The Crystal Keeper BoxSet

by Laurisa White Reyes

  Jayson again noted the smell of blood, which emanated from the dead man. He spotted movement at the edge of the crowd, and for a split second, a set of sharp brown eyes found his. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and then the eyes vanished into the throng.

  Jayson grabbed Teak’s arm.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “I’ve found Dianis.”

  17

  The village of Quendel was one of dozens scattered throughout the region east of the Jeweled Mountains. With Vrystal Canyon the only passage linking the two halves of the island, the eastern region was left mostly to itself, Lord Fredric having no inclination or resources to keep the remote region under his control.

  The sky was deep indigo when Brommel reached the main square at the center of Quendel. He washed his face and arms in the fountain, ignoring the critical glances of passersby. In a village like this, no visitor went unnoticed, especially one sent from the Fredric’s court. Brommel shook the excess moisture from his hands and headed toward the grain mill, which was the largest structure in Quendel and whose operator happened to have a healthy amount of debt in his name.

  Brommel rapped on the door before letting himself in. “Jakob! Jakob Tether!” he called as he crossed the threshold. The inside of the mill was a spacious room with a massive stone wheel which rolled along a vertical stone slab. Grain would be poured into a shallow trough on the slab while a man worked a lever setting the stone wheel into motion. Brommel remembered well the loud grinding as grain was crushed. The memory alone gave him a headache, but he had no other choice but to stay here. He doubted anyone else in town would have him. At the moment, the stone was still, the day’s work already done, and Brommel was grateful for the silence.

  “Jakob!” he called again. This time a thin, elderly man with unruly tufts of white hair on his head and down his cheeks entered from another door. When the man saw Brommel, a look of fear crossed his face.

  “I sent payment a month ago,” the man started, waving his hands in front of him. “I’ll not be late again, tell his Lordship that I swear it.”

  Brommel came further into the room. “I’m not here for you, Jakob,” he said.

  “You’re not?” asked Jakob. His expression immediately relaxed, but then grew concerned again.

  “So, you’re here for—”

  “A room,” said Brommel. He retrieved a coin from his satchel and held it up. He had learned early on that money turned enemies to allies, and he always needed allies where he went.

  Jakob took the coin and rolled it into his bony fingers. “Only one night this year?” he asked.

  “Just one,” replied Brommel, “if all goes well. I’ve only got one collection to make.”

  “And if he won’t go with you?”

  Brommel grinned. “Oh, he’ll come all right,” he said. “No one dares not come.”

  Jakob nodded. “You can stay in the loft. The straw is fresh and there are clean blankets on the cot. I’d give you my room like the last time, but my joints have been bothering me. I can’t climb that ladder the way I used to.”

  “The loft is fine,” replied Brommel. “But don’t do any milling until I’ve left in the morning, all right?”

  “Shall I bring you some supper? I have a bit of stew left in the kettle.”

  “That’ll do nicely.” Brommel turned for the ladder which led to the loft above the mill. In the winter, Jakob stored bushels of wheat, barley, and corn there. There were a few sacks of them already piled in the corner. He could smell the earthy scent of grain and hay. Just as Jakob had said, two clean blankets were folded and ready to use. Brommel wasn’t the only one who stayed here. Quendel had no inn, travelers to these parts were so rare, but there was the occasional husband thrown out into the cold by an angry wife, or sometimes a lovesick visitor from a neighboring village come to woo a farmer’s daughter.

  Brommel sat down on the edge of the cot and pulled off his boots. His feet ached. He heard the squeak of the ladder as Jakob climbed the rungs. Soon Jakob’s perspiring face appeared. He slid a pewter dish containing chunks of meat and potato smothered in a brown gravy across the floor. Brommel picked it up. The smell of pepper and onion made his mouth water.

  Jakob leaned his elbows on the floor beside the ladder. He watched as Brommel took a bite of the meat. “So, just one collection from Quendel, eh?” Jakob asked, scratching at the white whiskers below his left ear. “Who might the unlucky bastard be?”

  Brommel took another bite before reaching for his satchel. He pulled out the portfolio and read the name written there.

