by L. J. Smith
No, not the fountain, Kaitlyn thought. The crystal in the fountain. When she'd first seen it in a picture, she hadn't known what it was; she'd wondered if it was an ice sculpture or a column.
It wasn't like Mr. Z's crystal. That monstrosity had been covered with obscene growths, smaller crystals that sprouted like parasites from the main body. This crystal was clean and pure, all straight lines and perfect facets.
And it was glowing gently. Pulsing with a soft, milky light that warmed the air around it.
"Energy," Rob said, holding a hand up to feel it. "It's got a bioenergetic field."
Kaitlyn felt a ripple in the web and was turning even as Gabriel said, "Beats a campfire."
"You're here!" Rob said. They all gathered around him happily. Even Lydia was smiling.
At the same moment Mereniang came through the other entrance in the wall with a group of people.
"This is Timon," she said. The man who stepped forward actually looked old. He was tall but frail and white-haired. His lined face was gentle, the skin almost transparent.
Is he the leader? Kaitlyn asked silently.
"I am a poet and historian," Timon said. "But as the oldest member of the colony, I am sometimes forced to make decisions." He gave a gently ironic smile.
Kaitlyn stared at him, her heartbeat quickening. Had he heard that?
"And this is LeShan."
"We've already met," Gabriel said and showed his teeth.
It was the caramel-skinned man from the airport. His hair was a pale shimmery brown, like silver birch.
His eyes were slanting and very dark, and they flashed at Gabriel dangerously.
"I remember," he said. "The last time I saw you, you had a knife at my throat."
"And you were on top of Kaitlyn," Gabriel said, causing some consternation among the rest of the Fellowship.
"I was trying to warn you!" LeShan snapped, moving forward.
Mereniang was frowning. "LeShan," she said. LeShan went on glaring. "LeShan, Aspect!"
LeShan subsided, stepping back.
If Aspect was a nonviolent philosophy, Kait had the feeling that LeShan had a little trouble with it. She remembered that he'd had a temper.
"Now," Timon said. "Sit down if you'd like. We'll try to answer your questions."
Kaitlyn sat on one of the cool stone benches that lined the wall. She had so many questions she didn't know which to ask first. In the silence she could hear the singing of frogs and the gentle trickle of water in the fountain. The air was heady with the scent of roses. The pale, milky light of the crystal gave a gentle radiance to Timon's thin hair and Mereniang's lovely face.
No one else was speaking. Lewis nudged her. Go on.
"Who are you people?" Kait asked finally.
Timon smiled. "The last survivors of an ancient race. The people of the crystal."
"That's what I heard," Lydia said. "I've heard people use that name, but I don't know what it means."
"Our civilization used crystals for generating and focusing energy. Not just any crystals—they had to be perfectly pure and faceted in a certain way. We called them great crystals or firestones. They were used as power stations; we extracted energy from them the way you extract the energy of heat from coal."
"Is that possible?" Rob said.
"For us it was. But we were a nation of psychics; our society was based on psychic power." Timon nodded toward the crystal in the fountain. " That is the last perfect crystal, and we use it to generate the energy to sustain this place. Without it, we would be helpless. You see, the crystals do more than just supply technical power. They sustain us. In the old country they could rejuvenate us; here they merely stop the ravages of time."
Is that why so many of them have young faces and old eyes? Kaitlyn wondered. But Lewis was speaking up.
"There's nothing like that in history books," he said. "Nothing about a country that used crystals for power."
"I'm afraid it was before what you consider history," Timon said. "I promise you, the civilization did exist.
Plato spoke of it, although he was only repeating stories he'd heard. A land where the fairest and noblest race of people lived. Their country was formed of alternating rings of land and water, and their city was surrounded by three walls. They dug up a metal called orichalcum, which was as precious as gold and shone with a red light, and they used it to decorate the inner wall."
