Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1)

by YatesNZ, Jen

  ‘Know it is YOU in my mind!’

  Standing stiffly beside Meryan, she fought desperately to close the communication. But she was only a hexad priestess, no match for the power of an ennead. Her body had reached a treacherous state of arousal and with panic fluttering wildly in her breast she was incapable of even remembering how to block an unwanted communicator.

  The priestly attendants raised Phryne above their heads while the High Priest made the Joining Invocation, then lowering her until she stood over the altar, they secured her there with the silken grounding cords at wrists and ankles. Gynevra's legs trembled. Fine sweat broke out all over her body. If he connected with her while joining with Phryne, she couldn't think what she'd do. The only way she knew to protect herself was to keep her eyes closed. But Phryne's cry of pain thwarted that intention. Asar was buried deep in the Goddess, his face constricted as if the pain she'd suffered at his penetration was the same he endured in holding himself still. He began to move with long slow thrusts until the huoda magic stirred her. Only then did he quicken the rhythm, now punctuated by small moans and urgent cries from Phryne.

  Clenching her fists at her sides, Gynevra closed her eyes again and fought down an awful yearning to violence.

  ‘That's it, my Golden One. Close your eyes and imagine this is you beneath me. Feel my rigid flesh piercing deep into your belly, right to the mouth of your womb. Feel our bodies throbbing together, our hearts beating as one. Look at me, Princess Gynevra.’

  Hypnotic thought patterns filling her mind, Gynevra opened dreamy eyes to gaze straight into orbs glowing with a mysterious smoke-green luster. All awareness of right or wrong or sacred duty, fled. She was pure sensation.

  ‘Come with me. I promise you a ride like no other. You feel this incredible power too. Come with me on a journey to the stars! Come ride—with me!’

  The words alone were enough to set her spirit free. She rose out of her body, light and ethereal as dawn mist. As if she'd called him to her, a great white bull took her up on his back. Instinctively she clung to the smoky crystalline form of the warrior riding before her, knowing this journey, begun in eons past, would continue to eternity. Beyond the clouds, beyond the moon, the sun, planets and stars, up through the cosmos they ascended until they drifted among the stars of the heavenly highway, which from Earth appeared as a river of spilt milk.

  Alighting on a star shining brighter than all the rest, they stood in a field of softly glowing light. Forms luminous as light-limned crystal, eyes glowing like back-lit gems, they reached towards each other. As their fingers touched a voice reverberated all about them.

  ‘Love is the key to the mystery that is Life. Love is the key that unlocks your destiny—’

  ‘Gyn'a! Gyn'a! Are you all right?’

  Meryan's urgent whisper dragged Gynevra back into her body. Mind desperately grasping at the ragged edges of the most peculiar mind-travelling she'd ever experienced, she turned a wide, frantic gaze on her sister.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You looked—strange! Are you all right?’

  Shuffling her feet to regain a sense of connection with the Earth, she inhaled deeply and nodded. She'd incur Ianthe's deepest censure if she were to sabotage the energy by fainting and distracting everyone. Sweat broke out on her forehead and for an awful moment she feared she'd be sick. Slowly wiping a hand across her face, she tried to recall what had happened.

  It had seemed like astral travelling. But where had she been? Despite training and practice in accurate recall and recording of such journeys, she retained only the impression of soaring through the sky, and three words which resonated through every fiber of her being.

  ‘—unlocks your destiny—’

  The people were chanting. Energy vibrated the air and the Rafid’s voice rang out in the God-chant of consummation. Her own throat was dry, her body strangely light and—released. A vital ecstasy flowed through every nerve and fiber and with it the urge to raise her voice also in the God-chant. She must regain control of herself or she would yet commit something unforgivable.

  ‘Gyn'a? Do you have a cloth?’

  Phryne! The Goddess initiated by her God. Gynevra was appalled at the dark emotion that once again surged through her, banishing the dazzling light. Jaw locked in silence, she helped Meryan clean the virgin blood from Phryne's thighs. She felt Taur trying to enter her mind. Phryne too. But at last she’d found an armor of dark fury which kept them both at bay through the next two hours—and three more couplings for each of which she had to anoint his rigid flesh.

