The Embroidered Serpent (The Crystalline Source Book 1)

by M. Woodruff

  Nels froze with a grin forming on his face. She couldn’t be serious. Take off his shirt? Certainly, she wouldn’t…no…unless…

  “Nels, I am serious. Take off your shirt. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  Was she smiling at him seductively? He couldn’t be sure. He…better just obey. His hands were slightly trembling as he slowly undid the buttons. Once he had his shirt off, he held it awkwardly, not really sure what he should be doing, when he noticed her staring at his right upper arm, smiling mysteriously.

  “Nels Hunter, you have been engraved by the Tiph’arah. Forevermore, you will be called a Ph’arah. The Crystalline Source is now open to you in all of its fullness. The Power will flow through you for eternity, keeping you connected to the Light in perpetuity.

  “The Tiph’arah will guide and protect you, directing its endless flows of Power into your life to do with as you wilt. But, you must be the one to seek and grow—to cultivate the Power. You can either unleash a mighty river or dam it to a trickle by your decisions. You may choose to never explore the possibilities set before you and your life will continue as it has before. Or, you may embrace what has been given to you. All is now yours, if you so desire to learn. None can guide you on your journey, but the Tiph’arah. May you choose to see all the Light can reveal.”

  Nels looked down at his arm and there embedded in his skin was a gemstone representation of the embroidered serpent. It was smooth to the touch, as if it was part of his skin, but he could see the tiny individual gemstones sparkling just as they did on the statue. It hadn’t hurt—he hadn’t realized anything had even happened. It was just there. His skin wasn’t even red.

  “How? What?” He didn’t feel any different.

  Grayson ran a finger over the engraving. He could feel that. There was a slight tingling sensation that seemed to course through his veins.

  “The mark of a Ph’arah. You have been highly honored, Nels. All in Silver Persia are Awakened, and many more throughout the worlds. But most will never even know it. I can touch their statues, my vision will remain dark, and they will remain ignorant of the Tiph’arah. They may have recognized the unseen Power in such a way to make it manifest in their own lives. Maybe they have learned they can mysteriously light candles just by thinking it, or have unique artistic skill, but unless they keep seeking, trying to understand the mystery, they will remain as they are.

  “Then, there are those who will seek for greater understanding, they yearn to know more, and I will touch their statue and I will know them. They will be brought here in answer to their longing for knowledge—they are the Lightseers. Now, they will be able to focus on their statue to be able to channel the Power of the Tiph’arah into their own lives with purpose. They are now acting on more than just instinct and willpower, but by the very essence of the Crystalline Source itself. And, as the Tiph’arah wills, they may become Ph’arah in time, just as you have, Nels.”

  “But, why me? I wasn’t seeking anything. I didn’t know about any of this until I was brought here by Casandra. How did I become a Ph’arah?” Nels asked.

  “I don’t have an answer, Nels; it is decided by the Tiph’arah. I imagine, though, it is because of how you were Awakened—you understood much for such a young man. When it is time to bring an Awakened here, they are bidden to touch their statue just as you did. If the Tiph’arah deems a person ready to be a Ph’arah the statue is then engraved in their flesh, fully entwining the spiritual to the physical, then the physical back to the spiritual; so the Crystalline Source may flow into that person without reservation, and that person may tap into the endless resources of the Tiph’arah. Your connection is unbreakable now, though you may still choose not to use the gift you have been given. The Tiph’arah is not pushy like a raging river, but a gentle stream content to flow where it is most at home in its natural environment. But, never mistake gentility for weakness—the Power you have access to is the same Power that creates worlds. It is infinite in its design, and the possibilities are endless. The only limitations are those you impose on yourself.”

  Nels rubbed his hand over the embroidered serpent engraved in his arm. He couldn’t help but shake his head—the one thing he’d been running from for his whole life was now forever marking his skin. And yet, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the gift it had ultimately given him. Well, it hadn’t given him anything, really, and he still wasn’t through with the actual embroidered serpent either, he knew. They still had unfinished business. But now, he didn’t feel so alone.

