by YatesNZ, Jen
‘I never did become Queen there and Trephysia is no more.’ She stopped to drag in a deep breath, then twisting the table cloth in both hands, said, ‘I ask each of you to pause for a moment in memory of the thousands of people who died there, many of them, I'm sure, known to you.’
Every head lowered and when she began speaking again her voice was husky and there were many who surreptitiously wiped tears from their cheeks.
‘I'd returned to Qrazil before the disaster, believing my Life Path was in the Temple there. But fate, in the shape of your bull-headed King, decreed otherwise.’
Laughter rippled round the tables. Gynevra waited for the silence to settle over the room again and for every pair of eyes to be fastened expectantly upon her.
‘Thus, it would seem, I am powerless in the hands of fate.—Not so, people of Nyalda!’ she shouted into a silence suddenly crystalline. ‘As I've just explained to your King, I consider I've been jerked around enough by Kings, Princes and Sons of the Dragon. Concerning the serving as the Goddess on the altar, if I'm asked I'll consider the matter. I ask you—and the King,’ she added with a pointed glance sideways at him, ‘to bear in mind always, the choice is mine!’
Once again she let her open gaze roam over the gathering, challenging any who met it. One by one, heads dropped.
‘Now you know a little more about me. I look forward to knowing more about you also.’
The City Governor, Lord Feron, rose from the end of the royal table to make an eloquent speech of apology and welcome, following which Taur held up his hand for silence.
‘People of Nyalda, I give you Queen Gynevra. As I have, you will find her honest and strong in the face of challenge, beautiful and intelligent. She will, I believe, breed healthy Princes and Princesses for Nyalda. But beyond all this, Queen Gynevra is the bravest woman I know. Were it not so, all who sailed on the last voyage of the ‘Nyalda’, myself included, would be dead on the bottom of the ocean. The energy bolt she created for this miracle nearly stole her own life and she’s been two tonni recovering in Hecanil. Tonight, Queen Gynevra,’ he said, turning towards her and taking her hands, ‘we honor you. The ‘Nyalda’ shall be renamed the ‘Gynevra’ and every House of Children in Nyalda shall be endowed for the establishment of their own healing clinics.’
Applause and cheering rang out but Gynevra scarcely heard it. Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed up at Taur.
I need no thanks. I did what I did because I love you.
Nevertheless, Golden One, I thank you.
What made you think of healing clinics? Nothing could please me better.
The briefest of grins tilted the corners of his mouth.
At first I thought to gift you wealth but I was afraid you would use it to bribe your way out of Nyalda. Therefore I thought to please you in another way.
You have done so.
Ta’a. T’is good. But you must know, while I’ve not gifted you money, you only have to ask of me that which you wish and it will be granted. Anything—but leaving me.
Even your throne?
She couldn’t resist teasing him. His brows drew together in a menacing scowl then lifted in silent laughter.
Leaning towards her, he growled, ‘Keep twisting the Bull’s tail like that and you’ll not be off your back long enough to sit on any cloabad throne.’
Turning to the people, he cried, ‘Let the feast begin!’
Servants started filing round the tables with huge copper platters laden with charcoal roasted meats, vegetables, and fish, and glazed pottery jugs of frothing ale.
Gynevra was grateful for the busy-ness of the following days for if there was time for stillness or reflection, her heart raced with a triple-edged terror. What if Ianthe were to die in her absence? Equally terrifying was to consider living without Taur. He became more necessary to her happiness with every hour that passed. But far greater than either of these was the fear he would somehow discover she was the informant who'd caused Ahron to destroy Trephysia—and their son; the fear that he would cease to desire her presence at his side.
One of the hardest times was sitting still while Difleer dressed her hair each morning. The housekeeper understood her mistress's need but by the fourth morning when Gynevra demanded she talk to her, Difleer's well of anecdotes and reminiscences had run dry.