  The virile, horny arabo! It would be, already was, the longest night of her life. It was hard now, to recall the happiness with which she and her sisters had anticipated their involvement in the ritual. Naive children. As novitiate priestesses they'd been taught how to pleasure a man and how he might pleasure them. But they'd not been taught anything of how one man might excite merely with a glance while another moved one not at all. They'd been taught much of mechanics and nothing of chemistry.

  Gone was any anticipation for the sounding of the longhorn at midnight, signaling the moment all fires in the city were to be extinguished. How could she feel a proper sense of awe when the Magus performed the magic ritual of calling down the new season's fire into faggots set in the sacred brazier when she felt like nothing so much as a log of wood herself?

  Charred, burned out. Cold.

  ‘Gynevra.’ Priestess Allida touched her shoulder. ‘You're needed in the Healing Temple. Prince Gotham fades and none have the power to recall him. Your presence is requested there urgently. Linger not. I'm to take your place here. Two Trephysian warriors wait at the pillars to take you back down. Stay with them. It's not safe to go alone.’

  She was released! The Gods smiled on her agony. She leapt from the central dais into the darkness beyond.

  ‘Where do you go?’

  With stunning clarity Taur’s voice was in her mind, bringing her to a halt. The knowledge of another's need had cleansed her of anger, leaving only light in preparation for drawing in the universal healing energy. The Warrior had walked into her mind with the ease of one stepping through an open doorway.

  ‘Prince Gotham is dying. They've sent for me.’

  ‘Cursed Cronos! That shouldn't have happened! He seemed to stumble onto my sword. He must not die, Golden One. I charge you with his life.’

  ‘You charge me! It was by your sword he fell.’

  ‘Go, Princess! Why do you tarry to argue now when you wouldn’t open to me before? Go before it’s too late.’

  Beating down the urge to turn and batter him to a bloody pulp with her bare fists, Gynevra ran from the sacred circle, and with a Trephysian warrior at either side, raced headlong down the hillside to Qrazil. At the Temple gates the warriors left her, their plea to heal their Prince going with her, a burden on her heart.

  Through the stone halls lit by the muted glow of crystal lamps she raced, along silent stone corridors, by-passing the inner sanctum, through a side arch and into the Temple Gardens. Concealed light crystals offered soft illumination and night-scented flowers perfumed the air but tonight Gynevra was deaf and blind to the magic.

  Her mind raced her feet as she sped toward the Sacred Pool. She would talk to the Archinus about what had occurred between her and Taur. The encounter had been spiritual and yet the sated aftermath of it had seemed acutely physical. Was such a thing possible? It was as if she'd been the Goddess on the altar instead of Phryne, as if... Gynevra stumbled, almost coming to her knees on the cinder path, the dying Prince for a moment forgotten.

  She'd stolen her sister's Goddess energy.

  She'd not speak to Ianthe or anyone else about what had occurred this night! For such a sin she'd be banished from the Temple in disgrace. Stunned into immobility, she clutched at a branch of overhanging frango palm and stared blankly into the darkness beyond it. Was it this very day she'd wished to be an ordinary citizen, free of the governance of the Temple? Hadn't they always been taught to be car
eful what they wished for? Ibn Ist! Forgive me if my foolish thoughts manifested this awful miscarriage of sacred power! How can I atone for this transgression of the Holy Law? As if whispered on the breeze, the answer was instantly in her mind. Heal the Prince.

  Prince Gotham! Her discretions were as nothing when a man lay near death. Tugging off her gown, she rushed into the Sacred Pool, rapidly performed the ritual cleansing and began chanting the ancient healing invocations to clear her mind of all save the Prince's well-being.

  Four priestesses stood about the man on the table in the center of the Great Healing Hall when she hurried in. Bathed in soft crystal light, he lay still and colorless as a corpse beneath the domed gem roof in which the ancient healing symbols were outlined in clear quartz. By day the brilliance was almost dazzling, the healing power excessive. At night the effect was softly muted, powered only by crystals in the gardens outside. The energy was still intense but Gynevra knew it wouldn't be enough to save the gravely injured man. A mere wisp of vitality held Gotham of Trephysia to the earth plane.

