Avion: Book One of the Crystal Rose Chronicles

By Emma Daniels

When Alecsis Rose finds himself washed up on an unknown beach, he has no idea who he is, or how he got there. Alone in a strange tropical land with people who look nothing like him and don't speak his language, Alecsis has a lot to learn.

Join Alecsis on a magical, danger fraught journey of discovery, as he fights against prejudice and hatred to remember who he is in time to save his friends and the woman he loves from terrible evil.

This book contains wizards, warlocks, knights in shining armour, wicked pirates, damsels in distress, and enough myths and magic to create a legend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Daniels
• Release date: Jul 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466191662

Emma Daniels

Emma Daniels lives in Sydney Australia, but also lived in Germany as a child. She is married with two children. She has been writing romantic novels for most of her life, and the results are clear - more than 10 books to her name. She is also a jewellary artist. Her favourite mediums are chain maille and artistic wire work. If she's not beading, writing, reading, or with her children, she's working part time at the job that pays the bills.

Book preview

Avion

By Emma Daniels

Copyright 2011 Emma Daniels

Smashwords Edition

ONE

TEMPEST RISING

The ship had been becalmed for three days. It drifted upon a still, lifeless ocean. Not a breath of wind stirred to cool the heat blazing down from the huge golden sun. Weary sailors lounged in disgruntled groups upon the deck, only dispelling enough energy to fight over the meagre shady spots.

The captain stood in the wheel house, but he wasn’t at the wheel. He saw no point in steering when there was nowhere to go. A tall, long-limbed man, with straight blonde hair tied back in a tidy queue, he leaned against the railing, his first mate at his side.

Even though his once great ship was battered and badly in need of repairs, Captain Rose still managed to keep his shirts white and his boots shined. While his men made do with mending worn breeches and washing in sea water, Krystos Rose always had a bath drawn at the end of each day. He saw no need in changing the habits of a life time, particularly when it relieved and relaxed him from a life he still wasn’t entirely used to.

I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever see land again, the first mate lamented, shading his eyes against the insistent glare of the sun. What’s it been, three weeks? We’ll have to start rationing again if we don’t find a port soon.

The captain merely grunted. He was most at ease at sea, where he was in control of his ship and his men. Coming into port was always a hazardous affair. If he wasn’t having to explain his business, it was haggling for supplies, or fighting for booty. If he could somehow conjure up everything he needed, Captain Rose would be quite content never to lay eyes on land again.

Do you think we’ll ever find a new home? the mate persisted.

Captain Rose glanced sideways at him. For some reason, the mate suddenly looked old, his sunburnt face craggy and careworn. Well, he was at least thirty-five. In fact, Krystos was the youngest sea-captain he knew of, having sailed The Crystal Rose from his homeland at barely eighteen. If his calculations were correct, they had been traveling for well over two years, which still made him the youngest sea-captain he knew of.

Do you want a new home, Birch? he asked laconically.

We’ve seen so much, Captain. Had adventures aplenty, but… well, I do miss my family.

We can never go back, Krystos snapped. My vile excuse for a brother saw to that.

The mate stared at him. This was the first time Krystos Rose had ever mentioned his family.

Most of the crew speculated about their cold, aloof captain, wondering how one so young could be so bitter. But even after all this time none dared question his authority. He commanded with a hard hand. Many ports of call had yielded a wealth of treasures, so no man would ever be wanting should they wish to strike out on their own. So far only a few had not returned aboard.

Only one was denied such freedom; the ship’s boy. For some reason, the captain saw the lad as his personal whipping post, and anyone who to dared interfere was given a lashing they’d never forget. Even though the men pitied the lad, they valued their own positions too much to do anything more than tend to his cuts and bruises, and offer a few words of comfort when they were sure the captain wasn’t looking.

Birch dredged up the courage to ask the question that had been on every man’s lips for months. What do you really want, Captain?

Krystos turned his crystal blue eyes on the mate. Their intense glitter made Birch shiver despite the cloying heat of the day. Sometimes his young captain looked old beyond his years. To see my brother suffer till the day he dies.

Birch took a step back. Had the heat addled the captain’s mind? Were all those years at sea finally getting to him? You said yourself that we could never go back.

Krystos turned away and rested his elbows against the railing in front of him. That I did. Any time you want to leave, Birch, you just let me know.

Oh no Captain, that wasn’t what I meant. I was simply making conversation.

Krystos sniggered cynically to himself. I know what you were trying to do, Birch, and that was find out why I left Crystonia. He glanced over his shoulder at the mate. That you will never know.

