by Ayre, Janice
Brock had a troubled sleep and woke the next morning with one thought on his mind. He had to get to the other inn and see Orville. He tried not to seem in too much haste to finish his meal and used the excuse that he must make an early start so as to join Zebulon before the day was through.
He bade his friends goodbye as graciously as he could and then, once out of sight of the inn, ran all the way to the other inn. Orville was not there. Even though it was still early morning he feared he may have missed him. He asked at the inn if he had been in. No one had seen him. All morning and part of the afternoon he waited, but Orville did not come. Brock began to have dark thoughts that Zebulon had somehow found out about Orville being here and detained him, or done something worse. To reach home before nightfall he was forced to leave without the answers he craved.
Even riding hard, he only managed to reach the cottage as the sun was disappearing behind the horizon.
"I was wondering what had happened. I expected you much sooner, " said Zebulon as Brock dismounted.
"I slept in and then Uri and Elvira wouldn't let me go until they had fed me all the special foods she had made," he lied. Brock often didn't tell Zebulon everything, but this was the first lie he had told him. It made him very uncomfortable.
"That must have been a terrible ordeal for you," was Zebulon's crisp reply.
There was little said between them for the rest of the evening. It was not the normal quiet they often shared but a strained uncomfortable silence. Brock excused himself on the grounds of being tired and went to bed early. Lying on his bed he lost himself to dark unhappy thoughts.
Zebulon too, had his own thoughts and concerns. He knew something was wrong with Brock and he hoped with the new day he would have the wish to confide in him. The journey had been hard on a young one he concluded. He needed to speed up the process. His own longing for Saniyah was becoming unendurable. He ached for her.
Chapter Nine
Doubt
A dark shape loomed over Brock. A wizard, his eyes blazing, uttered strange words. As his voice built to a deafening crescendo Brock sat boldly upright in bed, his eyes wide in fear.
Zebulon stood beside his bed. "Steady, young lad, you had a bad dream," he said, his voice soothing.
Brock looked at him blankly. Zebulon offered him a cup of warm liquid. "Here, I've made you some herbal tea because you were moaning in your sleep."
With one firm sweep Brock hit the cup from Zebulon's hand and it crashed to the floor.
Zebulon, realising that Brock was not fully awake, calmly retrieved the cup. "I'll make you some more,"
"No don't." Brock was becoming calmer but still looked at the cup as if it had been poison.
"It's just Camomile and Passion flowers and a few other herbs to help you sleep comfortably."
"I said I don't want anything. Leave me alone!" Brock snapped.
Zebulon shrugged, touched his hand to the globe so that the room was once more plunged into darkness, and returned to his bed. Neither Zebulon or Brock slept much more that night, each thinking about the other and trying to make sense of what was happening.
As the weak morning light filtered into the cottage and touched Brock's face, he felt relief that darkness was dispelled. He had not slept since being woken from his nightmare. The experience and the images were so vivid to him that he could not shake the feeling that something had in reality, taken place. His body felt heavy and he knew he would not have the energy to work.
Zebulon had not slept any more that night but a restlessness in him drove him to rise as soon as dawn approached and prepare for work. In an attempt to make no further reference to the night terror experienced by Brock, he committed to a casual attitude.
"We are both awake so early, may as well make an early start. Without you being here yesterday, I made little headway."
"I'm not working with you today," said Brock.
Zebulon looked surprised. "Are you sick?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll prepare you some herbs and you can rest here for the day."
"I don't want your herbs!"
"They are not my herbs, they are Karman's." He continued to mix several herbs leaving them to infuse in hot water while he prepared a morning meal. "Do you want to eat?"
"No."
Brock waited until Zebulon had left and then emptied the carefully prepared tea on the ground. The young elf considered the possibility of riding back into the village to search for Orville. He desperately wanted to have more information. The obstacle to the plan, apart from explaining to Zebulon where he had disappeared to, was that, even if he managed to entice his horse to come to him, he would have to ask the wizard to relax the spell so that he could take the horse from the surrounding area. It had not occurred to him previously because he had no occasion to leave without Zebulon's sanction, but unless he travelled on foot, he was a prisoner.
An uneasiness prevailed in him and he replayed the events of the previous day over in his mind. He ran his hand over the large tree roots that shared the room with him, wishing he could profit from its wisdom of years. It was then he thought about the opal. The black of the opal seemed to hide the mysteries of life, and the blazing red sent tingling power through his veins. Brock had an overwhelming desire to hold it once more.
Zebulon's bag lay by his bed. Brock felt around for where he knew Zebulon kept the pouch. The wizard was so precise where he placed things that any item could be found easily in the dark. Withdrawing the pouch, Brock emptied its contents. He carefully replaced the blue one, but the red one was retained. He waited for it to transport his mind to a wonderful place of freedom and enlightenment but no such thing happened. Instead of the expected rush of energy and hope, there was a feeling of those forces being drawn from him.
