Better to lower one’s head and accept the chains into which we are born.
-Parable from the Holy Scrolls of Soeck, Fifth Binding, First Stanza
Erolina let out a chafed sigh as she adjusted her towel and slipped down into the natural hot spring. The wavy minerals in the air left a thin, jeweled ruby layer on all of the smooth stones. She sank down deep, allowing her long silver hair to fan out in the water around her, floating on the surface like a shining lily pad.
She ran over the winding path of her life, the various circumstances, coincidences, and decisions that had led her to this moment, and try as she might, she could not come to any other conclusion except one:
It was all her fault.
The door slid open and Philiastra stumbled out, shielding her face from the morning sun. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her war paint smeared and running, and her leafy hair was drooped and shriveled.
“Ughhhh, why is the sun so bright,” she grumbled as she sat on the edge of the spring, dipping her toes in to test the water.
“Because you have a hangover, genius,” Erolina grumbled, sinking down deeper into the water.
“I don’t have a hangover, I’m just groggy because it was raining in my room last night.”
“It wasn’t raining in your room, you passed out on the lawn.”
Philiastra slipped down into the water, batting it sadly with her toes. “So, this is a hot spring, eh? I hear the humans love this stuff.”
Erolina leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the guilt.
Philiastra reached for the catering cart, pawing clumsily at the assorted bottles, foods, and creams. “I need a nap and whatever passes for wine in this place.”
She grabbed a small flask and gave it a sniff. “I can’t tell if this is whisky or perfume.”
Erolina clucked her tongue. “Only one way to find out.”
Philiastra took a sip, then put the flask back.
“It was perfume wasn’t it?”
She coughed. “Yes.”
Philiastra chuckled and slipped down into the water, and even Erolina managed a tight smile.
The door to the changing room slid open, and Agaprei stepped out, wrapped in a towel. She looked ragged, dark bags under her eyes, her long ears drooped down low. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were here.”
“It’s a communal spring, you don’t take turns,” Erolina explained.
“I know, it’s just that…the last time I saw you, I was hoping it would be the last time I saw you.”
Erolina and Philiastra turned to look at her.
“Well, that was rude,” Philiastra accused.
“No, it’s honest,” Erolina argued. “I respect that. Most of the time women pretend to be nice to the people they don’t like. Come, join us.”
Agaprei reluctantly stepped down into the water. “I didn’t mean any offense, not really, I just…don’t want to be around anybody right now.”
“Well, you’re going to be seeing a lot of us. We’re coming to help you break into the Tower.”
“You know about that?”
They nodded. “Storgen told us.”
Agaprei leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to push back the desire to cry. “What time is it?”
“It’s past midday. Storgen got back just a little while ago.”
“Where is he?”
Erolina pointed over to the colorful barrier running through the center of the spring. “He’s over on the men’s side.”
Agaprei sat up, pulling her towel up further. “He’s here?”
“I mean, not here here.”
“I’m getting out.”
“Why?”
“Because that pervert is probably over there right now trying to peek at us.”
They all looked over at the barrier.
~
Over on the other side, Storgen and Cornett laid in the hot spring, happily wiggling their toes as they gazed up at the blue sky.
“So wait, you used to be the Godfather of Poetry?”
“Yup.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No, seriously.” He held up a glowing hand. “May I be cursed if I’m lying.”
“Sounds like you’ve already been cursed. How did you get demoted all the way down to being just a river guardian?”
“Oh, that’s a long story.”
“Can you give me the short version?”
Cornett’s skin grew dimmer. “Fovos asked me to write a series of love sonnets for him.”
“Love sonnets? To Estia?”
The deity nodded. “That’s what I thought, but he asked that they not be addressed to her specifically. I just assumed he wanted to address them himself, but he never did give them to her. Then he lost the war, and anyone even remotely associated with him was severely punished. They gave my posting to Delia, and well the rest it history as they say.”
~
“I’m getting out,” Agaprei said, tightening her towel and standing up in the water. “You should get out too, he’s probably over there scaling the wall right now.”
“Oh, come on, he’s not like that,” Philiastra argued.
“They’re all like that,” Agaprei hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “All slaves to their lust, just dangerous animals ready to pounce.”
“I’ve known Storgen for longer than any of you, and I’m telling you, you’re wrong about him.”
“You’re totally overreacting,” Erolina observed.
“No, I’m not. He’s a pervert.”
Agaprei looked around, frightened. She could feel eyes looking at her, she could feel hands reaching out for her. It was just like her dream, except she was awake. She felt like her mind as unraveling with guilt and fear.
Philiastra propped herself up on one elbow. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly has he ever done to make you think he is a pervert?”
Agaprei noticed a gap in the barrier, and moved over towards it, splashing frantically as she grabbed a handful of towels from the cart. “I have to stop him.”
Erolina and Philiastra sat up. “Is this a siren thing?”
“No, I think she’s just out of her gourd.”