  The women breathed a collective sigh of relief at sight of Gynevra. It was rare for one of her youth to achieve the six-knotted belt of the hexad priestess. Though only seventeen it seemed she'd been born with the healing power and wisdom of one thrice that age. It was as much for this as her standing as daughter of the Archinus and the paramount King that they bowed in deference while making room for her at the table.

  As she stepped into place there was no lingering awareness of herself as Gynevra, the young woman whose body could betray her with its DragonBlood needs.

  ‘What has been done so far?’

  ‘We’ve stanched the bleeding and sealed the wound. It wasn't easy. It was very deep.’

  ‘Let me see.’

  The cloth removed, the Golden Stallion lay before her, a magnificent, recumbent sculpture. He was every bit as visually perfect as the King of Nyalda, yet Gynevra found while she appreciated his beauty she was only vaguely moved by it. There was none of the enervating fever and desire that had attacked her at sight of Cadal Isidor’s dark perfection.

  There was no time to wonder. She merely gave thanks for the fact then let her gaze focus on the raw red line slashing from the lower left side of his belly straight down through the glistening golden curls of his pubic hair. He'd come close to having his leg severed at the hip. The awful wound had also come very close to his formidable male organ but fortunately it didn't appear to be damaged at all. It seemed only fair to be certain. He'd not thank her for calling him back to the shame of this life could he no longer function as a man.

  ‘There’s no damage to the—kondemon?’

  ‘No, Lady. We don't think so.’

  They'd cauterized and sealed the outer sheath of flesh and skin. Likely the wound still bled in the deep inner tissues. There was no telling what injury he may yet sustain. Not only his life but his future as a king, a man, and sire of Children of the Dragon, lay in her hands.

  ‘Cover him please. We must move him into Uranil.’

  ‘I doubt he'll sustain being shifted,’ worried Delida, the most senior of the priestesses.

  ‘He won't survive else,’ Gynevra stated categorically. ‘Uranil's his only chance—and we must move quickly. I want the copper table set up in there.’

  Chapter 8

  Dawn was lightening the emerald and crystal ceiling of Uranil when Gynevra and Delida returned from the sacred pool where they'd completed the post-healing cleansing ritual. Focused once again in her physical body, Gynevra crossed to the Prince. He was resting comfortably and she shared a moment of quiet gratification with Delida.

  It was difficult to believe she'd spent almost six hours locked into the healing energy. The awful wound was mended but it was doubtful whether Gotham of Trephysia would regain the agility required of a warrior. Could he ever fight for and win the right to perform as Rafid again? If he couldn't, would he thank her for saving his life?

  Would Phryne?

  Thinking of her sister, rekindled the emotions of jealousy and guilt from the night before. Gynevra bit down on her lip and stepped away from the bed. As a healer she must sublimate all negativity while in the Healing Temple. Knowing she was going to have a struggle with this, she turned to leave. Before she'd taken a step toward the doorway, the Archinus entered as she had several times during the night.

  Moving to her daughter's side, she murmured, ‘How does he fare now? King Orestes and Queen Althaea are anxious for their son. As is King Ahron. May I send word he's out of danger?’

  Forcing thoughts of self aside, Gynevra studied the drawn cheeks and the steady rise and fall of the broad chest.

  ‘Ta’a,’ she murmured.

  A soft sigh of relief escaped Ianthe.

  ‘The Wise One, our ancestress Electra, would be very proud of you, my daughter.’

  Words of praise were rare from the Archinus, therefore to be treasured. Heart beating a little faster, Gynevra bowed her head in acknowledgement.

  Ianthe laid her hand on Gotham's golden head and closed her eyes. With a bitter yearning she fought to suppress, Gynevra thought her movuon had never seemed more awe-inspiring—nor more remote. In scarlet silk, nine knotted ennead belt, and wearing a cloak of midnight blue and the star amethyst head-dress and breast-plate of seven strands of beaten silver set with gems in the seven sacred colors, she epitomized the power, mysticism, love and beauty of the Goddess she served.

