Quest for the Sun Orb (4 page)

Caral and Lashi had been sworn to secrecy regarding the orb.  Everyone with the Orb Quest knew, or assumed, she had it, since that was the purpose of the quest.  She didn’t think it would be a good idea to let everyone see it just yet.  Caral was making a bag for her to carry the orb in, but for now, she would keep it wrapped in the scarf and sleep with it beside her.  As she lay in her bed, waiting to drift off to sleep, she thought of Bredon and, for some reason, the day she’d told him she was to join the Orb Quest.

Kapia left her father’s private audience chamber happier than she could remember being in a very long time.  She was all but skipping down the corridors of the palace as she made her way toward Karma’s apartments, eager to share her news. 

“You seem very happy, Cousin Kapia,” Bredon said, stepping into the corridor just a few yards in front of her.

Kapia stumbled in surprise, her leather sandals sliding along the polished floor.  She lost her balance, stuck out one hand to catch herself against the wall and came to a graceless stop.  She felt her face heat with embarrassment.  Why did she always make a fool of herself whenever Bredon was around? she wondered.

“I’m sorry, Cousin Kapia,” Bredon said, hurrying forward a few steps as though to help her.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s all right, Sir Bredon,” she replied, taking her hand from the wall and standing up straight, trying to pretend she hadn’t nearly fallen on her rear.  “It’s my own fault.  But yes, I am very happy.  I am to join the Orb Quest.”

 “Yes, so I have been told,” Bredon said, his smile fading.

“You don’t approve?” Kapia asked.

“It is not mine to approve or disapprove,” Bredon replied.  “The Orb Quest will be a long and perilous journey, though.  I am concerned that it will be too difficult for one such as you.”

“One such as me?” Kapia asked, her happiness gone in a flash of hurt and anger.  “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Only that you are young and gentle,” Bredon said, uncertain why Kapia seemed upset.  “I fear that the hardships we will surely face on this journey will be difficult for you to bear.”

“I am not as young and gentle as you perceive me to be, Sir Bredon,” Kapia retorted.  “There are those who see me as I am, rather than as the child I once was and, happily, it is their opinion that is required, not yours.”

With that, Kapia stepped around Bredon and hurried away, wanting only to escape his presence before the tears she was fighting had a chance to fall. 

Chapter Two

Bredon awoke from an unpleasant dream of the day he’d lost all hope of ever winning Kapia, to a painful throbbing in both of his hands.  He raised them to his eyes, shocked to see several deep slashes across each of his palms.  He turned his hands over to look at the backs, but the skin there was unmarred.  He struggled to make his brain work, searching for the memory of how he’d come to have such strange wounds, but nothing came to him.  He sat up, shaking his head in confusion, and reached for his pack. 

A cup of hot tea might help to wake him up and clear his mind.  He flipped the cover flap back and started to reach inside, then stilled, frowning.  Like all Hunters, he kept his pack in order, a place for everything and everything in its place.  Yet the contents of his pack looked as though someone had upended it, then shoved everything back in.  Just as he began to wonder if he’d lost his mind, the answer hit him.

“Marene,” he said, spitting the name out like a curse.  “I see you’ve been busy while I slept.  I suppose that answers one question.”

He neither heard, nor expected to hear an answer as he dumped the pack out and sifted through the contents for the container that held his tea.  He reached for the water skin, put water in the pot he’d used the night before, then started to stir up the fire when he realized it was dead.  He frowned again, certain that he’d banked it.  It took only a moment to realize that Marene was to blame for that as well.  Not only was the fire out, there were only a few thin sticks of wood left from the pile he’d gathered for his morning fire. 

Bredon got up with a sigh of resignation and went to gather more wood.  Luckily he was in the forest, so there was no lack of dry fuel scattered about, and it took him just a few minutes to gather what he needed.  He returned to his camp, started the fire, put water on to heat, then went to check on the diplo.  By the time he returned the water was hot.  He poured some out for tea, then crumbled a cake of
kinsaki
in the remaining water and returned it to the fire.  He sipped his tea, then reordered his pack while waiting for the
kinsaki
to break down into a hot soup which he ate with a small bit of the bread he’d grabbed before leaving the Sirelina. 

