Chapter Fourteen

  Desire in the Days of Kor

  Moss stood at attention, the relic cradled in his hands, he now seemed more statue than man. His sapphire eyes no longer glittered with curiosity, nor did he slouch or let his gaze wander. He was still as stone and lacked in all his usual heart. Moss had become as much a part of the room as the relic, or the silver filigree, or the saintly mural that lay behind him. Nephis could hardly see him as Moss anymore, though she knew it was him.

  “Moss,” she called and waved her hand below his face. “Won’t you say something to me, Moss?”

  “Yes, your highness!” he suddenly called in perfect clarity, the ideal of a guard, the likes of which her father’s finest could not match.

  “Moss, are you alright?” she asked, “You are acting strange.”

  Moss did not respond and only stood still.

  Nephis went to reach for the ornate reliquary, but he moved it from her grasp, first to the right, then to her left, and then far above his head.

  “I am sorry, your highness!” he said, “I cannot allow you to touch this!”

  “Why not?” she cried.

  It was as if something whirred within his soul, though he did not make a sound, and he was quieted again – this time chewing on the answer. “I cannot!”

  “What has come over you?” she asked in strained frustration, “Do you know why we are here?”

  He did not respond.

  “Do you even know who I am?” she demanded.

  “You are her highness, the Fair Lady Nephis Flores, thirteenth of her father’s line, Aoth Flores, the Sorcerer King of all of Radina!” he said.

  “That is right,” she said, “And you are my retainer! So hand me the relic!”

  “I cannot!”

  “Moss, as your mistress, I demand you hand it to me! You are my retainer, yes?” she wanted to stamp the ground in anger, but knew she would topple to the ground if she did.

  “I am,” he answered in a steely voice.

  “But you will not give it to me?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Nephis was at her wits’ end, and she nearly tore her hair from her scalp. Kugo would know what to do, or at least he may be quick enough to snatch the wicked thing from him. An idea fell upon her, and she plucked her signet ring from her purse and set it onto her hand. She stood as straight as her numbed leg would allow, jutted her chin into the air, and raised the silver ring to his sight. And like a veil had been lifted from her, she was clearer and more beautiful and frightening, the kingly air she had set aside returned to her as her eyes burned with authority. “Moss, kneel before me.”

  And Moss did, one great leg fell slowly to the floor.

  Nephis strutted around him as surely as she could and climbed upon his great back. She embraced his neck gently, so that she might not fall off. “Moss, let us leave this place.”

  And Moss was still, his mind abrew with conflict.

  Nephis leaned to him and whispered where his ears must have been. “Moss. I am your Lady. You must listen to me. You wish to protect the relic, don’t you? Then return us both to the surface. Do this for me. Won’t you, my dear Moss?” she demanded in a cooing voice.

  Without a word, Moss slowly rose to his feet. He ambled like a bull, strong and steady, up the spiraling stairs of the donjon. Through the dark, they rose from the gullet of the tower up and into the light, which spilled into its open wound. They had only been within for a short while, no more than an hour or two, but Nephis at once felt relief surge over her, and all her muscles undid themselves, she nearly collapsed onto the ground. Nephis feared she never would see the daylight again, but here she was, the world unchanged. Kugo too stood waiting for them, leaned against the withered body of an old tree.

  “All done?” he asked.

  “Well, I am afraid that something has come up with us,” she tried to dance around the issue, not wanting to upset Moss or whatever now possessed him.

  Kugo tilted his head in confusion. But seeing the relic, he walked over to them. “You’ve found something. What is it?”

  “I’m not certain,” Nephis answered, “But Moss has grown rather attached to it . . .”

  “Really? Show me,” Kugo asked Moss.

  Moss did not reply, but only held it before himself.

  “Moss?” Kugo asked again.

  Moss would not even look at him.

  “Is he upset?” Kugo asked Nephis.

  “No, but something has overtaken him,” she explained in a hushed voice, “Moss, would you show Kugo the relic?” she asked.

  And Moss turned to face Kugo and brought it before his eyes. “It looks like a reliquary,” Kugo said with a hum, but when he went to touch it, Moss lifted it out of his reach. “What? Moss, let me see it!”

  Moss did not answer.

  “Moss, may Kugo see it?” Nephis asked.

