Crystal Doors #1 (25 page)

Gwen offered to assist Sage Rubicas and Orpheon through the long night as they worked without rest on expanding and improving the defensive shield spell. Her cousin and their friends would be getting up early to keep watch as the fishing boats set sail at dawn. No one doubted the merlons would return soon, and in full force.

Inside the laboratory chamber, Gwen fed the fish, glow eels, and aquits, then lit three extra sun crystals to keep the cluttered room bright throughout the darkest hours. The warm, cheery illumination reflected off the pale stone walls, the aquarium tanks, the skylight, and the half-finished inventions stored on shelves. All other projects had been put on hold for now.

Orpheon was not pleased to have Gwen there “interfering.” He reminded her — and Rubicas — of her “carelessness” with the aja crystal array in opening a window to Earth. When she
defended herself, the assistant only scoffed at the suggestion that someone had sabotaged her carefully measured array. “You have a very high opinion of your own importance, Gwenya, if you think merlon spies would go out of their way to trouble you or your cousin!” He laughed out loud. “I do not need to look for a dire conspiracy when simple sloppiness is a more likely answer.”

“Hmm, I could use some assistance,” Rubicas said, “if you two are quite finished annoying each other? As Orpheon is so fond of reminding me, this spell work has repercussions for the defense of all Elantya. We should not allow ourselves to be distracted by other things.”

“Perhaps we should approach this tomorrow in daylight, when we are all fresh,” Orpheon suggested, not looking at all contrite. Oddly, he had been dragging his feet during much of the work.

Gwen hurried to the sage’s table. “I’m ready to work as long as you need me, Master Rubicas.” She used a special silky rag to polish the smooth crystal surface of a resonance lens. The concave mirror-crystals and the shining rods certainly looked impressive. They had to be flawless if they were to channel the spell across such a broad area. After driving the merlon infiltrators from the tunnels, she and her friends had carried the lenses and amplification rods up to the sage’s laboratory. If they had gone searching for the stored equipment even one day later, the merlons would have dragged the components under the sea. Had they known somehow that Rubicas would need them?

Since the draft of the shield spell had worked so well against the merlons, the bearded sage was even more enthusiastic
about his ideas. The principle had been proved. Gwen couldn’t imagine any logical reason why the protective barrier could not be expanded to cover a wider region.

Rubicas stared at the scraps of parchment and incomplete spell scrolls. He hummed to himself, deep in concentration. “Hmm, I have had another thought. If we cannot expand the shield enough to protect the whole island, maybe we can overlap numerous smaller shields, like the links in chain mail.”

Orpheon glanced up in alarm. “That would require barrels of aja crystal ink to create scroll after scroll! And an army of talented sages to copy the spells, then read them in the complex old language —”

“It seems you are being frugal in the wrong places. No one will complain about the expense or difficulty if it works.”

Rubicas scribbled one segment after another, modifying lines and punctuation, rolling the sounds of the arcane words in his mouth before daring to utter them aloud. Gwen figured he was just practicing. She finished polishing the new components, then helped arrange the numerous versions of his spell, keeping a log of each effort. Rubicas himself had never been so organized.

After he recited each incantation, Gwen, Orpheon, and the sage checked to see the results. When a casting flickered and failed, he crumpled the parchment, then picked up a new sheet, trying out variations on his original spell. Gwen retrieved the discarded spells and kept them in a separate stack, never knowing when Rubicas might need them again.

Letting out a long, discouraged breath, Rubicas scribbled
out a set of symbols. “Hmm, good thing I caught that one — such a choice of words could have led to disaster.”

Outside, Gwen could hear the crashing surf and the tower’s grapevines rustling in the breezes. Night birds flew around, gobbling moths that were attracted by the bright light spilling through the open windows, snatching a last snack before sunrise. In narrow alleys and wide thoroughfares below, the Elantyan streetcrystals remained lit. Uniformed guards patrolled the cobblestoned byways.

