Scarlet From Gold (Book 3)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “So what will you do in Barcelon?” Mirra finally broke the silence.

  “I’m going to go to the harbor and call for someone named Kieweeooee,” Marco answered. “And then somehow go to the Isle of Ophiuchus.”

  “Your dolphin friend,” Mirra said. “You can talk to the dolphins, you know. You swim with them. One time you and I went swimming in the harbor, and when I got a cramp in my leg, you and Kieweeooee saved me from drowning.

  “That was the first night you kissed me,” she told him.

  He looked across the table at her. “I must have been very happy that night,” he said softly.

  “I think it’s time I put Sybele to bed,” she replied. Marco walked with her to put Sybele to rest for the night, and as he did, she told him the story of the sorcerer’s deadly energy, and the time she had tried to drive it out of him using the Gorgon’s blood.

  “You were a mess after that,” she finished the story after they put Sybele to bed. “I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me for doing that to you.”

  “I am afraid you won’t forgive me for whatever is happening to me now,” Marco responded.

  “I hope you’ll come back soon, with your memories, and be the old Marco, and we’ll have a chance to try to find out,” she told him as they stood at the threshold of her bedroom. “Your room is just down the hall,” she pointed. “Good night, and don’t leave in the morning without letting me see you,” she told him, before she shut the door.

  It almost felt like there was a relationship there still, even with the loss of his memories, Marco thought to himself as he went to his own room and crawled in bed.

  Chapter 6 – Return to Ophiuchus

  Marco awoke in the middle of the night, wide awake the moment his eyes opened. He had to retrieve something. Ophiuchus had told him that he had to retrieve something rare, and he suddenly knew that it was something in this place, something that was kept down in the storage room below the kitchen.

  He padded down the stairs and through the castle to the kitchen. There was a door that he knew he had to open. There was a yawning darkness within, and he stepped cautiously as he descended the stairs that took him down to a place where he could see nothing, and didn’t know which way to turn.

  His hand – his right hand – immediately flared up with an illuminating glow that startled him so much that he gave a brief yelp. He looked at the hand, the golden hand that had shown mysterious powers in the past on his journey. It felt no pain, yet emitted the light that let him see a hallway and a doorway. As he moved his hand towards the doorway it seemed to glow brighter, a sign that Marco took to signify he needed to look at whatever was behind the door.

  There was a room, a room that was filled with work tables and mysterious supplies, jars and boxes and canisters that held a vast array of unlabeled items. It was overwhelming to think that he could find the right item to select among all the materiel that sat about.

  As he stood and studied the room, a small box on a high shelf began to glow. He knew intuitively that the glow was a reflection of the light from his hand, a recapturing and redisplay of the very same energy he was emitting, serving as a marker to draw his attention. Without hesitation he stepped up onto a table and grabbed the small box, then carried it up to his room. As soon as he reached the kitchen, the light in his hand extinguished itself. He felt no curiosity about the box, only a sense of relief that he had accomplished some important task.

  It seemed the next morning that everyone was cautious, willing to wait to see if Marco would return and if his relationship with Mirra would return with him. He had decided not to take a horse into Barcelon, believing that he was simply going to pass through the city and leave via the harbor. Perago watched him closely as he stood on the steps of the castle’s main door, facing Mirra.

  “I’ll come back someday when all this is over,” he promised her.

  “I hope you come without another wife,” she said pleasantly, then they kissed one another on their cheeks, awkwardly, and Marco started off.

  He was wearing new, and clean clothes. That had been one pleasant benefit of his stay at the castle. Nothing had been unpleasant, but much of it had been unsettling. He had learned that he would have a challenge in the future, the challenge of living up to the staff’s high expectations for anyone who sought to be loved by Mira.

  The walk to Barcelona took all morning, and into the early afternoon. He walked through the city gates, then wandered among the streets in the direction that he expected would lead to the harbor. By the time he actually found the harbor, the sun was low in the western sky.

  The day of traveling had given Marco time to think, time to reflect on all that he had learned. He resented the geas, he had decided. He had started the journey from Station Island simply following the direction to move forward, but as he had progressed, and as he had learned so much about his life before, he found that he wished there was no geas, no compunction to keep moving, and most importantly, no unmooring from the life he had led before, the life with Mirra and a castle, alchemy and a friendship with a dolphin.

  Marco went to the end of a pier and looked down at the dark water. It looked murky, and he had no desire to have to enter the water, nor did he envy the poor dolphin who would apparently arrive to carry him.

  He climbed down the ladder that was attached to the pilings of the pier, and stepped onto a cross beam near the water level. “Hello?” he called tentatively. “Hello, dolphin?” he repeated.

  There was no movement in the water, no reaction to his call. There was no telling where he was supposed to be; the harbor was a large space, and he and the dolphin were not large creatures.

  Marco placed his feet back on the ladder and climbed up to the top again. He walked to the last pier in that section of the harbor, and climbed down again to the water’s surface, and called out. When there was no better result, he climbed again and reversed his direction, going back to where he had started, and then further north, before he dropped down to the water. The sky over head was growing dark after his long search for the dolphin, and he felt frustrated that he had found no inkling of success.

