The Lure of Fools

by Jason James King

  Words from Ez forced their way into his mind, and it was less like the echo of memory from their time in Trous’s manner and more like Ez was speaking into his ear.

  But closely resemble they one another, both heroes and fools at first, and it’s only at the fork of destiny’s road that the truth will at last emerge. For while the fool always looks to his own regard, the hero for others is aware. And will suffer and die when called upon, even for strangers in his care. It was the final stanza of the Lure of Fools poem. The part he regretted withholding from Jek.

  In that moment, Mulladin made his choice.

  Mulladin reached into his pocket with his good arm and pulled out his crossbow bolt. He gripped it in his hand like a dagger, and then stood and threw himself at Loeadon. He brought the point down on the back of Loeadon’s neck, stabbing through the man’s long black hair. He felt the bolt puncture the man’s skin, rupturing muscle and breaking bone as he pushed it in with all of his remaining strength.

  Loeadon’s attack on Keesa immediately ceased as he began coughing up blood, and scratching at his throat where the sharp point of the crossbow bolt protruded. Mulladin let go of the bolt and started wildly pummeling the renegade polymath with his fist. He heard a crack after landing a particularly fierce blow on the man’s shoulder.

  “That’s for my shoulder!” he shouted, hoping the ironic injury would look intentional.

  He lifted his arm for another strike but his muscles spasmed and he froze. Pain like fire shot through every limb and digit, as crackling electricity surrounded Loeadon like a shield. Mulladin shook, unable to move, breathe or even unclench his raised fist. Sparks exploded in front of him and he was thrown back a good twenty feet. He bounced off a wall, rolled on the cobbles. Loeadon turned around and pulled the crossbow bolt out of the back of his neck. His drooping shoulder shifted and realigned itself, and the gaping hole in his throat closed. The crossbow bolt clattered to the cobblestones. Mulladin sucked in deep ragged breaths. The pounding in his chest and ears came in irregular bursts, and blood poured from his mouth. He was dying. He knew it, and so did Loeadon.

  The renegade polymath walked past Keesa who was lying curled up in a ball, her shoulders shaking as she alternately sobbed and gasped for air. Loeadon bent down and picked up Jekaran’s sword. A wicked smile split his face, and he ejaculated a wild laugh. He turned to face the watching Erassa guards and thrust the blade into the air above his head.

  “I, Ical Loeadon, leader of the Aiestali royal cadre of polymaths, am your new king!”

  If he expected cheers from the on-looking soldiers, he didn’t get them. The men in armor just glanced at each other in confusion. Loeadon frowned.

  “Perhaps a convincing demonstration is in order.” He lowered the sword and held it in front of him with both hands gripping the handle.

  The Erassa city guard began to back away, but Mulladin knew they wouldn’t get far. Loeadon’s eyes blazed with sadistic eagerness. The demonstration wouldn’t be for them, because Loeadon wasn’t going to leave any of the soldiers alive.

  The renegade polymath took two steps toward the contingent of guards and froze. The emeralds peppering the sword’s blade were glowing.

  “What is this?” Loeadon said, raising the sword to examine the shining bits of green. “Is this some―”

  He didn’t get to finish his question because he started screaming. Still gripping the sword’s handle with both hands, Loeadon fell to his knees. His hands wrinkled, his hair fell out in clumps, his face thinned, and his eyes shriveled and fell from their sockets. Loeadon’s scream cut off and he fell into a mass of bones and dust piled upon a discarded robe. The sword clanged to the ground, and the emeralds dimmed until they ceased to glow.

  Blackness encroached on the edges of Mulladin’s vision, but before the darkness of death took him, he saw Ez kneeling over Keesa. Perhaps he was hallucinating as it was said people close to death were wont to do, but he didn’t think so. Ez looked up at Mulladin and smiled. Mulladin smiled back. Then the world went away.

  Mulladin gasped and opened his eyes. Keesa’s face stared down into his. He was surprised that it bore no cuts or bruises, and then he realized all of his pains were gone. He rolled his broken shoulder and it responded without any sharp sting. His heart was pounding strong and steady, and his burnt leg was whole. Keesa flashed him a smile and then wiggled her fingers in front of his face, showing off a silver and gold ring capped by a small diamond cut amethyst.

