I’m beyond perplexed as to where the crystals are or how we’ll access them through such a tiny portal.
Perhaps a potion to drink that will make us smaller ala Alice in Wonderland?
Temen moves to the small door, and I sneak a glance at Carrick. He merely smiles and nods toward Temen, indicating I should watch.
So I do.
The demi-god raises his hands about shoulder high, facing the door. He chants something so low I cannot make out the words. A distinct whirring noise starts all around us, but then seems to focalize on the wall that holds the small door as if something behind the door might be moving on tracks or via a cable. It’s distinctly mechanized sounding, yet I’d bet One Bean that nothing is mechanized about this.
It’s purely magic, I’m sure.
The noise stops, Temen’s chant ceases, and he reaches out to grasp the knob. It doesn’t pull open. Instead, he slides it up. The interior is white like the walls and is brightened by a light I can’t see. Set horizontally on a white rounded base is a crystal.
I’m startled to see it’s the same type of crystal I’d seen in Arwen’s hut, which were cylindrical, about an inch in diameter, and while the column was smooth, the ends were rough-cut points. While the crystals in Arwen’s home were multi-colored, the one on the base is opaque white and about six inches long.
Temen reaches out and grabs it. He turns to Carrick and opens his palm with the crystal lying across it, but not in a way meant to offer it to Carrick. Not just yet.
“What exactly would you like to see?” Temen asks.
Carrick tips his head toward me. “I’d actually like to see her memories of our time together in Ireland when she was Eireann and I was Banan.”
“Of course,” Temen says, then starts to wave his other hand over the crystal.
“Wait,” I exclaim, and Temen stops, looking at me curiously. “Carrick just tells you that limited information—Ireland and our names then—and you know what to pull up?”
“I know what every crystal holds,” Temen replies mildly.
“You know what’s in every crystal that holds every memory, event, and history since the dawn of time?” I ask skeptically.
Because that’s impossible.
“No,” he replies with a shake of his head and an understanding smile. “That would make my head explode. But when I hold a crystal and you give me the basics of what you need, I just know how to access it.”
My head whips toward Carrick. “Sort of how Sarvel just knows when to intervene in my life.”
He shrugs in response. “The gods work in mysterious ways.”
“Well, it’s convenient if nothing else,” I quip before turning back to Temen with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Please go on.”
Temen’s blue eyes crinkle at the corners, indicating his amusement, then he waves his hand over the crystal again. When it starts to glow in a yellowish-white hue, he slowly holds it out for me to take.
I look to Carrick for guidance.
“Go ahead. Pick it up.”
I’m overwhelmed with excitement but terrified as well. I’m like an amnesiac getting ready to learn what my life was all about, and I’m scared there are portions I might not like.
With resolve, I reach out and grab the crystal.
The minute I do, my entire body locks as if I’m completely frozen in place. My brain tells my arm to move, but it refuses.
But then I have no opportunity to worry about my lack of mobility because I’m suddenly assaulted with flashes of memories that are flickering so fast before my eyes that I can’t keep up with them. They’re moving laterally across my vision, left to right, but I’m lucky if I have even a second to focus on a scene before another appears.
I hear voices, conversations, and music.
I feel the sun warming my skin and snow on my tongue.
I’m laughing and crying and moaning with passion.
I’m helpless to move or turn it off, so I give up trying to make heads or tails of it. I just stare ahead, watching the flickering scenes of my life go by until it suddenly ends and my body is released.
When I sag just a little, Carrick’s arm comes around my waist and he takes the crystal gently from me, handing it back to Temen.
“That was too much… too fast,” I mutter in dismay. “I couldn’t comprehend it.”
“Just give it a moment,” Carrick urges, squeezing my waist.
“No, it was—”
And like a curtain is lifted before my eyes, I suddenly remember every single thing from the time Carrick rescued me from the Viking raider until the moment when I somehow appeared before a strange man with a brilliant blue mohawk, his hand wrapped around my throat.
I know that last memory was the moment right before he broke my neck and killed me.