He returned his attention back to the deck below, scanning the area.

When his shrewd blue gaze found what he was looking for, he pointed at the slender figure slumped against a railing, a bucket and mop sitting beside him.

Someone get that lazy lout working, Krystos barked. I won’t have slovenly, layabouts on this ship.

The object of his attention jerked awake, fearful green eyes darting up to the bridge. Untidy blonde hair whipped back from his sunbruned face as a sailor hauled him to his feet. The lad had grown almost as tall as the man motioning him back to work, but his emaciated body covered in lash marks, spoke louder than words.

Krystos nodded in satisfaction as the ship’s boy started scrubbing the deck as ordered.

Birch shook his head, wondering what the lad had done to deserve the captain’s wrath. All he knew was that he’d been recruited at the same time as the rest of the men, a silent, secretive affair. None were told who their fellow cre-members would be until the day they set sail. All they knew was that they would be handsomely paid, and that the vessel was one of the best.

They hadn’t been disappointed on either count. The Crystal Rose was as beautiful as she was fast. The sixty-four men who started the journey had seen lands aplenty, traded in exotic wares, witnessed strange and wondrous sights, but as far as Birch was concerned, there was no place like home.

Land ho! the lookout screeched from the crows nest.

Krystos shielded his eyes to peer out across the ocean, seeing nothing but horizon. Get me the spy glass, he commanded.

Birch obliged, handing the long, magnifying cylinder to his captain. Krystos held it to his eye, squinting through it. I don’t see anything… No wait… That’s not land…

I see it, Birch said. Thank the Goddess.

It’s not land, you fool… It’s a storm cloud.

Do you think it’s heading this way? Birch asked in concern.

Krystos scanned the horizon again. It’s getting bigger, so it must be coming this way. See that the men get to their watches, and secure anything that isn’t tied down. I don’t care to lose any more valuable equipment from this ship.

If there was one thing Krystos hated, and that was storms. He knew it was a terrible fear for a ship’s captain to have, but even after all this time at sea, he kept to his cabin when a storm struck, leaving the running of his ship in the capable hands of his first mate.

The cliff sheared away into a vertical drop of many hundreds of metres. Below, the ocean foamed and boiled, whipped into a frenzey by erratic winds not knowing which way to blow. Above, thick black clouds boiled in outrage, bright tongues of lightning stabbing the earth below.

A solitary figure stood atop the cliff, arms outstretched, dark-skinned face turned skyward. He was clad in a blood red robe, a matching cape whipping out behind him. The slender youth had dyed his black hair a multitude of colours.

Never one to start small, the young wizard had summoned the elements to lash the coastline with vicious ferocity. Sheeting rain drove into him, but the hard pins of water felt like salve against his skin. The hilt of a black sword was visible above the scabbard at his side.

Had anyone dared to venture into the swirling tempest, they would have cowered in fear at the sight of the leer on the boy’s face. Dark power sizzled through him, exploding from his fingertips, darkening the clouds even further.

See, Dragonfire! See through my eyes. See the power I have over the elements! the youth cried in glee.

Very good, Leonado, the voice spoke from within the lad’s mind. If only you could wield such power over the earth, I’d have you moving mountains by now.

Banished forever into darkness, Leonado’s teacher could only see the world through the eyes of his pupil. Leonado had no idea how long Dragonfire had languished in his dark prison, but he could never escape, never be free.

Soft, whispered words in his dreams had lured Leonado high into the mountains that loomed over his home town. Dragonfire’s lair turned out to be a dismal, barren place, littered with the bodies of the dead. Leonado recalled wondering if they had been failed apprentices, but of course he’d never dared to ask. Looking upon Dragonfire had also been out of the question.

To this day, he remained a voice inside the youth’s head, a constant companion, prodding and coercing him to do things he still found disdainful.

Dragonfire’s answer to Leonado’s reluctance was always the same. Do you want to spend a lifetime learning the arts, or do you want to be a powerful mage before you’re twenty?

So Leonado performed his teacher’s darker tasks. He had left to study magic, hadn’t he? His father would still be treating him like a child, telling him he had to wait, always to wait. He would learn all there was to learn from Dragonfire, and then wrench himself free… somehow.

His magically enhanced eyesight spotted something way out to sea. No normal person would have been able to see past the headland in such a storm, but this was Leonado’s creation. He could see and move through it as though it wasn’t even there. Flinging his arms upwards, he rose up into the air off the cliff face and flew out across the ocean.

