Bluestone

by C E Johnson

  The head yapok picked up his double-bladed axe and began his own strange dance. Emily shut down her shield to conserve her last remnants of magus. She murmured silently, “Somnio,” to send out her message. Tears welled in her eyes, and she prayed her words had gone through.

  The yapoks let out a new round of howls when their leader completed his dance. He hefted his mighty axe into the air swinging it twice around him in powerful arcs. Before the axe could descend upon her neck, a wisp of a noise came to Emily’s ear, as silent as death. A black blur careened into the chieftain’s side, sending him flying through the air. Emily watched as Xena leapt on him before anyone could react, shredding his throat in a flash of white teeth. The chieftain broke into a red cloud of death-smoke, and his amulet fell to the ground near Emily’s crumpled form. The raven overhead let out a shrill call while plummeting into the forest. Hitting several branches on its descent, the raven erupted in a small cloud of its own red and black smoke.

  Xena was a snarling mass of pent-up rage. She was darting and snapping. She was death and dissolution. Emily could sense it all through her mind-link as her incensed bondsmate chased the yapoks, relentlessly bearing them down. Jaws crushing, teeth decimating, the crowd immediately around Emily began to flee in a panic. Xena methodically increased her radius of attack, obliterating those who still wanted to fight. The remaining warriors were disorganized without their leader, unsure of how to combat their new opponent. A strand of honey-blonde hair fell across Emily’s eyes from a slight breeze generated by her bondsmates attacks, but she had no energy to brush it away. She saw the orange glimmer from the last rays of the sun barely penetrating through the surrounding dark death-cloud as it dipped beneath the tree tops standing like dusty-green sentinels around her position. Emily closed her eyes wearily and sensed, rather than saw, Xena’s motions around her—an apparition of smoke and shadow passing time and again over her head until her mind could take it no more, and everything went dark.

  CHAPTER 28

  Recovery

  Andrew Dalton was hooked up to a variety of machines. He was intubated with a tube extending into his trachea. It was connected to a ventilator, helping him to breathe. His heart was now beating again, thanks to the defibrillator, but his lungs were still having difficulty.

  Dysis Hoshi was studying the rhythmic motion of Dr. Dalton’s chest while listening to the distinctive whoosh and pause, as gases were being pushed into his lungs. The noises were hypnotizing, and she found herself almost lulled to sleep when a radiologist walked into the intensive care unit. He turned on an ultrasound machine and gestured toward Dr. Dalton, “Is this your relative?”

  “In a way. I’ve been appointed to guide his care. I’m in charge of his treatment.” She showed the doctor several hastily drawn-up forms that Hadrian had obtained, and she signed a consent form to allow the radiologist to do a procedure.

  The radiologist studied radiographs on a monitor. “He has dense airspace disease bilaterally caused by fluid within the tiny air-sacs of his lungs, and he has large bilateral pleural effusions.”

  “You’re getting way too technical here,” Dysis protested with a smile. “I’m not a medical professional.”

  The radiologist glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “He’s building up fluid that’s compressing his lungs.”

  Dysis stood and moved closer to the bedside. “Is he going to die?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. I’m going to drain away a portion of the fluid to help him out.” The radiologist used the ultrasound to identify a large pocket of fluid, cleaned the skin, numbed the region, and placed a catheter/needle into the fluid. A nurse assisted, and one and a half liters of a yellowish-fluid was aspirated into a container. The radiologist took off his gloves. “I hope he improves. There’s no more fluid left around this lung.” He departed, leaving Dysis alone with her hostage.

  Dysis watched Andrew Dalton’s face closely. There was no change. Then she thought she saw something. Was that a flicker of his lids? She leaned closer. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Her face was inches from his. His eyes suddenly flew open, and she saw a pained expression on his face which abruptly changed to something else. He stared at her with recognition. He’s going to live, Dysis realized. A smile formed at the corners of her lips.

