Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) (15 page)

“Wait!” Crystalyn called. “Why do you keep calling her a ‘Dark Child?’” For an answer, Darwin spurred his dark horse into a gallop, vanishing around an outcropping of aspen trees. Rounding on Atoi, Crystalyn frowned. “What did he mean by that? Is there something I should know about you?”

Atoi’s expression remained impassive. “Come, darkness is almost upon us. We’ll have to find our path to camp in the dark. I am capable of this, but it will require you to stay close.” Turning away, she melted into the thicket.

Crystalyn stamped her foot in frustration. Just when she was beginning to find things out, sunlight decided to give way to the darkness.

Shouldering aside scrub oak, Crystalyn followed Atoi’s footsteps. The darkness was deeper as soon as they broke through to the trail. Crystalyn strode as fast as she dared, scrambling to keep the pace Atoi set. The tiny girl moved ahead each time she got close enough to ask the question reverberating through her mind.
What was a Dark Child?

She would find out, whether Atoi wanted to talk about it or not.

DARK USER DARK CHILD

Beheld from such a high vantage point, Crystalyn could see how different Astura’s land compared to the Mountain back home. For one thing, it was gree
n
—
or soon would b
e
—
and it
sprawled
. Trees, bushes and plant life spread far, adding to the oxygen-rich air. Growing things thrived, absorbing golden sunlight instead of gray polluted air.

Taking up a large portion of the land below, the mighty Lake Ever Cold reflected its white-capped lovely blue all the way back up to where she stood at the cliff edge. From so high up, it was easy to see how Four Bridges had gotten the name. Four arched, wooden bridges, each similar in construction, provided a trade route across the rivers to the rest of Astura. Three major tributaries fed into it from the north, east, and west. Wider than she’d expected, the great lake seemed a freshwater sea. The eastern side allowed an escape path for the snaking Even Flow River, the southernmost end drained away into swamplands.

Taking a last look at the tiny speck Hastel had assured her was the Muddy Wagon Inn, Crystalyn turned away from the overlook she’d demanded they stop at. The time they’d spent climbing the mountain had been almost intolerable. She already had a low tolerance for bickering—brought on by the mind affliction, her irritation was quick to flare up.

The side remarks, lashing tongues, and grating commands, had begun with the first time they’d mired in mud and continued with every bog the Lore Mother always seemed to drive into afterward. The companions had bickered over being stuck and then every little thing after that.

The Lore Mother snipped at everyone but Lore Rayna and Cudgel, though she did bark orders at them like everyone else.

Cudgel went out of his way to provoke Hastel. The two had to be broken apart almost every bell—as everyone called an hour here. Atoi usually joined in those encounters, brandishing her dagger too often.

Lore Rayna hissed at everyone, including her precious Lore Mother, showing signs of disrespect enough times Cudgel had shown signs of his shock, though each of the Naturist’s was quick to side with each other against the rest of them. Crystalyn was about ready to leave them buried in the next wheel rut and continue alone. As it was, she’d had to medicate several times.

Stepping around the softer patches of earth, she went to where the Lore Mother stood near the cliff’s edge, presumably looking down. It was hard to tell exactly where the old woman stared. She fought off a flash of annoyance for the Lore Mother’s glowing eyes, though she was certain it’d be back. “From here, it looks like Four Bridges is still growing. The houses around the southern swamplands, the ones with stilts, look newer. Am I reading the layout of the town, right?” she asked to take her mind off the woman’s unnerving eyes.

“You are observant for one so young.”

Crystalyn flushed. A compliment from the white-haired woman meant quite a bit since she didn’t part with many. In fact, Crystalyn couldn’t recall even one. “My dad has a saying—‘Failing to take the time to look at the lay of the land will cost you a longer road with a high probability of added hardship.’”

The Lore Mother chuckled. “Your dad seems knowledgeable. He is still on your home world, I presume?”

“Yes, probably worried sick by now.” The thought of her dad brought homesickness barreling to the forefront, but she needed to stay focused. “I’ve wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Have you ever heard of anyone named Darkwind?”

The Lore Mother’s wizened face swung her direction, her long white hair billowing behind her. “I know the name too well. How is it someone new to this world has heard it?”

