The Chaos Crystal Read online

'It was for your own good, my darling. Can't you see that? I would not have my own daughter sell herself to save me ...' His voice faltered uncertainly.

  'Again?' she finished for him. 'Is that what you were going to say?'

  He sighed. Arkady knew now that her father had learned about her deal with Fillion Rybank not long after his arrest. And he'd never said anything to her about it. Not a word; not in all the times she'd visited him in gaol. Not a single 'are you all right?'. Not a word about her courage, however misguided. Not even a thank-you for trying to save him.

  Nobody else had been prepared to help him. Not his friends, not his colleagues, not the hundreds of

  people who owed him their lives, not even the Crasii slaves he'd been trying to help — the very reason for his arrest. Despite her anger, Arkady didn't really blame the Crasii. They had their own problems. The magically blended, half-animal, half-human creatures created by the Tide Lords didn't have time to be concerned by human troubles. The Tide was on the rise and they had no thought but pleasing their immortal masters, whom they were magically compelled to obey.

  Her efforts to save her father from incarceration for six years by sleeping with the only man who could bear witness to his crimes was his failure as a parent. It had nothing, apparently, to do with Arkady.

  Tides, but men are selfish creatures.

  'Arkady, what that man did to you —'

  'Turned out to be a complete waste of time,' she said, refusing to look at him. 'Did that ever occur to you, Papa dear, while you were sitting here in your lonely cell, rotting with quiet pride at the nobility of your sacrifice? Did you not, even for a moment, wonder that I might think I'd thrown my childhood away for no good reason, because in the end, nothing I'd done could save you?'

  He shook his head, as if he was denying her right to feel that way. 'I was the parent, Arkady. Your father. It was my job to save you. And I failed.'

  'So you decided a little penance was in order?'

  His eyes misted with unshed tears. 'I am sick with what you endured to protect me. Surely you can understand that when I heard of the deal you'd brokered with Desean, I couldn't stand by and let you make the same mistake all over again?'

  She spared him an irritated glance. 'You could have accepted Stellan's pardon and informed me of your disapproval in person, you know. Did that ever occur to you?'

  Her father was silent for a time. Finally he said, 'It sounds silly now, but to be honest, Arkady, I never

  thought he'd carry out the threat. Not really. I mean, even when they moved me to the cells on the lower levels, I thought the duke was just trying to frighten me into compliance. I couldn't believe it when you stopped coming to visit me. Or when I heard of the wedding. The Stellan Desean 1 remembered as a boy didn't seem the type to champion injustice to further his own interests.'

  'You met him a handful of times, Papa. How could you possibly think you knew Stellan well enough to call his bluff?'

  'You thought you knew him well enough to accept his proposal.'

  She turned her gaze from him, wishing she could explain her reasons but knowing she was too angry to try. 'Stellan gave me exactly what he promised, Papa. It was you who refused his offer.'

  'It's thanks to that man we're both here,' he pointed out, angered by her intransigence. 'How can you defend him?'

  Arkady couldn't answer that question, because her father was right. Stellan's part in this miserable affair had been just as unconscionable as her father's. But somehow she found it easier to forgive her husband than her father. She understood what it felt like to do whatever you must to survive, and really, that's all Stellan had done. There would have been no other path left to him when he delivered his ultimatum to her father. By the time her father refused his pardon, Stellan had already been to the king and argued forcefully for permission to wed the common-born woman with whom he was supposedly in love. There was no backing down without causing a scandal of monumental proportions.

  Stellan probably hadn't wanted to confine her father, Arkady thought, knowing him as she did. It was just that by the time Bary Morel took it into his head to defend his daughter's honour by refusing to stay

  silent, they were long past the point of no return. Stellan had his flaws, but indecisiveness wasn't one of them.

  'I'm sorry, Arkady,' her father said, pushing off the bars. 'I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you were in love with the Hawkes boy and that's who you wanted to marry.'

  Arkady smiled sourly. 'You used to tell me Declan was a troublemaker who would come to no good. I distinctly remember you telling me I should stay away from him.'

