Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) (43 page)

“Of course Burl has to go with you. I could not stop him if I wanted to, which I don’t. He has proven to be a good protector. As for me, a seasoned druid with abilities would give you away immediately. Craight knows me too well to risk a disguise, but I can insist Caven accompany you.”

Jade’s eyebrow rose. How much use could his portly brother be? She’d never seen him touch a weapon. “You’re going to send Caven?”

Camoe relaxed slightly, picking up the book from the table. “He is more versatile than you may think. Consider it settled then. I would speak of this,
The Dark Empire
before you depart. I spoke with Caven on the matter yesterday; a copy of it is rarer than you know, even in Virun. He wanted to see it immediately, but I have delayed to give you the opportunity to peruse it with your particular insight. As far as we know, there are only two in existence; both were in the Dark Lands after the White Lands’ copy vanished from Surbo. The codexes have gained interest of late, due to their uncanny accuracy. Monks have spent their lives trying to glean meaning from the cryptic tomes, the Virun Codex especially. Though deemed too dangerous to study alone, I believe some of our monks with the most arrogance still peruse it in secret, believing they alone can resist its evil. Apparently, someone, or something, wants you to read it. Have you come across anything referring to the Surbon or Virun codexes in the book?”

Jade gaped at her friend and protector. “Yes I have seen it mentioned. That’s what I wanted to discuss before that…
thing
jumped out of Vancid’s skin, if that was his real name.”

“I believe it may have been, I’ve seen him around the taverns here before my time at the Dark Citadel, he has been reporting to Caven since he was good at gathering intelligence, which is why I thought it well to hear what he had to say. But, come to think of it, he has been asking about the codexes in exchange for information regarding lower Brown recluse.”

Jade felt a chill begin to form in her stomach. “But that would mean—”

“Yes, at some point in in the last one or two days, the dark man, or whatever it was, consumed him.”

Jade’s stomach switched from chilled to nauseous. “Do you think it was after me all along?”

“Again, I do not believe it so. It is possible, I suppose, that the Dark Users at the Dark Citadel know about you. But that would mean Burl told them. I do not think it, though. Had they known about us, they could have sent armies to hunt us, or worse long before we had escaped the Citadel. Someone else, Perhaps a sole Dark User, went to a great deal of trouble to get a particularly vile evil close to you. Perhaps when they could not kill you through poor Dirk, they grew desperate and expended a valuable espionage commodity to get to you. Caven chose Vancid to replace Dirk solely for the man’s skill as an instructor; he was to train a new acolyte for Caven. Vancid was a member of the Order of Brethren, serving the Great Mother. He had a lowly position, but was a member, nonetheless.”

Burl’s yellow-orange eyes continued to regard her unblinking from the darkness of the pantry. She’d commanded him to stay in the cramped room days ago, but there was no hint of resentment in them, only enduring patience. Like Camoe, she didn’t believe he’d been in contact with his creator; whoever sought her had taken advantage of her proximity.

A single hidden enemy could be worse than an angry mob, as her dad might say. For now, all they could do was stay alert. Staying alive and healthy was an even bigger priority now that Crystalyn had found her. But she couldn’t escape the fact that something else had found her, too.

HIGH ANXIETY EVENING

A soft metallic sound clinked against stone. Fine porcelain clattered together softly. Crystalyn woke from a dream of wandering in thick woods, somewhere near, Jade called her name. She’d dashed toward the sound of her sister’s voice, tearing through thorny branches that ripped at her clothes. Plunging through a wall of greenery, she had broken out into a clearing. The calls grew distant, Jade’s voice faded.

Even though the urgency the dream instilled in her had not gone away, Crystalyn shunted the feeling to the back of her mind. It was a dream, nothing else. Jade would be beside her soon, she reminded herself, yet it didn’t quite quell her uneasiness.
A manic episode must be coming on
, she thought, glancing around for her pack. How had she fallen asleep so easily in a place she’d never been and only heard bad things about? The Dark Oracle must have sapped a lot of her energy.