In dejection he placed the gem back in the pouch. Restlessly he moved around outside the cottage only to return a short time later to take up the fiery black opal. This pattern was repeated throughout the morning until Zebulon returned for rest and refreshment. Several times Brock wanted to talk to the wizard about his concerns but found he could not decide if Zebulon's mood was one of concern or suspicion so he kept his problems to himself. Zebulon insisted on making more tea but Brock emptied it on the ground as soon as Zebulon's back was turned.
For days the same routine continued. Instead of recovering, Brock began to look gaunt. He ate very little, slept little and had no inclination to talk. His obsession with the opal became worse to the point of consuming his thoughts. Once Zebulon left for the mine, Brock would rush to the bag for the gem. Still Brock expected it to satisfy his hunger but instead it would pierce him like a knife to his very soul. It stirred within him every fear, every hurt, and any negative emotion he had ever experienced. The pain took on a physical reality and when this became too much for him, he would thrust the opal from himself, only to take it up again to saturate his being with dismay. He reached the point where he kept the opal on him at all times, hoping at first that Zebulon would not discover it missing, but finally not even caring about that possibility.
Zebulon was puzzled by Brock's behaviour. He made a decision to travel to Kotonia for some stronger herbs. He did not like the look of the young elf.
"Let me go," said Brock. His eyes glowed with an unnatural light. He looked as if he was drugged.
"You cannot make the journey in your condition. I will be back before nightfall." Zebulon looked ragged as well. The harsh life was taking its toll on both of them.
Although Brock pleaded to go, it was to no avail. Zebulon had made up his mind, Brock would stay and rest while he would travel to Kotonia and back. He would make the journey much faster if he was alone.
Left to brood for the day, Brock clung to the opal and his dismal thoughts. He felt even more isolated with Zebulon away, even though every day he and the wizard had practically no interaction. He was worried that Zebulon and Orville would meet and decided that it would not be good.
Late in the afternoon, Brock sat wi
thin the cottage gazing at the opal. A noise outside suggested that Zebulon had returned. With a sudden sense of guilt he dropped the gem back into the pouch and quickly placed the pouch in Zebulon's bag. He then lay on his bed covering himself hastily with a blanket and pretended to be asleep.
He peered from under his eyelashes as the door opened. His heart thumped in his chest as he realised it was not Zebulon. The figure who entered was that of a rough looking man. He moved around the room examining various things and mumbling to himself. Brock thought he must have come to rob them and expected him to go for the bag as the only possible item of value. However he did not touch it. Brock also wondered how it was that the intruder did not see him. There was enough light in the room for him to see the stranger's features in clear detail. Not having any other ideas as to what he could do, he lay without moving a muscle, watching as the man walked around and around the room.
Then Zebulon appeared. The man and the wizard confronted each other. Zebulon's eyes blazed in rage as he sent waves of blazing current into the hapless man. As Brock watched in horror at the torment Zebulon inflicted, he realised that Zebulon looked like the wizard from his nightmare. His face was contorted into an expression of pure hatred. Brock wondered if the two knew each other.
As quickly as the fight began, it ended with the man dead on the floor. In distress and panic, Brock felt himself losing consciousness. He fought to stay alert but finally nothingness overtook him.
Brock was not sure how much time had passed before he regained consciousness but as he looked to where the man's body had lain on the floor, it was gone. Zebulon was busy putting supplies away. When he saw Brock looking at him he came to the bedside.
"I found a herbalist in the village and she recommended these herbs." He showed Brock some small bags. "She said your illness seemed very much like an illness that miners can get. She also suggested that when you are strong enough it would be a good idea for you to go and stay in the village to regain your strength."
If Brock thought he knew what fear was when he first met Zebulon, he now knew otherwise. His heart seemed to have moved its position to his throat and his tongue was so swollen he could not speak. He could not understand how the Zebulon he thought he was beginning to know could be so callous and cruel.
Zebulon prepared the herbs according to the direction he had been given by the herbalist and brought the concoction to Brock. He stood waiting while Brock swallowed the vile potion. Brock had wanted to refuse but realised that it was in his best interests not to openly defy the wizard. He knew without doubt that if the wizard wanted to harm him, he could do it with the same ease with which he had dispensed with the intruder.
Brock did begin to feel better and with the promise that when he was strong enough he would go and stay in the village for an extended time, he made every effort to improve his health. He began working again with Zebulon although the wizard would not let him do very much.
"You are looking much better," Zebulon said one night. "Would you like to go to the village tomorrow? I have already arranged with Uri and his wife for you to stay at the inn and fully regain your health. I will continue working here and it is possible that I'll find the last opal and you will not even have to come back here. Do you like that idea?"
"Yes I do." Brock had done his best to appear as normal as possible and not to be downcast in spirit, but he was still very depressed, suffering doubts and dismay.
Brock left early the next morning with a feeling that he would not return. The opportunity to stay in the village was all he needed to find his way back home. He wanted to get as far away from Zebulon as possible. He was also anxious to see Orville again.
Brock's anxiety to leave Zebulon and gain the safety of the village made him spur on his horse to greater speed. He had thought of taking the opal, because the thought of never being able to hold it again became almost unbearable, but the idea of discovery and of Zebulon pursuing him caused him an even stronger counter emotion.
