“Wait!” Crystalyn called.
Khiminay’s pace never slackened; soon she pushed through the tavern’s front doors, letting them swing closed behind her. Crystalyn scrambled to gather her bags. “Hurry, Atoi. I don’t want to lose sight of her.”
Atoi slipped her purchases over a shoulder. “I don’t know what the big hurry is,” she said, though she remained close.
Crystalyn spotted the red hood as soon as she stepped onto the market street. Winding her way to the crowd’s center, she found Khiminay’s eyes upon her, staring from the hood’s shadow. She was comfortable nestled inside the throng about her. No one jostled her, several even stumbling over each other to keep their distance. The red hood provided plenty of advance notice, practically shoving the throngs aside. Apparently, everyone in the city knew the woman, or the woman’s place on the Circle from the sight of the hood, perhaps both.
Come, I have an offer to help find Jade I don’t dare refuse, Crystalyn sent to her link mate.
Broth loped up beside her from the side street where he’d waited. Merchants had been aghast when he accompanied them inside their store as they shuffled through clothes. The tavern may not have minded, but Crystalyn hadn’t argued when he suggested keeping vigilance in the alley.
As with Khiminay, the crowd scattered out of his way. Exercise caution, Do’brieni. Do not let your desire cloud your judgment. This side of Surbo is relatively lawless.
Khiminay eyed Broth, but said nothing. “One of my…outlying residences is not far from the bazaar. Please follow me and stay close.” Without another word, Khiminay started down the street, striding through the crowd as if she were out for an after-dinner stroll.
Crystalyn didn’t have to work hard to stay close, at least not until Khiminay swerved into a side street heading east toward the lower-class part of Surbo. The mob thinned noticeably, allowing their guide to set a faster pace.
Crystalyn refused to run most occasions, she’d never been a runner. After a few blocks of her fastest walk, she began to wonder if she ought to run. By the time she strode through a gate leading out of the city, Khiminay had widened the gap by a hundred yards.
She finally broke into a sprint, charging past the gate and its two guards in time to spot the red hood ducking into an unobtrusive tent among an ocean of canvas. Crystalyn slowed. Roped hitching posts dotted the open space in front of many tents, some with horses tied to them, grazing passively on frugal grass below. A slight breeze brought the foul scent of waste and manure. Wrinkling her nose, Crystalyn kept her gaze fixed on Khiminay’s tent while trying to watch where she stepped.
This place has the repugnant smell of unwashed humans and equestrians. Broth observed, echoing her sentiments and making her smile. Wardens do not inhabit such a place, nor would we wish to spend any length of time away from our beloved forests. Crystalyn draped her arm over his shoulder, sending feelings of fondness and sympathy into the link. She understood how hard it was to be away from family and loved ones, to be traveling through unfamiliar places, uncertain if she’d ever see home again. Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them away.
Once she stood outside the tent, she glanced at Atoi, whose tiny, white face was impassive. Not even the smell could get to her. Thankfully, the guards had remained where they were. “What is this place?”
“Surbo’s illustrious temporary city,” Atoi said, gazing into the distance as if she could see an end to the tents. Perhaps she could. Who knew what the Dark Child could do? “It was built at the beginning of the Hundred Season War as a refugee camp for the destroyed towns of Gray Dust and Grit Eye City but has been long since adopted by the Great Plains nomads and those wishing to remain anonymous from the rest of Astura. The city has persisted as landscape clutter, blocking Surbo’s easternmost gates for twice that of the war. It’s one of Astura’s seedier places, particularly after nightfall. The best part is the mighty Circle of Light has not been successful in getting them to move, though they have managed to enforce the restriction of permanent shelter construction. Bringing wood and rock across the flatlands is difficult; the distance is too great due to the Circle of Light controlling the nearby quarries. The nomads who roam the Great Plains on their horses are most comfortable in their tents anyway, preferring to pull out anytime they choose.”
“It’s been a tent city for a hundred seasons?”
“Yes, humans hold onto an infatuation with temporary cities.”
