The Lure of Fools

by Jason James King

  Instead, it sank its open maw into his left shoulder and Jekaran screamed. He could feel the worm’s mouth ungulate as it began to suck his blood. His vision began to darken and his thoughts slowed. Desperately realizing that he was seconds away from syncope, Jekaran acted on his first impulse, turned his head to face the worm, and bit into its slimy grey body. Immediately the creature released him and shrieked as it pulled back.

  “JEKARAN!” Irvis shouted.

  Jekaran spat out a chunk of bloodless worm flesh and looked over to see the monk at the top of the ladder, Karak having already exited the sewer. Jekaran scrambled into a sprint toward the ladder. He stumbled and almost fell a few times, but somehow managed to stay upright. The worm raced after him through the water. He knew he couldn’t outrun the vile creature, so he jumped the last yard onto the ladder, where Karak and Irvis quickly hoisted him out.

  “Fire!” Jekaran shouted.

  Karak slammed the grated cover shut and then motioned with his hand. His hovering ball of white light changed into one of red fire and then shot down through the slots of the grate just as the worm ascended the shaft. A heartbeat later, a tongue of flame exploded from the sewer culvert, and Jekaran heard the worm scream in pain. The fire was no more than a brief flash, but when it went out, only silence remained.

  Jekaran had scarcely drawn a relieved breath before vomit involuntarily spewed from his mouth and nose. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was covered from head to toe in raw sewage, or if the worm had injected a poison into his veins. He had just enough time to catch a glimpse of his surroundings before retching again. They were in a large, metal culvert, the open end facing out over Rasha’s wide river.

  “Hold him still!” he heard Irvis scold.

  “Reka, human boy poisoned?” he heard Karak ask as his scaly arms reached up beneath Jekaran’s armpits and gripped him.

  “I am trying to find out,” Irvis snapped.

  A tingling sensation washed over Jekaran’s shoulder and extended down his arm just as sound began to fade and his vision became a tunnel of darkness, and he knew he wasn’t facing just unconsciousness, but death. In that quiet moment on the threshold of oblivion, Jekaran found that he was not alone. The alien presence skulking in the back of his mind was there, this time in full force.

  Who are you? Jekaran asked.

  The presence did not reply although somehow he knew it heard him.

  Where are you?

  Jekaran’s mind shifted and rolled, casting him into a vague vision-a description somehow inadequate. It was more than sight, sound, or any other of his senses. It was as if the communication cut through all of that and forced itself directly into the very core of his consciousness. He saw a road, then a group of men traveling, then a wagon, and then a large, long, wooden lockbox. It took a moment for Jekaran to put it all together, but when he did, the realization struck him.

  You’re the sword.

  It responded with a wordless confirmation.

  Light and sound overwhelmed his senses and he gasped as though he had been drowning and had just broken the surface to taste desperately needed air.

  “Got him,” he heard Irvis say with a weary tone of relief.

  “Reka human boy live, yes?” Karak asked.

  “Jekaran!” Irvis called his name. “Can you hear me, child?”

  Jekaran blinked his eyes until the forms of Irvis and Karak changed from indistinct blurs to discernible shapes. It took a few more blinks for his vision to completely clear, but when it did, he quickly sat up. And that’s when the pain returned. His hand reflexively shot to his shoulder where he could feel drying blood and torn flesh.

  “Easy,” Irvis said as he gently put a hand on Jekaran’s other shoulder.

  “What happened?”

  “Isk stupid human boy!” Karak spat. “Worm almost kill him!”

  Jekaran looked at Irvis for an explanation. The round face monk nodded and said, “Don’t you know that a worm’s bite is toxic?”

  “Poison?” Jekaran asked.

  Irvis shook his graying head. “Not exactly. Their bite spreads a fast-acting infection that can kill very quickly, usually over a course of hours.”

  “Then why?” Jekaran began.

  Irvis cut him off. “Because you’re a damned fool that got bit twice as well ate a bit of the monster’s flesh!” Irvis gagged. “Disgusting!”

  “But how am I alive?”

