Broth’s response was hesitant. “I have, my Do’brieni. Wardens have pledged service with them in exchange for training with much frequency for many seasons. They are a bonded group of druids, naturists, and monks of the strongest ability with the Flow in some form.”
“Why haven’t we discussed this before?”
“They do not speak of it often; they are a solitary group with vows of secrecy.”
“Should you ever believe I should know additional hierocracies or anything else pertinent, feel free to confide in me, my Do’brieni.” Crystalyn sent a bit of love and affection into the link to soften her feeling of annoyance. Broth would not intentionally withhold such important knowledge from her.
Unconditional love flowed back through the link. “I shall, my Do’brieni, I shall.”
Crystalyn smiled.
“Do you think the naturists or those of this Green Writhe will have heard of Dad’s whereabouts?” Jade was asking.
“Hastel and Atoi seem to think so, but they hadn’t expected the Vibrant Vale would come under another attack when we set out from the inn vanquishing battle lords either. I hope it isn’t going too badly for their side when we get down there.”
The path narrowed. Crystalyn motioned Jade ahead.
They moved in silence for another hour, and then Broth left the rear to scout ahead. He did not have to mention his intent; Crystalyn felt his presence wherever he went and received snapshots of the type of terrain he traversed sometimes, usually when it was a difficult environment.
Having a link mate gave her warmth and support. Crystalyn found it hard to recall how it was before without him. Nor did she want to dwell on it long; it was too frightening to consider. They were a family now, even Atoi and Hastel. Once they found Dad, they could all settle down somewhere, perhaps at the Four Bridges helping with the upkeep of Hastel’s inn.
The ridge they followed downhill sloped toward a small hilltop showing a tantalizing bit of meadow and a possible view of the Vale beyond sparser copses of pines and oak brush. The smell of smoke grew palpable as it thickened, stinging the eyes. Crystalyn’s tear ducts and moving farther down the path supplied the relief she hoped would come.
The scarred human, the Ancient One, and I await your arrival at an overlook. The view is acceptable.”
Broth’s designation for Atoi made Crystalyn wonder if he considered four hundred seasons as old or if he somehow knew the Dark Child she hosted was far older, but current urgent matters took precedence in her thoughts for now. “Good, stay hidden. I am almost there.”
The path dropped under a large ponderosa pine and then curved back onto the ridge at the north roots of the tree. Beyond the tree, a wide, though shallow, pit created an opening in the greenery where flakes of sandstone rock lay strewn below a ledge of the same but thicker material. Scarring from chisels glared with stark testament of human intervention upon the natural landscape a long time ago. Stepping gingerly on the broken pieces, Crystalyn made her way farther inside the old rock quarry.
At the bottom of a shallow pit, Crystalyn dropped to her hands and knees and crawled up a short incline between Jade and Hastel. The view of the Vibrant Vale was better than she expected, for the ledge jutted out from a small cliff ten or so stories from the Vale’s eastern edge.
The Vale had a rounded pit-like shape. Perhaps an enormous, ancient meteorite had smashed the great hole out of the soft earth. A winding, slow-flowing stream cut through the bottom, originating from a misty waterfall, which dropped from a plateau at the east. An army was camped below the fall, and spread toward the south below them.
Sprouting upward at the north and west, the great falun trees—dwarfing everything, even the ponderosa pines—rose through the smoke above.
Crystalyn grew alarmed. A few of the bushy, fern-like boughs glowed orange-red from flames, but then ice formed on a nearby falun tree, smothering the flames. For now, the Light Users were combating the attack. How long could they hold out?
“Someone’s in those huge trees,” Jade suddenly said, her voice soft though urgent. “We have to do something.”
“Oh, we will.”
Jade turned to look at her sharply. Crystalyn brushed a stray auburn lock of her flowing hair from her little sister’s eye with her fingers. Crystalyn smiled with affection for her little sister, though it quickly faded. Serious matters needed spoken about. “I have my symbols, little sis. With the power they contain, I intend to do something—many somethings. That force attacking the Vale won’t appreciate it; a lot of them are going to die.”