The woman who had made the sounds that awoke her, had left a tray on the bedside table, and was now rifling through the room’s wardrobe. At last, she fetched Crystalyn a black gown. “It’s good you have awakened. The Great Lord does not like to be kept waiting.” Seasoned past her middle years, the woman clutched the dress as a prized possession she hated to loan.

Crystalyn sat up, only now recalling Lord Charn’s dinner invitation. She had no desire to go, but couldn’t think of a way out of it. Until Jade arrived, compliance with the Great Lord’s wishes was critical.

Broth’s comforting presence stemmed from the next room, Atoi lounged beside him. Crystalyn hoped there would be time to spend with them after dressing.

Slipping from bed, she stripped down to her undergarments. So exhausted when Darkwind had taken his leave, she’d only removed her boots. The woman’s face was stony with disapproval as she slid the dress over Crystalyn’s shoulders, buttoning it in place almost before it had come to rest. “Tell me what to call you please,” Crystalyn asked, feeling the first stirrings of irritation. The woman’s brusque manners had begun to grate on her patience. She had low tolerance for such things. Patience for a person’s idiosyncrasies was for normal people.

Smoothing an errant lace on the dress, the light-haired woman hesitated, her blue eyes cold. “I am Deonna, head mistress for the Citadel,” she said. Grabbing an ornate metal comb from the bedside tray, the woman pointed toward a plush chair placed in front of a gilded vanity. “As a rule, I have staff to take care of our guests; my duties are to the Citadel and the Great Lord. You must be important indeed: the Great Lord himself requested I assist you with your evening attire.”

Crystalyn crossed the room to sit in the chair, which didn’t feel as soft as it looked. Facing the beautiful, gilded mirror, she gazed at her haggard reflection in silence as the woman prattled on about the many Great Lords she’d personally served. Her irritation showed with the deepening of her blue eyes, so dark as to be almost black, but the woman, Deonna, wouldn’t know.

A symbol with interlocked squares transposed in place of her auburn hair for a moment. She recalled it from the section “Aggression” in the black-lettered book, and it had a silencing feel to it. Perhaps she could use it to quiet the woman. Another flash of irritation raced through her, this time with herself. Deonna probably wasn’t as bloody snobby as she seemed. Was she becoming too dependent on her symbols? The thin, smooth face looking out at her from the mirror had no answers.

Do’brieni? Are you well? I sense unrest.
Crystalyn was grateful for the surge of friendship that flowed into her mind, soothing her irritation. The Warden’s presence was good for her. She hoped he got as much out of it as she did.
I am better now, my Do’brieni. You bring out the best in me. I don’t know how I’d do this without you. I can’t wait for you to meet my sister Jade. I do hope you two get along. I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t, but it’s been weeks since I’ve seen her.
There it was. The true source of her irritation, not Deonna at all, though she’d added to it. Jade might have changed. Had this harsh, violent world taken her loving nature?

It didn’t matter. They would work through it. Jade was
alive
. Somehow, her sister had survived, and that was all she wanted.
Are you and Atoi coming to dinner with me, Do’brieni?

No, we have dined while you slept. There is no place for a Warden at a lord’s table. Please remain alert; though I perceive you have to take any path offered to find your sibling, this is the dominion of the greatest evil known. We are in the lair of the Great Lord. We cannot remain long.

Broth had been disappointed with her quick decision to come to the Dark Citadel. She felt it strongly. He did not hide it, nor did he focus on it. Wariness flitted in the link, something he hoped to instill in her, as it wove around his devotion and support. Crystalyn added warmth and love, mixed with a deep affection to the mix.
Try not to worry over much, my Broth. I will be careful enough for both of us. We’ll get through this, I promise.

“You do have such beautiful hair, though we should do something about the color,” Deonna was saying. “The bright red within it is almost overcome by the drab brown.”

