by O. J. Lowe
“Peaceful enough for you?” Scott asked, leaning in close to Jess so only she could hear him. “I mean…”
She gave him such a pointed look he shut up. He gave up. Pushing it now wouldn’t do anyone any favours.
“It’s a nice night,” Pete said. “Seems a shame to spend it cooped up in the station waiting room. Maybe there’s somewhere out here we can bunk down. Sleep under the open air.”
“You know who does that?” Scott asked. “People who can’t afford motel rooms for the night.”
“Or people who don’t want to pay for motel rooms,” Jess chimed in. That might have been directed at him. He ignored it. “People who don’t want to pay for more than one anyway.” Okay, it had been directed at him. He wasn’t against sleeping outside. He’d done it before. It wasn’t uncommon amongst junior spirit callers having to sleep outdoors until they won some credits. Those who didn’t come from credits had no choice. He’d had some nice nights out under the stars. The best ones, in hindsight, had been when he was alone.
“You know what I miss?” he said softly. Both Pete and Jess looked at him with interest, Pete with curiosity, Jess with acid-tipped ire. He bit down the urge to say, ‘being single sometimes’ and smiled. “I miss that first trip we ever took. Remember that? Our first big adventure.”
“Remember it?” Jess said. “Not likely to forget working in that place. Or our first meeting.”
“I definitely do,” Pete quipped, leering around at her. “You were pretty much ass naked wrapped around… Was it a centaur? I’m not sure I’d call it dancing. Not the stuff you’ll see mainstream anyway. But it sure as hells was entertaining. I didn’t even realise some of that stuff was legal.” Jess glared at him, made like she wanted to punch him out. He ducked back, shot a grin at her.
“I think it was,” Scott added. “But not the point. You remember how we were then? Psyched up for the future? Everything was changing. I’d just become a caller, Pete had won some tournaments and you, well you’d decided that taking your clothes off for credits wasn’t the thing you wanted to do.”
“It’s a very flippant way to put it,” Pete said. “But yeah. Are you feeling nostalgic?”
“Sometimes I miss it,” Scott said. “It felt less complicated back then. You know what I mean?”
“Sort of,” Pete nodded. Jess hesitated for a moment and then inclined her head briefly. Scott grinned. And with that, the subject had been well and truly changed. Scott Taylor, for the win. Him one, friends zero. He made a mental note never to say that out loud.
It had been a lie. He didn’t miss the old days one bit. They might have been simpler; he couldn’t deny that. But they hadn’t been better. He didn’t have any more problems back then than he did now. They’d just been traded up for different problems. It was starting to sound jaded and cynical but that was life. He was better off now than he was then. End of story. A lot better. Very little of it he’d change for what he had now.
“Hey, what’s that?”
He looked up, suddenly curious as to what Jess had seen. Against the dimming sky, he saw the dimming outline of something huge stood straddling the outskirts of the town, something an interesting shape. Vaguely he recalled seeing something similar from the air as the aeroship had come in for a landing and suddenly his curiosity was caught. If nothing else, it’d while away some time. As he moved closer, he found himself getting a clearer look and his interest rose. He found his pace quickening as he cut the distance towards the small garden containing the statue, both Pete and Jess following him. It sounded like they were as suddenly curious as he was.
Apparently, the refuelling station wasn’t the only interesting thing here after all.
They all knew the statue that sat in front of them, cut out of white marble and still in pristine condition. It wasn’t the sort of thing that someone defaced. Nobody wanted to risk the possible wrath associated with doing that. Even those that didn’t quite believe weren’t quite sure enough to take the chance. Tempting fate was just that, an accident waiting to happen. Towards the base of it, a bronze plaque hung nailed into it declaring that the upkeep of the monument was due to the work of the Hoko branch of the Burykian Divine Conclave.
“It’s one of the better ones I’ve seen,” Pete said, staring up at it. Had the sun been up, they would likely have been cast in its shadow, it towered over the three of them. Had they stood on each other’s shoulders, they may well have been able to touch the very top of it. Yet that was debateable.
