Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) (19 page)

MISTY GORGE

Crystalyn dropped to the ground from Ferral’s broad back, splattering mud in all directions. Her backside protested the move with a sharp twinge of pain. She groaned, even though the saddle soreness was getting markedly better. At least, it was on the insides of her thighs.

Atoi slid from the back of the black mare easily. “Didn’t I say you should take a break from horseback to ride in the wagon? Now we’re way ahead of it. What’s so important about Misty Gorge that it couldn’t wait for the rest of your people?”

Crystalyn envied Atoi her durability. No amount of physical activity, or anything else for that matter, seemed to faze the little girl. “That’s the point. I had to get away from them. Their constant bickering is fraying my limited self-control. For a while after the dragon lion’s attack, I thought things were going to go smoothly, but it didn’t last. Why does Lore Rayna have to be so hateful? I thought for a moment back there the Lore Mother was going to leave her behind, and it’s the first time I’ve seen Cudgel side with her against her. Besides, I’ve wanted to see the gorge everyone’s been mentioning, and it’s been taking forever for the bloody wagon to get here. I wish we could leave it behind.”

Atoi stretched, pushing her chest out to straighten her back. Perhaps the ride had gotten to her a little. “Why can’t we leave it? Hastel follows your orders, and it’s his wagon. He wouldn’t like it, but he’d leave it behind if you told him to do it. Myself, I’d prefer to run the entire way than subjecting my bottom to horse or wagon.”

“The big crate the giant trio insists on hauling around, remember? Which reminds me, have you found out what’s inside?”

“No, they guard it day and night. Like they’re afraid it might suddenly stand up and slink off into the dark.”

Crystalyn laughed then with a smile said, “Why Atoi, I do believe you’ve made a joke. Did it hurt much?”

Atoi’s green eyes glinted as she changed the subject. “To be candid, I was surprised you wanted to ride off alone after those…men attacked us. Two of them escaped. We know they headed this way.”

“They
seemed
to be going this way. My turn to be candid: I’ve decided to give them another chance at us.”

Atoi goggled at her.

Crystalyn kept her voice steady with difficulty, biting back a smile. Atoi could be so adult-like at times; sometimes it was easy to forget she was child. “I want to find out who sent them after us; perhaps he’s one of the two who came this way. Not to mention, it doesn’t make sense why they didn’t go after the bigger fish in the wagon if they were brigands. That’s a lot of high credit cargo in there.”

Atoi pondered her words, her tiny face taking on an endearing innocence. “I don’t think they would come here to fish. It’s too far down,” she replied solemnly.

Crystalyn giggled. “You’re too cute, sometimes.”

Atoi smiled faintly, and then shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps they just wanted to ride you and had no desire for big fish in the wagon. What do you have in mind while we’re here?” She tied her horse’s reins on a low-hanging branch of an evergreen tree. The mare snorted then lowering her black head grazed on the delicate grass shoots growing at the roots. Crystalyn watched the horse eat. The black mare had been skittish at first, but now that she’d grown familiar with them, she’d gotten much better. Ferral seemed to like her as long as she followed them and didn’t try to take the lead. At some point, she’d have to get the mare a name.

Leading Ferral to a nearby meadow surrounded by evergreens on three sides, Crystalyn released the reins, leaving him to graze on his own. “I’m not expecting much here. I love waterfalls and I heard this one is quite spectacular. Besides, it lets us get away. Shall we engorge our eyes on the gorge?”

Atoi’s fine black eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

“Forget it, bad pun. I know you led me here, but I’ve never asked if you’ve actually seen it. Have you?”

“Yes, many times.”

“Good. Now you can show me. Let’s get going, shall we?”

Atoi set off at an easy pace. Once again, Crystalyn followed the agile little girl with the quiet, but violent demeanor. Though she hadn’t told her, Atoi was a part of the reason she’d chosen to come here without the others. She wanted to spend some time with her, perhaps get her to talking about her background. Where had she come from? What was her story? Crystalyn was certain it would be exceptional. Since Darkwind had mentioned it, and again after her conversation with the Lore Mother, she’d paid attention to Atoi’s sleeping habits, which amounted to none. The little girl never slept.

Taking a winding path around some blocky, amethyst-colored rocks, Atoi strode toward a gap in the land. The rocks changed from granite to beige sandstone. The sound of the Even Flow River increased in volume, as if a conference of water sprites waited for a siren keynote speaker. Crystalyn grew excited. Perhaps there was a conference. On this world, anything seemed possible.

