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

by R. V. Johnson

  Focusing on the symbol, Crystalyn projected it outward. The vortex of her vision expanded, snapping the world into acute clarity. The symbol hovered in the air near her head. Instinctively, she sent it toward her wound. Glowing silvery bright on contact, the symbol sank into her skin. Shockingly, her awareness still clung to it, caught in its wondrous webbed design.

  Unraveling as it went, the white symbol followed the puncture, leaving behind a silver and white mesh as it pushed her vital life fluid before it. One-third smaller, it reached the main bloodstream.

  Sealing her blood vessel with what she thought of as symbolic gauze, the symbol drifted across the artery, applying mesh on the opposite side.

  Concentrating, she rotated the symbol a full turn, performing a quick reconnaissance. Her blood flowed normally, delivering platelets as usual. Slowly, she continued the rotation, only to halt at the gauze patch installed on the arterie’s far side. A dark green substance had eaten through part of the seal and was pouring into her bloodstream from deeper within her organs. Now what was she supposed to do? Scarcely half her symbol remained.

  A symbol she’d read under the heading Dilutions: formed in her mind. Combining them, she redrew the symbol into a new one. Intricate gold and silver lines, winding back and forth, filled the pentagram inside. Where webbing was before, there was now a hedge-like maze of lines with no beginning or end. Glowing faintly silver and gold, and triple the size, she rode it into the mossy stuff invading her organs and circulatory system.

  On contact, the fluid vaporized into puffs of transparent mist, her bloodstream sweeping it away. The silver-gold symbol poured into the gap leading deeper inside her, filling it with an almost tangible fury. Finished, she sealed the opening with the remainder, releasing her awareness back into herself.

  Comprehension of the outside world coalesced around her, bringing with it a splitting migraine. Consciousness began to slip away, draining from her like a mountain stream racing to a canyon’s edge. She fought the sensation, willing her body and mind to coherence.

  The alley sprang into clarity. Movement caught her eye.

  The girl meticulously wiped the jewel-encrusted dagger on one of the swordsmen’s pants leg. Once satisfied, she lifted her taupe dress to the thigh and stowed the dagger in a sheath. Then her small hands moved over the corpse with a practiced ease, patting the body. Several coins, a plain dagger, a small wood box, and several other items vanished into a leather bag hanging at her hip.

  Crystalyn’s stomach churned strong enough she felt she was going to vomit. Thankfully, the feeling passed. She needed time to replenish her strength, but she wasn’t going to get it. The girl would soon realize she still lived.

  Using her legs and hands to push herself to a sitting position, dizziness assaulted her. Crystalyn rested her head on her chest, fighting the sensation. Please don’t let me blackout, she pleaded in silence. Please, Great Father!

  After a while, the lightheadedness lessened, the pack at her feet sprang into clarity. Both leather-bound tomes lay half-exposed inside the main compartment. A warm feeling spread through her as she looked at the white-lettered book of symbols. It was a good thing she’d read it; the book had taught her the symbols to use. In a way, tier one of The Tiered Tome of Symbols had saved her life. What other wonders might she gain from the black-lettered book?

  Soon, she would study every page. It might save her life or someone else’s. Providing she lived long enough here—wherever here was.

  Right now, her list-ordered mind demanded goals. First priority—search until she found Jade, no matter what it took, or how long. Second, once she found her sister, both of them would look for a pair of obelisks. Third, once they found them, she would open the gateway using the same symbol. The last part was important she was convinced, for a safe return trip home. It was a simple strategy. But it was a strategy.

  Without straining her upset stomach as best she could, Crystalyn shoved the books in her pack, keeping the girl inside her peripheral vision. Busy with her macabre task, the girl ignored her as if she was no longer among the living. With any luck, she would continue to believe so long enough for her strength to ebb back.

  Crystalyn stole a look around. Sunlight faded from the mouth of the alley, the shadows stretching long from it. Soon, darkness would claim it all, assisted by the stone buildings lining both sides. Grayish-black dust, ground fine from decades of shod feet covered the ground, clinging stubbornly to sun-faded wooden crates that were intermixed with broken glass and rotting vegetables. Other unidentifiable, refuse littered the ground in places. Nothing else caught her eye.

