Sylvester & Tuette: Cursed Doubt

Chapter Thirty-Two

Tuette continued to weep. It’s real. It’s all real!


The proof was vibrating around her and blinding her at the same time. The Circle had been finished and, though not immediately, all of Existence felt like it had been altered.


Dorothy had finally arrived.


Tuette couldn’t see her but she knew the god was present. She felt the warmth in her head and heart. It was the kind of heat that embarrassment or rage might bring forth, but she knew she felt neither emotion: only peace and relaxation and stillness. Is Sylvester feeling this too? She almost called out to him but before the thought was even finished, she heard his voice in her own head.


King? Sylvester? Can you hear me?


There was no response but there was a sense of fright coming from somewhere to her right, where Sylvester had been just before the Circle was filled with Dorothy’s presence.


Where Sylvester had been when he had said he would risk the very stability of his kingdom to insure she didn’t become corrupted; so that she wouldn’t have the blood of reckless reprisal on her heart and soul. He has essentially saved me.


A textured surface was suddenly pressed against the back of Tuette’s neck. It reminded her of a serpent but she wasn’t afraid, despite the fact that such creature’s disturbed her for no apparent reason. A tingling sensation traveled from the point of contact down through her spine and to her toes, which suddenly felt like they were connected to her fingers, her ears, her eyes and chest, all at the same time. It was a bizarre feeling that Tuette didn’t want to end.


But it did, and all too soon. Not before she heard a tiny note of thanks at the edge of her earlobe. It was enough to catch her attention because she couldn’t help but notice how much mirth was contained in the small sentiment. Where it came from, Tuette had no clue, but she somehow knew it had been directed at her.


The vibrations ended and the brightness went away. Tuette was no longer standing but was on her back. Dawn was approaching and the four-year old fear gripped her when she realized she didn’t have any suitable protection.


She tried sitting up but her bones and muscles were too stiff. The attempt brought more than subtle pain that she was able to merely wince away. Looking up, she realized that the sky was above her in all its majestic, morning presentation. I was in the castle. We were in the castle. Tuette tried calling out but she only felt the vibrations in her throat but she didn’t hear them.


A pair of bodies stood over her then, blocking her view of the sky. They’ll see my Curse was all she could think. But when the contrast of their appearance was apparent, she realized they’d already seen it, days or weeks or lifetimes before. It was Dermy and Terry. Dermy crouched down low beside Tuette and she immediately noticed that his left arm was in a kind of sling. She doubted the limb was usable. Terry was looking around with bewilderment on his face. Dermy’s mouth was moving and she felt the very slight vibrations traveling through his hand on her shoulder but she couldn’t hear him either.


Has my encounter with the Eldest Primary left me deaf to Mortals?


But she didn’t even speak to me.


At that thought, Tuette started to sob as great sorrow washed over her; like she had been granted the greatest opportunity and had missed out on the most crucial part. With her sobs came a shuddering of her shoulders and she felt cold tears stream down the sides of her face to dance around the edges of her ears. Dermy wiped them away as best he could but his touch was nothing like the textures of the non-serpent.


Where’s Sylvester?


The question dashed all other worries from her mind as she sat up, her joints aching and her neck sending a thousand tingles down her spine. Though it hurt tremendously, she suppressed calling out in pain: she couldn’t hear it anyway and no one else could stop it.


There, still at her right side, lay King Sylvester. He looks like hell.


His robes were torn and even smelled like they might’ve been crisped over a fire for a moment. His face was hidden beneath the ridiculous beard and his eyes were closed. But he was alive. Sylvester’s eyes pushed against the boundaries that were his eyelids as he dozed. She looked at her own clothes and realized they had suffered the same fate as the kings: worn, dingy, cindered.


Dawn crested over the distant horizon; the oceans could not contain the powerful Brill any longer. A part of Tuette didn’t care. She knew she was among companions: friends, even. It’d been a long time since she could honestly think of another person as being her friend but this journey had allowed it to happen.


Brill’s light gave definition to her farther surroundings: the small group was next to a line of corn. The Corn Circle, she quickly realized. Inside the Circle, nothing but a crater. Craning her neck forward, Tuette saw that inside the crater was a jumble of odd items. Notably, Joy’s plant, the bed and shelves from the dungeon, the old man himself – she couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive just yet – and a hodgepodge of items that might define a passable workshop. Tuette recognized a few of the distinct items from when Joy had given her the incredible gift of distant-sight.