Crystalyn whistled softly wondering at Atoi’s choice of words. Or was it Atoi speaking? Likely not, since she’d spoken of humans as a different species. “What’s this place called?”
“Welcome to Rancid City. It is one of my most profitable haunts,” Atoi said. Then she blinked. “I am surprised someone like Khiminay would own a place here. Didn’t we see her on the Circle?”
Crystalyn frowned. “Yes, ninth position, I believe. Why would someone on the Circle have a tent? Surely someone associated with the power and prestige of the Circle of Light would own something permanent, such as a palace, or two.”
Atoi glanced around. “Methinks Hastel should be used to discover more about this Khiminay before we agree to a business arrangement.”
“Yes, that would be the wise thing to do since it’s likely some sort of a trap. She did push us to follow, but I’ll be ready. I can’t let the chance go by, however slim, she may lead me to Jade.” Crystalyn nudged Atoi forward. “Come, let’s see how she can help or betray us, before the sun goes down. I want to be back in our room long before then.”
Slipping past the tent’s flap, she stepped inside, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
Two guards stationed inside the tents foyer, pulled long swords from their scabbards.
Crystalyn’s net symbol took shape in her mind.
“Hold!” Khiminay shouted from farther inside. “Let them pass.”
Crystalyn eyed the guards. She let her pattern dissolve from her thoughts only when their swords were stowed away. “I hope this isn’t a prelude for how you treat guests you invite to your quarters, though why you’d have a place here is beyond me,” she said, staring at the woman. It hadn’t taken long to spring the trap, not much time, at all.
Ignoring her comment, the Circle woman turned to speak quietly with a tall, muscular man wearing a massive suit of black plate armor. A horned, full-faced greater helm protected the man’s head. Three men wearing chain mail and open-faced helms stood behind the man and Khiminay, next to the rear tent wall.
Crystalyn grew irritated. She strode to Khiminay, shouldering past soldiers—a man and a woman in black plate. The conversation between the dark-haired Circle woman and the dark-armored man cut off abruptly when they both turned to regard her, measuring her progress as she threaded a path through a field of silk cushions and plush rugs.
Khiminay had removed her shawl’s hood. Her fine eyebrows and ice-blue eyes regarded Crystalyn boldly, ignoring the brute beside her. “I hope there’s a good reason we chased across half of Astura to come here. Can you help me, or not? What do you want in exchange?”
“There is reason, I assure you,” the dark-armored man said. His pleasant, concise voice drifted down from within the horned helm. A long way down, he towered over her by a full span in height. Great! A possible kin to Lore Rayna, Crystalyn thought. “Whether the reason is good, I leave to your judgment.” He turned to Khiminay. “You may leave us.”
Curtsying deeply, Khiminay brushed past Atoi and Broth, leaving the tent without saying a word of farewell. Crystalyn wanted to protest against her going, but kept silent. The dark-armored man was intimidating and the massive hammer fastened to his side adding to the feeling. Its double-headed, black metal pulsed with a faint, dark purple hue. Crystalyn wrested her eyes from it. The brutal thing was hypnotic.
The big man laid a gauntleted palm on Big Brutal. “Let us advance to the point—or should I say, to the blunt end—of why we are gathered here. You are right to believe I want something from you, I do.”
Atoi laughed without mirth. “No surprise there.”
The horned head swiveled Atoi’s direction briefly. “If it is permissible to continue,” he said. “I shall find your lost one. Once found, I will discuss payment. You will not know disappointment as soon as an agreement is reached.”
Crystalyn admired his confidence. Perhaps she was finally at the right place after all. “Who are you?”
“I am Lord Charn. It is a title I’ve retained for the last one hundred and fifty-four seasons.”
Atoi gasped.
Garrrrr! Broth’s growl barreled through her mind. Do’brieni, this User has been the cause of much of my race’s destruction. I do not doubt that he has knowledge of where those missing from the White Clan are. Please, stalk with care, but help discover if they live. I beseech you!
“What do you want from me, Lord Charn?” Crystalyn asked keeping her voice at a neutral tone. She was determined to hold her composure, even around apparent nobility, especially around nobility. It wouldn’t do to have one of them believing they could order her around.