  'He made something of himself in the end,' her father conceded. 'He had a responsible job. Did very well for himself in the king's service, I hear.'

  Ah, Papa, if only you knew what Declan has become.

  'So you're telling me you would rather I married a penniless troublemaker than a wealthy duke?'

  'If you were in love with the penniless troublemaker, then yes.'

  'Well, haven't you mellowed with old age?' She didn't mean to sound so bitter, but it was hard not to.

  'I'm sorry.'

  'For what?'

  'About Declan. I grieved for the lad when I heard he died in that fire in Herino a few months back.'

  Arkady turned her head to look at her father, as it dawned on her how little he knew of what she'd been doing this past year. How little he knew about her at all, really. When she thought about it, her father hadn't known what she was up to since she was fourteen. He had some idealised notion of her in his head. In his world, he worried Declan might lead her astray; that she was simply a victim of a series of men wanting to take advantage of her. He had no idea how strong she was, how every hard-fought battle had toughened her spirit until little could faze her. He knew nothing of the immortals. His problems seemed

  so immense to him, his perspective narrowed by the confines of his cell.

  Who cared about whether or not she married well when the world might be coming to an end?

  Arkady pushed off the pallet and climbed to her feet. It was time to start filling her father in on the state of the world.

  'Declan's not dead, Papa,' she said, approaching the bars.

  He smiled at her sadly. 'I know you'd like to believe that, darling, but —'

  'But, nothing,' she cut in. 'I know he's not dead because I've seen him. Tides, Papa, I've slept with him. When I was in Senestra. Right after I got through being a concubine slave for a very nice young physician who turned out to be a callous murderer.'

  'Arkady ...'

  'You think while you sat in here, nursing your wounded pride, feeling guilty about what was done to me, that life came to a grinding halt? There's a whole world out there you know nothing about, Papa. The Tide is on the rise; the immortals are trying to take over the world. A couple of them are trying to take the Glaeban throne. There's a few more lining up to take over Caelum. Torlenia will be in the hands of a Tide Lord before the year is out. One of them wants to kill himself and doesn't care who he takes with him in the process. Oh, and it turns out Declan is one of them too.'

  She could see her father drawing back at her harsh tone, but she didn't care. She was done with his self- pitying depression. 'So, who would you rather I married, in hindsight? The duke who made me rich and comfortable for a while, but whose downfall saw me sold into slavery as a whore? Or the troublemaker who, last I heard, was headed to Jelidia to meet up with the rest of his immortal brethren — where they've just released a madman from confinement so they can

  find a way to kill the Immortal Prince. All of which doesn't augur well for the rest of us, because I suspect nothing short of breaking the world in half is going to put an end to him.'

  Bary Morel stared at her in shock. 'You're not making any sense, Arkady.'

  'Unfortunately, I'm making a lot more sense than I'd like,' she replied. 'And if you want to do something useful, instead of sitting there begging me to forgive you for being suc
h a terrible father, why don't you help me figure out a way out of here?'

  Bary shook his head. 'There is no way out of here, Arkady.'

  'Not if you think like that, there isn't,' she agreed.

  'They will leave us here to rot,' he said. 'I know that for certain.'

  Arkady had learned the hard way that nothing was certain. 'I don't think so, Papa. They'll come for us, sooner or later.'

  'They?'

  'Perhaps I should have said he'll come for us, sooner or later. That's why you're here, you see. He's planning to use you to get at me.'

  Her father shook his head in confusion. 'Who are you talking about?'

  'The new Duke of Lebec, Papa,' Arkady said, glancing toward the entrance to the chilly tower cells, as if by naming him, she might be calling him here. Thankfully, the door remained closed, as it did every day unless it was time for their meals to be delivered. 'Stellan's former lover and the man responsible for the death of the King of Glaeba. The immortal Tide Lord, Jaxyn Aranville.'

  CHAPTER 2

  The whole world seemed to shudder whenever another cathedral-sized chunk of ice broke off the ice-shelf and crashed into the freezing black waters of the southern ocean. The feline Crasii, Jojo, stumbled and took an involuntary step backwards, even though she was some distance from the edge and — at least for the moment — in no immediate danger. 'It's getting worse.'

