The Crystal's Chosen Read online

  “Look,” Ky’ara said, losing her patience, “I can’t let you up unless you tell me what to do. So if all you’re going to do is shout accusations, I’m leaving.”

  He sighed, a little louder than necessary, and then explained. “Tis real simple. Think about undoing what happened, then ya help me up.”

  “Don’t I have to speak Sorcerer’s Tongue?” Ky’ara asked, trying to remember anything she had ever learned about magic.

  The boy rolled his eyes, “Wow, at least ya know somethin. But no, you don’t. If ya knew the right word, you wouldn’t actually have to physically help me up.”

  Ky’ara ignored the jibe and reached down to help him up, thinking about the exact moment when those words had left her lips, and sincerely wanting to undo whatever it was that had happened.

  “Thanks. Ya—” he started to say. Then he stopped abruptly, and stared at the sword belted to her waist.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked accusingly, his peasant’s accent suddenly gone.

  “Why?” Ky’ara asked warily, putting one hand on the hilt. The change in his speech did not escape her notice.

  “A’kiina never lets anyone touch her sword, let alone borrow it!” the boy stated.

  “How do you know it was A’kiina’s?” Ky’ara asked. A thought came to her, and she asked, on a sudden uncontrollable impulse, “Do you know where Doraicolé is?”

  “How…?” he started, a confused and suspicious look coming over his face. Then he looked around anxiously and shut his mouth.

  Ky’ara looked around as well, realizing that people were starting to peer down the alley at them.

  “We had better go,” she commented, grabbing his arm and half dragging the boy down another alley and back towards the city gate.

  After returning to the main road, she finally slowed and let the boy walk of his own accord. He kept glancing over at her as they walked, and eventually she spoke.

  “I suppose we have to begin somewhere. I am Ky’ara. What is your name?”

  “Joran,” he answered, “and I don’t see why you get to ask the questions first.”

  “Because I am older than you, and I hold a high enough rank to at least command the respect of a common thief,” she replied, and then cringed at how arrogant she sounded. Her mother had been “common”, and so was Mier.

  “Yeah right. Yer like a year older than me at most. Besides, I didn’t steal the dog, he came to me and butted against my leg, so I picked ‘im up. Then that woman started yellin’ and you ran after me!” His accent was suddenly back. Either he was trying to sound more stupid than he was, or he had just picked up the accent by accident and failed to notice when he switched in and out.

  “I will be eighteen in just under four months,” Ky’ara told him, “and you are…?”

  “Oh.” Joran looked down at his feet, a slow flush creeping into his cheeks, “I’m fourteen.”

  “How do…did…you know A’kiina?” Ky’ara asked, trying to cover the awkward moment.

  “She’s uh, a part of an organization I belong to and was supposed to meet some of us a few weeks ago, but she never showed, so I came to find her,” Joran said after a moment’s pause.

  “I see…” Ky’ara trailed off, lost in thought.

  “D’ya know where I can find ‘er?” Joran asked after a long pause.

  “Hmm?” Ky’ara looked over at him, startled out of her daze.

  “I would assume that since ya have ‘er sword, you’d know where she may be,” he said impatiently.

  “Oh,” Ky’ara was a bit surprised by his sudden intensity, and wondering how she should tell him…“I am sorry, but you will not be able to see her…”

  “I don’t care if she’s not here anymore, or if it might be dangerous, I’m supposed to talk to her, and I’m gonna! It’s important!” Joran yelled, apparently frustrated by her high-minded talk.

  “Joran…” Ky’ara sighed, shaking her head.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “A’kiina is dead. She died about five weeks ago, I am sorry.”

  “She’s…What?” the boy faltered, “How? Do you know if…”

  “She was a bodyguard for…a member…of the Council.” Ky’ara told him softly. “I guess you have not heard, although I cannot see how anyone missed the news. They were killed—an assassination…and, well there are, erm…rumors that it was Elrackon.”

  “Elrackon?” Joran repeated numbly, “No! But—what are we going to do now? My sister’s gonna kill me…everything’s ruined!” He fell to his knees and covered his face in despair.

