Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1)

by YatesNZ, Jen

  ‘Not my powers, Phree. Just the healing energy of the Goddess channeled through me,’ she chided gently.

  Phryne nodded impatiently.

  ‘I know. How badly was he wounded? They said his leg was almost severed.’

  ‘It was, but it was the loss of blood that almost killed him. He'll live. Maybe not to war again, but he'll live.’

  ‘Thank you, Great Mother Ist,’ Phryne murmured devoutly.

  Meryan sat up against the wall.

  ‘Well, it's been a long, eventful, and for some, fulfilling night,’ she commented into the ensuing silence. Her eyes darted briefly to Gynevra then she added, ‘Phree's dying to tell all you missed last night and beg you to make her some `Goddess Salve'. Delida gave her some but she said the delilahs from the Outer City swear you make the most efficacious brew. Perhaps you could make me some too. I may have need of it by this time tomorrow.’

  Gynevra jolted round in her seat.

  ‘Oh Sacred Ist! Mery, you're uniting with Hadan of Trephysia at sunset today! How could I have forgotten that?’

  ‘There has been much to distract you.’

  Meryan's usually dreamy blue eyes were strangely knowing and direct. Gynevra dropped her gaze to her hands to give herself time to absorb the message she saw in those eyes. Mery couldn't know, could she? Her mind might have worked better if she'd had a night's sleep but even so she recognized and grasped at the excuse for escape that Meryan had handed her.

  ‘The most important ingredient of my `Goddess Salve' is the hour of curing in the midday sun. I'll need to go now and make it up before the noon heat is gone.’

  She could escape Phryne's reminiscences and whatever it was Mery seemed to know until the heated edge had cooled off her own memories. Maybe then she'd be better able to guard her thoughts and her tongue. Her heart grew heavier by the moment with the sense of alienation from these two who were as much a part of her as she was of herself.

  ‘But Gyn'a! I thought you'd want to know everything.’

  Forcing herself to remain calm, Gynevra stood up, gave Phryne a swift, hard hug, and said, ‘I do want to know—but if he took you seven times you need that salve as soon as possible. It's a wonder you can still walk!’

  ‘It's not easy. Darg carried me in here. How did you know it was seven?’ Phryne asked.

  She knew she was too tired to guard her tongue in any interchange with Phryne right now!

  ‘News like that spreads rather fast. It means we're going to have the best crops of the century—and let's hope it means the Gods won't send any earthquakes or tidal waves either.’

  ‘Especially if I'm pregnant,’ Phryne added complacently. ‘The army should also be successful against the Inland Tribes and they'll be able to set up a colony there which will give us new sources of food.’

  ‘Right,’ Gynevra agreed with relief. ‘So, why don't you get a bit more sleep and we'll have a talk-feast tomorrow. It'll take our minds off missing Mery. I need some more sleep too and so does she—or she'll fall asleep in her platter at the feast tonight! I can't imagine that impressing Prince Hadan! And if you're hurting as much as you should be, then you need that salve as soon as I can make it.’

  ‘But have you had any lunch, Gyn’a?’ asked Meryan in her usual mothering way, which made Gynevra smile. ‘You need to eat to replace all that energy.’

  The smile faded. She now had no doubt Meryan possessed information she'd thought privy to herself and Taur. She also knew her sister hadn't shared that information with Phryne, nor would she. Staring directly at Mery, she engaged her mind.

  ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

  ‘I'll come see you shortly at the Hall of Alchemy. I have something for you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Later. Go now before Phree starts wondering. It wouldn't be fair to steal her special moment.’

  ‘What energy?’ Phryne demanded, giving substance to Meryan's thoughts. ‘I'm the one who expended all the energy last night!’

  ‘Gyn'a spent all night in Uranil healing the Prince and achieved nothing less than a miracle.’

  ‘It was the Universal Healing energy that saved him,’ Gynevra said again.

  ‘So you're not tired after all?’ Phryne asked, her long slim fingers absently stroking the dark jewel on her breast.

  Beating down the black emotion that threatened to choke her, Gynevra said, ‘We all are. Tonight is the last time we'll be together. Mery will live in the City of Glass with Hadan after this and you're off to the Monastery in a few days. Let's get some rest so we can enjoy the night's festivities.’