  The “nothing else” brought anxiety gushing into her weary, pain-shrouded mind. The black crystal candle was nowhere in sight.

  MAGICAL SUICIDE

  Anxiety pulsed through Crystalyn. What could she do? This world was so different. Anger filled her with manic energy. It didn’t matter. She would search until growing old if needed. She would find Jade. Blackness swallowed her anger, draining her newfound energy. Everything was her fault. She’d messed up again, ever since the bloody Hartwig kid incident. Why hadn’t she seen it? Anxiety pulsed again. What would she do if she couldn’t find Jade? What then? Poor Jade! Blackness pulsed. Dad and Jade deserved better. Why did they keep trying to help? Why keep trying? Anger pulsed, filling her with manic energy. Stop it. Stop it, here.

  She couldn’t afford to have her mind going in circles; it could easily become an endless loop. Besides, she needed the energy the anger provided. She felt ready to stand. Flipping her pack’s strap over one shoulder, she gathered her legs under her and stood.

  She swayed, as nausea rose, but again she forced it down, only to have her head explode with a migraine, blurring her vision. Moments passed before she could focus on her surroundings.

  The girl who stabbed her sat demurely on the chest of a dead swordsman. A cold smile thinned her lips. “I see you, outlander. You are most perplexing. Many before have fallen to my blade, none survived,” she said, matter-of-factly, her tone clinical. “Yet, there you are, moving around as if you just woke from a nap. You will explain how this is possible.”

  Crystalyn assessed her assailant, for the moment ignoring the mild command. Fine eyebrows, rounded nose, and jet-black hair shorn to shoulder length gave the girl an odd, aristocratic presence. Most notable was the girl’s white skin, so pale it made her full lips appear as red as blood, while her brilliant green eyes shone with a belying innocence. She’s small, Crystalyn thought, not much larger than her biggest stuffed bear. Of course, the girl was still growing. She couldn’t be much beyond ten seasons of age. “Who are you?’ she asked, her voice sounding as weak as she felt.

  Tilting her head, the girl frowned. “You’re asking a question to my question. Very well, I’ll answer first. I am Atoi.”

  “That’s a pretty name. I’m Crystalyn. My friends call me Crys.”

  The girl’s impassive, ashen face never changed. “I don’t care about your friends. Answer the question. How did you survive my blade?”

  Crystalyn’s head throbs rose with her ire. The girl was arrogant and dangerous, proving quite capable of handling herself.

  “Did you not hear me? How have you survived this long?”

  Crystalyn massaged her neck, as she scanned the immediate surroundings, looking for signs of the black candle.

  The girl straightened. Crystalyn caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette on the body behind her.

  Leaning from the wall, Crystalyn tested her balance. Nausea rose again, stronger this time, and her legs trembled. Perhaps she should have remained sitting for a while longer, but she dared not. Atoi could realize how weak she was and strike again.

  Atoi’s wide eyes narrowed a little. “You’re not going to answer, are you? Well, you can at least tell me how you got behind me. I know this alley was empty when I led those fools in here. Only someone with the advantage of Using could’ve gotten behind me, methinks. Tell me, oh-so-oddly-garbed outlander, are you a User?
”

  Beginning to feel stronger, Crystalyn ignored the girl’s strange question. One of Atoi’s statements stuck in her mind. Why would she lead those men in here? “Where’s the other one?”

  “The coward ran off when I stuck Jewel in this one,” she replied, patting the corpse’s leg.

  “You call your knife ’Jewel?’”

  Atoi closed her half-open mouth, her white face statuesque and regal. Suddenly she jumped upright. Gray dust mushroomed as high as her booted ankles before falling away. “Enough talk.” Holding her right hand behind her, she patted her thigh with her visible hand. “Jewel will make you tell me everything, providing I don’t scratch you too deep. You will die from her special lingering death. Methinks you’re too weak to stop us a second time.”

  A gray shaded symbol with a white outline set to a star pattern formed in Crystalyn’s mind. Crystalyn combined it with another, redrawing it into a highly complex maze-like design, though it retained the same colors. How it would help, she was uncertain. Standing straighter, she almost cried out from the pain of her throbbing head. Grimacing, Crystalyn faced the little girl, praying her legs would hold for a while longer. The conversation had turned bad, possibly deadly.

