The Crystal Keeper BoxSet

by Laurisa White Reyes

  Ivy shook her head. “The crystal is gone, Arik.”

  He turned a sharp glare on her. “You know as well as I do that the crystal is in Jayson’s possession. He’s still here, in Hestoria, somewhere. I know you’ve been protecting him, Ivy—”

  Ivanore now felt heat rising in her. “Protecting him?” she said with a cynical laugh. “How could I possibly protect him when I’ve been locked away in here for so long?”

  The hardened expression on Arik’s face sent tendrils of fear through her. When he stepped closer, she instinctively moved back.

  “Ivanore,” said Arik, his voice steady, his eyes intense, “I tire of your lies. But they are of no more consequence to me. I know where Jayson is, and in a few days’ time, the crystal will finally be mine.”

  Ivanore drew in a clipped breath. Arik knew where Jayson was? Impossible! But still, the possibility that it might be true made Ivanore shudder. The vision of her husband’s broken body gripped her mind, and tears burned the backs of her eyes.

  “You don’t believe me?” asked Arik. “No matter. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you anything. I just thought you might like to know.”

  Arik considered her a moment longer and then stepped to the door. Ivanore couldn’t bear it—the not knowing.

  “Arik,” she called. Her brother paused but did not turn around. “Arik, you said you needed my help.”

  A moment of silence passed between them before Arik answered. “Did I?” he said coldly. “How odd. Whatever reason brought me here tonight—it has somehow slipped my mind. Good night, sister.”

  Arik left the room and shut the door behind him. Ivanore waited for the metallic clack of the lock, a sound that never ceased to send a chill through her. When it came, as it had hundreds, a thousand times before, she pressed her eyelids shut and tried to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to fall. And like so many times before this, she failed.

  13

  By mid-morning the following day, Brommel had already traveled through Vrystal Canyon without incident and had made good progress along the northern border of the Black Forest. If he kept up this pace, he would reach Quendel by nightfall. He continued on, stopping only briefly for a light lunch, and was pleased when the wide green grazing fields of the village lay before him. It had been months since the last time he’d been sent here for a collection. Quendel was an isolated village situated on the farthest reaches of the island, separated from neighboring villages by the Black Forest, and from the rest of the island by the Jeweled Mountains. Still, it was a quaint little village, completely self-reliant on its domesticated herds and farms. Brommel thought it unusual that anyone here would have any connection to Dokur at all, let alone debts to pay. But there were those who had carried their debts with them from other parts of the island, settling here in hopes of evading their debtors. But, as Brommel well knew, few remained hidden for long. His superiors had their ways of locating those who owed them.

  After a good night’s rest beneath a tree, Brommel greeted the new morning by bathing in the stream that meandered out of the forest. The water was like ice, and he shivered as he dressed. Fortunately, the sun was warm today. He pulled on his leather boots and had begun to lace them when he heard a strange sound. It was soft and high, and oddly pleasant. He glanced around but saw nothing at first. When he leaned over to resume lacing his boot, he heard it again. An unmistakable giggle. Brommel did not move but continued lacing as if he had heard nothing. When he was done with the first boot, he turned to the second. The giggle came again, closer this time. He heard a gentle rustling of something moving through the grass. He raised his eyes and saw a little girl with single golden braid down her back watching him from several feet away.

  When he had finished, he remained very still but slowly lifted his face so that they were looking at each other straight on. Once he was sure she would not run off, he ventured a smile.

  “Hello,” he said. “Have you been there all along?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “I see,” said Brommel. The girl looked to be about five or six years old. She had a dark smudge across one cheek, perhaps a bit of dirt. “You’re out early for one so young,” added Brommel.

  The little girl held out a basket. In it were several plump clusters of deep purple blossoms.

  “Ah, you’ve been picking flowers. They are beautiful.”

  The girl tilted her head bashfully. Her blue eyes flitted between Brommel and her basket.

