LC02 Crystal Flame

  The casket lid came open as if her thoughts alone had breached some hidden lock.

  At least some of her questions were answered immediately. The Light Key was identifiable on sight. It was also unlike any key Kalena had ever seen.

  Kalena looked into the case and found herself looking into liquid white fire. The writhing flames were pure white, dazzling to the eye as they burned in an outline that was wedge shaped. Kalena knew instinctively that the Key had been burning inside its case since the Dawn Lords had locked their dangerous treasure in ice.

  Now she had to find a way to take the Key of white flames in her bare hand and use it. But Kalena had no real doubt that when the moment arrived she would be able to handle the Key.

  She had been born to master it.

  Fifteen

  Ridge stood in a vast chamber of black glass and gazed into a pit of fire that burned in the center of the glass floor. The flames fascinated him. They were the exact color of his sintar when his fury made it glow.

  He lifted his gaze and looked into the eyes of the hooded man who stood on the other side of the fire pit. Griss was wearing Ridge’s sintar on his belt beneath his cloak. A half circle of deadly silent men dressed in black, hooded cloaks stood behind Griss.

  The black glass caught the light of the angry, leaping flames that burned in the center of the chamber and reflected back the fire in a thousand mirrored images. If it had not been for the countless reflections, the chamber would have been almost completely dark. The only other light in the room were the firegel lamps that had been left to mark the entrances. Those passageways were sealed now with the same glass that lined the rest of the room. Without the lamps it would have been impossible to tell where the hidden doorways were. The black glass was everywhere. It lined the cavern ceiling, the curving walls and formed the floor beneath Ridge’s feet.

  The cloaked men who had brought Ridge to this chamber had unbound him, but his freedom was useless under the circumstances. The ranks of cult members surrounded him, and he would need time to figure out how to open the sealed glass doors. The cowled men would be upon him before he could even begin to work on that problem.

  He had not been given anything to eat for what he estimated must be more than a day. He couldn’t be sure of the time, but after he had slept for a while, his internal sense of time seemed to indicate that at least a day had passed.

  He wondered if Kalena was safe in the valley. He could only hope that the Healers would keep her there when they learned her plan. Ridge didn’t try to fool himself too much. He knew Kalena would not obey his last instructions. She would make every effort to return with the Light Key.

  Kalena of the House of the Ice Harvest was his wife, bound to him by her own vows as well as the sensual ties Ridge had tried to impose. But there was more involved. Her destiny was entwined with his own. They were each other’s future. She would try to return for him or die in the attempt.

  Ridge cursed himself for having brought Kalena to the heart of danger and then abruptly, he ceased the silent chastisement. The force of his own fury was a potent weapon, not to be wasted on fruitless, self-directed anger. He would channel it against those who held him captive.

  Most especially he would focus it on the bastard who had labeled Kalena a whore.

  Ridge’s unbound hands clenched briefly at his sides, his fingers automatically craving the handle of the sintar. Deliberately, he forced himself to relax. He was unaware of the brutal effects of the firelight on his features. He only knew he was controlling an anger that was threatening to burn higher than it had ever burned in the past. The struggle to leash that fury held him almost immobile.

  “What would you have me do?” he demanded in a harsh whisper of the one called Griss.

  “Reach into the fire and withdraw the case that holds the Dark Key. It is yours, Fire Whip. You alone can control it.”

  “But you want to control it, don’t you, Griss? You and the others who wear the black glass. Do you think you can do it after I’ve pulled it out of the fire for you? You’re a pack of idiots if you believe that.”

  “Do as you are told,” Griss ordered.

  “Why should I bother?”

