“We do at that. You two stay away from Hastel. I shall handle him,” the Lore Mother said. “I have something to show you, Crystalyn. I think you may find it quite…useful. Can I meet you tomorrow? Shall we say, at eight bells?”
Curious, Crystalyn nodded.
“Hey! Hastel never let us order our drinks. I’m hungry,” Atoi said.
“I shall stop by the kitchen and have something sent to your room. We should all go to bed. The rest would do us good,” the Lore Mother said, standing abruptly.
Cudgel slid hastily from the booth.
Pausing for a brief stare around the room, the Lore Mother stepped into the smoke. “Not to mention, I want to have words with Hastel.” The Lore Mother’s raspy words hung in Crystalyn’s ears long after the dim light closed in behind her.
Lore Rayna scrambled to her feet as Cudgel stared into the crowd, raking his curly hair back with a swish of his big hand. “I hate it when she does that! How am I supposed to protect her when she goes gallivanting off into a hostile area?” he complained, hastening into the crowd.
“Will she be all right?” Crystalyn asked.
Lore Rayna smiled. “She’s the Lore Mother. I think you’ll find there’s a much harsher side to her than poor Hastel realizes. Besides, she has the hairy, red-haired brute glaring over her shoulder at anyone who sneezes in her direction.”
As Lore Rayna spoke, a flash of movement on the big woman’s dress caught her eye. The green forest-fern leafs there, formed an intertwined vine pattern. Each leaf fit with its counterpart so well they formed a body-hugging garb tight enough to repel moisture, Crystalyn believed. Such a thing wouldn’t be impossible for some material, but that was not it, there was…something. Then, she saw it. The fern constricted and loosened with Lore Rayna’s breathing, moving subtly back and forth. The dress was alive.
Lore Rayna pursed her lips. “You require food and a rest cycle to complete your healing. We will speak again in the morning.”
Crystalyn watched her walk away until the smoke claimed her, her eyes on the green dress. With each stride, the foliage shifted, maintaining some invisible line for decency, albeit barely. She found the whole thing…disturbing. Her head throbbed.
Standing, she looked at Atoi, “Come on. I want food, bath, and bed, in that order. Do they have bathtubs here?”
Atoi slipped into the narrow aisle, “My room does. I pay well for it.”
“Good. I can scrub my clothes too. Lead the way.”
Keeping an eye on the young girl’s sinuous form as the little girl deftly made her way through a sea of faceless bodies, Crystalyn thought about how she’d never asked Atoi or any of the others about the rumblings. If there was a war, she wanted to know the details.
A war could be a significant deterrent to finding her sister.
BLUNT FORCE
Leaving his thrust cycle hovering at the parking locker, Garn confronted the gate wall. A holo image of a young male wearing a wide-brimmed security hat appeared high enough he had to lean back to view it.
“State your business,” floated from the image, crisp and clear.
“Your boss wanted to see me.”
“Are you Garnet Creek, Crystalyn’s father?”
“I am.”
“You have a great daughter, sir. We’re lucky to have her indentured here.” A loud whoosh from the wall preceded the gate retracting into it. Having overseen the security setup for the complex, Garn recalled he’d designed the gate wide for large cargo, and had added a zoom holo feed for remote handling. “Please proceed to the warehouse, sir. She’s expecting you.” The image winked out.
Beyond the gate, a meter-thick, transparent plasicrete dome covered the complex from his suggestion, resting atop the wall. He strode along the spongecrete path with its hidden heat and weight sensors he’d had installed into the variation of plasicrete, this one softer for those on foot. Hovercraft transports never touched the surface until arriving at their destination, so a harder surface wasn’t required. Blocky artwork manufactured with varying colors and textures from the same spongy material, lined the path on both sides. The owner had purchased after he’d finished his consultation work. He didn’t care for them.
The dome glinted with rainbow colors, reflected in the early evening sky like a clear, chemical bubble that refused to pop, silently deterring the uninvited from landing. Yet the open sky was still a much better view up here in High Realm as long as one didn’t look down the mountain.
