Pushing away from the druid, she took stock of where they were. The far side of the cavern that had seemed so far away was very close. A small trough of gray water flowed languidly downhill toward a cave.
Standing without raising her legs felt so wonderful to her muscles, but the benefit was short-lived. They would cramp severely if allowed to contract after walking for so long with such an unnatural gait. Slowly, she bent them, one at a time, biting her ragged lip, tasting blood again, proud that she never cried out. When the pain began to subside, she fingered her mask. “Can I take this off? I’m tired of smelling like creeping burlap.”
“Not yet,” Camoe said, squatting and kneading his leg calves. “The entrance to the sewers is inside the cave ahead. The last time I explored through here it was guarded.”
Walking normally in place, Jade looked for Burl and found him standing slightly off the carved path, gazing at her stoically. He seemed to be aware of the need to stay hidden from prying eyes; the cluster of stalactites he stood in blocked his outline from the pools. She smiled. Burl’s gaze remained fixed on her, his unblinking eyes gazing out from his wide-lined, expressionless face.
Camoe stood and stretched. “You ready?”
“Yes, but I can’t take this robotic walking.”
Camoe frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Sorry, you wouldn’t know. It’s a term I coined for how we got here,” Jade said. She mimicked the awkward process of moving without bending her knees. Even the three small steps she used sent a white-hot fire shooting from her legs to her hips. Her lip muted her cry.
“Oh,” Camoe said, chuckling. “I have been calling it the golem march in my mind. It hurts, I know. Come, once we are in the waste tunnels we can leave the heavy marching to the blasted Dark Creations.”
Wincing, Jade resumed the march, clamping her mouth shut. Camoe’s comment wasn’t very different from those of the soldiers back at the pools. Burl hadn’t been any trouble yet. In fact, he’d helped them get this far.
As they rounded several monstrous stalactites tapering high enough to touch their stalagmite counterparts, the jagged entrance to the sewers gaped before them. It was wider than she expected. Spanning a good portion of a large field, it resembled the extended, gaping mouth of a gigantic fish filtering food from water as several troughs converged into one.
Adjacent to their stream, a wide gravel path led them past spiky, black crystal shards lining both sides. Once past them, the cave narrowed. Spotted, rusty, iron bars were, pinned to the stone from floor to ceiling. The sickly bars allowed water to flow reluctantly past their purplish-orange, pitted bottom submerged in the stream. An iron-hinged door, chained and locked, barred the way forward showing its own brand of rust.
Camoe’s memory was terribly accurate. Four grizzled faces looked up from an improvised flat rock table cluttered with dice and tankards as they marched inside the cave.
Drawing his sword from under his apron, Camoe dashed forward and sliced through the throat of the nearest guard before he could rise. Reversing his swing, he lopped the adjoining guard’s head from his shoulders as he attempted to stand.
Gaining their feet, the two remaining guards shuffled backward, grunting in surprise. Springing onto the table, Camoe leaped forward, thrusting at a guard who fumbled for a great axe strapped to his back. A wet-sounding splotch testified the sword had found a mark. Bright red blood bubbled from the man’s lips. Using his foot as leverage to pull his sword out, Camoe kicked the dying man in the stomach. His blade freed, he turned toward the final sentry, sword raised.
Towering over the druid, the bare-chested guard gripped an ugly jagged-toothed scimitar. Deep notches intruded along the blade’s back and tip, cut at regular intervals. Camoe pulled off his mask and the two men began to circle each other.
Jade pulled the mask from her head, fearing for her benefactor. He needed a distraction. Bending, she tugged at a rusty short sword from the headless corpse slumped over the table. The sheath resisted her pull, but finally released its hold.
The guard suddenly lunged, executing a quick downward chop.
Camoe hoisted his blade at the last possible second, twisting away from the downward arc of the scimitar. The clang of steel against steel rang through the chamber.
Twisting his wrist, the big man slipped a notch over the long sword and pulled. Camoe’s sword spun from his hand.
Bellowing with triumph, the guard swung a powerful blow at Camoe’s head.
Camoe sprang backward. The sword tip nicked him above an eye. Landing near the end of the table, he slipped on a pool of blood, dropping to one knee. A red stain bloomed bright under his left eyebrow.