  8

  Nels found he was sitting back in his room on one of the black leather chairs. Night had fallen and the room was lit mysteriously from the onyx wall sconces, casting light where one would expect shadows. The large fire in the emerald-studded fireplace was raging. Nels looked at his hand and saw the green light reflected on his skin. He thought the effect of the room should have given him an eerie tingle down his spine, but instead he felt comforted in the unusual glow.

  “It is later than I expected,” Grayson said suddenly from the chair across from him. He hadn’t even realized she was there. “I will leave you dinner before I go. Tomorrow I would like you to tour the city with Jasper DuBlec. He is one of my most trusted advisors. He can see things others cannot. I do not think he has been infiltrated by the Dark, but even him you must consider carefully. He does not know your mission—only you and I know that. Remember and tell no one, not even Casandra. I have other plans for her. She will be busy for a while, so you may get to know Silver Persia on your own, without any possible influence she may offer. I do not think Jasper will give you a starry-eyed view of our world.” She gave Nels a dry smile. “He is rather matter-of-fact in his interpretation of things.

  “Now, your dinner.” Grayson waved a hand and table full of silver covered dishes appeared before him. “Oh, and no Nectar of the Gods before bed. It can keep you awake.” A pitcher of cool water and a glass appeared on the table, Nels noticed ruefully. But the food did smell delicious.

  “How did we get in here?” Nels suddenly asked reaching for the brown cloth on the table. “Is this room a Portal?”

  “Ahh,” Grayson smiled with approval as she answered, “all of Silver Persia is a Portal, Nels. We have become so saturated with the Light of Tiph’arah that our whole world is a pool of energy.”

  “Then I can just travel wherever I please?” Nels found he was suddenly amused at the possibilities even if he didn’t have any idea of where he would go.

  “Yes, you can. If you know where you’d like to go, that is.”

  “Well, there is that.” He smiled. “But today I saw people walking, and taking carriages along the roadways, why are they bothering if they can just travel? They know their destinations I’m sure.”

  “One main reason: Only a Ph’arah can travel alone. While all in Silver Persia are Awakened, you’d be surprised at how few are Lightseers, and even fewer still are Ph’arah. Most have the ability, but not the desire. They are surrounded by the flow of the Tiph’arah and enjoy its benefits, but they like doing things manually, as I mentioned before with the cooks. So, they never bother trying to learn more than the fundamentals. Plus, some people enjoy riding around in fine carriages—they enjoy the whole show of it. And I don’t say that derisively, I enjoy a good show myself.”

  Nels grunted. He wasn’t sure if he was like that or not. He had never been one to ride around in fine carriages—even though he had ridden in one once with some fops he had been guiding through the forest. They had apparently not realized that a forest contained trees and brought along a carriage, a team of horses, and a driver. Their plan had been to sit in the carriage sipping distilled spirits, telling bawdy jokes, and occasionally shooting arrows out of the windows if a deer happened to stroll by as the carriage trundled along in the woods.

  The driver, a sly looking fellow, had known what he was about because he insisted on being paid the full amount whether his carriage could traverse a forest or not. The fops, having escaped th
eir wives for a week, refused to leave the comforts of a well-appointed enclosure to actually have to walk through dirt and leaves, so instead settled on being driven through various small hamlets where they had shouted lewd remarks to males and females alike, giggling all the while, before hammering on the ceiling to signal it was now time for the driver to flee. The driver had known well in advance the time to make haste, which was pretty much any time the target was below the age of eighty.

  The smart fellow tripled his fee at the end of the journey to compensate for his ruined nerves and his now jittery horses; plus, the numerous repairs to the carriage from thrown rocks—not to mention the replacement of a new hat that had fallen apart because it had been shot so frequently with arrows. Nels had been forced to endure the outing to receive his own pittance, so he had followed the driver’s lead and tripled his payment for services, due to his shattered eardrums caused by the perverse decibel levels that emanated from the fops’ prettily painted lips. The men had enjoyed the excursion so much they had merrily paid more than requested and announced they would do it all again next year. At which point Nels had begun having Thom screen any potential clients at The Rickety Inn before he would dare to show his face.

