Chapter
Ten
Dawson held tightly to Selyn’s hand as they slipped through the last of the common passageways to the hidden tunnels that would lead them even deeper into the bowels of the Lemurian dimension. Roland led the way, his glimmering sword the only light now that they’d moved beyond the regular underground pathways.
“Selyn, have you ever been this far
below before?” Dawson kept her hand clenched in his. He felt her
tension, the nervous energy that had her breaths coming in short,
staccato bursts and her feet occasionally stumbling on the rocky
path.
“Never. We were forbidden to leave the
levels where we lived and worked. I knew there were passages that
led below, but I’ve never followed them. Roland, how did Taron find
this way? From what I have heard, the citizens of Lemuria generally
know little of the levels beyond their own, including the one where
the Forgotten Ones live.”
Roland held his sword high and checked
a split in the tunnel ahead. “Taron was led by his crystal sword. I
merely follow the markings he left on the walls.” He pointed to a
long scrape at eye level leading to the passage veering off to the
right. “I’ve only been to the levels beneath yours once before, and
never this far or deep. That other time, Taron met me halfway. We
passed that point some time back, at that last set of steps. Come.
I don’t think it’s too much farther.”
The walls were damp and cold. In some
areas, strange, luminescent algae added a soft, yet otherworldly
glow to the passage. The constant sounds of water dripping, of
their labored breathing, and the clatter of rocks and pebbles
underfoot echoed ahead and behind.
There was something timeless about
these passages, as if the three of them passed through more than
space … as if they marched into time itself.
A shiver spiked along Dawson’s spine.
Time? He had no idea if it was day or night, how long since they’d
left Sedona, how many hours since their last meal, since they’d
last slept. Adrenaline coursed through his body, and he was high
and filled with energy—and totally out of touch with
time.
He rarely wore a wristwatch, and he
hadn’t thought to wear one today. What day was it? How long had
they been here, and how much longer before they reached Taron,
before they had swords for all the women?
Did it matter? Alton was waiting to
hear from them, but he’d been prepared to wait.
This was truly a timeless realm, and
Dawson passed here with a sense he walked on ground no human foot
had ever trod, not only in a dimension separate from Earth’s, but
in an area that was basically off-limits to this dimension’s
inhabitants.
Who had created this labyrinth, what
forces determined the tunnels and caverns, the odd forms of life?
Though he knew the dimension existed within the volcanic core of
Mount Shasta, the caves and passages they hiked through now were
not volcanic in appearance. Instead, they reminded him of the
limestone caves he’d clambered through when he was
young.
Stalactites and stalagmites projected
bizarre shadows and twists to the light from Roland’s sword, and in
some areas, brilliant color ran in bold bands across the walls and
over the relatively smooth floor. It was an unworldly experience,
almost beyond belief.
He thought of his clinic and the
employees there who had no idea where their nerdy vet was spending
his time away from work. How he wished he could share this
adventure with them, but he had a feeling even the ghost of his
Aunt Fiona might have trouble swallowing a story so
bizarre.
He gazed at the strange glow shimmering
along the walls, at the big man ahead. Felt the warmth of Selyn’s
fingers linked to his. He realized it wasn’t all that easy to
believe any of it himself.
Especially Selyn. She was beautiful and
exotic and holding his hand. That alone defied belief.
A glow in the passageway ahead was the
first hint they might be reaching the end of their journey. Roland
glanced over his shoulder. “I’m hearing from Taron. He’s got the
swords finished, and they’re all packed to go.” He laughed. “It
appears our young aristocrat is more than ready to leave this
place. He misses his warm bathing pool!”
He picked up the pace until they were
practically trotting down the dark tunnel toward a light that grew
brighter the closer they got. It was almost as bright as day when
they entered a huge cavern.
Dawson’s first thought was that he’d
stepped into a massive geode filled with diamonds. The walls curved
high overhead and sparkled with clear crystalline facets reflecting
an eerie blue light.
Taron stood near the center of the
cavern, a man unlike anything Daws had expected. He was the same
height as Alton, with a similar build and eyes the same brilliant
emerald green, but his hair hung in braids of crimson silk, as
fiery and true a red as the ruby sword.
He met them as they entered the cavern,
smiling broadly at Roland and looking upon both Selyn and Dawson
with obvious curiosity. He stretched his hand out to Dawson first.
