The Crystal's Chosen Read online

  She rolled over as the club suddenly whistled past her head. Seeing her sword to the left, she concentrated on dodging the troll’s blows as she scrambled across the ground to her weapon. When she was finally close enough, she pushed herself up, diving for it as the spikes on the club ripped through her thigh. Her hands closed on the hilt, and she brought the sword up over her head just in time to stop the blow that came down at her. Ky’ara struggled to hold onto the sword. Her aching and wounded arms screamed in protest from the intense physical strain.

  The club pressed down harder, and both weapons inched closer and closer to her face. She closed her eyes and pushed with all her strength, but the club continued to move downward. Pressure began to build in her mind, and she had no time to think about what she was doing as the words tore from her lips.

  “Erænos Jhóktin!”

  A shock wave rippled out from her in all directions, throwing the Ungh back. The troll’s head smashed into a rock near the edge of the clearing and lay flat on its back, dark blood oozing out of the crushed skull. Ky’ara stood slowly and limped over to Joran. The force had not affected him at all. She looked around. The small trees that surrounded the clearing were snapped off at about shoulder height, though the larger trees had hardly been damaged. Everything was strangely out of focus to her.

  “What have I done?” Ky’ara whispered, and then she blacked out.

  * * * * *

  “The troll failed, my liege.” A thin, lanky man in strange black and violet robes knelt behind the straight backed chair and respectfully bowed his head.

  “You only sent one?” The lazy answer was cold and empty. “I could have told you that would not be enough.”

  The man shivered inadvertently. His master’s sinister voice never failed to send a thrill of terror through him. “I—should I send more?” he asked, looking up and catching the gaze of piercing blue eyes reflected in the mirror before him, staring down at him unpleasantly. He immediately looked back down.

  “Do I frighten you Iregh?” The question was asked kindly, but beneath the feigned warmth was icy amusement and mild contempt.

  “N—no my liege, never. I—”

  “Do not lie. It is okay to feel fear...” The soft chuckle that followed was frigid. He could feel icicles forming around his heart. “…even I feel fear sometimes.”

  “M-my liege?”

  The wintry eyes stared absently past him. “Do not bother sending others. I have given charge of the girl over to someone else. You are to continue with your other assignments.”

  Iregh stood and nodded briskly to the eyes in the mirror, then turned to go.

  “I did not dismiss you, mage.” The derisive edge in the voice cut through his chest and the normally calm mage struggled to breathe as a wave of fear bore down on him.

  “Before you go I would like you to do one more thing…”

  * * * * *

  When Ky’ara regained consciousness, she found the camp partially cleaned up and the body removed. Joran was sitting a little ways away, looking at her with concern. Slowly and painfully, she sat up and leaned back up against a tree. Looking down, she found that her arm and leg had been bandaged carefully. They were partially numb.

  “We have to leave right now,” Joran told her gravely, “Whatever it was that you did, I’m sure other mages sensed it, and we don’t want to fight anyone else in this condition.”

  Ky’ara nodded and used a tree branch to ease herself up. Joran had only suffered a minor concussion and been momentarily knocked out. He had awoken an hour ago, bandaged Ky’ara’s wounds, and then cleaned up the camp as he waited for her to awaken. Despite using the tree branch to lean on, Ky’ara struggled to stand. When Joran realized her trouble, he came to help. Ky’ara let him support her. She was still in shock.

  Joran half-carried her to her horse and she used her good leg to mount up. It was painful to sit up in the saddle, so she hunched over and carefully wrapped her good arm around Angallia’s neck. Knowing that they needed to get as far away from this place as possible, Ky’ara whispered a command in her horse’s ear, and they took off at a full gallop. Joran followed behind, close enough to help if she fell, but far enough away that he wouldn’t interfere with the horse’s stride.

