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

by R. V. Johnson

  Chuckling, Hastel patted Ferral on the rump as if the horse had made a joke.

  Clucking softly, Crystalyn convinced the palomino to step away from the wagon. Acknowledging Drumn by tossing his white mane high, Ferral cantered past. Crystalyn smiled despite the sensation of feeling like a mouse allowed riding privileges on a wolfhound; it was good to ride. Ferral seemed to sense her lack of expertise and slowed to a walk moving up the gentle incline the road followed.

  The early afternoon sun warmed her face and baked the mud to dirt in splotchy patches. Ferral clopped through it all, dry or soggy, keeping his head pointed slightly to the ground in search of horse delicacies, preferably something green, with grass like qualities. The strong scent of alfalfa and the distinct smell of horseflesh and manure filled her nostrils, bringing back memories of dad and mom at the Farm. The other adults stationed there, security personnel like her parents, animal and flora caretakers, and the haughty, lab-coated scientists, all called it the Farm without fail. She’d spent two summers there with her family. While the adults worked, the young ones had the run of the place. So many exhilarating horse rides with Jade rushed into memory. The tingle of excitement she’d experienced right before sneaking away with Jade to explore acres of rolling fields on foot, or wandering through the single forest from horseback below the ever-growing mountainside, resurfaced. It was a strong memory. Crystalyn found herself blinking the mists of nostalgia from her eyes.

  Atoi’s casual question jarred her. “How far are you planning on leaving them behind?” Wiping at her eyes, Crystalyn was surprised to find Atoi maintaining Ferral’s pace with ease, as she loped beside the trail.

  She shouldn’t have been, not after the first day beyond four bridges. Atoi had surprised her then, running up Glacier Mountain trail beside the wagon for hours at a time, only stopping when the wagon did. The little girl never appeared the slightest bit winded. “I don’t see any reason to head back quite yet. It feels good to get away from the wagon. How anyone can last for hours riding in a wagon is beyond me. By the way, should the opportunity arise, I want you to find out what’s so important about that crate we’ve lugged all the way up here.”

  “To do that, I’ll have to get a look inside.”

  “Yes. Don’t get caught either. Abort if there’s the slightest possibility of being seen.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  They rode and ran on in silence for a while, the ambient air cool and clear. The trail straightened out, heading for a small meadow, a good indication they must be nearing the pass for the great Glacier Mountain. Wildflowers bloomed in clusters, sprinkling the bright green landscape with varying shades of blues, whites, reds, and yellows shaped like little bells, or delicate daisies. Crystalyn felt a rush of elation. The area was so beautiful there was no way she could pass without stopping. Besides, they had some time while they waited for the infernally slow wagon.

  Reining in at a small copse of aspen trees next to the trail, she slipped her leg over Ferral’s golden back and dropped to the ground while holding onto the saddle pommel for support. Overall, she was happy with her dismount. Ferral gazed in approval, standing placid afterward.

  Tying the reins on a wrist-sized branch, Crystalyn went to where Atoi had stopped near some brush. The little girl kicked at an anthill with the toe of her boot. “You do know they’re going to relay what you’re doing to every ant generation that ever lived, don’t you? They will all attack you on sight from now on.”

  Atoi looked startled. “They will?”

  Crystalyn laughed. “Just kidding, but it does make them angry to have their home destroyed.” Leaving her to the anthill, Crystalyn strode to a nearby cluster of flowers resembling wild bluebells she’d found growing fitfully in Mid Realm once. Stooping, she plucked a small bouquet, holding the beautiful flowers to her nose, inhaling deeply. As she thought, the lilac-like fragrance was faint.

  Wondering if her companion would like a smell, Crystalyn glanced at Atoi. The lithe, young girl stood immobile, staring at the anthill, her lips thin and her green eyes round. ‘”Don’t hold back just because they intend to ambush you later,” Crystalyn said with a giggle, unable to stop herself.

  A rough masculine voice spoke from behind Crystalyn. “Ambush is right.”

  Crystalyn spun toward the voice.

  A man, medium-sized, stood in the road not far from her, clad in a patched vest over a dirty, gray tunic, along with ragged pants a size or two short. Greasy, shoulder-length black hair framed a narrow face sporting a scraggly beard. The man’s mirthless, dark eyes appraised her like she was one of the Farm’s cows shivering before the Slaughter Master. Contrary to the scientists’ beliefs there, the cows weren’t stupid; they knew what was about to happen.