‘Lady,’ she said exasperatedly, ‘I've told you of growing up in the village, how I came to Temple Ceabryn and every naughty tale of famous people I know. My store is empty. Tell me about your life. The life of a Princess in the Temple would be very different to how I found it. You've talked a little of your sisters. I bet you three got into some mischief!’
‘Oh, Diffie, thinking of Mery and Phree makes me sad. We had such dreams for our futures. Now Mery—is dead—’ Gynevra stopped to drag in a couple of deep breaths before continuing, ‘—and Phree might as well be—to me. Mery at least was happy in her life. I don't think Phree will ever be happy. As for me, Diffie, I'm not sure I can pay the price of happiness—yet I don't have a choice. And, as long as I'm here, I'm happy in ways I could never have dreamed of—’
Gynevra broke off as a sudden memory struck her. She twisted round in the chair to gaze wide-eyed at Difleer who, even with a couple of ivory hair spikes in her mouth, was amazingly coherent in telling her mistress to sit still.
Ignoring her lurid remonstration, Gynevra said, ‘I've just remembered something, Diffie. Hush and listen. Phree and Mery and I talked of it almost the last time we were together! How could I have forgotten? Phree accused me of being obsessed with it. And I was! Where do you s’pose it’s kept?’
Difleer waggled the ivory spikes between her lips in a comical mime of exasperation. Then dropping the coil of hair she'd been balancing on top of Gynevra's head, she grabbed the spikes out of her mouth and said, ‘Seein' as how I don't even know what you're talkin' about—’ She stopped with her head on one side and made her eyes go wide and fluttered her lashes exaggeratedly until Gynevra dissolved into laughter. ‘—And now, Lady, would you plee-ease sit still so I can put your hair up. These boorish Nyaldans will never stop talkin' about how you came among them with your gown ripped from neck to hem and your hair all hangin' down like some delilah from the Swamp! But, by the Goddess, they'll not say you haven't appeared as the most royal of Queens since!’
‘Merwin's Crystal! Diffie, if I could find Merwin's Crystal, I could apportate back to Qrazil!’
Difleer’s eyes darkened and a little of the warm color left her cheeks. At last she said tartly, ‘Then it's as well for both of us that I don't know anything about it, ain't it?’
For a time Gynevra stared at the shuttered face of her housekeeper in the mirror. Then with a sigh she sat very still until Difleer completed the arrangement of her hair and stepped back to observe her handiwork.
‘What do you think?’
Her voice lacked its usual bounce.
‘I think,’ Gynevra began slowly, ‘that if I could have one wish, it would be to be an ordinary human being whose actions affected no one but myself. If I go I make both Taur and myself very unhappy—and you. If I stay and Ianthe dies, so the prophecy says, Atlantis will disappear. That means we all die—which doesn't seem so far-fetched when you think of Fyr Doryr and Fyr Trephyr. You understand my problem, Diffie? I don't want to go, but if I can find a way—I must.’
Her voice had dropped to a mere whisper and her eyes staring at Difleer in the silver mirror were dark with pain.
‘Aah Lady!’ Difleer said, dropping to her haunches beside Gynevra. ‘Don't tease yourself with that old tale! While King Cadal makes it impossible for you to leave there ain't anything you can do anyway. Just be happy.’
Gynevra smiled mistily at her housekeeper, and said, ‘Thanks, Diffie. I'm so lucky to have you with me.’
If only she could just follow Diffie's simplistic advice! But Gynevra knew she'd ask Taur about the Crystal at the first opportunity. If she could find a way to leave, then she must also find the strength. And
that she'd rouse by imagining the rage and contempt she'd see in Taur's eyes when he discovered how she'd fueled Ahron's egomania.
Pog arrived with a message from the King inviting her to ride with him to one of the villages where the famed Nyaldan woolen cloth was woven. In the excitement of changing into the new leather riding trousers and the long-skirted woolen overcoat the seamstresses had delivered the previous day, thoughts of magical crystals and apportating anywhere were pushed to the back of her mind. When Taur took her to the royal stables near the foot of Castle Crags and presented her with a golden palomino mare, they were totally forgotten.
