The Crystal Warrior
By Maree Anderson
Chapter Nine
Jai demonstrated once again that he was Mr. Efficiency in a crisis. Chalcey was tucked beneath the comforter, and given painkillers and an icepack for her bruised jaw before she could form a coherent thought. Unfortunately, even Jai was fallible. The quiet he'd promised was not going to happen, because when he left, he didn't take Francesca with him. She so wasn't looking forward to Francesca's inevitable lecture.
She waited. And waited. And waited some more.
Finally, hoping her mother had sneaked out of the room, she pried open her eyes.
"Chalcedony."
Drat. "Yes?"
"Are you in love with Wulf?"
"In love? Puhlease. I hardly know him. I'm certainly not in love with him." In lust maybe, but not in love.
Francesca sighed. Theatrically. She'd always been a master at highlighting Chalcey's supposed inability to grasp what was really important. "Unfortunately, Wulf loves you—in his way. As much as a man like him is able to love."
Broadside your daughter with a change of subject, why don't you? "Yeah, riiight. Like you can tell after having met him for what, five whole minutes?"
"I know what I know."
Argh. She hated it to bits and beyond when Francesca pulled that crap. How was anyone supposed to muster a coherent response to a cryptic statement like that?
"And I have no doubt that this has something to do with the way you are feeling." Francesca thrust something so close to Chalcey's face that her eyes crossed and she saw double. She heaved herself upward from her prone position and scooted up the mattress to lean against the wall... and discovered that she wasn't seeing double at all because Francesca happened to be brandishing the two halves of broken crystal Chalcey had stuck on the crate beside her bed.
"That? Gee whiz, Francesca, they're broken hunks of stone. Are they by any chance supposed to be a brilliantly accurate metaphor representing my hypothetically soon to be broken heart?"
"Where did you get this crystal from, Chalcedony?"
"So far as I can figure out, some weird old guy gave it to me after I wandered into his store. It's obviously some cheap crappy stone because it broke shortly afterward. Do you want it? You can add it—them—to your collection if you like."
Her mother's gaze sharpened. "Can you take me to this store?"
Unease twisted Chalcey's stomach. She tried for light and airy, hoping that she could play down the incident. "Probably not. I looked for it again after—" She bit her lip before she could blurt all about the café and the episode of lost time. Francesca would have a field day and Chalcey would never get rid of her. Less was definitely more.
"I searched for the store but I couldn't find it again. Now don't start booking me in for psychiatric evaluation or anything, okay? I was distracted and probably got the wrong street. You know how it is in the city—the entire area is a planning disaster of monumental proportions."
"This old man, can you describe him to me?"
Chalcey sagged with relief. Thank God her mother didn't seem interested in her inability to locate the store. She'd dodged that bullet.
"Focus, Chalcedony. Can you describe the old man?"
"Other than him being old? No. Not really. Why?"
"One more question. Now think very carefully. Did anything strange happen when the crystal broke?"
"Jeez, Francesca, since I'm not sure exactly when it broke, I couldn't tell you. Why the second Spanish Inquisition, huh? You heard Jai, I need rest and quiet—quiet being the operative word here."
Her mother dished some superlative evil eyes but Chalcey hung tough and refused to volunteer any further information. "Very well," Francesca finally said. "I'll leave you alone to rest for a while. But before I go, would you like to know the name of this crystal you value so little?"
"You mean the useless damn crystal I got for free?"
"It's wulfenite." Dropping the pieces into Chalcey's lap, she swept from the bedroom. She always did know how to make an impressive exit.
Chalcey fingered the broken pieces of wulfenite crystal and tried very hard to think happy thoughts. Because if she dwelled on the possible implications of that stunning coincidence, she was likely to go nuts.
She flopped back down on the bed and closed her eyes... and ended up reviewing the moments immediately before her encounter with Wulf. She'd tripped and fallen when the heel snapped off her sandal. Her bag had gone flying. Was that when the crystal had broken?
Maybe. Probably.
And then.... And then Wulf had appeared on the scene to rescue her from Ray.
Shit. Could Wulf have emerged from the crystal when it broke?
Nah.
But then she recalled the crystals she'd seen in the store, and the old man who had chatted about them and been so eager to show them to her. She stewed over the time she'd lost, obsessed over the overwhelming suspicion that she'd somehow been irrevocably changed since that encounter. And darnitall, she was forced to conclude that it appeared all too possible Wulf had come from the crystal. If she believed in that kind of stuff, of course.
Which she didn't.
But what other explanation was there?
