by Taylor Kole
At Josh’s first step, the fiend did the most vile and unexpected series of gruesome events imaginable. Using two legs, it deftly slid the shriveled corpse off its fang and without warning or hesitation, launched at Nero.
Josh heard the long spear thud to the ground before the visual image registered. The once-vigilant man struggled momentarily and went limp, dangling from the fangs as if carried by a bereft lover.
“Nero!” Flavius screamed and rushed the beast. Once in range he stabbed at it so wildly he almost fell.
The spider faced the distraught teenager and parried his desperate thrusts.
The boy yelled and cursed, showing a frenzy only accessible through mortal fear.
Time slowed for Josh.
His vision narrowed.
Nero was attached to the fangs.
Flavius stabbed.
The beast avoided with ease.
Nero’s body grew thinner.
Josh knew with absolute certainty that the monster would remove Nero from his fangs and make Flavius its next meal.
Josh’s racing blood married a primordial decision to help. With a speed that would later astonish him, Josh rushed in and struck.
The spider had rotated a quarter of the way toward Josh when his scimitar found its mark and cleaved the front third of its body hitting soil.
The tip of his sword clanked into the earth, sending a vibration up his flexed arms, followed by a splash of fluid and the splattering smack of organs and entrails.
As if unaware of the damage, the beast tried to walk away, each wobbly leg attempting to find purchase and carry it to a now-impossible safety.
Flavius stepped forward, buried his spear into the spider’s body and screamed triumphantly. So much blood covered the teenager’s front that he looked as if someone had tossed buckets of sanguine oil on him.
Josh felt added weight and saw red fluid drenched his tunic as well. Blood filled his mouth and clouded his vision.
Josh and Flavius locked eyes. A passion that could only be ignited by the agitated soul burned in Flavius.
Josh felt the same coursing through him as he breathed in heavy gasping breaths.
Timid movement caused Josh to turn in a methodical circle as villagers emerged from hiding.
Flavius yanked his spear out of the spider and thrust it above his head. A gust of wind tossed his sandy blond hair. He shouted, “JoshRidley!”
The crowd roared, “JoshRidley!”
Inspecting the twitching spider, pride, anger, and relief cascaded through Josh., and he thought, Welcome to life as a god.
V
Remembering the safety tip of avoiding a recently killed snake because its muscle memory could cause it to strike at a moving target, Josh allowed the disemboweled spider to finish its death throes and stop twitching before he stepped away. Plus, he needed to slow his breathing.
A sub-section of villagers had armed themselves with sickles, saws, blades and buckets. They were locked onto the dead spider with eager, almost hungry looking eyes. This small group contrasted heavily against the remaining citizens, who celebrated and heaped praises on Josh.
Halfway back to his residence, the adrenaline drained. His knees shook to the point of collapsing him and his stomach churned bile up his throat.
In desperate need of a wash, and to maintain his appearance, he concentrated on controlling his reactions and moving forward. He could barf in private. Killing that spider had been the most thrilling, risky, and stupid thing he had ever done. If it would have noticed him one second earlier, or if he’d swung two feet shorter, he’d be dead. Killing that spider had been awesome, but he wasn’t sure he could spring into action a second time.
Conversely, he couldn’t get the villager’s smiling faces out of his mind. He couldn’t erase the palpable feel of joy and gratitude. He’d never experienced such communal relief.
On this occasion, when the maidens scrubbed and cleaned his nude body, he did not keep the soft hands from plying, stretching, and kneading his muscles. Their touches acted as an antiseptic, sterilizing the horror that was grafted to his triumph.
He didn’t notice his excitement until Bellora, the most aggressive and flirtatious of his servants, gripped his private area.
“Stop!” he shouted. The bass in his voice stunned all but Bellora, who, in her temerity, grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer.
“Get out,” he pushed Bellora away. “Everyone get out.” He splashed water on his face to tide his rising anger. It was flattering to be admired, but a gross injustice to be groped by a stranger.
Looking up, he found Bellora lingered in the doorway. Josh shooed her with a hurried wave of the hand. Alone, he controlled his breathing and quickly washed himself, which, he had to admit, was less efficient than his team of bathers.
Servants delivered a stately table on the far side of his chamber, close to his bed. The smell of seasoned meats soon followed.
Drying off, he saw the large pool of water in his oversized tub had been rendered dark with blood and soil.
With a warm meal waiting, he donned his canvas boxer briefs and soon learned his special dinner featured fresh spider, grilled over an open flame. The spider’s rib meat carried a natural sweetness. He ate strip after strip, dipping meat in egg yolks, folding it between a type of flatbread, all while the morning’s events played on a loop in his mind.
The more he saw the young woman impaled on the fangs of the beast, the more he connected with her. She had been alive. A young woman who dreamed and laughed; loved and erred; and due to some quacked-out experiment, she had suffered and died way before her time.
Remembering the condition of her dark corpse, pried from fangs as if a speck of food during a floss, sent rippling contractions through his stomach. As the crowd had cheered in the moments following the demon slaying, Josh found his eyes glued to the shriveled body, which looked like a petrified mummy.
