Krymzyn (The Journals of Krymzyn Book 1) (15 page)

Sash grips my arm with her hand. “Have you been injured?”

I don’t answer at first, finally realizing what I saw in Balt’s eyes. It’s as obvious to me as looking at photographs of people’s faces with the names of emotions written underneath them. I open my eyes to look at Sash.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Do Watchers ever go into the Barrens?”

“Often,” Sash replies after a mild sigh of relief. “They look for signs of Murkovin near the edge of the river.”

“Do people ever get
jealous
here?” I ask.

Sash shakes her head, letting me know that the word didn’t translate for her.

I turn to Larn. “Do you ever
lust
for something you don’t have?” I ask.

“I’m sorry,” he replies. “Your word has no meaning.”

The expressions I saw on Balt’s face, in his eyes, shouldn’t exist here. There’s only one way Balt could have those “extreme” emotions according to what I’ve learned about Krymzyn.

“I think Balt’s been drinking sap from the trees in the Barrens,” I say.

All four stare at me with stern expressions. Miel hasn’t said a word to me since we met, but now she steps forward and glares at me.

“That’s a serious accusation,” Miel says firmly. “One that’s not taken lightly in Krymzyn.”

“The Disciples told me contaminated sap creates extreme and irrational emotions,” I explain. “When we left the Delta, Balt was looking at Sash and then at me with expressions on his face that I’ve never seen in Krymzyn. I see them all the time in my world. Extreme emotions are common there, and you can see them on the faces of people.”

“What did you see?” Larn asks.

“He looked at Sash with something we call
lust
,” I reply to Larn, “a desire to possess or control something you can’t have. Then, when he looked at me, I saw something we call
jealousy
—when someone else has something you want, and you want it so badly it hurts your insides. Like what I said about your speed, but I was
joking
—I didn’t really mean it. These are common emotions in my world, and they’re as extreme as it gets. I promise you, I know what they look like on someone’s face.”

Larn and I keep our eyes locked on one another.

“Perhaps you misinterpret his expression,” Larn finally says.

“Sash,” I say, turning to her, “remember the
picture
I
drew
of you? When you look at it, can you tell how you felt while I was
drawing
it?”

She thinks for a moment before nodding her head. “When I look at the
picture
, I see what I felt at the time.”

“That’s what I do in my world,” I say to Larn. “I’m what we call an
artist
, and the most important aspect of what I
draw
—create—is that people’s faces show exactly what they’re thinking and how they feel. I know what I see in people’s faces.”

“He speaks the truth,” Sash says emphatically. “He understands what he sees, and I’ve seen strange expressions on Balt’s face many times. They’ve become more severe recently, similar to what I see on the faces of Murkovin.”

Miel steps back and relaxes her stance.

“We’ll address this with the Disciples when we return to the Delta,” Larn says to me.

“Thank you,” I reply. “The only reason I’m telling you this is to warn you. I don’t have any other reason to make it up.”

Miel bows to me. “I apologize if I offended you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, returning her bow. “I’m just trying to help.”

I’m not surprised they can’t recognize what I see on Balt’s face. Those emotions—extreme or irrational, they call them—simply don’t exist here. Well, they do exist, but only in the Murkovin.

We all walk towards a high marble wall that curves in a semicircle from the face of the Mount. Sash turns her face to me and nods her head as if to say, “You’re absolutely right about what you saw in Balt.”

Spaced a mile apart, six Watchers stand guard on top of the black wall. The two closest to the gate in the center disappear behind the ledge as we approach. A few seconds later, a steel door swings open.

I look back at the road descending from the Mount into the Barrens and try to guess our altitude. We’re at least at ten thousand feet based on my experiences hiking in Mammoth and Yosemite. Through the clear, sharp air, a scarlet ambience radiates around the faraway Delta.

We pass through the gate and stop by the side of the entrance. After the Watchers close and secure the doors, a thick, muscular woman walks to a steel rack near the gate. When she turns to us, she hands each of us a pair of leathery black gloves and a brushed-metal helmet.

“What are these for?” I ask Sash.

“If Darkness descends, they’re needed on the Mount,” Sash replies. “If the light begins to dim, put these on before the trees become aware. The needles are extremely sharp.”

I step off the road, walking to the forest of blue and purple that spreads across the mile-long flat area between the wall and the Mount. Sash trails slightly behind me, and we both stop at the nearest tree. When I reach my hand out to touch a low branch, I instantly jerk it away. Almost as if they were injected into me, the needles prick my skin. Speckles of blood appear on my fingertips.

“You could have warned me,” I playfully complain, smiling at Sash and not actually mad.