Agaprei took a towel and shoved it into the gap, sealing it tight, then noticed another and sealed it as well, then she jumped up, cramming a towel into a third seam. “I can feel it, I can feel him looking at us right now. He’s probably trying to climb the barrier to look over the top.”
She jumped up and began climbing the barrier, filling every nook and cranny.
~
Storgen and Cornett tapped their bottles together and took a long soothing drink of milk.
“Ahhh, that’s good stuff,” Cornett sighed.
“Yes, it is.”
They both leaned back and sank into the water up to their chins.
“By the way, I took your suggestion. Requiring my guests pray to me before each meal has been great. I haven’t seen this much ambrosia in a while.”
“I prayed to you twice already today.”
“No you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Storgen held up a ruby and ran his fingers over the smooth surface. It had been cut into a heart shape. He held it up above him, allowing the sunlight to sparkle through its beautiful crystalline structure, bathing his face in red light.
“Is that a gift for her?”
Storgen nodded. “Have you ever wondered why we draw a heart that shape? I mean, the actual organ inside us looks vastly different.”
Cornett smiled. “Ah, but the organ inside is only one half of a heart. When you press two together, you get the shape of a heart, which is why we draw it that way.”
Storgen carefully considered the gemstone. “Yes, you do.”
“Where’d you get that, by the way?” Cornett asked, talking another swallow. “Must have cost a pretty pennig.”
“I got it this morning from a jeweler in town. Traded my citizenship talisman for it. Well
, it wasn’t really my talisman, I just kept Nyfitsa’s after he was changed into a weasel. Ambera never actually bothered to give me one.”
“That sounds like her. You know she had eyes for Tharros, despite the fact that he was her cousin’s son.”
“I’d really rather not know that.”
Storgen lowered the ruby. “Hey Cornett, what was I like before?”
Cornett glanced over. “I only met Tharros a couple of times. He was…exactly like you. Fearless, bold, he followed his heart, and he lived without regret.”
Storgen thought for a moment. “I guess that has changed. I have a lot of regrets now. So many people who might have been better off had they never met me. Sometimes I‘m not sure if I can live with that.”
He turned to Cornett and smiled. “But, hey, at least I gave everybody some good stories to tell, right?”
The deity laughed. “I wish I could be like you. Smiling even as I talk about my true self.”
“A stupid, happy idiot who lives stupidly ever after.”
Cornett waved his hand and created two large slices of bread, setting them down atop Storgen’s head.
“Look, I’ve made an idiot sandwich.”
Suddenly, the barrier creaked and groaned. A woman screamed as the bolts tore free, and the entire barrier came crashing down. The splash crashed over Cornett and flipped Storgen over, the undertow yanking him hard this way and that.
Storgen sat up gasping for breath, the fallen barrier right before him with Agaprei sprawled out on top of it. She groaned and lifted her head, coming face to face with him sitting naked before her, only two pieces of bread floating in the water blocking her view of everything.
Agaprei turned bright red, pulled her towel even tighter around herself and screamed. She reeled back and slapped Storgen clean across the face, knocking him out cold.
* * *
Agaprei sat in the changing room, her hair still dripping wet as she buckled on her breastplate and put on her spectacles. “I’m such an idiot.”
Erolina slid a dagger into the holster on her boot. “You slapped him unconscious, that’s actually kind of impressive.”
She rubbed the side of her face. “I just completely lost control. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Philiastra strung her bow and tested the weight. “The funny thing is, in your manic quest to stop him from peeping at you, you ended up peeping on him.”
“Not helping!”
“Sorry.”
Erolina stepped close, pulling on her gauntlet. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this from me, but you need help.”
Agaprei shook her head. “No, there’s no time for that. I just need to keep working. I’ve got a quest to fulfill, and I am going to fulfill it to the letter. Too many important people are counting on me.”
All of them had their attention drawn to a knock at the door.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to open the door,” Storgen said, his voice a little muffled.
“Okay, open the door.”
There was a long pause.
“I want a promise that no one is going to hit me.”
Erolina rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to hit you.”
Another long pause.
“You say that, but all three of you have hit me at some point.”
“Knock it off.”
Storgen opened the door, letting light into the room, a large hand-shaped welt running across his face. “I came to tell you, our ride is here.”
The grass of the front lawn began to whip and stir with the mighty flap of fleshy wings as a quartet of dragons drifted to the ground, their riders pulling on the reins and clicking commands to their mounts.
“How did you manage this?” Philiastra asked, stepping outside.
“I called in an old favor.”
The leader stepped down off of her saddle, her dragon lowering its long neck in submission to her. She was covered in gnarled tattoos and piercings, and had shaved her bright lavender hair into a Mohawk.
“Well, I assume this will be our cargo?”
“This is Mov, everyone,” Storgen introduced. “The most unsuccessful brigand of all the southern isles.”
“So what, is she like a failed candidate for your lavender-haired girl?” Philiastra asked curtly.