  * * * Dr. Dalton * * *

  Andrew Dalton had just received the frantic dream-linked message from Emily. The foreboding words served to kick-start his brain back into action. I will mend, he vowed. His eyes moved from Dysis to focus on the monitors near his bed, instantly recognizing the condition his lungs were in. Medicor, he whispered. He felt a warm, but feeble, surge of his magus extend into his lungs helping force the remaining fluid from his body. I’m going to have to save Emily. He closed his eyes with a newfound resolution burning in his chest. Or avenge her killers. He would heal. Then he would take care of business.

  CHAPTER 29

  Bronte

  When Emily opened her eyes a full day later, it took her several moments to realize she was actually alive. Every muscle and joint in her body ached with a dull throb, while countless lacerations wracked her mind with sharp needle-like lances of pain. She let out muffled grunts of agony while crawling toward the chieftain’s amulet that lay a couple feet away. She reached out and picked it up, immediately filled with distaste. The feeling passed, and she studied the swirls of its aura, red and black, undulating in the device like waves of water at the ocean caught between rocks. Remembering the death in the battle, she closed her eyes, and she waited for tears to flow, but they didn’t come. She was changing, hardening.

  Emily looked beyond her position to where Xena lay. Her valiant bondsmate was shredded with scores of cuts and she was gently licking her wounds. I can’t imagine the grief I’d experience if I ever lost you, she conveyed to Xena in words mixed with feelings of unrelenting love. That would be an unbearable pain.

  I will always be here for you, Xena promised. Xena turned her attention to Emily’s wounds, attempting to lick several of the larger lacerations. I’m sorry I wasn’t closer.

  Enough of that. Emily attempted to smile, but even that hurt. She rubbed Xena’s coat gently to help remove horrid clumps of dirt and blood from her fur.

  Nearby was a random collection of birds and fish that Xena had gathered for them to eat. She had also tirelessly retrieved Emily’s backpack, bow, and sword, and had even gathered a little stack of kindling.

  Thank you for saving me, Emily whispered, again projecting overflowing love and gratitude through their connection. She was warmed by a flood of returning sentiment. After retrieving her waterskin from her backpack, she eagerly gulped down the cold liquid. Somewhat revived, she struggled to her feet, attempting to ignore the multiple areas of throbbing pain that flared more sharply as she stood. Even in her weakened state, she managed to cook a meal. The cooked meat tasted delicious, and she could feel energy slowly return with each bite of the food Xena had acquired. Emily used her basic healing spells to begin mending injuries on both herself and her wounded bondsmate until she was too weak to continue.

  I hope there aren’t any stray yapoks coming to look for us, Xena whispered. Emily agreed as a new wave of exhaustion hit her. After her first round of healing and a nap, the bondsmate pair began to scout out their surroundings hoping to discover more information about their attackers.

  Emily knew from her readings that yapoks were often hired as mercenaries because they made excellent soldiers—strong, hardy, and able to eat almost any food. The most powerful yapok-magician in each clan became chief, and the yapoks were fanatically loyal to their leader. The creatures looked a little bit like Bigfoot, and Emily wished her friends, particularly Luke, could see them.

  The bondsmates traced the path the yapok horde had taken up the side of a small mountain where the faint sound of flowing water became steadily louder. They found a swift-moving stream. Next to the rushing water-way were stone steps covered in moss that descended into darkness. I want to see where t
hey lived, Emily said softly.

  They were in here. Xena pointed Emily toward a gloomy corridor which led to a large system of caves the yapoks must have been using as their home. The area is now deserted, Xena observed. Emily was certain that the remaining yapoks must have abandoned their den, but there were scores of remnants of old fires along with boxes of salted fish in the cooler portions of the caves near the entryway. Neither Emily nor Xena detected anything wrong with the fish and setting up a camp in the caves, they decided to use the food while they healed. Over the next several days, Emily continued to mend their wounds.

  During this time, they delved deeper and deeper into the tunnels. They discovered hidden doors with Emily’s heightened eyesight and Xena’s keen attention to smells. Emily felt an adventurous thrill while treasure hunting, finding figurines, gems, and coins. She needed to keep her pack as light as possible and left the majority of her initial discoveries in place. I’ve become a treasure snob, she laughed to Xena.

