Sora's Quest (10 page)

“The War of the Races,” Dorian said, his voice uncharacteristically impatient. He was beginning to sound like Crash. “The beginning of the end. What, do you think the races just dispersed and died off? The humans exterminated them, one by one.”

Sora was more than horrified. She could only believe him, considering he was one of the last of the Wolfies. “B-but how is that possible? Humans don't have magic.”

“Exactly. So your kind used something else. A cheat.” Dorian spoke bitterly. He went to reach for her necklace, but she yanked it away, guarding the jewel protectively. She didn't like the look on his face. She was suddenly afraid that they would try to take it away from her—the necklace, her only link to her mother.

“I still don't get it. What's a Cat's-Eye necklace?” Sora repeated. “And why does it matter?”

“It's a stone...” Crash answered brusquely. She turned to look at him. He pinned her with his stare, his eyes like gleaming daggers. “A stone that eats magic. It protects whoever wears it, a talisman of sorts. It was the undoing of the races, the only reason why humans won the War. While they were wearing these stones, humans became immune to magic and its effects...just like you've demonstrated tonight. The rest is history.”

“Why haven't I heard about this before?” she asked.

“Ignorance?” Dorian offered.

She shot him a glare. The Wolfy glared right back. Sora could understand why he was being so defensive, why he greeted her necklace with so much hostility. If his words were true, then it was a devious weapon indeed. But she had never even heard of a Cat's Eye! It wasn't her fault that the humans had killed off the other races.

Then Sora's eyes widened. Had she just saved their lives?
That's what I did, right? Wasn't it?

“Well, if this necklace is so important to you, just take it,” she said, and went to remove the gemstone from her neck.

“No!” Dorian exclaimed, and lurched towards her, holding out his hands. “Stop! Put it back!”

She paused in alarm, the necklace halfway over her head. “Why?” She blinked in surprise.

“J-just do as I say,” Dorian said, the hostility vanished. “Please.”

She dropped the necklace back in place on her neck, then waited for an explanation. The Wolfy let out a very long sigh, then looked to Crash, obviously asking for help. But the assassin moved away and inspected the charred body of the fox, turning it over with his sword.

“You can't take off the necklace,” Dorian murmured. “It will kill you.”

Sora's mouth dropped open. “W-what!?”

They stared at each other, another awkward pause. Dorian licked his lips slowly, glancing up to his left, as though searching for the words.

Sora tried again. “I thought you said that the necklace will protect me from magic? What do you mean, it will also kill me?” She now had a full-blown headache.

When Dorian finally spoke, it was a little less confidently. “The Cat's Eye is more of a curse than a blessing,” he said haltingly. “It...it's a parasite, a semi-living thing that feeds on magic. It uses the bearer, you see? As much as it protects you, it also uses you. It creates a psychic bond, and if you lose contact with the stone, then the bond is broken.”

Sora nodded to show that she was following. The scene replayed over and over in her head, the monster in the darkness, the sound of sleighbells, her forced act of heroism. After Crash's firm shove, she had lost control of her own body, hadn't she? Yes, she remembered that. Something else had taken control, moving her feet, her limbs. But what? The necklace?
How is that possible?

“What do you mean by that? I still don't understand,” Sora repeated, waiting for Dorian to continue.

“The bond grows with time,” Dorian explained. “Eventually, the bearer and the necklace become like one mind, inseparable. And, if the necklace is removed, the bond is broken. The bearer falls into a coma and dies.”

Sora opened her mouth, then shut it. Her thoughts raced, whirling like a weathervane, round and round and round. She still hadn't let go of the necklace. It burned in her hand, buzzing with energy, hotter than ever before. And she had a strange feeling of fullness, as though she had just eaten bread after a month of nothing but carrots.

“This is why the Cat's Eyes are so rare these days,” Crash spoke unexpectedly, breaking the hollow silence. She started, surprised by his voice. “Most were destroyed after the War, too dangerous to be kept as mere trinkets. A single touch can create a bond...and destroy a mind.”