  “You know I met some little flying people today,” Nels said then wished he hadn’t. He was hungry and he didn’t think it would be polite to start eating in front of the Jouel this time.

  “The Lightflies, yes, I know. I suppose you’ve never seen their like before. You handled them amazingly well, that being the case. They can be quite touchy. Their eggs spring directly from the soil, so they tend to see humans as invaders still, even though we all enjoy a symbiotic relationship.”

  “You think they could be touched by the Dark?” Nels asked over his rumbling stomach. He hoped his food stayed hot.

  Grayson hesitated in thought for a moment before answering. “It’s possible, yes. But don’t be fooled by their quarrelsome attitudes. That would not be sufficient enough reason to think anyone is touched by the Darkness.

  “You are hungry and it is time for me to go. Jasper will knock on your door in the morning. You may dress as you see fit. We do not judge people on the basis of clothes, even though most do appreciate their finery.”

  And with that Grayson disappeared, leaving a flash of purple fireworks in the air that slowly dissolved into amethyst dust. Nels would’ve appreciated her showy exit more if he hadn’t already started stuffing honeyed bread into his mouth.

  After a dreamless sleep in ebony sheets, he awoke to find breakfast waiting for him on the table. There was still a fire burning, but it wasn’t as fierce as the night before and the gentle warmth reminded him of a nice, hot soaking bath, which he would embark upon after he ate. His meal consisted of pancakes topped with thick syrup and butter, eggs—which he wickedly wondered if it happened to be a little flying person, savoring each bite pretending it was so—and a large goblet of Nectar of the Gods. Grayson had definitely provided breakfast, he decided, gratefully.

  After soaking in the delightfully bubbling water of the onyx tub, Nels put on his plain brown leathers, including gloves, even though he did notice some horrifically embellished jackets hanging in the wardrobe. No, he wasn’t going to lose himself in Silver Persia, he needed to remember exactly who he was and what he was about. There might would come a time when he needed to blend in, but for now, he was just an observer. A yokel from another world, harmless in his simplicity.

  He spared a brief thought for Casandra, wondering what she was doing and what kind of dresses Grayson had provided for her. Whatever they looked like he was sure Casandra would love them if the Jouel had handpicked them—or made them herself he mused, suddenly wondering if that was what would keep Casandra occupied today. Certainly if she learned to make her own dresses, especially using the Tiph’arah, that would keep her busy. Maybe even just a shopping trip would do that.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Deciding not to meet Jasper DuBlec at the door, Nels quickly sat on a chair in front of the fire after moving the table with his cleaned plates to the corner. He thought they could have a cozy chat, first, to get to know one another before setting out. Nels had always found it did good to meet someone in a relaxed environment to ease any nervous tension people often experienced in meeting strangers.

  “Come in,” he called jovially, purposely slouching in the chair for effect.

  Nels bolted upright, though, as death opened the door.

  Jasper DuBlec was an elderly man that looked like he had died some time ago, except for his hair, which had to be a wig. No human could have such shiny tight curls in that color of orange. It sat upon a face that was grayish in color with drooping jowls. Bright blue eyes stared at Nels flatly, belying the gaiety of the two rose-colored circles painted on his cheeks.

  “Nels Hunter, I bid you greeting.” Somehow a mouth spoke out of what appeared to be only a straight line in the old man’s face.

  Flummoxed, Nels tried to regain his slouch, but decided instead just to focus on keeping his skin from actually crawling where the man might see it and take offense. “Please, have a seat.” Nels gestured to the vacant chair then added belatedly, “Oh, and ah, greetings to you Jasper DuBlec.”

  The willowy old man, dressed only in a black satin button-down jacket and—to Nels’ absolute horror—black hose, folded himself into the chair, before saying, “please, call me Sulla,” with a smile that revealed overly large, perfectly white teeth. Nels gulped, hoping beyond hope that the somewhat-long jacket stayed buttoned or that the man was at least wearing a codpiece.