  When it became too painful to gallop, Ky’ara slowed her horse to an easier pace and they rode at a more relaxed speed. Around noon they stopped at a stream to have a short rest and eat a meager lunch. Neither of them said anything during the brief stop. Ky’ara was too preoccupied to speak and Joran recognized her need to be left alone.

  After their lunch they followed the stream for a while. Eventually they came to the banks of the Syrani River, where they dismounted and set up camp in silence. Joran finally spoke as they ate a quick supper of biscuits and cold ham. “We’ll pass a small town tomorrow. It’s not much, but they may have a healer that you can…”

  “No,” Ky’ara interrupted him.

  “What do you mean?” Joran asked, taken aback by her curt reply, “You need to do something about those wounds.”

  “I do not like magic,” Ky’ara said quietly, “healers are…”

  “Not that again!” Joran burst out, unable to control his temper, “That stupid prejudice of yours has no founding! Healing magic is perfectly legal, and if you don’t get your leg taken care of soon it could fester and get worse. You’ll just slow us down!”

  “I am fine.” Ky’ara glared at him. “And you don’t even know the half of it, so stop breathing down my neck and leave me alone!” She threw down her plate and limped over to her sleeping gear.

  “Ky’ara…” Joran started, but the girl just rolled over and pulled her blanket over her head. The boy sighed. Why was it that their conversations always ended with Ky’ara going to sleep and leaving him confused? Shrugging, the boy lay down in his own blankets and tried to sleep, but he was too puzzled. Why is Ky’ara so against magic? he thought, Why did A’kiina give the crystal to someone so adamantly against our cause? Joran rolled onto his side and stared out into the darkness, listening to the sound of the river as he contemplated these thoughts. Eventually the steady murmuring of rushing water lulled him to sleep.

  * * * * *

  Miles away from where they slept, a shadowy, cloaked figure bent low, studying the ground intently. They’ve been here too. He looked back at the place where he had found the dead troll. Two of them—a boy and a girl, and they were on horses. He was sure that they had been the ones to kill the beast, though he wasn’t sure entirely how they had managed it. Magic had been used recently, he was sure of that. And powerful magic too, by the looks of things. At least, it was powerful enough to kill a troll. He looked around at the broken tree branches, and the scuff marks on the ground that testified of a fight. Yes, he thought to himself, very powerful magic, just not well-trained.

  A noise far in the distance interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to look behind him. Someone was coming, no doubt responding to the magic that had been here. He would have to deal with them eventually, but not now.

  Turning to survey the entire clearing one last time, he crouched and pressed his hand to the ground, then turned to face the west—the direction the girl had gone. Then he stood and walked to the edge of the clearing, disappearing into the darkness.

  * * * * *

  Joran woke early the next morning and, after grabbing a quick bite to eat, took a walk along the river bank to familiarize himself with the terrain. He found a shallow ford a little ways upstream, and carefully marked it. As he turned, about to start back, he caught a flicker of black out of the corner of his eye. Joran turned and looked into the tree, but there was no one there. Looking around carefully, he found no signs that anyone had been near. Adjusting his knife so that it would be quicker to draw, he started to head back, keeping one eye behind him. After a while he relaxed and dismissed the incident from his mind.

  When he got back to camp, Ky’ara was rolling up her sleeping pad and packing everything away. “I found a for
d where we can cross the river,” he announced. Ky’ara hardly even paused. “It will throw off anyone who may be trying to follow us,” Joran continued. Still no response. With a sigh, he helped her finish packing up, and removed the signs of the campfire.

  After crossing the ford, they continued on and reached the edge of the forest just before midday. They paused for a short rest. Joran sat down with his back against a tree. Ky’ara carefully eased herself down to the ground, using her good arm, and stuck her hurt leg straight out in front of her. Suddenly she sighed, turning to Joran. “Look, I am sorry that I have been acting so…rudely. It is just, I don’t know, everything just happened so quickly, and I am not used to having so little control over my life,” she said quietly.