  All three indulged in a quick hug and Gynevra departed thankfully for the Hall of Alchemy, a small stone building set amid herb gardens beyond the Great Healing Temple. She'd mix the salve and set it in the sun then check on the Prince.

  Glad to find she had the place to herself, she assembled the necessary ingredients on the marble work slab—slippery elm, hyssop, sun-vibrated amethyst elixir, aloe emollient for the carrier cream. And the precious amethyst mixing bowl gifted to her by Ianthe on the occasion of the completion of her initiation as a master-healer.

  Her hands fell idle often while she stared out through stone archways into the enclosed courtyard where unguents and elixirs were steeped or cured in sunlight or moonlight. Her brow was deeply furrowed as she sought to understand the virulence of her feelings towards Phryne. Jealousy was an emotion supposed to belong only to primitives and the uninitiated. She could see why. It was intensely uncomfortable and simply wouldn't work in a society where men, whether in a union or not, could be contracted to sire children on other women or chosen to perform their sacred duty in any of the Temple rites enacted throughout the year.

  Nor would it work where couples were expected not only to contract a sire of the Dragon Blood for their children but their sacred partners, as the other half of the union, supervised the act. If she were in a union with Taur she knew she couldn't remain the complacent onlooker while he honored laws and contracts to sire the next generation.

  Her reaction to his signature stone hanging from Phryne's necklace was shocking enough in itself but even more alarming was the thought of attending public functions where any number of the women present could be wearing the same adornment.

  Black profanity filled her mind. Ancient Cronos! What was happening to her? She was no better than a savage or a servitor! Ever since her initiation on the altar by Magus Yazid there had been a longing in her for something more, an awareness that a lifetime of such ritual couplings would leave her emotionally sterile and bitter. That awareness was now a solid knowing. The power of her joining with Taur in the grotto had shown what her life as Archinus would always lack. But could she know that powerful connection to a man without feeling this ugly jealousy?

  Ibn Ist! It was her duty to follow Ianthe as Archinus. Ianthe expected it, King Ahron expected it, as did every priestess in the Temple. Why was she tormenting herself with longing for something she shouldn't be dreaming of? A sacred partner wasn't for her. Yet without one how often was she likely to experience the ecstasy of the creative act as she had with Taur? Having discovered that ecstasy, her body was avid to repeat the experience—and not with the public and sterile ritual of the altar. What a tangled mess her thoughts had become! What her body longed for, her mind feared.

  Jerking upwards with impatience at the impassioned thought, her elbow caught the amethyst bowl and skidded it across the marble work surface. Heart beating frantically, she caught it as it teetered at the edge. She'd almost allowed her distraction to destroy Ianthe's precious gift. Just as she'd allowed Taur's energy to distract her from her duty to the Goddess last night!

  Her whole being trembled with shame. The outcome of that should surely have taught her the folly of allowing herself to be tempted from her ordained path. Drawing in several deep breaths to center herself she began chanting an invocation to the Goddess and kept repeating it until the salve was thoroughly mixed and set in the sun.

  A
fter cleaning down her work area she laid out the small alabaster pots into which the salve would be decanted. She was about to leave to visit Prince Gotham when Meryan stepped through the arches, into the Hall of Alchemy.

  ‘How and when?’ she demanded.

  Taking Gynevra's arm she drew her to a stone seat beneath a palm in the courtyard.

  ‘How and when what?’ Gynevra countered.

  Did she dare share her secret with Mery? Desperate to share it with someone, she knew there was none better than this gentle sister who was a Nyaldan like—

  ‘You and King Cadal Isidor.’

  ‘And what do you know about me and King Cadal Isidor?’

  It was impossible to keep the sharpness from her voice.

  ‘Not as much as I'd like to, but enough!’ Meryan's eyes were bright with laughter at Gynevra's discomfort. ‘You might as well tell me. I already have the proof. It's the details I lack—and it's the details I want!’

  ‘What proof do you have?’

  A snake of dread coiled in Gynevra’s stomach. Had Taur been bragging?