  “Because the woman is already on her way back from the valley of the Healers with the Light Key. The only weapon you will have with which to try to protect her and yourself is the Dark Key.” Griss’ voice was oily with mockery. “And you do want to protect her, don’t you, Fire Whip? At least you think you do. You’ll discover that your true feelings are much different when you actually hold the Dark Key in your hand. But in the meantime, your motives for pulling the Key out of the fire are not important to us. You want a weapon, any weapon. You crave a weapon. It is your nature to be armed. Very well, we offer you a weapon unlike any other you have ever held. It’s yours if you have the courage to take hold of it.”

  “I don’t see any weapon in the flames.”

  “Look close, Fire Whip. It’s there. It’s been there since the Dawn Lords hid it in the pit of fire.”

  “All these centuries it’s been here in the same mountains as the Light Key?” Ridge was stunned by the information.

  “It was buried deep, Fire Whip, sealed in fire at the bottom of a crevasse that appeared to have no ending. But our master knew the black opening had to have a floor. It took time to locate it using the old books. And after the so-called bottomless crevasse was found it required years of effort to retrieve the case that held the Key. When it was hauled to the surface here in this cavern it was discovered that the Key was still encased in fire. It sits in the center of those flames and no one can pry it out. The fire which protects it is not natural.”

  “How many men died retrieving this thing, Griss?”

  “The numbers are not important. Recently, when we ran short of men to carry on the task, we took those we needed from the neighboring villages. The goal was achieved.”

  “Not quite. You still can’t figure a way to lift the Key out of the flames, right?”

  “We have found a way, Fire Whip. You are the tool that we will use. Once the Dark Key has overcome the Light Key, the power in it will be drained for a time. Perhaps for years. During that time my master will be able to study it. He will learn to control it himself. By the time the Key is fully charged again, he will be its master.”

  “What happens if I choose to let it stay in the flames?” Ridge asked, knowing the answer already.

  “You will die. And as soon as the woman arrives with the Key she will die, too.”

  “If I manage to hold the Dark Key, what will prevent me from using it on you first?”

  “It cannot be wielded like a sintar, fool. It will react to the presence of the Light Key and must be used against it before it can be used for anything else.” Griss’ eyes glittered in the shadow of his hood. “But when your task is accomplished you will hold a potent weapon, Fire Whip. You are a man who has bought your own life and the lives of others with weapons in the past. You will not turn down the chance to do so again, no matter how great the risk. It is not your nature to do nothing in a critical situation. You will always choose to act, even if the act itself is futile. You will fight, even if there is no hope of winning. It is your nature.”

  Ridge watched him in savage wonder. “What makes you think you know me so well?”

  “We have made a study of you, Fire Whip. Isn’t it logical we would study a tool we wished to employ? My master knows your abilities well.”

  A tool, Ridge thought. Very well. The Cult of the Eclipse would learn this tool had a cutting edge.

  He looked deep into the pit of fire that burned at his feet. There was little heat being generated, considering the violence of the blaze. He was beginning to think that he was the only one in the room who found the warmth from the fire mild, however. The others kept their distance from the fire pit, and Ridge was sure the flames radiated more heat than they could bear.

  He took a step closer, the toe of his boot at the very edge of the pit.
It looked as though the cult members had managed to drag the circle of fire this far and could get it no farther. The Stones only knew what it had cost them to get it to this point. They had left it alone in the center of the cavern and built the black glass walls around it. The bowl of fire was not deep, perhaps only an arm’s length from the peaks of the flames to the molten coals at the bottom. Ridge couldn’t begin to guess what had fed the blaze all these centuries, yet some instinct told him it had been burning like this since the Dawn Lords had put it at the bottom of the crevasse.

  Deep in the core of the fire lay an object. He could see it now that he was so close. It was a case of some sort made of what looked like black metal. He knew that what he wanted lay inside that case.

  A weapon. He needed a blade to defend his woman when she walked back into the hands of the Cult of the Eclipse. The Key was the only weapon he was going to get.

