The Sun Seeker- Pt 7

“Jes? Are you awake?”

Jes wanted to summon a snort for Hash, but that was too much emotion right now. She sat on the bed, in much the same position they'd left her in last, and soaked up the silence and dark of the room. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, and with it, her new vision was dimmed to almost nothing. There were little wisps and glimmers, but otherwise she was as blind as anyone else in this moment. It was a strange sort of comfort. A little bit of normal.

She heard Hash shuffle further into the room.

“How are you holding up?”

She drew a deep breath. “When I was little, I used to hear the stars singing, and I'd tell Cicera and she'd smile kind of sad. But if anyone asked her about it, she'd just tell them I was being 'fanciful,' playing make-believe. She never told me to stop talking about it, of course. She wasn't like that. But eventually even I started to believe it was made up.”

The bed dipped a little as Hash sat down, his thick shoulder warm where it met hers. A little clarity came to her vision, a light coming from Hash, a borrowed sight from his presence. She resisted the urge to shift away.

“She always loved your Star songs,” He said quietly. “She tried to write them down once, but there weren't words really, and the tunes... were more than could be defined on paper.”

The shared memory settled between them, Her dancing about the Telling Pot as Hash and Cicera sat in the shade, listening to her sing. Jes caught glimmers of Hash's point of view in that memory. Of watching beautiful, captivating Cicera as she stared entranced and lost at her little girl and feeling lost himself. Jes gave in and shifted away, breaking the connection and allowing the darkness to close in again.

“I had a... dream about her.” Jes frowned in the dark. “But I don't think it really was her.” Jes described everything. The whispering field, the glass city, the sickly sun. Her mother, too far away, but needing something.

Hash was quiet for a long time. “In the old tales, the ones you'd find in the archives, the stars had to break down their thoughts and words into ways we could understand. They would use pictures and... visions I guess, to get their point across.” He shrugged. “That's how Solem drew us to her. That's what the tales say, anyway. You'd have to ask a... well.”

Jes did manage a snort this time.

“... So... Artem.”

“Oh, is he still here?” She tried for nonchalance, but it felt a little bubble of helplessness instead.

“Yeah. Still.” Hash sounded either disconcerted or displeased. Maybe both.

“Have you talked to him?”

It was Hash's turn to snort. “He doesn't seem to care much for my company.”

He tried to say it casually, but there was a hard edge to him, a tension that ran through his shoulders. Jes shifted, not really sure what to say about that. Hash stirred himself out of whatever thoughts he was stuck in.

“He's pretty determined to talk to you though.”

Jes grunted.

“Of course,” Hash settled his back against the wall. “He has to get past Sehkma first. She's been scolding and grilling him all day. 'Who are you? What do you want with my Jesphyra? Eat some soup. Wash that dish. You're too skinny! Who feeds you?'” Hash imitated her tone well after all these years.

Jes turned toward him. “She made a Solari wash dishes?”

“Like a child caught with the last Starthistle cookie.”

Jes' snort developed into a helpless chuckle.

They were silent for a time. The curtains lifted gently in the breeze, and a glimmer of sight and sound drifted in with the motion. The cold starlight couldn't show her much, but it came with an echo of the presence. The presence of Solem, and all the other stars. Jes wanted to wrap her arms around her head to block it out.

“I don't think he's going to go away.” Hash sounded thoughtful and sad.

Jes sneered in the dark. “So I should go talk to him and put him out of his misery?”

“I don't give two turnips about his misery,” Hash growled, but seemed to catch himself. “But he may be able to help with yours. If he can help you understand your dream, or even just help you... cope, it will be enough. Then maybe we can move on and he can go back to whatever glass house he stepped out of.” Jes didn't respond, so he reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. Warmth and concern flowed into her, and a soft memory of a sweet little child curling up against his chest while Cicera stirred a Telling Pot nearby and her voice floated over them. She felt his love and strength wrap around her, not just for her mother, but for her too.

“I don't know why Solem has chosen you, Sundrop. I don't know what any of this means. But I will do what I can to help you. Even if it means putting up with the man stupid enough to refuse Cicera and you.”

Jes swallowed through all the emotions, his and her own, and took a deep breath.

Too* Close Brothers

Long ago, before the Melders and the Quarrymen were one people, two brothers were working up in the mines (The Melders came from the hill country, as you may know, where all the precious metals run thick).

Cobalt was the eldest, and had rich blue eyes that suited his name. And Vein had long silky hair with threads of silver and gold through it (No one knew if he'd done this on purpose or been born that way).

These brothers were tall and clever, and very proud. Even among their own people, they were hailed as two of the greatest smiths of the ages. They twisted and coaxed the precious metal straight from the rocks and formed it into the most amazing, beautiful objects. They could even, it is said, make the metal sing.

On this occasion, the brothers had hidden away in their deepest mine to experiment with new ways of melding. Vein was trying to merge the metal to his fingernails (in the manner some people use paints) and Cobalt was combing the metal from the rocks into thin workable strands.