Mov gave a gravelly laugh and hooked her arm around Storgen’s neck. “Nah, me and Screpio here go way back. He busted me outta Velóna Rock.”
“The Enkataleífthike Fortress?” Agaprei asked. “You’re a full-blown criminal, aren’t you?”
Storgen held up his hands. “The charges were trumped up, I assure you.”
Mov looked Agaprei over with her lazy eye. “Well, you finally found her, didn’t ya, Screpio?”
“Why does she keep calling you that?” Erolina inquired.
Storgen winced. “I…don’t actually have a name. Besides XVII, of course. Somewhere along the line, I got in the habit of taking on a new name each time I began searching a new island. It made me harder to track. Storgen is the name I picked when I arrived on Ápinso.”
Philiastra frowned. “That’s so sad.”
Mov slapped him on the back. “Bah, this guy’s escaped death so many times, I'm not entirely convinced he’s not a pile of cats in a person costume. Now, everyone grab your gear, we’re heading out.”
“Right now?” Agaprei protested. But, I was going to contact Fovos. He was going to send soldiers to aid us. Ships to transport us.”
Storgen laughed. “I know, that’s why we’re leaving now.”
“But…”
“Look, I don’t trust Fovos as far as I can kick him, and you shouldn’t, either. He’s been manipulating you from the start. If we’re going to go to the Tower, we’re going before he knows we’ve even left, and we’re going using our own transportation.”
Agaprei couldn’t muster up the courage to protest. Just looking at him racked her with guilt.
Storgen turned to Mov. “Thanks for doing this. I needed someone I could trust, but I had to settle for you.”
Mov grabbed Erolina’s pack and attached it to her saddle. “Ha! How dare you mock me in such a manner?”
“All right, how would you prefer I mock you? I take requests.”
Mov and her brigands burst out in drunken laughter. Two of them unstopped their flasks and drank heartily.
Philiastra leaned in and whispered, “Are they drinking already? It’s barely midday.”
“If you’re jealous we can get you a flask of your own,” Erolina shot back.
Philiastra stuck out her tongue, and tossed her pack to one of the brigands.
* * *
The air grew staler as the swift dragons approached the remains of The Alchemy Tower, leaving a metal acrid taste at the back of the throat, an unholy, tingling sensation at the back of the neck, a biting sing against the eyes and skin.
Like a great, broken fang, it slumped to one side, ocean water pouring in and out of great fissures as they beat its crumbling surface, dark jets of water spraying free from rotting holes, taking foul fluids washed from within back down to the sea below. Everywhere for miles around, a layers of rotting fish coated the waters, floating like a putrid blanket, rolling and foaming with yellow fumes and brown bubbles.
The entire upper section of the tower was gone; what remained of the lower areas burned still, smoke and fumes rising up from a hundred different wounds. Toppled gothic spires, collapsed stone archways, crushed brick steppes, and fallen marble columns.
As they drew near, the stench grew stronger. Gargoyled faces as large as buildings belched out superheated air, rippling the horizon and fouling up one’s sense of distance. The whole thing felt ethereal, like a mirage created by heat and thirst.
Agaprei pulled her arms in close. “I don’t like this place. It feels cold.”
Storgen looked out on the remains of the tower, the image wobbling before him. He looked down and realized it was his body that was trembling, his hands shaking e
ven as he held the saddle tightly.
“Home, sweet home.”
Mov whistled to the other riders, and the dragons dropped down through the clouds, the beasts becoming ever more irritable and wary the closer they came.
“They’re smarter than we are,” Mov remarked as she fought her mount. “They know where one should fear to tread.”
Storgen clenched his fist, trying to force his hand to remain steady, but that only diminished the shaking. “Set us down there on that balcony.”
The dragons dropped down, the crumbling stone forming the maw of a great lion, broken teeth forming a portcullis, a sloping tongue as a drawbridge. The eyes burned with a hateful glow. As Philiastra and Erolina jumped down, they swore they could feel the edifice staring right back at them.
“Good Speed!” Storgen waved, grabbing the last of his things. “I’d say ‘till we meet again,’ but…”
“Yeah,” Mov called back. “This feels more like goodbye…”
The dragons took off with a mighty beating of their wings, the quartet of riders moving away as fast as they possibly could.
Storgen took a second and looked out at the sky one last time, dragging out the moment as long as he could, feeling the heat of the tower behind him, the cool air of the ocean before him. The sun was setting on the horizon like a pat of melted butter. His eyes drank in every drop of light, savoring it.
He felt a hand rest upon his shoulder. He knew who it was without having to look.
“Hey, this won’t be the last time you see it,” Erolina comforted.
Storgen turned back around, his eyes moist. “I wish I could believe you.”
Storgen turned around and looked at his three companions. He tried to put on a brave face. They were counting on him, and he knew it.
“Be on your guard,” he cautioned. “There are no safe places from here on out. It’s not just the inhabitants that are a danger, the Tower itself wishes us dead. Step where I step, touch nothing that I don’t touch.”
Ambrosia Page 79