Where are you going, Leonado? Dragonfire demanded.

There’s something out to sea. I want to know what it is, he replied.

Just a ship. None of our concern. Let it flounder, Dragonfire commanded.

Leonado forced himself to ignore him. Even though the pull of Dragonfire’s mind hurt when he took his own path, Leonado had learned that Dragonfire could not control his actions. Did this mean he might be able to cast Dragonfire off once he was powerful enough to move mountains? He hoped so.

Leonado longed to return to his father a fully trained mage, proof that one didn’t need to spend a lifetime studying from old dusty books. He wanted to become powerful enough to show the entire nation that magic users should be respected instead of shunned and banished.

His father was only allowed to practice his arts because the king needed a healer. A mere healer. The king had no need for the incredible powers Leonado knew his father posessed.

What a waste! Tending ailments in the king’s court! Leonado couldn’t think of a more dismal future. Dragonfire must have sensed his disenchantment. Why else would he have chosen him? His banished teacher had told Leonado that the power flowed strongly within him, that he’d never had a pupil so skilled and dedicated.

After only a few weeks of silent training within the cave system that held him captive, he had sent Leonado back out into the world to test his new-found abilities.

At Dragonfire’s command he’d sent farm houses tumbling to the ground, their occupants fleeing the rubble in shock and terror. Trying to move anything more earth bound than the trees had been harder to manage, much to Dragonfire’s consternation.

Leonado drew closer to the floundering vessel. His dark eyes widened in stunned amazement.

The ship was incredible!

Three tall masts jutted into the lightning-streaked sky. It was several times larger than the best Avion warship. She must have traveled from a world far far away. The signs of passage were obvious; worn timbers, tarnished gunwales, patched and torn sails.

And now she risked oblivion amidst the storm he’d created. She rode mountainous waves, water washing pale-skinned, fair haired men from her decks.

They looked as alien to Leonado as the beautiful ship they sailed. Leonado knew in an instant that he couldn’t let her go under. He was unable to stop the tempest. Once cast, this particular spell would have to run its course. But he could save the ship.

Watching another pale head disappear under the waves. Leonado landed on the pitching deck, keeping himself steady with the will of his mind.

What to you want with the ship? Dragonfire asked, his voice amused.

To possess her. Isn’t she beautiful?

I would seek out her captain if I were you.

Yes, we must get rid of him.

Never act in haste, Leonado. He might be of some use.

Yes, he would be able to tell me a great deal, Leonado thought. But how do I find such a man amongst so many?

Try the one giving orders, Dragonfire suggested snidely.

Leonado grimaced at the chastisement. He glanced about the deck, and saw a man of middle years yelling for a group of sailors to winch down a set of sails. a futile task, considering the ropes were as tangled as a snake pit.

That can’t be the captain, Leonado thought. Anyone who commands a ship as beautiful as this would be a sight to behold. The distressed sailors barely noticed the dark figure in their midst as he headed below, floating down corridors towards the stern.

A wave of terror washed over Leonado so powerful he thought it was his own. Then he realized he had nothing to fear; this was his storm. This meant it had to be someone else’s fear, someone endowed with the ability to transmit thought waves, someone like himself.

Could they have a mage aboad? Leonado wondered. That prospect worried him, for he still hadn’t mastered all the arts. He knew he would be out of his depth were he to face battle with a fully trained magic-user.

The source of the fear led him to a heavy oak door. Leonado pushed it open, revealing a large ornate cabin of polished timbers. A bank of windows rattled and groaned as wind and rain threatened to shatter them. The glittering chandelier above his head shivered as though suffering a violent chill.

A slender, yellow-haired man lay upon the bed, his face buried in his pillow, hands clinging to the supports bolted to the wall behind the bedhead.

It can’t happen like this, his thoughts screamed. I’m too young to die. My poor, poor ship. All is lost. All is lost.

Why are you such a coward? Leonado asked in disgust, stepping closer to the bed. Around him the ship pitched and rolled, but he remained steady and upright.

The man lifted his head, and a pale, unlined face peered up at him. Despite the helpless terror stamped into his features, Leonado found his exotic appearance intriguing.

Wh- who are you? And how did you get abroad my ship? he asked, his pale brows drawing together above eyes as blue and cold as a winter’s sky.

Even though Leonado didn’t understand a word of his foreign tongue, he heard the young man’s thoughts.

That’s immaterial at the moment, he answered. I asked you first.

How do you do that? Talk to me straight into my mind.