“Doing is a more effective method of learning than hearing,” she says with just a hint of a smile.

I have to silently chuckle at the closest thing to a joke I’ve heard in Krymzyn, even if it was at the expense of my fingertips.

“We need to prepare items for our return journey,” Larn says to Sash as we return to the trail. “We’ll meet you when your visit to the Pool has been completed.”

Larn, Tela, and Miel disappear into the forest on the far side of the road. Sash and I stroll along the path towards the steep Mount. I estimate that the glossy black slopes rise another fifteen or twenty thousand feet over us. With the peak hidden in the clouds, it’s hard to tell. But it’s taller than any mountain I’ve ever seen—maybe even taller than Everest.

A clearing opens in the forest to one side, a few hundred yards long and half as wide. Slabs of marble, like picnic tables, stand on rectangular marble legs. Smaller marble shapes, some no larger than a shoebox, sit on top of several of the slabs.

Three men and four women, all with cyan in their black hair, work around the tables. A few have chisels and hammers, slowly etching shapes in the marble. Others use black pumice rock the size of a sponge to sand items made of steel.

“What are they doing over there?” I ask.

“This is where the Constructs of the Mount work,” Sash replies, “creating all that’s made of steel.”

“The steel is the sap of these trees?” I ask.

“Yes, the steel trees. Hunters on the Mount take the sap during Darkness. The Constructs mix in powder they grind from the black crystals in the dirt, and the powder hardens the sap into steel. They use molds carved into marble to shape the steel then brush it smooth with stone.”

“So they don’t use
fire
at all?” I ask but realize that “fire” never translates. “How do they
weld
—attach—the legs of the stools?”

“Binding made from the juice of berries.” Sash points to the side of the Mount.

Growing out of cracks in the rocky face just above the forest are holly-like bushes with bright yellow berries clustered inside purple leaves.

“Binding from those berries,” Sash continues, “seals the parts as though they were one solid piece.”

I think about the huge marble wall in the Delta and the one I just saw here on the Mount. Their sides are seamless and smooth, as though they’re one continuous slab.

“I guess you don’t want to get binding on your fingers,” I say.

“Binding connects steel to steel or marble to marble,” Sash replies. “It has no effect on any other material.”

I shake my head, my usual acceptance of a seemingly impossible explanation. “I’ve wanted to ask you something else for while,” I say.

“Go ahead,” Sash says.

“When you kneel to the ground and whisper, other people can hear you, right?”

“The person’s name I say is aware of my words.”

“Any idea how?”

“The roots of the grass carry our words across the Delta. The person whose name we say hears the words through their sense of awareness.”

“So it doesn’t work here on the Mount?”

“The needles on the ground do the same,” Sash replies. “The Barrens are the only place it doesn’t occur.”

A moment of enlightenment arrives. Every substance in Krymzyn synthesizes perfectly with everything else that exists here. Each has a distinct purpose designed to complement some materials but not interfere with others.

Steel cuts marble. Marble molds steel. Pumice sands steel but also softens in water. Binding only works with marble and steel, nothing else. Crystal dirt hardens steel while pulp from vines on the Mount blends threads grown on the Delta into smooth leathery fabric.

One type of tree on the Mount, two types of plants. Two types of trees on the Delta, excluding the Tree of Vision, and one type of plant. Telepathic grass and needles cover the ground. Seven botanical wonders supply everything the people need. Every substance in Krymzyn, every form of life, creates a labyrinth of flawless unison. Never more than they need, never less. It’s an existence of eternal—there’s only one word I can use—balance.

We reach the end of the road at the base of the steep Mount. We both stop, and Sash turns to me. When she smiles, it takes effort on her part. The gloom on her face is deepening, and as hard as I try, I can’t figure out why.

“You should consume your sap,” she says.

“Why?” I ask.

“For the sign of entrance to appear,” Sash replies.

I remove the flask from my belt, twist off the top, and drink the contents. I don’t really feel the need for sustenance because I’m still energized from the sap Tork gave me. If I had to guess, based on what I’ve seen, each person only drinks two or three cups a “day,” and that seems to be all they need. Sash takes the flask from her belt and drinks as well.

After I return the flask to my side, we start up a narrow trail carved into the side of the Mount. The path is just wide enough for us to walk beside each other. Snaking back and forth along the face, we climb about a mile until we reach a flat ledge.

A single Watcher guards a granite door, steel spear at his side.

“Greetings, Sash,” he says, bowing with a solemn face.

“Greetings, Inda,” Sash replies, handing her spear to the Watcher. “The Teller Chase and I are here to view the Reflecting Pool.”