  “He may look, but only look,” Moss answered in a tinny voice.

  “He will not let even me touch it,” Nephis explained, “Though he will otherwise obey my every word, watch, Moss, please walk to that tree.” She pointed out a distant tree. And Moss walked to it, though not as he normally would, swinging his arms from either side, slouching low to the earth. This time, he walked stiffly, with straight and rigid steps. When they returned, Nephis looked to Kugo, “Do you see?”

  “Nephis, would you come here?” he asked, and offered a hand to follow him.

  But as she did, Moss took her by the shoulder. “My lady, I cannot let you go with him,” he said in a low tone.

  “Why not?” she asked, taken aback.

  “He is a ruffian,” Moss’ body replied, “And an orc. It is not safe for a noble lady.”

  “Do you not recall?” Nephis asked, “He is also my retainer. He is my blade.”

  Moss seemed conflicted, but let her go from his great claws.

  Kugo pulled Nephis to the treeline and turned his head from Moss. “What happened?” he asked, his voice shook a little. “Why is he like this?”

  “I don’t know,” Nephis admitted, “He was acting normally until the – there was a trapped room, we nearly died.” Nephis could feel Kugo’s judgmental gaze through his wooden mask.

  “Well?” he bid her continue.

  “He went into a room, and I couldn’t convince him to leave, it was obviously dangerous. For goodness’ sake, there was blood on the walls. And then he touched a door and the walls pressed in on -” Nephis came to sudden realization, “No. It wasn’t the trap that made him act strangely. He was already acting strange. As soon as we came near the room, he wouldn’t listen to me at all.” Nephis’ mouth went dry as she thought back on it. “It was like he had to search for it, though he only grew stranger after the trap. Before he would respond normally to me. But after that, he left me on the floor. He found that room without even looking for it, like he already knew it was there . . . like it was calling to him.”

  Kugo looked over his shoulder at Moss, still standing guard, still watching the both of them with cold, dull, gemstone eyes. He felt a chill run down his spine and bit his tongue to keep him from acting strangely towards him. And when he could look no longer, he turned back to Nephis. “We need to take it from him,” Kugo said.

  “I agree,” Nephis replied. “Should we buy a crate for it, or wrap it in cloth?”

  “We should leave here!” he hissed, “Or better yet, destroy it. That is, if he wouldn’t kill us for it.”

  “What?” Nephis said in a whisper, “Destroy it? It’s powerful. If we could find its purpose, it may lead us to the Vallai Kai! But if we leave it, or destroy it, where would that get us?”

  “Would you rather Moss become what he is now?” Kugo asked.

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  Nephis pursed her lips. Kugo was right. “I suppose not.”

  “We can at least make a drawing of it,” Kugo offered, “And hide it somewhere that we’ll remember.”

  Nephis sighed. “Are you any good at drawing?” she asked.

  “I’m alright,” he said.

  “Good. Now, how to get it from him?” she asked.

  They approached Moss, who looked at them with silent judgment. “Moss, I need something from you.”

  He waited, holding the relic in his hands as if it were an extension of him.

  “I need you to hold the relic steady while Kugo draws it,” she said.

  “I cannot,” Moss answered.

  “Why not?” Nephis asked.

  “It is not meant for vulgar eyes,” he answered.

  Nephis was taken aback; then again, it was hidden in the depths of a trapped tower. “Worry not,” she cleared her throat, “It is for my personal collection.”

  “But he is-” Moss began to dully answer.

  “A skilled artist. An artisan of the highest order,” she interrupted him. “Do you not know that he is a holy man? And do you not know that men of the cloth treat the art of ink and vellum as sacred? Is drawing not also a sacred act, then? And would you then stop this holy man in his act of veneration?” It was not exactly a lie, she thought to herself; some of the great philosophers of eras past had said as much. Beauty was to truth as goodness was to godliness.

  “Is he skilled?” Moss asked, “Let me see.”

  Both Kugo and Nephis sat stunned for a short while. “Well,” Nephis stammered, “Go on and show him.”

  “Er,” Kugo stumbled around. He did not have his old papers with him any more. “It will be a moment,” he said, and dug around for his stylus and ink. Kugo tore a page from the sorcerer hunter’s old journal and drew a shaky sketch of what lay before him: Moss, some trees, and the old white tower that sat behind him, its shadow coming over the golem.