It might have been a lion once. Maybe whoever had designed the statue, scratch that, whoever had been the first to say that this was what the Father of Creation looked like, had seen a lion and thought them to be similar. Maybe there was that whole king of the jungle thing going on and someone got creative. Maybe the lion had been based on the being the statue paid homage to.
And yet, none of them had ever seen such a prodigiously huge lion in the flesh, nor one that carried itself astride six magnificent legs, the claws curled down into the base of the statue. The collar around its body was perhaps even more remarkable; it started around the neck and extended down the spine and down to the ankle of each leg. Stories in the book of creations had it as made of bone and sinew, a self-imposed shackle as a reminder that forever the gods were bound to those below them. Around the collar, they could all see the eight large red stones each placed equal distance from each other aside from a gap in the pattern at the base of the collar.
“Remember that one back home?” Scott said. “I think that one’s bigger.”
“That one was in Delhoig though,” Pete mused. “I mean; you’d expect them to be bigger the closer you get to bigger cities. Because there’s more people there to see it. And that was bang in the middle. Considering where this is, it’s pretty impressive.”
“The biggest statue of Gilgarus in Burykia,” a strange voice said from out of nowhere, startling the three of them. “One of the finest in the five kingdoms in fact. And it’s also one of the most curious as well from a scientific point of view. Can any of you tell me why, perhaps?”
He wasn’t a big man, rather quite small with curly dark hair and tidy little spectacles that made his eyes look rather an odd shape. Still he strode with a spring in his step, an enthusiasm in his poise that felt a little out of place in the sleepy little hamlet. That was the second thing. Neither did he look like a native to Hoko, or even Burykia in general. Though his skin was tanned, it wasn’t the natural light-brown-slash-almost-yellow hue of the Burykian people. At a push, he might have been from Premesoir just like Pete and Scott. He carried a stick which he rested his weight upon with apparent relish.
“Since when were religion and science linked?” Jess asked. A question that was ignored by the man as he studied the statue with something almost approaching fervour, still apparently waiting for an answer.
“Come, come, I’m sure one of you knows this. This is basic stuff. Look at the statue and…”
“It’s big?” Scott offered. He knew it was wrong the moment he said it and mentally kicked himself. Still, he didn’t have a clue what the strange man was on about and any answer felt as good as another.
Looked like it wasn’t. The stranger shook his head in disgust. “It’s big? Of course, it’s bloody big. Any idiot can tell you that it’s big.”
“Any idiot did,” Jess murmured. Scott bit down the urge to snap back at her. Getting into an argument now wasn’t a good thing. What in the hells was wrong with her tonight? Must be the wine. Either way, the man didn’t appear to hear her. Maybe he’d ignored her like Scott knew he should have.
Pete said nothing, studying the statue in silence as he strode around it, running a quizzically appraising eye across the giant expanse of it. He stroked his chin in contemplation, stopped and sighed. “There’s something, I just can’t place it.”
“Really?” Jess said sarcastically. “The great Pete Jacobs can’t make out what’s directly in front of his eyes?”
“And you can?” Pete
sounded surprised. “Way I heard it from you, your eyes were mainly used for putting makeup round rather than seeing things with?”
Scott let out a cough of laughter he managed to turn into a choke. He rubbed his eyes to further the illusion. Somehow, he doubted she bought it. He’d probably pay for it later. Probably. She looked like she wasn’t paying attention, more focused on the statue.
“My, my,” the man said. “What are spirit callers coming to these days? I remember when you had to be at least minimally observant to be a success.”
“Don’t fight a lot of statues,” Scott said. He was proud of the comeback. “Mister, err…”
“Fleck, David Fleck. Professor David Fleck. Don’t call me Mister. I’m a researcher,” he said, straightening his jacket in one jerked motion. “Do you want me to tell you the answer to the question?”
