The Quest for the Heart Orb (6 page)

“We’ve always believed that they intended to simply kill everyone and claim Rathira for themselves, but the truth is not so merciful.  The Djinn drink what they call
life energy. 
Every living creature has it to a greater or lesser degree, and while they don’t need it to survive, it does make them stronger and more powerful.  It’s like a drug to them.  They actually crave it.  They drink it like we drink water, and their desire is never fully slaked.  They go from world to world, universe to universe, leaving nothing behind but empty husks.  They’ve gone through every universe in their own dimension, and Rathira is their entry point to ours.”  Kapia squeezed his hand so hard it actually hurt, and Karma looked as though she was about to be ill.  Bredon understood.  He’d been ill himself. 

“Why have they never been stopped?” Zakiel asked.

“I don’t know,” Bredon replied with a tired sigh.  “The Djinn are different from us in every way.  They have no curiosity.  They do not create, or build.  They don’t read, or write, or care about their own history.  They don’t have cities.  They don’t have medicine, or science, or technology, or interest in anything other than warring against each other, and obtaining more life energy to consume.  They are as old as time itself, and yet they exist now as they did on the first day of their creation.”

“Do they have any weaknesses at all?” Zakiel asked.

Bredon shrugged.  “They do not die unless they’re killed, but they do weaken if deprived of victims to provide them with life energy.  Right now they are weaker than at any time in their memory.  They’ve exhausted every resource available to them, and have done nothing for a thousand years but wait for this chance to invade Rathira.”

“If they fail, will they weaken enough to become permanently trapped on Skiatos?”

“Maybe,” Bredon replied.  “But it would take another few thousand years which, to the Djinn, is not so long.  To us, it’s long enough that it might as well be never.” 

“Then we won’t count on that,” Zakiel said.  He sipped his brandy, holding the burning liquid on his tongue in an effort to conquer the bad taste left by Bredon’s words.  He set the cup down and changed the subject.  “What of Marene?  We don’t even know what she is any more.”

“The Djinn word for her is
Myrkur
,” Bredon said.  “To them she is an aberration that they thought to use for their own purposes.  Now that she has Zatroa, that’s changed a bit.”

“What is her appearance?”

“It’s almost funny,” Bredon said, looking anything but amused.  “Marene has always been vain of her beauty, as we all know.  Now that she’s a creature of nightmares, her vanity has increased a hundred fold.  She hides her real appearance from me, or so she thinks, not because it’s horrific, but because she doesn’t want me to see her true power.  I almost wish that I couldn’t see beyond the human form she reveals to me.”

“Will you describe her to us?” Karma asked.

“When she displays a human form she looks as she always did,” Bredon said.  He shrugged.  “Mostly.  She slips up now and then.  Her true form is…monstrous.  I just don’t have another word for it.  She used the power of Zatroa to take what she wanted from the demons populating the black woods of Darkly Fen, and combined them into a creature of her own design.  She appears to be part snake, part dragon, and part gigantic dog, or was the last time I saw her.  She changes according to either whim or ability, I don’t know which.”  Bredon shuddered with disgust.  “Worst of all is the grotesque version of her own head that she retains no matter how many changes she makes to the rest of her body.  That, and a set of human arms and hands.  The last time I spoke with her I noticed that she now has bat-like wings, so I assume she’s learned to fly.”

“Do you know what she plans to do with her newfound power?” Zakiel asked.

“At the moment she wants a truce between you, and her,” Bredon replied.

“A truce?” Zakiel asked in surprise. 

“She wants to work with us against the Djinn, to prevent them from invading Rathira,” Bredon said.  “She wants it for herself, of course, which will need to be dealt with after the Djinn are no longer a threat.”

“Do you trust her?” Zakiel asked.

“No, not for a moment,” Bredon said emphatically.  “But I know she’s telling the truth on this matter, and I believe we will need her against the Djinn.”

“According to the message we got from Worrow, he believes the same thing,” Karma said.

“What message?” Bredon asked.  “Aside from my part in his death, I mean.”

Zakiel repeated the message, word for word, that Zabeth had delivered.  While he spoke, he noticed how weary Bredon looked.  “Shall we continue, Bredon, or would you prefer to rest?”