The body of Beverane was also down there.


It looked mottled, bloated, abused, and equally crisped. And Tuette felt that it was somehow that way before Dorothy made her grand entrance. Tuette remembered the benevolent seleagle and felt her heart lurch for any that he might’ve left behind. She then felt guilty for never asking about such survivors before leaving Jack’s domain.


Tracks led from the bottom of the hole to their point on the lip of the crater, indicating that Terry had most likely dragged Sylvester and Tuette to their current positions. She looked at the Guard; he was still garbed in his light armor. Maybe light by your standards but it still looks quite heavy. The nearly-mindless devotion was touching and Tuette was appreciative.


Edging towards them around the line of corn was a small man. A boy really, or a teen. He might’ve looked like the one that she saw in the distance: the one that Tuette assumed had been cut down while fighting a Gousherall in the name of his master. The boy looked disheveled. Clearly, he’s another victim of Count Roost. Probably his latest. His last. His face was blank, like he wasn’t sure about where he should be headed.


Terry went to meet the boy and Tuette wondered if the Guard was still in combat mode. The battle’s over. The menace is gone. The Cursed count was, for lack of a better definition, dead. Displaced might be a better definition for where he is. Tuette was still hazy on her experience in the Corn Circle but she was more than certain that Dorothy had deduced the reasoning behind their desperate plea and had more than complied with their wishes. Not only was Corunny Voidet gone, but his tiny castle too. Casting a furtive glance into the crater, she realized, with placid sadness, that his massive tome was also gone.


Dorothy has reclaimed secrets that are better off lost.


The less knowledge of power available, the better.


I guess.


Terry was walking back towards Sylvester, Tuette, and Dermy with his hand on the boy’s back, as if he were guiding him. It was more of a mentor’s moment than that of a law enforcer guiding a delinquent to a holding area. Tuette had a kind of mental image spring up then: that the boy might make a good Gousherall one day. “If he’s not too old to begin training, that is.”


“Wha’s that?” asked Dermy.


Tuette felt abashed for having spoken the last part out loud… but then a kind of relief washed over her for she could hear herself. And Dermy too. Feeling like standing finally, Tuette hoisted herself up. Dermy had to provide support when the blood rushed to her head and she nearly stumbled forward to fall back down the steeper-than-it-looked crater slope. “I ca’ ‘ear, Demmy!” She knew her words had suddenly slurred but she was very excited for not having lost one of her useful senses.


She stepped backwards and what she landed on caused the king to be dramatically torn from his heavy slumber. It was with a bellow that Sylvester awoke as Tuette had stepped on his hand. The sudden motion brought on by the pain was enough to cause the king to vomit suddenly and Tuette instantly felt bad for losing her composure.


The boy was nondescript but looked like he was in a state of shock. Just like the rest of your neighbors. She hoped he would be able to acclimate with the others after being forced to serve the count out of nothing but pure fear. Tuette also hoped that the shared experience of being truly Cursed, however briefly, would help him to reconnect with whatever family he’d been snatched from.


The thoughts made Tuette think about her own family and how they would’ve most likely fallen to the affects of the Curse as well. Just like everyone’s neighbors. It was definitely something to address on a nationwide level, if such a thing could be accomplished. Maybe passed from Sylvester to the tents and then city and town mayors or something. But she could only guess.


Sylvester stood up more quickly than he should’ve, stayed bent forward for a short while, and finally maintained an upright posture. His eyes looked tired and Tuette suddenly realized she very much felt the same way: drained, exhausted, just plain spent.


“Roost…” he began asking when he had to stop and hold in whatever his stomach had left.


Tuette pointed to the crater behind the king. “Gone. Dorothy took him. No more Curse. She took his tome too.”


Sylvester nodded, his nausea apparently settled. He looked at the boy with Terry and knocked his head, unwilling to commit himself to using his voice just yet.


“That’s… just someone else we saved.”


Sylvester nodded only once and looked around the area. His eyes didn’t settle on anything in the crater or Brill’s rising presence. Sylvester’s gaze lingered on the nearby township of Boost. People were milling about and she remembered how shouts of panic and confusion had bubbled from the populace earlier. He was probably worried about how many people had fallen under the Curse. Without a word, Sylvester began walking towards the milling people. The boy followed, as did Terry, though Tuette couldn’t guess if it was because the Guard felt an old loyalty to the king or a very new loyalty to the teen.


