Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) (32 page)

‘How can there be so much mud? It's everywhere. Right up to the grotto. Dogon, you’ve got to help me find Solon.’

Dogon lowered himself to the edge of Gynevra's bed, his calm, silvery gaze fixed on hers. Instantly she felt calmed. Focused. Strengthened. Dogon had always had this effect on her. If he was here they’d find Solon.

Dogon placed one hand over hers. His other, she suddenly realized, was heavily bandaged and secured against his chest.

‘You’re hurt!’ she cried, feeling panic creeping back around the edges of her mind. ‘How—?’

‘Hush,’ Dogon murmured. ‘Hush. I am hurt, as are many others. We are the lucky ones. Thousands are dead and darkness covers the land. Atlantis is a stricken nation.’

Gynevra felt the terror then, building again exactly as it did when she saw all the mud.

‘Why? What do you mean?’ she whispered.

‘There’s great destruction of the land west of the Dorian Mountains. The Glass City is no more. There's mud—as far as the eye can see—and no sign of life.’ He saw no need to tell her of the awful and ugly signs of death he'd seen or the real extent of the devastation to Atlantis. What he would say was cruel enough. ‘There could be no survivors for the mud seems to have spewed out from the side of the mountains and flowed like a huge engulfing river to the sea. My guess is the city is buried at least a quarter stade deep in mud.—I'm sorry, Princess.’

His voice wobbled ominously on the last few words and he gathered Gynevra into his one good arm and held her close. Her body was very still, very relaxed, or so it seemed. He leant back to look down in her face and gulped.

Hauling her close again, he said over her shoulder to Ianthe, ‘I shouldn't have told her.’

‘She already knew,’ Ianthe said firmly, but Dogon could tell by the twitch of her jaw, the iron-willed Archinus was struggling with emotion. He'd have been no less surprised to see a hardened warrior cry.

A high-pitched keening sound filled the room, and together they once more wrestled a dose of sedative into the Princess.

‘She'll need to be watched day and night for initially she may try to kill herself,’ Dogon told Ianthe.

Eyes suddenly black and fathomless, the Archinus said, ‘Will you please attend me in the Sanctum?’

Stopping only to give orders that the Princess not be left unattended, she swept through the public rooms and held open the door to her private quarters.

‘Now tell me,’ she commanded before they were even seated, ‘why my daughter might wish to take her life. Grief is not reason enough for one who has the mind power of an octad.’

Dogon dropped onto a Boiche-carved bench and dragged his good hand wearily over his face. There was no point in keeping the truth from the Archinus for sooner or later she'd discern it for herself but his mind was still filled with the horror of what he'd seen during his apport to Trephysia. He couldn't begin to think how to answer Ianthe's blunt question. He'd stall it by telling her of the extent of the disaster.

‘Lady, Trephysia, what's left of it, is now an island, albeit an island of mud. The Dorian Mountains—’ He stopped as a shudder wracked his slight frame, then began again. ‘The Dorian Mountains are no more. The sea pours through from way north of where the old city of Fyr Doryr used to be, right down to the southern coast. Fyr Trephyr would no longer need its glass pyramids—if it still existed.’ He stopped again to draw in a deep, agitated breath. ‘The whole of the eastern coast of the new sea is mud, for about two hundred and fifty stades inland—and the rivers have stopped flowing.’

Ianthe's eyes were dark smudges in her linen-white face.

‘Tell me, Dogon,’ she said suddenly, eyes dark with anger, ‘it was a crystal, wasn't it? Just like Fyr Doryr?’

‘Ta’a.’

‘Who would perpetrate such a—?’ Ianthe bit off whatever she'd been about to say, sucked in a breath and demanded abruptly, ‘What does my daughter know?’

‘I know I don't need to tell you that what I'm about to say should go no further than these walls, Lady, but I'll say it anyway. And for her own sake Gynevra would do well to forget she ever knew it either. There's no knowing what King Ahron would do if the story got out.’

‘Ahron?’ Ianthe asked, her voice a shocked whisper.

‘Ta’a. You've heard of the Star Quest, Lady?’

Ianthe nodded.

‘The fire crystal they were manufacturing for that was many times larger than the one that destroyed Fyr Doryr. It was not yet completed and everyone knows destroying a fire crystal that has not attained the full potential of its blueprint is a recipe for disaster. On its own, that crystal could have destroyed Trephysia. But in the caverns beneath the Glass City were also twelve incendiary crystals. Gynevra was inveigled into holding the energy for Lord Kah while he programmed them. He maintained they were power boosters for the Star Quest. But even though the programming was coded and scrambled and Lord Kah tried to fool Gynevra into believing Prince Gotham had nothing to do with it, she learned enough to make her certain the Prince was using Star Quest as cover for a plot to overthrow Ahron and set himself up as Paramount King of Atlantis. The twelve incendiaries were being programmed to destroy strategic targets in each of the capital cities.’

