by Drew Hayes
“Sorry,” Clint whispered back.
“Don’t be sorry, be wowzered.” Thunder pointed ahead of them and Clint realized that during his little debate they’d nearly made it to the front doors of the temple. They rose ten feet high, intricate etchings woven across the thick wooden front. The rest of the temple was engraved too, scenes of a beautiful woman surrounded by foliage commanding animals and creating harvests for her worshippers. The doors began to part as the group drew closer, revealing a large entrance hall lit by rows of torches lining the walls. The people of Denilale might have been dedicated enough to haul the materials and decorate appropriately, but there was no way they were compromising a potential stronghold with windows just for the ambiance of sunlight. In this case, however, the thick stone walls offered none of the visitors any comfort, as they recognized a familiar figure waiting for them just inside the doors.
“Good morning,” Lawrence said, smiling at them casually.
Clint, Thunder, and Mano tried to rush forward as soon as they saw him; however, they discovered their bodies were no longer answering any orders. The whole group stood frozen as their guides produced bundles of rope from their satchels and set about binding their hands and feet.
What are you doing? Why are you letting him capture you?
Clint struggled to flap his tongue, but he couldn’t get as much as a tremor out of it. Instead, he tried to focus on the idea of being trapped, forming images of cages and bear traps in his mind as clearly as he could. It took some effort to block out everything else, but unsurprisingly, being stuck stock still gave him a bit of extra focus.
Why won’t you… ohhh, shit, you can’t move, can you?
Clint waited for Kodi to realize the futility of the question.
Right, you can’t answer if you are. Why wouldn’t you be able to move, though? Nature doesn’t have any reason to block me.
“I went ahead and warned the natives of your intentions to defile their temple,” Lawrence said, stepping out and checking the knots encircling their limbs. “They were happy to assist the man their goddess had sent to stop you.”
Bullshit; Nature doesn’t fuck around with messengers. If she wants to make a point, she does it with dozens of sharp-toothed animals tearing a swath of carnage.
Clint might have agreed; however, the supernatural way he’d been bound seemed empirical evidence to the contrary.
“In a few moments the goddess will permit you to move your legs once more. I suggest you come along peacefully and do as you’re told. We have a cleansing ceremony to perform to purge the negative energy you brought to this hallowed ground.”
Go along with it for now. We’ll think of something inside.
There didn’t seem to be much choice anyway, so as Clint felt a tingle in his legs, he took a tentative step forward. His lower body responded, and he walked toward the great entrance hall, a hall which was no longer nearly as inviting as it had been mere moments earlier.
* * *
Clint didn’t know where the others were: he’d been led to a separate room. The walls were stone, of course, while the ground was comprised of little more than a few dirt pits. He’d been carefully helped into one of them, though he found the further he got from Lawrence, the more mobility he had in the rest of his body. The pits weren’t terribly deep: the top of one was only about a foot or so above Clint’s head. It still would have been nearly impossible to safely enter alone, so Clint was actually a bit grateful for the helping hands that lowered him down to the dirt at the pit’s bottom. Kodi, on the other hand, was less enthused.
I’ll curse all of you into snails! I’ll send plagues to your families! I’ll render you all eunuchs! Get us out of here this instant!
His ranting served to do little more than give Clint a minor headache, but it seemed to make Kodi feel a little better. As soon as Clint was secured, the locals left him, walking out the doorless entryway without any conversation within their ranks. It seemed strange to Clint that they were going along with this so completely. He felt like capturing people just on the word of someone who claimed to speak for their god would have inspired at least a bit more curiosity. He wondered if whatever was restricting his movement could be suspending their disbelief as well.
I guess they’re gone for now. Can you talk yet?
Clint tried his tongue and found it still sluggish and unresponsive. He could move his head a little though, so he shook it to signal a negative.
No luck, huh? Well, at least we can do yes or no this way. I guess that’s improvement. I’m still trying to figure out how he’s bound us like this.
Clint felt a pulse of frustration at this binding. How dare this pathetic mortal visit his will upon a higher being! Clint shook his head to wipe away Kodi’s feelings. They were spilling over more fiercely as they escalated. He had to keep reminding himself that these swells of emotions weren’t his own. Then again, this one might actually be happening within both of them: Clint wasn’t exactly happy about being captured and stuck in a damn pit while Lawrence did who-knew-what to his friends.
He didn’t have to wonder for long. Clint heard the soft step of fine leather shoes against the temple’s floor coming from the room’s entrance. Within a few moments, Lawrence’s head poked into view from the edge of the pit.
“Comfortable? I don’t want to be an ungracious host.”
Clint stared up at him blankly.
“Oh, right, I suppose I should loosen things up a bit if I want to have a conversation.”
Clint felt a familiar tingle across his whole body, a body he quickly discovered was once more listening to his instructions.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Pathetic mortal, you will beg for my mercy!”
Lawrence tilted his head slightly, more intrigued than surprised at the dual voices Clint was spouting. He studied the young man, noting that he seemed far more engaged than he had the last time Lawrence saw him. At dinner that night Clint had been a man on the cusp of the world, closer to living through it than living in it. This version of Clint was different: there was a bit of fire in his eyes. Whatever he’d been through in the past few days had certainly had an effect on him.