Rounding a dirt and rock outcropping, she drank in her first close view of the chasm, reminded yet again, of the power of God’s handiwork. Or Onan, or The Maker, as this world’s occupants called the Great Spirit, or simply, the One.
He has many names, even here,
she thought, awed by her realization.

They made their way toward the great chasm, a vast, open gap filling the horizon. A higher plateau loomed far beyond it. A fine mist soon beaded on the silky leather clothes Hastel had given her, dripping from the ends of her sleeves. The dampness was refreshing in the hot afternoon air. Her skin luxuriated in the moisture on her face. Doubtless, upon her leaving the sun and wind-burned areas of her exposed skin would protest upon drying. For now, she relished the moisturizing caress, though it brought fervent wishes for a heated bath.

Aptly named, a palpable mist hung everywhere over Misty Gorge forming a humid curtain that Crystalyn parted behind her lithe guide. She stepped upon a large flat rock overhanging the gorge, halting at the brink. The ledge jutted toward the monumental waterfall that plunged past on the far side, roaring with the rage of a caged tsunami. Instilling a profound sense of awe, the waterfall dwarfed her, leaving her feeling small and insignificant. She glanced at Atoi, though the din of the falling water made conversation difficult, if not impossible. Gazing downward, Atoi’s green eyes sparkled; a half-smile splashed across her lips. So, her companion felt the magnificence of the place. There was hope for her yet.

Concentrating on ignoring the dizzying drop before her and the eye-catching plunge of the Even Flow River above, she crept to the edge. Looking down, she stared into the maw of a water dragon. Roaring into a black hole from the long drop above, the river crashed against something hard she couldn’t see, belching up spray from the throat of darkness below, higher than her ledge. The spouting jets of mist broadened into shining bands of clear blue water that took on a new shape as it fell back toward the gaping maw. Entranced, Crystalyn stared with wonder as a spout near her fanned into a pair of giant wings, beating faster than a hummingbird, forming with startling clarity in the spray. In another, not far from the wings, an enormous bee-like body accommodated a hand-sized stinger. Darker bands of blue striped the body in two places, but she was still able to see through them to the emptiness inside. A third—hanging in stasis very near her—revealed the fluttering wings and bee body were attached to eight hollow, spider-like legs where a white mist swirled, most noticeable in the two longer forelegs.

Enraptured by it, Crystalyn was confused when the apparition’s two forelegs suddenly clamped on her shoulders. She heard the sickening sound of bones cracking. A scream gurgled from her lips, hampered by something rigid impaling her stomach. Frigid cold exploded inside her, blowing the pain away. The fleeting moment of relief dissolved with blackness.

*****

A great weariness fogged Crystalyn’s mind. Coherent thought required great effort, like the time she’d taken too many synth pops. As then, she was determined to try. Gathering her will, she punched through the lethargy. Three words flashed in her mind:
open your eyes.

Thunderous roaring filled her hearing, blackness faded to gray. She blinked. The grayness flickered away, revealing the dim light of a fair-sized hollow. Light-brown sandstone formed a cavern the size of a meeting hall. A stone’s throw away, a turbulent wall of water boomed beyond an oval opening. Transparent…spiderbees flitted in and out of the opening. Many hovered near light-blue, candy-roll pillars attached to the floor and ceiling in orchard rows. Nearby, a stag deer struggled, suspended within the pillar. As she watched, a spiderbee buzzed up, extended its stinger, and impaled the poor creature in its midsection. Red liquid flowed into the stinger, filling the bee with the dark substance, though it maintained its odd blue outline. Rotating in midair, the spiderbee flew sluggishly beyond her sight with its macabre payload. The deer had ceased its struggle, hanging limp. Chilled by the clinical brutality of the creature, sadness washed through Crystalyn for the noble stag, bringing a cramp to her legs. Her extremities were regaining feeling at an alarming rate. Knots in her upper arms and the back of her neck made their presence known, the puncture wound flamed, and her shoulders burned with white-hot agony. The paralysis was draining away.

Ignoring the pain required as great an effort as regaining consciousness had, but she managed. She’d lived with pain in her head her whole life
,
though it was never easy. Twisting her head slowly back and forth, she worked the knots from her neck muscles, reveled in the thought of being able to move something, the only part of her free. The same clear, blue gel that made up the spiderbees confined her, though not wrapping her like spiders silk, but instead coating her from the neck down, as if she’d been dipped in plasicrete.

