The Lure of Fools

by Jason James King

  He recognized some of those thieves as members of the Rikujo; enforcers who had come to Aiested with Ez to rescue Jek. He was about to change directions before they noticed him staring, but something drew his attention.

  One of the black-clad figures stood on the deck of a ship at the top of a gangplank. She was directing others who were carrying bulging sacks that Mulladin was sure weren’t full of grain. The Rikujo enforcer was alluring in her tight, black leathers, and her olive-toned face framed by twin black ringlets was exotic. But what really caught Mulladin’s eye was something she wore on her curvaceous hip–a sword. It wasn’t sheathed, but slid through the inside of her leather belt. The weapon had a tapered blade and a large, round amethyst set in the center of the cross guard–Jek’s sword talis. Mulladin had only seen it once, when Jek was slaughtering king’s guards with it. But the blade was of such magnificent craftsmanship that Mulladin would recognize it until his dying day.

  “Hey!” Mulladin shouted. He raised his arm and pointed with the finger upon which he wore his lightning ring.

  Nothing happened.

  It was drained. He knew that, but in the heat of his rage he’d momentarily forgotten that vitally important fact. The group of enforcers froze, and their leader actually jumped. They turned as one to stare at Mulladin. Then they laughed. Their leader’s black ponytail swung back and forth as she shook her head and returned to directing the labor of the others.

  Mulladin knew that the sensible thing would’ve been to slink away and then see if he could somehow stowaway on the ship, or follow it in a smaller boat, but he was too angry. Not so much because these Rikujo traitors had abandoned Ez and Jek, not even because they’d been looting the city or because they stole the sword. Mulladin was angry at them for laughing at him. That was another thing that carried over from his being dim. Frustration, hurt, and anger at being called names by the other children, and many of the adults in his village. He’d never been able to properly express those emotions–until now.

  Mulladin picked up a loose wooden plank he found lying against an empty barrel. It was broken and splintered at one end. Mulladin smiled a wicked smile, gripped the good end in both of his hands, raised it high over his head, and exploded into a run toward the group of Rikujo thugs. They’d barely turned around when he swung the plank down on the head of the closest enforcer. The man dropped without even so much as a groan. He followed up the attack with a horizontal swing, catching the jagged edges of splintered wood on the face of another enforcer and tearing open his cheek. That man cried out as he spun and fell off the dock, a splash following a beat later.

  The Rikujo woman was barking orders and shouting at him now. The other thugs dropped their bags of loot, drew various melee weapons, and dashed down the gangplank. Mulladin dropped the plank, and leaned down to snatch a knife from the belt sheath of his first victim. Then he charged his oncoming assailants. He caught the group of Rikujo thugs while they were rushing down the gangplank single file and crashed into the first, shoving the man over the side. He fell, striking his head on the dock just before he plunged into the sea. Mulladin held the knife upside down so that he could swipe at his target with the blade as though he were swinging punches. He laid open the throat of the next thug, dropping the man to his knees just as Mulladin began his back swing. The next man was ready for him, however, and brought a sword breaker up just in time to catch the swing. That threw Mulladin off balance, and he nearly fell from the gangplank, but his rage seemed to give him the power to defy even gravity itself.

  He threw himself forward before he could fall, grabbing the man’s wrist and forced the hand with the sword breaker down. This did two things: it let Mulladin regain his footing, and it gave him the chance to stab the man in the right side of his neck. Blood sprayed Mulladin as he wrenched the knife free, and then shoved the gurgling thug off the gangplank. The way was clear now, and he locked eyes with the Rikujo woman as he stepped over the only enforcer still lying on the inclined bridging the dock and the ship.

  She was no longer smiling. Her eyes were hard, and she cautiously backed away. Her lithe build lent her a grace that Mulladin couldn’t help but appreciate. It reminded him of a cat. He stepped up onto the deck of the ship, knife now held point up. The woman drew Jek’s sword, though she held it awkwardly like it weighed more than she expected. Mulladin thought that odd. When Jek had wielded it, he swung it as though it weighed next to nothing. Being a talis, it would’ve been drained like his lightning ring. Did that mean the sword’s magic made it lighter?