For the first time ever Dogon heard the Archinus swear.

‘Gynevra took this information to Ahron?’

‘Ta’a. My guess is King Ahron ordered them destroyed.’

Ianthe stared at Dogon. Her skin had become almost transparent and her lips bloodless.

‘What manner of a monster would issue such an order?’

‘One who perceives a threat to his person, his throne—his power,’ Dogon offered flatly. Then added in a low and gently reasoning voice, ‘One who'd have no compunction in terminating the life of any individual who spoke against him.’

A streak of red appeared across each cheek of the Archinus's stark face.

‘We have a King who scruples not to murder thousands of innocents in order to ensure the death of a couple of schemers against him, and an Archinus Elect who has clearly lost her mind.—I fear greatly for the future of our nation.’

‘Lady Ianthe, Gynevra will mend. She has an amazing strength of mind and spirit. She will overcome this.’

‘T’is to be hoped so. Thank you for your frankness, Lord Dogon. This conversation never took place and I will see to it Princess Gynevra is kept confined until she has her mind under control once again. Onad-sezyr.’

As the Temple was put back to rights in the days following, Nyd was installed with a pallet in Gynevra's outer room so even when he slept he was at hand. A priestess was always in attendance and all had been given clear indication from the Archinus that the Princess's life and health must be put before any other for she was all that stood between Ianthe and the end of Electra's bloodline. The Archinus would bear no more children. Therefore her daughter must survive to do so—even if she lost her sanity.

Chapter 18

Climbing the long stairways to the topmost floor of Qrazil’s Hall of Residents, Gynevra shivered and pulled her cloak more closely about her shoulders. Would the sun ever shine again? On Atlantis, or in her heart? It was four tonni since the disaster which had obliterated the Dorian Mountains, devastated all land to the western beyond, and laid a thick pall of black ash over the rest of the country. Four tonni during which the terrified remnants of the population had struggled in grief, fear, pain, sickness, and now hunger.

Four tonni since the death of Solon.

Her feet faltered where part of the parapet had fallen away. Leaning wearily against the inner wall, Gynevra considered the gloomy scene through the broken gap. It was only late afternoon yet already the somber truncated towers of the Temple of Poseidon, a once shimmering golden crown gracing the summit of Central Island since time beyond memory, reared like a menacing penumbra through the half light. It had stood as the symbol of the nation, of their status with the Gods, their past and their future. Indeed it still stood so, Gynevra mused angrily. For was not Atlantis an ugly blackened ruin?

Its future and its people destroyed—by their own hand. By Ahron’s hand. By Gotham’s. By hers.

If she’d only stayed to complete the programming of the crystals! The enormity of the thought too painful to bear, she cut it from her mind.

Four tonni. More like four eternities in the legendary infernos of Hyades. If it weren’t for the arrival of Difleer, Gynevra knew she’d have lost her mind completely. Every day she gave thanks to Ist for bringing the ‘Sea Horse’ and Difleer safely to harbor. Buffeted mercilessly by mountainous seas and lost for a time in total darkness, the coastal trader had finally limped into port eighteen days after leaving Fyr Trephyr. Declaring she didn't care if she never set foot off land again, she’d taken over the care of her mistress with a dedication that had surprised those who didn't know her. But without Difleer's level-headed perspicacity, earthy sense of humor and dogged refusal to accept defeat, Gynevra knew she would have become a permanent resident of the Mostedon Nostup.

In recognition of this she'd declared Difleer neither servitor nor housekeeper but friend and companion. Diffie had gruffly declared that such was only for them to know, but her eyes had been suspiciously bright. Dragging her hands down her face, Gynevra found moisture on her own cheeks as she so often did these days. She no longer fought against the grief, just let the tears flow until they dried, accepting each one as an expression of love for her son, for Mery, Anya, so many—

Her gaze dropped to the royal palace at the foot of Poseidon’s Mount. Its golden opulence, begrimed and tarnished by the constant fall of ash and dust, glowed eerily in the light of the myriad crystal lanterns Ahron had ordered placed about the vast building. Rumor had it the two remaining provincial kings, Duthac of Gadeirus and Cadal Isidor II of Nyalda had forced Ahron to an emergency Vambon to discuss what could be done to alleviate the desperate plight of the people.

Taur, across the canal, in the Palace. The grief at the thought of him, so near and yet so unreachable, untouchable, was different to that she felt for Solon, yet no less painful.

