The Lure of Fools

by Jason James King

  For the first time in weeks, pain shocked through Jove, and the substance that made up his black-orb self fuzzed and pulled apart. Panicked, Jove sucked in more Apeiron, and immediately solidified.

  How had this thing hurt him? Hadn’t he long since transcended physical pain?

  Jove warily drew closer to the sphere again, floating well away from its smooth glossy surface, and scrutinizing it. That’s when he saw her. A beautiful doll, more beautiful than any doll he’d ever seen, even more wonderfully perfect than that doll with the purple hair back in Aiested. She floated inside the center of the sphere, curled up like a child when sleeping or afraid.

  The woman had hair longer than she was tall, silver with a shiny glow that made it look metallic. It billowed about her naked body as though she were submerged in water. This was the fountainhead, the source of all Apeiron? Hot lust exploded inside of Jove. It wasn’t the same kind of arousal he’d felt while in the flesh, for he had no flesh, but that familiar feeling of thrilling anticipation was unmistakable.

  He had to have that doll.

  Jove cautiously floated up to the curvature of the glass barrier, moving into it more slowly. Again it burned and threatened to undo him. He sucked in more Apeiron and pulled his essence back together.

  “No!” he projected with the intensity of a scream. Echoing like sound, the thought carried through the waves of purple energy that surrounded him, racing off to some distant place. He spared little notice for the oddity.

  He wanted–no, he needed that doll. He’d been denied that purple-haired goddess, and so deserved to have this silver-haired one instead. That perfect, naked form floating inside the glass ball that was the source of all Apeiron, represented the ultimate in pleasure, the ultimate in thrill. She was the last and end of all his conquests. She was a mixture of both his worlds, the new one of consuming life, and the old of gratifying the flesh. But he couldn’t get to her. She was protected from him by that glass barrier. Fate dangled this doll before him, but held her just out of reach. It was so unfair!

  Again, Jove mentally screamed, sending his anguished cry rippling out from him in every direction. With that scream came bolts of emerald electricity, a shaft of it striking out at the glass wall before him. When the lightning made contact, the sphere trembled and fine cracks appeared on the outer skin of its surface.

  Jove shot out another bolt of green lightning, and more fine cracks appeared. He struck again and then again and again, all in rapid succession, drawing in a continual flow of Apeiron to strengthen him in the effort. Soon the cracks started to widen. The glass shell looked to be hundreds of feet thick, but the more he attacked, the deeper the cracks crept.

  Jove smiled. He’d found a way to get to that most perfect of all dolls. It would take some time, but being dead, he had all the time of an eternity.

  Maely lay next to Gryyth, watching him breathe. He seemed to be sleeping much more comfortably since Sharor had ministered to him. He was still grievously wounded, and Maely wouldn’t know for certain if he would survive until he woke. She rolled onto her other side, so that her back was to the large Ursaj warrior.

  Although she had covered herself in animal pelts, and she lay on a fur rug, she was having trouble keeping the northern midnight chill from breaking through. Hadn’t these people ever heard of a blanket? She paused at how ridiculous that thought had been. Of course, they didn’t need blankets, they were covered in fur. She laughed, but it quickly turned into a sob.

  She was alone again. Sharor had left with Kerr hours ago for the sky temple, left after that voice inside Maely’s head had called to her. Sharor wouldn’t tell Maely where or what the sky temple was, or what the voice that had spoken inside her mind meant, claiming it all to be sacrosanct. Neither would the blind she-bear take Maely with her.

  “Someone needs to stay to tend to Gryyth,” Sharor had said.

  It made sense, and Maely didn’t argue. She’d surprised herself in this, for normally such a patronizing refusal would’ve sparked her temper and unleashed her poisonous tongue. Perhaps she was just too tired to argue. Not just physically, but inside her heart–her broken heart. A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Jek,” she whispered.