  “That belongs to my friend,” Mulladin growled.

  “You were with Argentus,” the woman said with the faintest hint of a Tolean accent. “You were the man playing a simpleton. That was very clever.”

  “How’s that?” Mulladin took a careful step toward her.

  “It made the others think you were not a threat, and so we ignored you.” She smiled. “The stratagem made it possible for you to interfere in the duel and save Argentus from Trous.”

  Mulladin flashed a toothy grin. Let her think what she would, especially if it made him look smarter than he was. “That face of yours is too pretty to cut up. So how’s about you give me my friend’s sword, and I’ll let you swim away from here?”

  “How’s about,” she mimicked his speech, “you try and take it from me?”

  Mulladin charged. The Rikujo woman raised the sword, but the weight of it made her motion too slow. He crashed into her, and the momentum carried the both of them down to the deck of the ship. The sword clanged to the ground less than a meter off to Mulladin’s right. He rolled off the woman and scrambled toward the sword. Her weight pressed down on his back. She hooked an arm around his throat, pulling him backward as she cut off his airflow. Mulladin thought of his stolen knife, but only realized then that he no longer had it. He hoped she didn’t either.

  “That sword is mine by right,” the woman hissed into his ear.

  He opened his mouth to make a sardonic reply, but only choking sounds came out. As his head began to swim, he summoned his rage and threw himself backward. The woman cried out as something–he hoped her head–struck the deck with a deep thud. The strangulation abruptly stopped, and Mulladin sucked air as desperately as he knew how. He rolled to the side, and rose onto his hands and knees and crawled toward the sword. He’d just gotten one hand around its handle when the wind rushed out of his lungs.

  The woman had leapt on him again, this time coming down on his back with her full weight. Had she jumped? Sucking air for the second time in under a minute, Mulladin held tight to the sword. The woman’s small, tan hand gripped the wired handle just above his as she commenced striking him in the back of the head with her free hand. Stars exploded across Mulladin’s vision.

  “Let go, you big dumb ox!” The woman interwove the words so they were audible in between blows.

  A sharp crack of thunder made them both freeze and look back at the broken well at the center of the capital city. A second clap of thunder sounded, this one even louder and deeper. All fell deadly quiet, and then a hissing sound enveloped them. It reminded Mulladin of rushing air, although he didn’t feel the slightest breeze. Just then the tiny emeralds peppering the blade of Jek’s sword lit up, casting a green glow on both he and the Rikujo woman. They shared a look, and then by unspoken consent, resumed struggling for possession of the blade.

  Their struggle was short-lived, however, as snapping wood made them pause a second time. All around them the deck of the ship was turning pale; as though the varnished wood had dried beneath the sun for a thousand days. Mulladin’s blood chilled when he caught sight of one of the enforcers he’d left sprawled on the dock. The man’s flesh was gone, leaving behind only a pile of bleached bones held together by his black leathers.

  He looked back at the dark-haired woman. Her tan face had paled, and she was also looking about with wide eyes. Still, they both held to the handle of Jek’s sword, the glow of the emerald shards shining brighter. Dust rose from t
he deck of the ship. No, not dust. The wood was wearing away before his very eyes, decaying and breaking down.

  The entire ship groaned and creaked. Then, with a dozen overlapping snapping sounds, the hull broke apart and the deck split. They both held onto the sword, even as they fell through the ship toward the dark water. Mullidan gulped down a mouth of air just before he submerged. The cold, salty ocean tried to steal away his air, but he held his mouth shut tight. He opened his eyes and found the green light of the sword’s emerald shards illuminating the face of his enemy.

  Incredibly, they both held onto the sword. The Rikujo woman met his eyes and their furious struggle resumed. Mulladin sank and his lungs started to burn, but something inside him told him not to let go of Jek’s sword, and so he gripped the handle of the sword even tighter. He kicked frantically, trying to propel himself toward the surface, but the weight of the sword and his struggle with the Rikujo woman continued to pull him down.

