppy, stared at him, its back burning with a line of embers Something in its stance gave it away This was his ash hound, so to speak The first creature he had ever summoned “I didn't call you.” Rasmus sent a mental command before him, ordering the dog aside It stayed where it was Instead of moving, it lowered its snout to the ground and drew in a long breath through its nose Once Twice All of the other ash hounds, in fact, were loudly sniffing the air and drawing closer Ash hounds could smell a murderer His stomach twisted, and his heart hammered through his rib cage “No, it's not me It wasn't me It's not a murder, it was an accident.” One of the largest hounds, whose fur was actually ablaze, let out a growl that sounded like distant thunder “He deserved it!” Rasmus begged Sometimes, his tutors said, you could talk Naraka creatures into agreeing with your view of justice You just had to make your points in the right way Rasmus sent his sincerity into a mental pulse aimed at the ring of hounds; surely they could sense that he was right “I gave him a just punishment You see? I'm not a murderer! I'm a Naraka Traveler!” One of the closest hounds lunged, knocking him onto his back Its teeth in his shoulder felt like a handful of red-hot knives Rasmus screamed as he'd never screamed before, a desperate sound that tore at his throat Another set of jaws closed around his ankles, and he thrashed physically and mentally, trying to shake them loose They were going to tear him to pieces This was how he would die: not like a Traveler, but like a criminal, torn apart by a pack of hungry dogs It took him a handful of seconds to wonder why more of them hadn't started biting him Some had the tops of their heads pressed against his side Were they trying to save him? Maybe a handful of the pack agreed with his version of justice Then he felt the tearing pain in his ankle, felt the stone scraping under his back, and he realized they weren't going to eat him after all He screamed louder With one final push, the pack of ash hounds hurled him off the cliff He only had an instant, twisting in the air, to see the coal-orange eyes of his summoned hound, staring down at him like an Arbiter in judgment Then he hit the rock Naraka Travelers believe that punishment should be like a well-executed crime: direct, focused, and brutal Very few of them have ever experienced real mercy They are not to be judged for this, only pitied -Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 8: Blue RAGNARUS 1st Year of the Damascan Calendar 1st Year in the Reign of Queen Cynara I Winter’s End Cynara of Damasca stood on the remnants of a wall that she herself had broken Only a few months ago, Cana had been an enemy city that she’d paid dearly to capture Now, it was her final refuge And not much of one, at that From here, she could see the enemy arrayed against her, a set of game pieces arranged neatly on a vast board They stood in three distinct groups, as she would have expected, given their vastly different natures To the north, the Asphodel Incarnation towered over the rest He looked like nothing so much as a cloudbank shaped into a robed scholar His head scraped the sky, and at his feet, a colorful garden of deadly plants sprouted spontaneously Serpentine shapes moved in the clouds of his feet, and flocks of birds wheeled in the Mist of his chest, but he was otherwise motionless To the south, a flashing thunderstorm followed the hordes of Endross Wyverns flew and spat lightning back up at the clouds while, on the ground, giant snakes and draconic lizards frolicked in a spectacle of blue-white sparks The Endross Incarnation was lost among them, but she supposedly had the face of a beautiful woman and the clawed limbs of a giant reptile That was solely rumor, though; the last Endross Incarnation that Cynara had destroyed had been a man who looked like he was made of packed sand and pure lightning Directly ahead, between the other two camps, were the Elysians They were divided into nine neat camps, color-coded for her convenience She couldn’t make out the details of individual figures, but she could guess well enough The Gold District would be made up of armored soldiers, some of which had the heads or bodies of animals The Red District would be tiny, deceptively strong gnomes; the Blue made up of twisting vampiric sea creatures, and so on After the campaign she had just fought, she was more familiar with Elysia than she had ever wanted to be The wind caught Cynara’s blond hair, pulling it behind her like a flag She felt the icy winter wind on her face and didn’t flinch It would be hot enough in the battle; she should cool down now, while she still could The Old Man’s laughter sounded from the swirling crimson portal next to her “Don’t look so grim, girl I would have thought you’d be happy Only three Incarnations here, those are much better odds than you expected.” Cynara kept her eyes fixed on the Elysia Incarnation, who at this distance was nothing more than a