by Unknown
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Crystal Enchantment
Futuristic Romance
Love in another time, another place.
"Saranne Dawson is one of the brightest names in futuristic romance."
Romantic Times
ENCHANTED
"You have cast a spell on me, Witch," Miklos said softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the lapping tide scant inches away.
It was a measure of the newness of it all that Jalissa froze for a moment, the protest already forming in her throat. But then he chuckled and drew her to him, both of them on their knees as they held each other again.
"I won't pretend that I understand all that you are," he said, his voice low and husky. "But I know that it's all of you I love."
Other Leisure and Love Spell Books by Saranne Dawson:
STAR-CROSSED
ON WINGS OF LOVE
AWAKENINGS
HEART OF THE WOLF
THE ENCHANTED LAND
FROM THE MIST
GREENFIRE
Crystal Enchantment
Saranne Dawson
LOVE SPELL®
October 1995
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
276 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10001
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
Copyright © 1995 by Saranne Dawson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
The name "Love Spell" and its logo are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
Prologue
"Hear me! You will not be free men and women much longer! The Vantrans and their accursed Federation will soon rob you of your liberty, as they have already robbed those of other worlds. Even now, they plot to take from you your riches and turn you into mindless slaves.
"They worship the evil gods of science, and would destroy the old gods of the soil and air and water that we revere. They would take from you the power to control your own destiny and to live in harmony with the world the gods gave you.
"They will bring in their great machines and tear apart your forests and dig great holes in your beautiful mountains where the Old Ones dwell.
"But they can be stopped! The Coven has the power to stop them and save you. The Coven has returned! The evil science of the Vantrans did not destroy us, and the Old Ones have told us that the time draws near when . . ."
The speaker stopped in mid-sentence, his face suddenly raised to the darkening Darebi sky above, where the sun was spreading a ruddy glow before slipping away behind the mountains.
So entranced was his audience that they stood there silently, awaiting his next words. The Coven! They had not been destroyed after all! Could it be? Surely it must be true. They'd seen the blue fire.
For all those present, the Coven had been only a part of their collective memoryrevered in their hearts, but absent from their lives and the lives of their parents and grandparents. No one now alive on Darebi had ever seen a Witch or a Warlock, and they were awed by the sight of this young Warlock. The old gods, who'd always spoken through such people, had saved the Coven after all. It was a great moment, one to be cherished.
When the Warlock continued to search the heavens, a few in the audience followed his gaze. But seeing nothing, they turned their attention back to him as he spoke again.
"You must leave quickly! Alone now, I cannot save you from the accursed Federation. But through the grace of the Old Ones and their ser- vants, the Coven, the Federation will be stopped!"
And then he was gone! One moment, he stood tall upon the rocky ledge, and the next, he became as insubstantial as smokea pale, wispy smoke that drifted with the wind and vanished.
His audience had barely begun to let out their sharply indrawn breaths when they heard the telltale whine of the approaching hovercraft. They knew the sound well. Here in the Outer Ring, the presence of Federation soldiers was a constant irritant and often a cause for fear. They scattered quickly into the darkness of the surrounding forest.
The hovercraft landed in the clearing where they'd been gathered. In their rush to get away, the listeners had left behind an old man whose twisted limbs prevented him from escaping. He had come here hoping to be healed by the Warlock. Instead, he now became the captive of the blue-clad Federation soldiers.
He was a brave man and he refused to tell them anything. But they had their methods. Within moments, the drug was in his brain and he was repeating to them the Warlock's words.
Chapter One
The tram doors glided open and Jalissa Kendor stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. A breeze brought to her the lush scents from the flower garden and lifted her raven-black hair from her shoulders, whipping it about her delicate, fine-boned face. She smoothed it back and hurried through the gardens toward the building that sat at the very top of the hill, serene and majestic in its isolation.
She paused for a moment on the uppermost step and turned, her gaze narrowing as she stared across the wide valley that barely contained the sprawling city. On the far hill, another very similar building stood in its own lonely splendor. It was officially claimed that the positioning of the two buildings, like white marble sentinels facing each other across a battlefield, was purely accidental. But few believed thatand certainly none of the buildings' occupants did.
As the city had grown over the years, it had become necessary to move certain Federation offices to new quarters, while leaving the golddomed headquarters in the valley, at the very center of the city. The result was that the two most powerful forces within the Federation now faced each other over that golden dome. The irony was too obvious not to have been planned.
Jalissa turned and pressed her palm to the square set into the building's door. Instantaneously, it opened to admit her.