“Oh, can I, can I?” Jess sang up. “I want to savour this moment.” She looked strangely gleeful in her triumph. “I know what it is.”
“Take it away, my dear,” he said.
“It’s the stones,” she said, straining up onto her toes to touch the collar where it met under the neck of the god-king. Her fingertips just about made it, her shirt riding up slightly as she stretched. “Most renditions of Gilgarus usually have nine stones in the collar. This one only has eight. There’s a flaw in this one… Huh?!” She straightened herself out for a moment, looked at her fingers where they’d touched the collar and shrugged. “That’s odd.”
Pete looked annoyed to say the least, Scott noted. She’d gotten him good.
“Aren’t you just full of surprises,” he said sourly. “Check out God Girl over there.”
“Hey, if you’d had crazy weird religious parents as bad as me,” Jess offered. “You’d know it all as well. Saw it when we first came here.”
“Not just a pretty face,” Fleck said. “This is why I prefer being in the field. I can’t make comments like that in the classroom.” He grinned as he said it. “I wonder if you could tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why there’s only eight stones. It’s a pretty big flaw, after all. I’m surprised more people don’t notice it.”
She shrugged, the delight suddenly noticeable in eyes that had been surly and sarcastic minutes earlier. For a moment, she looked like the Jesseka Blake Scott had fallen in love with. Way back when in the days he’d been reflecting about not so long ago. “Never seen anything like this before. Not sure. I mean, like you said it’s a pretty big flaw.”
“Drunk sculptor?” Pete offered. “Maybe someone stole it.”
“Dear boy,” Fleck smiled. “This statue is structurally and aesthetically flawless in every single way, but for that one small error. Sculptors who partake of the wine do not have their work displayed this prominently, believe me.”
“I think it might be the latter though,” Jess said suddenly. “Someone stole it.”
Fleck raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“When I touched it just now,” she said, pointing up at the collar. “There’s something wrong with the space where it should be, it feels a little different to the rest of the statue. Like something’s been filled in after, a gap or something.”
“An interesting theory,” Fleck said. “But again, unlikely.”
He brought out a summoner, brought an ape into existence, a shaggy red furred chimp-like creature slightly taller than him but with great long arms and stubby feet. What set it apart from most simians that Scott had ever seen was the great tail that stuck up behind it, wagging like a dog, he’d also have said the twin huge claws that extended roughly out of three fingered hands were unusual to the species. Fleck didn’t look worried as he was hoisted up by the spirit to get a better look at the collar.
“Higher, Cornwallis,” he said softly, the ape’s arms stretching until they were at full length and Fleck’s spectacled eyes were level with the collar. “Good, hold me steady.” For a moment he remained silent before speaking up again. “Hmm, that’s a good eye, my dear. Most don’t notice it. Time has weathered it well. It has been filled in, but not by a thief. Most thieves are opportunists. They snatch, grab and run. They don’t linger to do extensive renovation work. Especially not a job like this. Not something sacred.”
“I love how nobody thinks that someone wouldn’t steal it,” Scott said. “I mean; I grew up with some pretty desperate guys. They’d have tried to steal the gods themselves if it meant getting paid for it.”
“As much as I enjoy discussing criminal theory,” Fleck said dismissively. “I’m afraid it’s not why I’m here. I’m just here to enjoy the statue. To pause and recriminate on the past and future. As I look upon it, I see what could yet be and what has been. Not physically. Psychic ability remains even beyond me,” he added, seeing the look of incredulity on the faces of Scott and his friends.
“I see the love and the devotion that went into crafting it. I see the remnants of those who have been here before. I see that despite all we think we know, there is that much more that we don’t. And I see the challenge for everyone to strive harder. Because for all our achievements, there is still more that we can do. Our story doesn’t end until long after we are gone. Because what we leave upon this world shapes generations to come. Our footprints don’t fade that easily. That, my dear, is the link between religion and science. Faith. Just because you know one doesn’t mean you can ignore the other. Everything is connected. Everyone is connected.”