  “Loeadon’s restoration ring.”

  Keesa frowned. “My restoration ring. The lightning ring is mine now, too. I figure these are payment enough.”

  Mulladin sat up. “Payment for what?”

  “That.” Keesa waved at the sword lying on the ground in front of Loeadon’s bones and robe.

  “You’re letting me take it?”

  Keesa looked away. “You came to my rescue when you could’ve grabbed the sword. No one’s ever done anything like that for me, not without an angle.” She met his eyes. “Besides, the damn thing ate that guy alive, so I’m not gonna touch it.”

  Mulladin laughed and Keesa smiled. A small ball of light, like one of Karak’s spirit orbs hovered where Mulladin had seen Ez. He opened his mouth to tell Keesa to look, but it zipped away and disappeared into the sky.

  “What?” Keesa asked. “Did I forget to heal your brain?”

  Mulladin laughed again, and Keesa helped him stand. He had to avert his eyes as her torn shirt offered a view that Irvis would appreciate. Thinking that Ez might actually be watching him made Mulladin shove away the ember of arousal. He walked over to Loeadon’s remains. The Erassa guard were inching closer, obviously still hesitant but resolute. Mulladin glanced at Keesa and was surprised to find her wide-eyed with her mouth half open. Would the sword eat him too? Well, there was only one way to find out.

  Mulladin bent down and grabbed the sword’s wired handle. The advancing soldiers halted, raised their shields and leveled spears at him. Mulladin stared into the large round amethyst adorning the sword’s cross guard.

  Mull!

  Mulladin started. He recognized the voice inside his head.

  “Jek?”

  The sword laughed, and Mulladin was sure. It was Jekaran.

  Kairah passed through the door-less archway that led into the cavernous first floor of Shivara’s white tower. A tall woman with cheek-length light-purple hair stoically waited for her. She was dressed in a maid’s sundress, fashioned to look like the one’s worn by the children of human nobles. It left her shoulders bare, and the effect of the woman’s abnormal height made it too short. The whole outfit, complete with red bow, appeared to be designed to make the woman look like a young girl only a year or two into puberty and was an odd choice for an Allosian ruler’s servant. To add to the strangeness of the servant’s outfit was the fact that she bore a weapon sheathed at her left hip–an elegant rapier with a well-shard embedded in the weapon’s pommel.

  “I am here to see the oracle,” Kairah said.

  The servant curtsied, and then wordlessly turned and began walking away.

  Kairah followed the willowy young woman through the ivory halls of Shivara’s tower. Apparently, she was mute, or at least she was acting that way. Kairah had tried to engage her a few times, but she only replied with nods and gestures. Kairah didn’t know if the girl was being dutifully non-conversational by command of Shivara, or if she was just shy. Either way, it made for a long trip to the top of the tower.

  Kairah brushed her ring finger with her thumb. The unique energy-producing talis was gone. She had given it to the human monk, Irvis, to keep hidden. After Aeva’s warning not to reveal its existence to the synod, Kairah had been very careful not to call attention to it, and decided she best not wear it to her meeting with Allose’s preeminent oracle.

  Pain lanced through Kairah’s head and she had to shut her eyes and lean against the wall. Removing the ring talis had invoked a worsening of her symptoms; the headaches becoming more frequent a
nd severe. She sincerely hoped that one of her fits wouldn’t strike while she met with Shivara. The woman was supposed to be quasi-omniscient and Kairah didn’t need Shivara suspecting she’d been tainted by Moriora. That was the other thing she hadn’t revealed to the synod. With her lonely mission to stop Moriora’s vessel, trying to heal Jekaran’s broken mind, grieving Jenoc’s betrayal and disappearances, she had enough to worry about without becoming a subject for study, or worse–quarantine.

  When the pain passed, she found the mute woman blankly staring at her. Annoyance heated Kairah’s chest and she snapped, “No need to aid me. I am well. But thank you for asking.”