  Declan turned his attention from Jojo to glance at the Tide Lord who had spoken, concerned to see her forehead creased with a frown. Arryl seemed uncomfortably worried about this unseasonal melting of the glacier.

  'Tide's coming in fast,' she said. Arryl wasn't, Declan was quite certain, referring to the water.

  They had come here this afternoon, to the very edge of Jelidia, to witness the ice continent disappearing before their very eyes. Filled with an odd mixture of unease and guilty delight as the Tide continued its surging return, Declan had suggested the outing earlier in the day. On reaching the coast, he'd found his worst fears realised. The rising Tide was affecting more than the immortals; more than a newly- minted immortal discovering the true meaning of a rising Tide for the first time. The whole of Amyrantha was starting to feel its influence.

  Declan still couldn't quite believe the turn of events that had brought him here to this icy cliff with a clutch of legendary immortals as his companions. Not so long

  ago he had been a nobody, his only claim to importance his role as the King of Glaeba's spymaster. But for an accident of fate — a fire in Lebec Prison in which he should not have been caught — Declan might have lived and died ignorant of his immortal heritage. But the flames had consumed him and that's when he discovered that he wasn't just Declan Hawkes, slum- child made good. He was the son, and the great- grandson of two powerful immortals whose bloodline was stronger than the flames, stronger than anything. He wasn't the bastard get of a Glaeban whore. He was a Tide Lord.

  'Shouldn't we be moving back a little, my lord?'

  Declan stopped pondering his strange fate long enough to glance over his shoulder at the fearful Crash waiting behind them. Being out on the ice with the Tide Lords — who were immune to the vagaries of the weather — meant Jojo was forced to wear a coat. He could tell by her sour expression how much she hated wearing it, almost as much as she despised wearing boots. Her feet must be cramped, he guessed, and there was nowhere to rest her tail comfortably under the weight of the long fur jacket protecting her from the cold. But Jelidia was a bitter place. Even though it was summer here, and Lukys insisted it was getting warmer — a fact that seemed to be borne out by the ice breaking crashing into the ocean — it was still a bitterly cold place. So Declan insisted she wear the coat outside if she wanted to remain in their company. The feline shifted position again, undoubtedly wishing her masters would get over their fascination with the disintegrating coastline and return to the palace.

  Not that the palace is much warmer, Declan thought, turning back to watch the breakup of the ice- shelf, although these days it was hard for him to tell. Declan had gained immortality, but along with that, he'd lost the ability to feel temperature extremes. It

  remained to be seen how many other things he'd lost the ability to experience.

  'Bet she wishes we were back in Senestra,' he remarked to Arryl. The poor creature had no option but to do as the Tide Lords commanded. But Declan wasn't sure if that meant the Crash had also lost her ability for wishful thinking.

  Arryl shook her head, sparing the shivering feline a brief glance. 'She's not missing Senestra one bit.'

  'Really?'

  'I think you'll find she's never been happier.' 'How do you figure that?'

  'The feeling of fulfilment she's enjoying simply by being in the presence of true immortals is enough to mitigate the worst discomfort.' Arryl frowned. 'Even the awkwardness of wearing boots. That's the tragedy of them, you know. That's the true weakness bred into them when they were created.'

  'Tell her to strip off and stand there until we're done, if you don't believe Arryl,' Taryx suggested, stepping forward until he was right on the very edge of the cliff. The ice was raw and jagged where it had broken away and the ice behind it already riddled with hairline fractures that would soon expand to crack even more of the ice-shelf from the main ice-sheet. Taryx studied the cliff edge for a moment and then straightened, turning to look at Declan. 'She'll happily freeze to death with a smile on her face, if you command her to.'

  The immortal leaned over to stare at the crashing ocean once more, ignoring the bitter wind that whipped his dark hair around his face. He wasn't as powerful as the other immortals, but he effectively ran the palace and certainly kept it intact. Taryx's gift was manipulating water. The ice-wrought Palace of Impossible Dreams remained standing and functioning, thanks to him. Declan wondered why he was doing nothing now to prevent the ice from breaking away from the coast,

  because if it kept disintegrating at this rate, in a few weeks the palace itself would be in danger.

