"Cedwyck!" roared Irikhart as he watched the old druid vanish before his eyes.
The god of fools stood momentarily stunned, then charged back towards the crater. Still calling Cedwyck's name repeatedly, Irikhart leaned over the edge of the crater, searching for the old man, for the dead girl, but there was no sign of either of them.
Someone grabbed hold of his shoulder just as he tried to leap into the crater, yanking him back with force, toppling him into a pile on the sun-baked sand. Irikhart looked up to see Lytette standing over him with a harsh warning in her eyes. Ignoring her, he stood up and returned to the edge of the crater, searching for the druid.
"They're gone... vanished into oblivion," said Kyrnrie beside him, shaking his head gently as he sat back in resignation.
"She said we could go," muttered Irikhart. "She said—"
"She kept her word," interrupted Lytette with no hint of sorrow in her tone, "and Cedwyck kept his. We were foolish to think we would escape unharmed."
"But... where did they go?" protested Kyrnrie, gesturing to the empty crater.
Lytette shrugged, though she failed to conceal the worry on her mind.
"You are a goddess," shouted Ryleine. "Can't you... do... something?"
"Do what, exactly?"
"Godsdammit, I don't know. Anything. Just help him!"
"It's too late, he is beyond our reach," she said, "and we cannot wait here any longer. The Three are still pursuing us, we must keep moving towards Fools' Escape."
Abbikson stood beside the demon-goddess, silent in his agreement. Ryleine and Kyrnrie appeared less convinced. Irikhart remained stubborn in his protest.
"I cannot abandon him to this fate," insisted Irikhart, his chin held high as he began to reset his sword upon his back. "He was my true-hearted devotee. It would be my betrayal if I were to leave him—"
"God of fools, and a greater fool than them all," snapped the demon-goddess with a vicious growl. "Irikhart, I am damned near ready to throw you back in that crater myself. If you don't plan on dying, shut up and follow. Okay?"
Irikhart adjusted his sword once more, raised his chin, and began walking away from the crater.
"Fine. I will come back for him later," he said, committing the oath to memory.
Irikhart noted that the four of them quickly fell in line behind him, which pleased him greatly given that he wasn't sure he was walking in the right direction.
The morning sun was already generating an oppressive heat that Irikhart proudly attempted to take no notice of until the sweat began to drip down his forehead. As an obvious solution, he removed his shirt, rolling it up and wrapping it around his head, tying the loose ends at the back. He enjoyed the feel of the sun on his bare chest, the heat rising as his skin began to shimmer in the light.
"I agree," said Lytette in answer to his gesture. "It's time to take shelter from the sun. Let's make camp here – it's as good a site as any. I don't see even the skeleton of a dead tree anywhere close by."
No one argued as they hurried to raise the canvas sheets. A poor example of a camp was quickly erected, and they huddled underneath for shelter. Dried rations were shared, and a few sips were drawn from their dwindling supply of water.
Irikhart's eyes rested on Ryleine as she sipped from the water skin, grimacing as it warmed instead of cooled her. She shook her head in defiance, and took another drink. As she became aware of Irikhart's gaze she returned a shy smile and glanced quickly at Kyrnrie beside her. Irikhart continued to admire her, wondering how much longer it would be until he had sufficiently proven his love for her.
As she cleared her throat, Ryleine's gaze swung to the demon-goddess.
"Lytette," she began cautiously, "what was it you called Irikhart earlier? The same thing the dead girl called him, if I am not mistaken."
Lytette chuckled as she eyed Irikhart.
"God of fools," she said. "Long has he led by sterling example."
"You are disliked?" asked Ryleine, turning to Irikhart. "Ridiculed by the other gods?"
"He has other, more appealing qualities," added Lytette, with a wide gesture at Irikhart's bare chest.
Irikhart looked himself over, searching for any qualities on his pectorals that she might be referring to, checking in between the bumps formed by the row of muscles on his torso, scanning the grooves along his arms and shoulders. He shrugged.
"I am well liked," said the god of fools. "In fact, a number of the goddesses tried to stop me from coming here."
Lytette burst out laughing at that, shaking her head with a huge grin, muttering about how foolish Irikhart was. He didn't quite understand her. As far as goddesses went, she wasn't the friendliest of them. She was still laughing alone when Ryleine began prying further.
"And they call you the demon-goddess?"
Lytette shrugged nonchalantly as she took another sip of water.
"I used to call myself the goddess of virgins – it had a nice sound to it, seemed important. Then all the girls started blaming me for doing things that smooth-tongued young men convinced them to do. After that, I became the goddess of seduction, and before long, the girls began blaming me when they failed to attract sufficient attention. Truth is, it's just a title. Means nothing really."