Sleep dragged her under and the explanation become crystal clear in her dreams. She saw a man she recognized. Wulf. Strangely, or perhaps it wasn't so strange because this was a dream, she knew his innermost thoughts.
He reined in his mount. He slid from the saddle, stepping back the instant before its yellowed teeth would have torn a chunk from his shoulder. He clouted the beast's nose with his fist. The stallion snorted its displeasure but bothered him no further with its tricks. It was a fine battle-mount but it had an evil temper. And Wulf saw no reason to tame it. He and the horse had an understanding. Wulf was master absolute and in turn, he allowed his mount to indulge itself with any other unfortunate who strayed too close to its teeth or hooves. He knew, though, that if he allowed the beast to better him even once, he would end up flat on his back with a broken neck when he least expected it. And, by the gods, if that ever came to pass he would deserve his fate.
He gazed at the cluster of dwellings nestled in the hollow of the gently undulating, fertile valley far below. A sneer curled his lip. A land of plenty. A soft land, overflowing with bounty and ripe for plucking. Easily conquered—much like its people.
A fine rain misted his exposed skin, its unaccustomed coolness raising tiny bumps on his arms. His clothing, a vest of supple sand-lizard leather, matching trousers and sturdy boots, was well-suited to battling with the other tribes back in his homeland of endless sands and relentless heat. But not so comfortable in this realm.
Whispers of some unnamed power carried on the breeze, taunting him. The inexorable greenness of the vista before him made his eyes ache, and he found himself yearning for Sol's warmth.
Damn this land to Halja for eternity! If he stayed here much longer he would be in danger of becoming as weak and pliant as the females he and his men had captured.
He left his mount to graze, knowing the horse would not stray from such excellent fodder, and strode down from the hillock, calling for his tehun-Leader. "Malach, have we filled our quota of females yet?"
The older man shook his head. "Not quite, Lord Keeper. This last village ought to be doing it."
Wulf grunted. "Good. Then let us make haste so that we may depart this benighted land."
"If I might make a suggestion, Lord Keeper?"
"Speak."
"It has been noticed that Kyan is eyeing up one of captives."
"What do my men say of this, Malach?"
"They say nothing. They merely bide their time to see whether or not Kyan will be permitted to take his pick."
Wulf's lip curled. "Like the priests, my kinsman has become overly concerned with his own comforts. Doubtless he bemoans the chill, and rather than riding into battle, he desires a female to warm his privates. If he does not take due care he will become a pathetic and sniveling coward—as are the men of this land." He flexed the shoulder of his sword-arm, working a strained muscle.
Malach remained silent and Wulf allowed himself a moment of pride at the fearsome reputation he had so carefully cultivated amongst his peers. Men learned quickly to hold their tongues around the Lord Keeper of the Shifting Sands fief. One careless word would find a man on the wrong end of Wulf's fist and leave him with his teeth rattling about in his skull—if he were fortunate.
"The females do not yet comprehend the truth of their situation and I would not have it said my men take advantage of their ignorance," he said. "If Kyan harbors a fondness for one of them, then he will offer for her on the Choosing Block as is our way. He rides with us. See to it."
"It shall be done, Lord Keeper." Malach strode off to deliver his Lord's orders.
Wulf watched his tehun-Leader give the blond man the dressing down he deserved. Kyan's hand drifted to his sword but Malach placed a cautionary hand on his arm.
Wulf met his kinsman's gaze, unblinking. A silent battle of wills ensued until Kyan dropped his eyes. Then the man shrugged and grinned, appearing to shed his bad humor as easily as a sand-viper shed its skin. Pounding his fist over his heart, he gestured obeisance to his Lord Keeper.
Confident that he'd asserted absolute authority once more, Wulf turned his back and climbed the hill to his horse. The beast must have sensed his ill-humor and it stood peaceably, waiting for its master to mount up.
From his lofty position, Wulf observed the flurry of activity within his makeshift camp. As the women were herded into a large tent, five men assumed sentry positions about the tent and five more melted into the surrounding countryside to keep vigil. The priests kept to their private quarters and did not deign to make an appearance. Doubtless too busy with their cursed magic rituals to wish their warriors good hunting.
Wulf's second tehun—a troop of ten men—mounted their horses and assumed formation to file out of the camp.
"We ride!" Wulf punched the air with a clenched fist, signaling his men to fall in behind him.
Chalcey's dream took on an eerie familiarity.
An old man named Pieter observed the warriors—the Styrians—in his scrying bowl. He drank his tea, muttered the incantation, sent a fervent prayer to his goddess that he would not fail. He hurried from his hut, his bundle of crystals cradled to his chest.