Heaviness dragged at her heart and limbs. Turning her back on the palace and dreams she dare not dream, she continued up the staircase. Difleer met her at the doorway, fists planted on shapely hips, black eyes all-knowing.

‘Still cryin’, m'lady? Seems to me your heart’s trapped in the City o’ Glass an’ if it don't escape soon you'll smash, just like Fyr Trephyr did.’

Difleer's harshly spoken words conjured the darkness to threaten her consciousness and Gynevra knew if she didn't divert her mind the terrifying pictures would form, pictures of death and destruction, of Solon—of guilt. She knew Difleer only spoke out of concern for her. No one else dared speak so forthrightly. Breath shuddered from her lungs as she stepped through the doorway and discarded her cloak.

‘You're right, Diffie—as usual.’ She managed a crooked smile that brought a humph from Difleer as she stumped away to hang the cloak in the gerlain. ‘We can't go back. There's never any going back, no matter how we wish it.’

No matter the hours spent in supplication to the Goddess. No matter the desperation and emptiness in her heart.

Grimly repressing further comment, Difleer turned to the table and uncovered two bowls of a white glutinous potage.

‘I expected you long since. This mess is barely hot now.’

Gynevra shuddered the dark thoughts aside. ‘The Archinus sent for me. The priests have requested I perform Dawn Ritual at Oralin. She agrees I’m not ready for that but deems it essential I stand as Adonai in the Spring. I must bear a girl-child to follow as Archinus after me. I’ve no heart for it, Diffie, but she reminded me Archini have no heart. Maybe t’is just as well, for I think mine’s dead.’ Dead, empty, cold. Much like the food in the bowls. ‘Whatever is that?’

‘Oaten pap, like they eat in Nyalda, I’m told.’

Dropping on to the couch, Gynevra leant her head back and closed her eyes.

‘You can have mine, Diffie. I’m not hungry.’

Difleer favored her mistress with a long look, then said, ‘You’ve already lost a lot of weight. Won’t be long’n you could be mistaken for a flayed rabbit.’

Gynevra shot her a lowering glance before asking, ‘Have you heard whether the Vambon has finished?’

Difleer's knowing grimace showed she wasn't fooled by the diversion.

‘Tomorrow by all accounts,’ she responded, then added slyly, ‘Mayhap then we'll see something of King Taur.’

‘I hope not,’ Gynevra snapped, aware of sudden heat in her cheeks. ‘I certainly don't need him turning up now.’

‘Lady, the King might just set you to rights.’

‘Or set everything to wrongs!’ Gynevra cried, then bit her lip. Leaping to her feet, she began pacing the length of the room. ‘No Diffie. Archinus I must be. It's no use teasing myself with ‘what ifs’ or ‘if onlys’.’

‘Well, I imagine he'll at least put in a bid for Rafid,’ Difleer opined artlessly.

Gynevra stopped and glared at her, then snarled, ‘And me looking like a flayed rabbit?’

‘Exactly, dear Lady,’ Difleer murmured with satisfaction. Indicating the bowl of colorless food, she added, ‘There be more than one way to flay a rabbit, so they say.’

Sinking resignedly into her chair at the table, Gynevra let her glance travel slowly from the plate to Difleer.

‘I don’t know why I bother to argue with you, Diffie,’ she said, unable to prevent herself from smiling at the blatant and mischievous triumph in the woman’s black eyes.

‘At least you’ve a bit of color to you again. All you needs now is meat on your bones. You’ll eat everything I put in front of you or I’ll know the reason why!’

‘Ta’a, Diffie,’ Gynevra responded with a pseudo meekness that had Difleer’s brows knitting fiercely. Poking desultorily at the potage, she said, ‘I fear none of us will be looking too healthy before long. There’s talk of horrendous seas and many ships lost. I fear the Gods have turned against us. We needed the food those ships carried. More are being sent but it'll be months before they can be back with supplies. Many of the poorer people in the outer city are already dying.’

‘Live like animals, die like animals, I say,’ Difleer commented.

‘Oh Diffie, they're people!’

‘I know, Lady, I know. But there be nothin' I can do about it, so I prefer not to think about it!’

Gynevra's response was lost in the sudden jangling of the bells at the door. Difleer hurried over to draw aside the door curtain. Nyd stepped into the room followed closely by a large, hunch-backed woman who suddenly stood up very straight and threw off the voluminous, cloak that concealed her face.

‘Taur!’

Gynevra was halfway across the room before collecting herself. Skidding to a standstill, feet scuffing up the tufted silken mat on the floor and hands clenching in the stuff of her priestess gown, she whispered, ‘What are you doing here?’