The villagers had ushered the girl’s mother to the body. She knelt and wept under the umbrella of celebration. She smoothed the girl’s brittle hair, using it to cover the gnarly facial wound.
She had even glanced at Josh, and for half a second, her beseeching eyes asked why he hadn’t saved her. He could almost read her mind as she wondered what purpose a god served if he couldn’t prevent the death of a child.
Servants had cleared most of the food while Josh ruminated.
Exiting, they greeted an arriving woman. The sound of their voices, and the annunciation of Junea’s name, drew Josh to the present.
Junea strode from the entrance to the table and picked at the remaining food.
She looked breathtaking in a flowing red dress with a top that pressed her breasts together. Her waist curved in, her hips curved out. Even her sandal-exposed toes—the second one longer than the big toe—complemented her.
Josh shook his head. He needed to gain better control of himself, grant Junea, and his girlfriend, Karen, the respect they deserved.
Junea pulled a wooden chair from the table and positioned it closer to Josh’s bed, allowing a clearer path for the servants to remove the table. With her this close, a sweet fragrance that reminded Josh of peach shampoo reached him. The intimate correlation of her lathering such a scent while showering elevated his temperature. Every second without his eyes locked on hers or his imagination exciting him was a personal conquest of the mind.
“Some say there is no finer meat in all of Betaloome,” Junea said in a mellifluous tone that made him wonder if her words applied to the cooked spider, his form, or her beauty.
Not trusting his voice to hide his inner thoughts, he stayed quiet. He simply watched as servants cleared and carried the table from the room.
“You will find many things in Bristalius to please you.” She glanced over her shoulder to the distant corner where the bath was being drained by young women, then back to him. “They tell me you refuse their contact?” She studied him a moment. “If they are too frail or inexperienced for your liking, I can brin
g more sturdy or seasoned maidens.”
He furrowed his brow. Their youth was an issue, but he wasn’t the type of man who objectified women—well, he never had been—and didn’t give much thought to the servants, their appearance, or age.
He was in a relationship and prided himself on being faithful and trustworthy.
Stiffening her back, she adopted a political tone. “It is not a common practice in Reysona but if you prefer male servants...”
Josh coughed, cleared his throat and shook his head. Swallowing, he said, “No. Thank you. I’m still adjusting to all the help, but given the choice, I prefer a female staff.”
She nodded once, and seemed satisfied.
“Women are just… more organized. Efficient.”
“Good to hear. It’s only, gods are famous for their libidos. With reports of you turning down advancements… I’m just glad you prefer a natural pairing.”
The idea of cheating on Karen remained offensive. He could even say this was the first time he’d had any thoughts of doing so. I mean, yes, she had cheated on him years ago and being here, with days to think, he had revisited his suspicions about the weekend trips she continued to take to Milwaukee every month or so, where her ex-boyfriend lived. Lacking evidence (other than the glow in her face and her increased energy upon returning) to argue against her claim it was for business, he continued to trust her.
Regardless of her issues, the idea of him being unfaithful and breaking someone’s trust, made him feel queasy.
Karen was probably sitting on their couch at that very moment. Or, she might be typing on her computer in the spare bedroom/future nursery. She sometimes listened to her favorite playlist as she cleaned or aerobicized. With all of those, he knew she was secure in the quality of her life, and the dependability of her relationship. He hated imagining how hurt she’d be to learn of her boyfriend’s illicit thoughts, his mental cheating?
Deflated by the ease at which he fantasized about another woman, he quietly excused himself and eased onto the unique mattress, capable of supporting his density.
Taking one of the wicker chairs from near a sitting area, Junea dragged it closer and placed it across from him. She sat, watched him a moment, and then tapped his knee.
“I understand. Physical joining with a partner is important to you. There must be a special connection.” She touched her heart, “here,” she placed her hand on her stomach, “and here.”
“These are the most important things,” he said.
Watching her, he understood how, with minimal effort, this woman could convince him to disregard monogamy. Then he had a tantalizing thought: being three millimeters tall, regardless of his drastically improved proportions, could Karen really be upset if a quadrillionth of him strayed?
“It is special to me, too.” She sat up straighter. “I save myself for a worthy man. Joining together is a sacred dance.”
He admired her principles. Despite what the fashion blogger said, most women possessed great principles. They were simply overshadowed by loud needy women. Knowing any further comment would be complimentary, perhaps flirtatious, he sought to change the subject. “How often does something like that happen?” He nodded behind her.
She followed his gaze toward the bath. “The water is changed after every wash. Let Bellora know and—”
“No,” he said, then softer, “I meant the spider attacks.”
She found his eyes and frowned. “Yes, I have heard that name spoken long ago. Spi-der. We call them trappers. If a person stumbles into one of their nets, it’s a better use of time to pray than struggle. With some trappers, you are dead before you know you’ve been targeted. You have witnessed their speed. Outside the village, they kill anything that moves. Our defensive walls are more for the eviscerators. They do little to deter trappers. They enter villages from time to time and feed.”
Josh took a deep breath as he remembered the earlier terror, a fright greater than his wildest dreams. He sympathized with people who had to endure such perilous lives.
