Sora's Quest (33 page)

Sora didn't know what to say or do. Her mind raced, staring at the curve of the woman's cheek. She blinked twice. Her hand flew to her necklace, forgetting her discomfort, the pull of her sore muscles. She ran her fingers over the smooth stone.

Suddenly, she remembered a conversation from very long ago, in a mapmaker's shop. Something about discipline...about needing a direction....

The pieces were all there; she just didn't want to put them in place. This had to be a joke. “It's impossible,” she repeated in a shaking voice.

Unexpectedly, the woman smiled. There was kindness in her eyes. “That's quite a word, coming from you. Your friends told me of your journey through Fennbog.” She raised an eyebrow. Sora almost remembered her expression, as though from another life. “Are you truly surprised to be here?”

Sora kept running her fingers over the stone. She shook her head again, this time less vehemently. How many times had she held the necklace, how many times had she thought of her mother? Yearned to find her? Her journey through the swamp, turning this way and that, fumbling through leagues of wilderness....

All that time, she had thought she was running from Volcrian. But perhaps the necklace had been leading her somewhere else....

She stared at the woman fully, not daring to blink, hungry to study every minuscule detail of her face. She wanted to touch her somehow, make sure she wasn't dreaming. Still weak, she stretched out  her hand toward the Healer, uncertain if it would go right through her.

The woman took Sora's clammy hand in her own warm, dry hand.

Then Lorianne sat down on her bed and gently embraced her. At first Sora was stiff with pain and shock, then slowly relaxed, easing into the embrace.

“Goddess be praised!” the woman said softly. “I never thought I would see you again." She hugged her closer. "I don't suppose your servants told you much?”

Sora shook her head a bit, but that was lost in the hug.

“If you'd like,” Lori continued, “I can explain everything.”

Lori released her and sat up, gazing down at her daughter. Sora stared, too. Once again, she was shocked by how closely they resembled each other. Blue eyes, golden-blond hair. For a moment she doubted herself—what if this was an elaborate joke? What if this woman was manic?

But, no. She knew the truth; she could feel it in her bones, in the subtle bond of the necklace.
My mother.
Somehow, out of all the acres of wilderness, the endless valleys and mountains of the world, the necklace had led her straight to this doorstep. The thought took her breath away.

“It's really you,” Sora murmured. “I can't believe it.”

Then tears flooded her eyes. She was no longer able to hold back. She sobbed, putting her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound of sobbing. "Why?" she asked, still sniffling. “Lorianne—why?” She couldn't yet think of the woman as “mother.” But she had to ask. The question had been burning inside her for years.

Lori swallowed hard. "Where do you want me to begin?" she finally asked, her voice shaking. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Tell me why you left. Truly," Sora replied. Suddenly she was afraid—afraid of abandonment, of betrayal. What if her mother had thrown her away? What if she had been unwanted...unloved?

Her dubious thoughts were soon answered. "I was forced to leave you," her mother said, shaking her head. "It is the hardest thing I have ever done. Lord Fallcrest threatened to kill me—and you—if I stayed."

Sora was shocked. She stared at the woman, speechless. “What?” she demanded.

Her mother shook her head, her hands grasping Sora's. She closed her eyes painfully, her face growing pale. “First,  Sora, you should know...that Lord Fallcrest is not your real father.”

Sora didn't know how to respond. She felt out-of-body, completely numb.

“Let me explain,” Lorianne said quickly. “I met your father when I was much younger. He was an adventurer of sorts. A treasure hunter. I traveled with him and his companions, chasing after lost artifacts.” She took a short breath, glancing down at her hands. “We were excavating a cave some miles north of Fallcrest lands, a great crater in the earth. The cave collapsed. Your father was killed. I had just learned that I was pregnant with you.”

Sora listened, her mouth slightly open, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

Lorianne continued quietly. “Word had it that Lord Fallcrest was unable to have children. He didn't have an heir, despite having remarried twice. The countryside was full of rumors; they said his seed was rotten."