Grinning with malice, the big guard leaped across the cave, the scimitar point aimed for Camoe’s head.
“No!” Jade shouted. She lunged at the man, the crude sword stretched outward.
Mid-step, the guard switched direction. Swatting her sword aside, he raised the scimitar, a glint of anticipation reflected in his eyes.
Jade vaguely heard the clatter of her sword dropping to the cavern floor. Her mind fixated on the flash of steel bearing down upon her. She could do nothing to save herself.
The sword slammed to a halt inches from her head, the force of wind continuing past its sudden inert motion blew her hair back.
Burl’s large, wood-grained hand gripped the big man’s wrist, twisting it to the side with stunning speed. The sickening crack of breaking shoulder bone reverberated through the cave. The guard screamed. Seizing the sword from the man’s unresisting hand, Burl silently flung it into the nearby stream.
In one motion, Camoe stood and thrust his dagger under the guard’s chin, putting an abrupt end to the man’s scream.
Jade struggled to comprehend. She was still alive.
Camoe followed the body to the ground. Once there, he pulled his dagger free. Dabbing the blood from the angry looking cut above his left eye, he then wiped the dagger clean, sheathing it afterward. Rifling through the corpse’s pockets, he collected some coin and a large black key, the head shaped in the likeness of the cave seen from a distance. He vaulted to his feet and hurried to the iron lock clasped with thick iron bands around the rusty door. Inserting it, he snapped the lock and swung the protesting door open, which gave off an ear-splitting screech.
“I’ll lock this behind us. It may slow pursuit a little,” Camoe declared, gazing over his shoulder, his eyes blue. “We should check their pockets quickly, though. It’s too bad we can’t stash the bodies, but there’s no place close.” His scowl caused the gash in his forehead to open wider. Blood flowed into his left eye, turning it pink. He blinked. “Are you all right?” he asked, absently wiping it with the back of his hand.
She stared. He had to be kidding, standing there with his pinkish, alien eye. A man just tried to bury a sword in her face. How could she be okay? The reality of the situation settled on her shoulders with the weight of the mountain. Stranded on a world where people killed each other, a world where humans created nonhumans which other humans labeled Dark Creations, a world where magic users penned humans with wraiths to satisfy their terrible, inhuman hunger.
Almost every moment since her arrival had been spent running and fighting for her life. How could she be all right? Long she gaped at her companion with his demonic bloody eye before she realized the druid wouldn’t understand. Violence was a part of him. “I’m starting to get feeling back in my arm, so I’ll live,” she said instead, biting back a sigh. “I do have a suggestion though. Why don’t we pull the bodies through the door and let the stream move them for us?”
Camoe looked taken aback. “That had not occurred to me. It may get shallower after this, but it should work to get them out of sight. Let’s hurry and check them for useful items first. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“I’ll help drag, but don’t expect me to go through a dead man’s pockets.”
Camoe chuckled wearily. “Come then. I’ll do it before sending them to their final bath.”
Gripping an ankle, she helped pull a corpse through the iron door to the stream. The current caught the dead man, carrying him mercifully downstream. As the body drifted downstream, it swept algae and fungus away that had grown undisturbed for who knew how long. Jade gazed at a phosphorescent underwater plant left exposed from the moss. Was it native to the sewers? Sighing, she turned back to the grisly task of dumping bodies. There was a lot to learn if she was going to survive on this world.
THE FLOW
Sunlight intruded upon Crystalyn’s eyelids, brighter on her left. Outlined in orange, the radiated heat made thoughts of sleep vanish. Jade must’ve left the solar shield switched off again. How many times did she have to tell her? Rolling on her side, she faced the source, raising her lids a fraction. A giant shape moved, giving her a glimpse of green.
The events of the previous evening thundered into her mind.
“Good idea, Lore Rayna,” a raspy feminine voice said. “The light has done it. I feared she may have exhausted herself beyond help, but she is awakening.”
Crystalyn sat up, bumping her head on…a headboard, Atoi’s headboard. A mother of a headache stirred to life, preparing her mood for the day. How she’d slept so soundly in Miss Dagger’s bed was beyond comprehension. The girl had used her stomach to sheath her knife, and here she was lounging in the little vagabond’s bed.