  “It’s okay,” Joran told her, wondering why she suddenly chose to apologize. “I don’t really understand much either. I haven’t really been fair, expecting you to just do everything I say you should, without knowing why.”

  Ky’ara shrugged, and then winced as mind numbing pain shot through her shoulder. “Sometimes it seems like it is not even happening to me,” she explained quietly, “Ever since A’kiina gave me the crystal…I guess it has just felt like one thing after another, and I haven’t really had time to adjust. And of course, constant pain does nothing to help my temperament,” she added ruefully.

  “You really should get your wounds looked at,” he said, glancing at her with worry. “I’m no healer, and those wounds need a lot more than basic first aid.”

  Ky’ara sighed. She hated to admit it, but he was right. “I know, but I do not like having a total stranger looking at me and telling me what to do. When I was little my mom usually fixed me up—her father was a healer, so she knew what to do for most things, and I never had any serious wounds.”

  “But why did you say…” Joran started, confused by her prior vehemence.

  Ky’ara cut him off, “One time, when I was five, I burned my hand pretty badly. My mother was away, so my father took me to a healer. The healer put some ointment on my hand, and it stung badly. He told me that he was going to use magic, and said that if the stinging got too bad, I should tell him, and he would stop.” Ky’ara turned to stare off into the distance, absent mindedly rubbing her left palm. “He held my hand lightly in his own, and then started to mutter. My hand tingled, and at first the stinging and the pain went away. After a few seconds my hand started to throb and the stinging came back more intensely than before. It felt like my bones were vibrating. I yelled at him to stop, but he just looked at me as though I was being silly, and tightened his grip on my wrist. Finally, it hurt so badly that I actually thought that my hand was on fire, and my whole body throbbed with pain. I screamed, and hit him with my other hand. It surprised him enough that he let go.”

  Joran stared at her in amazement, speechless.

  “My father just looked at the healer, confused by my reaction. The healer told him that he had used a common, painless healing spell. He thought that my reaction was just the normal scare anyone got when they first felt magic. I held up my hand to prove that the healer had made my burn worse…but it looked fine. There was not even a scar,” she whispered. “The pain lasted for a week after that, and then slowly faded away. I couldn’t hold anything in that hand for ten days or so.

  “Do you think it was the healer?” Joran asked, bewildered.

  “No,” Ky’ara shook her head, “I do not know what it was, but he didn’t know what was going on, I’m fairly certain.”

  “I’ve never heard of someone reacting that way to magic.” Joran said, “And I’ve heard some pretty obscure things…”

  “Do you understand now why I do not want to go to a healer?” Ky’ara asked him.

  “I can see why you wouldn’t want to...” Joran answered slowly, “…but maybe you could just have them look at it and give you something to keep it from getting infected. There are plenty of people who dislike having magic worked on them, so they won’t find it strange for you to ask them for a more…normal cure.”

  Ky’ara sighed. She looked at him again, and then down at her throbbing leg. “I know I should, but…well…alright, but no magic.”

  Joran nodded and got to his feet, “We should probably go now.”

  He started towards his horse. A small, muttered ‘Ummm’ made him look back. Ky’ara was still on the ground. She looked up at him with wide eyes, sweat forming on her brow. “I don’t think I can get up,” she gasped.

  Joran turned back to her, surprise showing clearly on his face. “I didn’t think it was that bad yet—” he grabbed her right arm to help her up, and then looked down at her leg. His eyes widened, and he cursed. Blood had soaked all the way through the bandage and her pants, and her leg was swollen. Her left arm hung limply at her side, and she was a lot paler than he had first observed. He heaved her up and carefully started to lead her to her horse. Almost halfway there he stumbled as she leaned heavily on his arm, almost falling to the ground.

  “Wait,” she gasped, stopping and fumbling with her sword belt, “It will be easier to walk without this on.” She undid the plain leather belt, and Joran took the sword: sheathe, belt and all. “I think I can stand while you put that on the saddle.”