  “Sotherby,” he said, tossing the portfolio onto the bed. “Silas Sotherby.”

  Jakob raised his eyebrows and gave a low whistle.

  “What?” asked Brommel.

  “Well,” began Jakob, now scratching at his chin. “How badly does the king want his money?”

  “Enough to send me.”

  “And how badly do you want yours?”

  Brommel was beginning to think taking this collection would be a bit more of a challenge than he had planned on. Still, he’d faced worse. He leisurely chewed his dinner, thinking about ways in which he might have to subdue his catch.

  Jakob laughed dryly and started back down the ladder. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said as he crossed the floor to the barn door. “Or better yet, I’ll say an extra prayer to the Gods for you tonight.”

  18

  Jayson and Teak slipped away from the crowd in Ralen-Arch and headed toward a nearby cluster of barren fruit trees. There they found the renegade Guardians looking sullen and dejected. Some sat cross-legged, picking absentmindedly at the leaves on the ground. Others stood, arms crossed over their chests, their expressions hard as stone as if attempting to mask the emotion swirling underneath. Dianis waited until Jayson and Teak had come into their camp before speaking in hushed, disappointed tones.

  “I figured you’d come after us,” she said cynically.

  “What happened?” asked Jayson, taking a quick inventory of the men who were with Dianis. He smelled no blood on any of them, no injuries, and was relieved.

  “We were too late, of course.” Dianis wrapped one hand around the slender trunk of a tree as if steadying herself. “The Vatéz came in the night and left again just before we arrived. The man in the tree was still squirming when we got here. We tried to get him down before—” Dianis pressed her eyes shut, gripping the tree trunk. “But it was futile.”

  Teak approached his fiancée and tried to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she shifted away from him. Dianis had never been keen on sympathy. She squared her shoulders and met Teak’s eyes. It was a tender look, as if asking for him to understand. Teak lowered his hand, his expression compassionate. Jayson realized Teak knew Dianis better than anyone else possibly could.

  “Ralen-Arch was lucky,” said Jayson. “Just one man.”

  “It wasn’t just one man,” said one of the Guardians standing nearby. “He’s the one they left behind.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Teak.

  Dianis cast her fellow Guardian an accusatory glare, as if he had betrayed some oath. But then she turned back to Teak and Jayson, resignation on her face.

  “Didn’t you notice anything odd about the villagers?” she asked.

  “No, should we have?” replied Teak.

  “The man in the tree. He is the only man. The Vatéz took all the rest. They dragged every man from his bed at swordpoint, threatened to kill their families if they resisted. We were told they were led away without bonds of any kind. They went willingly, to save their wives and children. A small band of soldiers remained only long enough to string that one up. Some of our men tried to follow, but they were afraid to intervene lest the Vatéz killed any more of the villagers.”

  “Where were they taking them?”

  “I don’t know. The soldiers claimed, of course, that they were Guilde sympathizers. If we had attacked, that would have confirmed their accusations.”

  “You di
d the right thing staying out of it. There aren’t enough of you to have made a difference. Some of you might have been killed.”

  Dianis’s gaze fell. “You’re right,” she whispered, “but it does nothing to ease our consciences. Any of us would gladly die if it meant those men were free.”

  “I know. You wouldn’t have come otherwise, defying both your father and me.” Jayson gave her a pointed look. “Arik and the Vatéz are up to something. They’re trying to root us out. They’re hoping the Guilde will reveal themselves, and what would happen if we did? Dianis, we can’t risk Guardians’ lives. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  Dianis turned to her men. “Go home,” she told them. “There’s nothing more we can do here. Go home to your families.”

  “What about you?” asked one of them, gathering up his pack.

  Dianis set her jaw. “I’m going after the Vatéz. I want to know where they’re taking those men, and for what purpose. I need to know.”

  Teak reached for her hand. When she tried to move away again, he took it anyway and held it firmly. “I’m going with you.”

  Jayson sighed. “Fine. All right. We’ll follow them, but we are not getting involved. Not with three of us. We’ll report what we find to Gerard and discuss what to do then, if anything.”