She focused on the stag’s drooping head. Encased in the ge
l
—
except for its majestic hea
d
—
the animal hung limp, rocking from side to side. She froze. Had the poor creature attracted the spiderbee with its struggles?

Something wet and warm splattered on her cheek. Tilting her head back as far as she could, Crystalyn looked upward, her body going cold. The hapless deer wasn’t the only creature caught in the pillar of gel besides her. She counted four life forms suspended above before she couldn’t see any higher. Hidden by a limp form above, the three highest were vague outlines. She studied the shape below them. Curly brown hair covered the head of a small man sporting a large mustache, the black hood of his robes pulled back. The man’s eyes were pinched shut, and pink fluid bubbled from the lowest part of his compressed lips.

A transparent foreleg appeared over the man’s shoulder, followed by a bee’s head. The spiderbee’s many-faceted eyes regarded her with a clinical, alien intelligence. Wings fluttering faster than her eyes could follow; the two-toned creature took flight and sped silently away with only half its macabre load. It was going, she presumed, to report on her alert condition.

The man suspended above moaned.

Another feeling of cold crept from deep within her, the coldness of fear. Harvested for the spiderbees macabre use, the man’s blood drained from his body while he was still alive.

One thought rose in her mind, overriding all the rest.

She was next.

MULTI-COLORED LIGHT

Cursing the Dragon Lady under his breath, Garnet rubbed the bruise her stiletto heel had left on his back. His suit coat had kept it from being worse, but still there was one mother of a bruise blooming. He supposed he should feel thankful Ruena Day hadn’t punctured his liver, or some other important internal organ. Of course, from what he’d seen so far, a simple infection on this world could be fatal. He’d seen no med facilities. It was as primitive and brutal as Low Realm. Wandering around the town through the night, he’d witnessed three slayings. Two for the coin the victim might carry, the third was marked from the moment he stepped from a tavern. The well-dressed man met his demise when he passed the mouth of a dark alley: two figures in dark clothing pushed him inside. Staying to the shadows, Garn investigated as the two silent assassins padded away, not bothering to remove the victim’s fat coin bag. Garn could see no good reason to leave it there. The merchant–or whatever he’d been in life−had no use for it now.

Making use of the first faint rays of sunlight, Garn crossed the hard-packed street of dirt, returning to the storefront where he’d first found himself. He sat on a rough wooden bench placed beside the entrance, wondering what to do next. There was no obvious way back. Covering almost every street by the waning moonlight, he’d found no sign of the gateway, doorway, portal, or whatever it was, that had brought him here. There was nothing similar in design either, in any of the stores. Perusing the few that had remained open late had gotten him a few suspicious stares from merchant and customer alike, but he’d ignored them. What he would do when he found the sapphire obelisks, he had no idea. With luck, he’d be able to figure out how to use them.

Perhaps it was time to question the locals. Though how was he going to ask without raising curiosity about his place of origin was beyond him. The whole town had to wonder since he was dressed in outlander clothes. He felt it in the way their eyes followed when he walked past. Hostility to outlanders was common with cultures everywhere. How well he knew. He’d spent many seasons interrogating the Administration’s political dissenters and escapees from the Lower Realms, easy to spot by their lack of high credit clothes.

So what was his holdup now? He had no idea
what
to ask. He wasn’t certain how the obelisks worked or even what to call them, though he was convinced, it was how the Dragon Lady had brought him here.

He’d find out soon enough what the townspeople might think. There was no getting around the questioning. His daughters’ disappearances had him worried stronger than his own predicament. He could take care of himself. His girls, on the other hand, still needed watching over. There was any number of hardcore personages on this world to conflict with; he’d witnessed it with his own two eyes.

A woman wearing a fine blue embroidered dress, and a wide, matching hat with lush golden blonde hair falling out from under it, strolled past his bench at a demure pace. She was without accompaniment. Not that she needed it; the blue and white parasol she twirled would make a decent weapon in a pinch. Her confident white-gloved grip on her sunshade gave him the impression she was comfortable with her present company and would know how to handle anyone disturbing it. Gazing his direction, the woman’s eyes lingered for a heartbeat before moving on. Not one to let an opportunity flit away, Garn stood. “Excuse me, Miss. May I have a word with you?”

The woman halted, but didn’t immediately look in his direction. “Are you dangerous?” she asked, her voice soft and melodious. “You appear…very dangerous, dressed as you are.”

“No miss, I’m not dangerous. Not unless I’m threatened.”

“Do you not feel threatened by me?”

“Not right now,” Garn said, playing along. He didn’t know what her game was, but at least she hadn’t run from him.
So far,
he thought.