  The emeralds on Jek’s sword faded, and everything went dark. Instinctually, Mulladin kicked out with his right leg, connecting with the woman, probably in her stomach he thought. A gurgled grunt validated his guess. Mulladin wrenched the sword out of her grasp and furiously swam up. He broke the surface at the same time he inhaled and got a breath that was as much water as it was air. He coughed, sputtered, slipped beneath the waves a couple more times before his feet touched ground. How had he gotten to the surface so quickly? He must’ve been at least twenty feet under water when he broke free of the Rikujo woman.

  His uncontrollable fit of coughing and retching continued as he slogged out of the ocean. He steadied himself against one of the wooden pylons and cut himself on a jutting piece of splintered wood. The pain made him inhale sharply, which led to another round of coughing. After a seeming eternity, Mulladin was breathing normally again, albeit very quickly. He collapsed to the ground, and that was when he noticed where he was. He sat directly beneath the remnants of the dock where the Rikujo ship had been moored.

  He looked down at the ground and found black rock littered with fish skeletons and then back up at the ruined dock. Hadn’t the water risen much higher than this? He could’ve sworn it was only five feet below him when he ran onto the boardwalk and attacked that first Rikujo enforcer. But no, the water level had clearly diminished by at least ten feet. Had that been how he’d reached the surface so quickly? Perhaps it had something to do with that strange wind that tore the deck of the ship apart. He thought of the skeleton on the dock that was, just a few moments ago, a fleshy corpse. Why hadn’t Mulladin withered like the rest of his surroundings?

  Mulladin glanced again at Jek’s sword. The emeralds peppering the blade remained dark. Had the sword protected him somehow? Not just him, he realized, but that Rikujo wench, too. He looked about, but didn’t see any sign of her. Of course, it was dark enough now that she might’ve been ten feet into the lapping water, and he wouldn’t know it. Well, he wasn’t going to wait around to find out. He had to find Jek and bring the sword back to him. Perhaps that would help heal him? Admittedly, he didn’t know. But he was sure of one thing. He needed to get out of Aiested in case that withering wind came again. He slid the sword into his belt and climbed the rocky shelf back up to the docks.

  Another deafening clap of thunder split the sky and thrummed through Maely’s chest. The sheer ferocity of it made her want to fall to the ground and cover her head. She forced herself to look back at Aiested, still visible even though she and Gryyth had left the refugee camp that morning. How many miles had they gone? Maely couldn’t be sure. The Ursaj’s severe burns made walking with him a slow thing. Flashes of green lightning exploded from within the black cloud cover, increasing in frequency until it looked like the broken Apeira well was surrounded in green fire.

  Gryyth groaned in pain. Maely shot a look at him, worried that the bear-man was succumbing to his burns, but the Ursaj’s blue eyes bespoke more than physical pain.

  “Gryyth?” Maely stopped and let the massive beast put his arm around her for support.

  It was a laughable thing to do, for Maely weighed a fraction of what the creature weighed, and she was unable to stop Gryyth from slumping to the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” Maely asked, her anxiety quickly rising toward panic. What would she do if Gryyth passed out? She damn well couldn’t carry the bear, and she had no idea where he was taking her.

  “The Mother,” Gryyth growled.

  Maely was about to ask him what he meant when the forest all about them started moving. She looked up to find the tall pines swaying in a breeze that wasn’t there, and they were withering. Not in the process of dying, but withering right before her eyes. Pine needles that had just moments before been dark green were changing color, turning an orange-brown and falling off branches in sheets, deluging the ground in sharp and brittle drops of needle rain. The branches of the trees creaked, and some began to snap off and crash to the forest floor.

  Now Maely was panicking.

  “Come on,” she said to Gryyth as she tugged on his right paw. “Get up!”

