Then he carefully stacked the swords that had appeared during the hours he’d slept and added them to the growing pile. There were close to a hundred. He should have the last of them before this week ended.
Whenever that might be. He’d lost track of days and nights since his arrival, though he’d not been bored.
No, while his sword had birthed more crystal, by whatever magical means it happened, he’d explored the other crystal caverns beneath the world of Lemuria. Room after room, ranging in color from deepest amethyst to ruby red to the pure blue of sapphire, from deep yellow citrine to brilliant green emerald.
It had been like walking through multi-colored geodes, each room expanding to the one beyond, shimmering with huge crystals—precious gems curving overhead in crystalline perfection.
He’d found clear streams of pure water and tiny creatures that obviously had never seen the light of day. Having lived so long in a world without animal life, he’d been fascinated by the blind frogs and eyeless salamanders, and he’d wondered what they found for food so deep within the Lemurian dimension.
Or, was he still in Lemuria? He’d gone well beyond the level of the mines, those horrible caves where he’d heard the sound of women’s voices and the creak and groan of heavy machinery. The sounds of women toiling and men shouting out orders had been all the proof he’d needed to know that Roland’s tale of the Forgotten Ones was true.
And so damned wrong. Alton’s father and the rest of the council had much to explain, and more for which to atone.
Taron knelt near an icy stream that ran through the cavern and quickly bathed. Then he combed out his hair and braided the crimson strands, fastening the end with one of those neat little rubber band things Alton had given him.
One day he would spend time in Earth’s dimension and see the wonders Alton spoke of. Some day he would experience the sun on his face, see the stars at night, watch the beauty of storm clouds gathering.
All those things Alton had seen and shared with Taron—all experiences denied the citizens of Lemuria.
Denied Taron. He stood and tossed his long braid over his shoulder. A shiver ran across his spine—the strange sense there was someone else nearby. Slowly, with his breath trapped in his throat, Taron turned and glanced about the huge cavern.
Nothing moved. Nothing seemed to have changed. There was no shift in air currents, no sound beyond the gentle trickle of water over a bed of diamonds. The silence had been more a comfort than anything for the past few days—a gentle silence that was rarely interrupted by the occasional scuff of his own sandals against the floor.
Now, the silence had a sense of portent about it, as if even the cavern waited for something. Light continued to shimmer in multifaceted shards of blue, but something …
Something was different.
His eyes were drawn to the ruby altar. All week it had glimmered faintly with refracted light bouncing from the diamond-studded walls. Now it glowed with an inner fire, pulsing rhythmically with the beat of life. He felt the living pulse in the altar within his own body, timed to the rush of blood through his veins, the slow and steady thud of his heart.
Silent, yet powerful and alive, the altar drew him close.
Taron felt no fear, no sense of worry. Wonder filled his soul. Was this a sign the final sword had formed? Was his mission complete? He’d not counted the swords this morning, had no idea if he’d reached the mark of one hundred, though he knew he must be close.
Drawing near, caught in the sonorous beat that thrummed beneath an audible level—pulsed in time with the ebb and flow of ruby light shining within the altar—he spotted something new lying beneath his sword.
Something glowing the same blood-red color as the altar.
Carefully he lifted his sword and set it aside. Beneath it lay another, but this was unlike any of the rest. Glowing with the same brilliant red as the altar it lay upon, the entire sword was longer, the blade thicker at the base, the crystal formed from faceted ruby rather than diamond.
The hilt was gold, set with a single huge diamond in the pommel. Without even thinking of the consequences, Taron reached for the handle and wrapped his fingers around it.
Heat raced through his palm like a bolt of fire and shot the length of his arm. He turned the hilt loose before he’d even had a chance to move it.
The blade glowed, shimmering so brilliantly, Taron stepped back and covered his eyes. Blinking, he took a steadying breath and stared once again at the ruby sword. It flashed a deeper red, then flashed again. This time he could swear flames danced along the blade.
And then it spoke, in a voice ringing with authority. A powerful, masculine voice.
“You will take me to Artigos the Just.”
Artigos the Just?
Alton’s grandfather had died sometime during the move from their sinking continent. No one had seen him after the DemonWars ended, after their world was destroyed by earthquakes and cataclysm. Taron shook his head in fear as much as denial. “I can’t. Artigos the Just is dead. His son rules now. His grandson is my friend.”