“So you’re the human demon hunter I’ve heard of.” Laughing, he
shook Dawson’s hand. “When Alton described how you sucked up demons
with a shop vacuum and froze them in little bags, he could barely
get the words out he laughed so hard. Excellent thinking. Nothing
like taking a new approach. It’s good to meet you.”
Then he turned to Selyn and carefully
took her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, as well. I’ve been
told of your bravery. Roland says the sword was truly that of
Artigos the Just, that our leader still lives. Your knowledge of
his whereabouts may just alter the course of this fight in our
favor. Thank you.”
Dawson couldn’t stop the chill that
coursed along his spine when Taron held on to Selyn’s hand for what
seemed much too long. She certainly wasn’t trying to pull out of
his grasp, though she did send one uneasy glance in Dawson’s
direction. Then Taron released his hold on her and smiled at all of
them.
“For the first time, I have hope we may
actually prevail. What first felt like a fool’s errand has already
borne fruit. The swords are finished and ready, but knowing that
Artigos the Just still lives, that I have had a small part in
recreating his weapon so that you might return it to him …” He
shook his head, as if denying all that had passed. “Amazing, to be
part of history in the making,” he said. “Absolutely
amazing.”
Then he showed them the wrapped bundles
piled beside a ruby red altar near one crystalline wall of the
cavern. Small glow sticks set on sconces on the walls were the
source of the brilliant, cold blue light. As insignificant as the
sticks were, their multiple reflections off the crystalline walls
illuminated the entire cavern. Yet even with the light, as Dawson
glanced around, he thought it was a cold and unforgiving place to
have spent so many days creating swords for an untried
army.
In spite of that unexpected frisson of
jealousy, he had to admire Taron and what he’d accomplished. At the
same time, he wondered what Selyn thought of the Lemurian
aristocrat. She’d hardly known any other decent men. Would she be
interested in this guy, one who was more like her? A man of the
same people, with an immortal life span to match her
own?
Shit. Daws shook his head and pulled his
thoughts together. He had no right to be jealous of Taron or anyone
else. No right to think along those lines. Selyn belonged to no
man, especially not to Dawson Buck. It wasn’t up to him to choose a
man for Selyn, right or wrong. She was her own woman and would make
up her own mind.
But then she reached for his hand,
wrapped her fingers in his, and looked at him with such a serious
expression on her face, that all his good intentions faded beneath
the warmth of her touch and the subtle invitation in her
smile.
Even wrapped in rough cloth and bundled
together in nice, neat packs, the swords were heavy and difficult
to carry. Since they hadn’t come with scabbards, the women were
going to have to come up with some way to carry them, but just
getting a hundred weapons from the lower levels to the slave
quarters was turning out to be more difficult than Selyn had
imagined.
She had no idea if Birk and Artigos
were having any success exorcising demons from the guards, which
meant she and Dawson, Taron, and Roland had to slip in and out of
this occupied level with every care possible.
She wished she knew what time it was,
what the schedule might be, but she’d lost all track. Running on
pure adrenaline made it harder to judge how long they’d been going
now, but it had taken them longer to reach Taron than she’d
expected, and it could be the middle of the night for all she
knew.
Whatever. They would just have to trust
to luck and hope they weren’t entering the passages during a shift
change for the guards, or at a time when patrols were moving
through.
Once they reached the upper levels,
Selyn took the lead. These dark passages and many tunnels had been
her home for her entire life. She knew all the hidden pathways, all
the places where guards would linger, where sound might
carry.
Loaded down with a heavy bundle of
crystal swords, she moved as quietly as she could. Even the
slightest noises carried in these tunnels. The sound of their
passing was only partially muffled by the ever-pervasive rumble of
heavy mining equipment and the distant voices of the Forgotten
Ones.
These were women who had known nothing
beyond slavery. Their lives had been unchanging from the time they
were old enough to pick gems from broken rock, mere toddlers
sitting in small groups, searching for the shimmer of diamonds and
rubies, hunting for emeralds and other precious
stones.
As they’d grown, they’d taken on more
physical labor. As adult women, they—like Selyn—were strong and
broad shouldered, muscular as their mothers had been, and
physically stronger than many men. Even so, they still spent part
of each day searching for the gems that were so easily lost amid
the rubble.
Gems they would never see in their
final, cut form. Gems that would go to decorate ladies of the
aristocracy, or be sold in trade to an outside world even the free
folk never saw.
Selyn couldn’t let herself think about
the lies, the subterfuge, the horrible lives they’d all been
subjected to, all because of demonkind. If what Artigos the Just
said was the truth, all of them were victims. All of them subject
to the evil plans of demons. Plans that were so far along and so
well established and entrenched within Lemurian society, she could
only pray they had some hope of changing what had been put in
motion so many thousands of years ago.