You did it before I did. That’s how I found you. Now answer my question.

What question?

Why are you such a coward? Why are you in here when your men are out there dying?

"I – I hate storms, but this one seems worse than any I’ve encountered before. Something came over me when it stuck, something… unnatural… It seemed to sap all my strength, my will to fight… I’d rather go down with my ship than drown out there."

The captain did have some magical powers, Leonado realized, but had never learned to harness them, hence his helpless response to the storm’s destructive wail. Well, Leonado wasn’t going to teach him. He didn’t want or need another mage around.

Shall I kill him for you? he suggested to Dragonfire.

NO! Dragonfire’s painful bellow inside his head brought tears to his eyes. His latent abilities may be of use to us. He might even be able to wield Darkfire for us.

Leonado’s hand automatically went to the sword-hilt at his side. He caressed the cool, dark metal with his fingertips, longing to feel its dormant power, but Leonado didn’t have the touch Darkfire craved. He had no affinity with the demon within the blade. Dragonfire despaired that the sword would starve before it found a soul mate.

I won’t hand Darkfire over to another. I’ll find a way to communicate with her, Leonado vowed.

If it was meant to be it would have happened by now. She does not know you. She will only fight for one with a heart like her own. Let the captain take the sword and we shall see, Dragonfire commanded.

Leonado felt Dragonfire’s painful coercion clouding his mind, but he stood firm. You can’t control me, Dragonfire.

Oh yes I can. I’ve given you free reign until now. Don’t force me to show you my true strength. I can assure you, you won’t like it one little bit, his teacher boomed inside his mind.

Once again Leonado felt the tortuous pressure bearing down on his mind, bending him to Dragonfire’s will. The youth started to tremble, fear washing over him, but nstead of fueling his terror, Dragonfire decided to console him. You’re by far the strongest pupil I have ever trained. That’s why I thought Darkfire would respond to you.

Who are you talking to, little man? the captain asked, swallowing his own terror down. Who do you argue with over a sword? Look at it. He lifted a hand to point at the weapon. It’s old and tarnished. We haven’t fought with archaic weapons like that in years. He sat up, releasing his other hand from the bedhead. The sudden lurching of the ship sent him toppling forward.

Offended by the way he spoke about his enchanted sword, Leonado moved aside to let him slide across the floor. He hit the desk on the other side of the room, his head cracking against its leg. His neck snapped by the impact, killing him in an instant.

Serves you right for sneering, Leonado thought in contempt, turning away from the crumpled body. I couldn’t have done it better had I tried, he thought as the ship keeled again, dangerously so. He would lose her if he didn’t set her to rights.

Spreading out his arms, he extended his calm centre outwards to include the ship, the power flowing from him in warm waves. Its violent rocking motion stilled, until it sat amidst the tempest like an island.

For once Dragonfire remained silent. Perhaps he knew Leonado hadn’t killed the captain on purpose, and saw no need to reprimand him.

Turning to leave the room, he halted. Something strange was happening to the captain’s body. A shroud seemed to be forming above it, until Leonado realized that it was the man’s spirit breaking free.

The young wizard gaped in horror as the ghost rose from the crumpled form on the floor. Now completely naked, he stared down at his discarded body, his face contorting with emotion.

What have you done? he asked brokenly. Krystos had left his body many times before, floating free of constraints through the mists above his ship. All he had to do was will himself to relax, and he would slide from his cumbersome form to drift wherever the will took him.

He couldn’t remember when he’d first broken free; it was simply something he’d always been able to do. Whilst other men sought bliss in a bottle, Krystos found it by slipping into spirit form. He never did it for more than an hour or two, fearing that if he left his body too long, he might never be able to return.

Now he stared down at it, broken and lifeless, and knew it would never be his again.

What do I do now? he cried in despair. You’ve killed me! he screamed, flying at the stranger.

The young wizard felt icy inhuman fingers sliding through his flesh.

Dragonfire, he screamed. Help me!

You brought this upon yourself, young Leonado. I think you should deal with this on your own.

No! Help me! Help me! The coldness ate into him as he flailed helplessly against the being trying to inhabit his body.

Don’t fight like that! Dragonfire ordered. Use your mind. You’re a wizard in training. He is not. Ward him off.

How? Leonado cried.

Haven’t you learnt anything? Use the magic that controls the mind.

But I never mastered it.

Perhaps now is the time.

