Crystal Fire (17 page)

After all that had transpired earlier, the intensity of Brace's reaction to his uncle, the growing danger of their quest, the doubts and uncertainty, she marveled that she could now feel so carefree, so relaxed. It was totally illogical, and most likely unwise, but she couldn't help herself. And what could it possibly hurtto forget all the unpleasantness for a brief moment and take a bit of pleasure where she could? Moments such as these were certainly few and far between.

She glanced behind her. Rodac followed stoically, guiding his craft with consummate ease. She was grateful he'd chosen to bring up the rear. Otherwise the headwinds would have deluged them in his rank scent.

There were fleeting moments every now and then when Marissa wondered if he wasn't actually doing things, like staying downwind, out of consideration rather than accident. A disturbing consideration, to be sure, that there might be some trace of kindness in the lanky, reticent Simian.

But then, why should that surprise her, Marissa thought, returning her attention to the man sitting beside her. She watched for a moment as Brace expertly guided the craft over a tall outcropping of rock. Then Marissa leaned back with with a sigh.

Who'd have ever imagined that her feelings for Brace Ardane could have changed so dramatically? Yet they had, and she was still struggling to deal with the consequences. She eyed him for a long moment, then cleared her throat. " Your dream last nocte. You never said what it was about."

Brace shot her a quick glance before resuming the delicate task of maneuvering the skim craft through the rocky crags. "It was the Knowing Crystal againand the voice. I know now whose voice it was."

"And?"

"My father's. It was my father's voice. I haven't thought of him in cycles. And to hear his voice now in these horrible dreams!"

"You said before that the voice was warning you against the Crystal. If that's true, then it's understandable why it would be your father's voice. He loved you and would want to protect you."

"I hardly knew my father," Brace ground out. "He died when I was but five cycles old. Vates was the real father to Teran and me. And now he, too, is dead."

"I'm sorry, Brace. It's hard to lose someone you love."

"Well, no matter. I'm not usually in the habit of baring my private sorrows."

A note of defensiveness tinged his voice. That, and a fierce pride. How alike they were, Marissa marveled, from their common experiences of pain and rejection to their resolute determination in the face of life's difficulties. Yet, for both of them it was all a facade. Beneath the steely exterior lay a deep, aching needfor love, acceptance, and peace.

"Do you have any idea why you'd be hearing your father's voice again, then?" she prodded gently. "And what significance the voice might have for our quest?"

Brace shook his head, puzzled. "None whatsoever. Just like everything else about this cursed quest so far!" He shot her another quick glance. "Doesn't it bother you that there's so very little we know regarding this mission and how we must eventually accomplish it? You're a warrior, too, Marissa. Admit it. This is about the most foolhardy way to approach something there ever was."

"I agree, Brace. And sometimes it terrifies me, that unknown. I wonder if we'll survive, much less succeed."

"I don't want anything to happen to you, Marissa."

There was the merest catch in the dark register of his voice. She turned to view Brace's taut, rugged features. His eyes remained riveted on his piloting of the skim craft.

And I don't want anything to happen to you, either
, Marissa thought. A sudden, wild impulse to tell him of the deadly plot in which she was a key player swept through her.

But the impulse died as quickly as it had arisen. There was no need to reveal something that might never come to pass. Too much was at stake. Too much still lay ahead. And too much was still to be learned about their questand a man named Brace Ardane.

Besides, Marissa reminded herself, there was always the possibility that she could win back her sister and still not betray Brace to Ferox. He didn't deserve to be handed over to that heartless slime worm like some bag of goods.

"Nothing will happen to
any
of us," Marissa forced herself to say, fervently hoping her brave words would indeed come to pass. "It will just take time to discover what information is still lacking, that's all.

"But we'll succeed," she added, trying to inject some lightness into the increasingly somber conversation. "We can't help but succeed. It's written in the stars." A wry grin quirked the corner of Brace's mouth. "Written in the stars, is it? Really, femina, you're becoming quite the little optimist. To what do you attribute this radical change in yourself?"

She grinned and tossed back her windblown hair. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps it's the glorious weather. It's hard to stay glum when each sol suddenly seems so fresh and new, and life's so full of opportunities."