“What sort of researcher are you?” Pete wondered as the ape lowered Fleck to the ground. “I mean; I think there’s probably more to it than what you’re saying there is.”
“And probably you’d be right,” Fleck replied. “At the same time, I can’t help but feel you probably have different problems on your mind than scientific theology. Quin-C competitors?”
“How did you…?” Scott stared to ask. Jess looked a little impressed as well. Pete just looked annoyed.
“You’re not local, you’re not natives to Burykia, there’s a refuelling port here and the only ship in is departing for Vazara in a few hours. Chances were at least one of you was.” He shrugged ruefully. “Simple elimination.” His smile grew. “I cannot linger here any longer than I have. That said, I’m sure you’ll do fine, despite your lack of vision. I wish you luck and offer you my farewells. Boys. Ma’am.”
That stung a little, Scott thought as Fleck bowed his head and turned to leave. Pete looked furious. Jess amused as she watched him walk away.
“Okay, tomorrow can’t come quick enough,” Pete muttered. “I want to prove him wrong. Lack of vision. Who the hells does he think he is?”
“You know who he was,” Jess quipped. “Someone who just put you in your place.” She sounded like she was finding it hard to keep the smile out of her voice.
Chapter Five. Fuller and Rocastle.
“You know what you need to do. Everything and anything. All that matters are your orders. You have your directives; you take it from there. I will not accept failure. It is not an option. We’re nearly at the start of a new era, not just for the company but for the kingdoms and I can’t allow anything to destabilise that.”
Message to Ms Alana Fuller, employee of Reims Incorporated, before setting out on her trip to Carcaradis Island. Orders from the very top of the company.
The eleventh day of Summerdawn.
Alana Fuller shrugged her shoulders lazily, stretched out her legs and yawned. The dull roar of the aeroship engines were slowly starting to fade away and she was satisfied with that. Nearly over now. She felt sick. Didn’t like flying. Never had. Never likely would. She wished she wasn’t strapped into her seat. Why couldn’t you stand on these things? That’d make it slightly more bearable. Slightly. At least until it started bucking about, turbulence kicks in and there you are swaying about, tossed around like spaghetti and…
She felt her stomach gurgle, she looked for the pouch. Her skin felt like it was going to go the colour of Rocastle’s jacket. Rocastle
being the guy next to her, a giant smirk over his smooth features as he watched her predicament.
“Come on,” he said, placing a hand on her leg. It might have been meant to be comforting but it looked like a great pale spider waiting to pounce on her. She’d never met anyone like him before and after this ride, truly didn’t want to again. They’d met at the aeroport and she’d hated him immediately. His hands were huge; he was a big guy, not quite fat but amply filling his seat. What his hands had in size, they also had in smoothness. He had hands like a woman, soft, delicate. They might even be manicured. Why he felt the need to wear that bright acid green jacket, she might never know.
Flamboyance was his forte when the mood struck him. The man felt like a walking personality disorder waiting to happen, eerily friendly one minute, sadistically creepy the next. It was one of the sad facts of any walk of life you couldn’t choose who you wanted to work with, for if one could, he would be so far down the list she wouldn’t even be able to smell the sickly scent that lingered about him.
Too many stories hung around him for her liking and each of them was utterly believable. What really freaked her out about him, beyond any of the rumours about his personal life, was his voice. “Better out than in. Let’s hear that sound. Come on, bet you choke it all up before we land.”
High, unnerving, just plain creepy. That was how he sounded. It made her feel like a thousand tiny legs were running up her spine, hundreds upon hundreds of maggots spreading themselves across her.
“Just think, there’s still a slight chance of crashing,” he continued, managing to somehow sound bored and yet mocking at the same time, cruelly gleeful as he twisted his hands together in a knot like a giant gremlin. “All it takes is a cruel twist of fate, the dice rolls and…”