“I shall speak my intentions one final time. Discussion of payment will occur after you learn the location of your missing…sibling?”
“Yes, my sister,” Crystalyn said. She glanced at Atoi, gauging her reaction to the man. Her face was her usual pale impassive mask, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
Lord Charn continued. “I shall require your sibling’s name when we begin. First, we have to travel to a scrying device, a journey made in an instant once we have an agreement. Have we reached one?”
Crystalyn kept her eyes on Atoi, raising a questioning eyebrow, and then her legs grew weak. The green in the girl’s eyes revealed nothing, except…something shadowy moved in the background, the Dark Child, perhaps. Was it trying to tell her something?
Deliberately, Atoi turned away from her.
Crystalyn reined in her flaring anger. She couldn’t grab the little imp by the shoulder and spin her around, as she wanted. It wouldn’t do for them to argue in front of nobility. “Surely you would expect me to be obligated to you in some way. I don’t like having a debt with anyone.”
Lord Charn hesitated. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, but distinct. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. Tell me then, what sacrifice are you unwilling to make for a reunification with your sister?”
His words gave her pause. “I won’t agree to anything if it goes against any belief I may have, or has a remote chance of hurting anyone, animals included. I’ll find my sister on my own if that is the direction I must go,” Crystalyn finally said. “And my friends come with me, or no deal.”
What do you think, my link mate? It may be my best chance to find my sister.
“I shall not expect you to do something you’re not comfortable with. You may simply refuse this offer, and we shall part on even terms,” Lord Charn said. “Your friends may go as well, though they may not have the same liberties as you.” His great helm swiveled toward Broth.
This is a grievous mistake, Do’brieni. No good will come of working with this man. Anxiety reverberated through her mind. Whether it was Broth’s, or hers, she couldn’t decide.
I thought you wanted to find those missing ones of yours. We have an opportunity here, Crystalyn sent, trying to exude confidence.
Broth was silent, though flashes of disquiet filtered through; his hourglass eyes had changed to deep red, echoing his inner turmoil as his wolf head moved constantly keeping everyone in view.
Crystalyn turned to Lord Charn. “When do we start?”
Lord Charn slapped his mail gauntlets together, his demeanor brusque. Two of the open-faced helmed guards brought a pair of objects forward from the tent’s rear. “Excellent. We begin by going to the Dark Oracle.” Quickly booting cushions to the side, the guards set two violet crystal obelisks a door-width apart.
Crystalyn swallowed her gasp.
“So you know their purpose,” Lord Charn said more as a statement than a question, his expression still unknown behind the helm.
Crystalyn nodded mutely. Dark purple in color, the obelisks spanned the same height as the sapphire crystal ones that had brought her here. A nagging doubt had had crept in that she would never see their like again. “Where will the obelisks take us?” she asked, regaining a measure of composure.
Lord Charn’s mailed palm rested casually on the Big Brute again. “To the Dark Oracle, where you shall ask to be shown your sibling.”
“Will they return us here?”
“Alas, no, the journey back shall be accomplished by mundane methods. Attuned to a specific location, the obelisks are one way only. Please, step through with haste. The gates require a large amount of Flow to hold open,” he said, sweeping a muscular arm toward the curtain of stormy darkness swirling between the obelisks.
Stay beside me, my Do’brieni. Broth leapt next to her, brushing her shoulder with a gentle and precise control belying his size.
Trying to shake the feeling she was going the wrong way no matter which way she turned, Crystalyn shifted her bags, grabbed Atoi’s hand, and stepped into another gateway.
DARK ORACLE
The obelisks deposited them inside an antechamber to a much larger room. A large, open space beyond the smaller room beckoned to Crystalyn. She passed through a wide, iron-banded wooden door, side-by-side with her Warden, pulling Atoi with her.
Ahead, three gilded chair backs inlaid with glistening tiled designs, presided over a great room, massive statues lined cavernous walls. Rounding the leftmost and smallest chair, Crystalyn paused to gaze around the immensity of it. Five curved steps, carved from brilliant amethyst, sloped gently down into a wide walkway.