“I was desperate, poor, without any prospects. You must understand, I had no way to take care of you. Dane and I—your father—owned no property. We had no livelihood.” She shook her head slowly, her eyes distant, still staring at her lap. A long breath escaped her lips. “Perhaps I was mad with grief, I don't know. But I courted Lord Fallcrest. I lied and told him that I was of noble birth, the youngest in my family with nothing to inherit. Dane's friends helped me, acting as my servants. Lord Fallcrest fell in love with my beauty. We were married two months later. And when you were born, he named you his heir.”

Sora's hands trembled. She couldn't hide that from her mother. Lori glanced up and met her eyes.

“Did he find out the truth?” Sora asked.

Her mother nodded slowly. “Eventually, yes. There was no record of a Lady Bloomsworth anywhere in the Kingdom. As soon as we were married, people started to talk. It was only a matter of time.” She stroked Sora's hand gently. “When Lord Fallcrest discovered the truth, he told me to leave. He said he would kill me if I didn't go. Then he gave you to a midwife and forbade me to see you. He needed an heir, you see, and he thought you were his own. But if I ever showed my face again, he said he would kill us both for shaming his family.” Lorianne squeezed Sora's grip, as though taking strength from it. “So I left,” she said.

Sora could hear the weakness in her voice, the tears just below the surface. But she was too stunned to offer comfort. Her entire world was slowly disintegrating, piece by piece. Everything she had ever known of herself, that she had ever taken pride in, was a lie.

“I went where he would never find me,” Lori finished. “I knew that you would have a good life, far better than I could give you. It took me years to settle here. I had to do things...things that you wouldn't be proud of. The world is not kind to a woman traveling alone. I was lucky enough to find a mentor and learn the healing arts. I wish I had learned them sooner. Maybe Dane would still be alive.”

Sora nodded. They became silent. She considered her mother's words, letting the story sink through her skin, permeate her mind.
I'm not noble-born.
Lord Fallcrest had never been her father. In some ways, it was unexpectedly liberating. Her entire life had been tainted by a sense of failure. Her father had always treated her like a disappointment, never quite good enough. Her essays were too simple, her hands were too heavy on the reins, her singing was off-key.

Now she understood. She was peasant-born. Perhaps he had suspected that she was not his own blood. But he needed an heir. So he had kept her, since his own seed was useless.

Her mother's blue eyes focused on her hand. "I see you've found your Cat's Eye.” Her lips puckered strangely. "I'd hoped you would...and also, I'd hoped you wouldn't. I didn't intend to leave it, but I had to pack so quickly....It belonged to your father.” She sighed, her eyes distant. “I guess it's good that you wore it. It's the only reason you're still alive. The stone will go to great lengths to preserve the bearer."

Sora frowned at this. "My father's?" she said. She couldn't imagine the man, had no idea who he was. “How...?”

“He found the Cat's Eye on one of our expeditions. He wore it for many years. I saw it...change him....” Lori frowned. “Not in a bad way, I suppose. When he died, we used it to identify his body. It was all I had left of him....”

Her mother's expression melted into sadness, her eyes growing dim.

The new silence was uncomfortable. Sora shifted, digging around for something to say. "I always knew you loved me,” she finally stuttered. “I wanted to find you so badly. And my father...I always thought he hated me, I just never knew why. I never thought...."

Her mother nodded, smiling slightly, as though waiting for something. But Sora didn't know what else to say. She was uncertain of herself and this woman before her. It was her mother, yes, but also a perfect stranger. She tried to summon up memories from her younger days, when her mother had still lived at the manor, but it was impossible. Lori had left when Sora was a baby. Her earliest memories were of the midwife.

Lorianne wiped at her eyes awkwardly, as though sensing Sora's withdrawal. “Well, I'm sure you're exhausted by all of this,” she said briskly. “Dinner is cooking, I should go check on it. Of course, I think those friends of yours will eat anything.” She laughed a little, but it seemed forced, anxious. “Sleep, Sora. We will speak more when you're stronger."

