Please believe that regardless of your decision, for an entire month, up until the Testing is imminent, Mei will have the benefit of the care that I promised. Knowing your suspicious nature, I feel compelled to assure you that full payment for her care has already been arranged and made available to your friend Grace.
I would also humbly beg that you promise me one thing: that when the time comes you will make your choices for the right reasons. Obligation is ever a poor substitute for love.
Pieter
Twenty-five thousand dollars? She wrung her hands. Damn Pieter. She could no more boot Malach out on his ear and keep the money, than she could blame him for her current troubles. And how could she refuse to take Pieter’s money and deny Mei the care she so desperately wanted her to have?
She refolded the note and stuffed it back in the package, then tossed the package onto her dressing table. She paced the room, staring at the worn carpet. Of course she’d keep the cash. And of course she’d paint the damn portrait. She’d ensure it was the best work she was capable of doing, too.
“Sneaky, manipulative old bastard.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Malach’s muttered agreement drifted to her ears.
“You have no idea what he is capable of,” Malach said.
She stopped pacing and swiveled to face him. “How about you tell me then, Malach. Tell me everything you know about the Crystal Guardian. In fact, tell me everything from the beginning. I can’t promise I’ll believe all of it, but I can promise I’ll listen.”
“Ignorance is oft-times a state of bliss, Jade.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. But I believe I deserve an explanation. And since Pieter’s conveniently vanished, you’re it.”
“’Tis not a brief tale,” he warned.
She shrugged. “So?”
“So, do you not care what your sister and your friend will think?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
His lips curved. “You and I, Jade. In your bedroom. And time is passing.”
“Oh. Right.” She felt the flush bloom on her cheeks. Again. She seemed to have been doing rather a lot of blushing since meeting Malach. “Right now, I don’t much care what either of them think. I just want to find out what the hell is going on.”
Malach’s grin widened. “Of course we could add some fuel to the fire.”
Now it was her turn to grin. “Nice try. Just the story. No funny business.”
He placed a hand on his chest and moaned. “My manly pride has been completely crushed by your lack of desire. How will I go on?”
“Oh, puhlease. Spare me the theatrics. Just get on with it, will you? I haven’t got all day.” She curled up on the armchair she’d managed to squeeze into one corner of her room and prepared to be amazed.
~~~
Malach stretched out on Jade’s bed. Such luxury. Far more comfortable than a bedroll. “This is my favorite of all your world’s innovations.”
Jade screwed up her nose in such an endearing way that he wanted to smile, even though this coming conversation was nothing to smile about. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said. “That lumpy old thing?”
He nodded.
“So, you have mattresses where you come from?” She probably imagined she was being subtle, trying to draw him out to reveal his past. Ironic. She did not understand that he would happily speak of anything and everything to her. For so long his world had been a sensationless silent prison, and to Malach, hearing Jade’s voice, being able to hear his own voice for that matter, seemed a priceless gift.
“A bedroll is common, but those with permanent abodes may avail themselves of a down-filled mattress. Of course such luxury is usually accompanied by servants to battle the ever-present grains of sand which, despite all effort to the contrary, invade the bed linens. Hence, we warriors have a dubbed a bed such as this a ‘scratcher’.”
Jade’s lips curved into a grin. “Nice one.”
Malach’s heart gave a bizarre little lurch. It warmed his soul to see her like this—carefree, without the weight of her worries burdening her slim shoulders. Then the warmth curdled in his stomach. She would not be smiling after his explanation.
“Tell me more about your world, Malach. I need to understand it.”
From her intense expression—the way she was trying to see into his soul—Malach surmised what she truly needed was to understand him. He carefully shuttered his expression. Bad enough she had witness his nightmare and been forced to comfort him. He did not wish her to see the fear and desperation that drove him. Jade faced enough desperation in her own life without adding to her burden.
The only thing he had left to call his own was his pride, and that had been decimated by two sojourns in the crystal. But the shreds of pride remaining dictated that he only get down on his knees and beg this young woman to save him from the crystal if there were no other choice.
“I will tell you everything, Jade, but as for whether it remains accurate? Who knows. Centuries have passed since the first time the Guardian’s curse befell me, and only the gods know if the world I knew still exists. I hope that my people adapted and moved forward with the passing of time. The alternative—that those men Pieter imprisoned are all that remains of my people—I do not wish to contemplate.”
A visible shudder coursed through Jade’s body and she rubbed her arms. Malach regretted the loss of her smile and cursed the necessity. Easier for her to have remained ignorant. Easier for him, too, if he held all the cards while she remained unaware of the true ramifications of her decisions. But he refused to manipulate her. If she chose to help him escape his curse, better that she did so with eyes wide open.
“What do your people call themselves?”
“We are Styrians, ‘Riders of the Storms’. We call ourselves this in deference to the violent storm season that drives us from our tented cities to seek shelter in caves for three to four months each year.” He went on to describe his home, a harsh, sand-blasted land, with vast tracts of near-desert peopled by various tribes and ruled by warlords known as Lord Keepers.