Letting her callous words hang in the air between them, Crystalyn paused. Jade had to understand what was at stake. When Jade’s vivid emerald eyes rounded, she continued. “But I need your help. Are you able to do what it takes?” Crystalyn hated herself for asking. Jade was an innocent. Though her somewhat new ability to read images rotating in the auras around someone had helped her escape the Dark Citadel, she’d never had to end a life to save her own. The friends she’d made on her harrowing journey had done the killing.
Now she was asking her little sister to lose her twenty seasons of innocence and help her with life-ending destruction on a wide scale.
Jade hesitated, her emerald eyes darker and rounder. Terror and resolve warred within. Finally, there remained but one. Jade held out a steady hand. “Together we are at our strongest,” she whispered.
Clasping her sister’s hand, Crystalyn formed one of her most aggressive symbols in her mind. Octagonal in shape, thin, crooked lines formed a myriad of pinwheels tipped with round spikes at the octagon’s points.
Picturing the symbol hovering before her, Crystalyn brought it out from within. Glowing with the black radiance of a dark flame in the morning sun, the symbol flickered with impatience, ready and waiting. Crystalyn formed another of the same type, bringing it out beside the first, and then one more. With Jade boosting her power with the Flow, the two of them would send chaos thundering rampant through the enemy forces, she hoped.
A thought struck her. There was so much going on with the battle she knew nothing about. Perhaps it was time for a change in tactics. Instead of tearing about the land wreaking havoc on whatever assaulted them with the power of her symbols, why not implement a concise attack?
There might be alternatives for helping her friends with the war and the uncalled for assaults they were subject to lately besides blowing things up. Perhaps she may even save a falun tree or two. After all, she couldn’t continue going around ripping Astura apart in the name of good intentions forever. Eventually, luck would abandon her little band of warriors.
SCREAMS OF FURY
Garnet Creek kept well back from the battle. The flashes of white light tinted with yellow did significant damage to everything close to the detonation area, including anyone. The white-haired man with the young features wearing the black robe of a Dark User seemed to have them in endless supply. Amidst the chaos of battle centered on the Dark Oracle where the hooded man had his contactings performed by Dark Users, it had taken him time to track the flashes back to the source. Most of his confusion had stemmed from the fact the man and every User in the invading force wore black or red robes though they cast light magic.
Bunched together in a circle in order to protect those inside, the intruders moved away from the Oracle, one hard won step at a time. Garn hadn’t yet found a way to get within sword range; they fought well, employing elite tactics he’d yet to encounter on Astura. What they wanted with the Dark Oracle was unknown.
To a person, they were better than any fighter, man or woman, the Alchemist had pitted against him throughout his enslavement. When a man fell from an errant bolt or was impaled by the sheer number of pikes jabbing at gaps in the shield wall, they closed rank in an instant or slipped an armored soldier in to fill the gap from inside.
The white-haired man was one of those protected by the moving human fortress. Most bore a resemblance to the overall form of a human, but there we
re two who had… discrepancies.
Forced backward by Garn’s soldiers outside the writhing fortification, a giant woman flailed about alone battering his men with tree-branch textured arms and legs that flowed along the floor. Such a transformation from someone was a remarkable sight and a first for him since his arrival on world many months past.
An old woman towered behind the white-haired man. Garn hadn’t yet discovered her function, yet the group protected her as well as the man detonating the white-yellow flashes. A memory struck him then, one he’d learned not long into his captivity, when he’d nearly made the fatal mistake of believing the Dark User he sparred with had drained of power. They guarded her for good reason.
Unseen by most, including him, the old woman interrupted the river of power flowing under the land and then funneled it to one who could use it, a User, the white-haired man whose shoulder her large hand rested on. The woman was an Interrupter though different from those who halted the Flow for Dark Users. Dark Users would put themselves behind an Interrupter.