  The girl didn’t react. That only made Kairah angry, and she had to exercise all her willpower to keep from unleashing a tirade on her. Kairah’s ill temper was another symptom of her corruption, and removing the energy ring had only made it worse.

  The biggest challenge her chronic anger presented was the temptation to defy the synod’s commands and make what she knew about the destruction of Taris and Moriora public knowledge. Their refusal to resolve on more than a lackadaisical study of the destruction wrought by the being Karak called The Eater enraged her. How was it that a body of Allose’s most sagacious minds did not grasp that all of Shaelar was in danger?

  Well, perhaps one had.

  Kairah’s hopes for this meeting with Shivara were high. If anyone else could sense the danger it would be Allose’s master seer.

  “I am sorry,” Kairah forced out.

  The girl’s only response was to turn and continue down the hall, which flared Kairah’s anger, but she quickly calmed herself. She needed help, but had no one to confide in.

  Aeva, Kairah called. Aeva answer me!

  Aeva hadn’t spoken to her since she appeared before the synod. After the attempt to heal Jekaran failed, she’d taken him, the other humans, and Karak to her apartment in one of the many white towers that made up Allose’s residential districts. While there, she’d sought Aeva in her private atrium, but no matter how much Kairah pled, Aeva wouldn’t answer. The Spirit lily was there physically, but not in any other meaningful way. She scrutinized the flower with all her meager Fourth Discipline skill, but all she could get was a sense that Aeva was distant or distracted. That made absolutely no sense at all since Kairah was standing directly in front of her. It only added to her frustration and sense of loneliness. Worse, she feared her inability to communicate with Aeva was another result of her worsening condition. Would she be able to stop Moriora’s vessel before she succumbed to the power that even now poisoned her?

  Oh, how she wished Jekaran were well, not just for his sake, but so she had someone to talk to. The boy was uneducated, unrefined, and in many ways represented all that she disliked about humans, but there was an earnest honesty to him. He was also very entertaining, and of all her human companions, Jekaran was the only one who could make her laugh.

  Two worlds, but one heart,

  opposites that are one.

  Can fire love ice?

  Can the dark love the dawn?

  The memory of the poem she’d seen carved on Allosian ruins near the west sea came unbidden.

  So were the two lovers,

  a prince and princess opposed.

  Yet in the secret midnight of a garden,

  their love could freely flow.

  “Aeva?” Kairah whispered, thinking that perhaps the Spirit lily had spoken to her, so sudden had the words popped into her head.

  Yet the universe is balance,

  and fate would have her due.

  Their love would bring destruction,

  and end the worlds each knew.

  “Aeva?” She said it so loudly that the mute girl glanced at her. Kairah met her eyes and then looked away. Aeva? She repeated in her mind.

  Aeva didn’t respond.

  Where had that come from? Two lovers? Jekaran was not her lover. He was just a boy, a human boy! Yet, as absurd and blasphemous as it was, Kairah couldn’t deny a growing affection for Jekaran. She shoved the problem to the back of her mind. There were much more important issues she had to contend with, such as saving the world.

  They reached the end of the corridor, and Kairah was introduced to a dome-shaped room reminiscent of the talis treasury in the College of Disciplines, albeit smaller. Wall to wall bookshelves, a trove of talises from every discipline, and a vast three-dimensional projection of constellations and planets near the ceiling awed her. She craned her neck to gaze into the swirling points of light dotting multicolored nebulae floating above her.

  The girl tapped on Kairah’s shoulder and motioned for her to keep following. Kairah nodded, still marveling at the chamber’s abundance of wonders. Had she known Shivara possessed such a collection of books and artifacts, she would’ve petitioned to apprentice with her years ago. That was one thing she had in common with her brother. Both she and Jenoc loved knowledge, although they approached study with very different philosophies and motivations.

  They left the planetarium and entered another hallway, and then a smaller square-shaped room tiled from floor to ceiling with multi-colored clay squares. The humidity and smell of perfumed water struck Kairah as soon as she stepped into the bath chamber, and she found Shivara floating face up and naked up on the steaming water. Her eyes were closed and she looked asleep. Kairah glanced at the servant girl, not knowing what she should do if anything. The mute girl stared at the floor, and so Kairah copied her.