In Jade’s eyes he saw fascination, and he wondered whether his “exotic” background might be the key to her surprising responsiveness during sex. In his experience, many a woman enjoyed the attentions of a man who looked like none they’d encountered before.
“You mentioned gods,” she said. “Are they cruel, your gods?”
He observed her closely. A loaded question if he was not mistaken.
“Personally, I believe all gods are cruel,” she said when he didn’t answer. “They punish those who’re good, and reward those who’re selfish and self-serving. I don’t believe in a God, or gods. Not anymore. Not since—” She broke off to stare stony-eyed at the wall.
Not since her sister.
Malach could offer her little comfort. “Our gods, too, are harsh beings who demand much of us. But the mother of them all—the only goddess in our pantheon—is for the most part a benevolent being. She is the one we beg to keep our hides intact when we ride into battle.”
He thought he heard a muffled snort. “I no longer believe in gods or goddesses,” he said. “I renounced them long ago.” When my men were cursed by an old sorcerer and condemned to a torment without surcease for the crime of following orders.
The tension in her eased, replaced by such intense curiosity that Malach was reminded of himself when he’d burned to know the secret the priests strove to hide from the general populace. Styrians had a saying: “Curiosity killed the carakul”, and just like the tufted-eared feline that hadn’t been able to resist investigating his snares and traps, Malach had stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.
Malach’s curiosity had borne fruit, however, unlike the unfortunate feline whose pelt he’d gifted to Wulf, his Lord Keeper. He’d not understood then how bitter the fruit of knowledge would prove to be. Once he’d learned of the priests’ folly and the curse they’d inadvertently inflicted upon his people, he’d despaired. And wished he’d rem
ained ignorant and unsuspecting.
“Are you certain you wish to know more, Jade? Knowledge has power, yes. But too often the burden is a fearsome one.”
Her gaze fixed on his, determined and unwavering. “I want to know everything about you. I’m sick of secrets—sick to death of them. Even when they’re kept for the best of intentions they do more harm than good.” She made a rolling gesture with her hand. “Tell me more. If you truly want me to believe you’re from another world, then keep talking. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
It was hardly a bothersome chore to regale a beautiful, intelligent girl with his life story. Malach described his day-to-day life as a tehun-Leader, and the ten men under his command. He told her tales of his Lord Keeper Wulf, and how he’d earned his fearsome reputation both on the battlefield and off. He explained the way his tribespeople cooked, what they ate, and when she asked about an unfamiliar word, he explained that his favorite drink was an aromatic beverage made by grinding beans and infusing them in boiling water.
“Sounds very much like coffee,” she said.
“Ah, yes. I have drunk your coffee. And ’tis indeed a very similar beverage to gahvay.”
“What did you wear? All leather—like the clothes you wore when I first saw you?”
“Leathers are for warriors. No sensible man or woman would wear such clothing when going about their daily lives. The fashion of the time was light cloth dyed to resemble the colors of the crystals our warriors are named for.”
How long was she going to pretend she did not believe the evidence he laid before her? Did she truly believe him laboring under a psychotic delusion and that his former life and former world did not exist? He’d felt her consciousness join with his in the moments before he’d escaped his malachite prison. He knew she’d shared his thoughts, experienced everything that he’d felt. He knew she’d been sent a vision and witnessed the Crystal Guardian casting his curse. How could she not believe?
As if she’d read his mind she gave a terse little laugh. “Humor me, Malach. If you’re going to trip up, it’ll be when you’re telling me about all the insignificant, everyday details.”
He suppressed a sigh. Stubborn creature. There was nothing for him to “trip up” on given he was only telling her the truth.
“Tell me about this naming thing—after the crystals, I mean.”
Malach stretched out a crick in his neck and bunched the pillow more comfortably beneath his head. “After a young man proves himself worthy and is elevated to warrior-status, he is ceremonially renamed after a crystal—what some call gems or stones. Each crystal is selected by the Priests for certain attributes that best complement the man it is to be matched with.”
“Your crystal is malachite, right?”
“Yes.”
“So what’re the qualities of malachite, then?”
“’Tis a stone that must be handled with caution because in its natural form it is toxic. The priests believe it is still evolving—still growing and learning its powers.” He challenged her with his gaze, daring her to poke fun at his claim… as Wulf’s kinsman, Kyan, had once poked fun at Malach’s efforts to make sense of the scrolls he’d stolen from the priests.
She nodded, her expression serious, accepting his claims without demur. “I don’t know much about the properties of crystals. I’ll have to do some research. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.”
“Why?”
“There might be a crystal that could help Mei.”
“A good idea. ’Tis worth trying. Perhaps I could assist your research.”
“Thanks.”
She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him she believed in magic. Nor had she tried to find some other explanation for the be-spelled door of their hotel room. Why then, did she not believe him?
He masked his frustration. She had her reasons. And if he wanted her cooperation, he must respect them. “Malachite is not only an important protection stone, ’tis a stone of transformation, encouraging risk-taking and change, and releasing inhibitions.”