With the body acting as a conduit, eventually the interruption would fail. Handling such a volatile substance would cause a leak; the Interrupter’s energy would drain with the Flow back into the river.
Garn could almost applaud the white-haired man for his attempts to provide aid to those around him; he had to know it wouldn’t be long now. The woman hunched lower with his every cast, and they were outnumbered five to one; Garn’s black robes were driving in from the side corridor. Many of the soldiers who had protected the group as they moved from the Oracle lay smoldering, cut down along their back trail. Others fell by the moment.
Abruptly, a golden dome encased much of the human bastion.
Facing the great hall, a brown-haired woman inside—a User, yet heavily armored with black plate mail—had raised a staff topped with a clear crystal above the crowd. Four red-robed men and two women held firm to her shoulders. They shuffled backward as one unit.
Garn studied the dome. The dark, light-consuming cones hurled by his dark robes slid from it, exploding on the ground below. Illuminating the hallway with a brilliant ruby radiance, missiles streaked toward the dome. Striking en masse, they too bounced harmlessly away.
Underneath the dome’s golden radiance, most soldiers lowered their swords as the tree-branch limbs without leaves of the large female retracted, reforming as a big woman wearing a short, leafy, green dress, beautiful in a tall formidable way, if not for her glowing eyes.
“After destroying a third of our forces, Sureen has raised a sphere,” Kara Laurel stated matter-of-factly from close behind Garn. “I cannot believe the strength she possesses.”
Garn’s breaths stilled at the mention of the woman’s name. He had a strong feeling he should know her, yet no memory came to mind.
“Are you certain it’s her?” the Alchemist asked.
Garn didn’t have to turn around to know his captor and his captor’s magic User stood close behind. He’d kept them close in order to protect them from the battle as the intruders had moved away from the Dark Oracle for the simple fact he had use of them. Kara Laurel, Garn needed for her magic, and the hooded man—the Alchemist, his detested master—he would protect until the opportunity arose to kill him and escape.
“I was informed she’d been destroyed,” the Alchemist continued with a hiss. His tone left no doubt he would be speaking to whoever gave him that information at the earliest opportunity. Garn would not want to be that person.
Kara Laurel’s voice rose with excitement. “As did I, yet there she is, and she has cast a sphere of magical protection over many. Such a feat requires a huge amount of the Flow. I am astonished she has the strength left after covering the retreat from the Oracle, though I imagine having that great artifact adds tremendously to her ability. Do you see how the white crystal mounted on Sureen’s staff blazes to form the golden dome, Garn?” Kara Laurel pointed over his shoulder, pressing her firm body against his backside.
“You sound as if you admire her,” the Alchemist sneered. His soft black cowl brushed against Garn’s other shoulder. His quiet but steely voice irritated Garn to no end, even as the mention of the woman’s name sent a thrill through him.
The Alchemist’s foot tapped the stone floor with impatience. “Signal for the attacks to increase, but if it appears the sphere will fall, desist. Take as many Users alive as you can and the Vale woman. Destroy the rest.”
Slipping a dagger from his left hip sheath, Garn held it outstretched high in his right hand, the blade pointing to the dome. He followed through with the order though the command seemed to contradict the Alchemist’s intended result. He did not question the hooded man. Since the violent takeover of the Dark Citadel the past winter, the Alchemist had executed a third of the Obsidian Table, the Citadel’s political and militant leaders. Some of the executed members had shown only the slightest hesitations to his commands.
Garn had performed the executions as commanded, which gained him a small amount of trust in the Alchemist’s eyes but had also had the adverse effect of offering fewer opportunities to kill the man and escape. Now, the hooded man usually took him with him wherever he went but rarely alone, anymore.
