Chapter 8
The march through the jungle had been speedy; stopping only for brief rests. At night a camp was set well after dark and they were on their way again well before the light grew in the sky. Javin was never untethered. His arms and hands were numb, his wrists raw with the chafing. Neither he nor the princess was allowed to talk together. Occasionally Saballa would wander by, attempt to question him. He answered him nothing even when receiving a kick to the side, further inflaming what he was sure were broken ribs.
Realizing it was futile, Saballa soon gave up with the comment that with Tranthra’ Joh’s leave he’d have all the answers he wanted soon enough. A knowing smile crossed his face and he stalked away.
He tried to engage his chameleon guards in conversation hoping he could learn more and perhaps even reach some shred of decency in them -- if they had any. These people appeared to be a dignified race. It was hard to imagine anybody could serve such a wicked and vile man as Saballa.
The guards remained silent, as if ordered not to communicate. Coming to accept this, Javin lapsed into his own thoughts for the remainder of the journey.
The march became routine – each rest stop the same; the evening’s camp exactly as the night before. Javin, still in pain but healing, allowed himself to go numb to everything on the outside while he sought desperately his inner mind.
So much had happened in such a short time, and so much was a blank. If he indeed was a “Promised One”, what was he supposed to do here on this world? Better yet, what could he do? So far all he’d done is go from bad to worse. What about the crystal inside his chest? What did it do? He’d certainly felt it when he had agreed to help the princess.
Could he trust his own judgment? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help the princess, but he didn’t want to be forced into it either. There was way too much about which he knew very little to firmly decide one way or the other.
There was one thing he knew for certain: Saballa was his enemy. As well as anyone who could command such a man.
As his pondering continued, he decided that if the crystal inside him could have influence over him, perhaps he could have influence over it. During the daily plodding walk, he blanked his mind then focused on the crystal: trying to touch it, to affect it.
At times he would feel glowing warmth in his breast, then not knowing quite what to do next, it would fade quickly.
What is it? What does it do? Can I use it? Each time he became apprehensive about the crystal and its effects on him, a deep calm would wash over – a warm assurance that it would never do him harm. Even this irritated Javin. It could simply be a deception; another deception in a long line of deceptions.
With his memory a blank he had no way of knowing. There was one memory he had – the memory of how he had received the crystal when he was a little boy. That memory was real. Something in the crystal had allowed him to remember when he had first received it.
That’s all Javin had right now. That and an ironic realization about himself: He was fiercely independent, not wanting to be controlled by anyone or any thing. Any decision I make I must make on my own without pressure from the outside! Or inside for that matter.
Maybe that’s what the crystal had done. As he thought about his conversation with the princess, his instinct, his desire, had been to help her at the outset. Then the crystal had warmed him, helped him feel it was right. Was it reacting to my own feelings? Could he trust it when he needed? And if he could trust, would it do any good? Were there any powers it held he didn’t know about? And were they sufficient to help him get away from these captors and help the princess? The questions kept circling again and again.