The red glow flashed brightly enough to stain the surrounding walls blood red. “He lives. I would not exist without him. I sense his life force, and it is as strong and vital as when he last carried his sword. Take me to Artigos the Just, but do not tell his son that either I or his father exist.”
Taron stepped closer. “Tell me where to find him. How do I take you to him when I don’t know where he is?”
Once more the sword flashed blood red. “You will find Artigos the Just, and you will deliver me into his hands.”
As suddenly as it had flared, the fire died, and the crystal lost its glow. Taron let out a whoosh of air and a heartfelt curse. “Nine hells! Just go find a guy who’s been dead for a few thousand years. Sure. I can do that. No problem.”
The sword flashed, almost blinding him. He jerked out of the way and choked back a laugh. “Really. Don’t worry. If he’s out there, I’ll find him.”
He did a quick count of swords. There were seventy-nine stacked beside the ruby altar. As much as he hated the idea, he’d have to leave his own sword behind to finish the job of replicating the full one hundred weapons while he took this new one to either Roland or Alton. He sure as hell didn’t know how to go about finding a dead ruler on his own.
Carefully, without touching either the hilt or the blade with his hands, Taron wrapped the ruby sword in his blanket and tucked it under his arm. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing it, but until he got to the upper levels, there was no way to contact anyone who might be able to help.
He’d been away for days now. He wondered what had happened during his absence, if Roland and Alton and the others were still safe. Was Alton’s father still head of the council? So many things might have changed while he’d been entirely out of touch in the caverns beneath the mines.
A ruby sword asking for a dead leader was probably the least of his problems.
Chapter Three
Selyn stared at the blade shimmering softly against the bed coverings and fought back the sting of tears. She refused to cry, not when she felt such overwhelming joy. Slowly stroking the warm crystal, she whispered, “Mother? DemonSlayer? Are you … ?” The blade glowed and pulsed, and Selyn knew it lived.
Then she heard her mother’s familiar voice.
“I am here, daughter. Yes, I am Elda, her spirit and her heart, the one who carried you, who gave you life. I fight now with a woman you shall call sister, for Eddy Marks is a brave and powerful warrior. As are you, my daughter.”
Wide-eyed, Selyn shot a glance at Eddy, and then stared once again at the sword. She took a deep breath. “I am ready to fight. We all are. The others didn’t want to believe me, but when I told them there would be swords for each of them, it gave them hope. These people—and this curly-haired beast—have healed my injuries. I’m ready.”
“It is good. I was with you when you fought the warden. I feared for you then, though I was sure you would prevail. You are stronger than you realize, more powerful than you know, and I celebrate your healing. A word of caution, beloved daughter—those you count as your enemies may not be guilty of their many sins. All is not always as it appears.” The sword glowed once more and then faded.
Eddy waited for a moment while Selyn rested her fingers against the blade. Then she quietly sheathed her weapon and rested her fingers on Selyn’s wrist. “She does that a lot, says things I don’t entirely understand. But DemonSlayer always tells the truth. That ‘all is not always as it appears’ will make sense eventually. And Selyn, anytime you feel you need to talk to your mom, just let me know, okay?”
Selyn raised her head and smiled at Eddy. “I dreamed she was the sentience of a crystal sword, but to hear her voice …” She brushed a hand over her eyes. “It’s as if she lives again.”
Eddy took Selyn’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “She does. She is very much alive within my blade. Your mother has become my friend as well as my companion in the battle against demonkind. I don’t know how much you hear of the world, working in the mines, but demonkind threatens all of us again. DemonSlayer has already saved my life and the lives of my friends on more than one occasion. Selyn, I’m so glad you’re all right, and I’m really glad we found you, that you got to talk to your mom. Anytime you feel the need, please … anytime.”
Eddy sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I would give anything to hear my mother’s voice. She died when I was little.”
Selyn looked into Eddy’s dark brown eyes, felt her sadness, saw the compassion in their chocolate depths and, without further thought, wrapped her arms around her new sister and hugged her close. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I am so happy you carry the sword with my mother’s spirit.”
She leaned back far enough to see the tears tracking down Eddy’s face and knew they probably matched her own. Smiling now, she said, “This means I no longer have to worry about her. Where she is, how she fares in the afterlife. Knowing she is once again in the midst of battle …” Selyn sniffed and then laughed. “It must make her very happy. She was a brave warrior. A good and loving mother, but my mother was first a warrior.”