Now here he was, invited beneath the dome, smack into the Dragon Lady’s great lair as he’d come to think of Ruena Day before his daughter’s indenture. The King himself had asked him personally to consult with Ruena on security measures. There’d been a successful break-in at that time. He doubted there’d been a second one after he’d finished with his design. The strongest security was a simple but effective, using a combination of old and new techniques. Surprisingly, Ruena Day had been one of the rare clients who’d accepted his method from the start.
For the hundredth time, he wondered what the emergency was here again. When he’d sent a feed to the warehouse to check on the girls’ progress, the Dragon Lady herself had answered, asking for a personal meeting, which was odd, she’d always been a recluse. When he pressed for specifics, she’d refused to discuss it over the feed, stating insecurities. Unless changes to his system design had occurred, the feed’s encryption here and elsewhere he’d installed it, had yet to be broken, a face-to-face meeting was not required, but it was fine with him. He had his own questions. Staying this late was a first for Crystalyn. What was so important it had to be finished tonight? She could’ve hired half of Mid Realm to get the project done. As part of his former servitude as head of security for the King’s Administration he was privy to classified information. The woman had enough credits to purchase one of the realms should it be her desire. At least, she had when he’d been in the King’s service before his wife’s disappearance. Credits had a way of vanishing overnight. How well he knew.
Another first, Crystalyn had Jade with her, a much larger worry. They should’ve been home hours ago. Had something bad happened, perhaps involving a cargo container? He hated the thought of his daughter moving them around. Thrust motors failed every day. His chest fluttered as his unease heightened. Something bad better not have happened. He’d take the place apart with his bare hands, bad blood pump, or not.
But he was creating his own anxieties, a bad habit he admonished everyone else about whenever he noted it. Lack of information tended to do that to him. Perhaps the Dragon Lady was only extending a professional courtesy to him by telling him in person his daughter’s indenture was terminated. No, the gate guard had mentioned how valued she was at her job, though he should’ve known it by now. As much as he hated to admit it, he hadn’t been the best father, not lately. He should’ve been involved deeper in both his daughters’ lives. Grieving over Sureen’s disappearance had left little room in life to interact with his girls outside the daily routine of maintaining a household, but that was his own personal reaction and wrong. He should’ve talked to his girls at every opportunity.
The spongecrete path led past two large hovercrafts—the most advanced models available—to end at the rear docks additionally widened, stainless steel door. The pulse curtain required the extra space on each end for its integrated neural technology to function. Garn did appreciate how the Dragon Lady had taken his advice by retaining some of the best features from the original building’s design while integrating those with many of the latest advancements in security. Breaking in now would require someone with knowledge in old technology along with new, and—a deterrent in itself—have to have access to the tools required for both systems.
A much narrower sponge path pointed the way to an off-white exterior door. As Garn neared, the door buzzed loudly. Twisting the handle, he plowed inside before the lock could reengage.
The Dragon Lady waited inside.
Garn’s pulse quickened.
R
uena Day had spent some time facing a mirror and it showed. Dark purple lipstick and eye shadow matched the orchids sewn on her black fishnet dress. The orchids strategically covered the feminine curves of her body the dress hugged, which almost fell to mid-thigh. Black, silk gloves snaked to her elbows, complementing the deep purple sharp-heeled boots that climbed to just below her knees. She still wore the two scythe-shaped bangs curling out from her forehead and down both cheeks that she called dragon locks. Each dragon lock sported mauve, orchid barrettes where it began at her head full of lush dark hair. The overall effect was startling. He was glad he’d selected his last expensive suit to wear or he’d have felt underdressed.
Eyes dark and shiny, Ruena gazed at him, a half-smile tugging at her generous lips. “Evening, Miss Day,” he squeaked. Why was his voice so high? He never squeaked.
“Mister Creek, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Ruena said, her voice a purr. She smiled, showing her white, even teeth. “I hope you can appreciate my attire, such as it is. I put some thought into it after we spoke.”