Tuette didn’t want to follow. She just wanted to enjoy her surroundings. The fact that the fear she felt minutes before was now gone finally hit her. That made her feel lightheaded again, but with utter excitement this time. Tuette, smiling thoroughly, looked to Dermy when she realized she also wanted to talk to Dermy about their shared experience. Turning to look at the agricultural specialist, she asked about the thing that she thought she might never forget: the feeling of being embraced through her spine, neck, and mind. Like she had temporarily become one with Creation itself.


Dermy only looked confused though. “I din’t feel nothin’ like that, Tuette.” She felt a frown form while Dermy continued. “I only remember the stabbing, having my disguise dropped, and then… darkness, oh. I saw the flash first but black, emptiness thereafter. I woke up when Terry there was dragging the king up the crater wall. I followed him up and told him I’d go and sit with Cherry. She was exhausted from the troubles, oh. And ‘sides, I can’t much help with only one wing.” He flapped his arm sling for unneeded emphasis. She did appreciate that his speech wasn’t so garbled but she also understood that the tradeoff was quite the opposite for him. All for the king.


Dermy’s mentioning of Cherry prompted Tuette to ask about the unique woman, and also about what would truly happen to her. She had essentially been exiled or however the Cordians wanted to phrase it. She had no place to call home. Maybe I could take her with me. Her condition is fascinating, to say the very least. Plus, she needs something besides loneliness, especially after her crucial role in saving the country.


Tuette was certain that her swan home was still outside Zharinna, near Mount Reign. Sylvester is heading that way anyway. I might as well tag along to help him complete his journey. Feeling satisfied with this next logical step, she asked Dermy again where Cherry was as she realized he hadn’t answered. Or she hadn’t been paying attention.


Dermy gestured towards the township. “Terry said she wanted a real bed. Didn’t want to sleep on the ground. He took her to that on’, oh.” He pointed to the nearest dwelling: a small shack of a home. With that settled, Tuette found herself thinking about why Dermy hadn’t had the same experience as Tuette in regards to the brush with Dorothy. Sylvester, too. He and I were both unconscious with our clothes singed. She looked at Dermy’s outfit and realized that it actually looked cleaner than before.


A breeze came up from the beach finally and Tuette was grateful for the small grace. Any further worries seemed to float away with it, much as Dorothy’s embrace had washed the vile energy from Tuette’s spirit. Whatever that was she said to herself as she thought she tasted the remnants in her mouth. Like the taste of bile that I might never be rid of. But the feeling was gone and she was free from Corunny’s Curse and any other obligations.


The entirety of it all felt like pure bliss.


She looked at the town, at various pennants flapping and defining the contours of the wind, at the smattering of people as they seemed to hustle about.


But it’s something I’ll have to get used to. I don’t have to avoid them anymore. There’s nothing to fear about me anymore. She felt herself beginning to smile uncontrollably again. An urge to fully disrobe and run through the minimal fields of Boost almost overtook her. The feeling was as strong as when she felt she might kill Corunny Voidet in what could only be cold blood.


The vivid memory stopped her.


What was that really about? Where’d that feeling come from? That odd energy?


Sylvester came up to her from behind, startling her and she felt embarrassed, though she was certain it was because she had been on the verge of becoming nude if only to prove that she could without worrying about any body hair betrayal.


“The townsfolk were talking about destroying the statue Roost – Corunny – left behind. I told them I’d have some people come down and dispose of it for them, so they wouldn’t have to deal with it.”


“Well that’s… generous of you. Considering that you already saved them and everyone from chaos.”


Sylvester only shook his head. “I’m not sure I did. Everyone was affected, even if it was only a short time. I’m sure that some were asleep because of the hour and didn’t notice a thing, but what of those that paid attention?”


“What about them, sir?” Terry seemed eager to get everything settled immediately so they could get back to the mountain. Cherry, at his side now after being roused from her temporary bed, didn’t look too eager to be going anywhere. Tuette was painfully reminded that the young woman truly had nowhere to go, but she couldn’t wait to invite her along for the remainder of their journey.