"And would I perhaps have had some influence upon your new point of view?"

"Would you like to have?"

By the Crystal Fires, Marissa thought as she graced him with a long, considering look, he is such a handsome male! With that arrogant set to his jaw and those dark, high-bred features . . .

And his mouth, so sensuously tender, so finely chiseled . . .

A small shiver coursed through her at the memory of his lips gliding down her palm, and his tongue, hot and moist upon her fingers. With a great effort, Marissa wrenched her thoughts from their increasingly heated reverie.

"Well, would you?"

He chuckled. "You're also becoming quite the little tease."

Marissa grinned. "Yes, I suppose I am. Now, answer my question, Brace Ardane."

"Yes, Marissa," his deep voice rumbled. "I would indeed." "Good." She settled back in her seat with a satisfied sigh. "Then I just might let you."

They rode awhile in companionable silence, clearing the first summit to plummet down toward a snow-covered valley. Far below, a frozen alpine lake glistened in the fading sun, a blue-green slash of ice in the land. The Monastery of Exsul lay in the foothills. As they headed toward the lake for a landing, another thought insinuated itself into Marissa's mind.

She again glanced at him. "Brace?"

He smiled. "Yes, Marissa?"

"Both Teran and Alia alluded to some special enmity with Ferox. What happened to cause it?"

"It all began at the Imperial Academy. Ferox was a gifted student there, convinced he was destined for greatness. For some reason, however, he fixated on Teran as his obstacle to success. Their rivalry became an obsession with Ferox, an obsession that ultimately destroyed his promising military career when he was caught cheating in his final year. He left the Academy in disgrace, eventually turning to a life of crime."

"I'm well aware of his cruel raids on the planets of the Imperium," Marissa muttered grimly. "He was particularly brutal with Moraca."

"That may have had something to do with the fact that Teran's first love was a Moracan. Her name was Darla. In the course of systematically sweeping his destructive way through the Moracan capital four cycles ago, Ferox came upon Darla and abducted her. He raped her brutally, over and over, until she escaped him in the only way she couldthrough madness.''

"And what became of her?" Marissa asked, dreading the answer, knowing that Candra's fate could well be the same.

"Eventually Teran rescued her, but by then it was too late. She was terrified of all men and, inexplicably, of Teran most of all. Darla finally killed herself by leaping to her death."

"And do you think that's what Ferox plans to do to Candra? Rape her and drive her insane?" Marissa whispered, forcing words to the horrible fear.

He glanced at her, then commenced a circular landing pattern beside the lake. "I don't know, Marissa. I'd wager that Ferox took Candra for an entirely different reasonvengeancethough the end result might be the same. If he manages to gain control of the Imperium, he'll certainly destroy Teran in the process."

"Alia said there was more than simple rivalry between Teran and Ferox," Marissa murmured thoughtfully. "That his hatred was bone-deep and soul-rotting."

Brace shrugged. "That may well be. I never met the man myself. He had already been dismissed from the Academy over a cycle before I arrived."

The skim craft touched down with a soft bump. Marissa sat there for a few secundae, pensively silent, as Brace proceeded to shut off the machine. Then she turned to meet his dark, glittering gaze.

"What is it, Marissa?"

"My sister's plight seems so insignificant in light of the threat to the Imperium's welfare. Yet her safe return means everything to me."

"I know that, femina. We'll rescue her."

"But what if it comes down to her or the Knowing Crystal?" she demanded. "What will you do then?"

"Is there a choice?" he countered quietly. "For either of us?"

Marissa bit back an anguished sob. "No, Brace. We must both do what we feel is right."

The stone walls of the abbey loomed before them in the fading rays of sol set. After pausing to ease the stiffness from muscles cramped by the long journey, the trio headed up the small hill toward the monastery gate.

An ancient porter, his tonsure gleaming dully in the dimming light, slid open the heavy viewing grill in the thick, robur-wood door. "May the Crystal reign," he began by way of greeting. "And how may we serve you, my sons . . ." The monk hesitated as his gaze took in Marissa. ". . . And, eh, daughter?"