Garn’s face heated as he wondered what she meant, though he suspected he knew, but found it hard to accept. Surely, she wasn’t flirting with him. He was too old, though he’d heard some women preferred older men. Perhaps so, but he didn’t feel like testing the validity of it. He would maintain a friendly relationship with her, for Crystalyn’s sake. “Call me Garnet or just Garn, please. Everyone usually calls me Garn. Mister carries such an ‘old man’ image. At least, to me it does.”
“Very well, just Garn. You may call me Ruena or just Rue. Do we have an agreement?”
“I believe so.”
“Good. Now, if you will follow me, we can retire someplace comfortable.” Spinning elegantly on one heel, she stepped onto the sealed plasicrete dock. Garn’s body flushed when he noticed the orchids didn’t stay in place as she moved. She did have an exceptional form. He shouldn’t let her get the wrong idea, though. “Excuse me, Miss Day. I mean, Rue. Crystalyn mentioned you permitted her to bring Jade. Are the girls still here?” He scrambled to stay close enough to speak without raising his voice. Ruena’s strides were long, even for him.
Ruena drew up short, twisting to look at him. A frown creased her forehead as her dark eyes penetrated his. Unable—or unwilling—to look away, he stared deep into them. The world froze. High intellect, mixed with a fierce passion, and…and something else, drew him in, making him wonder. What could a much younger, beautiful, and supremely wealthy woman want with a dying older man?
How many moments passed, he couldn’t say. Her face smoothed. She turned and led the way deeper within the warehouse, her weight balanced elegantly on her spiked heels.
Stopping at a door, Ruena raised an eyebrow, binding him with her stare. “Your daughter told you she asked permission to bring her sister along? I’m afraid Crystalyn told you…wrong. Her indenture is for her alone, and I never require her to work any Seventh Credit day.”
“I asked her about that! I wonder why she insisted you had requested her service.”
“I do not know. I dislike having anyone here, save for a small security crew, on the Seventh day. I do not agree with service on that day; everyone should have time away. After all, I may need some…time alone. Or I might wish to spend it with someone who intrigues me, as you do, Mr. Creek.”
Garn swallowed hard. So there it was, tossed into the open.
“Ever since our previous interactions ended, I’ve searched for an excuse to spend some time becoming…acquainted,” Ruena went on. “When you sent the message, I got the impression you wanted to meet in an intimate atmosphere. Was I wrong? Did you not want to see me in private, Garnet?”
Garn’s lungs refused to draw breath as he gazed at her fine raised eyebrows and the question hanging there. Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word for her elegant, aristocratic features. Her sharp cheekbones curved down to a full, pouty mouth. Parting her lips slightly, Ruena leaned closer.
His body stirred.
Garn squashed the feeling, pulling back; he still hadn’t found his daughters. When had he leaned close to her?
Lips curling playfully petulant, Ruena leaned on the doors exit bar, presenting a side profile.
He noted the dress she wore left no room for underneath apparel. His mouth dried.
“Come now, Mister Garnet, quit toying with me. Shall we go to my office? We can discuss anything you want there. I am certain you’re parched by now.”
He stood immobile, not trusting himself to move, unable to look away. She was a rare beauty, though he hadn’t thought so in the past, she’d been too hard a taskmaster during the secure setup, demanding to know the precise details for each feature. He’d never met any woman matching his six-foot frame, until back then. His wife, Sureen, barely reached his chin, yet it hadn’t mattered. Sureen was the perfect size. They fit together like his best suit, manufactured from precise, robotic specifications. They’d been soul mates from the moment they’d met, and every moment after. He could still picture her smile as if she stood beside him.
The sharp pain in his chest he’d lived with for six seasons hit him again. Everything within him ached to see her, to talk to her, to hold her. Sureen was the only woman he’d ever loved, or ever would.
The exotic beauty before him intruded into his thoughts, transposed for an instant with an image of his lovely wife. His chest constricted again. Head tilted back against the open door jamb, her firm, full chest pushed forward, Ruena stared at him, expectation mirrored in her almond eyes, lips pursed. When had she opened the door?