Kaitlyn was gasping. For as Timon spoke, she saw what he described. Images were flooding into her mind, as they had when Joyce had pressed a tiny shard of crystal to her third eye. She saw a city with three circular walls, one of brass, one of tin, and one which glowed red-gold. The city itself was barbaric in its splendor—buildings were coated with silver, their pinnacles with gold.
"They had everything," Timon said in his gentle voice. "Plants of every type; herb, root, and leaf. Hot springs and mineral baths. Excellent soil for growing things. Aqueducts, gardens, temples, docks, libraries, places of learning."
Kaitlyn saw it all. Groves of beautiful trees intermingled with the beautiful buildings. And people living among them without racial strife, in harmony.
"But what happened?" she said. "Where did it all go?"
LeShan answered. "They lost respect for the earth. They took and took, without giving anything back."
"They destroyed the environment?" Anna asked.
"It wasn't quite as simple as that," Timon said softly. "In the final days there was a rift between the people who used their powers for good and those who had chosen the service of evil. You see, the crystals could just as easily work evil as good, they could be turned to torture and destruction. A number of people joined the Dark Lodge and began to use them this way."
"And meanwhile the 'good' psychic masters were demanding too much of their own crystals," LeShan put in. "They were greedy. When the energy broadcast from the crystals was tuned too high, it caused an artificial imbalance. It caused earthquakes first, then floods."
"And so the land was destroyed," Timon said sadly. "Most of the people died with it. But a few clairvoyants escaped—they'd been able to predict what was going to happen. Some of them went to Egypt, some to Peru. And some"—he lifted his head and looked at Kait's group—"to Northern America."
Kaitlyn narrowed her eyes. There had been no pictures in her head to accompany Timon's last words.
"This—destruction," she said. "It wouldn't have involved a continent sinking or anything, would it? Like a lost continent?"
Timon just smiled. "Ours is certainly a lost race," he said, then went on without answering the question.
"This little enclave is all that remains of our people. We came here a long time ago, with the hope of living simply, in peace. We don't bother the outside world, and most of the time it doesn't bother us."
Kaitlyn wanted to pursue her question, but Rob was asking another one. "But, you know, Mr.
Zetes—the man we ran away from—he has a crystal, too."
Members of the Fellowship were nodding grimly. "We're the only pure survivors," Mereniang said. "But others escaped and intermarried with the natives of their new lands. Your Mr. Zetes is a descendent of one of those people. He must have inherited that crystal—or possibly unearthed it after it had been hidden for centuries."
"It looks different from yours," Rob said. "It's all covered with things like spikes."
"It's evil," Mereniang said simply, her ageless blue eyes clear and sad.
"Well, it did something to Gabriel," Rob said. In the web Kaitlyn could feel Gabriel tense in anticipation.
Although he was keeping himself under tight control, she could tell he was both hopeful and resentful.
And that he was beginning to suffer as he did every night—he needed energy, soon.
"Mr. Z hooked Gabriel up to it," Rob was going on. "Like you said, for torture. But afterward—well, it had permanent effects."
Mereniang looked at Gabriel, then moved to look at him more closely. She put a hand on his forehead
, over his third eye. Gabriel flinched but didn't step back.
"Now, just let me…" Mereniang's sentence trailed off. Her eyes were focused on something invisible, her whole attitude one of listening. Kaitlyn had seen Rob look like that when he was healing.
"I see." Mereniang's face had become very serious. She took her hand away. "The crystal stepped up your metabolism. You burn your own energy now so quickly that you need an outside supply."
The words were dispassionate, but Kait was certain she could detect something less impartial in those ageless blue eyes. A certain fastidious distaste.
Oh, God, no, Kait thought. If Gabriel senses that…
"There's one thing that might help," Mereniang said. "Put your hands on the crystal."
Gabriel looked at her sharply. Then, slowly, he turned to the crystal in the center of the garden. His face seemed particularly pale in the cool white light as he approached it. After a brief hesitation, he touched one hand to a milky, pulsating facet.
"Both hands," Mereniang said.
Gabriel put his other hand on the crystal. As soon as it touched, his body jerked as if an electrical current had been sent through it. In the web Kaitlyn felt a flare of power.
