Just when she’d begun to believe no answer was forthcoming, he set his cup down. “I had thought to save you anxiety, yet you ask the precise question I cannot provide a vague answer to without telling something false, which I shall not do. We have to travel near the Stair’s beginning ascent,” he admitted with a sigh. “The Fetid Swamps at this end are too wide and too deep without a portage canoe, so we shall chance the driest route I know.”
Catching some of the bigger chunks in her teeth, Jade chewed. It was quite good, though she avoided dwelling on the type of rodent supplying the protein. The soup warmed her insides, helping with the chill night air. Energy returned to her extremities. Another frightening question occurred to her. “Is it guarded?” she asked, softly.
Camoe blinked. “The Stair of Despair’s base is guarded by wrights and something as ancient as the first Dark User Lords, possibly older. The wrights have a name given them from the method they feed on any warm-blooded creature. They’ve learned their meals stay freshest by keeping the food alive as they feed.”
“They eat their food alive?”
Camoe nodded. “Alive, for as long as they are capable; eventually a person would succumb to the loss of blood. The creatures are known as maimwrights.”
A chill swept through her the hot soup wouldn’t warm. Her protein energy fled before the weakness rising in her bowels, and she was suddenly tired, tired of the constant flight from danger only to race toward something just as bad, or worse. From the sound of it, a maimwright had to be just as bad, or... worse, than anything they’d encountered, so far.
RUINS
Crystalyn’s wasn’t hurting as much after a long day in the saddle. The last four days, her stiff muscles had left her hobbling around like an old woman. Every night she’d lain on her blanket, mimicking Jade’s habit of biting her lip to keep from crying out. Hastel had brought supper to her each time with many a promise it would get better.
He’d been right. Tonight she’d fetch her food herself, after she found a pond or stream, something with water for a long overdue scrubbing. A mud bath would feel cleaner than she did right now. Gathering her hand towel rolled about the Falun leaves, Crystalyn headed upstream beside the little brook Hastel had selected for the night’s camp spot.
“I’m coming, too,” Atoi said, falling into place behind her.
Crystalyn expected as much. It had become their evening routine. At least, it had before Crystalyn had developed new rider butt, as she thought of the preceding painful affliction. Hopefully, the worst was behind her both figuratively and literally. Atoi must be pining for a wash as bad as she was.
I shall begin the hunt alongside the path you choose, Do’brieni.
Crystalyn took comfort in the knowledge Broth would be near. The Warden had proven himself a fearsome warrior at Carnage Field.
The trail was springy brown grass, easy to traverse. Crystalyn found a bathing spot after a short walk. Surrounded by conifer trees, a rocky pool big enough for one person to stand in awaited, seasons of forest creatures drinking from its shallow banks had helped pool the clear water. Crystalyn stripped down to undergarments, unwilling to wait on Atoi.
The water was cold as usual, but well worth the first icy shock upon her warm skin. Scrubbing diligently with the foamy, falun leaves, Crystalyn spent a few minutes washing the dust and mud from her body. The black water clouding at her feet made her wonder if it came from days in the saddle following Hastel and Atoi then nights sleeping on the ground, or if the pools’ muddy bottom had been disturbed by her feet. Not that it mattered. The rest of her was clean, at least for now. Wading to the water’s edge, she found a handy log to sit on as she rinsed her feet in the brook. Raking her fingers through her hair, Crystalyn pulled the biggest tangles free, though Atoi’s comb would have made it easier. Where was she?
How far back is Atoi?
Broth’s reply wasn’t immediate. Crystalyn’s backside began to throb from sitting on the log. She sighed. It was time to head back anyway; she’d ask for the comb on the way. What could be taking the little girl so long?
Confusion flowed through the link. Strangely, the ancient, young one left the trail not far from you.
Crystalyn understood his confusion. Why would she do that? No, don’t answer, of course you wouldn’t know. Stay where you are, I’m coming.
