The Moon Jar

01 | CHAPTER

    EVERYTHING WAS BLACK. All was nothing — and peaceful. The sound came first: hushed whispers outside of the chamber doors. Her ears perked at the distant sound of boots walking across hard floors. Then she saw the light illuminating from outside of her closed eyes. She stretched the stiffness from her muscles, squishing her face in a temporary whimper. She let her muscles fall loose again, her arms flopping down on the bed on either side of her.

    "Don't make me face them again." She heard in her head. Was that her voice pleading? She felt like she was perhaps beginning to dream.

    "You must." A somber voice came to her from the inside of her mind.

    "And if I refuse?"

    "You cannot."

    With a jolt and a gasp, the young woman was upright in her bed; clinging to the duvet. The room spun around her as she strained to take in all the information at once. The chamber was grand, but not decorated enough to be someone's personal living quarters. Was she in a palace? Were these the guest chambers? She loosened her grip on the bedding and steadied her breathing. She saw her platinum hair drape down the front of her shoulders.

    "Oh my," she ran her fingers lightly through her soft locks, "well, this is certainly nice."

    She jumped at the sound of rapping on her door.

    "Are you awake my lady? May we come in?"

    The woman put a shaky hand over her chest to make sure her heart was still where it was suppose to be. With banging like that she assumed her guests would just bust the door down. Or was she the guest? To be honest, she didn't even know her own name.

    "Of course, my lord, if you don't mind my appearance." She didn't care much what she looked like, but she did care to get answers; and fast.

***

    Detlef followed Prince Eyre down the simply-lit hall. They were going to see the girl he found by the pond yesterday. Eyre was dressed in satin from head to toe and smelled of cucumbers and daisies, his hair as golden as the morning sun. Detlef was eager to have the whole affair done with so he can get as far away as possible from that odious stench.

    The prince stopped at a door and threw Detlef a look, then he plastered a phony smile on his slim face and rapped on the doors before throwing them open. Detlef thought he would rather loose his thickest arrow into his own foot than be caught with such a foolish grin on his face. He scowled.

    "My lady, how glad I am that you are well!" Eyre cried, his golden hair glinting in the bare sunlight. Detlef grunted in agreement.

    "Come now Detlef," his satin-robed companion pouted, "be courteous, you are the one who brought her here after all."

    Detlef scowled again and gave a stiff bow, "Milady," he muttered then quickly looked away. The prettier man rolled his eyes.

    "My dear, you must be ravenous after all that winonsbane you swallowed yesterday," he clapped his hands together and servants entered the room, carrying trays laden with dish after scrumptious dish. Detlef's stomach growled softly. He grit his teeth. He had sworn an oath and by the stars, he was going to keep it.

    The bed-raggled maiden grinned from ear to ear. Winonsbane survivors, as few of them as there were, were known to be ravenous. Suddenly, she started seeming to remember her own appearance. She picked at her gown with one hand, as if she didn't remember putting on.

    "I need to freshen up." Her voice came out hoarse and choppy. Her face tinged pink. She cleared her throat.

    "Of course." Eyre nodded politely and beckoned to Detlef to join him outside. In the hall, Eyre put a hand on Detlef's arm.

    "It wasn't just winonsbane she swallowed," he said gravely, "I fear something more sinister is afoot, dear Detlef." He shook his head and walked away, pensive. After nearly gagging at the word 'dear' placed next to his name, Detlef took a moment to think of what Eyre was implying. At least the daisy smell had gone away.

    "I don't think he's wrong, you know," a feminine voice came from the doorway. The maiden appeared tidier and refreshed.

    "What do you know?" Detlef asked roughly, trying to gauge her cunningness. Nearly dying doesn't automatically make her the hero. He had to be cautious.

    "I was hoping to ask you the same question. But, I suppose we could start with your name?" The maiden shuffled her fingers about the intricate carvings on the chamber doors, but kept her eyes locked on Detlef's.

    It wasn't nervousness that caused her fidgeting, that much he could tell. Detlef recognized the spark in her eyes as restlessness; a pain he knew all too well.

    Realizing they were staring a beat too long, the young woman stilled her hands and cleared her throat. She opened the doors and invited him inside her chambers once more, with a small curtsy.

    They both sat at a small table while the brutish man poured each of them fresh water. "My name is Detlef. Just Detlef. I don't claim a family and I definitely don't claim a kingdom," he grunted, taking a drink.

    "Oh? But you and that noble seemed to get along quite well." The woman smiled wryly while grabbing a chunk of bread from a plate and taking a bite. She was quite hungry. She chewed politely while taking Detlef into her gaze. He was older than her and seemed as if he'd seen many battles and adventures, she could tell from his scars and his nature. He was experienced.

    "Well, I'd say we have a history, but before I go about spillin' all my history to you, why don't you tell me your name, missy?" He rejected her quip, brushing his shaggy black hair from his eyes.

    The maiden swallowed her food and pursed her lips together momentarily in thought, "I honestly don't remember my name. In fact, I can't remember a thing, my lord."

    "I am no lord–" Detlef cut his protest short as he watched her pull down the shoulder of her gown. His eyes landed on the outer edge of her collar bone. It looked like someone had taken black ink to her skin, a symbol he did not recognize.

    "Detlef, then." She continued, eyeing the strange symbol, "I found this when I changed. I tried to scrub it off, but it seems it is non washable. Tell me what you know of this?"

    "I believe that to be a curse mark. Despite the name, they aren't always an ill omen. It takes a very advanced type of mage to pull those off." Detlef studied her for a moment, her eyes curiously pined at her shoulder before turning to him. "And since you really can't remember anything, I'd say maybe you were somewhere you weren't suppose to be and that is how it befell you. Someone wanted to keep you quiet."

    "Then why not kill me?" The maiden readjusted her gown until she was proper again.

    "Well, lass, that definitely is the question. By the looks of it, you were on your way when I found you. For these times I feel it best to find your own answers, no royal body will help with these issues without something to gain. You really have no name at all?" Detlef asked.

    "None. What name do you think suits me?" The maiden struck an odd pose as if trying to inspire a title.

    The man knitted his brows at her, noting her eccentric style, "I was never good at pickin' names, but I did have an annoyin' little cat when I was a child. Her name was Myra."

    "Then Myra it is! Just Myra. I don't claim a family and I definitely don't claim a kingdom," The woman mocked in his voice looking into his eyes and made a fist of victory.

    "Will you help me in seeking my answers?" Her voice soft again. Her eyes were so determined he felt as if it would be a crime to say no.

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