He noticed the flush painting her cheeks and knew she was remembering certain events from the previous night when she had been most delightfully uninhibited.
“Malachite has other useful qualities but mostly the priests use it for scrying and healing.”
She stared at him, nibbling on her lower lip, a slight frown pleating her brows. He could almost hear her thought processes, her wonder that he had been matched to this stone.
“I am a man of many talents and hidden depths,” he said, straight-faced, wondering if she would understand his subtle attempt at humor.
She gave him amused eyes. “I’ll say. And what happens once you’re matched to your stones? Does the earth, like, move or something?”
“An entire mountain collapsed the instant I was renamed for my chosen stone.”
Her eyes went huge. “Wow! Really?”
“No.”
It took a few moments for her to realize he was having fun at her expense. “No more of that or I’ll have Aunt Lìli turn you into a toad,” she said. “And you’d better believe she can do it, too.”
“I would like to meet this fearsome witch.”
“You say that now. And you think I’m giving you a hard time with all my questions? Well, I’ve got nothing on Aunt Lìli. She’ll turn you inside out and make you beg for mercy.” She paused, obviously waiting. And then she said, “Carry on. I think we’re just getting to the good bit.”
“During the ceremony, our priests cast a spell to imbue the crystal with the warrior’s essence. Afterward they hide the crystal in a secret place known only to themselves, where it is guarded both physically and by means of magic spells.” He went on to explain that once the naming ceremony was complete, the warrior retained his new name until his deathbed. After a warrior’s death, his crystal would be chosen for another fledgling warrior. “These ceremonies have been performed as far back as we can remember—thousands of years so the priests claim. Thus, the more ancient the crystal, the more warriors it has linked with, and the more power it possesses.”
Jade’s gaze turned calculating. “What about the crystal that imprisoned you? The one Pieter trapped you in? Would that be as powerful as your original crystal?”
He immediately understood the reasoning behind her question. “Perhaps. But before you consider using it to aid your sister, remember that not only has it broken in two, but it was also cursed so it could be used to imprison a man. It was never intended to be used for its original purpose, for protection or transformation. Intentions are powerful thing and I would be uneasy about using a crystal that has been warped and broken to try to aid a loved one.”
Jade blew out a breath that conveyed weary acceptance. “Yeah, you’re right. It could make things worse. Damn that old man.”
“Pieter is damned. Never fear on that account.”
Someone rapped on the door.
“Come in!” Jade called.
The woman called Grace opened the door and peered around it. From her expectant expression and her subsequent moue of disappointment, Malach guessed she expected him to be in the middle of ravishing Jade. His balls tightened and his cock twitched at the mere thought of ravishing Jade. He raised his knee to hide his arousal from Grace’s knowing gaze.
“Everything all right in here?”
“Yes,” Jade said. “Of course everything’s all right. Is Mei okay?”
“Of course Mei’s okay,” Grace said, mimicking Jade’s snappish tone.
“Sorry.”
“I know, J. No need to apologize.”
Jade mustered a weary smile for her friend. “What do you want, Gracie?”
Grace endeavored to look innocent. And failed. Malach didn’t believe the woman knew the meaning of the word. “Oh, just wondering if you wanted a cuppa or something.”
Malach opened his mouth to say that he would very much appreciate a “cuppa or something”—especially if it was coffee and accompanied by food. But
Jade was having none of it. “We won’t be much longer, Gracie. Just have a few more things to sort out.”
“I bet you do. Don’t blow this, okay?”
“Go away, Gracie.” It was said without heat and Grace didn’t take offense.
“Okay. I’m outta here. But if you need me, you know where I am.”
Malach waited until she left the room, closing the door behind her. “I would get to the crux of my tale, if you have no further questions.”
“Getting tired of talking, huh? Knew I’d wear you down sooner or later.”
Malach thought about all the ways he’d like her to wear him down… and then cursed his suddenly rampant sex-drive. This girl—no, this young woman, for she had proven last night that she was no little girl—had him acting like a stripling who’d only just discovered the wonders of a woman’s body and could think of nothing else. “Under the Keepership of great leaders like my Lord Keeper Wulfenite, the fiefs prospered as never before—save for the curse that continued to plague my people.”
“A disease?”
“Nay, not a disease. The unforeseen backlash from a prideful spell cast many centuries ago.”
“A spell?” Her eyes had gone saucer-round.
“Yes. Our priests had spied upon your world and coveted its riches. They discovered how to open a portal between the two worlds, and claimed the portents were favorable for a crossing during the next alignment of the planets. They ordered the Lord Keepers to send their fiercest and most loyal warriors to plunder your world, but the Lord Keepers were wary. There is a long and bloody history of disputes amongst our tribes. Raiding and in-fighting is a way of life, and costs many a brash young man his life. The Lord Keepers were reluctant to risk their warriors, and staunch in their efforts to adhere to the old ways. But the priests played their trump card and finally had their way—as they always do.”
The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle Page 63