“Do you have the sign for entry?” Inda asks.

Sash holds out her hand, and as she turns it up to the sky, aqua light rises from her skin.

Even though I expect what I see, I’m still stunned when I extend my hand. The same blue-green rays dance over my palm.

The Watcher swings open the black door. “No one else will enter while you visit the Reflecting Pool,” he says to us.

“We’re grateful,” Sash replies.

After we step inside a dark tunnel, the stone door slams shut behind us.

Side by side, we walk through the passage. Cool aqua light leads us to an oval opening at the tunnel’s end. The sound of trickling water, calm and soothing, echoes around us as we walk.

When we reach the end of the corridor, an immense round cavern opens in front of us. Cyan vines dangle from the domed black marble ceiling of the cave, emitting a soft blue luminescence. Tiny starbursts of golden light, like fireflies on a summer night, weave in and out of the vines. I start to step through the opening, but Sash grabs my arm and pulls me back into the tunnel.

“We must remove our clothing before we enter,” she says softly to me. “Only your containment may touch the water.”

We set our helmets on the ground, take off our clothing and boots, and hang our clothes on hooks in the wall. Sash takes my hand in hers, leading me into the cavern.

A circular pumice walkway surrounds the enormous Reflecting Pool. Light sparkles in the water trickling down the ebony walls, gently flowing across the black stone path, and spilling over a smooth edge into the Pool. At my first step, the stone is scratchy against my foot. As we walk around the outside of the cave, through the water dampening the rock, the path softens into a firm spongy texture.

Aqua light and moving points of amber gleam in the Pool’s glassy surface. The air around us is still, not warm, not cold—a perfect feeling of nothingness against my bare skin.

We continue until we’re a quarter of the way around the cavern. I stop to glance up again at the floating points of golden light.

“What are those?” I ask Sash.

“Flits,” she replies. “They dwell in the caverns on the Mount. The creatures never rest. They’re always in motion.”

I gaze into the familiar amber of Sash’s eyes, her face splashed in blue. I lean in to her and kiss her full, red lips.

“Walk to the center of the Pool and look into the water,” Sash says quietly after we kiss.

“Are you coming with me?” I ask.

“No,” she replies. “This portion of the journey is only for you.”

I kiss her again, turn away, and step into the Pool. My feet are immersed in an invigorating wetness, no feeling of temperature at all, but still refreshing to my skin. As I slowly tread through the water, it’s ankle deep at first, but gradually rises up my legs.

When I reach the center of the Pool, I stand still with the water just above my knees. The tranquil sounds inside the cavern serenade my mind. I remain motionless while the shallow swells created by my movement slowly disappear. I glance up at the Flits circling overhead then down into the mirror of water.

My reflection stares back at me as I look into my own blue eyes. An unexplained circular ripple spreads from the center of my face, seeming to wash away my skin. I lean closer to my reflection, trying to perceive the changes in my appearance as the water calms.

A deathly white skull, blurry around the edges, stares at me from the Pool. Deep, hollow eye sockets, empty black with circles of blue, pierce into my mind. A colored spectrum of light undulates in the center of my skull. Murky brown waves fall from the outline of my head, while dull red lines frown at me.

My eyes drift down the skeletal frame of my body—luminescent bones encased in a web of three-dimensional blue veins. A crimson-red glob pulses in the center of my ribcage.

I lift my hand to my chest, watch the bony fingers move across my shape, each throb of red matching the beat of my heart. It’s like staring at one of the scans I’m all too familiar with in the hospital, stripped bare of skin, showing only my organs and bones.

When I raise my eyes to the ceiling of the cavern, the vines electrify like sinuous fiber-optic strands. The tiny floating points of gold momentarily flash halos of green when they intersect with the aqua light. Above the semi-opaque surface that defines the ceiling of the cavern, tangled midnight blue roots spread upwards, candescent inside the black void.

I drop my head to the pool, returning my focus to my own terrifying eyes. The sunken, shadowy sockets with rings of blue in the center send a shiver through my spine. I try to grasp what I see, try to comprehend this vision. Everything I’ve ever seen and experienced in Krymzyn strobes through my mind.

My pulse soars with revelation while bolts of truth spike into my brain. I know why Sash was so confused by my sketch of her. She knows exactly what she looks like.

Nothing in Krymzyn exists as I see it. Everything has been shaped, molded, given a texture and a surface that I can grasp within my understanding of reality. The obscure shapes of light I saw in the metal bridge and in the quartz walls of Sash’s habitat—those are what I look like here. What I see in Krymzyn isn’t what it really is. It’s just a fabricated image for my eyes.

I slowly turn to Sash.

