Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) (44 page)

CAUSE OF STRIFE

The fetching, dark-haired, Darwin arrived to escort Crystalyn not long after Deonna left. The prim, older woman had obviously informed Darwin that the common girl was ready. However, the woman might infuriate her she was admirably efficient.

“I hope you had a refreshing nap, and I trust the headmistress wasn’t too insensitive with waking you,” Darwin said, one fine eyebrow raised. It was almost as if he’d heard her thoughts. Without waiting for a reply, he stepped into the hall, pausing and offering his arm. Crystalyn slid her arm in his delighted with the strength inherent in his muscles. “She can be brusque, but she likes her duties here and does them…well enough. You are so beautiful in your blue dress,” he added, changing the subject smoothly.

“Oh! Thank you for saying so,” Crystalyn said lamely. He looked so glamorous in his black chain mail. “Where is your black robe?”

Darwin laughed easily, a divine sound in her ears. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh with delight, but she hoped not the last. “I wear many outfits, for I have many duties, my lady. After our meal, I must inspect the state of my regiments. It is a duty I neglect at times, though Lord Charn forever reminds me of it. All soldiers invited to the Great Lord’s table are required to follow his example. You will see much armor tonight.”

Crystalyn wondered how many functions Darwin served within the Dark Citadel. “Why don’t you like it? Is it simply because it is a duty?”

Darwin’s brown eyes swept over her, sending an involuntary thrill through her. She had to be on her guard here: she
was
in the lair of the enemy after all according to…some she’d met on this world, such as her Do’brieni. “I see you do not have a military background, which endears you to me. I detest anything designed to make a man efficient at destroying another man. Life should never be taken for granted.”

Crystalyn let his assumption pass without comment. Having her dad as head of security had forced many hours of tactical studies upon her and her sister. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said, frowning. “Why wouldn’t you want your men to fight well and live? Aren’t you a captain or something? Isn’t it your duty to train them?”

Darwin flashed a brief smile. “I am a general with many captains under me. I simply meant I would like to end this war without having to destroy half the lives of the people and creatures living on Astura.”

“Then why don’t you throw down your weapons and walk away? Wars are messy things, anyway. No one really wins,” Crystalyn said as they entered an unfamiliar intersection. Guided by his gentle pressure on her arm, she turned down a narrower but opulent passage. Bright banners hung on the walls above stone shelving displaying silver wrought figurines and dining ware. Black, white, and red tiled flooring brightened the polished gray stone. A warm feeling raced through her as their hips brushed together.

Darwin laughed, gazing at her with his dark eyes. “That’s what I always say, but we’ve been so oppressed here in Virun so long, no one knows much beyond soldiering.”

Crystalyn halted, pulling her escort to a standstill by his elbow. “You call yourselves oppressed, but the White Lands claim to be on the defensive against the Dark Citadel’s aggression.”

Darwin’s merry features vanished. His smooth face took on a serious cast. “I have heard they promote fear and distrust of the Dark Citadel. Some in The White Lands no doubt believe it,” he said, his brown eyes earnest. “I can’t say I blame them. There have been some…tyrants, in our history, and in the White Lands’ as well. We used to be one people, living together in harmony when this world was young and devoid of some of the darker dangers, before some Users learned how to become so powerful.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that you were all a family in the past; it’s one of the things both sides agree upon. It sounds like you’re having trouble accepting it though,” Crystalyn said, following his strong but tender guidance. Plush carpets and gilded rugs lined the hallway, growing quite intricate the farther they strolled. Crystalyn would have liked to spend some leisure time perusing them—they certainly deserved an extended look—but it was hard to keep her eyes away from Darwin too long.
What’s come over me?
She was starting to act like Jade, mooning over every handsome boy who happened by.

“I do not accept it,” Darwin said with his quiet baritone. They strode up to a bronzed door guarded by guards in dark armor, holding the now-familiar spears and swords. “Our world need not be in constant strife.”

The faceless guards nodded at her host as they passed. Their helms depicted the heads of spiderbees with chilling, alien detail. Crystalyn shuddered, moving past a half step ahead of her guide. Recalling her near-death experience with the hive, she wasn’t about to linger.

The room beyond the doorway curtailed a great stone and glass table that gave up space in the big room only when necessary to the mob of well-dressed people standing behind plush chairs. Servants moved quietly in the background of the table’s startlingly clear glass.

Lord Charn stood tall, dark, and powerful, standing at ease at the table’s gleaming onyx head. A large head it was, too, Crystalyn took in the sinuous body, the illusionary delicacy of the fine membrane wings, and four powerful legs of a magnificent black dragon holding up the glass. Lord Charn gestured for her to take the seat next to him.