“Thank you.” Eddy sniffed, and then they both giggled. “I wonder who’ll be the sentience in your sword?”
Selyn thought about that a moment. Then she shook her head. “I have no idea. There were so many brave women who fought in the DemonWars. All of them are gone now.”
Dawson stepped closer. She’d been almost preternaturally aware of his presence, as if she sensed him on levels she didn’t truly comprehend. Even though she hadn’t seen him, she’d felt him standing silently by, watching the interaction between her and Eddy, so it was no surprise when he moved closer and lightly touched her shoulder.
She was proud of herself for not flinching this time, but she’d expected his soft touch even before his fingers rested on her shoulder. Surprisingly, the gentle connection steadied her.
“That’s something I don’t understand,” he said. His soft voice rolled over her like a physical presence. Soothing, comforting. “I thought Lemurians were immortal. What happened to all the women warriors? Why did they die?”
Selyn shrugged. She’d often wondered the same thing, though in her heart she knew the truth. For the first time ever, she spoke her mother’s tragedy aloud.
“After they were exiled from Lemurian society rather than treated as the heroes they were, when they realized they couldn’t escape their jailers, they gave up hope.” She tilted her head so that she could see Dawson, watch the emotions that flickered so openly across his expressive face. Already she’d learned to read him, in spite of the dark beard he wore.
“After so many years toiling in the mines—victimized by the cruelty of the guards, with no hope of freedom for themselves or their daughters—they began to choose death. Within a couple of years, all of the women warriors had passed beyond the veil.”
“Were they pregnant when they were sent into slavery?”
Eddy’s question hung there—a question Selyn knew she must answer. She shook her head. “No. The guards used rape as a form of intimidation, a way to control the women, to subjugate them. They were warriors—women used to fighting demonkind—and they fought the wardens with every bit as much passion as they’d fought during the DemonWars, but they had no weapons. Their swords had been taken away and destroyed. They were physically smaller than the males guarding them, and, without weapons, powerless against them. Sexual assault was demeaning and terrifying, but they might have continued to fight, except almost all of them became pregnant. That was unexpected, and it changed the dynamic of their existence.”
She shivered, remembering the terrible stories of the wardens’ cruelty. Remembering her mother’s mixed emotions—the love she felt for her unexpected daughter; the absolute hatred for the man who had forced the pregnancy on her through a brutal act of rape.
Selyn swallowed past the bile that rose in her throat at the telling. “The Lemurian fertility rate is historically very low, and yet, one by one, most of the women conceived, and most of the babies were daughters. The few boys who were born were taken away by the guards, never to be seen again. But pregnancy meant the women had new life to consider. The option of fighting the guards no longer existed, because it meant putting their unborn babies at risk. They gave up the fight and turned their energies to raising daughters who would one day avenge them.”
She raised her head and realized she was telling her story to Dawson. The others listened just as attentively, but her words were directed at him. “We are those daughters,” she said. “We who call ourselves the Forgotten Ones.”
Dawson nodded. “Forgotten no longer, Selyn. All of Lemuria will soon know about you, about your mothers and the role they played in your world’s history.”
“I hope so. That is my wish. My prayer. My mother’s prayer as well.”
“They don’t still rape, do they? Not their own daughters?” Eddy’s gaze flicked to Dawson, then back to Selyn.
“No. The sexual abuse stopped as soon as most of the women had conceived. They’d achieved their purpose by changing the dynamic, by making it impossible for the women to fight. At first it was to protect their unborn children, and then it was to keep the children safe. In a way, it was as if the pregnancies were part of the punishment, though our mothers loved us and were always good to us. Pregnancy made it easier for the guards to control the women warriors. The beatings, though … the beatings continue, and there have been some deaths among us. We number one hundred, now. There once were almost a dozen more.”
Eddy glanced once again at Dawson. Then she squeezed Selyn’s hand. “We’ll find answers, Selyn. And we’ll get all of the Forgotten Ones out of the mines. I promise you. Once the swords are ready and Alton has control of the council, we’ll put an end to slavery and find the answers all of you need.”
Selyn almost laughed. “It sounds wonderful, but how do you plan to accomplish all these things?”
A soft knock on the door interrupted Eddy’s answer. Selyn glanced up as the door opened and a beautiful, dark-skinned woman stepped into the room. She was followed by a tall, strikingly handsome Lemurian with long, blond hair. He smiled directly at Selyn, as if he knew her.