While the warriors amassed on the hillside, he placed eleven large gemstones in a semicircle on the ground before him. And when Wulf challenged him, Pieter raised his hands to the skies and chanted the incantation.
"Verily the crystal for which thee be named/ Shalt form the prison in which thee be bound/ To atone the sins for which thee be blamed/ 'Til thee be blessed and thy true love be found."
One by one, as Pieter named each of Wulf's men, they were bound to their namesake crystals.
Too late, Wulf charged, screaming defiance. Pieter did not flinch as the blade descended. "Wulfenite, the stone thee be named for shall bind thee. I, Pietersite, bind thee!"
Lord Keeper Wulfenite was not spared the fate of his men. He vanished, condemned to a void, imprisoned in the unceasing blackness of a chunk of wulfenite crystal. Until the Crystal Guardian uttered a name. Chalcedony....
~*~
Chalcey clawed her way back to consciousness and awoke sweat-glossed, her hand throbbing. Only when she flexed her fingers did she realize she was clutching the broken pieces of crystal. Foreboding slimed her skin, making her shiver. She thrust the pieces under her pillow, out of sight....
Unfortunately not out of mind. The old man from her dream, the one who'd cast the spell. He was so very familiar—
The jolt of recognition that smacked her was so strong she bolted upright, clutching the sheet and gasping for breath. She did know him.
Memories crashed in on her, and she flopped back against her pillows, limp as a dishrag as she fought to process them. Oh. My. God. The old man who'd defied the Stone Warriors was the same old man from the store. But.... But he had to be centuries old. That was impossible, wasn't it?
Apparently not.
And this same old man, Pieter, had held her hand over his crystals and one had responded—
No. It hadn't been the crystal that had responded, it had been the man entrapped in the crystal. He'd reached out to her and she'd answered. Wulf. The leader of the men Pieter had trapped in the crystals, and the same man who'd turned her world upside down with a mere kiss.
Unbelievable as it all seemed, she knew in her soul it was true. And although she fully understood Pieter's desire to protect his people from alien raiders, she could only be appalled that he would condemn living breathing beings to such a fate. For centuries, Wulf had been imprisoned in a black hole where he could neither see, hear, nor feel. It was a wonder he wasn't stark raving insane.
Dammit! Why hadn't Wulf told her the truth? Her brain churned with so many unanswered questions that she didn't know where to start. She needed to track Wulf down. Confront him. Insist that he tell her what the eff was going on. Like, right now.
She stripped off her dress, threw on jeans and a t-shirt, and armored herself with determination. She was not going to let her unholy lust for Wulf's delectable pectorals and fabulous abs get in the way of answers. She would have to be strong, and not allow herself to be distracted by his masculine charms.
The instant she stumbled from her bedroom, Jai hailed her with the news that their classes were now all bulging at the seams. Witnessing the studio's owner embroiled in an altercation between two men seemed to have done wonders for class enrolments.
Huh. Whatever worked. Even if it involved getting clipped on the chin by a very confused wannabe boyfriend who had a thing for her best friend. Though next time she needed to boost student numbers, she'd volunteer someone else as the punching bag.
Francesca's voice was so unexpected that Chalcey jumped like a startled cat. "If you're looking for Wulf, he's gone back to wherever he's staying for the moment."
Her mother's brow was creased. Fine lines bracketed her mouth. Francesca worried about Wulf? Surely not.
"I presume he's chosen a place nearby," she said. "He'll be hurting if he hasn't."
"He's staying with Sam," Chalcey finally admitted when she couldn't put up with her mother's expectant gaze any longer.
"The little redheaded man-eater? Excellent." Francesca blew out a sigh and relaxed somewhat.
What the eff? Chalcey frowned as her overloaded brain finally caught up with her mother's earlier statement. "Hang on, what do you mean 'he'll be hurting'? And why are you so damn pleased he's staying with Sam? You know something about Wulf. Tell me. Right now."
Francesca's gaze slid to Jai, who was chatting with some of the departing partygoers and handing them class timetables "Later, Chalcedony. Please don't make a scene."
"Fine. Whatever." Wulf's issues would have to wait until she'd sorted whatever her mother was hinting about. "But don't even think about disappearing and leaving me hanging or I'll hunt you down."
Francesca dimpled at her—which in itself was plain worrisome. "Chalcedony, darling, you have no idea how nice it is to hear I'm wanted. And you should rub some arnica cream on your chin before the bruise starts to form."
Inwardly seething, Chalcey trotted off to do as she was told. Francesca had a knack for making her feel like a clumsy little girl again. Why did her mother always have to have the last word?
