by Janice Ayre
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 within 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 i
t 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.