  “Sulla? Pardon me, I thought you were Jasper DuBlec—that’s whom I was expecting, you see,” Nels said, suddenly relieved this wasn’t to be his tour guide, but then similarly repulsed—who is this guy and why is he in my room?

  “I am Jasper DuBlec, but today I am Sulla,” he said as he crossed his long legs, which caused Nels to gasp, before noticing he was wearing shiny black leather shoes with thick three-inch heels. The citrines centered on their tops in the midst of black ruffles matched Sulla’s hair.

  “Well then, Sulla, it is,” Nels said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, forcing amiability into his voice. This was one of Grayson’s trusted advisors? Of course, he really didn’t know the man; it would be unfair to judge him so quickly, based on so little. He was sure to have had years of experience at least and that counted for something.

  “Grayson has directed me to show you Silver Persia and that I will do today.” Sulla pulled out a white lace handkerchief from the inside of his jacket and began dabbing at his runny nose.

  “The whole world? Surely we couldn’t see all of Silver Persia today?” Nels leaned forward incredulously staring at Sulla’s slick orange fingernails and the large citrine ring on his long, pasty little finger.

  “Silver Persia is not that large, Nels. Not like The Kingdom, which is divided into cities and such. All is one large city, you might would say, with various tiers built amongst the mountain ranges and areas with specific purposes dotted throughout the flatlands. We are like Sandrid, except that we aren’t locked away from the rest of our world. Silver Persia is completely accessible, only it expands to accommodate its citizens. As we grow, so does our world, through new mountains, valleys, and plateaus being formed. Most of the time, complete with new roadways and occasionally buildings, but our architects do tend to like to do the building themselves, so the Tiph’arah obliges by keeping her handiwork to a minimal. The necessary materials to build are always provided in abundance, of course.” Determining his nose was not to stop dripping any time soon, Sulla neatly folded his handkerchief into a triangle and stuck the pointy end into the offending nostril.

  “Are we going to travel to the highlights you’d like me to see?” Nels asked, trying not to gape at this ridiculous old man.

  “No. It will be best to walk and go by carriage. It will be less disorienting that way.” The handkerchief dangled precariously with each word spoken as Sulla’s
hawk-like nose bobbed. He reached up and gave it a harder shove, ending with a twist to make sure the cloth held. Sulla behaved as if he would be mortified if the handkerchief fell out of his nose rather than suffering any embarrassment by the fact that he had a handkerchief stuffed in his nose to begin with.

  “Yes, walking would be best,” Nels started, but then not really sure he wanted to be seen walking around with this guy for any length of time, ended with, “but, we can see more, quicker, riding in a carriage.”

  “Yes, yes. We’ll take a carriage to the various areas of interest and do our walking there, if necessary. I’m not taking you shopping, by the way. Or to get any food. I assume you’ve already had breakfast? Yes, I see it in the corner. Good. This isn’t a pleasure trip, Mister Hunter, I assure you. I am just following the Jouel’s orders, mind you.” He suddenly stopped talking and fixed Nels with a penetrating glare as if trying to pry into hidden recesses buried within his skull. “I don’t know why she wants you to go to these certain places, but it is not for me to question. However, I will remember where we go and how you behave and I will report back to the Jouel, for good or ill. I have known Grayson for a long, long time. I am sure you cannot have know her longer than I.” Sulla finished with a smug smirk half hidden by his handkerchief, as Nels realized the old man was jealous, thinking that he might be a potential love rival.

  Nels hid his own smirk at the very idea, but then sheltered a grimace—surely Grayson and this guy couldn’t have been…He stopped before his thoughts could become any more vivid. It was none of his business anyway.

  “Uh, what exactly do you do, Sulla? Your official title, that is,” Nels asked while shuffling a little in his seat, feeling fidgety all of a sudden.

  Sulla opened his mouth to take in a large breath before speaking imperiously, inhaling part of his handkerchief. “I am the Master of Jewels. I oversee all of Silver Persia to make sure all is in order, which it always is, I might add. Pah!” he finished, dislodging the wet end of the hankie from his mouth, but somehow it managed to still remain in his nose.