The Tower of Il Serrohe (47 page)

Nersite nudged her with the top of his head. “I think he’s not well.”

“
He’s definitely not well,” echoed Netheraire. “He’s hungry and tired. He called us dogs.”

Don stared. It
was
Raquela. The face, the eyes, the fine form, but not the lovely human form that had attracted him. It was a deer. In a beautiful microfiber bodysuit.
No, make that her natural coat.

She turned away, evidently having a hard time accepting the strange, horrified look in his face. There was her rear end. With a nice big white patch just like he remembered on her fine butt.

A white-tailed deer!

When he remembered their lovemaking he almost puked. He grabbed at his crouch, instinctively, but instead of finding his penis where it had always been, his hands could barely move upward.

Looking down, he discovered a microfiber, or, rather, a broad fur-covered chest and two slender
deer legs
ending in black shiny
hooves
!

Peering over his shoulder, he saw a long well-muscled back covered in that same tan fur—and a nub of a tail with a hint of white on either side.

“
I’m
a deer, too?” he said breathlessly.

Everyone looked back blankly.

“
A what? A deer? You are as you have always been, just like me, all the Pirallts, and Pia and Pita. But here in the Valle we don’t notice the differences among us. It’s the Soreyes who are
different.
”

Again, Don tried to grasp his penis but couldn’t find it, not having hands in the human sense. Those around him seemed to understand the implication of his gesture.

“
Uh-oh, mating time,” Nersite said. “I guess we’d better give them some privacy. I’m not interested in their mating since they’re a different clan and all.”

Don stamped his right hoof and stared down at Nersite. Having not an ounce of air left, he made a wheezing sound as he sucked air into his lungs.

He looked at Raquela.
Why didn’t I see what she was? How could I not realize I wasn’t human here? Obviously, there were no mirrors and I failed to study my face in the water.

Of course! Now I remember—she looked familiar when we met. I thought that was because she resembled someone I knew, but it was something
I had seen before—a deer. And it was the same with Nersite, he looked familiar because I’ve seen prairie dogs all my life.

He looked around at them. He recognized Toroth, the Taurimin, in the face and body of a large bull; the Càhbahmin, Nell, in the form of a horse; and over on that hill where Raquela had been was Bernie, a big fat black bear or Ursimin. Up on the ridge were the Loopohmin—wolves—and Linksmin—bobcats. Among the crowd was Goodwood,
the Kastmin
chief and carpenter, who was actually a beaver. And overhead, cackling and cawing blue jays were Jasin and Flit, the two constantly squabbling Sianox.

Black ants swirled about his feet like festive worshippers circling a church. One stood up on her hind feet to greet him:
Gert! No wonder the Barbamin looked funny, they’re ants!

In a wide area between the Loopohmin and the Linksmin, avoided by the others, was good old Sliktooth the Crotalmin with the same wide smile, the deadly look in his eyes. Don now understood why he never saw his arms. He had none! He was a snake coiled up, looking back with hungry eyes.

Don wanted this nightmare over, but the crowd refused to change back into the clanspeople he’d known. He had to get away from this fevered delusion.

He feigned calmness. “Why don’t you all go about your business? The Soreyes don’t know I’m here so I haven’t given away your location. Go back through the bosque under cover of trees and attack at night.”

They stared, disappointed and confused. He could tell they were thinking, why had he said that? Wasn’t it a better time to eat breakfast, and talk about an attack later?

“
I’m going to leave. You don’t need me. I’m just a human, not like you. I don’t know what you see when you see me,
(
I don’t know when I look at me, either
)
,
but I know what I see looking at you now.”

His voice cracked, and a chest-heaving sob escaped. “You’re animals, I am a human. We’re not the same! That damned bat! I’m going to barbecue his ass if I get ahold of him.”

“
What are you talking about, Don?” Raquela asked desperately.  “I’ve been trying to tell you we’re all the same. You, your ancestor, Teresa. She looked as you now look.” Her voice began to waver, and she made that curious grunting sound. “Us. We’re all the—”

“
Fuc—aurgh! You!” He gagged trying not to offend, but it was far too late.

“
I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Just get away from me, all of you! I can’t take this. I’m insane. You aren’t real. None of this is real. I need to get out of here!”

He looked around frantically, hoping for something, anything—air, water, fire, and earth—to take him
home
.
But there were only sand hills, sage brush, mesquite, and desert flora and fauna. No impromptu Portal or enough materials to make one.

So he turned and, using his four legs, adroitly ran away.

He ran until he could no longer hear the cacophony of the animals.

No one followed.

He sobbed and whimpered, alone on the sun-drenched plain.

sixty nine

Through tears and rages—at himself, his mother and father, Teresa, Bess, the bat, and all the so-called clanspeople of the Valle Abajo—Don came to realize he was standing north of Lunatik Peak on the southern edge of Seared Meadow. At that distance, the Tower looked more like a toothpick than a mighty copulatory spear when viewed from the valley below.

He felt exposed in more ways than one. Looking down at his naked body, he saw what he had expected to see back on Pot Hills: his nude human body, hairy and covered in cuts and abrasions thanks to his frantic escape from the horror of the encampment.

So where’s the deer body I was in back there? What is this?

Lowering himself, he took cover behind some scrubby bushes and worked his way to an arroyo that cut into the desert floor a few yards back to the south. He slid into the arroyo and contemplated its ten-foot high walls of crumbling dirt. Once again, he remembered how he used to love riding his little dirt bike through sandy arroyos like this, trying to keep the fishtailing bike upright and avoid overheating its 250 cc engine.