  Gryyth looked up at her in surprise, as though seeing her for the first time. He nodded, and groaned as he stood. Maely gave up her efforts to be gentle and towed Gryyth into a run. He panted heavily, groaning from the pain of his burns. A backward glance heightened her panic. The decay was following them; trees, grass, and bushes dying as though an invisible predator moved up the slope after them. Instinct told Maely that if this thing overtook her, she too would also wither away. So she ran faster, pulling Gryyth with all of her might. They scrambled up a hill using a game trail and had just about crested the top when Gryyth fell to the ground.

  “Dammit!” Maely tugged frantically on the Ursaj’s furry arm.

  The wave of decay flowed toward them, naked branches snapping, and even entire trees breaking from their stumps and falling over. Grass and shrubbery died before her eyes, and even the ground changed from healthy brown dirt to black sand. A bird that took to the air too late froze and fell from flight, its tiny body a featherless husk when it crashed.

  “Get up!”

  Gryyth tried, but shuddered and fell back to the ground.

  Maely thumbed the underside of her mother’s ring, and opened her mouth to command Gryyth to rise, but remembered the compulsion talis had no charge. The wave of death ran up the hill, eager to overtake them.

  “Gryyth!” Maely screamed.

  It was close now, so close Maely could see a warping to the air where the wave touched the ground. It was translucent green, faint and nearly invisible in the light, but shown whenever it flowed over a shaded spot of the forest floor. Maely yanked so hard on Gryyth’s arm that he bellowed. The sound was so sudden and loud that she nearly dropped his hand and ran.

  The wave of energy neared the top of the hill, now, and Maely squeezed her eyes shut preparing for death. I’m sorry for leaving you, Mull.

  She waited, heart pounding loudly in her chest, but death didn’t come. She opened her eyes, expecting to be surrounded by translucent green wind, but she wasn’t. The dirt beneath her knees remained soft, damp, and brown. She looked down the hill and found the warping air pulling back. It had risen almost to the top of the hill, as was evidenced by the black sand that stopped only a meter away from where they’d fallen. But the decay was pulling back now, like the retreating tide of the ocean.

  “Praise the goddess,” Maely whispered the prayer as the pounding in her chest began to slow. “What the hell was that?”

  When she received no response, she looked at Gryyth. The Ursaj’s eyes were shut, and his breathing came in ragged gasps. Maely reached out and felt the top of his muzzle, just behind his black nose. It was hot. She made a closer examination of a patch of charred flesh. Angry red skin surrounded the black, and yellow pus oozed from jagged cracks. As Raelen predicted, Gryyth’s burns had become infected, and he had developed a fever.

  Tears spilled down Maely’s cheeks and she rested her forehead against the Ursaj’s f
ury shoulder. His fur was softer than she’d realized which was comforting. He was going to die, and she was lost in the wild without any supplies. Oh, they’d gathered what they could from the refugees, there had even been an apothecary who’d had some poppy oil to help dull Gryyth’s pain, but none of it was enough to–the refugees!

  Maely lifted her head and stared back through the forest, through skeletal trees rooted in charcoal-black sand. She could see the husk of some mid-sized animal, but it was too emaciated to recognize its species. A sick feeling rose in her stomach as she realized the refugees were back behind all that dead forest; surely all dead themselves. How many people had that been? Maely heard one of Raelen’s soldiers’ claim it was in the thousands. And what of Raelen? Had the prince made it far away enough from Aiested to escape whatever this was? She choked back vomit.

  Rustling from ahead caught Maely’s attention and she bit off a scream as something large and brown approached her. It ran on all fours, but stood as it neared them. It was a bear–no bears didn’t wear breechcloths and shoulder satchels. The creature was another Ursaj. It closed to six paces before stopping, big brown eyes staring at Gryyth before turning its large head to look at Maely.

  “Human,” it growled. It took a wary step forward, but froze and looked past her. It said something in a language that sounded like little more than blowing and teeth clacking.

  For a long time, it just stared into the dead forest. Finally, Maely’s impatience won out against her fear, and she shouted, “He’s hurt!”

  The brown Ursaj huffed, and looked down at Maely, and then at Gryyth. It rumbled something unintelligible and then stooped down to examine the white bear-man.