Brace stepped forward. "I have a letter, for the abbot's eyes only, from King Falkan."

The porter squinted at Brace. "A letter, eh? For the abbot's eyes only, eh? Pray wait here, my children."

The grate closed and the old porter could be heard hurrying away. Brace turned to Marissa and Rodac.

"Well, I guess we just do as the old brother said."

"And what's that?" Marissa asked.

He grinned. "Wait."

A half hora later they heard the sound of several pairs of sandaled feet shuffling back to the gate. Once more the grill slid open. The man who greeted them this time had a face that was weathered but sharp with authority.

The monk's eyes scanned them. "I am Abbot Leone. Who is the one with the message from the King?"

Brace again stepped forward. "It is I, Father."

"Then let me have it."

"And what is this?" Brace demanded, arching a dark brow. "No 'Welcome, children' or 'Would you like a place to rest and something to eat'? Only 'Let me have the letter.' Strange hospitality, I'd say, for three weary travelers."

The abbot had the good grace to flush. "Times are dangerous and we can't be too careful who we take in. If you'd but show me the King's royal seal on the letter, I'd be glad to offer the hospitality of my poor abbey."

Brace pulled the letter from his tunic pocket. The imprinted seal was barely discernible in the fading light, but it was enough to satisfy the abbot. The little monk stepped back, motioning toward the door.

"Open the gate," he commanded, "and let our most welcome guests in."

Rodac snorted in disgust before following Brace and Marissa into the monastery. The door was closed and quickly latched behind them.

Brace looked around. They stood in a small outer courtyard, red-tiled and immaculate. The crumbling stucco that coated the inner walls, however, bespoke better times and former wealth. There seemed no place in the Imperium, Brace thought with a touch of irony, that hadn't been affected by the catastrophic loss of the Knowing Crystal.

The abbot extended his hand. "The King's letter, if you please."

Brace gave it to him.

The old man unrolled the small scroll and scanned it avidly. He glanced up once, directly at Brace, his gaze intent and searching. Then he resumed his reading. Finally the abbot rerolled the letter and tucked it up his sleeve. "Your name, my son?"

"I am Brace Ardane, of the House Ardane, and nephew to the High King," Brace began. He gestured to Marissa and Rodac. "And these are my friends, Marissa Laomede and"

"I am honored to meet all of you," the abbot hurried to interrupt. "But time is short if I'm to fulfill the King's request." The little man motioned for them to follow. "Come with me, if you please."

Brace grabbed the abbot's arm. "And what is so important that you cannot observe common courtesy? My companions are as important as the King's letter. And I wasn't finished with the introductions."

Abbot Leone paled, then reddened. "My apologies, my lord," he stammered, suddenly mesmerized by Brace's fierce glare and threatening stance. "But a man is even now dying, and if we don't hurry you may never have the chance to speak with him.

"Not that there'll be much to understand," he muttered as an afterthought, "considering the poor soul is quite mad."

Brace's grip tightened on the abbot's arm. "Are you telling me the King instructed you to introduce us to a madman?" A cold, controlled rage at his uncle grew within. "By the five moons, I swear I'll"

"This is no ordinary madman," the old man interjected, impatient to be on his way. "He was sent here twenty-five cycles ago at the express wish of the King, his madness a secret shame and blight upon the House Ardane."

He paused.

"Go on," Brace urged, his jaw setting in stone as a fearful premonition washed over him. "Finish your tale."

Marissa stepped up beside him, her hand moving to take his arm. "Brace," she mur- mured, overcome with the same horrible presentiment, "perhaps it would be better"

"No!" His steel-edged reply cut her off in mid-sentence. "
Let the abbot finish!
"

The little monk's wide-eyed gaze swung from Marissa back to Brace. He swallowed convulsively.

"Go on, Father," Brace growled.

"There's little more to tell," the abbot said. "I think you've already guessed. The madman who has been locked away all these cycles at Exsul is the Lord Ware Ardanethe High King's younger brotheryour father."

Wild cries reached them as they hurried through the monastery. Finally, just outside the room from which the terrible sounds emanated, the small group halted. The abbot's gaze met Brace's.