Sora's finger rubbed the surface of the small stone. It had the texture of smooth skin, as though she truly wore an eyeball on her neck. She frowned and started to unclasp the necklace, but Dorian's hand stopped her.

“Weren't you listening?” he snapped. “You can't take it off. Not now.”

“Why? Because of some stupid legend?” Sora shook her head firmly, frightened but still stubborn. What if this was all superstition? “I don't believe a word of it. This necklace isn't going to kill me.”

“Don't be a fool! If the races exist, then so do the Cat's Eyes,” Dorian growled. His voice became surprisingly wolf-like, low and deep in his throat. “I'm not talking about silly stories, girl. The necklace is real. It has been bonding with you since you first put it on. How long have you worn it?”

Sora thought back, remembering her birthday, counting the hours. “A full day at least,” she murmured.

“Then it's too late. Leave it.”

“But....” her voice faded to silence. She had nothing left to say. She didn't know if Dorian's words were true, but she had seen the effects of the necklace only a few minutes ago. She had felt its burst of power, fiercer than a thunderstorm.

And worse than that, she had sensed in her mind a psychic bond with the necklace. She turned to Crash suddenly, all of the pieces falling into place, realization dawning. “That's why you kidnapped me,” she said, stunned. “That's why you won't let me go. You knew I had this necklace.”

The assassin shrugged, meeting her eyes coldly. “I thought that's what it might be, but I wasn't sure,” he murmured. “I had to see for myself.”

Sora sat back, her thoughts still buzzing. She was sore and worn out, but she had to know the truth, the full story. She had heard a name pass between them twice now, a name that had stayed in her mind, hanging sharply like an icicle. “Who is Volcrian? Does he want the necklace?”

The assassin remained silent. Slowly, his brow furrowed.

Sora whirled around to look at Dorian. She was certain that she was onto something. She leaned forward, her words rushed. “Is he the one who hired you? Who wanted Lord Fallcrest dead?”

But Dorian was already shaking his head, his ears slightly drooping. He had ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and was pressing it tightly against his wound, grimacing in pain. “No, no, not at all,” he muttered through bared fangs. “He is a Wolfy mage, very skilled at magic, very practiced. He has been hunting Crash for years, killing anyone who comes near him. Now he's hunting both of us. And you, too, I expect.”

“A Wolfy mage?” Sora murmured. Her eyes turned to the small corpse of the fox, which had once been a raging, ferocious demon-beast. “He...he made that?”

“Yes,” Dorian said.

“With magic?”

“Yes.”

“And he's...hunting you?”

“Again, yes.”

“And my necklace...my necklace....” Sora's eyes opened wide. It all made sense. Crash and Dorian had a sorcerer on their trail, and her necklace could protect them. No wonder they wouldn't let her go. No wonder Crash had thrown her in front of the monster. He had wanted to test the necklace—to see if his suspicions were right. And perhaps he had known she would be protected.

Hatred burst in her chest. Crash hadn't cared about her safety in the least. There had to be other ways to test a Cat's Eye. Ways that didn't risk her life.

Sora shook her head, her headache growing worse. She had a lot to digest. A day ago, all of this magic business would have seemed impossible. But there was no other explanation for what she had just experienced. She suddenly wondered if she was awake and conscious, or if she had entered some strange delusion brought on by the valerian root.

No, no, the necklace was real, she knew it had to be true. She had felt odd pulls and nudges at her thoughts, intuitions that she couldn't quite explain, and now the sound of sleighbells. Communication? Warning bells? From a rock? A rock!?
Not just a rock...
she corrected herself, remembering Dorian's words.
A semi-living thing.

Dear Goddess, what if the stone was conscious? What if it could hear her very thoughts? Share them? Influence them? She shuddered.
I will not scare myself!
No, it was just a dumb story. She had never heard of such a thing as a psychic bond, or a necklace that fed on magic, that lived off the bearer like a leech. And yet, now she didn't want to remove the necklace and find out the truth. Crash and Dorian's reactions had scared her, convinced her of the danger.