As soon as she’d asked the question, Crystalyn recalled how Darkwind had mentioned the Naturists dislike for him. “Someone in the Muddy Wagon Inn used the name. He sounded scared,” she said, surprised at how comfortable the lie felt. Her reply seemed to placate the old woman.

“As well he should be Darkwind is a Dark User of some renown, he holds great power. He is not far under Lord Charn.”

“Lord Charn?”

“The current Great Lord leading Virun’s dark army.”

“Virun is a place?”

“Yes it is. Virun encompasses the easternmost lands. Claimed ages ago by Dark Users, Virun’s main city has been carved into a formidable fortress called the Dark Citadel by Light and Dark Users alike, back when they still got along. Over half is underground, hewn through hard stone by use of the Flow.”

A thought occurred to Crystalyn, brought on by something Darkwind had said about choosing sides. “Is the war here with Virun? How long has it been going on?”

The Lore Mother hesitated, her luminous eyes flashing brighter. “The threat from the east has been known for many an age. The darkness dwelling there seeks to swell its ranks; all it asks for is servitud
e
—
to the death. You cannot change your mind. The Flow binds you, once sworn. It is the same if you commune with the Light, which prevents spying to an extent. A Dark User would not be able to manipulate both sides, so eventually any pretense would come into the open. Likely sooner than later, someone would surely notice the pulses of dark color flecks in their eyes after their strength grew.”

“The Flow is different for Dark Users?”

“Yes. Theirs has a distinct shadow within the Flow, and the color prism throughout it is limited. Black, red, orange, and most times brown, this can be confusing, since monks wear brown robes. It can be difficult to distinguish between the two.”

Crystalyn shook her head to clear it. She had so much to learn. “I don’t know of these flecks you speak of.”

“Every User gets pulse flecks over time. It becomes prominent the longer they’ve been Using.”

“You say that like it’s an addiction or something.”

“Oh, but it is. No one is immune, even the most powerful. In fact, the corruption runs deeper the stronger you are. You will know in time, I doubt even you are immune. As I was saying, in some ages, the eastern darkness is the strongest, during those times the rest of Astura bands together to hold it a bay. This age has been...different. Many powerful foes have spewed forth from the dark lands. Darkness is encroaching faster than any have ever known. There are new factors involved from each side. Some have been foretold, some have not.”

Crystalyn was intrigued and concerned at the same time. “What new factors?”

“Your sister is one. I believe this Darkwind to be one, though I had not seen it until recent events. He has advanced through the Dark User ranks in a short amount of time at a young age. Darkwind has held the high station of the Onyx Sword insignia for over four seasons now. Most do not last one.”

“Why don’t they?”

“Not only does one have to be a powerful Dark User, supreme efficiency with a weapon is required. Not just any weapon: it has to be the weapon the insignia brand signifies, the Onyx Sword in this case, which normally requires two decades or longer, to master.”

“So Darkwind mastered this Onyx Sword in less than the twenty seasons that it usually takes, don’t some people have a natural ability with certain weapons?”

“Permit me a better example. Most who believe they are ready to challenge a weapon master have gone through a well-disciplined course of training. Only then will any utter the challenge, for there can only be but one outcome. It is a duel to the death. Every other challenger that is, except Darkwind. He defeated a master swordsman who had over fifty seasons of experience with the magically infused weapon.” The Lore mother paused, presumably, gauging her reaction.

Crystalyn had already gotten the impression Darkwind had greater abilities than he let on, though hearing about him in such a manner sent a thrill racing through her for reasons she couldn’t fathom. She motioned for the Lore Mother to go on.

“Darwin used the Flow during the battle, so did the weapon master—he
was
considered strong as far as Dark Users go. Darkwind won without injury in what many believe was a short battle. He has held the Onyx Sword for six seasons, even though he has had to accept many challenges for the sword and the general’s position that comes with it in the Dark Citadel. Most commanders do not bother with acceptance, though. Instead, a hired assassin ends any potential challengers. Darkwind killed the assassins, the Onyx Sword’s former owner,
and
he’s accepted each challenge for it, so far. Strangely, he refrains from donning a full helm to disguise his identity from assassins or the plate armor for protection against a dagger. He uses chainmail, and rarely wears a helm like the rest of their lords and generals.”

