The Lure of Fools

by Jason James King

  Looking at the statue-like, mindless dolls of the women made Kairah think Shivara wasn’t as adept at avoiding the corruption and madness as the woman claimed. Kairah’s morbid find of a withered corpse lying in a corner near the far end of the room was evidence enough of that.

  Kairah closed her eyes. She had to escape and free Rasheera, but she could no longer spell-cast, something Shivara claimed was the immediate precursor to the full and final metamorphosis of an Allosian into a Moriora vessel. Strangely, the speed of the transformation process was affected by an individual’s predisposition to anger and violence–something to do with attunement to the essence of death and destruction. According to Shivara, Kairah’s fierce discipline in resisting the urge to kill and destroy had significantly slowed her corruption.

  That and the silver ring. But Shivara didn’t know Kairah had found Rasheera’s talis–the first talis.

  “Aeva,” Kairah whispered. “Mother.”

  But the spirit lily–an aspect of the goddess’s sleeping consciousness–didn’t answer. Kairah was alone. But even a sleeping deity could touch and influence the world. Kairah had had hours to contemplate recent events and had concluded Rasheera had been active in subtly arranging events to favor her release.

  Aeva’s gentle insistence that Kairah steal the illusion pendant and leave Allose to warn the humans of Jenoc’s plot. The ripples of light around Jekaran that had marked him to Kairah’s eyes as a fated soul, and someone she should follow. The silver ring coming into the possession of the chubby monk, Irvis. Vorakk clairvoyance warning Karak of the creature who destroyed Taris, the Eater.

  “It was all you, wasn’t it?” Kairah whispered to Aeva, hoping against the impossible that the goddess could somehow still hear her. “You were guiding me, trying to lead me to the truth.”

  But why hadn’t Aeva just told Kairah everything?

  She had a theory.

  Aeva both was and wasn’t the goddess Rasheera. According to what Kairah had seen while using the Zikkurat, Rasheera was in a kind of coma, the power she was expelling to resist the crushing force of Moriora taxing all of her strength. In this unconscious state, her mind continued to function similarly to the way a person dreamed while they were sleeping. The will and desire to escape was still present and manifest in the world through Apeiron in subtle, and indirect ways. Although it was difficult to control a dream, one’s own desires still found expression in the imagery and feelings. Perhaps Aeva was the equivalent of that. But who really knew the extent and power of the subconscious of a god?

  Still, all her fate weaving had not been enough.

  Even if Kairah was to escape, she didn’t know how to free Rasheera. The ancients knew how. They marched against Shivara and her armies to get to Allose so they could. If there hadn’t been the real possibility of the humans and their Allosian allies being able to free Rasheera, then Shivara wouldn’t have needed to decimate and isolate them. And whatever ritual was involved had to be performed here, in Allose. Perhaps on the Mother Shard?

  Kairah grit her teeth. She didn’t have enough information, and she couldn’t escape the sense that time was quickly running out. Something was terribly wrong with the goddess. The multi-dimensional scream Kairah had heard confirmed that. Something was attacking the goddess. Was it the creature who destroyed Taris? Karak said the Eater was still a threat. Could he have meant Shivara? Or could the man she fought have survived the destruction of the Apeira well and somehow gone to the same realm as the goddess? What would happen if he fed on her, corrupted Rasheera like Moriora’s touch corrupted an Apeira well?

  Kairah had a pretty good guess.

  The goddess would die, and with her, all of her creations. She doubted that Shivara realized she too would cease to exist. She was nothing more than a pawn in a rival god’s intricate plan. That too disturbed Kairah–the existence of such powerful beings and the fact some of them possessed the capacity for evil.

  Kairah sat up, trying to avoid looking at the other women in the room. They were fortunate compared to what Shivara had planned for her. She was to become Shivara’s eternal slave. Something like an acolyte, co-conspirator, and captive lover all in one. Kairah wanted none of it, but Shivara hinted that when she completed her transformation, she’d have no choice but to obey if she wanted a food supply. Did Shivara know what she’d done in spreading Moriora? She called it setting the fire. Did it even enter her mind that she herself would not escape when the world burned down?