  'Might be a close thing,' Taryx remarked loudly after a time, almost as if he had heard Declan's unspoken question.

  'What?' Arryl asked in confusion. 'The Crasii?'

  Taryx shook his head. 'I mean the Tide coming in. Thing's ... happen . ..when the Tide comes in this fast.'

  Declan was afraid to ask what that meant. But he asked anyway, keenly feeling his ignorance about all things magical. 'What things?'

  'Things too horrible to mention,' Kentravyon called in a rather dramatic tone. Tempting fate, he sat on the edge of the cliff a few feet away, his legs dangling over the rim as if he didn't have a care in the world.

  'What things?' Declan repeated impatiently, more than a little fed up with these immortals and their cryptic responses to perfectly reasonable questions. Why does immortality make things worse, rather than better? he wondered. Why does it seem to bring only cynicism and narcissism? Why all the sarcasm? Why doesn't it bring enlightenment? Or detachment from the material world? Some sort of universal awareness not available to mortal man?

  Tides, will I be like them in a few hundred — a few thousand — years?

  A dark-haired, unremarkable looking man, Kentravyon was carving something from a chunk of ice he'd picked up on the way here, unconcerned, it seemed, about the imminent danger he was in if the ice beneath him crumbled into the ocean. Declan could feel him using the Tide to carve his statue, rather than more traditional tools, and from where he stood, it seemed to be taking shape as the head of a human.

  'Things ...' Kentravyon said with a shrug. 'Cold places get colder, hot places get hotter ... the rains move and deserts with them. Islands sink, mountains

  move, other lands arise ...' As he spoke, little chips of ice flew randomly off his sculpture, hitting the other Tide Lords standing nearby, eventually prompting Arryl to ask what he was doing. She didn't seem surprised to hear about the effect of the rising Tide. But then, this wasn't the first time she had experienced one, so it wasn't the novelty for her that it was for Dec
lan — if novelty was a word one could use to describe the potential disruption and perhaps destruction of all human settlement on Amyrantha.

  "What are you doing?" Arryl asked.

  'Creating the face of God,' Kentravyon told her, yelling to stop the wind snatching away his words.

  'How do you know it's the face of God?'

  Kentravyon shrugged. '1 just get rid of all the bits that don't look like me.'

  That remarked evoked a sour laugh from Taryx who addressed the other two loudly to be heard over the wind, saying, 'And to think, I thought being mad meant being inconsistent.'

  Kentravyon tossed the ice carving aside and climbed to his feet, turning to face the immortal who'd dared to insult him. 'I am not mad. It is the rest of you who are misguided.'

  'I don't think I'm God,' Taryx said.

  Not yet, Declan thought, wondering if Kentravyon's delusions were the eventual fate of all immortals and one of the reasons Cayal was so anxious to die. Unbidden, another doubt crept into his mind. Will I think the same way someday? The notion scared him a little. Will I one day find myself sitting on the edge of a disintegrating glacier, whittling away my time, thinking I'm omnipotent? Declan glanced westward, to the ice-cliff some distance away, where a lone figure stood silhouetted against the overcast sky, his cloak billowing out in the harsh wind coming off the ocean until it was almost horizontal. Kentravyon noticed the direction of Declan's gaze and smiled.

  'You don't want to die, either, I hope,' Kentravyon said, peering at him curiously. 'No.'

  'Cayal wants it so bad he can taste it. I rather think that makes him the crazy one, not me.'

  Declan tore his gaze from Cayal's lonely silhouette to look at Kentravyon. 'We're not allowing for the possibility that you're both lunatics, then?'

  'You will come to accept the wisdom of my truth eventually,' Kentravyon told him, with the sage air of someone who knew something nobody else did. 'The Chaos Crystal will show you the way. As it always does.'

  'Assuming we ever find the damn thing,' Taryx said, frowning.