Deonna yanked the metal comb downward, tugging through the tangles. Crystalyn sat up straighter, bracing herself against the long strokes. It didn’t help much. “It’s my natural color,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Natural?” The woman raised a thick golden eyebrow. Plotting her path in advance, Deonna pulled the steel comb as gently as she could. It still felt like the stout woman was pounding through the snarls with a hammer. “Why haven’t you highlighted it? A tone enhancement would do wonders. I could order one of the red robes to cast it for you. Or perhaps you could do it yourself should you be a User of even small ability.” Deonna raised her other eyebrow to match the first.

So there it was. The woman was as transparent as an old holo image. “If you want to know something about me, simply ask. I may even be inclined to answer,” Crystalyn said, keeping her face smooth. Having her reflection in the mirror to look at made it easier. Blunt to the point of sarcastic, she’d never been good at holding things inside.

Deonna looked away for a moment. When she turned back, she kept her eyes downcast, ostensibly concentrating on Crystalyn’s tangles. The tugging lessened. “I am here to look after the Great Lord’s well-being. Becoming familiar with dining guests is a small, but important part of my duties. It is one I take very seriously,” she said quietly. Raising her head, she gazed into Crystalyn’s eyes, her light-blue eyes hardening she yanked the comb downward.

Pinpricks of pain tore through Crystalyn’s skull, snapping her head back. Gazing once again into the mirror, she met Deonna’s smug stare with a stony one of her own. “Do that again, and you will be dismissed from my service.” Her voice never cracked once, though her head throbbed with the grating pressure of a pulse engine out of discordance.

Deonna’s blue eyes widened. “I am truly sorry, my lady. Please, forgive me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I will report myself to the Great Lord. He will no doubt have me flogged for which I am most deserving,” the matronly woman said, her face aghast.

Crystalyn felt some remorse. “For now, there will be no talk of reporting or flogging. See that it doesn’t happen again and I’ll overlook it, this once. Let’s just concentrate on the task at hand, shall we?”

“My lady is too kind,” Deonna replied in a small voice, lowering her eyes. A flash of haughtiness flitted briefly across Deonna’s smooth face. With difficulty, Crystalyn kept a sigh bottled inside. Perhaps Broth was right about this place.

Tonight was going to be a high-anxiety evening if the preparations were any indication. Where had she dropped her pack? It was high time for her meds.

EMPTY GRAYNESS

Lowering her head slightly, Jade was grateful for the robe’s deep hood. Staunch the Flow tavern was booming with patrons loud with drink for such an early evening hour. Caven had expected as much, he’d planned their entrance when most would be socializing with known acquaintances early on. Later, after the imbibing was in full fruition, the hardy ones, heavy with drink, would circulate around the tavern intruding upon conversations. Some would inevitably accost latecomers demanding to know things best kept private.

Jade still harbored doubts Camoe’s portly brother was the right one to get her and Burl where they needed to go, but so far no one had questioned them, and the robes he provided blended with the crowd. Apparently the monks of Brown Recluse proper liked their drink, no one gazed overly long at Caven’s two acolytes standing at ease at the end of the bar while he ordered another round.

Burl nonetheless was a cause for concern. He remained in the exact position she’d put him in upon their arrival. His back to the wall behind her, head tilted toward the floor, hood pulled forward to hide his telltale eyes. Jade worried about his lack of motion. If Caven delayed too long broaching the subject of speaking with the tavern owner, someone may notice one of his acolytes failed to draw breath.

“Another round, Monk?” the nondescript man behind the bar inquired as he swiped the counter in front of Caven with a stained rag. Of average height and build, the man’s only outstanding feature was his scraggly black goatee.

“Certainly,” Caven said, sliding his tankard closer to the man with his fingertip. “Keep them coming. Set one up for Craight as well. Oh, and let him know I’d like a word in private at his leisure,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Reaching for the tankard, the bartender hesitated, frowning. “Is he expecting you
monk?
What is it he would want with
your
kind?”

Caven sneered. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be
private
, now would it?”