‘A Golden One for my Golden One,’ he said, handing her the reins of the emerald studded bridle. With pride he added, ‘She was bred here in Nyalda—a ride fit for a Queen.’
Gynevra ran a gentling hand down the quivering nose and the animal snorted softly in response. Turning to Taur, delight such as she'd not known since childhood, dancing within her, she said, ‘She's just like Auriga, the mare I had at Qrazil before I went to Trephysia! What is her name? May I call her Auriga? Oh Taur, she's beautiful!’
A wide smile softened the harsh planes of his warrior visage and Gynevra stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him. The smile became a wide grin and he said, ‘Now, enough of that woman, or we won't get to riding anywhere! And we'll be the talk of the barracks as well as the Court.’
It was a magical balmy day as sometimes came in late autumn, precious and to be used wisely for there would be none such during the long, harsh winter that was almost upon them, Taur told her. All Nyaldans thought thus it seemed, for the roads were busy with many out in a variety of conveyances enjoying the last warmth of the season and a holiday atmosphere prevailed. The royal party was hailed and cheered in passing and Gynevra could detect none of the menacing undertone, which had colored the voices of the crowds in Trephysia. There was a happy friendly atmosphere and she made no secret of her enjoyment of the opportunity to be out riding and to see more of the country.
Late that afternoon, after they'd bathed and dressed with much distraction, Taur came and stood behind her as she straightened the emerald and diamond circlet he'd given her to wear in her hair. Placing his hands over hers he adjusted it so the exquisitely faceted emerald pendant hung directly over her spiritual eye.
‘There are chests of emeralds in the royal stadrag—raw, cut, set, unset. I would heap them all upon you, Golden One, if you would promise to stay with me, to legally join with me before my people,’ he said huskily, his breath gently winnowing her hair, hands dropping to her shoulders.
For long moments they stood thus, green eyes searching gold reflected in the silver mirror. Gynevra sucked in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. It had been a perfect day. She’d almost swear he felt for her as she did for him yet she must deny him this one act for which they both yearned. For the sake of the people of Atlantis, she could not.
‘Come,’ he said abruptly. Gripping her hand, he pulled her through the apartments to a door hidden behind a curtain in a recess off the living area. Beyond was a narrow corridor hewn into the mountain, lit and warmed by ilmenite lamps in deep niches along the walls. Round a corner they entered another corridor more brightly lit than the first. At the end of this was a solid wooden door, guarded by two men in the red robes and nine-knotted belts of the ennead priest.
‘What is this place?’ Gynevra asked.
‘The King's Private Fane.’
Her knees began to tremble. Why had he brought her here?
At a nod from their King, the priests stepped aside.
Across the door was an iron bar formed by intricately interwoven smaller rods. As if he'd done it many times before, Taur performed a complicated sequence of movements to remove the rods and laid them on the floor. Gynevra was still pondering the dexterity with which he'd worked when he drew her into the dimly lit circular cave beyond and closed the door at their backs. Soft wall lights illuminated a frieze of large black bulls cavorting around the walls, their eyes rich gleaming jewels. She could see little else but she could feel an energy force and waited for her eyes to adjust.
Taur stepped away from her, raised his hands, palms outwards and stood very still. In the dim light it was easy for Gynevra to observe the shafts of energy arrowing outward to a common point from his hands, heart and spiritual eye.
What was his purpose in bringing her here? As the force field dissipated the light from the small crystal lamps about the walls glowed more brightly and the bulls seemed to become animated. It was then she noted the life-sized statues of Ist and Asar on a housed dais in the center of the cavern, hands joined to form a cup for a fist-sized octahedron of clear quartz crystal with a soft flame dancing in its heart.
Merwin's Crystal!