  “Um…” Ky’ara stood there for a moment, a little startled by how melodramatic he was being. “uhh, Joran?” Ky’ara asked tentatively. Joran ignored her and just sat in the middle of the road with his head in his hands.

  “Don’t be so dramatic about…” she started to say.

  “Leave me alone,” he sulked.

  “Fine, I’ll leave then!” Ky’ara snapped back, starting down the road again.

  Suddenly Joran’s head snapped up, “Wait! How did you get A’kiina’s sword?”

  Ky’ara rolled her eyes at the accusation in his tone. “I might have told you about it, but you told me to leave, so I am,” she pointed out, continuing to walk away.

  Joran jumped up and ran after her. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry already! Are you satisfied? I swear it’s vitally important that you tell me what you know about A’kiina’s death.”

  Ky’ara stopped and turned to look at him. “Fine,” she sighed, “I used to be on the council as a junior advisor, but I was late for the meeting on the day of the assassinations. When I arrived, A’kiina was still alive, and so she told me what happened, and gave me her sword. Then she told me to go to Doraicolé.”

  She was going to end there, but the look of apprehension did not leave Joran’s face, and for some reason she felt she could trust this boy. She made a split-second decision, and decided to tell him. “A’kiina also gave me a small jewel…a crystal of some sort.”

  “Do you have it now?” Joran asked quickly, looking relieved, but slightly wary. Ky’ara felt momentary annoyance at how he simply took the news in stride. Wasn’t it supposed to be important?

  “Not with me! It is at my house,” she replied, as if this should have been obvious.

  “What?! Just sitting there?” Joran stood up and began to run down the road.

  “Wait!” Ky’ara shouted, lunging forward and grabbing his arm to pull him up short. “Calm down! Nobody knows about it except Mier and I, and she is at the house right now. Besides, you don’t even know where my house is!”

  Joran stopped struggling and grinned sheepishly, “Oh…yeah, sorry.”

  “But you do know where Doraicolé is, correct?” Ky’ara asked, a little impatiently.

  “Yeah. And I s’pose you want me t’ lead you there?” Joran replied. His lilting accent was really beginning to annoy her.

  “Well, yes, I suppose I will need someone to show me the way.” She had been so focused on finding out where and what Doraicole was, that she had not really thought about what it would mean to actually leave home and go there…but A’kiina wanted me to. She trusted me with her dying wish…and maybe by doing what she said I can find out why she thought my uncle’s death was her fault.

  “All right. ‘Tis settled then.” Joran nodded decisively, “'twill take a few weeks. We’ll need provisions and horses, and money to buy things that we can’t carry with us…”

  “Never mind all that,” Ky’ara cut in, breaking out of her thoughts, “you can tell my housekeeper when we get home.”

  * * * * *

  Ky’ara opened the back door of the modest cottage where she had spent most of her life, “Mier, I’m back!”

  The middle-aged woman bustled in from the kitchen. “Oh good, you’re here. I just finished lunch…” she trailed off as she noticed the boy standing just behind Ky’ara. Mier raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, and Joran half-smiled, putting a finger to his lip
s.

  “Mier, this is Joran,” Ky’ara introduced him, oblivious to the silent exchange. “I met him at the market…he knows where Doraicolé is…so I suppose I will be leaving soon.”

  Mier nodded quietly, accepting this. “I’m assuming that means tomorrow, knowing how practical you are,” she commented.

  Ky’ara shrugged, she had not planned on leaving quite that early, but now that she had a guide, it did not make any sense to procrastinate.

  Mier sized Joran up for a moment, and then turned to Ky’ara. “I don’t suppose you remembered the groceries?”

  Ky’ara’s hand flew to her mouth, “I completely forgot!”

  Mier shook her head, smiling, “no matter, I’ll send the boy back for them later. Let’s eat, lunch is on the table.

  “Go ahead and start, I’ll be right back down.” Ky’ara replied, hurrying up the stairs.

  She went into her room and quickly located the jewelry box where she had put the crystal. As she pulled it out, a strange feeling came over her, she felt… apprehensive, as though teetering on the edge of something momentous.