  They all walked back to the horses in silence, and in silence Jayson, Dianis, and Teak watched the Guardians ride away toward Ashlin leaving being a sense of foreboding. What would they find on their journey? What would they do once they knew the Vatéz’s plans? Jayson had no answers, and he was beginning to wonder if the path they were about to follow was one they should avoid altogether.

  ** *

  Picking up the Vatéz’s trail wasn’t difficult. Not only was the dirt road cratered with footsteps, but Jayson could still smell the sweaty bodies of both men and horses. From what Dianis had described, there had been dozens of soldiers, some on horseback. Moving with such a large number of people meant slow travel, allowing for Jayson and company to easily catch up.

  Jayson, Teak, and Dianis rode for nearly two hours before they slowed their horses to a casual trot. They didn’t want to suddenly come upon the Vatéz and start a commotion. They simply wanted to know the reason behind taking an entire village of men captive.

  “Do you think they plan to march those men all the way to Nauvet-Carum?” asked Teak.

  Dianis’s horse missed a step but then recovered his gait. “It’s several days’ walk from here at least,” she replied. “I doubt the Vatéz would be that patient. If they planned to go that far, they would have brought a wagon or two, don’t you think?”

  Jayson agreed. “Unless the decision to take the men was made on the moment. Maybe they didn’t plan to take them.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Vatéz,” said Teak.

  “They did hang a man,” said Dianis.

  “One man. I can’t imagine any Vatéz soldier saying, ‘Let’s not kill everyone like we usually do. Instead, let’s march them all the way across the county for no good reason at all.”

  Teak and Dianis continued to bicker about the Vatéz’s intentions, but Jayson wasn’t listening. The road they were traveling had become harder under the horses’ hooves. He had noticed the sound of the hooves connecting with the earth become more distinct. “We’ve reach a main thoroughfare,” he commented, nodding toward a few cottages not far off to the right. “The earth is packed solid here from heavy traffic—wagons, men, horses. There’s a village over there. I suspect there are several more within a few miles of here, all using this road.”

  “Where does it lead?” asked Dianis.

  Jayson peered at the sun overhead. It was nearly noon, but the sun was still not quite overhead. “We’re traveling west,” he said, “toward Nauvet-Carum. Perhaps some other port town. Either way, we’re heading toward a heavily populated area.”

  “Maybe we should go back,” suggested Teak.

  Jayson noticed that it was harder to spot the footprints here. What was visible in the patches of dust had already been marred by wagon wheels.

  “We’ll go a bit farther.”

  After another half an hour, Dianis said, “Could they be planning to put them on a ship? Sell them as slaves somewhere?”

  The suggestion wasn’t absurd. Perhaps Arik wasn’t after the Guilde at all. Maybe he was gathering slaves either for profit or for some project he had in mind. But if that was the case, Jayson would be surprised. The Hestorian Ministry had never supported outright slavery. Then again, how could he know what Arik had convinced the Ministry to do?

  He turned at the sound of horses approaching from behind and led his horse to the side of the road to let two galloping men pass. They barely acknowledged the three travelers, but continued on their way, obviously in a hurry.

  Jayson urged his horse forward, but a few minutes later he again tugged at the reins. He sniffed the air.

  “What is it?” asked Teak.

  “He smells blood,” said Dianis, studying Jayson’s expression. “It wasn’t there before, was it Jayson? It’s something new. Something’s happened.”

  She started forward then halted as a sharp scream cut the air. The sound was enough to lift the hairs on the back of Jayson’s neck. “Wait here,” he said. “We can’t all risk our lives. I’ll be right back.”

  Neither Dianis nor Teak argued.

  Jayson slid off his horse and handed the reins to Teak. Then he pulled his hood over his head. He made his way toward the bend in the road up ahead. What lay beyond that was obscured by a thick wall of evergreens, their scent blending sickenly with the smell of death.