After fixing himself another cup of tea, he studied the cuts on his hands more closely.  They were clean cuts, but deep.  He reopened his pack and took out the wound kit.  He washed the cuts with fresh water, then applied a salve before wrapping each hand with a strip of clean cloth to keep the dirt out.  As he worked, he tried to imagine what Marene had done to cause such wounds, but he couldn’t think of a plausible explanation.

Only when he began gathering his dishes up to wash in the nearby stream did he see his belt knife lying between two of the rocks he’d used to enclose his campfire.  He picked it up, immediately seeing the dried blood covering the blade.

It was clear that Marene had used the knife to make the cuts.  What wasn’t clear was why she’d done it.  If it had been to cause him pain, it had failed, since he had no memory of it.  If she’d been in charge of his body enough to stir up the fire, dig through his pack, and use the knife to cut his hands, it seemed logical to assume that she had felt the pain herself.  Yet she had made several deep cuts, each the same length and depth.  They had certainly been painful when inflicted.

He reached for the water again to clean the blade, trying to understand what Marene had done.  She’d built up the fire high enough, or long enough, that most of the wood he’d gathered had been used.  She’d made multiple controlled cuts in his hands that had to have bled profusely, yet he saw no more than a few drops of blood scattered on the ground before the fire.  Had she performed some sort of ritual?  He dried the now clean blade and returned it to the sheath at his belt.  Then he sat down and reached cautiously for that dark place in his mind where he’d found Marene the day before.

He found her easily enough, strange as it was, but she seemed to be sleeping.  Was it possible for them to communicate with each other?  Or were they going to share his body, with one in control only while the other was asleep.  It was time to find out, he decided. 

He hesitated, unsure how to go about awaking someone who appeared to be asleep in his mind.  He imagined himself touching her in the same way he would jostle a sleeping person awake with his hand.  He had a sudden sensation of icy cold and jerked back.  How could he feel with his mind? he wondered.  He shook his head and took a deep breath, then reached out again, steeling himself against the coldness.  This time he didn’t hesitate.  He reached in and shook her hard, once, twice, three times, before withdrawing.

“What do you want?”
Marene asked, surprising him.  It had worked!

“I want to know what you’re doing in my mind,” Bredon replied, speaking aloud.  “No, I take that back.  I just want you gone.”

“I promise you, Sir Bredon, I wish for no less.”

“Good, then goodbye and good riddance to you,” Bredon said.

“It is not so easy as that,”
Marene replied. 
“Believe me, I tried.  You will find the evidence of my efforts on your hands.”

“I found them,” he said.  “You didn’t seem to have any trouble invading me, I see no reason why it should be harder for you to leave.”

“You have no understanding of how such things work,”
Marene said. 

“Nor do I want an understanding,” Bredon replied.  “I only want you gone.”

“If you want me gone, Knight, you will have to work with me to make it happen.”

Bredon fell silent as he considered that.  The idea of working with Marene for any reason was not a pleasant one.  But if that was what it would take, what choice did he have?

“Work with you how, Hara Marene?”

“
Under the circumstances, perhaps we can dispense with the formalities,”
Marene suggested.  He had the strong impression that she was rolling her eyes at him.  Odd, since she had no eyes.  He repressed a shudder.  Still, she had a point.  Using formal address with someone who currently resided within his mind seemed ridiculous.

“Fine,” he agreed.  “How must I work with you,
Marene
?”

“It will take strong magic for us to separate, Bredon,”
Marene said. 
“Unfortunately, your body contains no magical ability whatsoever, which significantly reduces my power.  There is an...artifact...which will counteract your influence, and enhance my abilities.  We must get it.  Only then can we go our separate ways.”

“How will you go your separate way without a body?” 

“The artifact will allow me to solve that problem,”
she replied vaguely.

Bredon wasn’t sure he really wanted an answer to that question anyway, so he let it go for the moment.  “Where is this artifact?”

