Quest for the Sun Orb

Quest for the Sun Orb

The Orbs of Rathira, Book Two

by

Laura Jo Phillips

Copyright © 2013 by Kathleen Honsinger

Cover art/design Copyright © 2013 by Kathleen Honsinger

All rights reserved.

DEDICATION

For my family.  Thank you for putting up with my long hours, the cancelled family movie nights, shopping trips, get togethers and occasional melt downs. 

For my husband.  Thank you for your constant support, your hours of knocking your head against a wall as you struggled to master the website, the blog and the oh so incomprehensible facebook page.  Not to mention the frequent brain-storming sessions, research requests, and hefty editing tasks.

For Mom.  My best friend, biggest fan, constant supporter, and the best listener ever, not to mention the best Mom anyone could ever ask for.

I love all of you, and appreciate each of you every single day.

And, as always, for Mom, Grandma, and Great-Grandma---Thank you all for the creativity you passed along to me, as well as the heart to do something with it.  There is a little bit of each of you in these books, just as there is a little bit of each of you in me

Look for previews and coming release announcements at:

Website:

www.laurajophillips.com

Blog:

arimaslove.blogspot.com

Facebook:

facebook.com/laurajophillipsauthor

Other Books by Laura Jo Phillips

The Dracons’ Woman

Book One of the Soul-Linked Saga

The Lobos’ HeartSong

Book Two of the Soul-Linked Saga

The Katres’ Summer

Book Three of the Soul-Linked Saga

The Bearens’ Hope

Book Four of the Soul-Linked Saga

The Gryphon’s Dream

Book Five of the Soul-Linked Saga

The Vulpiran’s Honor

Book Six of the Soul-Linked Saga

Quest for the Moon Orb

The Orbs of Rathira, Book One

Secrets Kept

Mixed Blood, Book One

(Available under the name Kathleen Honsinger)

Books by Harvey Phillips and Paul Honsinger

To Honor You Call Us

Man of War, Book One

For Honor We Stand

Man of War, Book Two

Visit the home of the Soul-Linked Saga online at:

www.laurajophillips.com

or email Laura Jo at:

[email protected]

Chapter One

Tiari Zora opened her eyes and sat up on the narrow, rough pallet that served as her bed.  She was relieved to be alone in the tiny hut that had been her home for almost as long as she could remember.  She hated waking up to the sound of Una’s harsh voice, harsh words, and harsh presence.  She folded the thin, worn scrap of cloth that was her only blanket, then stood up and made her way across the cold stone floor in the darkness.  Una had covered the tiny window that was the hut’s only source of natural light so long ago that Tiari barely remembered that it existed.  Darkness had been her nearly constant companion since the day of her birth just over nineteen years earlier, so she didn’t really mind.

She knelt down before the fireplace, reached for the ironwood poker and stirred the ash covered coals that remained from the previous night’s fire.  There was just enough wood left in the pile to get a small fire going.  Once that was done, she got up and went to the table which held a bucket half full of water, and the teapot.  She filled the teapot, hung it on the tripod over the fire, and fixed herself a meal of dark bread and cheese, moving around the hut with confidence in the utter darkness.  The fire provided light, but it was not enough for Tiari to see.  For that, she needed the natural light of the sun.

She settled herself before the fire on a straw mat that she’d woven herself, enjoying the fire’s warmth as she ate her meager meal.  When she was finished she refilled her cup and tried to decide what to do with her day.  She had some wheat stalks soaking in a basket that should be ready for weaving.  She’d been working out a new pattern in her mind that she thought would be interesting to try.  But she didn’t really feel like doing that today. 

She wondered when Una would come, and whether she should sweep the floor and scrub the hearth, but decided she didn’t feel like cleaning, either.  Una would scream at her, call her names, maybe even strike her, but Tiari had grown used to that just as she’d grown used to being alone.  It was simply a part of her life.  Besides, she’d long since learned that it didn’t matter if she scrubbed the little one room hut all day and all night, Una would still find some reason to rail at her.  Tiari had a natural desire for cleanliness and order, so she cleaned when she felt the need, but never in an effort to please Una. 

She remembered that she’d torn a seam in her other shift, and considered mending it.  But that didn’t appeal to her any more than weaving or cleaning had.  She sighed, wondering what was wrong with her.  There was very little for her to do to occupy herself in the confines of the hut aside from sewing, which she hated, or weaving, which she loved.  She felt nervous and unsettled for some reason.  What she really wanted, she decided, was to be outside.  She wanted to feel the sun on her face, the earth beneath her feet, and breathe fresh air.  Maybe Una would come today and let her out long enough to gather fresh grass for her pallet, and some fresh pine needles as well.  She could get those while she gathered wood for her fire and fetched water from the creek.