As she rummaged in her first-aid cabinet for the arnica, she toyed with the idea of really pissing off Francesca by calling her Beryl. Francesca had always hated her real first name, labeling it old-fashioned, plain, and boring—all things, she would announce to anyone who cared to listen, that she most definitely was not. Being insatiably curious, Chalcey had once looked up the name and discovered that beryl was a crystal, too, just like chalcedony. But at least Beryl was a proper name, one that people had actually heard of, unlike the one her mother had stuck her daughter with. Chalcey would have embraced the name Beryl.
By the time she'd rubbed stinky arnica all over her chin, Jai had shooed the last stragglers out the door. Chalcey heaved a sigh and got stuck into the clean-up. If she could have put it off until tomorrow, she'd have done so with a huge amount of delight, but the place needed to be tidy for her teachers' meeting.
Speaking of the meeting— "Jai, are Leah and Paulo still on for tomorrow? Even though I can't take them on for a few months, I still want to include them so they'll know I'm dead serious about them joining us soon as I'm solvent."
He nodded. "Yep. All confirmed. And they get it, okay? So you can quit stressing, doll. With me at your side, and Paulo and Leah champing at the bit to join us, how can you fail?"
Chalcey couldn't help but grin at his positive attitude. If Jai's rampant enthusiasm were all it took to run a successful dance studio, she'd be sweet. But life was rarely that simple. She'd never had employees of her own before, but she'd been a senior teacher at someone else's dance studio, and witnessed plenty of behind-the-scenes bitching. It was a truth universally acknowledged that if your teachers weren't happy, neither were your students. And everything could go full-speed downhill from there. Her worst nightmare.
Or maybe not her worst. Being imprisoned for centuries in a freaking crystal was waaay the heck up there with the other scary-ass stuff now. God. The horror Wulf had endured, the devastating awareness that it was useless to struggle, pointless to scream. He'd been a warrior, a fighter. He would have fought regardless, because to do otherwise would be giving in and giving up. How he must have despaired when he'd finally weakened so much that he'd not been able to fight anymore. Chalcey doubted she would survive complete sensory deprivation for more than a week without losing her mind. For someone so strong, so completely confident and sure of himself and his chosen path as the Wulf in her dreams.... It truly must have been a living hell.
He hadn't deserved such a dire punishment for his crimes.
Human beings invariably cling to life and to hope, however fruitless the situation might seem. But Chalcey had known the instant Wulf forged a link with her while he was still trapped in the crystal, that he'd given up all hope of redemption.
She shivered, rubbing her arms. A sense of his hopelessness still lingered, staining her soul. She had to help him. But to do that, she needed to know the truth.
"You right, doll?" Jai asked, gliding toward her. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders to peer into her eyes. "Want me to get you more painkillers?"
She shook my head. "Nah. I'm right. Just tired."
"You've had a rough night, what with two men fighting over you. Why don't you hit the hay and leave me to finish up here?"
She summoned a hopefully convincing smile and gave him a quick hug. "Thanks, but I'll be okay. Really. And how can I possibly sleep imagining you out here, slaving your handsome butt off?"
He rolled his eyes at her pathetic attempt at humor, and sauntered off to grab another garbage bag.
Jai had made peace with who he was, and what he wanted out of life and love—even if it meant flitting from lover to lover and keeping it casual. So why couldn't she?
Maybe real love would eventually find her if she stopped wanting it so bad it hurt. Bumble along and the universe would provide when it deemed her ready.... Whenever that might be. Before her boobs started heading too far south, she hoped.
And before her mother's subtle suggestions that she find a decent man and settle down drove her insane. Chalcey thought her mother could be more understanding of her plight, given Francesca had indulged in messy, scream-out-loud, never-know-what's-gonna-happen-next, real love with Benigno Laureano, before settling for predictable, comfortable, mutual like with Edgar Owens. Still, at least Francesca had experienced the joy of the real thing. Which was more than Chalcey could claim.
She observed Francesca from of the corner of her eye. And she experienced an epiphany of sorts, right then and there, amongst soggy remains of chips soused in stale puddles of beer and wine and soda. Maybe, deep down, Francesca believed you only got one shot at real love, and she'd had hers. Which is why she'd settled for Edgar.
Huh. One of these days, Chalcey might even pluck up the courage to ask her.
Yeah, right. Like when cows turned purple and mooed their way to Jupiter.
"That's it, Chalce." Jai wrung out the mop and stowed it in the broom closet. "They did a great job finishing the floorboards. They've come up like new."