This then, was the moment she would leave him. Four days was all they were to have? Don't think. But there was so much she wanted to say to him, to help him understand—Don't think. At least she would tell him she loved him and how precious had been their days together— If you think, if you speak, you won't be able to do it. Don't think. Don't speak. You must sacrifice all for the people. Just do it.
It was as if her soul-being had slipped apart from her physical being and the two were conversing, the one leading the other to the path of duty. Her vibration was rising, her physical body lightening. Hands outstretched, she moved towards the steps to the shrine. Focusing only on the flame within the crystal, it seemed to burn within her spiritual eye, infusing her with its energy while absorbing hers, as if she were becoming one with the crystal—
‘Cronos! Gyn'a! You'll not leave me!’
Grasping her upper arms firmly, Taur drew her steadily out of the energy field of the crystal and through the door where he thrust her towards one of the priests.
‘Let the Queen have your chair—and ground her. She almost transmuted into the energy of the crystal. Stay with her. Don't let her move off the chair,’ he ordered tersely, then vanished back into the Fane.
Moments later he was replacing the intricate locking bars. Dropping to his knees before Gynevra, he gripped her hands and asked, ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded. It was all she was capable of. Her ears buzzed, her heart raced, and her blood seemed to be effervescing all through her body.
‘Can you walk?’
She shook her head. A muscle clenched along his jaw and he came slowly to his feet, lifted her from the chair and strode back down the corridor to their apartments. Dismissing Difleer with curt instructions to take their apologies to the banquet hall, he carried Gynevra through to their bedroom and laid her on the bed.
Punching his fists into the clagren at either side of her head, he said slowly and quietly, ‘You would've left me—and you would've died.’ His eyes glowed like black jade and his skin was the color of pastry dough. ‘You could have died! The Power House energy web would've fused with the energy of the crystal and dissolved you where you stood! Gyn'a, are you hearing me?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Taur, I've always wanted to see Merwin's Crystal. I've always known it would be perfectly magical. And it is! I almost dissolved right into it.’
She lay staring up at him, the wonder of it still a bright flame through all her being.
‘You tried to leave me! You would've died!’ he said, gripping her upper arms and shaking her. ‘Cloaba, woman! What am I supposed to do—?’ Swearing forcefully he bit off what he'd been about to say, and said instead, ‘You are mine!’
The green glare from his eyes cleared the last of the crystal thrall from her spiritual eye, taking the wondrous euphoria with it. Somehow she had to make him understand.
‘Taur, how can I explain to you the enormity of the claims on my conscience? The whole country and all who—’
‘It’s not your conscience that carries the weight of your presence here,’ he interrupted harshly. ‘It's mine! It is I who keep you here, I who have created the force field of your prison. You cannot leave because I don't choose to let you. So put your c
onscience to rest and put your mind to work memorizing what could happen to you if you try to leave me on an energy vibration. You—will—die.’
Gynevra closed her eyes and her mouth tightly. He would never understand her position and she could never condone his and yet deep within she could only hope he would never reverse it. On this one point they would forever be at an impasse. And he was right. She had forgotten in the euphoria of the moment that if she tried to apportate she would die.
Never to hold him again, never to touch him. Never. Tears seeped beneath her lids and blindly she reached up and drew his head down to hers.
‘I'm sorry,’ she whispered and pressed her lips to his in a sudden, fierce need. Every time she touched him, kissed him, held him in her arms she had this need to take all she could from the moment in case it were the last.
The furious rigidity drained from his body and he sank to the bed, drawing her into his arms. His lips fused with hers as if he too had this fear of there being no tomorrow.
‘Tomorrow,’ he growled as if he’d stolen the thought from her mind, ‘I’ll begin implementing the plans for the Star Path Pyramid and lodge Merwin's Crystal safely within its sanctum. And now—I will show you why you can never leave me.’
His loving was gentle yet fierce, tender yet demanding. Gynevra prayed in her heart to the Goddess that she'd never have to live without this man. With the window drapes open to the faint light of a sickle moon, he brushed the tangled strands of hair from her face and gently kissed her brow.