Darwin pulled the chair out for her, sliding it forward to stop at the most comfortable spot for her reach, before claiming the seat on her right side. Lord Charn settled in next to her. “You may all be seated,” he said, his voice carrying the table’s great length with alacrity and volume, yet he didn’t seem loud to her.

The men and women wearing the elegant clothes sat nearly in unison. No one sat to the left of Lord Charn for there was no chair, only a glaring vacant space. Servants appeared as soon as the last person was seated, watched over by Deonna’s appraising gaze from where she’d stationed herself at the far end of the table.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, the glass top abounded with steaming bowls, heaping serving plates, and crystal decanters. Conversation dulled to a background drone as everyone served their table neighbors from the wide variety grouped together upon similar trays along the dragon’s back. The better-dressed servants at the dragon’s head brought forth colored crystal decanters, whole cooked birds, ornate brim-filled salad bowls, breads, and cheeses, grapes and sliced melons.

The serving trays spread from Darkwind all the way to the former empty space by Lord Charn. A manservant trimmed with lace and sporting chin-length sideburns, the color of snow stood there, waiting with arms clasped behind his back. After a time, Lord Charn nodded. The servant sprang into action, reaching on both sides of Lord Charn’s chin; he released a catch and a portion of the dark helmet dropped into his hand.

Any hope Crystalyn harbored of getting a glimpse of her host’s features vanished as the manservant began to hand feed the Great Lord Charn as if he were a mere child. Crystalyn gaped. Realizing she was being impolite, her face heated, so she glanced at her closest table companions, looking away from Darwin. The last thing she wanted was for him to inquire after her flushed face: her embarrassment would escalate into utter shame.

“Have you caught something vile?” a beautiful, dark-haired woman sitting across the table from her asked. Her lacy black dress peeked out from the loosely tied silky red robe, revealing a plunging neckline underneath. “There are many diseases floating around I wouldn’t care to share.”

Two men wearing red armor on the woman’s left abruptly broke off their conversation to look at Crystalyn. Older than her by half, one sported a thin scar across his right cheek. The other kept a plain, clean-shaven face. They regarded her with thin lips and icy eyes.

Crystalyn’s skin grew hotter.

“Have a care how you speak to our guest, Correlda,” Darwin said. Our Great Lord may decide you have overstepped your station in life.”

Correlda’s dark eyes smoldered. “Do not think you are ready to test me. Not too long ago I was still your Flow Master. You cherished my teachings then. Or did you? Perhaps you only ever treasured my other…ministrations.”

Darkwind’s countenance darkened. Locking eyes with the woman twice his seasons, he spoke, softly. “Have a care, Correlda. I may accept your offer to meet at the Dark Dais, if that is what you intended when you opened your scathing mouth. Though I fear it would be your last challenge.”

Correlda’s face blanched slightly, but her dark eyes never lost their smolder. “The day shall come. At this moment, you may tell me who you’ve selected to take my place beside the Great Lord at his table.” Her eyes fixed on Crystalyn.

Halting the servant’s feeding with a raised, gauntleted hand, Lord Charn’s horned helm swung toward Correlda. “My guest is not your concern, nor that of your cronies,” he added, his head moving toward her male companions. As he did, Crystalyn caught a glimpse of smooth sienna skin. “If you still believe you must know everything you’re not privy to, meet
me
at the Dark Dais this night. I shall expect you to bring along your two lackeys and rid myself of their disease, at the same moment.”

His masculine tone still carried, though it was higher without the mouthpiece. Conversation had quieted in an instant. All heads had swung their direction, even the full helmed red and black armored lords or general at the dragon table’s tail end. No food sat in front of them.

Correlda gaped at him for three long beats of Crystalyn’s heart. Finally, she lowered her eyes to the table. “Please punish me as you will, my lord. I do not wish to be the cause of strife in your greatest of domains, the Dark Citadel,” she mumbled.

“Do not test my patience! Speak to be heard!” Lord Charn said, his throaty voice ringing throughout the room.

Correlda straightened as if backhanded. “Yes, my lord! I do not wish to be the cause of strife in your greatest of domains!” she shouted into the silence at the table. Her face was flushed with anger, or perhaps her own embarrassment.

Lord Charn waved a dismissive, gauntleted hand. “Very well, you may leave us. Return for sustenance in the morning; no morsel shall pass your lips before then.”

Her face livid, Correlda slowly stood, glaring at Crystalyn, a fraction before it would’ve been too obvious an infraction. Then the red-robed woman stalked from the room, trailed by the two men. Almost immediately, the table buzzed with conversation as if there had been no interruption. Crystalyn ladled something soupy into her bowl, and began to eat, carefully keeping her gaze on the now empty chair across from her. For the first time, she wondered if she’d made a mistake by coming here.