As tempting as Ruena was, he knew he would decline her offer. He loved Sureen still, missing or not. As the One was his witness, he truly missed her. Not knowing if she was alive or dead was destroying him. He’d never given up on her, though it’d been many a long season since she’d vanished from their home without a trace. He would find out what happened to her. He was here for his children and nothing else mattered. He’d made a pact early on in his union with Sureen; their children would come first, always. They’d both wanted it that way. Again, his chest tightened. Ruena was still regarding him, her dark eyes shiny, expectant. “A drink is tempting, but I must go look for my girls.”
Ruena’s brow furrowed with rage, then smoothed so fast he wasn’t certain he’d seen it. She smiled. “I believe I understand, now. You actually are looking for your daughters.” Drawing and releasing a long breath, she straightened. “I won’t apologize. I’m still glad you’re here. I imagine you’ve already checked with Crystalyn’s friend?”
A friend was something he hadn’t considered. After the incident with the Hartwig kid, Crystalyn had been a loner. At least, he’d believed so. Again, he was reminded how much distance had grown between him and his daughters. He needed to make it up to Crystalyn—both of them—somehow. “No, I haven’t yet.”
“Crystalyn accepted a feed in my office yesterday from him. I’m sure we could locate the point of origin. Care to look?”
So the friend was male. He needed to find his daughter’s before trouble found Crystalyn. Worse, Jade was with her this time. “Yes, I would, thank you.”
“Ruena pushed the door open and placed herself beside it. “You have to promise to make it up to me, Garnet. I insist.”
He half expected her to use the limited space between her and the doorframe as an excuse to get closer, but she remained still—even inhaling slightly to allow him room as he slid past, her perfume making his head reel.
He hesitated at the threshold, noticing two blue obelisks positioned on each sides of the door, as close to the inside wall as their bases allowed. A curtain of dark mist had dropped between them.
Oddly, the mist was moving with a spiral motion.
The whole setup sent a chill through his spine, yet he couldn’t say why, perhaps from the sheer strangeness of it.
He lifted a foot to step back.
Blunt force slammed into his back propelling him headlong into the mist.
FL
ICKER
Apprehensive, Jade cracked the tall door open. Made from heavy black iron, she was surprised how smoothly it moved. Beyond the doorway, a vast gray stone hallway lit with a purplish light, sprawled for a great distance. Ornate, amethyst pillars, lined the center carved with men and women in armor or robes, engaged in some activity, mostly battle from the look of it. Two rows of the magnificent pillars led toward a wide half-circle set of beautiful cobalt granite stairs. A set of golden doors, as high as the hallway, reflected sunlight from a square hole bored through the ceiling.
Jade froze. Four guards stood at attention, two on each side of the golden doors. Two gripped tridents twice their height, the other pair stood rigid with bulky crossbows peeking over their shoulders and double-headed axes dangling from their hips. Dark helms, breastplates, and gauntlets matched their chain mail armor.
Sucking in her lower lip, she ducked back inside, letting the door close with barely an audible click. Leaning against it, she nibbled on her lip, panic rising. Had they seen her? Perhaps she should check and see if they were coming. Her only chance at escape was to run. Mid-way to reaching the door handle, she froze again, and then dropped her arm to her side. Peeking out again would add to the risk of them spotting her. The weapons they carried had one purpose: to slay with efficiency. That frightened her, worse than the ones designed to incapacitate and weaken as many opponents as possible in close quarters. At least with those—like some of the ones in the large room she’d found herself in an hour ago—she might have a slim chance of avoiding them by running.
Sitting, she put her back to the door, looking once again, at the room. Racks of plate armor and vicious weapons stood malevolent and resolute. The weapons hung in orderly, open-faced rows designed for quick access, the armaments—hung on iron pole trees—kept the pieces in one set. Each implement of death or dismemberment had minor nicks or gouges, but no cracks or chipped areas. All were polished and looked sharp.
Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) Page 5