As they worked over the same strand their minds connected through the metal, In the same way electricity travels through a wire. They were both so shocked by this, they tried to rein back their melding power and break the connection. Unfortunately, Cobalt was stronger then Vein; as he pulled his mind from the metal he accidentally pulled his brothers' mind into himself!

A mind, you see, is a very intricate sort of mess, much like a pile of jewelry left alone too long. The chaos of the moment and the shock of the brothers had them so tangled together, it was impossible to know whose thoughts belonged to whom.

It took the brothers four days to untangle themselves into two separate minds in one space. And it took a week further for them to figure out how to work through the same hands, and discover how they had become joined.

It was a close thing, but they managed to send Vein back to his own body. (There was some concern that it would shut down without 'him,' but it remained breathing and asleep).

Using the metal strand as a conduit again they sent Vein back where he belonged, and spent the next few weeks working in separate tunnels. You can imagine how sick they were of each other after such intimacy.

Separation would prove difficult however; the linking of their minds had created a permanent connection- a flowing current- between them, so they could hear each other even over a great distance. You can imagine how uncomfortable this was for them to live with. But live with it they did (for both were too proud to do otherwise) and passed the strange connectivity on to their children.

It is said that Galena The Eldest Of Us (who led her people to Masonry City and married the Quarrymen king Ganister) was a direct descendant of these brothers.

It was their mistake that let Melders hear thoughts and, consequently, led the Melders to seek out the Quarrymen (the only people whose minds were too thick to read).

So you see, if not for two proud brothers making a foolish mistake, the kingdom of Masonry would never have been.

[a story from "Tales and Lore of the Old Kingdom"]

The Sun Seeker- Pt 6

“Jesphyra? Sun Drop, open your eyes.”

Gentle hands touched her face, soothing the heavy pounding behind her eyes. She pried her eyes open carefully, unsure of her surroundings, but feeling safe with the presence and soothing voice.

Sehkma leaned her face close, worry creasing the corners of her eyes.

“That's good, Child. Slow, deep breaths.”

Jes focused on her face, breathing to settle her still swimming senses. “What happened?” The words felt thick and heavy, and she wasn't sure if she'd managed them clearly.

“Just relax, Sun Drop. You had a... fall.” Sehkma glanced questioningly over her shoulder, but Jes couldn't see who she addressed. “We're going to take you home now.”

Sehkma moved, and strong arms scooped her up. The world swam painfully as she was lifted and situated against a warm chest.

“Easy now,” Hash's voice rumbled gruffly under her ear. “I've got you.”

“I'll accompany you,” another voice said.

Jes barely noted the voice before the pressure in her head settled heavier and she faded away again.

Jes felt the gentle warmth of sunlight and looked up. She sat in a meadow of long, softly bending grass that seemed to whisper gently to itself. She turned to the presence behind her and felt her breath stop.

“Mom?”

Cicera stood there, draped in a soft, pale material, her heart-shaped face held a warm, healthy glow. She smiled affectionately at Jesphyr. Her chest rose in a deep breath, like she was about to speak, wanted to speak, but a worried look edged across her face.

“What's... what's wrong? Mom?” Jes tried to keep her tone steady, but panic and confusion warred within herself.

Cicera's eyes turned sad, and she looked up into the sky, and Jes followed her eye. The warm sun above had turned... darker, red and pitiful. Weak. She could see the decay, the tiredness in the light.

She turned back to Cicera. “What's happening? I don't understand. Talk to me!”

Cicera's expression was a mix of frustration and helplessness, desperation. She turned and pointed across the meadow and in the distance, Jes could see the Glass City, Two tall buildings glittering in blue-greens and other jeweled tones in the now failing light.

The city looked... haunted, decaying in the light as it faded, fading everything.

With the edges of her vision shrinking, ending, Jesphyr's heart began to pound and she focused on Cicera, begging her to help. To stay. She tried to step toward her mother, but the distance remained the same.

Cicera held out her hand, but the light was disappearing around them, between them. Cicera's form itself faded, melding into a bright spot, that turned into a sickly red sun...

Help me.

Jesphyr's eyes felt gritty and dry, like she'd fallen asleep in the sunshine. She pulled in a deep breath of warm air, and felt the closeness of the space around her in a way she never had before.

Without even opening her eyes, she knew she lay in a small room. Light from the one window touched on her, the bed she was on, across a wooden floor and few other furnishings.

She could feel it all. Whatever the light touched, was in her mind, and lay before her, within her, in a way that was entirely disconcerting. She could sense her own body, but from the outside, as if it was just one more object in the room.

She forced her eyelids apart, hoping to dash away the out-of-body sensation, but her eyes registered nothing. She lifted a hand to waved above her face, and while she noted the movement in the light display of her mind, her physical eyes saw none of it.

