“Mae…” Jekaran said and he reached out to gather her into another hug.
“No!” Maely shouted as she pulled away. She balled her fists and felt herself trembling. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.”
Jenoc’s words suddenly echoed in Maely’s mind. I will allow you to keep this ring. You’ve tasted its power. You know that with it you can have whatever your heart desires—money, land…Jekaran.
“No,” Maely said as she shook her head. “No, you do love me. You do love me!” The wave of power exploded from her chest with a strength she’d never before managed.
Jekaran stumbled back, the psychic force so strong it actually caused him to drop the sword. He stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. Then a smile crept onto his face and he moved toward her. He didn’t say anything but took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. Maely’s heart thrilled and she kissed him back as fiercely as she knew how. Although it only lasted a moment, it seemed to Maely as though the kiss had gone on for hours. This is what she’d wanted. This is what she’d longed for. To be loved by the man who she loved. To be held, protected, and cared for.
She pulled away and sucked in a deep breath. Jekaran’s smile faltered and he moved in for another kiss, but Maely stopped him. She giggled, “I do need to breathe.” Jekaran chuckled nervously, and Maely knew he shared her giddiness.
She took his hand in hers and began towing him back the way they’d run. “Come on, we need to get you out of here,” she said. “After killing the king, I’m sure they’ll be sending guards to take you.”
“Yes, mistress,” he said.
Maely froze, causing Jekaran to bump into her. She slowly turned to look at him and her heart dropped. The look on his face was utterly adoring, even worshipful, but it wasn’t Jekaran’s look. Gone was the twinkle of mischief in his eyes or the look of practical goodness she’d so often studied when he wasn’t looking. This wasn’t him.
She let go of his hand. This wasn’t right. At first she’d told herself using the compulsion ring on Jek would only draw out the romantic feelings he must already have for her. That it would be nothing more than a psychic slap to the face to wake him up to the truth. But this was different. The look in his eyes was the same look he got when the sword took over. This wasn’t Jekaran.
Tears spilled down her cheeks again. Perhaps they had never stopped falling, as she’d been ecstatic a moment earlier, but now they were bitter. He didn’t love her the way she loved him, and not even her mother’s ring would let her change that. She suddenly felt dirty. How was she different from the men who’d raped her mother? They had paid her for her love, true, but it was still forced. The price she was paying for Jekaran’s love was Jekaran himself.
“Mistress?” Jekaran asked, his tone very concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Maely shook her head and began to back away. “Don’t call me that,” she sobbed.
Jekaran reached out for her, but she turned and began to run. “Don’t follow me!” she shouted as she turned out of the corridor.
Jekaran watched Maely disappear around a corner. I love her, I love her, I love her…The thought continued to whirl around in his mind so loud that it drowned out all others.
Jekaran a voice called from far away.
He turned to look behind him at the sword that lay on the ground. It was important, something seemed to whisper, it was valuable. He walked toward it, heart wrenching at letting Maely go, but unable to follow her because of her command. He bent down and grabbed the sword by the handle, and then he awoke. The circling thought of loving Maely and needing to do whatever she asked of him evaporated.
“What the hell?” He raised his free hand to the side of his head.
I broke the spell over your mind, the sword said.
“What spell?”
The compulsion spell she put upon you. It shouldn’t have affected you like that, but she caught me by surprise.
Jekaran gently touched his lips as he stared off in the direction Maely had fled. “She kissed me,” he said. “I tried to tell her I didn’t love her like that, but then I wanted her more than– ”
It was a powerful spell-casting, the sword said. But that doesn’t matter right now because you are in danger. Give me control.
“Like hell I will,” Jekaran scoffed.
. It is my function to protect you.
“By stealing my body?” he snapped.
You were unconscious and in danger.
“And when I woke up, you still wouldn’t let go. No, I’m not letting you do that again.”
Voices echoed from a connecting corridor and Jekaran tensed.
Guards, the sword said. They come to kill you.
Just then a dozen soldiers in armor flooded into the corridor.
But why are they hunting me? Then Jekaran remembered. “Right, the king,” he said ruefully.
“There he is!” one of the guards shouted and then pointed at him.
Give me control, the sword repeated.
“Go to hell,” Jekaran said.
He turned to run in the other direction, but stopped up short when another contingent of soldiers burst into the hallway.
Give me control!
“And let you slaughter every single one of them?”
The sword projected confusion. They intend to kill you.
“They’re just following orders. I’m the one who killed their king!” I’m the real monster, a voice inside him accused, and he couldn’t refute it.
He was going to have you executed. The sword rebutted, which did ease Jekaran’s guilt–a bit.
“We need to get to Kairah,” Jekaran quickly decided. “Help me like you did in Rasha, without taking over.”
That way is less effective. We are more powerful when I am in total control of your movements.
Jekaran heard the snapping of a trigger and whipped the sword up just in time to deflect a crossbow bolt only feet before it would’ve struck him in the face.
See, the sword said. I could’ve dodged that entirely.
“Cocky, aren’t you?” Jekaran scoffed.