“I don’t imagine I can ignore what happened. And what if Roost’s actions only inspire someone else – someone who was paying attention – to seek out another avenue for causing more chaos? Or even death on a grand scale? And what if, next time, we aren’t so lucky as to stumble upon a kriffing god that swoops in and cleans up our mess?”


It was quite a sobering statement for Tuette to hear and she suddenly felt very foolish for wanting to strip and let the warm and glorious light of Brill encase her. What a dacking downer. But she knew he was right to worry about such things. And what kind of king would he be if he didn’t worry about them?


Not for the first time, she felt growing admiration for the man, despite his numerous faults.


A subtle buzzing entered her range of hearing. It drew Tuette’s attention towards the crater and she instantly thought of a buzzfrog. But, knowing that they were too far east, Tuette realized it was a kind of insect. A tiny voice also came into range and Tuette looked to the others nearby to see if they heard it too. Only Sylvester seemed to react but his wasn’t a face of confusion, but that of relief.


“The little bug. The fly, Tuette! The one that helped us with…” He stopped, like the words might choke him. Tuette realized finally that he was talking about the fly – Pule or Luze – the one that had bested Vest by transporting the betraying Guard to Corunny’s workshop.


She also recalled how the bug had been the only reason Beverane had been taken from his home, but Tuette understood that the fellow was probably Cursed and therefore had little control over how the Magik manifested.


Puze spoke almost exclusively to Sylvester as the king quickly asked the fruit fly questions. Tuette found she was also curious about the insect’s total involvement. Apparently, shortly after Tuette had been placed under the Curse of the Hood, Corunny Voidet had crossed paths with the rare breed of fly that had been Magiked for speech. Tuette knew Puze was merely the descendent of a Dissociative Wars combatant.


The special fruit fly had fired off one insult after another, which is what most fruit flies did, as they all learned. Tuette could only guess it was their shortened lifespan that led to such behavior. If you’re not alive tomorrow, who cares what you do today? But for Puze, it had only been the beginning. Whereas he normally would’ve been dead years ago, the Curse the counterfeit count had cooked up kept Puze around longer than expected. No matter where Puze went, once he died, he always ended up back with the count.


“Voodeet ees dad. I’ve bat-a ‘hink yus, keeeng.”


If Puze wasn’t the most bizarre aspect of the whole situation, Tuette didn’t know what was, but she was thankful for the Cursed little fruit fly. And also glad that yet another of Roost’s long term victims would finally find peace. If only for a few hours.


A strange part of Tuette was even jealous.





*          ~          *          ~          *





The return trip seemed very brief by comparison, taking only a few days. The Jorii Stone took them to the northern forests of Whismerl. From there, they tackled the barren Nementor Path of the region, discovering it was actually in nominal condition. Tuette was still wary of bandits and molesters.


A pass cut through the mountain chain and carried them to the west side, edging Dekenna and taking them south to his Mount Reign in relatively no time, more or less. Tuette preferred this. It meant she wouldn’t have to see New Opal before she might be ready. Whenever that might be.


Sylvester was, for the most part, very silent. He didn’t offer up any absurd questions or even further his talks with Cherry regarding her unique circumstance. They had been able to clean themselves up in Boost but he had been determined to return to the throne as soon as possible. Tuette felt that, even though he wasn’t voicing his excitement, he was anxious to return and actually behave like a monarch should. With or without his kingstone.


Tuette thought about the king’s little secret and realized that she really wished to delve deeper into the mystery. For Tuette, the most obvious and dutifully unstated reasoning was that the kingstone had been fragmented before Sylvester had even inherited it. And once she realized that, Tuette found herself thinking that any fragmentation would still resemble a whole kingstone, as Sylvester’s did. Does this mean there could be more than one king?


Is Decennia is the right hands?


Tuette didn’t like the doubt that sat on the edge of her mind. What had started as an opportunity to save herself from a life of hardship had turned into a journey for saving the entire kingdom.


And Sylvester had been the one to save Tuette from herself. She stared at the quiet man as he traipsed an even stride. Surely, this kingdom has the proper man on the throne. But what of those that might challenge him simply because they have kingstones too?


She didn’t like thinking of herself as a protector for King Sylvester but Tuette realized that she might have to step into that role, if only to repay Sylvester the favor.


It had been a long and short journey that was coming to an end. But she knew, as they probably all knew, that it was truly just a beginning.