Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) (25 page)

Contorting around several entwined branches and deadfall a few hours later—the forest was looking further desiccated the farther they went— she was surprised to emerge in a small meadow. Relief flooded through her. The small clearing would provide sanctuary from the arduous task of quiet stalking through dry, crackling trees and plants, at least for a time. Camoe lay on his stomach, peering over a rock ledge below a cliff face. She crossed the clearing, hunching over when the edge popped into view.

“You will need to be prone,” Camoe said his voice barely audible. “Keep your body outline hidden and your movements minimal.”

Jade flattened out and crawled near the druid, avoiding the bigger rocks and thorny shrubbery. “What is it?” she whispered.

“Any other time I would not have come this close: there are safer places to keep an eye on the Dark Citadel’s front door. However, I wanted you to see what we spoke about this morning. Behold, the Dark Gate.”

Glancing over the edge, Jade hugged the ground. The Dark Gate was close, too close for her liking. A three-story drop would land her on top of the gate wall looming darkly below. She stared in awe. A hundred meters wide, the gate curved outward at its center a half kilometer away, back to span a narrow canyon. Built with the same color of gray stone as the brooding mountain, the gate defied her imagination by its sheer size. Except “built” didn’t seem like the right word. No stonework seams were visible, as if sliced from solid stone. Two gigantic, black iron doors stood closed halfway along each side of the center arc, hung on massive poles bored through the wall. On the top of the wall, two huge gears lay immobile above the doors. Crenelated turrets lined the outer edge, with many squat, sturdy-looking catapults placed behind them. Again, there were no seams or visible mortar lines on the turrets. Jade started, gazing wildly around. The gate, the gate wall, even the massive gears, appeared
carved out of the mountain.
The enormity of the task was staggering. How many years of backbreaking slave labor and slave lives had been lost in the construction of such a monstrosity?

Camoe gestured for her to look further behind the gate. Raising her neck at an awkward angle, she looked up to see a second wall towered above the one below. She wanted to sink into the ground. How had she missed it? Or had she? Not entirely, she’d thought of it as a cliff face when she’d first seen it, but it wasn’t. It was a major fortification of the Dark Citadel proper. Four great doors spaced evenly with room to slide each their doubled sides wide, stood as stark reminders of the dreadful flying things Camoe had mentioned. He’d taken a terrible chance in coming here. Anyone or any…
thing
, was sure to spot them from the upper wall.

Pushing back from the edge, she crawled, her cheek touching the ground. Lifting her head only when necessary to clear rocks or debris, she snaked methodically around shrubs and higher deadfall, vaguely noting Burl standing at meadow’s edge like a tree stump long forgotten. Oblivious to the sharp rocks and broken deadfall, she crawled until shelter behind a rock at the foot of one of the big desiccated trees, enclosed her. Safe from hostile eyes, she sat with her back on the far side of the wide trunk. Pulling her knees up, she wrapped her arms around them and lowered her head to still her racing heart and shortness of breath.

She wanted to cry. How could anyone expect to survive on a world where evil had a stronghold of such magnitude as the Dark Citadel? It was too powerful. How would she survive, even with Camoe’s help? After all, he’d lost the girl in the image. Why should she expect it to be any different for her? Astura was much too dangerous. Sometime, somewhere in her travels searching for Crystalyn or the way home, she was bound to make a mistake, a critical mistake. One stupid, simple mistake was all it’d take. She’d die, violently.

The worst part was she was clueless as to how to stack the odds in her favor. This dark and violent world wasn’t going to give her enough time to learn its ways. Her only defense was the ability to read images floating around a person. What good was that going to do?

The crack of breaking wood startled her. Camoe was bending small branches between his fists until they broke at a length he wanted. Burl stood close by.

Sounding as loud as a scream, at least to her it did, Camoe snapped another twig. “Come, we forced our luck too much here. I want to put some distance between us and this place before dark fall.” Content he’d made enough to start a fire at some future point; he tied them into a bundle and then tied the bundle to Burl’s back.