  The Prince had sired a child on Ianthe in a Sacred Joining ritual nine years before. Alienor, an angel child with her sire's golden beauty, entranced all who came in contact with her. Such intimacy between two people created a connection that never completely faded and when that intimacy took place within the context of the Sacred Ritual of the Gods, the connection was at the deepest soul level.

  With this intensely spiritual connection was Phryne now bound to Taur, and he to her; even more so if she had conceived a child. As if it had severed a vital artery, the thought threatened the strength in her legs.

  ‘Continue dosing him with the blood replacement elixir at each hour,’ she said to the priestess on watch, then added jerkily, ‘Excuse me, I'm—very tired.’

  A cauldron of resentment seethed deep within her, threatening to bubble over in an unseemly display of emotion within the hallowed halls of the Healing Temple. Sketching a brief acknowledgement to the dignity of the Archinus, she hurried out into the courtyard and fled through the stone archways to the terraced gardens strung like jewels on the silver thread of a stream meandering through the rocky dells of the Temple Zodia.

  As was her habit when needing guidance, she turned to Ist's Grotto beneath the Great Central Causeway. A soak in the steaming mineral waters might strip this savagery from her soul. Running down mossy steps she paused to press her forehead against the cool feet of the chalcedony form of the Goddess guarding the entrance. Then dropping gown, belt and emerald adornments she stepped down into the pool hidden beneath a cavernous ferny overhang.

  If only she could shed guilt and jealousy as easily!

  Instinctively seeking the shadows at the far side of the pool, she sank onto the stone ledge beneath the water, leant her head back against the rocky rim, closed her eyes and began deep rhythmic breathing in an effort to gain the meditative state. In connecting to the powerful Goddess energy she could seek forgiveness for her transgression during the ritual. And if she could release this mess of ugly emotion to the Goddess she'd not have to continually confront in her mind's eye the rippling of bronze muscle by firelight as Taur joined with Phryne and moved within her.

  Filled her with his hard, thrusting flesh, planted his seed in her womb. Joined with her, God-soul to Goddess-soul. Made a child with her that would have his dark green eyes and her beautiful, golden hair. A child that would wear the black obsidian mating token to denote the origin of its siring.

  This wasn't working!

  The pictures filled her mind, each one more vivid, more focused than the one before. The bit
ter taste of jealousy completely over-rode any sense of guilt.

  With a hiss of pent frustration she smote a fist into the water then slumped back. Maybe if she surrendered to the power of the emotions, let the memories of the night flow through her mind, they'd evaporate with the steam—then could she also exonerate the guilt lying heavy as a rock at the base of her gut. As she began to relax, the need to know what had happened between her and Taur became overwhelming.

  She'd gone out of body. But how, when she'd not even been meditating? Had the Goddess been protecting her from the reality of what was transpiring on the altar? It wasn't like any astral travelling she'd ever done. She always knew where she'd been, what she'd seen and experienced when her spirit returned to her body. This time, all she'd had was a sense of great ecstasy and the frustrating memory of three words she didn't understand.

  ‘—unlocks your destiny—’

  And the awareness she'd committed an inexcusable sin.

  A splash, a ripple in the water snapped her eyes open. Her heart thudded against her ribs and all breath fled her lungs. A single shaft of sunlight slanted across the pool from the entrance and in its sparkling brilliance stood King Cadal Isidor of Nyalda, his naked torso glistening as if carved from smoky crystal.

  In that instant she'd have been hard pressed to explain the meaning of guilt or jealousy, much less remember that she felt them. Her inner world split open and the tiny droplets of steam sparkling in the air against the dark walls of the grotto took on the substance of stars in a night-dark sky. She closed her eyes again. It was all very well to dream of how it would be to take such a man as a lover but to have those dreams take on the substance of reality was something else entirely. Gynevra drew in a deep breath, then let out a hiss of something close to panic when his voice came from close by. ‘Thank you, Golden One, for Prince Go's life. It would've been a senseless way for him to die.’

  ‘What—what are you doing here?’