Despite the icy tendrils already eating into his brain, he forced himself to concentrate on the power of thought. Instead of trying to control another’s mind, he fought to keep his own. He built an imaginary wall around it. But no sooner had he laid the last brick, claws were tearing it down again. The pain was excruciating, but Leonado refused to give in to it. He kept rebuilding the wall.

I’ll do this as long as it takes, he gritted mentally.

At that moment a sailor burst into the cabin. He was young and fair like most of the men Leonado had seen. Captain! Captain! You won’t believe what’s - He stopped dead at the sight of Leonado. Who are you? Then his gaze fell on the captain’s sprawled body.

To his surprise and relief, Leonado suddenly found himself free of the powerful force trying to take over his mind and body. He saw it dart towards the tall sailor. Leonado watched in fascination as the captain’s spirit disappeared into the body of his crewman. The wide, darting eyes stilled as they came to rest on Leonado.

Krystos sighed in relief to finally be anchored again, even if it wasn’t his own treasured body. He knew he would mourn it later, but right now he wondered at how he’d done it. Was it possible that as long as he could find a host, he would never die?

Nothing remained of the man whose body he’d stolen. His memories, his thoughts, they were all dead. Krystos felt like his usual self, but he only had to glance across at the mirror to see who he was; Dirk, a common sailor. No one important. His own perfect body would decay and be no more, but Krystos would live on. He was free of his terrible past at last. He could be whoever he wanted.

He could go home.

The youth knew nothing of his life before this instant in time; not his name nor how he came to be in this predicament. Neither did he know how long he had been floundering in the endless ocean, his limbs growing heavier and heavier from the struggle to remain afloat.

He must have been aboard some kind of vessel, perhaps with other people, but he could see no sign of them now. Had they already drowned or were they struggling to keep afloat like him?

The back of his head ached. He must have been hit by something. Perhaps the very thing which forced him into the ocean. But what had stolen his memory, his name?

I don’t want to die like this, he thought in despair, not knowing where I came from or where I was going.

A wave of weariness swept through him, and he swallowed a mouthful of salty liquid. Alerted again to the need to keep afloat he started treading water, but the energy it required had become unbearable. All he felt was pain, the pain of continuous exertion.

Again the youth lost concentration. This time he went under. His lungs filled with water, and he flailed his arms, kicking his legs, trying to propel himself upwards. He could see the surface, bright sunlight reflecting off the water. Small fish flittered past, their slippery little bodies colliding with his, but the struggle had become too great, and the urge to fight for air left him.

His body grew numb, and he resigned himself to death. Only a moment ago he had been clinging to life with every tortuous breath. Now he just wanted to die. He felt as though he’d been drugged, given something sweet to lull him to sleep.

But he didn’t succumb, not yet. A larger animal body brushed against his midriff, gently pushing him upwards.

Then they broke the surface. The sudden onslaught of fresh air made the youth gasp and retch, gulping in air and water at once.

As his breathing slowly returned to normal, the young man became conscious of lying face down across the sea-creature’s back. He forced his weary eyes open. For a moment the sun glittering against the water blinded him. He squinted, trying to discover what had saved him, but because of the way he lay with his cheek pressed against soft, slippery skin, all he saw was rippling green peaks of water contrasting with the piercing blue sky.

But then another creature surfaced nearby. It shot out of the water, arching into the air. With its short, round snout, the youth deduced that it was a mammal. How he knew this he had no idea. He even remembered what these animals were called.

Impulsively he hugged the dolphin keeping him afloat. It responded with a few soft clicks of reassurance. Even though he couldn’t understand their words, he grasped their general meaning. But why had they rescued him from certain death? He communicated his gratitude, his fingers caressing the creature’s smooth, wet skin.

After clinging gratefully to the sea creature for a time, the young man noticed a different shade of green from the corner of his eye. He saw tree tops, but they weren’t a species he recognized. Their leaves were enormous. Long with pointed ridges, they drooped over slender, ringed trunks. As his two rescuers swum closer to the shore, wide expanse of blinding white sand came into view.

Suddenly the other dolphin butted him in the side. The push made him release the companion, and he slipped from its back. He cursed, flailing his arms, but then his feet touched bottom. Firm, soft sand sifted through his toes.

The youth struggled towards the beach, his movements awkward and uncoordinated. A few times he turned to seek out his rescuers, but they seemed to have vanished as magically as they had appeared.

He stumbled, his knees scraping bottom, and he dropped onto all fours, watching the sand swirl around his fingers. He crouched there, wet tendrils of hair dripping water into his eyes, the wonder of his rescue filling his mind.

He had