  An adage she’d penned in med school popped into her mind. Wear the right emotional mask, and people will respond. Perhaps she could turn the conversation around with her arrogant instructor mask, if she was strong enough to maintain it. She must hurry. Please Great Father, let this work. Smoothing her face, Crystalyn tilted her head and looked down upon the little girl, straining to keep her voice steady. “Am I as weak as you think, little one? Is it worth the risk to find out?” Atoi’s expression didn’t budge a hair. Her hard, green eyes shone with anticipation, matching the half-smile pasted on her pale face. The girl wasn’t buying a single word, but she had another idea. “Perhaps I should melt your Jewel in her sheath. Would you want that?”

  Atoi’s fine eyebrows rose. “So, you are a User,” she said. “I thought as much, outlander.” Advancing slowly, Atoi glanced surreptitiously around. “You don’t look strong enough to melt snow, though. You are pale like me, and shaky …unlike me. You’re much too weak to stand for long.” Atoi paused, cocking her head and nodding slightly. Her voice took on an odd, echoing quality. “I know how taxing using the Flow can be without an Interrupter. One of my Hosts had the ability. I commend you for being able to stand at all. Using the Flow has drained you deeply, hasn’t it, young User?” Atoi advanced a few steps closer, her smile thinned to a grim line. Strangely, her eyes looked aquamarine instead of the emerald she’d first thought.

  Crystalyn was tempted to ask Atoi to elaborate, but she’d had enough. Time was passing too quickly, Jade could be anywhere, now. Though her ruse probably wouldn’t work, Crystalyn had to try convincing the little imp that stabbing her again would be a mistake. “Care to test your theory, little girl with the big mouth? Go ahead; give it your best shot. I’ve had my fill of attempts on my life. Well? Am I as weak as you think?”

  Left hand hovering near her thigh, Atoi hesitated, a step or two away.

  Meeting her gaze for gaze, Crystalyn waited until Atoi’s hand dropped to her hip and her stance relaxed. Then, curling her lip, she put on one of her best sneers. “I thought so. Now, show me what you’re hiding behind your back.”

  Scowling, Atoi moved her arm to her side. Gripped in her small hand, the black candle gleamed darkly caked with dried blood. Probably my blood, Crystalyn thought. Wait! Atoi had used her other hand to retrieve the knife. Little Miss Dagger must be ambidextrous. She’d have to keep an eye on both hands.

  Atoi raised the black candle. “You have two books and don’t really need this, why not let me hawk it for you at the Under Market? We can make a great fortune. With a bit of work beforehand, I can raise interest for it and double the coin. Sixty percent will go to you, of course. Sixty-five, if you push,” Atoi forced a wide smile upon her lips, though it remained far from her dark green eyes.

  Crystalyn realized what Atoi wanted a quick sell. Even if she agreed to her offer, Crystalyn was certain she’d receive little, if anything from it. Now that they’d spoken of negotiation, the moment Atoi left her sight with the candle, she’d slip away. Worse, the girl would lead her into an ambush. “The candle isn’t for sale, little one. It’s mine, give it to me.” Holding her hand outstretched, she waited, redrawing the symbol back to its original gray pattern with a white outline. After all, she didn’t want to damage Atoi too badly.

  Atoi hesitated then slowly extended her right hand.

  Crystalyn brought her symbol out to hover before her.

  Atoi’s aquamarine eyes widened.

  Stepping forward, Crystalyn grabbed the candle as she released the symbol outward.

  Atoi’s free hand slipped into a slit in her dress, coming out as a metallic blur, stabbing upward.

  Crystalyn’s symbol spun and separated into stacked concentric circles of black then rippled outward, dispersing a deep faa-rooooom sound.

  Atoi’s knife froze scarce inches from Crystalyn’s hammering heart as the first of the circles slammed into the girl, ripping her from the ground. The second and third circles hit her in mid-air, flinging her faster backwards end over end. Two thirds of the way along the alley, Atoi landed with a dull thud. Sliding a dozen feet on her side, she crashed into a line of refuse barrels, the jeweled dagger still clenched in her hand. Gray dust exploded upward, hanging in stasis, before billowing down to coat everything with thick fallout.