  He cursed as he watched, judging eyes pushed the pen further than he willed it to go, and when he was finished, it was not to his liking. Even still, he would not appear weak to whatever lay within Moss. “Here you are,” he said.

  “It’s not good,” Moss said.

  “It is the style of the court!” Nephis lied, “Have you never seen it? It is most fashionable these days.”

  Moss sat and ground the words in his skull, searching for a rebuttal that no longer existed. “As you wish, my lady,” he relented.

  And so for a while, Kugo sat hunched over the old journal. Now that judgment had passed over him, his shoulders relaxed and his mind focused, and he was able to draw normally. Even still, he had not done so in a very long time, so he drew carefully, observing the relic deeply before putting a single drop of ink onto the paper. Three times, he asked Moss to turn the reliquary. In the end, he had a detailed picture of it, rife with his own notes in the margins. And once it was dry, he signaled to Nephis that it was time.

  Nephis stood tall. “Moss, we must dig a hole. Get to it,” she ordered.

  Moss looked down at his hands, both holding the relic. “I cannot,” he said.

  And so Nephis and Kugo spent several hours digging a hole as deep as they could with their bare hands. They chose a spot a hundred yards from the tower, right between two trees. It was slow-going work, and by the end of it, Nephis seemed more upset than she had been about her near death. “These stains! I’ll never get them out!” she lamented.

  “They will come out,” Kugo sighed, his back aching from the drawing and the digging. “Don’t you worry.”

  Nephis crept to Moss, as if approaching a wild beast. “Alright now, Moss, come hither,” she asked. And Moss followed, the relic in hand.

  They all stood over the pit, as deep as Nephis’ knees, and sat waiting for someone to make the first move. It must be Nephis, they all thought. She cleared her throat.

  “Moss,” her voice was shaking, and to quell it, she thought of her father. Nephis jutted out her chest and peered down her nose with burning eyes. “Now, Moss,” she said in a still voice, “Place the relic in the pit.”

  “I cannot,” he answered, though this time his voice wavered a little.

  “Do not worry, Moss, this is to protect it.”

  He did not respond.

  “The tower was not safe, after all, we made it, the goblins nearly made it in,” she soothed with him with a serpent’s tongue. “Do you not agree? If we, who were unprepared, could break in. Who is to say someone who is ready could not? What of the Sons of Barthus? Could the tower stop them now? Now that the traps are broken and the doors shattered?”

  Whatever was within Moss did not respond.

  “It would never stop them. Place the relic in the pit. We will wrap it, do not worry. It will be safer here, where no one but you and I will know,” she said in a soothing, matronly tone.

  And host, Moss, quaked and wrapped the relic in a tarp Kugo gave to him. And with rusty movements, he set the relic in the pit. Around it, they placed an old log that was hollowed out on the inside. Moss twitched as they pushed the dirt over it, fighting against himself and what he was, but he allowed it.

  Once it was buried, Nephis dusted off her hands. “Now, Moss,” she began to walk away, “Come along.”

  “I must keep it safe,” he answered.

  So close. “Moss, come with me. This is the best way. Let me teach you of subterfuge, guardian. If the robber comes, he will look first where the guard is. So stand away from it, so as to hide it,” she said, her voice still gilt with nobility, but she could taste the doubt in him, and feared it would not work, that the tower would never leave him.

  Moss sat utterly still, as if paralyzed by the idea of it. He opened his mouth, but no words came from it. And then, he moved, just a little bit.

  “Come now, Moss,” she ordered, pulling him forward with her burning eyes.

  “I- I-,” he stammered, “Very well, my lady.” And he stepped forward and walked with her away from the pit.

  As he walked, he was as stiff as a board. “Where are we going to watch from?” he asked, for the time, there was a hint of emotion, of his right voice, and it was nervous and frantic.

  “Oh, not too far,” she consoled him as if she had every ounce of confidence, though she dug her nails into her palms, hidden by her great sleeves. “Keep up.”

  And the further along they went, the calmer he seemed. First he nearly shook, and then he walked quietly, and then he began to sway as he always did. “Where are we going?” he asked in his old voice.