  Shivara kept her eyes closed, bald head bobbing upon the water. “Thank you, Etele. You may return to your work.”

  The mute girl dipped her head and departed.

  “Mistress Shivara,” Kairah began. “If you require me to return at a more convenient time, I can―”

  “Nonsense, child.”

  Shivara opened her eyes and righted herself so she was standing in the bath, the steaming water rising to just above her waist. She walked toward three marble steps. “Fetch for me my robe.” Shivara waved a hand toward a long, green garment hanging from a peg by the bath chamber’s door.

  Kairah walked over and took the robe. “Mistress, I―”

  “I used to have hair as long as yours.” Shivara emerged from the water and dried her entire body with a gentle current of warm air as she strode toward Kairah. “It was such a bother when bathing; always fanning out and tickling my ears.” She stopped in front of Kairah, meeting her gaze and then turned and presented her bare back.

  Kairah draped the robe over Shivara’s shoulders and the oracle threaded her arms into the sleeves, before drawing the robe closed. She walked to the chamber door. “I find a warm soak helps to clear the mind.”

  Kairah followed her out of the bath chamber and back through the white corridor to the domed room full of wonders. The floating depiction of space fuzzed for just a moment upon their entering the room, but then continued as before. The distortion had been brief, but hadn’t occurred the first time Kairah had seen it. She dismissed the oddity.

  Shivara craned her bald head to look up into the swirling model galaxy. “Beautiful, is it not?”

  “Breathtaking,” Kairah whispered.

  “It still causes me to marvel that each little point of light is a world, and the brighter ones, fiery orbs like our sun.”

  “I am afraid I have never studied more than the basics of astronomy.” Kairah was transfixed on the image, walking slowly into the room with her head still tilted upward. “My studies were focused primarily on magic.”

  Shivara waved at the stars. “And is this not magic?”

  Kairah lowered her head and looked at the oracle. “I apologize for not using the scientific term. I meant to say―”

  Shivara laughed. “I believe the word magic is the best description for the marvelous forces that weave existence. It is infused with a sense of mystery, and I am not so arrogant as to think I have learned a fraction of the universe’s secrets.” She lowered her head and met Kairah’s eyes. “You are descended from an oracle.”

&nbs
p; “Yes, mistress,” Kairah said. “I am the third great-great-granddaughter of the fifth great-granddaughter of…”

  Shivara waved a dismissive hand. “I do not care about your genealogy, Kairah. None of that matters if you cannot manifest the gift. And from what you told the synod, it sounds as though you have seen a vision of the past.”

  Kairah nodded.

  Shivara stepped toward a table upon which sat a long brass telescope suspended by a crescent-shaped, rocking base. “What else have you seen?”

  “That is the only proper vision, mistress. Aside from that, I have only seen the rippling aura of fated souls.” And one talis. She shoved down the thought, worried that Shivara might be trying to see her mind. Shivara was clearly accomplished in the Fourth Discipline, as she’d been able to telepathically speak to Kairah during her appearance before the synod, and so Kairah needed to be on her guard.

  “I see.” Shivara moved onto another instrument, this one silver and spiral shaped. “Did you know that the oracular power is not classified to any one Discipline?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know why that is?”

  “Because it touches all Five Disciplines,” Kairah recited.

  “Correct.” Shivara idly spun the spiral shaped apparatus clockwise. “Life, the elements, space, perception, and time itself flow into one stream of power that when tapped into, can reveal all things–really a sixth discipline. Existence is nothing more than a set of forces,” Shivara changed the spin of the silver spiral so that it spun counterclockwise, “and counter forces.”

  Kairah had heard those words before, from Jenoc. Perhaps both were quoting some text Kairah didn’t know of, but it wasn’t likely. Her training in Allosian philosophies and history was extensive. But if it were so common a phrase, why hadn’t she heard it?

  “Mistress Shivara, I believe Moriora’s Vessel remains a threat. The synod may not take my words seriously enough to do something about it, but surely they would listen to their oracle.”