Sora nodded. In all honesty, it was too much. She just wanted to be alone, especially now that the excitement had waned. She could feel her body shaking from the effort of sitting up. Her breath felt strangely shallow, her eyes heavy. She nodded stiffly and lay back down.

I found my mother. It's really her,
she thought as the woman left the room, shutting the door quietly. Not what she had expected, by far. Her fingers traveled once again to her necklace, marveling at the small stone.

Somehow, in the wake of Dorian's death, it wasn't as comforting as she had hoped.

She fell asleep, her mind heavy with new knowledge.

Chapter 18

The forest was lush, green, and utterly alive.

It had been almost a month since her brush with death and the loss of Dorian. Her wound was almost completely healed now, except for a sore red spot that was turning into a rather impressive scar. She figured it would be her badge of experience.

But the scar of Dorian's death went a bit deeper. She hadn't seen the world quite the same since; everything had a slightly different smell and taste, even her own thoughts. For the first week or so life had been strange without him, but now it was becoming disturbingly normal. She remembered him at strange times throughout day, their conversations, the sound of his voice.

The other two men hardly spoke of Dorian, and she had not seen them mourn his death. It made her feel awkward during those times when she found herself crying. She still wondered if she could have saved him somehow.

Her thoughts were the same on this particular occasion, traveling with Burn to visit the thief's grave. The body had been burned, as Wolfy tradition dictated, and the ashes thrown to a westward wind—but for Sora's sake, they built a small monument in Dorian's honor a little way from her mother's house. She could see it now from atop her horse; a small pile of stones next to a winding stream, with Dorian's knives placed on top.

Burn rode his horse slightly behind her, silent and deep in thought, his mind probably just as far away.

Sora filled her lungs with the summer air and tried to keep her emotions steady; she didn't want to cry in front of the mercenary, and tears were becoming a waste of energy. She directed the horse around the giant roots of a tree. The forest surrounding her mother's house was large and dense, far more wild and untamed than the woodlands around her manor. She just wished she could share the sight with Dorian.

They drew up alongside the stone memorial and Sora lowered herself carefully to the ground. She was still stiff from her wound. She tied her horse to the lower branch of a tree and went to stand before the stones. She bowed her head, thinking of her fallen friend.

"Sora?" Burn's voice reached her a few moments later. "Why don't you sit over here next to me?"

She glanced at him. Usually he never spoke during these visits to Dorian's grave. The Wolfy was sitting at the base of the tree they had tied their horses to, polishing an apple on his shirt. He motioned to her. "Come on over here."

Sora paused for just a moment, then went over to sit next to him. She didn't say anything and waited for the Wolfy to speak.

"You know,” he finally said, “Volcrian is the only other Wolfy I've ever heard of."

Sora nodded slowly.

"The races are perishing...and I believe the Wolfies might be the first,” he murmured. “I have tried to seek them out...to listen for them on the Wind." Burn bowed his head, his golden eyes unfocused, his hair dappled with light. “Dorian might have been one of the last of our race.”

Sora frowned, unsure of what to think of the mercenary's words. She didn't know what he meant by listening to the wind, but observing his keen ears, it seemed meaningful. "Perhaps they are somewhere far overseas, in a different land?"

Burn shook his head. "The Wind speaks to us, Sora." He gave her a bleak smile. "It tells us many secrets. These ears are for more than just good looks, you know.”

Sora grinned wryly. The humor faded fast, along with Burn's smile.

“It is part of our race's heritage,” he murmured, “to be able to hear the Wind. There are no Wolfies left because the wind carries no knowledge of them."

"You mean the Wind of the Goddess, don't you?" Sora asked, interested. Burn had never mentioned this before. She didn't know much about Wolfy lore. "The Wind Goddess is what speaks to you?"

Burn raised his eyebrows in amusement. "There were things that existed before the gods and goddesses, Sora, and the Wind was one of them. It is that Wind that speaks to us, and there is no knowledge left of the Wolfies."