“Kodiwandae, I assume. It is a pleasure to meet you; I do hope you’ll abide the momentary inconvenience.”
“I will abide no such thing. Release my vessel at once and perhaps I will show some restraint in determining your punishment.”
“I do hate to be rude, but I should point out that you won’t be punishing anyone until after you’ve risen. That’s a feat that you won’t be accomplishing without the pear I’ve got stored in the other room.”
“You know about that?” Clint spoke before Kodi could, hoping to steer the conversation in a direction more informative than the bickering.
“Of course; that’s why I sent the Goodwins after you.”
“But how? And why?”
“Sorry, my boy, I’ve been around a bit too long to give monologues explaining my plan. I do promise to tell it all to you afterward, though. If things go well, you shouldn’t have to wait very long. All I need to know from you is one thing: what is the goddess’s name?”
“What do you mean; don’t they have one for her here?”
“Dalania, a name which I’ve already tried calling and haven’t gotten any response. I suspect there’s a different term she’s waiting for, one that Kodiwandae, and possibly his human vessel, is aware of.”
Tell him no, Clint. Tell him I never told you what it was. I’m not sure how he’s pulling any of this crap, but I have an idea of what he’ll do next.
“Sorry; he hasn’t exactly been sharing the secrets of the universe with me.”
“Pity, but no matter. The offer to surrender the information verbally was simply formality. I have other ways to get what I need.” Lawrence floated up from the ground and glided into the pit, settling down only a few inches away from Clint. Clint tried to say something sarcastic; however, he discovered his body was once again not accepting or
ders.
“I’ve found along with the more impressive abilities I recently acquired, there are also a few with less flash and more usefulness. For example, I can dig through someone’s memories with nothing more than a touch.”
Bingo.
“I’m sure having a god in your brain could make this problematic, so before we begin, I’d like you to know that the rest of your friends are in the main room of the temple. I have no need to cause them harm - I’m not a petty man after all. If your divine friend should try anything that renders me unable to return in the next five minutes, however, they’ll be killed one at a time. Something to bear in mind.”
If Clint could have gulped, he would have. He really hoped Kodi wasn’t going to do anything stupid.
I heard him. Don’t worry about it; have a little faith in me.
As Lawrence’s hand settled on Clint’s face, he tried very hard to muster up some semblance of faith. He wasn’t trying to believe in Kodiwandae, he was just trying to believe in a general fairness of the world, that something in the universal system of existence would stop this man from getting his way. Clint tried with all his heart to Believe, but all he felt inside was scared. Scared for his friends, scared for Kodiwandae, and scared for the world that was facing a man like Lawrence with powers like these.
“Let’s begin.”
* * *
Thunder’s life-changing moment hadn’t come in the form of watching a clown get into a brawl or a near-death experience with a shark. In fact, to anyone watching from the outside, his moment would have seemed completely mundane. Such is the problem with seeing only what rests on the surface.
Though his body was twenty-three years old, Thunder had only existed for five of them. Before his moment, he had been someone else entirely. Not-Thunder was a quiet young man, studious, organized, and dedicated to his work. He made his father constantly proud with his wit and academic prowess, securing a spot in a prestigious university without even having to resort to using the family connections. He was on track for a successful corporate life. He was a child any parent would be happy to show off. He was perfect.
He was miserable. Work, books, papers, rinse, repeat. Life was like tofu: nutritious, but lacking flavor. Not-Thunder was smart enough to be self-aware; he knew he wasn’t happy. What he couldn’t figure out was why. He came from wealth, there was a bright future ahead of him, he was in good health. There was no objective reason he could discern why he shouldn’t be happy. It wasn’t until college that Not-Thunder had the idea that would change everything.
With a sampling of like-aged students as big as his university offered, he could conduct a study: catalogue people from various walks of life, plot their respective contentment, find the common denominator in those with the highest scores, and incorporate it into his own life. This was the kind of idea that most people would have laughed off, but Not-Thunder was far from most people. He was an achiever, and this was something he wanted to achieve.
It took months of work to get all the data he needed. Interviews, surveys, analysis of a myriad of nearly untrackable factors, all had to be balanced with maintaining his grades. It was a darn good thing Not-Thunder was smart, otherwise he would have failed out. Still, he kept at it, and by March he had finally generated a defendable output from his study.
That was his moment: sitting in the library amidst people talking about their plans for spring break, checking and re-checking his data. To anyone observing, he seemed to be focusing on a particularly important assignment. They wouldn’t be wrong in that evaluation, not technically; they would just never truly grasp the depth of how important it was.
For his part, Not-Thunder could scarcely believe what his work told him. The happiest people he’d measured were the ones who never seemed to think about their happiness. The ones who lived in action, who made choices that were often the very epitome of stupidity. Especially worth noting was a nearly-universally high rating amidst those who participated in the fraternity and sorority lifestyles. Though some of them were quite intelligent, it was that single factor that seemed to most determine how content they were with life: the willingness to act. Taking chances, even when they rarely paid off, still generated more joy than careful analysis and preparation.