Sitting serenely on a wooden stool at the foot of the bed, the Lore Mother’s glowing gaze seemed to be regarding her, concern apparent by the slight furrow of her brow. “Are your headaches getting worse, dear?”
“I suppose they are. How did you know about them?”
“You will address her as Mother or Lore Mother,” Lore Rayna said.
Crystalyn squinted at the large woman who faced the window curtains. The same leafy-crawly dress covered her this morning, though barely. Drawing the curtains closed, Lore Rayna spun and faced her.
Lore Rayna’s words irritated her. She wasn’t Atoi’s age. Her twenty-second season had passed months ago; she probably wasn’t much younger than Lore Rayna herself. “Why should I call her Mother? She’s not my mother. I don’t need another one. I already have one.” Missing for six seasons, alive or dead, she still had a mother.
Lore Rayna frowned. “It is a term of respect small one, which you will use.” Folding her arms, she leaned against the wall, beside the window. “Enough of your questions, Mother will ask them, and you shall provide truthful answers. I will know if you do not.”
“Are you really that naive? You expect me to answer questions, yet you don’t answer mine? Fair is fair, one for one, or you’ll get nothing.”
Lore Rayna’s face darkened. “You are either a very brave or a very foolish person, much like the Child of Dark. Where is the little one lurking this morning?”
“She’s free to come and go as she likes. I’m not her guardian.”
Lore Rayna’s eyelids hooded half the glow. “Perhaps you should be. She’s quite dangerous, you know. You would be wise to keep a close watch.”
“You want me to control her, like you do to the hairy brute. Where is he? Perhaps you should keep a close eye on him.” It wasn’t a fair accusation since Lore Rayna obviously cared for him, but she found it hard to care. The big woman had it coming.
“That is not your concern, smallone! Do not—”
“Enough! Let her speak, Rayna,” the old woman said, raising her voice. “Ask what you will of me, young one.”
Glancing at the woman, Crystalyn opened her eyes wider, and then squinted from the pain of her throbbing head. The bright, morning sun leaking around the curtains made it worse.
The Lore Mother had exchanged her white dress for a yellow gown. Sewn across the front, two rows of white, three-fingered leaves made a simple pattern. The woman’s glowing eyes burned with wisdom; there was a wealth of knowledge hidden there, perhaps help with finding Jade was closer than she thought. Her excitement grew, but so did her apprehension. Where to begin and how much would she have to reveal? Everyone wanted something here and seemed to have no problem killing to get it. Yet, to gain knowledge, one had to ask first. “You know I’m not from around here?”
A smile flitted across the Lore Mother’s wizened face. “Many are now likely aware you hail from some unknown region after your bold stroll through the tavern. Most will not ascertain you are not from this world, however. It is not common knowledge that other worlds exist. I am one of a select few that believe there is the possibility of other worlds beyond our own.”
Crystalyn sighed. “I don’t know who I can trust. However, with you, I’m going to be candid. I have a goal. My sister is somewhere on your world. At least, the probability is high. I intend to find her no matter what I have to endure. I could use some help, but first, what do you know about my headaches?”
Lore Rayna and the Lore Mother exchanged a look. Shifting her toned bulk from foot to foot, Lore Rayna stilled. “So family is important to you?” she asked, raising a golden eyebrow. Her oversized orbs seemed to radiate brighter after the final word.
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Crystalyn asked. For some reason, the question raised her ire. It made little sense. “Family and health should be high priorities in anyone’s life. What kind of question is that?”
Lore Rayna gasped.
The wooden stool creaked in protest as the Lore Mother leaned farther forward. “Perhaps she is the One,” she said, her tone deepening with the last word.
Crystalyn gaped at the two of them. “I don’t have the slightest notion what you mean, but it’s not important right now. Let’s put a stop to the mysterious comments, okay? I don’t know what you two want from me, nor do I have the time to wheedle it out of you. What I need to know is whether you can help me locate my sister. If you can’t, you’re wasting my time. You’ll get nothing else from me.” A little harsh perhaps, but she intended to be upfront from the start. Jade was all that mattered.