“We need to continue,” Bredon said.  “There is much to tell you and I cannot rest until I’ve done so.  I will begin at the beginning, and tell you everything from the first day.”

It was growing late and Bredon was hoarse by the time he finished his story.  They’d long since switched from brandy to tea, but now Zakiel reached for the flask again.  He needed another drink after all he’d just learned.

“You’re certain of all this?” he asked, handing the flask to Bredon, who poured a healthy splash into his cup and handed it back.

“I’m positive,” he said.  “It’s not just Rathira that’s at risk if we fail to hold back the Djinn.  Our world is only the beginning.  From here, they will spread until they’ve destroyed every living being on every planet within the Thousand Worlds and beyond, just as they’ve done to countless universes in their own dimension.”

“Finally, I understand why Riata sent me here,” Karma said. 

“Who is Riata?” Zakiel asked.

Karma sighed, almost wishing she hadn’t said that out loud.  It was late and everyone was tired, including herself.  She didn’t feel up to telling the whole story, but she couldn’t leave them hanging either.  “Before I came to Rathira I was on a world called Jasan.  That’s when I was given the winged ankh.  A Spirit Guide named Riata encouraged me to follow my feelings and come here, to Rathira.  She appeared again the first time I spoke with King Rhobar alone.  She told me how to use the Ti-Ank to call on Techu Samyi, and she said a few things that helped me to decide to stay here and help.  I never understood
why
though.  Don’t get me wrong, she was very kind and very helpful, but she’s a Spirit Guide for Jasan, and they have quite enough problems of their own to keep her busy.  I couldn’t figure out why she took such an interest in me, or Rathira.  Now I know.”

“Do you think you could contact her?” Kapia asked.  “Maybe she could help us somehow.”

“I’ve tried before and will certainly try again,” Karma said.  “But I’m not going to hold my breath.  What I really wish is that I could contact Jasan somehow.  They have both magic and technology, and I know they would help us.”

“Perhaps Samyi or Zabeth could carry a message,” Kapia suggested.

“They’re not Spirit Guides, so I don’t think they could do that,” Karma said.  “Even if they could, there’s no one on Jasan capable of seeing or hearing them that I know of.  Worrow will eventually be a Spirit Guide, but it will be some time before he can advise us.”

“It seems that we are meant to handle this on our own,” Zakiel said, then sighed.  “It is a strange thing to be thankful for but I am, nonetheless, thankful that Marene has that accursed scepter.”

“Yes, I am too,” Bredon said.  “Thankful, and horrified.”

“You have the ability to speak with her, and to see through her lies,” Zakiel said.  “Those are marks in our favor and we will count them as such.”  He raised his glass and finished his brandy.  “It grows late, and you are in need of rest, Cousin, as are we all.  Whatever is left to discuss will have to wait until tomorrow.  Go and get some sleep.”

Bredon set his empty cup down and got to his feet, then offered Kapia a hand up.  “I’ll walk you home,” he said.  Kapia nodded, her head buzzing with all she’d learned.  After they said their good nights to Zakiel and Karma, they stepped outside and paused to breathe in the cold night air.

“I know you’re holding something back, Bredon,” Kapia said softly as she slipped her hand into his, her gaze on the stars overhead. 

“Yes, I am,” Bredon admitted.  “I will not lie to you, Kapia.  Not again.  But there are some things I’m not ready to reveal just yet.  I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Kapia said.  “I ask only that you don’t keep secrets from me because you don’t trust my ability to accept the truth.”

“I promise, my love,” Bredon said. 

“Good,” she said, relaxing.  “Come on.  It’s very late, and you need to get some sleep.”

Chapter Three

Sir Marl of the House of Muran stood on a rocky ledge overlooking a deep ravine on the western face of the
Hidden Sister
, leaning lightly on his spear as he gazed unseeing at the view below him.  Several weeks had passed since his mysterious absence from, and equally mysterious return to the Orb Quest.  In that time his face had lost the gaunt, almost skeletal appearance he’d had on that day and, thanks to many hours of sparring with his fellow Hunters, he’d regained his former strength and speed as well.