“Perhaps you should be,” she said, gazing at him coyly. Her long black eyelashes fluttered above her russet eyes. “I am called Corteezsha,” she added, with a smile.

“Most everyone calls me Garn. It will do.”

“Very well, Garn. What word would you have from me?”

“Please, may I ask a few questions to aid me in my search for someone? Actually, I’m searching for two some ones. I’m not as familiar with this area as I should be, so my search has been fruitless. I’m looking for two young women dressed in outlander clothes, like mine. The girls may be near a set of tall, sapphire obelisks. Have you seen them?”

The woman’s eyes flickered at his mention of the obelisks, though her face remained smooth. “Nay, My Lord Garn, had I seen anyone attired as you are, rest assured I would recall. However, I do have contacts who will aid you in your search,” she replied, casting a quick glance along the street. “Would you care for an introduction?”

Garn gazed deep in her eyes. He wondered what motivated such a beautiful woman like her to help an out-of-shape, middle-aged man like him. Perhaps she felt sorry for him or she was just being gracious. It didn’t matter; bringing his girls home safe was all that did. He could almost hear their excited chatter now. His chest constricted enough he missed a breath. “My Lady, I would regard any assistance you’re willing to give with the highest gratitude. I do find myself in need of enlisted support.”

Corteezsha eyed him for a moment. Then she chuckled, soft and deliberate. “Oh my, Garn, you do speak well, and your outlander clothes have the look of a high station beyond most of the rabble in this part of Gray Water. One could almost expect you to execute an exquisite bow, right now. All right then, please consider me as enlisted support. I accept the position.”

Garn didn’t know about the “exquisite” part, but he felt certain he could pull off a respectable bow, though he was hard-pressed to recall where or when he’d learned the proper form for it. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. Was this a sign of old age? The odds were high. “Should my lady wish it, a bow will be hers.”

Corteezsha tinkled with laughter. Then she pursed her full lips, looking him up and down. “I think when given time, I will wish it. For now, I’ll be content to hold you to a place and time suited for the occasion. Come, My Lord Garn, walk with me, so that we may become better acquainted on our way to my…contacts.”

Garn walked alongside the younger woman, feeling old and awkward. His forties had nearly fled and now he strolled with a woman fifteen seasons his junior, on a world with customs he knew nothing about. How was he to ask about simple customs likely taught in childhood, without her believing he’d lost his mind? No one traveled between his world and this one on a regular basis or he wouldn’t have received the inquisitive looks he had. Perhaps losing his mind wasn’t the right analogy. Perhaps he’d created a world within his mind. Could he change things with a single thought? No, he’d attempted—and discarded—that scenario early on. One fact remained; his back still ached from the Dragon Lady’s heels.

The sun reached its zenith, sidling downward behind them, and heat radiated against the back of his neck, as they strode along a clay roadway. His escort followed the main thoroughfare due east at a brisk pace. Garn glanced sidelong her direction. Face smooth and unreadable, Corteezsha stared ahead, hat tilted slightly back, the parasol tilted slightly forward, making her oblivious to the sun’s rays. Or was she? He had a feeling he’d never see her bothered by anything if she didn’t want it to be seen.

He paused at a gilded storefront. Patrons bustled in and out, garbed in various clothing ranging from gaudy silks, to serviceable leather, to embroidered robes and dresses. Intricate carvings, painted dark yellow with gold trim, portrayed the sun, moon, and stars in various stages above differing landmasses. They covered every visible trim surface. The trim stood out in stark contrast to the weathered wooden entrance.

Corteezsha collapsed her parasol, frowning. “My Lord, why do you delay? I cannot say how long my contacts will tarry. Come, we must make haste.”

Garn inclined his head toward the store. “What is this place?”

Corteezsha’s fine auburn eyebrows scrunched. “Surely you recognize the signs for glimmer infusion?”

“I believed so,” he said, quickly. He had no clue what she meant, but he intended to find out. “I require but a moment inside.”

Corteezsha regarded him. Her face had smoothed, but her eyes smoldered. “Very well, as you require. However, I cannot ensure my contacts will still be around should your delay lengthen.”

“It will not, my lady.”

“See that it doesn’t. I’ll accompany you inside.”

Garn led the way into a crowded, yet dimly lit room. Thousands of crystal shards lined shelves and glass display cases, or swung in a leisure rotation hung from fine thread. Their brilliant colors flashed through the room dampened by an amber hue everywhere he looked. He tried not to gawk. Tried, and failed.