Applying the theorem to his own life, Not-Thunder realized the pattern held true. All he did was plan and prepare for the life he would one day have. He was treating his youth like it was the night before an important presentation, building a strong base of knowledge for when all eyes eventually turned to him. But… would that ever happen? His father managed his company from an upper suite that didn’t permit most other employees to interact with him. The man went to socials with other wealthy people who were keeping others at arm’s length. There was no warmth, no impulse, no life. And that was where Not-Thunder was heading. He was preparing for life, but on this path he was never going to live it. The data was right there in front of him. Data didn’t lie.
The next Fall there was a new face at one of the less academically rigorous colleges in Dallas. He wore a bright pink collared shirt, silver aviators, and flip-flops with beer openers in the bottom. This young man was noted among the frat he rushed as the most enthusiastic of all the pledges in his class; really, the most gung-ho participant that any of them could remember. No matter what trial the brothers organized, he was jumping up and down to participate. It wasn’t that he had no shame or lacked common sense: he was just sincerely happy to be there. Sure, he had a strange way of speaking, and his name was ridiculous, but the guy bubbled with happiness. It made everyone else a little more cheerful just having him around. Thunder was welcomed to the brotherhood with open arms, even if those arms were attached to a person who was never entirely sure what Thunder was saying.
Five years later, sitting on the dusty floor of an ancient temple with his friends, wrists bound by some strange kind of rope and surrounded by natives who were not exactly brimming with friendliness, Thunder marveled inwardly at the strange turns his life had taken since that lonely library night in March. Not-Thunder would never have ended up here: that was certain.
Thunder looked over at the others. Falcon was silent, her eyes darting about as she assessed the room and all potential threats. Mano seemed curiously calm, as though he had reached peace with his mortality a long time ago and all of this was old-hat. Kaia had a look on her face Thunder had seen many times, one that usually was followed by a slap to the cheek or a swift kick to the junk. He had a feeling at least one of these guards was going to need some ice on their family pears before the day was over.
Only April seemed outwardly distressed, using what small amount of control over her body she had to chew nervously on her lower lip. Thunder caught her eye and flashed her his trademark grin. She gave a weak smile back, though whether that was because of the effects of the spell or because she was still terrified was hard to tell. Thunder wished he could tell her it was going to be okay. No matter what happened, it would turn out all good, because Thunder had a plan. It didn’t involve anything as complicated as Falcon was likely hatching, nor did it center on any contingence of events that would create an opening.
Thunder’s plan was simple: when the time came, he would act. It was the same plan he used for every hurdle he faced in his life, and it hadn’t let him down yet.
19.
“That was certainly informative,” Lawrence said, levitating out of the hole and back onto the stone floor. “I had no idea such enormously powerful beings existed.”
“You know me, always glad to help. Maybe after this I can give you a nice rim job while I fan you with a palm leaf.”
“I would very much like to express how not on board with that I am,” Clint said on Kodi’s heels. “Especially since I think my body would be the one he used.”
“Relax, I understand your… passenger doesn’t speak for you. Once I’ve finished my work, I’ll pluck him out of your head and stick him back in some plant, just to show there are no hard feelings.”
> “You’d do that?”
“Of course. I’m not a monster. I simply saw an opportunity for tremendous gain and decided to seize it,” Lawrence explained. “I did what anyone would do in my situation. Assuming they had the brains and tenacity to pull it off, obviously. I’ll be back to free you from your mind parasite soon.” Lawrence walked calmly out of the room, leaving Clint still unable to move from the neck down.
He’s lying.
“Really? And here I thought the guy holding us all hostage was a respectable gentleman.”
No need to get snippy.
“I’m not. You are, and it’s bleeding over,” Clint sighed. “I thought you were going to stop him from finding what he wanted in my head.”
That was the plan, up until he mentioned he would kill everyone if I messed up his brain.
“Right. Probably a good call on that one.”
Thought you’d approve. On the plus side, he was so busy rooting around that he didn’t notice me doing some snooping of my own. I know what he’s doing now.
“You do? That’s great! What is it and how do we stop him?”
He’s trying to steal my divinity, and we don’t.
“We don’t?”
The guy has us completely beaten. He’s trapped Felbren in a pearl, which is how he’s controlling everyone. When he calls Nature using the pear, he’ll pretend he’s the emissary. She’ll sense Felbren’s divine power and think it’s me, so she’ll channel my power to him. Without me there to flow into, it will be stuck inside him, where he’ll be able to take control of it.
“Can’t Nature see through his trick?”
She could if she gave a crap. To her, this is just a minor annoyance to be done and forgotten about. Hell, she probably doesn’t even remember trapping me. That’s why the energy in the pear is so important. It’s like a dog whistle, except made specifically to summon her for this task.
“Gotcha.” Clint dearly wished he could sit down; his legs were getting stiff from holding the slightly hunched position Lawrence had left him in. “Is there anything else?”