  As he came around the curve, he first saw a mass of people huddled together at the side of the road. The men who had passed him moments before were among them, holding their horses’ reins tightly in their hands. Jayson saw no soldiers, though he still smelled their stink as if they had left only minutes earlier. The people, like the villagers of Ralen-Arch, stood together in silence. They were all staring at something. One man lifted his cap from his head and held it to his chest. A young woman pressed both her hands across her mouth, her eyes wide in horror.

  Jayson stepped closer. The smell of blood was so heavy now he could barely stand it. He drew his arm across his nose, trying to block it out. Only once before had he known a smell like this, years ago at Alay-Crevar when the Vatéz had murdered that entire village.

  What had they done now?

  Jayson pressed deeper into the crowd. People moved aside, hardly noticing him, as if they were in a trance. When the final barrier parted to reveal the deed of the Vatéz, even Jayson couldn’t have predicted what he’d find.

  The road ahead was strewn with bodies, pieces of bodies. Arms, legs, heads, torsos—severed cleanly from their companions and left in a strangled, chaotic pattern across the hardened earth now muddy with blood. The road was so clogged with limbs that no one could pass without trampling the dead. It would take a calculated effort of dozens of people to remove them, to bury them.

  Jayson understood now why these local people could not look away. He too was transfixed by the ghastly horror of it all, as if it were somehow unreal. If he blinked, maybe it would vanish, like a dream.

  He heard the snort of a horse and forced himself to break his gaze. He looked up. Across the road at the other end of the carnage was a soldier perched stiffly on the back of his horse. His uniform was smeared with blood, and he held a sword in his hand still oozing red. He spoke in a loud, clear voice to all gathered there.

  “These men were criminals of Hestoria,” he shouted. “They were accused and found guilty of sympathizing with enemies of the state. Thus will be the punishment for anyone who fraternizes with the Guilde. However, mercy will be shown to anyone who comes forward with information that leads to any Guardian’s arrest. They cannot hide forever.”

  With that, the soldier turned and galloped away.

  19

  Winter was in the air. Ivanore held her cloak tight around her neck and duck
ed her head against the frigid wind blowing through the courtyard. Snow would soon fall, which meant less venturing out of doors and long weeks and months inside the castle. She was nearly done cataloging the artwork, which meant she’d have to find some new interest to keep herself busy. Perhaps she could help in the kitchens, though Arik frowned on her “helping” the servants. She’d have to think about how to spend this winter without boredom overtaking her.

  For now, she enjoyed the brisk ocean air and solitude of the courtyard. Only her guard stood watch from beneath the shelter of the corridor. His eyes looked especially dull today, as if his mind was a million miles away. What a tedious job he had, she thought, babysitting a woman who could do nothing and go nowhere. She almost felt sorry for him.

  She meandered toward the farthest statue in the courtyard, of a lone soldier on one knee taking aim with a bow and arrow. It was her favorite because the arrow pointed beyond the top of the wall, and she imagined if the soldier were to let it fly, it would sail in an arc right over the wall into the forest—to freedom.

  The courtyard statues were among the first of her cataloged antiquities, all sculpted by the same Hestorian artist more than two centuries ago. They were easy to record since each had the artist’s name and date of creation etched into the bases. But she had enjoyed sketching them from various angles and had honed her own craft on them. She felt as if they were now old friends, and sometimes she told them her secrets.

  “He tried to kiss me,” she told her archer. “Can you believe that? It’s been days since it happened, but I can’t get it out of my mind.” Ivanore touched the tip of the metal arrow. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered, but you and I both know my heart will always belong to Jayson.”

  She laid a hand on the archer’s shoulder and leaned close to his ear. “I love Jayson. Even if I never see him again, I will always love him.”

  The sound of a low, heavy creak made her straighten abruptly. The outer gate swung open and through it marched a contingent of fifty Vatéz soldiers. They kept their eyes straight ahead, but Ivanore could tell by the stony expressions on their faces that they were weary and had likely marched a great distance. As they passed by her, she noticed how dirty they all looked, with wide swaths of brown smudges on their uniforms. They moved on without a glance at her and disappeared around the corner of the castle in the direction of the barracks.