LOST ONE

Pulling Burl along by his good hand, Jade kept close to Caven as the barkeep showed them to a small chamber behind the main bar, made up of two rooms. After ushering them into the first and largest room, the bald man with the dirty goatee left without a word, a scowl still affixed to his lined face. The room was crowded, so Jade crept next to Caven. Four men sat in pairs on each side of a burly, black-vested man seated in an armchair, his large feet propped up upon a rickety table. Empty, dented pitchers littered the room.

“What are you bothering me with this time, Caven?” the burly man asked without preamble, his blocky face set. “Now that you’re heavy with drink again, are you going to persuade me to let your brother back inside my tavern? His worthless, User carcass isn’t welcome here.”

A brown scraggly-bearded man with lean, solid muscles sitting to his right chuckled venomously. “Perhaps we should let him inside your establishment, Craight. I could use the entertainment of converting him to a worthless, User cadaver.”

Several of the men laughed.

Craight smiled as he thumped his booted feet to the floor, standing with a speed belying his too-beefy stature. “I wonder if you have the same User blood flowing in you. Speak. What is so important to warrant pulling my man away from selling my ale? Or perhaps, you’ve brought me a…volunteer barmaid.” He glanced at Jade, his tone ominous.

Jade lowered her head quickly, looking through the hood of her robe at Camoe’s brother. The big monk swayed back and forth worse than a decayed tree losing its last roothold next to a lively stream. Jade’s irritation flared.
Why did he pick now of all times to down so much ale?

Caven looked around for something to lean on. Seeing nothing in the immediate vicinity, he settled for pulling a chair to him and leaning on the back. “My associates are not your concern. But if you must know, I was asked to escort these two by someone high enough up the chain of command for me to have no choice but to accept the request,” he sniffed, his voice slurring noticeably. The chair creaked loudly in protest when he swayed forward, catching himself at the last minute.

One of the men, an older man with a gray beard, sneered. “You chose to accept it so you could drink a pitcher for free—or two or three. For a man as wide as you are, you should be able to drain a cask, yet look at you; your monkish brain is a sodden mess!”

A chorus of laughter followed.

“Silence!” Craight roared. The room stilled, except for Caven’s labored breaths.

Craight glared at each of his men in turn, then at Caven. “Who requested your assistance and what does it have to do with me?”

“I had thought to speak with you in private. It is a matter of some urgency,” Caven replied evenly. “Yet I have this nagging feeling you will ignore my request.”

Jade shot a quick glance at her escort. Caven’s slur hadn’t manifested with his last words.

Craight paused, his face smoothing. He gazed at Caven as if he’d shed his skin and changed into a flicker or something. Then his stony expression resumed as he glanced sidelong at his men. Something unreadable flashed briefly in Craight’s blue eyes as he straightened, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “I would hear what a drunken monk thinks is urgent enough to interrupt my men’s leisure.”

“As you would have it,” Caven said his voice as heavy as his body. “I was asked to inform you the Great Lord requires a debt repaid.”

Several men gasped.

Craight’s sword swept from its sheath.

Exploding with blurring speed, Caven smashed the sturdy wooden chair solidly into the face of the sneering man sitting at the table. The man’s smirk vanished with splintering wood and a sickening thud.

Craight’s sword jabbed through the throat of the man nearest him, his backswing chopping the hapless man next to him partway through his torso.

From somewhere in his robes, a long knife appeared in Caven’s hand, his free hand hurling the table to the side. The long knife stabbed deep into the chest of the fourth man as he attempted to scuttle from his chair.

Jade was stunned. In the blink of an eye, four men’s lives snuffed out with brutal efficiency.

Using his foot to pry his sword from the corpse, Craight spun on Caven, his face livid. “You’ve cost me four good men, monk! Your master better be grateful.”

Calmly wiping the long knife on his victim’s black tunic, Caven straightened and faced his accuser, a frown creasing his forehead. “Lord Charn is far from my master. I serve the Mother. From the message, one would assume you followed the Great Lord.”

Craight stuffed his sword in the sheath at his side. “Hardly, I accepted his coin to build this place, not knowing the blasted Citadel was behind the funding until it was too late. I had begun to believe they’d forgotten about the debt, until last night.” He glanced at the door. “Perhaps we should continue our conversation in my private room.” He motioned toward the door at the rear. “First, let me get someone started on cleaning up this mess.”