A specter stands at the edge of the pool and stares at me—Sash stripped bare and naked to the core, as she actually exists. Tiny gray particles swirl in her glowing white skeleton while a maze of glimmering veins hovers around her bones. Pulsing organs cast red light, molecules moving within. A brilliant spectrum of color oscillates in her skull, neon scarlet tendrils growing out of it and weaving through the black that hangs from her head. A thin, translucent film contains the light, shaping it into a human form.

The hideous apparition stings me to my marrow.

“This is how I look to you?” I ask.

She lowers her eyes to the water. A single glistening orb of amber light falls from her face. Suddenly, in slow motion, my eyes follow the sphere as it floats down the front of her ghostly form. Crimson bursts around the tear when it splashes into the water at her feet.

“You’re beautiful to me,” Sash cries.

I stare at her. Krymzyn wants me to see this world as it truly is. A dimension of light and energy, spiraling molecules of matter, all molded into eerie shapes. Krymzyn is putting a question before me.
Can you accept this world for what it is?
What Krymzyn doesn’t know is that every question was answered in my mind before I ever stepped into this Pool.

I can design fantasy worlds for video games, or I can live in one that’s real. I can struggle to stay alive on Earth, probably die after a painful fight with cancer, or thrive in Krymzyn if I have a purpose here. More than anything else, I can stay in my world knowing that there’s no woman there I’ll ever love. In Krymzyn, I can be with the only person I belong with.

The answer to the question given to me by the Pool was never meant for me. This answer has to come from me. This answer is for Sash.

“Not as beautiful as you are to me,” I say.

Amber points rise from the water and flow across the cavern into my eyes. Skeletal fingers veined in blue rise in the air, reaching out to me. I run through the water to Sash, hold out my hand, and take hers in mine.

A flood of amber blinds me. I close my eyes, open them when the light recedes, and see Sash standing in front of me—my perception of her once again. Porcelain skin glazed in aqua light, long black hair shining with scarlet, and tears falling from amber eyes.

She pulls me to her, and I step out of the pool. We engulf each other in our arms. Sash burrows her face in my neck, presses her breasts to my chest, and holds me against her body.

“I do belong with you,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say. “And I belong with you.”

I kiss her neck while her fingertips trace up my spine. Our lips find each other’s, and we kiss while absorbing each other in our arms. I crave her in all of my senses, wish I could smell her and taste her, long to be filled by her in every way I can.

We drop to our knees, facing one another with our hands exploring each other’s bodies. When we kiss, passion burns through her skin and into my veins. Sash gently pushes me to my back, the shallow water tingling against my shoulders and legs.

She climbs onto me, crouching on top of my body, her face directly over mine. Reaching one hand between her legs, she slowly strokes me with her smooth, slender hands. I skim my fingertips down the length of her hair as she guides me inside. Amber beams dazzle my eyes when she slowly slides down on top of me, lowering her hips until I’m completely within.

Thousands of sparks erupt in my nerves and my muscles tense out of my control. Brilliant blue streams from my eyes, intersecting with an amber flare. The water around me seems to seep into my skin, blending with my blood and flowing through my body. I hear the beat of Sash’s heart reverberating through the rock beneath me while the Flits circle inside my mind.

“Sash!” my voice echoes through the cavern.

“Be calm,” Sash whispers, looking down at me with a knowing smile. “Your sense of awareness is awakening inside you.”

Her fingers gently slip through my hair. Wet, soft warmth grips me inside her. She leans her head down, scarlet brushing across my face, and kisses my lips. I feel everything inside her, around us, my new consciousness leaping to life.

Sash slowly raises her hips, sinks them again, moving up and down on top of me. I lift my hips to meet her then lower them as she glides back up. Her hands hold the back of my head, clutching my hair. I run my fingers along her shoulders, lower them to circle her nipples, and finally rest my hands on the curves of her hips. Time stops inside the aqua cavern while we make love, everything inside us exposed and shared with the other.

Our rhythm quickens and our breathing grows heavier, her face over mine. I feel her tense and arch my back when our bodies both spasm. Waves of orgasm surge through us until she collapses into my arms.

As our muscles relax, she stretches out on top of me, legs on legs, chest on chest, keeping me inside her. Intertwined with my hair, her fingers gently massage my head. Minutes pass, maybe hours—I have no idea. We lie silently with our heartbeats pulsing against each other, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Was this why you’ve seemed so sad?” I finally ask. “Were you afraid of how I’d react to what I saw?”

“I didn’t know what the Pool would show you,” she whispers.

“It showed me what I already know,” I say. “That I love you.”

Sash smiles most beautiful smile that ever was.