Tiari finished her tea and stood up, hesitating for a moment before using some of her remaining water to rinse her cup.  If Una didn’t come, she’d need that water for drinking.  She shuddered as she remembered the time Una had not come out to the hut for ten days.  Tiari had tried everything she could think of to break out of the hut before weakness from lack of food and water had prevented her from doing more than lying on her pallet, waiting to die.  She’d been eleven years old at the time, but remembered it as if it had been yesterday.  She never took her food and water for granted any more.

She set her cup down on the table without rinsing it, reminding herself that if worse came to worse, there was water in the soaking basket.  It would taste bad after having wheat stalks soaking in it for days to make them soft enough for weaving, but water was water. 

Feeling a little better about the water situation, she made her way to the corner where she kept her baskets and tools for gathering.  She selected several sturdy baskets, two lengths of rope that she’d woven from sword grass, and a couple of bags made from heavy, coarse cloth.  She would gather wood, fresh grass for her pallet, stalks and some of the tall, wide bladed sword grass for weaving.  And pine cones.  The season was just right for them to begin falling in the forest but, if she wasn’t fast enough, the animals would get all of them before she got a share.  The thought of rich pine nuts made her mouth water.

She piled her supplies near the door, then went to the shelf beside her pallet for her shoes.  Once soft, warm leather, they were now thin and shiny from wear, but they still offered some protection from the bare ground.  Just as she finished tying the leather thongs around her ankles, she heard the familiar sound of the bar on the door being lifted.  As always, she felt an intense mixture of both relief and dread at the sound.  Relief that she had not been forgotten.  And dread because Una was, quite simply, not a nice person. 

***

Sir Bredon of the House of Bauron, sat in a shallow cave he’d stumbled across quite by chance after his headlong flight from the village of the Sirelina.  He’d pushed his diplo to the end of its strength, and would have pushed harder except that the poor beast simply could not go on.  He’d dismounted and continued on foot, leading the diplo by the reins.  He’d considered leaving it behind, but changed his mind.  He would need the animal later if he didn’t want to travel on foot.

Now, as he sat and gazed into the flames of his campfire, he remembered the moment he felt Marene’s tainted soul blast its way into his body, and he recoiled with disgust.  He’d known three things at once as he stood there on the beach, frozen in shock.

The first was that Marene had, somehow, become wholly evil.  The second, she was exhausted, unable to do more than curl up in the back of his mind, a dark, icy presence that he felt as clearly as he felt his own hands.  The third, he was not
cin-sahib
. 

The last fact allowed his heart to resume beating, and his mind to begin thinking.  Though Marene was weak and tired now, there was no telling what she would be able to do with his body once she regained her strength.  Perhaps nothing.  Perhaps anything.  Which meant that the first thing he had to do was get as far from his own people, most especially Kapia, and the Sirelina, as he could before she awoke. 

He’d raced away from the beach, his heart aching at the thought of Kapia’s reaction when she returned to find him gone.  But he had no choice.  Above all things, at all costs, she must be kept safe.  He’d ordered his diplo saddled and spent precious minutes preparing a pack for himself with a bedroll, Hunter’s rations and other necessities. 

He was relieved that none of the other Hunters had noticed his preparations, and none of the servants had the rank to question him.  He’d considered pulling Sir Garundel aside and telling him what had happened, but decided against it.  It was possible that Garundel would decide that the quickest solution to the problem would be to kill him, and Bredon was not ready to die.  Not when he had a future that included Kapia.  He’d also considered leaving a written message for Kapia, but decided against that as well.  He didn’t know how Marene had managed to invade his body and mind, but he was beginning to have his suspicions, and they were not things he was prepared to admit to Kapia.

Bredon fed the fire from the pile of dried wood he had gathered, then got up to check on his diplo.  The shallow cave he’d found was barely large enough for himself and a small fire, but the diplo was resting happily on its picket among the nearby trees.  It had grass and leaves to eat, a collapsible water bucket to drink from, and it was close enough for Bredon to reach it quickly should it be threatened.  Not that many animals would attack a healthy diplo in its prime.  As gentle as they were with most people, they could be formidable when threatened.