  ‘Uh-ah. Tell first.’

  ‘Who else knows?’

  Meryan heard the apprehension in Gynevra's voice and hastened to reassure her.

  ‘It's all right, Gyn'a. I'm the only one who knows and I have to admit it's really only guesswork. Here.’ She placed a small linen-wrapped bundle in Gynevra's palm. It was warm as if she'd been hiding it in her own hand for some time. ‘Open it. Then—well at least tell me when! I mean, he joined with Phryne seven times last night. Seven times—and he didn't leave her until dawn! It was quite obvious something was going on between you two though. Have you been holding out on us? Had you already been with him?’

  ‘Who else noticed?’ Gynevra asked, the snake in her belly writhing in panic.

  ‘No one, I don't think,’ Mery said gently. ‘No one else knows you as well as I do.’

  ‘Except Phree.’

  ‘Phree had far too much on her mind to notice you.’

  Releasing a pent-up breath, Gynevra opened her hand and let the small bundle of cloth unroll. Lying in her palm, attached to a gold silken thread and reflecting the fire of the sun from every gleaming facet, was a tiny but perfect bull. Exquisitely carved from black obsidian.

  To her utter consternation tears burned at the back of her eyes, and her throat jammed shut. Great Mother Ist, it was beautiful. Her hand began to tremble as with one shaking finger she traced the intricate lines.

  Such an exquisite, delicate thing to represent such passion and power.

  A hot tear fell onto the back of her hand.

  ‘Gyn'a! I didn't think it'd make you cry!’ Mery said, folding her in her arms.

  ‘It's—so—beautiful,’ Gynevra snuffled against her shoulder, then pushing herself away, dashed an embarrassed hand across her eyes. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘The funniest little dwarf person I've ever seen sent Old Brad the Gardener to fetch you to meet him under the Horse Bridge. I couldn't find you, so I went. He said his master, the ‘Phenomenal Bull of Nyalda’—his words not mine—sent this token for the Princess Gynevra of Poseidonia. He was very insistent it was for you and not Phree, and I had to memorize this message—which I had to vow to deliver only to you! First there was a promise. ‘My Master, King Cadal Isidor II of Nyalda vows to cross vast oceans should the Princess Gynevra have need of his services to sire her children’. And then a rhyme—‘A bull of black obsidian bold for the Princess of the Dawn with eyes of gold’'.’

  For a long space of time Gynevra couldn't speak. Then she whispered shakily, ‘Cloaba! I wish he hadn't done that.’

  ‘It's necessary after a joining, Gyn'a. You're supposed to wear his signature stone at least until you're certain you're not pregnant, and if you are, you're supposed to wear it till the child is born and then give it to them. So they'll know who sired them.’

  Gynevra stared for a long silent moment at the tiny creature that looked real enough one could imagine at any moment it would paw the ground.

  ‘I'm not pregnant. I haven't been to the Temple to have my fertility crystal re-programmed—and he knew that.’

  ‘If he knew then he wasn't required to give the token. That he has is a symbol of something beyond merely joining to sire a child. He knew you'd always keep that token and it's much more than a nicely shaped and polished piece of stone such as he gave Phree. I didn't mean to make you sad, Gyn'a,’ Mery said, gently twining her fingers into her sister's. ‘Were you already lovers—before?’

  Gynevra shook her head.

  ‘I'd only ever seen him at the Dragon Festivals before—before yesterday.’

  ‘So—when?’ Mery asked, genuinely perplexed.

  Gynevra caressed the little bull between thumb and forefinger and knew she loved it already. Knew too, there was much that after all, she didn't dare share even with Meryan.

  Drawing in a deep uneven breath, she said, ‘This morning. He came to me as I bathed in the grotto under the Causeway.’

  ‘This morning! How could he? He'd already—seven times—Great Cronos!—and how did he find you there?’

  ‘Please don't ask me any more,’ Gynevra whispered, slipping her hand from Meryan's grasp, and closing it over the precious black jewel in her palm. ‘Just know he did find me and that—my Lady Mother probably decided to leave nothing to chance and brewed an extra strong nuptial nectar.’