“Camoe, can I ask you a something? You’ve never told me about the girl in the image. Who was she?”

Reaching for his leather bag he’d hung on a lower tree branch, Camoe stiffened. His arm fell limp to his side. Moments passed. She was about to tell him never mind when he suddenly snatched the bag, and stalked into the forest. “She was my daughter,” hung in the air after him.

Jade scrambled after him, compassion, respect for his privacy, and questions about all of it, warring in her mind.

DO’BRIENI

Two short steps and Crystalyn would be beyond going back. Two small fir tree branches stood between her and the voice she had heard in her mind. Two short breaths and she’d finally come face to face with the Warden who waited in the small meadow ringed with trees. She knew the precise layout of the clearing; the image was still vivid in her mind, yet she had apprehension. The being that had projected the image remained a mystery.

She sensed the impatience from the Warden, who’d kept a patient vigil while she’d regained strength for days, maintaining a self-inflicted silence, telepathic or otherwise. The spiderbees had taken a toll on her. Much natural and magical healing had been required to keep her alive. The Lore Mother had done what she could, but the wound refused to close.

She’d kept it from the others, letting them believe she was on the mend so as not to further delay the search for Jade. If not for the spiderbees’ weakness to
wood
of all things, she wouldn’t be here, at least not in the corporeal sense. Every living thing has to have a weakness—as her dad would say—or it would take over the world. The spiderbees natural makeup—or leechers, as the natives called the creatures—apparently had a resistance to magic, since they were an aberration to the Flow. At some point in the past, they’d fed from the Flow, or a User had created them.

Either way, it made them magical creatures that had proliferated on their own, and they were not unique. The Lore Mother had warned there were other species. Had it not been for Lore Rayna’s Terra magic and Cudgel’s wooden weapon, she would’ve been lost. Or would she? The memory of the beautiful, beckoning light was fading, but she’d carry the sense of great loss from not reaching the golden light, with her from now on. She’d been so close to having all the trial of her past life stripped from her, as if they’d never been. Such things didn’t exist there in the light.

Shouldering through prickly—yet green and soft—pine needle branches, she took a few steps forward, and then paused. She was close enough she didn’t need the link to sense the excitement bubbling from the being nearby. Doubts assailed her. What if the Warden didn’t realize who she was and attack? Should she have a symbol ready? After all, there was only the assurance of a voice in her mind that no harm would befall her.

No, she was creating fears where none should be. There was no animosity from the Warden, only excitement tinged with its own apprehension.

It was time to get on with it.

Brushing past a final tree branch, she slipped into the clearing, and then paused, gaping in awe.

Lying sedately, a huge canine-like being sprawled on top a patch of meadow grass, reminding her of the great mastiff statue she had catalogued once for Ruena. The short and glossy sienna fur was similar to the fur of a golden Labrador the Farm scientists had retained, but any resemblance ended there. Massive paws supported thick claws. The being’s broad back and wide head bore a set of powerful jaws that stood out on a trim face, which reminded her of the holographic of the northern wolf. The eyes—hourglass in shape—were a vivid amber, gazing at her with a vast and somber intelligence. This being was beautiful and other worldly, beyond what she could have imagined.

Love blended with joy bombarded her mind. Coming in torrents faster and faster, it built to a crescendo too pure to absorb, too pure not to try, yet too strong to grasp, she let it flow past. It was too intense. Torrent after torrent slammed into her mind with no pause between. Stronger and stronger they washed over her self-awareness. Soon, there was only joy and an unabashed love.

Crystalyn relished the love. She opened herself fully to it. The torrent swept her up. A profound joy frolicked around her, beside her, with her. For the first time in her life, there wasn’t a thing wrong, no doubts from the past, no anxieties of the current situation, and no frets for a better future. Not one worry, only unadulterated joy.