  He placed his face down in the water, and called out directly into the liquid. “It’s me, Marco. I need a dolphin friend to carry me,” he announced, then stopped abruptly and jerked his head out of the water in astonishment. He had not meant to, but he had spoken in the water in the language of the dolphins. The words in his mind had emerged as squeaks and clicks and whistles and other sounds, and he had realized the meaning of his pronouncement as he spoke. It was surprising and funny, uplifting and intriguing.

  “Calling all dolphins! I am here waiting for you! When will you ever have such a chance, a human under a geas, seeking your help? I am Marco, and I await you!” he called again as he stuck his face back into the water. He held his face down, letting the small waves break atop the crest of his head, enjoying the notion that he had the ability to talk to dolphins.

  And then he faintly heard the sound of dolphin language speaking back to him. He raised his head in astonishment. He had heard the sounds, and picked one or two words out of the faint call. “Where” and “repeat” had definitely been among the words spoken.

  With a quick breath of air, he splashed his face back down into the water and spoke again. “I am Marco, the friend of dolphins, and I am looking for my friend. I am Marco, and I am here, at the end of a pier in the harbor,” he said, then raised his head and looked expectantly out into the harbor.

  He could see a disturbance in the water, the smooth movement of a dolphin’s fin cutting through the harbor headed towards him. He felt a sense of joy, and realized he was grinning. Even without remembering the dolphin who he hoped was his friend from the past, he found joy in the sight of the swiftly moving creature’s approach.

  “Marco! Marco friend, witness of my wedding! Marco, you are returned!” the dolphin squealed in a voice that was filled with energy and emotion.

  “You are my friend?” Marco
asked cautiously in the water. “You know who I am?”

  The dolphin reached him and pushed her snout against his face. “I hope I know who you are! You are the one who learned our language, and who was going to make the little babies with me!” she laughed. “You were the one who dove under the shell of evil to fight for all of us. And you came to my wedding to the wonderful prince who is now my husband.”

  “I am so glad to see one who knows me so well,” Marco said with a grin. He clearly had some type of special relationship going on with this extraordinary creature. “I have a problem, and I am told that you are the one who can help me.”

  “I know that I must be expected to help you. For three nights in a row I have dreamed that I had to come find you and carry you to the enchanted isle. The dream told me that you were incomplete, and that the isle would make you whole again. She raised her head from the water to look at Marco as he sat on the beam. “I do not see what is missing. Is it something you keep covered with those things wrapped about your body? Can you not make babies?” she lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “What is your name?” Marco asked. “Is it Kieweeooee?” his memory dredged up the odd sounding name that the spirit had told him in the cathedral.

  The dolphin stared at him without answering for several seconds.

  “My memory, that’s what I have lost,” Marco answered.

  “I do not know you. I just met the woman who I am supposed to marry, and I did not know her either,” he expanded. “Until I get to the enchanted isle and meet the priestess there, I will not have my memories.”

  “My name is Kieweeooee,” the dolphin told him. “I was one of the dolphins who brought you from the enchanted isle to this watering place of humans.” Marco imagined that he might see sympathy within the deep black eyes that stared at him from the dolphin’s face.

  “You and I were friends, and we swam together in these waters every night many, many, many times,” the dolphin told him. “I am sad for you, Marco dear.

  “Come, get in the water, and let us take you on this journey to regain your memory, my friend,” Kieweeooee told him.

  Marco felt a sense of complete and total trust. The dolphin was the one person he had met on his journey from Station Island who made him feel he could rely on and confide in her without reservation. He slipped into the water, readjusting his belongings before his grabbed onto the dolphin.

  “You are heavy. Would you consider removing some of your belongings, Marco?” Kieweeooee asked.

  “How much should I leave behind?” Marco asked.

  “As much as possible. We have a long journey ahead of us,” Kieweeooee entreated.

  Marco released her and returned to the pier’s beam. He placed his boots on the beam, then his bow and arrow. He thought about the heavy metal sword, but couldn’t bear to part with it, and he was sure the shredded bag he carried was something he was meant to convey to the island. He took off his cape and his shirt, but kept his pants on, then stroked over to Kieweeooee again.

  “Is this better?” he asked.

  “That is better,” she agreed. “Hold no tightly, it’s time to start the journey,” she warned him, then he felt her tail start to move with powerful thrusts, and they leapt into the open water of the harbor, and began their journey.

  The two of them talked as they moved through the night time water. Marco learned of Kieweeooee’s marriage to the prince of the dolphin pods from the waters of the rising sun, and the duties that a princess held. “I told them I had to cease all duties for a few days to follow the vision of my dreams of seeing you, and then I would return.

  “I have not had our babies yet, but when I do, I will tell them all about the wonderful human Marco-legs, who is a friend to all dolphins!” she told him with a laugh.

  Marco told her of many of his adventures, and after he had explained what an inn was and what sheep were, he told the tale of trying to unite Kaitelyn and Haman.

