by Diane Rapp
“She altered the composition of the crystal when she destroyed the Transfer equipment. I believe the stone captured and stored her energy.”
Donovan remembered how safe he felt inside those shimmering walls. “Yes. The crystal tried to steal our memories but we broke free.”
“Mendilium crystals focus mental vibrations. Inside the Transfer machinery, the stones help transfer memory into the empty mind of the clone. Normally mendilium acts as a conduit, but these crystals stored your energy.”
“How does this help Krystal?”
“At first I thought my reaction might be psychological, reflecting my regret at losing Transfer.” Alex’s gray eyes drooped. “By observing you just now, I know you’re also influenced by its energy. When the two of you destroyed the Transfer machinery, we were all exposed to radiation.”
“Not radiation! Krystal blasted the machinery apart, using her own energy and some of mine.”
Alex nodded, rubbing his chin. “She altered the atomic structure of the crystal and our exposure to the explosion sensitized us to the energy trapped within the stones.” Alex unconsciously fondled the stone in his pocket. “If Krystal taps into the stored energy, perhaps she could increase her power enough to repel Jarrack.”
Donovan’s head throbbed. “Using it could be dangerous. It’s too risky.”
“Jarrack represents a greater danger—he could steal Krystal from us. He almost killed her once…” The doctor’s voice vibrated with emotion.
“I felt compelled to touch the crystal, like it started absorbing my mind again.”
Alex nodded. “In Krystal’s weakened state, she may not be able to resist the compulsion. The stone might absorb the rest of her mind, and we’re powerless to release her.”
“Yes.” Donovan stared into space. “But we need to try?”
“I believe it’s her only hope.”
The muscle in Donovan’s jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth. He felt like smashing his fist into a wall. “When?”
“She’ll sleep for hours, replenishing her natural reserves. Take my room and get some sleep yourself.” Alex held up his hand as Donovan started to object. “It’s a medical order. I’ll stand watch over Krystal.”
Donovan yielded to Alex’s firm tone, realizing the futility of fighting. He went into the doctor’s room, suddenly very sleepy. Before closing the door, he glanced back. Alex entered Krystal’s chamber, and Donovan heard the heavy click of the lock. He prayed Alex was right.
******
The morning felt warm and balmy. Forshell watched Jarrack enter the tent where desert riders sat guzzling drinks and laughing at ribald jokes. The lanky, dark-haired leader watched with half-lidded eyes as Jarrack sipped a glass of strong liquor. He sensed a dark force within Jarrack, an evil power he meant to use for his own ambitions. He beckoned Peld and whispered, “Watch Jarrack but use caution. He could prove dangerous.”
Peld nodded. “Keeping him near is like sleeping with a viper as a guardian. You might wake to find its fangs deeply buried in your own neck.”
Forshell smirked. “Keep our viper in a pit, walled in until we determine how best to make use of his venom.”
Jarrack raised a glass in Forshell’s direction. Peld said, “Yes, master, I will watch him.”
Forshell would bide his time, learn how to use the man. What was the purpose of that black box? He felt content to let Jarrack take the risk of carrying forbidden technology. While Jarrack drank heavily, Forshell could pump him for information.
Jarrack was obsessed with Donovan’s woman. His spies might learn more about her. She could prove useful in his quest to secure the crown.
*******
The rustle of footsteps woke Krystal. She turned over lazily in the large empty bed but sat up with a start. Someone sat nearby. “Oh, it’s you, Alex.”
“How are you feeling, my dear?” He gently held her wrist, timing her pulse with his watch.
“How should I feel?”
Alex rubbed his chin and pulled the stone from his pocket. “This might help.”
“Mendilium? Why does it glow?” She felt drawn to the stone.
“It’s filled with energy that might help replenish your strength.”
Krystal shook her head. “Mendilium is just a stone with no intrinsic power, just a component of the machines.”
Alexander shielded her view of the crystal. “It absorbed power when you destroyed the Transfer machinery. It might help you fight Jarrack. Listen carefully. The stone invites your mind into its comfort, and you could lose yourself. Don’t go too deeply.”