Lore Rayna grunted.
The Lore Mother nodded for a moment, her lips pursed. Abruptly, she sat up straighter, tilting her head slightly. “Your head trauma stems from your incorrect use of your…ability. You are likely pulling energy from deep within your system, possibly your bloodstream, robbing it of precious oxygen and bursting your red blood cells. At first, you’ll feel the fatigue, then the headaches and nosebleeds. When you get to the final stages, you won’t be able to feed yourself. That is if your heart is still pumping your lifeblood. Most hearts with this condition fail before anyone reaches the last stage. You now require advanced instruction, or you must abstain from using it altogether. Should you fail to do so, your blood will be too thin to carry the oxygen your body requires. You’ll asphyxiate, or bleed out from a simple cut or nosebleed.”
Crystalyn’s spine chilled at the woman’s matter-of-fact words.
“As for your sister, I suppose I could attempt a Contacting, but I shall need Rayna’s aid and yours too.”
“Me? What do you need me to do?”
The old woman rose to her feet with a grace belying her age. Smoothing her dress, she sat down next to Crystalyn on the bed. “Did you bring your stone and your orbs?” she asked Lore Rayna.
“Are you sure about this, Mother? What has she done to merit such a strenuous favor from us? This will require an Interruption of great magnitude.”
“Hush, child. We shall attempt the Contacting. In so doing, we may learn additional knowledge of her.”
“I’m right here,” Crystalyn had to say, and then quieted. They were helping her find Jade, after all.
Lore Rayna avoided looking at Crystalyn. “Shall I act as the focal point, mother?” She asked.
Crystalyn gawked. As Lore Rayna put her hands behind her head, the dress moved, exposing a silver-twined strap. Releasing a clasp at her neck, Lore Rayna tugged it from her ample bodice. A glowing white stone resided inside a small slit—looking similar in size and shape to her eyes. Placing it on her forehead, she tied the end of the straps behind her head, centering
the stone on her forehead. Reaching into a pocket Crystalyn hadn’t noticed before—or the dress had grown around whatever contents the wearer placed there. Lore Rayna removed three hand-sized stones from her hip, seemingly. The smooth, pea-green stones, or orbs, as the Lore Mother called them, seemed precious. The big woman handled them with reverence. Raising a fine eyebrow, Lore Rayna hesitated, facing her mentor.
The Lore Mother drew a deep breath. “Yes my daughter, you have focal point. You need the practice. I shall guide you while I Interrupt the Flow. The conduit will be open for you to draw upon should you require it. Align the contact orbs, sit at the point.”
Lore Rayna did so, sitting cross-legged and arranging the orbs in a triangle with the tip pointed at her.
The Lore Mother offered her hand. “Having never met your sister, you shall hold my hand and repeat her name. Concentrate on what you know and love best about her, what comes to mind first when you think of her. Can you do that, Crystalyn?”
Pulling her legs free from the wool blanket, Crystalyn slid next to the Lore Mother—discovering she’d slept in her undergarments. In the absence of sleepwear, she had no choice. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, but thinking about my little sister isn’t a problem. It’s what I do lately.” She held out her hand.
Clasping her hand with surprising firmness, the old Mother’s age-spotted hand was softer than her own. She’d expected it to be as rough as her leathery skin appeared. “It should suffice, though I must warn you. Once we begin, do not attempt to interrupt the Flow. It could be catastrophic to us all.” So saying, the Lore Mother’s eyes burst into a brilliant luminosity—painful to look at—as she extended her free hand toward the floor.
Crystalyn froze. The floor melted to transparency. Below, a stormy river flowed. Stormy river was the best description for it. Clear and unpolluted, the river ran swift, frothing with a misty, gel-like substance. Individual curls of frothy white roared amidst intermittent flashes of jagged streaks of rainbow lightning.
Lore Rayna sat serene and immobile, supported above the river by nothing but air, or so it seemed. Leaning closer to the floor, Crystalyn could feel the power crackling with each flash of lightning as the river sped past on its endless path. She was awestruck. The river was very close, within her grasp. All she need do was extend her awareness.
Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) Page 9