  A woman’s voice cut through the air. “Lael? Lael!” it called. “Lael, where have you gone?”

  “Lael,” repeated Brommel, “Is that you?”

  Lael nodded again. She stepped over to Brommel and held out a blossom. He took it and held it to his nose, breathing in the sweet fragrance.

  “Thank you,” he said. She was close to him now and he saw that the smudge on her cheek wasn’t dirt at all. It was more purple in color, a bruise. Lael smiled at him, and when she did, her eyes sparkled. Then she turned and ran away across the field toward the village.

  14

  Inside the big house, Jayson slipped out of his cloak, stiff with dust from the road, and handed it to Nira, the aging housekeeper. Nira had been a fixture at the house long before Jayson inherited it from Captain Dawes. She was so old and crochety that Jayson suspected she’d been there since the house had been built. Perhaps longer. She was more than the housekeeper. She was the eyes and ears of the plantation, keeping a keen and judgmental view on all the goings on there. She approved of nothing and liked no one, especially Jayson. And though she was respectful, she made no effort to hide her disdain.

  Nira folded the cloak over her arm and cast a narrowed glance at Jayson’s guest. “Tea in the sitting room?” she asked bluntly, as if anything asked of her would be an inconvenience.

  “Yes, that would be nice, Nira,” said Jayson. “Two cups, please. And make them hot. Weather’s turning, and I’m chilled to the bone.”

  Nira gave a curt nod. “Of course,” she said and then left the room.

  Jayson and Gerard moved to the sitting room, each taking a chair near the fire, which Nira had lit.

  “You’ve something to tell me,” reminded Gerard, getting right to the point.

  Jayson rested his elbows on the chair arms and let his palms caress the worn velvet. There was no point beating around the bush, he realized. If he didn’t tell Gerard, Teak surely would. Either way, the news wouldn’t be easy for any of them.

  “The Vatéz are planning a cleansing.”

  He paused to study Gerard’s reaction. The old man touched his fingertips together as his expression grew serious.

  “I thought Arik had tired of chasing ghosts,” he said.

  “Apparently something’s got him going again, not that I ever believed he was over losing the Seer’s crystal. We both knew eventually he’d come hunting for me again.”

  Gerard nodded and turned his gaze to the flames. Jayson continued.

  “There was an incident last week. Three men were hung as Guardian sympathizers.”

  “What evidence was there against them?”

  “None that I know of. Since when did the Vatéz resort to trials? I think Arik is finally following in Emir’s footsteps, trying to root us out.”

  “Start up the violence again and we’ll come to the rescue, eh? Right into his waiting, blood-thirsty hands.”

  “Exactly.”

  Nira returned with a tray and set down two steaming cups on the table between Jayson and Gerard. “Will there be anything else?” she asked.

  “No thank you,” said Jayson. “I’ll be going to bed soon. But if you could have that cloak brushed for me tomorrow, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  “Of course.” Again, Nira nodded, and then strode out of the room, shutting the door to the kitchen behind her.

  “We won’t be seeing her again tonight,” said Jayson, raising his cup to his lips and testing the liquid with a small sip.

  Gerard held
his cup between his palms. “That woman gives me the willies,” he said. “She’s never liked having all of us here.”

  “I don’t see why,” said Jayson. “You’re keeping this farm running. And without the farm, she’d be out of a job.”

  “Still, she doesn’t like us. None of us. And she’s none too keen about you either. I don’t trust her.”

  “She’s harmless. A bit cranky is all. Now, about the cleansing.”

  Gerard thoughtfully sipped his tea. “What do you suggest we do about it?”

  Jayson set down his cup. It was still too hot to drink. “Nothing.”

  Gerard glanced up, surprised. “Nothing?”

  “That’s right. We should stay out of it.”

