Quest for the Sun (11 page)

‘You're right,' I said bleakly. ‘It's anything but fine.'

And slowly, haltingly, I told my story.

They listened in silence. Though I knew we were completely alone, I found myself lowering my voice almost to a whisper, as if the swirling mist might have ears; glancing up, it was easy to imagine faint shapes drifting like grey ghosts in the whiteness.

Once I'd finished, Jamie was first to speak. ‘Well, one thing's obvious: our top priority is to find Zenith.
When twain is one and one is twain, wind blows and sun shines forth again …
that can only mean one thing: the two of you need to be together again for everything to get back to normal.'

‘Yes, for once it's crystal clear,' agreed Gen. ‘Maybe you won't even have to do anything else, just find him.'

‘
Just
,' said Rich with gloomy emphasis. ‘I can't believe Meirion wouldn't simply tell you where he left him. He must know, surely?'

‘It was
couldn't
, not wouldn't. He said that in Karazan the
path to the truth is crooked and hard to find, and though he could point the way, I must get there on my own. And then he went into a kind of trance … it's hard to explain.' I looked at Rich's scowling face and knew it would be a waste of breath to even try. He saw things simply, in black and white; the shifting sands of my strange conversation with the prophet mage had more to do with images than words.

‘Well,' said Jamie, ‘even though what he said was cryptic, we have to assume he gave you all the information you need to find Zenith. In which case …'

‘We need go over exactly what he said, and see where it leads us,' said Gen, sitting up straighter. The familiar sparkle was back in her eyes, and I felt a rush of hope. This was what I'd thought would never happen again. The others were here; we were together. Even Blue-bum. He peeped up at me with his bright button eyes, and gave an encouraging chitter.

‘OK then,' I said, frowning with concentration. ‘First of all, he said we — I — would find things on the way, some useful, some not. He said we already have some of them —'

‘Like Zaronel's diary and the cylinder!' interrupted Jamie. ‘Do we have anything else?'

‘There's this, I suppose.' Rather doubtfully, I produced the small green mosaic I'd found in the grass in the Summer Palace. ‘But it's just a bit of mosaic from the pool.'

‘It's beautiful!' said Gen. ‘Can I see it?' I handed it over, and she frowned. ‘I wouldn't be so sure, Adam. It has that tingle … Suppose it is precious, magical in some way, and someone dropped it …'

‘It could have lain there for years,' agreed Jamie earnestly, ‘just waiting for the right person to come along and pick it up.'

‘Or it could just be a bit of stuff from the wall of the pool, like you said,' grinned Rich, tossing it from hand to hand. ‘I don't feel any tingle, Gen.' He handed it back. ‘Carry on, Adam.'

‘He said that he carried the second-born to the east, and
left him in safe hands.
A cradle-craft sets sail for Limbo; in those lost lands I left him.
'

‘So,' said Jamie, ‘Limbo is a place, and you have to get there by boat.'

‘Which makes sense when you consider that our map of Karazan shows nothing to the east but sea,' said Kenta.

‘Maybe if we get back into our lift-boat and set off eastwards, the map will magically extend to show where we were going — and bingo! There will be Limbo, large as life,' said Rich hopefully.

‘Yes — and maybe not,' replied Jamie with a dark look. ‘Go on, Adam, what else did he say?'

‘He said … he said …' I was battling to separate the words from the images. What
had
actually been said? Had there been any words at all?
‘The birds of the air will point the way …'

‘Yes?' prompted Kenta.

‘And there was something to do with moons, the twin moons of Karazan rising together and balancing the heavens …'

‘That's real helpful, I must say,' muttered Rich.

‘And
look for grey smoke on a grey horizon
.'

‘Well, there's no shortage of grey horizons.'

‘Oh, do shut up, Richard,' snapped Gen. ‘Adam's finding this hard enough without you chipping in with smart remarks every two seconds. Was there anything else, Adam?'