There were too many questions, too many unknowns. She would have to find out more, somehow. There had to be a jeweler somewhere in the world, perhaps in Mayville, or the City of Crowns, or any of the dozens of cities that graced the kingdom. A specialist on the matter....

And my mother....
Who had she been, to have had such an extraordinary artifact? Was she still alive? And where?
How am I going to last long enough to find her?

“Dorian, we’re changing plans,” the assassin said abruptly, startling Sora from her thoughts. Crash walked to the other side of the camp, kneeling next to the fallen Wolfy. He had ripped open Dorian's shirt and deftly cleaned his wounds, using water and a mixture of crushed leaves that Sora didn't recognize.

“Is that so?” the Wolfy replied, wincing, looking down at Crash's handiwork.

“We’re going through the swamp,” the assassin said.

The Wolfy blinked, alarmed. “But...”

“We have a Cat’s Eye now. The spells won’t harm us, and Volcrian won’t be able to follow.”

Sora leaned forward, holding up a hand, also concerned. “Wait a moment. You mean...Fennbog swamp? To the West?”

They ignored her. “We should consult Burn about this,” Dorian said uneasily. “He might not like it. In fact, I know he won't.” He winced as the assassin cleaned out his shallow wound. Despite the blood, it looked like the monster's claws had barely grazed the skin, catching mostly cloth.

“It's our best chance to escape the mage,” the assassin repeated darkly.

“Maybe you're right...but we should wait to consult with Burn.”

They fell silent once more. Sora was completely bewildered.
Who's Burn?
She hadn't heard his name mentioned before. More people she didn't know about. And were these two really about to drag her through a swamp? Truly?
Over my dead body!
she thought fiercely. She had to escape! She would have tried to escape right then, but she was so tired after using the necklace, her legs couldn't bear her weight.

Fennbog was the only swamp she knew about. Her father's lands bordered on it, far, far to the West. If her servants were truthful at all, it was a horrid place, full of poisonous plants and mud pits that could swallow a horse. During the rainy season, the waters rose by fifteen feet, and half the landscape was completely submerged. Large patches of marshland would float on the tide, shifting landmarks and creating a terrain that was impossible to navigate.

Besides, Fennbog was rumored to be cursed. If one traveled too deep into it, compasses would fail and the traveler would be lost forever. No one knew for sure how large it was—certainly over a hundred miles.
A hundred miles.
And, assuming she survived the journey, there would be no road back to her manor.

Dorian sat up, his shirt fully removed, a bandage around his waist. Despite his small, pale frame, his chest was chiseled with hard-packed muscle. He leaned toward the fire. She watched the line of his abdominal muscles stretch and bulge.

Then he removed the meat and sliced it on a flat stone, passing the food around the campfire. Sora received her small share, cushioning the hot meat on her cloak. It was burnt almost completely black, forgotten in the brief skirmish. Honestly, she didn't have much of an appetite anymore. She was too worried to eat. But she knew she needed her strength, so she forced the charred bits into her mouth, chewing on the tough, dry chunks.

She didn't want to travel through Fennbog, and she didn't like this news of a Wolfy mage, of magic that could create monsters, and a necklace that could break her mind.
That name, Volcrian.
It made her think of vultures and wolves and frozen things.

Maybe she would have been better off in her manor. Maybe she had made a horrible, horrible mistake.

“Must I...must I travel with you?” she asked, her voice small.

“With that necklace? You can count on it,” Dorian replied. He didn't sound happy for her. “So eat and rest. Tomorrow we reach Mayville.”

She opened her mouth, wondering if it was worthwhile to plead, to beg them to let her go. But one glance at the assassin told her otherwise. He was sitting uncomfortably close, only a few feet away, slightly behind her, watching her. She knew he was thinking she would make a run for it.