Now Sora was confused. What did Burn mean—things that existed before? "I don't understand," she said.

"The old world is being forgotten and a new world is forming." Burn smiled sadly. "The Elements came before the gods and goddesses, Sora. They created the world we live in.”

"But...what happened to them?”

"Each race's lore is different. Some say they disappeared. Others say that we live inside of them. That everything is made from the Elements." Burn winked at her. "It could all just be a grand tale."

Sora sat quietly, considering his words. She hadn't met any of the other races, only the Wolfies. She just couldn't agree with him. There had to be more out there, somewhere, perhaps hidden, perhaps ignorant of their own heritage.

“That must be hard for you,” she murmured. She couldn't imagine the loss of her own race, her own people. It must be terribly...lonely.

“Dorian kept my hope alive. I thought that someday, we would find a lost colony of Wolfies, some unheard-of civilization. But I suppose that's just a dream, isn't it?” Burn sighed. “Someday, I'll be dead too. And perhaps the Wolfy race with me.”

Sora felt sick. She wished she could say something helpful, but there were no words. She put her hand on Burn's arm. Hopefully he would understand.

They sat in silence for a few depressing minutes, each lost in thought. Sora's mind turned to Volcrian. Had he followed them through the swamp—or was he miles away, taking the long road, traversing the mountains to reach them? She knew the hunt wasn't over yet. He had only killed one member of their party—and it wasn't Crash.

Sora wondered why Dorian and Burn had traveled with the assassin, knowing the danger they were in. Another story yet to be told.

"I thought I'd find you here," a friendly voice called from behind them.

Sora was startled from her dark reverie. She turned to see her mother striding toward them in soft pants and a white, breezy shirt. Her hair was tied up in a scarf. She smiled, her lips pressed together, as though holding back a thought. "I've been looking for you two. Dinner's on the table. You've been gone for hours!"

Sora blinked. "Hours?" It was only then she noticed that the afternoon sun was turning to deep orange, dipping low in the sky.

Her mother frowned. "And you're still recovering, too," she murmured, then turned upon the Wolfy. "Burn...."

He leapt to his feet and swept over to Sora's mother, taking her by surprise. His mood seemed instantly changed—or perhaps expertly hidden.

"Why, my gorgeous host," he said, blatantly flattering. "I knew that you, with your kind, forgiving heart, wouldn't mind Sora staying out a bit longer than planned. Especially when there is so much to talk about."

Sora's mother snorted. "So you think it's funny to leave me in the house all day with Crash? That man is horribly unsociable, you know."

This time Sora and Burn both laughed. Burn's ears twitched. "All right, all right. Sorry, it won't happen again," he said.

Her mother grinned. "Good. You're forgiven. Now if you don't mind, I'm starving."

With false enthusiasm, Burn and Sora mounted their horses and followed Lorianne back down the trail.

All was relaxed and peaceful once more, but Sora couldn't help but be troubled over Burn's story. She looked back at Dorian's grave. Life changed so quickly, so unexpectedly—how many dreams had been lost with Dorian's death? How many plans? She wondered what Burn's plans were now, if he wanted to move on or if he would just stay at Lorianne's house forever.

She wondered suddenly if her friends would ever free themselves of Volcrian's hunt, if they would get the chance to pursue a different life, one that they wanted. And what about herself? Her own dreams?
And what are those?
she wondered.

She could no longer come up with an answer.

* * *

After dinner, Sora watched Crash leave the table. He was quiet and withdrawn as usual, only offering a few comments during the meal. She wondered what was on his mind.

She excused herself, following him upstairs. Burn and Lori barely noticed her leave. They were gently arguing over the healing properties of willow bark.

She gnawed her lip, wondering what to say when she caught up to the assassin. “You seem quiet” didn't sound like the best approach.

She was surprised to find him waiting in the hallway. But of course he had heard her follow him. She paused, staring at him awkwardly, taken off-guard.