  “That is silly,” she told herself, “I am going directly there and then coming right back home. There is no point in getting mixed up in something that does not have anything to do with me…whatever that is.”

  Shaking off the strange mood, she placed the crystal inside a pouch that hung from her belt, and headed back down to the kitchen. Mier was sitting across the table from Joran, and they were eating silently. Ky’ara sat next to Joran and began to pile food onto her plate.

  “Can I see it now?” he asked suddenly.

  Ky’ara shrugged and brought the crystal out of the pouch, handing it to him, then went back to eating. When she had cleared her plate, she took the crystal from Joran—who was only staring at it absently—and put it away. “Come on,” she said, rising from her seat, “we need to go out to the stables and pick a horse for you.”

  Joran sighed and got up, looking mournfully at the remaining food. “Oh shoo!” Mier waved him off, “There’ll be more for supper, you can last that long!”

  “I guess,” the boy replied, grinning. He followed Ky’ara outside, through a gate, and across a large, fenced-in field.

  They entered a spacious barn, and Ky’ara moved to the side to let Joran pass. “Pick one,” she told him, motioning to the rows of horses. He stared in wonder at the dozen or so mounts, and then moved to stand in front of one.

  “Him,” he said, motioning to the best horse in the stable, a large black stallion.

  “Are you sure? He is a bit tricky,” Ky’ara commented. “Maybe a smaller one would be…”

  “I’m sure,” Joran interrupted. He opened the stall and reached out with a hand.

  “Careful,” Ky’ara warned, “He might…” she winced as Joran placed his hand on the stallion’s neck. To her surprise, the horse only whinnied and shook his head.

  “What’s ‘is name?” Joran asked, not taking his eyes off the horse.

  “Rogue,” Ky’ara answered shortly, reforming her opinion of the boy.

  “Hmm…” Joran replied. He examined the magnificent beast for a moment, and then looked around at the other horses. “What are you gonna ride?” he inquired, “I mean, some of these are nice, but none as good as him.” He jabbed his thumb back in Rogue’s direction.

  Ky’ara smiled at his sudden concern, and put two fingers in her mouth to blow a shrill whistle. She brought the boy back to the entrance of the barn, and waited. A moment later a beautiful mare came galloping across the field and came to a stop next to Ky’ara, where it nuzzled her ear playfully. Joran stared in amazement. The horse was the color of cream, yet her mane and tail were so brilliantly white that they almost glowed. Ky’ara smiled at the stunned look on his face,

  “Her name is Angallia. She was bred by Elysians, in the mountains to the north. A’kiina gave her to me on my sixteenth birthday. Supposedly her name means ‘Angel’ in the Ancient language.”

  “Light!” Joran breathed.

  Ky’ara laughed, “Come, on, we will bring them to the small stable close to the house, so we do not have to walk so far tomorrow.”

  Joran nodded and followed her back into the stable. She handed him some things to carry.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said as she led Rogue out of his stall and they started across the field. “Why do you live with Mier?”

  Ky’ara paused for a moment. “My parents died almost nine years ago,” she answered quietly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry…” he said awkwardly, “Didn’t you have any relatives?”

  “My uncle did not have time to bring me up, so Mier did it for him,” Ky’ara told the boy, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Why all the questions?”

  “I was just, um, wondering, ya know, curious,” he answered evasively.

  “Right,” Ky’ara mumbled skeptically, lengthening her stride until the boy was forced to jog in order to keep up.

  * * * * *

  Dinner was over. Ky’ara began to wash the dishes and tidy up while Joran went into the next room to load more things into a pack. Mier was settled on a chair in the same room, mending some clothes. It was not until a few minutes later that Ky’ara realized she could hear the low murmur of voices in the other room, but what could Mier and Joran have to talk about? She put down the dish she was drying and peeked through the doorway, but Mier was absorbed in her sewing, and Joran was busy packing. Ky’ara shrugged it off and turned back to the dishes.

