Crystal Doors #3: Sky Realm (No. 3)
Read Crystal Doors #3: Sky Realm (No. 3) Online
Authors: Rebecca Moesta,Kevin J. Anderson
Tags: #JUV037000
Copyright © 2008 by WordFire, Inc.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group, USA
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at
www.HachetteBookGroupUSA.com
.
First eBook Edition: June 2008
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-04258-1
Contents
Also by Rebecca Moesta and Kevin J. Anderson
Also by Rebecca Moesta and Kevin J. Anderson:
Crystal Doors #1: Island Realm
Crystal Doors #2: Ocean Realm
This book is for
SEAN MOORHEAD
a fellow traveler
to imaginary
and not-so-imaginary lands.
We’d like to express our special appreciation to
John Silbersack and Robert Gottlieb of the Trident Media Group for supporting this project from the beginning.
Jennifer Hunt & T.S. Ferguson for their enthusiasm and insightful editing.
Diane E. Jones and Louis Moesta of WordFire, Inc., for their invaluable comments; Catherine Sidor for her transcription; Timothy Duren Jones, Paul & Lacy Pfeifer, Jonathan Cowan, and D. Louise Moesta of WordFire, Inc.; and Kim Herbert of Herbert Properties, LLC, for keeping things running smoothly in the office.
Our families for putting up with our eccentric schedules and for introducing so many new people to our books.
Sheila Unwin for her wonderful teacher’s guide materials.
Mike “Uncle Mike” Anderson for his work on our web sites.
Sarah & Dan Hoyt, Rebecca & Alan Lickiss, Sean Moorhead, Bette Williams & Jack Moorhead, Eli “Skip” & Fran Shayotovich, Mohammed & Laila Alami, and Nora Alami for local cheerleading. Susan Bragg for getting us organized.
Kristine Kathryn Rush, Dean Wesley Smith, Debra Ray, Lisa Chrisman, Max & Erwin Bush, Letha Burchard, Janet Berliner & Bob Fleck, Beth Gwinn, Janet Young & Michael Lee, Leslie Lauderdale, Katie Tyree, and Ann Neumann for decades of long-distance encouragement and keeping us sane in an insane world.
Harlan & Susan Ellison, Bob Eggleton & Marianne Plumridge Eggleton, Terry & Judine Brooks, Dave & Mary Wolverton, Dave & Denise Dorman, Dean & Gerda Koontz, Stephen & Jamie Warren Youll, Neil Peart & Carrie Nuttall, and Steven L. Sears for being brilliant and inspirational.
Cherie Buchheim, Mary Thomson, Len & Jill McLeod, Harry “Doc” Kloor & Rayna Napali, Linda Zaruzhes, and Michael David Ward for buoying up our spirits when needed, and for making us feel special.
Brian & Jan Herbert, Ron & Penny Merritt, Byron Merritt, Denise Jacobs, Liz Kettle, June Scobee Rodgers, Bill Styles, Megie Clarke, Cathy Bowden, Kelly Adams, Shannon and Linda Lifchez, Sandra Childress & Jim Briggs, Pat Tallman, Maryelizabeth Hart & Jeff Mariotte, and Brad & Sue Sinor, for their friendship and support.
A FRESH OCEAN BREEZE blew through Gwen Pierce’s baby-fine blonde hair. In the distance below, the ocean surrounding Elantya sparkled a deep turquoise blue. Beneath her, the wondrous island city bustled with activity, as it had for the past week since she and her fellow apprentices had escaped captivity in the merlon king’s undersea city. Up here in the sky, with buttery sunlight warming her skin, she felt safe. A few months ago she might have found the experience of riding a magic carpet unnerving, with nothing between her and a long drop to certain death, other than a rectangle of purple cloth and a good friend. But she had changed.
Sharif had let her sit in front of him on the flying carpet today and, although it wasn’t completely necessary, he kept one arm loosely around her waist to ensure that she would not fall. The billowing sleeves of the dark haired prince’s spotless white shirt rippled as he sailed his embroidered rug high above the harbor. Elantyan ships were anchored at intervals around the island, reinforcing its magical defenses.
Sharif leaned forward, pointing toward the horizon. “A storm is gathering far out at sea.” From the corner of her eye, Gwen could see the prince’s nymph djinni hovering above his shoulder in her eggsphere, shedding an electric green glow of anxiety on the dusky skin of his face.
“Piri does not think it is a magical storm,” Sharif explained, “but she is not sure.”
Looking out at the cluster of dark clouds, Gwen wished that she had no responsibilities and could stay in the air in peace and quiet all day long. But the wish lasted only for a moment.
Suck it up, Pierce,
she mentally scolded herself.
Let’s see what you’ve got.
To Sharif, she said, “We should let the sages know about that bad weather.”