“Today was a great day.” Junea said. “That was the first trapper killed in Bristalius since I was a child, and it required one swing of your blade.” She looked around the room until her eyes landed on the giant sword next to his bed, and then added dreamily, “Not the lives of four men and the effort of a dozen others.”
Yes, but how often do they attack? He wanted to ask. What else attacks? When? How do you deal with such… difficulties? But he stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt what appeared to be a mental vigil for the men who died killing a trapper.
“We live as we do,” she said confidently, as if sensing his pity. “We are demon food. Trappers breach our walls perhaps three times a season and its terrible, but we survive. It is the eviscerators who cause the greatest strife. We lose dozens in a raid. This temple is the only safe place for us to wait for them to leave. If the trappers claim our land while we hide in here, which they soon will, we will either starve or die trying to flee.
“There is no greater horror than watching those monsters target our children. Their deaths are so brutal.” She stared at the floor. After a moment she cleared her throat and spoke louder. “Eviscerators have angled spears attached to their heads. They can bite through wood, chop young livestock in half, and crush a man wearing full armor. As with most defilers, they are most active following the rain. Reysona has been fortunate. It has been perhaps ten rains since they last attacked.”
Josh envisioned the mayhem that would accompany a swarm of two-hundred pound ants running wild; the panic, fear, and destruction armored, carnivorous bulls would cause if loosed upon a town of feeble construction. He made a fist with his right hand and tensed his muscles. The strength beneath his skin soothed him.
Watching him flex, a small gasp escaped Junea. When their eyes locked, hope swirled in her eyes. At that moment, Josh understood the role he must play: savior. For the next month, he’d defend these people, then return home and appreciate a life free of constant danger.
“I’m sorry,” Josh said. “I will do what I can to keep you safe, while I’m here.”
She rose and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the front of her dress. “Kill a demon queen and the entire colony becomes mindless. They wander into enemy territory and do battle for us. They fall into our traps and are slaughtered. Kill the nearest demon queen and we won’t have to worry about them claiming our land for another generation.”
“How many men does it take to kill a demon queen?”
“Only a god can slay her majesty.”
“You think I can defeat one of these queens? I can not. I killed that spider because it was unaware I posed a threat. It was luck. I am not a hunter.”
“You are a god, JoshRidley.” she said. “Perhaps the most perfect specimen in all of history. Your blade swings true and your heart is pure. Given time, you could save all of Betaloome. Perhaps unseat RobertJohnson.”
Accepting he’d been thinking of home, his own safety, and infidelity, he thought, my heart is unpure at best.
One thing was true. If helping involved nominal risk, he would. Feeling an intense need to be alone and process everything, he said. “I must rest. Tomorrow you may send someone with a plan for me and I will decide how to best help your people.”
She stepped toward him. “If you were able to destroy one colony, it would save hundreds. We have you in our midst for thirty-four more suns.” She smiled. “I know you will become the greatest god to ever visit our world. The team you request will be here in the morning.”
Before he could reply, she placed her hand on his forearm. The relief of her cool skin made him close his eyes.
Leaning in, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you for what you did today. That trapper has been feeding off of us for years. Enjoy your rest, JoshRidley.” Her gaze lingered on his defined torso as her hand glided off his arm.
Once she left, he snatched the pitcher of sweet wine and drank hungrily, allowing the overflow to run down his chin and wet his
chest.
He plopped onto the bed, exhaled, and mulled over his current reality.
VI
After being here a week, or maybe it was after contributing to the community in an original and impactful way, waking to a handful of young women silently waiting to tend to his needs now seemed an acceptable practice to Josh. He moved as needed to help facilitate his being dressed. He ate and drank without regard for stacking the dishes to help with their retrieval. He called forth and dismissed servants as his needs required.
As his six regulars watched him eat eggs and sausage, he noticed a shirtless young man in the rear of the room. He made a mental note to have Junea tell the dude to wear a shirt when indoors.
When the plates were empty he rose from the table. Bellora stepped forward. She’d had her auburn hair braided. Pea green eyes blazed from behind the moving curtain of hair. She wore a leather top with no visible stitching and shorts as tight as spanx. She was a beautiful young woman, and he understood that his rebuttal confused her, but she’d get the hint soon enough.
When she understood he wasn’t attracted to her, their relationship would blossom. He’d always wanted a niece.
For now, her eyes stayed on his chest and her breathing was slightly elevated as she addressed him, “Your hunting party awaits you, JoshRidley.”
“Hunting party?” From what he knew the villagers rarely hunted. They tended crops, raised livestock and avoided the dangers beyond the walls at all costs.
Perhaps Junea had scheduled a light hunt with Reysona warriors. He welcomed an opportunity to help Reysonans track and kill a treasured game. Perhaps as they hugged their exterior of the border wall, he could listen to their plans and expectations for further ventures. “They are out front?”
“Yes, my liege,” Bellora said as she dropped to her knees and laced up his sandals. “They have waited at the front steps since dawn. You need not rush to their whims, they are nothing compared to you.” Once finished lacing the second sandal, and as if unable to control herself, she slid her hands up Josh’s thigh as she stood.