  The man’s dull gray eyes glinted. “Though I don’t know how you knew. He told us you’d be surprised. Don’t bother to answer, it was rhetorical anyway.” His hand gripped the handle of an ugly looking whip coiled at his hip. “Now! Take care to pin the tall one’s arms!”

  Grabbed roughly from behind, Crystalyn struggled to move as two smelly arms encircled her chest, pinning her arms to the side. A third hand, tasting foul, pressed against her mouth squelching the scream forming on her lips, clamping her in place.

  Scowling, the man in front of her bellowed, “Look out, you stupid skreevils! She’s got a knife!” The man’s whip snapped out, a blur of motion.

  “Blast you!” Atoi yelled. From the edge of her vision, Crystalyn caught a flash of her tan dress disappearing into the scrub brush.

  The face of the man with the ugly whip reddened. “Don’t just stand there, you brainless Rull! Go after her!” He strode toward Crystalyn. Stopping a hand’s width away, he glared, eye-to-eye. “My man will find her soon enough. He’s the best tracker I’ve had. We’ve been watching you, pretty one. I still don’t know if our benefactor knows what he’s talking about; we haven’t seen you Use once. But it doesn’t matter much now, does it my beauty? You’re helpless once those delicate hands of yours are bound, you can’t access the Flow. You can’t even screech for help, can you? You’re as helpless as a babe. I can do whatever I like to you.” His eyes took on a leering cast. “Do you want to know what I like?”

  She shook her head; the hand at her mouth moved with her. They’ve done this before, she thought, revulsion rising in her stomach.

  “No? Too bad, I’m going to show you anyway. And I’ll make it last a long, long, time. After that, my boys will show you too.”

  Several deep voices chuckled.

  Crystalyn cringed.

  Spotting her reaction, the leering man smiled. “Go ahead and fight, it’ll make it all the sweeter.”

  Crystalyn was frightened, but her anger grew beside the fear. What was he suggesting? That she not struggle? Blast that. She wasn’t going for the victim scenario again, especially not with men like him.

  Grinning with excitement, the grungy man reached for her, tearing at her hoody.

  Many of the symbols she’d read in the Tiered Tome of Symbols scrolled through her thoughts, she selected a splintery feeling one out of the “Multi-Aggression” chapter. Next, she chose an airy one from the “Push Backs” chapter. Her third and final selection was a lovely white snowflake one from “Decent Defenses.” Unraveling all three in her mind, she combined them, creating a compact one, black on one side, white on the other. Octagonal in shape, the pattern inside, drawn with thin, stick-like lines formed a myriad of pinwheels tipped with round spikes at the points.

  Keeping the white side pointed toward her as she brought it out, she released the symbol, only to wish she could take it back.

  Black icicles-like spikes shot from the symbol, exploding outward in multi-directions, with one quick, deadly burst.

  The leering grin dissolved, along with the face behind it.

  A mushy red gel sank to the ground with an ugly sloshing sound where the man had once been.

  Crystalyn’s stomach heaved.

  The hands hol
ding her disengaged. Crystalyn turned around, her symbol revolving with her. Two men stood close by, eyes shiny with terror.

  “What kind of User are you?” a bald, brute of a man whispered. “I had you locked down.”

  “He said you couldn’t…hurt…us,” his companion said. He was smaller, but not by much, with his dull brown hair that stood on end.

  “What do you mean? Who said?”

  The bald brute began backing away, his gaze fixed on her symbol. “You’re going to have to figure out how to kill her if you answer that, Skarn. I want nothing to do with this now.”

  His eyes flitting from her face to her symbol and back again, Skarn scuttled backward in line with his companion. “Look lady, we just want to leave.”

  Crystalyn’s ire rose, she would have answers. “Not until you tell me who he is. Why did he send you to attack me?”