  Later, after getting Joran settled in a guest room and preparing for bed, Ky’ara went to her library to do a little research. After looking through a few different books, she selected one and began to skim its pages. A few moments later Ky’ara closed the book and sighed. She had hoped that she could find some sort of logical explanation for what had happened today. Having been tested for magic twice when she was younger, she knew she had not been born with the gift, but there was no doubt in her mind now that she had done magic at the marketplace.

  None of her books said anything about being able to acquire the talent for magic, but Ky’ara knew that there must have been something that had sparked this strange new power in her. The only logical explanation was that the crystal had something to do with it. With another sigh of frustration, the young woman left the library and went to her bed. Ky’ara had questions, and as soon as she reached Doraicolé, she intended to get some answers. With this last thought, she drifted off to sleep.

  * * * * *

  Morning came as dawn crept slowly through the window, and Ky’ara awoke feeling strangely alert. She quickly washed and dressed, pulling on breeches and a tunic, then buckling a sapphire studded belt overtop it. It wasn’t vanity that prompted her to wear the belt, but practicality. If they ran into a tight spot for money, she could sell the sapphires one by one, and she was confident enough in her swordplay that she didn’t have to fear attracting bandits. After braiding her hair loosely she went downstairs and found that Mier was up and cooking breakfast.

  “Why don’t you wake the boy and tell him to get ready and washed up?” she suggested briskly, “He won’t be eating unless he’s clean.”

  Ky’ara laughed at Mier’s threat and hurried back up the stairs to Joran’s room.

  “Better get up!” she called, knocking on the door, “Mier won’t let you eat until you’ve bathed and dressed.”

  “Uh…but sis, I…” A series of burbles and grunts followed his disoriented mumbling, and then it was quiet again.

  “Joran!” Ky’ara yelled, pounding on the door again, “Come on! We have lots to get done before we leave!”

  When no reply came, she cracked open the door and could not help giggling softly at the sight inside. The boy had an arm and a leg draped over the edge of his bed, and he was lying on his stomach. The sheets and blankets were tangled around his torso and he was mumbling into his pillow. “No Cal, I don’t wanna…no I didn’t!”

  Ky’ara rolled her eyes and w
alked over to the bed. “Wake up!” she yelled in his ear.

  “I told you, I didn’t take it…” he mumbled, rolling over.

  “Of course you didn’t, you lazy thief!” Ky’ara exclaimed, pushing him off the bed in exasperation.

  He came up off the floor in a tangle of sheets and blankets, spluttering, “Hey, what was that for?”

  Ky’ara ignored him, “Good, you are awake,” she said briskly, “Mier is making breakfast, wash yourself and be presentable in twenty minutes, otherwise you will not eat.”

  Then she turned and flounced out the room, leaving a very sleepy and disoriented boy behind.

  A little over fifteen minutes later, wet haired, but dressed, Joran appeared at the stair top and quickly made his way down to the table. Mier set the food on the table, and they sat down to eat.

  “I think we should leave as soon as possible,” Joran announced, watching the plate of flatcakes hungrily as Ky’ara piled some onto her plate.

  “What is so urgent?” Ky’ara asked as she drizzled syrup overtop the stack and began to cut the cakes. “It is not like anyone knows I have the crystal.”

  “Tis the point,” Joran said as he heaped his plate high with food. “Ya don’t think that anyone knows ya have it, but the people lookin’ for it could easily find out that you were the first one on the scene. And 'twould be child’s play for them to trace it ‘ere with a spell…we gotta leave before that happens…” he trailed of as Mier cleared her throat and looked over at him.

  “Someone did come…” she told him.

  “What?” Ky’ara looked at Mier in amazement, “Why didn’t you…”

  “When? Who?” Joran demanded, putting down his fork as he was about to take a bite.

  “Just this morning, right after I sent Ky’ara up to get you,” Mier said nervously, “He didn’t give me his name, but he had short dark hair, a long nose and squinty eyes. He talked funny as well.” She seemed to be stating this last comment for Joran’s benefit, though Ky’ara couldn’t imagine why. “He kept demanding to see ‘the girl.’ Of course, I didn’t like his tone, so I asked who he was talking about. He looked at me suspiciously, and asked if Keera lived here. I…”