The Crystal Bridge (The Lost Shards Book 1) (21 page)

“One’s enough. Are there other limits?”

Evandrel looked up into the trees. “It takes energy. A great feat of magic would leave me drained, exhausted, and vulnerable. There are also the Stones of Landfall.”

“Stones of what now?”

“Stones infused with the power of the Crystal Bridge when it collapsed and the Prophets first stepped onto Ealdar. These stones dissipate magic.” The Keitane’s tone turned hard. “Your kind folds the ore into steel and uses these weapons to hunt us.”

Kaden shook his head. “Not my kind, remember, but I am sorry, Evan. Didn’t mean to bring that stuff up again.”

Evandrel looked away. “As enlightening as this conversation may be, are you ready to continue our travels?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Can we keep it a touch slower though?”

Evandrel ignored him and sped off into the sun dappled forest, laughing as his green hair whipped behind him.

“Man, wait up! Didn’t you say something about more food and water?” Kaden raced after him, his legs feeling stronger than they had ever been.

Aren’s knees shook as she passed the Gates and moved deeper into the darkened room. She could make out pillars in the dim light and faces beyond them. There were thousands of sparks of light there, but these were too small to offer much light, leaving most of the huge room lost in shadow. She felt Kaden move further and further away from her, the sensation growing dim until she wasn’t sure if it had even been real.
What am I doing here? I should’ve stayed in the clearing.

Dveldor moved forward at a faster pace, the tiny light at his waist bouncing as he walked, casting odd shadows. Aren felt certain she was going to trip. “Wait up, Dveldor. I can’t see.”

“Oh, of course. I am sorry, Aren.” He called out to the darkness and more lights sprang to life around her and grew brighter. Large lanterns burst to life along the walls and many smaller ones began to burn in the hands of the Dwaros. The room swam out of shadow.

The walls glowed a warm orange, reflecting the lamplight back into the great room like they were covered in beaten gold. The ceiling was at least a hundred feet up and glittered with inlayed jewels and metals, bright sparks in the dark. A thousand rubies ran through the center of the roof. Aren realized it was a depiction of the night sky, the red nebula twinkling in the lamplight.

The two moons sat low on the curved stone walls, twinkling with smoky gray diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. The swirls looked somewhat familiar to her, but she couldn’t place from where.

She tore her eyes away from the wealth around her and turned toward the far end of the cavern. Where the floor met the curved walls of the cavern sat a double terrace of ornately carved stone. On the top ledge stood a throne of solid blue crystal. The throne shimmered in the wavering light from the lamps.

The Dwaro who sat on the throne sparkled in silver armor, his graying beard flowing from the helmet past his waist. He appeared calm at their approach, but Aren knew this was far from the truth. Hatred seethed and raced behind the serene mask, Aren’s gift invading the Keeper’s mind and memories, even from a distance.

Aren looked into the eyes of a human child who’d been dragged before the Keeper, found trespassing in one of the farthest tunnels. A Dwaro stepped forward, Inasi Dho Suani Darsh, who’d discovered the human. He dumped jewels and broken bits of stone to the floor. He spoke in the sing song language of the Dwaros, but now Aren understood it because she was hearing it as Sethkar.

“This human was caught trespassing on our lands and stealing our heritage. He chipped out bits of our history that may never be rewritten, so old that no one remembers the proper placement.” Inasi spit in the dirt next to the boy.

“Please. I didn’t mean any harm. My family is so hungry. We farm, but my father died of illness. Please. I only wanted to feed my younger sis—” A spear slammed into the boy’s neck. Aren could feel the satisfaction roll through the Keeper at the death of the human. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t.

A dozen similar memories flowed through Aren in a fraction of a second. She blinked up at Sethkar, Keeper of the Gates, and struggled to take another step.
Okay. What’ve I got to work with? He hates humans. He’ll kill me if I do anything that displeases him. He’ll also look for reasons to be displeased.
I’m in real trouble here
.

She whispered to the Dwaro at her side. “Dveldor. This is a bad idea. It isn’t safe. I just want to go back.”

He looked at her in confusion. “Keeper Sethkar is very kind and noble. You will be safe here. I will explain and translate for you. Good?”

Sethkar stood as they approached, disapproval written all over his face, but even clearer on his soul that had opened to Aren’s gift.

Aren’s legs shook even more and she might have fallen if Dveldor hadn’t taken her hand. She could feel his confidence flow into her. It was just enough to keep her standing and move her forward a few more steps.

The Keeper raised a hand to halt their progress and spoke, his tone displaying his anger even as the Dwaro language filled Aren with flashes of red, blood, a young Dwaro girl’s face.

Dveldor had bowed his head as they approached, but it snapped up suddenly. “Nim, shea fallim hes! No, the girl is with me!”

Guards rushed in from all sides, small spears tipped with sharp purple stone jabbed at Aren, one pricked her arm and a line of blood trailed down and dripped from her finger. Commands were shouted. No one needed to translate. She put her arms up to show they were empty and allowed the small men to lead her away.