  Ridge went down on one knee beside the glowing pit of flame. The heat should have scorched him. He was too close. Yet the warmth was only moderate. It reminded him of the mild heat generated by the sintar when it glowed red in his palm. Even when the sintar was at its hottest, it could still be held in his bare hand. Ridge had long ago decided that the odd effect of his fury on the steel of Countervail was useful only as a psychological weapon. Others saw it and feared it far more than they would a blade of plain steel. Only Ridge seemed to understand that the sintar remained only a blade, albeit a warm one, when it ignited in his hand. It was the fury that drove him at such moments which needed to be feared.

  “Take the Key from the flames, Fire Whip. It is your destiny. Your only hope.”

  Ridge ignored Griss’ command. He intended to try for the black case, but he would do so in his own way. Cautiously, he moved his fingers toward the flames. Nothing happened. The strange lack of heat persisted. It was as though he was touched by sunlight; the fire was warm, but not dangerously so.

  Ridge edged closer and put his entire hand into the flickering light.

  He nearly lost his balance as a wave of pulse pounding fire shot through his blood. A promise of savagely satisfying ecstasy was written in the flames. He could see it, feel it. In a moment he would hold it in his hand.

  There was still only a moderate warmth in the flames themselves. They did not burn even though he was on fire inside. Ridge unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. Nothing could stop him now. Slowly, he moved his trembling fingers toward the black case. A moment passed as he leaned closer still, and then his hand closed around the black metal box. The excitement that flowed through him in that moment was almost unbearable.

  Yet he knew that he had touched the edges of such excitement before. He couldn’t seem to think clearly enough in that moment to remember just where or when, but he was certain he had felt this raging longing and satisfaction in some other context. For an instant he tried to focus and remember, but the fleeting thought escaped him.

  Ah, well, he decided, it was not important. What was important was another kind of knowledge. This knowledge was not fleeting or vague. It was as strong and fierce and certain as the flames.

  The Dark Key was his to control. It was of fire and he was of fire.

  As soon as he touched the box, Ridge knew that whatever lay inside was his to master. Ripples of energy washed through him, emphasizing the fact. Never had he felt anything close to this kind of power. He pulled the case from the pit of fire with a strong, steady motion of his arm. The Key was his. He rose to his feet, holding his prize in both hands.

  There was a murmur of low voices and the sound of hissing as the room full of cult members saw what he had done. Ridge ignored them. The cult was unimportant now. A stupid, meaningless group of men who had tried to play games with power they couldn’t possibly comprehend.

  Ridge studied the case in his hands, eager to learn everything he could about it. It was flat and wedge shaped. The black metal had been indented with a series of odd designs. The designs vaguely reminded him of certain figures in the alphabet, but he could make no sense of the similarity.

  The fire continued to burn at his feet, but Ridge was no longer aware of it, just as he was unaware of Griss and the others. His full attention was on the casket in his hands. It was his. He alone had pulled it from its hiding place, and he alone could grasp what lay inside. He stared at the metal, looking for a way to open the case.

  “Not yet, Fire Whip.”

  Ridge’s head snapped up, his eyes pinning Griss, who had taken a step forward. “Stay away from me.”

  “We have no wish to harm you,” Griss said soothingly. “You and the Key will become one, a formidable weapon for us. The last thing we will do now is cause you injury. But you must rest. Pulling the Key from the fire required more energy than you realize. We will take you back to the chamber you’ve been using. You will eat and then sleep. When you awaken the woman will have returned. Then it will be time for you to learn the full extent of your power, Fire Whip. And as you learn the truth, so shall we. Come. You must rest.”

  Ridge considered the situation. He did not feel tired at all. Just the opposite, in fact. There was a strong pulse of energy moving through his body. It was not unlike the sensation he had when he took Kalena in his arms. Even as he made the analogy in his mind, Ridge realized that at least part of his feeling of strength was sexual in origin. If Kalena were here now he would lay her down beside the fire, part her soft thighs and sheath himself in her silky warmth.