  Nephis spun around upon hearing it. “Moss? Are you feeling alright?” she asked in a quavering voice.

  “Yeah,” he answered cheerfully, “Are you okay, Nephis?”

  She sighed in relief, her head slumping all the way down to her chest. “I am,” she said.

  Moss looked behind him, looking back on the tower and the pit that had entranced him, only to see Kugo staring at him.

  “Do not step back,” Kugo demanded. “Walk forward.”

  “Alright!” Moss answered, a bit confused, but onward they would go.

  And the three of them walked as quickly as they might out of the Rose Wood.

  As they left, Nephis and Kugo kept a special watch over Moss. But he remained as he had always been before today.

  “Moss,” Nephis asked, “Why were you so attached to the relic? Why did you not allow me to touch it?”

  Moss scratched his wooden chin, and he thought back on it for a long while. “I didn’t want you to break it,” he finally answered in an unsure voice.

  “Is that why?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he replied.

  And they walked for a long while on the old, dirt road. The Kultan Way would be avoided for now, as news along it traveled quickly. Who knew how far the tale of Nephis’ dramatic escape had traveled? And how horribly it had warped. After all, those guards believed it to be a kidnapping. Nephis pondered these things as she twisted the silver ring upon her finger. Finally, she gently plucked it off, it felt as if she had ripped the hand from her. It was a pretty thing. Nephis sighed as she dropped it once again in her purse. But her musings were interrupted, as Kugo wooted.

  “Ohoh!” he exclaimed.

  Nephis jumped and hid her hands. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!” He was staring into the coin pouch the farmer had given him. “That’s our worries paid off!”

  “How much!” Nephis gasped and hurried over to gaze into the purse.

  Kugo pulled out one silver gros from among a fistful of bronze coins. It sparkled in the light, the face of the emperor seeming more magnanimous than ever before.

  “What?” Nephis asked, “It’s a silver?”

  “It is a silver!” Kugo exclaimed, “That’s not nothing, you know.” When it was clear that Nephis was unimpressed, he continued, shaking it as he spoke so as to make a point, “This is worth twenty, twenty-one half-peck loaves! That’s nearly a month of food for both of us!”

  “What of the rest?” she asked.

  “The rest of what?” he asked.

  “The rest of the food! A gallon of bread is filling enough, but it’s hardly a meal,” she answered.

  “Oh, Nephis,” he groaned, “It’s more than a meal when you have ten sac and a gros.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her nerves rising.

  “Why are you so concerned?” he asked, “You’ve been eating stale bread for a while now.”

  “Well, I always thought that was a temporary trial,” she admitted, “And you always had little things, spices, those soup shards?”

  “Nephis,” he said in a stern voice, “Those were precious treasures I collected over a long time. There is very little of that left. I lost most of it while we ran and to the river.”

  “Oh!” she moaned in sorrow, “I’m going to die!”

  “Hurry it up then,” he said.

  “What is that supposed to mean!?”

  They bickered for a long while. For what else was there to do?

  On foot, they were still a long way off from the coast. The few monies they did have would not be enough to sustain them, for clothes, and food, and shelter have always been expensive. But after many days on the road, they indeed would surely make it. For on the western coast was something spoken of in that little, golden scrap of writing. A writing that had been long forgotten by almost all alive. But they were not alone in their searching.

  Three black cloaked men swept into the old, white dunjon in the Rose Wood. After much searching, they had at last found something grand. A true relic of those days gone by. A great and powerful thing, or so it was said. They slowly walked down the old, spiraling stairs until they came to the ballast of the tower. This was where its treasure should have been. But as they came to the broken chamber, its floor strewn with goblin corpses, they stood still. They did not speak to one another, their pallid, bluing faces frozen as they cast their thoughts a thousand miles away to that dark tower. No goblin could have done this, they thought. Shattered stone lay on the ground. They picked it up shard by shard, so as to learn how it might have been done. It seemed the great beam had burst, perhaps from within. Worst of all, a door that was meant to be hidden was open, its locking beam left up. The Reliquary of Desire was stolen. If they could have felt panic, they would have. They heard a response soon enough. Find the goblins. But when the Sons of Barthus found the little camp, collapsed in on itself, the goblins crushed under a thousand pounds of earth, they heard a new order. Should they not give you an answer, raze the village.