Selyn stopped at the final portal
leading to the more heavily traveled areas. Slowly and quietly she
set her bundle on the ground. “I have to be sure the passage is
clear. The living quarters are close—only a short walk away—but we
can’t afford discovery at this point.”
Before the men could question her, she
slipped through the portal and around a corner. The long tunnel was
empty. The only voices she heard were the sounds of women in the
nearby living quarters, talking quietly between shifts while others
slept. She hurried back to the men. “I’m going to warn them we’re
coming. I don’t want anyone to raise an alarm.”
Dawson nodded. Then he shocked her by
leaning close and kissing her. The gentle contact of his mouth on
hers made her heart race, but it did something else. Something she
hadn’t expected.
It gave her the burst of confidence she
needed to smile at him and turn away. To slip through the portal,
and then to race down the brightly lit passage and walk boldly into
the main room where her sisters, the Forgotten Ones,
gathered.
There were at least thirty women here.
The sense of homecoming almost brought Selyn to her knees. She’d
been so afraid she’d never see any of them again.
“Selyn? Where the nine hells have you
been? We’ve been searching for you!”
She hugged her friend Nica, but quickly
stepped back. “I will tell you soon, but for now, I bring friends
of mine. Wait until you see what they’ve brought us! Remember when
I told you that there were members among the free folk who cared
about our fate? That finally, we might have a chance at freedom?
Some of you laughed at me; some of you believed.”
It was all she could do not to burst
into laughter. “This is something beyond our greatest expectations.
Wake those who sleep so they may join us. Welcome us quietly. I
have crystal blades for every single one of us.”
Giving in to laughter, Selyn broke away
from an entire room filled with women gasping in surprise, and
raced back to the men. “Hurry. The way is still clear.” Gathering
up her bundle of swords, she led them through the portal and down
the tunnel to the main gathering room.
At the sight of the strange men, the
women backed away, some still rubbing their eyes from their hastily
interrupted sleep. All of them watched anxiously as Selyn began
unwrapping her bundle of swords. She lay five glimmering blades out
on a long table and then stood before it.
“These men are here to help us. You’ve
heard me speak of Roland of Kronus, a member of the Lemurian Guard
and the first of the free folk, ever, to search for the truth
behind the Forgotten Ones. Roland saved my life just a few days ago
when I was captured by one of our guards and badly beaten. Roland
is a brave and fearless man who has chosen to help
us.”
Roland bowed his head and then stepped
back. Selyn smiled at him before gesturing toward Dawson. “This man
is Dawson Buck, a human from Earth’s dimension who has unselfishly
agreed to help us find freedom. He risks much for a people he
didn’t even know existed until just a short time ago. We owe him
our loyalty and our thanks.”
She had to force herself not to allow
her gaze to linger on Dawson. Even though he was tired and grimy
from their long hours hiking between the levels, she still thought
him absolutely gorgeous. Reluctantly, she looked away. “This man is
Taron of Libernus, an aristocrat who has joined our cause. Taron
has spent the past week replicating the crystal swords—one for each
of the Forgotten Ones, that we be forgotten no
longer.”
She stood aside from the long table now
covered with crystal swords. “As our mothers were warriors in the
terrible DemonWars, so shall we fight.”
Taron stepped forward with his two
bundles and set them on the floor at Selyn’s feet. “Stay with your
sisters, Selyn. Explain what’s happening both here and above. We’re
going after the rest of the swords.” He raised his head and smiled
at the gathering of women. “Listen to Selyn. She’s had a most
amazing adventure, one all of you will have the opportunity to
join.”
Selyn shot him a quick grin. Taron
nodded. Then he and Roland headed for the door. Dawson paused a
moment, reached for her, and kissed her full on the mouth, in front
of her sisters. “Be careful,” he said. And then he was gone, and
Selyn faced a very curious group of her oldest
friends.
“So,” she said, “that is where we stand
now. What began as a battle against demons infiltrating Earth’s
dimension has evolved into an all-out war against demonkind.
Already we are learning what actually happened to the women
warriors. Our mothers were not betrayed by the Lemurian people.
They were betrayed by demons in the guise of their fellow citizens.
No wonder it was so hard for them to fight the purge. Their
terrible exile wasn’t ordered by their peers. It was entirely the
fault of demonkind.”
