Prologue
Jester came stumbling out of the pub, a wall of joyous raucous at his back. Reeling into the cold night air, he hugged the young maiden he had met that night closer to his side. He’d just finished a gig at the Heartwood Tavern, when an exquisite young girl from Felwithe with an incredible pair of… eyes, offered to buy him a few drinks. One thing led to another, and rather quickly time found them laughing themselves silly on the floor while the staff graciously put up with them and tried to goad them and their fellow smashed denizens of Kelethin out the door. So here he found himself, on a cold night with a beautiful young lass and he was too ripped to see straight. He gazed into her eyes and did his best to make them stay in focus.
“Ye know,” he slurred, ” a beautiful lass like yerself should nae walk home alone. Felwithe is quite a walk in the dark. Ye should have some company.”
“Mmm, as appealing as that offer sounds, I think I should just go home and get some sleep. When do ye perform next?”
He thought long and hard before the thought managed to squeeze through the haze to the front of his brain. “Saturday… aye, definitely Saturday.”
“Good then, I shall see ye on Saturday. Ye be careful, yer plenty wasted, and it would be a shame to see yer fine face plastered to the forest floor!” They laughed at the slightly morbid joke. Jester briefly considered attempting to press the issue to see if she’d give in, but decided against it. It’s enough she’s willing to come to his next gig.
“Alright, alright. I’ll see ye then, but I am serious, ye be careful going home.” Despite the fact that his eyes were visibly struggling to focus on her, Rienna could see in them that he seriously did mean it.
“Aw, that’s sweet. Thanks for caring.” She kissed him on the cheek and broke away from his drunken embrace. “See ye Saturday!” With a wave she was gone, riding down the lift to the forest floor and the path to her home.
“Damn, there goes a fine girl. Oh well, hope she comes tae me next gig.” He sighed. Then his stomach began to remind him of all the abuse that he’d most recently put it through. Quickly rushing to the side of the platform, he hurled the contents of his gizzard downward off the edge. Flat on his belly, he heaved and heaved, regretting having imbibed so much. Below, the Priest of Discord cursed at him as he was forced to sidestep around the flow of vomit.
Finally the heaving stopped. Jester wiped his chin, mumbled a weak apology to those below him, and groggily stood up. A light breeze played with his hair, and he stopped to enjoy it. Closing his eyes, he reveled in nature’s embrace, feeling revitalized as she gently stroked his face with her fingers of non-substance. And so he stood, enraptured in the moment, his head graciously clearing. The breeze tugged at his sleeve playfully. He smiled, feeling giddy with the sensation. Then it hit him, a sudden gust snapped at his clothing, and he was pushed backwards. He regained his footing just in time to keep himself from being swept over.
“The bloody…??” He looked around him quickly. The platform was empty, but nearby stood two guards talking. One noticed him and started towards him.
“Hey! Watch out, ye bloody drunk! Yer too close tae the edge! Step forward, ye need tae step away from the edge!” Jester tried to heed the guardsman’s warning, but somehow his legs refused to respond. The breeze rose again, and he fought back the panic rising in his throat. The wind coiled around him, prepared to push him again, and it seemed to him that it almost felt sorry for doing so. The air tightened before him, and with what seemed a hint of melancholy, pitched him backwards over the edge. He flipped backwards, head over heels, his body rotating almost gracefully through the empty space. People all over were screaming and running around trying to do something, but all this seemed to reach him through a hazy fog, as if something had cast a web over his senses.
Time seemed to stand still. Somewhere he heard the prayer-chant of a young woman. He saw the ground, some 20 yards away from him, menacing and dark, ready to snap him up into oblivion. He closed his eyes in terror, not wishing to see his end. Images floated through his mind. They say that you have the strangest thoughts when you are near death. Jester guessed it must be so, for under normal circumstances, he’d be hallucinating. In his mind he saw his life, and the lives of those he’d touched. He saw his mother, his father, and his sister. He saw his friends, his extended family, and the lass from the pub. His mind centered on her, fixated. He felt a pang of sorrow for not having gotten a chance to know her better. He sorely would have enjoyed her company. The feeling of her embrace, the smoothness of her skin, her lips locked with his…
Stop it. His mind fluttered in confusion as he felt pulled into a conversation with an unknown entity. In his mind he was in a small, poorly lit room, sitting at a table directly in the center. Across from him sat a young gentleman who peered at him with great interest.
“Who the hell are you and where the hell am I?” The figure continued to stare at him. Jester was about to open his mouth to demand answers when the voice once again spoke to him.
I am you.
“How can you be me? I am me!”
I am your inner you. I am the noble person within you. The one who shines through the rapscallion skin that you cloak yourself in.
“What do you want? I must be dead, this can’t be real.”
Not yet, Jest, I’m here to set a few things straight. You feel infatuated with that girl. The way she makes you feel. You felt a true connection to her when you spoke with her in the pub and outside. And yet you are going to tell me that all you feel is disappointment for not having shacked up with her? Is that all she was, just another wench?? As the man’s voice rebounded around his skull, Jester realized that what he said was true. She had meant more to him than that. But if that’s so, than could she have possibly been the one? The woman he’d been destined for?
That’s right. Jester started, not realizing that the man could read his thoughts. But of course, this man is the culmination of his thoughts. The man shrugged.
They say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. You should be happy. In the span of your lifetime, you’ve met your one true love. Most people never have that opportunity.
“You’re right.” He chuckled around a tear. “I’ve met my love. My life has hit its peak. I can die happy, for my life has meant something.” Tears flowed freely down his face. “I’m… I’m ready to die.”
So am I. You had a good run, now it’s time for the end. Go with grace Jest, it’s all any of us can ever hope for.
The room twisted around him and collapsed inwards, and then he was back in the moment, still hanging the in air. His eyes were still closed, and behind the backs of his eyelids he saw her. Her smile flashed and blinded him with its beauty. She laughed, and the sound echoed through him like the roar of the ocean. She kissed his cheek, and as her lips brushed his skin, his flesh felt enflamed with the power her heart contained. All this had happened in the space of a pixie’s wing beat. And in that beat, he had made his peace. His eyes fluttered open, and time seemed to regain its control over the world at large. He gazed downward at the ground, calm and inviting, ready to accept him into its loving embrace. And as Jester fell to his end, he smiled and greeted the ground as his friend.