  “Are you sure?” Joran asked, concerned.

  “I’m sure I can survive for a few seconds,” she said with a weak smile, “just don’t take long.”

  “All right,” Joran said doubtfully, he carefully let go of her, and she wavered for a moment. He went to steady her, but she shook her head, and he shrugged, turning to go. Ky’ara suddenly gasped and grabbed his shoulder from behind. He turned as her eyes filled with pain, and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! he berated himself. Why had he let her ride so hard? Any village idiot could see that the wound was already infected! He cursed under his breath and lifted Ky’ara from the ground, then carefully made his way to her horse, stumbling under her weight. It took him three tries to heave her up onto Angallia’s back, and by the time he had lashed her to the horse and mounted Rogue, he was exhausted. Grabbing Angallia’s reins, he led her down a hill and along the tree line. A village lay only a short distance away, and with luck, they would have a healer who could do something about the girl’s wounds, magic or no. He had to keep the crystal and the one who carried it safe—no matter the cost.

  Chapter 4: Help and Healing

  Joran rode into the village just as darkness fell. Buildings and market stalls lined both sides of the road. Despite the approaching night, people still crowded the shops and street. The pedestrians gave him offended and uneasy glances when he demanded that someone take him to a healer. A group of chattering women glanced up at him in disgust, then moved away and continued their gossip. The men he asked just shook their heads and walked away. One woman even snatched up her child and held the boy close, then turned her head away and refused to make eye contact.

  After a moment of watching them, he realized that he wouldn’t get any help from these people, so he dismounted and began to push his way through the crowd, intent on finding a healer. A girl appeared at his elbow just as he broke free from the main body of the crowd. “I know a healer who can help,” she informed him, a slight smile touching her lips. “She can take care of your friend.”

  Joran dismounted and led both horses as he followed the girl. She seemed to be taking the long way around, going through alleys, and sometimes doubling back. Finally, they stopped in front of a squat wooden cottage with a white fence and a large garden in the back. It was on the very western edge of town, and the remnant of the sunset shining behind it made it glow with an unearthly light. Glancing at his guide, then back at the house, Joran pushed open the gate and led the horses up to the door, where he tied them to a post obviously meant for that purpose.

  To his surprise, the girl followed him up to the door. Before he could knock, the girl just opened the door and stepped inside, holding it for him as he lifted Ky’ara from the horse and carried her through
the doorway.

  “Lay your friend on the couch. I’ll go find Myrnai,” she told him, shutting the door just behind him and locking it with a key that seemed to appear in her hand. “She always forgets to lock it,” the girl explained when she saw his perplexed look. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll come home to find the door hanging wide open and all the townspeople inside, badgering her.”

  She gave him a smile as if he understood completely. He smiled vaguely and nodded, then turned and laid Ky’ara on the cushioned bench. Suspicious thoughts lingered in the back of his mind, and he wondered just what kind of healer kept a shop at the very edge of town.

  After laying down his burden, Joran stood and looked around. The girl was disappearing through a doorway across the room and to the right. The house he had just entered was different, to say the least. Strange plants hung from the ceiling, drying. He assumed that they were herbs, though he didn’t recognize any. Aside from the couch, the only other furniture in the room was a table with four chairs, and a cushioned rocking chair. A fireplace with a kettle hung over it lay directly across from the door they had just entered. Windows flanked the fireplace, and to the left there was a ladder that led up to a large loft. The door where the girl had gone seemed to be the only way out of the room, aside from the windows.

  He sighed and carefully sat on the end of the couch. He hoped that this woman could help him, Ky’ara’s health was more important than his own as far as he was concerned. His mission, as it had been assigned to him, was to bring the crystal and the one who carried it—though of course at the time he had assumed that meant A’kiina. Now he wondered if Calistra had known otherwise…Why is the girl so blasted important!?! Joran would have just left her there to heal and taken the crystal on to Doraicolé, but there was that “and” in the way…