“The guards? Are they the ones who
fathered us, or were they demons? Who do we kill to avenge the
degradation of our mothers?”
Selyn sighed. This was not going to be
easy. “The guards are victims of demonkind, just as our mothers
were, as we are. That’s the truth, Isra. Once the demons have been
removed from the guards, you’ll see that they are people just as we
are. Good people at heart who have been badly used by demonkind.
Have you never wondered why we were not sexually assaulted as well?
I can only guess that is one sin the guards were able to fight.
When you see Birk, you’ll believe what I say is true.”
“Birk? That bastard.” Isra spit on the
ground between them. “I’d rather kill him.”
Selyn stroked one of the crystal
blades. “He asked me to kill him. I chose instead to forgive him
and ask him to help us. He is doing that, even now.”
Isra glared at her. “You may choose to
forgive. That is your right. When I carry crystal, I will kill him
and any other guard. Which of these is mine?”
“I don’t know.” Selyn picked up another
bundle, carefully unwrapped it and lay the swords out on the table
beside the first ones. “Each crystal will respond only to its
master. The blade will glow. Do not try to pick up a sword that
doesn’t glow for you.”
“Why?” Isra planted her fists on her
hips. “What will happen if we choose the one we want?”
Selyn shrugged. “I imagine you could
die.”
A soft gasp went up about the room.
Isra’s head snapped back as if she’d been slapped. “You’re
lying.”
It had been a damned long day and an
even longer week. She’d never been all that fond of Isra anyway.
The woman’s temper was always sour, and she loved to harass anyone
smaller or weaker than herself.
Selyn really didn’t have time for this
right now. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. “Fine,
then. Go right ahead. See what happens when you decide to choose
your own sword. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Of course, if
you’re dead, you won’t be saying much at all, will
you?”
Isra glared at her a moment. Then she
planted a hand on Selyn’s chest and shoved her aside. Slowly she
walked the length of the two long tables, studying each sword.
Selyn ignored her and continued to unwrap the bundles. Carefully,
touching only the silver hilt, she placed each new weapon beside
the last.
They looked identical, but Selyn could
feel a slight difference in each one, as if the individual
personality of its spirit had somehow changed the balance, the
grip, the way the crystal reflected light. None had yet glowed for
her. She wasn’t worried. She knew there was a sword for her, one
with a spirit that would match her perfectly.
Just as her mother’s spirit fit Eddy
Marks.
Isra stopped and stared at Selyn. “I
want this one.”
Selyn glanced at the sword. It looked
just like all the others. “Does it glow for you?”
“What does that mean?”
“When you pass your hand over the
blade, does the blade glow? Shimmer, as if from an inner
light.”
“That’s a myth. They’re just
swords.”
Selyn chuckled. “If you believe that,
go right ahead. But I warn you once again, if the sword does not
glow for you, it is not yours to claim.”
“You lie.” Isra grabbed the hilt of her
chosen sword. Blue light flashed. She screamed and dropped the
blade. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as Isra grabbed
her singed hand and glared at Selyn. “I don’t know how, but you did
that to me, bitch. Watch your back, Selyn. No one attacks me and
lives to tell about it. No one.”
She spun around and shoved her way
through the gathered women. Silently, Selyn watched her go. Then
she went back to unpacking the swords, though once she glanced up
at the others she wondered what they thought of Isra, if her words
had frightened any of them. No matter. This was bigger than one
ill-tempered woman.
The others milled about, staring
curiously at the swords. No one remarked on Isra or her dramatic
exit.
Selyn set another sword out on the
table. “If you like, walk past the swords and hold your hand above
each one for a moment. If the blade pulses with light, you may pick
it up. The sword probably won’t speak to you, but the glow will
tell you the blade is meant to be yours. But remember. Don’t talk
about them away from here, and don’t let the guards see them. We
can’t risk discovery. Not when we’re this close.”
“Which is yours?”
Selyn didn’t see who asked the
question, but she merely set the next blade on the table. “I have
no idea. I imagine one will glow for me as well.” At least she
hoped that would happen. She opened the final bundle and set the
swords out, one by one. None of these had acknowledged her. Not one
of them was hers.
Almost thirty blades lay along the
tables, half as many blades as there were women in the room. She
stood back and watched as her sisters walked slowly along the
tables. Hands hovered above swords with blades that reflected the
light, but did not shimmer on their own.
“Nine hells! It glows for
me.”
“Look. Selyn, come and see. Nica’s
found one.”