The statues faced inward as though to watch a gathered crowd. Their backs to the wall, the statues depicted dark-armored men and women holding weapons blunt and sharp, standing next to menacing red and black-robed Users, each spanning the great distance from floor to ceiling. Carved in eerie, lifelike detail, they expressed various stages of war.
Crystalyn could believe the fury expressed on one Dark User’s face or the raised axe of a soldier was for her benefit for having the audacity to enter the great throne room. For a throne room it was, she realized. Whirling to confirm her suspicions, she found Lord Charn sitting at ease in the high-backed seat built between the two smaller ones. Not a seat, a throne, Crystalyn corrected herself. A chill crept down her spine. She hadn’t even sensed his arrival. His massive armor had made no sound.
Broth’s soundless wails roared in her mind, making her head reel. Agitation mingled with self-recrimination flowed at her in strong surges. This is the stronghold of the enemy. Desiring to find my clan members, I have put us in grave peril, Do’brieni!
Calm down! He seems to want to help us. We will find out if your people are here. Crystalyn added a comforting sense of a friend inviting someone over for a relaxing visit.
You do not understand. This is one of their Great Dark Lords, possibly the greatest. I let my desire cloud my judgment. Your protector is not something I deserve as a designation.
“Stop, Do’brieni! Stop, now. We’ll find Jade, see what this lord wants in exchange for his help, and then leave. Everything will be fine. Though he chose not to respond, Broth’s agitation seeped through, but she couldn’t change her decision, not now. Enemy’s lair or not, she had to follow it through. It may be her only hope for finding Jade.
Lord Charn waved an arm expansively. “Impressive, is it not?” His pleasant, masculine tone resonated with pride. “Though, I would daresay your Warden companion may not agree. I would believe it safe to say he is the first of his kind to enter here. Most of his…race spends their entire lives attacking my forces along our borders. He may not be well received,” he added, his voice letting slip a trace of venom.
Crystalyn grew resigned. It hadn’t taken long for things to turn ugly. Squeezing Atoi’s hand, she went over her acidic symbo
l in her mind. Lord Charn’s Grand armor shouldn’t be able to protect against it completely. The man should have mentioned an issue back in the tent, but then, she would’ve refused his offer of aid.
Lord Charn raised a gauntleted hand. “Please be at ease. I will not let any harm come to you or your companions while you are under my care. I simply wanted you to be forewarned.”
Crystalyn let the symbol’s image fade from her mind, for now. She had to believe him; there was no choice now, not unless she wanted to fight her way out. She wasn’t prepared to battle blindly in an unfamiliar enemy stronghold.
Taking her silence as an end to the subject, Lord Charn turned to look out upon the room. “I selected an hour when the nobles are not allowed to stand around listening as most daylight bells permit. We are late into the evening. Do you appreciate the Hall of Thrones?”
Her fingers frozen, Crystalyn released Atoi’s hand, shifting her bundles from her palm to her elbow. Tingling slightly, her hands warmed as she rubbed them against each other. “‘Spectacular doesn’t begin to do it justice.” She wondered if she should address him as ‘Your Majesty’ or something. “Are you the king here?”
Lord Charn gave a small laugh. “There are no kings here, only Dark Lords, and their generals: one Great Lord and a few desiring to become the Great Lord. For that, they would have to destroy me in single combat. Most are content to keep their ambitions well hidden. Some few, however, have believed themselves worthy enough to attempt, those all ended recruited to the Dark Regiment. In the end, we all are subject to the Great Master’s will,” he said, rising to his daunting seven-span height. “Come; let us make haste to the Oracle. I am certain you are anxious to locate your lost sibling.”
Crystalyn wondered what he meant about a “Great Master.” The “Dark Regiment” she could guess already. She rushed to follow him down the stairs. His long stride kept her scrambling to remain a step or two behind. Broth stayed close. She didn’t have to look into his hourglass eyes to see the wariness there; she felt it in the tenseness of his shoulders whenever he brushed against her. Atoi trotted along behind, her gait easy.
Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) Page 39