  The man she’d loved rejected her, and it hurt like a dagger twisting in her chest. Well, truth be told, she had no idea what it felt like to have a knife stab her, but she was sure it would hurt like this, just not as bad. Worse still, Maely wasn’t even sure the fool boy was still alive. It was very possible that if the king’s guard hadn’t killed him, the collapsing palace had. And if not the palace, then that fell wind. No! The sword would’ve protected him. Of course, she wasn’t sure of that either, but it staved off the frightening possibility.

  He’d rejected her, but she still loved him. When he’d told her he didn’t love her, she thought her world was ending and had been ready to hurl herself from the top of Aiested’s tower. But what if he was truly gone from her life, forever? Dead?

  The very possibility threatened to overwhelm what little hope she held onto, and so she closed her eyes, and sought sleep. It took a while, but eventually Maely put her terrors from her mind and drifted into slumber.

  “Where are we, cub?”

  Gryyth’s voice was weak, and raspy, but still deeper than any human man’s. She opened her eyes to find the white Ursaj trying to sit up. She quickly moved over to him and gently pushed on his shoulder until he lay back down.

  “We’re in Sharor’s den,” Maely said as she quickly glanced over Gryyth’s burns. They were smeared with dried mud from Sharor’s medicine, so she couldn’t tell if they were healing, but Gryyth didn’t act as pained as he did before.

  “I am thirsty,” the bear-man rumbled.

  Maely nodded and stood. Sharor had shown her an opening in the back of the cave that led to another chamber, significantly colder than the front, and not adorned with any kind of animal pelt insulation. There she found cleaned and dressed animals hanging from the ceiling, their absence of skin and heads hiding their identities, but Maely guessed they were deer.

  In the corner of the room was a large cask filled with rainwater, but Maely opted to grab another skin of Aiestali sweet wine. It looked to be Sharor’s last, but Maely didn’t care. The alcohol would help the bear-man with the pain. She rushed back into the den’s main cave, knelt next to Gryyth, and unstopped the wine skin. He tried to grab it, but she insisted on being the one to give him drink. He lifted his head up and took a long pull from the wine skin.

  When he was done, he sighed. “Aiestali sweet wine?”

  Maely nodded, and then gave him a second drink. He drank longer this time, and Maely had to cut him off when he’d drained half the leather bag.

  Gryyth laid his head back and asked, “Is this a mountaineer’s hunting cave? Did you find someone to help us?”

  Maely re-stoppered the horn of the wine skin, and set it down on the ground next to Gryyth. She’d been tempted to take a pull herself, but guilt over her indulgence the night before stopped her. What would Ez say if he caught her drinking? That made her think of Mulladin, and her guilt weighed heavier.

  “Help sorta found us. But it wasn’t a hunter.”

  “Ursaj?” Gryyth’s eyes roamed the pelt lined walls.

  Maely nodded. “Her name is Sharor. She speaks Aiestali, and knows medicine.”

  Gryyth touched the dried mud on his chest. “Then I have her to thank.”

  Maely glanced at the cave entrance. “She’s gone.”

  “Hunting?” Gryyth asked.

  Maely shook her head. “She said she was going to your sky temple.”

  Gryyth turned over, moaning as the motion was too quick to spare him any hurt. Maely made to force him back down again, but he forestalled her with a paw. She let him finish sitting up, moving in to help him when he struggled. He inhaled slow deliberate breaths for nearly a full minute before he spoke again. Clearly, though he was on the mend, Gryyth had a long recovery ahead of him.

  �
��Why?”

  “She said that ‘the mother’ called.”

  Gryyth nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember hearing her voice in my dreams.”

  When the Ursaj refused to explain what that meant, Maely’s patience evaporated. “What’s happening?!”

  Gryyth closed his eyes. “We do not speak of it to humans.”

  Now Maely was really getting mad. Sharor had patronized her in much the same way. Ironically, it reminded her of the way Kairah used to speak to her. “Then at least tell me what this sky temple is!”

  Gryyth opened his blue eyes and stared at her for a long moment before finally rumbling, “It is a place where my people meet together.”

  “So, what makes it so special?” Maely demanded.

  “It is the place where the Mother speaks to us.”

