“Where can I find one?”

The man squinted, hesitated, and with a pull of his beard, he finally answered. “The closest be in Sondshor . ”

She frowned. The Mystics had always been fierce and determined, willing to turn away from the Priests yet unwilling to abandon their loyalty. She wondered why they had abandoned Elishevera .

“What is Sondshor  ? ”

“You truly na be from around here,” the old man mused. “ Sondshor be the Magnes realm at the edge of the desert.”

“Where exactly in Sondshor would I find a Mystic?”

Grimacing as though it pained him to answer the question, the old man spoke softly. “Na matter which shor , they always be found at the castle.”

Panic curled about her heart. “Castle? Whose castle?”

“The Magnes , of course .”

She stared at him. Irritation arose through her body. She never wanted magic and politics mixed  together . She saw what it had done to her Granite and Gypsum peoples—centuries of war, generations never knowing peace, the transformation of their world into something ugly.

In this world, she made sure the Priests wrote down  her law that magic always remain sacred, confined to the temples only, beyond the reach of any Magnes or other kind of political leader.

With a deep forceful breath, she hurled the yellow stone. It struck the sand with a thud. She curled her hands into tight fists, stomped a foot on the ground, and shouted, “Holy great suns!”

Trembling, the old man stepped backward.

She stormed away from him, the boy, and the camp. Delving into the dark desert, she began to rant. “You just can’t leave anything alone. It just turns into a big mess.”

“Child,” the old man called after her. “The desert na be the place for wandering at night. There be nomads.”

“I just wanted to be with a friend, find some comfort, feel good about myself, trust again,” Ule carried on, continuing to ignore him. “Feel belonging, you know, be with someone who accepts me, loves me, oh, and have a little fun, but no! The Priests or, or, or the Mystics abandoned her, killed her. How dare they?!”

The old man hissed, his voice breaking from strain. “They na be kind to strangers.” He made no effort to follow her. “Death will come to you fool!”

“Leave it alone, he says!” She placed the bulk of her blame on her Master. “Let it be. Watch what the worlds become. Learn about yourself… What good is all that if they destroy themselves in the process?!”

The pleasure of shouting—finally letting her emotions stream out—drowned out the concerns of the old man.

Somewhere, very far away, an unseen beast howled in response. She ignored it too, ranted on, stomped her feet deeply into the ground, marching in no particular direction. Only the light of a half moon dimly lit the footprints she left behind in her tantrum.

Occasionally she stumbled. She swore when her toes struck shadows which were actually  stones, fuelling her ire. Her cheeks burned and her heart pounded. She ranted until her throat grew sore, stomping until her foot came down on the edge of a piece of slate and cut her heel.

In the wake of her fury, she finally paused. Breathing deeply, she mentally pulled herself together. The rage diminished. She came to this world seeking comfort in a friend and instead discovered only more heartache.

Fatigued, hungry, her face on fire now, she felt the energy within her humanoid form slipping away and knew only food, water, or sleep could restore her. Too fatigued to heal herself or outrun anyone or anything, she needed to return to the camp, perhaps even befriend that boy again. He did find her pretty  after all . Together they could conspire to find something better to eat than spider. Come morning, after recovering her full strength, she would travel to the castle in Sondshor and find herself a Mystic.

Pleased with her plan, she wandered on, unsure of which direction to go. She scanned the desert for any sign of the orange glow of campfires near Elishevera . A low flowing wind swept the top layers of sand and had filled in her footprints, obscuring her trail.

___________________________________

The Forgotten Gemstone, Book One in A Xiinisi Trilogy

© Kit Daven & Eager Eye Books, 2013.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any matter whatsoever  without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review or critical article.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, situations, and references portrayed in this story either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

Cover art by Sean Chappell, RedFracture .com.