Rounding a nearby bend, Crystalyn found Broth sitting on his haunches facing an inconspicuous side trail that snaked off through the trees. “Atoi might have answered the call of nature, but so far she’s let me know so we could stand guard for each other. It doesn’t make sense for her to wander off on her own. Can you follow her scent?”
Yes. No other being has a scent as old as hers.
Broth slipped into the trees without a sound. Crystalyn envied him his natural stealth. All forest creatures seemed to have the innate ability to be ghost quiet. At least she thought of him as a forest animal, but she wasn’t so sure. There wasn’t a thing to compare him to, certainly not with his human-like mind. She dressed quickly and slipped into the forest after him.
The Ancient One’s trail indicates she’s no longer at a walk. Broth’s sudden thought permeated her mind, mixed with Atoi’s musky scent. Atoi was musky?
“Atoi’s running?”
Yes, I suggest we do the same.
“Agreed, I think I’m up to it. She has me quite curious now.”
The knots in her muscles from a long day’s ride worked loose as she ran headlong along the winding trail dotted with new tree growth still small enough to see over. Crystalyn sprinted, watching the path ahead with care so as not to trip over the many toppled trees lying horizontally across the path.
After a time, the trail widened, becoming two trails running side by side. Not two trails, one road, she realized. An old wagon road slowly encroached upon by the same forest cut down to clear the path for it long ago, opened the way forward. Their pace lengthened considerably now that they didn’t have to vault over so much deadfall. Sprinting under two falun trees overhanging branches, she slid to a halt. Ahead, the forest ended. Moss-covered, bleached ruins of some ancient structure, oversaw a talus-strewn clearing.
The Ancient One is there. She is not alone.
Who’s with her?
I am uncertain from this distance. Perhaps when we move closer, Broth sent. Several vague human scents clung to the link, all smelt unwashed, some fearful. Moving near is our intention, is it not?
Yes, why wouldn’t we? She could be in danger.
It may trigger an ambush.
Then we shall keep alert. Will you do something for me, Broth?
Express your desire, Do’brieni. I am link sworn to follow your command.
Should I tell you to flee, you are to do so without question.
Agitation mixed with resignation flowed through the link. I will endeavor to comply with my Do’brieni’s command. However, I may decide the risk is too great for you alone. I cannot leave you in danger.
Crystalyn closed her mind. She wasn’t certain she liked Broth’s last statement.
The ancient road ended in a circle around a broken marble statue, too worn to make out much detail. A wide, weed-grown stairway rose beyond it. Crystalyn gazed at the top of the ancient stairway as she climbed. Two hooded figures wearing brown robes stood silent and unmoving like reverent guests at a place of worship, their arms folded into their opposite sleeves.
Up they went, Broth padding easily at her side. They slowed when they reached the last few steps, hesitant, though the brown-robes there still hadn’t shown the least bit of interest in them. A circular dais rising across the top had their fixed attention. Massive pillars supported the open sky, ringing the platform’s edge. At the center, a red-robed figure stood over two kneeling brown robes. The red robe brought to mind the black and red-robes she’d fought in the meadow.
Dark Users, Do’brieni, be alert.
She should have known, but it mattered little. Atoi was here somewhere.
I perceiv
e no animosity from the brown Dark Users, Do’brieni. They do not acknowledge our presence at present. I will remain vigilant, however.
Climbing the last step, they strode between the unresisting browns to pause partway to the center of the dais, gazing behind pillars big enough to make the brown-robed person standing in its shadow, seem tiny by comparison. Twelve brown robes stood in front of their own monstrosity in a half circular formation, arms folded like the two at the steps. All seemed absorbed by the actions of the red-robed man in the center; not one glanced at them.
Walking forward, she kept her eyes on the red-robed User’s back while glancing occasionally to the sides. The red robe stood with both hands resting on the heads of two brown robes. Hoods pulled back, both the browns faced her on their knees. Fine-cut golden hair topped one head, a male. The other, a woman, had strawberry hair that swirled in a delicate, aristocratic style. The expression on her face approached rapture, but her eyes matched the man’s dull gaze.