"So... demon-goddess?"
"Ah, yes. Well, people don't tend to ask much of demon-goddesses – not unless they are prepared for unpleasant results. Occasionally, they offer up a dead pet in exchange for just such an intervention in their lives, but I tend to ignore them."
"You can hear them?" asked Ryleine.
"Not any more, no. Not down here."
"And... The Three. They are like you? Demon-goddesses?"
"The Three care only for power. Whoever they can't control, they destroy," she said, her eyes darting to Irikhart. "But they can become fixated at times."
"And are you different?," said the huntress. "Why are you helping us?"
"Why are you helping?" Lytette countered, raising her eyebrow in suspicion. "Why are you so desperate to get off the island?"
Ryleine glanced nervously at Irikhart and she visibly struggled for an answer. He couldn't help but notice an ashamed flush in her expression. As he watched her, movement on the sand briefly caught Irikhart's attention, but the conversation seemed too interesting to ignore.
"Well?" asked the demon-goddess. "Kyrnrie is getting paid handsomely. Abbikson is following his life-long quest, and I'm helping Abbikson for obvious reasons – despite knowing that it will amount to nothing. And Irikhart... well, he is still trying to win you over. So, tell me Ryleine, what are you getting from this?"
Irikhart had now begun losing concentration, the demon-goddess's voice trailing away into the distance. A rather more pressing concern was the six legs he could feel clawing their way up the inside of his trouser legs. He panicked, frozen on the spot.
"There is something crawling up my leg," he said, trying to keep his voice level.
"What?" said Ryleine, though she looked more relieved than concerned.
"There's something there, can you see it? There!"
It was just passing his knee, a bump easing upwards on the inside of his trousers, travelling in the least favourable direction. Irikhart felt his body spasm, shock kicking in.
"A scorpion," said Abbikson. "Highly toxic. Can kill a man before he even finds the wound."
Dying wasn't high on Irikhart's list of priorities. He quickly yanked his sword from its sheath, and slid it down the inside of his trousers, underneath the belt. In what he hoped would be a graceful manoeuvre, he whipped the sword outward, but it got caught by the hardened leather belt. The dull blade needed more strength, so he forced it through the hide, cutting wildly and slicing the trousers down to his knee.
The scorpion remained where it was, its tail raised up behind it in speculation. Suddenly, it scuttled backwards into the lower leg of his trousers, forcing Irikhart to chase it with the blade. He began hacking frantically at the cloth, trying to break free. He could hear shouting around him, but he couldn't abandon his own struggle for survival.
Eventually, the cloth fell free, but the scorpion still clung on tightly to his bare leg.
"Get it off!" he shouted, in about as calm a manner as could be expected from someone panicking about their impending death. "Get it off!"
Time appeared to slow as Irikhart saw the tail swinging in preparation. The stinger plunged into his leg, and a sharp bolt of pain ran through his body even before the shock set in. He fell to his knees and watched as the scorpion scuttled off, victorious. Irikhart, god of fools, felled by a creature smaller than his hand.
"Irikhart! What the hell are you doing?"
He looked up to see Lytette standing above him with an expression somewhere between anger and confusion on her face. He pointed at the wound and hung his head.
"I have been bested," he admitted. "Let me die in peace."
"You're immortal, fool. It would take a thousand of those scorpions to kill you."
Irikhart looked at the wound again, the little welt seemed to be fading already.
"But he said—"
"That they can kill a man..." explained Abbikson. "I didn't say anything about gods."
"Aah," he responded, standing up and brushing himself off, trying to act naturally.
"You defeated the hundred-eyed... hundred-tentacled... hundred... the monster in Goldryke Caves," chucked Kyrnrie, "yet a little scorpion has you dancing around like the world's about to end."
"I can't exactly reason with a scorpion, can I?" he retorted, still trying to recover a dignified physical presence.
It was no use. He was covered in sweat, and the desert sands were sticking to him all over. He searched around for his possessions, discovering that his shirt had fallen, and was currently being blown away by the wind. The broken belt was a good few yards away from the ruined pile of tattered clothes still struggling against the breeze, with a shoe holding them in place. It belonged to Ryleine, who was shaking her head as she looked at him.
"When I sent you to get new clothes the last time," she said, "did you think to get new underwear too?"
Irikhart glanced down at his hero's loincloth; faded blue, dusty, with patches of sweat darkening it in places. He sheathed his sword over his shoulder as he stood tall in the hot desert sun. He couldn't help but notice that Ryleine was still staring at him. Really staring.
"This is a quest for heroes," he proclaimed as he gazed away into the distance. "And here I am."
Irikhart's Tale continues in Fools Escaping Fools part 2 >>>