To look at him, some would think he was completely recovered from his long ordeal.  Those who knew him well, knew better.  Marl had always been a fierce warrior, but a thoughtful man, never talkative, but not silent, either.  These days he spoke only in response to a query, or to give a required acknowledgement to a command.

He knew that everyone was worried about him, and he appreciated their concern.  He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.  He didn’t know how to explain his feelings, or how to describe the fear that nearly suffocated him at times.  If only he could remember.  If only he knew what he’d done, or where he’d gone, or what had happened to him.  But, aside from one, brief memory that he worried and picked at during most of his waking hours, all he had were vague, shadowy recollections of darkness and pain, anger and despair.  And the eternal, infernal questions over the state of his honor.  Had he lost it?  Had it been torn from him?  Or had he given it away as though it were a cheap trinket in exchange for something he couldn’t even remember, or worse, nothing at all?

He felt a moment’s resentment toward Sir Bredon who’d returned a few days earlier.  He’d been too thin, and there was something in his eyes that spoke of hardship and horror, but at least he’d known where he’d been and what had happened to him. 

An unexpected movement interrupted his dark thoughts, and he shifted his gaze down and a little to the east, instantly alert.  Most people used the trail down the southern face of the mountain to the river that snaked around the foot of the
Hidden Sister
when they left the settlement.  That was, of course, precisely why he always chose to seek solitude on the western side.  Therefore, he was surprised to see a lone figure following the little-used western trail up the mountain.

The figure was completely covered in a long brown cloak with a deep hood raised against the cold mountain air, but he felt certain it was a female.  There was something about the way she moved, in spite of the bulky pack strapped to her back.  He watched for a few moments, surprised to find that he was actually curious about the unknown woman.  What did she look like?  How old was she?  Why was she climbing the
Hidden Sister
?

The answer to his last question came to him the moment he thought it.  She had to be the Maiden of the Heart Orb that everyone was waiting for.  But why was she alone?  A woman critically important to the future of Rathira should not be walking alone and unguarded up the side of a mountain teeming with dangerous wildlife.  It made no sense.  Maybe he’d made a mistake.  Maybe it was a man. 

He studied the figure again, but as much as he wanted it to be a man, he knew that it wasn’t.  He looked down her back trail, searching the twists and turns of the path for more people, hoping she’d just decided to walk ahead of her companions.  But, as far as he could tell from his vantage point, she really was alone.

He frowned when a stealthy movement about a half mile behind the woman caught his attention.  Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he waited, trusting the sharp warning of his instincts more than his eyes.  A short time later his patience paid off when a patch of what had appeared to be an area of dappled shade beneath a tree began to move stealthily up the woman’s back trail.

Marl growled softly.  A bear-cat.  Big, fast, and deadly dangerous even to an armed and experienced Hunter in his prime.  His gaze shifted back to the woman, mentally calculating how much time he had.  For a fraction of a second he considered, and discarded, the idea of shouting a warning.  Even if it didn’t frighten her, the sudden noise could incite the bear-cat into stepping up its attack.  If she was, as he suspected, the Maiden of the Heart, he couldn’t take the smallest risk with her safety.  That left only one option, and he’d have to move very quickly in order to implement it.

Ren knew that she was being followed.  She glanced behind herself several times, but with all the twists and turns of the trail as it wound its way up the mountain, she couldn’t see very far.  She hitched her pack higher and kept walking, forcing herself to breathe evenly and keep her pace steady.  Although dangerous wildlife was sparse on
Nu Senna
because of the humans who’d lived there for so long, there were some predators.  She knew better than to start running.  Only prey ran. 

She scanned her surroundings as she walked, searching for a suitable place to make a stand.  A small cave, a large boulder, even a good sized tree.  Anything solid that she could put at her back and, hopefully, convince whatever was stalking her that she was more trouble than she was worth.  A stick or branch, something sturdy enough to use as a weapon, would come in handy as well.  Unfortunately, with a deep ravine on one side of the trail, and a steep wall of dirt on the other, her options were severely limited. 

She rounded a turn and let her breath out in a relieved whoosh when she saw a deadfall at the side of the trail.  She hurried to it, selected a likely looking branch already broken from the trunk and picked it up.  It was heavy enough to use as a weapon, maybe too heavy for her to swing around for very long, but it would do.