Chalcey tossed the last plastic cup in the trash and surveyed the studio, discovering to her surprise that everything was indeed cleaned up. "Thanks Jai. You're the best. You off now?"
"Yep. Gotta get my beauty sleep, 'coz I know you're gonna work us all hard tomorrow. Bye, doll."
"Bye, Jai. See you tomorrow." She walked him downstairs and even remembered to throw the door's security chain after he left.
As she hauled herself back up the stairs, she glanced at Mickey. It was nearly one a.m. Amazing how quickly time flies when you're having fun. Even more amazing, her mother emerged from the kitchenette cradling two mugs of hot chocolate decorated with the marshmallows Chalcey vaguely recalled hiding away somewhere so she wouldn't be tempted by them. Hmmm. Wait for it....
"I'd like to stay for a few days, Chalcedony."
"You and Edgar having problems or something?" Not that she wanted to know the details.
"No. We're fine. It's you I'm worried about, darling. I've been sensing something not quite right with your aura. The last time I spoke with you, you seemed so tired."
"Me? I'm fine, Francesca. I sounded tired when you phoned because, as you always do, you got the time zones mucked up and woke me up in the wee small hours. But if you were so worried, why didn't you save yourself the airfare and just phone me?"
Her mother made a prissy little moue. "I loathe trying to discuss important matters over the phone. It's so... impersonal. And it's impossible to know how you really are unless I see you face-to-face."
"And?" Chalcey held her arms out from her sides and turned full circle. She meant it as a joke, but of course her mother didn't take it that way.
"I was right to be worried about you."
Chalcey sighed. "For goodness sake. If you're so worried about my health then just recommend one of those nasty herbal tonics you give Edgar. Hang on, I've got an even better idea. I'll sleep with those broken pieces of wulfenite permanently under my pillow. Hell, maybe they'll shrink my boobs and all my troubles will be over."
Francesca ignored her jibes. "It's not your physical health that I'm concerned about. It's your state of mind."
Chalcey ground her jaw, and counted to ten in effort to keep her sarcasm in check. Sheesh. Her mother could be so relentlessly kooky at times. "Oookay then. And that would be because—?"
"Because of Wulf. You and Wulf to be precise. There are some things you need to know about him, Chalcedony, before you get in too deep and your chance to choose is taken away from you."
"I suppose you've checked his aura and seen deep into his soul, so you know he's no good for me, huh? God, can't you cut the crap and be straight up with me for once?" Chalcey turned away from Francesca and headed for the kitchenette, before she said something she was really going to regret. She plunked down on a chair, made herself comfortable, and took a gulp of the melting pink and white marshmallow goop atop her drink. It was so hot she burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Typical.
Francesca chose the chair opposite and sat, looking far too put together for someone who'd just spent an hour cleaning up partially eaten snacks and spilled drinks. "Have you slept with Wulf yet?" she asked.
Chalcey's jaw sagged. "Francesca!"
"This is important, Chalcey."
Yikes. Her mother never called her "Chalcey", even though she'd been told a million times Chalcey preferred the diminutive. It was always Chalcedony this, and Chalcedony that.
"Have you?" she asked again.
Chalcey's incredulous expression provoked yet another surprise.
"Please, Chalcey. I wouldn't ask if this wasn't a serious situation."
Double yikes. Now her mother was saying "please". Chalcey caved. "All right. Yes. I have slept with him."
"And you had sex? Proper sex?"
Jeez this was sooo cringingly embarrassing. Like being a teenager again and getting the birds and the bees lecture. "Yes, Francesca. We had real sex. Complete with anatomically correct body parts, full penetration, and even orgasms. Happy now?"
Francesca was anything but happy. She'd gone sheet-pale and her eyes had turned huge with worry. She reached out as if to touch Chalcey, then quickly pulled back her hand and cupped it about her mug. "I'd hoped that since he's staying with Samantha, she might have been the one."
Chalcey and her mother shared an awkward moment—the kind where wishes that things could have been different hung poised in the air. Until reality intruded and the moment passed.
"Why is me having sex with Wulf so terrible?" Chalcey blurted. "I've had sex with plenty of men before. Well, not plenty, but—ah crap, you know what I mean. I'm no virgin and I know you know that. Why is this time, with this man, such an issue? What is it about Wulf and me that's such a big freaking deal for you?"
"Darling, you haven't a clue what you've gotten yourself into. You see, Wulf's a Crystal Warrior. And he comes from another world."
~*~
Copyright 2011 by Maree Anderson
www.mareeanderson.com