gold-and-white blur “Three? That means six are free to rampage across my kingdom, killing freely.” The Old Man smiled, splitting his gray-black beard in two As always when she had seen him, he carried a simple wooden staff, despite the weapons available to him in his Crimson Vault He wore simple gray robes, tied at the waist by a hemp rope, and his beard fell in a fan across his chest From those features alone, he might have looked like a homeless beggar, but the whole of him was…majestic, somehow As though he were a king who had decided to dress himself as a peasant to survey the common folk He turned his eyes to her, one an ordinary gray eye, and one a shining scarlet stone “Truly, you always look on the sweet side of things.” Cynara lowered herself to sit on the wall No need to keep standing, and she would need all her strength for the upcoming fight “Have you found a solution?” “It just so happens that I have.” She eyed him suspiciously With the Old Man, things were never simple “Is that so?” He spread one gnarled hand, revealing a handful of blood-red seeds They looked simple enough, like stubby beans “It took me years to gather this many, but I’ve finally done it.” She didn’t take them “We’ve been down this path before.” “There are nine here, Cynara One to bind each of the eight lesser Incarnations, and one for Elysia.” Cynara shook her head, watching the wind push the Asphodel Incarnation’s mist around “Only nine? I would have thought you’d want a backup plan.” The Old Man leaned heavily on his staff, making the wood creak Or maybe that was his back “The Hanging Trees work best in multiples of three More than nine, and it may become unstable You don’t want that.” “I don’t want to pay that price at all,” she said “We’ve spoken of this before There’s only one life I have the authority to sacrifice.” He nodded toward the three otherworldly armies “How many lives have they taken, you think? How many more, before you or they are defeated? I’m asking you to walk the path of lesser carnage, not greater.” Cynara pretended to work that over in her mind, but the truth was, she had reached a decision weeks ago She had only argued for the principle of it, to soothe her wounded conscience He was right In this case, a lesser sacrifice was necessary to prevent a greater And she would be the first She would not let her people pay a price that she could not afford herself She reached out to take the seeds, but he pulled back his fist “So eager, all of a sudden,” the Old Man said “You must first satisfy my price.” Cynara glared at him, wondering—not for the first time—if his own weapons would work against him “You may have my life That’s all I have to give.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully “Well…not quite.” Anger finally burst through her, sharp and hot “This subject is closed!” “You could rule when Elysia is deposed.” “And become a tyrant worse than she could ever be!” “Not a tyrant A queen An immortal queen, commanding a united land.” Cynara stood, putting herself face-to-face with the Old Man’s crimson eye “I will pay whatever price I must to keep my daughter and her kingdom safe But that does not include becoming a monster I would put her in even more danger than the threat of Elysia I have put one amount on the table, now take it or begone.” The Old Man’s red eye flared, and his gray grew suddenly piercing “I see that I cannot sway you Very well You have forsaken life eternal, and Ragnarus will drink the last of your blood.” She snatched the seeds from his hand “I hope you choke on it,” she muttered A horn drifted to her on the wind, sweet and pleasant as an angel’s song Her heart turned to ice Asphodel and Endross remained motionless, waiting on the plains They would be used as reinforcements for the primary assault An assault that, she knew, would be coming any minute now The armies of Elysia had begun to move *** Cynara finally found her daughter racing through the twisting streets of ruined Cana They had been searching for each other The fourteen-year-old girl collapsed into her mother’s arms, shaking uncontrollably “I heard the horn Everyone else is in hiding, but I had to find you.” Cynara the First pushed her daughter out to arm’s length, the better to get a look at Cynara the Second The girl had the same blond hair and piercing blue eyes as the rest of her family, and she was just as gangly and awkward as her mother had been at her age She smiled at her daughter, pushing a handful of eight seeds into the confused girl’s hands “Take these Plant them in bloody ground, then lure the Incarnations close The Tree will bind them They need to be fed, one life per year.” Their hunger would grow with time, but they were just a temporary measure anyway Hopefully Cynara the Second would what the First could not, and find another way to deal with the Incarnations for good The girl took the seeds, confusion plain on her face “Mother, why…why don’t you…” Cynara grabbed her daughter tight, hugging her one last time “The others will follow you I’m taking the easy way out, I’m afraid I’m only dealing with one Incarnation You’ll have to take care of the other eight.” “Wait, please, I don’t—” She placed a single kiss on her daughter’s forehead “Rule wisely, Cynara the Second May your reign be longer and more fruitful than mine.” A terrifying screech sounded overhead, and Cynara spun, summoning the Lightning Spear into her hand Its blade was worked with gold, its hilt black wood, with a bright ruby set into its head “Run, daughter,” Cynara said There was a moment of hesitation, and then the slap of feet on stones as the girl ran Just in time Something like a bright blue jellyfish the size of a horse swung up the side of a broken building, then scuttled like a spider down toward Cynara At the same time, an animated suit of gold armor hauling a giant halberd came dashing down a side street, roaring a wordless war cry Cynara stepped forward, hurling the Lightning Spear She felt the price immediately: her body was wracked with indescribable pain, as though her every bone had been shattered at once The spear itself flew with a hundred times the force she had used, striking the charging armor like a thunderbolt and blasting it to red-hot shards of smoking metal The blue jellyfish made a wet, sticky, whistling sound and leaped, its tentacles curling in midair The Spear was already on its way back to Cynara’s hand, but she couldn’t throw it again in time So she raised her other hand The red wand drizzled sparks of red light, like glowing crimson tears Flexing her will, Cynara triggered the power of the Bleeding Wand With a shriek, the Wand’s power blasted forward A wave of crimson light devoured the jellyfish, but it didn’t slow It continued forward until it hit the side of a three-story tower, which instantly dissolved and blew away as featureless gray dust The tower stood for a second on three legs instead of four Then, with a great roar, the side of the building slid away Rubble crashed into the street with a sound like an avalanche Cynara stood in the middle of a broken street as the Lightning Spear smacked back into her waiting palm The bill for the Bleeding Wand would come due later, but she never thought she would be willing to pay it The Wand devoured the user’s sanity with every use In time, it would leave her a cackling madwoman eager to blast everyone to dust She’d never planned to use the Wand, but it was amazing how different the world looked in the face of her imminent death A woman’s voice, sweet and clear like the chiming of a crystal bell, sounded from behind her “Your Territory is an abomination, Cynara It thrives on blood and death.” Cynara turned, a crimson weapon in each hand, to face the golden-haired Incarnation of Elysia “I’m not the one who destroyed this country, Rhalia.” Rhalia’s eyes were cool, like a pair of gold coins “Sometimes a mother must be rough with her children to show them the right way.” She didn’t look monstrous, like many of the other Incarnations Cynara had seen She wore a simple white robe, belted by a golden sash, and her skin was still clear and as pale as it had ever been Her bare feet drifted six inches above the ground, with not even an orange glow to give her away, but Rhalia had always been skilled with the Orange Light Even before Incarnation took her Cynara couldn’t help it: she let out a peal of laughter “You see yourself as a mother, now? That’s how you justify wholesale slaughter?” “Those who follow me are safe and secure I’m building a paradise.” “You’re filling a graveyard.” Rhalia called a globe of golden light into one hand The other writhed with knots of twisting blue “Then let your grave be the last.” The Incarnation thought she was being clever, but Cynara was ready for her She sidestepped, blasting at the ground where she had been standing a moment before The cobblestones disintegrated, as did the tentacles of blue light that had been waiting beneath them Rhalia had never been very good at setting traps Cynara hurled the Lightning Spear at Rhalia’s chest It blasted through the orb of Gold Light that the Incarnation had just thrown, slamming into a hexagonal plate of Green Light just in front of Rhalia’s dress The Green Light cracked, and Cynara intended to follow up with a blast from the Wand to break the shield, but the spasm of pain from throwing the Lightning Spear caught up with her She shook, just once, but then the moment passed A cushion of Orange caught her feet, dragging her up toward the sky The Spear hadn’t returned yet, so Cynara called a different weapon into her empty hand: the Lonely Dagger Its red-streaked blade sliced through the Orange Light as though it had physical substance, and Cynara twisted in midair, landing in a crouch The Lightning Spear met her outstretched palm, and she hurled it again, blindly Pain shuddered her body, but she was more worried about the Dagger’s price She could summon it and use it freely, but the minute she banished it back to Ragnarus she