She choked back the surge of jealousy
that slammed into her. This was the reason she was here, why she’d
carried swords to this room, to match them to their perfect mates.
And if anyone in this room deserved crystal, it was
Nica.
She’d long been Selyn’s friend, a quiet
little thing who was a favorite among all of them with her good
heart, yet strong sense of purpose. Nica stood in front of the
glowing sword, transfixed by the shimmer and pulse of light along
the crystal blade. Almost fearfully, she raised her head and stared
at Selyn. “What do I do now?”
Selyn grinned at her. “Pick it
up!”
Cautiously, Nica reached for the hilt.
Her fingers trembled, her teeth worried her bottom lip, and she
looked almost on the verge of tears. Then her fingers wrapped
around the pommel, and it slipped perfectly into her
grasp.
“Oh.”
Her soft whisper was almost lost in the
brilliant flash of light from the blade. Nica raised her head, and
this time her eyes glowed as brightly as her blade. “I feel it. The
sword isn’t actually speaking to me, but I can feel a connection.
She is meant to be with me.”
“That’s wonderful.” Selyn leaned close
and kissed her cheek. “It looks good in your hand, though we’ll
need to practice once everyone has met their match.” She glanced
up. “And we’ll need a way to carry them. A scabbard or sheath of
some kind. Something that will allow you to reach your sword easily
in battle.”
One more thing to worry about. She
glanced toward the door and hoped like the nine hells that none of
the guards would come snooping around. They rarely came near the
living quarters.
The women were still passing by the
blades. More of them had found swords and connected with their
match by the time the men returned with the second load of bundles.
Dawson knelt and began unwrapping one. “I’m going to stay and help.
Roland and Taron can manage the rest of the blades.”
“Good. The shift is about to change.
We’ll have more women here in a moment. So far there are only a
dozen or so matches.”
Nica joined Selyn and flopped down on
the ground next to the bundle of swords Dawson was unwrapping. She
cradled her own crystal blade in her lap. “To be exact, Selyn,
there are fourteen matches, and one very pissed off Isra. Ignore
her threat at your own risk. She is more hateful than
ever.”
Dawson raised his head. “What threat?
Who threatened you?”
“Nica’s exaggerating. It was nothing,”
Selyn said.
“It was Isra,” Nica added. “She wanted
a sword that had not acknowledged her. When Selyn warned her, she
tried to take it anyway, and her fingers were badly burned.” Nica
shook her head, all the while stroking her crystal blade. “She will
be a dangerous enemy, Selyn. I don’t want anything to happen to
you.”
Dawson grinned at her. “Neither do I,
Nica. I want Selyn in one piece. Could this Isra be
possessed?”
Nica shot a concerned glance at Selyn.
“I don’t know. How do you tell?”
Dawson pointed to the blade in her lap.
“Next time you’re near Isra, ask your blade. Some can tell. If she
is possessed, we’ll know how to deal with her. If she’s just a
bitch, that’s another problem.” He laughed. “Look. Two more blades
have been claimed.”
“We need to get the rest of them up.”
Selyn grabbed two more and set them out. Dawson helped, and before
long the tables were covered in crystal swords.
Dawson looped an arm over her
shoulders. “Yours must be in the last batch. Roland and Taron will
be back soon. I imagine you’re growing anxious.”
She didn’t answer him. She watched
as—one after another—more of her sisters claimed a shimmering
crystal blade. The first group of women had either taken their
swords and gone back to sleep or they’d left to take their shift in
the mines. A few who’d been so quickly awakened hours earlier still
waited, though the excitement levels were high enough to keep
everyone alert.
The ones who’d just gotten off their
shift were now looking over the blades, hearing the story of demon
possession and the discovery of Artigos the Just.
Selyn was impressed by their calm
acceptance of all that had happened, though she knew it wasn’t
going to be easy to convince all of them that they would have to
work with the same men who had been so cruel to them over the
years.
Nor did she want to think of all they
had to accomplish before this small army of slaves would be
prepared to actually go forth and, if necessary, fight. None of
them had ever imagined battling demonkind.
None had dreamed of ever holding
crystal.
She had, though. Over the past few
days, since meeting Roland and learning of the replicated swords,
Selyn had dreamed of holding her very own blade, of finally
understanding how her mother had felt as she’d marched into battle,
paired with sentient crystal.
Where was her sword? What if it wasn’t
in the last bundle?
Selyn hung on to Dawson and hoped she’d
not be a Forgotten One when all the swords were finally matched to
her sisters.