As promised, here is Crystara’s first chapter from Crystal Secrets.
Crystal Secrets: Chapter 4
Crystara dreamed of deaths and desires, of a mother she never knew and a lover she once thought she knew. Sometimes her father chased her through the hallways of the Old Temple, screaming and cursing, clutching a whisky bottle. Sometimes he morphed into Jacoby. Worse were the dreams about Lenara, who merely shuffled after her, saying nothing, staring at her with milky, accusing eyes. In those dreams Crystara’s feet were made of stone, laden and heavy. The chase was as slow as a funeral dirge, but Crystara always woke up screaming when Lenara’s cold hand clutched the back of her neck.
When she awoke she would find herself back in her dungeon cell. Sometimes the cold tedium was worse than the nightmares. Crystara’s gaoler, a mute man with a club foot, took no notice of her cries. A thorough pilfering of his mind revealed that he knew little of what truly went on in the temple and understood even less than that. He was the perfect man for the job.
At least once a night Crystara dreamed about the gallows. Faceless men would lead her up to the wooden platform. She was always naked, and there was usually a crowd gathered to watch her swing from the rope. The mob would throw stones at her as they shouted, so loudly that Crystara couldn’t hear the charges being read by the executioner.
She always tried to struggle, but Jacoby was there at the front of the crowd. He had a crystal ring on his finger, and when he pointed it at her she couldn’t move. The executioner put the rope around her neck and drew the noose tight. When he pulled the lever and she felt her feet drop out from under her, Crystara caught a glimpse beneath his hood.
It was Keeper Orvin.
In moments of solitude the guilt crept into her heart. Lenara had deserved her fate, as far as Crystara was concerned, but what gnawed at Crystara was the look of shock she’d seen on Keeper Orvin’s face. In the nightmare she tried to tell him that it was an accident, but she was already swinging from the rope by then.
Crystara reminded herself cynically that Orvin was no less dead just because it was an accident.
She began to lose track of days and nights. From the hunger pangs she assumed they were only feeding her the same cold, bleak gruel once a day, but she’d forgotten to keep track of the first few days since she’d assumed her death was imminent.
The new keeper came to visit after five more bowls of gruel had passed her lips. The dove-white robes of office seemed ill-fitted upon him, hanging off his stooped, wiry frame.
“I took a look at your ring,” he said in his raspy tone. There was something about the way he looked at her when he held out the clear crystal band that made her flesh crawl.
“It’s not mine anymore,” she replied, glaring at him from the far corner of her cell.
“You’ll put it on,” he said, “or I’ll make you.”
Crystara didn’t budge. The man’s smile was sallow.
“Knights,” he called. From the shadows came three rough-looking men, dressed in travelling clothes. They appeared more like brigands than knights to Crystara, and as they approached her cell the stink of horses was almost overwhelming. One of them produced a key.
She shut her eyes and focused, rifling through their minds as the cell door swung open. Their task was not to harm her, simply to stop her from escaping and force her to wear the ring. Not even they knew what the ring did, and Keeper De’Cadomus’ mind was as iron-clad as it had been the last time Crystara had tried to read him.
The threat of the ring was bone-chilling in a way that a death sentence would never be. Without a crystal to defend herself with, Crystara knew that her only option was to make a run for it.
She managed to slide under the legs of the tallest one, but as she reached the threshold of the cell she saw one of De’Cadomus’ crystal rings glow yellow and she was thrust backward into the arms of the men. Crystara screamed and flailed but their grips were as firm as shackles.
She squirmed and balled her hands into fists, but the third knight pried her left hand open and forced the ring onto her big finger. The men unceremoniously dumped her onto the deepstone floor and left. De’Cadomus glowered down at Crystara as she stood up and rubbed her wrists.
“You’re a powerful speaker, Crystara, but you’ll never…”
Crystara clutched the ring and pulled. A crippling shock of pain shot through her body and she was forced to her knees. She bit her lip and tried again. This time the spasms sent her to the floor as she screamed.
“You fucking bastard!” She sobbed.
“Consider this insurance. You’re no good to me locked up all the time, but I can’t have you…”
Crystara leapt to her feet and threw a wild punch at the keeper. He stood his ground and the punch never connected. When Crystara’s fist got close to his face, the ring on her finger glowed deep amber and she was thrown backward.
“There are quite a few things Orvin didn’t teach you, it seems. The ring once bound you to a betrothal. Now it binds you to me. You will do as I say, or that crystal will cause you unimaginable pain. If you try to leave the temple, it will hurt you as well.”
“Fuck you,” she sobbed. De’Cadomus shut the door to Crystara’s cell and stared at her through the bars.
“A young mute orphan is going to come to work for the temple. The Church of the Great Crystal looks after the unfortunate of society…even lame mutes can serve the gods.” He gestured to the gaoler, who looked on passively. “This dumb urchin might believe that she can speak, but all people will hear are disturbing moans when she opens her mouth. Few will choose to even look upon her, for her face is misshapen and hideous.”
Crystara stared in disbelief at the ring on her finger. She’d never heard of crystals doing that kind of thing. What did De’Cadomus know? She wondered if she could read his mind when he was asleep. Had Keeper Orvin known those alignments, too?
“Should that ugly mute serve the church well, perhaps she will be allowed a small measure of freedom…but she must never forget that she belongs to the Great Crystal.” Again, stabbing pains shot through Crystara’s body and she writhed on the marble floor in front of De’Cadomus. “You may prove your loyalty to me with time, but only my death will remove your fetters. You may think yourself a killer, but you do not have what it takes to kill me. Simpering bookworm keepers and young ladies are one thing…”
Crystara strained to hear the word that he whispered as he stared at her crystal ring, but it was nothing more than a puff of air to her. She shook spasmodically as the pain coursed through her body, and tasted the tang of blood in her mouth. When the pain subsided, she opened her eyes. De’Cadomus was gone, and she was alone again in her cell.
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