  As if thinking the woman’s name had called her, Shivara strode into the room, her head once again shaved, and burnt clothes replaced by an elegant red gown from some human kingdom lost to history.

  The mindless Etele trailed her, holding a pair of hair shears. Did she mean to cut my hair so as to also hide my Moriora nature? Kairah had to fight back the rage that threatened to consume her. I give into that and I will finish my transformation.

  Shivara had said that Kairah’s enraged outburst earlier, in which she attempted to incinerate the woman’s head, had been the catalyst in accelerating her metamorphosis which finished stripping away Kairah’s already diminishing spell-casting ability. That had disappointed Shivara as Kairah’s ability to use the Zikkurat died with her spell-casting.

  “You’re still resisting your fate.”

  Kairah sat up. “I would sooner choose death than become like you!”

  Shivara chuckled. “That’s not an option for you, child.” She waved at Etele and the woman obediently stepped back behind her. Shivara took several steps into the room. “You are destined for immortality.”

  “By stealing the life from others?”

  Shivara bent to examine the face of one of her mindless dolls. “My patron promised to change me so that I will no longer have to feed on others. Once I ascend, I can offer the same to you.”

  “Do you not realize that your god has abandoned you? He ignores you because you are no longer of any use to him.”

  Shivara’s eyes flashed, but she quickly regained her self-possession. “He is a god. Gods cannot lie.”

  Kairah was becoming more and more certain Shivara was completely mad, and this expression of irrational faith in a deceitful and murderous being’s honesty was just one more indication that her assessment was correct. Kairah was getting angry, something she couldn’t afford as that would serve to accelerate her transformation and bring it to completion. So, she decided to change the subject.

  “What is wrong with them?”

  Shivara gently caressed the pale face of the dead-eyed woman, this one dressed disturbingly like a young human girl complete with sundress and oversized bow. The outfit reminded Kairah of the outfit Maely purchased in Imaris. The memory seemed like it’d come from a thousand years ago, instead of the matter of weeks it actually had been.

  “A long-term side effect of continually using someone as a conduit to feed off the Mother Shard is significant mental trauma, another effect of being touched by Moriora. It usually takes years, but eventually the proxy loses their mind. After that, their ability to draw in Apeiron slowly diminishes until they lose it altogether.”

  Kairah glanced at the corner where the desiccated skeleton dressed in a purple gown sat staring at her. She had to fight back another surge of anger. This woman was demented, sick, and absolutely in love with death.

  Kairah stood. “Etele seems different.”

  Shivara’s painted lips turned up in a smile. “Observant of you, child.” She straightened and waved at Etele. “She is different. Over the long years, I’ve had many proxies, and the isolated life I’ve been forced to live has given me plenty of opportunity for experimentation.”

  Kairah shivered at the way the witch emphasized the word.

  “When Etele broke, I bonded her to an ego talis to see what the mind of the talis would do with an empty shell. Imagine my delight when it took complete control of the girl.”

  Etele was nothing more than an ego talis bonded to a blank mind? She thought of Jekaran when the sword tal
is took control of him. Etele’s stare wasn’t quite as dead as the stares of the other women in the room. There was intelligence behind those eyes, non-Allosian intelligence.

  “And it serves you?”

  Shivara stepped behind Etele, and slowly caressed the willowy girl’s bare shoulders. “The ego talis was confused and still sought a master. Therefore, it latched onto me, though no actual bond exists between us. As you no doubt have puzzled out, wielders of Moriora can’t use talises. But Etele’s loyalty is no less solid.” Shivara stepped around the girl and traced her lacquered fingernails across Etele’s cheek.

  Kairah ground her teeth. This was worse than compulsion. At least compulsion left the victim’s mind intact. Her anger waxed hotter, and Kairah’s emotional control started slipping.

  “She obeys me in all things.” Shivara gave a throaty chuckle.