  An ember in the fireplace popped, and a burning log shifted as part of it crumbled to ash. Gerard rose and stood in front of it, contemplating Jayson’s words. Jayson waited as the man tumbled his message around in his brain. Gerard respected Jayson, was grateful to him, but he was not used to relinquishing control of the Guardians to anyone, even Jayson. He’d been their leader for decades, had kept them safe, kept them hidden since the last Seer had died, an event shrouded in mystery. Ivanore was a baby when her mother disappeared, left to her father Fredric to raise. The Vatéz had a leader then who was decidedly anti-Guardian, anti-Seer. So, the Guardians went underground, and Ivanore grew into a young woman who never fully understood or appreciated her responsibility.

  AT least that’s what Gerard had told Jayson. He knew little more than that, only that Ivanore was happy to abandon her calling when she married Jayson. Only later, once he’d been exiled and given a shard of her crystal to protect did he come to realize the importance of what he carried and the value of his wife’s true calling.

  Jayson waited patiently for Gerard to come to a decision. A few minutes passed before the man turned from the fire to face Jayson, a look of regret on his face.

  “I believe you are right,” he said. “The Guardians must remain here on Ashlin. There is too much at stake should we be discovered.”

  Sharp steps sounded in the entry hall, and Nira’s sharp voice pierced the air. “You’ll not disturb the master!” she shrieked. “You cannot just barge into his master’s house!”

  A lithe dark-haired woman stormed into the room followed by a sullen looking Teak and an infuriated Nira.

  “These two—vagrants—pushed through the door and invited themselves inside,” Nira explained through gritted teeth. “I told them to go, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  “It’s all right, Nira,” said Jayson. He almost felt sorry for the old woman and the chaos she’d endured the past few years. “I was going to call for them anyway.”

  Nira huffed indignantly, then spun on her heel and marched out of the room.

  Dianis marched into the room, arms defiantly crossed. “When were you going to tell me?”

  Her delicate lips and diminutive stature belied the fierce drive that burned in her eyes. She was a half breed like Jayson, but while he was part Agoran and bore the traits of his non-human relatives including their clawed fingers, slit pupils, and heightened senses, Dianis’s mother had been a nymph, which meant that except for the slight elongation of her fingers and the narrowness of her features, she looked as human as any full-blood, though many humans found it quite disconcerting how she could simply vanish before their eyes.

  Gerard rolled his eyes and took a long draw from his cup.

  Jayson scratched at his temple. “I suppose Teak’s already explained,” he said.

  “Yes, Teak told me about the cleansing. My question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  Jayson glanced at Teak who looked positively pale with remorse, but he said nothing. Jayson couldn’t blame him. Dianis could be fierce when she felt duty-bound to speak.

  “Well?” she pressed, addressing Gerard. “Father, are you just going to stand there drinking your tea while innocent people might be dying?”

  Gerard returned to his chair and set the cup on the table, but he did not sit down. He instead offered the chair to his daughter, but she stubbornly remained on her feet.

  “Jayson and I feel it would be best to avoid getting involved in the Vatéz’s affairs,” he said at last. Dianis’s face turned red. She flung her arms down to her side, her fingers curled into fists.

  “Three men have already died,” she said.

  “The first in several years,” said Gerard.

  “Well, obviously the Vatéz were biding their time, weren’t they? We can’t stand by and let innocent people die on our behalf. They have no idea what’s coming.”

  Jayson finally drank his tea. The temperature had cooled slightly to just the way he liked it. Nira was brilliant at making tea. He set down his half empty cup and raised his eyes to Dianis. “What do you suggest we do?” he asked.

  Dianis’s eyes brightened. Teak reached for her arm, silently pleading with her to keep her peace, but she ignored him. He held back, though Jayson sensed irritation brewing under his skin.

  “We gather two dozen men,” said Dianis. “Three dozen. Whoever is willing, and we make for Ralen-Arch immediately.”

  “It’s half a day’s ride from here,” Teak reasoned.

  “Then we must leave tonight. We will warn the villagers, help them escape. Then when the Vatéz arrive and find the village empty, they’ll have no choice but to give up their plans.”