The lobby was large and airy, ascending eight stories to the clear roof. Exotic plants from many worlds thrived in the carefully controlled environment, each of them labeled with their world of origin. There were giant ferns, more than feet high, with fronds so delicate that the slightest breeze set them into graceful motion. There were huge crimson flowers with pure while centers, nearly two feet in diameter and giving off an intoxicating fragrance. And there were strange fur-covered plants, twisted and gnarled, their ugliness tolerated here only because on each stalk was a multi-colored flower of unsurpassed beauty.
But breathtaking as all this was, the visitor's eyeand Jalissa's as wellwas invariably drawn to the huge crystal that soared nearly to the lobby's roof.
It wasn't real, of course. It had been sculpted from plasticene that was specially constructed to mimic the pale, rainbow-shaded crystal Jalissa wore suspended on a platinum chain.
The sculpture wasn't real because the true crystal was so rare and precious that none could be spared for mere public ador
nment. Even in the hands of the very best crystal sculptors, more of the precious substance was lost than was ever made into the hexagonal crystals worn by Jalissa and her colleagues. No machine had yet been devised that could shape the crystal, even though much time and money had been expended over the years to build machines that could improve upon the human carvers.
Jalissa stepped into one of the two glass elevators that flanked the sculpture and directed it to her floor. It glided silently up through the lobby and came to a halt at the next-to-top floor, a location that was a constant source of disgruntlement to some of Jalissa's colleagues.
''Who do they think they are?" was a common complaint. "Without us, they'd be nothingand they know it."
"They" were the administrators of the Translation and Mediation Service of the United Worlds Federation, or "Trans/Med" as it was commonly called. And the "us" were Jalissa and her several dozen colleagues: the elite of the Trans/Med Service, people brought together from numerous worlds who could use the crystals to translate instantaneously from one language to another, and who also possessed extraordinary skills at mediating the disputes that had plagued the Federation from its very beginning.
Only a handful of her colleagues were present as Jalissa walked into the elegantly appointed lounge whose glass wall provided a view of the cityand the enemy on the other hilltop. At any given time, most of the "Whisperers," as Jalissa and her colleagues were called, were scattered about the galaxy, working to settle small disputes before they could explode into wars.
Officially, they were called "Translation/Mediation Specialists," but they'd long since come to be known by everyone as "Whisperers" because when they used the crystals, their own voices became mere whispers so as not to interfere with the work of the crystals. Long before Jalissa's time, those who wore the crystals had adopted the nickname themselveslargely to annoy the officious administrators.
Jalissa poured herself a cup of tea before joining the others. They were an intriguing mixture of races, with every shade of skin, from Jalissa's pale, creamy tones to the deepest black. The talent to work with the crystals was so rare that they were recruited from every worldexcept for one. To the everlasting frustration of the Vantrans, no one from their worldthe home world to the Federationhad ever shown an affinity for the crystals.
And so, in a Federation set up and dominated by the powerful Vantrans, the Trans/Med Service stood apart. There were no Vantrans in its administration either. The other worlds had banded together and stood firm on this point.
"Do you have an assignment yet, Jalissa?" a tall, dark-skinned colleague asked.
"No, not yet. And if one turns up, I just might plead 'crystal fatigue' and take some vacation."
"That's just what I did this morning when they tried to send me to Garlov," a short, plump man of middle age said with a chuckle.
"Not Garlov again!" There were groans all around. That cold, dark world with its volatile tribal society was no one's favorite.
"We all appreciate that, Hanta," one of the others said dryly, "since it means that one of us will be sent there."
A tiny, coffee-colored woman touched a hand dramatically to her brow. "I feel an attack of crystal fatigue coming on right now."
Everyone laughed. "Crystal fatigue" didn't existat least not after the Whisperers were trained. But none of the administrators knew that; it was the best-kept secret in the Service, where the demand for Whisperers always ex- ceeded the supply and vacations tended to be few and far between.
They began to tease each other about who the unlucky one would be. Then Serilla, the darkskinned Whisperer who'd greeted Jalissa first, turned to her.
"You're the only one who doesn't have to worry about freezing on Garlov. They wouldn't waste you there."
Jalissa smiled. It was true. She was only , but such were her talents that the Top Floor would never waste her on a hopeless mission like that one. All of them were equally adept at using the crystals for translation, but Jalissa's special gift was for hearing the small nuances of speech that others missed, and then using them in her mediations.
She thought she knew where that particular talent came from, but it remained her deepest, darkest secret.
"Is anything important happening?" she asked, since she'd missed the morning newscast. She was very much hoping that for once, the galaxy wouldn't need her services for a time. She was nearly finished with her interminable reports, and in a few days she hoped to be off to Mafriti, the most beautiful of the small worlds set aside for recreation and pleasure.