  “He promised you’d be helpless with your arms pinned; you weren’t supposed to be able to reach your blasted User magic,” Skarn whined. His tone grated on her ears. Her ire grew, but she kept focused. Slipping his hand behind his back, the skinny, bedraggled man touched something there. Relief flitted across his grizzled features. Emboldened, his nasal tone dripped with added confidence. “That’s all you’re going to get out of me. We’re leaving now.” Ignoring the symbol, he looked pointedly at her, his face hardening as his hands shifted to his hips. He backed toward the trees.

  “Thom’s the one that set us waylaying you, miss. You’ve kilt him, so we’ll be on our way. We don’t want any trouble,” the bald man said. Moving backward beside his companion, he slid his right hand under the opposite sleeve of his tunic.

  “Who hired this Thom of yours?”

  Jumping backward, Skarn reached over his shoulder. Something metallic flashed at the bald man’s sleeve.

  Crystalyn activated the symbol. Rotating as fast as a hover turbine, it shot forth a multitude of dark splinters, shredding tree branches and humans alike. The two men dropped into piles without a single scream. A pitted throwing knife and broken crossbow lay on the ground beside them.

  Crystalyn dissolved the symbol.

  Stumbling through wagon wheel ruts, she ran to Ferral, bile rising in her throat, her eyes stinging. A bent aspen sapling took shape near the horse. She fell across it, retching in earnest, until there was nothing left.

  After a while, she sat with her back to a tree, wiping at her mouth. Weak, she glanced at Ferral, wondering if her legs would hold her long enough to go to him. Tossing his head up and down, the palomino stepped back and forth in agitation. She couldn’t blame him. With everything that had just happened, she’d be nervous about her too.

  Forcing her legs under her, Crystalyn went to him. Stroking his white mane, she spoke softly in a soothing tone without words. Finally, he stood still, quivering occasionally. It would have to be good enough. She wanted so much to leave this horrid place of death.

  Glancing at the scrub oak, her heart sank. There was no getting away just yet. Atoi was still missing. The girl’s gleaming dagger lay on the anthill as a stark reminder.

  SELF-PRESERVATION

  Crystalyn’s head throbbed loud in her ears, matching her heartbeat. Gripping Ferral’s saddle by the pommel, she hoisted her sickened body onto the palomino’s back only to nearly fall off the opposite side. Swaying, she retched again, but there wasn’t anything left inside to expel. Ferral stood stoic and solid, as if he sensed her frailty. What a dismal sight I must be, she thought.

  After a while—how long she couldn’t say—she looked up to see Atoi trotting around a bend in the trail only mildly surprised by the girl’s sudden appearance; Atoi had a way of surviving. Yet she still wondered how the little girl had managed to stay alive on a world where the simple act of enjoying flowers in the warm sunlight could turn so violent so fast. Perhaps, the entity inside her had something to do with her survival. Perhaps she’d simply learned how to handle herself over the seasons.

  Skidding to a halt, Atoi gazed up at her, a strange expression on her face. “How bad are your wounds? Are you going to meet The Maker, Onan?” Her interest seemed genuine.

  Crystalyn blinked. Then she realized what her companion meant. “I’m not going to die for a while, at least I hope not. The blood isn’t mine, so don’t be too disappointed.”

  Jumping over a tree root, Atoi picked up her dagger, then hesitated, her wide eyes suddenly wary. “I won’t ask how you escaped, as long as you don’t ask me,” she said, putting her left arm behind her back and hiding the angry red welt half encircling her wrist.

  Crystalyn’s reply was immediate. “It’s a deal.” She didn’t want to know about it or the welt. Nor did she want to talk about the mess steaming on the wagon trail. “Let’s go. I need to find a stream.” Coaxing Ferral to a slow trot required minimal pressure; the palomino seemed to want to leave the place as much as she did. As they went around the bend Atoi had so gracefully sprinted from moments ago, her stomach protested Ferral’s swaying motion and her head protested every jolt of his long legs. She kept going, clamping her jaw to the pain.

  Running beside the horse with the elegance of a wild deer able to look graceful in any terrain, Atoi gestured to a small grove of evergreens below a decline. “There’s water on the other side of those trees. After this, the wagon trail begins heading downhill.”

  Crystalyn didn’t care what the trail was doing. She wanted to get to the water. The blood was beginning to dry, becoming uncomfortably sticky. Easing Ferral into a canter, she covered the distance to the stream swiftly.