I hesitated. I had a strong sense that some of what was said was meant only for me, and had nothing to do with our quest. There were two things … things that seemed to have imprinted themselves onto my soul so clearly I knew without question I'd never forget them.
You will make your own footprints upon the soil of Karazan …
and
For you, Child of the Wind, your destiny lies where you least look for it — the beginning will be the end, and every end a new beginning.
I was silent for a moment, then decided to trust my instinct and let Meirion's words stay in my heart where it felt they belonged, for the time being at least.

There was something else bothering me. ‘What you said
before, Gen: about just finding Zenith being enough. I have a feeling there's more. Meirion said Zeel had passed into the Realms of the Undead …
truth and lies will lead you there
, he said. And that can only mean one thing. Once we've found Zenith we're going to have to find our way to the Realms of the Undead and do … something.'

There was an uncomfortable silence. Looking round at the circle of solemn faces, I knew I wasn't the only one who hoped it wouldn't come to that.

‘Well, never mind that,' said Rich at last. ‘Going back to this whole Limbo mission, Adam: are you sure you've told us everything? Do we just go along to Kaladar, that port on the map, and hop on the next ship?'

‘I doubt it,' said Gen regretfully. ‘That isn't the way things work in Karazan. Crooked paths, remember?'

And then, out of nowhere, Meirion's other, forgotten words came back into my mind, the words I'd spoken on the mountainside above Arraz.
A heart is broken; salt tears turn to stone …

‘What did you say, Adam?' Kenta was staring at me.

I blushed. ‘Nothing,' I muttered. ‘It's just … that's what Meirion said at the very beginning, when I asked where he'd taken Zenith. But it wasn't about him; it was about me.' I gulped; looked down and mumbled, ‘When I thought you guys had … when I thought I'd never see you again …' I saw in their faces that they understood. ‘Meirion knew. He could see it all.'

‘Maybe,' said Kenta slowly. ‘Maybe, and maybe not.'

‘Adam,' said Gen urgently, ‘give me that mosaic again!' She held it up for us all to see, her eyes glowing. ‘Look at its shape!'

‘What about it?' grumbled Rich.

‘It's a teardrop. Salt
tears
.'

‘But it's not stone, it's glass.'

‘Don't be so literal, Richard!' Gen popped the mosaic into her mouth. We goggled at her. ‘I'm right!' she said, rather indistinctly.

‘Don't swallow it, Gen, whatever you do!' cautioned Jamie. ‘Especially if it really is important!'

Gen spat it daintily out into the palm of her hand. ‘It tastes of salt!' she said triumphantly. ‘Which means …'

‘What?' asked Rich. ‘What does it mean?'

There was a silence. Gen stared down at the mosaic. ‘It must mean
something
.'

Kenta had been rummaging through her pack. Now she pulled out the map and unrolled it. ‘I could be wrong, but
salt
…' Her face lit up. ‘Yes!' She pointed.

We all peered at the map. There was Lake Stillwater, with the dark bulge of Shadowwood to the south; lower still was a place called Crescent Cove. But that wasn't what Kenta was pointing to.

‘Salt Rocks,' read Richard blankly. ‘What about them?'

‘Don't you see?
Salt tears turn to stone
. Come on, everyone: if salt water turns to stone, what do you have?'

‘Salt rocks,' said Rich slowly, but now he was grinning. ‘Give that here a minute, Kenta.' He lifted the parchment up so it was almost touching his nose and squinted at it; then lowered it again, staring round at us. ‘And guess what, guys? There's a little bay here, just below the writing … and it's the exact shape of a heart.'

We thought the heart-shaped bay would be simple to find, after all, there it was on the map, clear as day. But we were wrong.

The coastline beyond Lake Stillwater was wild and rugged — sheer cliffs plunging to meet jagged rocks that would have smashed any boat to matchsticks in moments. A steep climb from the river valley took us out of the mist; we followed the grass-covered cliff-top south, staying well away from the edge and trying not to look at the ominous swell of the waves far below. I'd expected the exposed headland to be scoured by a strong sea-wind, for there to be gulls wheeling and crying above the cliffs; but there was only still air and silence.