  Irvis raised his right hand and turned it so Jekaran could see a silver ring with an amethyst stone strangling the man’s chubby ring finger.

  “A talis!” Jekaran said.

  Irvis nodded. “All monks of Rasheera have some variety of healing talis. Technically it belongs to the monastery, but I guess it’s mine now.”

  “If you healed me, then why,” Jekaran reached up to gingerly touch his shoulder, “am I still wounded?”

  Irvis sighed. “Because my talis’ power only diagnoses and purges disease or toxins. I am, or was,” he corrected himself, “little more than an initiate. Higher ranking brethren are entrusted with more powerful, more comprehensive healing talises.” Irvis scowled. “And you’re lucky we’re so close to Rasha’s well! Healing you cost twice the Apeiron of what my ring can hold on its own!”

  “Thank you,” Jekaran said sincerely.

  Irvis’ scowl faded as he slowly nodded. “We best wash off in the river.” He waved at the blue river flowing placidly before them. “Else we all get sick.” He shivered. “I think I swallowed some of that shi—” the monk caught himself and finished, “—filthy water!” With that, he hopped the three feet down from the culvert to the riverbank and began jogging toward the river.

  Karak helped Jekaran down from the culvert. When he winced from his shoulder wound, the Vorakk shaman said, “Karak can make medicine to help fix bite aka.”

  “Sounds good,” Jekaran said through gritted teeth. “But you help me any more than that, and we won’t be even anymore.”

  Karak looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face. “Reka even?”

  “You know,” Jekaran said as he stepped carefully down the muddy bank toward the shallows of the river. “I spared your life, and you freed me from prison. We’re even.”

  The Vorakk shaman shook his head. “Not why Karak get human boy out of prison aka.”

  Jekaran reached the river and waded in until the water was up to his chest. It was cold, but it felt good on his wounded arm. “Then why did you come for me?”

  Karak sloshed after him. “For stop Eater aka.”

  Jekaran bent his knees slightly so that the cool water washed up over his shoulder. At first, it sent a shock through his whole body, but a moment later, it began to numb his flesh, which dulled the pain. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Karak made an expression Jekaran thought was probably the Vorakk version of confusion. “Reka humans no word for this?”

  Irvis abruptly surfaced from the river at Jekaran’s side, startling him.

  “We do,” Irvis said with river water pouring out of his mouth. “What?” he said after catching Jekaran’s disapproving stare. “I’m trying to clean my mouth.”

  “Fat monk knows Eater tak?” Karak asked.

  “I know the word, shaman. But like Jekaran, I don’t know what you are referring to,” Irvis said, again with a patience he used when acting like a holy man. Jekaran suspected it was a trained reflex to the anger triggered by Karak’s description of him as fat monk.

  Karak glanced up to the sky, now streaked red in the wake of the setting sun. “Uska, Vorakk shaman talk to spirits. Spirits tell Vorakk priest of Eater. Vorakk priest send Karak and brothers go for find Eater, to stop.”

  “The priest is the leader of your people?” Irvis asked.

  Karak shook his head. “Ssk only lead Vorakk shaman, no warrior no hunter.”

  Irvis nodded in understanding, but Jekaran was lost. “Vorakk priests are shaman mentors?”

  Irvis nodded. “They find those among t
heir people who can use magic, and then train them. It sounds like Karak’s priest sent him on a quest.”

  “No Karak’s priest aeks!” the Vorakk snapped. “Priest of Vorakk.”

  Irvis looked surprised. “You were sent by your High Priest?”

  Karak nodded. “Ssk Karak brothers for stop Eater.”

  The raiders, Jekaran realized. All three were shaman! “Where are your brothers?” Jekaran wasn’t sure if Karak had meant fellow shaman or literal kin.

  His features elongated. “One die, one lost ska.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jekaran said. “You should have just asked for our scraps.”

  A fire came into Karak’s eyes. “Humans hate Vorakk. Hunt and Kill aeks!”

  Jekaran slowly nodded. It was true enough. In the southern cities-those closest to the Vorakk desert-nobles tracked and killed the creatures as a kind of sport, their scaly skin turned into bags or scabbards. Jekaran had never thought much about it, he had believed the lizard men were little more than animals. Now, he saw just how wrong he had been. The Vorakk were people with an organized society and culture. And they possessed some sort of magic, which is something humans lacked.