She held out her hand. With a sigh Alex slipped the crystal into her cold fingers and turned his gaze away. Krystal felt heat radiate from the stone. She traced the edges with her fingertips. “This is a fragment. Were our minds inside this shard?”
“Yes.”
Krystal stared into the shimmering colors and relaxed. Mesmerized by the explosion of color, she matched her heartbeat to the pulse of lights. Sinking into the warmth of the stone, she felt safe, her worries and pain vanquished as she entered the same crystal room she shared with Donovan. Filled with rubble, the walls looked broken and burnt but memories flickered past. She enjoyed watching the scenes, experienced the memories in a wonderful kaleidoscope of pleasure. Krystal sank into the crystal, sensing the doctor’s agitation outside. Why go back? Outside it is too dangerous.
Krystal felt Alex touch her hand. Warmth radiated energy from the stone and energy swirled around her, vibrating with healthy color. She heard Donovan enter the room and heard him say, “You should have waited for me!”
Alex said, “Quick. Tell her to come back!”
Donovan grabbed the stone, his mind merging with Krystal. His face appeared inside one of the crystal facets, and she heard his mental voice, Come back, Krystal.
No! She felt rebellious, like a child called home from playing too long in the park. I want to stay here.
I need you! Donovan pleaded. His eyes filled with tears. Don’t leave me alone!
She couldn’t bear his loneliness. Without Donovan, the crystal room contained nothing but pictures. Donovan was her life.
“Okay, I’m coming,” she said aloud. Her eyelids fluttered as she withdrew from the chamber. Stretching, she felt pleasantly aware of her muscles. She felt rested, like she’d slept for hours and energy pulsed through her body. She smiled. “It was blissful, so wonderful I didn’t want to leave. Thank you for calling me back.”
Donovan wrapped her in his arms. “Don’t scare me like that! You left me behind.”
She kissed him softly. “Darling, I’ll never leave you.” She turned to Alex and said, “You were right. The stone compelled me to stay but filled me with energy.”
Alex looked pale as he monitored her with trembling fingers. “Your energy flows are remarkably vibrant, but I was afraid the stone captured your mind.”
“I feel fine. There’s nothing to fear from the stone now I understand how it works. I can leave anytime. After all, I shattered the walls so its rubble can’t hold me. The stone’s energy will help me fight Jarrack. Thanks! It’s a wonderful gift.” She felt his distress at giving up the stone but knew the stone was hers.
He said, “You rest. Donovan won’t need your help today. Doctor’s orders!”
Donovan added, “I’ll see you tonight. Bryant and Trenton plan to ride out with me to examine the course for tomorrow’s horse race. Get some rest!”
Krystal nodded. “Go along. I’m ready for a big breakfast and a day of leisure.”
Maggie prepared a delightful breakfast, laced with herbs to promote sleep. Krystal ate heartily, yawned, and snuggled under the covers. This time she slept soundly.
*******
Trenton met Donovan in the main hall. “We’ll meet Bryant in the stables. Is Krystal all right?”
Donovan bit into a breakfast bun and sipped his coffee. It tasted bitter, which suited his mood. “Alex thinks she’s fine.”
“But you’re not
so sure.”
“No.”
Trenton’s eyebrows arched. “Is there anything you can do?”
Donovan frowned. “No.”
“Then trust the doctor and get to work. If you mope around, you’ll lose the race tomorrow. Bryant says he’s leaving nothing to chance this time. He’s determined to let you know everything about the horse race, so you’ll be prepared.” Trenton lifted a pair of fine leather boots. “You’ll need to break your boots in. Try them on.” Trenton grinned, tossing the boots to Donovan.
The fine leather felt stiff but the soft down lining slid comfortably over his large feet. He stood, testing the fit. “They’re nice, let’s go.”
Trenton matched Donovan’s long strides, although he was considerably shorter. They covered the distance to the stable and found Bryant sitting on the rail waiting for a red-haired groom to saddle Tempest. He said, “Do the boots fit?”
“They’re perfect.” Donovan saw Tempest nuzzle the groom’s pocket insistently. “Is Tempest looking for something?”