would forget someone The longer she kept it here, the more important the person she would forget After a moment’s thought, Cynara banished the Dagger As useful as it would be to keep around, there were a few people she wouldn’t want to forget Not on the day she died She wasn’t sure what memories she had lost—that was the nature of the cost—but she only had the Dagger out for a few seconds In the incredibly unlikely event that she survived this day, some minor noble was going to be very offended when she forgot him or her completely Rhalia deflected the Spear with a wall of Green, and Cynara realized that she had a chance She scrambled over to the section of road where the cobblestones had shattered, baring earth This was the third time the city of Cana had been invaded Twice in the last year Enough blood had been spilled in this city to soak the soil Or so she hoped If it hadn’t, the Hanging Tree wouldn’t take root, and she would die at the Elysia Incarnation’s hands Frantically, she dug at the dirt with her bare hands, pressing one of the seeds down and sweeping some soil over it Red light flared underground, shining through the thin layer of earth Cynara’s heart unclenched Rhalia held a sword of gold light in one hand now, but she stared at the ground, uncertain “What is that?” she asked Cynara didn’t call the Lightning Spear to return She left it lying on the ground like a piece of debris She dropped the Bleeding Wand to one side “I win,” was all she said She was covered by a dozen cuts, some of which wept freely In the case of her left arm, a piece of flying debris had sliced her deep Cynara pinched the wound together, sending a drop of blood onto the ground above the seed The earth trembled Rhalia raised a hand to hurl golden light Then a tendril of red erupted from the ground, wrapping around Cynara’s wound She could feel blood flowing from her into the Tree, weakness taking over her body It wasn’t painful, but neither was it pleasant “What did—” Rhalia began, but she was interrupted by the rising of the Hanging Tree It rumbled as it rose, little more than a sapling in size, but menacing still Its leafless limbs whipped blindly at the air, and Cynara saw that they were covered in tiny thorns The root around her hand was not It was smooth, almost gentle, as it drew upon her blood for power Rhalia, sensing danger, flared Orange Light at her feet and began to fly away The Hanging Tree didn’t let her Thorny branches seized her around each ankle, dragging the Incarnation closer and closer to the ground, even as she strained to fly away She turned, hacking branches with her sword of yellow light, but the branches kept growing back, kept reaching Cynara’s arm had grown cold, and she was feeling dizzy It wasn’t so bad that she would die, she supposed Not for such a good cause But her daughter would be alone She was only fourteen; what if the lords and ladies didn’t listen to her? What if she couldn’t rebuild? There was every chance that she would be killed before she could get the Trees planted Would their new nation of Damasca ever escape its birth pangs? Rhalia dropped her sword, evidently having switched to a new tactic Even as she was dragged backwards, scraping across the ground, she held out her palms A golden portal opened in front of her A Gate, leading into the City of Light It was beyond anything Cynara had ever imagined Graceful walls of gold and silver rose from a flower-strewn field, and towers of every color stretched almost to the sunset-colored sky Red Light—of her own generation, not from Ragnarus—twisted around Rhalia’s limbs With her newfound strength, she tore free of the Hanging Tree It wouldn’t last, Cynara could see that The Tree was already reaching for its Incarnation, and it would catch her before she got too far But it was enough Rhalia crossed the border of her gate, into the fields of Elysia The thorny branches recoiled, unable to cross from one world into another That was interesting; the Old Man had never mentioned that the Trees wouldn’t work in a Territory That must have been why he had insisted on her planting them here Cynara’s dizziness had grown so that she could barely stay upright, and her vision was beginning to fuzz at the edges, but she still fixed the Incarnation with a smile “Good enough Stay sealed in that world or this one, Rhalia, it means nothing to me.” Rhalia shrugged, the motion more graceful than it had any right to be “I would say I got the better of this little exchange I keep my life, while you have parted with yours.” Cynara couldn’t stay standing any longer She collapsed, landing hard on her knees She barely felt the pain “I can think of greater prices.” “I am eternally patient,” the Elysia Incarnation said “I can wait forever You should have stood with me, sister.” Then the shining Gate closed, and the last thing Cynara saw of her older sister was a pair of golden eyes Eyes that used to be a blue as bright as her own Her vision was fading quickly, but as far as she could