  “What is this Eater?” Irvis asked.

  Karak appeared to search for the right human words. “Uska Eater is end. End of Vorakk, end of humans, end of trees, end of birds, end of life. Humans no word for Eater?”

  “Do you mean like a natural disaster?” Irvis clarified. “Like a storm or a ground quake?”

  Karak shook his head, a grim look on his face. “Isk not natural. Eater evil. Spirits tell Uska, Vorakk priest say Eater born. Start in East and move closer. Spirits say Eater kill whole forest. No left, not even creepers ska.”

  “He means insects, child,” Irvis said to Jekaran without looking at him.

  Jekaran felt a flash of irritation at the monk. Ez sometimes did the same thing, talk to him like he was dumber than he was. “So what does this have to do with me?”

  Karak looked away from Irvis and stared hard at Jekaran. “Uska Human boy go to Eater.”

  “What?”

  Karak paused again before speaking. “Humans call fate. Reka human boy know fate, yes?”

  Jekaran nodded.

  “Uska fate like web of spider. All strings join, all strings go to middle. For Karak, Eater is middle. Human boy is string that goes to middle. Karak go with human boy aka.”

  “You think that I’m going to lead you to this Eater?” Jekaran shot an uncertain glance at Irvis. “Why?”

  “Isk human boy green eyes.” Karak’s tone suggested the answer was obvious.

  He caught Irvis obnoxiously leaning in to stare at his face. He pushed the monk back with a splash and said, “So what! It’s unusual, but not unheard for humans to have green eyes.”

  “Is for Vorakk,” Karak said. “Vorakk not see many humans aka. Priest say green eyes sign for follow human boy. Human boy no find Eater if in jail, so Karak get human boy out jail aka.”

  Jekaran stared hard at Karak. The Vorakk must be crazy. Karak saved him based on a superstition that he could lead him to a destiny. Jekaran shook his head. “I’m sorry, Karak. I can’t go looking for this Eater of yours. I have to go to Jeryn to find my uncle. He could be in danger.”

  His argument faded as the sword pulled on Jekaran’s mind, forcing him to look northwest into the mountains.

  I am not going that way.

  Irvis slapped Jekaran on the back. “Splendid! Rasheera smiles on us. With your liege lord taking the sword, it will make its way into the hands of the king. Not even Kaul would dare try to steal it from him.” Irvis bellowed a laugh of relieved joy. “I can’t wait to see Argentus again! It’s been at least five years since we spoke face to face. Last time we were together we got so drunk that I couldn’t tell a wench from a wagon-wheel.” He timidly added, “Which led to some embarrassing confusion on my part.”

  Jekaran was about to remind Irvis that monks of Rasheera weren’t supposed to drink when the sword pulled on his mind again. This time it made the thought of his going in any direction other than northwest feel wrong. He distantly heard Karak asking Irvis what he meant, and the monk stuttered a vague answer.

  I can’t come for you, Jekaran said. I have to find my uncle.

  A wordless plea for help needled Jekaran’s thoughts, pathetic and demanding all at the same time like a hungry infant’s panicked wail for the next meal. Denying it stabbed Jekaran’s heart with an anxious sadness followed by nausea.

  But what about Ez?

  An image flashed in his mind. It was of him standing between Ez and the man with mismatched eyes. Jekaran had the sword raised to a blocking position. It was as if the sword was saying to him, together we can protect your uncle.

  “Child?” Irvis called.

  Jekaran started and turned to find that he had moved a dozen feet toward the middle of the river, his feet touching the very edge of the shallows. Both the monk and the Vorakk shaman were staring at him.

  “Where are you going?” Irvis asked. “Jeryn is the other direction and we don’t need to swim the river to get there.”

  “Reka worm poison hurt human boy brain?” Karak asked.

  “I have to get Ez’s sword back,” he announced before Irvis could reply to Karak’s question.

  Irvis waded toward him. “From your liege lord?”

