The Disjointed Tales Of Renryre Island

18-1: Fools Escaping Fools

"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.