Jade cringed inside. If there was going to be trouble, it would be now.

“Replenish my ale, get one for Craight, and deliver my message as I asked,” Caven said, his voice a low growl. Leaning forward, he gazed hard into the man’s eyes as he slid his hand toward the man, palm down. “This should cover it, with the remainder staying with you for your…gracious effort,” he added, inching the coin forward with his fingertips.

The man’s eyes narrowed, his frown deepened. For a long moment, he stared at Caven. Finally, he dropped his eyes to the table. The coin vanished with a flash of gold. Pouring the tankard to the brim from a dented pitcher he produced from somewhere behind the bar, he sloshed it in front of Caven. Filling another tankard less full, the nondescript man regarded the three of them briefly before vanishing through a door into the back.

Caven leaned back on his stool, taking a small sip, looking around surreptitiously.

Jade followed his example, glancing around quickly, not letting her eyes linger in one place too long. Staunch the Flow Inn and Tavern—as the sign posted out front read—worked a thriving business. Townspeople lined the bar sitting on plain-backed, high stools or standing and leaning on it with their elbows and arms. The wood chairs and tables taking up most of the remaining space on both sides of a narrow aisle sustained a fair amount of patrons involved in conversation.

A pitcher similar to the barkeep’s, occupied the center space on every table but two; those supported three castle-like miniature structures, which several people stood around tossing implements similar to dice. Jade would’ve liked a closer look at them, but glances her direction had already grown frequent from different places throughout the room. One in particular seemed to have taken an interest in her; a scowling, broad-faced man in silver-black armor sitting at the bar’s end glared boldly her direction. Certain that he’d now made eye contact with her, the scowl deepened, bordering on rage.

“Don’t trade looks with him, Jade,” Caven said in an undertone barely loud enough for her to hear. “It will only encourage his kind to start something.”

Jade locked eyes with Caven. “Why does he hate me so much? I’ve never done anything to him, have I?”

Raising the tankard, he downed a decent swig of light amber ale. “They hate anyone they suspect is a User,” Caven said, his tone somber.

“But, I’m not a User!”

Caven glanced around, a yawn breaking up his slack face. His blue eyes slid past her without lingering. “Are you sure about that? When you look at me what is it you see? I mean, really
look
at me,” he said quietly. “But keep your head down.”

Jade slowed the tempest rotating around the portly monk. Three images of a younger and older Caven abounded within the rotation, but not for long. An indistinguishable shape, slightly lighter than the gray vortex spinning around Caven, floated behind the images, consuming them one-by-one, until it alone remained. Drifting inside the vortex for another full rotation, the shape slowly blended with the now empty grayness surrounding Caven.

Shocked, Jade let the vortex go. Then, with some trepidation, she tried again, concentrating on Caven with all her will. The monk’s aura obediently slowed, but there was nothing to view, only the impenetrable gray. Jade dropped the viewing feeling as if she’d brushed against frost cold enough to burn. She was cold inside. What did it all mean? One minute the viewing was there the next it was gone, which brought to mind an urgent question. What swallowed them? The coldness inside deepened. Not for the first time she wished Camoe had come along so she could ask him. He would have an answer. Even if he were uncertain, he’d have some sort of practical opinion on the matter.

Jade sighed. Wishing was irrelevant most of the time, so it was now. Camoe would’ve been in immediate danger had he accompanied them here. She wouldn’t want him to get hurt or worse, simply because she wanted his advice.

Caven was regarding her, a question shining in his blue eyes. Jade didn’t know what to say. She’d never had an image slip away before, not in such a manner. What could she tell him? That he had no images now?

Thankfully, the barkeep appeared from the back motioning for them to follow, sparing her the need to reveal the viewing. The stool creaked loudly in protest as Caven lifted his bulk from it. Swaying slightly, he scooped up his tankard, drained it, and then waddled after the barkeep.

Towing Burl by the hand, Jade followed, trying to shake the feeling things didn’t bode well for them.