  “Stop calling him that!” Jekaran snapped. “Gymal’s not my liege lord. He’s just a self-important bully who happens to have a dousing stone!”

  “Still …” Irvis said uncertainly.

  “Ez is counting on me to protect that talis!” He motioned to Irvis. “Counting on both of us. We are going to catch up to the well-finders, steal the sword back, and then take it to him.”

  “Child?” Irvis looked worried. “That talis is extraordinarily dangerous. It’s best that you just forget about it.”

  That suggestion actually made Jekaran nauseous. He couldn’t just forget about it. The damn thing was inside his head after all. With it, I can protect Ez from Kaul. That last thought had the distinct feel of a rationalization, but it no longer mattered. His path was chosen for him.

  “I’m going to get the sword,” he said defiantly. “I could use your help,” he then added in a friendlier tone.

  Irvis stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. “Argentus would blame me if I let anything happen to you.”

  “Good,” Jekaran said and then turned to face Karak. “I’m sorry, Karak. I am grateful for your getting me out of jail, but I can’t go with you to find this Eater. I’m sorry.”

  Karak shook his head. “Isk human boy not know fate. Human boy lead Karak to Eater. Not matter where he goes.”

  Jekaran slowly nodded. “Well, that invisible thing you can do is sure to come in handy.”

  Karak flashed a sharp-toothed grin.

  Jekaran turned to face the direction of the sword’s psychic call. I’m coming, he thought. The response felt pleased, like an ethereal smile. Jekaran raised his eyebrows, and then dropped them without response. This was going to take some getting used to.

  Maely tried not to stare at Lady Kairah, who currently took the uncanny form of Rasha’s magistrate, a sixty-year-old man with bushy white eyebrows, a balding scalp, and a hunched posture. Her voice even sounded like the old man’s gravelly tone.

  She must be a very high-ranking noble to possess a talis that could change her very appearance, Maely thought for the tenth time.

  Kairah had secured an audience with the magistrate the previous day in order to petition for Jekaran’s release. Unsurprisingly, the magistrate refused, but Kairah had explained to Maely that part of her plan was for her to get a good look at the man. Maely hadn’t understood why until later when Kairah transformed from a striking beauty into a gnarled old geezer right before her eyes. Although she had needed some coaching on how to talk and act like the magistrate, had Maely not known the truth, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

  Their pl
an was for Kairah to go to the Rasha jail and order Jek’s release. Maely would go with her, and if anyone asked questions, Lady Kairah, in the form of the old magistrate, would say Maely had witnessed Jek fighting off the bandits in defense of a noblewoman, and that such extenuating circumstance warranted him a full pardon. It was true enough. Maely just hoped the jailers wouldn’t think to verify the order by sending a runner to the magistrate’s office where they would find an identical old man hearing cases.

  They entered the jail’s annex as three guards dealt a deck of cards. Kairah cleared her throat, and the men did a double take as they dropped the cards to stand at attention. One hit the table in his haste, spilling a stein of ale across the small, round table and knocking over two of the four chairs. He saluted, trying to ignore the ale pouring off the edge of furniture to splash into a puddle on the wood floor.

  “M-m lord,” he stammered, eyes flicking to the cards on the table. He looked passed Kairah to Maely. “Where is Captain Sauler?”

  “That is not your concern,” Kairah snapped in the old magistrate’s gravelly voice. “I have come in person to order the release of the boy you arrested three nights ago for possession of a weapon talis.”

  Maely thought it sounded a little too formal, but the man was the magistrate after all. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to use stiff language. The guard shot a glance at his comrades, an odd look of bewilderment suddenly passing over all of their faces. Something’s wrong, Maely’s instincts shouted.

  “I’m sorry, my lord. I must have not heard you right.”

  “The boy you arrested three nights ago for using a weapon talis!” Kairah slowly emphasized the words in what Maely thought must’ve been an attempt to sound condescendingly irritated, though it came across as making the magistrate sound drunk or slow. “I want him released immediately!”

  The guards shared another confused look and then their leader cleared his throat. “Did not Captain Sauler go to speak with you earlier?”