Coming to a standstill behind the red robe, Crystalyn’s eyes fell on Atoi at last. Her hands bound to the front, her open mouth filled with a cloth, Atoi’s face was impassive as ever. She knelt between two obelisks of black crystal in the center of the dais. A spiral, black curtain wavered slowly into existence between the two obelisks. A dark storm raged within, reminding Crystalyn not only of the Sapphire Gate, but also of the Flow’s squally qualities, except the tempest was black, not white, with amethyst flashes.
A second red-robed Dark User stood guard behind Atoi, her jeweled dagger gleamed thrust under the cloth belt wrapped around his waist. Green eyes large, Atoi stared at her, unblinking. Crystalyn’s heart raced. She looked so young and so innocent, but somewhere…else. Had they tortured her? Briefly, she wondered why the Dark Child had allowed its host to be treated so, though it didn’t matter now. She was about to fix it.
Broth, I think you should wander behind a pillar for a while. A mental image of him hiking a leg near a pillar flashed through her mind. Had the situation not been so dire, she might have laughed. Her affliction must be flaring again; she was amusing herself in the face of danger.
As you wish, my Do’brieni. I shall remain within striking distance, however. Selecting a pillar closest to her, the Warden vanished behind it.
Satisfied he was out of harm’s way, Crystalyn sifted through her memory of the last few evenings spent reading The Tiered Tome of Symbols, tier three. Recorded with fine black ink, Crystalyn recalled the first symbol she studied under the ominous heading “Affliction.” Once the image was fixed in her mind, she combined it with the smoky garland symbol she’d used at Carnage Field, redrawing both into one uniquely her own. Keeping the new image locked in mind, Crystalyn spoke quietly. “Untie her, please.”
The red robe stiffened, his hood swinging to the side as he looked over his shoulder. “Ah, there you are. The thief said you would come for her.”
“Please, let her go.” Crystalyn kept as neutral a tone as she could muster. She’d be surprised if he did, but she did still hope for a peaceful resolution. The man’s silky, self-assured tone brought to mind the Hartwig kid again, drying her mouth.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Your little friend stole something quite precious to my lord,” he said, his smile showing even white teeth above his brown goatee. The smile never reached his dark eyes. “I went to considerable trouble to entice her back here with the promise of additional powerful weapons.”
“You have the poisonous dagger back now.”
“Oh, so you know of its infused property?” The man’s eyebrows drew together on his forehead, accenting his narrow face. The two brown robes stiffened under his hands. The image between the obelisks wavered violently.
“Yes, I know of the dagger’s…magical ability. I will ask again, let Atoi go. I’ll see to her punishment for the theft. She’ll compensate you for your troubles, with enough to take back to your lord if you so choose.”
“She has nothing monetary I require—the Great Lord provides all that I need—but she does have a power within her that shouldn’t go unheeded. Your Atoi is already mine to use as I please, Crystalyn.”
Crystalyn’s patience had worn thin. Negotiations were going nowhere. “So you know my name by forcing it from a little girl. What about you, got a name?”
“Ah, hah…here we go,” the red-robed Dark User said. His focus on the obelisks had resumed. A dark, misty gateway swirled between the two crystal shards. Removing his hands from the two brown robes’ heads, they collapsed to the dais floor in a heap. Spinning around in a flourish, the man bowed his head, saying, “I am Malkor, which you would do well to remember.”
Crystalyn moved close. “I might recall it. I can say it has been…informative to watch you Use, Malkor. Though I daresay most of your power came from those two on the floor. Do they live?”
Malkor’s narrow eyes widened perceptibly. Bright red flecks of color interspersed with something darker, pulsed across his brown corneas. “You don’t use Interrupters?”
Crystalyn was surprised, but she kept it from showing. The brown robes had interrupted the Flow like the Lore Mother. She should have realized it from the start, even though the method was so different. Malkor appeared to have drained them completely, which seemed inefficient as well as cruel. Interrupters must be in high demand with Dark Users for there would be a shortage.