VIC LOWERED HIS SCROLL and wiped away the sweat that streamed down his face. His throat felt raw. Beside him, Lyssandra kept reading aloud, though her voice came out in barely a whisper. They had been reciting spells for hours, standing together at the rail of the
Sea Child,
down the coast from the Elantyan harbor. The ship’s deck moved beneath their feet. The hot sun beat down on them, warming the deck planks, reflecting off the waves, and making Vic’s head throb with an ache that seemed to have gone on for days now. Pushing her long, coppery hair back from her elfin face, the petite girl unstoppered the vial of magically replenishing liquid she wore on a chain around her neck. She drank some of the healing greenstepe and offered it to Vic. He took several gulps and the throbbing in his head eased.
All around the ship, everyone with magical training — from novs to sages — also recited from various spell scrolls assigned to them by master sages. Each spell provided some measure of protection for the island, either in the form of a shield or a booby trap. Vic’s spell temporarily disoriented any creature that ventured into the limited area it covered. Lyssandra’s spell formed a swatch of invisible mesh. Ever since Vic and his fellow apprentices had escaped from the underwater city of Oo’regl a week ago, the entire island of Elantya had been a hub of frenetic activity. Students from the Citadel, regardless of their levels of competence, had been drafted by the sages to assist in reading spell scrolls. The work was time-consuming and exhausting, since the process had to be repeated again and again at hundreds of locations around the island. At least the leg wound Vic had gotten during their underwater escape no longer plagued him. Strong medical spells, administered first on the rescue ship and later in the Hall of Healers, had already returned him to full strength.
But the merlons were coming back, and the island had to be protected.
Sage Rubicas remained back in his laboratory, still working on expanding a shield spell that he hoped could eventually protect the entire island. The Pentumvirate put great faith in the snowy-bearded wizard — whose skills were a fusion of magic and science — and had recently named Rubicas the island’s Ven Sage, the most powerful and respected bright sage in all Elantya. Entrusting the development of innovative armaments and protections to the workforce in the Ven Sage’s chambers, the council of five leaders focused on directing the ongoing efforts to enhance security around the island. Vic’s father, Cap Pierce, devoted most of his time to coordinating the various defense projects in Rubicas’s lab. The rest of the former archaeology professor’s waking hours were consumed with plans to rescue his wife — Vic’s mother — from the ice coral cave in which the dark sage Azric had imprisoned her.
Alongside the ship, Tiaret, the girl from Afirik, surfaced from the depths and expertly blew water out of her lungs through her mouth and gills. When Rubicas’s apprentices were kidnapped by the merlons, Azric’s immortal henchman Orpheon had worked a spell to give all five of them gills. Because of this, Vic, Gwen, and their friends could still breathe underwater without assistance.
Steadying herself with her bare feet against the hullboards, Tiaret climbed a rope up to the deck. The dark-skinned girl was tall — almost as tall as Vic. Seawater sparkled on the lashes around her golden eyes and on the decorative bangles bound into the long, twisted strands of her dark brown hair. “Sage Polup reports that the removal of lavaja bombs from beneath the island is proceeding well, though more slowly than our anemonite friends had hoped.” She unslung the teaching staff from her back. “Are we ready to move the ship to our next position?”
“Yup, just about,” Vic said. “As soon as they get here.” He pointed to the sky where a fluttering purple carpet descended toward the ship. The magic carpet carrying Sharif and Gwen swooped down to settle on the open deck. As soon as Vic’s willowy cousin and the young man from Irrakesh jumped off, Sharif rolled the swatch of patterned purple fabric into a tidy cylinder, tucked it under his arm, and walked over to the closest sage to give a weather report.
“What’s up, Doc?” Vic asked Gwen, using the name he had called his brainy cousin since they were kids.
“There’s a storm as dark as blackstepe brewing out at sea.” Gwen’s dramatic violet eyes met her cousin’s aquamarine gaze.
“Magical?” Vic asked raising one eyebrow. “Merlon sorcery?”
“Piri does not think so,” Sharif answered, returning from speaking to the sage. “But as my people say, ‘No event is certain until it occurs.’”
Tiaret thumped the round end of her teaching staff on the wooden deck. “That is why a story may not be entered in the Great Epic until
after
the events are complete.”
“In other words, histories are more accurate than prophecies,” Gwen said.
Vic glanced at Lyssandra, knowing that the girl’s prophetic dreams rarely allowed her to sleep well. The petite telepath had dark circles beneath her cobalt-blue eyes.
She gave them all a wan smile. “It is precisely what I do not know that makes my visions so disturbing. Whether prophecies come in dreams or in words, they never seem to mean what they appear to say.”
“The merlons had prophecies, too,” Vic pointed out. “Something about rage and merlon victory. I think they were interpreting them wrong — at least, I hope so — but I think Azric is behind that.” Sweat prickled the scalp beneath his straight brown hair. He scratched his head. “Remind me again —
why
are merlons so set on destroying Elantya?”
Patiently, Lyssandra explained, “Because when the family of the dark sage Azric came through the crystal door to this world thousands of years ago, they were bent on conquering all worlds. After Azric betrayed and murdered his parents, he built up armies of immortal warriors in seven worlds. Bright sages from a dozen worlds joined together to create the island of Elantya at the center of all the doors, in order to prevent the dark sages and their followers from taking over.”