Sacred Ist, why had he come, her heart cried as she hungrily absorbed every ruggedly glorious detail of him.

‘Something I don't do very well—making like a woman.’

He slanted her a lop-sided grin, which was almost her undoing, then he turned to the giant.

‘Thanks, Nyd. Could you wait to guide me back out of this place? Say, in one hour?’

‘Not good to go back now. Better after dark,’ Nyd said wagging his head from side to side in his ponderous fashion.

‘After dark!’ Gynevra squeaked, clasping her hands to her midriff to prevent herself touching Taur, holding him, never letting him go. He couldn't stay that long! He—she—

‘Nyd, you be back here in half an hour and not a second later. Whatever T—King Cadal has to say, had best be said by then.’

‘We'm might get caught, Lady.’

‘I'll make certain
you
don't suffer, Nyd,’ Gynevra said more severely than she'd meant, but for the life of her she couldn't battle her thoughts and emotions at the same time.

Nyd muttered about her hardness as he shambled out.

Doubt assailed Taur for the first time since embarking on this errand, the outcome of which had become more important than it should. Aware of a scowl stiffening his face, he said, ‘He's right. I’d thought you’d at least greet me warmly.’

She stared at him, hand stealing slowly to hide the tell-tale quivering lip. Not as unmoved as she made out, he decided with satisfaction and stepped towards her. As always her thoughts were as clear in his mind as if she'd spoken.

How like his son he is, the shape of his face, the clefted jut of his chin, the blue black of his hair. Even the stance he's taken in face of my perceived displeasure reminds me of Solon when he was taken to task for some misdemeanor.

Tears welled like drops of sparkling topaz in her eyes.

‘Ah, Golden One, don't cry. I know not how to comfort you.’ The words were a guttural growl. To cover how affected he was, he strode forward and folded her awkwardly in his arms. He couldn't help but ask, ‘Was he so like me then?’

He felt her effort to hold herself aloof but the energy surging between them wouldn’t be denied. She clutched at his cloak as if she'd never let go. Then, leaning back a little she scanned his face through tear-filled eyes.

‘This is the first time I've seen you since—since—’

‘Our siring contract,’ he finished huskily for her.

She touched a trembling finger to his lips and the dent in his chin.

‘It's my first chance to compare.’

She dragged in a shivering breath and Taur felt it to the soles of his feet. Seeing her, alive and breathing, feeling the heat and softness of her, was almost more than he could bear. He'd thought her dead. Now he only longed to celebrate her living in the most basic way he knew, ploughing his body into hers until she cried out his name in the ecstasy only he could bring her. Then he wanted to throw her over his shoulder, carry her out of this place and never look back.

Used to taking what he wanted, he was somewhat bemused by his need to woo Gynevra, to have her come to him because she desired it as much as he. He wasn't used to holding a woman simply to comfort her emotional distress. Awkward, unable to find any words he deemed appropriate to the moment, he just pulled her against his chest and rocked them together.

To his deep consternation, the tears that had welled in her eyes became a raging torrent and she flung her arms round his neck and sobbed with deep and ugly gasps. Now ‘awkward’ didn't begin to describe how he felt. What was he supposed to do? His eyes met the boldly amused stare of the housekeeper he remembered from Trephysia. Clearly, she was interested in how he would handle the situation also! Fortunately, before he could demean himself further by actually asking for help, she remembered her position, crossed the room to slip a square of linen into his hand and disappeared into the adjoining room.

Feeling foolish, he murmured senseless crooning sounds above Gynevra’s head until her rasping sobs eased. But oddly, the longer she clung to him, the more comfortable he became. And with that realization came another. If he wanted her as a permanent part of his life, he'd better start feeling more comfortable with the things men did with women who were their sacred partners, women who were more than just the means to slake the energy of his virile, DragonBlood loins.

Gently he set her back in the large teakwood chair near the balcony archway. Going down on one knee before her, he pressed the linen into her hand and gazed in silence as she dried her tear-blotched face. With a battle-hard finger he brushed away a tear that trembled at the point of her chin and smoothed back a long tress of hair. He'd joined with countless women, many of them arguably more beautiful than the Princess Gynevra, yet he could never remember being affected in this way, or in any way, just from looking at them.

She hid her face in the cloth.

Why had he come!

Once again her thoughts spoke clearly into his mind.

‘I came because when I heard you were here it was—it was—a gift from the Gods,’ he finished huskily.

She closed her eyes as if it hurt to look at him.

‘Woman, I thought you dead! Along with—our son—and all those others—and Go'. When Ahron said you'd apportated from Trephysia just five days before the disaster, it was if the sun shone at midnight!’