Panic panged in the center of her chest, but she took a breath, trying to take stock of her situation. Her body seemed to move, and she could feel it. But it was very off-putting to see it from outside herself as well, as a bright sillouhette in a fuzzy screen of light and dark. She shifted carefully into a sitting position, watching the picture in her head shift too.

“You are awake.”

Jes froze, instinctively turning toward the sound. In her minds eye, a form rose from one of the shadowed corners and stepped into the light, toward the bed. She shrank back toward the wall.

“Who are you? Where's... Where am I?”

“You are safe. We are at your enclave.”

“What's wrong with my eyes?

The person stepped before her, in the direct path of the light, and seemed to reflect the glow within himself. She could almost see details in her mind's eye... slender build, long pale hair pulled back from a face. But the image was still fuzzy, like staring through a sheet of sand.

“Your eyes? Can you not see?” There was concern in his voice now. “Did you strike your head?” He reached out a hand toward her, and Jes snatched it, wanting to make sure what she was seeing was real.

“Are you able to see me?” He inquired hopefully.

“Not... with my eyes,” She muttered, flinging his hand away. Jes' chest was starting to feel tight, her breathing shallow. She pulled her legs up and shifted, putting her back against the wall. What the hell was happening to her?

“Not with...” The figure before her leaned back thoughtfully. He bowed his head for a silent moment, before turning and grabbing a chair from the corner he'd materialized from. He set it directly across from her and sat, elbows on knees as he leaned toward her.

“Jesphyr, may I take your hand? Just for a moment.”

“Why?” Jess turned her head as if to look for an escape, even though it didn't change her view at all. “Who the hell are you? Sehkma! Hash!”

“Your friends are nearby, I promise you are safe.” He said soothingly. He had a melodic, cultured voice. “Please, I can help.” he reached toward her again but simply waited. “I won't hurt you.”

Jes leaned her head back, trying to calm herself with measured breaths. She didn't know what happened or who this man was, but if he could help...

She reached out a cautious hand, the fuzzy image in her mind not quite perfect.

The reflected light within his form spread to her own, until they both glowed. Slowly, her vision gained clarity. Her eyes still didn't see, at least not the way she was accustomed, but she was able to pick out finer details. The almost white of his hair, the lean, sharp features of his face, the crook in his nose where it had been broken long ago. Looking closer, his hair had more of a silver sheen, and there were lines of time around his eyes and mouth, and across his tall forehead.

“You're a Solari.”

“Yes.”

“I can... see you, but it's still not... normal?”

A wry sadness turned the corners of his mouth down a little. “No, not the way you are accustomed.” He regarded her a moment. “Jesphyr, I want you to think back to the festival. Can you tell me what you remember?”

Jes thought of the street, the parade, the rush of an awareness beyond her own, but she shrank away from that overwhelming flood of information, afraid of being swept into it again. I remember everything, she thought bitterly.Lorekeepers always remember everything.

“Good. Can you show me?”

Jes stilled. She was positive she hadn't said anything out loud. He lifted their joined hands pointedly.

“We are connected. I can see whatever you see, hear the reflection of your thoughts. And vis versa. It is the way of the Solari.”

She stared at him, feeling a dread weight in her stomach. “Who are you?”

That wryness tilted his lips again, but he didn't turn away. “My name is Artem. It seems you are truly my daughter.”

Jes yanked her hand back. “What in all the light and shadows?”

“That is an understandable reaction.” Her vision was fuzzing over again, but she caught the disappointed drop of his head. “This was not the way I had hoped to have this conversation, but it seems Solem had plans of her own.”

Jes was saved from thinking up a response to that by the opening of the door. A short figure wearing something flowy came in.

“Jesphyra, you're awake! Praise Solem.” She saw Sehkma touch her forehead in tribute.

Jes held back a slightly hysterical snort. “I have some choice words for Solem, but they aren't praise.”

She reached out toward the older woman, needing someone familiar.

“Oh Sundrop, you gave us such a scare. You- My child... your eyes?” warm hands braced her face, and in that touch, Jes could see what Sehkma saw. Jes saw her own face; wild hair from sleep, dark brows... and strange golden-white eyes that used to be hazel.

Jes scrunched her eyes closed and buried her face against Sehkma, but it didn't stop the pictures in her head. Sehkma wrapped protective arms around her and turned to the Solari with alarm. She could feel Sehkma's alarm, could feel it on her warm brown face as she stared at the man.

The Solari. Artem in the flesh, not just a character in a story, not an abstracted memory from her mother. She could feel moisture gathering behind her own eyelids, and tried to breath it away. She hadn't cried since Cicera... Cicera.

The dream returned to her then. It was too much. Her deep breath turned to a shudder, a silent sob.

With her face pressed against her Sol-mother's chest, she watched from the light show in her mind as Sehkma settled on the bed to wrap her more securely, and Artem politely, quietly, excused himself from the room.