Sapphire by Elayne Griffith Page B

it,” said Mira. “The first realm.”
    Her black coat was tinged with morning fire as they
descended into the valley.
     
     
     
     

     
    Long white fingers, untouched with age, swept over
the dead rose bushes. For a moment they blossomed then flew from
the vines, creating a gentle whirlwind of colorful petals. They
continued to swirl, changing colors, from orange to red to violet,
following their conductor's dancing hands. The figure, with long
blonde hair like sunlight melting down her back, continued sweeping
her hands over hundreds of bare rose bushes in the crumbling
courtyard, leaving a cyclone of petals in her wake.
    She flicked her wrist. Where the petals once floated
now fluttered hundreds of purplish-black butterflies. She glided to
the stairway, regally advancing up them towards a solid
stonewall.
    “Oh there you are,” chided a crackling voice as she
materialized through the wall into a plain chamber.
    The hidden door sealed her inside with her guest.
She raised her chin at the stooped old figure awaiting her
arrival.
    “Are you sure we won’t be detected?” said the old
woman. “I cannot stay here long. Her power is still very
strong.”
    “Yes. I’ve wound concealing spells into the stones
themselves,” the youthful woman answered. She stopped a few inches
from the infested nest of hair before her. A frog peered out at her
and blinked. She wrinkled her nose at it. “What do you have to tell
me?”
    The frog croaked.
    “Shut up, you,” said Capella, jabbing it with her
finger. “Pestering amphibian. She is not a Gorgon.”
    The frog croaked again.
    “Yes, well, I suppose she might be. Shall I
put you on her head then?”
    “Enough, enough. We don’t have much time,” said the
beautiful blonde woman, waving a hand. “Did you give her the
fragments?”
    “Of course. She’ll know what to do with them
eventually. Don’t worry your pretty face, or you might get
wrinkles.”
    The woman looked past her, eyes staring blankly at
the opposite wall.
    “Where are they traveling to?” she said.
    “The Monoliths.”
    They were both silent for a moment, then the younger
woman spoke, “The Monoliths, why? Does the unicorn suspect
anything? Are they being followed?”
    “I doubt it. Maybe she has another reason for going
to the soleon’s lair.”
    “Why is Mira taking her there?” Her face was taught
as she turned on Capella. “They’re wasting time .”
    Capella shrugged. “If the minds of dragons are
slippery, then the mind of a unicorn is even more so. Far be it
from me, or anyone, to tell a unicorn what to do. Easier to clip
its horn.”
    “ Silence!” The woman spat, clenching her
fists.
    “Forgive me,” Capella said, bowing her head. Chester
eyed the ground. “That is not what I meant to imply.” She looked up
into the woman’s blazing eyes.
    “We have to be careful, Capella. You can’t be
discovered. We test the boundaries of these walls already. Her
power is weakening, yet…what if it’s all too late.” It was not a
question, but a statement of fear.
    “You’re getting a wrinkle.” Capella pointed a bony
hand at the woman’s forehead. “It’s right there.”
    “This is no joke. Everything depends on
Ava.”
    “Shawna.”
    “What?”
    “She likes to be called Shawna.”
    The woman pursed her lips and extended her hands.
“Watch her, guide her, and find out what the unicorn’s motives
are.”
    “I will,” Capella said, taking the unblemished hands
into her own.
    The woman whispered the next question so quietly it
was almost lost in the sighing wind outside the window. “Have you
found him?”
    “No, but Sparkle and I search everyday. You will be together again.”
    Capella scrutinized the calculating face unaltered
by time. She wondered, through blurred vision, what thoughts
chiseled the marbled mind of her sister, Adhara.
     

     
    Shawna was mystified by her surroundings. At first,
only tiny crystals glistened and winked in the sand as they climbed
down into