  “They should name their first child after you!” Kieweeooee appreciated his story. She was gentle and encouraging when he told of his meeting with Mirra. “You saved her life in the harbor, the time we all were swimming together,” the dolphin told him. “She will wait for you to return,” she reassured Marco, and when he heard it from Kieweeooee, he felt better about it.

  By the middle of the following morning, Kieweeooee took Marco to a small island that was uninhabited. “We both need to rest,” she told him. “You sleep here, and I’ll be back in a little while so that we can start again.”

  By the middle of the day Marco awoke to the sound of Kieweeooee calling him back to the beach. He splashed through the surf and quickly resumed the journey eastward towards the Isle of Ophiuchus. That evening they were joined by other dolphins, who took turns relieving Kieweeooee of carrying Marco, though she stayed with him as they swam on through two more changes of shifts of dolphins from the varying watery regions they passed through.

  On the fifth day of the long swim, through sunshine and squalls and evening darkness, Kieweeooee slowed down as sunset fell across the sea. “It’s just ahead,” she told Marco softly as she coasted to a stop in the water.

  Marco looked up, weary and waterlogged, and saw the steep rise of the island mountain just ahead. “Thank you Kieweeooee, my friend,” he said softly. “I’m ready to get my memories back, and find out what the next challenge will be.”

  “Should I wait for you?” Kieweeooee asked.

  “It’s too late. You’ve already married your prince,” he teased her. “No, just take me to the surf, then go home to your prince and make your babies, and wait for the next time we meet, my lovely friend,” he told her.

  Kieweeooee slowly swept her tail back and forth and they gently progressed through the gentle swells that rolled towards the island. She stopped two minutes later, and Marco rolled off her back to touch immediately upon the sandy shelf that rose up to the beach.

  “Thank you Kieweeooee,” he said tearfully. “I felt like I had a friend I knew these past few days. You are such a wonderful friend!”

  She gently nudged her nose against his cheek. “I will name a child Marco after you, and I will wait for you to call when you are ready to go swimming my friend. Good luck in your adventures – I have a feeling that we all will be safer because of what you are going to do.”

  She rolled over in a flipping sweep, then slowly began to move back out into the deeper water, leaving Marco kneeling in the ocean, looking at the red-tinged beach that awaited his return to the Isle of Ophiuchus.

  Chapter 7 – An Unkind Welcome

  Marco staggered up onto the beach, his legs weak and shaky after five days without walking or exercise. The sandy beach was empty, except for a few piles of driftwood and a pair of crabs that started and stopped as they foraged across the empty expanse. All Marco had were his pants and his sword and the tattered bag that he carried. He’d eaten little more than a few bites of raw fish during the trip from Barcelon.

  He needed to find people on the island, the island that people along the way had told him was an all-female cult center. He wanted to drink fresh water and eat cooked food, and he wanted to see Folence.

  There were two ways to go – right or left, and he chose to go left, reasoning that on an island he was sure to find people before long no matter which way he travelled. The beach stretched for a great distance and provided an easy means of travel for half an hour. He then ventured inland to travel around a rocky outcropping, and discovered a trail wide enough to be the product of livestock or human traffic, a trail that led him in the direction he wished to travel. He stopped minutes later at a small stream the trail crossed and drank fresh water in a series of long, greedy swallows, then moved ahead once more.

  Another half hour after that, after the evening sky was thoroughly dark, without a moon or clouds to obscure a blanket of stars bright and dim, the trail crested a small rise, and Marco saw the lights of a village ahead. He felt relief at the sight of the village – it meant that he would
find rest and food, and then he would hopefully find quick direction to his meeting with Folence.

  Marco hurried his pace, and reached the village’s first buildings. He felt relieved to have made it so far to what felt like the threshold of success. There were figures walking the streets ahead, and Marco walked resolutely forward, hoping that one of them would be a natural figure to talk to.

  As Marco approached the walking folks, illuminated dimly by the wavering flames of street lights spread along the road, he saw the faces of his observers turn from animated conversations to blank astonishment, then to anger, and he had a bad feeling. He heard the sound of a door opening behind him, and there was a shout. The people in front of him were drawing swords as they started running towards him.

  Marco looked down an alley to the side, where there appeared to be no one coming at him. He looked over his shoulder and saw a woman bounding down the steps from a building, carrying a club. Without a moment of hesitation, Marco turned and started to flee down the alley, only to limp to a stop as he stepped on something jagged and sharp that cut deeply into the bottom of his bare foot. He turned and saw that the people coming after him were already in the alley, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to outrun them.

  Marco placed his back against the alley wall, and held his blade out in front of him. A small crowd came running up to him, a half dozen or more, all women, he noted without surprise, and formed a semi-circle around him, as other figures came racing into the alley.

  “No man is permitted on our island,” a figure on the left spoke. “And now you are back for yet another visit in violation of that basic rule.

  “Look at what your visits have brought!” the woman said angrily.

  “I’m here to see the Lady Folence,” Marco said, holding his sword out in front of him. “I will help her heal Iasco.”

  “The Lady Iasco is dead!” another woman shouted, as she feinted with her sword.