  “They’ll burn the cottages,” said Gerard.

  “Better they burn them with no one inside.”

  Jayson appreciated Dianis’s determination, but she was often reckless, ruled by her emotions. “We’re not exactly sure when the Vatéz plan to attack,” he told her. “It could be days, or it could already have happened.”

  “All the more reason not to waste a moment.”

  Teak gasped in frustration. “I’m sorry, Jayson. I tried to explain to her how futile this was. Our men have families to think about. We can’t risk their lives for a rumor.”

  Dianis spun on her fiancée. “If it’s only a rumor, then we have nothing to lose, do we?”

  Jayson looked to Gerard. “Gerard, what do you think? She’s your daughter.”

  Gerard clasped his hands behind his back and sighed. “You’re master of Ashlin,” he replied. “Your word is final.”

  Jayson recognized Gerard’s tactic. The man didn’t like standing up to his own daughter and so had left it to him to do it. Jayson stood up and took a step toward Dianis. He could see why Teak was so in love with her. She was even more beautiful today than when he’d first met her. And the fire in her eyes only made her more attractive. Jayson hoped Teak could keep up with her once they’d married.

  He reached for her hand and held it between both of his. “Dianis, I cannot ask the Guardians to risk their lives. Arik’s plans are nothing more than a ploy to discover where we are. Where I am. We won’t play into his hand.”

  Dianis pulled her hand free of Jayson’s grasp. “I see,” she said coldly.

  “You understand, don’t you?” asked Jayson. “There are over thirty children here now, with more babies on the way. These people are happy here. It’s my job to keep them safe.”

  Dianis hesitated, then pressed her lips together and nodded, though her eyes burned with anger. “I understand,” she said, then she spun and left the house as quickly as she had come in.

  Teak remained behind only long enough to offer one more apology, and then he followed her.

  Jayson went back to his chair and his tea.

  “What do you make of her?” asked Gerard, his voice betraying his concern.

  Jayson finished his cup then ran his thumb around the rim. “I think Teak will have his hands full.”

  15

  Ivanore had exhausted every resource she had for a record of the victor’s tapestry. She had searched the pages of a dozen ledgers dating back two centuries, had scanned every line in the scrolls, and had studied the tapestry itself for any hint of the artist’s name or how it had come to t
he castle. Finally, she shut the cover of the dusty book she’d been scanning and leaned back in her chair with a disappointed sigh.

  “Something wrong?”

  Ivanore glanced up to find Erland leaning in the library doorway. He wore no armor today, just a cream-colored tunic open at the neck and a pair of plain brown trousers and leather boots laced to the knee.

  “Captain,” Ivanore said, aware of how mussed she must look. “I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you’d be training your men.”

  “I was,” he replied with a grin. “Day’s long over, or hadn’t you noticed? And please, call me Erland.”

  Ivanore had not noticed the fading light, though now, looking through the narrow stained glass window beside the main bookcase, she realized how dark the room had become.

  “Shall I light a candle for you?” Erland asked, moving closer to the table.

  Ivanore stood abruptly and gathered the ledgers. “That won’t be necessary. I just need to put these away. I’ll be called to dinner soon.”

  Erland reached for the stacks of books in Ivanore’s arms. “Allow me.” He took the books, and with Ivanore’s guidance, found each one’s place on the shelves. Once they were finished, Erland smiled at Ivanore.

  “So, you didn’t find what you were looking for, I take it.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “The dejected look on your face when I came in, unless I was mistaken and it was my presence that disappointed you.”

  Ivanore laughed. “Of course not,” she said. She followed him out of the library, and together they walked down the hall. “I’m looking for the name of an artist, a weaver actually, who created the tapestry in the meeting room.”

  Erland nodded. “The victor’s tapestry.”

  “You know it?”

  “Of course. I’ve met with Arik and the Hestorian ministers in that room many times. I always found it a bit disconcerting.”