  It was then he realized where and when he had tasted the kind of longing and satisfaction he felt when he grasped the case that held the Dark Key. It had happened during those moments when he plunged into Kalena and was swept into the vortex of the desire he felt for her.

  For a few seconds the image was so strong in his mind that Ridge forgot everything else in the chamber except the black case in his hands. The metal object he held seemed to vibrate in tune with the energy he felt racing through his body. He could subdue Kalena with the force of his lust. She would learn at last that she was his, that she had always been his. The claim he would put on her would be total and her surrender would be complete. She was only a woman, his to use. He could sate himself time after time with her, endlessly. She was a woman. Soft, weak, at his mercy. His woman.

  “Rest, Fire Whip. Come with us. You need rest.”

  Ridge shook his head a little, frowning as he tried to clear the lustful images that were clamoring inside his brain. He didn’t need rest but he did need solitude. He had to discover the precise nature of what he had pulled from the flames.

  “Don’t try to touch me,” he said quietly to Griss and the others.

  “We won’t touch you.”

  Ridge went toward them warily, circling the bowl of fire that continued to burn as strongly as ever in the center of the black glass chamber. None of the cowled men tried to rebind his arms. Instead, they fell into a ragged circle around him, maintaining a respectful distance as they led Ridge from the chamber. When the group reached the room where Ridge had been held, they halted, waiting almost politely for him to willingly step inside.

  Ridge hesitated again, but knew he could do nothing yet with the Key. He had to examine it and learn to handle it. He needed time and privacy. Without a backward glance he walked into the rocky cell. The barred gate clanged shut behind him, but he paid no attention. He knew now that the others could not touch him as long as he held the metal case.

  Fading footsteps in the corridor outside the gate marked the sound of the retreating cult members. Ridge didn’t turn around, but he could still sense Griss’ presence.

  “It won’t be long now, Fire Whip.” There was an unnatural anticipation in Griss’ voice. “You were found and brought here for only one purpose and soon you will fulfill it.”

  “What happens after that?” Ridge asked almost idly. He was still staring at the black metal case.

  “The Cult of the Eclipse will finally take possession of its rightful heritage. We are the ones who have kept t
he old knowledge alive. We are the ones who recognize the potential of the powerful tools the Dawn Lords buried so long ago. We are the ones who have studied the past so that we may control the future.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it, Griss. Something tells me you’re more of a follower than a leader.”

  “Fool. You will see. Your control over the Key will be very short-lived. In the end you will understand that you are only a tool.”

  “Like you, Griss? A tool for someone who thinks he can eventually control the key? Where is this master of yours? The one who uses you to do his bidding? I would meet with him. Let him see if he can take the Key from me. Fetch him for me, Griss. Let me speak with the one who’s in charge around here.”

  “When the power of the Keys claims you and the woman you’ll finally understand just who is in control.” Griss flung himself away from the grating and disappeared down the corridor.

  For a long while after the others were gone Ridge remained where he was, examining the black case in the lamplight. Then the need to know what lay inside overcame him.

  Sitting cross-legged on the hard stone floor, Ridge placed the case in front of him and began looking in earnest for a way to open it. His fingers moved lightly over the surface of the black metal, searching for a crack or an unusual indentation. When he found none he restrained his growing impatience and tried again.

  He would open the case. It was his by right.

  Even as the determined words formed in his head, the lid of the case sprang open. Ridge blinked at the suddenness of it, and then gazed unbelievingly at what lay inside. Somehow he had been expecting fire. He had an affinity for fire.

  What he found was ice.

  It was the coldest ice he had ever known, and it was deeply, intensely black. The black cold radiated up from the metal case as if it were a living force. The object in the case was shaped like a wedge or the tip of an arrow, but much broader. A narrow portion projected from the wedge and Ridge knew at once it was to be grasped. But how did anyone grasp something so incredibly cold? It would burn like fire. More than that, Ridge decided; it would kill.