The User Kara Laurel had garnered some trust too—as much as the hooded man was capable of offering—during the time of strife at the Citadel. Either Garn, or Kara, or both had stood guard beside the Alchemist every second of those months. Likely, the hooded man wanted to keep an eye on them both. Either Garn or the Alchemist’s retinue of elite guards the man usually didn’t go anywhere without were always watching the man. A contingent of ten men and women kept fresh by eight-hour-duty rotations, the Elites stayed out of earshot but were close enough to keep Garn and Kara in sight, even as they slept. The man trusted no one fully.
Guarding the arduous man had become crucial now that the hooded man had set in motion two sieges at the same time: one at the White Lands’ capital city of Surbo and one aimed at the Valen tree city, the Vibrant Vale. Likely, the intruders hailed from the Vale with the Valen women part of the force. Garn hoped his two daughters weren’t at either place since he couldn’t yet see a way out of his predicament to continue his search for them.
True, the hooded man, the Alchemist, had saved his life, but then he had forced him into servitude as payment. The takeover of the Dark Citadel after the disappearances of Lord Charn and General Darkwind had been a major detriment to Garn killing the hooded man and his continuing after his daughters.
All he needed was a small hint of their whereabouts and a map of the land, two things that had eluded him for months. Once he had them, he would run the hooded man through and fight his way from the Dark Citadel, though doing so wouldn’t be easy. The Alchemist had a fortress of soldiers and magic Users, most notably Kara Laurel, a powerful Light User in her own right. Kara Laurel’s motives for keeping the man alive were no doubt different from his own; she had yet to divulge them.
The drawn dagger was the agreed-upon signal for his general. The general’s black helm, constructed to resemble an alien bee like creature with its myriad of eyes, faced his direction as it had throughout the fighting. Protected by a small company of shield-bearing soldiers, the general saluted in acknowledgment and then relayed the signal.
At the general’s relayed signal, orange fireballs, trailing their long comet tails, joined the missiles and cones peppering the golden dome. Immediately following them, a cloud of burning dark rain struck. From his military training as head of security on his home world of Terra, Garn noted how he would defend against such attacks should he end up on the receiving end after he escaped.
Unable to withstand the onslaught, the dozen or so Users and soldiers caught outside the dome’s protection dropped within the first couple of rounds, their personal protection domes winking out and the armor bursting into flames, some pierced with holes. The golden dome wavered but held. Another volley struck, and two of the five red robes gripping the soldier woman’s
shoulder collapsed. Each volley of crackling energy hammering the dome thinned it, the golden color of the dome fading almost to transparency.
Raising two daggers, Garn signaled the cease-fire. Then he sheathed them.
The lull of the attack surprised the staff-bearing woman. She glanced around, her eyes coming to a rest not on the Dark Users who had cast the assault but on him. As her lovely green eyes widened, the dome rippled.
“Now, signal the steel!” the Alchemist hissed loudly in his ear.
With great reluctance, Garn wrenched his eyes from the woman. Drawing and raising his great sword at a forty-five-degree slant, he pointed toward a darkened hall entry. Shields at the forefront, his pike-wielding soldiers marched out, shoulder to shoulder.
As soon as the last of his men stepped into the great hall, a hail of arrows from the intruders assailed them. A wall of blazing white flame engulfed the front three rows, cast presumably by the white-haired man. Garn’s men screamed as they died. White flashes of light behind the flames indicated the white-haired man’s explosions had begun again in earnest.
Garn readied the signal to bring in the reserves. Raising his sword high, he waited for the command.
The Alchemist’s voice was loud in Garn’s ears, though he spoke to Kara Laurel. “Without having an attunement to the gate, they cannot activate it, they are trapped. We can finish them.”
Kara Laurel’s voice pitched high with excitement so close to his ear made him wince. “The gate is activated, how?”
Garn looked to the green-eyed woman soldier holding the white-crystal-topped staff. The golden dome’s protective covering had vanished. Tall and defiant, the woman stood exposed. Dark-robed Users and their soldiers, some with silver hair, ran headlong toward the topaz gateway.
The Alchemist screamed, “Stop them! Signal my Users! Destroy them all!”
Beyond the Dark Gate Page 2