  I’m sure we’ll find something useful, Xena thought.

  Their expeditions reminded Emily of her treasure hunts with her godfather, and she wondered if her dream-link message, sent when she thought she was close to death while battling the yapoks, had actually traveled to Dr. D on Earth as she predicted. Worried that she would confuse him with too many messages, she decided not to send him another dream-link. She would simply try to return to Earth to assist him as soon as possible.

  I sense magus recently used in this area, Emily communicated to Xena as they traveled down a particularly long path.

  I’ll look. Xena dashed along the hallway in a fluid motion enjoying the challenge, skidding to a stop in front of a smooth portion of stone. Check here, Xena suggested.

  Emily drew close to run her hands over the rock. Aha! Pulling at an uneven edge, she tugged with all her strength until there was a sound of grinding stone and a doorway was exposed. The pair entered a large room. The unruly rock had been tamed into smooth walls, every inch of which was covered in paintings. The scenes depicted yapoks involved in acts of magic or fiercely engaged in battle. Emily felt a sense of interest mixed with disgust as she realized this must have been some sort of temple or war room of the magical yapok chieftain that had attempted to kill her.

  All at once, a thrill shivered over her skin. Her eyes caught a faint aural blush along one wall. Curiosity overcoming trepidation, she darted toward the fading blue trace, hoping to identify the source. The afterglow was coming from a painting of a yapok holding a complete set of six magestones—blue, red, green, black, silver, and gold. The painted image of a small blue magestone was emitting the light. In seconds it had fully departed, like the final farewell gleam of a disappearing firefly. Is there something there? she asked Xena.

  The magical glimmer was real, Xena assured her, encouraging Emily to investigate.

  Emily extended her finger burning with mage-flame toward the image of the magestone. As the light from her finger lit up the image, the rounded bluestone in the painted mage-set flared into a blinding ray.

  Squinting, Emily ran her fingers across the rounded magestone image and realized the bluestone was slightly raised relative to the stone wall of the cave. She dug her fingernails into the painting and began to pull. The round bluestone was only the exposed base of what appeared to be the rounded tip of a long cylinder embedded lengthwise in the wall of the cave. As Emily withdrew the object, she felt like she was performing a childhood trick of pulling a never-ending scarf out of a hat. At long last, she gripped in her hands a bluestone staff around her height and incredibly solid, like steel. She held it in awe and then impulsively twirled it. Perfect balance. As she spun the stone, blue and white radiance shone from the staff illuminating the paintings in the room.

  Amazing, Emily thought to herself while squinching up her eyes in the dazzling light that allowed her a better look at the staff. I just wish it wasn’t quite so bright. Simultaneously, the staff suddenly dimmed.

  Can you control the level? Xena asked, impressed.

  I think so. Emily found that with focus she could control the intensity of the gleam. She ran her hand along the staff which was rough to her touch. Scores of carvings ran along the length of the bluestone. In each carving, the figure carried a staff, and was accompanied by an animal bondsmate. Emily’s mouth dropped open as she realized the carving near the bottom was of herself, holding the staff next to a floppy eared Doberman beneath a great Texas oak tree with bluebonnets scattered by her feet. Just above her image was a carving of her godfather holding the staff above his head with Dax on his shoulder. Was this once Dr. D’s? she asked herself.

  Did the yapok steal it from him? Xena added another question.

  Retracing her steps out of the long corridor with Xena at her side, Emily proudly gripped her prize. She held the device with both hands over her head, casting light on their path. When they arrived at a narrower tunnel, the staff began to shrink in height to still be comfortably held aloft with the carvings also decreasing in size. Emily’s jaw dropped again.

  Can it change shape? Xena asked, studying the staff. With mental encouragement, Emily decreased it to the length and width of a pencil. She could also modify the intensity coming from the top and bottom regardless of the size. Emily further shrank her staff to the configuration of a disk and put the object in her leather pouch next to her bluestone cube.