She was on her feet in alarm. So was Rob, so were the others. But what she felt in the web now was energy flowing, flowing into Gabriel. It was cold, and it elicited none of the wild gratitude and joy she'd felt in Gabriel when he took energy from her—but it was feeding him nevertheless. Sustaining him.
She sat down again. Gabriel took his hands away.
He stood with his head down for a moment, and Kaitlyn could see that he was breathing quickly. Then he turned.
"Am I cured?" he asked, looking straight at Mereniang.
"Oh—no." For the first time the dark woman looked uncomfortable. She couldn't seem to hold Gabriel's eyes. "I'm afraid there is no cure, except possibly the destruction of the crystal that made you this way.
But any crystal which produces energy can help you—"
Rob interrupted, too overwrought to be polite. "Just a minute. You mean destroying Mr. Zetes's crystal will cure him?"
"Possibly."
"Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let's destroy it!"
Mereniang looked helplessly at Timon. All the members of the Fellowship were looking at one another in the same way.
"It isn't that easy," Timon told Rob gently. "To destroy that crystal, we would first have to destroy this crystal. The only way to shatter it would be to unite it with a shard from a crystal that is still pure. Still perfect."
"And this is the last perfect crystal," Mereniang reminded them.
"So—you can't help us," Rob said after a moment.
"Not in that, I'm afraid," Mereniang said quietly. Timon sighed.
Kait was looking at Gabriel. His shoulders had sagged abruptly, as if taking on a heavy weight. His head was slightly bent. In the web all she could feel were the walls he was doggedly building brick by brick.
She could only guess what he must be feeling.
She knew what her other mind-mates were feeling, though—alarm. The Fellowship couldn't cure Gabriel's psychic vampirism. Well, then, what about their other problem?
"There's something else we wanted to ask you about," Lewis said nervously. "See, when we were trying to figure out what Mr. Z was up to—well, it's a long story, but we ended up with this telepathic link. All of us, you know. And we can't get rid of it."
"Telepathy is one of the gifts of the old race," Timon said. His old eyes rested on Kait briefly, and he smiled. "The ability to communicate mind to mind is a wonderful thing."
"But we can't stop," Lewis said. "Gabriel got us linked, and now we can't get unlinked."
Timon looked at Gabriel. So did Mereniang and several of the others, as if to say, "You again?" Kaitlyn had the distinct impression that they thought he was a troublemaker. She sensed a flash of anger from Gabriel, quickly stifled.
"Yes, well, I'm afraid there's not much we can do about that, either," Mereniang said. "We can study it, of course, but a five-way link is a stable pattern. Usually it can only be broken by—"
"The death of one of the members," Kaitlyn and Anna said in chorus. They looked at each other in despair.
"Or distance," Timon said. "If you were to put physical distance between the members—that wouldn't break the link, of course, but you wouldn't feel it as much."
Rob was rumpling his already tousled hair. "But, look, the really important thing is Mr. Zetes. We understand if you can't fix Gabriel or break the link—but you are going to help us against Mr. Z, aren't you?"
There was one of those dreadful pauses which spoke louder than words.
"We are a peaceful race," Timon said at last, almost apologetically.
"But he's afraid of you. He thinks you're the only threat to him." Rob glanced for confirmation at Lydia, who nodded.
"We don't have the power of destruction," Mereniang said. LeShan was grinding one fist into his palm—Kaitlyn sensed that he, at least, wished they did.
Rob was still protesting. "You mean there's nothing you can do to stop him? Do you realize what he's up to?"
"We are not warriors," Timon said. "Only the youngest of us can even leave this place and travel in the outside world. The rest are too feeble—too old." He sighed again and rubbed his lined forehead.
"But can't you do something psychically?" Kaitlyn asked. "Mr. Z's been attacking us long distance."
"It would give away our location," LeShan said grimly, and Timon nodded.
"Your Mr. Zetes does have the power of destruction. If he discovers this place, he will attack us. We are only safe as long as it remains a secret."