The colors pulsing in his eyes put her slightly off balance. Now that she’d noticed them there, the pulses caught at her vision as if her eyes needed reassurance she hadn’t suddenly lost the ability. Looking away from the eyes, she focused on a closer look at the man. The haughty, half-smiling set of his jaw indicated arrogance. Malkor was comfortable with his own ability. He believed he had the situation well in hand, like the Hartwig kid had.
Malkor’s countenance darkened the longer she remained silent. He expected immediate answers whenever he spoke. Crystalyn had never been any good with such arrogance. She was nobody’s subservient. The time had come for her to set the provocation imp loose upon the arrogant man, so to speak. Malkor should be easy to provoke. Provoked foes made mistakes. “Of course, I do. I don’t usually use them up, is all. One might find them useful in the future.”
Malkor’s small eyes bored into hers, ignoring the challenge in her words. “Your accent is strange. Where did you say you hail from?”
Crystalyn decided to try for a peaceful resolution to the situation one final time. “Suppose I tell you. Will you let us leave without harm?”
Malkor pulled his red hood over his curly brown hair, shadowing his face. “I may have other…questions,” he replied, his tone thick with elation.
So. He didn’t intend to let them go; the delight in his voice told her that. He thought he’d won, that she was giving in. Still, she wanted to give him a chance to do the right thing, having had her fill of battle after Carnage Field. “I’ll tell you what I can as long as you give me your word you’ll leave my companions and I alone.”
Malkor’s eyes narrowed. He scowled. “The little thief never mentioned anyone except you. Where are the rest? Command them to show themselves!”
Crystalyn’s ire grew. She’d made all the concessions and received nothing in return. Negotiations had failed. Danger now loomed over Broth and possibly Hastel, initiated by her stupid, blundering mouth. It didn’t matter now, had never mattered. From the start, cooperation had only stoked his brutality; Malkor’s type should have been simple to read. Power was their only ambition. “My companions are my concern. Please, release Atoi. I don’t want to get angry with you.”
Malkor’s eyes bulged. “You stupid, foolish, arrogant little girl, Allow me to inform you what happens now. You won’t be enslaved, as I first intended,” he said, his voice a hiss. Taking a step backward he lowered a palm toward the ground. “Your death will instead, be marked by cries of pain. Everyone, burn her, burn her now where she stands!”
At the edge of her vision, brown shapes removed their hands from their sleeves.
Crystalyn had anticipated anger to follow her demand, but she hadn’t expected him to attack so quickly. She released her prepared symbol as Malkor’s hands vanished behind a red mist. Black raindrops coalesced into the symbol as it spun in front of her. Picking up speed, the symbol spun, flinging the droplets away in a growing circle at an incredible rate. Whirling faster and faster, droplets shot forth like a sodden cloth wrung dry, though her symbol was no towel, nor were the droplets flung from it water. They were liquid however, an unforgiving liquid, something she may not have chosen to release had she known its deadly effect.
Where the droplets landed, black smoke hissed and finger-sized holes appeared. Gray marble, clothing, or flesh, it didn’t seem to matter. The black rain burned through it all. Nausea rose in her stomach, but she forced herself to continue on, or be overrun. Rotating her body and the symbol with it, she peppered the brown robes, their fists aglow with a tan translucence.
Some of them managed to hurl clouds of needles at her symbol. The dreadful rain steamed every needle, however small. Black, caustic drops flew at the hapless Users. Some died screaming as the droplets ate through the main artery of an arm or leg. Others dropped without a sound as the black liquid sank through tissue, bone, or some vital organ.
The left side drenched, she worked her way down the right until she faced Malkor. The red-robed Dark User had erected a transparent barrier around his body, but not before one leg had taken severe damage. Lips peeled back in agony, he hopped toward the black obelisks and vanished through the gate. Crystalyn swept the symbol over the one guarding Atoi.
Broth’s enraged growls broke through her methodical cleansing.
Crystalyn dissolved the symbol, feeling detached, but with a growing sense of elation. She’d won. With the exception of Malkor, no Dark User had survived. She had beaten them all. At least no visible was upright.
Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) Page 31