The soldiers ahead and behind closed, more of them raising crossbows and taking aim. Jekaran cast a glance over his shoulder in the direction Maely had fled.
“I’m sorry, Mae,” he whispered.
She wouldn’t want him anyway, not if she knew what he really was–an Eater. His only hope now was that Kairah could somehow fix him, or knew how to. If she couldn’t, well, then he might very well have to die.
The soldiers before and behind him charged.
Jove trudged uphill toward the Apeira well. He was disappointed there were not more people walking the streets of this city. He’d assumed from the massive well’s constant light the people wouldn’t follow a traditional day and night sleep schedule. The streets weren’t empty, of course; it just wasn’t how Jove imagined it.
A woman screamed upon seeing him with his floating tendrils of warped green air waving in the air above him. She attempted to dart off the main thoroughfare, but Jove struck her without slowing or stopping. Refreshing and delicious energy pulsed into him, but it wasn’t enough to slake his appetite. Never again would the lives of men or animals be enough. Not now that he’d tasted Apeiron.
He licked his lips as he focused on the looming spire of glowing purple crystal. He could actually smell the Apeiron radiating from the well. Not with his nose, of course, but that was the only way he could describe it.
It made him hungry.
Dawn was not far off as was evidenced by the sky lightening on the horizon. Years of habit made Jove apprehensive about walking so openly in such a large city, but he shook off the impulse to retreat to the shadows. His days of skulking in the dark, and hiding in corners were over. Now he could gratify his passions as much as he liked, and never have to fear arrest or execution.
No prison could hold him. Nothing could kill him. For how would one kill death itself? He giggled as he caught sight of a coach parked a little f
urther up the street. If he could restrain himself from eating the coachman long enough, he could ride to the Apeira well and be feasting much sooner than if he continued walking.
He walked up to the front of the carriage and found the coachman snoring as he leaned his head back against the front of the cab. He was a portly fellow, about ten years past middle age. He had a high forehead, but Jove couldn’t tell if that was due to balding or because of the tri-corner hat he wore.
“Hello, friend,” Jove said.
The man choked on his snoring as he started and sat forward.
“Need transit, my good–” The man cut off when he looked at Jove, and his eyes flicked to the floating tendrils that were waving above Jove’s head.
“Divine Mother!” he cried and reached for the reins controlling his team of six bridled ghern.
Jove shot out one of his tendrils and drained the life from the ghern at the front of the team. It bleated as it shriveled into a dead husk. That had the desired effect, and the coachman froze.
“Pl-please don’t kill me,” he began to sob. “I have a wife and eight little ones to feed.”
“Feed?” Jove repeated and laughed. Appropriate. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said using his best trouper’s voice. “I only want a ride.”
“Where?” the coachman asked, his eyes continually darting to Jove’s translucent green tendrils.
Jove pointed up hill to the Apeira well, and actually had to wipe the drool from his mouth before saying in a throaty voice, “There.”
“You are the counter force to Apeiron,” Kairah shouted at the sky. “Apeiron is life and you are death. Is it not so?”
She felt the alien mind agree.
“Did you do this?” She motioned at the ruined city, shattered Apeira well, and the countless scattered bones. “Did you lay waste to this place?”
To her complete surprise, the mind seemed to answer No.
“Then who destroyed this place?” she demanded.
This thing was the shadow to the light of life, the antithesis of growth and everything that made up the core of Allosian purpose. In retrospect, its reality didn’t surprise her. Jenoc had told her the universe was balance and order. So, that meant if there was a power that created and grew life, then there must be a counter power that withered and destroyed it. Still, natural it be, it disgusted her.
“Who did this?” she demanded of the dark clouds above her.
You did, the force seemed to reply.
“What?” She hadn’t expected that. “Tell me what you mean!”
The force did not answer.
“Answer me!” Kairah shouted.
The thunder rumbled, but there came no response.
That’s when Kairah heard something else. It came first as indistinct sound but grew louder and louder. It was her body, she somehow knew. It was beginning to wake. Although muted, she could hear the ambience of the room in which she lay, smell the newly laundered bedding, and feel…
“What is that?” she cried out.
There was something wrong back where her body lay. Something very wrong. It had the same feeling as the Moriora, but somehow different–mixed. It wasn’t omnipresent like this power. No, this was focused to a single location, intersecting her reality through the space of a single living creature. It made her want to retch again. It was an aberration, a violation of natural law so hideous that she could scarcely comprehend it. And whatever it was, it was coming.
The thunder rumbled, and the alien mind answered with an actual word–Vessel.
Riding in a coach was very pleasant, Jove decided. He’d never ridden in one before, the closest thing to it he’d ever rode in was a wagon. But the two didn’t really compare, not with the coach’s enclosed cab and plush seats. He wouldn’t be picking splinters out of his backside when this ride was over, that was for certain.
Thud!
Something landed on the top of the cab, rocking the whole carriage. He heard a startled cry from the driver, and peered out the window next to his seat to see what was going on. The portly driver was rolling to a stop on the side of the cobblestone rode. He’s leapt off the driver’s seat! Well, he’s a fool if he thinks I can’t still—
Jove was jolted away from the window as the carriage abruptly lurched right. He was thrown into the opposite wall of the cab as the coach tipped. He looked out the window against which his face was pressed and saw the ground speeding up to meet him. Then the carriage crashed to its side.