“In a place called Darkly Fen,”
Marene replied. 
“Do you know it?”

Bredon frowned.  He knew almost nothing about Darkly Fen, other than it was an ill-omened place.  “I’ve heard of it, but I have no idea how to find it from where we are now.  Or how long it will take us to get there.”

“I know how to get there,”
Marene replied. 
“As for the length of time it will take to reach it, does it really matter?  If the journey is too long, will you decide you don’t mind my presence in your mind?”

“No, Marene, I will never
not mind
having you inside of me,” Bredon growled softly.  “I want only to be rid of you, the sooner the better.”

“At least we are in agreement on that much,”
she replied. 
“Now, if you don’t mind, I had a long night and want to go back to sleep.”

“Why do you need to sleep when you used my body?”

“Your body, my powers,”
Marene said. 
“If you want to be free of me, I suggest you get busy.”

Bredon frowned, but sensed that Marene had already gone back to sleep.  If that was the right word for it.  He wasn’t sure about that and didn’t really want to think on it any further. 

He stood up, left the cave and looked up at the morning sky.  While Marene had been talking he’d tried to find a way to get inside of her mind.  It hadn’t worked, though there had been a moment when he’d almost caught...something.  Then it slipped away.  It seemed to him that, since she was inside of his mind, he should be able to discover what she was thinking.  On the bright side, if he didn’t know what she was thinking, didn’t that mean that she couldn’t spy on his thoughts, either?

He didn’t think it would be too difficult to test that theory.  Marene was the very definition of
vanity
.  It would be easy enough to use that against her.  Not that it really mattered all that much.  For now, the only option he had was to go along with her plan to find this artifact, whatever it was.

Unless
...Bredon smiled.  Worrow.  He’d nearly forgotten his decision to seek Worrow’s aid.  If he was unable to help with Marene, maybe he’d be able to give him some information about Darkly Fen.  Simply knowing where it was, and how long it would take to reach it would be helpful.

For now, he’d move closer to the village.  Moving quickly, Bredon gathered his belongings, doused the fire, and saddled the diplo.  He urged the diplo into a ground eating trot on his return path, feeling as though there might be a chance for him after all.  It wasn’t until he was half way back to the village of the Sirelina that it occurred to him to wonder whether or not Kapia, Karma, and Zakiel had been successful on their quest for the Moon Orb.

Chapter Three

Prince Zakiel of the House of Feenis, future King of Isiben, and Hunt General in charge of the fabled Orb Quest, stared down at the woman standing before the door of a tiny mud hut, glaring at him in open defiance, and struggled to decide how best to respond to her.  Never had he been confronted in such an offensive manner, or by such an offensive figure. 

The woman’s hair was an equal mix of gray and dull brown, her figure bony, her face showing only the slightest hint of what might once have been beauty beneath the deep grooves that anger, disappointment and years of dissatisfaction had scored into her flesh.  She wasn’t exactly dirty, but neither was she clean, and her clothing was finer than one would expect in such a place, on such a person.

“Whatever it is you want, fancy man, you will not find it here,” she declared haughtily, as though she were royalty and he a rude peasant. 

Karma urged Dippy forward so that she was just a couple of paces ahead of Zakiel.  “We seek the Maiden of the Sun,” she said, her soft gray eyes, usually so warm and kind, now cold.  Aside from the woman’s vulgar behavior toward her husband, there was something about her that rubbed Karma the wrong way.  “We were told by Worrow,
Zamon
of the Sirelina, that she is to be found here.”

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in speculation as she took a closer look at the company filling the small clearing.  A heartbeat later her entire demeanor changed.  She relaxed her shoulders, lifted her chin and smiled coyly at Zakiel, acting for all the world as though she were a young coquette.  “Why did you not say so?” she asked.  “I am the Maiden of the Sun.”

Zakiel’s grimace of distaste and disbelief was quickly hidden, but not quickly enough to keep the woman from seeing it.  Her smile vanished as fast as it had come and she opened her mouth to speak again, but Karma spoke first.