Crystalyn wondered why Darkwind would want to live such a violent life. He didn’t seem like the type to relish violence when she talked to him. “Why are people afraid of Darkwind if Lord Charn is the leader?”

“Darkwind is a decent tactician and a strong opponent in his own right against the White Lands. He is a powerful Dark User. I have heard reports that he is much different than any other Dark User on the battlefield.”

“Why?”

“He has shown considerable mercy. There are reports of times when he could have ordered the survivors killed after their surrender. The usual Dark User method is to round them up and burn them alive with their corrupted dark Flow. Instead, Darkwind ordered his troops back to the citadel.”

Burn them alive!
Crystalyn shuddered. The mercy part sounded like the Darkwind she had met. Crystalyn opened her mouth to ask about the corruption, but Atoi came up beside her.

“Hastel claims the horses are getting antsy,” Atoi said without preamble. Not sparing a single glance below, Atoi flitted toward the others. How long had the girl lived in Four Bridges? She knew next to nothing about her companion, about any of them for that matter. She waited for Atoi to hop out of earshot before changing her line of questioning. “What is a Dark Child? What does it have to do with Atoi?”

“So, she let it slip, eh? I am beginning to believe the Dark Child does it intentionally, though only to a select few. Come; let us take a walk as we speak.” Without waiting for her acquiesce, the old woman followed the top of the cliff face along the hillside.

Crystalyn caught her after a few steps, staying back from the edge. “What
is
a Dark Child?” she asked again. Why was it so hard to get a straight answer?
What was wrong with these people
? Probably nothing, she realized. She must be getting irritable; she hadn’t given the woman much time to respond. Perhaps it was time for another med.

The Lore Mother’s luminous eyes regarded her as they walked. “So it did not reveal much. It is typical of the entity, I am afraid. Very well, I shall summarize what we know. Be warned, you may not think of Atoi in the same light as you have. Do you still wish to know further?”

Crystalyn replied without hesitation. “Yes.” Everyone else in her little band seemed to know.

Taking a deep breath, the Lore Mother began. “As you wish, Atoi is…unique…in many—”

Thinking about Darkwind’s comment, Crystalyn interrupted. “Such as, she never seems to sleep.” After the conversation, Crystalyn had stayed up as long as she could that night. Atoi was the last one at the campfire, poking the fire with a sharp stick; the little girl had looked forlorn, but wide-awake.

The Lore Mother nodded. “So you have noticed. Let me begin another way. There is a race of…I do not think ‘race’ is the right word. Perhaps ‘entities’ would suffice, though that may not be right either. Alas, we do not know much about them.”

“Who are we?”

“We Naturist
s
—
others have called us druids, some call us Valens, though that is a name for only those with linages like Lore Rayna and myself, use whichever you prefer. A select few of us are part of an ancient order known as the Green Writhe. However, that is another discussion. The race of entities associated with the Child of Night has been on this world long before humans’ arrived, or so we believe. Most reside in dark areas like the Dark Citadel, flitting from eon to eon, existing away from sunlight in cold, lonely places, going about matters known only to them. That is what we used to believe. As of late, we’ve had reports of Dark Users collaborating with them
—or taken by them
, we do not know which. In any case, Atoi’s possession originated many years earlier.”

“Are you referring to a demonic possession?”

“Not quite. ‘Demonic’ is a term from your world, I think. ‘Shade’ or ‘dark spirit’ would be an applicable description here.”

“So Atoi is possessed by a shade?”

“She has a Dark Child attached to her soul; her body is the host. The Dark Child gives her certain…abilities, but one never knows whether the Dark Child has control, or Atoi.”

“Why do you call it a Dark Child?”

“We believe it to be one of shades young, only the fledglings ever claim a host. The Ancient Ones leave other races to their own devices. At least, they have as far as we know.”

Crystalyn grappled with the concept. Atoi was a
host.

The Lore Mother went on. “We of the Green Writhe only know of three subversions involving humans in the past. In every known incident save one, the host’s mind and motor functions dissolved, two of our strongest held out mere minutes before succumbing. Those two were honored with
Terra’ a morn,
their blood returned to where life began. The third has been lost to us for some time.”