Jove hit his head several times as he was tossed about inside the rolling coach. When it finally came to rest, he found himself lying on his back on shards of glass while looking up at the open door. Jove growled as he struggled up, and climbed out the side door that was now like a top hatch. The effort was difficult as his leg stubbornly refused to work properly.
When he finally hoisted himself out of the carriage, he whipped a tendril in the direction of the ghern team intending to syphon the energy his body would need to rebuild his leg. He bit off a curse when he saw the five bipedal animals racing down the street away from the carriage, completely untethered.
Despite his broken leg, Jove managed to climb down from the over turned carriage. One of its back wheels continued to spin slowly as he rounded the vehicle. Where was that driver? The man had obviously leapt from the carriage to escape being eaten, causing the resultant accident. Well, Jove wasn’t going to let him get away. That man would pay for Jove’s broken leg with his life–literally–as he would use the man’s essence to heal himself.
Something struck Jove in the back of the head, and he whirled around to see who would dare throw a stone at him. But there wasn’t anyone in sight. He looked up at the roofs of the buildings behind him, but he still couldn’t see anyone. Another stone struck him in the side of the head, this one flying from the opposite direction. Jove growled as he spun in that direction. Again, no one.
“Who’s there?” Jove demanded.
He heard a faint whistling sound punctuated by something striking him in the neck. It didn’t hurt of course, none of the attacks did. It was just terribly rude, and Jove couldn’t abide rudeness. He felt at his throat and found a needle sticking out, fletched at the end with the feathers of a small bird. He yanked it free and smelled the tip. He knew that smell. Destra root. A paralytic he’d often used to incapacitate his dolls when they became unruly.
Jove tossed the dart away and began to laugh loudly until he couldn’t control himself. He stumbled back against the overturned carriage, doubled over with high-pitched laughing.
“Fool!” he was able to manage in between sucking breath. “Poison can’t touch me. I have no blood!”
He wiped tears from his eyes as his wild laughing began to abate. That’s when he saw it, a faint rippling in the air not but ten paces to his right. He lashed out at it with all of his tendrils but found nothing except for a small cat crouched behind a rain barrel. It was enough to mend his leg to the point that he could put weight on it, and he was able to let go of the carriage and stand on his own.
He began to creep around the coach, scrutinizing the night to watch for that rippling in the air. He’d never heard of a talis that could make one invisible, but it could be nothing else.
“I’ve played this game before,” he said in a singsong voice. “And I must say that I’m rather good at it. I will find you.”
By this time, several of the town’s nocturnal inhabitants had begun to appear on the street. They came from all directions, no doubt drawn by the sound of the crash. Jove smiled and then lashed out at the closest spectator. It was a young man holding a woodcutter’s axe. Strength pulsed into Jove as the man’s life ebbed away. At seeing this, the other investigators began to cry out and scatter.
Jove breathed in the night air and tested his leg. It was completely whole.
“Show yourself, he called to his invisible assailant. Or I will do that to every man, woman, and child on this street.” He would do it anyway, but his enemy didn’t need to know
that.
Flickering on his left periphery made him turn his head. The air in front of him distorted, waved, and shimmered leaving a man-sized creature standing in the dark. It was reptilian, with scaly skin that looked grey in the night.
“Vorakk!” Jove laughed with delight. “I’ve never seen a real one before!”
The lizard man didn’t answer. Instead, he made a sound that sounded like a mixture between a hiss and a growl, waved his hand, and turned it so that it looked like he was going to show Jove something he’d been clutching. A bluish-white ball of crackling light appeared hovering above its upraised palm.
“What is that?” Jove asked, his tone full of childlike wonder.
The Vorakk smiled a toothy grin, and then threw his hand forward. Jove was blinded by a flash of brilliant light accompanied by a deafening thunderclap. Something struck him in the chest, where his heart used to be. It threw him back and he found himself staring up at the night sky, chest smoldering.
He barked a laugh that quickly became a string of uncontrollable cackling as he struggled to his feet. The Vorakk still stood facing him, its brave smile gone. Apparently, that was supposed to have done Jove in. He wiped a lock of dirty black hair out of his vision and slowly took a step toward the lizard man.
It hissed something and summoned another floating ball of light, this one looking to be made of fire. He pointed at Jove and the little ball flew forward becoming a wall of flames. Jove pulled his power back to him so that it enveloped him like a translucent green cloak. When the wave of fire struck him, it immediately dissipated, and Jove was the stronger for it.
Now the Vorakk’s expression had changed from determined to uncertain. It summoned another ball of light, this one a frosty blue. But before it could spell-cast, Jove struck out with one of his tendrils and consumed it. Eating the magic wasn’t a pleasant experience like eating Apeiron. No, this burned him and refused to breakdown and add to his strength. In fact, it was painful. Jove ejected the ball of light from his chest as though he were spitting out a bite of spoiled fruit, and it vanished.
The Lure of Fools Page 47