The groom laughed and produced a long white tuber from his pocket. Tempest gently extracted the treat from the boy’s fingers, crunching happily, his long tail swishing.
“Andrew, come here lad.” Bryant gestured. “Tell Donovan how you turn the devil-horse into such a docile creature.”
“He loves crunchers, sire.” Andrew pulled another white tuber from his pocket and handed it to Donovan. “Give him crunchers and he’ll love you forever.”
Donovan took a small bite of the sweet-tasting tuber with a loud crunch. Tempest arched his neck forward, blowing warm breath on the hand holding the treat. Donovan allowed the horse to take the remaining bite and stroked the velvety muzzle. Tempest gazed at him with soft brown eyes, framed by long black lashes.
“Why’d they name him Tempest?” Donovan felt tenderness for the giant black creature.
Andrew said, “His official name is Havenshire’s Dark Tempest, born during the worst mountain thunderstorm in anyone’s memory. Some say Tempest brought the storm and the curse on the Havenshire family…but it wasn’t his fault, honest!” The boy’s eyes brimmed with tears.
Placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, Donovan said, “No one will credit those stories once we’re finished.” Donovan ran confident hands down Tempest’s muscled shoulder to the slender bone of the horse’s ankle. “He’s powerful but can he race?”
“He’s fast and can jump better than any of those fancy-looking nags the Lords race. Tempest has endurance and heart. He’ll give you the best race ever seen,” Andrew said, his freckled face beaming with pride. Donovan longed for a son like him.
“How did you become such an expert in horseflesh?”
“A breeder fostered me, sire. I helped birth Tempest and came with him to Havenshire as his groom.” His face clouded. “The prince chose Tempest as his own mount.”
Bryant said, “The prince spent summers at the ranch. He and Andrew became very close friends.”
Tempest snorted, blowing breath that smelled of sweet oats into Donovan’s face. He laughed, patted Tempest’s neck, and mounted in one smooth motion. “Thanks for your good work, Andrew. I’d bet Tempest likes to stretch his legs.”
Andrew beamed. “He loves to run. I’ll muck out his stall while you’re out.”
The three companions rode leisurely away from the castle. Bryant said, “This race is much like steeple-chases on Earth, except our race tests more than speed and endurance. By using his wits, a cunning rider can beat faster horses.”
“Why include a horse race in the Tournament?” Donovan’s body swayed to the easy rhythm of Tempest’s gait. “How does racing demonstrate the fitness of a king?”
Bryant’s eyebrows arched with displeasure. “A good warrior must jump formidable obstacles dressed in full armor. He must control a massive horse and wield a sword but have the brains to lead his men. It’s not a simple task.” Bryant patted his horse affectionately. “Horsemanship is a special skill respected on a world that bans battle machines.”
“This world suits me, Bryant. I’ve experienced technological warfare and didn’t like it. I’d rather settle here on a small farm in peace. Let’s give Tempest a workout.”
Bryant spurred his steed and bolted ahead. Tempest followed with enthusiasm. Holding his head high, nostrils flared to test the wind and his pricked ears alert to every sound, Tempest galloped. Donovan enjoyed Tempest’s vigor as wind whipped the black mane. He leaned forward, instinctively keeping his weight over the steed’s center of gravity. Tempest’s muscles bunched and rippled. His tail flicked happily. He stretched his long neck to allow his forelegs full extension in the gallop.
Bryant headed for a fence and Donovan tightened his legs against Tempest in preparation for the jump. He saw the drop through the wood slats of the jump and felt Tempest shift balance as they sailed through the air. Leaning back to compensate for Tempest’s heavy landing, he immediately leaned forward again as Tempest sprang back into a gallop. The pounding hoof beats vibrated up his spine as man and horse melded into one.
Bryant maintained a lead for only a moment before Donovan and Tempest sped past, soaring over the jumps. Tempest lowered his head as he flung his forelegs out and kicked his hind legs high to avoid touching the fences.