  “And who’s this mother?”

  Gryyth squinted his eyes shut and his breathing quickened. “May I have more of that wine?”

  The bear-man’s pain cooled Maely’s rising frustration, and she quickly fetched the wine skin. This time he drained the bag until it wrung in on itself. When he had coaxed every last drop from the skin, Gryyth dropped the leather bag, and began to stand.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Maely snapped.

  “I must follow the others and go to the sky temple,” Gryyth panted.

  “You can’t leave!” Maely stood. “You need to rest and heal!”

  “This is important,” Gryyth growled.

  “Then let me come with you.”

  “I am sorry, cub. You cannot.”

  Gryyth took five steps, and then very nearly collapsed. He had to steady himself by reaching out to the cave wall. Unfortunately, his paw struck one of Sharor’s wooden shelves filled with ingredients. It all came down in a crash, and Gryyth just barely avoided falling to the ground. When he glanced back at her, Maely made sure to smirk.

  She folded her arms. “I’m guessing you’re gonna need some help getting to your sky temple.”

  Gryyth’s only response was a growl.

  Maely took that for an assent, and quickly moved to help steady the bear-man by sidling up to him and placing an arm up around his waist. She wasn’t sure exactly how much help she was, and if Gryyth were to put his full weight on her, it would surely crush her, but he didn’t argue further.

  It was late morning when they emerged from Sharor’s den, but still chilly and Maely almost asked Gryyth to wait so she could duck back into the den and grab one of Sharor’s animal pelts, but she didn’t want to give him a chance to re-think needing her help.

  “So how far away is it?” Maely asked.

  It took Gryyth a moment to answer, and Maely suspected that he was considering just how much to confide in her.

  “Two days,” he rumbled. “Longer for us.”

  Days? Maely started to panic. “Shouldn’t we take some food or supplies?”

  “We have to go fasting,” Gryyth said.

  That may be well and good for a creature that was protected from the cold by fur and had fat stores to spare, but Maely wasn’t sure she could do it. “But you’re sick.”

  Gryyth nodded. “And so, I will allow myself to drink from streams.”

  “What about me?”

  “You can drink from streams, too.”

  “No!” Maely snapped. “I’m not as big or hairy as you! I’m going to starve or freeze!”

  Gryyth stared down at her with his ice-blue eyes. Finally, he rumbled, “Go fetch something warm to wear.”

  “And food?”

  Gryyth shook his head. “If you are to come with me, you must fast.”

  It was a compromise. Maely hated compromise.

  She made sure to stuff some dried meet into her mouth as she pillaged Sharor’s den for a pelt large enough to double as a cloak. She also secreted some of the bear-woman’s deer jerky into her dress pockets along with red berries, and a fist-sized purple fruit she didn’t recognize. She’d be damned if she was going to go two days without food. She finally found a pelt she could wrap herself in like a blanket, and left the den. When she emerged, she found Gryyth leaning against a pine tree, shoulders slumping and head bowed.

  “You really shouldn’t be traveling,” she said.

  He raised his head and looked at her. “This is important.”

  “You keep saying that. But what about your health? This trip is just going to make you worse.”

  Maely ducked under his left arm–though she probably hadn’t needed to as it cleared her head by a good foot–and grabbed the Ursaj by the waist again.

  “That is not as important as this,” Gryyth rumbled.

  The two started walking again.

  “Why?”

  Gryyth growled in warning.

  Maely persisted anyway. “I heard the voice in my head too! So, doesn’t that mean I’m already in on this?”

  “Are you going to nip at my heels like this the whole way?”

  Maely ground her teeth. “I helped save your furry ass! The least you could do is tell me what’s going on!”

  Gryyth made one of those bear-moans, and Maely wondered if that was the Ursaj version of a sigh.

  The ground suddenly heaved and Maely held tight to Gryyth as everything shook, but his size was such that it did nothing to stop the bear-man from falling to the ground. He groaned as he fell to his knees. Birds scattered into flight, trees swayed as though they were being assailed by wind that couldn’t pick a direction, and rocks slid down a nearby mountain.