Aren couldn’t stand in the cramped prison cell, made for the shorter frames of the Dwaros. The pitch black of the room suffocated her, making the room feel even smaller than it was.
Don’t they believe in any light?
She knew they did though. She’d seen the memories of Sethkar in dazzling illumination.
Their eyes are very different from mine.

Her eyes failed to adjust to the complete absence of visible light, making shapes appear and shift in front of her where she knew only air existed. The effect made her dizzy and tired. It didn’t help that her jailers had only given her a small meal of root vegetables and a cup of water after her long trek into the heart of the world.
At least I hope those were root vegetables. They could’ve been grubs for all I could tell
. The water at least had been crisp and clean with a pleasant mineral tang.

The door clanged, announcing another meal. Aren crawled forward, carefully feeling for the cup, so as not to spill any of the precious liquid this time.
I hope Dveldor’s better off.

As she thought of Dveldor, his now familiar face swam out of the darkness, haloed in dim purple light. Aren jumped when she realized it was no illusion. “Dveldor?”

The light grew and Dveldor stood before her, his small lantern held up for her benefit, the purple metal door standing open. “Hi, Aren.”

Aren embraced her friend. “Thank you.”

Dveldor shrugged in her embrace. “Should not be thanking me I think. We go to the Keeper of the Gates for our trial now. Sethkar is very angry with me for bringing you here and showing you too many Dwaro secrets.”

Aren looked Dveldor in the eyes from her kneeling position. “I know. I still wanted to thank you in case I don’t get another chance. You’ve been very kind.”

“You will get another chance I think.”

Aren smiled at him, knowing that he was as unsure as she was of her fate. “I hope so too.”

The guards led them to Keeper Sethkar’s throne room, but this time they entered through a side tunnel and not by the great Petro Gates.

Aren gasped as she ducked through the entry and took in the crowd. Dwaros must have traveled for miles to attend her trial. The cavern held thousands of the tiny people, children raised on shoulders to get a glimpse of the human, all buzzing with life and energy that made Aren’s head burn as her gift absorbed too much information.
Gotta tune them out.

Aren closed her eyes and let Dveldor’s grasp guide her as she fought back the onslaught of emotions, memories, and thoughts, focusing on the actual sounds of their songlike murmurs and the scent of clean fur that reminded her of when she’d held her pet hamster close to her face. “You have an amazing people, Dveldor. Many hate me, but there’s also so much kindness and ingenuity here.”

Dveldor said nothing, just squeezed her hand, until they reached the steps before the sapphire throne. “I will translate. I am so sorry, Aren.”

She opened her eyes as Keeper Sethkar spoke, Dveldor translating quickly at her side.

“Dveldor, what is the meaning of this. You dare bring a human into our caverns and past the Gates of Anysh?”

“I do. The Children of the Stone told me to tunnel to the surface and I found her alone and in danger. I also found this.” He lifted up the piece of plastic from the desk. As he did so he broke into song.

The song filled Aren with strange images. Life, death, the passage of time, slow changes that come from heat and pressure, pulled from the earth, combined with other materials, heated, and pumped out as a liquid.

“Plastic. This human girl brought it to us from across the stars.” He pointed up at the ceiling. “Just like the Prophets foretold. She is the Kal’asee. She is the messenger.”

Aren shook her head at Dveldor. “What?”

Sethkar sprayed spittle as he responded. “She is nothing! She is human. The Kal’asee would be Dwaro! The Spirit of Ealdar would have told us of her arrival. Do you presume to know the will of the Prophets? You…”

A Dwaro in a red robe approached the king and whispered to him. Aren caught nothing of what they discussed in their songlike language, but something told her that the priest believed the Kal’asee could be human.
I hope the Keeper is religious.
But she already knew that he was.

Sethkar’s eyes narrowed and turned on Aren. “Speak human! Deliver your message and we shall see if you are the Kal’asee.”

Aren could feel the contempt roll off the man, the burning hatred. She leaned on her gift hard.
There must be some way out of this.
She dug deeper into the king’s soul past hate, anger, and sorrow to his almost human center where sparks of life danced around his fiery lifeforce, but she found nothing that might save her. She glanced at the priest and was flooded with insights into the religion of the Dwaros. She saw one tiny kernel of hope and pounced upon it.

Aren took two steps forward and then kneeled before the terraces. She put her head to the ground.
Must show him respect
.
Hope Dveldor can keep up.

“Oh great Sethkar, Keeper of the Gates, King of the Dwaros. I am not this Kal’asee. I am dust beneath the stones. I am nothing. I
am
from another world, but I have no message for you or your people. I’m sorry. I’m simply lost and alone. I seek only your aid and your protection. By Eshe and her love of the traveler, I ask your help. I am entirely in your mercy.”

Sethkar froze. His face shifted, moving through anger, pain, sorrow, surprise. “How do you know of Eshe the Prophetess?”

“The same way I know of Cael the Prophet, of Panish the Spirit of Ealdar, and also the same way I know you lost your daughter, Lael.” The audience of Dwaros gasped when Dveldor translated. Even he looked upon her with astonishment. Aren could only see them through her peripheral. She dared not raise her head, which limited her gift, but she didn’t want to show disrespect.