In spite of the lack of wind, or perhaps because of it, a deep chill was seeping into my bones; I pulled my cloak closer round me and plodded on. It was as if we were walking in a dead world — or a dying one.

‘Jamie,' I said quietly, as we tramped along side by side, ‘what do you think would happen if it stayed like this forever?' Jamie gave me a sideways look it was impossible to read.
‘I dunno,' he muttered. ‘Don't think about it, Adam; it won't happen.'

We walked on for a minute or so in silence. Then: ‘Tell me.'

He shook his head; then slowed and stopped, turning to face me. ‘It's true,' he said defensively. ‘I
don't
know. No one could, for sure. But …'

‘But?'

‘Well, in Science Club at school …' his voice wobbled. I knew what he must be thinking: how very far away those safe, sunny afternoons at Science Club seemed now. ‘In Science Club,' he went on resolutely, ‘we did an investigation into what made the dinosaurs extinct. There's a theory that it was a massive asteroid that smashed into the earth. I was thinking about it before: it would have had an effect almost exactly like this. Dust, smoke, ash, whatever, blocking out the sun. The first thing that would happen is the temperature would drop, like at night. You can feel it happening now. But there'd be no morning, so it would keep on dropping. And if the temperature gets too low …' He shrugged and gave me an apologetic glance.

‘Just as important would be the effect on the food chain. It starts with sunlight. Plants need that to grow — it's called photosynthesis. It wouldn't be long before the food chain began to break down, and then …'

We stared at each other. He didn't need to say anything more.

‘But don't worry,' he said flatly. ‘Like I said, it isn't going to happen.'

There were no people about: none. Normally I'd have been thankful, but now I'd have given anything to see a lone fisherman down on the rocks, or a traveller in the distance. I imagined people huddled by their fires against the creeping cold, shutters
closed tight to keep out the unnatural darkness, doors barred against the unknown. I imagined them whispering to one another, full of dread; putting on false smiles and cheerful voices for the children.

I imagined Kai hurrying along the deserted road to Arakesh bearing the news that the lost prince was found — and the grim truth that his return had brought destruction to them all.

At last we came to Crescent Cove. I'd pictured a bustling little fishing village, with people and boats and the cheerful smells of fish and cooking fires. But we nearly walked right past it: a desolate huddle of half a dozen shacks on a narrow beach of grey pebbles way below us, at the foot of a steep path. A twist of smoke wound up from one chimney, and the sour tang of ash hung on the air.

Past Crescent Cove the landscape changed abruptly. Grass gave way to scrub and then dense coastal forest. The ground fell away slightly, the cliff-face easing from vertical to a slope we could just about have slithered down. What had been a ruler-straight cliff edge changed to a series of inlets almost completely concealed by smothering vegetation. While before we'd been striding along open moors, now we were shoving our way through thick foliage in near-darkness, in danger of missing our footing and sliding down the slope. Worst of all, the undergrowth obscured the coastline: what was clear on the map was completely hidden now that we were actually there.

It wasn't long before Rich stumbled to a standstill. ‘This is no good,' he grumbled. ‘We could go right past the bay without ever knowing. It's down there somewhere, but where?'

‘We need to look out for fresh water,' said Kenta. ‘We've only got enough for tonight, and tomorrow morning if we're lucky.'

‘We could climb down to sea level and pick our way along the beach …' said Gen without much enthusiasm.

‘If there is a beach,' said Jamie. ‘
Salt rocks
, remember, Gen? I'm betting it's called that for a reason.'

‘What if only a couple of us go down?' suggested Kenta. ‘That way there'll be someone at the top to help them up again.'

‘Well, don't look at me,' said Jamie firmly. ‘James Mortimer Fitzpatrick's staying up here. I'm not built for climbing.'