  Crystalyn gazed transfixed at the limp form. Have I killed another person?

  As panic bloomed, Crystalyn squashed it. She couldn’t go through that again. The blackness had nearly swallowed her last time. A single, monumental moment of uncontrollable panic could lock her inside her mute, screaming mind with no way out this time.

  She paused to assess the situation with cold logic. What had gone wrong? For all her careful redrawing, the symbol had struck with much stronger force than she’d expected. The symbol had been under the Aggression heading, yet it was only supposed to be a minor pushback, meant to knock an opponent away. Why so much power? Was she stronger than the book’s author was? No, if anything, she felt weaker. Even the black candle seemed heavier in her hand; though it gave off faint warmth…wait! The black candle…could it be augmenting her…her…ability? It was the only logical explanation. Sweet Mother! Now she had a weapon better than Atoi’s bloody dagger.

  Spying a pile of pallets stacked haphazardly at the back of the alley, Crystalyn brought out the symbol. Adding her touch of complexity, she combined it with another, changing the white outline to gold, the gray to silver. Sending the now golden stacked circles soaring down the alley, they slammed into the pallets, generating a thunderous boom. The pallets burst into grainy particles. Behind them, chunks of stone and clay shingles rained from the wall and roof, clattering to the ground. Reverberating from the wall, a concussive wave swept toward her, blasting dust and debris higher than the alley walls on both sides.

  Before she could think to run, raw energy knocked her to the ground, swiping oxygen from her lungs. Many heartbeats passed before the wave slackened enough to let her gasp for breath. She struggled to her feet. The throbbing in her head matched her racing heart, bringing on a nosebleed, this time. Well, that was dumb, she thought. She could’ve killed herself. She could see the holofeed now—“Crystalyn Creek commits magical suicide by being stupid.” Wiping her bleeding nose with the back of her hand, she looked for something to stop the flow. Her eyes fell on the swordsman’s corpse. A brown tunic clothed the man’s torso, leaving his arms bare to the shoulder. Crystalyn knelt and pulled on a seam with both hands. To her chagrin, the material proved to be stronger than leather, yet it felt as supple as silk. Grabbing the short sword lying nearby, she sawed a sizeable chunk free, trying not to nick the dead man too deep. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if he could feel pain.

  Applying pressure to her nose, Crystalyn was grateful for the rag to
stem the blood loss. Since the sword had proven handy, Crystalyn unbuckled the leather sheath from the unfortunate man’s waist. Firmly grasping it, she stood, pulling the strap from under the corpse without having to roll the body. She nearly swooned with the effort.

  Slipping the short sword into the sheath, she stabbed the sheath’s point to the ground, adding stability to her weakened balance as she made her way to the comatose girl. She knelt. Checking the girl’s pulse, she was relieved to find it steady. Atoi would be awakening soon. Crystalyn stood, studying the child who’d tried to kill her twice. How could someone so young be so prone to such violence? Was such violence common in this place? Her knowledge of this world was limited, to say the least. Not knowing what to expect could cost her life, or worse, her sister’s life. Where was Jade?

  “Well, that certainly cleared the refuse from the alley.”

  The dry, masculine voice came from the alley’s mouth. A young man—not much older than her—stood there. Tawny hair, cropped at jaw level, fell alongside his clean-shaven, aristocratic face. He was clad in black leather pants and a velvety green vest that left his arms and shoulders bare. Crystalyn couldn’t help noticing the way his well-toned muscles rippled when he drew breath. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked.

  Grinning, the young man’s dark blue eyes twinkled. “I do believe you’re the only one in any condition to hold a conversation, right now.” Looking at the comatose form at her feet, his smile faded. “Will she live?”

  “She may. What do you want?”

  “Ah, forgive me. I am Darwin Darkwind. You may call me Darkwind if you prefer. Most people do.” He bent at the waist to execute a deep bow. “As I rode past this dreary alley, I was blown to the ground by an impressive display of Using. At least, to me it was, but I don’t think my horse liked the giant push to the opposite side of Mud Street. I spent some time calming the poor thing down. Well, encountering such strong use of the Flow, I simply had to introduce myself to the User. You now know my name. I would consider it an honor to be entrusted with yours.”