"Would we know if anything were happening?" Hanta said pointedly, then waved a chubby hand toward the glass wall. "Why don't you call the Palace of Charm and ask them?"
Everyone, including Jalissa, turned to stare out at the distant building, home to the Special Agency, their sworn enemy within the Federation. None of them had ever been inside that building, just as none of its inhabitants had ever set foot in the Whisperers' headquarters. But each of the Whisperers had stories to telland did tell them endlesslyabout their encounters with the dread Special Agents.
One by one, they began to drift off toward their individual offices or to the classrooms where they each took turns instructing novices. Jalissa lingered for a while to finish her tea, then got up to follow them. Suddenly, she stopped, inexplicably drawn once again to gaze at the huge marble building on the distant hilltop. A cold darkness slithered through her before she turned resolutely and strode away.
"Two sightings confirmed, and two more possibles. He has to be found."
"I quite agree. He's preaching sedition on worlds where we can ill afford trouble. But as to this business of his being a Warlock . . ." The gray-haired speaker made a face, as though he'd just tasted something foul.
"Your beliefs on that subject are well-known, Paktos, but can you afford to be wrong?"
"He's nothing more than a Tevingian, trading on their former association with the Coven. It's a pity we didn't blow them up as well when we destroyed the Coven."
"We needed their minerals then."
"But we don't now. And when we find out that he is Tevingian, I say it's time to come down hard on them."
"Paktos, you can't deny that there have been many reports over the years that at least some of the Coven escaped."
"Bah! Myth and nothing more. Even when the Coven did exist, they never had the power they were credited with."
"They had enough magic to hold us off for nearly a century."
"Only because our science was in its infancy then. Miklos, you've been quiet. What do you think about this troublemaker?"
Miklos Panera stood up, stretching his long, lean frame. He was junior to both the others, but junior in title only. Their deference to him was obvious.
"I think we would be fools to dismiss completely the possibility that at least some of the Coven escaped. There was strong evidence that the Tevingians knew of the coming attack and would have had ample time to warn them.
"Nevertheless, I consider it to be unlikelyif only because I can't imagine them lying low for nearly a hundred years.
"In any event," Miklos continued, "we'll know when I capture this would-be Warlock. I'll be leaving in the morning for the Outer Ring."
"I'm afraid that you won't be leaving alone."
"What?" Miklos arched a tawny brow and fixed his startling green eyes on his superior, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. "You know I work alone, Paktos."
"Yes, but there are other considerations this time."
"Such as?" Miklos challenged.
"It seems that our friends across the way somehow got wind of this troublemaker and are demanding a piece of the action."
Miklos's wide mouth curled in a sneer. "Since when do you pay them any attention?"
"When it suits our purpose. Because of what they describe as our 'unfortunate history' with the Coven, they are insisting that a Whisperer accompany youand the Council has agreed, over our objections. I'd like to know how they found out about this man. Obviou
sly, their intelligence is getting better.
"They plan to send Jalissa Kendor."
An image flashed through Miklos's brain, but nothing showed on his face. "The obvious choice," he muttered. "One of their top peopleand also a Tevingian."
"Have you met her?" Paktos inquired curiously.
"No, but I know her reputation."
"Do you know anything of her background?"
Miklos shrugged, affecting a disinterest he didn't feel. "Only that she's Tevingian and completed her training faster than anyone before or since."
"Supposedly, as you said, she comes from Tevingi. At least that's where she was when Trans/Med recruited her. But as soon as it became apparent that she has extraordinary talents, we began to look into her background.
"The Tevingians are as close-mouthed as they come, and unfortunately not susceptible to our drugs, but we did manage to find out enough to cast doubts on her origins."
"What are you saying, Paktos, that she's a Witch?" Miklos spat out the final word derisively, but inside a small knot of fear had formed, spreading a chill through him.
"Of course not, but perhaps we can make it appear that she might be. If we can cast enough doubt on her, we can get rid of her. Trans/Med wouldn't dare keep a Whisperer with a tainted reputation. The Council would never permit it.
"Jalissa Kendor has already cost us several important operations, including that fiasco on Tiepla. We had the Hetsis set up to take over the government, and she managed to 'mediate' them into a power-sharing. They've been nothing but trouble ever since."
"So in addition to finding this troublemaking 'Warlock,' you want me to get rid of her."
"Not physically, of course. We can't risk that. But if her reputation can be destroyed, we'll be rid of her just the same. The briefing for you both is set for tomorrow morning."
"Miklos Panera?" Jalissa echoed, thinking back to that premonition she'd had this morning.
"I'm afraid so. Have you ever met him?"