I looked at him standing there, four-square and determined — and suddenly felt myself begin to grin. ‘True enough, Jamie, you're not,' I said, feeling more cheerful than I had for hours. ‘But we all know someone who is.' I shrugged off my backpack and plonked it down none too gently on the ground. ‘Wakey-wakey, Blue-bum old pal,' I told him. ‘Now's the time for you to use up some of that energy you've been saving and make yourself useful!'

It grew steadily darker, and we searched on. Night was falling, and soon I could barely see the dim forms of the others pushing through the trees, keeping pace with Blue-bum, swinging through the forest far below. And still the excited chitter we were waiting for didn't come.

At last, reluctantly, I suggested we call a halt. ‘There's no point carrying on in the dark. Let's give Blue-bum a shout and have some dinner and an early night.'

 

It wasn't long before the others were curled up in their sleeping bags fast asleep. I snuggled down in mine, glad of its comforting warmth, closed my eyes … and for the first time allowed myself the luxury of thinking about everything I'd discovered over the past few days. My thoughts kept coming back to one fact, almost more incredible, more amazing to me than anything else.

I had a brother.

For as long as I could remember I'd dreamed of one day finding my parents, or at least discovering who they were. But it had never, ever, even in my most extravagant daydreams, occurred to me that I might have a brother or sister. And not just a brother: a twin. And now I did. Zenith.

All this time, while I'd been battling through the lonely years at Highgate, he'd been growing up too, living his own life, just like I'd been living mine. I lay smiling, thinking of our parallel lives, each completely unaware of the other's existence. While I'd been at school, he'd have been at — what? Trentice, I supposed, like Hob and Kai. Making friends; having fights; getting in trouble. Eating, sleeping, laughing, crying. Wherever he was, he'd have grown up part of a family not his own. Did he know, like me, that somewhere he had a mother and father he'd never met? Did he know, deep in his bones, that there was somewhere else he belonged; a destiny he had to fill?

Now — soon — we'd meet.

Zenith. Would he look like me? Would he be bad at spelling too? Would we laugh at the same jokes, like the same food? Who'd be taller, him or me? I was older, even if just by a few minutes. I grinned up at the ceiling of leaves. I wouldn't let him forget it.

Zenith.
One thing I knew for certain. When I found him, I'd know him instantly. Just like Zaronel had known me.

 

The truth shocked me awake in the middle of the night with the suddenness of a gunshot.
Our parallel lives.
Me in ‘our world'; Zenith in the world of Karazan.

Thirteen years for me — more than fifty for him. My twin brother wouldn't be a kid like me any longer. We were searching for an adult four times my age. Our quest had come full circle. We'd been looking for the Prince of the Wind, an adult man grown into a king, but it had been me. Now we were looking for the Prince of the Sun — an adult, not a child.

I lay awake for a long time in the darkness, aching for the brother I'd thought I was going to have; the friend and companion I'd lost.

 

I was woken by cold seeping through the down of my sleeping bag and into the marrow of my bones. We ate a hurried
breakfast huddled round a sullen fire that hardly gave out any warmth. There was a chill about the morning that even the normally cheerful chatter of the campsite couldn't dispel, and no one seemed keen to linger.

Almost before we finished eating Blue-bum shimmied up the nearest tree and swung away downhill to continue the search. While I strapped on my sword and stamped out the fire, the others started drifting in the direction we'd been heading the previous day — all except Jamie. I looked round for him, frowning, eager to get going.

There he was, a pale splodge blundering in the wrong direction. ‘Other way, Jamie,' I called, trying not to sound impatient.

An anxious moon-face peered at me through the undergrowth. ‘Hang on a sec, Adam. I'm not ready. I have to … you know …' He waved a fluttering streamer of toilet paper, and crashed off through the bushes.

I gave an inward sigh and settled down to wait for him, my hands tucked into my armpits for warmth — and suddenly I realised which way he'd been going in his quest for privacy. ‘Hey, Jamie,' I called, ‘don't go too far, OK? Remember the —'

But before I could say the word I heard it — a slither and a warbling wail that could only be one thing: James Mortimer Fitzpatrick falling over the edge of the cliff.