He smiled at the memory. It had been a great way to forget his shit-hole father and the dark nature of his life in general. It was worth the butt kicking he’d get when he went home grimy and hungry in the half-light of dusk.

Naked and afoot, the arroyo was more like an open grave. This made him realize the truly miserable part of insanity was the fact you couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t awaken from the nightmare. You couldn’t puke it out and flush it down the toilet.

So, I’m in this. I’d turned into a deer, except right now I’m apparently human, but I sure as hell wasn’t back there. I’ve fallen in love with another deer who I thought was a beautiful woman. And all those critters can say is “We’re all the same!”

And the Soreyes! What of them? What are they? Demons from Hell? That would be about right, I think. And that damned Tower I’m supposed to bring down. What of that? I know what Teresa did, but I can’t do that, because there’s no one to keep the Portal open. Raquela proved she’s not blessed with the powers of Pia and Pita.

Nersite had been telling a story. Wait a minute; I need to hear the rest of it. Maybe that will explain the Tower and why it’s screwing up my life and those of the clans—animals of this Valle. Maybe if I bring down that pile of shit, I’ll be free of this curse, this delusion, this mental illness, and everyone here.

His thinking stopped cold.
Raquela. I thought I was being given another chance, but… not this… this mating of deer. Though… no, don’t even go there.

Somehow, the challenge of the Tower seemed simple compared to the problem of Raquela. If this whole thing were true, he could work it out in his head, but not for an instant did he believe this was true. It was the artifact of a mind sickened by grief, by his father, by beer, by some curse brought on from the past if that bullshit about Teresa was even partly true.

Raquela, for a while you were a lovely thing in my life. I really loved… no… actually love you still in the present. I just can’t believe you are for real.

So, Nersite, little figment of my dementia, you must complete the improbable narrative my sick mind is keeping from me. I can find release only through the destruction of the Tower.

Don pulled himself up. Right now, he’d welcome the fleet body of a stag to a return to the encampment. Unfortunately, he believed that was another artifact of his dementia. As a result, his tired, beat-up, regular old body had to make the return trip.

Mid-afternoon had arrived when he came within earshot of the encampment. Arguing about what to do next, the animals were stirring up a terrific clangor.

Finding a rare cedar tree at the bottom of a shallow ravine, he leaned against it and, exhausted, fell sleep in spite of the turmoil in his brain.

Waking suddenly in the dark, he jerked to his feet, alert to attack from—something, anything.

There was nothing but silence and a cool breeze.

He walked to the edge of the ravine and looked out on the broad, flat area drenched in moonlight where he had discovered the animals that morning. He worked his way down cautiously; almost immediately, his presence was known.

A low rumbling growl first came from his left, then another higher-pitched to his right. Two light gray Loopohmin approached.

“
It’s OK, it’s me, Don. I need to see Nersite.”

Their growls stopped. A husky voice asked, “Are you coming back to help? We will be leaving for our dens in the morning if you’re not.”

“
No promises. I just need to see Nersite.”

“
Come.”

He followed the lead wolf while the other trotted quietly behind. Looking down, Don again saw those same front legs and hooves of a stag. At least now, he had half a chance to make a run for it if the wolves proved untrustworthy.

He concentrated on walking on four feet instead of two, but it somehow felt natural and he couldn’t compare it to being in a human body. It was simply “The Way It Is.” They came to a big mound of dirt in an open area.

The wolf in front barked twice. A round, brown head came up from a hole in the center of the mound. Don could hear a husky muttering and a thin voice in conversation. The brown head disappeared.

After two minutes of silent waiting, another brown head emerged, followed by the rest of the prairie dog’s body. Nersite.

“
OK, don’t get your hopes up,” Don said. “Remember I’m crazy. My mind is sick and I can’t escape that fact or this Godforsaken place and your shitty situation. My only hope is to understand more about the, uh… ‘effing’ Tower. For that, I need you to finish the story of when you, Netheraire, and Niddle-ai attacked. Even then, there may be no solution. But I don’t know what the hell to do.”

Nersite fidgeted, brought his hands to his face and compulsively wiped his cheeks. “I don’t know why you say that. You were promised to us as the one who could help—”

“
I don’t want to hear that right now.
W
ho
said that, anyway?”

Nersite stared at Don uneasily. “Well, it was the bat—”

“
That son of a bitch! I’m not surprised. I’d like to know what makes him think… oh, never mind. You won’t know anyway!”

Nersite continued, “And, as I was saying, also Raquela said you might help us. Well, she didn’t know about you, exactly, but she knew the stories of Pia and her sister, Pita. And, of course, Teresa the Tall One. She hoped there would be another who could come from a far place to help. We
can
fight our battles, but we don’t understand the Tower. We need help to understand. And to plan. We don’t plan well.”

“
Of course not, you’re animals. Sorry, clanspeople, who aren’t capable… I don’t mean to be insulting. That’s just ‘The Way It Is.’”

Nersite brightened hearing Don recite the clanspeople’s mantra. “I think you’re starting to understand us. You truly are like us, you know.”

“
Shut up. I can’t even begin to explain how screwed up my thinking is right now. One minute, I’m a deer, the next I’m human. I can’t go there because it’s a mad circle. Tell me about the fu—sorry. Tell me about the
damned
Tower.”

Nersite looked down into the hole where he had been. “I’m not sure where we could go.”

“
How about this cedar tree where I’ve been for the last few hours, waiting for darkness. I didn’t want the others,” indicating the surroundings where no doubt dozens of animal clans slept, “to see me. Too much commotion.”