It frightened her. There were always anxieties. Instinctively, she slowed the flow to a trickle by reducing the size of the link to her. The clearing sprang into clarity. She was on her knees looking into the yellow, hourglass eyes of the Warden an arm’s length before her. Was it truly from this mortal dimension? Or was it astral by nature? Either way it didn’t matter. She couldn’t take such a strong, emotion-laden assault, she was afraid her individual emotions would be laid bare, she’d revert to her preadolescent state where anyone could see what was happening inside her mind by the expressions on her face…before she’d had her barriers in place, when life wasn’t so complicated. Worse, be wiped clean.
Please, don’t do that again. Your feelings are quite strong, and a bit…overpowering.

Bemusement flowed through the link, gaining in intensity. Now she knew how to handle it. Gathering her will, she reduced the link and slowed the flow substantially. Bemusement switched to one of respect and a sense of something else…awe, perhaps, tinged with worry.

I meant no harm, Do’brieni. I was simply overjoyed to find my link mate so soon. Please, accept my apologies. I’m still considered young by my people. I erroneously allowed my exuberance to get the better of me. Will you allow me to make amends?

You can start by telling me how we are able to communicate without words.

Confusion flowed in.
You and I share a link
.

I’ve gathered that,
Crystalyn thought, climbing to her feet. A twinge from her stomach brought her hand down to cover the wound. Many days and nights would be required for the spiderbee’s puncture to heal. The wound should have stopped oozing blood by now. Perhaps when she felt stronger, she would see to it herself instead of relying on Lore Rayna. Right now, questions for the lovely creature in front of her burned laser-deep in her mind.
Why don’t you speak normally, using your voice? Why don’t I?

You would not comprehend my voice, as I would not understand you. The link converts human words to familiar images for me.

Now it was her turn to be confused. How could she be hearing
images?
It didn’t matter. As long as they could communicate, she was glad.
Are there many who live on this world such as you?

We are dwindling…too few…too few. I am one of only two dozen males that remain. Females do not link.

What happened to all of you?

Savage anger and deep sadness flowed through in a rush.
Users have hunted our males for ages. They hope to duplicate the telepathic links we establish with humans so they will not have the limitation of having to perform a Contacting. The Flow drain on the person Using the Flow is substantial, so as rule, they are short in length and only used when necessary. They have done this by attempting to forge an unnatural link with us by torture, or magical coercion, or both, in the hopes of gaining the ability to use it for their own ends. Thankfully, they seem to have given up such attempts recently. That coupled with our low birth rate has taken a toll.

Crystalyn felt the sadness down to her core for the being. Life must have been so hard. On an impulse, she sent a feeling of empathy through the link. Gratitude flowed back.
I should’ve asked this first. Where do you hail from? The Lore Mother hasn’t spoken much about you. What do I call you?

As your ancient Valen female mentioned, I belong to a solitary race known as Wardens. I am from the oldest clan. For longer than the eldest of the White Fur clan remembers, we’ve held vigil against evil, whether it derives from light or dark. As for my designation, it’s entirely too long for a human to pronounce since it contains much ancestral lineage. I’ve shortened it to Broth for you. In time, you may learn my full name.

Crystalyn tried the name aloud. “Broth, it is then. I like it very much. It suits you.” Something Broth had said earlier, coupled with his last statement, clicked together. “Wait! You know what the Lore Mother spoke? You understand what I’m saying when I say it aloud? You can hear what others say to me?”

Amusement and affection brushed her mind.
Of course, I understand. I can hear quite well, actually. As I sent, the link converts human words into images I comprehend.

“So I’m not limited to communicating with you through the link?”

Additional amusement touched her mind.
No, only I am “limited” to communicating this way since you would not understand my language.

“Can’t you use your thought projection on others?” she said, trying it aloud
.

Thought projection? That’s an astute way of putting it.
A warm feeling of approval mixed with pride flowed through her mind.
We males link once in a lifetime. In time, we shall be so heavily linked it would be devastating to us both. I would not survive it, but you may, should I go to meet my ancestors. Humans have adaptive minds and as such, fare better.