Uri and Elvira were glad to see Brock although Uri gave him a look as if to tell him he'd be watching to make sure he didn't get into any mischief. They encouraged him to spend time with Minerva. Under any other circumstances this would have been pleasing to Brock but he wanted time to himself to find Orville.
The day after he arrived he decided to go to the same park where he had met with Orville the last time. As if by prior arrangement Minerva was elected to be his companion. Brock wondered if Uri had told Zebulon anything about the last visit and suspicion had been aroused so that they were watching him on Zebulon's orders.
All the way to the park, Brock's mind was travelling on ideas to get away from Minerva, which was a pity because she really was enjoyable young company and the elf and been sadly starved of such friendship since leaving his home. As they neared the park, Brock saw the familiar figure of Orville and his senses became excited. However he did not want to speak with Orville while Minerva was with him. As if understanding that he should not intrude at this time, Orville wisely moved away.
Brock found it difficult to keep his mind on what Minerva was saying, so busy was he in planning how he could leave the Four Star without the family knowing.
Chapter Ten
Friendship
The table for Uri's family was set at the back of the inn's kitchen. The table had been set with care, with a crisp tablecloth, and multiple dishes of various foods which both looked and smelt good. Conversation over the evening meal with the family suggested that they were not guarding him or monitoring his actions but rather offering friendship because Zebulon had told them that he was very lonely. But Uri was a long time friend of Zebulon's so Brock could not take any chances that some plan had been decided between them. Pleading tiredness, he retired to his room early. When he thought the family would be otherwise occupied he crept to the front door of the inn, only to be met by Uri.
"Going out?" Uri asked in surprise.
Brock responded with a well rehearsed answer for just such an occasion. "I found I couldn't sleep after all, so I thought a walk in the cool of the evening might help me,"
"The night air is known to induce sleep. It is quiet at the inn for now so I will take a walk with you. Keep you company,” he said kindly.
"Thank you,” Brock responded in dismay.
Brock had looked forward to stepping out into the cool and freedom of the night but Uri's presence made it impossible for Brock to carry out his intention of going to the other inn in search of Orville. The two strolled along the street. Uri was full of fatherly advice which Brock, believing it was well intended, even if misguided, accepted with outward patience while all the time subduing the burning desire in his heart.
For several days the family managed to stifle Brock's plans. A number of times he would catch sight of Orville at a distance but the young man wisely kept his distance. He could tell that Minerva was becoming bored with his company for his mind was elsewhere and he was very inattentive to any topic she introduced to him. She believed she must have been mistaken about her first interest in him but supposed it could be his illness that made him so uninteresting now.
It was not until the fourth day at the inn that Brock had formed an idea to free himself from supervision. The family was very busy because of an upcoming festival, so during the morning meal Brock put his plan into action. He had tried to be a model guest in every way so that the family would trust him.
“I have run out of herbs so I want to go to the herbalist this morning,” he said.
“Minerva was to help me this morning but if it can wait until the afternoon, she can go with you then,” said Elvira.
“No really, that won't be necessary.” Brock tried very hard to keep the sound of desperation out of his voice.
“Do you know the way?” asked Minerva hopefully.
“Yes, Zebulon has given me clear directions.”
Uri proved to be Brock's ally on this occasion. “Let the boy go by himself. He'll probably enjoy some time alone. Besides
we have so much work to do.”
Once out of sight of the Four Star Inn, Brock changed direction and quickened his pace to reach the the smaller inn. He did not know if Orville would be there at this time of day, but at least he may ask some questions or leave a message there. Every nerve in the elf's body was strained as he approached the inn. He hoped he would not be disappointed. So tense was he that when a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder his body jolted in response.
"You're as stretched as tight as cowhide," said Orville. "Where have you been, I thought you would have come before now? Has the wizard stopped you from coming?"
Ignoring Orville’s comments, Brock began with a question of his own. "Where were you? You said you would meet me here on the next morning. I waited more than half the day."
"Oh that," said Orville. "I'm sorry, I got caught up with some business. I hoped you would have chosen to wait an extra day, but we can catch up now. Let's get a mug of ale."
"Not for me, I only want to talk," said Brock.
"That's fine. We do need to talk."
They settled themselves at the table where Orville had been sitting. He ordered another large mug of ale.
A sudden thought struck Brock and he asked. "How did you know Zebulon is a wizard?"
Orville gave a short laugh and tapped his head. "I'm smarter than people take me for. I know these things. I've even dabbled in some magic myself." He gave Brock one of his hungry stares and continued. “A lot of my friends are elves too.”
"Really, so you don't dislike elves?"
"Of course not!"
"So you knew all along that I am an elf?"
"Of course," answered Orville smugly.
Brock, who had been holding his breath unconsciously, expelled the air in one long sigh. "This will make it so much easier to talk to you."
"I hope so." Orville sat back in his chair and smiled. He sipped his ale with satisfaction as he watched Brock become more relaxed.