  Kairah’s rage exploded. “Monster!” She lunged at Shivara, but before she could touch the woman, pain like nothing Kairah had ever experienced erupted behind her eyes.

  It was exquisite agony. In comparison, her previous headaches had been comical parodies. She fell to her knees, burning bile spewing out of her mouth and nose. Her sight became a kaleidoscopic swirl of different colored lights, and sounds rang in her ears with offpitch, oscillating volume. She’d lost control and was finally completing her transformation into a Moriora vessel, a life leech.

  No! I will not become what she is!

  A psychic awareness blossomed out from her mind, and she could feel the life energy in each of the mindless women Shivara kept in the room, though not in Shivara herself. The cores of energy pulsated like a heartbeat, each rhythmic thrum an invitation enticing Kairah to take it for herself. If she took that power, she could spell-cast again. She could fight Shivara. She could free Rasheera.

  Kairah very nearly succumbed, but the memory of Moriora suffocating her, trying to drive out all her Apeiron, strengthened her resolve. It was augmented further by the memory of the first time she sensed Moriora in the creature Karak called the Eater. The sensation had been one of cold rot and darkness. A morbid song of loneliness, grief, and despair: the song of death. The power being offered to her disgusted her. She would rather die herself than partake of it willingly.

  I am sorry, Mother.

  The heartbeats faded and Kairah’s sight returned. She found herself on the floor, hair mashed to her temple as she lay in a puddle of bile and blonde hair. Kairah sat up and took hold of her new golden locks.

  “Strange.” Shivara loomed over Kairah. “You’ve changed, your hair is different, and your eyes are green, but I can still sense life in you.”

  Kairah stood and wiped the putrid smelling bile from her cheek and temple. “I have rejected Moriora, and I have rejected you!”

  Shivara frowned. “Like those ancient Allosians who fell and joined the humans.”

  Purple dye spilled down the woman’s cheek revealing the green color of her right eye. It might’ve been a tear, but Kairah guessed that tears had long since ceased to roll down the witch’s cheeks.

  “Unless you want me to reveal your secrets to the synod, you are going to have to kill me.” Kairah didn’t want to die, but she didn’t see any other way out of this. Her new human form was significantly weaker than her Allosian body. She was tired and hungry to a degree she’d never known.

  Shivara lowered her eyes and nodded. “I truly wanted you for an equal, Kairah.” She sighed. “But it appears I am destined to ascend alone.”

  “You are not going to be exalted. Your god has abandoned you.”

  Shivara grinned maliciously and looked up to meet Kairah’s eyes. The hellish look on the woman’s face was so disturbing that Kairah took an involuntary step backward.

  “It’s been a long time since I fed on a human.” Shivara took a step toward her. “They don’t taste as delicious as drawing Apeiron through one of my slaves, but I have to confess…”

  Shivara took another step toward her, and Kairah took another step backward. She glanced around, but there was nowhere to run.

  “…I’ve come to relish watching the flesh of my prey wrinkle and dry.” She closed her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. “To feel their life ebb away and flow into me. It’s a pleasure unmatched by the most delicious of foods, or the most sensual of touches.” Shivara’s eyes snapped open. “I’m going to take my time devouring you, Kairah.” Shivara shook her head and took another step forward. “No, your end won’t be quick.” She licked her ruby lips. “I’m going to drain you and then have Etele heal you, and we’ll repeat the process over and over until your mind breaks. Only then will I kill you.”

  Kairah stepped back again but collided with a stone pillar. Shivara smiled and slowly reached for her.

  Bang!

  The doors to the receiving chamber slammed open startling a scream out of Kairah. Both Shivara and Etele whirled. Standing in the doorway with his left arm thrust forward, hair hanging down to curtain his eyes, was Jenoc.

  Though he now had green eyes and long hair that was blonde instead of ice blue, Kairah never would have mistaken that proud face for one of a human.

  “Jenoc!” Kairah darted to the side and put as much distance between herself and Shivara as she could.

  “You dare to harm my sister, Oracle?” Jenoc straightened and strode into the chamber.