  After another several days and becoming a bit weary of salt fish and damp tunnels, Emily was relieved to find herself fully healed with only faint residual scars on her skin and in her mind from her first battle. Occasional nightmares still plagued her, but she was ever thankful that the bodies had dissolved into fumes instead of becoming corpses to further haunt her dreams. Despite the constant ache of homesickness, the skirmish had renewed her resolve to see the journey through. She thought of her father’s poem stressing the importance of struggles. Surely we’ve become strong enough to receive our prophecy from Ladon.

  Xena agreed with her and supported their departure. On their continued trek to Haran, the bondsmates now remained close together. Eventually, the trees thinned into flat farming lands with rippling fields of waving wheat ripe for the harvest. There were orchards overly-laden with fruit, ready to be picked. In this region, as stone watchtowers began to dot the horizon, laughter, music and voices floated over the air. Although Emily tried to outwardly remain calm and composed, inside her heart fluttered with excitement. It was a merchant caravan currently at rest, heading to Haran, the capital city of Angkor. They were meeting with their first Acaceans that resembled humans.

  Emily’s eyes widened as she surveyed the variety of appearances and smells. Skin colors were similar to Earth with the majority of the individuals dark skinned, light skinned, or coppery colors in between. There were no Lacerta, Alitis, or elves in the group. Although red hair appeared to be more common in this region, hair color was also similar to Earth. Eye colors, however, were very different with irises every color of the rainbow. There were also scattered magicians, but only of the low-level variety, with a smattering of auras flickering for moments before fading away. Clothing was similarly varied, primarily cotton and wool with scattered silk and satin. Several fighting men were intermixed through the group, but they looked like farmers who put on weapons for some protection—scraps of leather armor, incomplete deep gray chain mail, and rusty, notched swords, not true knights.

  The smells are intriguing, Xena thought. The scents of foods were there, sweet, fresh, and gamey, but there were other wisps in the wind. Hints of lemon balm, rosemary, and mint permeated the area. Unfortunately, above all, were also the thick smells of bodies. The majority were malodorous, but a few were fragrant and perfumed. Emily followed Xena’s nose to the food and using Dr. D’s money she bought a skewer of vegetables with peppers, near to bursting with hot juice, and mushrooms so fat they filled her mouth. She also selected a cup of potatoes and barley, thick and hearty. Lastly, she chose a plate of fried meat dripping with hot gravy placed
on thick bread, so tender it melted in her mouth. She gave the best portions of each meal to Xena.

  Her appetite sated, Emily walked through the groups, looking at their wares. She had fun buying trinkets from the merchants, thin necklaces and small rings, which she gave to the young children in the groups of traders. The youths were clad in everything from animal skins to fine woolen garments, and they ran barefoot, shouting and playing games. Emily closed her eyes for a moment and wished her friends were with her, joking together, with no battles to fight, and no creatures to kill.

  She enjoyed the camaraderie of camping with the group and delighted in speaking the language of Acacia that her godfather had taught her. The people commented on her accent, placing her from the western highlands of Angkor. Arguing incessantly over her ancestry, they studied her bondsmate and tried to decide what breed she was. Emily just giggled at their guesses, telling them that she was a Doberman from the faraway lands of Texas.

  A day’s walk from Haran they were joined by a wealthy horse trader named Lampos. Emily looked through all his extraordinary horses, larger and taller than any horse she had ever viewed. She couldn’t take her eyes off an imposing black stallion with enormous muscles rippling through his silky coat. The creature made her think of the carving on Dr. D’s desk. Soft hair feathered his hooves like miniature manes and his regal stance dwarfed any Acacean that stood by his side.

  “Young girl, you must step away from these horses. They’ll crush you like a Javan beetle. They’re war horses.” Lampos waved his hand dismissively in her direction, the gemstones on his rings glittering in the sunlight, his fur cloak swirling in brown waves.

  Ignore him, Xena advised while moving next to Emily’s leg, urging her forward.

  Taking Xena’s lead, Emily walked to the stallion, gazing up into huffing nostrils, keen eyes, and a long black mane floating in the breeze. Studying his reactions and movements, she could almost sense the horse’s thoughts. The stallion bowed his great head to touch noses with Xena.