  A tug on the reins brought the horse a standstill beside the clear running water that cut through the wagon trail. Crystalyn jumped to the ground with a grimace, her head still tender. Wordlessly, Atoi handed her a Falun leaf. Crystalyn waded to the streams center where she began splashing frigid water wherever her skin was bare, scrubbing furiously with the aid of the marvelous gel. Most of the blood and gore washed away from her skin, but her clothes would need something else besides her fingers to clean them. She splashed water on the bigger stains anyway. When her own blood began to congeal in her veins, she trudged through the frigid water to stand beside Ferral. Head down, the reins floating in the stream, Ferral drank noisily, making no move to shy away. “I’m surprised he’s still here,” she mused.

  Atoi squatted upstream, holding a leather bladder underwater until the air bubbles no longer rose to the surface. “Hastel’s big horse, you mean? It must like you. Weeping Face complains he hasn’t been able to train it to stay put.”

  As if the mention of their companion brought them, the wagon rounded the bend, Hastel driving this time. Whipping the reins, he coaxed the enormous shire faster. The Lore Mother bounced on the bench beside him. Lore Rayna and Cudgel ran fanning out beside it, one on each side, scanning the terrain away from the trail. Cudgel sprinted with his iron-tipped weapon in hand, while Lore Rayna ran with her bow. “Speak of the devil, here he comes,” Crystalyn said.

  “I don’t understand. What is a devil?”

  “Forget it.”

  Rumbling thunderously, horse, wagon and runners bore down on them. Hastel wrenched the reins at the last minute. The Shire’s hooves dug in, plowing furrows to the water’s edge as the horse brought the wagon to a standstill. Snorting in protest, Drumn whipped his head around to throw an accusing glare at Hastel before swinging his thick neck to the stream.

  The Lore Mother climbed from the wagon and marched toward Crystalyn. “Is anyone hurt?”

  Hastel scrutinized Atoi. “What did they do to you?” Without waiting for an answer, he looked at Crystalyn. “What about my horse? Has he come to harm?”

  Resting his pole weapon on his shoulder, Cudgel’s broad head swung back and forth, searching the horizon. “How many were there?”

  Lore Rayna stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Cudgel, her golden-haired head turned toward the opposite tree line, her bow half raised. “Did any get away?”

  Crystalyn held up a hand. “Wait! Everyone calm down.
I don’t think any got away, but I can’t be sure. Cudgel, will you and Lore Rayna check the area from here back to the meadow?”

  Exchanging a quick glance with each other and the Lore Mother, they nodded. As one, they trotted back along the road a few yards. Separating in opposite directions each melted into the trees.

  Hastel sprang from the bottom step. “I’ll see to my horse.”

  Jerking his head from the stream, the Ferral shied into the water, clomping upstream a few steps.

  Hastel’s hands went to his hips. “What’s gotten into you?” Frowning, he plodded into the stream after the horse.

  Ferral clomped over to Crystalyn, eyeing Hastel with suspicion.

  Hastel froze, standing in water above his ankles, a dumbfounded look on his face. “What’s this? Have you stolen my best horse?”

  Crystalyn bit back a smile. “Your horse and I have an understanding. Could you let him be until the others come back?”

  “Blast me! I suppose so, but I don’t like it much,” Hastel said. He floundered to the bank and stomped to the wagon. Resting an arm on Drumn, his one eye shot traitorous glares at Ferral.

  Crystalyn put him from her thoughts. Instead she regarded the Lore Mother, who’d come to her aid as fast as any of the others. She felt a flush of guilt for arguing with her so much. Perhaps I should adhere to their ways while on their world. She’d refused to use the older woman’s reverent title ever since Lore Rayna had commanded her to do so back at the Muddy Wagon Inn, but she needed the Lore Mother’s support right now. “The blood’s not mine…Mother.”

  The Lore Mother beamed. “I am much heartened to hear it…my Daughter. Will you tell me what transpired? My concern and curiosity has been piqued since we found the gore piles.”

  The matter-of-fact description of her bloody handiwork made Crystalyn’s stomach lurch. “There’s not much to tell, but I’ll do my best.” Beckoning Atoi to join her, Crystalyn described the encounter without mentioning Atoi’s escape. She ended with a quick description of their arrival at the stream.