  Shivara smirked. “It’s the angry little boy.” Her smirk turned down into a frown. “You dare intrude upon my inner sanctum?”

  “You are a life leech.” Jenoc stopped a mere five paces in front of Shivara. “I ought to have known. It is how you knew so much of the other magic.”

  “You should be on your knees offering me worshipful praises in gratitude! Without me, you would still just be a powerless, angry, hurt little nothing! I gave you the sword you needed for your vengeance! And this insolence is how you repay my generosity?”

  Kairah sprinted along the far wall of the chamber until she was able to round a corner and place herself behind Jenoc. She stepped up to him, but he waved her back.

  “See that you keep away, sister. My touch is death.”

  He was a life leech, now; an arcane leper, destined to suffer a similar fate.

  “Jenoc, she is working at the behest of a powerful ascended being to destroy our world and kill the goddess Rasheera.”

  If Kairah’s revelations surprised Jenoc, he didn’t show it.

  “Run away, Kairah.” Jenoc ordered. “And do not stop running until you are far from Allose.”

  “But Jenoc, I―”

  “Go, Kairah!”

  Kairah glanced at Shivara who was matching Jenoc’s intense glare without blinking. “Take care, brother. She is a powerful spell-caster.”

  “So am I.”

  “Brother…” Kairah searched for profound words to convey her love and gratitude, but nothing she could conjure even approached adequate.

  “Take this.” Jenoc reached into his cloak and produced a small geode.

  Kairah recognized the trinket as a gift she’d given her brother when they were children. She reached out her hand and Jenoc dropped it into her open palm. She closed her fingers about it and hugged the worthless rock to her breast. “I love you.”

  Jenoc met her eyes and flashed a small, sad, smile. “Goodbye, sister.”

  Kairah lingered a moment, wanting to embrace her brother; once lost but now returned to her in her hour of need, but she couldn’t. In her brief time living among the humans, she’d seen mothers agonized over plague-stricken children, unable to hold and kiss them as they died for fear of contracting and perpetuating the spread of the disease. She thought she understood what that felt like now.

  “Run!”

  Unable to cast, and therefore powerless to fight Shivara or help Jenoc, Kairah did the only thing she could do, and ran.

  Jenoc’s heart broke as he listened to the rapid slapping of Kairah’s bare feet fade. He’d been denying it, but he could sooner stop loving Kairah as he could surrender his hatred o
f the humans. After all the horrors Jenoc had wrought, he was surprised he could feel love anymore.

  “What is your actual design, Shivara?”

  The woman just smirked.

  “I do not believe what you told my sister is the whole of it, nor even true.”

  Shivara chuckled. “She summarized it very well.”

  “There is no goddess.”

  “I would not call her that myself.” Shivara turned to the side and took a step toward one of the room’s couches as though she were intent on sitting. “But Rasheera is an immortal being with a transcendent ability to spell-cast.”

  Jenoc scrutinized the Allosian oracle, ready for even the slightest indication she was going to spell-cast. “And you seek to slay her?”

  “I tried once already, but only managed to imprison her.” Shivara reached the couch and sat next to an Allosian woman that held so perfectly still, Jenoc had first thought her a mannequin. “My god gave me a chance to redeem myself by spreading Moriora across all of Shaelar. That’s why I taught you the inversion spell.”

  Jenoc clenched his teeth. “You used me!”

  “Nonsense.” Shivara examined the blank face of the woman she sat next to, even going so far as to buff out a smear of rouge with the sleeve of her red dress. “You wanted to annihilate the human race. I simply gave you what you asked for.”

  “I did not ask to be changed into a monster!”

  Shivara cocked a painted eyebrow. “You were already a monster, boy. It’s why I chose you to start the blaze that would burn this world down.”

  “That is not what I wanted!”

  “But it’s what you want now, isn’t it?” Shivara stood, keeping one hand on the dead-eyed girl’s face for some reason.

  Jenoc glanced at the floor. “I do not know what I want. Coming here to stop you from harming my sister has given me a clarity I have not had for months, clear thinking I did not even know I needed.”