Cracking the door open leading to the bar, he spoke too softly for Jade to hear, then strode to the room’s rear door, carefully avoiding the pooling blood. Slipping a small chain from his neck over his head, he produced a key and turned the great lock on the door with a sharp, well-oiled click. Pushing it open, he stepped inside, indicating Jade should follow. She did, bringing Burl by the hand.

Caven filed in after, joining her in front of a rough-cut wooden desk, smoothed on the top surface only. Craight closed the door, locking it from the inside, then moved to the desk and sat on the edge, eyeing the three companions long enough that Jade began to feel uncomfortable. “Well? Is someone going to tell me why four of my men died?” Craight asked his blue eyes blank.

Jade started. “But you killed two of them!”

Craight’s oval eyes flicked to her before resting on Caven. “Is she a User? You brought one
here?
Am I now forced into helping a blasted User?
”

“Nay, she is no User. Just someone lost, trying to find her way,” Caven said. All trace of drink had vanished from his voice.

Craight looked relieved. “That is well. I always pay a debt, but I’m not certain I could’ve convinced myself to do it this time.” He stood long enough to move to the chair behind the desk. He sat down heavily, using one hand to mask a quiet cough.

When he raised a shaky hand to point to a pair of objects covered with unadorned rugs, she tried to read his aura, to get a sense of the man
.
She slowed the images around him, marveling anew at her strange talent. A black hole floated next to a circular shining eclipse of light. A red substance, resembling the blood congealing in the next room, pooled on dusty ground made up the second. In the final image, a stooped, old man dressed in rags looked away into the distance. The vortex tugged strong at her mind. She winced and let it go back to rotating around him.

Craight pointed toward two objects covered with blankets. “Those arrived early this morning with a cryptic note: ‘Your services will be required for a lost one
.
Do not hesitate.’  That’s all, two simple sentences with a hidden meaning I now know. My men’s lives lost, for a lost one.”

Jade gawked at the stocky man.

Craight raised a brown eyebrow, his eyes on her. “What? Do not feel too bad for my fallen men, lost one. Hired as they were as bouncers and guards, but in truth, they were nothing but thugs. Nay, your compassion is better suited directed at me. Now I have to search for the right mindset for replacement lackeys—not too intelligent or too ambitious. It takes months of conditioning getting them to perform precisely as I require. Now, if you please, do what you have come here to do. I have much work ahead of me,” he said with a nod toward the rugs.

Caven swept the rugs away with a flourish. A pair of crystal obelisks, russet in color, brought a gasp to both Jade and Caven’s throats.

“Yes, that was my first reaction this morning, too. Impressive, are they not? Can you imagine my surprise when a duke’s fortune showed up here, yet they are not mine? I don’t suppose any of you are capable of activating them. Not even your silent friend?” Craight glared hard at Burl.

Caven dropped the rugs in a pile. Spreading the obelisks a few feet apart, he stepped back, his hands going to his rotund waist. “No, we can’t activate them. I don’t need to reiterate how that’s going to be a problem.”

“Who is going?” Craight asked.

“My two associates,” Caven said.

Craight sighed. “I suppose I will have to bring someone in. You all are being no end of trouble. However, you, monk, will have to leave.”

Caven turned to Craight, frowning. “I do not see the need for my withdrawal.”

Craight leaned back in his chair, his arms going behind his head. “Nevertheless, it is but one of two conditions for receiving my help. Your acolytes must also be blindfolded”

Caven glanced at Jade. “He cannot be trusted, but I don’t see a choice.”

Jade nodded. She had to get to Crystalyn.

Caven sighed. “Very well, I will be at the bar and I expect you to show me the active gateway once they’ve passed through.”

Craight dropped his big arms to his lap and stood. “If that is what you wish.”

Caven strode to the door. Glancing one final time over his shoulder, a small smile pursed his lips and there was a glint to his blue eyes. He stepped through and the door clicked closed.

Jade was surprised how sad she was to see him go; he’d been a good friend in his own way. She wondered why he seemed satisfied with something. Turning toward Craight again, Jade found him next to her, holding two dark rags. “Tie this tight over your friend’s eyes. I will check, so make certain it is,” he said, handing her a rag. Jade did so, taking Burl by the hand when she finished. The room darkened as the second one stole her vision. Rough yet firm hands guided her by the shoulders to stand at a particular spot. “When I tell you, step forward,” Craight’s voice said from behind her.

A few moments of darkness went by before he said, “Step forward.”

As Jade did so, she realized Craight hands had been firm on her shoulders. There was no evidence he ever shook at all, like Caven’s vanishing drunkenness. Was everyone on this whole world full of subterfuge? More importantly, why did they have to use it?