What a wonderful jumper! Donovan thought, urging the horse to run full out, giving him free rein as he leaned into the wind. They flew over the fields and nothing else existed in the world. When Donovan finally noticed he’d abandoned Trenton and Bryant, he pulled back on the reins. Tempest eased his stride, his hot breath coming out in gusts of steam in the cool morning air, and angled toward the inviting shade of a large rock.
“All right, boy. We’ll wait for them and cool ourselves,” Donovan said.
Approaching the boulder, Tempest jerked his head up in alarm. He pawed the turf and snorted. “What’s wrong?” Donovan trusted an animal’s instinct for danger. His eyes roamed the rocks with his hand poised over the hilt of his sword. A black shape moved out from behind the boulder. Donovan dismounted and held Tempest steady.
It was not a wolf of earthly variety, but Donovan’s mind labeled the creature a “wolf” in honor of the animal it most resembled. The lean well-muscled canine body looked similar to its cousin. The head looked long and narrow with alert golden eyes and pricked ears that shifted with each new sound. The eyes displayed an intelligent depth of expression.
He noticed a marked difference between this wolf and its earthly cousin. The creature stood on its hind legs, easily the height of a healthy grizzly bear. Although it was more slender than a bear, its muscled limbs looked formidable. With almost scientific detachment, Donovan noticed elongated front paws as the wolf extracted a deadly blade from a sheath strapped to its rib cage, a challenge on any world.
Donovan met the wolf’s steady gaze, his thoughts racing. An intelligent species, this wolf looked ready to fight. What rotten luck! I wish I could communicate. How can I avoid bloodshed?
“Greetings friend,” he said in a nervous croak.
The sound caused the animal to shift its stance. Donovan thought he saw curiosity in the alert eyes. If any creature on this world had the right to be called king, this regal animal was the one.
We accept acknowledgment of our superiority and spare your life. The message formed inside Donovan’s head, not in words, but mental impressions that he translated into words.
The wolf sheathed his blade and “spoke” again. We are Kriegen, leader of the Forest Guardians. The wolf lowered his body to all fours. Donovan sat—a fortunate choice as he later learned—since a standing position offered challenge. To avoid battle a weaker creature observed a subservient posture.
Kriegen sniffed the air. His ears shifted in different directions, searching for dangerous sounds. Stay back young ones. We face no danger. He turned his attention back to Donovan. Give us your name.
Donovan, he thought, hoping Kriegen could hear. I am a captain of my people but I compete for the ti
tle of king.
Kriegen’s ruff raised and his eyes flashed in anger. How dare you call yourselves people?
I meant no offense. I did not mean to presume we are of your people. Donovan mentally pictured the wolves. The word we use for our kind is humans. He pictured a crowd of men, aware that sentient creatures usually referred to their kind as people. It is difficult to form words inside my mind. Do you understand verbal speech?
The wolf gave a small yelp and a chilling growl. Verbal sounds are reserved for special signals and play with cubs. We once believed humans intelligent but none responded to communication. It is proper their leader has finally come to speak. Are there many other humans who can speak? Kriegen’s ears tilted forward, waiting.
Humans speak to each other verbally, Donovan replied. Mind-speech is not common among us.
Kriegen cocked his head as if considering. Another human projects thoughts. They are filled with evil and hatred. You seem intelligent. The Council of Elders gave us the task to discover whether you are to be trusted. Humans try to kill us, so the pack does not like to come near. Kriegen rose and turned to leave, his bushy tail twitching. We will observe and decide.
I would enjoy learning of your pack, Kriegen. They have nothing to fear from me, Donovan said. Tempest whinnied disapproval.
As Donovan watched the wolf disappear, it suddenly hit him. He’d made first contact with a sentient species! He heard Bryant and Trenton approach, he felt exhilarated, anxious to explain about the wolf. “Trenton, I met a wolf, a telepathic creature who spoke inside my mind.”
Trenton dismounted and examined the ground without surprise. “A big one, too. You were lucky. There must’ve been a dozen of them here. They could’ve killed you easily.”
“He heard my thoughts. They might become allies if we treat them right.”
Bryant’s brows knit with concern. “Never thought of a wolf as an ally. They’re mighty dangerous, so we always steer clear of their hunting grounds.”