see down the road and into the city, red roots were erupting from the cobblestones, seizing creatures of Elysia and draining the life from them All over the city Does the Tree’s influence really stretch that far? She hoped it would be enough to keep the other Incarnations away, until her daughter had a chance to drive them into a corner and seal them for good Her thoughts drifted to Cynara the Second, as she fell onto her back, staring up at the clear winter sky For the first time in years, she felt some measure of hope Her daughter had the seeds She had the key to the Crimson Vault Maybe the Incarnations wouldn’t be the end of this world after all My life was a small price to pay Then everything went black *** It was difficult to open a Gate from the other side, not to mention expensive Abominably expensive But every once in a while, the Old Man felt it was worth it The Ragnarus Gate formed, opening directly beside Cynara’s body, sprawled across the shattered street A root of the Hanging Tree was just uncurling from her wrist The Old Man stepped out, using his staff for balance The Tree itself, little more than a sapling, hissed as he approached It wanted even him, hungered for even his blood, but it didn’t attack Even the murderous plant knew better than that Leaning on his wooden staff, the Old Man knelt, tolerating the creaking pain in his knees Queen Cynara’s eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky Her eyes were beautiful, he supposed, if you appreciated that sort of thing Personally, he thought they would look much better in red “You have given everything you have to Ragnarus,” he murmured “Let me help you take the last step.” The Old Man extended one gnarled finger and pressed it to her forehead Before her soul departed completely, he willed some of his power into her, flooding her body, repairing its damage She gasped and jerked awake Her eyes were already gone, replaced by solid orbs of red flame Her new skin crept over her, like ice over a freezing lake, turning her to a fluid statue of blood-colored steel Her clothes flared and blazed away, replaced by a long dress of scarlet light The Old Man stepped back to admire his handiwork as the first Incarnation of Ragnarus rose to her feet “What have you done?” Cynara whispered, through metallic red lips He prided himself on his tolerance and even disposition, but he was just a tad offended “I have saved you from the brink of death, that’s what I’ve done I’ve made a masterpiece from that which you would have wasted You can fill the gap your sister left You will be my hand in this world.” Cynara met his gaze He had been right: her new eyes were much more beautiful “You told me this would only cost me my life!” The Old Man smiled fondly, as he would at a naïve granddaughter “You will find that’s not the only time I have lied to you Now, Ragnarus, go forth and take your throne!” She looked at him, and down at the bloody branches twisting around her feet “I not answer to you.” Then she walked into the Hanging Tree, her arms spread wide The branches picked her up, lifting her into the sky, and then pulled her down under the ground She didn’t say a word Once, in a place far away, the Old Man had been renowned for his foresight But he hadn’t seen this coming He knew she would be able to hear him, still The Hanging Tree was of Ragnarus, and now she was Ragnarus Unlike the other Incarnations, she would likely never lose consciousness It would be a fate worse than death; she should have listened to him “Well Your line will continue, Queen Cynara Our pact remains unbroken I will deal with the others, your sons and daughters, since you would not let me deal with you And who knows? Maybe someday, when you are free, you will come to see things my way.” With one last backward glance to see the Tree waving in the air, the Old Man stepped into his Vault and closed the door If you still put your own needs before the needs of others, every other virtue is without meaning This is the key to all that I have taught you There is no love greater than sacrifice -Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 9: White The Story Concludes In… CITY OF LIGHT (The Traveler’s Gate Trilogy, Book 3) Coming When the Moons of Lirial Have Aligned! (Early 2014) Also, check out Will’s website for book updates, news, original fiction, and his long-forgotten True Name! www.WillWight.com ... -Elysian Book of Virtues, Page The Traveler s Gate Chronicles (Collection #3) THE LIGHTNING WASTES Valor is an easy virtue to admire We make heroes out of those who charge recklessly against superior... to the other Overlords They're all missing Endross Travelers I'd go so far as to say we're missing maybe half of all the Endross-trained Travelers in the kingdom.” “Where did they go?” Leah asked... unremarkable stretch of scrub grass and announced, “This is it.” She then spread her hands, opening one of the swirling, violent thunderstorms that Endross Travelers used as Gates It horizontally in the