Gabriel lifted his head and spoke for the first time in a long while. "You're awfully trusting of us, then."
Timon smiled faintly. "When you first came here, Mereniang looked into your hearts. None of you has come to betray us."
Kaitlyn had been listening with growing frustration. Suddenly she couldn't keep quiet any longer. She found herself standing, words bursting out of her throat.
"You can't help Gabriel and you can't help break the link and you won't help us fight Mr. Zetes—so what did you bring us here for?"
There was age-old sadness in Mereniang's eyes. Endless regret, tempered with the serenity of resignation.
"To give you a refuge," the dark woman said. "We want you to stay here. Forever."
CHAPTER 15
"But what about Gabriel?" Kaitlyn said. It was the first thing she could think of.
"He can stay, too."
"Without going in the house?"
Before Mereniang could answer, Rob spoke. "Look, nobody's deciding to stay right now. This is something we've got to think over—"
"It's the only place you'll be safe," Mereniang said. "We've had a lot of visitors over the years, but we've asked very few to stay with us. We do it when they have no choice—no other safety."
"Are there any here now?" Kait asked, looking at the Fellowship behind Mereniang.
"The last died a long time ago. But he lived longer than he would have in the outside world—and so will you. You are part of our race, and the crystal will help sustain you."
Lewis was twisting his baseball cap. "What do you mean, 'part of your race'?"
Timon spread his hands. "All psychics are descendants of the old race. Somewhere among your ancestors was one of the people of the crystal. The old blood has awakened in you." He looked at each of them earnestly. "My children, you belong here."
Kait didn't know what to say. She'd never felt so confused and disoriented in her life. The Fellowship was nothing that she had expected, and the discovery left her numb, in shock. Meanwhile, the web was a jumble of conflicting emotions that made it impossible for her to tell what any particular one of the others was thinking.
It was Rob who saved them, speaking steadily. "We're proud that you think we're good enough to join you, sir," he said to Timon. He'd regained his natural courtesy. "And w
e'd like to thank you. But this is something we're going to have to talk over a bit. You understand that." It was a statement, but Rob scanned the faces of the Fellowship questioningly.
Mereniang looked vaguely annoyed, but Timon said, "Of course. Of course. You're all tired, and you'll find it easier to think tomorrow. There's no hurry."
Kaitlyn still felt like arguing with somebody—but Timon was right. She was swaying on her feet.
Tomorrow they'd all be fresh, and less emotional.
"We'll talk to them again about Mr. Zetes then," Rob whispered to her under cover of the meeting breaking up.
Kaitlyn nodded and glanced around for Gabriel. He was talking to Lydia, but he stopped when he saw her looking.
"Are you going to be all right?" she asked him.
His eyes were opaque—as if they'd filmed over with gray spiderweb. "Sure," he said. "They've got a little cot for me in the toolshed."
"Oh, Gabriel… Maybe we should all stay there with you. Do you want me to ask Meren—"
" No," Gabriel said vehemently. Then he added more smoothly, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Get your sleep."
Walls, walls, walls. Kaitlyn sighed.
Then, oddly, he said: "Good night, Kait."
Kaitlyn blinked. Had he ever said good night to her before? "I—good night, Gabriel."
Then Mereniang gathered them up and took them into the house, leaving Gabriel with a couple of the men.
It was as they were entering the house that Kaitlyn remembered a question she'd forgotten to ask.
"Meren, do you know about the inuk shuk on Whiffen Spit?"
"Timon knows the most about them."
"Well, I was just wondering why they were there. And if they meant anything."
Timon was smiling reminiscently. "Ancient peoples started the tradition. They came down as traders from the north and left some of their stone language here. They called this a place of good magic, and they built their friendship signs on the spit that points to it."
Timon was still smiling, lost in thought. "That was a very long time ago," he said. "We've watched the world change all around us—but we have remained unchanged."
There was a note of pride in his voice, and a tinge of arrogance in Mereniang's face.