“Selyn,” he said. “It’s good to see you looking so well this morning. I’m Alton, and this is Ginny. She assisted Dr. Buck last night when you were brought in. Your recovery is amazing.”
Ginny laughed. “No shit. I hate to say it, but you were a mess when Roland showed up with you.” She slung her arm over the healer’s shoulders and gave him a familiar hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Selyn smiled, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about another woman hugging and kissing the man who’d healed her. Nor was she sure how she should feel about this Lemurian. She knew his name, that he was son and heir to Chancellor Artigos.
Until she knew more of what was happening, she figured she’d keep her worries to herself. “Thank you. I don’t remember much at all after Birk hit me.” She shook her head, realized her hands were trembling, and clasped them together in her lap. The curly dog leaned close against her side, as if offering comfort.
For some reason, BumperWillow’s solid presence really did seem to make things better. She glanced around the room. “Is Roland still here? I need to thank him. I imagine I would have died without his help.”
Alton shook his head. “No. He returned almost immediately to Lemuria after bringing you here. He didn’t want his absence noted, and he was worried about his wife and child.”
“He’s a brave man,” Selyn said. “He risks much.”
Another man stepped into the room, which seemed to shrink with the presence of yet another large male, but when Eddy smiled and reached for his hand, Selyn relaxed. Obviously this one wasn’t a threat.
She realized she’d never been among so many men before and not felt afraid. The lack of fear was almost as unsettling as the familiar sense of anxiety she usually felt around males.
“Selyn,” Eddy said. “I want you to meet Dax.”
She nodded in greeting.
“It’s good to meet you, Selyn.” He smiled at her, but he was obviously here for another reason altogether. “Alton? Are we still on for tonight?”
Alton nodded. His expression was grim when he turned to Selyn. “It begins tonight, Selyn. I know you have no reason to trust any of us, but please believe me when I say we had no idea slavery existed within our world. Roland is the one who heard the rumors, who followed them to their source and discovered, because you were brave enough to meet with him, that the stories were true. Slavery is unacceptable. What happened to the warrior women is unacceptable.”
He looped his arm around Ginny and held her close. “We have plans to kidnap my father, the chancellor who is also the ninth member of the Council of Nine. We have every reason to believe he is possessed by a demon, one that has affected his decisions now for thousands of years. Demon possession may have bearing on the terrible purge of the warrior women carried out so long ago, on your mother’s original enslavement.”
Demon possession?
She’d not heard of such a thing. There’d been rumors of a new invasion, but actual possession? “And then what?” she asked.
“Dax and Eddy will bring my father here, to Dawson’s home. He’s got a reinforced room with barred windows and a good lock on the door where we can hold Artigos, and hopefully remove the demon from his soul. I plan to take over the council as my father’s heir.” He shrugged and gave her a very sheepish grin. “Of course, he’s publicly disowned me, but it’s what I’ve been groomed for my whole life. I’m hoping we’ll be able to convince the citizens and the other members of the council to put that little issue aside.”
He chuckled when Ginny rolled her eyes. “Trust me. We’ll make it work. Once I’m seated, Taron should have the rest of the swords ready, and we’ll get them distributed.”
“But what of the guards?” Selyn glanced at Dawson for whatever reason, and then directed her comments to Alton. “The wardens, those who watch the Forgotten Ones, are not about to simply allow you to walk in and begin arming the women!”
“I think we’ve got that covered.” He glanced at the others in the room, as if looking for other input. When no one spoke, Alton continued. “The plan is for Roland to bring a few loyal members of the Lemurian Guard to the level where the Forgotten Ones live and work. He’s got a couple who are armed with crystal. With me there as chancellor, we’ll have the authority to disarm the wardens and imprison them so we can safely get the women to the main level. We’ll need to have the women on our side, showing a unified front. That’s where you come in, Selyn. I know they’re not very happy with any of the council at this point, but if you’re able to convince the Forgotten Ones that our intentions are honorable, it should work.”
It all sounded so perfectly simple. Too simple. And yet, if they succeeded, a lifetime of unwarranted servitude, of their hellish slavery in the mines, would come to an end. Finally and forever, the Forgotten Ones would know freedom.
She glanced again at Dawson Buck, drawn to him for some reason she couldn’t explain. Was it gratitude for his healing her, or was it something else?