He was dressed in black, but she hadn't seen him wear his knives since he had come to Lori's house. His dark hair was slightly longer now, sweeping low around his ears, brushing across his forehead. He faced her, waiting, his eyes flickering over her. Perhaps curious.

“Crash,” she said, then stopped. She felt suddenly awkward, unsure of what to say. “Uh...it was a good meal, right?”
Stupid,
she could have kicked herself.

He nodded, his shoulders loosening. He shifted his weight to one foot, slightly more relaxed.

She sighed. “I just...I wanted to tell you....” What? What had she been thinking, following him up here?

“How is your wound?” Crash asked instead.

Sora's mouth opened. “Fine,” she stuttered. “Uh, almost fully recovered. Perhaps we can begin training soon.”

He glanced away. She felt his withdrawal like a passing cloud pulling back over the horizon. She frowned. Perhaps she had said something wrong.

“I wanted to tell you,” she started again, “that Lord Fallcrest wasn't my father.”

He looked back up at her. His expression was guarded.

She took a step toward him, slightly bolder now. “I just wanted you to know,” she said, pushing on. “What you did was horrible...but...well....” What was she trying to say? That killing a stranger was better than her own blood? Feelings of guilt swarmed inside of her. She had felt far more grief over Dorian's death than she had for the man who had raised her. But was it truly her fault? Lord Fallcrest had treated her as less than family. Dorian had embraced her with open arms.

“He wasn't my father,” she finished lamely.

Crash waited, then shook his head, as though inwardly amused. “Is that all?” he murmured.

She nodded, gnawing at her lower lip.

“Hm,” he grunted. “You should get your rest. You were out for a long time today. You're not as recovered as you might feel.” Then he turned, slipping quietly down the hall, into the last bedroom on the left where he and Burn slept.

Sora watched him go. She frowned, wondering at his words, wishing she could say more. She had been doing a lot of thinking these past weeks. He was still a killer, a man capable of unimaginable destruction...but there was something else inside him.

I'm being sentimental,
she thought, and turned to her room.
He's an assassin. He doesn't care.

* * *

That same week, things started to change.

Crash and Burn took to locking themselves in their room, speaking softly so Sora couldn't hear what was being said. She paid no attention at first, but after a while, it began to worry her. She caught them poring over maps. Discussing roads. Making plans.

As though sensing the change, the weather turned darker. Clouds moved in. “Another bout of rain,” her mother said cheerily as she brought herbs in from the garden. “The farmers will be happy. No drought this year.”

The clouds lingered. As soon as one storm passed, another took its place, blowing in from the ocean. It felt like winter all over again.

It was the second week of rain when Crash caught her alone. She was looking out the window of her bedroom, bored and wishing to go outside, even if it was pouring. Her mother still fussed over her wound, convinced that she hadn't yet recovered, even though Sora felt fine. Stronger, even, than she had a year ago.

Abruptly the assassin was next to her, catching her off-guard. She squeaked in surprise, then flushed with embarrassment.
I should be used to this by now.
She looked up at him, waiting, wondering how she hadn't heard him enter the room.

He shifted. "Watching something?" he asked.

Small talk?
"Eh...no, just the rain," she muttered, unsure of what to think.

"That's nice," he said plainly, as if he didn't think it was nice at all. Crash had been acting like this—forcibly sociable—since their moment in the hallway. However, she didn't like the silence one bit.

"You wanted something?" she asked bluntly.

Crash looked down at her and then quickly averted his eyes back to the window. He was holding something back, she could feel it. Crash—speechless? Not bloody likely. She watched him, and her irritation slowly turned to amusement. He shifted again. His mouth tightened.

"We're going to be leaving," he said quietly. He watched her carefully, and Sora realized he was waiting for a reaction.

"Well, I guessed that a while ago," she said with a shrug. All of the whispering in the bedroom had tipped her off. "When? Will it be soon?"
Why is he looking at me like that?
Was he really so surprised that she had known their plans?
I'm not a simpleton!