Crystalyn smiled with affection. A thought occurred to her. “So that means no one can really tell you to do something except me? You could simply ignore it as if you didn’t understand.” The Lore Mother had raised her ire for much of the past few days with her increasing commands to eat and rest. Even Lore Rayna had begun to throw words out intended for her compliance. As if, she ever would.

I suppose so. You would have to be within hearing of the command, though. It’s through you that the link converts the images.

“Come, I’ll introduce you to the others. The Lore Mother and Lore Rayna are not going to like it when you don’t respond to their commands. This should be interesting.”

Why would they take an interest in commanding me?

“It’s what females of any race do when they get together. They’ll be angry when you listen only to me. This should be fun!”

I don’t understand. What is the advantage to making them angry?

“Never mind, they’re anxious to meet you. Let’s go.”

Flexing powerful front shoulders and massive rear haunches, Broth sprang to his feet. A twinge of fear passed through her: Broth’s powerful jaws were suddenly close. She inhaled his warm, sour breath. Her eyes fell on a patch of white that stood out from his sleek sienna fur under his jaws. She touched it, feeling the soft silky fur, short enough she almost thought of it as skin. Wrapping her arms around Broth’s thick neck, she pressed her head against his, holding him in a fierce embrace. As if cementing a bond, a heady, unrestricted love flowed. Things were
right for once, she’d found a friend she could trust without reservation.

How long they stood that way, she couldn’t tell. Finally, she pulled her arms free and stepped back. Broth shook, muscles rippling. Bounding to her side, they began the trek toward camp in silence. For a time, nothing else conveyed or projected was required; contentment laced with excitement flowed through the link, giving her a great sense of comfort. For the first time since stepping through the sapphire gate, she was glad to be on this world.

The camp’s occupants arose to their feet as she strode to the small cooking fire with the Warden trailing close behind. The Lore Mother and Lore Rayna each uttered a small cry, Cudgel and Hastel cursed. Atoi stood, silent and impassive.

Crystalyn halted near the fire. Broth pushed his broad head over her shoulder. She smiled. The action seemed so puppyish, but completely natural at the same time. Scratching under the Warden’s offered jaw, she regarded her little group.

Cudgel’s right hand reached over his shoulder to grip the iron-tipped club strapped to his back. By contrast, Hastel appeared calm, standing in his customary spot slightly behind Atoi, both battle axes hung in the two leather sheaths at each hip, the crossbow straps crisscrossed diagonally across his broad chest. Atoi stood gazing back at her with those over large almond-shaped green eyes, oblivious to the big canine head hovering above her shoulder.

The Lore Mother stepped out from behind Lore Rayna. “A little advance notice before trotting a warden into camp would have been respectful, Daughter,” she said. Her head turned to regard the canine head plopped over her shoulder. Perhaps she was imagining things, but Crystalyn could almost swear Broth’s canine jaws lifted for a wide grin. “Please, my Lord, how may we serve you in our meager camp?”

“Lord? Why do you address him as Lord, Mother?” Crystalyn asked. The mother-daughter way of speaking was hard for her to get used to; she wasn’t at all certain how well it was working.

Lore Rayna stood in front of the Lore Mother her green dress gyrating in distress, revealing too much, again. “How can you not know? The color of his fur denotes him as a warden noble, or higher. A link with a warden is a rare and precious occurrence, but you should be aware of your linking to someone of high station. Nobles have only linked once or twice through their history.”

Is this true?
Crystalyn sent.

It is part of our ways, yes.

Why didn’t you tell me?

It is of the smallest importance. We are link mates. Nothing else need be significant.

Crystalyn felt a slight let down. It was doubtful the Lore Mother or Lore Rayna would try to boss nobility around. What else had Broth failed to mention?

Her stomach rumbled. The time for food was drawing near, eating and sleeping would help with the healing. Tomorrow, she’d insist on continuing toward Surbo, recovered or not. Her newfound companion would aid greatly in her search for Jade, royalty or not.