Orpheon occupied himself, but he seemed unusually tense. Gwen decided he must be very tired. The small water clock in the corner trickled with a gentle, soothing sound that apparently helped Rubicas concentrate; at the moment, it was making Gwen sleepy. By now it was only an hour or so before dawn. Even the sage started yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Scowling, the apprentice pushed himself away from his table and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look at you, Master Rubicas! Barely able to keep your eyes open. Why not stop for now? At least take a nap until sunrise.”

“Hmm, not yet,” Rubicas insisted. “I am not finished.”

“If you overtax your abilities, Elantya may lose you entirely. And without sleep, you risk making mistakes in your spell. Why not rest? A few hours will make no difference.”

“Relax and rest, eh? A fine meal and a nap?” Rubicas looked down at his unfinished spell and all the near-misses he had crumpled and tossed aside. “I am certain the merlons would appreciate that!” He cracked his big knuckles. “No, Orpheon, this is too important. We can put up with bleary eyes and headaches until I am finished and Elantya is safe.”

Gwen couldn’t understand why the dark-haired apprentice constantly raised problems. Every step of the way he found some objection. A time of crisis was a time to take necessary risks and to push yourself to your limits.

The apprentice stood next to the tank that held the aquits, and the doll-sized undersea creatures swam away from him, as usual. Their forms shifted, as if they had difficulty maintaining their shapes around Orpheon. Gwen had always found the aquits’ behavior strange, and she couldn’t imagine why the handsome apprentice didn’t like the innocuous little creatures.
Some people just don’t understand animals,
she thought. Shoru the killer whale probably would have munched him in a single gulp.

When Rubicas suddenly drew a quick breath as an idea occurred to him, Gwen stepped closer. “What is it? Have you solved the spell?”

“A strong verbal nuance, a new bridge to connect the parts.” Using aja ink from his jar, he scribbled another line, and then, pleased with himself, recited the spell.

A shimmering curve took shape in the air and extended through the ceiling. She hoped the sweeping invisible barrier hadn’t knocked anyone flat out in the streets.

“Ah, a step in the right direction! Now if the entire Pentumvirate casts the same spell, we can extend the boundary. Perhaps even a protective dome over the whole island!”

“That will never happen, Rubicas.” Orpheon’s voice carried a dark edge.

Gwen finally lost her patience with him. “Why are you always such a pessimist?”

Rubicas was puzzled. “Do you doubt my abilities, Orpheon?”

“Not that. I am simply stating a fact.” He took a step closer. “You will never have the chance.”

Whirling, Orpheon extended his hand in a clawlike grasp. He held a tiny lightning storm cupped in his palm. Green electricity arced from his finger to his wrist. The assistant’s long face drew back in a sneer, and for a brief moment his lips grew wider, thicker, his teeth sharper.

Rubicas gasped. “What are you doing? What is this?”

“Look out!” Gwen cried.

As if throwing a heavy stone, Orpheon hurled the crackling ball of green fire at the confused sage. Gwen tried to block it, but the wave of light struck both of them, engulfing them. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The flood of light was so intensely brilliant, it saturated her mind with bright unconsciousness.

IN THE UTTERLY STILL hour before dawn, a bleary-eyed Vic accompanied Tiaret, Sharif, and Lyssandra down to the harbor. He hated to get up so early. Maybe Gwen had it easier just staying up all night assisting Sage Rubicas in his laboratory tower.

But he couldn’t complain. Everyone in Elantya, especially the novs, apprentices, and sages at the Citadel, had their new assignments to help defend the island. By the light of lanterns and glowing streetcrystals, Vic and his friends watched the morning preparations of the fishing boats and cargo ships, as well as the guardian galleys that would accompany each trading vessel, on high alert.

The incredible spray of diamond stars overhead only made the surrounding night seem blacker. On his keychain, Vic fingered the five-sided medallion his mother had given him. What if she was really here in Elantya? But if she were here
wouldn’t she have heard about Vic and Gwen and tried to contact them by now? Still, she could be in some other world connected through the crystal doors.