  Rising and walking agitatedly across to the spring, she trailed her fingers in its crystalline depths.

  ‘Mery,’ she said, looking at her sister over her shoulder, ‘How will you feel if Hadan is contracted to sire someone else’s child? He's a Son of the Dragon. It could happen.’

  ‘Men who have sacred partners aren't contracted as often as others. Nor is Hadan as beautiful as Gotham or as well built as Taur.’

  ‘But he's always here because he's a teacher and not a soldier so it's quite possible it could happen. You'd have to witness him—when—you'd have to witness him join with other women. Will that upset you?’

  ‘Gyn'a, that's the whole purpose of it. If I'm there as a witness it's nothing more than a mechanical sowing of the seed, just like planting the harvest in the fields. You have to admit old Isidor's plan to re-populate our country with beautiful, intelligent people is working. Look at the huge strides in technology we've made in the last fifty years and nearly all of it instigated by his off-spring.’

  ‘I know all that,’ Gynevra said, sitting back on the bench beside Meryan. ‘But I don't believe I could do it! I love Phryne yet when I think of him—joining with her, I want to kill her! Oh Hyades! This is awful,’ she whispered, dropping her head onto her hands. ‘The worst is now I've experienced joining with a real man I'm more afraid than ever I'll not be satisfied with the occasional ritual joining on the altar! It was magnificent and I want it again. Often!’

  Gynevra looked up into Meryan's dancing eyes.

  ‘It's not funny, Mery!’ she cried. ‘You know I was considering petitioning my father to be allowed to take a sacred partner and now—now I don't know what to do! Supposing he was contracted for a siring and in the middle of it—I went crazy—and—oh, can't you see, it'd be awful!’

  Meryan chortled.

  ‘I can just see you trying to haul him naked off someone like the Lady Manyda! It'd be better than a stage drama. Are you going to unite with King Cadal Isidor?’

  ‘Of course not! He sails with the army tomorrow and if he was in Atlantis he'd be so busy fulfilling all his contracts he'd not have time for a sacred partner.’

  ‘Mmm, you do have a problem. Your skin's gone a blotchy red and your eyes are flashing fire just thinking about it. It's an unhealthy emotion called jealousy, Gyn'a, usually manifested by primitive peoples in uncivilized countries,’ Meryan offered helpfully.

  ‘I know all that, Mery,’ Gynevra snapped. ‘So what are my options? None. I get to become a highly initiated and highly frustrated, High Priestess! Who gets to mate a few times a year—in pu
blic—if she's lucky! Great!’

  ‘You could become a Temple delilah, like Lauriana.’

  ‘Until I lose my looks and then what?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Meryan said quickly, ‘I'll try and be serious. People generally try to contract a man to sire their children who doesn't have a sacred partner. It may not be a problem.’

  Gynevra snorted.

  ‘Do you seriously believe the existence of a sacred partner would deter women from contracting the greatest Warrior Lord in the whole country?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Meryan conceded. ‘But how would you feel watching, say, Prince Gotham join with someone else?’

  Gynevra sat very still staring down at the little black bull in her hand. Suddenly she slipped its thread over her head and threw her arms round Meryan.

  ‘You're a genius!’ she sighed. ‘Of course it wouldn't worry me. It's just—Taur.’

  ‘And you're not going to join with him anyway.’

  ‘No, I'm not, am I?’ Gynevra got up and moved restlessly about the courtyard. ‘I haven't even decided if I really want to unite with anyone yet, but I will have to get my thinking straight soon.—Oh Mery,’ she murmured, coming back to her sister and clasping her hands. ‘It's so different when you're able to connect with a man, to—to touch and arouse, to be touched and aroused. It's nothing like in ritual. You're going to enjoy joining with Hadan!’

  ‘I hope so,’ Meryan responded a little soberly. ‘You'd better not let Phree see your wee bull. Last night was very important to her. Though you'd better wear him if you go to petition our father.’

  Gynevra frowned and sat back on her heels at Meryan's feet.

  ‘My Lady Movuon will be very unhappy with me. I know she already sees me as her successor someday.—But it's not as if I'm her only daughter! There is Alienor.’