  Maely shot a look back in the direction of Aiested. She had long since passed out of being able to see the city or its broken well, but she could still see the black clouds swirling above illuminated green by rapid flashes of emerald lightning.

  After a very long moment, the quaking subsided, and Maely breathed out her pent-up breath. But, it was only a couple of heartbeats later that she sucked in another gasp, triggered by what she saw. A spear of blackness shot up from Aiested, widening and becoming a column that looked to connect sky to ground. It continually poured upward and soon the clouds above began to funnel down to meet it, as if the dark pillar were sucking them in.

  “The world is ending, isn’t it?” Maely whimpered.

  After a pregnant pause, Gryyth answered, “Yes.”

  Mulladin lost his balance and very nearly fell on his face as the ground beneath him suddenly tilted to one side, or at least that’s how he thought of it. He steadied himself against a brick building, and cast a look over his shoulder–the direction of Aiested. A column of midnight blackness shot up from what was probably the broken Apeira well, and poured into the dark clouds swirling above it. Gasps all around him told Mulladin the villagers of Gnot hadn’t missed the sight either, despite the violent ground quaking.

  Mulladin stayed as still as he could until the ground stopped shaking, and then continued down Gnot’s main thoroughfare nonchalantly as the people around him shouted and pointed at the sky. After seeing the well at Aiested break, the clouds hurl down green lightning, and a wind of death pull apart men and ships, this wasn’t something so grand. He laughed aloud at the absurdity of his attitude. Here the world was ending, and he’d already grown accustomed to it. Besides, Mulladin had more important things to worry about.

  He’d tracked the Rikujo wench to this village. Apparently, all the lessons from Ez on hunting and wilderness survival were now accessible to him. He thought that odd. He’d always had the memories of Ez’s instruction, but since his change, he could now understand and make use of them. And a good thing, too; he’d needed to forage for food as much as follow the woman’s trail.

  The village of Gnot was large enough to be a town or small city, with its hundred or so buildings, fenced perimeter, and a population Mulladin guessed to be no fewer than two thousand. He idly wondered why the people hadn’t appointed a mayor and asked their lord-regent to grant them an official town charter and require their inclusion on royal maps. Probably something to do with avoiding an increase of taxes
or the like.

  Mulladin paused. How had he known that? Perhaps he’d overheard others talking about such things when he was dim, and like Ez’s instructions on hunting and survival, the information only now made sense to him.

  Mulladin shoved the thoughts aside as he caught sight of the Tolean woman with Jek’s sword. She’d shed her stolen armor, and was dressed in a gray cloak with the hood drawn up. There was no sign of the sword, but he was sure she held it concealed under her cloak. Mulladin smiled to himself. Like the rest of the villagers on the street, her gaze was fixed on the northern horizon, at the column of blackness ascending into the dark sky. She hadn’t seen him yet.

  Mulladin quickly ducked behind a dung cart parked on his side of the street. He watched her shake her head, and turn away from staring at the sky. She disengaged from a group of villagers that had amassed around her, and then furtively scanned her surroundings.

  Rasheera smiles on me this day. Mulladin couldn’t help but grin at the providence that let him spot the Rikujo wench before she’d spotted him.

  He watched her slip into a two story, slate roofed building of what was clearly an inn, as announced by the etching of a bed in the sign above the door. Mulladin stepped out from behind the cart, and strode across the street, taking care not to look too eager. He had her now.

  When he pushed through the inn’s one swinging door, he was greeted by a rowdy crowd of rough-looking villagers who belonged more in a carousing den than an inn’s common room. It made him chuckle. Yes, Gnot certainly was a village in name only, for villages didn’t have establishments such as this. These places of avarice belonged only to the metropolitan life. He decided that the misapplication of the label was a deliberate attempt to avoid higher taxes, or perhaps the scrutiny of the crown.

  Mulladin stiffened when the point of something sharp pressed against his lower back.

  “Move and I will sever your spine,” hissed an accented female voice in his ear.