In the crisp pre-dawn darkness, uneasy crewmen loaded weapons along with their fishnets and cargo crates. While Tiaret and Sharif walked along the docks where large and small boats were tied up, Vic and Lyssandra boarded a sharpprowed Elantyan war galley, which would patrol the coastline. With glowing crystals on their prows, scouts in small boats helped guide merchant ships in and out of the harbor.

Stern Vir Helassa herself stood at the front of the galley, looking out at the water as the oars moved in unison and drove the warship with little more than a whisper and a splash. Elantya’s Protective Vir was young to hold such a powerful position, and her hair was a striking mixture of raven streaked with gold that cascaded down her back from a clasp at the base of her neck. Her face was hard and determined, with no soft edges at all.

Having no duties while the sailors went about their well-practiced work, Vic and Lyssandra reported to the Protective Vir. “Now that we’re ready for them, the merlons wouldn’t dare mess with Elantya.” The young man forced good cheer into his voice.

Helassa narrowed her indigo eyes, turning from her vigilant search. “Soon, Elantyans will feel the secondary consequences of these merlon attacks.” A fish jumped at the surface, and the splash startled them all. Helassa sniffed with impatience.

“What consequences do you mean?” Lyssandra asked.

“By pouncing on a few ships, our enemies have thrown
Elantya’s economy into turmoil. Yes, we have our own vegetable gardens, and our fishermen bring in a good haul, but this island has never been self-sufficient. We depend on regular trade through the crystal doors. If we are cut off, we cannot support ourselves for long. These days, even the fishermen are afraid to venture out of sight of land, and trading ships are more reluctant to come here with their cargoes.” Helassa nodded toward the docks to where Sharif and Tiaret were still helping to load hooked harpoons onto more patrol galleys. “The merlons have already sunk our much-needed shipment of star aja crystals from Afirik.”

Vic realized that he’d taken a lot for granted about this marvelous island. Elantya was clean and bright, full of magical and technological marvels. Everyone seemed so wealthy with knowledge, happiness, and personal goods that he hadn’t bothered to think about where everything came from. He had seen the terraced olive groves and vineyards, and household gardens crowded with tomatoes, eggplants, and squashes. He had watched fishermen return with loaded nets; sellers in their dockside stalls hawked mussels and squirming crustaceans in wooden buckets filled with seawater.

Considering the sheer number of students, teachers, government leaders, sages, and scientists, Vic realized how many mouths Elantya had to feed. Without trade ships, wouldn’t the people begin to starve?

But Elantyans would not give up without a fight. Helassa, standing on the prow of the war galley, symbolized that. She looked like a statue, beautiful, solid, and immovable.

As dawn spread a fingerpaint smear of bronze light across the east, the fishing boats prepared to set off. Twelve well-balanced fishing boats were ready to cast their nets at the edge of the harbor. With colorful sails stretched tight, the first three ships moved away from the docks using the morning breeze and a nudge of nautical magic to guide them across the smooth water.

Just ahead of the outbound ships, strange ripples began to form. Vic shaded his eyes, though the dawn still wasn’t very bright. “That’s weird. Lyssandra — can you tell what’s going on out there?”

The girl also sensed something amiss. “I do not know.”

Helassa, though, didn’t hesitate. She whistled an alarm. The galley captain ordered his rowers to strike out toward the mysterious turmoil. Belowdecks, the men heaved their oars.

Aboard the first fishing boat, several men ran to the bow, pointing at something large that moved below the surface. The captain turned the steering oar, changing course to avoid the disturbance.

Though the guardian galley raced across the water, Vic could see they would not get to the fishing boat in time. Beside him, Lyssandra jerked as if she had just sensed something large and ominous and startling. “It is rising!”

Like a scene from an old giant-monster movie Vic and Gwen had watched with his dad, a fat tentacle broke the surface and curled into the air, dripping water and glistening white slime. The tentacle’s inside edge was studded with suckers the size of dinner plates, each one ringed with thorny
spikes. The thick back of the snakelike appendage was covered with flat, strapped-on metal plates, like a soccer player’s kneepads or a knight’s greaves, but these plates were adorned with curved metal scythes.